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❝ DON'T WORRY 'BOUT IT DARLING! ❞ - Toji Fushiguro

— (18+) YOUR CAR BREAKS DOWN DURING A SOLO TRIP, AND A KIND MR. FUSHIGURO OFFERS TO HELP.

₊˚༊*· warnings. nsfw (18+), slow burn, rough sex, hair pulling, p in v, rough sex, slight age gap (r is 22, t is 37), pet names, raw sex, backshots, pulling out/cumming on face/mouth, pussy eating, fingering, light faceslapping, toji lives in a cabin..

₊˚༊*· notes. I missed writing sm... also, this was one of those stories where i just got carried away writing.. also if your car breaks down in the middle of no where, please don't follow a random man back to his cabin. toji is not real.

7,035 words (25m read)

header art used - credits to @/yunonoai on twt!

A holiday. The perfect thing you needed to ease your mind— work had been fucking you up lately, so you specifically had requested a few days off.

Realising you never spend time with yourself, and yourself only, had brought you to the idea of going on a solo trip. Although with budget cut short, you could only opt for a solo-road-trip; still well away from the city, and everyone.

So far, you thought it was perfect. Just you and your trusty volks beetle, cruising off for a few days to be surrounded by the county’s evergreen trees, and going down a spiral of constantly smelling wet bark here and there.

Crashing at the nearest motel just a few miles south, and digging into a typical, pancake breakfast at the closest diner the next morning. Quite basic, but you thought that it was unironically the calmest idea for a 'holiday' yet.

Pressing on the playback button, the car radio immediately sounded out the currently inserted tape that was halfway played through, your eyes rolling at the song choice.

“..I wake up in the morning I got murder on my min-“

The sound of the tape bypassing the opening filled with the car, along with silence and the engine running. “Oh for fucks sake, Yuji definitely put that in there.”

Balancing between keeping your eyes on the road, and your surroundings, you toss the DVD away to the passengers side; rummaging around the glove compartment for another disk.

But you found the peace as of now quite calming, resulting in you rolling your windows down by the slightest— taking in the natural noise of the environment.

Your cheeks turned cold to the touch as the breeze wafted throughout your entire car, your back pressing against the fabric seats, eyes only closing for a millisecond to take everything in.

Dressed in a tank top and shorts, my, it seemed like you were ready for.. who knows what. Hopefully no one takes you, accidentally, for a side-street hooker.

Bit silent, you suppose— seeing that there was no other car on this specific road too. It was eerie, but enjoyable at the same time. I mean, the road was in the middle of the woods so I doubt people would be passing in and out of here often.

Hand reaching back into the glove compartment, you grab a hold of a random disk, analyzing it as soon as you withdrew your hand back into your lap.

..The Cranberries, not too bad. Something to lighten up the mood a bit. Biting down on your bottom lip, you divert your attention away from the road for a millisecond— pushing the disk into the radio player with a swift movement.

The familiar intro of Linger began to play. Your two hands clutched onto the wheel tighter, letting out a squeal as a result of hearing one of your favorite songs.

What seemed like forever, you wondered if the road was going to look different anytime soon. It felt as if you haven't seen some sort of sign telling you there would be a bed and breakfast ten minutes up, but you simply brushed it off.

"..And I'm in so deeep, you know I'm such a fool for youuu.." Taking advantage of the empty roads, you notched the volume a bit higher, belting out your shower-learnt vocals with all your heart.

Concerning LEDs flashing on your dashboard suddenly caught your eye, your singing stopping right in the middle of the chorus.

Frantically looking down at the light, and at the road in front of you, the sensible decision to pull over came across your mind— your car quickly swerving to the side of the road, Linger still, playing as everything started to go downhill.

"W-what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Your hands fall onto your lap, brows furrowed at one warning appearing after the other, a whimper slipping past your lips as worry grew.

Looking out the rear window, then to the front, you've realised you're all alone. No help nearby, not for another while. Groaning, you darted your eyes back to your dashboard, seeing about three more warnings show up.

"Fuck- not now, oh come on!" ...Can't even get peace on my day off, can I?

Pulling on the latch underneath, you popped the hood open. Killing the ignition, you grab your zip-up from the backseat, throwing it on before stepping out of the car; sizzling, and smoke coming from under the hood.

"I swear.. if this is a trap for a murder film, just take me already. My survival instincts are through the roof.."

Sighing, you lift the hood up, a big cloud of grey smoke slapping you in the face, like you could suffocate any moment now.

"The hell?!" Coughing, you fanned your face, taking a few, cautious steps back from the vehicle. As soon as the smoke had went away, you leaned back in; analysing each part of your engine.

A scoff escapes your mouth, silently laughing at yourself. "Literally what the fuck am I meant to be looking at." Knuckles resting atop your hips, you stood up straight, chipping away at your fingernails with your teeth.

"..Okay, maybe I'll try and start it... and if all goes wrong- call the insurance company."

Blowing out a relieving breath, you sit back into the driver's seat, twisting the key, trying to get your car to start.

Nothing but the sweet sound of failure. Two more tries, and still the same outcome.

"..Insurance company.. right."

Unable to locate your phone, you let out a confused noise- looking sideways and upside down your car for it. "..Where could it.. be..?"

Though.. something seemed, off. Your head slowly rose up from below the passengers seat, peeping just above the car door.

A man, walking- closer, and closer.. It seems. Your heart began to thump against your chest- begging to jump out. Breathing labored, your eyes widen, body freezing at the most inconvenient of times. Wait, is he holding an axe?

"M-my.. my phone?!" With haste in your movements, you rummage through everything like a mad man, making a total mess of your car- the same mysterious guy getting closer and closer, tauntingly walking out from the deep woods.

Sitting back against your seat, your mouth gapes open; eyes glued straight ahead. This is it, I manifested it. Now why on earth did I say that?! It's over for me, I'm cooked.

You let out a mewl, attempting to sob, solely squeezing your eyes shut. Too scared to look one last time to your side, you took a few deep breaths, chanting mini prayers to save the last bit of you.

A tap on the window came from your side, your one eye opening itself. Hesitant, you slowly turn your head; seeing a muscular torso at the window tapping the glass with the handle of his axe, before the man leans down to show his face.

Dressed in jeans and a flannel, with jagged, raven colored hair— and a face to perfectly compliment his jacked up body. I see. But now's not the time to play a dating game.

"..Ma'am?" His voice deep, and rusty, your face grew more concerned, mouth still gawking like a freak in fear.

"..God, p-please don't kill me.." A quiet peep comes from you, the man resting a hand on your roof, still bent down, and chuckling.

"Lady, I could see your car smokin' all the way from my cabin. I couldn't help but see what's the matter. You want me to check it out for you, or not?" His voice happened to be quite faint from behind the glass, though you could make out what he seemed to be saying.

"..Oh... I don't mind, I just have no clue what to do, I.." Words coming out in a blabber, you stumbled over what you wanted to say, confusion written all over the mans face.

"Slow down, will ya? Can't even comprehend half the words you're saying."

Shaking your head, you brushed it off. "You know what.. forget it.. just.. check what's happening under that hood, please?"

He nods, disappearing from your window to walk around to the front of the car. Deciding to step out too, you came to the conclusion that he seemed like an okay man to trust with your car. But you just had to make sure he wasn't gonna fit some sort of tracker underneath your engine..

Crossing your arms, you walked closer to the man, who seemed to know what he was doing. Observing from a few steps away, you watched him twist and turn at a few things, no fear in getting his hands dirty. He seemed bigger at this angle, a bit bigger than you, so if he were to murder you right now... it's over.

"..Do you always carry around that axe?" Referring to the same tool that was now on the ground, you noticed his lips curl into a smile, taking note of the fading scar on the side of his mouth also.

Letting out an amused chuckle, his eyes remained focused on the problem in front of him, but his voice was able to answer something else at the same time. "Living in the middle of the woods, I think you'd do the same."

You nod, accepting the answer with no further questions. Although a few more silly ones came out of you..

"Have you ever been chased by a bear.. while living out here?" Swaying back and forth on your tippy toes, your arms stay crossed, teeth chewing at your bottom lip as you anticipated a genuine answer.

He stops, torso still bent down but head looking up at you, facial expressions unimpressed. "Do pretty girls like you always ask all these stupid questions..?"

Blinking, you freeze, at the blunt compliment and sharp stab of his words. "..I was just curious. Also, I don't even know your name. You know, if you try to kidnap me, and I happen to escape, and-"

"Toji." Short and direct, he answers that question. "Now that you've told me your game plan, I could've easily lied about my name.

Your throat running dry, you clear it out with a grunt, Toji standing back up with an unhopeful look on his face. "..Yeah, your car is busted." He picks his axe back up, turning his body to you.

"..What? But- there's no reception here and.. I have no where to go..." Great. You've told him that you're helpless, and a young, vulnerable girl who's all alone on a solo trip.

"Wait- so you're telling me you're all alone, in the middle of these woods. Lady, do you not know that there's literally nothing here but dirt and trees?" His face scrunched up in disbelief, he genuinely wondered what a girl like you would be doing here.

"..I just wanted a holiday... on my own and.. I thought.. I could crash at some motel like in the movies and.. and.. pancakes.. oh the pancakes.." A sob chokes out of you, warm tears beginning to stain your cheeks at the thought of your vacation going downhill.

Toji, on the other hand looks more confused at this rate, his voice stammering, unsure of how to console you. A random girl, crying in front of him.. Great.

"Uh, don't cry- I didn't mean to.." Scratching at his nape, he waits until you stop crying your guts out, and successfully, you do. "Look, how about I'll fix your car for you, but first we get you a place to stay."

Sniffling, you look up at him, an ounce of hope springing back into you. "..R-really?"

Relieved, Toji was able to relax by the slightest after finally getting you to stop sobbing in front of him. Comforting wasn't his forte. "Yeah, don't worry 'bout it darling. But my cabin is the only thing I could offer right now. I told you, there's nothing in this place. No.. 'motel'..."

Looking back at your busted car, then returning to Toji, he shrugs his shoulders; mouthing, 'the choice is yours.' He wasn't pressuring you at all, but it was true that there was no other option. Outside the city wasn't all that, and you learnt the hard way.

"...Fine, just don't.. don't murder me.. I don't wanna die." Toying with the zip of your hoodie, you divert your gaze away from Toji, deciding to look at the ground instead.

He grunts, grabbing his head in frustration. "Would you quit with that murder bull-crap?! How many times do I have to say it. Should be me who's scared of a Michael Myers venturing 'round these woods." Toji shakes his head in disapproval. "Just grab your things and get movin' will you? Sun's about to set soon."

Unamused yourself, you shoot him a glare, walking over to the backseat door to grab your backpack full of everything. Slamming the door shut, you sensibly grab your keys, properly locking everything before Toji shuts the hood, resting his axe on his shoulder.

The man gestures you to follow him, hopefully not towards your death. Trailing behind his large figure, Toji occasionally glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still there and didn't happen to run off; more than certain that you were shitting your pants right now.

Readjusting the heavy backpack on your shoulder, you struggled, mentally complaining, but too afraid to ask if you were there yet. Guess you'll take the blame for this one. Should've packed light I suppose..

