#TIP moonlights as a counselor

[bratbby333]

jjk camp counselor au

nsfw brain dump, multiple x reader feat: satoru, suguru, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko + choso summary: you're a camp counselor trying to make the most of your summer

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

satoru would definitely be the one to lead the rallies each morning, he's so charismatic and domineering. he'd also be in charge of the 15-17 year old group (obvi). he'll blatantly flirt with the other female counselors in front of you to make you jealous, sneaking away to the woods while the kids are eating lunch to apologize to you while balls deep inside you...summer fling energy fr

"i-im sorry...promise...it was nothin...meant n-nothing 't me" he pants out, seeing the irritated look on your face as you glare at him from over your shoulder, arms bracing your body against a tree, your jean shorts down by your ankles, panties shoved to the side. "shut up and keep fucking me, satoru," you roll your eyes in response. "show me how sorry you are," your demanding voice wavering slightly, stifling your moans so he doesn't know how good it feels, trying to keep up your annoyed facade. but god does he feel amazing, his tip stimulating your sweet spot with every stroke. he fucks you so much better when he thinks he's in trouble...he's a whining, whimpering mess for you power bottom!gojo supremacy

suguru is most definitely the chill instructor, leading the more creative activities; arts n crafts like tie-dye, making jewelry, etc. all the kids love him, too. he'd beam with pride as they run up to him to show him what they were able to create. he'd profess his feelings for you with a handmade, beaded bracelet.

you sneak out of the women's cabin in the middle of the night to meet up with suguru, finding him sat on the crest of a hill with a blanket laid out to watch the stars "suguru...this is precious," you gasp, eyes bright with adoration, taking a seat next time him, your legs kicked out in front of you and your arms propping you up. - "what about the kids? what if they see us?" you ask, concern plastered across your face, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands secured behind his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. "don't worry, love," he breaths out, pausing his strokes, his strong arms positioned on either side of your head, "nanami's watching mine and shoko's watching over yours...plus we're so far from camp, no one's gonna see us", he reassures you with his pelvis flush against your core. "you just look so beautiful like this, i couldn't resist" he'd moan out, returning to his initial pace, thrusting deep and slow, the blanket he had laid out now disheveled. the moonlight bounces off your skin in the most ethereal way, and suguru can't get enough of you.

nanami would be in charge of the whole camp, carefully organizing everyone's permission slips, allergy forms and medical records (which were alphabetized and given to shoko), the payments from parents, the whole nine yards; ensuring everything ran smoothly. he would also be the one supervising the obstacle courses. he'd carefully and methodically strap the kids into their harnesses, surveying everyone intently...do you really think he'd trust the other dummies he works with to do so?

and of course he'd find a way to repurpose the harnesses as restraints in the privacy of the men's cabin with you, the two of you slipping away during one of satoru's overly energetic pep rallies. "ken...what if someone catches us?" you moan out, your arms secured behind you, your back arched, and your chest pressed against the mattress. his deep, purposeful strokes continue, his voice steady as he repsonds. "don't worry, love. we made the mistake of giving satoru the mic, he'll talk for hours if you let him...now hush and let me take care of you, yeah?" you nod back before moaning loudly, the depth of his cock in this position is hitting spots you didn't know existed. "you're taking me so well. such a good girl for me," he groans out, his trust speeding up, the sounds you're making for him spurring him on.

toji would be in charge of the more physical intramurals; dodgeball, kickball, archery, and life guard on duty for the water activities.

and god did he look good while patrolling the waters, his broad shoulders and tanned skin glowing under the summer sun, his wet swim trunks clinging to his thick, muscular thighs. you watch him from your beach chair, legs clenching and core pulsing at the sight of his sternly focused face, his eyes running up and down the lake, his body glistening from the droplets of water trickling from his damp hair. you're glad shoko is more attentive with the kids because your mind is elsewhere (and for a valid reason, too). - after the kids are sent to get changed into their dry clothes, he absolutely obliterates you in the boat house. "saw you watchin' me the whole time...this what you needed, love?" he'd ask through gritted teeth, his thrusts hard and deep, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. you whimper in response, eyes low, mouth agape, nodding profusely as his fingers dig deeper into your hipbones. "uh huh..needed you so bad, toji," you whine out. baywatch!toji has me putting my fist in my mouth

sukuna would not get hired because the organizers were afraid that he'd try to create a child army and illicit a rebellion to overthrow the camp counsellors, creating a dystopian society where the kids tend to the land and run his errands for him. bummer... ruined his summer plans.

shoko helps you run the girl's cabin. she also works the first aid tent during the day, her long hair tied back to keep her cool. you lean up against a tree, admiring her beauty. you're pulled from your daydream when gojo elbows you in the side, shooting you an amused look; "go make a move, she likes women, ya know?" wiggling his eyebrows at you before running off to frolic in the water with his group.

the two of you sneak away during the bonfire, finding yourself in her bunk, laid on your back with her soft tongue attacking your clit. "sho, i'm close," you gasp out, your hands tangling in her auburn hair. she hums in response, the vibrations pushing you even closer to your release. you cry out for her, the pleasure coursing through you is overwhelming your senses. she uses one hand to cover your mouth, the other swipes between your folds before inserting two finger into your dripping cunt, curling slightly to massage your g-spot. your hips buck against her mouth, before you spill all over her tongue from the added stimulation. as you try to regain your breath, she leans over you and places two fingers against your neck. you gaze up at her through dazed eyes, shooting her a questioning look. "just checkin' your pulse, thought i was losin' you," she laughs.

choso takes his job very seriously, basically a helicopter parent while watching the kids...he's so protective of the children, treating them as if they were his own siblings. he stops dead in his tracks when he first lays eyes on you, watching you interact with your group; you are so sweet with your kids, tenderhearted and caring...he falls in love almost immediately and all he wants is to get close to you.

his soft, slow strokes make you giggle into his ear. everyone's in the mess hall for dinner, leaving the cabin empty, the once silent building now filled with your moans. "cho, you can be rougher with me," you sigh out, pulling him deeper into you, groaning at the stretch of his fully engulfed member. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan leaving his parted lips as he bottoms out against you. his cheeks flush to a bright red...you swear you can feel the heat emanating off them. "i know...jus' scared i'll cum fast if i go harder...you're just so pretty...so fuckin' sweet, angel," he whimpers out. he paws at every inch of you, his strokes getting more frantic, kissing your cheeks delicately and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

author notes: this made me giggle so much while writing. i love doing short form AUs, theyre so entertaining to me. sorry about sukuna's i was feeling unhinged when i wrote it

if u have any requests, feel free to send them my way! here's the link to my inbox ☺︎ leave an emoji if you want to be added to my anon club, or send it with your url and i'll credit you!

i really liked this idea and im considering making it a longer story, but i only wanna focus on one character x reader...leave a comment with who you'd want it to be with! (counselor!gojo is calling to me, but what do y'all think?)

thank you all for your love and support on my work...i literally tear up when i get the notifications. i'm so honored that y'all find my writing enjoyable enough to interact ❤︎

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[little-emerald-snake]

Camp Counselors - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

I want to give partial credit to @grandeoatmilklatte because I had a spicy dream, woke up to leave myself the cryptic ass note “camp counselors” that I was not able to decipher. She basically gave me this brain child so the writing is mine but she gets full credit for basically writing out her interpretations of my dream. Thanks lovely 🥰

Warnings: doing naughty naughty things outside instead of being good chaperones, unprotected p-in-v, modern scenario, just a smutty little drabble

577 words

Sebastian was almost as eager as she was to sneak away from their groups of sleeping kids. They’d each waited till their groups and other cabin chaperones had fallen asleep before meeting outside and running off to the boathouse together.

At first they had no real plan in mind, only eager to kiss and have their hands on the other after getting to know each other and find out that they shared a spark of attraction between them. They decided sneaking off to the boat house would likely give them the most privacy.

With Sebastian’s hand in her hair, other arm lifting her pajama pant clad leg by the crook of her knee to spread her open and allow himself to grind against her weeping center. Her fingers slid over his shoulders and over his back, moaning into his deeply sensual kisses.

A shiver of delight trailed through her when he’d finally pulled away, helping her into the small rowboat and untiring it, taking the paddle and pushing them out to the center of the lake.

Now under the bright beautiful light of the moon and stars he laid her gently down on the padding that lined the bottom of the boat, his hands caressing her gently, sweeping kisses down her jaw to the collar of her pajama shirt.

He eagerly helped her out of it, groaning at the sight of her bare breasts under the glow of the moonlight. His hardness rocked against her thigh as his lips rejoined with hers, nips and love bites dragging the kiss out.

He started to tug off his own clothing as she shuffled out of her pajama bottoms, careful with their movements to not rock the boat too far to one side.

When they rejoined it was a battle of tongues and teeth, but his cock gently pushed into her, going slow and steady in a pace that had her breaking the kiss and forcing his mouth to her neck while she cried out into the night air.

He fucked her carefully, the boat wobbling ever so slightly but he held the side, willing it as best he could to stay still. She uttered a cry for more and all hope was lost. His hips slammed back into hers, her cries ringing out against the chirping of crickets and sloshing of water against the outside of the boat.

The boat wobbled unsteadily beneath them as they moved faster. He chuckled at her pleasure turned fear stricken expression as he reached out to steady the boat again while rocking into her at a more controlled pace.

She tipped her head back, crying out when she found her release underneath him, his pants and grunts displaying that he couldn’t be far behind her.

With his fingers threaded in her hair, hips grinding against hers, he groaned out, fucking into her while pumping rope after thick rope into her pussy. Filling her full of the pent up need that had accumulated over the week at camp.

He carefully pulled out, helping her clean up as best as he could and righting her in the boat. She gasped when she lifted her head, realizing they were now surrounded with lightning bugs over the still lake water.

He grinned from ear to ear, rowing them back to shore before making sure she got safely back to her cabin, promising that after camp was over he would gladly experience this in a much nicer location.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Cicada (Dabi/Reader)

I wanted to write this before camping season is over...

w/c: 2.1k

Rating: Explicit

Gender neutral AFAB reader

The chirping of cicadas echoed across the campground. Trilling and buzzing away. I silently thanked myself for buying a portable hand fan before taking this job. The only protection between me and the sun was a wide-brimmed hat that the camp leaders gave out, and being that it was noon, it was nothing compared to the beaming rays above. The voice of another camp counselor droned on as he ran through a needlessly long list of rules. An elbow nudged into my ribs. I looked at the man seated next to me. A shaggy head of black hair covered his eyes and the silver of his piercings hit the light in a way that made me squint. His expression, a cocky smirk, was one that made me shiver in disgust. Nevertheless, his lips parted.

“What are you doing working at a Boy Scout camp?��� He smirked, fingers running through his hair. “Last time I checked, being a boy is one of the prerequisites.”

I huffed, eyes rolling before settling back on him. Deciding that talking to him wasn’t worth my time, I simply turned my head and pretended to focus on the orientation. His cyan eyes stayed focused on me, just barely visible in my peripherals. His tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“Oh come on…” he muttered, elbowing me again. 

“I wouldn’t fuck with someone who has a hunting knife,” I muttered, crossing my arms in front of my chest. 

“Oh, as if you know how to use that shit.” He laughed. I gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it from the holster on my jeans.

“You wanna test that?” I smirked, holding the blade up. The teeth of the serrated blade glimmered against the beaming sun.

“I’d enjoy it too much, doll.” He chuckled lowly. His response made my stomach churn. The suggestive tone of his voice only added to my revulsion.

“At least I’ll finally get my castration badge.” I tilted the tip of the knife down to his crotch. His chuckle turned into a bellowing laugh. Thirty or so sets of eyes landed on us. I quickly sheathed my blade back in its holster, trying to avoid a lecture, or at least an even longer one.

The once blazing sun had long since set beyond the horizon. The glare of the moon illuminated the land in a blue sheen. The newly erected tents were still and silent. The only noises were coming from a campfire, in front of which was the handful of counselors still awake long past the tick of midnight

“Say, what's was that little outburst you’s two had?” One of the counselors spoke up, speaking through a mouthful of s’mores. 

“Shitty joke,” I muttered as I focused on turning the white marshmallow on my stick into a golden one. 

“You guys ever heard of a castration badge?” Dabi spoke up. A golden flame erupted on the end of my stick, turning the marshmallow into a melted mess of gelatin.

“Yup. They taught me about it the first year they joined.” Keigo, another counselor, spoke up.

“Oh so this is just a thing for you, isn’t it?” Dabi laughed. I looked up from the molten mess, coming face to face with the same self-assured grin from this afternoon.

I stood up from my fold-out chair, hand reaching into my back pocket to grab the pack of cigarettes. 

“I’m gonna take a hike,” I muttered, not bothering to ask for permission.

Even though the land was beset with darkness, I followed along the half-forged path toward the lakefront. A dull hum of insect chirps blanketed the land in a pool of sound. I could see little glimmers of the water glowing in the moonlight, just beyond the tree line. On the banks sat an old decaying log spattered with fungus and mold. I kicked off my hiking boots and socks, leaving them by the log. Walking further down onto the shore, I let the water begin to rush over my skin. Just enough to cook me off. I lowered myself onto the ground. I placed a cigarette between my lips and sparked a light. The orange glow lit up the dark surroundings just for long enough. Just until the smoke started flowing from the cigarette. The musty flavor washed over my tongue as I inhaled. 

