#the rights don't undo the wrongs but the wrongs don't mean that the kindness meant nothing either

[crumbleclub]

Conflicting dynamics between Michael and his siblings are so intriguing. I feel like a lot of people slant strongly one way or the other– he's either protrayed as a good brother who's been thrust into a parental role and does everything for his siblings, or as a complete monster of a kid who spends all of his spare time tormenting his little brother– but it's more interesting to me when it's both.

The Michael who cruelly locks his brother in a room surrounded by the things he fears most and the Michael who tries to redirect his father's abuse away from Evan and towards himself are the same person.

The Michael who did his sister's hair every morning is the same Michael who tore apart her toys when he was angry with her, and both parts of him were there when he found himself crying in her room at the realization she was never coming home.

On top of that, they probably had a lot of very normal moments, too. They played outside together in the summer and tried to pawn their chores off on each other. There was one song they all liked when it came on the radio, and they made fun of the adults they knew when nobody else was around. None of them knew how to talk about their feelings, but, when one of them had been having a really rough time, they'd find that the breakfast Mikey made the next morning was their favorite, or Evan's favorite show had been put on even when Elizabeth had the remote, or an anonymous party had left a really cool rock on Michael's bedside table.

It must have been strange from the younger kids' perspectives, especially Evan's. Your brother keeps making you cry on purpose, and he's so, so mean, for no reason at all, but you know the bruise under his eye had been meant for you.

#i love when things conflict without cancelling each other out #the rights don't undo the wrongs but the wrongs don't mean that the kindness meant nothing either #and as much as it would hurt mike to realize there's a lot of parallels between him and william here #mike hurts his siblings on purpose but lets himself get hurt for their sake because he loves them #where william hurts his kids without giving it much thought at all #but he still wants to love them. he's pretty sure that he doesn't but he still wishes that he did #shakes the concept by the shoulders. i love when everything is true at once #fnaf #michael afton #cc afton #evan afton #elizabeth afton #mike's actual writing #cw neglect #cw abuse #afton siblings

[enkas-illusion]

Double Trouble

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Rating: SFW

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, suggestive, no smut, language.

Summary: Boyfriend!Satoru with a twin and they're exact copies of each other, down to their mannerism so they often switch places just to test how long it takes for you to figure out you're talking to the other one.

Author's Note: The one where he isn’t the only Honoured one. I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Say Yes by Loco, Punch

Satoru Gojo was everything you could've asked for in a partner. He was kind, funny, intelligent, sexy, and had better emotional maturity than most men despite being somewhat of a nihilist in his own way – perfect was the word to describe him.

The only problem was that he was a bit too much to handle at times, or dare one say, a bit *too many, – meaning his mother gave birth to him and thought ‘he's perfect!’ so she popped another xerox copy 2 minutes later.

And thus were born Satoru and Soichiro, the most identical twins in the history of twins. The two not only shared the same face but had gained quite some notoriety among friends and family for sharing the same brain cell as well. 

While you had no reason to complain about their flawless personalities, they'd taken a liking to mess with you each time they got together. One would think they'd go easy with the pranks if it's someone they love, right? Wrong! It meant the shit you had to endure was way worse than any other normal friend would have to.

On one such instance, Soichiro tagged along with Satoru after work and it wasn't until halfway through dinner that your instinct went off and you figured out it was the twin who was sitting next to you instead of your boyfriend as usual. Later that night, you'd warned Satoru about it, presenting a solid argument even he couldn't resist.

“You know I almost grabbed his thigh under the table tonight!”

“No, you didn't,” Satoru scoffed.

“Okay, maybe not. But it’s highly likely that I could've! Ummm… what if one day you return home and I greet you in some skimpy lingerie but instead of you, it’s your brother who sees me, all titties out???” You were grasping at straws really.

“Will you do that!?” His ears perked up.

“Not the point, Toru…”

“Hmm… okay fine, I won't let it get that far,” he assured you. 

