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daycourtofficial · 4 months ago

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The City of Starlight auction incident

Pairing: Cassian x reader | WC: 2.2k | Warnings: none

Summary: for the first time in centuries, Cassian is the only one of his brothers still single and participating in Velaris’s annual Kiss for a Cause bachelor auction. What happens when word got around about last year’s auction and an all out bidding war commences over the general?

Cassian peeked out from behind the curtain, surveying the crowd of fae gathered for Velaris’s annual Kiss for a Cause Auction. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian had all been a part of the gala’s main event: auctioning off Velaris’s most eligible bachelors to the highest bidder for a dinner date. Every year prior to this one ended up with Cassian landing in the bidder’s sheets, a fun night for everyone involved.

He didn’t think that was relevant at all to his current predicament.

Pulling the curtain back just enough, he looked at the crowded table at the front packed full of just the fae he was afraid to find: old, rich biddies eager for him.

Last year had been his first year at the auction solo, both of his brothers becoming mated males much to Cassian’s chagrin. He loved them and he was happy for them, but he couldn’t pretend like seeing them happy wasn’t a thorn in his side.

Being picked last never stopped hurting, no matter hoe old you were.

To make matters worse, at the time he and Nesta had just had a cataclysmic breakup, causing him to drown his sorrows in the female who paid for his company last year. Cassian had no idea how old she was, but he was certain she was fully grown when Ramiel was formed to give any indication to her age.

She - Pandra, Amara maybe, sat at a table at the front row, a bouquet in her arms as she chatted with her friends, all of their hands tight on their bidding paddles.

Cassian sighed, closing the curtain once more, debating on how it would look if he began bidding for himself. He watched as several of the males moved out from the curtain, the crowd cheering at each newcomer, having to wait to be called for his bidding.

Cassian cursed under his breath, hating his brothers for being happy and leaving him behind for this. He had forgotten all about it until he ran into one of the old ladies while out shopping a few days prior, and by then it was too late to pull from the auction. A hand ran over his face, feeling his skin prickle with the uncomforting knowledge he’d have to reject whoever bid on him.

A voice pulled him from his stupor, an assistant or volunteer coming by to get him to stand and helping straighten his clothes before they pittered away.

“Ladies and males, please if I could bring your attention to the curtain. I’d like to introduce Kiss for a Cause’s last bachelor. The size of a doorframe, wings bigger than your bed and thighs the size of your torso. The lord of bloodshed himself spends his days training every muscle in his well-toned body.”

The swooning could be heard across town, surely.

“He’s helped us raise more money over the years than any other bachelor, and Cassian is a good looking male with a heart of gold and an endless stomach.”

Cassian stilled. He knew that voice.

“Previous dates have described him as being large and in charge. Cassian is very set in several of his opinions, not letting true love get in the relationship he has with his training leathers.”

He started to turn, rolling his eyes at the less than flattering commentary provided for him, but the curtain moved, a faelight blinding him.

“Please feast your eyes and open your purses for Cassian!”

He felt the warmth of the lights before walking out from behind the curtain, the light slightly blinding him. He heard rustling at the table beneath the stage, a voice laughing, “I haven’t opened the bidding!”

Cassian couldn’t stop the sigh from spilling from his lips, until he looked over where the announcer usually stood to find you there, a smug look on your face as he walked down the stage, seeing every hand in the building raised high.

“Now should I even bother with low bids?”

The crowd mumbled in a tizzy until a voice called out, “two thousand gold marks!” Cassian’s eyes widened almost comically, shocked at such a high starting bid, but you continued in a confident voice.

“Two thousand marks, do I hear two thousand one hundred?”

Cassian watched as the paddles remained fixed in the air as you prattled off numbers, sweat pouring down his forehead as you reached five thousand gold marks. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, desperate for any form of breeze to cool him down. The numbers prattled on, climbing higher and higher, but Cassian remained fixated on one spot on the wall as he began gnawing on his bottom lip, wanting this night over with. You had stolen glances at him since he had come out onto the stage, your face growing more concerned as Cassian fidgeted more and more.

“Do I hear seven thousand gold marks?”

Cassian finally met your gaze amid the excited bids and you looked like the wind had been knocked out of you before you turned back, addressing the crowd once more.

“Um, actually I bid ten thousand gold marks and going once, twice, sold to me!” You banged the tiny gavel on the podium before dropping it. “Congratulations to me, thanks everyone for participating, have an okay night!”

You looped your arm through Cassian’s dragging him backstage, rushing him further from the upset murmurs of the crowd. Cassian’s eyes were wide on you, his feet nearly stumbling as you pulled him to the backdoor. The cold air and the heat from your hand caused his skin to erupt in goosebumps, your grip tightening the further from the building you got.

Your hand on his arm felt so comforting, so familiar, it started soothing his erratic mood.

“What’s wrong, Cass?”

He blew out, slouching slightly under your scrutiny. “I’m- Rhys and Az aren’t here.”

You nodded, expecting him to continue.

“We’ve always done everything together. And now they’re both happy and mated and I’m-” he practically crumpled in on himself before you, “I’m here being bid on like a piece of meat.”

He couldn’t take how you looked up at him with such softness, his mouth moving hefore he could stop it.

“I want my days of being a bachelor to be behind me. I don’t want to be the most eligible bachelor in Velaris.”

He wanted to tell you how long these feelings had been swirling inside him, how he longed to spend his nights with you and not some random female who paid for his company.

For months now, every time he saw you, the confession laid on his tongue, something always stopping him from telling the whole truth.

“You don’t have to be the most eligible bachelor in Velaris, Cass.”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall, his wings barely touching the brick beneath his back. The two of you kept toeing this line - you were both so close to admitting the truth, but never fully committing.

“Easier said than done. I felt like a prize horse prancing about that stage.”

“I didn’t see much prancing up there, stallion.”

Your jest pulled him from his self-deprecating thoughts, turning his mouth into a lazy smirk.

“And yet you paid how much? Ten thousand gold marks for no prancing? I don’t think Rhys or Az garnered that much in a few years of doing these.”

You pushed him lightly. “You looked so sad, Cassie. I just- you were so upset after last year’s bidding, and seeing you look so down, I couldn’t let anyone pay for your time.”

You sighed, crossing your arms in realization you had left your coat behind. “Besides, it was for a good cause. And I believe this means you now owe me dinner.”

Your elbow nudged him, prodding his ribs lightly. He rolled his eyes but held out his arm for you to take, a soft laugh coming from you at the contact.

“And what would my savior like to eat on this fine evening?”

“There’s that new Summer court themed restaurant - we can get takeout and head to my place?”

Takeout laid across your coffee table in several boxes, all half-eaten or picked at, three bottles of empty wine litter your kitchen counter as Cassian uncorked a new bottle.

“I think Gertrude would be a fine female to share your bed with.”

Your teasing was met with a huff. “Yes because I’d love for it to circulate through Velaris that I’m breaking the hips of little old ladies.”

Your hands shot up defensively. “Okay, as if there are better ways to get your hip broken.” Cassian raised his eyebrows and your laugh warmed something in his chest.

“How many hips broken does ten thousand gold marks get me?”

“Sweetheart, you can get a broken hip for free.”

The line slipped from his lips so casually, the wine doing little to stop his affections from spilling out.

“Oh yeah? And here I thought it was little old ladies who made your cock twitch.”

Cassian had to catch his breath from how quickly the conversation had turned, but he couldn’t help noting, “you sound jealous, sweetheart.”

He wanted to pinpoint the exact shade of red you had turned and color his walls with it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cass. We’re friends.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He watched your jaw tighten, annoyance clear across your face.

“Cassian, this isn’t funny.” You stood, taking the empty wine bottles to your kitchen, turning your back on Cassian. “Our friendship isn’t a joke “

“That’s what I tell myself each night when I fall asleep thinking about you.”

Your head snapped to look at him so quickly Cassian wanted to laugh. “That’s not funny, Cassian. You don’t get to just say stuff like that because I spent a fortune on our date tonight.”

“Okay, fine then. I won’t tell you about how seeing you on that stage took my breath away and how I hoped you would bid on me.”

Cassian was animated, his hands gesturing wildly. “Because I think about you nonstop, there’s always some countdown clock in my head to when I’ll see you again.”

He moved closer to you, gentle steps as if he were afraid of spooking a wild animal.

You finally turned to look at him, your resolve crumbling as his hands moved toward your face. “Cassie.”

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, softly shushing you.

“It’s okay.”

Cassian hunched down to rest his forehead against yours.

“You can’t say that when you were just complaining to me about being alone.”

“Did you ever think I was talking about you? And how you’ve always been there for me? And how I want to be done with being a bachelor for you?”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the ground. “No, you don’t mean that. You don’t mean any of this. You just don’t want to be alone.”

“No, I do mean this. We’ve always been in this weird flux where neither of us have been single at the same time.”

“You’re still hung up on Nesta and just want company.”

A lie.

You both knew you truly didn’t believe it. Cassian hadn’t taken long to get over their breakup, having known for some time that things with Nesta weren’t working.

“If I just wanted company, I would have gone back to that auction and ripped off my shirt.”

You finally looked up at him, silver lining your eyes threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Okay, fine I was jealous.”

Cassian’s heart rate spiked at your soft confession.

“I just saw in my head their old lady hands all over your body.”

He started to gloat, but you kept going.

“And fine, I was jealous of Nesta too. She didn’t understand you like I do. And you both deserved better!”

His chest felt so tight, so many emotions swirling inside of it like his heart was caged, throwing itself on the bars to get out.

His voice rose. “And who would be better for me?”

“Me!”

You had shouted it at him, not a hint of drunkenness to your words.

“We are so compatible! I’d be fantastic for you!”

You kept blabbering but Cassian surged forward, taking your face in his hands before kissing you. It was messy and half drunken, but he felt your hands wrap around his neck, desperate to keep him close.

He felt so warm inside, like this was where he was meant to be. As soon as he had the thought, he felt something stirring in his chest.

He kept kissing you, moving you to sit on the counter so he could stand between your legs. He swore he could spend the rest of his days like this - his hands wandering all over your body, your legs wrapped around his waist holding him to you.

Cassian felt a sharp tug in his chest, nearly causing him to stumble before he pulled away, eyes opening to take you in.

Your eyes were so big and warm, full of love and wine, and he knew it right then. His days as a bachelor were over, and all the other fae who had bid on him over the years and he had bedded were behind him.

Sitting before him was his mate, the last person to ever bid on Velaris’s annual Kiss for a Cause’s most eligible bachelor.

Author’s note: happy last day of @cassianappreciationweek !!! Wanted to get something out before the week was over 🫶🏻 was this proofread? No. Was this good? Still no. But it was fun 🫶🏻

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian lord of bloodshed #acotar writing

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dragoneyes618 · 3 days ago

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On February 5th, 1840, the Syrian Jewish community was thrown into peril when Father Thomas, an Italian monk, and his Muslim servant, Ibrahim Amara, disappeared in Damascus. Despite there being no evidence of the Jews’ involvement — in fact, historians think it’s more likely that Father Thomas was murdered by a local Turkish muleteer — the good citizens of Damascus could never lose an opportunity to scapegoat a Jew. Accusations of “blood matzos” spread rapidly (a common justification for many European blood libels), and thus began what became known as the Damascus affair. At the time, the city was governed by the (anti-Semitic) French consul, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton, who ordered a search of the Jewish quarter. While his hunt did not unearth any stored blood or bodies, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton was not about to let a small matter of literally no evidence get in the way of his convictions. A Jewish barber named Solomon Negrin was arbitrarily pulled off the street and tortured until he “confessed” that the monk had been killed in the house of David Harari — a wealthy member of the community — by seven Jews, who were rounded up before they could flee.

Meir Farhi, another wealthy Jew, was indicted in the disappearance of Ibrahim Amara. The Damascus authorities were furious that he escaped before they arrived to arrest him. Determined to drive him out of hiding, they began to whip his toddler son. After being forced to watch her son receive 300 lashes, and nearly bleed to death, a distraught Mrs. Farhi gave the authorities her husband’s location (along with a bribe for “humane” treatment), and he was promptly imprisoned.

In the interim, none of the seven “conspirators” in Father Thomas’s murder confessed, despite being tortured. Wanting a “confession,” as they still didn’t have any physical proof, Damascus authorities abducted 63 Jewish children (along with their mothers) and refused to release them until someone owned up. Aslan Farhi, a brother of Meir Farhi, confessed to the murder under torture.

While the Christians and Muslims had found their “murderers,” they still hadn’t located the bodies or the blood. Investigators eventually found some animal bones in the sewer, and claimed they belonged to Thomas and Amara. A local physician refused to certify that they were human bones and suggested they be forwarded to Europe for confirmation, but the French consul decided that would be too much effort — he had all the proof he needed.

Jewish communities worldwide were horrified about the blood libel, and even more so about the fact that the greater world accepted it as justified. No one in Europe rose to the defense of the Damascus Jewish community, or even questioned the obvious discrepancies in the case. But before the American Jewish community could take action, President Martin Van Buren spoke up.

Though the State Department issued an official statement condemning the situation in Damascus, President Van Buren wasn’t content to just send his “thoughts and prayers,” and instructed his government to pressure and influence the Sultan as well.

The American consul in Constantinople, David Porter, received the following message: “…As the scene of these barbarities are in the Mahomedan dominions, and as such inhuman practices are not of infrequent occurrence in the East, the President has directed me to instruct you do to everything in your power with the Government of his Imperial Highness, the Sultan to whom you are accredited… to prevent or mitigate these horrors…”

Mr. Porter’s pressure campaign (along with some assistance from the British and French governments) forced Pasha Muhammed Ali, the Ottoman Viceroy and ruler of Egypt and Syria, to end the torture and imprisonment of the Jewish prisoners who were still alive. Additionally, the American ambassador (along with Moses Montefiore) was able to secure an Ottoman imperial decree declaring that the blood libel had “not the least foundation in truth,” and that Jews “shall possess the same advantages and enjoy the same privileges” as his other subjects — most notably the free exercise of their religion.