“Came out here to skinny dip?” A voice asked behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the black-haired man from before, Dabi. 

“Yeah. My naked body just happens to look completely clothed.” I muttered as I blew a plume of smoke at him. 

“I can see.” He chuckled as he took a drag from his own cigarette and sat down beside me.

“It’s a medical condition, actually. Called ‘leave-me-the-fuck-alone-sarcoma’”

Smoke wafted through the air between us. He clicked his tongue. His black hair flailed as he shook his head. 

“Why are you so mean to me?” He asked, snuffing his half-smoked cigarette out in the grass. 

“I don’t have a reason. Spite just began to build in me after you said your first word to me.” I shrugged. He handed me a can. Through the dark, I caught a glimpse of the label. Some shitty hard seltzer.

“Does that make up for it?” He asked, cracking open his own can. 

“Fair enough. I’ll take it.” I laughed lightly as I pulled the tab on the top. Bringing the can up to my lips, I took a small sip. It tasted like a soda that sat in the sun for too long. Washed out flavor, but just enough to leave an unpleasant aftertaste. 

“So speaking of skinny dipping, wanna go?” He asked, setting his drink down beside himself. I contemplated thoughts circling through my head on an endless loop. Deciding that a month in the woods without an orgasm would be too daunting of a task to accomplish, I spoke up.

“Why not,” I smirked and stood up, setting my can beside his. Through the faint glow of the moonlight, I watched as his eyes widened. Maybe it was to egg him on, or for some desperate need for attention, but I made a show of slowly discarding my clothes. Leaving my underwear for last. The water chilled my skin as I stepped into the depths, going far enough out for the water to reach up to my chest. I turned around, watching him as he stepped into the lake, quickly following behind me. I grabbed his arm, pulling him close. His lips collided with mine, arms coming to wrap around my waist. His stiff cock nudged against my stomach. Fingers slowly slid down my side, trailing to my hips and down. Hooking under my knees and pulling me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, lips still attached to his, working back and forth. I reached around to grab his cock. Running my hand down the shaft I felt something hard. Something cold. 

“Are you pierced?” I asked, pulling away from his lips. 

“Ribbed for pleasure,” he spoke briefly, diving back in to attack my neck. I gripped his hair and pulled hard. A groan spilled from his lips. 

“Not the neck,” I mumbled as I began stroking his shaft. His lips crashed against mine again, slick with saliva. 

“Let me fuck you,” he mumbled against my lips. His fingernails dug into my skin hard enough to leave marks. 

“Take me to the shore,” I spoke next to his ear, tongue darting out to lick his helix. The cool water began to splash over our bodies as he trudged off toward the shore, back to our pile of scattered clothes and half-empty cans. My back met the cold dewy grass. Hands quickly went to my thighs, spreading them wide. Cerulean eyes stayed locked on me as he began kissing my thighs. Light pecks of his lips turned harsher. From kitten licks to rough, bruising bites. The dark purple marks were visible on my skin, even in the limited lighting. Purple petals slowly trailing up to my cunt, close enough to make my hips buck. Close enough to send heat through my body. And then back again. I whimpered as he moved to the other thigh, coating it in purple and red to match his previous marks. My fingers curled into his black locks, tugging gently, egging him on in a silent beg for stimulation. He obliged, licking a thick stripe up my cunt. Two fingers slowly circled my entrance. He pulled back to watch me as I squirmed. 

“You want my tongue?” He asked, fingertips breaching my core. He started a rough pace. My hips jolted against the force of his fingers. 

“P-please!” I spoke through involuntary pleas and whines. He chuckled, hot breath hitting my core. His tongue slowly circled around my clit, swirling lazily and drawing my body further into a heated frenzy. My hips bucked against his face. His free arm was thrown over my stomach, locking my body in place. His licks grew faster, more focused, and centered on my clit this time. My thighs shook as pleasure began to build in my stomach. A groan emitted from his throat, the vibrations edging me closer to bliss. Lust’s firm grip began to coil around my body, constricting my limbs, and pulling the thoughts from my head. 

“Mh close-” I managed to squeal out through unfiltered cries. My words only urged him to push me deeper into my bliss. Lips sealed around my clit, the suction, and warmth causing my head to spin. White blankets of static clouded my vision. My jaw hung slack in a silent scream as I came. Fingers knotted tighter in his hair. 

But the stimulation didn’t stop, instead, it grew rougher, my hips bouncing against the force of his fingers. Broken cries clawed their way up from my lungs. Pins and needles dug into my limbs, a soft cold accompanying them and freezing my body into a stiff expression of bliss. Molding me into a grotesque, erotic statue of sorts. His tongue sent electric stimulation to my stomach, chiseling away at any restraint I had left. Rough, howling noises escaped from my tongue. A hand quickly covered my mouth, bringing the taste of musty earth and algae to my teeth. Stiff limbs quickly turned into rubber, melting as the pleasure constricted around me again. The hand over my mouth muffled a desperate plea, a plea not for help, not for anything.

The warmth of his body dissipated and shifted away. 

“You okay?” He asked, a hand stroking my cheek. I simply nodded, sore throat unable to speak. I was being turned onto my knees, my body bending over the decaying log. The head of his cock prodded at my cunt, slowly slipping inside. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” He drew out as he pushed deeper inside of me. The drag of his piercings against my inside sparked jolts of stimulation deep inside my stomach. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, hard enough for droplets of blood to invade my mouth with their metallic taste. My stomach knotted as the tip of his cocked brushed against my cervix. My fingers dug into the grass. Strands of grass whined and creaked as I pulled them from their roots. His hips snapped back and forth at a bruising pace. The rough grain of the log cut into my stomach as my body rocked against the wood. My toes curled, muscles in my body going taught as my insides stretched. I heard him from behind me. Biting down on his tongue, trapping any sounds, only coming out as huffing breaths. With the little strength I had, I clenched around him, bursting the lid off of his voice box. Desperate, whining, sounds mingled and tangled together. The sound of slaps being the only noise that broke the crescendo of moans. His hands slid up my back, his torso following alongside and pressing against me. The new angle lit a fire somewhere deeper inside me. The flame's tendrils licked at my limbs, burning its mark deeper inside me. My cunt seized around him, gripping him firmly. His hips moved erratically, losing the once consistent pace it kept. Nails dug into my back, my arms, anywhere and everywhere they could reach. Warmth flooded my insides, burning hot. The firm grip of my arousal began to dissipate, lulling my body into a soft haze. The heat inside my body began to die down, and the cold of the night greeted my body with a stinging kiss. The grass now underneath my back pricked up a flood of goosebumps. 

“You okay, doll?” Dabi asked. My eyes pulled away from their unfocused gaze and settled onto his body. The light of the moon brought an ethereal glow to his frame. Pale skin, covered in black ink, a paradisiacal contrast under the silver light of night.

The only response I could make was a single finger, curled towards me. Soft arms wrapped around me, pulling me in. My head settled in The Valley of his chest. A soft warmth enveloped me, shielding me from the bitter cold of night.

[spookyshipperfics]

If You Were That Stoned, What?

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Mature

Tagging: @today-in-fic

What is it About? Scully and Mulder head to Camp Crystal Lake to investigate the grounds, but things are derailed by partying camp counselors. Instead of breaking up the party, though, they become a part of it.

Read a Sample (this is from mid-fic): “Holy shit, Mulder! I’m stoned.” Scully stumbled down the dirt path, the uneven surface turning the walk into a harrowing journey. “I might be a little drunk too, but I’m definitely stoned.”

“I can tell,” Mulder quipped. “You called me spooky back there.”

Her mouth dropped in faux outrage. “I didn’t call you spooky. I said they thought we were spooky, which was exactly true. Plus, you called me a nerd.”

“I called you a science nerd, Scully. Big difference.”

“How so?”

“What? Did I embarrass you in front of your new friends?” he teased.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“It didn’t matter what I said anyway,” Mulder huffed. “Kevin was falling in love with you back there. He told me you were hot while you were in the bathroom.”

She rolled her eyes. “That kid is such a pothead. I doubt he even knows what he is saying half the time.”

“I don’t know why you always act so surprised when people think you’re hot.” He came to a sudden stop, and she nearly crashed into him.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

She was high as a kite, and Mulder only intensified the floaty feeling in her head. “I’m not surprised. Kevin is just not the type of person I need or want lusting after me.”

He stared back at her with a glimmer in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. What kind of person are you looking to lust after you then?”

You, Mulder. I’m looking for you to lust after me.

It was on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know,” she said instead. “For starters, not someone stoned out of their mind.”

“I guess that rules me out, then.”

The comment was meant to be a joke, but a hint of sadness beneath the statement caused nervousness to bloom in her chest. She wanted to protest. Maybe they could take things slow.

Slow? What did that mean? Another six years?

The thought almost sent more unwarranted giggles spewing from her. But before any kind of response could form, Mulder whipped around and started jogging down the path, yelling, “Let’s get a better look at that lake.”

She chased after him as she often did. Her marijuana-hazed mind felt slow, but her beer-soaked body felt even slower. She pumped her arms, anyway, trying to keep up and failing. The darkness consumed Mulder as he turned a corner up ahead.

“Mulder!” she called, pausing to catch her breath.

Silence.

“Mulder!”

Then, there was a splash.

She continued until the path reached a dock outstretching the titular Crystal Lake. The moonlight was the only light source. The surrounding darkness stained the water an inky black. Mulder was the sole disruption in its shimmering surface.

“Mulder, what the hell are you doing?”

“Swimming clearly,” he replied.

She spied his clothes in a heap on the edge of the dock… all of them.

Want more? Find it on a03

[thatiranianphantom]

Hello baby im writing this bcs you help me before is something weird is happening lately i felt least invested on bughead maybes is bcs the hiatus, maybe its bcs im not worried about bh endgame anymore. The thing is that i started to be invested on something else and i hate it, and sadly is lili and cole relationship more on their break up and i hate bcs i never pay attention to it before i never was invested i through they were a cute couple and that was all.

But lately i had been feeling more anxious about and its stupid bcs i wonder why they broke up, if they were still in love when they make it, why take that decision, when they broke up and if they are on good terms.

the true its we probably never know, i know he is with someone and i know they are both proffesionals and we will get our endgame, again maybe its the hiatus maybe its teh lack of content I'm trying to figute out what hiatus was words for me.

I hope you could give me and advice i know its stupid but in reality im tired of think about it bit i cant stop.

Also if you felt its needed dont post this ask i dont want to trolls come to you for me

Sweetie, I love your concern for me. That is so sweet ❤️

But I ain't afraid of the trolls. Come at me, bros.

And I think this is one of those things that nobody talks about but many feel. I know I have. I really think personally, it has to do with lockdown. I have really done nothing but be all in on the Riverdale fandom and Bughead for the last year. It's a daily, constant cycle of fanfiction, Tumblr and chats. And a lot of that has kept me sane, but we have just lived through an insane time, and I for one am ready to stop living in "unprecedented times", and having to rely on these characters has created an element of apathy. What I'm saying is some element of boredom with the show or the couple is normal and nothing to be sad about. For me, it seems to have affected every couple, not just Bughead. Sure, I'm still reading Wyndoc and Rollisi fanfic. But I'm not feeling the same pull I used to. For Riverdale, a lot of that is attributed to these insanely long breaks and the way we've been jerked around as a fandom this last year. Riverdale hasn't been at its best, and has been really off-putting and disheartening.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, this would be such a better season to binge rather than watch live. You could cut through the large swaths of useless plot and bullshit that has plagued this season.

I really don't speculate on Sprousehart, but I can absolutely see how the breakup would cause you some sadness as well. Some people, though, get along a lot better when they're not together. And it doesn't seem to have affected the Bughead scenes. May I humbly recommend unfollowing both of them on social media? I know it's not something most of us want to do, but it will honestly feel like a weight lifted. I'm not saying there won't be times where you'll still see something on Tumblr and it'll make you sad, but not having to open SM apps and brace yourself is going to be so relieving to you. That's a large part of the reason I unfollow over the summer. Instagram and Twitter don't tag or allow blocking of tags. If I couldn't have done that over the whole Barchie arc, I'm not sure I would still be on Tumblr.

And know that you should feel whatever you need to feel, honey. I am a proponent of the theory that if you fight the bad feelings off, you are giving them power over you. I can't tell you how much relief I've come to in acknowledging and verbalizing the feelings. Tell yourself "Yes, I am feeling sad right now because....." Don't try to rationalize it, don't judge yourself for feeling this way. Just let yourself recognize that feeling. Write it down as well if you'd find it helpful. That takes away the power these feelings have over you, when you stop fighting it off. Also, please remember to give yourself some of the grace you'd surely give others. Don't think you don't deserve that same grace.