"We're here, incase you were wondering." Toji stops in his tracks, turning his body back around to face you before making his way to the onto the porch.

Surprisingly, it was nice and big, and seemed homely. "Not gonna lie, I thought you lived in a run down shack in the middle of no where. With like, bugs and stuff?"

"Who do you take me for?" He scoffs, "Come in when you're ready. Also mind your step." Toji points out the mini stairs just below the porch, before disappearing off inside. He really made sure that you didn't feel pressured to do anything whatsoever. So he let you enter at your own will.

Taking note of your surroundings outside one last time, you let out a deep breath before stepping inside.

Warm air engulfed you, heat coming from a well built fire place. It actually was nice inside, and everything everywhere made sense. The architecture of the cabin really had Toji written all over it.

Nothing was run down. It felt like a home, just with a rustic style to it. The sofa actually had a throw draped over it, a flat screen tv mounted just above the fireplace. There was also a nice view of a body of water outside some large windows.

Toji paced around the sofas just after resting his axe safely in a corner, stretching his arms out; toned muscles flexing from the warm, yellowish light in the cabin.

"Make yourself at home, you take my room tonight. I'll crash on the sofa." He makes his way to the other side of the cabin, supposedly the entrance to his bedroom. Toji leaning against the door frame, he watched as you stood still in one spot, still observing your surroundings.

"Also has its own bathroom, so no need to worry about me walking in on you. There's locks too from the inside. And I don't care about you going through anything. I've got nothing to hide." Toji continues, he sure knows the questions you're about to ask. This man is always thinking ahead.

"..Thanks, Toji. That's really nice of you." Walking closer to the entrance of his room, you slide the backpack off your shoulder, holding onto the heavy load with two hands at this point. The backpack swings between your legs as you walk past him, Toji grunting before leaving you be.

He fucks off somewhere into the kitchen, meanwhile you lock the doors behind you immediately. You already smelled of bark and leaves, and not to mention, the stinky smoke from your car earlier.

Tossing your backpack onto an armchair nearby, eye glancing over a few frames with Toji in them. Some of him alone, with a fish in his hand, the other.. Possibly some old friends.

Curious, you looked around the dresser for some more things that could tell you a bit more about himself.

In the corner was a birthday card, which didn't evidently tell you his age, but you found out as soon as you opened it up to see what was written.

"Happy Birthday big guy, can't beleeve your old ass is 37! - Your pal, Gojo🖕"

Who the hell is Gojo? And, that's not old.. right? You scoffed more so at the fact that the word 'believe' was spelt wrong other than the badly drawn middle finger. Just a little habit of yours you can't control. Considering you were 22, Toji was kind of old enough to be your guardian, somehow.. but let's not get into that.

Attempting to place the card exactly where it had belonged, you were happy enough with your first try; still curious to find any hidden gems, but you were unsuccessful.

Letting out a hum, you took another look around your surroundings, nodding gently in approval at the view that he also had just outside of his bedroom. Seems like he knew how to build this place the way he wanted to.

Halfway pacing around his room, you realised that he probably thinks you've been silent for too long. Deciding to step into his bathroom, notice a shaver and some cream on the sink. Allowing the shower to run, you hoped the noise would calm his nerves to let him know you're still here, and alive.

Oh, being a curious cat you open his mirror cabinet just to take a tiny peek before your shower. Says he's got nothing to hide, so..

After-shave, lotion, pain-killers and a box.. An unopened box of extra large condoms.

You gulp before blinking rapidly, closing the mirror cabinet without a second to waste. You weren't sure if you should be mortified or impressed and relieved that they were unopened. Wait, as if it matters?

Locking the bathroom door just to be cautious, you quickly did so before stripping your clothes completely to the ground, kicking off your converse and socks before hopping into the warm shower.

The droplets trickled down your body, feeling more calm now that you've had a shower. Allowing the water to run over your hair, you scrubbed your scalp with your fingertips, completely soaking your body. You looked over to the shower caddy hanging on the wall before grabbing a familiar brand of shampoo.

Massaging that into your hair, you hurried on with your shower, making sure that you didn't hog all the hot water. You assumed that he had to start up a big ass generator minutes away just to get a drop of it, forgetting the fact that it was '24, and there was some such thing as a boiler.

The shower ended up being just fine, and Toji didn't bother you at all. He didn't force the door open, don't worry; and everything was just the way it was left in the room.

You didn't have anything else left to wear than the matching tank and shorts set you bought at TJ-Maxx solely for this solo trip. You didn't have to worry about your feet being cold, as the hardwood floors were surprisingly heated.

Quickly drying your hair with one of his towels, you figured that he didn't have a hairdryer, so you had no choice but to leave it to air dry.

Finally unlocking the bedroom door, you opened it to see Toji busy behind the kitchen island. Assuming he was cooking, you made your way closer, sitting on a bar stool nearby.

Toji had a tea towel draped over his shoulder, and the smell of cooked meat entered your nostrils.

"If you're a vegan, it's your unlucky day." He says, clearly knowing you were seated behind him.

You laugh, resting your elbows on the counter, watching him like a hawk . "I eat everything, don't worry."

"Good." He says before turning back towards you with a plate of steak, potatoes and asparagus. Unlike earlier, this time a pleasant cloud of steam hit you in the face, the smell making your tummy grumble.

Toji has a plate of his own, leaning against the counter behind him as he watches your every move, waiting for you to take a bite. He pokes at a potato, tossing it into his mouth before saying something.

"Wake up early tomorrow, I'll teach you what to do in case something like this happens again. I don't expect you to follow a man again back to his cabin in the middle of no where.." Prodding at a few more pieces of steak, he notices you were busy digging into your own plate.

You just let out a hum of approval, Toji slowly sliding a glass of water towards you before you could choke anytime soon.

Setting your cutlery down, you look up at Toji standing, busy eating his own dinner. Here comes the wave of questions.. "Hmm, do you ever get lonely out here?"

Unphased by the question, Toji continues eating, but answers your curiosity. "Nah, I like being alone. I'm used to it anyways. Friends do come visit, but not always." He shrugs, unable to make eye contact with you.

"..I see.." Nodding, your mind jumps back to the unopened box of condoms back in Toji's bathroom, your inner voice mentally cursing at yourself for being too curious.

Letting famish get the best of you, you devoured everything on the plate in record breaking time, politely pairing the cutlery together on the dish. "Uhm, Toji? I can clean up. It's the least I could do."

The man just finishing his own plate, he sets it on the counter beside him, looking at you, impressed. "Seriously? 'right then."

Hopping off the stool, you make your way past him, feeling Toji's gaze burn into the back of your head, before you reached around him for his plate, and your own on the island. Bringing the two to the sink, you began to wash them with the sponge, occasionally looking out the kitchen window.

It had gone dark quickly. Who knows if Toji never had come across you.

"You got a boyfriend or what?" A first time question from the man, and it was one you didn't expect. He remained leaning against the counter, watching your every move from behind you.

Suppressing a panicked turn of your head, you kept your vision down at the dishes, gliding your hand over the dishes and under the water, you gulped before answering.

"No, not anymore. I broke up with him cause I found out he was cheating on me with some girl on the majorette team in college." Your insides burned at the memory of you walking in on them at a party bathroom, but you didn't let it get to you, not now.

Toji didn't let out a hum of approval, and instead stayed quiet. All he did was place your empty glass beside the sink that you seemed to have forgotten all about. Taking that too, you scrubbed it with the sponge before rinsing it off and placing it on the drying rack.

"All done," you dried your hands on the fabric of your shorts behind you, turning back around to Toji who was in the same position, but this time, his hands held onto the counter's edge on either side of him.

Peering at the drying rack around you, he pouted in approval, "Done a fairly good job I suppose,"

You scoff, "It was just washing dishes. Nothing hard."

"I'll be right back. No tomfoolery, and don't open that door." Toji glances to the front door, before disappearing off into his bedroom, the door closing. You thought nothing of it, walking over to the L-shaped sofa to see what was on TV. Some stupid deer documentary was on, typical, but you changed it to something more entertaining like a soap.

You assumed that he had no Netflix on it, and you were right. You can't really imagine Toji watching an episode of The Office.

Propping the side of your head onto your knuckles, your eyes bored at the screen, barely paying attention to what was on the TV. Glancing over to the clock on the wall, you read the time to be almost 9 o'clock, which shocked you.

Letting out your fifth sigh of the day, you flickered back and forth through the channels before hearing a door open behind you, Toji stepping out of his room, and this time, dressed in grey sweats and a t-shirt. His hair was slightly damp, as you noticed him sitting just after your feet, ensuring a distance between you two.

"What's this crap you're watching?" Toji rests his elbows on his knees before relaxing back onto the sofa, legs spreading as he made himself comfortable.

Tossing the remote over to his side, you roll your eyes. "Knew you would say that."

The man attempted to focus on the shit show in front of him, brows furrowing, but eventually he seemed interested.

Sitting up, you cross your legs, groaning. "There's nothing good on TV. I'm going to bed."

Toji looked to his side, watching as you stood up and left, and he had to admit— he did get a look at your behind. But no one could beat that out of him. "Alright, suit yourself. Sweet dreams. Remember, up early tomorrow."

You glanced behind your shoulder before stepping into his room, not shutting the door fully but leaving a slight gap between the frame and the door itself.

After scavenging through the side pocket of your backpack, you returned back into Toji's bathroom with your toothbrush this time. Stealing a pea of his own toothpaste, you stared at yourself in his mirror as you brushed away.

You could still hear his TV coming from outside, and it sounded like the channel didn't change. He was probably fixated on the show by now. After spitting out, you rinsed off your toothbrush, before heading back out to place it back into your backpack.

Before hopping into bed, you neatly folded your things away, ensuring you cleaned up after yourself as you hated leaving a mess behind, especially if you weren't in a space of your own.

Letting out a sigh, you crawled into his bed, surprisingly filled with two fluffy pillows, and not just one flat ass cushion. Toji's bed strongly smelled like aftershave, supposedly the one in his bathroom mirror. It was comforting though, and wasn't an unpleasant scent.

Covering your upper half with the duvet, you laid flat on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling before your lids slowly grew heavy and soon enough, closing shut.

You managed to sleep halfway through the night, until, it had began to thunder, and rain heavily. The drops pattered against the glass window, waking you from your slumber inconveniently.

Sitting up in bed, you look around, noticing everything was still the same. The door remained slightly open, and you could see that the TV has still been on until now, but sounded different.

Looking out the window, you couldn't see much from the heavy rain blinding the environment. It was lashing outside, and unfortunately, you were unable to fall back into sleep.

Pursing your lips together, you climbed out of bed, making your way to the door before opening it by a bit.

You treaded lightly, seeing Toji's head behind the sofa. Unable to tell if he was asleep or not, noticing that the TV was on, you approached him closer. Your head peeked over the sofa slightly, voice calling out his name.

"..Toji? ....Toji." You let out a loud whisper, the man grunting and turning his head around. It seems that he was fast asleep, but... sitting up. How scary.

"I can't sleep.. the weather, it's really awful outside." Nipping at the fabric of your shorts, you sucked in a labored breath of air through your nostrils before initiating a question. "..Can you- sleep beside me?"

