#Away From the Garden: Queue

[smol-sirens-garden]

@mddlbro Has Asked: "Bright and sunny all day! Let’s go out— you could really use some sunlight," Jiro said to Saburo, half-joking, half-serious.

He was focused on something, barely hearing what the other had said. Though even Jiro would know that he had been holed up in his room except for school working on something. His fingers typed away with determination.

"I'm busy at the moment, maybe later Jiro. I am on a really good lead."

His focus was on point, continuing to type away.

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts​ Has Asked:  “I haven’t got all day.” - Ango / Dazai

“Well someone is Impatient.”

He pouted, having just wanting to come visit the other. He didn’t know this would be his welcome. Still he sat nearby, not bothering to leave. He did say he had a small surprise for the other so that may have been why the other was so impatient. 

“The surprise is just me anyway. I got bored and wanted to see what you were doing.”

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Me: *minding my own business*

an anime character with red hair: hey

Me: hi-

Me, who just remembered they are attracted to red haired characters: oh for fucks sakes, not another one.

[propertyofwicked]

FIRST - LN

lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink

✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧

masterlist the playlist

“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.

being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.

“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.

“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.

“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.

“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.

“i ju-”

“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.

in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.

she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.

this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.

“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.

“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.

“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”

“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.

“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.

oh he knew her a little too well.

“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.

“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.

“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.

lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.

“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.

“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”

“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.

“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”

“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.

“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.

“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”

“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.

“huh?” max replied, confused.

“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.

the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.

“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”

“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”

lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.

y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.

there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.

max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.

max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?

the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.

“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.

“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.

“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.

“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.

“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.

“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.

“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.

“tell that to the scar on my back.”

“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.

“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.

“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.

“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”

“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.

“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”

“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.

he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.

“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.

“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”

his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.

the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.

“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.

“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.

“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”

his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.

“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.

“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.

“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.

“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”

“kiss me.”

“wha-”

“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”

lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.

“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.

“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.

“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.

“there’s no one i trust more.”

with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.

“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.

“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.

“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”

“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.

“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.

“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.

“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.

“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.

“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.

“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”

“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.

“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.

“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.

“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.

“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.

“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”

she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.

“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.

“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”

“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.

“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”

lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.

“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.

“yes, fuck lan. only you.”

he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.

“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.

lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.

“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.

“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.

“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.

“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.

“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.

“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.

“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.

“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.

minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.

“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.

“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.

“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.

“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”

“preach.”

-

✧ inbox/requests are open ✧

[shesacrified]

tag dump: updating tags & new verses!

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter III

“Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” 1 Peter 2:11

Priest Geto has unfaltering faith in his hands. They have traversed deadly straits. Blossomed gardens. Taken and given life.

Can he trust his hands to mold you for another man?

Pairing: Geto x Female reader

Art credit: Grartss on tumblr/insta

A/N: someone needs to peel me away from I wanna Be Yours x Artic Monkeys and the third scene. That song fits TOO perfectly to my ears. I hope this chapter edges you just as much as it did me.

Previous | Next

CHAPTER III: Courtside

Duchess, 

Allow me to apologize. It was inappropriate to end our session so abruptly. 

You have been on my mind. It will serve your marriage best for you and the Duke Ahriman to pursue individual counseling prior to pre-marital counseling. 

I cannot guide you to love one another, your hearts will make that determination. But I can help unravel your layers; to allow for independent growth. Having a strong sense of self, above all,  is paramount for successful matrimony.

Think on this proposal. If you both accept, we will proceed. 

Warmly, 

Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto. 

His name tastes just as rich as it reads. 

Elegant. 

Too ethereal to be bound by ink and manila paper.

A name like that is meant to be said out loud. Shouted from the mountain top. Meant to be worshipped. 

Praised. 

“Darling? Are you decent?” Ezra calls from the other side of your heavy chamber doors. 

You flicker down to your robe. Technically you aren’t. But your continued attempts to avoid your betrothed — conscious or not — remain futile. 

Especially, today. Your formal introduction to court. The future Duchess Ahriman. You will be fused to Ezra’s side for hours on end. Grateful to have been bestowed the honor. An honor you will spend your life upholding. 

Pro Deo et patria. 

For God and Country. 

“Yes, I’m decent.” Hoping whatever he needs can be addressed from behind your barrier. 

“May I, my love?” 

A bitter scoff glides down your throat, but your words seep sweet. “Yes of course!”

Arella, who is diligently arranging your formal attire on the golden rack, fetters over to welcome the Duke.

Instinctively, your hand tightens the silk knot as he steps into view in your mirror. Ezra’s emerald gaze is warmer than the Grecian sun. Excitement buzzing off of his boyish grin and short strides to your vanity. 

The Priest’s letter finds its away into your pocket, just as strong hands land on your shoulders. 

Ezra didn’t notice. And why would he? The letter isn’t illegal.

“How are you feeling?” Like plush Evergreens withstanding all seasons, Ezra peers into you and roots you in place.

He’s unwavering, your fiancé. He doesn’t yield so easily. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” 

“Not like I have a choice in the matter.” 

Almost instantly you regret the response. The Duke offers you a pained smile and tender kiss on the crown. 

A sudden gust of wind brings the bouquet of fresh Dahlias to everyone’s attention. Ezra rubs a soft petal between his fingers. 

“These are outstanding, darling. Who brought them to you?”

Before a half truth drips off your tongue, Arella speaks up, taking stride toward where you sit. 

“I picked them this morning. From the garden.”

She grazes over your empty, half parted mouth.  Planting her own kiss on your warm canvas.

“We should get ready for the ball, yes little Dove?” 

Ezra’s good natured laugh overflows. He raises both palms in feigned retreat.

“I suppose that is my queue. I’ll take my leave.” Your handsome fiance keeps his word. Shutting the heavy doors behind him. 

“Arella!” Your head whips around to face your beautiful handmaiden. 

She is swanlike. Coordinating the intimate pieces of your gown. Not another word on her lips but a whole diary on her face. 

“Why did you lie for me?” Your hands steady her busy ones. 

Arella’s voice is small enough to fit through the cracks in the walls. 

“My allegiance is to you and only you, little Dove.”

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Under His Eye, Father.”

“Under His Eye, Rhea.” 

“Blessed Be The Fruit, Father.”

Of course. The greeting used when women are trying for child, the handmaiden chose to use with him. Suguru offers a polite, but pointedly distant smile.

Since his arrival to the compound, there hasn’t been a shortage of high court handmaids and the women they tend to ‘greeting’ him in a similar way. 

Well within the unspoken rules of engagement, but a message served loud and clear. 

“May The Lord Open, Seren.”  Suguru returns the pleasantry as scripted. 

The pretty maiden smiles like a Cheshire kitten. Taking her position in line behind the clergymen. Suguru keeps his gaze ahead. Remaining neutral in the midst of hushed giggles and whispered praises. 

His index finger wires beneath the formal collar. Tonight is the first of a long line of celebrations he will have to stomach. 

A commemoration of a new contract between families. A new marriage of countries. A long awaited treaty as precarious as the peak of Mauna Kea. 

And as the appointed Chaplain he is tasked with praying over each event. Handing out blessings to the soon-to-be-wed and those that wish them no harm. 

He’s already exhausted.

The processional begins and all extraneous chatter settles to the ground. Just in time for you and the Duke to step into view. At the height of the sprawling staircase, there you stand. 

Regal. 

Breathtaking.

Not a single strand out of place. The rigid corset digs into the small of your waist — accenting the feminine swell of your hips. Sage satin drips off the rolls and hills of your mind-altering lines. 

Curve and dip. 

Curve and dip. 

Your figure could render the most veteran fishermen seasick. 

Then your eyes collide with his and Suguru nearly falls backward. Knocking more air out of his lungs than any sea storm ever has. Ten times more deadly than the waves he rode along Drake’s Passage.

The infamous strait holds legend amongst seamen, old and new. The lethal dance between the South Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans gives way to the notorious Ship’s Graveyard.

At 60 degrees south of the Equator, Suguru’s father tweaked his usual saying before he dove off their vessel. 

“Below 40, there are no laws. Below 50, there is no God. Don’t go trying to find One, Son.” 

Suguru strips his eyes away from you. Currently plunging well below 60 degrees south, he will drown in you if he keeps gawking up like that.

Focus, Suguru. 

Lines from tonight’s production begin circulating in the Chaplain’s mind. Every moment rehearsed down to the breath. The night is already stifling. And he still has to look you in the eye and bid you a lifetime of love and prosperity with Ezra Ahriman. 

He’ll have to repent for the lie tomorrow. 

Patent leather dress shoes echo a path into the ballroom. Suguru and the rest of the priesthood fall behind the last line of noblemen. His stomach suddenly plummets lower than its usual residence. 

Public speaking isn’t the issue. 

A room full of eyes trained on his every word has never shaken his nerves. 

The problem is the air around him suddenly deciding to shed its layers. 

Leaving one, thin strip of sustenance left for Suguru to breathe in. While he rehearses the lies he has to spew in front of a congregation. 

Half of which is so forbidden. Basking in the thrill of lusting after a “Man of God” bound by law — biblical and not — to remain pure in the face of temptation. It’s thrilling for that half of the congregation. 

Then there’s the other half.

Seeing him for the foreigner that he is. 

The other. A man with eyes more inclement than the worst of Heaven’s rainfall. Who bares tattoos of a past life. Acting as if that part of himself is so far lost at sea.

That half of the congregation is counting the seconds until Suguru can be properly burned at the stake. Words he reads directly from the Bible sound like lies to their ears. 

Which half of the congregation do you reside in?

“Father, I have a hard copy of your speech if you want it.” Noel whispers, just a few paces away from entering the ballroom.

And Suguru is so fond of the boy. The little brother he never got to grow up with.

“I think I have a handle on it, Noel. Thank you.” The Chaplain flashes a brief smile his way before taking in the last gust of oxygen. Praying that it gets him through the dreaded speech.

Violin notes reverberate in sync with Suguru’s footsteps toward the podium. You are somewhere behind him. Probably 20 paces or so. Polite about your wave. Genuine about your smile. Convincing the masses that you are one of them. 

The decades your home country spent in war with them mean nothing. 

Welcome home, Duchess.

Suguru’s deft fingers wrap around the microphone. 

“Welcome in.” He starts. It takes nothing for the room to come to an obedient silence. Listening intently. Taking in every word.

“Please, may the congregation rise? To give and receive blessings this evening.” Suguru prompts the room, a gentle up-flick of his wrist, raising all to their feet. 

“I’d happily kneel, Father.” A muffled comment from the pretty handmaiden that made a point to greet him a few moments earlier. 

Normally, Suguru wouldn’t entertain it. But something about this being his first formal engagement strips his usual restraint. 

“Such a dedicated servant of the Lord, Seren.”The Chaplain glances over to the blushing crowd of women at his right. 

Seren’s outburst crumbles to nothing under his pointed gaze. And a collective chuckle fills the room.

That should be enough to stifle any additional outbursts. 

Here he goes. 

“To the Duke Ahriman, and the Duchess-To-Be.” Suguru tilts his glass of water up at the noble pews — everyone else holding goblets of red wine.

Beauty and grace lock his eyes into place. Coaxing words out of his parched throat. He couldn’t deny you his voice if he wanted to.  

“I pray the Lord brings you unwavering love,” A lie whipped sweeter than cream rolls off his tongue. Suguru’s eyes float from you to the Duke. An eager smile on his face. 

But, what is the expression you’re currently wearing, Duchess?

Are you desperate to come up for air, too?

“A never ending fountain of peace.” Suguru continues to bless the ‘happy’ couple. With eyes that can see with inhuman clarity below the level of sea that receives penetrance from Helios.