Chin up, love. We're all turning a corner ❤️

[putas-in-suffering]

“Seeing you between my legs is so hot.” With Miguel because duh lol filthier the better 😍❤️ love you frands

Love you babe! 💗

Your mouth moved faster as the hand on your head pushed down. A groan filled your ears, accompanying the slight rise of hips. You swallowed and sucked as you took every inch of Miguel’s cock down your throat.

“Fuck...”

The curse made you fill with pride as you looked up at him. He was already watching you, eyes focused and intense as they took in your position between his thighs. He appeared unaffected, but you knew better. You could see the way his jaw clenched. Or the way his chest expanded with uneven breaths. It was even obvious in the way he spoke. His usually calm, even tone was now strained with building tension.

“Seeing you between my legs is so hot.” He confessed as he traced the outline of his cock against your throat.

You continued to lather him, your fingers massaging his tightening sac as he basked in you. You ate up the attention, batting your lashes as your tongue danced in the slit at the very tip of him. He hissed, hips jerking at the action.

You smiled around him, knowing exactly what that gesture did to his waning control. His fingers flexed against your scalp as his body began to meet yours. You loosened your muscles and let him slide as deep as he wanted to go. Your nose tickled as it brushed the neatly trimmed hair of his pubic bone. Your eyes began to water when he delivered a particularly hard thrust to your esophagus. But you didn’t slow down.

“Good girl.” He praised, continuing to fuck your throat.

Saliva dripped down your chin, getting lost in your cleavage. Your mascara was surely smudged as you fought against the tears that stung your eyes. You sputtered out a cough, knowing he liked you to choke a little. You were ridiculously wet and needy for him, but he preferred you like that. Always on the edge. He claimed it kept your attitude in full effect, something he loved.

The car jostled as it rode over a speed bump, forcing his cock further done your already full throat. You came up for air, narrowing your eyes at him as he chuckled. The newly installed partition in the Rolls kept you both hidden from the front seat, but you could still hear Nestor’s apology through the glass as he drove.

“Keep going.” Miguel demanded, face back to being impassive.

You did as he said, though you let your teeth barely graze his sensitive flesh, reminding him that while you may be the one on your knees, you were the one with all the power.

A familiar growl signaled to you that he was close. Your hand wrapped around his wet flesh and tugged with the desired amount of pressure. Your lips cradled his head as you did, meeting his eyes once again and silently begging him to give you what you wanted.

And he did.

He came hard, shooting streaks of himself into your mouth. You swallowed as fast as you could, not wanting to waste a drop. It was decadent and rich, just like him.

You burned the vision of him coming undone into your brain to join the others. Head thrown back and brows furrowed, he almost looked to be in pain.

“Here.”

The muffled voice from the front seat interrupted the moment. The car came to a stop as you slowly withdrew Miguel from your mouth, gently licking as you went. He watched you as he came down from his high. He caught the swipe of your tongue against your lips as it tasted a wayward drop of him. He licked his own in return.

“Time to go.”

You straightened as he nodded at your words. He redressed while you cleaned up and sat next to him in the spot you’d previously occupied. You could see the circus that lay beyond the dark tint of the car. Dozens of people attempted to get close as reporters and cameramen circled the area like vultures.

It was showtime.

“Ready?” You asked, closing the mirror compact you’d pulled from your purse.

Miguel adjusted the lapels of his jacket and nodded, taking in the chaos. “Always am.” He said cockily, lips upturned in a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Just let me do the talking.”

He leaned over to kiss you, thumb delicately wiping under your eye. “Sure thing, counselor.”

You scoffed at his attempt to make light of the situation. You may moonlight as Miguel’s lover, but being his defense attorney was your full time job. Especially in the midst of a war on drugs. Good thing he paid you for your services. All of them.

[p0sm0rtemm]

tw! implied mvrder and talks of blood and knives. thank you @chris-continues for the idea:)

—————————

ah yes, it was that time of year! school was out, the weather was warm, the sun was harsh. children ages 10-15 were sent off to Camp Bloomic, a summer camp up in the mountains. teens ages 16-19 were counselors. they were expected to keep order while making sure everyone was enjoying themselves.

I didn’t mind being a counselor. I enjoyed being with Chris and Toast more than actually helping the campers. that was until things took a turn for the worst.

“eleven! chris! help!” jinxx ran towards us in a panic. “oh my god! jinxx are you okay?” chris puts his hands on her shoulders. “s-someone attacked me!” her eyes are wide with fear, and she’s visibly shaking. “what do you mean someone attacked you?” i kneel down to inspect for injuries. “i- i was in the woods just walking a- and s-someone or something came at me! i tried to run but it grabbed me and tried stabbing me! i kicked it hard and was able to get away! please go out there and look!” i stand up. “she’s not injured,” i turn to chris. “i’m gonna go out there and look-” “el no! you can’t go out by yourself!” “and we can’t leave the campers unattended. in case there is a psychopath out there, someone has to be here to protect them.” “eleven, you don’t have to do this.” “chris, i’ll be fine.” i walk off to my cabin.

it’s dark. like, unnaturally dark. my flashlight barely makes a dent in it. i hear rustling in the brush beside me. i flick the light to the bush. it’s a bunny. “god.” i continue walking down the dirt path. my shoes make no noise against the dry ground. “toast?” i call. i hadn’t seen him for a good few hours. “toast?”

a figure staggers onto the path in front of me. my flashlight shows light pink hair and pale skin. “toast! what are you doing out here?” i run to him. my light is pointed at the ground, but the moon isn’t as forgiving. the light glints off his glasses. “why are your glasses broken?” i move closer to inspect their face. “is your nose bleeding?” blood is smeared across his face. i just happen to glance down a their hands. the moonlight glints off the shiny surface of the knife. i stagger. “t-toasty?” i shine my light in his face. blood colors their pale skin across their forehead, on his cheek, everywhere. “w-what did you do?” he begins to laugh. they’re LAUGHING. “please don’t be scared, love. i’m not going to hurt you~” he wraps the arm with the knife around my back and pulls me against them. “did jinxx tell you what happened?” our noses are almost touching. “what if i say yes?” my fear is gone. this is toast after all. even if he..killed someone. “what do you think?” yeah i thought so. “no. she didn’t.” toast laughs. “sure she didn’t. fine, i’ll take your word for it.” our eyes lock. “why are you doing this, toasty?” he hums and traces my jaw with the tip of the knife. “you sure do talk a lot for someone who’s standing in front of a murderer.” and they kiss me. the metallic taste of blood is slight, but it’s there. this should not be attractive to me. we break away when we hear someone coming towards us. i use my sleeve to wipe the blood off his face. “Toast? El? Oh! there you guys are!”it was Chris. “we were worried sick! i got one of the older kids to watch the campers while i looked for you guys! i- Toast…what are you..” Toasty didn’t hide the knife in time. “don’t say anything, Chris. i’m not going to hurt you.” Chris sighs and takes off their hoodie. “put this on so they don’t see the blood on your shirt. we have to hurry.”

[clumsyclifford]

lashton prompt: luke falling asleep on skype and ashton taking the opportunity to draw him, bonus if someone else finds the sketches before ashton shows them to luke

meghna this prompt is from almost a full calendar year ago. i am proud to report that after all this time i did in fact manage to set it in spideyverse because that’s how determined i am. more info in ao3 notes but it takes place in the summer before their senior year of high school, so after the events of everything else in spideyverse so far

read here on ao3

-

Ashton will have to thank Maya later for the tip about the Fine Arts Room. He jimmies the door handle and, as promised, the door swings opens to reveal a darkened room full of half-finished projects. They must really take the decency of humanity on faith here. Anyone could come in at any time and sabotage any of this work.

Ashton has less nefarious plans.

He sits at his usual spot but doesn’t turn any lights on; the big windows shine just enough moonlight into the room that Ashton can see the silhouettes of the furniture, and his laptop will be on in a moment anyway. Careful of the scattered pages over his workspace, he opens his computer and loads up Skype. 

Just in time for an incoming call.

Ashton fumbles with his headphones and plugs them in with one hand while he accepts the call with the other. The screen fills with Luke’s brightly-lit, highly pixelated face. Chin in his hands, elbows propped on his desk, hair a ruffled mess (from the mask, Ashton knows) — the sight of him fills Ashton with warmth.

“Hey,” Luke says, smiling his usual cheeky smile. They’ve been texting sporadically, but seeing Luke’s face — hearing his voice — gives Ashton a fluttery feeling behind his sternum. Calum would call that anatomically impossible, but he’d do it with a smirk. “I can barely see you.”

“I’m sitting in the dark,” Ashton explains. His voice is a hushed whisper even though he knows it’s absurd to be paranoid. They’re supposed to be confined to their bunks by now, and the staff and counselors will all be asleep. The only reason he and Luke are calling now, past midnight, is because now is the only time they’re both available. “I’m in the Fine Arts Room.”

“Ooh, can I see?”

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Ashton says. “There are windows and stuff.”

“Are you not supposed to be there?” Luke raises an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, is Ashton Irwin sneaking around?”

“Well, if we weren’t calling at the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t they lock the buildings?” Luke suddenly looks concerned.

Ashton shrugs. “Maya told me that if I jiggle the handle, the door will open. She was right.”

“Go Maya,” Luke says. “I like Maya. Who’s Maya?”

“My new friend,” says Ashton. “She mostly paints. We’ve got a challenge going on about whether she’s better at drawing or I’m better at painting, since neither of us really use those mediums. Hannah — one of the other campers — is going to find something for us to both paint slash draw and then there’ll be an unofficial panel of judges. It’s pretty stupid.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” Luke says, and Ashton realizes he is. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” Ashton says honestly. “I’m pretty awful at painting.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think. How hard can it be?”

“That’s very rich coming from you, Mr. I-Can’t-Draw-A-House.”

“Hey, fuck off! I can draw a house, thank you very much.” Luke looks down at his desk and his focus shifts, and Ashton watches in bemused patience. As he waits, he draws a blank piece of paper towards him and grabs the nearest pencil lying around. His hands move almost unconsciously, drawing lines and curves and sketching the outline of something Ashton hasn’t quite decided on yet. Luke finally lifts his head up. “Here, see?” He holds up a piece of paper to the camera, where he’s drawn a box with an isosceles triangle on top for the roof, complete with a little chimney sticking out. “House,” Luke proudly declares. “Boom. Get fucked, Irwin.”

“I stand corrected,” Ashton chuckles. He hums. “They’ll probably just find us equally talented because painting is different from drawing and blah blah blah artsy hipster bullshit.”

“Stop dismissing the artsy hipster bullshit,” Luke says stubbornly. “I’ll have you know my boyfriend deals exclusively in artsy hipster bullshit.”

“You think my drawings are artsy hipster bullshit?”

“No, babe, I think you are artsy hipster bullshit.” Luke grins widely and then gets cut off by a yawn. Ashton bites back a very cheesy comment about how Luke should web himself up for being criminally cute.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you have that one,” he says instead. “Since I am at an artsy hipster bullshit summer camp.”

“I miss you.” Luke pouts. It’s a funny look on him. Ashton tries to imagine Spiderman pouting and completely fails. Sometimes it’s hard for him to reconcile Luke and Spiderman being the same person. That this adorable six-foot-and-change beanstalk who yawns on Skype is the same person who can do a double-backflip and land on his feet on the rooftop of any building. Ashton’s boyfriend stops crimes. What the fuck.

“I miss you too,” he says. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Instant karma is a bitch. Luke immediately yawns again, this time much wider. “Okay, I’m a little tired,” he admits, smacking his lips like a child. “Summer break is deceptively boring. I…I run out of things to do all day, so I just kinda…keep patrolling. I might be wearing myself out.”

“Jesus, Luke, take it easy on yourself. Queens goes the entire school day without Spiderman’s protection during the school year. You can handle a break.”

“Yeah, but I might as well patrol,” Luke counters. “I have the time, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I thought you and Michael were working on new specs for the suit.”

“It’s mostly Michael. Also, I think he’s kind of annoyed about the whole 24/7 patrol. He can’t work on the suit if I’m wearing it.”

“That is true.”

“But he’s been spending a lot of his time with Calum, anyway,” Luke says coolly. “So I figure he’s probably got other priorities.”

“Well, if you keep blowing him off to obsessively patrol the city, I can’t possibly imagine why he’s making other plans.” 

Luke stares through the camera. His shoulders slump. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ashton chirps.

Luke sighs deeply. “You’re not here, Ash.”

Ashton purses his lips and frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m just saying. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He misses Luke too, more than is probably healthy. That’s what he gets, he supposes, for only having a handful of close relationships; Luke and Calum are his whole life, and not being able to hug either one of them for even a week has been pretty challenging. “But look, it’s only another week, and then I am all yours, I swear.”

“Don’t enable me,” Luke says, affronted. “You’re supposed to say things like… ‘You don’t own me’ and ‘I’m my own person’ and stuff like that.”

Ashton blinks, confused. “Uh…well, yeah, but we both already know that. I’m just saying I miss you too. But if it’s any consolation, Maya has ruthlessly mocked me for all the drawings I do of you. Like mercilessly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

“That is super embarrassing,” Luke says, with a small, bashful smile. “You’re so fucking lame, Ashton.”