Toji seemed less asleep, and now, he was wide awake. He looked over to the clock before reaching for the remote to switch off the TV. It was halfway through one in the morning. "What are you, nine?" He laughs before getting up from the sofa, trailing behind the sofa to follow you back into the room.

He questioned no more, and agreed. He'd do anything to be back in his room anyways, in the comfort of his bed, but of course knowing Toji— he'd never admit that.

The two of you hurried back into the bedroom, Toji automatically walking over to his side, while you, crawl back into bed. Making yourself comfortable again, you drape the cover over yourself, feeling the weight of the bed shift beside you, Toji making himself comfortable also.

You turn to your side, back facing Toji, unable to have him stare at your face all night. The room grew silent, and only the sound of the rain tapping against the window could be heard. Though you could still feel his gaze burning into your back, which happened to go away soon enough.

"No stupid stuff." He suddenly blurts out, which you were unable to decipher. Was he talking about what you thought he meant?

You decided not to respond, and instead, shifted around. You could feel Toji's natural body warmth all over your back, and with one more shift, you realised that he was close to you, actually, way too close to you.

But it was too late to move back, as you were too scared of irritating him by shuffling around so much that he'd kick you out.

A large hand snakes onto the side of your waist, gently gripping at your stomach. "Quit movin' around so much, will you?" It was Toji's hand, and he firmly kept you in place. Preventing any further movement. The continuous friction of your shorts against him had aroused him of some sort, and it was uncontrollable.

Another hard bump rested on the behind of your shorts, your eyes flying wide open, unable to shut now. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know.. I'll stop."

"Sure, you didn't know what you were doing?" You couldn't see the expression on his face, and could only judge by the tone of his voice. Too bad you were facing away from him right now.

Giving in, your body aggressively shifts to face him, the natural moonlight peering through the windows leaving a bright enough glow on his face.

You gulp, Toji hesitantly using his finger to move away the fly-aways covering your face to get a better look at you. "..Don't know why that jerk cheated on you."

"..You don't know me, so.." You let out, Toji's brows furrowing as he studied your features harder.

Alternating between your eyes and lips, he let out a mixture of a grunt and a laugh. "Should go for a real man."

Your breath hitches at his remark, your mind trailing off to other translations of his sentence. He talking about the fucking, or dating aspect?

Silence grew between you, his thumb carefully swiping over your soft bottom lip. The air grew thicker and thicker, a sort of tension lingering throughout the room. You couldn't tell what initiated it, but the air felt suffocating, like it had its own hold of you.

Leaning in closer to his face, your warm breath fanned against his lips before he cupped your cheek with his hand, holding you close as your mouths latched onto each other. The tension between you two diminishing as your tongues intertwined.

Toji laid flat on his back as you straddled him under the sheets, the kiss turning sloppier, with a blend of spit coating your chins, the two of you moaning into each other.

You whimper, pulling away as you felt his teeth tug onto your bottom lip, a long, string of saliva creating a bridge between the two of you, both panting, chests heaving heavily.

Swiftly stripping your tank above your head, the sudden air had bit your skin, nipples growing hard to the touch, all perky and erect. Unable to see in the midst of the fabric covering your sights, you could feel both of Toji's large hands cupping your breasts, massaging them— thumbs toying teasingly at your nipples.

Palms pressing onto the flat of your back, Toji guides your hips with no rush in his movements, back and forth, groaning at the grinding sensation over his sweats, head heavily leaning against the pillow. Your top slides down onto the bedroom floor, breath irregular as you felt the thick tent in his pants dig into you.

You both swap positions, Toji flipping the two of you around with ease and no struggle in his demeanor, the man anchoring himself between your thighs.

Toji's lips latch onto your breasts, warm mouth wrapped around one, sucking away hungrily as he fondled with the other. A pop leaves his mouth as he lets go, using a finger to flicker your nipple gently, your warm, spit-covered nipples growing hard once again as soon as it meets the cold air.

You watch as Toji goes down on you, breath shaking as he peppered kisses down your stomach, disappearing underneath the sheets; leaving a few pecks dangerously close, and somewhere on your inner thigh.

Feeling his pointer and middle finger tug at the waistband of your shorts, you could tell that he was waiting; and so you raised your hips up slightly, allowing him to drag them down your legs.

His hands clasp around your two thighs, bringing you closer to his face, though you just couldn't see; Toji's tongue leaving behind a wet stripe against your clothed pussy, your body shuddering at the feeling.

Your mouth could only gape open, your eyes peering up at the same ceiling as you let out breathless moans here and there.

Toji's middle finger tugged your panties to the side, allowing your bare pussy to be on show to him completely, finally landing yet another stripe with his warm tongue. He eagerly sucks, sticking his same middle finger in, fucking your hole gently as he alternates between licking and fingering.

Letting out quiet moans, you fondle with your breasts, legs squirming as he inserted another digit, Toji using both hands to rip your underwear completely as he sucked on your clit

Your hand reaches for the pillow behind you, fingers clawing at the fabric.

Toji raised his own hips, practically on his knees to be able to palm at his own cock as played with you for your own pleasure, getting off to your moans as he continued to have you undone with his touch.

You could hear him grunt lowly, from time to time, but grunting in disapproval whenever you'd stamp your thighs on either side of his head, trapping him between your legs.

Your head leaning back, you gasped, eyes rolling as Toji curled his fingers up into you, eventually allowing his movements to come to a complete halt, your throat mewling in dissatisfaction.

"Not so fast, wanna feel you cum 'round something else," Toji appears in front of you, arising from under the sheets; stripping his own shirt off his body before tossing it somewhere across the room.

His body shifted around, and you assumed it was to get the condoms, where you already knew was located. Though you quickly took a hold of the strings on his waistband, pulling him back.

"No- I wanna feel you raw, Toji," Looking up at him as you said so, still laid on your back; the man could've sworn that his cock twitched at what you had just said.

Surprisingly, he nods, moving about to get his pants fully off him, struggling a bit, but managing in the end.

Toji uses a hand to jerk his thick length repeatedly, the other free playing with the flesh on your waist. "You sure about this?"

"I am." You replied, busy wondering how he was gonna fit inside of you. The condoms weren't lying.

Slightly and slowly pushing his tip into you, followed by the rest, the two of you groaned at the feeling, Toji grabbing onto both sides of your waist eventually; grip growing tighter as he stuffed you full. Your fingers clawed at his wrists, a moan escaping your mouth as you felt his girth stretching you out, Toji using his thumbs to caress your sides gently.

"All good?" He made sure, and you nod, letting him know that he could move, and you were perfectly fine.

Toji's hips began to rock back and forth, occasional groans coming from him, mentally thanking you for the fact that you let him do it raw.

"..F-faster," you let out, Toji now placing both of his hands on either side of your head, his hips bucking into you faster and deeper; the bed slightly creaking from his movements.

He continues to groan endlessly, head jerking back as he felt your gummy walls take him completely, cursing over and over again. Toji smashes his lips onto yours again, you moaning as a result, the man taking your head into his hands as he held you close; forehead leaning on yours as his cock bullied your insides relentlessly.

Pulling away, Toji grabs both of your legs, resting your ankle on each of his shoulders— allowing him to fuck into you deeper, and be impossibly closer, the man fucking you into a nasty mating press as the creaking intensifies; the headboard beginning to hit against the walls, the legs of the bed scratching all over the floorboards.

"S-shit, To-oji," Voice breaking up your words, you dig your fingertips deep into the muscle on his shoulder, Toji moaning closely against the shell of your ear.

He growls, resting his forehead on yours once again, maintaining eye contact with you, so intimately; "That's it doll, moan my name, come on," he coos, watching as your eyes squeeze shut; the man reaching his hand up to gently slap it against your cheek— telling you to keep your eyes on him.

You do so, and endlessly chant his name like a prayer; Toji grinning and leaving a peck on your lips before letting your legs go, allowing them to flop on either sides of his waist, effortlessly flipping you back around.

Pulling out rapidly, the flat of his palm presses against your spine. Hands kneading at your ass cheeks as he spreads them apart, leaving a long wet lick from your pussy past your asshole, he slides his cock back into your dripping hole— maintaining his previous pace as he holds onto the headboard, drilling into you with no mercy.

Beads of sweat glistened his body like that pane of glass, strands of his recently washed hair now sticking to his forehead.

"Atta girl," he moans, slapping your ass and leaving a red hand-print. "Fuck, take this cock," Your ass rippling against his pelvis, Toji grabs a handful of the soft of your cheeks, fucking you back onto his cock; a symphony of ass slapping, and balls hitting against your clit sounding throughout the room.

Your forehead falls heavy onto the pillow, voice muffled as you moaned helplessly into it; Toji fucking you in all the right spots, he meant it when he said you should find yourself a real man. He was showing you, what a real man was.

"C'mon baby, I wanna feel you cum all over me, p-please?" Toji pleads, his thrusts slowing in pace, but still rutting in deep as he fucks you passionately, guiding you by your waist back and forth on his cock to get those last few strokes.

Toji leans forward, pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder blade, feeling down your back as he left a few more, shivers going down your spine as he roamed his hands all over you,

A creamy ring forms at his shaft, thickening over time as he continued to fuck in and out of you; playfully pulling his thick cock out to heavily rest it against your ass, gliding it between your cheeks before sliding it back in. His tip red, and glossy, your eyes rolled as he slipped himself inside.

Toji picks up the pace once more, urging you to your orgasm; your fingers clawing behind you, trying to stop him from moving any more, your two legs shaking as they attempted to stay up, and support you in your arch.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back towards him; fucking your mind as he finishes you off from behind. "I'm gonna c-cum, oh fuck," you squeal, eventually making a mess all over his cock, squirting— Toji still fucking into you as your orgasm had washed over your body.

A dark puddle forms on the bedsheets underneath you, and your slick soaks on the flat of his thighs, a squelching noise emitting from underneath as you lazily rubbed circles on your clit; eyes rolling from the several sensations hitting you all at once— Toji’s cock continuing to piston into you.

Toji grunts, feeling you clench and unclench round his cock; a firm slap stinging against your left cheek as he instantly pulls out. "Turn around," he commands, breathing heavily and you obey; a firm grip still in your hair— the man guiding his cock with his index and thumb towards your lips.

Slapping his heavy girth against your mouth, warm ropes of white decorate your face; Toji grunting as he watches your face be painted with white, smearing his artwork all over your face, pushing his tip gently into your mouth as you sucked, sticking your tongue out for visual confirmation of the white orb of cum resting on it.

"Fuck.." he whispers, "Swallow it baby," Toji smacks his tip against your cheek, soon enough letting go of your scalp as he jerked his cock with a last few strokes.

Upon letting go, he immediately cupped your face into his palms once again, rewarding you with a tender kiss on the lips, sneaking a quick fondle at your breast.

Toji glances out the window, returning his gaze back to you glowing under the moon's light. The loud storm had stopped long ago. "..Don't you think those backshots were louder than that thunder clapping out there?"

