Happy pride month, you're all amazing and I'm kissing everyone on the forehead xoxo - Charm

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Product Placement
occasionally subtle

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home

No title available
NASA

roma★
taylor price
RMH
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
d e v o n
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
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seen from Brazil

seen from Belgium

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
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seen from Türkiye

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@protexioncharm
Happy pride month, you're all amazing and I'm kissing everyone on the forehead xoxo - Charm
Spider in your room ?
summary: your super hero girlfriend comes to you after a long day
words: 923
tags: Spider-Woman!Amber/fem! reader, fluff, not proofread, inspired by tasm scene
an: yeah ik I said I would write something else but shhhh, I wanted to test that so it's very short and a bit rushed
Two soft knocks at your window and you were already smiling, standing up from your desk to open for the most wanted girl in your city, Amber Glenn. Better known under the name of Spider-Woman.
"Hey," Amber said as she smirked at you, her mask in one hand, destroyed flowers in the other held up for you to take, "for my lady."
You chuckled, taking them only to immediately place them down on your furniture and helping Amber into your room. "Hi baby," you said as she immediately wrapped her arms around you, mumbling about how much she missed you and how she'd thought about you all day. You didn't hesitate to hug her back, never minding the sweat or how she — by the smell — seemed to always spend time in the sewers, instead holding harder, closer. Your way to tell her how you missed her.
"Pizza, cakes, coffee, and now flowers? You might need a swinging license or something," you teased while pulling back to cup Amber's face, checking for possible injury.
"You're too spoiled, can't even appreciate the gesture."
"Not when I'm the one washing the carpet and your suit after, no."
You both smiled, Amber gently taking your hand when you tried to inspect a bruise on her neck and shutting down your protest by kissing your palm, soft and gentle, her eyes closing as she did. The gesture grounding both of you. "Wouldn't you do it again?" she mumbled softly.
"Shut up," you first answered, "anytime, of course."
You rolled your eyes and turned around, too easily flustered by Amber's natural kindness and hiding it by grabbing some clothes for her in your closet. Amber knows, but she doesn't say anything, only smiling as she stares at your back before carefully taking off her suit. When you turn around it's even worse, seeing her so casual about being half-naked in your room, like she was blind to her own appearance. Stupid defined muscles you've decorated yourself with bites and lipstick this morning before letting her leave your side.
"Mhm?" Amber hummed as she approached, looking down at you with that knowing smirk again, holding her hand out for the clothes.
You looked away, face red again, and gently shoved the clothes into her hand. "You need a shower," you mumbled as you walked back to your desk, trying to focus on your assignment and not the prettiest girl you've ever seen staring at you with her stupid beautiful eyes and smile, waiting for an occasion to tease you.
It took you less than a minute after the bathroom door closed to stand and give up on being responsible. First, you placed the poor flowers in a vase, then grabbed her suit to check on it, and immediately found where it needed a few more stitches.
"You didn't have to," Amber's voice is quieter now, the shower probably allowed her to relax and come down from the adrenaline of the day. "It's late I would've done it tomorrow." You looked up when her hand found your shoulder, her blonde hair falling around the two of you when she leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Come to bed with me, please?"
She didn't even give you time to argue and continued, "I'll help you with that assignment tomorrow, don't worry," another kiss to your jaw, "and I know you've been up all day to work and study, c'mon."
"You stalked me again."
"No, I checked on you," she mumbled in your neck."You could say hi, or send a text instead."
"It's cooler to watch from a rooftop like I'm your secret personal knight."
You chuckled and let go of her suit, allowing her to bring you to bed with her, Amber immediately wrapping herself around you and making that satisfied sound when she's sure you can't get away — not like you wanted to. You sighed, leaning into her and closing your eyes. Sleep doesn't come immediately, both of you exchanging stories about your day in whispered voices, Amber tracing up and down your spine while you nuzzled her neck. You know she's not telling you everything, not wanting you to worry that she faced a near-death situation five times today. Instead, she's telling you about that kid she saw in a cheap Spider-Woman costume trying to imitate her, that old lady she helped with her groceries, and those guys that tried to steal a car so she webbed them to it.
You tell her about your quieter day, the classes, the nice customers at work, the things she missed. She pulled you closer, relaxing more against you, apologizing about being absent.
"You're here now, here when it matters, here for the people who need you." It's the same thing you always tell her, reassuring her, never wanting Amber to worry about you when there are people who need to be saved. Not wanting her to worry about classes, you can take notes for two and she's smart enough to keep her grades satisfying. "I know you're doing your best, I see it, Amb," you continued, kissing her shoulder.
She fell asleep first, exhausted both emotionally and physically. You held her tight, tired but too stubborn to fall asleep so early. Because you know the morning will be rushed, for classes or an emergency, you know she'll slip away in a few minutes. So you'd rather stay awake a little longer and cherish that peaceful time, when Amber is there with you, relaxed and so clingy even while sleeping.