“Wow,” Ashton says. “You even sound like her.”

Luke giggles, which turns seamlessly into a yawn. “Hey, I came first. Maya sounds like me.”

“Luke, babe, just go to sleep,” Ashton says. “We can talk another night. Maybe one where you’re more well-rested.”

“I’m super rested,” Luke says in a monotone. “King of restedness, me.”

“Wow, I’m suddenly convinced.” Luke makes a half-hearted face at him and Ashton makes one back. The sketch under Ashton’s pencil has revealed itself to be Luke, yet again. Shocker. It really is embarrassing that Ashton defaults to drawing his boyfriend. If they ever break up, Ashton will be fucked.

“Are you drawing?” Trust Luke to notice. Although the fact that it’s taken him this long to notice means he must be slower on the uptake than usual. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because when is he not. 

“Drawing what?”

“Guess,” Ashton says dryly.

Luke gives a sleepy smile. “At least you’re predictable.”

“Luke, I’m begging you to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow or this weekend or something, okay?”

Luke yawns yet again. “Okay,” he agrees, right hand propping up his head. His eyes flutter shut and then open again. “Okay, fine.”

“And please let Michael look at your suit,” Ashton adds. “You know he’s only going to make it better.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Luke’s eyes fall shut again. It seems more out of tiredness than distress. “If I give it to him, then I can’t use it.”

Ashton’s pretty sure if Luke’s hero complex gets any bigger he’s going to have to start renting out rooms. “It’ll be two days, tops,” he says. “Take two days off.”

“I wanna wait ‘til you’re back,” Luke mumbles. “Spend ‘em with you.”

“You spend most of your time with me,” Ashton says gently. “Spend them with Michael. Hell, spend them with Cal.”

“But I want…” Luke yawns. He lists sideways a little. “I want you.”

Ashton chews his lip. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Luke hums absently. “‘Kay, g’night,” he slurs, but makes no gesture to hang up the call. He probably expects Ashton to end it. If Luke is as asleep as he looks right now, Ashton kind of has to.

The graphite on the sketch paper is smudging a little. Ashton glances down at the half-assed likeness of his boyfriend and has an idea.

Quietly, he grabs another blank page, moves his laptop back a little, and starts to draw.

-

They’re up bright and early the next day, and after breakfast Ashton follows a decidedly more lively Maya into the Fine Arts Room, where she takes her place diagonally from him at their table. They’re both mid-project; Ashton stacks and sets aside his scratch papers and pulls forth the drawing he’s currently working on.

“So? You talked to Luke?”

Ashton blinks and looks up at Maya. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks for the tip, I meant to say.”

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Cupid,” Maya says airily. “I’m on the side of love, baby.”

Ashton snorts and rolls his eyes. “Let Cupid know I say thanks.”

Maya hums. “Cupid says you’re welcome.”

They’re quiet while Maya gets herself set up — she has to put all her acrylics back every evening only to set them back out every morning, another reason Ashton prefers pencils over paints — and Ashton picks up his pencil and starts to draw. 

“Is this yours?” Maya asks, peering at Ashton’s discarded stack of sketches.

“Yeah,” Ashton says without looking. “Just sketches and stuff.”

“Wait, this is so cute.” She’s leaning over the drawing on the top. Ashton glances up.

It’s Luke from last night, soundly asleep over Skype.

Ashton had ended the call after about ten minutes of silence, enough time to get the rough outlines of all the important shapes. The video quality wouldn’t have lent itself to a good sketch anyway if Ashton had been chasing authenticity, but fortunately he knows Luke’s face well enough — both from drawing it and gazing at it in real life — to pretend the call had had a crystal-clear picture. None of it is colored in, but it’s as obviously Luke as all of Ashton’s other drawings. Somehow, though, this one feels more personal.

“Did you draw this last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton says, reaching for the drawing. He shuffles it between several other papers so an innocuous collection of doodles is now at the top of the stack, and Maya clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hey, I was looking at that. It was cute.”

“Yeah, it’s— it’s just nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s adorable,” Maya says. She fixes him with puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease can I see it? I won’t show anyone. I’m studying so I can kick your ass in our competition.”

Ashton sighs. “It’s just Luke. You’ve seen millions of drawings of him.”

“But those were obviously from memory,” Maya points out, taking his non-answer as an affirmative and sifting through the stack. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to stop her. It’s not like he has anything to hide — or at least not anything Maya could figure out by looking at the drawing.

And in her defense, Luke does look cute as fuck in the drawing, because he’d looked cute as fuck in real life.

“For all you know, this one is also from memory.”

“You drew the screen, Ash, it’s clearly from last night.”

“Well,” Ashton says diplomatically. Then he abandons diplomacy, because Maya has located the drawing and is grinning and aww-ing. “Well do you blame me? He fell asleep on our call. It was adorable.”

Maya giggles. “You guys are so fucking cute,” she says. “Y’know, most people would be insulted if their boyfriend fell asleep on a video call with them.”

“He’s been really busy lately,” Ashton says. “And it was the end of the call anyway.”

“One day, I will have someone to draw me when I fall asleep on our Skype calls,” Maya says wistfully. “I’m putting the vibes out into the universe so it’ll happen soon.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one drawing them,” Ashton points out. 

Maya finally sets down the Luke drawing. She dips her brush in red paint, clearly intending to put it into her work, but at Ashton’s words instead brandishes it threateningly at him. “I won’t be drawing anyone, buddy.”

Ashton laughs. “But you’d date someone who drew instead of painted?”

“At this point?” Maya sighs theatrically. “I’d date just about anyone who did anything.”

Ashton laughs again. They work quietly for a few minutes. Ashton starts shading.

“Why do you only ever draw Luke?” Maya asks. “You said you’ve been together for less than a year. Who were you drawing before then?”

Ashton shrugs. “Uh, anyone, really,” he says. “People. There are a lot of pretty interesting people at my school, and besides, I’m from the city.”

Maya snorts derisively. “You’re from Queens.”

“Queens is in the city.”

Another derisive snort. “Queens is in the city the same way using ink stamps is painting.”

“That’s not even a little bit the same thing, at all.”

“You’re not a city boy.”

“I am literally a city boy!” Maya waves him off, but Ashton ignores her. She’s from Massachusetts. She has no leg to stand on. “My point is that there are lot of interesting people near where I live, too.”

“You didn’t ever, I don’t know, draw your friends? Calum, didn’t you say he’s your best friend from home?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ashton says. “Calum. Didn’t like when I drew him.”

“What, seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, and it’s true. “He just asked me to stop drawing him one day so I did.” He hesitates. “...Mostly. Sometimes I still do. But if you knew Calum you’d understand why. He’s extremely good-looking.”

“Of course he is,” Maya says. “Any chance he’s single and/or interested in women from several states away?”

“No to both questions,” Ashton says sympathetically. “But good try.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Maya says good-naturedly, and they lapse into silence again.

It’s broken by Maya, again. “Do you show Luke the drawings you do of him?”

That’s a complicated question. No, Ashton doesn’t actively show his drawings to Luke, but Luke usually sees them anyway. Some of them are more private; Ashton keeps the one of Luke in the Spiderman suit sans mask folded up in the bottom of his socks drawer where he’s pretty certain no one ever looks. There doesn’t seem to be a point to showing it to Luke now, so long after he’d actually done it. But for the most part he’s not hiding his art from Luke; Luke sees what he sees, notwithstanding Ashton’s intention.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says.

Maya nods at the drawing of Luke asleep on Skype. “You gonna show him that one?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“What, why? It’s so cute.”

“I don’t know, maybe because it makes me seem like a ridiculous lovesick borderline creepy idiot?”

“Guys love that,” Maya assures him. “Or so I’m told. C’mon, why hold out on him when he already knows you’re basically obsessed with drawing him?” She taps the drawing. “And when he looks this adorable?”

Ashton breathes a laugh. “You have a point.”

“I always do,” Maya says, and she flips her hair dramatically.

Maybe Michael would let Ashton draw him. That would be a nice change from always drawing Luke and never drawing Calum. Maybe Ashton could just do it and then ask Michael what he thinks. It would be nice to have new muses. Ashton has spent a lot of time on Luke; maybe it’s about time he branched out again.

“Hey,” Ashton says, struck with inspiration as he watches Maya make brushstrokes across her paper. “Can I draw you?”

“Hell yeah, go for it,” Maya says. “I’m not sitting still for you, though.”

“I’ll live,” Ashton says dryly. Maya grins and laughs. A fresh page before Ashton and a new pencil in his hand, he studies Maya’s profile carefully and then brings his pencil to the page.

-

“Did you break into the Fine Arts Room again?”

“I don’t think it’s breaking in if it’s technically unlocked,” Ashton points out.

Luke squints but evidently fails to argue with this logic. “How’s artsy hipster bullshit camp?”

“Really good,” Ashton says, cracking his knuckles. His parents have told him repeatedly that doing so will give him arthritis, but Ashton suspects that’s more of a scare tactic than a fact. At this point he doubts even rehab could get him to stop. It’s the only thing Ashton can think to do with his hands when he’s not drawing. “By the way, remember the other day when you fell asleep on our call?”

I fell asleep at the end of our call,” Luke corrects him. “We were done talking.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Maya convinced me that I should show you this because maybe you’d think it was cute, or something.” He holds up the drawing of Luke.

Luke leans closer to the camera. Anyone else might have trouble discerning what’s on the page given how dim it is around Ashton, but not Luke. Luke has super-senses. His visual acuity is, like, a thousand. (Rough estimate.)

So when Luke’s face splits into a grin, Ashton knows he’s seen exactly what’s there. “Oh my fucking God, you sap,” he says. “I thought you just hung up straightaway.” 

“Nope,” Ashton says. “I’m just saving moments. One day I’ll have enough for a flip book.”

Luke’s expression goes all mushy and heart-eyed. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, fond and endeared. “I can’t believe you’re not bored of my dumb face yet.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen your dumb face?” Ashton laughs. “It’s impossible to be bored of it.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, his eyes crinkling so much that the blue all but disappears. “I love you.”

And everything makes sense.

“I love you too,” Ashton says, struck by the realization that he does. The drawings, the midnight Skype calls, the death-defying trips around the city with only his faith in Luke to keep them afloat, the fluttery feeling — all of the colors lock into place, and Ashton can see the rainbow clear as day in front of him. He’s never been in love; of course he couldn’t tell. But there’s nothing else it could be.

“Oh, good,” Luke says timidly. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

Ashton glances from the drawing in his hand to the look on Luke’s face on the screen, and he cracks a crooked smile. “Then you, superhero, have not been paying attention.”

[rosenallies]

If you’re still open to prompts, how about Rosé and Denali maybe going skinny dipping? Your choice on whether it’s pure fluff or h on the main! 🌹

P.S. You’re one of my favourite prompt writers ever! Your writing is always so enjoyable, well thought out and detailed. Every time I see it on my feed, I get so happy. ☺️

Ahh thank you, angel!! Here’s some much needed fluff after the last prompt I posted <3

—-

Denali laughed, wind flowing through her hair as she chased after Rosé, the moonlight illuminating her pale skin as she ran. Denali was in awe of her beauty, the moonlight making her pale skin glow and her red hair look like embers of a flame licking behind her as she ran down the dock.

“Come get me, Nali!” She yelled, making it to the end of the dock, pulling her dress over her head and jumping into the cold lake water, bare chested and in nothing but her panties.

Denali watched as her head disappeared under the water, her panties coming up to surface before she did. She emerged from the water moments later, her hair wet and slicked back.

“What are you waiting for? Come on in!”

Tentatively, Denali peeled her clothes off, leaving them in a pile near Rosé’s. Standing at the end of the dock for a moment, staring down at the moonlit water, she jumped in, landing right in front of Rosé.

“Hi,” she giggled, coming up for air and wiggling her way into Rosé’s arms.

Rosé kissed her bare shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.”

Denali felt her cheeks get warm, despite the cold water they were submerged in. “You’re beautiful.”

The redhead stood on her tip toes, the murky bottom of the lake squishing underneath her toes as she lifted Denali so she could wrap her legs around Rosé’s waist. Holding onto her thick thighs, she leaned in and kissed her deeply. Denali kissed back, tangling her fingers in Rosé’s wet hair. They pressed themselves closer to each other, slippery skin sliding against slippery skin, the water rippling around them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a beam of light emerged from the tree line, heavy footsteps following it. Probably nobody but the camp’s groundsman, but still they were both stark naked wrapped up in each other.

“Fuck,” Rosé giggled, pulling them underneath the dock, out of sight.

Denali ducked her head against Rosé’s shoulder, sighing deeply.

“I’m going to miss this,” she whispered, “the summer’s almost over.”

Rosé kissed her cheek. “Come and visit me in New York.”

Frowning, Denali shook her head. “I can’t, competition season is around the corner and until then I’ll be training on and off the ice every day.”

“We have ice rinks in New York, you know?”

Denali rolled her eyes. “And we have stages to sing on in Chicago too.”

Rosé hummed. “Yeah but are they as glamorous as the dive bars I sing at back home?”