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[miyaz6ki]

header by @/3skumakuma on twt/x :) // mydei brainrot i had to yap about somewhere. NSFW!! MDNI!!

can imagine him rolling his hips so good while fucking, hitting that oh-so-nice spot he can't help but groan with you while you moan out his name. fuck he could never get over that pretty little voice of yours. he needed it so badly, needed to hear that voice mewl every letter of his title, honorific, he needed to listen to you talk about him.

what's the difference between listening and hearing? i'll give you a bit to answer that.

...

it's that listening is to understand, and hearing is just letting the information pass from one ear to another. correct! and what did he need to do? he didn't just want to hear you moan his name, he needed to listen to how good he was making you feel!

especially when he feels your nails dig deep into the strength of his biceps. a pathetic chuckle exited the rasp of his throat, "yeah, 'm sorry baby.. feels s' good right?"

lifting you up better, sitting you up onto the base of his cock properly, and inserting his member into your entrance as easily as earlier. still soaking wet from how long he had been hitting your, and well... now his favorite spot to hit inside you too was being thrust, and grinded against. you could feel your umpteenth orgasm already, as his palm roughly gripped your chin.

"look at what a mess you are for me.. jus' f' me, yeah?" the imprint of his dick was clear as the sky in your stomach literally had you aching looking at it, both mentally and physically. the more you stared at the scene in the reflection, the more red rushed up your body and onto your face.

his calloused hands were placed on your waist, rough, purple marks were just as imprinted as his dick was on your torso. "y'know you could always tap out, baby." he knew how little your stamina was, so before he'd ever go rough, he'd definitely ask before either of you go any further. as long as you say so, don't mind if he does!

VERY into dirty talk, but refrains from degradation, and loves you too much to ever think of insulting you. as well as any nicknames that would ever make you doubt yourself or whatever.

+ great aftercare because he's the goat, plus it's also canon he's very good (or just good) with children, so you love getting to observe that side of him when you both get to go out. idk why i discussed this at the very last. ill make it a different post about it probably:^

[sugaredrhubarb]

A QUICK GUIDE TO AO3 CUSTOMIZATION FROM SOMEONE WHO KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT CODING

ft adding pink to everything and my secret to writing long comments

note: I originally posted this to twt but if that place burns in a fiery pit I spent too long on this for it to disappear, so I'm putting it here too :)

so many people know way more about this than I do, but this is a step-by-step walkthrough of the changes *I've* made, and hopefully it works as an introduction people can build from for whatever they'd like to do

There are a lot of images in this post! (click to enlarge)

to start, AO3 skins

site skins change how the AO3 website appears when logged in (even on mobile), mine is pink and blue!

I'll have my skin turned off throughout the post so the guides appear as they will for you

to create, edit, and view skins, go to the "skins" tab from the left-hand menu. you can also view public site skins from there or from the button in the preferences.

public site skins are made by other users. i would really encourage previewing and exploring them to become familiar with the possibilities (maybe you just want to use one of them and now you're done!)

to create your own skin

on the skins page, click "create site skin"

if you don't know CSS (same), use the wizard! clicking on the "?" will give more information about each option

I only use the colours section you'll see a link right there for hex codes I use pink as a header colour and bue for accent but lots of people change the background colour and that looks really cool!

submit

The next step (optional!!!) is to add CSS from a public skin to your own. I use "ByLine" by Branch. this separates the tag categories and adds spacing to make them easier to read.

here is a before and after using the fic "Landslide" by @roosterbruiser as an example

to see the CSS of a skin, click the title

copy all the text below the CSS heading

in the skin creator/editor press the custom CSS option and paste all the text into the CSS box

you can have both wizard and custom CSS settings, in mine you can see the header and accent colours as well as the CSS

level up: USERSCRIPTS

userscripts are small pieces of code that modify a website. for AO3, this may involve adding shortcuts and buttons or even advanced tagging functions (computer people, I'm so sorry if this is wrong, I'm trying). I use Greasy Fork and Tampermonkey.

This is how I write long and formatted comments!

Greasy Fork is an archive of userscripts and Tampermonkey is a browser extension and userscript manager. You don't need to use these two in particular. please use your common sense when downloading anything or adding permissions to your browser.

Greasy Fork guide on installing scripts

Install Tampermonkey on Chrome

there are TONS of user scripts for AO3. This is another good opportunity to explore all the possibilities. there are lots of more complicated options I haven't explored.

scripts for AO3

i use this floaty review box

and this comment formatting

EDIT: if you use chrome you might need to turn on developer mode in your chrome extension manager - you can google "tampermonkey developer mode" and it should explain that :)

to install (once you have Tampermonkey installed):

open the script you want in Greasy Fork and press install

Tampermonkey will open, press install again

clicking the Tampermonkey extension will let you toggle scripts on and off, and opening the dashboard will let you view, edit, and delete scripts

i find i can only have a few turned on at a time before they cancel each other out, but that depends on which ones you're using and someone more savvy might be able to fix that

how to use the floaty review box - write more comments!

there will now be a "floaty review box" button at the top of the work, it will open a floating text box you can move anywhere on the page. highlighting any text and pressing the insert button will paste the text with italics into the box

anything you type in the review box will appear in your comment at the bottom of the page!

if you have also installed the comment formatting script, you'll be able to highlight any text in your comment and use the new buttons above the comment box to format it

thats all ive got! Hopefully this is a good starting point to get familiar with some of the terms and basics for skins and scripts <3

if you want some inspo for how to comment on fics i made a whole fic rec list on twitter based on comments I've left, it's here. i have a masterlist of recs there mostly for darklina/reylo and similar ships.

the tag #reading with ru has cod recs and me talking about books

:)

[bandagewastern]

- tumblr layout of columbina! (icon and header)

- req by @c-lumbina

_ ꒰۪۪ ᩧ ͡ ͡ ◞𓈒 F2U with credit AND Reblogs, Feel free to req something else if you need it ^o^𓂃◟ ͜ ᐩ ་།

- art credits: sayeri_fe/nerwanni/EMIO/tiniloaf/espqi/eucalyptus-household all on x/twt/tumblr!

[raiinydayz]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─ Not what you really wanted . . .

ㅤ⟢ summary ;; peace and strife are the opposites of eachother , but your coreflame comes from strife. It doesn't matter if you like it or not , you and mydei─the beast of strife are soulmates. While he once used to wield your coreflame , it was now yours and yours alone. But when you finally meet this “beast” you find that you both have something in common. . .

ⵌWARNINGS ⸝⸝ angst with slight comfort , mentions of a bad childhood , death , unwanted love , soulmates , mutual understanding & comfort. . .

ㅤ─ notes ;; header by @/asfuture000 on twt

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𖹭 Beast! Mydei × Ancient GN! reader ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Your childhood was something you didn't like to think about , but as you patiently waited for the arrival of the beast of strife , you find yourself thinking back on it. . .

You could remember the screams , the smell of smoke and blood as you ran screaming your mother's name. Monsters had come and attacked your village , sparing no one but how were you supposed to know. Your mother was a frail women , you needed to find her and make sure she was safe! Yet when you arrived to your home , it was set ablaze. . . You stared at the burning house with wide eyes filled with shock and pain. Falling to your knees , tears streamed down your soot-covered cheek as he silently weeped. Your mother was gone , your friends were gone as well leaving only you alive. . .

That night as you weeped , the will to bring peace grew within you with each tear that rolled down your cheek. Then you saw that bright light and that's when the coreflame of peace appeared in front of you , you silently stared at it for a moment before reaching up and grasping it in your hands. Pulling it close to your heart , your will to bring peace had solidified completely

“ (name). . . I've chosen you as my holder , your will to bring peace is admirable. Never give up on this will. ” The coreflame spoke to you in a soft tone , the voice that a mother would use with her child. . . “ o-of course. . .! ” Wiping away the remnants of your tears , you stood back up on shaky legs. A fire burning in your heart fueled you to move forward , to continue onward for your mother , friends , and to bring peace so no one would suffer the horrors of war and death.

Soon after your departure you found a sword that soon became a symbol of peace , you promised that with this sword you wielded , it would be the very thing that would bring peace to the world.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the rumbling , the ground shook but you did not waver , just like when you went head to head with the beast of strife himself and not once did you falter , but when that beast had shattered your sword you did falter. This sword meant a lot to both you and your people , it became a symbol of peace and protection for your kingdom and it's people so watching it shatter made your will falter.

“ m-my sword. . .” your voice was shaky as you stared down at the broken pieces of your sword , sweat and fear creeped up on you as you gripped the handle of that broken sword tightly. Mydei couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for you , after all you'd put up a good fight against him without fear but he saw that fear slowly creep up back on you as you sword broke. It was a lifeline for you , something you always needed and used and with it now gone , you were practically vulnerable.

Mydei couldn't help but also think back on his past , he too lost his hometown to monsters just as you did. He was once the wielder of the coreflame of peace but after years and years of watching war , death , and those he loved die─he grew to seek out war. War was the only thing that kept him from remembering what happened to him , it kept him entertained after years and years of watching the same things happen over and over again like a cycle or loop. Mydei understood you and your will well , but it was utterly useless to him.

“ You've still got some fight in ya , don't you? Then pick up that broken sword of yours and fight me! SHOW ME YOUR WILL (NAME)! ” Mydei laughed loudly as he ran at you , who was clearly caught off guard which allowed Mydei to hit you with his Lance and send you flying into a wall. Coughing out blood , you weakly stumbled back up. You felt despair as you watched the beast walk towards you , tears began to well up in your eyes as you desperately clung to that broken sword. You felt like a helpless child , your grip on the handle was shaky but firm. How could you defeat the beast. . .?

“ (name). . . (name). . .! You must stand strong! Your people , your kingdom needs you! You are the symbol of peace , not your sword. . . But you. ” the coreflame's voice rang out in your head suddenly , breaking you out of your trance. “ c-coreflame. . .? ” you called out to that motherly voice , but the coreflame's words were true. You were the symbol of peace , not your sword but you! Your people depended on you , not for your strength or sword but because you fought for peace. You fought for a world that deserved to live in peace , not suffer from the terror of war!

Mydei watched with a wide grin as he watched you transform , your form becoming absorbed by light before you reformed as a protecter of peace. Your sword was remade into something greater and your will to bring peace was stronger then ever. Mydei laughed as your weapons clashed once more , the thrill of battle is what made Mydei fight harder but with your newfound strength you easily defeated him.

You left the beast underneath a pile of rubble , yet you didn't kill him. No. . . Just because he was your opposite didn't mean that you needed to kill him. You simply showed him your strength , that while you may waver , your will for peace never will. . .

ⵌ all writings on this blog belong to me @/strwbrydreamz, so don't copy, or repost on any other website.

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[cryoculus]

— TRACK 05: INHERITANCE ⟢

a tropical island getaway in the middle of the tour is just the thing everyone needs, but work will always come before play. at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 6.8k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; i'm barely active on tumblr and it Shows LMAO T T so sorry, i spent most of my time on twt if you wanna chat!! also, i actually finished this entire series on ao3 very recently, and i was SOOOO EMOTIONAL AAJAHSDJSDF but i'm still going to gradually upload chapters here so no worries :3c

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

The tarmac shimmers in the heat as the plane touches down, wheels kissing the runway with a gentle thud. You blink against the sudden glare. The sun here is relentless, poured straight from a bottle of gold. Palm trees sway in the distance, lazy and unbothered. Even the wind seems drunk on salt and sunlight.