I wonder what it would feel like to be crushed by Amber glenn’s biceps
I saw a tweet about Amber Glenn being homeschooled and it reminded me that when I was young I thought I had to be homeschooled to become successful, rich and cool (my only example was Billie Eilish btw)
so much ideas for amber... some drafts... mmmm soon guys.. soon
Easy Money
Summary : Grace's first time at a strip club, is she imagining thing or this girl really likes her and that's why she approached her ?
Words : 1.8k
Tags : Grace Ashcroft/fem!stripper! Reader, lap dance (is it dry humping), suggestive but sfw ? puppy Grace, use of pet names, oneshot prob
When Grace had spent a whole hour in her bathroom to get ready — when she usually takes 20 minutes — that's when she first doubted her plan for the night. When her coworker had looked her up and down at least three times before letting her in her car, she replayed the moment she told her she had the weekend free Monday. Not realizing she had set her own trap until that same coworker had mentioned she and others were going out and Grace should come, ‘we never see you out of work, just try once then we'll leave you alone if it's not your thing’.
And she didn't need to walk through that club door to know it wasn't her thing. The music was already too loud even outside, the place too crowded and full of potential danger she couldn't help but see. What if someone had a knife there? Stabbed her and no one would notice? What if she got kidnapped? Or—
"Grace c'mon, it's freezing outside!"
Unfortunately, Grace Ashcroft didn't know how to say no. That's why it was her first days off in months, why she kept doing nights, why she almost always ended up in terrible situations. Like tonight, when she had walked through those club doors.
The club was buzzing with people, dancing against each other, shamelessly making out or — oh.
Her eyes widened, slowly realizing what type of club they were at when she had looked up to see a girl slide down on her knees, arms behind her on a pole, while lip-syncing the song that was currently blasting in her ears. Her reaction was immediate, warmth spreading all over her face and stomach dropping before she looked down and bumped into someone while trying to follow her coworker.
"S—sorry," she stuttered, hearing a whisper in her ear for an answer, sweet like honey, breath tickling her skin.
"It's okay hon, relax, no one's biting here."
She hadn't even dared to look up, walking faster to the leather couch where her coworker had joined others.
"Nice place, huh?" She teased as she immediately noticed Grace's flustered face.
The poor girl only nodded in answer, hands on her lap and shoulders tensed as she looked at them. God, this was gonna be hard.
It had taken her three strong drinks before fully sitting against the couch, her body finally less tense whenever she looked up. Her coworkers had tried some small talk for a whole hour before accepting Grace wasn't being rude but simply extremely awkward. They really tried, but after the third "cool music, no?" they had given up, now talking with each other — maybe a bit rude.
Now, Grace was sitting on one end of the couch, her coworkers engrossed in a probably passionate conversation while Grace either drank, keeping her wallet close, or looked at the ceiling — she felt like a pervert every time she looked at the strippers, yet her gaze kept wandering. Especially when she saw one girl stepping on the stage for the first time since she arrived, her gaze sharp and mesmerizing — or maybe she drank too much.
You had spotted Grace the second she had stepped into the club. An awkward, shy, and helpless girl entering a strip club for the first time ever. Grace looked very much like easy money to you.
When your hand wrapped around the pole, you made sure to look at her, long enough to make it look purposeful. Meaningful. Hands gripping before you slowly looked away. And every time your body wasn't facing her, you'd look back a moment before continuing, relishing in the way Grace's eyes widened and darkened like a puppy.
You saw how she tried not to stare, but eventually Grace couldn't take her eyes off you and that's all you needed. Her attention. Just hers for tonight, and you knew it'll be enough.
Grace was gripping the armrest tighter every time your gaze met hers, shifting in her seat as she ached to walk closer, sit closer, touch and — fuck, this wasn't normal nor good — to taste.
At the end of the song, when the lights turned off for a second, you disappeared and Grace looked around frenetically in desperate hope to see more. It was the brush of skin behind her that made her freeze. Slowly looking up to see you by her side now, already dancing to the rhythm of the next song.
"Looking for someone, love?"
Grace's jaw dropped, she tried to say something—anything, really—but no sound came out.
You were right there, not even doing anything, just standing and looking down at her, a soft yet dangerous smile on your face. But when Grace had someone half-naked staring at her like that, actions weren't necessary for her to lose it.
Your gaze was too much for her to hold, Grace feeling too vulnerable under the intensity of it. But when she looked down, she realized even seeing the skin of your collarbone so close was making her heart race, she knew she would die if she looked further. So she did the only thing she could think of: looking at her lap, ridiculing herself, she thought, as you were still there, waiting for her to answer.
And if Grace thought she couldn't look more miserable, she was wrong, because at that same time her coworker's voice made her look up, eyes widening in horror when she saw her holding out money in one hand, and Grace's wallet in another — thief!
"I think she'll love a lap dance."
"Uh— what?" Grace immediately panicked. You were already taking the money and stepping closer, and before she could do more, you were on her lap, a finger under her chin to make her look up.
"Relax baby, just enjoy the show."