“They’re better actually, much better,” Denali chuckled.

“Well, if it wasn’t for my shitty dive bar gigs that pay nothing I wouldn’t have been groveling for money and I wouldn’t have taken a job as a camp counselor in the buttfuck middle of nowhere just to pay rent at my apartment I’m not even staying in,” she sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind Denali’s ear, “and I wouldn’t have met you.”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” Denali admitted.

Rosé agreed, kissing her chin. “Let’s just make it last, yeah?”

Denali nodded, leaning back in and kissing her, the fear and the love on the tip of their tongues begging to be let out. But they both stayed quiet, not wanting to disrupt the paradise they’d built for themselves for a summer.

[collective-remnants-rwby]

RWBY Ships & Fates, Pt. 2

Oscar-Huntsman & teacher of magical studies at Chorus. Single & still leading team OPAL alongside with Anwar, Tip & Lakota, the latter of whom are together.

Neo-Equinox undercover agent who can be anywhere & anyone. Maintains a cordial relationship with Ruby, a weird flirtation with Jaune, and enjoys casually tormenting Cinder.

Happy Huntresses-Poly relationship, acting as Huntresses and community leaders for Amica, with Robyn serving as the longest serving councilwoman. Major benefactors of the Rose orphanage, and two adopted & thoroughly loved twin sons.

Ace Ops-Marrow is the combat instructor at Chorus, married and with a kid & stepkid. Harriet is a wandering Huntress, single, sometimes works with Ruby or team OPAL. Elm is a Huntress in Vale, and is surprisingly good friends with team JNR.

The Schnees-Winter is a Huntress in Amica & competing to be cool aunt for both her sibling’s children. Whitley lives in Argus as the CEO of the reconstituted Schnee tech, married to Van, Coco’s younger brother, with a daughter named Yelena. Willow is a retiree, living with Whitley in Argus & lending her services as a teacher’s assistant at Sanctum Academy. Surprisingly friendly with Cinder.

FNKI-Flynt is an Equinox agent operating out of Vale, and moonlighting as an inter kingdom jazz star. Neon is single & loving it, and a combat teacher at Pathfinder Academy in Menagerie. Kobalt & Ivori live together in Amica, and have a son, Shade, studying at Pathfinder.

Ilia-Married & a major White Paw leader in Menagerie, quite possibly Blake’s successor.

Crosshares-Married, with several children via IVF. Both teachers at Shade, Coco as its Headmistress & Velvet as its Dust teacher.

Sun & Octavia(Smoldering Sun)-Both traveling Huntsmen based in Mistral & sometimes Vacuo, with a daughter named Luna. 

Fox & Neptune(Aquafox)-Currently both instructors at Haven Academy, reporting back about the, concerning situation.

Scarlet & Nolan(Lost Boys)-Huntsman based out of Vacuo, with a son named Rufus who attends Pathfinder

Yatsu-Shade Academy’s Head Counselor, Godfather to all of CFVY’s kids.

Sage��& Ciel(Timepiece)-Mistrali based Huntsman, with several children.

[fckinsupreme]

Camp redwood opens again in 2020 and it just so happens that a certain counsellor catches Xavier's eye, so much so he might not want to let her go. The only thing that's sparked any sort of emotion other than longing for almost 40 years..

There she goes again. Walking along as if she didn’t know what was doing to him, her hips swaying, her eyes cast straight ahead instead of where he was standing. She had been on Xavier’s radar from the moment she arrived, the crew arriving several days early to help prepare for the grand reopening of Camp Redwood. There was a lot to clean up and a lot to do, and Xavier couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of deja-vu. But hopefully now, with Margaret’s ghost in check and Jingles & Ramirez no longer terrorizing anyone, it would be different than his own experience.

Y/N was the hottest of the counselors, without question. As was the case with his own group, most counselors were male, with Y/N being one of three girls. The other girls weren’t Xavier’s type, and he gave them as little thought as he would the ground beneath his feet. But Y/N…she was /the one/. They met the first night she arrived, after he caught her lurking around the woods in search of her hook-up—a burly counselor with a small dick and an even smaller, more fragile ego. Xavier made sure it didn’t happen, inviting her to the dock to watch the ducks in the moonlight. She hadn’t a clue who he was, had no idea that he was a victim in the 1984 massacre and was now a spirit tethered to the land for eternity. Maybe she would run away screaming if she knew, although she didn’t seem the type. Or maybe she would steer clear of him and never want to associate with him for the entirety of the summer.

But goddammit, he felt something for her. He had to have her; she was the /only/ thing that made him feel anything in the last thirty-six years. Ever since he died, all there had been was sadness, anger, bitterness, darkness. Seeing her, listening to that adorable laugh, witnessing the beautiful smile on her lips that he had caused, made him feel happy and like he was /alive/ again.

The way he saw it, she was the beauty and he was the beast. He wasn’t going to stay away, though. Quite the contrary, he was going to /get her/, no matter what it took. He knew summer would end too quickly and he would likely never see her again, and the thought filled him with such dread and rage that it almost consumed him. He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let her just get away from him. It was still so early, he could get to her and see if she would fall for him enough to stay here with him forever. But no, that was foolish; surely she had family, people who would miss her. Xavier didn’t have that luxury, since his friends were the only people he had and they had died here with him.

But Y/N would have him, if no one else.

He watches her as she reaches the dock, scanning the water for any signs of the other counselors. He observes her form as she moves, the swell of her ass, the way her legs are bared in her shorts, her (h/c) hair blowing in the breeze. Xavier decides to come out of hiding when she makes her way back, stepping out into the path. She jumps when she sees him, her hand landing on her chest as she grins at him.

“You scared me to death,” she says, breathing in relief. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come check on you,” Xavier says, taking a step closer to her. “See how you’re adjusting. The kids are coming tomorrow, I hear.”

“Yeah,” she replies, chuckling a bit. “Yeah, tomorrow morning. I’ve been going crazy, trying to find the others to get the last-minute preparations underway. They’re too occupied with sex and with the ghost stories to get anything done.”

Xavier’s blood runs cold, a heavy weight like lead in his stomach. “Ghost stories?”

“About the massacres,” she says. “The one in ‘70 and the other in ‘84. Plus, the other stuff that happened in ‘89.”

“Right,” Xavier says, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, yeah. I…Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” she asks with a frown. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m okay,” he assures, backing you up against a thick tree. “I’ve never been better.”

She meets his eyes, and Xavier swears he can feel his heart jumping in his chest. Funny, considering that he wasn’t even alive and hadn’t felt such a thing in nearly forty years. He can’t look away, slowly leaning forward with his eyes on her lips. She doesn’t pull away or push him off, instead moving forward as well to meet him halfway. When their lips touch, it only solidifies the belief that Xavier can’t ever let her go. There was no way he was letting it happen. Sparks seem to shoot through his whole body, and he feels absolutely invincible. He feels as though he could just walk right out of this camp, to the world beyond, with its various changes and shitty music. None of that mattered to him, anyway; the only thing that did was right here, her lips against his and her arms wound around his shoulders.

He deepens the kiss, and is delighted to see that she does the same. She isn’t resisting, isn’t making some kind of excuse to leave. She wanted this every bit as much as he did, and he decides to try something just to see. As the kiss grows more hungry and messy, Xavier’s hand creeps under her tanktop to cradle her breast. She doesn’t stop him, instead moaning against his mouth as she presses his hand more firmly against her skin.

“Shit,” she gasps, her head tipped against the tree as he rolls the nipple between his fingers. “Xavier…”

“No bra?” he asks with an amused grin. “You’re brave.”

“I was gonna—fucking /God/,” she moans, Xavier’s fingers rubbing the nipple in slow, featherlight circles.

“Gonna what?” he asks smugly. “I didn’t catch that last part.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” she says, yanking him down for a harder, more passionate kiss as both of his hands rest over her tits.

He doesn’t question her further. How could he now, when her tongue was swiping his in that needy way of hers? Her nipples were hard and erect under his palms, and he could feel his dick growing harder with every little pant she made, every little rut of her body, every swipe of her tongue. He tugs her shirt up, and she helps him take it off. It lands in a nearby bush, scaring away a bird that was perched there. It flies off, chirping angrily, taking refuge in a distant tree.

“We’re gonna get caught out here,” she pants when he pulls back to kiss over her soft neck. She smells like flowers and candy, her pulse beating against his lips as he kisses along her carotid. “I could lose my job.”

“We won’t get caught,” Xavier promises, his hand plunging inside of her shorts, two fingers gliding along the front of her panties as she groans hotly. “And if we do, would that be so bad? Your boss doesn’t seem like that much of a hard-ass. Not like m—“

He catches himself, but luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the near slip-up. He moves down to her breasts, pushing them together as he massages his tongue along her nipples. Her hand grips his hair in a tight hold, a beautiful moan spilling from her mouth as he pulls one nipple between his lips. He sucks slowly at first, before gradually going faster, his tongue swirling in rapid circles. She’s looking at him, lust in her eyes as she gets even wetter against his fingers.

“You’re soaked,” he remarks, dropping to his knees in front of her as he tugs her shorts down. “Can I taste you?”

“Please, fuck,” she begs, the sweetest sounds pouring from her lips as his tongue makes contact with her pussy. “/Xavier—/“

“Keep saying my name just fucking like that,” he says. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you say it. Do it again.”

“Xavier,” she whimpers, his fingers spreading her lips as he dives further into her cunt.

Her smell, her taste, makes him absolutely dizzy with emotion, so much that he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. He didn’t feel this overwhelmed when he was still among the living, so how did this girl, this gorgeous stranger, have this kind of effect on him? He didn’t know, nor did he care to break down the mechanics right now. He was too focused on her, on her amazing, unique taste that coated his tongue with every swipe over her swollen labia. She was loving it, moaning her appreciation with every move he made. He sucks her clit between his lips, his tongue against it as he gives his head a few rapid shakes.

“God fucking dammit,” she whines, her gaze on him as she plays with her tits. “You’re too good at that.”

“Mmm, I know, babe,” he says, sucking on her left lip before flicking his tongue around her entrance.

He keeps it up for several more minutes, until she’s cumming with so much force that her legs nearly give out. He lies her down upon the earth and claims her, fucking her nice and slow when she expresses her desire for him. Her consent only drove him crazier with need, knowing that she truly did want him just as badly as he was wanted her. She’s a goddess, his own Aphrodite, her body so warm and so inviting for him. Her cunt is so tight, so wet, so /perfect/, her face twisted in pleasure as her hands travel all over his body. He wonders if his own is cold, stiff, something so disconcerting that she begins to question it. But if he is, she doesn’t seem to care or pay any mind; he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed by that.

He kisses her with fervor, conveying every ounce of passion for her into that one small action. He knows even a kiss would never be enough, not even intimacy on this level would be. He wants her like this for all time, wants her body and her soul and everything in between. How could he even turn his back on her? How could he let her get away?

He had to tell her the truth.

It was a realization so sudden and so horrid that he almost stops fucking her right there. Instead he increases the speed & force of his thrusts, throwing her legs over his waist so that he can pound directly into her G-spot. This brings a whole new slew of responses from her, her mouth open in a perfect O-shape, her nails tearing at his skin, drawing blood from shallow scratches that would soon heal before she ever noticed. The noises she made cause his cock to twitch, and he knows he’s dangerously close.

“Y/N,” he pants. “Cum with me, baby.”

He kisses over her neck and collarbones, her eyes squeezed shut as he leaves hickey after hickey on her skin. She cums at the same time he does, their names echoing through the woods, the sweet sounds they both made more melodic than birdsong. He can’t pull out yet, still connected to her, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting her to leave him when the truth spilled from his kiss-swollen, saliva-coated lips.

“Y/N…” he gasps, his forehead pressed to hers as he tries not to cry. “There’s…There’s something I need to tell you.”

—

Baby tags: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @angel-langdon @my-thoughts-and-prayers @thorohdamnson @lvngdvns @leatherduncan @xavierplym @mrsplympton @xavierplymptons @littlegirlsdontplaynice @xaviersghost @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wickedlangdon @melodylangdon

[langdvn]

Blood Bond

summary: xavier, your boyfriend, doesn’t show up at your cabin after camp curfew, something he always does, and you, against better judgement, venture out to find out why, only to come face to face with the camp redwood killer himself.

warnings: murder/killing, mentions of sex, slight knife play, blood, fem!reader.

word count: 7k+

a/n: two lovely people requested that i write a (basically au since we don’t know anything about the season yet) verse where xavier is the killer and not mr.jingles. i planned on not writing for xavier until the new season but i’m a thirst clown who couldn’t wait lmao. so this is highly au and may change in the future once we actually know more about the show and xavier. but until then enjoy!! (i made the gif below so if you use it pls give credit)

She was freezing. The cool wind whipped against her bare legs, goosebumps spreading across her skin. She wrapped her arms around her chest, her hands rubbing the side’s of her sweatshirt in hopes to warm at least half of her freezing body as she made her way back to her cabin.