On the island of Lethe, everything smells like sea spray and sunscreen and something floral you can’t place. The airport buzzes with the usual traffic. Someone in a bucket hat is live-streaming on the arrivals ramp. Another is dancing barefoot to music leaking from their phone speakers.

You’re with the band, cutting through the buzz as a unit. Backpacks slung over shoulders, dark glasses pulled low. Someone across the terminal clocks your group, whispers something, lifts a phone.

Cipher smirks. Phainon rolls his eyes. Mydei just keeps walking.

The road to the Mnemosyne Music Fest winds along cliffside bluffs and past dense groves of olive trees. On the horizon, the sea glitters like it’s holding its breath. But several minutes later, the bass starts to reverberate. Softly at first, more a feeling than a sound, like thunder rolling beneath the ground. You lean your head to the window, watching the festival bloom from the island’s center like a mirage made of strobe lights and smoke.

By the time the shuttle pulls up to artist check-in, the bass has settled into your chest like a second heartbeat. You barely make it two steps off the shuttle before someone with a neatly-pressed suit and a headset materializes with the speed and grace of a professional chaos-wrangler.

“Flamechasers?” she asks, already checking her tablet. “Perfect. My name is Delia. Welcome to Lethe.”

Delia starts walking, and you all instinctively follow.

“Now, I know you’ve heard it already, but humor me, it's tradition. Lethe is an island built for forgetting. People come here to lose themselves—no clocks, no headlines, no consequences. But Mnemosyne is the exception,” she says, glancing back with a grin.

Then, Delia sweeps an arm toward the sprawling festival grounds ahead, where towers of scaffolding shimmer with silk, and sound bleeds like perfume into the sun.

“That’s the joke, right? Mnemosyne, from the ancient Lethean word for memory, is the one thing this island lets people keep.”

She turns to face you, her grin widening. “You’re here to be unforgettable. Let’s make sure of it.”

Once Delia has made sure you’re all settled comfortably in the hotel reserved exclusively for artists, the band drifts toward one of the outdoor lounges. The salty breeze ruffles papers and hair alike as you settle into plush chairs, the distant hum of festival prep buzzing beneath a lazy sun.

Phainon flips open the music festival brochure the front desk handed out, reading aloud with a touch of skepticism, “Three days of music, madness, and memories. Sounds almost too good to be true.”

“Three days of heatstroke and schedule slips, more like,” Aglaea mutters behind her sunglasses, already tapping furiously on her tablet. 

Tribbios fans herself theatrically with a laminated itinerary. “Speak for yourself. I packed three outfit changes per day.”

Garmentmaker’s voice hums quietly, crisp and matter-of-fact. “Based on current environmental variables and historical festival data, probability of human overheating is approximately 87.3%. I’ve allocated a portion of my processing capacity to monitoring your collective risk of heatstroke. Please notify me before spontaneous combustion.”

Cipher lets out a bark of laughter. “See? This is why you’re my favorite glorified thermostat.”

“Flattery detected. Logging under ‘suspicious behavior.’”

Sometime later, you slip away from the lounge, claiming the heat’s making you dizzy. No one questions it, not with Cipher trying to stack drink umbrellas on Phainon’s head and Aglaea muttering war crimes into her tablet.

The path curls around a sun-drenched courtyard, quiet except for distant basslines and the soft rustle of palm fronds. You find a little pocket of shade under a trellis dripping with bougainvillea and sink onto a low wall, thumb already flicking your phone awake.

You scroll past missed emails, a dozen unread group chats, until you land on the one that matters.

 

Me: you weren’t kidding

Me: lethe is as unreal as people say it is

Hyacine: called it. what’s it like?? tell me everything.

Me: like someone turned up the saturation and forgot to turn it back down

Me: everything smells like limes and suncream 

Me: we haven’t even played yet and i’m already overstimulated in three languages

Hyacine: you have NO IDEA how jealous i am btw

Hyacine: you get to go to mnemosyne for free

Hyacine: actually you get paid for it wtf

Me: cause that’s...my job???

Hyacine: btw, how are you? 

Hyacine: my inbox has been suspiciously quiet since you guys played in carmitis

Hyacine: last time that happened was back in aidonia

Hyacine: and you already told me That story

 

You hesitate. The breeze tousles your hair, carrying the sharp tang of sea salt. You glance back toward the lounge, where you can just see Mydei’s silhouette through the open archway. He’s half-reclined, sunglasses perched like armor, listening the other members’ nonsense with his usual impossible calm.

 

Me: we’re okay? mostly? 

Me: this isn’t another aidonia sitch don’t worry

Hyacine: but something happened, right?

Me: ...you can tell? through text??

Hyacine: i’m your best friend, of course i can

Hyacine: so are you gonna spill or do i have to pry the truth from your cold dead hands

Me: morbid

Me: but

Me: it’s mydei

Hyacine: 🙄🙄🙄

Hyacine: what did the big brooding blonde do this time

Me: not what he’s called

Me: but i don’t think i can stomach having to immortalize it in our text history

Me: you free for a call? 

Hyacine: for gossip? ALWAYS

 

You slip back inside just long enough to grab your keycard and disappear down the corridor. Past the opulence and the endless designer sandals slapping against imported tile. The second you shut the door to your hotel room behind you, the world narrows.

Cool air, drawn curtains, the hush of ocean outside. You kick off your sandals. The carpet’s soft beneath your toes. Your phone’s already buzzing in your hand. You sink onto the couch, phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, and for a moment, your breath catches. This couch is too similar. Or maybe it’s just you.

“Okay,” Hyacine’s voice crackles to life in your ear. “Talk. Now.”

You let out a quiet, stunned laugh. “Hi to you too.”

“No time for pleasantries. You dropped the it’s Mydei bomb and then asked for a call. That’s the equivalent of yanking a fire alarm.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, blinking up at the wide Lethean sky through the sliding doors of the balcony. The silence stretches.

“It wasn’t… anything, really. It was after the show in Carmitis. He came to my hotel room. Late at night.”

“Oh,” Hyacine says, voice low and alert. “That kind of late?”

You close your eyes. “There was wine. We were on the couch.”

The pause that follows makes you think of the gears turning in your best friend’s head, and when they finally do click, she says your name like a mother reprimanding her difficult teenager.

“Please tell me you at least used protection.”

Okay, you expected Hyacine to be surprised—maybe gasp, maybe tease you into oblivion—but you didn’t expect her to jump straight to scandal. The implication alone makes your face burn, shame rising hot in your chest like a swallowed sun.

“Hyacine, it’s not like that,” you say quickly, voice dipping, toes curling hard into the rug beneath you. “He said the others were being unbearable at the afterparty, so he just helped me work on that demo. The one I accidentally dropped in the cloud? Mydei hasn’t let me live that down since.”

“Late at night. With wine. In your hotel room. On a couch.”

You wince. Out loud, it sounds... awful. Incriminating in a way you didn’t account for.

“We didn’t—” You catch yourself, struggling for precision. “Nothing like that happened, okay? We might have been a little tipsy on that absurdly fancy pomegranate wine he brought. But we were working. Seriously. Believe it or not, the track actually sounds cleaner now than it did before he heard it.”

Hyacine exhales, not quite convinced. “But it’s not the song that’s got you all tangled up, is it?”

Leave it to Hyacine to go straight for the jugular.

You sigh. “You know how in some moments, it’s not a kiss, but it might as well have been?” 

The memory tightens in your chest. It’s been days, and still the look in his eyes flashes back at the worst times. The glint of something more than just mere interest.

If things were different—if you weren’t you, and he wasn’t him—would you have leaned in? Would he have?

But wishing on hypotheticals doesn’t change the aftermath. It just leaves you aching over answers you’ll never be brave enough to chase.

Hyacine doesn’t say anything at first. You hear the faint rustle of her moving around, probably flopping back against her bed, earbuds crackling a little in your ear.

Then: “Okay, not to be that person, but... I’m gonna be that person.”

You brace for impact. 

“He was an asshole to you at first, but people change, yes?” she starts with an infuriatingly chipper tone. “Mydei’s hot, he clearly respects your music, and he brought wine. If the universe handed you that moment on a velvet cushion, why didn’t you take it?”

You bite your lip. “Because it’s complicated.”

“In essence, all things are complicated,” she counters. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

You pull your knees up tighter to your chest, pressing your forehead against them for a second. The air in the room suddenly feels heavier, like the pressure’s changed.

“It’s not just that he’s in the band,” you say quietly. “It’s that we work together. We live out of the same tour bus, share the same stage. If something gets messy between us, it’s not just awkward, it could wreck the whole dynamic.”

You let the silence sit. Just for a beat.

“I know where I stand with them now. I’ve worked hard to be part of this. I can’t risk blurring the lines just because... he looked at me like that.”

“What if you don’t take that risk, and regret it anyway?” she asks gently.

You shut your eyes. Because you already do.

Hyacine doesn’t push—thank gods for that. The silence stretches, soft and companionable, like it always has between the two of you. You let your head rest back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Somewhere below your window, the music festival continues its slow, decadent unfurling. Bass thudding like a distant pulse.

You think about the reporter.

The one who found you in Carmitis. The way his words had curved just a little too knowingly when he mentioned your name. That flicker in his eyes like he was connecting dots you didn’t even know were on the page. He hadn’t published anything. Maybe he won’t. Maybe it was just curiosity. But still, the memory leaves a cold smear down your spine.

You don’t tell Hyacine.

You want to, so badly, but the words wedge behind your ribs like splinters. She’d understand. She always has, but something about it makes the whole thing feel too real. As if saying it out loud would crack open a dam you’re not ready to deal with.

So instead, you say nothing. But you pick at the thread on your sleeve again, unraveling it loop by loop.

Maybe Hyacine hears the shift in your breath, or maybe she just knows you too well, because she speaks up gently. “You don’t have to decide anything right now, you know.”

You smile, small and grateful, even if she can’t see it.

“I know.”

The next time you all regroup, sunlight slants through the hotel’s breezy conference alcove, hitting floral shirts, mesh tops, and damp hair still drying from quick showers. Everyone’s changed and freshened up. Cipher’s traded her cargo pants for iridescent shorts, Castorice looks like a model in soft cream linen, and even Phainon’s sandals somehow make him look annoyingly editorial.

Aglaea is already standing at the head of the table, tablet in hand, expression sharp beneath wide sunglasses. Her hair’s up. Her patience, clearly, is not.

“Alright, listen up,” she begins, tapping the tablet with an acrylic nail. “Here’s the rundown for the next seventy-two hours. Don’t make me repeat this.”

A low ripple of amusement hums from the group. 

Aglaea swipes once, then continues. “Day one—that’s today—you’re free until sundown. That means: no obligations. Use the time to explore, hydrate, and pretend you’re normal people. Tonight, however, there’s a private beach party for all artists on the lineup. Attendance is expected. You don’t have to mingle, but you do have to show face.”

“Do we have to swim?” Cipher asks. “Because I packed exactly zero waterproof mascaras.”

“Gods, no,” Aglaea replies. “But wear something stylish enough to get you photographed and breezy enough to run from said photographers.”