While the American Jewish communities arranged protests in New York, Boston, Charleston, and Philadelphia, these rallies took place two weeks after the President intervened. His actions were a matter of conscience, not the result of political pressure or lobbying.

Source

#history #american history #jewish history #syrian history #antisemitism

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thehighladywrites · 6 months ago

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being elain archeron’s gf

summary: headcanons for being her gf💗💗

warnings: fluff, nsfw

amara’s note: this is for you elain lovers 💗💗 also this was very self indulgent👀

- You met Elain through Cassian. You were his second in command and was assisting him and the inner circle during the war

- There you and Elain met and hit it off instantly.

- People surrounding you noticed the small, sweet gestures exchanged between you and Elain, leading them to root for your connection.

- Both of you were afraid of taking your friendship further because you didn’t want to risk the beautiful friendship between you. But please, you had been in love since day one.

- Eventually, Elain had enough and asked you out on a date to which you say yes.

- You have regular date nights where you do everything from stargazing to going on little trips to other courts.

- Your favorite gift from her is the necklace she made you out of your mother’s old jewelry.

- Her favorite gift from you is when you arranged with Cassian, Feyre and Rhys to explore The Continent and the other courts with her a summer. You were gone for around four months having a blast. It eventually becomes your annually scheduled trip.

- Elain is extremely clingy and wants to stay near you all the time which you love. Being Cassian’s second in command isn’t easy and there is hard days where you have to fight back tears at the mere thought of going back to Elain’s arms.

- Cassian often notices when you’re in distress and let’s you leave early almost all the time.

- You just come home and wordlessly collapse in her arms, letting out everything today while she strokes your hair and rests your head on her chest. After you’re done venting, she undresses you and cuddles you to sleep

- Elain always knows when you just want to vent and when you need advice and want a solution to your problems. She’s incredibly attentive to you.

- You also help her with her powers, researching every book and visiting every city with a smidge of information that could help her.

- You both trust each other very deeply and have extreme faith in your relationship.

- I just know you have a secret language/code/moves you use in order to signal the other. Kinda like queen elizabeth using her handbags to send signals to her staff. So you both are able to talk without anyone else knowing anything about it.

- Let’s talk sleeping.

- You both share a room and a bed. It is all decorated by Elain since she has particular materials she can’t stand. She is in charge of decoration and you build her whatever she wants, ugh that is such a dream

- When sleeping, you other sleep completely naked, skin to skin for comfort. I’m talking tita smushed together, legs thrown over the others, practically sharing air. Or you both sleep in breezy nightgowns. You basically sleep on one pillow bc you wanna be super close. If you could, you’d be in each others skin.

- She LIVESSSS for nail scratches. Feeling your nails on her scalp knocks her out cold 🥶 This pretty girl also likes when you drag your nails on her arm and back.

NSFW

- elain is the dominant one. I just fucking KNOW it, it’s a hill i will die on

- I know she has a freaky little side she only shows you.

- No one else has seen this side of her and they never will.

- She’s all cutesy and kind to others while degrading, praising and fucking you stupid.

- she has a major mommy kink, aka you call her mommy. I KNOW IT

- IT’S ALWAYS THE SEEMINGLY INNOCENT AND QUIET ONESSSS

- She eats pussy like a pro, like she gets in there and has you cumming so quickly it’s crazy

- I know she has a strap that u sit on all the time

- Oh to be stupidly fucked by her

- A bit fluffier, she lovessss resting on your titties while you stroke her hair. She finds it super soothing and can sleep instantly. You often do it after she uses her powers and gets a headache

- you share clothes and everything together. Basically twins. But since you’re the generals second in command, you’re a bit more muscular then her which she looooves.

- Public pda isn’t very graphic. A few quick kisses is standard. Oh, and you always hold hands SO CUTE AHHH

- You both get very easily jealous bc both of you are drop dead gorgeous, like absolute stunners so you guys get hit on a lot.

- That is when your possessive side comes out👀 pulling her into your lap and kissing her neck for everyone to see or she comes up from behind and puts her hands around your waist, dragging your back to her chest to mark her territory and she doesn’t let go

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #elain archeron x reader #elain x reader #elain archeron #elain acotar #pro elain #elain #elain x fem reader #elain acosf

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farenmaddox · 2 months ago

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SPN wild theory time

I will just go ahead and start with my thesis statement: I don't think that Jack killed Mary.

With that out of the way, let's get into my warnings for this post: 1. There will be spoilers for Seasons 11-15 of Supernatural 2. I wasn't in this fandom 5-6 years ago when these episodes were coming out; maybe you guys already talked this all out and your entire response is going to be "we already went through this, dude." 3. This post is actually like 3-4 posts in a trenchcoat. I may have gone slightly overboard.

All that said, buckle up, here we go.

Chuck's "omniscience" is questionable. He has been surprised by Dean's decision-making and been upset about it, and has admitted that Castiel is someone whose actions often contradict Chuck's narrative. So, by his own admission, he doesn't/can't know everything.

However, he always thinks ahead and always has multiple ideas on how to solve a situation, and he always has a contingency plan.

First, let's look at how he handled the Amara situation. I would characterize Chuck's behavior in Season 11 as writing a self-insert fic. Chuck is a writer, after all. He knew that Dean taking the Mark of Cain would either lead to Dean's destruction or to Amara being released, so he would have been ready for Amara to appear well before she actually did. But it's only in episode 11x20 that he chooses to do anything about it, ostensibly because Metatron talks him into it. We already see signs that he's kind of "done" with the prime world and the Winchesters here, but then Metratron convinces him to give it another go, and that's when it becomes self-insert fic.

He displays the ability to absorb Amara into himself in episode 15x17, so I think this was always the contingency plan if all else failed. But he wanted to be in the story. He wanted to be on the team and be a hero, so he joins up to do the big assault on Amara plan that is carried out in 11x22. I truly do not think he foresaw that Amara would win that fight. And with how badly wounded he is, the contingency plan is no longer viable. So he has to go with the Dean-as-a-bomb plan. He was already thinking about letting it all go to shit, so this is fine. But then Dean wants to save the day with his faith in familial love, which Chuck definitely didn't see coming. I think Chuck lets it happen despite the fact that he doesn't actually give two shits about Amara just because Dean is his favorite and has managed to surprise him so maybe the world should go on a little longer.

All of this is just establishing a baseline of Chuck-ness. Now we're going to talk about Jack.

See, I don't think Chuck ever planned on Jack actually being carried to term and surviving. The wild card, as always, is Cas. Who, when he had a chance to kill a nephilim (a thing he has done before! a thing he has assisted in doing in the past! it's a sure bet for Chuck!)...doesn't do that. But that's okay (Chuck thinks)! The Winchesters will probably kill the kid! And if they don't, and Lucifer wins, then Chuck can swoop in and be like "my beautiful son and my beautiful grandson, oh my me, this is delightful, we should be a family" and then kill them both.

Dean hating Jack was absolutely Chuck's first choice of potential plots for how to take care of the Jack problem when it turns out that there is going to be a Jack. He likes that story. It surely fills him with glee that Sam doesn't hate Jack and Dean does. But then... fuck, it's Castiel, again! Chuck had no involvement in Cas being resurrected, for once. No way to predict that one. And Cas being back means that Dean doesn't hate Jack and isn't going to kill him, especially since Jack helps them get Mary back, which sucks for Chuck, who is now very committed to this storyline of Dean killing Jack. Don't forget, Chuck can kill Jack whenever he wants. But he wants Dean to do it. He's bored and done with Dean and is ready for Dean to be dead.

So, how do we get Dean to kill Jack? Well, obviously Cas's death doesn't goad him to do it because the fucker just can't stay dead, so it has to be Sam or Mary. And it can't be Sam, because Sam has to watch Dean kill Jack and himself. That's the story. So it has to be Mary, right?

Chuck just has to wait for the right moment.

Jack has a strong sense of fear about hurting people by the time of Mary's death. 13x06 and 14x16 are some critical episodes where we see how he feels and reacts to hurting innocent people. And he seems to have pretty good control over his powers as well. He had just recently had a conversation with Donatello (in 14x15) about how easy it is to continue doing the right thing without a soul. His decision to kill Felix the snake was very much on purpose and very controlled, and honestly can everyone shut up about the snake. Jack fucking loved that snake. It was sick and nobody else knew how to help Felix either. He euthanized a sick pet.

So it is hard to believe that Jack just randomly lost control of his powers and killed someone whom he had no reason to kill. That's not really consistent with Jack's behavior. Even when he's in a complete rage in 14x20 after what Sam and Dean did to him, he doesn't kill them. At his most angry and while experiencing a huge surge in power, he somehow doesn't kill Sam and Dean. But we're expected to believe that in 14x17, he just "accidentally" flies off the handle and kills Mary.

The thing that is genuinely so crucial is that we do not see Mary's death in 14x17. It does not happen on screen. Deaths in this show always happen on screen, and it's not on screen. All we see is her face near Jack's, and the next episode all we see is the blast site. I think that the reason we don't get to see it is because it didn't actually happen the way we're told it did.

The fact that Mary can't be resurrected? That's weird, and new. That literally never happens. Everyone can be resurrected. People who were turned into paste by archangels can be resurrected. People who have been cremated can be resurrected. But Mary can't be? That's got Chuck's smell all over it.

Jack thinks he killed Mary, but he fucking didn't. Chuck did it. Chuck smote the shit out of that woman and Jack doesn't have any other explanation for what happened. I don't even think he is actually hallucinating Lucifer. Soulless guy who "doesn't feel guilt" and doesn't want Lucifer in his subconscious but somehow can't get rid of him? It's Chuck. It's Chuck dressed up as Lucifer to keep Jack on the edge and convince him it was his fault so he can lead everybody to the grand finale.

And then stupid Dean ruins the story and doesn't kill Jack. Which Chuck should have seen coming, because this is what happened with Amara! But he didn't, because sometimes Chuck actually doesn't know things! It's okay though (Chuck thinks), because Chuck always has a contingency plan. He has always been able to kill Jack whenever he wanted, and if Dean's not going to do it, Chuck might as well. So he does.

I'm telling you. Chuck killed Mary. Jack didn't do it.

#this post is giving: “I've connected the two dots. you didn't connect shit. I've connected them.” aka incoherent ranting. it's fine.#son boy #jack kline #chuck spn #chuck shurley #spn #supernatural #supernatural meta #spn season 14 #spn rant #jack kline: narrative threat

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viktoriaashleyyx · 2 months ago

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Dedicated to every big sister who needed a big sister. To Kirsten, Thank you for being mine ❤️

A lot happens in this chapter. New OC Staff in Spring and we travel back to the House of Wind, this time to meet with Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. Fair warning: I never read ACOSF, everything I know about Gwyn and Emerie I read on Tumblr. If there is an ACOSF edit out there that only includes the parts with the Valkyries, please let me know.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Word Count 2900

Ch1

Ch 8 >> Ch 10

Chapter 9:

As the citizens returned slowly, Tamlin began rehiring the staff at the manor. This was always an uncomfortable feeling for me, to have people who waited on me and cleaned and cared for my home. This place was vast and ultimately belonged to the people of Spring, and I understood the jobs it created. Tamlin did pay them well, of course I insisted on that, but he had been for his entire reign, so it didn't need changing.

“Good morning, Lady.” a small frame nymph with light teal skin and soft rosey cheeks greeted me outside my room. It caught me off guard, but her sweet smile relaxed me. “My name is Amara and Tamlin offered me the job of your assistant, if you would like?” She further explained, searching my face for any indication of favor.

My shocked face softened, this is the life of royalty again, I am not ignorant to it, but it has been a while since I've endured this experience. “Hello Amara, it is lovely to meet you. What kinds of jobs are you hoping to perform here, exactly?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, Tamlin just sent me here to see what you needed. I like cooking and making large magical feasts that everyone enjoys. I'm not too fond of the clean up after, I can also sew really well..” she rambled and I listened intensely.

“I would definitely appreciate the help in the kitchen,” I giggled, “tell me, what is your favorite meal to cook?” I asked and I began leading her towards the kitchen.

“My favorite is making homemade bread, I even brought my own sourdough starter in my bag here!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a large heavy jar with the living yeast inside. How did she fit anything else in there?

“Yum! You begin on the bread and I will clean up after you, how does that sound? Just tell me what to do.” She was awestruck as we entered the large kitchen now at her disposal. “Anything you need, you let me know and I will get it for you. I am excited to finally have some help around here.” I gave her a wide smile and she returned it. She squealed as she got to work, rummaging through the cupboards for the ingredients she needed.

She sat me at the table with a cutting board and a knife, “Here, you can chop up the fruit to go with it.” She demanded, more out of excitement than disrespect.

“Yes ma’am” I giggled and did as I was told.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After showing Amara around the manor and to her room, one of the large guest rooms, as we planned to renovate the “servants quarters” to be bigger and more equal to that of the guest rooms, I prepared to complete the tasks I had originally planned for today. I hate the term “servants,” they are professionals hired to do a job I don't have the time or skills to complete myself. I left her to settle in and decorate her room to her liking. I had apologies to give out today.

♡♡♡♡

I arrived at the door to the House of Wind and knocked on the large iron door. Feyre's sister opened it and gave me a disgusted look.

“Rhysand and Feyre are not here, this is my home now and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be.” Nesta snapped.

“It's you I am here to see. We got off on the wrong foot. I am truly sorry for using Fayre’s pain against my brother, it was wrong of me, and I would like an opportunity to explain.” I requested, Nesta softened and proceeded to open the door further and gestured me inside. “The spell I used could not kill her, it was purely theatrics, I relied on my brother not knowing that.”

“It was in incredibly poor taste.” Nesta scolded me. I could see the power she held, power she wasn't even fully aware of. She was strong, forced to be.

“You're right.” I commended, “I would like to earn your forgiveness.”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“I could start by teaching you how to protect your mind, you live in close proximity to a powerful and self serving daemati, I am shocked they haven't taught you themselves.” I followed her as she invited me to, and she led me to a large kitchen, where two other women sat at the table, a red haired priestess and a stunningly beautiful illyrian.