“But you'll still continue to tease me?” You huffed and he nodded his head, smiling innocently. You rolled your eyes at him, complaining about how he was the ‘worst’ while he simply gave you a bear hug and a few kisses to make it up to you.

~~~

So, even after being with Satoru for more than a year, you still did not know how to distinguish between the two. The only people to do so in a split-second were his parents. You had once sat the twins down to compare their faces for any tiny details you might’ve missed but you came up short regardless. 

You could only tell the difference by instinct, after having a conversation with them – maybe you were more delusional than you'd like to admit but to you, Satoru's voice held a lot of love each time he called your name.

In an attempt to distinguish the two, you thought you'd successfully managed to get Satoru to dye his hair black with temporary colour last time you went to their family house, only to find out Soichiro had done the same and was waiting for you, waving his arm at you in the driveway with a victorious grin.

So when you don't find the twin greeting you like a devil inviting you to hell this time, you turn to your boyfriend who's undoing his seatbelt.

“Listen to me, Satoru,” you grab his collar to turn him to look at you as you speak in a serious tone, “Please don't fuck with me this time. One of these days, I might really embarrass myself due to your games.”

“I'm betting on it baby,” he grins as he gives you a quick peck before swiftly making his way out of the car to avoid your scolding. You were going to stay at his parents’ country house for a weekend and you could already tell it was going to be a long weekend.

You sigh as you grab your bag and he opens the door for you before pulling the bag out of your hand and holding his hand out for you. It's impossible to be annoyed at Satoru for long when he pulls shit like this.

When you enter the house, Satoru excuses himself to find his father and you make your way to the backyard garden where you guess his mother might be. You smile to yourself when your guess is right.

“How can I help?” You smile, making his mother turn to look at you. She gently puts the shovel down next to the plants she's depotting.

“Hello dear, you've arrived just in time… would you mind bringing the remaining pots? They’re near the window in the reading room,” she instructs and you nod as you make your way back inside.

You walk the long corridor before you reach your destination, making your way to the window where the pots were placed. You lift two in each hand, holding them with care, trying not to drop them or stain your t-shirt. 

“Need some help?” you hear a voice and turn around to see the other twin at the door. The only reason you can tell it's Soichiro is because he's wearing a grey t-shirt and black sweatpants as opposed to your boyfriend who was wearing a purple hoodie and coal grey pants. 

“Hey Sochi, could you pick the last one?” You motion your head in the direction of the last pot, “Gotta move it to the garden.”

He nods before picking up the pot and walking with you, back to the backyard garden. 

“Did you arrive before us? I didn't see your car in the driveway,” you make conversation along the way.

“My car's out for servicing. I arrived with the mothership yesterday when she was in town shopping,” he explains.

“Hmm…” you nod as you stop near the area where the soil has been rooted out of the ground, “here.” 

You motion to him to keep the pot down and he obeys as he leans down to place them there gently. You're busy looking around to find Mrs. Gojo when you hear him speak, “Anything else, princes–”

Your eyes widen as your head snaps back to look at him.

“SATORU!” you gasp at the nickname that accidentally slips out of your boyfriend's name, making you realise it's not his twin.

“Soichiro! Leave my poor girl alone,” the other blondie walks out wearing the exact same clothes. You look between the two as you stare in disbelief, not being able to tell who's who.

You're about to speak when you hear their mom's voice as she moves closer to you, pressing an arm gently around your shoulder, “Satoru… I'd expect you of all people to be nice to her,” shaking her head at the twin standing next to you.

You were right! The twin next to you is Satoru!

“No, it's okay! The best way to deal with them is to avoid both of them the entire weekend,” you give your boyfriend the fakest smile you can muster up as you walk hand in hand with his mother to fulfil your gardening duties.

As it's the only exact identical matching outfit the twins have, they don't mind wearing it all weekend. As the day progresses, you find yourself working your brain full time to notice any difference you can find, but the guys are relentless to the point where even their sleeves are rolled to the exact same length.

And of course, the whole day is spent the way you’d dreaded and almost predicted it’d be like. Later when you’re out on the porch having coffee and watching the sunset with your boyfriend, you notice Satoru has an insect bite on the side of his wrist.

“Toru?” you question, wanting to make sure you have the right twin next to you.

“Hmm?” he peels his eyes away from the pretty sunset to look at you. 

“Kiss me?” you ask softly.

“Wha– is this a test?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You know what, nevermind… I just felt like it cause this is the first time we’ve been alone all d–” your words are cut off by his lips capturing yours. You smile into the kiss as Satoru cups your face, caressing your cheek.

Satoru check completed! You make a mental note to observe his wrist for the mark each time you interact with the twins.

After dinner when everyone's lazing around in the living room and watching whatever reality tv show is playing in the background, you excuse yourself to go to the washroom. Roaming around, you end up in Satoru's old bedroom. It's endearing seeing how you can still find pieces of his current personality, likes, hobbies and interests in bits, plastered everywhere around his room.

You find yourself craving some alone time with your boyfriend all of a sudden so you pull your phone out to text him to come up to his room. You only have to wait a few minutes before you hear a knock on the door.

“It's open,” you say as you place the book that you were holding back on the shelf. With a big grin, you extend your arm out to him and he takes it.

“Hello, darling,” he says in a playful tone and your eyes briefly glance at his wrist. No mark. It's Soichiro. He pulls you into a hug and pats your head.

Fine. If your boyfriend still wants to mess with you even when you’re needy for him, he's gonna get his payback. You decide at that moment – this switcharoo bullshit stops today.

You smile innocently at Soichiro as you pull away, your hands travel up to his chest to push him back till he falls on the bed.

You hop on top of him to straddle him but are careful enough to not actually make any sort of inappropriate contact, hovering above without closing the gap between your bodies. You simply wanted to push him enough to get him uncomfortable and to confess.

You can see the nervousness on his face as he clears his throat to come up with an excuse to get out of this situation without making it awkward, “T-the door’s open, let me–”

“It’s just us Toru… I doubt anyone’s gonna bother coming up to find us anyway,” you purr as you lean your body forward, placing your palms on the sides of his head to support your weight. You start feeling anxious too, you need him to break soon or you’d have to abandon the act, so you persist and whisper in his ear, “You look so sexy, I’ve been wanting to feel you inside me all day, Satoru.”

You cringe internally at your own words. But in that moment, you can see his face get paler than it usually is and you want to laugh at how nervous he looks when he hits his limit at your lewd comments.

“Wait, I’m no–” Soichiro pushes you by the shoulders as he begins in panic, another voice interrupts, pushing the half-open door forcefully, “Baby, wait!”

You feel a large arm hook around your waist to pull you away. As you stumble to your feet, breaking free from his hold, you turn around to see an annoyed Satoru, knitting his eyebrows as he looks at you. He looks more annoyed at himself than at you.

“Satoru?” you question as you bring up a hand to his cheek.

“Yes, baby?” he asks in that loving tone you’re so used to as he wraps his arms around your waist tighter.

You smile as you caress his cheek, trying hard to hold in your laughter, “What… A… Dumbass!”

You burst out laughing as you break free from his embrace and he stares at you in disbelief. You look from him to Soichiro, who’s already stood up from the bed as you hold your stomach, hurting from laughing so much, “That should teach you both!”

“Well then, I’m gonna go watch tv with the only two sensible people in this house,” you wave the baffled twins goodbye and turn around to leave the room. The very next second, you’re taken by surprise when you feel a hand grab your wrist to keep you from moving.

You turn around to see that your boyfriend seems… mad at you?

“Sochi, do you mind? I wanna talk to her alone,” Satoru motions his brother to leave the room.

“Yikes, just keep it quiet,” the twin chuckles in embarrassment as he walks out hastily. You hear the door close behind you before footsteps recede down the hallway.

You look at Satoru, expecting him to speak up. But your boyfriend simply grabs both of your wrists before twisting them behind your back and closes the distance between your bodies.

“Waitttt… is this Toru or Sochi? It is impossible to tell!” your words are dry and sarcastic as you giggle at him.

“Baby, I don’t think you’re in a position to be laughing at me right now,” he towers over you, his grip on your waists tightening.

“But here we are! I told you not to mess with me,” you chuckle as you try to wriggle your wrists out of his grip.

“And I’ve warned you not to press my buttons… or do I need to remind you again?” he grunts as he flips you around, walking you to the bed till your knees hit the edge of the bed, making you stumble on the mattress with him behind you. He brings a hand to the back of your head to press your face down into the mattress and you take this opportunity to try to hold him. He tsks at your movement before moving away from your completely.

You flip your body around to lie on your back and see what’s going on, only to find him rummaging through his closet. When Satoru turns around to walk back towards the bed, you notice two ties in his hands. 

This isn’t how you’d expected your little prank to turn out but you definitely weren’t complaining. However, just as Satoru straddles you, grabbing your wrists, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“What?” he groans into the speaker.

“Mum’s calling you both downstairs,” you hear Soichiro’s voice on the other end.

You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing as Satoru groans once again before cutting the call with a ‘be right there’.

“I think god sent a guardian angel disguised as your mom for me,” you chuckle as you sit up, making your way out from under him.

“You’re lucky,” Satoru grabs your jaw, “but don’t get ahead of yourself, guardian angel can't save you past her bedtime.”

You poke your tongue out to tease him, breaking free and springing out of the bed, mumbling a ‘whatever’, walking out towards the living room. 

As you make your way back down the hall, you hear your boyfriend’s footsteps behind you. You smile to yourself as you begin to brew different ideas of riling him up further throughout the night.

~fin~

#jjk x you #erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jujutsukaisen x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo

[wosoluver]

To undo a mistake

Part 11/17 - previous - next

Lena x Bayern Player!reader

Lena's pov

Today I was going into the Bayern headquarters to sign my transfer.

Anxiety had completely taken my body.

I want this and I want this future.

But deep inside I knew I should have mentioned to Y/N I was applying for it.

But again I didn't know the outcome yet and I didn't want to scare her away.

And even if I wanted to, we didn't have the chance to talk about work. All we talked was basic things that never involved going under the surface. Not after coming clean at least. After that we kept things light.

By now the girls had already mentioned the rumors going around. I didn't want to force things by asking how she was or how she reacted. But I couldn't help but wonder.

It was around one in the afternoon, when I arrived. Everyone was scattered around. Apparently their morning training was already done. With that I had the chance to say hello and chat a little bit with my friends.

Y/N had come bursting through the door. She was coming in from the field. She wasn't too loud but I would've recognized that laugh anywhere.

"No, but good thing you still know how to kick a ball!"

"Once I'm a hundred percent, we are so on for 1v1 duels."

"Done deal-" - and as soon she had seen me, she went quiet.

She couldn't really go past us without coming across. So the girl who I presumed was Ana, was quick to try and make things lighter for her friend. If that's even what they were. Just friends.

"Lena Oberdorf right? I'm Ana, Guzmán." - She tried to sound kind but her facial expressions were rather harsh. And so were mine.

"Ana as in Y/N's friend?" - I said as she nodded. "Nice to meet you." - I managed to say it through my teeth. As I gave one of my best fake smiles.

"You too. But we have to get going." - Surely sensing I was about to start something, Y/N quickly spoke.

"Good to see you Lena, but we do have somewhere to be." - As she started to walk pass us pulling Ana along by the arm.

I heard a fake cough as I returned my attention to the girls.

"Well, that was..."

"Intense." - Said Syd, cutting off Lea's comment.

"I was actually going to say awkward, but that works too." - Lea finished up

"No it wasn't. We were just introducing each other."

"Felt a little more than that but, okay." Klara let out this time."

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" - Lea said pulling me away to a corner. "Calm down Lena!" - She whisper yelled- "What's next? You two are going to pee on her to claim territory?

You need to let her be. You two are just friends now. And that's, if you manage to fix the part where you didn't tell her you were moving teams!

Don't be unfair to her. She's finally back to being herself.

I know your jealous, but if you think your just going to show up and separate her from the only person that she's managed to let in, your wrong.

I'm saying this as your friend, if you want her back start giving her some space, try to become a good friend to her, before you even think about anything else."

"Okay." - was all I let out. She was right. And I know that. But it was always so hard to let others win, even if it was just an argument. "I need to go in for the meeting anyway. I'll text you later."

Y/N's pov

When you and Ana said you had somewhere to be, you both meant the same thing. As far away from there as possible.

"Thank you, for stepping up for me." - You said as you both got changed after taking a shower.

"Don't worry. Your not on your own anymore. I don't mean like you need someone to protect you. What I mean-"

"I know what you mean." - You said giving her a small smile. "Lunch and then coffee?"

"Yep, let's go." - She said as she followed behind you, out to your car.

"When are you getting your license? I'm kind of tired of driving you around. I was born to be a passenger princess." - You said remembering the first time you two had met.

And that was the thing. Before, everything you would say, would remind you of Lena. But little by little, your memories of Lena, that usually made you sad, where being replaced by good memories with Ana.

"When I'm fully healthy again and when I finally learn some german."

"But that's going to take so long."

"Just like another 2 months."

"No, I meant your german." - there was both of you again, always laughing and making fun of each other.

What do you guys think is going to take for Obi to win the reader back? And what do you think it might drive the reader apart from Guzmán?" I'd love to know!!

#woso #woso x reader #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #fc bayern frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen #dfb frauen

[celemee]

"Don't come any closer."

Anyone. Please.

You'll regret asking for this. 😅

My male Durge Raven x Enver Gortash. Deathfic. [ao3]

-----

Silence reigns deep underground, coalescing where Raven kneels. Mud seeping through his leathers, so cold. So wet. 

Wet like his cheeks. The inexplicable hiccups wracking his body as he… sobs?

Has he ever cried before? 

Fingers trace the cool cheek of the only person who could have told him. The last to know him, before… all this. 

Enver lies at his feet, face blackened by the Nether Brain's bolt. Silent. Unmoving. His eyes never again lighting up with recognition — with unmistakable love.

"Who are you?" Raven whispers, finger drawing the shape of his lips. "Who were we?" 

The answer swells in his chest till he feels the limits of his bones, like on the day of their reunion, but it doesn't satisfy. 

What good is his love now? What use is it, when all he wants lies dead at his feet? When even Withers can't undo what's been done to his Enver? 

Such a petty, monochrome death. Wholly unsuited a soul like his. 

A tear falls from his face, dissolving onto Enver's. Raven straddles him, leans in close till they're chest to chest, cheek to cheek. The cold flesh so… wrong.

It was never meant to be this way. He doesn't know where the knowledge bubbles up from, but it takes hold. Firm, as his grip on Enver's arms. Even in his darkest days he couldn't have wanted this. 

A kiss to his lover's ear. Something tells him that's right and good. The dark hair so soft against his face — he pulls in a breath, reminded of the home he can't picture. The scent like a balm to his aching heart — till he recalls the circumstances. 

Raven draws back, sobbing freely once more, studying the dear face through the blur of tears. How did they meet? How did they become? 

Enver told him, spoke through nights and explained in detail, but it's not enough. If only he could reach inside of himself and unlock the memories. Understand why he's crouched here, holding onto a corpse for dear life. Wanting nothing more than to join him. 

What purpose is left for him? 

He leans in once more, closing his eyes as arms wrap around Enver's head. Cheek to forehead as he cradles him in a vain attempt at warming him. Lips kissing a plea into Enver's hair for any deity to hear; unite them again. 

"Raven," a familiar voice stirs him. 

Halsin. 

A heartbreak of his own in his eyes when Raven growls; "Don't come any closer."

The elf pauses several paces away, looking on in silence. 

Raven swallows hard, breathes Enver in — holds him so hard it would hurt if… if he lived. A pang of regret runs through him at the thought; he loosens his grip. 

"I'm so sorry, my love," he whispers into the hair that's turning matted from snot and tears. Ruined by him. Dead. Because of him. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You know I never would, not on purpose."

Halsin kneels in his peripheral vision, still quiet. 

Raven nestles into the crook of Enver's neck, ruining yet another part of him with the grief that's both alien and viscerally his own. He doesn't know how long he prays — but no-one listens. Silence from Bane. Cold shoulder from Bhaal. Echoing emptiness from Myrkul, and less still from every other name he can recall. 

"Raven," Halsin says, cautiously. "Let me help you."

It's strange, hearing him so uncertain. But before Raven can formulate a response, he continues; "He doesn't belong here in the sewers."

Raven swallows, lifting his head from his comfortable hiding place — the crook that feels made for him. Can't see Halsin's eyes from the unfocused mess of his own, but he's right. He'd forgotten. They're deep underground — surrounded by filth and indignity. Wholly unfitting the would-be king in his arms, his dearest co-ruler. 

Unfitting for Halsin, too. Sweet, kind, honey-eyed Halsin, quiet and patient at the scene of Raven's tragedy. 

Every extremity trembles as he lifts to his feet, hands reluctant to let go. An awful, deep sob wracks through him before he can breathe again — from here, the signs of life are so plainly absent. 

A warm hand rests on his shoulder — a reminder he himself still lives. Bears the burden of responsibility, this grim duty to his other half. 

He watches as the strong arms lift Enver by his armpits. Draws in a breath when his lover's head lolls forward, the pride and brilliance dimmed to mechanical responses to gravity. 

Halsin rights it, the gesture so small and yet so meaningful. Raven's arms lock around Enver's thighs, determined to see this through. Eyes fixed on his fallen purpose. 

There's no plan. No sight of a future, no hope for a past uncovered. No light at the end of the tunnel. Every breath in his chest stolen and wrong. 

This… won't suffice. This can't be the end — they'd only just begun again. There must be a way. 

He has to find it. 

#baldur's gate #enver gortash #the dark urge #durgetash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #the dark urge x enver gortash #fanfic #my writing #oc: ravendras #tw death #the dark urge x halsin

[tvfangirladdict]

So everyone else seems to be bolstered in their Buddie hope after this episode, but am I the only one that's getting a sinking feeling instead?

On one hand, yes, the repressed catholic guilt for Eddie makes me optimistic--and was I understanding Maddie's hint about Eddie correctly or was I crazy?--but everything else read to me as ABC beginning to--maybe not solidfy Buck and Eddie as only friends, but at least pump the breaks on Buddie.

I get letting them grow and learn more about themselves in separate relationships first, but Eddie's genuine, physical attraction to Marisol? Going back to the beginning of their relationship so ABC can undo how Fox just kind of through them together like usual right before the season finale and they can actually show the development of this relationship that's existed for months now but we weren't able to see? Paralleling this with Buck and Tommy who want to get to know each other better? Buck and Eddie's shorter, more bro-style interactions vs the softer more intimate interactions we were used to seeing in Buck's kitchen? The hug and "call Tommy," was all just so quick and platonic😭.

I'm not saying they'll never go there, I'm just saying I'm not so confident that if it does happen, we'll see it confirmed in the next few years.

Anyone else know the story of Benson and Stabler on SVU? They were always partners/ best friends/ride-or-dies/more-than-friends/soulmates, but Stabler was Catholic, married and had up to 5 kids. Everyone and their mother knew those two were meant to be, but their timing just never worked out. In their first 12 years before Chris(Stabler) left the show though, they hugged like a total of 3 times, never once said "I love you" or ever crossed the line physically. Okay? You with me? And yet, there was so much chemistry and love shown between them, that they were undeniable.

Cut forward 10 years, and Stabler gets his own spinoff and is brought back into Benson's life. 22 YEARS in the making. In his first season back, his wife was killed, he told her "I love you" and this giant, unspoken thing between them was actually fucking acknowledged by their characters in the show. In one season, they advanced these twos' personal relationship more than the previous 22 years put together.

But then.... nothing happened. I mean small things here and there between the two shows, an almost kiss, them admitting they want each other. But still, three years later and they still aren't together. And now we're at 25 years, for what has to be the slowest slow burn in the history of like, everything.

All this to say, I'm really afraid that ABC and Tim Minear are only coming out swinging so hard in an effort to hook existing fans and gain their loyalty. But then, it's going to go back to doing what any other major television company does, and it's going to fall back into drawing it out as long as possible. Because yeah, the show is on season 7, but if ABC wants it to go another 7 for themselves, they can't just rush and give us what we want in the first one or two seasons, that wouldn't be a good financial strategy for them. I really don't think they'll do it that way.

ABC gave us bi Buck and they can't ever take that away, but will they trap us with that bait, and be content with making everyone halfway happy to avoid taking too many more risks so soon or ever? Yeah, I really think they're not above that.

I feel like we're already falling back into the patented responses from cast and crew that "you never know" or "anything can happen" or "nothing is set in stone", so that's not making me feel great.

Don't get me wrong, I would be so happy to admit I'm wrong if it doesn't go the way I think it will, but I don't think I can live episode-to-episode for another 7 years living off scraps of Buddie interactions and subtext😭😭 I'd rather they just go the "brother" route so I can get closure and focus on fanfiction instead. The will they/won't they and overanalyslzing every single second looking for a hint of something sexual or romantic between them will be the death of me, because at the end of the day, it'll mean whatever ABC will want it to mean😭

Most of yall probably won't even read this, but I had to get my anxiety out, lmao😅

#buddie

[mdhwrites]

So, do you find it odd why the Guardian couldn't just give Anne a new set of stones or even the ability to be able to go back and forth between worlds? Like considering they were able to give Anne the means for a one-way trip back home, why not just let her travel between worlds since she made it clear she isn't gonna take advantage of the stones' powers for selfish purposes?

So I've talked before at decent length on how I LOVE the reasoning for the Guardian to have done what he did, how he did it and how it even ties into the show thematically. Part of that analysis of mine in the past has been that the Guardian himself even points out that his experiment lasted WAY. FUCKING. LONGER than he expected because it took so long for one person, out of potentially millions or even billions of people, to FINALLY do the right thing with the stones. What was meant to be fun and spice up his job now became an annoying nuisance that he was too stubborn to take back.

With that said: Yeah, Anne won't abuse them... But you obviously wouldn't want Anne to be the ONLY one using them, would you? Because the point of her having the stones permanently is for a way back to Amphibia. Well... Does the Guardian think Marcy is a trustworthy enough person to have the stones? Sasha? What if one of them decides to just take them and go, never to be seen again, in a moment of weakness like the one Marcy had at the start of the series?

But let's be kind. Let's say the trio only uses the stones when Anne is around because Anne is the only one allowed to use them. Well... What if Anne trips one day and the stones slip out of her pocket? Or hell, they live in Los Angeles. What if on their way to use the stones, a pick pocket takes them? Or someone steals from the Boonchuy's/Anne's house and gets ahold of them? Well, I guess now some other person has unlimited, ultimate power, don't they? Sure, the Guardian could have a fail safe now to nuke them at any given time but that still means that Anne has screwed up and let that power go and now it's gone because of her negligence. She has failed with this responsibility that she didn't even want. If you think she did or she wouldn't fuck up somehow...

Did you not even listen to Anne? Anne admits that she's not a perfect person. She has a lot of growing to do. That could also mean negative growth though. If anything went wrong in her life while she still had access to unlimited power, to the ability to go between worlds to find an answer to solve what was upsetting her... Does she ever abuse that? Does she ever give into that despair or hurt? After all, change is hard. Wanting to deny it and undo it so that you can keep living the comfortable existence you once had is a lot easier to chase, even though it's a mistake. It's essentially the cardinal sin of the show after all. Marcy has them use the music box so she doesn't have to face the harsh reality of losing her friends.

So yeah, he could have made a perfect set of stones that was outlined to need Anne's entire being scanned each time they were used so only she could use them and no one else but... How is that a better ending? Instead of book ending the story with saying goodbye to your friends and having to face that, we'd have a comfier ending for the audience that didn't make sense for the themes of the show and is weirdly bent towards wish fulfillment in a show that's never really been about that. It'd be worse except for the members of the fandom who want Amphibia to give them all the answers they want in their own life. Who don't ever want the discomfort of leaving their frog show behind or the cruel reality that someday they'll likely say goodbye to their friends too.

When that times comes, no god is going to give you a magic set of stones that let you go back and forth as you please. You'll have to accept that change because sometimes change is forced upon you as a part of life. Not even in the worst ways. Sometimes it's just unlucky circumstances or your own choice. Your dream job may mean leaving your hometown because they ask you to relocate or you already knew that the company's offices were FAR away but you still wanted to work there. Sometimes the college you want is too far away for a day trip to your family so now if you want to keep those ties together, you have to put in the work and find new ways to get back to them.

But if you put in the work, you'll be surprised how loyal and deep those bonds can be.

Like I've said so many times: There's almost nothing in the finale, ESPECIALLY once the Guardian shows up and beyond, that I think you could change to make for a better ending to this show and its themes. Period. You can try to be a pedant about it but you're asking for the show to give you more comfort at the cost of a worse story. That's not what I want and it's not what we should want out of our media, not if we actually want it to ever challenge us and help us grow.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #The Guardian

[trans-advice]

Hi! This gets a little heavy, which I hope is okay.

I'm a young adult, trans, and living in a red state. I don't have the means to pack up and move elsewhere. I'm old enough that I technically could have come out or taken steps to transition by now. I just haven't.

I'm the type of person who thinks about it for days if a cashier gives me a weird look. I need everyone to like me so much. The "authentic" me and the people-pleasing conformist are fighting. And the conformist is winning. (I'm getting a good grace in gender conformance, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve, lol.) I don't feel mentally healthy about it.

Keeping in mind that I'm surrounded by Republicans, it doesn't even feel maladaptive. It just feels normal except for the part where I'm never happy. I'm not brave, and any plan I make for my future has to reckon with that.

I don't know. Can someone please tell me there's hope for me?

Yes there's hope.

Personally, I think you're probably doing well on the "don't debate fascists/transphobes" PSA's from 2016, so take comfort in that. If you are not out, then maybe it will be easier to leave people, or at least move out to somewhere else. Granted, rent is high, but still, housing discrimination. If you can't move away then basically try to be away from the republicans you're surrounded by as much as possible.

Coming out was originally meant for new people within lgbtqia+ spaces, like bars & parties. Then from those spaces it got repurposed by people who already had ties to other lgbtqia+ such as communities, friends, or college campus version of GSA's (called lgbtqa which combined the lgbtq acronym with the soffa acronym). Point being, if you are surrounded by transphobes, and you don't have community ties yet with say t4t spaces or lgbtqia+ spaces, then do not come out. It take groups of people to oppress & it takes groups of people to undo that oppression. It would be wiser to figure out how to move from place to place, whether across state lines or not, in order to gain more access to affirming spaces, than it would be to come out like right now.

I'm not sure how what the range of bravery, but basically when people were like "don't debate fascists" online in 2016ish, that also means don't debate transphobes today. Avoid talking to them as much as possible. I would consider just travelling around until you get some plans for how to move away.

The thing is I don't think you're wrong to be thinking about people who give you weird looks, if anything I think channeling it into some action plans might be needed. I would pay attention to your physical vulernabilities & the layout of places so you can have an escape plan. In your example maybe remember who the cashier was & where you were at in order to decide whether you try going somewhere else. (Although scary to learn about, look up "fatal funnels" & "containment", they are easier to spot.)

If you can protect the pages from hostile eyes, then if you want it analog, then maybe a note book where you dedicate 1 page to an index of zipcodes & then you write encounters on pages with those zipcodes, maybe using google maps or something to find the zipcode. Lowkey I'm thinking of Loewen's Historical Database of Sundown Towns. (Because 'erf in english is white [supremacist] feminist in spanish.)

Likewise look into places where you can get away from Republicans would be a good idea. Like where are spaces where you can be alone that are relatively safe & that you can leave safely as needed? The mentality I'm talking here is the kind where you lay your head at a fast food restaurant table while waiting for your food & then getting up. Or where do people sneak out to take a smoke break. Whether you use this for rest, or for something trans affirming, is up to you. The point is to get yourself to spot opportunities for some refuge for some things. Basically this also applies to trying to so self-care so that you have less problems later.

Good Luck, Peace & Love,

Eve

[pjthewitch]

Hi! Saw your update post and was intrigued by the point regarding your pull towards Luciferianism.

I’ve just begun my journey in the world of witchcraft and spirits, and currently focusing on research rather than practice. If you don’t mind can I ask you if Luciferianism is dangerous? I know working with spirits and the supernatural opens us up and can make us vulnerable but will this particular practice open one up to harm?