The Midnight Zone may as well be daybreak to the Chaplain. And those same sharp eyes see something other than joy in your face. Something other than peace. 

But he continues his script, nonetheless. 

“An unconditional well of prosperity.” Suguru shamelessly sips from your tantalizing presence. If someone whispered to him that you two were the last beings on earth right now, he’d believe it without question. 

The finishing lines cause physical pain.

“And most importantly, to an Ahriman heir.” Suguru chokes out. “For God and Country.”

The room erupts in near uncontrollable cheer. 

“For God and Country!”

“For God and Country.” 

You mirror the Preist’s words and he memorizes every twitch in your lips. Every intonation of your voice is burned into the most permanent part of his mind.

Festivities flicker past Suguru’s short term memory. The night is a complete daze. Hundreds of courteous smiles. Dozens of handshakes. A handful of empathic stares and one all-consuming gaze that halts the Father in his tracks. 

How are you allowed to exist when lust is apparently a sin?

The answer to that never comes.

Boisterous music. Drunken celebration. Complete disinhibition comes in full force instead. 

Suguru wires around the women flinging themselves into his embrace. 

No matter the intention, he wants no part of it. In fact, if he could make it home to steal a few hours of uninterrupted sleep he would consider the night a roaring success. There’s no telling how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since the start of the celebration. 

Not until his eyes find you swallowing more  than a mouthful of red wine at the edge of your seat. Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as if the clouds are your native home. 

“Blessed be the fruit, Duchess.” An inebriated noble nearly trips into your arms. 

You narrowly miss his impact. The flame in your campfire gaze ascends high enough to singe the crescent moon. 

“May the Lord open.” Each one of your words sharper than swords made of dragonstone. 

Suguru starts to make his way over to flailing man, to rip him away from you at the very least. 

But you are more skilled than he is in still waters. Beneath your fiancés nose and a host of prying eyes you find an exit to slip past. 

The Chaplain’s feet move before a knowing smile tugs on his lips. 

Suguru knows exactly where to find the woman who doesn’t want to be found. 

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Saline seabreeze intertwines with your loose mane. Erupting goosebumps along your exposed décolletage. Expanding the lungs imprisoned by your steel-boned corset.

Breathe.

The moon is curved and high. Super-terrestrial hands knead the low tide crashing along the cliffside. 

To what end?

Your mind searches for a finish line to the marathon. Desperately seeking refuge from the journey with no endpoint. Traveling further than Pheidippides, who ran hundreds of miles from the battlefield to the citadel to deliver news of victory. 

All before dropping dead. 

A chuckle more bitter than the goblet of wine escapes you. 

You would travel further just to be home. Even if it meant instant death in return.  

“For God and Country.” Sharp words through terse lips. “For God and Country.” 

Thick, unforgiving fog fills your brain space. Heels echo through the chapel garden, pebbling the stone path to the rocky edge. Red wine powers your clumsy stumble. Chasing an ever elusive clarity. 

The marathon continues.

“What if…what if I don’t serve your God.” You hiss at the stars above. 

Resentment more potent on your tongue than the spirits you ingested tonight. Before rules of conduct blare through your drunken haze, rolls of sage satin fill your balmy fists and you take a seat on the ground. Legs dangling over the edge. Enticing the dangers below. 

“For God and — what if I think your God is deaf and dumb and…and—“

“And He loves you all the same, Duchess.”

Oh, that voice. 

That voice that smells like honey. And tastes like a dream. And sounds like lilac. 

No.

Violet. 

Like the eyes of its owner. 

“Suguru!! I-I mean Father. Shit. I’m sorry.” Bitter resentment is replaced with sour regret. 

Did you really need that last serving of truth elixir?

The Chaplain lets out a deep, velvet chuckle. It runs smooth along the curve of your flushed cheeks. He takes a seat on the ledge. A full hand width or two away and yet, his presence kisses you in the way sun rays do, when they tuck in for the night.

“You must think I’m a petulant woman, Father.”  Shockingly sober words, thanks to the company beside you. 

Another rich, truffle laugh. You cant help but notice his prominent Adams Apple gliding down the muscular column of his throat. 

“My name sounds like a ballad when you say it.” Irises softer than an oil painting cement you in place. 

“Please use it.”

Because it is, Father. 

His name is a ballad. A sonnet. A monologue in its own right.

A love letter. 

“And what of my name, Suguru? When will you use it?” 

Sobriety flutters away as quickly as it cloaked you in the first place. Cobalt winds lift the hem of your dress. A sheet of goosebumps along your bare thighs now on display. 

From the glacial breeze? The damp earth beneath you?

…Or is it the way the Chaplain’s Adam’s Apple and gaze descends?

“When I’ve earned it, Duchess.” 

Long, deft fingers reach over to re-drape the  satin over your knees. You swallow a gasp before it erupts. 

Of course he fixed your dress. It’s where your hem belongs. Especially around a man who has taken a vow of celibacy. 

No, no. 

Especially as a woman who is engaged. Spoken for. Under the God he serves and the law you abide by. 

“I trust you’ll have enough..” Suguru’s lips curl up at a thought reserved for himself only. 

And somehow, the perfectly centered dimple  on his appled left cheek comes to your attention for the first time. 

“Enough what?” You probe, sinking in the cavern you’ve discovered. 

“Conviction.” Volcanic eyes trail up to the moon. “To tell me the exact moment when I’ve earned the privilege.”

Suguru gives you ample space to bathe in him while he bathes in moonlight.

It’s uncanny. 

How the Priest exists in two different places at once. Down here, with you on the cliff edge. He’s tangible. Thick locks in a poetic cascade down his back. Limbs nearly twice as long as yours, beckoning creatures that only break the surface of Leviathan’s playground to wreak havoc. 

Sure, he’s down here. 

But he’s also up there. 

Somewhere in the ether. Traversing altitudes well above the average, simple minded being. High enough for the Gods to confess their sins. Because Suguru is the only one worthy enough to forgive them.  

“You’re staring, Duchess.” His voice holds a grin, and that grin has fingers. 

Cruel, torturous fingers that pet and stroke and tease your throbbing core until it’s plush. Your cunt is more intoxicated than you are.

“Eyesight is not a sin, Father.” You retort, crossing your legs before any more arousal leaks from your warm sex. Your gall entirely fueled by Arella’s quote imbedded in your mind. 

“Suguru.” The Priest corrects.  His sleek, jet black brow elevates. You must be an amusing drunk. 

“Suguru.” You acquiesce with a bashful nod. 

“So demanding.” 

He gifts you his left dimple once more. A feature that is rapidly soaring through your mind’s construct. Undoubtedly the only boyish thing about the stallion of a man next to you. 

Straight from Poseidon’s steed. 

“Very.” He agrees. “Only when the time calls for it.” 

And what time would that be?

“The Dahlias I sent, did you enjoy them?” Suguru deftly redirects the conversation like a captain navigating treacherous waters. As if he heard the blasphemous thoughts starting to brew. 

“They are gorgeous.” 

Stifling heat emanates from your cheeks. You were so fond of the bouquet that you felt compelled to lie to your betrothed about the source. 

“Good.” His eyes capture a moon ray and holds it hostage. 

“And the letter?”

“I loved it!” A slurred confession. “I’ve re-read it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.” 

How does his laugh sprint down your spine the way that it does? 

Unraveling you bit, by bit. You would stay drunk and stupid if it meant you could keep drawing that addicting sound out of his full lips. 

“I was referencing the proposal in the letter, Duchess.” 

Suguru’s eyes drop to your bottom lip, now rolled under your teeth. Not even a second passes before he flickers back out to the sea. And you’re grateful for the privacy to darken like Pinot Noir on a corkscrew. Both hands cup your reddened cheeks. 

“Yes, of course.” You wave, a matter-of-fact, of course. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” 

That response draws something new from the enigmatic Priest. 

Raven locks lift off his back from the speed at which his gaze recoils back to you. Lightning strikes the volcanoes in his eyes. A clenched fist and tense arm drops between his legs. 

Is he…steadying himself?

You can’t quite name his expression.  Wine or not, you’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s dark. Ominous. Full of bloodlust. 

And you’d gladly offer up a vein. 

“Pardon?” He rasps, completely fixated on your lips. As to not miss a single word of your answer.

Your hips roll around under his unrelenting stare. “I-I mean, you know best. I will do whatever you think is best for my marriage.”

Suguru barely hears your repeated answer, judging by the way he briefly makes eye contact, before re-settling on your mouth. Heat swells in your puffy cunt. Already hugging your thin, sodden undergarment. 

The Priest offers no words. 

Just a heady, quiet that pins you to the ground. And your mind, suddenly promiscuous, wonders if this is what it feels like to be beneath a man’s weight. Caged in by muscular arms. Scalded by fiery eyes tracing inch by inch. 

Not that you would know. 

Not that you know anything about making love. Or men. Or loving a man. 

“Will you…can you teach me how to love a man?” The tips of your ears threaten to melt off your head the second your sentence is complete.

Another shocking blow to the Father. His lips hang open in disbelief. For one, two, three seconds before he zips back up. Concealing his thoughts behind a courteous but very present steel barrier. 

“I—“ He starts carefully, averting away. “Surely you don’t need to be taught—“ 

“But I’m pure, Father.” You counter. Searing into his angular profile. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to—“ 

Cool fingers gently tilt your chin upward. To brand his correction into your memory. 

“Suguru.” The Chaplain’s voice glides lower than your inhibition. 

Something says that he won’t correct you a third time. 

Despite the temperature maintaining the same degree, a sharp jolt of pleasure straightens your spine as your nipples pebble against the silky fabric. You gnaw your cheeks to keep from physically squirming.

“S—Suguru.” You repeat. Subservience wets your drooling sex in a way that makes you want to keep following commands. 

Suguru’s tone rubs the folds in your brain smooth. 

“Good. Quick learner.” A pleased grin blooms across his lips. “I’ll start with focusing on you.”

The two of you slowly peel away from one another. Crashing waves replace the heady silence. 

Well, silence other than your heartbeat rattling between your ears. In your periphery, the Chaplain is now peering outward, at his true home. The coast is clear to return your greedy eyes back to his acute, feline features. 

Just enough of his mane is tied back to reveal a pretty mulberry dusting his high cheekbones and pointed nose. 

A pleasant surprise to know the demigod warms like the mortals he walks amongst.

“You’re blushing, Suguru.” Girlish satisfaction heavy on your tongue. 

Another decadent chuckle pets your womanhood. And this time you have to swallow a moan.

“As are you, Duchess.”

“Darling? There you are!” Ezra’s voice is just as, if not more sobering than his footsteps approaching. 

Too soon. 

Time bows at Suguru’s feet. The concept doesn’t exist around him. Someone, be it Arella or Noel or now, your soon-to-be husband, someone always has to physically draw you back to the present. 

Reality never comes on time. Always too late. Or in your case, always a little too early. 

The Chaplain is on his feet in seconds. He swiftly lifts you from the edge and sets you on solid ground. Leaving you dizzied and breathless on the surface. 

Guilty and red-handed beneath it. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Ezra paws at the soiled fabric, concern etched into his face. “Your dress is completely ruined.”

“I’ll live.” You’re sharper than intended. Surely, from the spirits still thrumming through your veins. 

Ezra falters like a wounded puppy. And it tugs on your tattered heartstrings.

“Thank you for the concern, Ezra.” You soften, thumbing his cheek. Purposefully avoiding the violet beams aimed at your face. And shoulders. And hands. 

As if the Priest is daring you to keep provoking his searing gaze. 

But your fiancé unravels under your rare display of affection. He eagerly leans over to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile your hand desperately magnets to your side. 