“This is Gwyn and Emerie,” Nesta introduced us, gesturing to each girl, “and this is Rhysands sister, Sky? I believe,” I nodded at her.

“I am sorry I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come back another time.” I offered.

“It's fine, we were just talking about what a bitch Cassian is.” Gwyn giggled. Nesta glared at her, but she brushed it off.

“Oooh! Okay I am invested, catch me up, which one is he again?” I still couldn't remember their names, but that was mostly due to my apathy for the Night Court clowns.

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta were ‘mates’ but he sure didn't act like it. Gwyn and Emerie gave me a few stories of his cowardice and what they witnessed in how he treated her. I stopped them when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nesta begin to shrink in embarrassment.

“It is not that easy to leave him. We are mated.” Nesta sighed. I could tell she wasn't happy, Cassian didn't love her, and she knew it.

“Nesta,” a gentle command to request her eyes fall to me, “you hold the power to weave your own destiny. The mating bond means nothing if you do not want it to.”

“But they said I would be shackled to him for eternity. That I would always long for him no matter how hard I tried to let go.” Nesta spoke softly, remembering the atrocities the Night court committed against her to force her into Cassian's grasp. She had fought so hard against it, but they broke her down.

“That is called having a heart, sweetie, and also a bunch of bullshit used to manipulate you. You can sever the bond as easily as cutting a string, but truly the one who suffers the most is the male. Who cares? Let him suffer.” She had clearly never had the mating bond explained so bluntly to her. “All the mating bond means is that the cauldron, the mother, or the gods, whichever you choose to believe,” I waved my hand in the air dramatically, “would find it entertaining to see you two together. Weave your own fate out of spite. I fully believe you can.” I looked deep into her eyes, tears began forming in them, she wasn't used to hearing that what she wanted mattered. "No one tells Nesta what to do, not even the gods.”

Her face shifted to a rage full understanding. The Night court broke her down because she allowed them to. They harnessed the little ignorance she had of Prythia and the love she held for her sisters to keep her contained. Not anymore. It was time she chose herself.

“You need to get out of Night. That would be the first step. You are always welcome in Spring with me, but if that doesn't sit right with you I have made friends across all of Prythia, just choose a court and I will ensure your living quarters are prepared and properly warded to give you the peace and freedom you need. Just say the words and you will no longer be a prisoner of the Night Court.”

Nesta looked at me, a quick spark of hope flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze to her lap, deep in thought.

My gaze fell on the illyrian woman sitting in front of me, something was off about her. Her wings. Her wings were clipped. “Your wings are clipped.” I blurted out in shock. I should've handled that with more grace.

“Uh, yeah? I don't know any illyrian women whose aren't, save for royalty.” She sneered, gesturing to mine. Fair, my utterly useless brother couldn't even ban wing clipping properly. I'm sure he tried, but it was just performative nonsense once again.

“Would you like me to heal them?” I asked, softer this time.

Her face lined with confused disdain. “You can do that?”

“Oh yes,” I reached into my pocket portal, and grabbed a purple potion, rejuvenation. “Here, it tastes like really bad wine.”

She cautiously took the potion from my hands. “This little vial will pull my wings back together?”

“Yes, unfortunately there will be a scar. I've had to use it after a gravier decided my wings made good toothpicks.” I said that too cheerfully, she shuddered at the thought. I didn't expect her to know what a gravier was, but she was smart and could deduce it wasn't a pleasant creature.

“Admittedly, I am nervous, I heard what you did to Feyre. Why should I trust you?” Emerie eyed the vial and weighed the risks.

“Would you feel better if I drank one first?” I offered reassurance, “you can keep that, you don't have to take it right now, or ever. I have the means to help and would like to give you the choice.”

Emerie studied the purple liquid in the vial, was that hope that flashed in her eyes? She didn't know of a single illyrian woman who could use their own wings, she had dreamed of being able to soar the skies. Why have them if she can't use them?

“Inside the vial consists of a mix of three plants, Heart of the wild, Golden Sansam and Dreamfoil. While exiled, I studied and excelled in Alchemy. As an illyrian myself I have found no indication of these plants causing any harm or adverse effects. I will remain close and watch for any signs if you would like…” I trailed off noticing Emerie wasn't really listening. The other girls watched her intensely. Emerie had been through so much, betrayed so often, and now it was a matter of putting trust in Rhysands sister to possibly regain use of her wings.

“I never even learned how to fly..” she whispered, “I wouldn't know where to even begin.”

I took her hand in both of mine, “I will teach you. You deserve this. Your wings never should have been mutilated in the way they were… it's time to fly.” I looked at her with bright eyes. Tears welled in hers.

“What if it doesn't work?” The many different emotions were becoming too much for her. Hope, hope to regain what had been stolen from her.

“Then I will scour the realms to find something that does.” I promised. I had the means and the power to do so.

With shaky hands she removed the lid, Nesta and Gwyn looking on in shock. “Now spread your wings out fully, and hold them there for a minute or 2 after taking the entire vial.” I got up and walked behind her to see to it the potion would work. She threw her head back and downed every drop.

“Ugh,” she winced, “you did tell me it would taste like rotten wine.”

“My apologies,” I muttered as Nesta and Gwyn jumped up and ran to watch the magic. I held my hands no more than an inch away from the scars on each wing, careful as to not actually touch the sensitive skin, willing the magic of the potion to the correct spot.

The scars down her wings began to reopen and tie themselves together. Gwyn reached for Emeries hand, without removing her eyes from the magic she was witnessing. She knew what this would mean to Emerie.

“Okay, close them and stretch them a few times, slowly,” a gentle command. She did so. Just as I warned, the scars remained but the wings were fully intact. “Beautiful!, I would give yourself a few days before putting any weight on them. Stretch, flap, and soak them to prepare the muscles. I can return in one week, if you would like, to begin teaching you.” She flicked her wings forward towards her and she fell back, not used to them actually catching wind. Nesta and I caught her and stood her back up. She then ran to the large mirror on the wall and admired the powerful wings of hers. Stretching them, twitching them, giggling and crying at the same time. I could see tears welling up in both Nesta and Gwyn as they watched her, hearts swelling with happiness, as did mine.

“Thank you! I never could’ve dreamed this would be possible!” Emerie turned to me with the biggest smile, wiping away the tears of happiness that flowed down her face. She stretched her wings out wide, with pride. And ran to us, gripping all three of us in a giant hug, encasing us in her wings. She looked up at me, resting a gentle hand on my cheek as I returned the gesture. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with happiness. “What do I owe you?”

I was taken aback by that question. Why would she owe me anything? What a horrid place the Night court is to anyone who is not a citizen of Velaris. “To see your smile, and to watch you fly, would be the best payment of all. You owe me nothing but that.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and I slid mine around her back, embracing her for a few seconds.

“It is getting late, I must be getting home.” I commented pulling away. “Remember, soak, stretch, and flap.” She gave me a nod, still so happy she could barely talk. “I will return in one week. But do keep in mind, the Spring Court has always been a sanctuary for those escaping abuse, and if you ever need it, we will welcome you and all of your sisters with open arms.”

“Ugh. I don't know if I could ever trust Tamlin. He treated my sister like his property and sold me and Elain out to Hybern. I'd still be human if it weren't for him.” Nesta grimaced.

“You should hear the way your sister speaks of you, Nesta” I responded softly, almost a whisper, “All I am saying is that your sources might not be credible. And Feyre sold you out to Ianthe, after Tamlin explicitly warned her that Hybern spies were still hanging around. Tamlin and Lucien are both innocent in that regard.”

Nesta was stunned, Feyre had blamed everything on Tamlin. But how was it any different than when Feyre blamed her for their suffering in the cottage?

I bowed to the girls before opening a portal and taking my leave.

♡♡♡♡

It was late when I arrived in the manor, all the candles had been snuffed and the staff had returned home for the night. I knew Tamlin would still be up waiting for me. With a flick of my wrist, all the sconces down the hallway to Tamlins office lit up. Fire magic wasn't my strong suit, but I still had it.

He sat there reading something or another, I was exhausted and didn't care. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” A deep tired voice mumbled as he put down his book and looked up at me. Without saying anything I dropped myself into his lap. He held me for a few moments.

“I'm tired of being a person,” I whined into his chest, “I want to be ‘baby’ now.” He continued to hold me, rubbing my back and resting his lips on my temple. We sat there like that until my stomach growled, in the events of the day I had forgotten to eat.

“Let's go, we are going to get you a snack.” He stood up and carried me to the kitchen. There was no point in arguing with him, I just wanted sleep, but he was right, I needed food.

He sat me down on the counter as he looked through the fridge for something quick. He pulled out a charcuterie board immaculately designed by, I'm guessing, Amara. I didn't believe he would be able to put this together. He picked up a cube of pepper jack cheese and fed me, while giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Her wings were clipped.” I whispered, “almost shredded entirely. The one thing my brother has claimed to do for Illyria, and he doesn't even feel the need to enforce it.” I was lost in thought, the images of her wings, my imagination filling in the blanks of little girls, screaming as their wings are stolen from them. He just listened, carefully. “I can't just relax here, safe in my own court, knowing these atrocities are happening to my sisters.” I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

He brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I have no problem welcoming them here, I have always offered sanctuary for people seeking safety.”

“I know, I've already offered it,” I gave him a sad smile.

“Just tell me what you need from me and you will have it.” He gave me another kiss on my forehead, and wrapped his arms around me.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover @julesvanslutta @thefatesofspring

#pro tamlin #tam x reader #tamlin x oc #tamlin x reader #pro nesta #emerie of illyria #gwyneth berdara #tamlin x you #pro tamlin fanfic #acotar fanfiction #nesta archeron

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burnmyloveaway · 9 months ago

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Since the Apollo Justice brainrot is kidnapping my brain again and I desperately need canon resolve that will never be released, how would you, reading this post, handle The Reveal considering that:

1. Apollo could easily channel Jove through Queen Amara if he wanted (I think that she'd gladly do it for him after what Apollo did for the kingdom) and just ask him who's her mother;

2. He's still in Khur'ain (it's been a while and I can't remember the spelling whoops) but he could go back to Japanifornia for any (?) reason which would perhaps prevent him from asking for Amara's help (?);

3. Apparently neither Apollo nor Trucy realized they're the only people (to their knowledge) with their ability yet. However, Trucy is smart and could manage to put 2 and 2 together;

4. Trucy could also ask Pearl if not Maya (since they're closer) to channel her mom and find out she's in fact alive;

5. Thalassa and Apollo's bracelets are probably one of a kind and may have been manufactured specifically for her and probably at her father's request/commission or as family heirlooms (?). Again, Trucy might find that picture of hers with the bracelets that Phoenix kept stored for his investigation in AA4. Magnifi probably died along with all his secrets but what if the guy who manufactured the bracelets is alive and maybe involved in a murder either as the victim or the culprit?

6. Involving Athena: she's smart and the type of person who would notice something odd immediately given her ability. What if, upon Apollo's return to Japanifornia, she gives a random glance at Apollo and Trucy after a while of not seeing them together noticing their resemblance? Let's suppose she jokingly brings it up either to them or to Phoenix. In the latter case what if he gives out an almost imperceptible reaction she would totally pick up on?

7. That Brushel journalist - the only other person aside from Phoenix who knows that Thalassa had a son before Trucy - is still alive. If Trucy's revival of the Gramarye Troupe exhibitions gets attention, would he do/say something about it?

8. Valant is still alive and the last time we saw him he brought up the matter of Thalassa's death as suspicious. What if he decides to reach out to her and for any reason he gets involved in something that may get him killed?

9. Thalassa herself may end up as either the victim of the culprit of the first murder Apollo may take care of as his first case on his return to Japanifornia. If Thalassa ends up as the culprit to defend, a case like this could set up Apollo as her lawyer and Trucy as his assistant in a case tributing AA4 with Klavier's return as the prosecutor. However, Thalassa still poses as Lamiroir and this case should force her to reveal her real identity. From there, other clues may direct Apollo to find out she's his mother as well;

10. Apollo is still the only person of the Wright Anything Agency who hasn't been arrested as the presumed culprit of a murder case. Involving Thalassa and maybe having one of them or both injured could create a misunderstanding if DNA tests are needed (i.e: both presumed culprits or the presumed culprit and the victim are mother and son). This would involve Ema but also Athena as his lawyer and Trucy as the assistant if Phoenix doesn't step in for any reason.

Feel free to add in to the possible scenarios and from there, how should the reveal be handled at best/how would you like it to be handled ^^

#aa4 #aa7 #apollo justice #trucy wright #thalassa gramarye #jove justice #lamiroir #athena cykes #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #ema skye #personally I would like athena to be involved because I believe her ability would help greatly #what if the events traumatize thalassa in the worst scenario #plus she needs more cases to solve for her development and I'd like to see her relationship with both apollo and trucy develop as well #I'd also prefer it if thalassa doesn't die #that'd be awesome #but I'd like to see more of her and jove too if possible

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roguestorm · 2 months ago

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Okay, if I were writing a high school AU where the New Mutant + Gen X girls + Kitty and Rachel went to a private high school where they were required to do a sport, these are the sports they would each play:

Amara and Rahne run track. Amara does better on shorter sprints, while Rahne does better on middle-distance events. Amara is Rahne’s only friend on the track team, but she keeps dumping Rahne to hang out with Jenny’s clique of cool girls.

Dani, Rachel, Paige, and Jubilee are on the lacrosse team. I could’ve gone with basketball for this main team sport, but lacrosse is more aggressive (although girls’ lacrosse is a non-contact sport) and I thought that was suitable for a bunch of superheroes. Dani is team captain, of course, and is responsible for team building and strategy. Rachel is the star player whose arrogance and insistence on her own ability probably cost them a few games. Paige finds that lacrosse is a good way for her to channel her aggression, which she didn’t even really know she had. Jubilee is here only because she is required to play a sport. Her true love is parkour, which does not count as a sport in the eyes of the school.