Sorry this is a bit of a long answer! I'd like to share where I went wrong and some advice.

I would like to preface this by saying that I am not super knowledgeable about Luciferianism. I'm only recently reentering the learning cycle myself. However, as someone who holds Lucifer in very high regard and respect, I'm pulled to say no. The popular idea of Lucifer being The Satan or The Great Evil was born out of mistranslations and misunderstandings. It is my opinion that Lucifer and Satan are two different beings.

What happened when I was practicing the first time was this. I was 14, raised Christian, and attending Catholic school. I had always felt a draw towards other religions, but all my friends were practicing Wicca which wasn't for me. My first thought was Satanism, but doing more research that also wasn't for me, I wanted something more spiritual. That's when I found Luciferianism.

There weren't a lot of resources online at the time, so all of my research came from this one website (which I will not name for safeties sake). It focused a lot on black magic and posted sermons (usually very antisemitic). I didn't really know how to recognize antisemitism though, since I had never met any Jewish people or been taught about them.

I got pulled pretty deep into it on my own, and I started practicing magick from the website. I was entirely inexperienced with witchcraft, so I didn't know what black magic actually meant (i thought it just meant dark). I felt really powerful for a while, but then one night, after I did a ritual devoting myself to Satan (not Lucifer, but Satan, as the website instructed) it very quickly turned into fear and panic.

It wasn't anything out of a horror movie. I've always been very sensitive to seeing spirits, feeling spirits, and receiving messages as visions. After that night, every time I turned the lights off to go to bed, there was always a pitch black shadow standing in the far right corner of my bedroom. It would just stand there. I tried to convince myself I wasn't scared, but I could feel the energy emanating from this thing and it was just pure terror.

Then I ventured into the forums, and found that it was mostly people being very very overtly antisemitic. I thought it was disgusting the things people were posting, and I thought that kind of mindset was dangerous. So I left and I stopped practicing. I actually ended up moving out of my dads house because of it, and I still refuse to go in my old room when I visit. My dad and his wife say they had to do a lot of work to get that thing out (not sure what they mean by that, but probably a lot of praying and bringing pastors over idk).

I was Christian for about a year, and then I started feeling comfortable enough to start practicing magic again and researching different forms of Polytheism and non-christian religions. It's taken me until this year to be comfortable enough to even try learning about subjects such as Lucifer, Satan, Demonology, etc.. I still only do solo work and refuse to get involved with any religious groups because of it.

Moral of the story is, I was an inexperienced teen who fell pray to a dangerous group. The most dangerous part of delving into any new religion is the chance of learning backwards practices and falling into bad groups. If anything, make sure you're vetting websites and groups, try not to get all your information from one place unless you know it's trustworthy. Ask around communities.

Don't do any spells or rituals without knowing you can undo them. Don't summon anything that you don't know with certainty you can banish. Cleanse and put sheilds or wards up before doing any kind of spirit work! (That last one is important, even just to prevent minor tricksters or energies from muddling messages).

It's great that you're focusing on research and asking questions! You're already off to a better start than I was. I don't think Luciferianism is inherently dangerous, I think the most dangerous thing is the types of people it can tend to attract and the belief systems those groups build. It's important to try to learn from elder practitioners mistakes, but if someone is using their experience or status to manipulate you, that's a huge red flag.

But yeah, in general, look out for antisemitism. My partner is a former Luciferian as well, but practised for a lot longer than I did, and they say that that's a huge one.  Especially, apparently antisemites will end up infiltrating groups/covens a lot of the time.  Watch out for black magic, no religion that I'm aware of requires that you practice it, groups that insist you must are usually not safe. Develop your boundaries (in regards to your practice, and your relationships) before joining any groups, don’t let anyone tell you that you have to do anything you are not comfortable with. It's very easy as a beginner to get pulled into cults, or even just taken advantage of by bad people.

I hope this helps!

[theringers]

addicted - charles leclerc

summary: you and charles have broken up but an unexpected reconciliation and jealousy leads to some fun

request: Can you do Prompt 100 with Charles? ❤️🥺

prompt: 100) "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

warnings: NSFW, 18+, sex, public sex lmao shocker

The music blared out of your speaker as you danced around your bathroom. Your apartment had been quiet for days now, something you definitely weren’t used to.

It had been a few weeks since Charles moved out of your shared apartment. It was an emotional breakup, but something that you both eventually decided was best for the two of you.

“I want this to work more than anything, but I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.” You said between tears.

“I don’t want to be apart from you. I love you.”

“I love you too, but this is what we need.”

“If this is going to make you happiest, this is what I want too.”

You recalled the conversation between you two but quickly pushed it out of your mind and focused on your plans tonight.

It was a Friday night and all of your friends were either out of town or busy, but you wanted to have a fun night. You sent a text to a coworker and decided to meet him out at a restaurant downtown.

It was hot and humid and the outdoor restaurant was making your cheeks turn red. Your coworker had gone to the bar to get you two drinks.

“Hey, how have you been?” He asked when he returned.

“I’ve been doing okay,” you hesitated a bit. “Charles and I broke up a few weeks ago and this is my first time coming out since.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?” He was obviously shocked. You and Charles had been together for years.

“I’m doing okay. We needed time apart, it’s just weird getting used to being alone.” You took a sip of your glass of wine and looked around. So many people were on dates tonight.

“I totally understand that. I’m here for you, whatever you need.” He smiled at you.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

You conversed and decided to order some small plates for dinner. It was refreshing to have the company of someone new, even though you missed Charles immensely.

“No fucking way,” you said as a salad leaf almost fell out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Your eyes focused on the couple a few tables away. “Charles is here, on a date I think?”

“Oh no, we can go somewhere else if it would make you more comfortable.” Your coworker got flustered, trying to make sure you felt okay. His kindness was not overlooked.

“No, it’s okay. This was bound to happen. We live in the same town, a small one at that.” You continued to eat your salad hoping to find something else to get your mind off of this awkward situation.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and shoved your fork in your mouth laughing. Just your luck.

Charles got up from his table and headed towards the bathroom inside. He was wearing your favorite shorts of his and a black top. You loved when he wore black because it complimented his skin and eyes perfectly. The thought of him dressing up like this for someone else hurt.

“I have to use the restroom, excuse me,” you said scooting out of your chair. Your date nodded and smiled.

You picked up your pace so you could catch him inside. Luckily you did, right before he reached the bathroom door. “Charles.”

He turned around confused, saying your name in response to his. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Same thing you are.” He nodded. “I couldn’t let the night go by without saying anything.”

You admired his body, once again. Your favorite outfit of his. For someone else. Ouch.

“I hope you’re doing well,” he said.

“I’m doing the best I can. Same to you.” You both danced around what you really wanted to talk about.

“Who’s the guy?” He asked.

“A friend from work. We’re just here getting drinks.”

He nodded. “I saw you the moment I sat down but I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed happy.” The sadness in his eyes was evident.

“I’m having a good time. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Servers were using the hallway to get back and forth to the kitchen. “Can we talk in here? Somewhere a little more private?” He motioned for the bathroom.

You crossed your arms as you leaned against the door. “Who is the girl?”

“To be honest, I don’t know her at all. She’s a cousin of a friend. He thought I should try to get my mind off of things.” Well that was a bit of a relief.

He stared at you. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” You smiled at him, remembering how much he loved a good compliment.

He took a deep breath in. “I want to be supportive and let you do you, but it’s killing me to see you out with someone else.” You looked at him with sad eyes and felt a chill from the cold air conditioning. “And I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you need to hear right now. But it’s how I feel and we promised to be more honest with each other.”

You looked at his lips and the years you spent kissing them all came back to you. You wanted to pounce on him and feel his body move with yours but you made a promise to yourself. You needed time alone.

"I love you, Charles, I really do-" he cut you off with his lips, practically reading your mind.

"Don't say another word please." It felt so normal, how could you object?

Your bodies molded together the way they always did. You were meant for each other. His fingers tangled in your hair and his warm kisses felt like home.

He pulled away from you, his hands still in your hair. His eyes took in your body and he bit his lip. "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

His hands moved down your body, taking in the feeling. "Just me."

He kissed your neck and left sloppy desperate kisses along your collarbone, causing your head to fall back against the door.

He flipped your body around and you could feel his growing bulge against your ass.

His fingers trailed under your dress and went inside of you, warming you up for him. You let out a soft moan, remembering what his fingers felt like.

He wasted no time by undoing his shorts and guiding himself inside of you. You moaned at the full feeling. His hands gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth on his cock. "Jesus," he said, trying to keep the noise to a minimum.

"Would that guy out there make you feel like this?" He asked you.

You responded in between moans. "No." You always loved his jealous side because amazing sex followed, but this was nothing like you had ever experienced before. You weren’t his anymore but he wanted to make you his again, show you what you were missing.

“He doesn’t know your body like I do, baby,” he whispered in your ear. His hands wrapped around you and found your chest, taking your breasts in his hand.

"Fuck, I love you," you said between moans. He was taken back and stopped for a second, but eventually snapped back into it. His hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them, making you feel even fuller than before.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I need to stop fucking you but I’m just so addicted to you. I can’t stop.” He grunted while continuing to thrust into you.

Your hands were flat against the door and your head turned to the side. You could see his muscles flexing out of the corner of your eye, making you suck in a heavy breath.

“You feel so good, Charles,” you said. A moan escaped your lips but you couldn’t hold anything back any longer. “Fuck me like it’s the first time again.” Embarrassingly enough, your first time together was in the bathroom at a house party. It seemed like bathroom sex was becoming your thing.

He picked up his pace, and pulled out quickly, but not quick enough. He came all over the back of your dress.

Your jaw dropped but you couldn’t help but laugh. He apologized profusely but also let out a small chuckle.

“Let me take you home and clean you up,” he said.

You stopped for a moment to think. “Only if you take this dress off the next time you want to fuck me.” You grabbed your purse and left the bathroom, making a beeline for the side door.

He grabbed your hand and followed you out to his car. “This isn’t how I expected my night to go.” He said, opening up his passenger side door.

You slipped in to his car and laughed. “And you think I did?”

#f1 smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader #cl

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Lick of Paint

Summary: Spencer has no idea his best friend is harboring a secret talent

A/N: This was is one-shot request from a little while ago! I hope you guys enjoy it 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Artist!Reader)

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, paint is involved (but it doesn’t go anywhere it shouldn’t), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3.6k

Request: “Would u do one where it’s a fem!reader x spencer (smut or fluff what ever feels right) where they’re best friends and the reader is very private and one day spencer comes over to her apartment and sees that she’s a really talented painter/drawer/artist ? Thank u!!”

Masterlist

— —

He didn’t have a crush on her. No way. She was just his best friend, nothing more. Just his best friend who he thought about all the time, his best friend who he knew everything about, who he couldn't wait until tomorrow to see.

They got in from their latest case at half past midnight, he was a night owl, and he knew she was too, so why would she mind him showing up uninvited? He hadn’t seen her in 15 days and he probably could wait one more, but he really didn't want to.

Showing up at her door after 1am with a bottle of wine and some snacks he took a minute to run his fingers through his hair and straighten out his shirt before he knocked on the door. He could hear a rustling from the other side, and he could see the light shifting about beneath the door frame. So she was home, and she was awake, and he was trying to suppress his eager little smile.

“You can’t keep calling over this late Mrs. Warner! I don’t have any of your mail—Spencer!” she says it in a little yelp as she pulls the door completely open. And she's standing in front of him in nothing but an oversized button up shirt, her hair’s all messy around her head and there’s a little pencil tucked behind her ear.

He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s sure that he likes it.

“Just me” he pulls his lips into a small smile and gives a tiny little wave with his free hand, shaking the bottle of wine in his other. “I hope I’m not intruding, we just got in earlier than I thought we would and I figured you’d still be up”

As he’s explaining she’s shutting the door slightly again, hiding her body behind it just a little. And even if he wasn’t a profiler he’d know she was uncomfortable, so he starts to shake his head.

“You know what, don’t worry about it! I can come back another time— or I can— I can give you some space if you need it? This was a stupid idea anyway, I should go— I’m gonna go!” he knows he sounds stupid, he’s a rambling mess but before he can properly retreat she’s swinging the door open fully again, reaching out for him and just grabbing him by the strap of his satchel.

“No Spencer wait! I’m happy to see you, I really am” she pulls him to the doorway, letting him step inside. “It’s just— messy? And you haven’t seen my apartment like this before” she’s rushing it out once he gets inside, placing her hands on his shoulders to try and spin him around before he can catch a glimpse of the state of her living room.

“Just gimme a second to tidy—”

“Do you— are you an artist?” he’s not even listening to her anymore, he’s completely fixed on the pages and sketchbooks all scattered around her living room. The sofa is pulled back to create space for the huge canvas that’s spread out all over the floor. Paints and brushes all lined up next to it.

“No!” she shakes her head, “Well not really, I just, I draw sometimes, and paint I guess? But it’s just for me” she’s still got her hands on his shoulders, trying to turn him around in spite of the fact that he’s already seen everything she was trying to hide. Or had managed to keep hidden until now.

“You never told me?” he just looks confused now more than anything, but his eyes are still blown wide as he starts to walk towards the area of the room covered in her materials.

“It’s really nothing Spencer, I didn’t want to tell you, because then you’d want to see, and then I wouldn’t want to show you, or I would show you, and then you’d hate it, and you’d just tell me you liked it to be nice, and I can tell when you’re lying Spencer, and I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I didn’t tell you. But I haven't told anyone.” she’s not looking at him when she speaks anymore, her hands are just wrapped tight around her body protectively. This felt like she was so entirely exposed.

She had only kept two secrets from him all these years. Her art. And her unending infatuation for him. How could she not let him in when he showed up at her front door so excited, and looking so cute in his little sweater with his messy curls.

“Hey” he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, coaxing her to unwrap them. So they fall to her sides and she feels even more exposed now. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to stand out in the hall while you hide all of this stuff, and then we pretend none of this happened, I’ll get comfy out there right now. But I just need you to know that I love you very much, and I’d support anything you ever choose to do. And I know what I want shouldn't factor in, but for what it’s worth, I would like to see some of your work— It doesn't have to be now! But just, if you ever wanted to show me anything, I’d love to see it.”

She can feel how earnest the words are, and she knew he loved her, but it was always so nice to hear it out loud, coming from those gorgeous pink lips. She wants to speak but the words feel like they’re almost caught in her throat when she looks up at him, she has to force them out.

“I’ll show you” she breathes, “I want to show you”

His eyebrows shoot up as she speaks, “I didn't mean— you don’t have to!” he rushes out as she goes to fetch one of her sketchbooks from the ground, handing it to him.

“I want to, honestly. If someones going to see this stuff, I want it to be you” once the sketchbook’s in his grip and out of her hands completely she walks away from him, going to sit on the ground next to the canvas. Right where she’d been sitting when he knocked on the door earlier.

Neither of them say a word while he goes through it page by page. It doesn't occur to her that she’s not sure which one she handed him until she can hear footsteps approaching her from behind.

When he sits down beside her he’s got the sketchbook open to a double spread and she recognizes it instantly.

“Are these drawings of me?” he asks, and it’s almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to scare her. But she nods.

“Um, yeah. There’s actually a bunch of you in these sketchbooks. Your bone structure is just— I don't know— it’s nice to look at” his lips curve up in a small smile at that.

“You think I’m nice to look at?” he teases and she rolls her eyes,

“From an artistic perspective, you're interesting” she tries to walk it back.

“So now I’m just interesting?” he asks, a little smug now that he can tell she’s nervous.

“That’s not what I said!” he starts to chuckle then, closing the notebook and placing it down on the ground behind him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you, and for what it’s worth I think you’re nice to look at too. From any perspective” those few words make her forget where she is completely, they make her feel an entirely different kind of worry than the one she’d been experiencing earlier.

“And I love your work. You said you could tell when I was lying, am I lying?” he’s looking straight into her eyes as he speaks, and she can feel the way her heart is palpitating.

“No, you’re, uh, you're telling the truth” she shakes her head, but his eyes stay focused on her.

“What’s going on this canvas then?” he asks with a smile, and she breaks the eye contact so she can grab another one of her notebooks to show him some of the thumbnails she’d drawn for it.

“This is the idea, I think I need to practice it on something smaller though, just to get a feel for it” she explains as she points to the different shapes on the page, but then Spencer gets an idea.

“Use me” he says, and she just looks at him perplexed, “You said I was interesting, use me as your canvas?” he pulls off his cardigan as he speaks, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his bare arms.

“Spencer, I meant like, a smaller sheet or something, not your arm!” she’s laughing it off, mostly because being in close contact like that with him would probably break her.

“Well use my back then” he says it like it’s obvious, taking off his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt from the top, getting to the third button before she reaches out to stop him.

“You don’t have to do that” she says it with a laugh, like her heart’s not beating out of her chest from the little glimpse of bare skin she can see through the open part of his shirt.

He looks straight into her eyes as he speaks, “I want to.” the words settle in the air between them and they come to a silent agreement. Her hands falling from his so that he can undo the rest of his buttons, shrugging out of his shirt so that she can see his bare torso.

He sits like that for a second, awaiting instructions.

“Um, you should lie down on your front” she says, gesturing to the canvas laid out on the ground, “Wait!” she calls out as he moves to lie down, “You should probably take off your trousers? I don’t wanna get paint on them or anything”

It’s the truth really, but it still feels silly to say out loud. Luckily he just laughs a little and takes them off, but the little clinking sound his belt makes does something to her breathing.

By the time he’s laying face down on the canvas, his head resting on his folded arms, she’s got her materials all lined up next to her. She kneels down beside him, but as she's about to start it occurs to her that this is the complete wrong angle to start the piece. And she knows where she needs to sit, but she’s got no idea how to ask.

“Spencer— I can’t really— this angle is a bit, um…” she stutters

“Maybe you should sit on me?” he asks, uncharacteristically calm, maybe it was the way her voice kept going up an octave, or how fast her heart had been beating almost this entire time, but something made him realize that he wasn’t the nervous one here for maybe the first time since he’d known her.

“You would— You don't mind?” she asks before even moving, and he smiles to himself.

“How could I?”

With that she climbs in top of him, resting a leg either side of his hips. She’s painfully aware that the only thing separating them now is the thin layer of each of their underwear. But she pushes the thought aside as she gets to work.

Spencer’s quiet and well behaved for most of it, only remarking every now and again when the paint was cold against his skin, or when he had to move just a little. All in all she’s finished within an hour.

“Are you finished?” he asks, his eyes closed, relaxing beneath her as she worked. There was something almost therapeutic about the feeling of the brushstrokes against his skin. But he hadn’t felt one for 3 whole minutes now.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring it” she says, “I’ll take a picture for you” she reaches for her phone, snapping a quick photo. Then she sits up off of him and he misses the weight of her on top of him instantly.

When he sits up she sits down opposite him, handing over the phone so that he can take a look at the painting that adorned his back. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The delicate lines, the striking colors, the perfect hands that had painted it.

“This is— I don’t even have the words” he says it in a hushed whisper, “I love it so much” she knows he’s telling the truth again, his eyes don't even look up from the screen to see her reaction, they’re still completely transfixed on the photo. When he does look up he’s smiling.

“Am I telling the truth?” he asks and she nods, but something about her nervous little expression, coupled with her sky-rocketing heart rate gives him the confidence he’s needed for years.

“What if I told that I’ve liked you for a very long time? Would I be telling the truth about that?” his smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips.

For a second she’s not even sure if this is really happening, her eyes trail along his bare torso, taking in the tiny bits of paint that made it down his sides. When her eyes come back up to look in his own, still trained on her she can’t even speak, instead she’s lunging at him, pulling him in by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

She parts hers after a moment, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside, tangling with her own as his hands fly out to grab her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. When they break apart their chests are heaving, breathing ragged, staring straight into each others eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he gasps before his lips are on hers again, hungry and eager.

Her hands start to roam all over his body, soothing over the planes of his skin, digging her fingernails in every now and again, forcing a little moan out of Spencer each time. When he finally grows too impatient his fingers start to work open the buttons on her oversized shirt.

After a minute he’s managed to get them all open and he can pull the shirt apart. As it slouches off of her shoulders he can see her underwear, it’s mismatched and there’s something endearing about it. The fact that neither of them anticipated this. But that was probably for the best, if he knew this is what he was going to do tonight his nerves would’ve gotten the better of him.

His hands are on her immediately, grabbing her breasts over the light cotton fabric, squeezing them gently as he presses his mouth against her neck, planting soft kisses all along it. She takes the time to shrug out of the shirt completely, and his hands snake behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off. Exposing her breasts completely for just a second before his mouth is on them. Cupping one in each hand and placing rough, sloppy kisses all over the soft skin as she moans above him.

“Spencer” she says it with a little gasp as his lips wrap around one of her nipples, just the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was enough to make him hard.

“I need you” she whimpers, and he's gone, bringing one of his hands down between her legs, ghosting over the crotch of her panties to feel the damp patch that had formed there.

“You’re so wet for me” he breathes against her ear, pushing one of his fingers harshly against the fabric, right against her clit, forcing another moan from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I climbed on top of you” she moans, “I was worried you were gonna be able to feel it” she says with a breathy laugh.

“If I’d have been able to feel this,” he says, rubbing small circles over her panties, “then you wouldn’t have gotten to finish that painting”

Once he takes his fingers away she pushes him down by his shoulders, finally straddling the other side of his hips like she’d been thinking about doing for the past hour, or past several years. But he lets out a small yelp of protest.

“The painting!” he says as his back collides with the canvas but she chuckles.

“Fuck the painting” she leans in planting feverish kisses all along the expanse of his neck, sucking and biting in spots so that they’d hopefully leave little bruises later on.

From there they both give up on trying to preserve any of the art on Spencer’s back. Within a matter of minutes it was smeared all along the canvas beneath them. Along with some of the paint one, or both of them, had managed to knock over.

He’s not sure exactly how it happened but at one point he grips her waist and leaves a blue hand print along her skin from the paint he’d managed to put his palm in. When she catches sight of it she just lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t care” she says, when he’s looking up at her with just the smallest hint of worry, “As long as it doesn't get inside me we’re alright”

Before they get too messy she sits up off of him for a minute, taking off her panties and using them to wipe off the little bit of paint that had somehow ended up next to Spencer’s bottom lip. He lets out a small gasp as she traces the fabric along his skin and mutters a tiny, “Good as new” in her sultry sweet voice.

And then her lips are on his again as one of her hands snakes down in-between them to pull at the waistband of his boxers, she gets them down far enough to pull his cock out so that it was right in front of her. He was already achingly hard but something about the size of if in her nimble fingers made him twitch in her grip, leaking from the head with the anticipation.

“God, the things I want to do to you” she gasps as she pumps him up and down in long last strokes, squeezing every now and again as he squirmed underneath her, “But right now I need you inside me Spencer”

With that she rises up on her knees, hovering over him and lining his cock up right between her legs. She takes a second to tease him, running the head through her folds, so that he could feel and hear just how wet she was for him. Once he looks like he can’t take even one more second of the teasing she lowers her hips slowly, sinking down onto his length bit by bit. Right until her hips were flush with his own and he was buried completely inside of her.

They both had to take a minute to savor the feeling. The way she was so wet and warm around him, so tight that he could feel the way she clenched around him. 

The way he stretched her out so perfectly, filling her up in a way that made her think they might actually be made for each other.

And then she starts to move, pumping her hips up and down, leaning forward slightly so that she can rest her hands on his flushed chest for support. She starts off slow, almost at a teasing pace, taking him in as deep as she could each time.

“You feel even better than I imagined” he mutters, his hands coming up to grab her hips, leaving another set of handprints in their wake. “So perfect”

She leans down a little further so that she can place a small kiss on his lips.

“God, you do to! Didn’t know it could feel this good” she moans without really thinking about it, and then she realizes it’s the truth. Something about the anticipation made all of this feel so much better than it ever had with anyone else.

With his hands guiding her now, gripping her harshly, she starts to move faster. Working up and down with more force, both of them panting and moaning desperately as they grew closer and closer.

He’d dreamt about it, imagined it, thought about it, more times than he’d care to admit. But seeing her now, on top of him with her lips softly parted, little whines falling out of her as she hit her climax, he realized his mind could never do this justice.

“Fuck! Ah— Spencer, I’m gonna—” her hips slow to almost a stop, working up and down still but with staggered movements as she rides out her high. Thankfully Spencer’s only a second behind her and she can feel the way he's spilling inside of her, filling her up completely. Then she collapses flat onto his chest, both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat that almost makes their bare skin stick together.

“You’re covered in paint you know” is the first thing Spencer says, his fingers tracing along her back.

“You’re one to talk” she jokes, dragging her finger through the streak of red paint that had gotten on his neck somehow.

Then he finally turns his head, looking at the spilled and smeared paint that lay around them on the once bare canvas.

“I thought you needed this canvas for that painting?” he asks, but she just looks up at him with a smile.

“I think this turned out better”

– –

Comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated, I love you all x

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist

@pinkdiamond1016

@shadyladyperfection

@catlynhoss05

@elldell1204

@jared-19-cant-reid

@lvndrmenace

@n-ecessity

@aubreyxanne

@spencereidshoe

@muffin-cup

@myescapefromthislife

@ezioauditore8880

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg smut #mgg imagine #mgg x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x artist!reader #artist!reader #fem reader #fem!reader

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | ignatz victor

in the wise words of cupcakke, slurp that dick til it cum (smack my ass like a drum)

You skidded backwards as Byleth landed the finishing blow to your side. Stumbling, you let out a defeated huff and dropped your training sword, stretching your arms.

"Jeez teach, even after five years comatose, you still best me in sword-fighting. And that's meant to be my thing!" You guffawed, heavily breathing in between words. You outstretched a gloved hand to your teacher, meeting his blank stare.

"It's mine too." He said, shaking your own hand. You deadpanned before bursting into laughter again.

"You'd be right on that one, teach!" You shook your head, continuing to grin at him, retracting your hand and letting it rest on your hip.

"Your reflexes have sharpened, and your footwork is impressive. You've trained well." He complimented, at which you felt your cheeks darken.

"Ah, thanks! Any constructive criticism?" You hummed, placing the sword back into the pile.

"Yes, you need to put more strength into your strikes." He explained, replacing his own.

You nodded gratefully, looking up to the sky. The sun started to set, a few spotty clouds resting above the two of you.

"I'm turning in for the day, (Y/N). I will be in my personal quarters if you need me." He bid you goodbye before strutting off like usual. As simple as the guy was, he had this odd charm.

"Guess I'll turn in too then... nothing wrong with a stroll around the monastery!" You cheered to yourself. You wiped your sweating face with the sleeve of your top before sauntering off.