Grace nodded slowly, her eyes wide and unsure as you had forced the eye contact — forced was a strong word when you had barely touched her chin and she had so easily and willingly followed. There was something so vulnerable and sweet in her eyes, something that said a lot about the girl in front of you. Past the obvious obedience and nervousness, you saw kindness and gentleness, something close to naive in a way.
Her hands were gripping the seat tightly, like she was scared of breaking rules and boundaries. Naive and sweet, easy money, or heartbreaking money for taking advantage of her like that. "Is it your first time?" you asked, your hand sliding up her arm and leaving goosebumps on her skin before it rested on her neck, thumb gently stroking there as your hips stilled a moment, an attempt to ground the poor girl in front of you. It seemed to work when her shoulders slightly lowered and she nodded, babbling a soft "yeah" as she tried to look away again.
You chuckled, hips moving again, purring words like a witch would cast a spell — from Grace's perspective at least. "It's okay to look, I promise, baby," and your fingers touched her chin again, not making her look up for eye contact this time, but for Grace to watch your hips now.
Grace was losing it, you were warm — hot — or maybe she was the one melting under you, your hand soft on her face, gentle like your movement. A rhythmic and soft grind against her, the jeans on her suddenly too thin. And she felt like a pervert for liking it, hoping you didn't notice her squeezing her thighs together, or how her breath came out faster, less controlled just a bit, but definitely enough to tell you she was enjoying it.
"You're adorable, you really look like a lost pup in this club."
You cupped her face, Grace's hand almost tearing the leather of her armrest as she tensed and looked up. "So expressive, who needs words when your eyes tell everything..." You glanced down a second, "...and your body."
Grace froze, eyes widening as she fumbled with her words. "I— I was just, I.. s—sorry, it's—" You cut her off with a laugh, low and gentle. "Aw, it's okay, pup. It's fine, don't pass out on me buy me a drink and it's all forgiven."
"N—now or..?"
You smiled, and Grace felt silly for asking, because why would you even ask her to invite her elsewhere? "Y—yeah, sure, a.. a drink," she mumbled again, and you stood slowly, freeing her. And the cold that replaced you made her stomach ache in the most pathetic way, already yearning for your touch again.
She stood quickly after, looking at you with the same wide eyes, her hand slightly lifting to reach for you before she stopped herself and turned to the bar. "A drink," she repeated as you two walked there.
--
@timetogohome1
Amber Glenn x fem reader
— Knight! Amber x Princess! Reader
𒁂Her princess
• Amber always remained your loyal knight, protecting you, even from her heart. She kept her feelings, even when you walked to the altar in a wedding dress.
4,1k. angst
Finally. This turned out to be more difficult than Cupid Alysa...
Amber was twelve when she realized her life no longer belonged to her.
It didn't happen when she took her oath. Not on the training field, when a sword hit her ribs for the first time. Not the day her father — an old knight with gray whiskers — said: "You will serve the princess, and that is above any battle."
It happened when you dropped your crown.
You were seven. You were walking down the hallway — somewhere important, probably to an etiquette lesson or to the king and queen — and the crown, too big for your head, slipped down to your forehead, then over your eyes, then fell to the stone floor with a dull clatter.
You stopped. You looked at it. Then at Amber, who stood guard by the doors.
"Help me," you asked. Not ordered. Asked. The way you ask a friend. The way you ask an older sister.
Amber dropped to her knees. It was a breach of protocol — shouldn't a knight kneel before a princess? Yes. But not like this. Not at eye level. Not with that expression on her face — soft, almost tender. She picked up the crown, brushed the dust from your dress, straightened your collar. Her fingers, already beginning to roughen from the sword, were surprisingly gentle.
"Your Highness, let me carry it for you," Amber said. "When you grow up, you'll wear it yourself."
You looked at her seriously. You tilted your head — so your hair fell over your face. And you answered: "I don't want a crown. I want you to stay."
Amber felt something inside her turn over. Something she had no name for. She was too young to understand. Too inexperienced to be afraid. She just nodded, tucked the crown under her arm, and followed you into the garden.
From that day on, Amber was everywhere.
She stood outside your bedroom door when you had nightmares. You cried out in your sleep and she burst inside, breaking every security rule, sat on the edge of your bed and took your hand in hers. "Shh," she said. "It's just a dream. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
You opened your eyes, red from crying, looked at her, and your breathing slowly steadied. "Stay with me," you asked. She stayed. Until morning. Sat in the chair by your bed, sword across her knees, listening to you breathe. It was more important than any sleep.
She carried you on her shoulders through the garden because you couldn't reach the tallest roses. You laughed, bright and joyful, and grabbed her hair with your small fingers. It hurt. She didn't complain. She smiled, because your smile was the only light in her gray, training, endless life.
She endured it when you braided her hair. You weren't good at it — the braids came out crooked, too tight, sometimes you pulled so hard her eyes watered. But she sat still as a doll and waited for you to finish. "Beautiful," she said, though she had no mirror. You beamed with pride.
She trained to be a knight for you. Not for the kingdom. Not for honor. And not for her father. For the smile that appeared on your face when she walked into the room. So that no one would ever dare raise a hand to you. So that you could always sleep peacefully.