It seemed as though summer was coming to a close, so were the hot nights. No longer did she have to worry about sweating during the night or tossing her blankets to the ground, all windows within her cabin were open to hopefully let some type of breeze come in and cool her sweat slicked skin.

Now she could sleep better. No heat strokes. No sweating. Just the warmth of her blankets, and sometimes the warmth from the chest pressed against her back. That is only when Xavier, her boyfriend, decided to sneak into her cabin in the middle of the night. She never really knew if or when he was going to. Not until she felt the small mattress sink from behind her, and a pair of warm arms wrap around her, pulling her body close to his chest. A kiss pressed to the back of her neck before she drifted back off to sleep.

Tonight had not been one of those nights though. She woke in the middle of the night to not find Xavier there, or any sign of him that he'd been there. And, she was sure if this had been any other night, any other time, or place, she would not have cared or worried about it. But with the disappearances of a few campers and counselors, rumors of a crazed killer on the loose, and all the fatal accidents that have happened around them, each accident, rumor, disappearance, seemed to get closer and closer to her. The looming feeling of another person she knew who could be in trouble, danger, hurt next, or worse, herself, hung over her head. It made any noise she heard, whether it be day or night outside, within her cabin, by the water, or in the woods, jump and clench her fists into balls until the moon shaped crescents her nails left in her palm scabbed over.

If she was honest she couldn’t wait to go home. Couldn’t wait for summer to be over, so her and Xavier could be get away from whatever hell-summer this was. She wanted to leave before. She had packed all of her stuff after the second fatal incident happened. She was ready to run out of cabin and never look back. But Xavier talked her out of it. Reassured everything would be fine. They were just accidents, coincidences. Nothing to worry her pretty little face about.

And no matter how much she believed in him, how his smile reassured her, in the back of her mind her fear of what might happen next outweighed it in a painstaking way.

So Xavier not showing up at her cabin tonight was worrisome.

Which is why a flashlight was currently in her hand, pointed to the mossy ground as she walked in the dark of the night, the fog from the lake making her flashlight almost all but useless with the way the white smog clashed with the yellow light. Her shivers were not only due to the cold. Fear set deep within her stomach. Deep enough to make her teeth clatter and hands shake as she made her way towards Xavier’s cabin.

The boys’ cabin’s placed on the other side of the campsite. Something she never found more of an issue until right now. Until there was a killer somewhere out there.

She knew it was stupid. To go out this late at night in these conditions any other time, but especially now. But the fear of something happening to Xavier, especially after he had spoke to her before curfew telling her he would sneak in after everyone fell asleep like usual. He wouldn’t tell her that and just not show up. Sure, he had a habit of being fashionably late sometimes. From standing in front of the mirror for too long, his hair having to be the perfect height, spike, puff. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be late for things or to get too caught up in himself.

But this was different. It felt different. She had an eerie feeling ever since the disappearance of her bunk mate. She had walked into the woods and never came back out. Some campers say they heard screams, saw blood splattered against the oak trees. The deep crimson color soaking into the life of the tree, making it look almost sickly. Infected.

There was no sign of her from there on. The campers were reassured that the blood had to be from some wild animal. Maybe people were hunting, for animals. Not people. They were safe. She probably got lost or ditched and went home. There was a reasonable explanation for all of this.

And as much as she wanted to hold on to those words, to cling to them like they were a life raft, the pit in her stomach that never ceased to ache nowadays, it seemed, would not let her.

She tried not to let that same feeling, those thoughts, the logical part of her brain, to consume her into turning back. To running back to her cabin and pulling the blankets over her head and waiting until the morning to hear whatever excuse Xavier had for not showing up. She’s sure it would be some excuse, something that would make her roll her eyes and slap his chest for scaring her like that, for worrying her, for doing whatever he was doing that was way more important.

But she needed to find out now. Needed to see, to know, that he was okay. That it was just some silly excuse, that he forgot or got caught up in looking in the mirror. Something dumb. Something silly. Not that he was in trouble. That he had disappeared or fallen victim like so many others.

So her legs moved faster. The crunch of leaves and sticks under her sneakers seeming to grow louder than anything else around her. The crack and break pounded in her ear drums, as if every other worldly noise had been shut off. The wind was silent but still whipping against her legs. The fog rolled against the ground in silence. Animals and insects alike were silent, except for her shuffled movements.

Until she hears it. It making her stop in her tracks. Her flashlight flashing in all directions as her hands shake even more, her eyes wide, her body hyper aware. Trying to find the direction, the source, the culprit of whatever made the noise. The noise of something hard falling to the ground. A thud. The thud of something making contact with the moss. Leaves crunching against its weight.

There is no sign of what it could be. Where it could of came from. There’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of her breath heavy and her heart pounding in her chest. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe one of the campers dropped something in their cabin. Maybe they are playing a trick on her. Wildlife could also be the culprit. There were many viable options, answers, reasonings. But all her mind could think was to run. Run as fast as she could, away from whatever it could be.

Her legs do not move, though. As if glued to the ground. As if they are afraid to make any noise, to let the outside world, to let whatever know she is there. Out in the open ready to be plucked up and taken.

And when the sound of shuffling comes from her left, her entire body refused to move, her head and eyes seeming to be the only parts of her willing to work out of fear. She knows, the sound is coming from behind one of the large oak trees lined along the camps borders. A separation before the forest. A tree most of the young campers loved to climb. To swing from.

That’s probably all it was. Some kids out past curfew. Playing tricks and messing around. And maybe it was that thought alone that gave her the bravery to walk towards the noise. That reasonable voice in the back of her head telling her to just ignore it, even if it was some kids messing around. It wasn’t her business. This is not what she came out here for. To be a narc, or possibly be the next disappeared victim they plastered all over town on the whitest sheets of paper with a hotline number printed in bold letters across the bottom.

But her itch to know what was going on got the better of her. Or was it the worse? She prayed for the latter. That whatever was behind the aged old bark of the tree was not going to cause her any harm. That her curious mind would simply laugh at her instead of scream for potentially getting herself hurt, or worse.

Walking on the tips of her toes, she tried her best to avoid any and all sources of noise that could scare away whatever was seeking cover behind the tree. The flashlight guided her way through the fog, her knees shaking, her palms clammy from the sweat that gathered the closer she got to the tree.

Stopping only inches away from it, just one more step and she would be behind the tree, she would come face to face with god knows what. Another camper? An animal? Mr. Jingles? She didn’t know. Did she really even want to know, she thought as she looked around her, back at the cabins, over to where Xavier’s cabin seemed to be shining in the moonlight as if a sign flashed over it indicating her personal safety.

But she was here. She had walked all this way with a pep in her step and her breath held for far too long that it make her woozy. If she turned back now she may never know it was only nothing and her mind would wonder even after she left this hell camp.

So she takes in a big breath, clenches her eyes, lets out the breath slowly, and whispers to herself, "It’s probably nothing, just make sure," before opening her eyes, and taking a step, and then another. One more and she will be behind the tree; she will finally be able to put her mind at ease. But then something catches on her foot and she loses her balance and falls knees and palms first to the ground.

“Ahh,” she groans as she feels several rocks scrape against her knee, her palms colliding with already broken sticks that poke and break her skin. The sudden warmth in her palm an indication that she’s bleeding without even having to look.

She turns over with a slight whimper, now seated on her bottom, pulling her hands from the ground to pick out the small clumps of dirt and dried leaves that stick to the bleeding cuts on her palms. She can’t see, it’s too dark, but she knows when she runs her finger tips over her knees, trying to remove the dirt and grime, that they are scraped to hell, much as she expected them to be. The sting from brushing over the small marks makes her hiss in pain.

“Shit,” she groans as she reaches out into the darkness, feeling around the cold wet ground. Extremely wet. She doesn’t remember it raining. It hadn’t rained in weeks since they had been at camp. It was too warm to be dew from the grass, too sticky, too thick. She needed to find her flashlight.

Twisting her body around she tries to seek out its light, but all she see’s is darkness. The few lights that are spread around the camp are dull and useless, not reaching her or her surroundings.

She was in complete darkness, cut up, and in pain. If this was not karma’s way of telling her that she should have minded her own business, she doesn’t know what is.

Sighing, bracing herself, she balls her hands up into fists, pressing them into the ground as she tries to stand. Her legs wobbly and the sting from her wounds making her whine as she comes to her feet. She walks towards the tree, her hand reaching out to touch the rough bark of its trunk to help her collect her bearings as leans on it.

But her foot hits something, again. She assumes it was what made her trip. She tries to kick at it, tries to move it so she can get closer to the tree, so she can lean her back against it, catch her breath before she hobbles over to her Xavier’s cabin to most likely be scolded for being so ignorant as to leave her cabin at all, instead of just waiting for him.

She tries to kick at the unknown object again. It moves this time but rolls right back to its place. It didn’t have the rough exterior of a rock. It definitely was not a part of the tree; she wasn’t strong enough to move a root. She looks down, her eyes straining and squinting in hopes to see what is in her way, what made her fall. But all she see’s is black. So she bends down, finding her sneaker before she moves over to the unknown thing at the tip of her Nike’s. Her fingers gripping onto it, trying to push it away, only for her to jump up from realizing what is was.

A shoe.

Not just a lonesome, lost shoe. But one that was attached to something. Someone.

She backs away from the tree slightly. Her breath now coming out in heavy puffs, her heart beating fast once again.

“Hello?” She whispers, stutters out. “Are,” she breathes, swallows, “Are you okay?” She asks. Hopes. Prays. Maybe one of the campers fell out of the tree while messing around. Maybe one of them got drunk and this is where they passed out.

Maybe they needed her help? Maybe she shouldn’t be just standing there scared out of her mind, debating on running to the nearest cabin and getting help. She needed to help them now. That’s what good counselors did, right? Helped their campers, even if they were all scraped up and scared shitless.

So she takes slow steps back over to where she just was, her muscle memory being correct once her foot comes into contact with the shoe again. She leans down, her fingers touching the shoe and slowly moving up the persons body, the rest of her own body following with it, until she reaches bare flesh, what she assumes is their chest or neck.

“Hey? Are you alright?” She speaks again, this time a little louder, this time letting her finger tips push into their skin to shake them a little, maybe make them come to. But nothing. She curses under her breath. She can’t make out who it is just from touching them. She does assume it’s a woman, her fingers having ran across their chest area. But that would only narrow the list down to a couple suspects. She couldn’t see them, couldn’t help them without light. She needed the light.

She knows she has to go get somebody. She realizes her efforts are failing, almost non-existent.

But just as she begins to stand, the wind seems to take pity on her, whipping hard enough that the tree above her sways, its branches spreading, its leaves moving out of the way, for moonlight to shine through, casting a white light down upon her, and upon the lifeless body. A deep gash now shown cut along their throat, their eyes glazed over and staring up at her, completely inert.

She wanted to scream. The burn of it trying to violently spew itself out of her larynx. A scream at the top of her lungs to dignify what she’s just seen. The dead body of one of her fellow counselors lay there, right in front of her, but no sound comes out, aside tears and vomit. Her dinner came up, mixing in with the blood and leaves on the ground.

She cries, and sobs, instantly covering her mouth. She stands, backs away, and looks to the closest cabin before beginning to run to it. Her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face, sobs now booming out. She trips repeatedly over rocks and grass and whatever her feet catch, her nails digging into the ground as she pulls herself up each time. Her knees aching, her palms stinging from her hands being balled into tight fists.

She has to get help. She has to get out of here. She needs to keep running and running and until she reaches the cabin.

“Help!” She sobs, her throat burning. Her voice straining. “Please!”

She opens her eyes to see if she’s any closer to the cabin, to see if anyone has heard her cries for help. Her vision blurry from tears, she doesn’t see anything, anyone, until she’s running into something, rather somebody.

“No!” She cries out. “Let me go! Help!” This is it. She knows she’s going to die. Mr. Jingles had taken another victim and she was going to be his next. She tries to push and slap out of their grip, his grip, but to no avail. But that doesn’t stop her from trying. She wasn’t going to die like this. Like that. Left behind a tree in the middle of the night for the animals or campers to find her in the morning. No.

She doesn’t give up until she hears, “Hey, y/n! Hey, it’s okay, babe, it’s me!”

The familiar voice stops her attempts at escape. Freezing her. Making her sink into their chest. Xavier. He was out here. He must of heard her cries. Must of been heading over to her cabin when he heard her.

“They're,” she sobs, trying to desperately catch her breath, “they're dead!”

“It’s alright. Shhh, calm down.” Xavier soothes, his hand rubbing along her back, his arms pulling her in more so her cheek is pressed to the fabric of his shirt. The material is wet. Soaked with what she assumes is sweat, maybe even water from just having showered. She doesn’t care enough to look until her breathing calms down and she’s not sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

She doesn’t pull her head from him until then and when her eyes gaze meets his, he’s smiling down at her. His hair is perfect as ever, he’s wearing black, something that is more than surprising to her. She didn’t think he owned any black clothes. Vibrant, out there, clothing was Xavier’s thing. He considered himself a fashion expert. Something that was only slightly hard for her to get used to when they first started seeing each other.

So to see him now clothed head to toe in black made her step back from his arms to get a good look at him.