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly Ezra, I—I had a bit too much to drink and I needed air then—“

“Don’t give it a second thought, my love.” 

Your fiancé is gentle with you. Little strokes along the small of your back. And maybe…just maybe your reaction time is dulled because you don’t immediately flinch away.

“Individual counseling starting early then?” Ezra jests. Pristine jade eyes dance between you and Suguru. 

The Priest offers a smile about as warm as the Siberian tundra. 

“Hardly. Just ensuring the Duchess is out of harm’s way.”

Like your fiancé did with you, you flower under the pad of Suguru’s thumb. A brief swipe, to remove a stray saltwater droplet. But your skin scorches all the same. Unreasonably missing a touch that lasted all of half a moment. 

Ezra clears his throat and drops his broad, but not nearly as broad, shoulders.

“I received the memo from your office staff, Father. Please accept this as my formal agreement to proceed with individual counseling.” He reaches out and Suguru takes his hand firmly. 

“Duchess,” Suguru beckons without breaking focus on Ezra. 

“We will be begin your sessions in three days. Meet me around 8:00 AM in our garden. Yes?”

Our garden.

You are a dirty woman. 

The way your core aches at his meaningless, frivolous, harmless words. 

“Y-yes. I will be there.” A half-baked attempt at maintaining neutrality. 

Your agreement earns you Suguru’s left dimple again. You toss your gaze elsewhere before your knees commit treason. 

“Duke, is there an activity you enjoy?” Suguru probes Ezra. 

“Sailing.”

“Sailing…?” Suguru lifts an incredulous brow. Blatantly amused by his automatic response. 

Granted, you don’t know your future husband that well, but he’s never made mention of any maritime activities.

Meanwhile everyone in this country, two countries over, possibly your home country knows that water belongs to the Chaplain. The element bends to his will. 

“Are you certain about that, Duke Ahriman?”

“Yes, Father. We have quite the fleet. I think you would be impressed.” 

“Understood. You and I will set sail before Sunrise the day after tomorrow.” 

The men exchange pleasantries as they do. Ezra intertwines his loving fingers into your reluctant ones. He ushers the long night to a welcome end.

Five steps into your path home, a blistering heat snakes up your spine. Fanning your shoulders like high noon during summer solstice. 

You don’t have to do it. 

You know the source, already. 

But you do it anyway. 

Over your left shoulder, you find the Naval Prince strolling along the unstable rocky ledge with as much grace as he does flat terrain. Eyeing the tide. Searching for the perfect entry home. 

Suguru’s trident reflects stark against the moonlight. Upper body completely shed of clothing, lower body with a long, black compression garment. Heavy locks now woven in the same singular braid you met him with. Dark overhead skies somehow illuminating the ridges and shadows of his sculpted arms, and back…and chest. 

A glimpse of heaven. 

…is staring right back at you. 

Possessing you.

“Enjoy your swim!” 

The words string together without your consent. Ezra lands his attention on you, startled by the sudden crack in silence. 

And the demigod shakes his head.  One part disbelief, two parts fond. 

“Enjoy your dreams!” Suguru calls back before turning his trident to you. His night has just begun.

You walk away with your betrothed, cloaked in soiled satin and guilt. 

Were you in the wrong? Maybe so.

But your heart didn’t choose Ezra. Not yet. You aren’t sure if your heart has even chosen you. 

Arella’s gentle wave from the patio welcomes you home. Sleep suddenly descending on your heavy lids. 

At least you’re safe, here in your mind’s haven.

For now. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Fuck.” 

A tormented hand swipes the bead of moisture tickling a path down Suguru’s temple. 

0345

Obscenities seem to spill from his lips a little too easily these days. And his usual coping mechanisms are falling a little too short. 

The chaplain drags the hem of his sleepwear down to his thighs. 

Each bone, muscle and tendon is utterly spent after tonight’s swim. Every part of his body except the thick rod that springs free from its cage. 

Glistening with beads of lust. Taunting him. Making a mockery of his code of conduct. 

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife.

“Really?” Suguru scoffs and screws his eyes shut. His nails dig into the abused sheets to keep from gripping his cock and tugging himself numb. 

How convenient. 

The Holy Book of Answers and all of its rules makes no mention of how to survive the likes of you. 

How does one circumvent murky waters when Thy Neighbor’s Wife is Aphrodite’s reincarnate? 

Suguru’s heavy, oversized length pulsates. Its blushing head lays flush with his abdomen, a few inches past his belly button. Leaking pearly arousal onto his damp skin. Still not fully air-dried from the second icy bath since returning to his quarters. 

‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me.’

You dangled your submission in front of him. 

Him, a red-blooded man. 

A ravenous, touch starved, cunt-drunk beast of man. And you sat there. With your dizzying silhouette. And puffy lips. And pert nipples, pebbling from his gaze alone.  

Did you think he couldn’t see? 

How you pressed your mouth-watering thighs together? With wide, gorgeous eyes. Desperately trying to deny yourself the indulgence. 

What if he asked you to spread your legs then and there, pretty girl? 

What if he asked you to watch his fingers pet that weeping little cunt of yours? Watch how much honey he could coax out of your needy opening. 

Because you were. 

So fucking needy.

Suguru could see it from a mile away much less sitting next to you. Tensed legs. Short gasps. Studying his features when you thought his attention lapsed. 

‘Can you teach me how to love a man?’

“Oh, sweet girl,” Suguru rolls over to settle a plush pillow between his thighs. The cool, soft cotton rubs blinding friction against his aching length. 

This is wrong. 

Immoral. 

He’s a filthy, disgusting, pervert.

Suguru lurches his hips forward in a deep thrust against the cushion. A shattered groan pushes past his clenched jaw. 

It’s a disgrace, the way saliva pooled in his mouth and cum drooled from his cock when you unveiled your purity. 

Suguru’s hips rut faster. Brutalizing the pillow. Animalistic sounds bubble out of him. 

“Fuck…fuck no..don’t..” Pathetic pleas contradict the pace he humps the fabric. Chasing the whirlpool of lust in his groin. 

Demons in hell couldn’t concoct the vile things his mind is showing him. The intricate ways he wants to violate you.

A moral stain for the church 

The priest tilts up on his knees. Fucking the pillow in earnest. Picturing its your precious, dewy center that he’s defiling. 

He could teach you, gorgeous. 

He could shape your untouched core to fit his cock like a sleeve. Perfectly molded to his veins. Slotting into your warm, wet, noble sheath with ease. 

He would have you sit on his lap for your first lesson. 

His swollen length buried inside you to the hilt. He wouldn’t thrust, not yet. Your body would just clench and squeeze and leak around his intrusion. Suguru wouldn’t retreat out of your cunt until you were begging him to. Teary eyed and drooling from every single opening. 

He could teach you. Break you. Turn you into a pretty little cockdumb puppet at his touch.

“God..nngh fuck.” Opaque fog fills his head and lungs. 

Sordid moans echo against the walls. Reflecting his sinful behavior, but Suguru is too intoxicated to care. He curls around his swollen cockhead. Feverishly jerking his abused sex. Grinding so pitifully into his hand. 

Suguru drops his head. Mumbling your name in full before spewing himself empty into his grasp, the sheets, his pillow. 

Shame warmer than the mess of cum he’s currently laying descends. Filling the fuzzy corners of his brain. 

Is he really so weak?

“Be stronger than this.” The priest hisses angrily.

Unable to lay in filth for another second, Suguru rockets out of bed. Pulling his sheets, folding his sins away. To be cleansed in the next load of laundry.

A third, icy shower serves the same purpose for him a few minutes later. Glacial droplets soak the length of his mane, again. His manhood hangs away from his body, bucking every couple moments. Threatening to steal his virtue for a second time. 

He’ll be a better man when the sun rises. 

A tired sigh escapes his lips. At least Suguru is safe, here in his mind’s haven. 

For now.  

E/N: Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Chaplain, you really have to get a handle on those pesky hands of yours. 🤭

Taglist: @blkkizzat @hayakawalove @rotteneyess

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 2: Among My Souvenirs

Chapter warnings: Heaven being a bitch, harassment from Adam

There's nothing left for me of days that used to be

I live in memory among my souvenirs

Some letters tied with blue, photograph or two

I see a rose from you among my souvenirs

Masterlist

The first thing you remember in your afterlife was the giant imposing golden gates that led you to the heavenly grounds.

You recall standing in a queue, waiting for your name to be called and gain your wings, halo, and a home in heaven. You could see people of various kinds- some short, some tall, most of them resembling creatures of all sorts. Only a few seemed to possess human-like features.

You looked back at where you came from. It was a bridge, a long one. You did not recall crossing it but saw people coming through it and joining the queue with a dazed look.

The person in front of you - someone resembling a bunny- yelped in excitement as their wings and halo were granted and they hopped off, passing through the gates into heaven.

You were next.

You looked up at the angel manning a register, standing in front of a tall podium. His fingers glided over the pages as he mumbled each name he saw before reaching your own.

Your name was called.

“Um…hi?” you said, rather awkwardly, “That’s me.”

“Hello!” the angel exclaimed, “My name is St. Peter. It is my delight to invite you to join the heavenly gardens that lay beyond this door! Congratulations on your journey here. Everyone in heaven is eager to meet you!”

You could feel a tingle at your back as soon as he said that. You waited for a while as your wings sprouted forth and a warmth settled atop your head. Your hands reached out to the warmth- you realized it was your halo.

The heavenly gates opened wide to welcome you. Your eyes widened as you got a glimpse of the paradise that lay before you. It was…beautiful.

“Go on now, dearie!” St. Peter smiled wide, “Enjoy the rest of your afterlife!”

You took one step forward but paused. You looked at the angel.

“Before I go…I had a question.”

The angel tilted his head, “Of course, do go ahead.”

You turned back around and pointed at the bridge, “What…what exactly is that?”

St. Peter chuckled as he explained, “That, my dearie, is the bridge to heaven. After your judgment, you must cross the bridge to reach here. As you do, the memories of your mortal life fade with every step you take. Once you do take a step forward, you cannot go back.”

“Lose…my memories?” you asked, “Why…why do I have to lose my memories?”

“To prepare you for the reincarnation program of course!” St. Peter smiled, “There comes a time when every Winner is reincarnated into a new body to live their next life! It won’t fare well if they remember the memories of their past lives, now would it?”

He continued, “For those that do not want to be reincarnated, they get to live a carefree life in heaven- away from every bad memory that plagued their life when they were alive!”

You nodded, feeling an ache in your chest.

“If you don’t mind, I have another question.”

St. Peter gestured for you to speak.

“Can you tell me then,” you lifted your hand, your fingers holding a beautiful ring- it held a lovely little gem that shone red, “why I have this?”

St. Peter bent down and squinted his eyes to look at the object a little better. Then, he smiled and replied, “That must be a gift to you from someone who loved you dearly.”

He explained, “Everyone who comes to heaven is gifted with something or the other at their grave from people who love them the most. They are allowed to have that little token from their life as they enter the gates of heaven. Consider it a little reminder that they were loved, even though they have forgotten their memories.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you, “Is that all, dearie?”

“Yes,” you replied, “Thank you for clearing my queries.”

“It’s no problem at all!” he said, “Enjoy the fruits of your goodness. Welcome to heaven!”

Your hand clutched around the ring, the ruby digging into your skin as you finally walked through the gates of heaven.

You had stayed in heaven for quite a long while. You could’ve chosen to be reincarnated but you didn’t. It was as if something was stopping you from taking that step.

So you made the best of your time in heaven. You helped your neighbors, spoke kindly to those who passed by you, and volunteered to serve the people of heaven.