Xuân is the school’s assistant librarian, and she has gotten roped into being the assistant lacrosse coach as well. This would be more fun for her if the head lacrosse coach were not Emma Frost.

Kitty does cheerleading. Stevie Hunter is the cheerleading coach.

Illyana and Monet are on the swim team. Illyana originally signed up for cheerleading to be with Kitty, but Stevie kicked her off the squad for picking fights and she had to join the swim team. Illyana and Monet are both suited for a sport that is a team sport but only kind of, and they get along well enough but never acknowledge each other’s existence outside of practices and meets.

#m.txt #x men blogging #monet st. croix #dani moonstar #ch: deadly killer demon ninja #ch: mind and will #illyana rasputin

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apocalypseornaw · 1 year ago

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Fighting Hurts

Follow up to Love is a Fight

Set in my Always be Yours verse

Yall it's angst just be warned

Requested by @cat-lockwood

Weeks had passed since you left the bunker. The memory of the tears in Dean's eyes as you begged him to let you go tortured you. You knew it was best for you both, he'd be distracted with you there and christ chances were you'd probably end up well and truly dead before Amara ended her rampage but what choice did you have besides to go down swinging?

The cabin you were staying in was one Bobby had won off Rufus in a bet way back when. It was sturdy and didn't leak, plus it had electricy ran to it which was a plus considering most of Rufus' cabins didn't. The warding was painted onto every inch of the interior. It'd taken you the better part of a day.

You hated admitting you were scared but this time you were. You were alone, cut off from everyone you knew in fear that should Amara come after you it would put anyone else in her sights. You wouldn't answer any of Deans or Sam's calls. You knew if you even heard Dean's voice your resolve would break.

----------

After some consideration and a whole lot of literal cabin fever you decided a simple case wouldn't hurt. You ended up finding what looked like a simple salt and burn so you headed out on it, what was the worst that could happen?

Dean was losing his mind. Since you'd left Lucifer had possessed Cas and Chuck had revealed himself to be God. Chuck was willing to assist them against Amara, he wanted nothing more than to see her dead or at least caged back up then maybe you'd come home. You'd some home blocked your phone to the point that it would ring but Sam couldn't track you and damn your connections with the covens littered around the states you were warded to the point Chuck couldn't find you.

He was scared that the truth was something had happened to you, you were gone and had died thinking he'd pick anyone over you.

----------

He watched the numbers flash by on the laptop in front of him "Cmon Amara. Where the hell are you?" "Hello Dean" he looked up to see her at the end of the table much the same way she'd been those weeks ago that drove you out of his arms.

She smiled "I missed you. It's been a while since we've spoken. I'm aware my brother has resurfaced. If he should reach out to you, he should that Lucifer his favorite isn't doing so well" before Dean could ask what she meant she waved her hand showing a tortured Cas or his vessel at least. "Say nothing of your friend Castiel"

There were burns over most of his face and he looked like he was barely hanging on. The image of Cas disappeared but Amara continued to speak "By ignoring me my brother is allowing this to happen along other things that should perk yours and Sam's interest"

She waved her hand again and an image of you appeared. You couldn't even stand like Cas could. You were curled into your self, the shirt you wore he recognized as one you took from his drawer. It was ripped down the spine and he could see what looked like bone sticking free from your skin "I must say Y/N is strong for a human. I can almost see your attraction to her" Dean was on his feet the moment the image of you disappeared "Let her go"

Amara smiled "My brother simply needs to come out of hiding and I may end her suffering"

You felt your body tense just from hearing Amara's voice "Oh Lucifer she isn't dead is she?" You pushed yourself up to lean against Lucifer's legs, the fact that he was wearing Cas as a vessel gave you comfort because you could almost imagine it was Cas.

Lucifer looked down at you weakly "This one? I've already killed her once and it didn't stick" Amara laughed wickedly "She is something isn't she? Drew the attention of not one but two Winchesters"

Lucifer looked at you again as Amara continued "Oh yes she betrayed Dean, with his brother and yet assumes he'd ever chose her over me" you felt tears hit your eyes but Lucifer moved his leg to get your attention and shook his head. Unfortunately Amara noticed. "Tsk tsk tsk. Can't have you two bonding" with that she used her powers to electrocute Lucifer as you felt her shadows dig into your back again. Your screams mixed with his, echoing in the silo.

Working with Metatron, being Amara bait..anything Dean was getting you back.

---------

You were barely conscious, focusing on your breathing. You knew you wouldn't die, you'd gotten close over the last few days but Amara would heal you to start to process again. She'd finally left after rubbing salt into your wounds that Dean had called out to her.

You laid next to where Lucifer was tied, knowing it was useless to try to run. A familiar sound hit your ears and you told yourself you were imagining it but as it got closer you realized you weren't. That was the impala.

"Y/N!" You heard Sam's voice and flinched away from it. How could you face him or Dean? Amara was right, you were poison to the Winchesters. You'd nearly caused one brother to kill the other. You felt his hands on your face and started to sob "Please don't touch me. Just let die"

You could hear Metatron reciting incantations to free you and Lucifer but couldn't summon the energy to ask "Take him Sam. He can help get rid of her" Sam had you up in his arms the moment he could and was carrying you to the impala "GET HIM FREE METATRON. I'LL COME BACK FOR HIM"

Sam laid you down gently on the backseat, carefully of the areas that made you whimper in pain "It's gonna be ok Y/N. I promise" he pulled his jacket off to lay over you then ran back into the silo.

A few moments later the older guy who'd been with Sam and Metatron jumped in next to you and Sam squealed tires leaving with Lucifer in the front seat next to him.

----------

You must have passed out because Sam slamming on brakes brought you back around to see Amara standing in the road. "Sam" you called weakly, knowing the four of you had no chance against her.

Sam threw the impala into reverse but Amara stopped it. "You really aren't worth sparing. None of you" she leaned her head back and you knew this was it. You closed your eyes, feelings tears slip down your face. "We're gonna die" was the only thought that went through your head when suddenly the impala slammed down in...the bunker?

---------

"What happened?" The older guy hollered. Sam cut his eyes at Lucifer then climbed out to help you but you pushed his hands away despite barely being able to stand on your own.

You slowly followed him and Lucifer up the stairs to find Chuck in the war room. You were leaning heavily against the wall as Chuck said "Occasionally I do answer a prayer" so Chuck was God.

He looked from Lucifer to you before snapping his fingers. You took a deep breath, no longer in physical pain. You had no clue what was going on or where Dean was but you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you and the next thing you knew the room went dark.

"What the hell do you mean she passed out? Didn't you heal her?" Dean asked Chuck in nearly a growl. He'd gotten back to the bunker to news you'd barely been alive, was healed then passed out. Sam was in the infirmary with you on the phone with Rowena as to what could bring you around.

"I healed her physical wounds Dean. Amara tortured her, strong or not Y/N is human" Dean pushed past him and headed for the infirmary.

----------

Sam had Rowena on speaker as he sat at your bedside. Rowena didn't even like Crowley, her own son but for you? She'd dropped what she was doing to find a spell to help and was doing it. The moment she was done you started to stir "It worked Rowena. She's coming around" "Well of course it did Samuel. Now if the poor dear needs a way out of that mad house tell her to call me" with that she hung up.

----------

You felt like you were drowning, the way waves would let you come up for air only to shove you down again. You could feel something pulling you out but didn't know what until you recognized the accent. Rowena. You held onto her voice with everything you had until your eyes opened to the bright fluorescents in the infirmary.

You could hear voices. First Rowena and Sam then Dean's voice joined. You couldn't focus. You just laid there trying to breathe. What had Amara done to you?

---------

Dean stopped at the door of the infirmary the moment he saw your still form. "Sam?" He called rooted to the spot. He couldn't see you dead, he wasn't strong enough to lose you..

"She's alive Dean. Amara just damaged her psyche, she blocked her aura according to Rowena. She's conscious but not really alert" Dean felt a weight lift from his chest. You were alive.

---------

He crossed the few steps to the bed and gently touched your hand "Sweetheart?" Your eyelids fluttered before they slowly opened. As they did you snatched your hand away from him "Dean?"

He tried not to show the hurt he felt at you pulling away. "You're home Y/N... its gonna be ok" He attempted a smile but you started to cry "I can't Dean. Not right now. I love you but please you and Sam just give me some space"

He could feel his heart shatter but he nodded "Of course. If you need anything just holler ok?" You nodded, nearly hyperventilating from the tears. He wanted nothing more than to hold you but knew that would make it worse. "I love you" he whispered before Sam nearly pulled him from the room.

------------

Dean walked into the war room, feeling as if his feet weighed a hundred pounds a piece. You were so damn broken and why? Because you loved him. "Dean?" Sam asked, touching his shoulder but he tensed up "Not now Sammy. Not now"

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #always be yours #always be yours verse

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erijuice · 11 months ago

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My Revision of Wish

As someone who loves the concept of Wish, I thought it was a decent addition to the Disney Animation Canon. I enjoyed the songs, the gorgeous hybrid artstyle, and the homage to Sleeping Beauty's wide cinemascope aspect. Unfortunately, the more I think about Wish, the more disappointed I was with the final product. For what was supposed to be a celebration of Disney's legacy, it ended up being shot with the blandification ray by the studio itself, because they had a lot of interesting concepts planned for the film. It's just impossible for me to hate Wish like everyone else on the internet, because I know there's passion behind this idea, it was just muddled and screwed over by the despicable corporate side of Disney.

Now, while I did love the final product and was also simultaneously disappointed over what it could’ve and should’ve been, I wanted to showcase my version of the film with a heavier emphasis on the wishing star’s untold origin story. This is actually an updated/edited version of my original draft, and I added a little bit of characterization as well.

SPOILERS FOR THE ACTUAL FILM BTW

Wish (in my version) is fully 2D-Animated, and contains music, orchestration and lyrics from Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz, with additional output from Julia Michaels.

Cast:

Alycia Pascual-Peña as Asha

Chris Pine as King Magnifico

Amara Le Negra as Queen Amaya

Roman Banks as Orion (Star)

Summary:

“Have you ever wondered how the legendary Wishing Star was born?… Set in a time centuries before Snow White wished by the wishing well, or Geppetto wished for his little wooden puppet to become a real boy, Wish takes place in the medieval city of Rosas, a fantasy kingdom off the coast of the Mediterranean Sea where your wishes can literally be transformed into reality. The kingdom is ruled by King Magnifico (Chris Pine) and Queen Amaya (Amara Le Negra), respected by all as the kingdom’s sole wish-granters. They live happily in peace with their royal daughter named Asha (voiced by Alycia Pascual Peña), who was set to take her parents’ throne once she turned 17.

Princess Asha is sharp-witted and wildly smart beyond her years: a young philosopher in the making, who believes that the stars are always there to guide her. She's a shy bookworm who is very creative, she draws animations in her notepad and paints with watercolors all over her bedroom, much like Rapunzel. Asha also wants to be a musician and to inspire the people with her music. While being devoted to her goal to ensure that everyone gets their wish to come true, Asha also struggles with poor leadership skills, and she doesn't know how to be a good leader to her friends, or her kingdom. Her parents seem to make it look easy, and sometimes Asha prefers to rely on them to make her dreams come true. However, Asha believes that a bigger and stronger wish requires a much more difficult journey, and in order to achieve her wish, she must confront her own parents, two of the fiercest and most powerful villains the Disney universe has ever known.

King Magnifico is almost the same as his canon depiction, except he has no backstory of him losing his family to destruction which would've make him more sympathetic, and does not mesh well with him being a villain. He uses his magic to remove wishes from people's hearts and keeps them in his own "wish orbs" for personal keeping, but we don't find out what he does with them until the first act. Before he praticed magic, he was a philosopher who believed in the power of the stars in the night sky, inspiring Asha to develop her belief that there is magic in the stars.

Queen Amaya is a female villain who is madly in love with Magnifico and pressures Asha to be a perfect royal daughter, much in the vein of Yzma and Maleficent, with shades of Mother Gothel. She is a black dark-skinned Latina, and Asha's birth mother. Queen Amaya owns has a pet cat assistant named Cleo, who is a callback to Maleficent's crow Diablo, or Lady Tremaine's cat Lucifer.

Alright, now back to the story!

On her 17th birthday, during a beautiful royal ball, Asha notices that her parents have wondered off from their thrones, and she uncovers a dark truth about both of her parents and how they want to keep the wishes of the people for themselves. Even worse, she peaks through the cracked door of the throne room to witness that the King and Queen are crushing the people's wishes, and infusing their energy, in order to make their own magic more powerful, and thus manipulating the townspeople and giving them the false hope of their wishes being granted. Asha tries to keep what she saw a secret from her parents, but she argues that the wishes must be free and sent back to the people. After a heated argument with her parents, she runs to the forest and makes a passionate cry for help to the stars, in the hopes that they will give her guidance and strength to help her entire kingdom. (‘This Wish’ is staying btw, but with adjusted lyrics) Her plea pulls down the brightest star out of the sky and transforms it into a glowing ethereal humanoid being without a name.