“What are you wearing?” She asks, her eyes trailing over the black material. Some parts of it appearing darker than others as if it had gotten stained or wet.

“Oh,” he laughs softly, taking a look down at his appearance as well. Shrugging, “Thought I’d add a new shade to my wardrobe.” He smiled. “Does it not suit me?”

She doesn’t respond, just continues to take in his appearance. Why would he dress like this to come to her cabin? He was never one to not dress up no matter what time of day or where he was going. And each time he had come to her room before, he was dressed in what she likes to call his ‘intimate clothes’, and these were far from that.

“Were you coming to my cabin?” She asks. He nods.

“Of course.” He smiles and reaches for her arm to pull her back to him. Her now noticing he was wearing gloves, leather and black. “I always do, don’t I?” She nods and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I expected you to be sleeping by the time I got there. Didn’t expect to see you out here.” He laughs as if she missed some untold inside joke.

Her chest aches, pulls, as she remembers just why she was out here. Why she was running. Why her knees and palms ached. Her eyes filled with tears again. “We have to get help, Xavier. Someone.. H-He killed,-" she stutters, gulps, and shakes.

“Hey, hey,” his hand comes up and cups her cheek. The leather cold against the burning of her skin. “Just breathe okay? It’s alright.”

“No,” she cries. “It’s not okay; someone’s dead!” She seems to say louder than Xavier expects, then she herself expects, and he’s grabbing onto the back of her elbow and pulling her towards his cabin.

She can’t see his expression, can hardly stand on her own as she cries, her vision taken from her once again. She doesn’t realize they are at his cabin until she hears him telling her to step, feeling him pull her close to his side as he helps her and ushers her into his quarters. Letting go of her arm to flick on the dim yellow light that illuminates the small space that houses a bed, a dresser, Xavier’s many bags, and a door that connects to a half bath.

She wipes her eyes. Finds her way to his bed and sits down, the springs creaking under her weight. Her eyes sting and burn and she doesn’t know if it’s because of how much she’s been crying or if the dirt that she was sure was still on her hands had gotten into them. But when she pulls them back and her vision finally clears of tears, she lets out a scream, jumping from the bed, her hands held out in front of her, covered in blood. Blood mixed with dirt caked on her hand, her nail beds as crimson as the blood that leaked from the lifeless body she had stumbled over.

“I—It’s all over me!” She cries as she looks down to her sweatshirt, her shorts, her knees, her shoes. Her fellow counselors blood was all over her. Marking her body as if she was the one had fallen victim, or caused the other to fall. She quickly peels her sweatshirt off of her, her hands shaking, her body moving faster than her brain as she strips it off of her chest, leaving her only clothed in her bra. Using the shedded fabric to try and wipe away the foreign blood from her hands.

Her actions were abruptly stopped by Xavier who’s hand came and gripped her wrist in a tight hold, making her wince. “Did you touch her?” His tone is harsh. Low. Dark. Angry. It makes her shiver. Blood run cold. She had seen him upset. Angry, usually at something more dramatic, more childish. That she had seen. This she had not. She had never heard his tone go that bleak. And when she looked up at him she never saw him look almost so frightening. His pupils dull and dilated. His brows knitted, narrow, looking down at her hands in anger, with a hint of disgust it seemed.

She goes to open her mouth, say something, ask him what’s wrong, ask him why he’s so angry with her, tell him the whole story. But then something connects. Something that makes her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Something that makes her pull her hands back from his grip, the skin stinging in his wake.

How did he know it was a her?

She never told him anything other than someone was dead. Someone. Not her. Not him. Just someone. He could of assumed it. But why would he? It could of been a coincidence. She could of heard him wrong.

No. She didn’t. She heard him. She see’s him. His still very angry. A look she has never once seen come across his features before. Xavier was an asshole to most. He was privileged and some would label him as a flirt, someone who always had a smirk across his face and a quirk of an eyebrow when he was feeling extra assholey. And even when he was being serious, his face was neutral, and that underlining smirk was always there. But now it wasn’t. This wasn’t Xavier. Not the one she knew. This was someone else. Someone she didn’t know.

He wasn’t dressed like himself. He wasn’t acting like himself. She stared down at his clothes again. Stared at the dark patches on his black shirt. She had felt wetness there. It had pressed against her cheek. It wasn’t cold like it should of been if he had just showered. His hair wasn’t even wet. It had been warm. Just like the warmth she felt when she tripped and fell and her hands got coated in.....

Blood.

She quickly pushes past him, moves across the room and over to the body mirror that Xavier himself brought from home. It sat leaned against an old metal chair. She leaned down to get a better look of herself, of her face. The dark red smeared across her cheek, staring back at her like death. A literal symbol of death. That she had touched it. Let it wrap it’s arms around her.

She closed her eyes. Thinking. Had she touched her cheek with her hands after falling? Maybe her face had hit the ground as well? Think. Think. Think! This could not be it. This could not be the truth. Her mind was just trying to connect dots that weren’t there. That made no sense.

But when she opened her eyes. Xavier’s back was to her. The wooden handle of something poking out of the top of his pants. No mistaking that it was a weapon of sorts. She slowly stood from her leaning position. Her eyes never leaving his back side. Something he soon noticed when he turned to look at her. A smile coming across his face that frightened her more than when grabbed the handle of the mystery weapon, pulling it from the back of his pants to reveal a knife covered in blood. Blood that was no mistaking where it came from. Blood from one of their fellow counselors, someone they were supposed to consider a friend. Someone who shouldn’t be dead right now behind some tree.

Someone who Xavier had killed.

She couldn’t speak. Her words, her throat, once again betraying her. Her mind aching. Her heart swollen from hurt and pain. Her tear filled eyes shifting between Xavier and the door. She didn’t know if he would hurt her too. He wouldn’t, would he? No. He loved her. He had told her ten times over. For as long as they had been together she couldn’t imagine he would cause her harm.

But she also never imagined him being a killer. She had been with a stranger this whole time. Sleeping beside one. Letting one climb into her bed and inside of her. She didn’t know the man that stood in front of her right now. The sick smile he had on his face. Even as he slipped one of the gloves off, then the other, putting his hands up in front of him, the knife still in his right, both of his hands caked in blood. The same blood that was layers deep on hers.

He had done it. He had done them all for all she knew. All the murders. All the accidents. All the disappearances were because of him. Xavier. The person she loved.

“I’m not going to hurt you, y/n.” He smiled as he began to walk towards her. One step. Two step. Third step.

She needed to run. Get out of here. Actually get help this time. Or run through the camp entrance, not stopping until her throat was raw from screaming and legs ached from how far she had gone.

But the only move she made was to move closer to the wall. Her back pressed hard against it. Her palms splayed out against the cool wood as she watched her lover make his way towards her. A devilish smile on his face. Reassurance in his eyes.

Maybe that’s why she couldn’t move. The trust she held for him still pinning through. Making her heart ache, her feet stay planted, and her stomach hollow. Even as he reached her, his hands coming to either side of her face, his thumbs wiping the tears that fell from her eyes, smearing more blood on her face. The gleam of the knife in her peripheral vision.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not. Y/n, baby.” He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. Frowning at the lack of her returning it. The two just staring at one another for a few minutes. His eyes searching hers for something other than hurt and fear.

He never meant for her to find out like this. He never meant for her to find out at all. No one was supposed to find out. They were all supposed to believe that it was that crazed psychopath that escaped from the looney bin. No one was ever going to find out that he was behind it all. That he slashed the throats of half the staff, scattering their bodies throughout the woods. Everyone had been too dumb enough to even look in his direction, to even look in the direction of finding the victims. They were all ignorant. Blinded behind the fact that Mr. Jingles was the culprit.

But not her. Of course, not her.

His girl. So smart. He should of known better than to put her in the category of the others. She had a mind like his. Smart. Problem solving. Always seeing more than others did. It was one of the reasons why he was so drawn to her. Well, that and the fact that her ass looked so good in her tights. Always catching himself staring at her while he taught class.

He knew the moment, like most times Xavier seeked out women, if they didn’t come begging to him first, that she was something special. Something like him. Now he just had to show her that. Convince her of it. Because the way she was looking at him right now, fear and tears glossing over her eyes, she didn’t see it.

“Why?” She cries softly. “Why, would you hurt them? All of them? I—I thought it-"

“That it was Mr. Jingles?” He laughs softly. “They all did. Everyone. Even you.” He smiles. “That’s why I knew I would be able to get away with it. With some crazy man running loose they wouldn’t suspect me, or anyone on this fucking camp for that matter. But especially not me.”

“Because,” she swallows. “Who would suspect you?” He smiles when he can see everything connecting in her head. The reasoning for him even coming to the camp. The way he interacted with all of the campers. The rest of the staff. His money. His presence. His attitude. Just him. No one would suspect him in a million years.

They would probably suspect her before they did him. Maybe even Brooke.

Brooke.

He had gotten closer to the girl since the summer had started. Acting as if, he almost, liked her. Being his less asshole self to her rather than anyone else. Something she noticed right away. Something that she had brought up to Xavier, in a playful, 'I’m-not-jealous' manner. She would of never admitted that she was worried he might like her, or try to fuck her. But he had laughed it off and told her she was being ridiculous and that he felt bad for her. For what happened to her. He had slipped his hand between her legs and promised her no other girl could catch his eyes like she could. And with his fingers being too much of a distraction between her legs, she let it go and believed him.

But now she knows why.

“Brooke.” She mumbles softly. “You’re going to blame it on her?”

He laughs, presses another kiss to her closed lips. “Yes. I knew,” he continues to laugh. “I knew you would get it. My smart girl.” He smiles, running his fingers down her cheek, to her jawline, to her lips.

“But, why?” She breathes. Her body reacting more to his fingers than the knife that’s dangerously close to her face now.

“Because, she’s the perfect victim. The perfect suspect. Well, besides Mr. Jingles.” He smirks. “I should really thank him, he made this a lot easier than I thought it would be. You would think killing someone, anyone, but especially people you almost considered friends, to be hard to kill.” He shakes his head, leans in closer to her, she almost expects him to press another kiss to her lips. But he doesn’t, his voice is lower now, his mouth inches from hers, his eyes flashing between her lips to her eyes. “But it’s not. It’s almost like the best release you’ll ever feel in your life. Besides other very, satisfying things.” He smirks and she squirms. “You put the blade to their throat,” he moves the knife dangerously close to her cheek, then to her throat, the cool metal pressed against her jugular. Her breath hitching, stopping, her body stiffer than before. “And you can always see the fear in their eyes, the look of ‘please don’t do this’, the look of their life flashing before their eyes. It’s almost poetic. Breathtaking to watch the realization, the acceptance that they are going to die at the hands of me. That there’s no fighting it, that I will be the last thing they see.” He laughs softly. “It’s beautiful.” His eyes stare up into hers. “It’s not the same look you have on your face right now.”

The look she had right now was far from the look someone who was about to die had. Someone who was filled with fear for their life. Afraid of him. No. She was scared. He could see it in her eyes. But it wasn’t fear. Fear made people do crazy things. Made people react differently. He was sure that with the fear that all of them had when they stared at him that he could make them do whatever he wanted. He could of asked them to drop to their knees and suck him off and they would out of fear. He never knew how much he would love fear. The idea of it. The concept. Seeing it.

He pressed the blade of the knife closer to her skin. The cool of the blade burning into her skin that felt as if it were on fire. With what she wasn’t sure. It was freezing in this room. Her cuts and scrapes ached. Her inside churned and pained. She felt like she'd almost be sick again. But she also felt realization of everything that happened. As if she uncovered some big mystery and now that gnawing and fear that prickled the back of her neck each time she went outside, or heard a noise, or another person went missing. She felt an almost calming wash over her. She knew now. All of it. Xavier had done it all. The feeling of relief that she wouldn’t fall victim at the hands of the killer made her feel almost sick. She shouldn’t feel like this. She should go running out screaming and turning him in. He killed people she knew. Liked. Cared for.

But he didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t. He would of done it by now. She knows. And as he she looks up into his eyes, the smile that pulls into a smirk on his face. She knows he knows that they both know the other isn’t going to do anything. And she can’t help the tears that continue to spill because what is wrong with her? Was it truly possible to love someone so much that you don’t turn them in for killing? For doing an ungodly act? Could you love someone so much that you’re not scared even as they press a blade to your throat, hands coated in someone else’s blood, a crazed look in their eyes.

It had to be possible. Because it’s the only thing she felt as she stared up at him. Love.

“Are you scared?” He asks.

She hesitates to, but she does, shake her head. “No.”

He smiles. Kisses her and this time she kisses back. It’s long, passionate, a hint of potentially leading to something else. But, they don’t have time for that right now. No. He has to take care of a few things.

He pulls away, moves the knife from her neck, holds either side of her head in his palms, “Now, tell me, what were you doing out tonight?” He needs to know. He didn’t plan for this. He was never someone to not have a plan or back up plan. Especially with this. And now he needed to include her in it. Something that brought a slight tinge or joy to him, that settled at the base of his cock.