~~~~

As you walked alongside the grassy plains of the monastery outskirts, you spotted a small green figure crouching in the distance. You could barely spot them among all the spurts of long grass decorating the land. You walked slowly as to avoid startling them, squinting to see what the hell it was they were doing. On further examination, you recognised that choppy, blonde head of hair.

Continuing to saunter to his destination, you soon picked out exactly what it was he was doing. Painting! You two had talked about your secret hobbies, your own being reading. You smiled at the thought, remembering how shocked each of you was to each other's hobby. You thought you had a pretty strong bond with Ignatz when you returned, so now seems a good time to have a chat!

You approached behind him quietly, taking time to, for once, keep your voice at a low volume.

"Uh, hi Ignatz!" You whisper yelled, flinching as the dirty blonde jumped in surprise. He turned around, breathing a sigh of relief after registering who it was.

"Oh! It's just you, (Y/N). You shocked me, haha!" He nervously greeted you, fidgeting with his paintbrush.

You grinned, waving at him. "Sorry man, I tried not to scare ya!" You chuckled bashfully, before sitting down next to him.

"So, whatcha painting and how are ya doing, Ignatz?" You asked, looking over to him curiously.

His gaze landed on your own, his earthy eyes seeming to be stuck to your own, a tension almost bubbling.

He shook his head, smiling softly at you.

"Ah, simply the view. It really is quite mesmerising in the evening, wouldn't you agree?" Enthusiasm built in his tone as he explained, his soft smile turning into a gleeful grin, matching your own.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. "I agree! I never really took time to take in the sights of the monastery, but now that I've matured... yeah, it really is a beautiful place, huh?" You hummed, looking off to the villages surrounding the base of the mountainous terrain.

He simply hummed to your question. "You're right (Y/N), you've really matured." He complimented, at least, that's what you hoped.

You gave a short laugh, scratching your neck. "Yeah, thanks! I used to be a rowdy one, but I think the past few years have smoothed some of the edges. Not all of 'em though!" You cheered, tilting your head appreciatively. You looked to him, catching his lingering gaze. His face heated up slightly, nodding to you.

"If you don't mind, I uh, have a request..." He mumbled, refusing to meet your eye. He pushed his glasses back, taking a quick peek at your face. If you blinked you would've missed it, he seemed so shy right now!

"Sure thing! If it isn't gold or assassination plans, I'm open!" You beamed, leaning in to hear what he had to ask.

He chuckled anxiously at your response. Even after knowing you for such a long time, having a girl so close to him was nerve-wracking.

"Nothing of the sort, don't worry. I was wondering, well, may I paint your likeness?" He muttered quietly, his heart stammering. His stomach drops after a few seconds of silence before daring to peek at the mystery of what your expression could be.

However, he was pleasantly surprised at what he saw. Your face was dark, lips pursed tight in a taught smile. You stuttered as you replied.

"Y-you wanna paint me! For real?! This is such an honour, seriously, thank you Ignatz!"

Ignatz gasped, anticipating anything but your reaction.

"Oh really, it's no worries!" He waved his hand dismissively, his own face reddening like a tomato.