Everyone who met you fell in love with your gentle and kind demeanor and they praised you for the goodness of your heart.

You had to make a couple swerves when Adam caught wind of you. He would often pop out of nowhere when you were out and about on your daily tasks and try to get you to go on a date with him.

You were quite adamant (see what I did there?) on not letting your anger at his arrogance get the best of you and politely declined his offers, no matter how many times he tried to convince you. You had class, after all.

In about a few years since your arrival, one of the guardians of the Heavenly Grand Council stepped down from his role to finally retire and head towards reincarnation. The vacancy was to be filled by the collective vote of the residents of heaven.

It was safe to say that you had gained enough love and support from your fellow Winners that you were chosen as the next guardian to man the station left by your predecessor.

You were gifted a golden sword, crafted by the prince of heaven, Michael himself, when you ascended to your position. You still remember how you felt more powerful and how your wings enlarged and grew stronger, the moment you held your weapon in your hands.

And yet, at the moment, even if you had such a powerful item in your hands and were imbued with unspoken power, you thought of the ring that stayed on your finger as a more precious possession.

The sword gleamed in the light refracted by the glass dome that hung above you. The large empty hall echoed with every swish of your weapon.

With your memories compromised by heaven, you were left with a deep aching in your chest. An ache that pestered you since you entered through the heavenly gates. Throughout your years in heaven, you felt like a part of you was missing.

Between your duties as a guardian and the constant pestering from Adam, you thought you would be able to forget that pain. But you couldn’t. The worst thing about it was that you had no idea what was causing this. How could you know? The memories of your mortal life were taken from you, erased as soon as you stepped on that god-forsaken bridge.

The golden sword moved like lightning, as your movements became swifter and more precise. Your breath came out in uneven huffs as you elegantly moved your way around the lonely hall, slicing the air with your weapon.

Suddenly, there was a change- a slight gust of wind blew through. Someone was here. Someone with the agility and patience to move towards you without making a noise.

You paused in your ministrations, only momentarily, before you swung your tightly held sword at your intruder.

The tip of your blade was met by two large pairs of eyes, looking back at you, terrified.

"Molly?"

The female arachnid let out a puff of air in relief, as your sword turned itself into a staff- the latter holding the same regal air as the former.

"I have got to stop sneakin' up on ya, I swear!" Molly chuckled.

"I am sorry, dear," you hung your head in embarrassment as you tapped the end of your staff on the polished golden floors, "I do tend to get carried away sometimes."

Molly waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.

"It's alright, sugar. It ain't your fault. I just gotta be more careful next time," she winked, playfully.

You let out a laugh in response. Your heavy heart felt a little lighter with such a jovial presence as she.

"So," you gestured to her to walk along with you, "To what do I owe the honor of you visiting?"

"Oh, I'm just a messenger!" Molly followed close behind you, as the two of you walked out of the large hall, " It's Emily who wanted to talk to you."

She leaned in closer and whispered to you, placing one of her hands over her mouth, "I hear there's a very special guest coming! I've been called to participate in the welcoming song by Sera! Can you believe it, sugar?"

Your brows scrunched up in confusion, "There's...a special guest? Coming to heaven?"

Molly nodded her head excitedly, "Mhm! But they won't tell us who it is. I reckon it's gonna be sweet ol' Em who's gonna let you in on that secret!"

You hummed, "Well, I best be off then, darling. I wish you all the best for your performance!"

The arachnid looked at you gleefully, and then with a tight hug, she left you to find your way to Emily.

Fortunately, even though Molly forgot to tell you where the younger seraph was, in the midst of her excitement, you knew exactly where to find her.

You saw Emily waving at you from one of the tables placed outside the quaint cafe you frequented. She had already ordered for the two of you- your cup steaming with a freshly made beverage.

"Greetings, Emily," you bowed your head out of courtesy. No matter how much you considered her a dear friend of yours, she was a seraph first and foremost.

Emily giggled and pulled you down to have you sit at the table, "You have no idea how much I've been wanting to tell you something!"

You glanced at the youngest seraphim, gently blowing over your hot beverage, "Well, I am here now so..." you trailed off.

Emily bounced in her seat, excitedly, "Ok, but you have to pinkie promise that you won't tell this to anyone," she raised her pinkie towards you.

Chuckling, you intertwined your little finger with hers, "I promise. Now don't keep me waiting."

"Theprincessofhelliscomingtovisitheaven!" Emily exclaimed as softly as she could, in a single breath.

Your eyes blinked owlishly at hers for a moment. Then, you burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said the princess of hell is coming over to visit heaven," you wiped away a stray tear, taking a sip of your drink.

"No, that is exactly what I said," Emily stated.

You spat out your beverage in disbelief, "I'm sorry, WHAT!?"

Emily shushed you and awkwardly smiled at the patrons gawking at the two of you.

You immediately lowered your voice, "What do you mean the princess of hell is coming to heaven? I mean-what-why?" you stuttered through.

The younger seraphim looked at you with glee, "Oooh! She's here to propose her idea to Sera and me in front of the court!"

You titled your head in confusion, "Propose....what?" You took another sip of your beverage.

"Why, her idea to rehabilitate sinners, of course!"

You spat out your drink a second time.

Emily handed you a tissue as your wide eyes looked at her.

"The princess of hell," you said, taking the tissue and wiping your mouth, "is working on rehabilitating sinners," you made sure to sound out each syllable clearly, " and is coming to heaven to propose her idea?"

Emily clapped her hands, "Yes! Isn't it exciting?"

Your confusion remained.

"It is indeed...unexpected," you finally took a proper sip.

"Oh! And she's coming over tomorrow!"

You did nothing but nod your head. The princess of hell trying to get sinners into heaven? No matter how noble the cause was, it seemed rather...useless. Sinners were brought down to hell for a reason. Besides, what demon would even want to rehabilitate themselves? Was there any scope for success?

You continued listening to Emily rant about how excited she was at the prospect of meeting someone from hell, let alone, the daughter of the head honcho, herself.

Your thoughts remained on how important it was for you to attend this court hearing. There was a feeling in your chest that you may be able to find some semblance of an answer to the questions you have been withholding for so long.

After a long chat with Emily, you two bid each other adieu and you headed straight to your headquarters, wanting to get some work done before the busy day tomorrow. You knew if the princess of hell was coming over to heaven, things would not go as smoothly as one would hope.

You took your time to wander through the streets leading up to your destination, greeting every angel that passed you by.

Just then, out of the blue, your wings bristled at the sound of your name being called rather harshly.

“There you are!” a gruff voice exclaimed, approaching you, “You know how fucking hard it is to find you nowadays?”

You turned around with a pointed look.

“Adam,” you greeted him, “What a pleasure it is to meet you here.”

God knows you were lying.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” he leaned in closer to you as you took a step back to create some distance, “There’s this concert coming around in a few days and I wanted to tell you to come with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry…you wanted to tell me to come with you? Not ask?”

Adam let out a scoff, “Why would I ask? I mean, I know any bitch would want to come with me,” he leaned his face closer to yours, “including you.”

You pushed his face away with your finger and laughed.

“That is where you are wrong, Adam,” your teeth gritted as your anger bubbled through, “Despite the many times I have rejected your advances, you keep coming back to pester me.”

You took a step forward, and your eyes shone golden. Your figure grew bigger as your wings fluttered wide and the grip on your staff- which had now turned into the sword- tightened. You felt your third eye opening, right in the middle of your forehead- the eye resembling your normal ones, golden and terrifying.

Adam gulped and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted.

“YOU CANNOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND,” your voice grew more frightening, “WHEN NO MEANS NO.”

After a few seconds, Adam let out a huff and turned around, leaving you be as he shouted, “Your loss, bitch.”

You reverted back to your normal self as you huffed out a sigh. You turned your sword back into your staff and held it in the crook of your arm, your hands fiddling with the ring that adorned your finger. When you calmed down, you snapped your fingers to open a portal that would transport you to your headquarters. You wished you had thought of taking the easy route before Adam had ruined your mood.

When you reached your office, you were greeted by Oliver, your assistant.

“Greetings, your grace!” he bowed his head as soon as he saw you.

“Oliver,” you started, making your way to your desk, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to use honorifics with me?”

You had met Oliver not too long ago. He seemed to have lived a long and happy life. Despite his old age, he was very sprightly and efficient in organizing the mess that was your paperwork and reports.

Whenever he smiled, your mind was put at ease. You felt safe in his presence. You considered him your dearest friend, your confidante, and most importantly, a person you could talk to without the fear of judgment.

You felt as if you knew him already before you two even had the chance to meet.

Oliver shrugged, “You’re too humble for your own good. Embrace your title! Feel the power you possess!”

You chuckled at his theatrics- your unfortunate encounter with Adam long forgotten.

Oliver continued, “You look like you have a lot on your mind, though.”

“You are the only one who can see right through me, Oliver,” you sighed as you leaned against your chair.

“I’m not supposed to say this to anyone…but let’s just say a very…interesting guest is going to make an appearance tomorrow.”

You fiddled with the ring on your finger once more.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle at the court today.

As you sat down at your assigned place, you politely greeted your fellow guardians and waited eagerly for the session to commence. Several feet below you, you could see two figures making their way to their station. They were not angels, by what you could tell.

One had strikingly blonde hair and a painfully nervous demeanor to her walk, the other had moth-like features and flowing gray hair with a large red bow at the back.

There was, however, something about the moth demon that was familiar to you. You just couldn’t point out what.

Adam and Lute arrived and sat at their respective places, and soon after, followed Sera and Emily. The trial then began.

Throughout the trial, you could see your previous expectations of the princess crumbling before you. You had assumed she had wanted to reach heaven on the false pretense of rehabilitation just to cause havoc here. But you were pleasantly surprised to see before you, an heir, who wanted to desperately help her people.

When you were allowed to take a glimpse at one of the candidates participating in the princess’ efforts of rehabilitation, you could see how he was steering away from the bad decisions he made earlier that night and stood up for his friends, even going as far as putting himself in danger.

You could also see he resembled a certain arachnid you knew.

Despite the evidence provided, Sera refused to budge and that is when Adam foolishly revealed his plans for extermination. Hearing this, Emily intervened asking Sera if she had any idea about this. Sera confirmed that she did and had allowed it for the safety of heaven.

You could’ve stood up and interjected but you didn't. You were frozen in your seat. You could hear your fellow council members whisper and chatter amongst themselves but you couldn’t bring yourself to participate.

Heaven was supposed to be this paradise where everyone was good and helped each other, out of the purity of their heart. It wasn’t supposed to be the hand behind mass genocides taking place every year.

The trial ended with the princess and her companion- who was revealed to be an angel, an exterminator to be specific- thrown out of heaven through a portal.

You immediately teleported yourself to Sera’s office. She was already present at her desk as soon as the trial ended.

“With all due respect, your Highness,” you started, “What in the actual fuck was that?”

Sera’s glare pierced through you, “Watch how you speak with me, guardian.”

“Why is one of the protectors of heaven willingly participating in exterminations- the likes of which seem completely unrequired?” you said, ignoring her threat.

“If you must know,” Sera gritted her teeth, “It was to protect heaven from the uprising in hell.”

Your eyes widened at the information. You spoke again, “And who…or what gave you the idea that there was an uprising going on in hell?”

You flinched as Sera shifted into her true form and leaned in closer to you, looking at you with every bit of anger and terror.

“You are not to question my decisions, guardian,” she started, “Leave. Immediately.”

You took a step back, your eyes not leaving Sera’s before you turned around and walked out of her office, shutting the door behind you.

When you were outside, you saw Emily in front of you. She seemed distressed, her eyes watering with every second that passed.