She taps again.

“Day two, that’s performance day. You’ve got one of the evening slots. Prime time. There’s a morning tech run if you need it, and I recommend it, even if you’re hungover. We want this smooth.”

Murmurs of acknowledgment rise. Garmentmaker makes a few whirring noises that you chalk up to them taking note, Castorice nods, Anaxa lets out a disinterested huff.

“Day three,” Aglaea concludes, “is another free day. You can all enjoy the festival as you see fit, but don't go off-grid. Keep your phones on in case we get a media request or photo op. Festival ends at midnight. We fly out next morning.”

She turns off the tablet with a brisk snap.

“Questions? Complaints? Attempts at rebellion?”

Silence.

Then: “Can we drink tonight?” Phainon grins.

Aglaea deadpans. “Just don’t die. Or embarrass the label. That goes for all of you.”

The moment she dismisses the meeting, the band fans out like schoolkids at the final bell.

“Three hours before sundown,” Tribbios calls after you all, already tugging her sunglasses into place. “Don’t make me track you all down in a city like this.”

Cipher doesn’t need to be told twice. She loops her arm through Anaxa’s and flashes a grin sharp enough to slice. “C’mon. Come be strange with me.”

Anaxa sighs in that long-suffering way only he can manage, but he doesn’t resist. Garmentmaker glides after them without a word, tablet spinning lazily beside them, every step as serene as it is otherworldly. Just like that, you’re left standing in a rare pocket of silence at the edge of the dispersing group.

Until—

“You coming?”

You glance up. Phainon’s already a few steps away, Castorice beside him, her blouse catching the breeze like something out of a magazine shoot. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, one hand casually tucked in his pocket.

“We were thinking of checking out the temple district,” he says. “Apparently one of the priests only speaks in riddles.”

You blink. “Wait, actual riddles?”

Castorice’s smile is easy, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “The cryptic, needlessly poetic kind. It’s a Lethe thing.”

You hesitate for half a breath, then shrug. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

Lethe is absurd. Half its architecture is classical marble, half neon graffiti. You pass fortune-tellers beside frozen daiquiri stalls. Women in lamé bikinis lounge beside old men reading epics aloud on street corners. The air smells like citrus and incense and something archaic.

By the time you reach the temple, you’re sweating through your tank top, clutching a paper fan from a stall labeled Cooler Than Thou.

The temple itself is a hush of cool stone and shadows. The so-called riddle-priest waits on a raised dais, draped in a shawl of peacock feathers and wearing mirrored sunglasses that reflect the whole room back at you. Somehow, they radiate gravity and absurdity in equal measure.

Phainon volunteers first.

The priest inclines their head. “A path you seek, yet stand in place. What moves not, yet takes you far?”

Phainon pauses. “Memory?”

A slow smile. “Accepted.”

Castorice steps forward next.

“You have me now, though not before. A key to locks, a cost to more.”

She hums for only a moment. “Experience.”

“Accepted.”

Then it’s your turn.

You step forward, palms a little clammy on the fan’s cheap plastic handle, and the priest looks at you like they already know every answer you might give, and every question you haven’t admitted to yet.

“A bridge I build not, yet I cross. I linger only where you look.”

You freeze.

For the smallest sliver of time, you’re not in the temple at all. You’re back in the dim golden haze of the Carmitis hotel room. Mydei’s eyes are on you—amber catching low light, his hand hovering just barely over the curve of your knee. That pause between heartbeats. That sense of almost. Not a kiss, but close enough to burn like one.

Your breath catches.

“…A thought,” you murmur.

The priest bows low. “Accepted.”

Later, you find yourselves perched on temple steps, sipping neon drinks from hollowed-out lychees. The Lethe skyline glows faintly rose-gold in the distance. Phainon’s doodling something in the corner of a map. Castorice has her chin on her hand, watching the crowd drift past like tide foam.

You exhale. “Okay, that was weirdly existential for a daytime activity.”

“Mm.” Castorice hums. “That’s Lethe. The longer you’re here, the less you know if you’re dreaming or reminiscing.”

You don’t say it, but you feel it—that slippage between memory and moment. Between that hotel room in Carmitis and the faint touch of golden eyes across a wine-soaked haze.

Somewhere across the island, Cipher is probably bribing a street vendor for an authentic peacock feather fan. Anaxa’s likely watching with half-lidded boredom while Garmentmaker documents the chaos, snapping a photo every five steps. You like to imagine Tribbios and Aglaea are letting themselves have a little fun too before everything shifts back into gear tomorrow.

Mydei’s nowhere in sight.

For now.

The sun bleeds low over the horizon by the time you’re back at the hotel. Your skin smells like stone and sun, and your feet ache in that oddly satisfying way—proof you were alive somewhere interesting. The others filter in with various souvenirs: temple charms, mystery bruises, melting popsicles.

Right on schedule, the private beach party unspools beneath a sky rinsed in pink and lavender. String lights loop from palm to palm.

Everyone looks a little too good. Which is to say: perfectly Lethean.

You arrive with the others in staggered pairs and groups, dressed to match the heat. Somewhere down the shore, Cipher is doing cartwheels in the surf while Anaxa stands with his arms crossed like a chaperone from a gothic novel. Garmentmaker’s already dancing with a crew of avant-garde performance artists in strobe-lit body paint.

There are faces you recognize immediately. Chart-toppers, cult favorites, artists you used to stream at 2AM in your bedroom. Some you never thought you’d see in the wild. But the one who draws your eye most effortlessly is her.

Thalia.

Lethe’s hometown icon, synth-pop darling, and unapologetic glitterstorm in human form. She’s draped across a beach lounger like it’s her rightful throne—sunkissed legs crossed, rhinestone-framed sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, a high braided ponytail flicking with every turn of her head. The kind of beautiful that looks staged even when it isn’t.

A handful of other artists orbit her, laughing too loud at stories you can’t hear. You spot three names from the festival roster among them, nodding along like she’s reading the stars.

The band begins to splinter off eventually, like light hitting a prism.

You sip something peach-colored and questionably alcoholic, drifting from group to group. The music is good, the ocean breeze better. Someone compliments your outfit; someone else tries to guess what band you’re in or if you’re an up-and-coming solo act. You don’t mind either. For a moment, it’s easy to just be—a body in motion, part of the pulse.

Then you feel it.

It starts as a flicker at the edge of your awareness, something quiet but undeniable, like gravity shifting beneath your feet.

You turn, and he’s just... there.

Mydei stands at the edge of the crowd like the universe pulled back a curtain just for him. His linen shirt is unbuttoned halfway down, ocean breeze catching the hem and fluttering it around his waist. But it’s the tattoos that strike you like a match.

They’re sprawling. Red ink, the shade of fresh embers, winding from his shoulder across the hard plane of his chest and down both arms. Ornamental and sharp-edged, they curl like flame and bloom like battle scars. You wonder, for one irrational heartbeat, if they burn when he’s angry.

Then there’s his face.

Hair windswept. Golden eyes locked on you like they’ve found the answer to something that’s evaded them for years. He’s not smiling, exactly, but there’s a pull at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t push through the crowd. Somehow, people part without realizing it, until he’s in front of you, close enough that your breath hitches.

“You looked like you were trying not to be found,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “Was I?”

He tilts his head. “If you were, you’re terrible at it.”

Gods, he’s beautiful up close.

“So,” you murmur, “are you checking in on me? Or did you just get bored?”

“No. I just got curious,” he says, gaze still locked to yours. 

Before you can ask what that means, a new voice slices into the space between you.

“Oh hell, you two are even prettier up close.”

You blink, caught off guard. But when you turn to face who it is—

It’s Thalia.

The synth-pop goddess herself, holding a drink garnished with something bright and sugary. Her braid swings as she plants herself beside you, sunglasses pushed to her forehead and eyes full of something you can’t name.

You open your mouth, half a greeting, half a question, but she speaks first.

“I’m not trying to crash,” Thalia says, holding up her hands. “I was actually looking for Aglaea. We’ve worked together a few times. Strict, terrifying, brilliant? That one?”

“Uh,” you manage. “She’s probably inside.”

Thalia hums. “Of course she is. Anyway! The Flamechasers, huh? Didn’t know you were all so unreasonably hot in real life. I’m kind of a big fan.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Seriously?”

She grins, then taps her phone awake and flips it around. There, clear as day, is the last thing you ever expected to see.

Flamescapes.

Your old fan account.

The carefully captioned photos, the dissected lyrics, the theories that caught fire in the comments. The username you buried when you joined the band. It all rushes back like a storm surge, and your mind isn’t sufficiently barricaded.

Your lungs forget how to pull air, but Thalia beams like she’s just shared a fun little secret.

“I’ve had notifs on for years,” she says, all sparkle and sincerity. “Best account for anything Flamechasers. Whoever runs this? Genius. Like they see things no one else does.”

You feel something seize in your chest. Then twist. Then splinter. The background noise distorts, laughter smears into static. Thalia’s perfume turns cloying. The heat bears down harder as your fingers twitch at your sides, desperate for something to grip.

Beside you, Mydei lingers like a presence you just can’t filter out.

You don’t meet his gaze—you can’t—but you feel the air shift, the way it always does when he’s focused on you. As if he’s picked up on every frayed edge you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile. “Yeah,” you say, tight and paper-thin. “I’ve… heard of them.”

Thalia pouts. “I was supposed to go to the Okhema stop, but it sold out in five minutes. Five. Aglaea wouldn’t even pull some strings for me. Can you believe that?” She flicks her braid over her shoulder with a huff. “So when I heard you were playing for Mnemosyne? I was ecstatic. Plus, you’ve been making waves lately, haven’t you, Diana?”

You nod. You smile again. You lie with your eyes.

But Mydei sees the cracks.

He’s been still at your side this whole time, but now his gaze ticks toward you, calm but alert. He doesn’t say anything right away, just watches you without pressing, and in the pause between Thalia’s last word and your answer, he leans ever so slightly closer.

“Want to get some air?” he says, gently. A soft out, offered like a secret.

You blink, and it’s like the noise catches up all at once. “Just a sec,” you say, somehow managing a smile. “Sorry, I—one moment.”

Thalia barely notices, already caught in another conversation. “Sure, babe! I’ll be right here!”

And then you’re moving. Mydei walks beside you, not too close, not too far, cutting through the crowd with easy steps that people naturally make space for. He doesn’t touch your elbow or press a hand to your back. He just makes room. By the time you’ve stepped into the quieter curve of a colonnade, the shadows cool your skin. You pull in a breath that doesn’t catch halfway.

Still buzzing, still overheated, but much clearer.

He waits until the silence stretches comfortably, then glances at you.

“You looked like you needed an exit.”

You nod, exhale slowly. “Thanks.”

The quiet that follows is softer now. Quieter in your chest, too. The chaos feels like it’s behind a pane of glass. You lean a little against the cool stone behind you, letting the salt air thread through your hair. Then Mydei glances sideways, casual but with a thread of thought behind it.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What, now?” 

He shrugs. “It’s Lethe. Time doesn’t really apply here.”

You smile despite yourself. “The sea’s probably rough. High tide.”

“There’s a pool,” he offers, tone easy. “Mine’s private.”