The two of you continued to throw gratefulness at each other for what seemed like forever until you found yourselves at his dorm.

~~~~

"Well Ignatz, what kind of painting would you like to make?" You asked, sitting on a plush, velvet stool in his room. You looked around the place, noting the birthday flowers from Byleth, the spare easels and art supplies.

"Well, whatever you'd like truly, as long as I may paint you." He answered, humbly smiling and looking down at you.

You smirked, raising a brow. "How about a nude painting then?" You asked teasingly, crossing your legs.

He smiled at the idea. "Oh, what a good idea! I haven't had many references for the female anatomy and I've always been interested in..." The colour seemed to drain from his face as he realised just exactly what you suggested.

You stifled a chuckle, watching him stutter and rush to speak.

"O-oh! I didn't realise, no, I mean of course I would love to! Ah, that's too forward, no um... I don't want to pressure you, argh!" The colour which had left soon returned in the form of a crimson storm.

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Ignatz, really, it's no worries. I would genuinely not mind, I'm happy to as long as you are." You attempted to calm him down, smiling.

He took a deep breath, nodding.

"Then, yes. We're both adults now, there's no need to freak out." He seemed to try to convince himself rather than you.

"Exactly!" You smiled, standing up. "Alright, I'll undress now." You hummed, thinking.

You had already teased him by suggesting a nude painting, and stripping in front of the blushing boy... you could make this fun for yourself. And maybe even both of them. Claude may have just had a point.

You held his gaze as you unclasped your armour, placing it down on his desk, avoiding the parchment and sketches.

Next, you untied your cropped top, letting it fall to the floor leaving only your bodice on your upper half.

Undoing your bra, you broke his gaze for a moment only to look back immediately. His body seemed to stiffen, in more ways than one, once he caught sight of your breasts slightly bouncing as you stopped stretching.

You wiggled out of your puffed pants, sitting back down to pull them all the way off along with your boots and leggings.

"Nearly there!" You huffed, as you stood back up, shedding your underwear.

By then, Ignatz' face had erupted into a furious blush. His eyes lingered all too long on your exposed vagina, causing you to grin teasingly as he met your gaze.

"Now, shall we?" You asked, sitting upon the comforting stool once more.

He seemed to snap out of his daze at those words, tugging on his coat. Pulling out his desk chair, he set it in front of you. Pulling his easel across the room, the slight scratching of wood against wood was the sole sound of the tension-filled room.

Setting a canvas down, he seemed to take a few deep breaths before grabbing a pencil.

"How would you like me to pose?" You asked, smiling. This could be interesting.

"Oh, yes, uh, however you'd like to, really!" He stumbled upon his words, before finally holding your gaze.

"Got it." You responded. How could you tease him further? As you contemplated, you finally came across a decision. You leant one leg over another, giving him a subtle view of your exposed cunt.

You raised your arm, letting your gloved hand sit beneath your chin. Your upper arm pressed against your left breast, giving you slight cleavage, You gave him your signature cheeky grin, before raising a brow.

Speaking through your teeth, you asked him a question. "How's this?"

"J-j-just perfect!" He stuttered, shutting his eyes tight before reopening them and focusing.

"Now, hold that pose for me?" He asked, finally confident and contained. At least, on the outside.

You were content with holding your pose, as long as you could continue to tease him after he finished his sketch was your real goal. Whether or not anything transpired... well, you'd be lying if you said you didn't want anything to.

As you waited, you watched Ignatz' face morph into one of pure concentration, reminding you of how admirable he was. Despite his preference to stay on the quiet side of things, he was a talented man. Both on the battlefield and in the artistic field.

Minutes passed until Ignatz' face settled into a satisfied smile, signifying his completion of the sketch. You grinned wider at this, his face was adorable when he was proud!

"Thank you, (Y/N)." He thanked you. Refusing to look in your direction, he was reminded of the tightness in his pants.

"No, thank you, Ignatz! Actually... it had me wondering... may you do a favour for me?" Your voice dropped into a whisper, so his gaze fell upon your figure. Your eyelids drooped as a sultry smile fell upon your lips.

He gulped at this, yet nodding nonetheless. "Anything."

"Wonderful." You commented pleasantly. Standing up, you sauntered towards him. Aware of his gaze dropping to your softly bouncing tits as you took confident strides towards him.

Once right in front of him, looking down upon his still seated form you grinned.

"Let me... repay the favour you did for me?" You asked, tilting your head, curious.

He swallowed nervously once more, before nodding shyly. He fiddled with his hands, struggling to meet your gaze.

"How... how would you like to do so?" He mumbled, occasionally peeking up at your towering form.

"Well, if I put it bluntly... let me please you." You deadpanned, the loose smirk on your lip tugging back into place on your face, cheeks steadily growing rosier.

His face officially became a competitor for ripest tomato, and he nodded excitedly.

"Please... do." He muttered.

Your lazy smirk grew into a full-on grin. Quickly, you dropped to your knees.

He gasped at the inclination of your actions, his jaw staying dropped as you worked his pants downwards.

You slid his undergarments off, his cock bouncing free of its strained containment.

You licked a stripe up his cock, leaving a trail of saliva in your wake. He shuddered, a slight moan escaping his taught lips.

You gave a kiss to the bulbous, pink head of his dick before letting it slip in between your mouth.

His breath shuttered as you began to work a continuous up-and-down rhythm on his cock.

He gasped in time with each bob of your head, his hand slowly reaching its way to the back of your head. He looked down to check with you for permission, and you winked, giving your best inclination of consent.

And with that, he began to thrust into your mouth and push your head at the same time. God, he was insanely fast and rough, but you controlled your erratic throat muscles. It was pretty damn hot, especially for a guy so shy.

Your hand snaked down to your dripping pussy, the situation you orchestrated obviously having an effect on yourself. Not a negative one though, not at all.

You harshly began to rub your clit, not bothered with dragging it out. You were looking to climax, and by the sounds of Ignatz, he was too.

As you rubbed your sensitive bud, you moaned around his dick. The vibrations caused Ignatz to shudder, closing his eyes tightly.

"I'm gonna cum! Ah, (Y/N) you're making me cum!" He moans, groaning as you felt his cock still, and as the warm, bitter burst of cum in your mouth exploded, so did you. Your pussy clenched around emptiness, yet the throbbing in your clit as you orgasmed satisfied you all the same.

Your head slipped off his softening dick, a pleased smile settling on your face as you swallowed. As bitter as it was, you had nowhere else to hide the evidence.

"Thank you, Y/N)... that was... so good." He whispered, giving you a sweet smile. He leant down and kissed the top of your head and you chuckled.

"But I must ask, is that what you were learning whilst you were gone for so long?"

"Ignatz!?"

#fire emblem x reader smut #fire emblem smut #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #ignatz victor #ignatz x reader #ignatz victor x reader #ignatz smut #ignatz victor smut #fe ignatz #fe3h ignatz #smut #fe3h #fanfic #fe3h x reader #fe3h fanfic

[arminbitchlover]

the moon is beautiful, isn't it? (1)

pairing: connie springer x gn! reader

content warnings: mention of vomit, blood, angst, & death

summary: chapter 138 spoilers / you and connie have been in love for years, falling for each other at the exact same moments. one night, connie tries to hint his feelings towards you on top of utgard's castle, but you don't catch it, so connie shrugs it off. a few years later, during the rumbling, connie decides that it's finally time to admit how he feels.

song recommendations : the swans by: camille saint-saëns, gymnopédie no. 1 by: erik satie, nocturne no. 2 in e flat op.9 no. 2 by: frédéric chopin, and mia and sebastian's theme by: justin hurwitz

word count 4.1k

DO NOT POST/SHARE ANY PART OF MY WORK ON TIKTOK

This is the end.

You lay on the stone floor atop Utgard castle, gazing at the stars while reminiscing on all the memories you made with your friends.

Everything is becoming too much for you; nobody knows how titans are infiltrating the walls if there's no breach, you still have no idea where Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are, and now you're left with no ODM gear to fight in case titans were to take over your refuge.

You feel completely utterly useless.

"It was a good run," You mutter to yourself, feeling the lump in your throat get stronger.

You're not ready to give it all up, your life as a scout was just about to begin. You've met so many people that mean so much to you, especially him.

You won't ever forget when you first met him; Sasha introduced him as her bestfriend and you instantly fell in love with everything about him; his eyes, his voice, his laugh, and his sense of humor, just everything about him is absolutely perfect.

You continue your search for constellations amongst the stars, trying to distract your mind from the harsh reality.

"Hey." You hear a voice come from the door and you turn to have your eyes meet with golden brown orbs.

It's him.

"Connie." You sit up, moving your legs close to your chest with your jacket spread across them.

You feel your face start to heat up as he gets closer to you. You could never understand why he has such an effect on you, he could do the slightest thing and your heart will always skip a beat.

"Mind if I sit?" He walks towards you, one of his hands scratching the back of his neck.

"Be my guest." You gesture on the empty spot next to you, feeling your heartbeat start to quicken as you immediately catch his scent while he settles in next to you.

You glance down and see that your hands are only an inch maybe centimeters apart; god, how bad you wanted to hold it to make you feel better. You look back up, worried that he may have seen but notice that his gaze is fixated on the stars.

"Beautiful, right?" You move your focus back to the night sky.

Almost as beautiful as him.

"Sure beats this shithole," He chuckles.

"Yeah, it sure does..." You trail off, looking back down to the floor while fidgeting with your fingers.

Silence thickens between the two of you, but not the awkward kind when nobody knows what to say, rather the kind that just wants to savor each other's presence. You enjoy it, worried that if you were to say something you might burst into tears from panic, anger, confusion, and sadness.

“...Christa told me you were up here.” He turns to you, sharing a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, I- um told her I would spend some time here for a bit before sleeping.” You take in a deep breath and rub the back of your neck.

You didn't dare overload Connie with your feelings. It wasn't because you thought he would shove them under the rug or tell you to suck it up, but you were fully aware what he was going through as well.

“We’re going to be okay, you know.” He reads you like a book, seeing through your calm demeanor and knowing you were just a ball of anxiety ready to burst at any moment.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"We're going to be okay, you know." Connie laughs, helping you undo your ODM gear.

"Ugh, I wish! This training will be the death of me, I swear." You giggle and place your gear on the table.

You love the way he makes you smile. Even when your body is on the verge of extreme fatigue and exhaustion, he somehow always made you feel a bit better about the whole situation.

"If it makes you feel any better, we're finally having a hot dinner." He places his gear next to yours and you both walk to the dining room.

"As great as that does sound, I just need to get this gunk and sweat off of me." You feel disgusted with yourself, thinking about the number of hours you spent outdoors in the heat.

"Yeah that too, you smell like a Titan just threw up on you," He playfully jokes, already speeding up his pace as he knows what's about to come next.

"Asshole!" You laugh and chase him down the hall.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

It was strange, you could be on opposite sides of the world, but he always knows if something was bothering you, like an invisible tether always kept the two of you in sync.

“You don't know that, Connie.” Your eyes start to get glossy, looking back up to try and hold back your tears.

You can't understand why everything in your life has to end up so shitty. For once you just want to save lives and be the hero that everyone needed after the Shiganshina incident, but you can't even do that.

“Y/n.” He scoots closer to you, gently pulling your head to his chest as he lightly traces your back.

You hold your breath and become stiff as you hear Connie’s heartbeat. Fuck, you'll never get used to this, no matter how many times it happens. Having him comfort you when everything was going wrong and assuring you not to worry and that it was all going to work out, made you forget all your problems for a moment.

"No regrets though, right?" He lightens up the mood with an inside joke.

"No regrets." You smile and feel yourself melt into his embrace.

You love the way he makes you feel, whether you're upset, sad, frustrated, or maybe just hungry, he always finds a way to make your day not so shitty.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask while you bury your head into his chest, feeling like this is too good to be true.

You feel his chest stop moving and his arm stay still. Silence once again takes over and lingers in the air.

"I mean, after what you found out about your family, I-" He cuts you off.

“I��� just really care about you.” And he isn’t lying, he cares about you more than you could imagine.

What you didn't know was that he has been in love with you ever since the day Sasha introduced you as a member of her training squad. He adores everything about you: your voice, your lips, the way your eyes lit up when you ramble about things you're passionate about, and your wits, just everything about you is absolutely perfect.

It didn't take him long to realize he had fallen head over heels for you months ago, but he couldn't tell you. There's no possible way in his eyes for everything to work out if he tells you. He knows the risks of everyone’s lives when it comes to being a scout. He can't bear the thought of becoming more attached to you than he already is and know that he might not have you the next day.

“I care about you too.” You hide your wide grin, relishing this moment for as long as you could.

“Y-You do?” Connie chokes, causing you to pull away and make eye contact.

“Of course I do, why wouldn't I?” You immediately inhale a sharp breath, scared that you may have said something wrong.

‘I need to do it now.’ Connie’s thoughts start to cloud his mind. ‘If this is it, I need her to know.’

“I just… I don't know. Forget it.” He opens up his arm again, inviting you back into his chest.

You brush it off, not wanting to ruin what you already have, and lean back into him. You start copying his breathing, finding comfort that you never thought you would never find again.

You close your eyes for bit, trying your best to memorize everything in the moment. The material of his shirt, his warm skin against yours, the light breeze that hits your face, everything.

“The uh- the moon is beautiful, isn't it?” He quietly stammers, and you immediately feel his heartbeat begin to pound and so does yours.

It can't be.

You know exactly what that means, but does he? Was he just saying that because the full moon that illuminates the hills genuinely looks beautiful? He has to be, right? This night was already beginning to feel like a dream, there’s no way he means what you want it to.

“Yeah, I guess.” You wince as you hear the words fall from your mouth.

You sit in silence yet again, but this time filled with unwanted tension. While your head is spinning with a million thoughts, Connie can't help but feel anger with himself. Why couldn't he just come out and say it? Did you not know what he meant or did you really just reject him?

"It's getting a bit cold, so I'm gonna head inside. You coming?" You put on your jacket, avoiding eye contact to hide the tears that were on the verge of falling down your face.

"Nah, I'm going to um- stay up here a bit." He clears his throat and kees his gaze fixated to the moon.

"Oh alright, well goodnight, Connie." You weakly smile and walk away.

"Goodnight, y/n." He whispers, not loud enough for you to hear.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

chapter 138 spoilers

"Y/n, we need to go get Armin, now." Mikasa snaps you out of your thoughts.

"But Connie? He has to be near here somewhere, I-I just know it." Panic sinks in as you scan through the battle of the titan shifters to find your lover.

"Y/N SNAP OUT OF IT!" You slightly jump and turn to her, her face becoming flushed with red.

"Sh- Sorry, right, Armin." You shake your head, covering Mikasa as she makes her way towards the pig-type titan.

It's been 4 years ever since that night on Utgard's castle and you remember every second of it. A day never went by when you didn't think back to that moment and wonder what could've been if you had said something different, but you couldn't and you hate yourself for that.

Nothing changed between the two of you, if anything you feel a lot closer than before. You or Connie never address that night, as if it never happened, and you were somewhat fine with that. It hurts that your gut feeling of him not having feelings for you was accurate, but that's okay, because you would always still have him by your side even if it was just a close friendship.

"Y/N!" You look behind you and see him coming at you at full speed.

"CONNIE!" You feel a bit of weight being lifted off your shoulders, seeing only one visible injury.

He joins you side by side to defend Mikasa, noticing the number of titan shifters making their way towards you was too much for you to handle.

"Are you okay?" Connie defends you as you briskly check the state of your weapons.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"Are you okay?" Connie rushes to your side, inspecting the cut on your cheek.

"Yeah, I just have to be more careful with the branches." You wince as you feel his finger graze your injury.

"Well, we're definitely not racing anymore." He looks into your eyes and smiles.

"You're just saying that cause you know I'm better with ODM gear." You giggle and get back up, brushing off the dirt that caught on your equipment.

"You wish!" He blasts off, not giving you a chance to ready up again.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"MIKASA HURRY!" Your anxiety starts rushing through you, ignoring Connie's question as you notice your blades were on the verge of giving out.

You see her make a quick glance towards you before zooming towards the titan that trapped Armin and quickly slices his jaw open. Before you know it, you see Connie soar in your peripheral vision to the tongue that entangled Armin and slice him free.

"ANNIE!" Connie screams out, making his way back to you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

You feel the tiny butterflies you always get when he's near you and admire his perfections for a second.

"I'm getting us out of here," He assures you as he looks into your eyes, instantly melting all the worry and panic that stirred up inside you.

"O-Okay." You whisper, the wind harshly hitting your face as Connie moves both of you to the top of Eren's titan, getting Falco's attention.

While Falco flies his way towards you, you gaze upon everything that is going on around you. You start feeling overwhelmed again, too much was going on at once. You see Jean and Pieck trying to make their way towards the Founding Titan's head but get trampled by shifters, Annie holding Armin as he recovers, and Levi and Gabi shooting their gun at every titan.

"What is- is happening?" Your voice cracks and you hang your head low with your eyes shut.

"We should've fucking known ever since Eren decided to infiltrate Marley, but it's okay. We're okay." He gives you a weak smile and a slight squeeze on your waist for reassurance.

Falco reaches the both of you and board his back with Levi and Gabi.

"Are you guys okay?" You can slightly hear the concern in Levi's monotone voice.

"Yeah, we're fine," Connie answers, completely disregarding the gash that was dripping blood on his forehead.

"We need to help Jean and Pieck." You chime in, watching them struggle their way to the neck.

"No, we-" Levi cuts himself off when he hears his name being called out by a familiar male voice.

The five of you see a blonde man with only half a body attached to one of the Founding Titan's ribs.

Zeke.

While you see his lips moving, you can't make out what he's saying. He begins waving around his arms, successfully capturing Levi's attention, but in a blink of an eye, he's dead.

Levi decapitated him.

You hear a slight gasp come from Gabi's mouth and immediately see tears start to swell up. You quickly pull her into a hug, rubbing her back as you try to soothe her.

"It's okay, Gabi. We're okay." You whisper in her ear, slightly rocking back and forth.

While you didn't know or care for Zeke much, you know how much Gabi saw him as another father, an uncle.

"I-I need my- my parents." She hiccups into your chest.

You can't imagine what's going through her mind. All of her plans to become a warrior and making her family proud was all gone. You remember what that felt like, thinking throughout your whole life that titans were your enemy and Eren would be the solution for it all, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

"I promise, I'll get them to you." You bury her head into your chest and stay still, forgetting where you are for a second.

You and Gabi share a weird relationship, especially after everything that happened with Sasha, but you were somewhat like the older sibling she never had. You nurture her when things become too overwhelming or when she was worried someone would kill Falco for her doing. It was strange for you at first, caring for someone who you thought was the enemy, but was really just a twelve year old girl who was taught the wrong things, all to be treated as a 'good Eldian'.

"The- The rumbling stopped." You turn to Connie and furrow your eyebrows.

"Wha-"

"He's right, look." Gabi points to the titans that were completely still in place, but the titan shifters were still moving in battle.

Bizarre.

"JEAN! PIECK! GO!" Levi's yell snaps you out of your thoughts, watching him fly back to Falco's titan.

You feel your heart start to pound and chest begin to tighten. This is the moment that would define the rest of your life. If Jean and Pieck weren't successful, then there's nothing left for you. Everything you and the scouts worked for would be done, ruined, over.

"God, let Jean be okay." You hear Connie mumble under his breath.

"He will." You instinctively grab his hand and give him a slight nod.

He nods back and you both turn back and watch Jean soar to the head with the TNT box. You feel him squeeze your hand, becoming more anxious as seconds passed.

"STUPID LITTLE SUICIDAL BLOCKHEAD," Jean screams at the top of his lungs, before setting off the bomb that decapitated the Founding Titan's head.

You keep your eyes on Jean, making sure that nothing is seriously wrong and to your relief, he's unharmed.

"JEAN," Connie cries out, tears streaming down his face from alleviation.

He immediately pulls you in for a hug, causing your face to start heating up. While this wasn't the first time you and Connie hugged, it always makes you feel like it's your first all over again. You wrap your arms around him, savoring this moment for what thankfully feels like an eternity. You feel his body heat radiate against yours, warming you up from the cold winds that coat you.

In the corner of your eye, you see Reiner struggling with the cord that connects with the Founding Titan's head. Wrapping his arms and slamming it to the base of the ribcage, holding it down for as long as possible.

"Shit, it's going back for the head. ARMIN, NOW," Levi commands, stirring Falco to Jean and Pieck.

God you hate what's about to come next. The loud noise, the bright light, the endless destruction that's always created, and the lost lives were things you loathe to witness.

"JEAN! PIECK! ARMIN'S GOING TO BLOW THESE BONES TO PIECES! WE NEED TO GET AWAY QUICK!" Connie reaches his hand out, pulling both of them onto Falco's back as Annie and Mikasa make their way as well.

"But Reiner-" Pieck cuts Jean off.

"The Armored Titan should be able to withstand the Colossal Titan's explosion. And most of all, Reiner's prepared for the consequences."

Her words feel like a stab in the chest to everyone listening. Even though Reiner was a traitor in the beginning of this mess, it doesn't take away the great memories you made with everyone and the thought of maybe losing him too was a lot to take in.

"She's right, Jean. We need to go." You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some type of support as you hope that your words help you too.

"Y-Yeah, of course." He slightly shakes his head as Falco flies away.

While you're hundreds of feet in the air, all of your eyes are glued to the titan shifters, watching Armin's explosion destroy everything in its way, including the monsters that fought you and your friends. Although the sight wasn't pleasant in the slightest, you can't help but notice the pit that you had in your stomach was gone.

"Is this it?" You weakly smile, feelings of ease and nervousness begin to overpower everything else.

You haven't felt this much hope in years. The deaths of your fallen comrades weren't in vain; it meant something now.