“Oh, darling,” you stretched out your arms, letting the younger seraph fall into them and cry into your shoulder, “It’s alright.”

“I- I didn’t know,” she struggled, her tears making it difficult for her to speak, “I-If I d-did…”

You gently shushed her as you ran a hand through her hair.

“I know…I know…”

You held the crying seraph in your arms till her trembling stopped.

You sighed as you finished the last of your paperwork.

Today was supposed to be extermination day.

Adam and Lute, along with their slew of exterminators, were going to go down and kill off staggering amounts of hell’s population and despite the powers you possessed, you could do nothing about it.

You’ve never felt so utterly helpless.

“Oliver, I’ll go deliver these reports to Sera.”

After a nod from him, you transported yourself to the front of Sera’s office with a snap of your fingers. You still remember the last time you came here. With a deep breath, you pushed the huge golden doors open.

“Your Highness, I have the reports…”

Your voice trailed off as your eyes saw what lay before you.

It was a snake like creature looking back at you with an awkward smile on his face. You could see his halo glowing atop his head.

You had seen him before.

You recalled the time of the trial when Princess Charlie was showing the court the progress being made by a certain Angel Dust towards redemption. During that, you could also see the other patrons of the hotel.

One of which…was the snake that stood before you.

Your mouth gaped open as your eyes flitted over to Emily’s gleeful look and Sera’s terrified one.

“It worked,” you whispered.

Sera quickly regained her poise and said, “Emily, would you please go ahead to help this…” she looked at the snake, “...new…resident settle in?”

Emily jumped out of her seat and excitedly nodded, “Of course! Right this way, umm…what was your name again?”

“Sir..Pentious,” the snake hissed out hesitantly, “Where…where am I exactly?”

Emily giggled out, “You’re in heaven! Welcome!” she said as she walked towards the door, “Oh, Princess Charlie would be so proud of you!”

“I’m sorry…who?”

Emily stopped and looked back at Pentious, her smile diminishing. She shifted her eyes to you and you looked at her helplessly.

“Right…” she mumbled out, before opening the door.

“Emily,” Sera called out.

The younger seraphim turned her head towards her.

“Not a word,” Sera reminded her, “Not a word until we figure this out.”

Emily nodded her head somberly and stepped out of the office, the new resident of heaven slithering closely behind her.

Sera let out a sigh and rested one hand against her head, cradling it as she leaned forward on her desk.

You flew towards her desk, after recomposing yourself, putting the reports you had intended to give to her atop the table.

You were about to turn around, leaving her in her lonesome before she called out your name.

“Yes, your Highness?” you asked.

“…I need you to do a job for me…” 

You burst into your office, startled to see Molly having a chat with Oliver as he rearranged your files. Amid her rant, you caught her eye and she turned to you happily. However, her smile faded seeing the distressed look on your face. She stood up, approaching you.

“Sugar,” she started, “Are you okay?”

“I..” you paused, “I’m fine.”

You continued, moving past the arachnid, “Oliver, I need your help packing my stuff.”

Oliver turned towards you with a confused look on his face, his hands laden with files.

“Pack?” he questioned, “Where are you going?”

“To hell,” you said, averting your eyes.

You heard a thump as Oliver lost his grip on the files and Molly gasped.

“To hell?” the female arachnid shook you by the shoulders, “What do you mean to hell!?”

Oliver approached you with the same curiosity. You sighed and explained, “Sera tasked me with going to hell to oversee some…business...”

Molly looked at you incredulously, “What…what- why?”

You gently lifted her hands away from you, “Look, I can’t say much. It’s confidential information but…” you paused, looking at her worried face, “I promise you, I will be fine and back in no time.”

Molly let out a sigh. Even though she looked conflicted she nodded her head, looking at you with a smile.

Oliver interjected, “And…what exactly made you…accept this task? She could’ve asked anyone, couldn’t she?”

You recalled your conversation with Sera. She had told you to oversee the working of the Hazbin Hotel and to send her daily reports on your findings.

━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━

“You’re sending me there…to spy on them?” you had asked.

Sera hadn’t looked at you. Instead, she continued, “The balance between good and evil is being compromised,” she let out a sigh, “I need you to go there to help restore it.”

“And…why me?”

“Because you happened to see the new arrival and you witnessed the trial. I cannot risk anyone else knowing,” She ended.

She turned to look at you, her eyes fierce and her stance imposing.

“This is a command from the High Seraphim,” she started, “I hope you know that.”

━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━

You looked towards Oliver, “How can I defy her Highness’ orders?”

He did not look convinced so you had to continue, “And because…” you looked at both Molly and Oliver, “I have a feeling I might find answers there…”

Your fingers brushed over the ring once in an effort to comfort yourself. Suddenly, you felt a pat on your shoulder and your eyes found Oliver’s. He smiled, his aged face giving a wise look to him.

“As long as you’re safe,” he said, “That is all we could ask for.”

You smiled and hugged the two of them, holding them close. Their embrace helped cool your anxious heart as you let yourself loose in their warmth.

You had no clue what to look forward to when you were to reach hell. But you knew, you had to take that step…for your own sake.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the hotel. It looked absolutely beautiful and grand-a place fit for the princess of hell.

You turned around to see the portal fizzing out, the remnants of your home disappearing before your eyes. You took a deep breath and forced a smile to your face, knocking on the large doors of the hotel.

You waited for a while before you saw the doors open, revealing a one-eyed demon who was dressed casually. Her eye flitted up to your halo and before you could get a word in, she slammed the door in your face.

You let out an indignant gasp and your eyes scrunched at this treatment. You were about to open the doors yourself but were interrupted by the Princess of Hell opening it for you.

She looked at you with wide eyes and you sensed that she was going to shut the doors once again but you stopped her, holding the door with your hand.

“I’ve come here by the orders of the High Seraphim… to give the hotel her blessings and oversee its welfare on her behalf.”

The princess’ eyes widened and a smile overtook her features. She eagerly pulled you by the arm and into the hotel, before excitedly exclaiming, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

Oh boy, you were in for a ride.

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx, @fairyv-ice , @sonatabee @preciousbabypeter, @mo-0-o

[monstrouslyobsessed]

love’s lethal bouquet

concept: in which the floral shop boss is in love with you—and isn’t a human. —momster

—a/n: well i havent posted in ages because of how bad my writers block was :( and i’m vvvvv iffy about this one. this is much more subtle and tamer than my usual too, but at least its something for the valentine’s day?

anyway, ima try and tackle a commission i owe next so please take care yall<3

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied drugging intention, implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the floral shop boss / plant monster (implied)

Valentine's Day proves to be one of the busiest days at the floral shop where you work. Breathing in the heady floral scents that permeate the store, you find yourself in continuous motion, assembling bouquets of pink roses, carnations, violets, and every red flower known to man into the van. With your back straining from the constant lifting, you absently listen to the gentle voice of your boss reassuring an irritated customer about their belated delivery—

and you wince.

Although you should be in a rush taking care of the deliveries, you tiptoe inside the back of the shop to avoid interrupting your boss—

But he merely hangs up the phone upon seeing your flustered face.

“S, sorry—” You begin.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile playing on his thinly bearded lips and says, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

The way he addresses you as ‘love’ used to bother you. It always seemed so…formal, old-fashioned, but coming from him—your boss—he somehow makes it work without needing to force the romantic undertone. Perhaps it is because he is on the older side and being a foreigner in this little town of yours.

The town lies deep within the trench of an endless forest, and you wonder how your boss had found his way here.

His arrival several years ago stirred many gossips about him, with him keeping his lips sealed about his past, but everyone slowly warmed up to him. His succulent blooms, never seen before even in the gardening magazines, certainly helped. Now, your boss is a familiar face among the townspeople, with very few not knowing who he is. And, of course, his handsome and charming demeanor won the hearts of many too.

“But I would’ve made the deliveries on time if I didn’t eat brea—” you try.

His piercing green eyes soften as you nervously fixing your rolled sleeves. You halt when he suddenly leans in.

“Boss—?” You rasp at the new weights on your shoulders, trying to pay no mind to the strange dark strains on his thick fingers.

The way he held you was almost…fond—

And he pushes you outside to the doorway. “Go finish the deliveries, won’t you?”

“Really?” You huff, trying to ignore the red tinge to your cheeks and the heavy thumping of your heart.

Your boss smiles that damnable handsome smile of his and pats you on your head, saying, “Get to it. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can give you your little Valentine’s Day bonuses for working so hard.”

While giving his employees gifts during holidays and special events is not new to your boss, you still perk up in eagerness and reward him with the biggest smile you can muster. As you dart away with a confident promise to complete the deliveries, he watches you scurry to the van, inhaling sharply,

“Soon.”

Your boss murmurs, rubbing his knuckle with his other hand—as if to hide the sudden green spot on it. Tiny vines emerge briefly, before he rubs them away and pivots back to his cash register where his impatient customers have started to queue. Flashing them with a dazzling smile to reassure frustrated customers with a wordless apology, your boss absently peers over to his office.

There, on his desk, is the special bouquet he prepared for you and only you.

Imagining you burying your face into the fragrant cluster of your favorite flowers, oblivious to the true intention of its purpose, the toxic drugging qualities meant to lure you into his arms—into his ivies and his binds of vines and creepers—had him biting back a shudder. Restraining himself before the antsy crowd, your boss rings up a customer with an invisible countdown ticking in his head.

A countdown to have you.

The blooms nearby writhe and shudder, with most dismissing it as mere breezes from the air conditioner.

It was not.

—end…?

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Nerull, The One Who Sorts The Bones

It's said they found the god in the old tombs, in that forgotten quiet where long eras had worn away all the epitaphs. They drew in a breath of the still air and on their exhalation the god took flight into the world on vulture's wings. -The Silent Testimonies, book 1

A god not of death, but of the dead, Nerull presides those aspects of the mortal coil that lay beyond the Raven Queen's domain of mourning and memory. Someone must keep vigil for the departed long after their names have passed from the memories of the living, and so that duty falls to Nerull, who's chosen people are the spirits that have lingered in the world far longer than they were ever alive.

Beyond the dead, the vulture’s faithful are an eclectic lot. Itinerant gravetenders, scholars of forgotten tongues, Bonesetters who's experience with embalming helps them minister to the living.  To Serve Nerull you must first die, though this is often symbolic.

Unlike his fellow carrion-bird death god, Nerull's following does not frown on the use of necromancy, or the existance of undead. Ghost stories, whether vengeful or sorrowful are considered holy for the way their memory transcends time. The exception to this reverence of course are those trapped in suffering, and the "hungry" dead who feed on the living. Pain and want are after all the purview of life, and Nerull dispatches hunters and psychopomps to ease such spirits along their way.

Adventure Hooks:

While out on their travels the party encounters a procession of grey pilgrims, masked and shrouded, all silent save for the leader of their procession who carries a staff jingling with bells and welcomes the party to sit by his fire. He tells tale of conflicts across the realm, new and old, shared with her by her flock, and invites the party to walk along with them the next day if they wish to see something splendid. Should the party agree to such unsettling company they will walk until sunset when they come to a hillside dotted with loose stones, where one by one the pigrims will walk out and begin constructing their own cairns. The procession leader will thank them for their observance, not many are so kind to the unnamed dead, and will reward them with answers to five questions before departing on pallid wings.

After inexplicably befriending one of Nerull's agents (and possibly his daughter?) during one of their adventures, the party are liable to be put out when they don't see their favourite psychopomp for a while. Queue sightings of a foreboding spectre that's knocking one by one on the doors of the city at night, sending people into a panic. Imagine their surprise when it turns out this wraith has a message for them... their favourite omen of doom has been kidnapped by a necromancer and her boss (dad?) wants them to get her back.