Here is where we meet Orion. Orion is THE wishing star of legend. He is a glowing, Black-coded, humanoid boy around the same age as Asha. Newly formed, he has no name and no sense of right or wrong, much like Pinocchio, but he reveals himself to be a powerful shapeshifter with magic celestial powers. The starboy is aided with the tiny, Luma-like canon version of Star, named Little Dipper, as his personal companion. Little Dipper is more mischevious than Orion, but it's also a powerful wish granter in a tiny celestial body. With a reworked, more orchestral version of "At All Costs", Orion takes Asha on a gorgeous flight, explaining his purpose to help Asha, as the duo sings in harmony above the stardust-sprinkled woodlands, with Little Dipper setting the scene. After the song ends, Asha tries to name all the constellations off the top of her head, and ultimately names the starboy Orion (serving as a subtle callback to Kiss the Girl). Asha brings Orion back to the kingdom, and she tries to teach him how to grant the peoples’ wishes. As the two plans to give the wish orbs back to the people, Asha notices that her parents are angered over the townspeople praising Orion’s descend, hoping that he will grant the wishes of all the people. Feeling threatened by Orion’s presence, the King and Queen scheme to use dark magic to kill Fate and steal her magic, so that they will remain as the only wish-granters in Rosas, but at the risk of permanently being surrendered to the dark side. (This Is The Thanks I Get, except it's reworked into a grand, badass, orchestral villain duet with Magnifico on the first verse and Amaya on the second verse)

Desperate to warn the kingdom about her parents’ true colors, Asha disguises herself (a la Sleeping Beauty) as a peasant girl, while Orion tries to disguise himself as a normal human boy. As the two try to grant the wishes of the townpeople who haven't given their wishes to the king and queen, the town descends into chaos with some wishes spiraling out of control. While it is a moment of hilarity, Asha and Orion come to a realization that some wishes should never be granted in the first place, as they're more likely to cause harm and chaos than pure good. The two comes across a group of seven teenagers modeled after the Seven Dwarfs, Asha's longtime team, and Orion starts to get to know each one of them, before planning a rebellion against her parents, and yet, Asha is secretly hesitant to disobey her parents, she confesses to Orion - in a short reprise of At All Costs - about how she used to be perfectly obedient and a perfect princess to her people. Meanwhile, Orion reveals to the Seven Teens that he’s still learning to grant wishes, but they also end up horribly wrong, but he comes to a realization that he shouldn't grant wishes that could cause harm, no matter how much they beg for it. The Teens make a promise to Asha that they will protect her secret, as well as Orion's. The duo and the teens team up to stop the King and Queen, with a reworked version of "Knowing What I Know Now."

During the epic climax, Orion and Asha create a diversion, with Asha freeing the wishes with her team and learning to be a good leader in doing so, while Orion shapeshifts into multiple forms to battle the King and Queen and distract them away from the castle, but they capture Little Dipper into the scepter, and use Dipper's magic to transform their cat Cleo into a giant dragon (akin to Maleficent's dragon form) that flies them to the top of the castle, with Orion chained up. The parents chain Asha to the top of the castle where the battle occurs, and they force their daughter to watch Orion suffer. Engulfed by the pain of losing her protector, Asha breaks into the This Wish reprise, as do the other residents of Rosas. The King and Queen try to push Asha off the castle to her death, but the townspeoples' voices lift her up, as does Orion's, and he uses his magic to make her float above in mid-air. Everyone's hearts beginning to glow and attract their wishes back to their hearts as they sing in unison. Orion transfers most of his celestial powers into Asha, who uses her temporary celestial powers to free Little Dipper from the scepter, and blast the King and Queen to their death, while Orion simultaneously creates a powerful sword to throw into Cleo's heart, killing her as well. After a moment of silence, Asha breaks down into tears and feels bittersweet that she’ll never have her parents again, but more optimistic about being the ruler the kingdom desperately needed - someone who will choose only the best wishes to come true. Orion comes down to Earth to comforts Asha with a hug, and the kingdom rejoices with the evil King and Queen gone for good.

Cut to a few months later with Asha hosting her first royal ball for Rosas, and dancing with Orion, similar to the endings of Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast. Before Orion flies back to the night sky to become the Wishing Star, he gets Little Dipper to create a magic wand and grants her the role of a honorary Blue Fairy guardian, transforming Asha’s purple queen gown into a beautiful, glittering, baby blue gown. Orion informs to Asha that Asha will be reincarnated into a true Blue Fairy after her time on Earth comes to an end, but Orion will descend back down to Rosas every now and then to help Asha. As a final gift, even though he admits his magic is not perfect just yet, Orion finally grants Asha’s wish and creates a lute for her to play for her people, but Asha realizes what her true wish was all along: To be a good leader to all of Rosas.

After Orion forms into the glimmering Wishing Star in the night sky above Rosas, Queen Asha looks down on the townspeople of Rosas with hope in her smile and she looks up at the wishing star above her, with a hope that everyone will have a wish to come true, because now, Queen Asha knows that there is no force, no magic more powerful than the power of a wish, for a wish is more powerful when it’s inside your heart.

Cut to a few nights later, after the credits have rolled, when Asha walks out onto the balcony above the kingdom. She pulls out a music sheet, and begins to play ‘When You Wish Upon A Star’ for the stars, as an homage to Orion.

My version of Wish will also contain hundreds of Easter Eggs that all pay tribute to ALL 61 FILMS in the Walt Disney Animation Studios library, all worked seamlessly into the context of the story, not just containing the ones that inspire the film like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. Anyway, all I’m saying is that Disney should’ve hired me and put me into the writers room, because as a Disney fan, I know how to make this story work and how to make it even better, and I hope you guys love this version of the story! Oh, and also, screw Disney for donating to a genocide. Goodnight Kingdom of Rosas!

#disney #wish #disney wish #asha #king magnifico #queen amaya #disney100 #disney animation

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magicfootballstuff · 2 years ago

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Rebound - part 2 (patri guijarro x reader)

Summary: Patri is determined for everything to go back to normal after your drunken night together, but you’re not finding it quite as easy to get over her.

Read part 1 here.

———

The day after Patri’s birthday is a day off from training, for which your sore head and bruised heart are eternally grateful, but after that it’s straight back to the hard work.

Patri catches your eye across the changing room as you get ready for training and smiles, so you think everything is okay, until a comment from Mapi catches your attention as you’re lacing up your boots.

“Good to see you took my advice, Patri.”

“Advice?” Patri asks, confused.

“About the rebound.” Mapi’s eyes are alight with mischief as she continues, “The mark on your neck’s a big giveaway.”

You look over at Patri, who sure enough has a purple bruise at the base of her neck that her t-shirt doesn’t cover. You feel your cheeks start to burn as you remember leaving a mark in that exact spot in a moment of passion.

“It wasn’t a rebound,” says Patri, rubbing at her neck where the bruise is. “I saw my ex yesterday to talk and … well, you get the picture.”

“You slept with your ex?” says Alexia, joining the conversation with a shake of her head. “You’re such a lesbian stereotype.”

“Shut up,” groans Patri.

You finish putting on your boots and head outside. Patri follows and falls into step beside you.

“I didn‘t sleep with my ex,” Patri tells you, quiet enough that nobody else can hear, as you jog out together onto the training pitch. “Just thought it was a better excuse than the truth. I figured we could do without Mapi’s teasing.”

“Yeah, good thinking.”

———

It would probably hurt less if things didn’t go back to normal. Patri acts exactly as she did before around you, as if the night you spent together didn’t happen, to the point that you start questioning whether it actually did or if you just imagined the entire thing.

It would be easier to deal with the heartbreak if Patri acknowledged that your relationship had changed slightly. If there was some tangible evidence to justify the ache in your chest every time she grins at you or claps you on the back during training.

———

You decide, for some inexplicable reason that should probably have you questioning your sanity, to take Mapi’s advice.

I hear rebound sex is a pretty good cure for heartbreak, Mapi’s words from the night of Patri’s birthday echo in your mind. So you sign up for a dating app and within a couple of weeks, you find yourself tangled in the arms of a beautiful trainee lawyer called Amara after a few drinks at a local cocktail bar.

And because Amara is nice, and smart, and very attractive, you decide to see her again, and then again. It’s casual, a distraction from Patri, who continues to be just a friend and a teammate. Soon, you and Amara are hanging out several times a week and she’s becoming something, though your deliberate avoidance of labels makes it hard to describe exactly what she is to you.

You don’t tell your teammates you’ve started seeing someone. You’re not quite sure why, but you don’t want Patri to find out.

Until you’ve been seeing Amara for nearly three months, long enough that it’s pretty serious despite your own reluctance to put the ‘girlfriend’ label on it just yet, and she asks if she can come to one of your games to watch you play.

You try to deflect from her request but she’s pretty convincing, she is training to become a lawyer after all, and you reluctantly get her a ticket for Barcelona’s next home game at the Estadi Johan Cruyff.

———

When the final whistle blows, your brain registers that there’s a certain irony to the fact that the first game Amara sees you play ends two goals to nil, with you and Patri each scoring and each assisting the other’s goal.

“Here she is,” says Amara, when you go over to say hi to her after the match. “My goal-scoring superstar.”

She leans over the billboards and presses her lips to yours.

Somebody jolts you out of the kiss with a slap on your back, and you turn to find Mapi and Ingrid walking past you with matching grins on their faces.

“Nice,” says Mapi, eyes flitting between you and Amara. “You kept this quiet.”

“Mapi…” you whine, though it could be worse. It could have been Pat-

Shit.

Patri is walking just behind Mapi and Ingrid. You’ve got no way of knowing if she saw the kiss, but the way that her gaze flicks between you and Amara with a curious frown on her face gives you pretty strong suspicions that she did.

Realistically, you knew there was a chance that this would happen when you reluctantly agreed to invite Amara to the game. Despite your determination to keep this casual, you can’t argue with the fact that inviting a girl to a game is a pretty big deal, especially considering that in the two years you’ve been at Barcelona, your crush on Patri has prevented you from dating anybody long enough to reach the ‘inviting them to a game’ stage of the dating process.

It should probably serve as a warning sign that your stomach is in knots at the thought of Patri knowing that you’re seeing somebody. But instead, as Patri walks past without a word on her way to the team dressing room, you choose to ignore those feelings of unease and return your attention to Amara.

———

“Who was that?” Patri asks you the dreaded question, as you sit side by side in the locker room after the game in just your shorts and sports bras.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Patri teases you. “The girl you were with after the match. The one who kissed you. Anybody important?”

“She’s … she’s just someone I’ve been seeing,” you answer with a shrug.

“Cool,” says Patri, seemingly unbothered by the whole thing, and suddenly thought of Amara are gone from your mind. You wish it was Patri kissing you after matches, especially after the way you worked so well together today. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

I found someone two years ago and it’s you, your brain is screaming at you to tell Patri.

But you know that’s not what Patri wants to hear. And after almost screwing up one of your closest friendships by sleeping together, you’re not going to ruin it with a confession now that things are back to how they were before.

———

Your feelings don’t sit completely right with you and despite the gesture of inviting Amara to the game, you decide to break it off with her just a week later. You don’t give her the full reason, you just tell her that you’re head’s not in the right place to commit to a full-blown relationship. Amara is completely understanding and you end the conversation with an amicable yet empty promise to try to stay in touch.

———

Just a few days after ending your not-quite-a-relationship with Amara, Mapi invites a few of the Barcelona girls out for drinks. It’s a smaller affair than last time but you know that Patri will be there, know that alcohol will be involved, and remember all too well what happened the last time the two of you were in such a situation. So you know it’s probably not going to end well, you even consider pretending that you’ve got other plans to get out of it, but there’s something sadistic within you that decides to accept the invitation.

You can’t afford to sleep with Patri again. Once was a mistake, twice would almost certainly make things weird. But despite the fact you’ve opted to sit away from Patri, with two of your teammates in between, after a couple of drinks you can’t deny the fact that she looks really good tonight.

You manage to keep your distance, made easier by the fact that Patri spends almost the entire evening deep in hushed conversation with Alexia. You ignore both of them and focus on having fun with your other teammates, but the more you drink, the more your eyes drift over to Patri.

When it starts to get too much, you duck away from the table without much fuss, mumbling something to Ingrid about needing some air, and push through the semi-crowded bar until you find the women’s bathroom. There, you lock yourself in one of the cubicles and sit down on the toilet seat, head in your hands as you exhale and contemplate your dilemma.

Your crush isn’t going away, that much is abundantly clear. Your heart lurches at the realisation, because what more can you do? You’ve ignored it, you’ve acted on it, you’ve confessed your feelings for her, you’ve even tried dating somebody else, but Patri is still the one you want, and it hurts you that you have to see her pretty much every day, knowing that you’ll never be together. Realistically, the only option to get over Patri is to cut her out of your life completely, which would mean transferring to a different club, but you’d have to change leagues to avoid playing against her and even then you’d probably still bump into her at national camps.

There’s no way out. You’re doomed to an eternity of being in love with a girl who will only ever see you as the friend she once drunkenly slept with.

The door to the bathroom crashes open and you hear a voice you recognise as Alexia’s, midway through a sentence.

“- and if you like her, you should tell her how you feel.”

“I can’t do that.”

You freeze when you hear Patri’s reply, your hand halfway to the toilet paper dispenser. Patri likes someone? Your stomach sinks, a feeling you should really be used to by now considering the number of times that you’ve been left disappointed by Patri and her feelings, but it still takes you by surprise. You should have known it wouldn’t take Patri too long to move on from her ex-girlfriend and find somebody new, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“But if you don’t tell her, won’t you always regret it?” Alexia asks.

“I’ll regret it more if I lose her as a friend.”

You stay frozen to the spot, torn between staying where you are to eavesdrop on their conversation, or making your presence known before you hear something that hurts your heart more than Patri has already hurt it.

“But didn’t you say she confessed her feelings to you the morning after you slept together?”

“That was four months ago. Feelings change.”

You do the maths in your head. Patri’s birthday was around four months ago. And you confessed your feelings to her the next day, after sleeping with Patri. Could it really be that she and Alexia are talking about you?

“Also, she’s got a girlfriend now. That really pretty girl she kissed after the Levante game.”

The game against Levante was the one and only match you invited Amara to watch. You really don’t want to jump to the conclusion that Patri and Alexia are talking about you in case your hopes get shattered again, but this seems like far too many coincidences for them to be talking about anybody else.

Making your decision, you finish up and flush the toilet, the conversation outside coming to an abrupt halt when they realise they’re not alone in the bathroom. You hear them shushing each other as you unlock the cubicle door and step out into the open. You’re vaguely aware of Alexia’s eyes going wide when she realises it’s you, but your focus is on Patri, who stands at the sink. You meet her gaze in the mirror as you go to wash your hands and see the realisation and the panic pass across her face too, and she quickly looks away.

“How much did you hear?” Alexia asks you.

“Enough,” you answer. You try to make eye contact with Patri in the mirror again, but she’s fixing her hair to avoid looking at you. “Patri…”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Alexia says, giving Patri a deliberate look as she heads for the door and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

“Patri, please will you just look at me.”