She didn't understand back then that this was called love. She thought it was duty. Loyalty. Friendship. She was wrong.
You grew up. And her love grew with you.
When you were ten, you developed a fever and drifted in and out of consciousness for three days. The healers shrugged helplessly. The king and queen never left your bedside. But when they fell asleep in their chairs, Amber was there. She sat on the floor, leaning against your bed, listening to you breathe. "If you die," she whispered into the darkness, "I won't know why I have a sword. I won't know why I need the morning."
You didn't die. You opened your eyes on the fourth day, saw her — disheveled, sleepless, eyes red and said: "Have you been crying?"
"No," Amber lied. "Dust in my eyes."
You smiled your weak smile and whispered: "You're always here."
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Because if she opened her mouth, she would say something that could never be taken back.
When you were thirteen, you fell in love for the first time. Not with her — with some page boy with golden curls and a stupid smile. You told her about him for hours, sitting on a windowsill, swinging your legs, staring out the window. "He's so handsome, Amber. You have no idea."
Amber had an idea. She imagined walking up to that page, grabbing him by the collar, whispering in his ear: "If you hurt her, I will rip out your tongue and feed it to the dogs." She did none of that. She listened. Nodded. Smiled. Because your happiness was more important than her broken heart.
The page turned out to be an idiot — like all pages. He dared to say that your dress was "ugly." You ran to Amber in tears. Amber didn't say a word. She found that page an hour later. He apologized. He had a split lip and a black eye. You never found out who did it.
Amber was always there. When you laughed. When you cried. When you danced at balls with foreign princes, and she stood against the wall, gripping her sword hilt so hard her knuckles went white. When you asked her to brush your hair before bed, because no one did it as gently as she did.
She knew every habit of yours. How you drank your morning tea. How you bit your lip when you were nervous. How you looked at the moon before sleep, as if searching for answers in it. She knew you better than you knew yourself.
But you didn't know her.
You didn't know that at night she lay awake, replaying your conversations in her head. That she stored every smile of yours in her memory like a treasure. That she never allowed herself to think of you for more than a few seconds — because if she did, she would go mad.
You didn't know that she loved you. With all of herself. Every cell. Every heartbeat.
She was a knight. You were a princess. You can't love the sun too close — you'll burn. She was ready to burn.
War.
When the war with the neighboring kingdom began, Amber felt relief.
That sounds monstrous. War is death, blood, mud, the screams of the wounded. But war gave her what peacetime could not. War gave her distance. From you. From your eyes. Fromm your smile. From the pain that ate at her from the inside every time you looked at her as a friend.
She went into battle with joy — not from cruelty, but from despair. Because in battle, she could scream. In battle, she could slash, smash, fall, rise, and not think about you for at least a few minutes.
But you were with her. Always. In every swing of the sword, in every prayer before battle, in every gulp of water from her canteen. "Bring me something beautiful," you asked before every departure. She brought you things. Silk from enemy tents. Stones that sparkled in the sun. Feathers from rare birds. You collected them in a box. You didn't know that some of them were stained with blood. You didn't know that she cried over them at night.
She fought for you. Not for land. Not for resources. Not for the king. For the chance to come home. For the chance to see you smile again. For the chance to stand guard at your door and listen to you breathe.
She survived where others fell. She pulled arrows from her own shoulder and stitched her own wounds because the field medics were busy with those who could still scream. She didn't scream. She thought of you. Of your hands, which once braided her hair. Of your voice, when you called her name.
The war ended in a stalemate.
No one won. Both kingdoms lay in ruins. The death toll was in the thousands. Amber returned home with a wounded body and a heart that still beat — defying every arrow and sword.
You met her at the gates. You ran to her, hiked up your skirts, ignoring protocol, ignoring the advisors, ignoring the king and queen. You threw your arms around her neck and cried. "I thought you wouldn't come back," you whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."
Amber stood still, not breathing. Her arms hung at her sides because she was afraid to touch you. If she touched you, she would never let go. Never.
"I'm here," she said quietly. "I always come back."
And one month after the war ended, the advisors announced their decision.
The princess would marry the prince of the enemy kingdom.
Amber stood in the council chamber when it was announced. She stood against the wall, where a knight is supposed to stand. Her face didn't flinch. Her hands didn't clench into fists. She looked the same as she did in battle: expressionless, cold, ready for the blow.
Inside, everything was screaming.
She looked at you. You sat in your place, next to the king. Your face was paler than usual. You weren't looking at her. You were looking at the table before you. At your hands. At the ring they hadn't put on you yet.
"This is necessary for peace", said the chief advisor.
"It will bring prosperity to both kingdoms," chimed another.
"The princess agrees", the king finished.
You lifted your head. Your eyes found Amber's for a fraction of a second. In that look was everything. Apology, pain, despair. And something else.
"I agree," you said.
Amber felt the ground disappear beneath her feet. She nodded to herself, to something inside her that was howling with pain and continued standing against the wall. As always. As everywhere.
The one who was always there.
The wedding day was sunny.