"See, I told you we would be okay, y/n." He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, leaning his head against yours.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"See, I told you we would be okay, y/n." Connie grins as you put on your new Survey Corps jacket.

"Geez, I never thought I would ever see the day." You admire yourself, not knowing that Connie's doing the same thing.

You feel nothing but excitement when the leather hits your skin. All the hours, blood, sweat, and tears you put into your training was all worth it. You can finally be the hero you've always wanted to be.

"Well, here we are." He lightly pats your back and chuckles.

"Yeah, here we are." You hand him his new jacket and admire how great he looks as a new scout.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"You're always right," You giggle, snaking your arms around his waist and holding him a bit too tightly.

You both bask in each other's presence, enjoying the thought of planning out your new future. As you close your eyes and enjoy the breeze, Connie can't help but adore how perfect you look in his arms. Every time you share a moment like this, he can't help but get flashbacks from that night. He knows how badly he messed up, he should've just straightforwardly said what he always wants to confess to you but he couldn't and he hates himself for that.

He can't recall what number this was for all the times both of your lives were at risk. The times he would forget what his mission was and sought out for you if he lost sight of you. It always takes him back to the same thought, 'You have to tell them before the day comes that you can't.' It's an ongoing battle with his mind and he always comes back to the same conclusion, 'I can't get more attached, not if there's a possibility I could lose them tomorrow.'

But no, this time he feels different, he senses that something's different about this. He suddenly feels queasiness and pulls away from you. 'No, no more hiding it.'

"Is everything okay, Connie?" You feel his body tense up as you give him a concerned look.

"No, it's not, y/n, I've been needing to tell you something, for a while now actually." He scratches the back of his neck and avoids making eye contact.

"What's wrong..?" You trail off, having your mind go a million miles per hour.

"Nothing- Nothing terrible but, y/n-"

"MY PARENTS," Gabi yells out, pointing at the crowd below you.

You and Connie snap out of your conversation, leaning over to the side and see a group of people staring up at Falco.

He lands his titan and Gabi immediately flees into the arms of her parents, Pieck doing the same with her father. You can't help but feel a bit of happiness after all of this, Jean stopped the rumbling, Armin killed off Eren, and all the people you love are safe from this never-ending war.

"We did the right thing, didn't we? I mean with what we did to Eren." You change your focus back to Connie.

"Of course we did, look at the amount of lives we saved, y/n. So, no regrets, right?" He playfully collides his shoulder with yours.

"No regrets." You smile and make your way towards Jean.

Your heart always skips a beat when he says that, you think of it as your own little thing that only you two share. Every time you feel like everything in your life is going wrong, he always reminds you that even if things were to go to shit it would be okay because you have no regrets.

"Can't believe I did that," Jean mumbles, still in a state of shock.

"You did what you had to, Jean." You console him as Connie chimes in.

"Don't bring yourself down, Eren brought this among himself."

You can never forgive Eren for what did over the years. It was apparent from the beginning, but you were to naive and filled with hope to see it. Now, this is different, you lost some of the most important people in your life for his doing. There's no going back from that.

"Y-Yeah, you're right." He brings the two of you in for a group hug, leaving a space in the middle for Sasha.

"She would be proud of us, you know?" You feel a tear run down your cheek as you speak.

Fuck, you miss her so much. All the fun and stupid memories you made with her flash through your mind. All the way back to your first moments meeting her, Connie holding her back from eating all the meat during dinner; to your final moments together, cheering for a successful raid on Liberio.

"She is." Connie corrects you, a smile forms across his face.

"Yeah, she is." Jean starts tearing up, grateful for another day to be alive.

"REINER," Gabi screams, causing the three of you to interrupt your moment and go by the ledge and see something you never thought you would.

You see the centipede that Jean exploded continue to move as if nothing ever affected it. Luckily, Reiner and Armin's titans look unharmed, but you immediately feel the pit in your stomach start to come back.

"See Gabi, he's fine, ever-" Connie gets cut off by another extreme explosion.

You feel nauseous as you see what emerges.

"He-He's alive?" Your voice trembles, all the hope and happiness you just shared obliviates in a second.

Eren's titan.

"No way." Connie gasps, his body starts to shake with fear.

"What do we do now?" Mikasa's voice cracks, wanting everything to come to an end.

You can't believe it. Every fucking time you think that everything will finally work out for you, something always changes. You always end up losing someone, witnessing things that no one should ever be forced to see, and always feel empty in the end.

"We can't let Eren come into contact with the shining thing! Who knows what'll happen!" Gabi tries to pull everyone's focus back into the war and luckily, it works.

"She's right, we have to kill that thing, no matter what." Connie's voice becoming slightly deeper at the end of his sentence.

"Don't you get it? How can we kill a thing that survived Armin's explosion? We need to go for Eren." Levi's command lingers in the air.

"There has to be another way. AGH!" Mikasa starts gasping for air as she starts tightly gripping her head.

Before you could go by Mikasa's side, you notice smoke coming from afar. You don't think much of it, just assuming it was debris from the explosion, but no.

You scan everyone's faces, instantly seeing some of your comrades faces turn into pure terror. This couldn't be what they think it is. This isn't how it's supposed it, how it's supposed to end. It has to be some kind of machine malfunction that's just giving out tons of smoke. It has to be something else than the thing you fear most.

"Isn't this smoke the same thing they did.. at Ragako?" Connie's face becomes overwhelmed with horror and anguish.

"N-No..." You fall to your knees and bury your hands to your face, not being able to come to terms with what's going to happen next.

This is the end.

"Hey, Hey, look at me." Connie's voice never sounding so calm before.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"Hey, Hey, look at me."  Connie wraps his arms around you as tears cascade down your cheeks and soak his shirt.

"Wh- Why her?" You hiccup, feeling your chest begin to tighten and your head spin from hours of crying.

Your best friend's dead.

You can't hug her anymore, tell her any scouts gossip, or scold her when she stole your food. You can't go to her room in the middle of the night and have her comfort you when your nightmares felt too real. She's gone, forever.

"I wish I had an answer for you... shit-" He starts breaking down right in front of you, both of you begin to cry in each other's arms.

You hate this, fucking hate this. You've dealt with the deaths of your squad members and scouts but nothing like the way you feel right now.

You need to escape, you need to get rid of these awful feelings that were eating you up inside, but no matter how much you may want to escape this shithole with the only person you love, you can't.

"B-But we still have each other, right?" Connie's voice trembles, his grip becoming tighter, thinking if he lets go he'll somehow lose you too.

"Always."

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

He grabs your chin and leaves your faces just inches apart. All of the yelling and cries drown out as you solely focus on your soulmate.

"No regrets, right?" He wipes your tears away with his thumb.

"No regrets." You barely let a whisper, savoring his embrace one last time.

You feel a hand touch your shoulder and you look up to see Jean, seemingly relaxed.

"So this is how it ends for us." Connie brings Jean into your hug.

"Guess so," Jean replies, acting as if this wasn't the end.

"You know I blame both of you for all this, making me end up with the job of saving humanity." You joke, making the most of your final moment with your best friends.

"Yeah yeah, and take that to your grave." Jean chuckles as he slightly squeezes Connie's shoulder.

Connie glances Jean a confused look, seemingly not aware of the next few seconds. Immediately his eyes widen, finally accepting that this was it for you and him, and he never got to tell you.

"Y/n, there's something I need to tell b-before this is all over. Something I-I should've told you years ago." He speeds up his words, slightly stumbling.

"Yes?" Your heart drops to your stomach and you can't help but wonder if he was going to tell you what you've been waiting for since the day you met him.

"Y/n I-"

a/n : yes, i took some direct quotes from 138 & yes, i switched up dialogue between characters and actions from the book to make more sense with the reader.

#tw: death #aot chapter 138 #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #snk chapter 138 #connie springer x reader #connie springer #aot x gn!reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #connie springer x gn! reader #tw: blood #aot x reader

[zaharya]

Z's Whumptober 2021 – Masterpost

This is a masterpost for my entire Whumptober 2021 series, which you can find here on Ao3. (The individual fics are linked in each title.)

(Don't You Dare) Let Go – G, 1k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Faint shouts echoed through the trees. The bandits were onto them. “Arthur, you have to let go.” “What?!” “You have to let go,” Merlin repeated. “Run. They won’t be so careless the second time if they catch you.”

Day 1 prompts; "You have to let go", Bound

Canon Era

Noble('s) Wrath – M, 7.1k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“Yes, right, you deserve rest,” Galen interrupted him. His tone had gone from kind to patronising. “How would you like to rest more comfortably tonight, Merlin?” “Sorry?” Galen gave him a pitying look. “I mean that I would enjoy your company tonight, Merlin. Surely the prince hasn’t tired you out completely.” It took a moment before Merlin understood what he meant. He tore his wrist out of the other man’s grip and took a step back, trying to keep the horrified expression off his face. “I don’t serve Arthur in that way, nor would I someone else.” Or: A visiting noble propositions to Merlin and does not take Merlin’s rejection well. But Lord Galen’s displeasure pales compared to Arthur’s fury.

Day 2 and day 3 prompts; Choking, "Who did this to you"

Canon Era, magic reveal

No Stranger At All – T, 2.8k words, Merlin & Gwaine

Gwaine is working off a debt when Cenred's men return with a captured Merlin – and he could hardly just watch and do nothing, right?

Day 4 prompts; "Do you trust me?", Taken hostage

Canon Era, magic reveal

Lancelot's Last Resort – G, 1.4k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Merlin is determined to sacrifice himself in Arthur's stead, and Lancelot is forced to take drastic measures in an effort to save everyone.

Day 5 prompt; Betrayal

Canon Era, magic reveal

I Didn't Know That I Was Starving 'till I Tasted You – G, 8.1k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“I would’ve thought you knew that I would never hurt you, Merlin, but I suppose I was wrong. When we return, you are relieved from your duties as my manservant for the time being.” “Arthur, please, I—” “Shut up, Merlin!” Arthur had shouted, the anger Merlin had expected finally bursting out of him. “I can hardly stand to look at you without losing my temper! Just— I need some space. To … think.” — In the wake of Merlin's magic being revealed, both Arthur and Merlin fall into patterns that threaten to undo them. Or: Arthur is touch-starved, Merlin is just starving.

Day 6 prompts; Hunger, Touch-Starved

Canon Era, post magic reveal

Just a Chill – G, 1.5k words, Gwaine/Lancelot

Lancelot catches the winter chill along with everyone else in Camelot – only he doesn't recover. With Gaius at wit's end, the last resort is Merlin's magic.

Day 8 prompts; Exotic Illness, Definitely just a cold

Canon Era, post magic reveal

Stay With Me – M, 4.3k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“Sorcerer! Sorcerer in the court!” screamed Uther, his face red with rage. “Seize him!” “No! Father, he saved our lives!” exclaimed Arthur. “A ploy, to deceive us, to make us trust him! All magic is corrupted, Arthur, when will you learn? I want him dead at once!” Or: The reveal of Merlin's magic drives Uther into a rage with fatal consequences.

Day 9 prompts; Presumed dead, (blind) rage, tears

Canon Era, magic reveal, temporary character death

Waters Deep (As Your Secrets) – T, 4.3k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“—prat, come on!” Hard, rhythmic pressure on his chest. “You cannot die on me here, you stupid, arrogant, moron of a prince!” Merlin? A soft, warm mouth blowing air into him. Air. He needed air. Or: Arthur is aware of everything that happens around him while he's under Sophia's spell – and he learns more than he'd ever have dreamed.

Day 11 prompts; Drowning, Dehydration

Canon Era, magic reveal

Burn Like Her, Burn Like Me – M, 1.6k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

His magic raged inside him, fighting to break free. It was useless. Cold iron, tight and heavy around his strung-up wrists, shackled his magic as effectively as his arms. It hurt nearly as much as the whipping did. Twelve. A sob clawed its way out of his throat despite his best efforts. “Finally,” drawled the man behind him. “I was beginning to worry you’d pass out before I got to hear your pretty voice.” — Arthur is forced to watch as Merlin burns.

Day 12 prompts; Torture, Made to watch, Begging

Canon Era, post magic reveal

A Mark Of Survival – G, 1.7k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Barely having survived Camlann, Merlin and Arthur return to a grieving, broken Camelot. As the kingdom heals, so does Arthur – but some scars won't fade.

Day 16 prompts; Aftermath, Recovery, Scars

Canon Era (post-Canon), post magic reveal

My Breath In Your Lungs – M, 6.5k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“Like your fish boy, do you? Well, in you go then.” He tore open the grid, hit Arthur again and pushed him inside the tank. Arthur’s eyes widened with panic, and he surged up towards the surface — only to have the iron grid slammed in his face, trapping him underwater. He beat his fist against it, bubbles of precious air escaping his mouth in a wordless scream. Or: After saving a human from drowning, Merlin is captured and imprisoned in a tank. When help finally arrives, things might just get worse instead of better.

Day 20 prompts; Trapped Underwater, Solitary Confinement

Merman!Merlin AU

Blackout, Beaming, Gold – M, 18.7k words, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Art by Sunfall_of_Ennien

"Congratulations, Mr Pendragon; a fine purchase.” And just like that all air was sucked from Merlin’s lungs. Purchase. He had been sold. Bought. And bought meant— “If you would follow me, Mr Pendragon, there are some final procedures to complete in order to finalise your transaction; Mr Aredian will see to you momentarily. I hope you brought an iron seal of your family crest for the branding?” —branded. —— In a city of copper and steam, the life of Arthur Pendragon takes a turn when he finds himself inexplicably mesmerised by a slave in iron shackles on the market stage. His name; Merlin. Over the five years since his capture, Merlin has only been sure of one thing; that nobody can afford him. But then, nobody is as rich as a Pendragon.

Prompts from days 7, 13, 23, 25, and 27; Helplessness, Numbness, Burns, Escape, Pursuit, Hiding, Auction, Collapse, Passing Out

Steampunk AU, Slave!Merlin

#whumptober2021 #masterpost #no. 1-6 #no.8 #no.9 #no.11 #no.16 #no.20 #no.7 #no.23 #no.25 #no.27 #no.13 #bbc merlin #merlin #fanfiction #steampunk #fantasy art #whump #temporary character death #angst with a happy ending #original character death #fic #merlin/arthur #merthur #Zaharya's writing

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter two - “bucky”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.4k

summary: after arriving in wakanda, (Y/N) figures out who and what she’s there for (with the help of our fav young genius)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

"Christ, you're astonishingly intelligent. How could you possibly need my help?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm kind of a joke compared to your big brain."

As the young Wakandan princess showed (Y/N) around her extremely impressive laboratory, she thought back to her conversation with Sharon.

***

"I'm needed? In Wakanda?" she said, dumbfounded. "What am I gonna do? Help them hunt for food?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sharon began. "Wakanda isn't what you think it is. The third world country we all thought we knew is just a facade to protect the true nature of Wakanda."

(Y/N) stared, not following. Sharon continued.

"It's actually a highly advanced, technologically progressive metropolis. They have some of the smartest people and most exceptional innovations in the world. It was all a cover up."

She nodded, finally understanding, "Well, I can't say that I blame them for hiding from the world. I can only imagine what would happen, especially from the hands of America."

Sharon chuckled. "Steve settled things with T'Challa, the former prince, and the royal family are allowing him and Barnes to take refuge there until further notice. Evidently, they have the tech and the minds to undo whatever damage Hydra did to Barnes."

***

"Well, I could do this by myself, but my focus is predominantly on electromagnetism, quantum mechanics, and high-energy particle physics," the young princess explained, gesturing to various pieces of state-of-the-art tech around her lab. "I'm not really an expert in social sciences just yet; that would be you. I was told you were exceptional. Oh, and Captain Rogers needed someone he could trust on short notice. So, here you are, on account of a Sharon Carter, right?"

"Absolutely correct... your highness?" (Y/N) replied, though it was more of a question than anything else.

The princess laughed a genuine laugh, "Oh, no need for formalities! We're colleagues now and we're going to be working collaboratively. Please, call me Shuri."

"Got it," she nodded, smiling and slightly embarrassed. "...so, not to sound like more of an idiot than I probably already seem, but what exactly is this project we're working on? No one really thought it would be a good idea to tell me before I took the plane ride to another continent- which is lovely by the way."

"Well," Shuri started, gesturing her to follow along as they walked through the rest of the lab, "you know that man who allegedly bombed the UN conference in Vienna, consequently killing my father and forcing my brother to assume his place as king?"

(Y/N) gulped. "Yes."

"Yeah, he's here. He's the project. But don't worry! He didn't actually set off the bomb; he was framed."

Oh. Okay. What was she supposed to say to that? (Y/N) couldn't figure out an answer so she continued to nod and try not to look too idiotic.

"As you already know, he has suffered greatly. He's not in control of his own mind. Our job is to dismantle whatever programming Hydra drilled into his poor brain through years of abuse and torture."

(Y/N) remembered the horrible things she read in his file. The trauma, the cruelty, the destruction of humanity. Suddenly, she was no longer at a loss of words... or thoughts. She was going to help an innocent man. Well, the truly innocent man who was locked inside Hydra's homemade killer.

What was done to him was a monstrosity; it was, up to date, the worst thing she had ever seen done to a human being. And, if she can do anything to help take away or relieve some of that pain, she was happy to play her part. A good way to do that was probably to zone back in to what Shuri was saying.

"...and there's two main components to this. Number one is his physical pain. Meaning the biochemicals and neurons in his brain in addition to his arm and the nerve endings and anything else of his that they broke: the stuff I will take care of. Number two is his mental pain. Meaning his psyche, trauma, behavior, emotions, and all that other fun psychology stuff that you will take care of."

"So, I'm basically operating as a therapist?"

"Basically. Among other things."

(Y/N) stared at the floor in front of her, letting it all sink in. She was going to therapize the Winter Soldier. Whatever that was going to entail was a mystery to her. He was nothing she'd ever heard of. Of course she was extraordinary at her job, but this was new territory for her.

Unaware of what else to say, (Y/N) blurted out, "So... you said he's here..."

"Yes. Follow me, you can come meet him."

Maybe that wasn't the best thing to blurt. He is innocent, but that doesn't stop him from scaring her a bit... even though she's never actually met him in the person.

She followed behind as Shuri led her out of the lab and through a multitude of different rooms and hallways. She was nervous, indeed. She was in a place she'd never been with people she'd never met about to see a person with a caliber she'd of never imagined.

(Y/N) wondered what he'd be like. Would she be meeting who he was before Hydra sunk their claws into him? Or would she be meeting some hybrid of the man he used to be and the pain he's been forced to endure? She wasn't sure what to expect. But she didn't have time to imagine another scenario when Shuri opened a door and they were greeted by a freezing cold breeze.

"Don't mind the cold. It's supposed to be like that," Shuri said as she held the door open and walked inside.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around her midsection before her mouth dropped. In the middle of the room stood a giant glass chamber holding no other than James Barnes inside. It looked so strange to her, surreal even. He was frozen? Suspended animation. She didn't think humans were supposed to look like that. He almost looked dead. The slightest shiver ran down her spine.

"He's in a state of cryogenic sleep," Shuri explained. "Completely alive, but the chamber reduces his metabolism to its lowest possible level, allowing his body to be preserved for long periods of time."

"That's... slightly horrifying. I've heard of cryogenics, but I've never seen it first hand. How does it even work?" (Y/N) inquired as she ran her hand lightly across the glass.

It's so cold. She couldn't imagine being in there.

"In cryogenic sleep, an antifreeze agent is added, replacing the water in his cells. Then, the tissue is cooled to -220 degrees Fahrenheit, but instead of crystallizing into ice, the chemicals clump together and become solid. They're actually molecularly similar to glass. This new glass form prevents the cells from bursting and, theoretically, this could hold him in stasis forever."*

"Wow," she mused, still awestruck, staring at the chamber.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I'm good," (Y/N) chuckled, "it's just that advanced science is just shocking sometimes. And when you said I was going to meet him, I didn't think you meant like this."

Shuri smiled. "Oh, I didn't."

And with that, all it took was the push of a button and the chamber came out of dormancy. It was whirring and hissing, and (Y/N) could feel the temperature slowly start to rise. She glanced up and witnessed what looked like a miracle as color began to bloom onto his previously blanched features. He too was coming out of dormancy; he was coming alive.

(Y/N) almost startled when his eyes opened, but remained completely still when the chamber door opened. James blinked a couple times, taking in his surroundings. He looked anxious; she could understand why. She tried not to meet his eyes.

I'll let Shuri take the lead on this one, she thought.

As if on queue, Shuri gave him a polite smile and started to undo his restraints.

"Hello Sergeant Barnes. Welcome back! My name is Shuri, T'Challa's younger and much smarter sister. This," she gestured to (Y/N), "is Dr. (Y/L/N). Together, we'll be conducting your treatment plan."

He stepped out of the chamber, shaking Shuri's hand. He had almost a foot over her but towered over both of them regardless. Then, he turned to (Y/N). She wasn't sure what to think.

"It's nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes," she said with a curt smile, as she shook his hand. Cold. She pretended not to notice.

He looked down at her and for a moment she thought he looked docile. Benevolent and soft.

His eyes are very blue.

"Please," he said, a kindhearted gentleness coating his voice, "call me Bucky."

- - -

* = info on cryogenics from inverse.com

#bucky reader insert #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #marvel

[nvvermore]

Angel of Music

Beatrice’s vocal lessons with Amaryllis begin, and the both of them learn much more during these lessons than they’d ever expected to

words: 9k~

Amaryllis’s POV by me/Beatrice’s POV by @juliandev0rak

—

Unfortunately for Amaryllis, Beatrice was a good student.

It sounded like a silly thing to lament over, but it was easy for a good student to sniff out a bad teacher. So, Amaryllis needed to work extra hard to appear as natural as possible in such a position. It didn’t help that yesterday Nadia had also informed them that Beatrice happened to be a teacher herself. Not versed in music, but there had to be a method to these things that it was clear they would be missing.

She’d come prepared, with a journal for notes, water, and even mentioned she took time to practice last night. Despite her outward anxiety, it was clear Beatrice felt excited. But, her attitude didn’t change Amaryllis’s  unpreparedness. So far, they had been improvising, banking on her lack of experience and their charisma to fill in the blanks. They were nothing if not an actor.

Now, the two had finished discussing Beatrice’s experience level, as never having had an instructor meant very little. Amaryllis never had one either and they were doing fine. That detail they left out though. But she was proficient on the piano and had a secure grasp on reading music, and had sung for fun her entire life.