She hesitates, then reluctantly turns, still unable to make direct eye contact with you.

“This is humiliating,” she says. “Please don’t make it worse than it already is.”

“I ended it with Amara.”

Patri’s eyes widen with surprise at your confession.

You continue, “It wasn’t fair to keep seeing her when I knew I was really in love with you. I realised that as soon as you said you were happy I’d found someone.”

“I wasn’t happy,” admits Patri. “I went over to Alexia’s that night and told her everything. What happened on my birthday, how I had feelings for you…”

“How long have you…?” you trail off, let out a sigh, and then take a deep breath before what you say next. “I’ve had a thing for you since we first met. I tried to ignore it for so long, but when we slept together I had a glimmer of hope that you felt the same way, but you shattered my heart.”

“I’m sorry,” Patri says, reaching for your hand. “I regret everything that happened on my birthday. The truth is that I think I’ve liked you for a really long time too, I just didn’t realise it until recently. When we slept together I was in a bad place. I’d just been broken up with. I couldn’t process my feelings for you and I knew it wasn’t fair to let you deal with my mess. So I decided it was easier to pretend that nothing happened at all, until I thought you’d moved on and then I realised what an idiot I’d been.”

“I think I understand,” you tell Patri, squeezing her fingers in reassurance because you can see how pained she is by the way things went down.

“I don’t regret that we had sex," she continues, "but I do regret that our first time happened like that.”

You let a tiny smile grace your lips.

“Does that mean there’s going to be other times?” you tease her, nudging your shoulder into hers.

“I…”

You’ve never seen Patri so flustered before, speechless and pink-cheeked. You decide to spare her.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you ask her, in a moment of bravery. “And maybe if it goes well, we can see about having a second attempt at a first time?”

Patri relaxes into a smile.

“Deal. But the date’s on me, to make up for all the shit I’ve put you through in the last few months.”

You grin back at Patri.

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

You leave the bathroom with a renewed warmth in your heart and rejoin your friends at their table. You feel a few pairs of eyes on your joined hands as you sit down next to each other, but nobody makes any comment. Only Mapi opens her mouth to say something, but you pretend not to notice the way that Alexia silences the blonde with a kick under the table and a firm shake of the head.

You’ll deal with Mapi’s teasing later, of that you’re certain. But for now, you simply turn to Patri to find her already looking at you, and your chest swells with affection as she smiles coyly at you.

Your heart, aching for so long, finally feels at ease.

#patri guijarro imagine #patri guijarro x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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thekinkyleopard · 8 months ago

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By Moonlight

A Zer0nyx Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fic, Romantic Smut, Fluff, Angst

Description: Zeroh comes back from a particularly heavy crossing and just wants to be seen for once. Amara hints at the reaper, he may not be alone. But with his photic allergies, will it ruin the mood, or lighten it?

Author’s Notes: Needed to poop something new out for these fucking CUTIES!!!! Hope you all enjoy <3 @aller-geez owns Zeroh, Amara and did the art!

Zeroh wandered back into the cemetery that doubled as a work space and home, feeling heavier than usual. Being a Reaper, definitely had it’s downsides, and often left him feeling more hollow than when he left.

Amara sensed Zeroh's heavy heart the moment he stepped into the cemetery, her shiny ghostly black feathers ruffling in concern. She perched on a weathered headstone, tilting her head as she watched him with beady white eyes. Popping in between each stone he passed by to keep with the reaper’s stride. Zeroh moved slowly among the tombstones, his steps heavy with the weight of the recent crossing he had assisted over the veil. The image of the young man’s face haunted him, so full of innocence and light extinguished far too soon. He had sacrificed himself for a lover. A lover. Something he knew the pain of losing but could barely remember the happiness of having.

As he reached a secluded corner of the cemetery where an ancient weeping willow stood guard over forgotten graves, Zeroh sank to his knees. He let himself metaphorically melt into the softened grass that had overgrown the many flattened and forgetten stones of the very distant past. “What am I to do, Miss Lady? How might I carry the weight of all this grief, and still…move forward?” he sighed, the sound escaped his lips in a long, drawn-out exhale, the sound of defeat and weariness. The rustling of leaves in the ancient willow tree seemed to echo his sigh, a melancholy harmony. The crow, warping between the seen and unknown veils finally finding a comfortable space upon his shoulder. She cawed gently, pressing her body suggestively into his neck, earning an eyeroll for a response. “That seems like a lot to press upon the poor spirit, does it not?”

The bird fluffed, and cawed. Bossy little thing. He sighed with frustration, absentmindedly drawing an endless circle in the dirt of the grounds. “Impossible, we hardly speak, I can’t imagine they’d want anything to do with me and my woes, don’t be ridiculous,” scoffing at the insistent creature. Amara’s shadow grew in size and then dramatically exploded into many smaller shadows that melded into the grass around him. “My goodness with the theatrics tonight,” O shook his head with an amused chuckle escaping his lips. “And what if you’re wrong? Hm? Would the possible rejection be worth the risk? I should just keep it all to myself…what would you know hm?” furrowing his eyebrows and sticking his tongue out at her.

The bird paused, and looked at Zeroh that almost mimicked the exact expression of “You have got to be kidding me, right?”

“Im not kidding! And you shouldnt be either…expressing myself isn’t easy, you know this Miss lady,” crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her knowingly. She shrugged her little bird shoulders poofing away and then back again in the tree above him, her shape taking form of the small ghost that was the topic of conversation causing the reaper to quickly look away, if a blush could spread across his face, it would have. “Regardless!…how do you know I’m not opening myself up to being completely humiliated?” the bird rolled her glowing solid white orbs, clearly there was something she knew that was unbeknownst to the Reaper, and would remain so should he chicken out.

Zeroh leaned indecisively against the trunk of the tree. The willow seemed to sway gently in the night breeze, as if whispering secrets to the shadows that danced around the Reaper. He let out a heavy sigh, his thoughts swirling with doubt and vulnerability. The ghostly figure of Amara perched on a branch above him, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of impatience and understanding. She let out a soft caw, and quickly disappeared again, only to reappear in a cloud of vapor around him, pushing into his side. It was almost as if she was directing him, shoveling him into the right decision. “Alright! Alright…” he put up his hands defensively as he refused to fight against her. “I’ll go…I’ll, try…” he sighs nervously.

O took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversations that would possibly lay ahead. With a newfound resolve, he stood up straight and brushed off his dark cloak, his eyes focused on the distant horizon where the boundary between the living world and the realm of the dead blurred. Amara's ghostly form flitted around him in a dance of encouragement, her presence a comforting reminder that he was not alone in his struggles.

As he made his way through the cemetery and into the night, Zeroh felt a sense of purpose rekindle within him. The weight of grief still lingered, but now there was a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. With each step he took towards the unknown, he felt a renewed strength building within him, fueled by the support of an unlikely companion. “You’re certain this is a good choice to make?” He spoke to the raven that flittered in and out of the veil between Zeroh’s steps closer to the part of the graveyard he knew Onyx would be attending. She cawed in response, strongly and certainly, the reaper could only groan with anxiety. As they closed in, spotting the apparition placing bouquets of flowers at empty gravestones, Amara vanished, allowing Zeroh to take the next few steps ahead, on his own.

“H-…” he cleared his throat. “Hey, Yixxy…how’s it…tonight?” What even are words? The reaper thought to himself already feeling the intense urge to run away and avoid this conversation at all costs, but in the distance of his peripheral vision, he could see a set of ominously glowing, round orbs, glaring at him. Watching him. He knew there was no avoiding at least, hanging out with the spiritual. The smaller in stature, quickly turned around, spooked as they jumped out their skin.

“OH! Zeroh!” they gasped grasping at their chest “I- I didn’t hear you come over!” Onyx stuttered, nearly dropping the bouquet they were holding. Their normally shadowy face seemed to flush with a faint hue of color, giving their ghostly features an almost lifelike appearance in the muted moonlight.

Zeroh couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the spiritual’s sudden surprise, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I apologize for startling you,” he began, his voice gentle and reassuring. “I hope I’m not intruding. I see you’re paying your respects,”

Onyx nodded slowly, their glowing eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. “Yes, just… making sure everyone has a little something,” they replied softly, their voice carrying a wistful tone. “It’s comforting in a way, being here to make sure no one goes forgotten,” the little ghost had taken it upon themselves to make sure that old, forgotten, and long abandoned graves were balanced out from the graves that simply had too many. There had been some complaints but, since there was no one living to blame, there was no solutions to be had.

Zeroh nodded in understanding, his own gaze drifting to the gravestones surrounding them. The cemetery felt peaceful and eerie at the same time, the air growing stale between them. Onyx tilted their head ever so slightly before their voice broke the silence. “Was there something you wanted to say, O?” It wasnt too often they found themselves in conversation, a lot of the moments between them were silent passings through the yard, or quietly tending the stones together. Neither of them having the nerve to open up.

Earnestly, Onyx admired the Reaper, being able to be the helping hand that escorts the living into the realm of the dead. The ghost thought of him as some what of a hero, not only for that but for the kindness of allowing him to come along with him. He was so sure of himself, knew his place, his role, and was an absolutely unreplaceable source in this universe. Nothing like themselves who could hardly decide what to wear half the time. The two of them stood awkwardly, silently, Zeroh trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. Onyx wondering if maybe, they overstepped. The overthinking was overwhelming between them both and the only thing that could break them out was the sound of an exasperated and irritated “CAW!!!” In the distance, Zeroh cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

“I…was wondering….” the feeling of wanting to bail growing within the ethereal almost consumed him, but his white eyes flashed back over to the flaring bird, and realized he would much rather not face her wrath. “If you wanted to walk with me? I…had a rough day and,” this time Zeroh looked down, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and then he took a deep breath, exhaled and finished his thought. “Could use the company…” he finally looked back up, a few short inches, and met the look of a very intrigued little spirit.

Onyx's eyes softened at Zeroh's hesitant request, a flicker of understanding passing between them. They nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of their translucent lips. "Of course, Z. I'd be more than happy to accompany you," they replied, their voice echoing softly in the quiet night air. The Reaper softened. Almost like a very lightweight had been lifted.

As they began to walk together through the cemetery, the atmosphere seemed to shift around them. The shadows cast by the slowly illuminating moonlight appeared less menacing, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh blooms from the many assorted flowers growing and presented within the graveyard. Amara, flew overhead silently back and forth between the veil, her wings beating rhythmically but still quietly as she followed them through the maze of headstones and monuments.

Zeroh felt a sense of peace settle over him as he walked side by side with Onyx, the weight of his sorrow easing with each step. “So…what’s on your shoulders?” Yix asked him, suddenly taking the reaper off guard from the once silent night they were sharing.

“On my shoulders?” He asked quizzically, looking over at the other’s almost absent gaze.

“You slump…every time you return from a particularly heavy crossing…your shoulders, they slump, and I can tell you’re carrying a weight that once wasn’t there,” Zeroh’s eyes almost widened, and this action caused the little spirit to suddenly look away, a flush would be presented across their face, should they have had any blood to produce such. The Reaper was just shocked. To be seen. To be known so intimately, without so much of a word needing to be said? It was almost remarkable. He snorted, almost solemnly through his nostrils.

“That obvious then, hm?” two sets of pale colored eyes met, in a moment of sincerity they both stopped walking, and just stood there for a moment. Eventually, Yix nodded in agreement, their expression soft and understanding.

"It's not just your shoulders that carry the weight, Zeroh. It's in your eyes, in the way you move through the world. I may not know the full extent of your burdens, but I can see that…they are heavy," Their words hung between them in the cool night air, a quiet acknowledgment of the reaper's struggles.

Zeroh was silent for a passing second, his feet sturdy and deliberate as he processed Yix's observation. "I... I appreciate your insight," he finally murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "It's been a long time since someone has truly seen me…well besides Amara but, there once was another that did…” he smiled gently looking up to see the moon peaking suspiciously behind the trees, he felt a slight tingle behind his sinuses, but took a deep breath in and looked back over at Onyx. Who was looking at him in an almost observant type of way, there was a tension between them neither could place.

Ony smiled sympathetically, finally finding the words to address the delicate topic at hand. It was clear that the Reaper was still deeply affected by it. "Whoever they were, they must have been incredibly special," they said softly, trying to provide comfort in their tone.

Zeroh's smile faltered slightly at the mention of ‘special’, not to the fault of the spirit, but O thought way more of his past lover as far superior to ‘special’. A flicker of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it. He nodded, his gaze drifting towards a distant headstone as memories threatened to resurface. "Yes, they were...special indeed," he replied quietly, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. Onyx could sense the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air between them, an invisible barrier that kept Zeroh guarded despite their growing closeness.

He looked away, the silence between them stagnant and almost slightly awkward, neither knowing how to proceed. Amara appeared off in the visage of Z’s viewing vicinity, and she gave him a look, a knowing look, one Zeroh couldn’t mistake for any other. He knew what she was telling him, and it was to be vulnerable, to open up again, but what if he couldnt? What if it was too late for any of that, and his only chance of it was turned to dust many years previously? Not to mention how presumptuous of him to assume this young soul would want or need anything from him. He was spiraling, his mind swirling in a thousand and one different ways and the bird could see it from a million miles away.

But before Zeroh could retreat further into his thoughts, Onyx reached out a hand and gently placed it on the reaper's shoulder, which shocked him, he hadnt been touched in so long. Yet the gesture was still somehow comforting and grounded him in the present moment. Their touch was surprisingly comforting, sending a shiver down his long form. "Zeroh, you don't have to carry your burdens alone," the spirit spoke softly, their voice filled with empathy. "Sometimes sharing the weight can make it lighter,"

Zeroh met Onyx's gaze, his eyes searching for any signs of insincerity but finding only genuine care reflected back at him. The reaper felt a knot loosen in his chest, a sense of relief washing over him at the thought of not having to bear everything by himself, and that maybe there was something, safe, here.