You stare at him for a beat. “You got a suite with a private pool?”

“Guess they liked my face.”

You scoff, pretending to be betrayed. “So that’s where the budget went.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” he says. “Limited-time offer.”

There’s a beat where you should laugh, or tease him back, but you just watch him. He’s not pushing, not even leaning in. Just offering, like he has been all night. Still, as you murmur, “Alright. Why not,” there’s a quiet twist in your stomach that doesn’t come from nerves.

You wonder, without wanting to, if this will end where you think it might.

If he is thinking about that too.

If you’d stop him.

You don’t have the answers. But you follow him anyway.

Mydei’s suite is bigger than it has any right to be.

Sleek walls bathed in soft gold light, a minibar that could pass for a full kitchen, and floor-to-ceiling glass that folds open onto a private pool glowing faintly under the Lethean moonlight.

You’re in the water now, floating with your arms lazily outstretched as you stare up at the sky. The salt’s long gone from your skin, replaced with the quiet lull of chlorine and soft-lit luxury. Whatever had coiled in your chest earlier is unwinding, inch by inch, tension pulled out like thread.

Inside, through the open partition, Mydei’s propped up on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees. You can hear fragments of sound every now and then—reverb, a bit of static, a clipped vocal he’s likely trying to stretch into something new.

He’s not watching you, but he’s here. Still present, still easy in his body, but tuned into something else. Something that sounds like warmth, if you had to name it.

The part of you that walked here wondering if this night would turn into something else—the part that imagined steam and lips and skin—has gone quiet now. Not because the idea’s disappeared, but because he’s shown you something else instead.

He noticed you needed out. He gave it to you without a question.

Now he’s in his own little world, looping chords and catching melodies like fireflies, like maybe he’s trying to make something soft enough that it’ll reach you without asking why you needed it. That makes the guilt punch harder. You sink a little deeper into the pool, eyes closing briefly against the burn behind them.

Mydei doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know it was you. That the account Thalia flashed like a fan badge of honor was your second skin for years. That you lived and breathed his band long before you ever stood on their stage. That every lyric you used to decode, every candid you posted, every piece of art you uploaded at 3AM was a shrine to this—to him.

He’s sitting there, completely unaware, just trying to make you feel better.

You turn onto your back again, arms floating wide, as if the water could hold more than your body.

If you tell him, you don’t know what it’ll break. But not telling him at all?

That’s starting to hurt too.

You don’t notice the soft shuffle of bare feet across the deck. Your mind’s tangled in its own shadows—guilt gnawing quietly beneath the surface—when the water beside you stirs gently, not from your own movement.

Then—

A soft clink on the side table. A warm, calming scent curls through the night air.

Mydei crouches by the pool’s edge, setting down a small tray with careful hands. Two delicate porcelain cups, steam still rising in thin tendrils. A shallow dish of fresh-cut fruit, each piece skewered with quiet care. Biscuits arranged with almost embarrassing precision.

Your eyes flicker briefly to the absence of his shirt, revealing the strong lines of his torso and the tattoos etched across his skin, but you barely register it.

“You looked like you hadn’t eaten,” he says, almost sheepish. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed off the room service menu. Hope chamomile isn’t too boring.”

You blink once. Twice. Your heart stutters in a way that has nothing to do with panic this time.

“I didn’t even hear you—”

He gives you a look. “You were somewhere else.”

You don’t deny it. Instead, you drift closer to the edge as he straightens, placing his laptop on a small table by the lounger. With a few taps, music spills into the quiet: a low, beatless blend of synth and strings, ambient and soft. The kind of thing that would normally play in some high-end spa, but here, it just feels thoughtful.

Mydei dips his feet into the water, one knee bent casually as he leans back on his hands.

You prop your chin on your arms at the edge of the pool and stare up at him, heart feeling heavy and oddly full all at once.

“You’re being really nice,” you say, quiet.

He glances down at you, one brow raised. “Is that a crime?”

“No. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Didn’t think I had expectations to live up to.”

There it is again. That calm intuition of his that doesn’t pry but always seems to hit close enough that you flinch. Mydei doesn’t press or try to unravel you and what happened during that conversation with Thalia. He’s simply making space. Offering warmth without asking for anything in return.

You curl your fingers around the edge of the pool and smile faintly.

“Chamomile’s not too boring,” you say. “It’s perfect.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does smile back. Then, he leans closer to pluck one of the skewers, handing it down to you like this is normal.

But you don’t feel normal at all.

You chew slowly, the fruit sweet against your tongue, and watch the way the ambient light plays across his profile. There’s a calmness to him here, under the low glow of the moonlight, face half-shadowed, eyes soft. The same hands that wrote half of Heaven on the Horizon rest open beside him, steady and warm.

The silence should be awkward. But it’s not.

It’s safe.

“Are you always like this when someone’s freaking out?” you ask lightly. “Or is this special treatment?”

He gives a small laugh. “Only when I don’t know why they’re freaking out.”

You almost flinch. He doesn’t say it like an accusation, more like a soft truth laid out in the open. Mydei doesn’t press—he never does—but the silence that follows settles beneath your sternum and stays there. You glance at the laptop’s idle screen, noticing the way he hasn’t touched it since you started talking.

Your voice is quieter when you ask, “You were close to him, weren’t you?”

He doesn’t pretend not to know who you mean.

“Hephaestion,” Mydei says. “Yeah. I was.”

Something in his voice shifts—just a fraction, but it pulls your chest tight. You can feel it coming now, and maybe that’s why your stomach’s already twisting.

“Do you want to know?” he asks quietly. Level and honest.

You don’t answer right away, but you nod.

Maybe it’s time someone told you the entire story, not just fragmented half-truths. 

“Do you ever talk to him?”

“Sometimes. Not often.” He leans back in his chair, eyes still on the horizon. “Things got messy. Not between us, exactly. But… label pressure, timing, everything else.”

You stay quiet. Let him choose the pace.

“He didn’t leave because of the fights. Or because he hated where the sound was going.” Mydei finally glances at you. “Caenis told him to end it. His relationship with his girlfriend. Most of the execs said it was bad for our image. That it would mess with the trajectory we were building.”

A bitter little breath escapes him, it almost sounds like a laugh.

“He didn’t. When she got pregnant, the label wanted it covered up, wanted him to walk away, and he told them to go to hell.”

There’s no drama in the way he says it. No fire. Just fact. You can barely breathe.

“So he left?” you ask.

Mydei nods slowly. “They made it impossible for him to stay. He knew if he kept fighting it, we’d all go down with him. So he took the hit. Walked out, gave up everything, and didn’t even ask us to back him. What Cipher accused Aglaea of in Aidonia wasn’t the entire truth. She was just as forced to watch him go as the rest of us.”

You feel the ache of it settle in your throat.

You don’t realize how tight your hands have curled until you loosen them underwater. There’s something too familiar in what he’s saying. In the secrets people carry and the cost of telling the truth. Suddenly… you understand why Mydei didn’t pester you for answers.

Because he knows what it's like to carry something that isn’t yours alone to share.

As he gathers his thoughts, you tilt your head up toward the night sky. Like some cosmic joke, however, that damn demo that brought the two of you together in the first place starts playing on his laptop. Why he has the chaotic version downloaded, you have no clue, but the moment feels to fragile for you to call him out.

Surprisingly, Mydei comments on it first.

“Before he left, Hephaestion wrote one last song. Left the lyrics in the studio like he had no plans on finishing it at all,” he tells you quietly, sinking further into the water.

“That was the original sheet we built this one from. This song.”

It sinks in slowly, like warmth spreading from a bruise.

Of course.

Of course it was this song.

No wonder you’d been able to slip into it so easily, like it already knew you. The way the lyrics opened up under your hands like they’d always belonged there…

Because it was a song about standing tall in the wreckage. About shedding shame. About no longer asking for permission to be who you are. You’d thought you were the one giving it shape. But maybe, all along, it was giving you something too. Something you didn’t know you needed. Maybe that’s why it still hits you in the chest every time you hear it.

Because Hephaestion started it, and you finished it. 

Two people, years apart, writing their way toward the same truth.

“He never said goodbye,” Mydei adds quietly. “But he did leave those lyrics behind.”

Then, softer, as if the memory still stings:

“I think that was his way of saying it.”

You stretch your fingers out beneath the surface, slow and careful, like touching light through murky glass. The silence between you sharpens.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, turning just enough to see him in the corner of your vision. “For trusting me with that.”

Mydei doesn’t answer right away. He stays half-submerged beside you, arms draped along the ledge. But you catch it—the subtle dip of his head. The shift in his breathing.

“I know it probably wasn’t easy,” you add. “And you didn’t have to. But… I’m glad you did.”

He exhales, a soft ripple across the water. “You’ve never asked for anything just to be nosy. Felt like maybe you’d get it.”

And you do. You really, truly do. Not just the story or the loss that comes with it, but the silence that followed. The price of choosing someone you love when the world demands you prove your loyalty elsewhere.

You drift a little closer, not enough to touch, but enough to feel the heat of him through the cool of the water. “I didn’t know I was part of something bigger when I touched that song,” you say. “But now it feels like… I was supposed to be there. Like I was meant to hear what he left behind.”

Mydei tilts his head toward you, eyes half-lidded in the low light.

“You were,” he says. Simple. Certain. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Your throat goes tight. You blink up at the sky, hoping the stars can hold the tears back.

Maybe the song saved you both.

Maybe not every inheritance is a burden.

Some are a kind of trust left behind in the dark, waiting for the right hands to carry it forward.

The silence settles again, like the world’s caught its breath along with you. But then, your phone buzzes from the edge of the pool, the sound sharp and sudden against the hush. You flinch, water rippling outward from your movement. Mydei lifts a brow as you reach for it, droplets skimming down your arm as you fumble with the screen.

TRIBBIOS.

You swipe to answer.

“Hey,” you say, still a little breathless.

“Finally.” Tribbios’ voice is all exasperation and edge. “Where are you? Do you have eyes on Mydei? He’s not answering his damn phone and Aglaea’s having a minor spiral.”

You glance at him. Still in the pool. Still right here.

He raises both hands like guilty as charged and mouths, Sorry.

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to sound like you’ve been through something tectonic. “He’s with me.”

“You’re what—” Tribbios stops herself. “Okay. Good. Just get back soon. Please. The celebratory cheers for all Mnemosyne artists is coming up soon.” Before you can answer, she adds, “And tell Mydei if he ghost-schedules one more vanishing act, I’m replacing his shampoo with glitter glue.”

Then she hangs up.

You stare at the phone for a beat.

“…Should I be worried?” Mydei asks dryly.

You shake your head. “Only if you enjoy showering.”

He huffs a laugh. And just like that, the spell breaks, but the truth stays between you anyways. You pull yourself out first, water sheeting down your skin, cool night air grazing every inch of you. You pause just long enough to shake the water from your hair before noticing—

Mydei’s gone still behind you.

He’s not being obvious about it, but his hands are braced on the edge and he’s blinking at the stone tile like it holds some deep philosophical truth. It’s only when he finally climbs out after you that it occurs to you:

He is very deliberately not looking at you.