Amaryllis stood from the chaise where the two had been sitting side by side. They held out a hand to Beatrice, whose eyes flashed from their face to the offered hand before taking it. Without thought, their thumb brushed over the back of her hand, her skin soft to the touch. As soon as she was on her feet she pulled away, and Amaryllis mourned the loss.

“An important part of singing is remembering your whole body is the instrument. You need to be mindful of your entire being. It may sound difficult, but with practice it will become second nature.” Amaryllis explains as they watch Beatrice watch them. Her hazel eyes dart away when the two make eye contact.

“First step to a session is to stretch. You want your body to be loose, especially your torso. Follow after me.” Amaryllis raises their arms above their head, stretching their shoulders. “Hold for thirty,” They instruct, looking to Beatrice for understanding. Though instead of stretching, she’s starting again. This time, her gaze is on the hem of their dress, where it’s ridden up due to the stretching. The already risqué length had become even more revealing, pale skin a striking contrast to their dark outfit.

“See something you like?” The taunt snaps Beatrice out of it, and her hands nervously dart to the clasp of her cloak. “That seems a little heavy, perhaps you'd like to take it off?”

“Ah, um, yes! Of course.” her fingers stop their fiddling to undo the clasp, and she slips off the garment and hangs it on the back of a chair. Now, it’s Amaryllis’s turn to stare. Sans-cloak, Beatrice is in a light-colored lace gown. It was modest— especially compared to Amaryllis— but not any less mesmerizing. Beatrice catches them staring and they do nothing to hide that they were, lips quirked into a sly grin. She clears her throat, eager to continue.

“So what exactly is the reasoning for loosening up?”

“Tension in your body puts strain on your muscles, including the ones used in signing. When that happens, your ability and range gets cut a significant amount. Proper posture goes hand in hand with relaxation. One can have the most beautiful voice, but it all falls apart if they’re holding themself wrong.”

Together, they finish up the basic stretches, and Amaryllis retreats to the piano. They finger out a simple scale a few times over, ruby eyes never leaving Beatrice.

“Sing for me.“

An inhale, a shaky exhale, and then she begins to vocalize. She’s very quiet, Amaryllis can hardly hear her over the sound of the piano. But they smile at her and nod, a small push of encouragement. Little by little, she loosens up, growing louder as they go through the scales. Moving up and down in octaves until they pass Beatrice’s range. Her voice is light and airy, ethereal despite the hesitation behind it. An impressive high range, and that was with no breath control practice. When they told her yesterday they'd make her into a prima donna, it had been to tease. But now they’ve heard her, Amaryllis thought it might not be an impossible feat.

Amaryllis ceases their playing. Still watching Beatrice, they could pick up on the subtle tremors that ran through her. She was doing her very best to be discreet in regards to her nerves. They stood from the bench to direct her to sit back down on the chaise, fetching water for her in the process. As she drank it down, Amaryllis fought the impulse to brush her hair back out of her face. The urge to comfort her with any touch. But they didn't know how such a gesture would be received, and the unusual desire to do so brought them discomfort.

“You have a beautiful voice,” their soft complement breaks through the silence. Beatrice looked at them with wide eyes, expression flattered and confused all at once. “It’s true. Right now, your biggest setback is your nerves, and that will fade in time. But the tension you carry because of it can create pitch issues.”

“Oh,” Beatrice whispers, voice trailing off as she takes in the information. Her mouth opens to finish her thought, but loses her words when Amaryllis’s hand is on her chin. They tilt her head up to look at them, the same way they'd done so yesterday.

“You should always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it. That way, one day, you will.”

“I-”

“Your voice is beautiful.” Beatrice looks torn, face flushed and Amaryllis can tell she wants to glance away from them so badly. But she doesn't, and they stand over her patiently while she finds the resolve they know she has.

“Thank you.” Her voice is steady, and while Amaryllis knows it's not likely she believes it yet, it's certainly a good start. Satisfied, their thumb brushes across Beatrice’s jaw before pulling away. They don't watch for any reaction, deciding they've maybe pushed her a bit too much already. Standing across the room now, they decide to get back to the actual vocal lesson.

“Now that I've heard you sing without any corrections, let's go over what exactly we'll work on together.”

The rest of the lesson passes faster than Amaryllis wanted it to. They go over breath control and pitch issues, how to practice and how to work the areas she needed to in particular. Beatrice was attentive, asked careful questions and took detailed notes. The next time Amaryllis had her sing she did so with a little less hesitance. Their own hesitance surrounding teaching faded too. It felt less like they were teacher and student, and more like they were having a conversation. Before they knew it, two hours had passed, and didn’t want to keep Beatrice any longer. Even if a persistent part of their mind said they did.

“Well, It's about time you gave your voice a rest. I‘d consider this first session a great success.” Beatrice stood a few feet away from where Amaryllis sat on the bench. She looked almost disappointed at the concept of the lesson’s conclusion. Glancing around the room, her eyes landed on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Ah, I suppose you are correct,” her hands darted to where her cloak normally sat. When she found it missing, her fingers faltered. “So how often do you think I should have lessons?”

“Weekly will be best. Much of the progress you're going to make will happen during practice. And as long as you take time to do so each day, you'll see it in little time. But if you have questions or need assistance outside of lessons, you know where to find me.” Amaryllis retrieved their grimoire from the piano lid as Beatrice gathered her things. The green cloak resumed its place on her shoulders, and Amaryllis felt endeared by the quirk. Together, they made for the doors.

“Amaryllis, I,” Beatrice began once they exited the room, “I’d like to thank you. I never thought I'd ever take lessons, let alone ones from you.” The admiration of others rarely phased them, it was another aspect of their everyday. But Beatrice’s gratitude made them feel something unlike any kind they’d received before.

“The pleasure is all mine. You're a very promising student after all.”

“Thank you,” she said with the same conviction as she did after Amaryllis’s complement earlier. Feeling a sense of pride, they smiled at her, genuine.

“Have a good evening, Beatrice.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice shows up to the next lesson early, notebook and water in hand. She tries the door to the practice room and finds it locked, so she sinks down onto the floor to sit and wait. She’s just pulled her notebook out of her bag and is reviewing her notes from last week when she hears the now familiar sound of Amaryllis’ heels approaching down the hallway. She hurriedly stuffs the notebook back into her bag just as Amaryllis turns the corner. “Well hello,” Amaryllis smiles, offering their hand to help Beatrice up, “Need a hand?”

“Oh, yes thank you,” Beatrice takes their hand, trying not to seem too eager as she reaches for them. She lets go of their hand as soon as she’s up, not wanting to make things awkward by lingering.

“Shall we begin?” Amaryllis says, holding the door open for her. She sets her bag down on the chaise and takes her cloak off, not noticing the way Amaryllis watches her from across the room. Her hands go to her clothes, making sure her blouse is tucked in properly and fluffing the fabric of her skirt to make sure it lays flat. She takes a sip of water, a deep breath, and turns to face Amaryllis.

This lesson starts better than the last. Beatrice is less nervous now that she knows what to expect, now that she knows that Amaryllis is both a good teacher and a kind person. She hadn’t expected ridicule by any means, but hearing genuine compliments from them had made her both slightly giddy and a lot more confident. Beatrice loves to learn and if she simply treats these lessons as just that, a lesson, a chance to learn something, she’ll be fine.

As she sings through a few warm up exercises her eyes follow Amaryllis as they play the piano. They seem to notice her staring at them and look up to meet her eyes, causing Beatrice to falter on the note. She tries to recover from the mistake quickly but Amaryllis stops playing and stands up from the piano bench, taking a step towards her.

“You’re too tense again,” Amaryllis explains, their hands going to her shoulders to gently push them down from where she’d lifted them as she'd sung, “Relax your shoulders, remember what I said about tension and stress?” 

“Yes, I remember,” Beatrice smiles, willing her voice to stay steady and her shoulders not to shake under their touch. Amaryllis returns the smile as their left hand gently moves further down her shoulder. They fiddle with the ruffle on her sleeve briefly before removing both of their hands and taking a step away from her. Beatrice breathes in sharply in response and tries to ignore the feeling of her sleeves pressing against her arms just as Amaryllis’ fingers had been

“You’re doing very well, Beatrice. Just relax,” Amaryllis says as they return to their place at the piano bench. She’s grateful that they’re busy shuffling through sheet music and can’t see the way her cheeks color at the praise. They start to play one of the songs she’d sung last week and nod at her to begin. 

Beatrice makes it through with only minor mistakes but she still can’t seem to focus when Amaryllis looks up from the piano to watch her. She messes up words, sings off key, and even sometimes grows so quiet she can’t be heard until Amaryllis looks away. She struggles to fight against these reactions, deciding to stare at a spot on the wall behind them so that she won’t notice Amaryllis looking at her. It seems to work and the next run through of the song goes more smoothly. 

During a water break Beatrice gives herself a pep talk, reminding herself that this is simply a lesson, something she can learn to excel at if she follows the rules. The reminder gives her some resolve and she’s able to focus her attention on singing rather than her (very distracting) teacher. As she sings she remembers to breathe and relax her shoulders, she tries to tune out everything but the notes from the piano. She hits a note she’d struggled to hit the week before and smiles in surprise. Her eyes float down from their safe spot on the wall to look at Amaryllis, who watches them with an unreadable expression on their face before it fades into something more neutral.

“That was great!” Amaryllis says, “Let’s do that part again to see if you can hit the note twice in a row.”

The lesson moves quickly once she’s able to focus, and before she knows it Beatrice is pulling her cloak back on and preparing to leave. She stands by the door for a moment, watching as Amaryllis gathers their sheet music. Though the sight of them still makes her a bit nervous, the feeling has faded from self consciousness to something else, something she doesn’t quite want to think about yet.

“You’ve improved since last week,” Amaryllis says, turning around to face her. They give her an encouraging smile and Beatrice meets their eyes, for once managing not to blush as they gaze at her.

“You think so?” Beatrice asks, returning the smile.

“You’re a very quick learner when you’re using that brain of yours to focus instead of overthinking,” Amaryllis replies, their smile turning into more of a smirk. Beatrice does blush then, laughing under her breath as she stares down at her boots.

“Yes, well, I’m working on it,” She says, fiddling with the closure on her overstuffed bag, “I’m glad to hear I’m improving.” 

“You really are, just make sure to practice so you can remember everything you’ve learned this week.” Amaryllis holds the door open for her, gesturing for her to walk out before them. She suddenly feels like she should say something else, the lesson had come to a close too quickly.

“Amaryllis,” Beatrice starts, wondering what she should even say. Should she ask them if they’re going to dinner at the palace? Should she suggest going somewhere else together? No. Surely Amaryllis sees her as nothing more than a student, or maybe a friend if she’s lucky. There’s no guarantee Amaryllis would want to spend more time with her than is necessary, so she changes course, “Thanks again.” 

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you next week, Beatrice,” Amaryllis replies, turning to walk down the hall.

Beatrice watches them go, trying not to let her eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. Amaryllis’ tight dress leaves nothing to the imagination, and if Beatrice is being honest she has been imagining. She clears her throat and turns the other direction, headed back to the safety of the palace proper. It’ll be a long week waiting to see them again.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“It’s impressive,” Beatrice comments one day, in the middle of a lesson.

“What’s impressive?” They hadn’t been discussing anything in particular, so it seemed out of place.

“The dedication you have for your craft, all the effort you put into it. And I'm sure I don't even know the half of it.” As she explained, Beatrice sounded composed, but her rosy cheeks gave her away.

Amaryllis blinked, somewhat stunned, though they gave no outward indication of it. They had already recognized that hearing praise from Beatrice felt different somehow. But since their lessons had begun, the flutter they felt when she did so had only grown.

“Please,” Amaryllis waved a dismissive hand, “when you've been at it for as long as I have, it’s hardly any effort at all.”

“You know, I recall you telling me a few weeks ago to, ‘always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it’.”

Beatrice’s words paired with the smug air she said them with caught Amaryllis by surprise. For a split-second, all they could do was stare at her. Being called out for deflection, with their own words, was unexpected from her. As they'd known Beatrice thus far, it was uncharacteristic. And so was their own delight at the notion Beatrice was becoming more comfortable with them. Recovered, they propped their elbows back on the piano, leaning back against it.

All Amaryllis could think of was different ways they'd like to wipe the smirk off her rose-tinted lips. They favored the concept of doing so with their own mouth.

“Do you now?” they mimicked her attitude, cocky expression falling into place as easy as breathing. Easier, even. “I hope you’ve been practicing that part of my lessons too. I’m sure you get enough compliments to do so.” At least, Amaryllis hoped she did, that at least someone was out there taking the time to cherish her. Instead of the bashful reaction they had been hoping for, Beatrice frowned.

“Ah, not usually, no-“

“That’s a shame,” they cut her off, stepping away from the piano to stand before her. Being this close made that flutter Amaryllis was feeling speed up. The last thing they wanted was for Beatrice to frown. And if no one else was taking the time to tell her all the sweet things she should hear, they were more than happy to step up. Accepting compliments built confidence, and confidence was vital to singing. It was simply another part of the lesson, that was all. With a gentle hand, Amaryllis brushed tawny waves out of her face, keeping her from hiding behind them now. “With how lovely you are, I had expected there'd be someone to shower you with sweet words."

Voice low and velvety, they ran their fingers down her cheek. Nails just barely grazing her neck before their hand pulled away. Beatrice wasn't frowning anymore, but was watching them with wide-eyed astonishment. For a moment, Amaryllis's resolve faltered.

They thought about kissing her, it would only take another step, a tilt of her head. But, what actually shocked Amaryllis is that they did not. Instead, as swift as they had approached, they were back against the piano.

Beatrice was their student, and so it would be improper to persue her...

…Which didn’t hold up in the slightest, because never in their life had they cared about what was proper or not. Student or not, under typical circumstances, Amaryllis would have had her in their bed by now. But that was it, wasn’t it? That nothing concerning Beatrice was at all typical. From their opposition to simply seducing her to their reactions to the things that she did. Amaryllis couldn’t recall a time when they’d felt this way before.

They had decided to entertain their intrigue when they offered her lessons. But Amaryllis hadn’t imagined that it would shift in the direction they were afraid it was heading.

“Thank you,��� her breathy voice pulled them back into the room. It took them a second to realize she was thanking them for the compliment. Beatrice was biting her lip, watching them with those hazel eyes they couldn’t quite get a read on.

All they could do was turn away from her, but not before they could hide away their smile. Amaryllis tried to stay focused on the lesson, and not on the dangerous territory they were heading into.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

They’ve done more talking than singing, Beatrice realizes as she looks at the clock. It’s been an hour since the lesson started and they’ve been sitting on the couch talking the entire time, neither realizing how much time has passed. The topics of conversation have ranged, what began as small talk about the rainy weather had evolved into how they’d each come to be employed at the palace. Amaryllis doesn’t give many details, but Beatrice drinks in every piece of their story she can get and tries to ignore the urge to pry.

Over the course of the hour Beatrice has loosened up considerably, her posture is slouched and her legs are tucked under her as she sits criss cross on the couch rather than her usual polite ankle cross. She’s surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Amaryllis, how easily she can let her guard down to talk about herself more than she usually would. When Amaryllis asks a question she finds herself answering without thinking. They seem genuinely interested in her answers, leaning towards her as she speaks and asking follow up questions.

“What made you want to teach?” Amaryllis asks, their voice pulling her gaze back from the clock on the wall.

“Well, I never had a real education as a child, I learned manners and needlepoint and all sorts of useless things like that, but science, literature, history- everything I know I’ve learned on my own,” Beatrice explains, her voice rising in volume as it often does when she’s excited, “Vesuvia doesn’t offer an education for those who can’t afford to pay tutors, and I think that should change.” 

“So you just marched up to the Countess and suggested opening a school?” Amaryllis grins, their eyes trained to Beatrice’s face which is for once free of any hint of anxiety as she smiles proudly at them. The image of Beatrice stomping up the palace steps in her green cloak with a look of determination on her face makes Amaryllis suppress a laugh. 

“Believe it or not, I did! I requested a meeting and left less than an hour later to pick a spot to build the school,” Beatrice laughs, “Nadia wasn’t difficult to convince.”

“I’m sure you can be very convincing when you want to be,” Amaryllis says, reaching to play with the lace trim at the bottom of her dress. Beatrice watches the action closely, not pulling away when their hand briefly brushes against her leg. “Well, I suppose we should get started on the singing lesson, we’ve delayed quite a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Beatrice nearly trips over her dress as she gets up from the chaise.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I very much enjoyed getting to know you better,” Amaryllis replies, smoothing their clothing down as they walk across the room to the piano.

“I enjoyed it too,” Beatrice smiles, “getting to know you.” 

“I should have you play sometime, I remember you being quite proficient during our first lesson,” Amaryllis says as they take their seat at the instrument. 

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very accomplished anymore. I wish I had more time to practice the piano, but there are only so many hours in a day,” Beatrice replies, taking her usual spot standing next to them.

“Would you like to play something now?” Amaryllis suggests, patting the spot next to them on the piano bench, “I’m sure you’re great.”

“Oh, well, sure if you’d like to hear me play,” Beatrice hesitates for a moment before she takes a seat next to them, trying to smooth her dress down a bit so she doesn’t take up too much room on the bench. Amaryllis smiles and moves a bit closer so that their leg is pressed to hers, she can feel the warmth of their skin through the fabric of her dress and works hard to regain her composure.

“I would love to hear you play,” Amaryllis says directly into her ear, their mouth barely brushing against her skin. She manages to only shiver the tiniest bit as Amaryllis leans away from her again, turning their attention back to the piano. Beatrice takes an only slightly shaky breath and reaches for the keys. Her fingers pluck a familiar tune, one she’d learned when she was younger and forced to sit through hours of lessons every day. She shuts her eyes as she plays it by memory, tuning out Amaryllis next to her and the distracting ticking of the clock on the wall behind her. 

When she finishes the song, a short piece designed more for practice than performance, she pulls her hands back into her lap and looks up at Amaryllis to gauge their reaction. The smile on their face is different than any Beatrice has seen before. It has more emotion behind it, admiration perhaps, and she feels a flutter in her stomach at the thought. 

“That was lovely, Beatrice. I thought you said you were out of practice? That sounded well practiced to me,” Amaryllis laughs, the smile replaced by their usual expression.

“Thank you. I used to hate that song so much, it would get stuck in my head for hours and I’d  find myself playing the notes in the air all the time like some sort of compulsion,” Beatrice sighs, her fingers flexing in her lap at the memory, “But I’m glad the torment payed off.” 

“Well I’ll stop torturing you then,” Amaryllis jokes, bumping Beatrice slightly off the piano bench with their hip, “I think we’ll leave the piano to me for now, let’s begin the lesson.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Amaryllis’s fingers still on the keys of the piano as the song comes to an end. Beatrice’s singing was lovely— as always— but something was off. What, they weren’t exactly sure. The warm up went fine, she didn’t seem stiff or nervous in the slightest, and  minimal issues with her pitch. She’d taken a breath or two at a bad moment, and at one point a whole note became a half, but neither of those were serious.

They realize that they may just be projecting their feelings onto her. A comment of hers from before had been bothering Amaryllis, much more than it should have. Beatrice’s anecdote about having no say in performing a song that she hated had struck close to home. Literally.

Beatrice had never given any indication that she was unhappy with the music they chose for her. But Amaryllis had never directly asked her what she wanted to sing either.

“Amaryllis, is everything alright?” Beatrice spoke up. Suddenly they realized they hadn’t said a word in the time since the song had concluded. There was a nervous edge to her voice, the tone making an unwelcome appearance for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, I apologize,” they stood from the bench, feeling the sudden urge to move.

“Is there, um, a problem?” Her words were hesitant, uneasy. When Amaryllis turned to her, Beatrice's eyes were downcast, focused on the carpet.

“Oh, ma chérie, no. You were wonderful, don’t worry.” The endearment had slipped out without thought. Bringing a hand to her back, Amaryllis ushered her over to sit with them. They felt uneasy, but maintained their composure, focused on how soft the satin of her dress felt.

“Sorry, I-” Amaryllis faltered. Their hand was still at her back, lower now, and as much as they longed to leave it there they knew they shouldn't. Not only was the gesture a little too friendly, but feeling how thin her dress seemed to be was distracting. “I’d like to ask, what kind of music do you want to sing?”

Once Beatrice had taken in their question, she relaxed, taking a moment to consider her answer.

“I suppose whatever kind suits my voice best?” She sounded uncertain, and her hazel eyes flitting back to the ground was a confirmation. Amaryllis was having none of that.

“Ah,” their hand came up to her chin, tilting her gaze back to them, “that’s not how this works.” The two were close, but not quite as close as they had been at the piano bench last week. As Amaryllis looked down at her, the rose-colored lipstick she wore caught their eye. They gave into the temptation to stare, for a little too long.

Amaryllis is back to the same dilemma as they had been weeks ago. They wanted to kiss her, wanted to see the color on her lips smeared and mixed with their own. It was the same conundrum, but it had grown far more complicated than it had been weeks ago.

They dreaded the conclusion of their lessons, and counted the days until the next one. And between lessons they’d started seeing each other much more often during the rest of the week. During court functions and other meetings, Amaryllis had found themself in Beatrice's company. They ran into each other in the halls of the palace— literally, one time— and when on stage they looked for her in the crowd. She was never difficult to spot.

As of late, their compositions reflected their feelings. Even inspiration for the masquerade came easy, knowing she'd be in that crowd too.