Amber hated the sun. In her life, she had come to love rain, fog, cold — anything that hid her face. The sun was too honest. It showed every wrinkle, every scar, every tear she hadn't wiped away in time.
She wore her ceremonial armor — gold, engraved, with the kingdom's crest on her chest. She had worn it only twice in her life: when she was knighted, and today. She felt like a fraud. The gold shone, but underneath was the same thing — a broken heart, tired eyes, hands that had held a sword too much and held you too little.
She stood among the guests. Her place was among the nobility, among dukes and barons who looked at her with envy or indifference. She was a knight. Her place was to protect. Not to die alive.
But today she wasn't protecting. Today she was watching.
You walked down the aisle.
Your dress was white, so white that Amber's eyes hurt. The train stretched for several meters, carrying lace, pearls, thousands of tiny sequins that sparkled in the sun.
She had helped you choose that dress.
You asked her to come to the fitting. You stood before the mirror, turning, asking: "What do you think? What about this? Maybe this one is better?" Amber looked at you and died. Slowly. Just melting from the inside.
"It suits you," she said then. She wasn't looking at the dress. She was looking at you. At your shoulders, which trembled slightly. At your eyes, which searched her face for support. At your smile — the same one she had fallen in love with twelve years ago.
"God," you said then. "I'm so nervous. What if I don't like him? What if he doesn't like me? What if..."
"Everyone likes you," Amber interrupted. "You've always been liked. And if he doesn't see that..." She didn't finish. She couldn't finish. Because the next sentence was: "...then he's a fool, and I'll kill him." She couldn't say that out loud.
You didn't notice her pause. You smiled at your reflection and said: "Thank you for being with me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Amber knew. You would live. You would smile. You would marry the prince and be happy. And she would stand against the wall and watch.
The organ began to play. You walked down the aisle. Your father led you by the arm — proud, happy, unaware that his daughter was marrying not for love but for duty. Or perhaps aware. What did it matter.
Amber watched your feet step across the carpet. She knew your knees were trembling a little — you always trembled when you were nervous. She knew you were biting your lip — you had done that since childhood. She knew you were searching for her eyes in the crowd.
You found them.
For one moment, as you passed her row, you turned your head. Your eyes met hers. And in that look was everything you couldn't say.
"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry."
Amber nodded. Barely noticeably. So that no one else would notice. She didn't smile. She couldn't. She just nodded, and you understood. "It's okay. I'm fine."
You reached the altar. The prince was waiting for you — young, handsome, with dark hair and calm eyes. He wasn't evil. Amber had checked. She had watched him for a month, gathered information, interrogated servants. He wasn't a bad person. Maybe even a good one.
That only made it worse.
If he had been a monster, Amber could have hated him. Could have dreamed of his death. Could have devised a way to save you. But he was just a person. Neither good nor bad. Just a person standing at the altar now, looking at you with admiration.
You smiled at him.
"Do you consent?" asked the priest.
You looked into the hall. At your hands. At the prince. And again — at Amber. Only for a second but that second stretched into eternity.
Amber wasn't breathing. She stood, gripping her sword belt so hard her nails dug into the leather. Her heart had stopped beating — or was beating too fast, she couldn't tell. The whole world narrowed to your lips, your eyes, to the one word you were about to say.
"I do," you said.
And the world collapsed.
......
After the ceremony came the feast.
The hall was decorated with flowers — white roses that smelled so strongly Amber's head spun. The tables groaned with food, wine flowed like water, musicians played cheerful melodies. Guests laughed, danced, toasted the newlyweds, peace, the future.
Amber stood bby a pillar. She didn't sit at the table — couldn't. She didn't touch the food — couldn't taste it. She didn't drink the wine — afraid that if she did, she wouldn't be able to hold back what was clawing to get out.
She watched you.
You were dancing with the prince. Your dress spun, the train slid across the floor, you smiled — that smile she hated. The smile of someone who had accepted her fate and stopped fighting it.
The prince held your waist. His hands were where Amber's hands should have been. His lips whispered something in your ear — something that made you nod and smile even wider.
Amber looked away. She couldn't watch. But she couldn't leave either. She was a knight. Her place was here — protecting you. Even from her own broken heart.
An hour later, you found her.
You left the hall — quietly, unnoticed, leaving the guests and the prince behind. You walked down the corridor, your dress rustling on the stone floor, and somewhere inside you, something led you to her, as it always did.
She was standing by a window, her back to you. Her shoulders were too straight — unnaturally straight. She was squeezing her gloves as if she wanted to tear them apart. She didn't turn when you approached because she knew your footsteps with her eyes closed.
"Amber," you called.
She didn't answer.Her voice was stuck somewhere in her throat, trapped between an oath and love.
"Amber, look at me," you asked.
She turned.
She looked at you and her heart sank. You were so beautiful it took her breath away. Up close, you were a painting Amber had always wanted to create. You looked just how she had always wanted you to look. But at your shared wedding, not at the wedding of you and the prince.
"Happy wedding day," she said. Her voice didn't shake. She had learned this over years of war, dying inside but not showing it. "You look beautiful, Your Highness."