The Vulture's work is never done, and this time he's decided to enlist the heroes for aid. Perhaps there's an undead spirit that needs to be quieted, perhaps there's something sinister at work in a ruin once consecrated in his name, perhaps it's just making sure they clean up after themselves after their latest stint of tombrobbing. Regardless, Nerull can offer the heroes something far beyond coin... closure with the dead, ensuring visitation with a loved one for some much needed closure.

Titles: The Vulture, The Bonesorter, Dead Ned, the weary reaper, the vagabond end.

Signs: Plants too dry to rot, the voices of the departed carried on the wind, skeletons rearranged into trees or gardens.

Symbols: A scythe or sickle entwined with flowers.

[earthtooz]

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗣

in which: there always seems to be a mistletoe above your head whenever todoroki's around...

warnings: 4k+ words, fluff, swearing, kissing, jokes of k*lling someone bc bakugou is there, bad writing :/

a/n: welcome to the first day of my xmas event! ofc bc todoroki is my ULTIMATE bias ☝️ i just needed to start off with him. enjoy!

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

“You idiot! I’ll kill you!” 

You stand idly by on the porch of Class A’s dorms, pitifully watching Kaminari getting chased by Bakugou, who has clear murderous intent for the electric boy as sparks erupt threateningly from his palms. The squeals and screams from both blonds have attracted a crowd of students, noting the way that Jirou and Sero both cackle with delight, their laughter from inside the dorm audible where they watch from the window, and Mina looks proud of herself standing beside you.

As the snow fell and temperatures began to drop, it indicated the beginning of the Christmas season. Meaning, Mina thought it would be a good idea to put up mistletoes where people least expect it around the dorms, and poor Kaminari was stuck with kissing Bakugou as his first victim. You watched in amusement and horror as the yellow-haired swiftly pecked Bakugou’s cheek before running away, and now, he was stuck in a never-ending chase until his head is blown off. 

“Is this a good idea?” You ask the acid user, concern lacing your expression.

“Oh absolutely! It’ll bring some excitement to our holiday season!” She responds. “Kaminari just got the short straw having to kiss Bakugou first! He won’t be the only one though, I guarantee it.”

You huff. “This is cruel.”

“I don’t think you’ll feel that way when I set you up with a certain boy,” she winks, causing you to choke on nothing, sputtering at her antics as you try to rack some sort of reply in your mind.

You regretted telling Mina about your crush on a certain classmate, and before you could stop her, her expression shows that she’s already setting something up, calculating a plan in that mind of hers

“C’mon, don’t do that to him, Mina. He wouldn’t want to kiss me,” you mutter, crossing your arms in defeat, a frown gracing your lips at your own misfortune. Just as Mina opens her mouth to deny your claim, a voice pops up behind you that almost sent you into cardiac arrest.

“Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?” 

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Dinner’s ready, I came to get you guys but it looks like Bakugou and Kaminari are busy, huh?”

“Busy trying to make a crime scene? Yeah, you could say that,” you quip sarcastically, trying to recover from your embarrassment of Todoroki almost discovering that you’d like to kiss him. On queue, Bakugou yells out a ferocious ‘die!’, paired with an explosion and Kaminari screaming. “We were waiting for Bakugou to calm down but I don’t think he will any time soon.”

Todoroki chuckles at your statement. “You’re right. What are they fighting about?”

“I hung up some mistletoes around the dorms and Denki had to kiss Bakugou. You can imagine how that went,” Mina looks proud of herself, despite the chaos that she’s responsible for. Kaminari has probably fit in a weeks worth of cardio training at this point, Bakugou too.

“Like, on the lips?” 

“No, just on the cheek.”

“And he got that mad?”

“Well, he’s always that mad,” you retort. Both your classmates agree with you. You finally step in when the explosive blond grabs Denki by the collar, effectively giving him whiplash before raising his heated palms to his friend’s face. “Bakugou, let Kaminari go already!”

“Hah?” Bakugou exclaims, his raspy voice echoing throughout the open space of your dorm’s garden as he lowers Denki to sag on the floor. “You wanna die?”

“It’s dinner time, twat,” you retort. “Can you continue your plans of murdering Denki after dinner?”

He growls, dropping your classmate into the snow before stomping over to the dorm entrance but not without sending you the stink eye. 

As he pushes past, Kaminari stumbles into your arms, sagging in relief as you struggle to hold up all of his body weight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he cries repetitively. Were those tears in his eyes?

“You’re welcome… everything okay?” 

“I thought I was about to be sent 6 feet underground.” 

Todoroki grabs the electric hero by both his arms and helps him stand upright from where you were struggling to hold him. There’s a little more force required in the way that he picks up Kaminari, and you’re almost shocked by how smoothly he does so. “It’s dinner time, you should go get some food.” 

If you looked a little closer, you would be able to see the presence of jealousy lingering in his eyes.

“You’re the man, Todoroki!” Your classmate sobs before leaning on Mina’s shoulder, actually breaking into tears this time. He’s chanting things that you can’t decipher, the pair leaving you and Todoroki alone outside.

The wind picks up, sending a chill down your spine as you tug on the sleeves of your sweater. “Let’s go inside too, I’m freezing.”

A hand on your wrist stops your advances and you turn around to meet Todoroki’s eyes, immediately becoming entranced in the grey and blue of his irises. The heat from his hand is enough to wither the cold that seeped into your bones. “What does Mina mean that she put mistletoes around the dorms?”

“Oh, she’s just hung them around the place. I don’t necessarily know why but I guess it’s a part of the festive spirit?”

“How many of them?” 

“Well, it is Mina so my guess could be twenty to a thousand,” you murmur. “I don’t care to find out.”

Todoroki’s face is unchanging, but you feel like he’s scheming something. He always is in that brilliant mind of his, but you don’t enjoy the churning of your gut that tells you you’re going to be involved somehow. What business could he have with a mistletoe? Is he planning something on a classmate? Someone he’s interested in perhaps?

Thinking about it brings a frown to your face so you pull your hand out of Todoroki’s grasp and head back inside for a little relief from an unpleasant feeling that plagued your body; a sensation that didn’t exist solely because of the cold.

A few days later, Mina would strike, starting a series of fortunate, but also, very embarrassing events.

“Morning, Y/N!” Uraraka greets when you appear in the common area. Having just brushed your teeth and done your morning routine, you feel rejuvenated when greeting your friends. Asui pops her head over the couch at your entrance and waves.

“Good morning. How did you both sleep?” You ask, walking over to where she was sitting on the couches and jumping over the back to sit down. 

“Great! Tsuyu and I are planning some things for the Christmas dorm party. Care to join us?”

“I’d love to, what’re you doing?”

The amphibian-like hero turns her laptop around so its screen was displayed at you. You take note of the decoration site that she was currently scrolling through. More specifically, the seemingly endless flow of plastic Christmas trees that this website provided.

“I thought we already had one?”

“We don’t, not until the boys broke and it ended up in flames,” Asui reminds you and you laugh at the memory of the poor Christmas tree you had last year. Somehow, Kirishima managed to push Denki to crash into it and then all the lights malfunctioned, burning the branches a little, but since the tree was near a lit fireplace, one thing turned into another and marked the end of Class A’s Christmas Party for second year. It definitely wasn’t funny at the time when Aizawa had to reprimand the lot of them, but it definitely is something to chuckle at now.

Core memories with Class A.

“I guess they did, huh?” You sigh. “To be fair, they can break the one this year because it’s our last Christmas celebration at U.A.”

“Don’t remind us!” Ochako slaps your shoulder quite firmly and you slip out a little ‘ouch’ from the impact. “I’m gonna cry again!”

“Please don’t cry,” the green-haired commands.

“Hey, I have an idea that we can do for the Christmas tree!” You pipe up, raising your pointer finger to the ceiling, mimicking an ‘eureka’ position. “We should order some Christmas balls and get art supplies so everyone in the class can customise one and put it on the tree!”

Both of them light up at your suggestion, nodding in agreement.

After a few more discussions over the logistics and decorations of the party, your stomach grumbles in protest, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten breakfast since getting up. Asui about sends you off to the kitchen, banning you from contributing any more until you’ve had food.

As you’re halfway through cutting some fruit for a bowl of cereal when a familiar, deep voice breaks the silence of the kitchen.

“Good morning, L/N.”

You almost jump from shock, tightening your grip on the knife before turning around to see who the perpetrator was.

“Oh, hello Todoroki! Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, slept in a little longer than I would have liked. Midoriya and Iida were supposed to wake me up to go for a run but they didn’t follow through with their promise,” he complains.

“To be fair, you sleep like a log,” you comment, turning around to resume cutting the fruits. The half-and-half takes his place by your side, watching you. Suddenly the knife handle feels slippery.

“I do not.”

“You do! We literally had a competition at training camp to see who could wake you up and it took seven people!”

He grunts, rubbing his eye. “No one comes between me and my slumber.”

You chuckle, letting silence engulf the atmosphere momentarily as you walk over to the pantry. You pretend to not see him snag a slice of banana, popping it in his mouth before you can miss it too much.

“What’re you gonna make for breakfast?”

“I might just boil some eggs and have miso soup.”

“That sounds good. Nice and warm for the morning.”

“I’m happy to share.”

You shake your head, rejecting his offer. “No, it’s okay thank you. I am going to make some barley tea though, would you like some of that?”

He nods and for the next few minutes, you both operate in silence, nothing but the sound of kitchen appliances operating filling the air. You pour four cups of tea, two for you and Todoroki, and two for the two classmates you were just talking to.

You leave the kettle out for everyone though and by the time you were done plating the add-ons to your cereal, Todoroki had heated up his miso soup and finished boiling his eggs.

“Would you like to eat together?” He asks, gesturing to the dining table near the kitchen counter.

Your heart flutters, flattered that Todoroki didn’t mind spending time with you one-on-one. It’s uncommon for him to spend time with another alone; whenever you see him he was always in at least a group of three or by himself in content solitude. Settling in seats beside each other, you both discuss weightless conversations with no depth behind them, but you adore his presence regardless, satisfied with any chance to spend some time with him.

As the food in your plates lessens to zero, you begrudgingly rise to end your conversation and put the dishes in the sink. After breakfast was when you had your morning stretching session before going into quirk and strength training, then you had to finish off your assignments because even though homework was the last thing you want to do, Present Mic is quite terrifying when he puts you on the spot during English lessons.

But, before you could walk away, a hand pulls at your shirt, capturing your attention.

Glancing at your classmate in confusion, he answers any questions you had by pointing to the ceiling, where, to your horror, hangs a beautifully innocent mistletoe that you know was not there before. Judging by the ripped edge of the tape- Sero’s tape- that held the mistletoe to the ceiling, you could tell that this was a recent scheme.

Todoroki then stands up assertively, pushing his chair out as he faces you and you find it hard to meet his gaze.

“I- We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it!” You exclaim, the words coming out as a jumble of nothing that he was somehow able to decipher.

He shakes his head in reassurance. “No, I’m okay with it. So, should I be expecting a kiss?”

You can’t think straight, you think you’re dreaming, is this a hallucination? Has your feelings finally gone off the rails that you’re imagining the way that Todoroki was ever-so-softly smiling down at you? He looks so joyful for the predicament that he’s stuck in. What if you ruin his plans? You thought he was scheming something with the mistletoes so someone in your class could kiss him, and said person was probably not you.

“We never speak of this again.”

Something within you whispers ‘fuck it’ before leaning in, cupping the left side of his jjaw to place a gentle and quick peck on his right cheek. If you were a little more aware, you would’ve seen the way he gleefully shut his eyes as a reflex to your close proximity.