"I... I suppose I could try," Zeroh whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the night. "It's been so long since I've let anyone in…his name was Sebastian…and I dont think I’ve said his name in…half a decade,” he scoffed, feeling guilty in the most strange way. They each took a seat upon a nearby fallen tree, one that had been neglected to be removed but wasnt causing any issues rotting across graves, so Zeroh felt no need to remove it. Instead they both took a seat under the slow raising moonlight, as the light started to glow brighter, it reflected off the water, right into Z’s sensitive eyes. He shook his head, he exhaled sharply through his nostrils and hovered a gloved hand over his eyes to shield himself. Clearing his throat and trying to shove the strange sensitive sensations that momentarily shook him.

“Anyways…it was a long time ago...I fell…for someone, and his name was Sebastian,” he paused trying his best to not let the brightening light slowly creeping in, ruin the vulnerability of this moment. “He was, so kind, and fun…he made everything seem so much easier than it was…” his face turned up into a softened smile, one that only spread half way across his lips. Onyx listened intently as Zeroh spoke of the man, the name lingering in the air like a bittersweet melody. They could feel the weight of nostalgia and longing in Z's words, the ache of old wounds reopening in the quiet of the night. The reaper's vulnerability touched something deep within Onyx's ethereal core, stirring memories long forgotten in the shadowed corners of their consciousness.

As Zeroh's voice trailed off, lost in the echoes of memory, a soft sigh escaped Onyx's lips. They reached out a hand to gently grasp Zeroh's, offering silent support and understanding. "Sebastian must have meant a great deal to you," the spirit murmured, their tone soft and never losing its kindness. O nodded solemnly in response, looking over at the many graves around them, mindlessly scanning the words but paying no real mind to the context of them.

"He certainly meant more than a great deal...he was my light in the darkness, my anchor when I needed stability…in the strangest ways..” he hesitated, his throat already begging to swallow the words he wished so badly to speak. In the distance again, above him this time, within the trees, the glowing, menacing set of eyes that threatened him in the darkness. That insistent bird…he cursed her for her bossy nature, but he knew she was right, he could use another being like Onyx around, to confide in, to, seek companionship with. “I feel, so closely to you..in the uhm,” he cleared his throat. “Same, manner of way…you’re soothing…and I…” he looked down at their hands, inches apart, so carelessly rested on the wood. “Really, rather enjoy…your uhm…” now finding the courage to look up, they met eyes, Onyx felt like they were holding in the longest breath of air, not that, breathing was terribly necessary. “Company…your presence…the things you say…you’re,” taking a deep, nervous lungful of air in and letting it out loudly. he nodded. “Incredible,” finishing the final sentence to his long drawn out thought.

To his amazement, Onyx sat the whole way through and not once lost their patience nor did their eyes glaze over in boredom. This was going surprisingly well for him, if he had to have a say.

“Wow..I’m…honored, to hold such a valuable space, Zeroh, I’m..” finding themselves at an almost true loss for words. “Immensely grateful…for you…and Amara, and everything…you, have no idea, what you’ve done for me,” They each felt a slight flutter within the pit of their stomachs, something awakening inside them that neither of them had a clue what to do with. O knowing the feeling, but too terrified to really touch it. Or Onyx. “You are…incredibly special, Zeroh,”

The Reaper’s blackened heart swelled at the words spoken by the other so freely, feeling a warmth he had almost forgotten existed for so long. The weight of his past seemed to momentarily lift as he gazed into Onyx's eyes, seeing a reflection of compassion and acceptance that he had been yearning for. A sense of connection blossomed between them, fragile yet profound in its sincerity. As the moonlight bathed them in its gentle glow, O found himself lowering his hand to reach out, but only to pull his fingers back into his own lap, Yixxy noticed, but stayed quiet.

"I... I never thought I would find someone who could understand me like you do, Onyx," Zeroh confessed, his voice steady yet filled with sensitivity. "Your presence brings me a kind of peace I thought was lost to me forever,” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I want to thank you for being here with me, for listening and caring in a way that no one else has…I feel, lighter, somehow,” he laughed, silently, through his nostrils but found himself sniffling quickly after, shaking his head gently. The emanating light starting to wear him down thin. His throat was itching and the canal of his nose was swelling slowly, eyes watering as he pushed up a hand to wipe the collective black liquid from his ducts. “Sorry…the moon is bright tonight…” he confessed as he fought his oncoming symptoms.

Onyx's ethereal form seemed to shimmer with a newfound light that was beaming from inside him. This being, this, Reaper, was grateful for them? They hadn’t had someone grateful for them, in, centuries. Ony smiled. They reached up a gentle, delicate hand and as it went from transparent to solid, slowly, they placed it under Zeroh’s eyes, using the pad of their thumb to wipe an escaped tear. “You truly are remarkable…” Their response was a gentle whisper, filled with warmth and sincerity. It was all they could manage to utter, their voice carrying a soothing tone that enveloped him like a warm hug.

Despite Zeroh being well aware of Onyx's current state, he couldn't help but gasp and feel a jolt run through his body when the ghost placed their hand on his face. He froze, his expression filled with worry as he scanned Onyx for any signs of pain or uncertainty. Yet, they were still there, smiling at him without a doubt. Letting out a sigh of relief, Zeroh reached up to place his hand on top of theirs. They locked eyes before the Reaper finally spoke up again. "I- I really want to kiss you," he started, but then quickly looked away, afraid of what he might see in Onyx's eyes. "But I'm scared,”

Onyx felt a wave of emotions crash over them at Zeroh's confession. The vulnerability and rawness in his voice tugged at their very essence, stirring feelings they had long forgotten. As Zeroh hesitated, Onyx reached up to gently cup his cheek, their touch cool yet comforting against his lonely skin.

"You don't have to be afraid," they whispered softly, their eyes filled with understanding and a glimmer of something more. "I feel it too...the connection…" Onyx leaned in closer, almost purely off instinct, their breath mingling with his as they closed the gap between them, pressing their lips against his in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the moment, a rush of feelings swirling within them both. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words and shared longing, a bridge between two souls reaching out for solace and understanding. And as they pulled away, Zeroh felt a warmth spreading through him, a sense of peace and belonging he hadn't felt in ages. Onyx's presence enveloped him in a comforting embrace, the weight of his pain momentarily lifted by the connection they shared.

As they gazed into each other's eyes, Zeroh felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, a light in the darkness that he thought had long been snuffed.

"I... I don't know what to say," the Reaper murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched Onyx's eyes for reassurance. The ghostly figure before him emanated a sense of calm and acceptance that washed over him like a soothing balm.

They smiled softly, their eyes reflecting understanding and warmth. "You don't have to say anything," they replied kindly, their hand falling off Zeroh's cheek, only to lay carefully on the ethereal’s hand that was located upon his knee. "Just know that you're not alone in this journey, not anymore,” there were no more words that could be spoken between the two as they just stared at each other in awe, but slowly the light grew brighter, the urges within O were growing impossible to ignore, and he chuffed unexpectedly.

A sense of urgency gripped Zeroh as he felt the familiar tingling in his skin, a warning sign that the moonlight was becoming too intense for his photic allergies to handle. Panic surged through him as he tried to preserve this precious moment with Onyx, to bask in their connection a little longer. But the bright light of the moon crept closer, casting its silvery glow around them, threatening to shatter the fragile peace they had found.

Onyx sensed Zeroh's distress and their smile faltered, replaced by a look of concern. They could see the telltale signs of his struggle against the moonlight, the way his skin prickled and his breath quickened. Unsure of what to do, the ghost just simply sat there, he’d seen this a few times but, every time those..sounds escaped O, the spirit would find themselves retreating. Completely and utterly embarrassed by their body’s natural reaction to it. However, if he ran now, he risked insulting the Reaper or worse, hurting his feelings in the manner of a wrong assumption. They each were in a pickle of sorts.

Zeroh could feel the tension in the air, the impending danger of his condition flaring up. Despite his internal struggle, he couldn't bear to see Onyx's expression shift from gentle understanding to worry. The Reaper knew it was too late to escape it, and they’d both just have to get through it. “I think….” he snorted, trying to desperately push the feeling out of his face, but to no avail. “I’m gonna sneeze…” it came out in a gasp, the moonlight now shining down on him with full force. The feeling crawled down his nose like tv static, or a fizzy drink, and it exploded through his chest. “Huh’…HH’aHTCHh’iew!” into the crook of his elbow, trying to avoid a mess across his new found, crush? Despite having shared an intimate moment, the reaper certainly wasnt concerned with labels as his face felt like it was tingling relentlessly.

Onyx on the other hand, was stone cold solid, eyes widened almost like a deer caught in a set of headlights. If they could blush, they would be, brightly, across every surface of their skin he took a deep, slow, exhale out, sucking their lower lip in between two clenching rows of teeth. ‘What the hell is wrong with me ?’ they thought almost worriedly to themselves as their whole body felt like it was suddenly, hot.

It was in that moment, as Zeroh fought against the uncontrollable urge to sneeze under the moonlight, that Onyx felt a shift within themselves. The sight of Zeroh's struggle sparked something deep inside them, igniting a fire that they had never experienced before. As Onyx watched the Reaper battle his senses, a strange fluttering sensation stirred in their chest, sending shivers down their spine. “Heh’TSSCHT! Huh’TSSSCH!” two more he was regrettably unable to stop as a fine mist spread across his arm.

The light from the moon seemed to caress Zeroh's features, highlighting the delicate lines of his face, the tear stains on his cheeks, the redness in his nose as he wiped, and the vulnerability in his eyes. Onyx couldn't tear their gaze away, captivated by the rawness of the moment and the intimacy that hung between them like a veil.

With each gasp and hitch in Zeroh's breath, Onyx felt their own pulse quicken in response. The heat that had been building within them now roared to life, consuming their senses with a newfound desire that left them reeling. Onyx cleared their throat. “A-Are you okay? Do you uh…do you…shit,” they lost their train of thought. O looking over at the spirit with confusion behind his own gaze. What was this? The little ghost was never this flustered.

“I’b…I..hh—HUH’AHTSSCHHHh’iew!….fibe…” trying to play it off he huffed almost with frustration at himself, ruining a perfectly romantic evening with his stupid allergies, he turned away. “I'b so soddy…” shaking his head back and forth. “SndFf…” trying so hard to keep himself cleared of any further mess. Black ooze slowly dripping out from his nostrils as he kept wiping it away.

“N-No! D-Don’t be sorry it’s uhm…really,” Onyx’s hands were practically shaking, knees buckling under the weight of sudden arousal. “It’s fine,” clearing their own throat awkwardly, the reaper couldn’t help but notice how, squirrely, the other suddenly became and stepped closer to the apparition.

“Are you alrighd? You seem…upsed,” the stuffed up way that the reaper responded was only adding to Ony’s discomfort, he was so attractive it almost made them crazy, they took in a deep breath and tried to be honest, like the other had been so graciously.

“I’m not..I’m not sure it’s just,” looking away they absentmindedly started twirling a lock of their hair, nervous. “The way that sounded…it’s almost as if..…I enjoy it, like, more than I should..” the spirit’s voice was almost an embarrassed mumble. Completely and totally thrown off by the way they felt in regards to their companion’s allergy afflictions.

As Onyx confessed their unexpected situation, Zeroh turned back to face them, his own confusion mirroring the ghost's turmoil. The air between them crackled with unuttered words and untouched emotions, each trying to make sense of the tangled mess that had woven itself between their souls. Zeroh took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between them until they were mere inches apart.

His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out a trembling hand to cup Onyx's cheek, his touch feather-light against their ethereal skin. "Can I help, somehow?" he asked tenderly, his voice barely audible in the still night air.

Onyx's eyes widened in surprise, the flickering moonlight casting shadows across their face as they processed Zeroh's confession. A myriad of emotions played across their features - uncertainty, longing, and a spark of something more sultry. Yix took a deep breath and shrugged, attempting to look away again before getting lost in the trance of the other being’s lips that were so close. “I-I’m not sure…”

“Would you like me to do it again…?” O asked curiously, tilting the other’s gaze back up to his own with a thin, long index finger.

The ghost felt a rush of conflicting emotions - desire mingled with uncertainty, curiosity twined with fear. As they met Zeroh's gaze, a silent understanding passed between them, a connection stronger than any words could convey.

With a shaky exhale, Onyx found themselves leaning into Zeroh's touch, the sensation sending shivers down their spine. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they inched closer together, drawn by an invisible thread of fate that bound their souls as one.

Zeroh's eyes held a mixture of tenderness and longing as he leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with Onyx's in the space between them. Their lips brushed together in a tentative kiss, soft and hesitant yet filled with passion still, though, far too short. O pulled away and smiled sweetly. “Well?”

Onyx felt nothing short of dizzy as their lips separated once again, such gentle, tender and yet romantic gestures, so simple, that almost made the ghost feel like they’d crossed over. Shyly, with a bite of their lip they nodded gently, matching the curious, yet heated gaze of the other’s.

Zeroh smirked, nodding in response before standing up straight again, and looking now directly into the moonlight. “Okay…Here we go…” he almost felt rather silly, what if this wasn’t actually what caused the little ghost to be excited? What if he was humiliating himself? He shook it off, unable to really pay focus to the thought as the moon shining into his direct irises was making them water, and itch.

The Reaper hitched, his whole body tensing as he struggled against the bright light that shone in front of him. His jaw opened slightly, as a tickle began to overwhelm him. "H-HH..." he sputtered, trying to contain himself. But the sensation was too strong, and soon he was fighting against it with all his might. "HH'TTSSChh'uu! hh-TSSCCHHHIEW!" The sneezes came out forcefully and without warning, like a cannonball being fired from its barrel. The sound echoed through the air, leaving behind a faint ring that seemed to linger for just a moment longer.

Onyx watched with a mix of awe and desire as Zeroh succumbed to another powerful fit under the moonlit sky. The ghost felt a surge of heat rush through them, specifically to their loins, a particular feeling they were definitely not used to. Their ethereal form tingling with anticipation at the sight before them. While Zeroh recovered from his sneezing, sniffling and rubbing at his nose to clear himself of any blackened mess, he turned to Onyx with a sheepish smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Did you uh…did you enjoy that?" Zeroh asked, nervously, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and uncertainty.