You winced at the title. You had never asked her to call you that. Always said: "Amber, I'm not a stranger to you." Today you didn't argue. Because today you had become a stranger. Forever.
"I wanted to..." You trailed off. You couldn't find the words. What can you say to someone who gave you their whole life, and you married an enemy? What can you say to someone who carried feathers for you from the battlefield, who sat by your bed during your fever, who braided your hair when you were little? What can you say? "I'm sorry"? "I regret"? "I never wanted this"?
"I'm happy for you," Amber said. It was the biggest lie of her life. "Peace is most important. You did the right thing."
You stepped forward. You did what you had done a thousand times before — took her hand, brought it to your cheek. Her fingers were rough, scarred. You remembered them soft. When you were little, she touched you so carefully, as if you might fall apart. Now her hands were calloused from the sword. You kissed every scar. Every single one.
"Don't," Amber whispered. But she didn't pull her hand away.
"You were always with me," you said. "Since childhood. You braided my hair when no one else wanted to bother with me. You listened to my silly stories about princes I dreamed about. You fought for me. You fell. You rose. You were always there."
Amber looked at your hands. She remembered every second. When you were seven and dropped your crown. When you were ten and had a fever, and she sat by your bed for three nights straight, not sleeping. When you were fifteen and cried over a page with golden curls, and she found that page and made him apologize.
She remembered everything. Every breath of yours. Every smile. Every tear. She stored them in her memory like sacred relics.
"I'm still here," she said. Her voice wavered. For the first time that evening. For the first time in many years.
You shook your head. "No," you said. "Now you'll stand on the sidelines. Like everyone else. And I will live in a foreign castle, bear his children, smile at his guests. And every day I will remember you."
"Don't," Amber asked. Her voice cracked — like ice underfoot in spring.
"I will always remember how you braided my hair," you continued, not listening. "How you brought me feathers from the war. How you looked at me as if I were the only light in this world. I never thanked you. I never told you..."
You stopped.
Amber knew what you wanted to say. And you knew she knew. The words "I love you" hung between you like a sword on a thread. But they were not spoken. They never would be. Because it was too late now.
"I love you," Amber said. Not "loved." "Love." Present tense. Because her feelings hadn't died. They would never die. Even when she grew old. Even when her sword rusted. Even when you forgot her name. "I've loved you since the day you dropped your crown. I was twelve, and I didn't understand what it was. Now I understand. I love you in every battle, every night, every breath. I love you now. And I will love you when you grow old, and I stay in this armor that you put on me for the first time."
A tear fell on the stone floor. You didn't know whose. Maybe hers. Maybe yours.
"Amber..."
"Go," she said. "Your husband is waiting. Your kingdom is waiting. Your happiness is waiting." Her voice broke on the last word. "And I... I will always be here. By the door. Like when we were children. If you have a nightmare — call me. I will come. Even if it's another castle. Even if there's a war between us. I will come."
You stood for another minute. Then you turned and left. Your dress rustled again on the stone. Amber watched you until you disappeared around the corner. She heard you sob once. Very quietly. She didn't follow you.
Then she sank to her knees.
Not because she was bowing to anyone. To God. To fate. To the emptiness. She pulled from under her armor an old ribbon — the same one you had used to braid her hair when you were little. The ribbon had faded. The edges were frayed. Amber had kept it for twelve years. She had taken it to every battle. In her left breast pocket, close to her heart.
She pressed the ribbon to her lips.
"My princess," she whispered. "My goddess. My light. My meaning. My war. My victory. My defeat. I will keep you. Even if you never come back to me. Even if you bear his children. Even if you forget my name. I will keep you here."
She touched her chest with her hand. Under the armor, under her shirt, under her skin, a heart beat — stupid, faithful, unkillable.
"For a thousand years I will stand at your door," she said. "For a thousand lives I will search for you. In each one I will be your knight. In each one I will watch you marry another. In each one I will shatter against your wedding like a cliff. And in each one I will come when you call."
In the hall, music played. Guests laughed. You danced with the prince.
And Amber Glenn, the greatest knight in the kingdom, sat on the cold floor of an empty corridor, pressing an old ribbon to her lips, and cried. For the first time in many years. For the first time since the day she was told she would guard a little princess whose crown kept falling over her eyes.
She wasn't crying because you got married. She was crying because for all twelve years, she had known this day would come. Known and done nothing. Never said anything. Never confessed. Never tried to steal you the way she stole feathers for you from the battlefield. She just loved. Silently. Faithfully. Hopelessly.
But many years later you never called for her.
Not after one year. Not after five. Not after ten.
Amber wasn't waiting. She just existed. She guarded the kingdom — the one you had saved with your wedding. She trained new knights, taught them to hold a sword, endure pain, never give up. She never told them about you.
But at night, when the castle grew quiet, she took out the old ribbon. Pressed it to her face. Closed her eyes and imagined you were still there.
That you were still the little girl with the crooked crown. That you still called her — "Amber, help." That you still laughed when she tossed you in the air.