The realization catches you off-guard. You’re both used to leather and layers, always half-armored even under stage lights. But this? Bare skin, damp curves, nothing to hide behind? This is new. And judging by the tension in Mydei’s shoulders, he doesn’t know what to do with it either.

His gaze flicks up as he grabs two towels from the nearby lounge chair. He offers one out, almost too quickly. “Here. You’ll get cold.”

You reach for it, brushing his fingers in the exchange.

“Thanks,” you murmur, clutching it to your chest before starting to dry off.

But even with your back turned, you can feel him still fighting not to stare.

And truthfully?

You don’t entirely mind.

“I’m gonna go find my shirt before Tribbios sends a drone,” Mydei mutters.

You nod, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, heart thudding with something that’s not quite leftover emotion. As he walks away, damp hair sticking to the curve of his neck and towel slung haphazardly over one shoulder, you wonder—

Just how much longer can you pretend the water between you is purely metaphorical?

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[black00olive]

Ready for Racing

A/N: Woah,,,, this silly guy is posting something again?? That's crazy,,,, Anyway this was just a small drabble I wanted to create for the art piece you see in the header. I have another post for the full art and you can also check it out on my twt (@black00olive yes it's the same username). This one is especially self-indulgent since Neige is the absolute loml but I'm bland enough that I thought others might enjoy the scenario as well.

Pairing: Neige Leblanche x reader

Wordcount: ~2k words

Summary: NRC and RSA have entered a racing event, and now it's aparently your job to take all of the promotional photos for the participants in place of the paparazzi. At least this gives you the chance to talk with Neige...

“Alright, I’m done. What do you think?” You take out the photo from the Ghost camera and give it to Riddle. 

“This is wonderful,” he muses before giving it back with a smile, “you’ve truly become very adept at photography, haven’t you?”

“Haha, I guess so,” you shrug as you place the photo into your binder before stuffing the whole thing back in your bag. There should only be about three more photos to be taken before you’ve finished your job here. “I mean, that was the natural progression, wasn’t it? Considering how I’ve practically become the school photographer. It would be kind of sad if I hadn’t improved at all during these past few years.”

That forces a laugh out of Riddle as he nods, “Yes, I suppose it would be so.”

“Welp,” you say suddenly as you dust your hands off– even though you really hadn’t done anything to warrant the motion– and turn back toward Riddle, “I guess I should get going to the next person so I can finish this before the actual event starts. Hope you do well during the race. See you later, Riddle.”

“No need to hope, you should know I never do anything less than perfect, Prefect,” he smirks as he waves you off. You roll your eyes which contrasts the way you snort before shaking your head and turning on your phone. Scrolling through your checklist of participants you need to take photos of, you check Riddle off of the list. You read out the next person’s name, and as you do you hear the exact same name being exclaimed not too far away. Which isn’t very surprising, considering who it is.

“Neige Leblanche!”

“Neige Leblanche, look over here!”

“Can we get a statement before the race begins, Neige Leblanche?!”

A horde of paparazzi have gathered around him as different cameras and microphones are all being shoved in his face. Somehow, Neige still manages to have a gentle smile on his face as all of this transpires– a clear show of his media training which would have impressed you if you weren’t so preoccupied with wondering how they all managed to get in. There was a reason you had to do all of the photo taking today, that reason being so they could still get photos without having to have paparazzi this close to the students. 

Something that would never cease to surprise you is how similar paparazzi act both in your world and in Twisted Wonderland. That wasn’t a good thing though, especially considering the status’ many of the students participating in this race held. 

“One more question, Neige! The race hasn't started yet, so you must have some time!”

Another reason they didn’t want paparazzi here was just because of this as well: They would take up all of the participants' preparation time. Sighing, you begin walking over to Neige and the horde of paparazzi surrounding him.

“How do you feel your chances are against Vil Schöenheit and Crown Prince Malleus Draconia?”

“Excuse me, Neige is actually needed elsewhere right now,” you suddenly interrupt as you grab Neige and place him behind you, “in any case, I’m fairly sure you aren’t allowed in here. You should leave before I call security.”

The paparazzi stutter as they try to make up excuses, you just ignore them as you grab Neige’s wrist to lead him away. You walk away, while doing so you take out your phone and type out a quick message to Crowley as you glance back. Thankfully your warning was enough for most of them to grab their things and leave, but you still sent the message just to be safe.

“Alright, we should be far away now. Sorry for just grabbing you like that,” you say as you let go of his wrist.

“Oh, no! It’s alright, I should thank you for getting me out of that situation,” he responds with a thankful smile before suddenly remembering something, “right! You said I was needed somewhere?”

You give him a funny look before remembering that you actually had made up something like that while you were talking to the paparazzi. “Huh, yeah, no. That was just something I made up to get you out of there,” you shrug as Neige’s eyes widen before bursting out into giggles. 

“Haha! Oh, I see,” his eyes crinckle in the corners as he smiles at you, “I suppose thanks are due then?”

“Pfft, no, it’s okay. I’m staff right now, so it’s technically just part of my noble duty,” you wave him off with a smirk, “plus, if I hadn’t chased them away they would have ended up bothering the rest of the participants anyway, you know?”

Neige plays along with amusement coating his voice, “Right, right, of course. What would we do without you, O’Noble Knight in confrontational armour?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before both bursting out in laughter. 

“Okay, yeah… I did drag you away… for some less noble… reasons as well,” you say between your attempts at stifling your laughter. “Ah, truly? I would have never been able to guess,” Neige muses before you continue. “Those reasons being that it’s your turn to get your photos taken.”

That causes Neige’s eyes to widen again as if he had forgotten about it, “Oh right, we are getting our photos taken by you,” which he evidently had.

“Yeah, I am. C’mon, let’s go to your car so I can take them,” you motion toward where the RSA participants have their cars stored.

“Neige, you’re back!” Dominic exclaims as he looks up from where he was messing with the wheels of the car. “Those people didn’t bother you too much, did they?”

“No, I’m fine! They were just asking questions,” Neige tries to placate as Dominic fusses over him.

“I swear, those guys can never just mind their own business! Always bothering us…” Grum grumbles as he glares at nothing in particular. “You should just yell at them to leave you alone!” He eventually exclaims which causes Neige’s smile to drop a little.

“Grum! You know why Neige can’t do that!” Dominic chastises as Neige simply just laughs a little half-heartedly. 

You get Grum’s sentiment, it’s why you had spoken out in place of Neige earlier. At first you hadn’t really understood it, but after spending more time with him you had finally come to understand how fragile Neige’s image really was in the media. Ever since he was a kid Neige had been in the spotlight, always in the pure, sweet hero role, and that’s the role he had been forced to take in real life as well. If he were to ever break that mold he was placed in he would have hell to deal with.

“Well, are you guys done with fixing the car? Neige is going to get his photo taken now,” you interrupt the heavy silence that had taken over the conversation while holding up the ghost camera. Neige sends a grateful smile in your direction before Dominic answers.

“Oh, Prefect! Yeah, we are,” Dominic nods as he begins to push Grum away, “we’ll get out of your way so you can take his photos!”

You thank him as you take off your bag and get into position. Neige tilts his head and looks at you before you tell him to sit on the ground, leaning on the car's side. Thanks to having already taken more than a dozen photos already you had been able to try a ton of different positions, which resulted in you already having an idea for how you wanted Neige’s photo to look like. 

The session goes incredibly smoothly and before you realise it, you’ve already finished taking the one perfect photo that was needed– plus several more. As the last photo comes out of the ghost camera you don’t immediately give it to Neige to look at. It was probably the best out of all the photos, in your opinion of course. Really, it was no wonder Neige was so popular. Even overlooking his acting talent and just how kind he was, he was beautiful, gorgeous even. 

It was different from the beauty that Vil had– very different. Where Vil was a striking, eye-catching beauty, one that was meticulously curated and perfected, and even intimidating. Neige was a type of beauty that creeps up on you– in a way. He had the kind of beauty you might see as you walk down the street which causes you to look back and won’t leave your mind for the rest of the week. Welcoming, warm, and inviting, those were all words you would use to describe his beauty. In all the ways Vil was sharp and arresting, Neige was soft and charming. You never understood why Vil would compare himself to Neige when the two of them were both winning, just in two different categories.

“Prefect!” Neige’s voice suddenly brings you out of your thoughts as you bring your eyes away from the photo.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been calling you for a while now, what has you so zoned out?” He asks as he looks over at the photo you were holding. “Oh,” he squeaks before suddenly leaping away from you as if you had burned him.

“Haha, yeah, I was looking at your photo,” you say as you feel your cheeks heat up, “you really are gorgeous, but I’m sure you know that already.” You itch your nape as you bring your eyes back up towards his. Neige always had especially rosy cheeks but now they practically looked like two tomatoes were put in place of his cheeks.

“Well, it’s always nice to hear you say it… Not that I’m trying to fish for compliments or something! I’m just saying that it’s always nice to hear compliments, you know? I’m not trying to be egotistical or something, ‘cause like, I know I’m quite pretty, it’s just extra nice to hear someone you really like say something nice about you! Really like- because you’re my friend! You’re my friend so I really like you and like when you say nice things… Eugh…” Neige exclaims as he flails his hands around, talking so fast someone might have genuinely thought he took up rapping. Eventually he resolves into mumbling before covering his face with his hands and groaning. 

You can’t help but laugh as you half-heartedly cover your smile with your fist. This only causes Neige to glare at you– albeit it’s a glare with no heat behind it– as he gives you a light shove. “It’s okay, Neige, I get what you mean. Anyway, that should be everything, I should go to the next person now. Only two more and I’m free,”  you chuckle as you finish placing all of the photos into your binder. Your eyes find their way back to Neige’s and you feel your cheeks heat up again. 

“I suppose you should… Well! Thank you for helping me earlier, and for taking such lovely pictures of me,” Neige says as he suddenly averts your eyes with a small smile. 

“Right…” You continue to stare at him, neither of you making any move to leave, before impulsions suddenly take over you and you find yourself brushing back his bangs– even though there was no need for it. With wide eyes Neige looks back at you and you let your hand rest on his shoulder. You squeeze lightly as if it would be enough to convey your message before you begin: “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

With his face being a slightly more reddish hue he nods and agrees: “Yeah.”

“Mhm, well… Good luck on the race then, I’ll be cheering you on,” you remove your hand from his shoulder as you smile at him. A little awkwardly he nods at you and you nod back before you find yourself on your way to find the next participant you need to take a photo of.

[mangionebabymama]

can't stop thinking about his abs in that one shirtless pic that he had on his twt header (idk how to explain lol)

i want to ride his abs with my bare pussy and make then all slick 😫 feel him rutting his hips in the air and then fuck him 😩😩 i need his phd so badd omg

Call me Gary the Snail at this point bc my shit would be meowing while I drag it across that with a whole snail trail behind it

[draculpyre]

I finished Penacony and immediately went maximum insane about Galladay and needed to start making art about it HELLO AGAIN SOCMED... I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS FOR THESE TWO. I wanted a new header for twitter so that's what I did first. Roses, plumeria, and wisteria are there for love, new beginnings, and remembrance. I AM SOOOO EXCITED TO DRAW MORE OF THEM (I AM IN AGONY).... (twt)