Onyx couldn't help but be drawn in by the Reaper's charm, their heart fluttering in their chest as they gazed into his warm eyes. "I uh….," Onyx clears their throat, nodding and smiling softly, “I very much did…a lot actually…something about the crinkle of your nose and the desperation behind each gasp..” almost a bit too descript with a hint of longing in their tone.

The tension between them crackled like electricity in the air, the unspoken words hanging between them like a delicate thread waiting to be pulled taut. Zeroh took another step closer to Onyx, closing the gap between them yet again. “So then…SnDfF..would you like to…retire…? There’s a nearby mausoleum we could, disappear too…yet to be occupied by any deceased,” The Reaper made it sound more like a sales pitch than a romantic night in.

Onyx's breath hitched at Zeroh's suggestive words, their cheeks flushing a faint shade of blue as desire pooled in their core, it was rather uncomfortable for someone who hadn’t really ever felt sexual attraction before, or ever. Yet, the ghost nodded eagerly, their translucent form shimmering with anticipation. Without another word, they took Zeroh's hand in theirs, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through both of them.

Together, they vanished into the night, their forms merging seamlessly as they made their way to the abandoned mausoleum. The air crackled with a newfound energy, charged with the unspoken certainty that hung between them like a veil of silk.

As they stepped into the dimly lit chamber of the mausoleum, Onyx turned to face Zeroh, their eyes alight with hunger and longing. They hopped up onto the empty coffin that was there in display, spreading their legs just gently to welcome Zeroh’s form. “Cozy,” they giggled shyly, and the reaper couldn’t help but return with a tender smile. “You know…” as O stepped closer, limiting the space between the two as he got comfortable between the other’s knees, gently he set his palms on each of the apparition’s thighs, a softened grip. “I have never, desired to be touched…and for the first time, I do..and it’s when I’m dead…” laughing, they shook their head, pale locks moving in slow wisps, “how lucky that I seemed to be shacking up with the one…being, that probably can, actually…touch me,” O chuckled at this, nodding his head in agreement before parting his lips to speak, fingers gripping tightly to the spirit’s thighs for emphasis.

“You’re not wrong…I do have that fairly helpful gift…” his response was breathy, almost like he was holding back something himself. Onyx reached down and began to slowly strip the Reaper of their protective gloves, he pulled his hands back and looked at the ghost almost in shock.

“You don’t need them…let me feel your hands on me…” Onyx was gentle in their disposition, returning back to grip the gloves at their hems as O settled them back down in between them, and trusted the little apparition instead of allowing fear to drive him.

The reaper’s hands trembled slightly as he allowed Onyx to remove his gloves, revealing blackened, slender fingers that looked almost fragile in the dim light of the mausoleum. A myriad of emotions flickered through his eyes - vulnerability, desire, fear. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to touch Onyx's ethereal form, experimentally running them up the hem of the ghost’s sweater. His fingertips grazing their translucent skin with a feather-light touch.

A gasp escaped Onyx's lips at the sensation of Zeroh's touch was suddenly against their cool, incorporeal form. Amazed by the feeling, for both of them it had been entirely too long. The contrast was electrifying, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through them. They arched into his touch, craving more of the intimacy that seemed to spark between them like a wildfire. “Is…Is this okay? Are you okay?” The Reaper asked nervously, looking up at the other, while fingers continued to gently dance across their chest.

“N-No…It’s really…good, don’t…don’t stop, Zeroh,” his name came out like a gasp against their lips and O felt a rush of heat pool in his stomach at Onyx's reaction, a newfound boldness surging through him as he leaned in closer, capturing Onyx's lips in a loving kiss. The ghost melted into the other, sparks flying between them and suddenly there was a mess of hands, exploring, touching, simply touching. Gods it had been so long, they could practically spend the entire night just doing this.

Their lips meshed together in a passionate dance, mouths moving in sync as Onyx’s hands trailed to the hem of the Reaper’s torn up sweater. “Are you sure…?” they pulled apart enough to speak again, Zeroh needing a constant reassurance his new found lover wasn’t hurting, afraid or worse, dying. Onyx nodded as they began to peel themselves out of their shirt, undoing their pants, and Zeroh slowly followed suit. O stood there, shoveled between the ghost’s legs, standing in his underwear, as Onyx sat there in theirs. Slowly, carefully, the Reaper watched as his own hands slid up the other’s soft, solid body, they were transparent, but still so very much here and real and tangible. Unaffected by the curse his touch held. He smiled, now looking up at the other, who returned the gesture.

“Do you think you can…get out another?” the ghost asked nervously, in a whisper of words that almost didn’t escape them. The Reaper bit his lower lip, trying to hold back another chuckle, worried he would embarrass the poor thing, but truthfully he just found them so entirely adorable.

“How could I say no?” nodding before looking out the only window of the mausoleum and making contact with the brightening moonlight yet again, this time having to put effort behind it as he scooched closer to Onyx, bare chests touching, Zeroh’s head comfortably hovering over top the other’s, Onyx was met with a strong chest. They looked up, resting their chin upon it to witness the happenings above their head.

The reaper’s head tilted back, his mouth fell open and out it came. “Hh’TTSsCh’uu! Huh’Tssch’hHIEW!” his whole form flexed and clenched around Onyx, the ghost had taken a hold of each of O’s biceps, gripping them tightly to feel them constrict as he blew. The little ghost shuddered with delight, the sounds of sneeze echoing inside their brain chamber, rattling around like soon to be rot that would consume them. A fine mist fell behind them, tickling and trickling down Yix’s back.

“Wow…” was all the little ghost could muster up, a smile breaking out on their face as they leaned back against the coffin, reveling in the innocent intimacy of the moment. Zeroh chuckled softly at Onyx's reaction, following closely by climbing on top of them, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of the ghost's genuine enjoyment. He settled over the spirit, drinking in their form, both of them now in various states of undress but feeling more connected than ever before. The moonlight bathed them in a soft glow, casting shadows that danced across their intertwined forms.

Zeroh's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions as he gazed down at Onyx, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The air was charged with electricity, a palpable tension that seemed to draw them closer together. As their eyes met in the dim light of the crypt, Zeroh felt a surge of lust that had long been dormant inside him.

Without a word, he lowered his head, capturing Onyx's lips in a fevered kiss that spoke of longing and passion. The ghost responded eagerly, their hands roaming over Zeroh's body with a hunger that matched his own. In that instant, all doubts and fears melted away, leaving only the raw, unbridled need that pulsed between them.

Their bodies moved together in a seamless dance of desperate need, each touch sending sparks flying through the air. Zeroh's hands trailed down Onyx's sides, fingers tracing patterns on the ghostly skin that seemed to glow beneath his touch before meeting the hem of their briefs, pulling at them before breaking their kiss, pushing their foreheads together lovingly. He tried to catch his breath but still his words came out almost muted. “S’okay? You…’re okay?” not a moment the Reaper didn’t want the ghost to feel uncomfortable.

Their voice quivered uncontrollably as they struggled to catch their breath, the overwhelming sensation of arousal coursing through their veins. With every word, their voice cracked and faltered, overcome by the sheer intensity of the moment. "Yes...keep going," they managed to stammer out, each syllable dripping with a need and hunger that was unlike them. The air was thick with anticipation as they awaited the next move from their partner, their body trembling with excitement and yearning.

Their breaths mingled in the stagnant air of the mausoleum, creating a fog of passionate lust that enveloped them both. The reaper’s hands shook with anticipation as he continued to explore Onyx's ethereal form, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The ghost arched into his caresses, a low moan escaping their lips as pleasure coursed through their slender body.

Feeling emboldened by Onyx's response, he let his hands wander further, sliding down to grasp the ghost's hips possessively. Onyx gasped at the touch, their form shimmering in the moonlight as they surrendered to the Reaper's embrace. The connection between them crackled with a raw intensity, each movement bringing them closer to the edge of something wild and untamed.

As their passions continued to ignite, O felt a desperate surge push through him as he wrapped both his hands now tenderly around the back of Ony's thighs, lifting them, he sat back on the coffin, still between the legs he was lifting a mere few inches. “I want you, Onyx, in every way possible, for eternity, would that be, alright?” he asked cautiously, but still, with an aura of confidence as he kissed down the ghost’s thin legs.

“Absolutely, Zeroh, I’m already yours,” the ghost whispered hoarsely. The larger grinned, like a kid in a candy shop kissing down the spirit’s legs with adoring excitement, he felt a shiver run down his spine at Onyx's words. He looked up at the ghost's face, their eyes shining with admiration and all the same, hunger. A spark spread through him at the thought of spending eternity with the apparition, and he knew that he would do anything to make that a reality.

With a renewed sense of grounding, Zeroh reached downward to his own boxers, pulling them down to reveal his hardened cock and slickening his palm with a mouthful of saliva. “You’re sure you want this? You want me?” he prepped himself accordingly, positioning himself between Onyx’s trembling thighs, they nodded, biting their lower lip nervously but with excitement, their hands reached up to grasp the reaper by his forearms.

“I want you, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine….please, Zeroh..” the ghost almost begged, and it was enough for the ethereal to have mercy, sliding himself comfortably inside of Ony’s tight entrance. They both took their time adjusting as the reaper made his way the full hilt, they each took a deep breath in, and the spirit moaned involuntarily with a surprising ecstasy that overflowed them. The reaper’s hands on either side of Onyx’s head now, the ghost wrapping their leg’s tightly around his waist.

“Shhhh…it. It’s been awhile, Ha~ ..you feel really good…” O admitted, the vulnerability of their actions hung in the air like a thick blanket around them. Slowly, thoughtfully, the reaper began to slip back out, only mid way before, tenderly back in.

The air in the crypt was thick with the scent of ancient stone and the mingled musk of their bodies as they moved in unison, their souls intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Oh’s blueish white eyes locked with Onyx's, the intensity of their affections and desires for one another, reflected back in the other's gazes. The ghost's body writhed beneath him, a symphony of pleasure and pain, their breaths echoing in the silent chamber like the cries of a thousand long-lost souls. “Zeroh~” the spirit whimpered in pleasure as their body was claimed.

Movements became more fervent, their bodies undulating like two waves crashing into one another, creating a tide of passion that threatened to consume them both. As their hips met with a rhythm that was both primal and divine, Zeroh brought his fingers down, tracing delicate patterns on Onyx's skin, leaving behind trails of light that danced in the moonbeams pouring through the dusty window. “My name on your lips…don’t ever cry for another…I could die over and over hearing that sound, and I know it’ll…” he paused, shoveling himself back inside “lead me to salvation…” he huffed through clenched teeth before pushing down and finding their lips again.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as they continued to move, each thrust more deliberate and passionate than the last. Despite the urgency of their passion, they took their time, savoring the feel of each other's bodies as hands made magic as though it might be their last chance to experience this earthly pleasure.

Zeroh's movements grew more frantic, he could feel the ghost beneath him begin to tremble in anticipation of their union. Each time he thrust into Onyx, he could feel himself getting closer to the brink, their bodies humming with electricity as they danced on the razor's edge of climax. Mouths still clashing and melting together like two pieces of chocolate in a wrapper on a hot day.

With a gasp, Onyx's body stiffened beneath him, their eyes rolling back into their head as they arched their back in pure unadulterated ecstasy. Zeroh watched closing while the spirit was coming undone, spurting out from their length over their chests, and he tried to hold back his own orgasm, savoring the sight of the ghost finding pleasure for the first time in, possibly ever, and with a final thrust, Zeroh's own climax washed over him. His seed spilling forth into the ghost's body as their souls seemed to meld together. The air was thick with raw passion and the scent of their mingled fluids, mixing with the musty odor of the ancient crypt.

As they lay there, clinging to one another, Zeroh couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. Would they be together forever? Could they find a way to be together should Onyx ever pass over? Or would this be just a fleeting moment of passion, a memory etched into their beings? Would they pretend this never happened? They couldn’t…the electricity…the raw passion between them was too palpable.

He brushed a lock of Onyx's hair from their forehead, tracing the lines of their ethereal face with his fingers. For a moment, they were silent, lost in their own thoughts, but then O whispered softly into his ear. “Could we have forever? You think?” the reaper asked, almost with a shaken voice. The ghost tightened their arms around him, comforting him.

“We can,” Onyx whispered back, the sincerity in their voice resonating through the cold stone chamber, enough to give the Reaper the assurance neither of them could really promise. He could feel Onyx's breathing slowing, and their body starting to steady as they began to drift back down from the heights of passion.

As they lay intertwined, still basking in the afterglow of their passions, Zeroh's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts. The possibilities that had just opened up before him were overwhelming, and he found himself lost in them. For so long, he had believed that Sebastian was his one true love, the end all be all of feelings and emotions. But then this little apparition appeared, floating into his life like an unexpected arrow piercing straight through his heart.

Slowly, they started to disentangle themselves from each other, “Should clean ourselves up…we could…continue distributing the flowers to the empties if you’d like?” The reaper offered as they slowly climbed down from the stone coffin, O helping the smaller down with a steady hand.

“I’d love that,” Yixxy smiled back at him, hopping down and helping him sort through their mess of clothes.

“And face the gloat of a match making bird as well…” Zeroh chuckled breathily, running a hand through his slightly dampened and sweaty locks.

“Oh? Did Amara have something to do with your approach tonight?” Onyx looked up from getting dressed to meet the Reaper’s gaze with a raised brow.

“She might have…been the courage I needed yes,” they both shared a gentle laugh, the sound echoing off the crypt walls, the two gathered their things, got dressed and reemerged from the mausoleum, content to enjoy the rest of their night in the company of each other.

The End

Author’s Notes: Idk if it’s cause I spent literally 24 hours writing this piece, or my brain is fried but I feel like I probably could have done better on this 🤣 Ugh they’re so cute I just want to make sure it’s done justice! 🥲🥲 hope yall enjoy! It was fun writing 🫶🏻

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