She knew it wasn't true. She knew you had children by now. That your husband had become a good king. That you rarely thought of her — except perhaps in those moments when your daughter asked you to brush her hair, and you suddenly remembered someone's rough, gentle fingers.
Amber wasn't angry. She never knew how to be angry at you.
When word came of your death — quietly, in your sleep, surrounded by grandchildren — Amber didn't cry. She sat in her room, clutching the old ribbon, and stared out the window. Outside, the sun was setting.
"You were the light," she said to the emptiness. "You were always the light. And now that light has gone out. But I'm still burning. Because you lit me. And I will burn until I crumble to dust."
She lived another ten years. She never loved anyone else. Never danced at weddings. Never took off her armor at night — as if she were waiting for you to call.
You never called.
But she was still at your door.
Always.
Puppy Amber Glenn thoughts
Puppy Amber who loves it when you scratch behind her ear, it just unravels her so easily, and suddenly she forgets how to think and just melts against you.
If she tries to deny it, you just do it again and she shuts up and hides in the crook of your neck, whining about how unfair you are to her.
Puppy Amber who claims to be the one in charge while following you everywhere, pouting if you let go of her hand for just a second and blindly doing anything you ask, thinking she's a tough big girl (you asked her to sit and stay still while you were doing something else).
Puppy Amber who loves praises, "you did so good today," "I'm proud of you," "you were amazing," and so much more, she just turns into a puddle, overwhelmed in the best way and so proud of herself.
Puppy Amber who gets easily anxious, pacing and gritting her teeth without realizing it, so you take her into your arms, caress her hair or back, sometimes humming or talking about random things until she relaxes and, most of the time, falls asleep on your lap.
Puppy Amber who steals your clothes when she has to leave for a work trip/competition and sleeps in them every night because she misses you so much and your scent grounds her. Maybe she bought your shampoo to use it too, or your perfume to spray it on her pillow or something cheesy like that.
Puppy Amber who's so excited when seeing you, jumps into your arms before she's carrying you in the air and doing silly turns with you. Kissing you all over your face and sliding her (cold) hands under your shirt to have them flat on your skin, not apologizing but complaining about how she needs to feel you and have you as close as possible.
If Amber was a spn fan and read fanfiction do you guys think she was reading omegaverse or
Wip wip...
oh how was the exam?? and i hope the next ones will go well. fingers crossed!!
so the finals take place from 6th to 10th may which absolutely sucks cuz billie's movie is released on the 8th and if somehow it has the same release date here too than im 100000% sure i wont be able to see it </3 and i also have school and like a super important exam i have to get ready for and im slowly starting to get scared cuz the exam is like 2 months away. i keep saying ill truly start focusing on math after the whole vb thing is done but im scared i wont manage to get my shit straight and ill fuck up my future
how are you tho? besides school? :> also is your ao3 username the same
Let's not talk about exams...... I failed the third lol
Ohhh I didn't realize the movie was so soon, I have no one to go with and im not a big fan like before to go alone, hope you'll be able to!!
Idk if it helps but start studying little by little maybe, don't be like me and study half the class 4 hrs before the exam... also try to study with your friend!! It helps a lot to have ppl to motivate you
may I ask how old you are ? I haven't done math since high school and I wasn't really good at it but I'm sure you'll be fine:) a grade will never decide for your future I don't believe in that theory and as someone who tried art school twice I believe in second or third or any other chance/try (do I make sense?? eng is hard rn)
im doing okay ! Thx for asking! Exams are almost over, I can go back to gym, summer's close I have cool stuff planned an all :)) what about you ? Also I feel like we're having a whole conversation now, feel free to dm if you want !
And yes same username! I need to update it tho
the tournament well — we got second place but we're qualified in the finalsss. also im not going to school today hehe :P
and i hope youll manage with all the studying. fingers crossed for youu
Oh I missed that ask sorry baby
So happy you were qualified!! Keep me updated please I'm very invested, hope you were able to rest and school isn't too tiring for you
I'm finally seeing the end of it, I had one exam today, two tomorrow and one in two weeks, it's exhausting but I'm happy the year is almost over ! Very busy and overwhelmed lately but I'm coming back soo strong soon :>>
Panic attack - Ache
summary: Cate finds you while you're having a panic attack and comforts you
words: 1k
tags: Cate Dunlap/GN!Reader, fluff, comfort, plotless, drabble, kinda self indulgent
an: reupload from ao3, it was written months ago when i was feeling down and needed comfort oops, sienna and no one noticed by the marias fit a lot, but also ache by nfr
"..."
You can't hear her at first. It's not because you're panting and gasping for air, but because your head is spinning. Your thoughts are too loud, too strong. It's overwhelming, you can't even really catch them you just know they were here. Know what it was about but can't discern them.
Your chest hurts, your hand gripping your shirt and rubbing the skin underneath with it. Can a heart really explode ? In any other situation your answer would have been clear and obvious, but right now with the way it's aching and beating, you're sure it will explode.
"Can you hear me ?" It's a gloved hand on your arm that made you look up, blue eyes filled with worry, met yours filled by tears.