Amaryllis wanted her. But now, they wanted far more than a kiss or a single night, and not in the way they were familiar with wanting someone. Wanted to hold her hand, wanted to listen to her ramble, wanted to sing with her. Wanted to know her, and had even contemplated letting her know them in return.

But they couldn’t let themself. It was foolish— to be afraid of the feelings and to have them at all in the first place. In some ways, it felt like something of a betrayal. Beatrice had trusted Amaryllis to instruct her, not to fall for her.

Finally, they avert their gaze, torn to see Beatrice watching them with a similar longing. It would have been far easier to lean into her instead of pulling themself away completely. Even if Amaryllis knew she'd be receptive, they had to have some self-preservation. They knew it wouldn’t be enough to just take what they could get from her. It would be better to let the infatuation fade than feed the fire; it would hurt far less.

“Passion is far more important.” Amaryllis leans back against the chaise. “Doing what’s ‘technically’ correct means nothing if it's not what makes you happy. Singing for the sake of arbitrary rules will only bring you dread.” They're familiar with the way it feels to lose your passion, and the trauma of it was a deep-seated pain. Beatrice’s brow creases as they speak, picking up on what their insistence indicates. “So when I ask you what you’d like to sing, I need you to answer with how you feel.”

“I’d like to sing things that I can find meaning in. The song we’ve been working on, it’s beautiful, but I can’t relate to it no matter how I attempt to interpret it. Coming from me it feels insincere.”

“I may have something in particular you'd like.” The words are out before Amaryllis can even grasp what exactly they were deciding to offer. But they couldn't take it back now, not with the delighted way Beatrice was looking at them.

Without standing, they motion in the air, and their grimoire soars over from where it had placed on the piano. Amaryllis sets the book of music before them. With their hands on the cover, they whisper the incantation that unlocks it.

Beatrice had scooted forward, leaning in, but still far enough for her to pretend she wasn't being nosy. Amaryllis knew she must have a billion questions, and they would happily listen to her voice each one. But, she only asked one.

“What is it about?”

It was a simple question, but not one with a simple answer. That was why Amaryllis had written it into a song after all. Emotions and experiences were too difficult for them to express in a usual manner. If their feelings were to be expressed at all, they had to do so in a different way.

“You’ll see,” they left it at that, casting the projection spell for the piano. Sitting up straight, Amaryllis rolled their shoulders back, and began to sing.

The lyrics they sang painted the picture of a neglected child. The intense sorrow they felt. What they dreamed of to help them through each day. The helplessness that came when they realized the dreams were only that. Dreams, and nothing more.

With a final, shaky note, they looked to Beatrice. She was silent, lips parted and eyes glassy. For a moment, Amaryllis worries they'd upset her, but then she reaches out to rest her hand on their knee.

“Amaryllis, that was beautiful,” she blinks away the tears that had threatened to fall. “You’d trust me to sing that?”

“Of course,” they place their hand over hers.

“Then, I’d love to.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice wakes up groggily, rolling over in bed only to come face to face with a rabbit staring directly at her. “Oh, good morning, Bramble,” she says, reaching to scratch the rabbit between her ears. She winces at the sound of her voice, it sounds scratchy and her throat hurts a bit when she swallows. She decides to test her voice again, “Shall we get some breakfast?” it’s definitely still scratchy. 

She worries as she goes about her morning routine, wondering if she’ll be able to sing at all later. She’s been practicing in all of her spare moments, and perhaps that’s why she has no voice left for her real practice. Still, work doesn’t stop for a lost voice and she has a meeting with Nadia in an hour so she clasps her cloak, grabs her bag, and starts the trek across town.

When she arrives in Nadia’s parlor, a prompt five minutes early, she realizes how winded she feels. The moment she opens her mouth to greet Nadia she knows she might really be in trouble. 

“Good morning,” She croaks, pasting a cheerful smile on her face in the hopes of distracting the Countess. 

“Oh dear, Beatrice are you feeling alright? You sound quite ill,” Nadia says, looking worried as she stands in the doorway regarding her. 

“I’m fine, just a sore throat,” Beatrice replies, holding back a wince as her throat grates. 

‘You don’t sound fine, I believe you should go home and rest. You’re in no position to give a presentation this morning,” Nadia’s tone of voice brooks no argument and Beatrice hangs her head a bit as she tries to think of a way to convince her. Beatrice doesn’t take days off, certainly not for a sore throat. “I shall have a servant get you a carriage.”

“I’m fine, really! Don’t go to the trouble,” She pleads, but Nadia simply shakes her head and points to the doorway.

“Go home, take some time to rest, Beatrice,” Nadia says kindly. Beatrice sighs and starts to gather her things, there’s no use, Nadia’s right. She can barely make an audible sound, there’s nothing to do but wait for her voice to come back. 

As Beatrice heads to the Palace gates she’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t think about her lesson with Amaryllis. She all but forgets about it until she spots a familiar maroon haired figure approaching from across the foyer. 

“Beatrice, you’re here early,” Amaryllis says, looking equal parts bemused and excited to see her. 

“I was just leaving,” Beatrice rasps, “ Lost my voice,” 

“Yes I should say you have,” Amaryllis frowns, putting a hand on Beatrice’s forehead as if to check for a fever. She stares at them wide-eyed as they deliberate and finally pull their hand away. “Does your throat hurt as well?” 

“Yes,” She says, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can sing today.” 

“No, I don’t think you can. You should go home and rest, you’ve been practicing too much,” They reply, they’re still stooped down a bit to meet her eyes and Beatrice finds it hard to focus with them this close to her.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice manages to say, feeling terrible from the pain and because she’ll be missing out on a lesson.

Beatrice thinks back to their last lesson, the way Amaryllis had opened up to her and allowed her to listen to their music. She doesn’t want to miss another chance at that closeness, both emotional and physical. There had been times over the last few weeks where Beatrice could have sworn Amaryllis might kiss her. They’d stared directly at her lips, only a slight tilt of the head away from meeting her lips with their own. But it hadn't happened, and it never will, Beatrice reminds herself. Amaryllis is her teacher, and though they’ve begun to spend more time together outside of lessons she’s sure it’s out of friendly obligation and nothing more. 

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your poor vocal chords.” Amaryllis straightens up to their full height and takes a step back from her. They seem to be deep in thought for a moment before almost hesitantly adding, “Go home, I’ll bring you some tea to help with your throat.” 

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” Beatrice protests, her face already flushing at the thought of them being so concerned for her.

“Stop talking, you’ll make things worse,” Amaryllis says, “It’s the building on the corner by the hat shop, yes?” Beatrice is a little surprised that Amaryllis remembers where she lives, she’d only mentioned it once in passing a few weeks ago.

“Yes,” Beatrice starts, but at Amaryllis’ stern look she shuts her mouth and nods instead. 

“Now go rest,” They say, red lips pulling into their characteristic smile, “I’ll be by later.” 

When she gets home Beatrice kicks her boots off and changes into something comfortable. She chugs a glass of water but it’s too cold and burns the whole way down. It might just be her throat that hurts, but she finds herself quite tired. She’d refused the carriage ride home, deeming it unnecessary, and the walk back home had taken her longer than usual. She wants to take a nap, but if Amaryllis is coming by later she wants to make sure her house is tidy first.

After a quick speed clean, which she might’ve used some magic to do more quickly, she collapses into bed. What feels like five minutes later there's a knock on the door and she sits up with a start, hurriedly smoothing her hair down as she goes to answer the door. She holds her breath a little as she opens the door, seeing Amaryllis standing in her doorway is not a sight she’d ever expected to see. 

“Hello,” Amaryllis smiles as they take in Beatrice standing before them in her socks and a simple tunic, so different from her usual fancy clothing. She fidgets uncomfortably under their gaze, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” They raise an eyebrow, and Beatrice rushes to open the door wider for them to enter. 

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” She says hoarsely, watching as Amaryllis looks around her apartment. It’s not large, just the living area and a separate bedroom and bathroom off of a hallway. She’s glad she’d tidied before Amaryllis arrived, they’re used to Palace accommodations, and her little home in Center City certainly isn’t that. 

“I took a carriage, it took no time at all,” Amaryllis replies, taking a small pouch of tea leaves out of their bag. “The coachman said you decided to walk, why would you do that when you were already feeling unwell?” 

The question takes Beatrice off guard and she watches as Amaryllis walks into her kitchen like they live there, filling her kettle with water and setting it to boil. “It was unnecessary,” she responds when they turn around to look at her, “I didn’t need anyone to go to the trouble on my behalf.”

“If someone offers to help you, let them help you,” Amaryllis says, their face gone serious as they work to prepare the tea. “And it’s no trouble to take care of someone who’s always taking care of others.” 

They look a bit taken aback at their own words and immediately turn their back to Beatrice as they pour the tea. Though she wonders at their reaction it gives Beatrice a chance to take a deep breath and rid herself of the blush on her face. When Amaryllis turns around they’re brandishing a teacup, Beatrice’s favorite though they couldn’t have known that. 

“Do you have any honey? It’ll help your throat even more,” They ask. Beatrice nods and goes to the cupboard next to them, reaching on her tiptoes to grab the jar of honey from the back. Amaryllis watches her with a smirk as she manages to reach it and hands the jar to them. 

“What tea is that?” Beatrice asks, taking in the slightly familiar aroma.

“It’s ginger tea, now sit,” They point to the couch in the middle of the room, “And drink.” 

Beatrice takes the cup from them, trying not to react to their fingers brushing hers, and takes a seat. The tea tastes better than she thought it would, and the honey makes it sweet enough for her to actually enjoy. Amaryllis sits on the opposite end of the couch and watches as she sips the tea. She holds back a sigh as the warm beverage soothes her throat.

“I think you need to cut down on how much you’re practicing. You also need to take more frequent vocal breaks to rest, and I’m leaving this tea with you. You should have some after you practice,” Amaryllis says. Beatrice nods and continues to drink her tea, not wanting to interrupt their instruction. Amaryllis moves a bit closer to her and Beatrice turns towards them, nearly losing her grip on the teacup when they reach out to twist their finger around one of the curls that hangs near her face. Though she’s grown more used to their casual touches over time, she still finds herself flustered by how delicately they brush the lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re making a lot of progress, Beatrice, but you shouldn’t push yourself so hard that you get hurt,” Amaryllis explains, their eyes locked to hers, “You need to take better care of your instrument.” 

“I will,” Beatrice says in assurance. Her voice already sounds a bit better, and it didn’t hurt as much to speak. She smiles at the realization that the tea really had helped, and Amaryllis watches in amusement as Beatrice downs the rest of the cup like one would take a shot of alcohol. 

“I need to get back for a performance tonight, promise me you’ll stay home and rest? If I see you at the Palace next week and you’re still croaking I’ll have to come up with something stronger, and it won’t be sweetened with honey,” Amaryllis threatens, but the smile on their face takes away from the effect.

“I promise,” Beatrice replies, holding her pinky out to theirs to make a pinky promise. Amaryllis stares at her finger for a moment before laughing under their breath and linking their pinky with hers.

“Good,” They stand up to gather their belongings and head towards the door, “Thanks for letting me visit your lovely home, I do hope I can make a return visit someday.” 

“I hope so too,” Beatrice says, meeting their eyes for a moment before her eyes dart away to the bookcase next to them, something safer to stare at, “Thank you for the tea.” 

“My pleasure, anything to help my favorite student,” Amaryllis smiles, dipping into a dramatic bow.

“As far as I know, I’m your only student,” Beatrice laughs, glad that the action didn’t seem to hurt her throat.

“Just take the compliment, Beatrice,” They say, opening the door, “Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye,” She replies, but they’ve already shut the door behind them. 

Beatrice makes herself another cup of ginger tea and considers writing Amaryllis a thank you note, it’s the least she can do. She gets to work, pulling out her special personalized stationery and her favorite golden ink. It takes her nearly fifteen minutes just to write their name, she tries to get the curve of the A just right, the y looped perfectly around the other letters. The actual contents of the note is short. There are lots of things she’d like to say to Amaryllis, and maybe someday she’ll get up the courage to do so, but for today she just says “thank you”.

She’d thought that writing the note might help her clear her head a bit, but when she tries to go to sleep she can’t stop the thoughts of Amaryllis. She thinks about the way Amaryllis had called her ma chérie last week, and how much she wants them to call her that again. She wants to hear more of their words spoken and sung only for her. Before she can help herself, Beatrice thinks about their lips again, bright red and so close to her own. Would it have been a mistake for her to have leaned in? Would Amaryllis have pushed her away or kissed her back? 

She really needs to get over this infatuation. Even if Amaryllis had wanted to kiss her, it doesn’t mean they would want anything more. Just when she thinks Amaryllis is interested they take a step back, or they return to their calm and collected demeanor and the moment passes. Beatrice really doesn’t know what to make of their attention, their casual touches and lingering eye contact. She’s seen them flirt with others in the same way, it seems to be a facet of their personality to be familiar with people, and if that’s the case then what makes her any different? 

Beatrice isn’t used to being treated like this. She’s not used to being told that she’s talented and pretty and full of potential, and though she believes their words to be genuine, she wonders if their time spent together means as much to Amaryllis as it does to her. She hopes it does.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“So, what’s going on today that has you so cheerful?” Amaryllis asks as they begin to tidy up the rehearsal room now that the lesson had concluded. They're more than content to linger, packing their bag with little haste.

“I'm usually cheerful,” Beatrice fights a grin, acting coy.

“Especially so today. It certainly reflected in your performance. Now that I think about it, the past few days you’ve seemed so excited.” Amaryllis had been thinking about it, giddy each time they’d run into her and the dazzling smile she had on display.

Beatrice avoided their gaze, eyes mischievous, and Amaryllis expected her to deflect again. “It’s my birthday today!”

“Oh! Happy birthday,” they smile, full of adoration, “are you doing anything to celebrate?”

“I’m staying here for dinner tonight. A gangly birdie let it slip that Nadia may have planned something special for me.”

“I suppose that means I’ll get to see you at dinner.” Beatrice glances up, surprised, and Amaryllis attempts to suppress a laugh. “I usually dine here, I live here after all. Though, I often take meals in my room, but it seems that tonight is a special occasion.”

“Oh, you don’t have to come to dinner just for me, I’m sure you’re busy-“

“I’d like to. That is, if you don’t mind having me there.”

“Amie, of course not!”

For a moment, all is silent, both surprised that she called Amaryllis by a nickname. Beatrice looks like she’s about to rush to apologize, but their smile beats her to it.

“Then I’ll be there." Once the nickname sunk in, their face lit up— despite their attempt to stay neutral— and told her there was no issue. Beatrice nods, her demure smile doing nothing to hide how pleased she really is.

The two say their farewells for now, leaving in different directions. Beatrice, they assume, is off to get ready for a dinner in her honor, and Amaryllis is off to find a fitting last-minute gift.

After an hour, Amaryllis was approaching the dining room. A little late, but dressed for dinner and with a carefully-crafted bouquet in hand. They might have gone overboard with their gift, but Beatrice didn’t need to know. The arrangement they'd selected looked simple, but the meanings each flower held were far from it.

First, they'd started with violets, paired with sprigs of laurel. Individually, violets represented modesty, and laurel was for success. Together, they were for expressing that you were proud of the recipient. And Amaryllis was so proud of Beatrice. Their first real meeting all those months ago she was a ball of nerves, when it came to singing and being around them. But now, she had made leaps and bounds with her singing, and felt comfortable enough to call them ‘Amie’.

Then, the cowslip caught their eye. It was for gracefulness, and they'd decided it was fitting. Beatrice was graceful, even when she tripped over herself or her words, there was a certain charm to it. Even when nervous she always made her best attempt, and the way she lit up when she was successful. To Amaryllis, she was the portrait of grace.

Of course, it spiraled into dangerous territory from there. The buttercups came next, 'you are radiant with charm', they revealed. And when paired with the cowslip, they were often given as tokens of new and blooming affection. Amaryllis couldn't say their affection was new, but it was blooming into something far past a fleeting crush.

Finally, Amaryllis added purple pansies into the mix. They told themself it was simply to balance out the two bunches of yellow flowers, but that was a lie. Pansies confessed ‘you occupy my thoughts’, and gods, did she. So often they thought of her; when composing, when performing, during the day, at night, in bed. It almost felt wrong, how often their mind strayed to her and in the ways that it did.

The blooms had been wrapped together in cream-colored paper and tied with a violet ribbon. Amaryllis hoped the delicate yellows and purples would be to her liking. They also hoped that gifting this bouquet full of secrets would be symbolic. That they'd be handing off their feelings like they were handing off the flowers.

The dining room doors opened, and their worry-free façade fell back into place.

“She’s been taking lessons from a great teacher,” catches Amaryllis’s ear as they enter. To the side is what looks to be the gift table, and they place the bouquet down. It was Portia, with all her enthusiasm that they'd heard. She was at the center of the table, alongside Nadia of course, with Beatrice seated on her other side.

“Ah, well-“

“Gossiping about me?” Amaryllis stopped behind their seats, interrupting and startling Beatrice in the process. Instinctively, they place a hand on her shoulder to steady her, surprised to feel bare skin. When Amaryllis glances down at her, they regret it immediately.

She’s dressed to the nines, cloak nowhere to be seen. All they see is cream lace and tulle that drapes off her shoulders, and the satin corset hugging her frame. They’re at a wonderful angle to witness exactly how flattering it is on her.

Before they could be considered staring, they look away. But as flushed as she is, they doubt Beatrice missed the way their eyes dragged over her body. Her smile is bright, and Amaryllis is a little dizzy at the idea that reaction was for them. They certainly could dream.

“Wait, you’ve been instructing her?” Asra questions from Beatrice’s other side.

“Why are you so surprised?” Amaryllis shrugs, nonchalant, strolling away to their seat. They were well aware this news was about to be the largest scandal in Vesuvian history. Their lessons weren’t a secret, but Amaryllis hadn’t gone out of their way to mention it, and it seemed Beatrice hadn't either.

“I recall bringing up the idea of you taking on students last year. And I recall you declining, claiming you weren’t ‘teacher material’.” Nadia comments as they pass.

Lucio can’t help but join in, complaints ready as Amaryllis takes their seat between him and Julian. “I’ve begged you for lessons, and you always told me no!”

“That’s because you’re tone deaf.”

“Wait, I’m tone deaf, but we sing together all the time?” Julian adds.

“You aren’t tone deaf, you have trouble matching pitch on your own. There’s a difference.”

They aren't close to Beatrice at all, on the complete opposite side of the table, but they can see her trying to listen in.

“So Amaryllis, what prompted your change of heart about teaching?” Nadia asks them.

“There’s been no change of heart, I’m still not interested,” Amaryllis sips their wine.

“Then why is Beatrice taking lessons from you?” Julian butts in from between them.

“She stumbled upon a rehearsal of mine weeks ago, and mentioned lessons. I thought I would offer,” another sip, “I could tell she was special.”

“Is that so?”

Amaryllis makes sure Beatrice is still eavesdropping, her eyes wide and curious. “Beatrice is a very promising student. If it were up to me, I’d have her on the stage by now.”

Nadia turns to her, and the countess begins to ask her about it. Of course, Amaryllis's ability to hear what she has to say is cut off by Lucio and Julian’s bickering.

Dinner as a whole passes with no more awe directed at them for their, admittedly, out of character actions. They were thankful to no longer be in the spotlight for the night, it wasn’t for them after all.

After dessert— Beatrice’s favorite cake, of course— Nadia suggests they all move to the veranda. Amaryllis stands, but takes their time joining everyone else, finishing off their wine. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed Beatrice still in the room until her hand is on their arm. It’s just the two of them now, and her touch is a welcome surprise. Beatrice’s smile is radiant as she looks up at them through long lashes. In her other hand is the bouquet.

“How did you know violets were my favorite?”

“I didn’t, actually,” she glances between the flowers and Amaryllis. “I’m relieved to know that I chose well.” 

“You did. Thank you, Amie. They’re beautiful.”

“They pale in comparison to you,” it’s cliché, and easily passed off as Amaryllis’s typical flirting. Even if now they mean it more than anything. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she’s blushing, but her smile is proud.

“Did you know that violets mean ‘modesty’?”

“They do?” Her eyes light up, always eager to learn about anything. “Do the other flowers mean anything specific?”

“All of them do, and some of them mean something else when paired together. It’s why I picked them.” Beatrice’s brow raises, anticipating that Amaryllis will explain. “I think I’ll leave it for you to figure out on your own.”

“What!” Beatrice pouts, and her grip on their arm tightens. “But it’s my birthday.”

“And you love to learn, so it's the best gift of all.”

“That is a wonderful gift,” she laughs. “Then would you tell me what your favorite is?”

“I like Hemlock.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Highly poisonous? Yes, though it is safe when dried.” She stares for a moment, somewhere between confusion and amusement, then laughs again.

“How am I not surprised?”

“I also like roses. But don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want word to get out that I’m just a romantic, it’d ruin my reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” her expression turns pensive, “are you really? A romantic, that is.”

Amaryllis shifts a little closer to Beatrice. The arm that isn’t graced by her touch reaches out, hand on her bare shoulder. They notice a heart-shaped birthmark that they hadn't had the opportunity to see until now. Fingers brush over it before ghosting down her arm, wondering what her reaction would be if it was their lips instead. As they trace her skin, Amaryllis feels her shiver, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not seek that out over and over. They take her hand then, pulling it to their lips to place a soft kiss to the back of it, leaving behind a red lip print.

“I certainly can be, when someone piques my interest enough,” their ruby gaze doesn’t leave her face. Beatrice stifles a gasp, and Amaryllis wonders what to do now, how they could just walk away from this—

And then, they’re interrupted.

“Birthday girl! You’re about to miss your own toast!” Portia leans in  to shout from the doorway. “and you have to lead the song, or else Ilya’s squawking is gonna give me a headache.”

Beatrice intertwines her fingers with Amaryllis's, and then leads them outside hand-in-hand. The walk from the dining room to the veranda is far too short.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

#many beamie thoughts #if u read all of this... i love u #will smith poses at bea’s lovely writing #the image is concept art from the 2004 poto movie #beamie #beatrice viano #apprentice beatrice #amaryllis leroux #apprentice amaryllis #amie fic