When you part, you quickly swipe the dirty dishes before scrambling away, mind in scrambles.

His skin was so soft that you almost feel horrible for tarnishing it, but the memory was so euphoric that as you continued along with your day, it only got sweeter each time you replayed the moment. You just hope Todoroki forgets about what happened because you sure as hell can’t, the scribbles on your homework lay testament to that claim.

When you finally emerge from your room after slouching over your homework for five hours, it seems like whatever happened in the morning between you and Todoroki was out of mind, out of sight; the best option for your psyche.

Regardless, the memory keeps you up at night, often making you cringe as you bury your head into the pillow as if you were sealing the moment away into a coffin, locking it up and throwing it in the ocean of your forgotten, ‘here lies…’ recollections. The worst part is that your classmate doesn’t realise the inner turmoil he throws you in, acting as if nothing happened between the two of you whenever he smiles at you, or comes a little too close into your personal space, whispering jokes lowly into your ear. It’s outrageous how you have to sit there and pretend like everything is okay. 

Eventually comes the time when all of the blank, white Christmas balls you ordered arrive at the door of Class A’s dorm, and no one in the class can contain their enthusiasm when ripping apart the package. Aizawa stands to the side, untroubled so long as the mess is cleaned up. 

The art and craft materials are spread out along the clothed dining table, some glitter has already been spilled, there’s paint everywhere, and Jirou’s playlist pleasantly occupies the space alongside the excited chatter of your classmates. As you converse with Kirishima and Midoriya, often letting them get a glimpse of your artwork whilst enjoying the cookies that Sero baked for this occasion, you realise that everyone’s Christmas ball reflects a little of who they are.

Kirishima’s is red and beautifully glittery despite all the ferocious, strong idioms he’s written on the surface. Midoriya’s resembles the colour of All Might’s hero costume. If you look down the table, Mina’s has pink snowflakes, Aoyama has stars upon stars, and Hagakure’s has little drawings of her friends- their designs were just to name a few. 

Those who finish immediately go to put up their decorations on the Christmas tree. With Bakugou going first and despite the speed that he finished his ball with, you cannot deny that it is intricate and well-crafted. Then, others start to follow him, and somehow, it’s just you and Todoroki left behind to finish up.

“Yours is nice,” he compliments, suddenly materialising in the seat beside you.

“Thank you!” You exclaim. “I’m really trying.”

“I can see.”

Glancing over to his work, you notice that it’s also split in a half-and-half, with white glitter on one side and red on the other. “Yours is really pretty,” you comment, reaching over the table to grab a gold star to put on your ball.

“Thank you. How much longer til you’ll be done?”

“I’m done now! Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I would like to put our decorations on the tree together, is that okay?”

He’s so cute you want to squish his cheeks. As always, you find yourself easily complying with his demands as he leads the way toward the Christmas tree that was already occupied with various Christmas balls and tinsel, topped with a gold star. You take the time to find a good place the last two decorations and despite how full it is, you find places right next each other. 

“We look good beside each other,” Todoroki mindlessly comments and you splutter at his choice of words. Did he have to be that shameless? The clueless boy he act going on only made you more flustered at your own embarrassment.

“Y-Yeah, we do,” you mutter, rubbing your neck. 

Glancing up at the gold star, the corner of your eye catches onto a suspicious red and green thing. A part of your stomach churns in knowing before you can fully process what it is and when you do, a part of you wants to curse Mina for setting this up. She purposefully put it in a place that wasn’t visible from the doorway and would be slightly hidden so unsuspecting victims would fall into her trap.

What do you do? Do you point it out for your own selfish reason or do you avoid telling Todoroki? That’s not very festive of you but you couldn’t find it in you to care about tradition when-

A pair of soft lips meet your forehead, effectively shutting down your brain. 

When Todoroki pulls away, cheeks slightly tinted pink, you are literally frozen to your spot. Pressing the off and on switch multiple times would not work, this time you needed rewiring and a new pair of batteries.

“I- uh, yeah- cool, thanks, uh, for that,” you fumble, letting the lingering touches of your classmate sink into your skin. You were fine, everything is fine, there is nothing to worry about. “Wow, you are beautiful- okay excuse me now, I will be going to my room and I will be staying there for the next three business days.”

Without giving him a chance to respond to your strange reaction, you turn on your feet and mechanically walk away. If you had paid a little more attention to your movements, you would have realised that you were walking same arm and leg, but it didn’t matter much because Todoroki just kissed your forehead and in the same moment, embedded himself into your system.

Then you made a fool out of yourself because you don’t know how to act around Todoroki. 

The paint on your fingers linger mockingly, especially the red and white coating your skin because days later,you’re reminded of how quickly life can change, and similar to that a cruel joke; how quick your life changes because of some stupid plant that people attached a stupid tradition to. 

It’s 6 pm or so and the Class A Christmas party is occurring in less than two hours. With all the decorations hung up and almost all the food ready, you found yourself sitting around the dining table with a bunch of classmates, playing several rounds of card games to kill time. There’s a teapot of steaming tea that Yaomomo made to the side, one that you reach over to occasionally to fill your cup again.

Everyone is laughing at Denki’s misfortune of drawing 16 the third time this round, adding to the unreasonable amount of cards in his hand, laughing even harder when he struggles to hold it all. Although some part of you should feel sympathy for him, there’s just something hilarious about the sight of poor Kaminari always drawing the short stick. You’ll apologise to him after the game.

Although, you don’t think that apology is going to happen, not when Todoroki calls out your name from where he was in the kitchen. Without even asking what he needed, you immediately jolt out of your chair and walk over, leaving your cards behind despite your close Uno win. 

Uno was temporary, whatever Todoroki wanted was forever.

“You called?” You asked upon entering and the first thing that hit you was a delicious aroma that floated around the room. Then, the telltale sound of sizzling follows.

Glancing to the stovetop, there was a pan full of oil and the half-and-half hero stood in front of it, adorning an apron whilst holding an oil strainer. He brightens upon your entrance, fishing out three pieces of what looked like chicken karaage and your mouth waters at the sight alone.

“I did, I would like your opinion,” he informs, reaching over to his plate full of fried chicken whilst you close the distance between you, eyeing his dish curiously. He eagerly gestures it towards you.

Looking at him for his confirmation, you take a piece, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite with little hesitation, letting the pleasant mixture of salt and spices mix whilst the enjoying the crunch of the chicken. Wow, this was good.

“This is amazing!” You exclaim, mouth half-full with chicken and fried batter. 

He seems relieved at your approval, and judging by the mess he made on the countertops, you’d say that Todoroki put quite a lot of effort in this dish for it to be bad. “This is my sister’s recipe; I tried my best to replicate it, but I wanted to make something for everyone tonight.”

“I had no idea you could cook! I’m genuinely stunned, I’m sure everyone will love it as well.”

“Thank you,” he offers you a gentle, but heartwarming smile that causes your stomach to flutter and your heart to sigh in content. Your tastebuds are in love too. “You should come over sometime to try the real thing. I’d love for you to meet my sister and brother.”

Your first instinct is to accept, as one does when going over to one’s house, but when you process the weight of his words, your mind erupts into a mash of concerns and delighted squeals. All that comes out of you is a muffled ‘I’d love to’- one of the better responses your mind could make up.

You note the way that his gaze flicker to your lips before quickly venturing back up to make eye contact once more. Suddenly, it’s getting harder to breathe, the atmosphere is heavy with intimate tension, and your heart is racing in anticipation because you’re certain he’s about to say something before-

“Hey guys! Something smells good in here, what’s-” Midoriya’s voice slices the air in half with an entrance that you don’t know whether to be grateful for or if you should strangle him. He then cuts himself off when he realises that he probably interrupted something, looking especially suspicious when his eyes gravitate towards the ceiling. “My bad! Sorry guys! I’ll take my leave now!” He squeaks before disappearing just as quickly as he came in.

“That’s weird, I wonder what he was talking about,” you begin, turning your head to look back at Todoroki before you find the air being sucked out of your lungs, being replaced by a pair of soft lips over your slightly dry ones.

Oh- wait, Todoroki was currently kissing you. This was nice. You feel like you’re floating despite how short-lived it is, because just as you melt into his warmth, he pulls away, hovering away slightly from your face, creating enough distance so he can scan your expression for any discomfort.

But your body moves on its own, causing you to jerk back from the half-and-half, brain racking to find something to say. ‘Thanks for the kiss. It was great but I’m not too sure if that was real or not’ or ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that’ are not appropriate options to say to someone after single-handedly creating the best moment of your life, so you choose an even better option; run.

You scramble out of the kitchen quickly enough, ignoring the surprise of your classmates that you run past at the dining table and trying even harder to ignore the footsteps that follow you from the kitchen to dorm’s entrance. Going outside into the expanse of endless snow and cold was your first option because you needed some remedy for what you were suffering through. Fresh, crisp air would aid the light-headedness you felt, and the frost could freeze the fire that was your face.  

Although you were quick to escape, Todoroki is quicker in his chase, grabbing the door before you could close it, slipping outside into the cold with you before shutting the door close with a little more force than necessary.

“Why do you keep running away from me?” He asks, a hint of hurt in his otherwise steady tone. The only light source is from within the dorm, illuminating him in a deliciously warm glow that replicated that of an angel, making him appear even more out-of-reach than he already was. 

Freaking out, you blurb out a: “Would you like the truth or would you like me to lie?”

In truth, your question was to stall the inevitable conversation you were going to have because you can’t find a way to lie from this. It was either the cold hard truth or… you run from Todoroki again but if there’s one thing to know about the half-and-half is that he’s persistent. Even if you flee from the face of the Earth, he’d venture into the solar system to find his answers.

Todoroki’s dual-coloured eyebrows furrow in confusion, looking at you inquisitively. He must think you’re the biggest fool on Earth- which, you are. “I would like the truth,” he answers slowly but surely.

You unknowingly inhale before confessing. “Please don’t hate me for this, but it’s cause I kinda like you a little too much?” You don’t look at him before continuing because if there’s one thing you aren’t brave against, it’s pretty boys with extraordinary pouts and puppy dog eyes. “This is literally so humiliating, but uh, you kinda like… intimidate me, and I don’t think you actually want to kiss me so I save myself the embarrassment and-” 

“-You like me?” 

“Well, obviously. You’re kinda perfect and it’s so unfair, I’ve never seen you with eyebags, or a single pimple, do you even have bad hair days? Plus you’re so talented and-”

“Perfect, you say?”

“Even the way you speak is per-” you cut yourself off before shifting your gaze upwards to look Todoroki in the eye. There’s mirth in his eyes, enhanced by the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You want to throttle him because of course, out of all the things you just confessed, he’d hang on to your admission of his perfection. “Don’t look at me like that, I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t, you like me a little too much,” he parrots.

You were actually going to lock him outside in the snow where little shits belong. Here you stand, pouring your heart out to him and he capitalises on your moment of weakness! Unbelievable.

Just as you turn around, Todoroki tugs on your sleeve, pulling you back. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist myself from having a little fun messing with you. I don’t mean to be cruel.”

“Well, you are, and I really don’t appreciate it,” you counter jokingly, huffing, watching the way your breath condenses before fading again. Now that the heat from your face had dissipated, the chill was getting to you and you’d really like to get back inside and hide from Todoroki for the rest of your life.

“I apologise sincerely,” his hand fishes through his pocket to look for something, pulling out something that you recognise all too well. “Will this make up for it?”

The half-and-half smiles at you shyly, unravelling the mistletoe he stuffed to become its true, expansive form. A part of you dies inside, the other cheers in victory as he raises it above your heads, the internal whoops and exclamations audible in your ear, but when you realise that there are a little too many voices, it causes you to turn around- only to see your friends gathered around a window, all looking at the two of you in excitement. 