"What's happening? Tell me, I'm here for you love"
You opened your mouth, but it didn't matter how much you were trying, you couldn't speak. No sounds, anything. It scared you, frustrated you — it was hard to discern each emotion in your current state. The words died in your throat like someone had their hands on it, something blocking every sounds and even your breath.
You flinched when she moved closer, it hurt her but she stopped remaining knelt before your bed, both her hands now on the edge of it. You looked away, mumbling panicked and shaky apologies as you curled up on yourself, moving further on your bed to rest your back against the wall, your gasps now mixed with sobs and soft whines of pain.
You knew she was right there, worried — which makes you feel even worse about yourself— probably trying to figure out how to help and what happened. But even looking at her was too hard.
Embarrassment, shame or that fear to be a burden. A slight shift in her gaze that you would interpret as annoyance. Or a "I don't understand", "is that all?", "It'll pass". Weren't you supposed to be strong ? Weren't you supposed to be the one to help your friend, the shoulder to cry on ?
You didn't hear her moving, trying to hide further in your folded arms, trying to silence yourself even if it was only making it worse. Holding your breath just to sob harder a second later.
You didn't hear her closing the curtains or turning on the warm lamps. It's the first note of a song that made you realize she was doing something, the volume was so low you almost didn't hear anything. It's one of your favorites; it's not the happiest song, could be categorized as a sad one but sometimes it doesn't mean it's bad, doesn't make you necessarily sad. It's soothing for you, and Cate knew that.
The warm atmosphere she created, even if it was simple, made you less agitated. Just a tad, enough for you to realize you terribly needed her close now. She didn't speak, she was back at your side on the bed and when you tugged at her sleeve, she knew what you needed. It wasn't a magical spell, the aching feeling in your chest was still there, you still felt extremely disoriented and panicked, but she made it less... Terrifying maybe.
She laid down with you, her arms immediately wrapping around your body as she pressed you close to her. And you held her tighter than ever.
You felt her hand run trough your hair, massaging your scalp with slow and careful movement. All you could do was press your body closer to her. It was probably painful, and you felt bad about it the second you realized that. But when you started apologizing and pulling back, she stoped you.
"That's fine," she cut off, not letting you pull back. "you're fine, take your time"
How could someone sound this gentle? Be this patient? How could she make you feel this safe so easily?
"Please," you whined in her neck, your voice shaky and weak. "Please make it stop"
You didn't have to explain, both of you knew what you meant by that. You had begged her so many times, crying and begging on your knees for her to make it stop. To make the pain go away, to make your brain forget, to make your heart forget too. She always refused. This time was no different.
"I'm so sorry…" At first, her apologies would upset you more. "Cate— please" you sobbed again.
Of course, she could make you feel better, a touch and a word and you'll never feel like that ever again. "You know I can't" and she'll never have to see someone she loves so much in pain.
But that's not how things work. Even if you begged really hard, even if you really wanted it. Suppressing feelings was never a solution, even with Cate's power. The body or maybe the soul seemed to always remember.
"I'm sorry…"
"I'm here"
"You're not alone, I promise I'll stay"
You really wished you could be that strong person. The one who take care of the others, fearless hero like Vought like to sell them. The one no one's has to worry about, because that's why you entered God U after all.
But in moment like that, when reality would catch up with you — more like anxiety— everything seemed pointless.
"It's okay" Cate muttered again.
And after what felt like an eternity, you realized your chest wasn't hurting anymore, your sobs had calmed down, and your mind was clearer. The song playing was another from your favorite, you took a deep breath, and your body relaxed when you exhaled.
You didn't move for a moment, focusing on the feeling of her hand in your hair, the warmth of her body, and that vanilla scent you recognize very well by now.
You tried to speak again, but the words forming in your head died quickly on your tongue. And as if she could feel it — she could probably feel it — she spoke again. "It's okay, take your time, if it's not today, it'll be another"
"I'll be here to listen."
My brain exploded after a whole work/study day I had to heal with my new fav vampire
First time drawing her I'm nervous
the break sound really nice, esp with the shows youve mentioned. i hope you enjoy it (but also prepare for the exam!!)
im actually on break right now but i had 2 vb tournaments outside of the city and basically just lost the whole break </3 (i only have 2 days left beside the weekend)
andddd on top of all that i have another tournament next weekend and its literally on the other side of the country and
i. am. tired. of. traveling.
but i really hope you get to enjoy your break <3
Oh you play vb! That's really cool! How was it ?:)
Good luck for the next one ! I hope you'll find time to rest between traveling and tournaments
I'm drowning in study sessions and work hhh barely have time for myself and I know my break is gonna be intense with more studying...but thanks! Hope I can finally write and do other stuff I like soon :')
Cool vampire amber vs clingy shy puppy amber
eww to the essay. dont you guys get a break tho? cuz easter is coming?
Where I am we have one week break at the end of April and also a weekend of 4 days haha, but I won't rest a lost since I'll have all my exam after :')
Buuuut the boys S5 and invincible S4 are here so it's giving me motivation hehe