You laugh and Todoroki groans, and in the blink of an eye, a wall of ice materialises in front of your eyes, blocking you from the prying snoops that are your friends.

“It will absolutely make up for it,” you murmur, grabbing both of his cheeks to pull him in.

[silkoodles]

Please tell us more about ur transfem bradley headcanons 😭🙏

I tried to keep these transfem-bradley focused but I just devolved into giving you the plot to the maxley fic in my head involving her. maybe if I just tell you about the fic in my head i won't have to write it lol. long list ahoy

a lot of the pre-transition bradley characterization headcanons i have come from that one fic by @maxstgel that inspired the first sketches. so a lot of these are inspired by that and you could even consider this a fan fic of what happens after that (once it finishes i mean, it's all up in the air since its just 2 chapters rn)

She has not chilled in the least since being taken down a peg, she is still pretty narcissistic, but less pressured to be perfect

She started dressing hyper feminine at first but later got a more balanced wardrobe

likes golf, has taken up mini golf since she can't go to a real golf course easily anymore

She has taken up gardening as a hobby

She finished college as Bradley and transitioned after, once she was more able to cut ties from her family

She works as a retail pharmacist and part time as the jammer in a roller derby team with her friends.

She decided to not pursue residency after graduating because she wanted to get away from her dad more than anything, and residency would have probably taken another 4 years on top of the 8 she spent at college.

She met her current friends trying out for the roller derby team to stay in shape and keep skating. i have come up with designs for all 4 of these girls and i need help

She has a biological little sister who's an adult by now, out of the two, Janice looks more like their mother now. And that kind of freaks her out

Her name's now Janice, after her late grandmother. It's old fashioned but she had a good relationship with her before she passed. I also chose that name cause of the "Sure, Jan." meme, i thought it was funny.

Later her grandfather (Uppercrust the first) finds her, not knowing why his son would cut ties.

He sends Tank to find her, because as far as he knows, Tank was the last person/friend with Bradly iii. Which technically was true, but Tank needed money and didn't have the heart to tell og B.Uppercrust that he hadn't talked to Bradley since graduation.

Queue the most harrowing college reunion for Janice ever because she thinks he's still mad. Tank is more shocked than anything. I actually wanna write this scene

Grandpa's surprisingly cool with Janice (the name and new person) he just wants her to come back to the family because it'd be a waste of a good education and resources.

Max Goof just happens to spot her out in the wild and after realizing who it is, he loses his mind and practically begs her to let him take her out because he needs to know her.

Somehow it works, because Janice likes being sucked up to.

eventually she makes up with Tank and the other Gammas too, I gave them all names and fucking everything. I actually wrote this scene

One of them doesn't realize who she is and starts shamelessly flirting with her.

This guy:

his name is Tony.

[smol-sirens-garden]

@mddlbro Has Asked: sign; Jiro walks into a sign and Kuko sees. “Ouch! Can you just forget you saw that?” Jiro asks, wincing. ( Not a chance, Jiro! 😂)

He watched the entire thing, looking up over his phone and wishing he had been able to video it for proof. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped as he made his way over. He wanted to check on the other.

"Dude not a chance of me not telling at least Ichiro. Are you okay? That looked pretty nasty."

He chuckled, reaching out to check over the other.

"At least I wasn't filming."

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts-ocs​ Has Asked:  ❝I’m pregnant, not incapable.❞  - Sabriel /Mori

“I know my dear. Still want to be at least a little careful. I never meant to make you feel incapable.”

He was just a little excitable and worried over her. He always wanted to make sure she was alright and taking care of herself. Maybe he was being a little more helpful than he needed to be. Was this the doctor in him or the husband in him? Maybe a little of both.

“But you are feeling okay? Do you need anything at the moment?”

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Sometimes I think about that moment in NMH2 when Travis’s talks about how ‘despite assassins being super fucked up, are still human beings that deserve respect’ and I just… kinda get emotional over that because even though he is a pathetic loser, he’s not wrong!! He’s absolutely correct!!

Assassins are more than just tools! They are more than just bloodthirsty killers! They had lives! Dreams! Personalities! Interests!! Family!! They had things that they cared about but had no choice but to abandon them, because the life of an assassin is cruel one with constant competition. The genuine horror of it is realising that at any moment, a ranking fight would be set and on that day of the fight you’d have to accept the fact that you might not walk out the door, it’s sad!! It’s horrifying! And with each little bit of info on the assassins you get you can’t help but feel bad for them. Sure they knew what they were signing up for but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a dignified/honourable death !!

[anotherkindofloveletters]

Everything Happens to Me

Everything Happens To Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader.

background: It was well known to everybody that Charlotte and Charles were maybe the most loved couple on the paddock, so when they broke up everyone started going crazy and wondering what will Charles do or date now, times where difficult, but little did Charles know that his life was about to be turn upside down by an Italian girl living in Monaco. (forbidden love)

I am not 100% happy with this, but I have a plot in my mind that I think might have potential, so I hope you like this one despite not being the absolute best. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Love you flowers.

tw: none in this particular one, maybe swearing, but I don’t think so. Some bad translated french maybe. not proof read, english is not my first language.

Dialogue in italics are in Italian.

Meeting each other.

Where y/n and Charles met each other for the first time stuck in a restaurant garden out in the cold.

Y/n has been living in Monaco for quite a while now and she actually enjoys it very much there, besides that everything is kinda expensive, but what she is making as an influencer gets her the money she needs to live there. One day she is having dinner at a restaurant to shoot some content for a brand “Sorry where may I find the bathroom?” “It’s in the garden outside.”.

It’s late November and it’s already pretty chilly in Monaco and it was almost closing time. She goes to the bathroom and has to wait for a small queue because the bathroom was gender neutral. Charles is at the same restaurant having dinner by himself after a long travel back to Monaco returning from a race, the times have been difficult to him, with Charlotte’s break up and a series of eventful races that made him hate his team more than ever. As soon as he finished his food he decides to freshen up in the bathroom as well ending up in the small queue that formed in the small outdoor garden. As y/n enters the loo Charles is waiting for his turn outside the door. Meanwhile the people who are working in the shop start to close up without checking if someone is in the garden or the bathroom. Y/n gets out and recognizes right away Charles smiling at him, but thinking it might not be the best occasion to talk to him as he of course needs the bathroom, so she washes her hands and head to the door leading to the restaurant “No way” she raises her eyebrows while trying to open the very locked door.

After trying for a few minutes Charles gets out of the bathroom and sees her struggling with the door “Besoin d'aide ?”Do you need help? he asks her “Oui, Ça ne s'ouvre pas, j'ai peur qu'ils nous aient enfermés.”Yes, it doesn’t open, I’m afraid they might have locked us inside says her with a strong Italian accent “Oh, you’reItalian?” asks him showing off his Italian skills to her while trying to open the entrance “Oh no, I think it might be closed ” he declares with a worried look on his face. She tries again and again, shivering because she has been staying in the cold for twenty minutes now “I’ll try to call the restaurant number, maybe someone will come for us” she says, he is starting to get cold to and decided to go sit on a little sofa. y/n calls them and luckily they answer right away “Merci, Il n'y a pas de problèmes”, thanks there is no problem she goes sit near Charles “Well, good news is they’re coming to save us, the bad one is that the only person that has got the keys lives one hour from here.” Charles breathes deeply incredulous about the situation “By the way, I’m Charles” says him smiling at her while she’s sitting on his side “I’m y/n, nice to meet you” she smiled at him. “it’s a weird way to meet someone, isn’t it?” he jokes around, she nods in agreement. “Even more if one of the two is a F1 driver” she jokes just to letting him know she know who he is. “It’s bloody cold out here” y/n is shivering and don’t really know how to feel a bit warmer “Too much and we still have to wait at least forty minutes” Charles says lowkey scooping a little closer to her, she notices that and does it as welltryin to relieve the uncomfortable feeling of the cold air on her sking. “How come do you live in Monaco?” he asks her trying to chat the wait away “Well, I have a degree in Journalism and I work here as an influencer.” she answers, they start talking about the city and the life there and eventually about their own lives. Charles starts telling her about the last races and all the drama following his breakup with Charlotte and y/n listen to him leaning with the head against the sofa trying to stay comfy, but at the same time feel a less cold. Y/n tells him a lot about her life to and how she had to leave everyone behind because following her dream at home is nearly impossible, she tells him how she loves Monaco even if she hasn’t many friends here and feels a bit lonely at times. It is obvious that there is some sort of chemestry between there, having lots of things in common and both of them being incredibly interested in one and another’s lives.

Eventually someone arrives and opens the door for them apologizing like hell and offering us a free dinner “Vous pouvez venir quand vous voulez pour votre dîner gratuit ! Désolé encore.”You two can come when you’d like for a free dinner, I am so sorry! They finally get out and stop in front of the door “Thanks for being such a good waiting companion” he smiles at her “Thank you and you can have the free dinner. Don’t worry.” she offers him handing him the coupon that they gave them “Why don’t we come together, at the end of the day it’s a dinner for two, unless you don’t have a jealous boyfriend you didn’t tell me about” he giggles looking at her in the eyes, she slightly blush at those words “No boyfriend, so that’s not a problem. But are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t feel like it.” he nods smiling “That’s perfect then, this is my number calls me when you’re up to it.“ She says leaving him a small business card “I know it’s a bit formal, but it’s useful to be honest.”. They both laugh saying goodbye.

Charles immediately writes to her when she gets home, thing that she wasn’t expecting, and they keep talking everyday until they’re both free for that free dinner. After that dinner there were many others friendly meetings with an excuse or another “I should take you to this italian restaurant”, “I have to take you to oceanograph if you have never been to it” “there’s this nice exbition we shoul really go together” and things like that. At last Charles after a workout together at the gym where he devastated y/n with his f1 workout he asks “I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometimes” y/n giggles at those words not really getting it “Charles, did the workout hit too hard on you? We always hang out together when you’re at home.” He laughs nervously “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant it more like: Dans le sens où j'aimerais avoir un rendez-vous avec toi.” I would like to go on a date with you. y/n blushes at those words, was really a guy like Charles fucking Leclerc wanting to go on a date with her. “I would love that” she says almost quietly afraid to ruin it. “Okay, I plan it and you trust me.” those words scared y/n already “Mm.. J'ai peur, mais c'est bon.” I’m already scared but alright. Both feel so happy about the outcome of that conversation and go home with the biggest smiles on their faces.

chapter 2

[the-s1lly-corner]

Follower!Leshy x gardener!reader

Obligatory "I dont know what leshy is exactly but I like to think the presumed leaves growing on him are literally. Growing from his body/part of him"- posting this instantly rather than using the queue.. if I'm being honest I kinda wanna stop using the queue system for a while LMAO idk I'll think on it

Notes: follower Leshy, reader is GN, reader is also a follower

CWs: none

Will eat anything, he is FAR from a picky eater

Actually you sometimes have to stop him from putting random stuff in his mouth- though thankfully he has enough sense to... usually... stray away from anything that might get him sick

You help him with taking care of his leaves, though the help you offer is fairly limited

Still, having someone help with hard to reach spots when theres pests or molds helps a lot

Circling back to the first point you sometimes offer him some stuff you'd usually put into compost and fertilizer- the plant matter on him will never become deficient as long as he has you

He thinks you smell nice thanks to your plants, will always associat the scent of your plants to you

Let's you use any extra plant matter for compost, when he needs to cut back on what's growing on him.. he already looks like a fuzz ball as is, he doesnt need the look to be more.. intense

Returns with various seeds when coming back from missions so you can plant them