“I was looking for you.” He smiles as she explains, finding the sentiment sweet. “You didn’t show up to my cabin and I feared that something had happened to you. You always show up. So I knew something had to be up. So..,” she swallows. “I went looking for you and then I heard something.”

He nods. “I heard someone. Something. I don’t usually leave such a mess, but you took me by surprise.” He grins.

She continues, “I went to see what the noise was, tripped over her shoes and fell to the ground, into her,” she raises her hands indicating the blood on them. “Then I figured I should help whoever it was, thought maybe they had fallen or something and that’s when I saw they were dead and then ran-”

“Into my arms.” He kisses her lips. “Right where you belong.” He rubs the pad of his thumb against her temple, “Tell me, love, did you leave anything behind? Any sign that you were there?”

She thinks. Hard. The thought that she could have fingers pointing at her if something of hers was to be found beside a dead body makes her stomach churn. She shakes her head quickly but then remembers the sting from her palms and knees, she was sure her blood had probably gotten on something. And, then, she remembered her initial reaction to seeing the lifeless body before her, she had gotten sick.

“Oh my god,” she cries out.

“What? Baby.” Xavier wipes her fallen tears and tries to coo her back to a calming manner so she can actually answer him.

“I—I fell, cut myself, my blood has to be all over!”

Xavier doesn’t seem to be as worried about it as she does. He just takes her hands in his, runs his finger over the small cuts on her palms and presses a kiss to them. “It’s alright.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not!” She feels fear now. “I also got sick. I—threw up.”

He frowns and takes a moment. Closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, let’s it out, opens his eyes and smiles at her. “We can work around that.”

“How?” She wipes the sleeve of her shirt across her eyes, getting rid of any stray tears as she tries to calm herself back down. Her brows knitted in confusion. He was so calm. More calm than he was minutes ago when he found out she had touched the dead body he had just slaughtered.

“I figured you’d touched her, the thought alone pissed me off. Not at you. But at myself for leaving the bitch there.” He moves a stray hair from her face, smiles. “I planned for only me getting involved in this, not you. You were just going to be along my side when the police came and arrested Brooke. Took her away from the murders and me and you being the lone survivors, the final two. Getting all of the limelight.”

And now she knew why he was doing this. Why he did this. Xavier loved attention. Loved being worshiped in other ways she couldn’t always provide for. So him being a survivor of something so tragic and gruesome would be just the type of attention and light he would love to have shine on him. He probably figured it would bring in more money for his classes. For his love for the higher end things.

Now, she was also a part of the plan and would have the same attention pointed at her. Though, it seemed he always planned for her to be in the light beside him. A thought that almost makes her smile. As sick and wrong as it was.

“You are going to go back out there. You’re going to scream, I know how loud you can get,” he smirks leans his forehead against hers. “Scream loud enough to wake someone up, everyone up, and when they come and find you they are going to see you’ve tripped, fallen, hurt yourself, gotten sick, discovered the body. When, or if, they ask you why you are there you simply tell them you were walking to the bathrooms and heard a noise.” His gaze never leaves hers as he speaks. Their fingers laced, “Do you understand?”

She nods. Taking in every word. Holding onto it. Clinging to it. She could do this. She could do this for not only herself but for him. For Xavier. He needed her. Needed her to not blow this. To do this for him. In a fucked up way as to protect him and it made her heart swell. He depended on her and she him. It was sickly sweet.

He smiles and presses a kiss to her lips. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I..I know.” She reassures him. Smiles. The shaking, the aches, the fear suddenly something she doesn’t recall having her body feel. A fleeting pass of emotions that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was this. Xavier mattered.

“Good girl.” He smirks. Kissing her again, more passionately. “You’re such a good girl, y/n.”

—

And so she follows his instructions. Does exactly as she’s told, falls to the ground, screams until her lungs ache and nothing comes out, waking everyone in the camp, a group of counselors and campers running in her direction, stopping in their tracks, screaming horrifically, getting sick, and crying as their eyes spot the lifeless body.

Brooke, as Xavier said she would stood in the back, eyes wide, tear filled but away from any eyes to see her. See her enough to say she was there and that she couldn’t be the killer.

She almost finds herself smiling at how much thought he had put into this. He was more than just what he showed people, a breathtaking boy with beautiful eyes and amazing hair and slight asshole tendencies. He was so much more than that. And she was the only one who would know it. Get to see it.

But she could smile later. Enjoy the sick feeling of the love her and Xavier shared between the two. Right now she had a role to play. And play it she did. Sobbing uncontrollably as two counselors helped her to her feet, helped carry her to the infirmary. Xavier coming running from his cabin, pushing past people as he runs to her side, his dark clothes a thing of the past, the brighter shades of purple and white glaring from the moonlight, making a show to look fearful, to look her over to ask what happened, what’s going on and to fake fear and distress when he’s told.

Later the two would smile and laugh at the perfect show they put on. Xavier would tell her how good she was. How proud he was as he kissed down her chest, her abdomen, to the top of her shorts. Pulling them down and positioning himself between her legs to show her just how proud of her he was, how good she was.

The two sealing their blood bond with a passionate night of rough kisses and praising touches.

[langdons-little-witch-bitch]

Skinny dipping

(edit made by me)

Summary: Y/N and Xavier unwind together after a hard day of work (well for Y/N at least) at Camp Redwood.

A/N: This was requested by a lovely anon who wanted a Xavier x male!reader fic. Sorry it took me so long! But hey what better day to post than today 😉

This is my first time writing male x male, I hope it’s ok and you’ll enjoy it 😊

(English is not my first language)

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x male!reader

Warnings: NSFW, smutty (no actual sex tho), male x male, drug use, skinny dipping, handjobs, public smut

Word count: 1133

—————————————————————–

Y/N was on his way to the lake as the sun began to set. A towel thrown over his shoulder, wearing his skimpy, tight trunks that left little for the imagination.

It has been an exhausting day. He had to take care of the youngest campers today and let’s just say they’ve been quiet a handful. He was completely worn out and just wanted to swim a few rounds to clear his head and relax before heading for bed.

Just when he took a turn around the corner of one of the cabins, he ran into a broad chest, covered in a teal shirt. Xavier.

“Hey man, I’ve been looking for you. Where are you headed?”, he asked in a joyful tone. 

“Oh just going for a swim and then to bed. Been kind of a rough day.”

“Mind if I join you? I’ve got something here", he patted the pocket of his jacket, “that can help you relax.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know.” Y/N was hesitant. Since day one Xavier has brought them into trouble, but still he couldn’t seem to stay away from the blonde. Xavier was just too intriguing. Always carrying a mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes, a smug grin adorning his mouth and a joke on his lips.

“Come on,” Xavier whined, “let’s have some fun. We didn’t get to hang out much lately. I miss my buddy.” The way he emphasized the word buddy made Y/N’s stomach tingle. 

He and Xavier were more than pals, sort of. He was always very flirty and touchy with Y/N. First he thought that was just his nature. He was always flirting, sending winks and dazzling smiles at almost everyone’s directions. But it was different with Y/N. The blonde always seemed to seek his proximity and they spend a lot of time together after their duties as counselors. Y/N was not naïve enough to believe that Xavier wanted something serious though. It was probably just a summer fling to him, but nevertheless Y/N enjoyed the attention and affection he received. 

Xavier had led him to the shore of the lake, a bit offside.

“Ok what do you have in store for me now?”, Y/N asked.

Xavier just flashed him that infamous smirk that signaled he was up to no good. He took a little glance around to check that no one would see them, before he pulled a joint out of his inside pocket.

“Are you crazy? We’re gonna get kicked out if they catch us”, Y/N panicked.

“Then we just have to make sure that we don’t get caught”, Xavier shrugged his shoulders nonchalant. “I thought you wanted to relax, this will definitely help you.”

“You know what else would help? A good night of sleep.”

Despite his concerns he let himself got roped by Xavier. Charming fucker. Always getting his way, Y/N thought, rolling his eyes.

The two young men sat down in the grass on Y/N’ s towel and Xavier pulled out a lighter to lit the joint. He took a long drag from it, letting the smoke linger inside his mouth a bit before exhaling with a long sigh. He passed it to Y/N while asking about his day.

“It was terrible”, he groaned, “I had the kids today.”

Xavier let out a gloating laugh, earning him a playful smack to the chest.

“Sorry, I’m just glad it wasn’t my turn. These little hellions can be so annoying.”

They laughed while passing the joint. Y/N laid down on his back, feeling the impact of the weed, making him a bit dizzy. Xavier soon followed him, laying close to the boys body. He could feel the warmth radiate of the taller body next to him, his skin immediately starting to heat up too.

For a while they just lay there together, watching the dark glowing orange and reddish colors switch into a pitch black, while they kept taking drags from the joint alternately. Their conversation turning into silly nonsense thanks to the weed clouding their minds.

“Hey didn’t you wanted to take a swim? We should definitely take a swim”, Xavier suddenly announced excited. The light of the nearby lanterns illuminating his beautiful features in soft, golden light, making his face glow.

He stood up and shrugged his lavender jacket off before starting to take his shirt off.

“Come on. Get your lazy ass up”, he demanded.

Y/N couldn’t bring himself to get up yet, sleepy from the day and the weed.

“Hmmm I rather lay here and enjoy the show”, he winked at him.

Xavier smirked arrogantly, well aware of his good looks and its affect on others. He proceeded peeling the fabric off his firm chest, slowly, teasingly. Y/N’s eyes followed his every move, watching the muscles in Xavier’s bicep flex as he pulled the shirt over his head and threw it on the ground. The blonde fumbled with the button of his slacks before letting them glide down his sturdy legs.

Y/N started to feel even hotter, his mind hazy. His mouth started to go dry and he licked his lips as he let his eyes wander over the muscular thighs of the handsome boy in front of him. Damn those jazzercise classes really have paid of, he thought.

He could fell himself begin to harden as he raked his eyes over Xavier’s half naked form, especially when his gaze landed on the prominent bulge in his tiny briefs. As the blonde started to take these off too, Y/N couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

“Fuck man”, he breathed out as he ogled at the magnificent sight presented to him.

“Like what you see?”, Xavier teased with that cocky grin that never seemed to leave his lips.

Befuddled by lust Y/N just nodded before standing up.

“Come let’s go in the water”, Xavier walked up to Y/N, his hands dipping into the waistband of his swim wear, “but without these. Its only fair.” He puckered his lips in a fake pout, before pulling the fabric down Y/N’s legs, leaving them both bare.

Xavier took him by the hand, leading him to the lake before starting to sprint, letting go to dive into the seemingly black water. He turned on his back to swim backwards, looking at Y/N.

“Come in, the water is really refreshing.”

Y/N quickly jumped in, catching up to Xavier, who he could barely made out in the dark. Now that the lanterns were a fair way off, the only source of light was the bright full moon shining above them.

They swam for a while, fooling around, laughing, splashing each other with water, until Xavier led Y/N closer to the shore where they could stand in the water.

Water droplets dripped down their chests, looking like little crystals in the moonlight. Without saying anything Xavier stepped closer to Y/N, his large hands gripping the boys face before locking their lips. Y/N immediately responded to the kiss. Xavier’s soft, plump lips caressed his softly, before deepening the kiss. He coaxed the boy’s lips open with his, letting his warm tongue slide in. Their tongues exploring each others mouth, feeling, tasting. Meanwhile Xavier let his hands wander. From Y/N’s neck, down his back to his butt where he gripped the cheeks firmly, pulling him in, their crotches meeting. Y/N gasped into the kiss as he met the now rock hard length of Xavier, grinding himself slightly against him.

They broke the kiss to suck in some fresh air. Eyes dilated in lust. Y/N started to glide his hands down Xavier’s chest slowly, while he held on his waist tightly. He circled the blondes nibbles with his thumbs which elicited a faint moan from him. He continued downwards, tracing the gentle outlines on his stomach, before finally settling at his shaft. He gripped the base firmly and started pumping him at a steady pace. Xavier moaned loudly as Y/N circled the tip of his length with his thumb. He kept circling the head, before gently running his digit over the slit. Even underwater he could feel him leaking pre cum.

“Fuck”, Xavier panted, “feels so good man. Keep going.”

Y/N gladly obeyed, going back to stroking him at a faster pace now. In the meantime Xavier started to grip at Y/N’s length, wanting to make him feel good too. They both stroked each other rapidly, desperate for release. Their free hands touching and groping each others flesh while their moans and groans filled the nightly air. Xavier pulled Y/N by his length gently, but firmly, to get him even closer, bringing him into a sloppy, hungry kiss.

“God, Xavier I’m so close”, Y/N moaned, bucking his hips upwards.

“Me too. Fuck”, he hissed as Y/N squeezed him while going even faster now.

Soon they both came loudly and unbridled, not caring if someone might hear. The surrounding water washed the sticky strings of cum off their hands.

“Maybe we shouldn’t let the campers swim here anymore”, Y/N slightly cringed, making Xavier laugh.

“And you wanna explain them why?”, he aske amused.

“Oh god no.”

“Now wasn’t that better than what you originally planned?”, Xavier asked, changing the topic.

“Much better.”

They both stepped out of the water, drying themselves off with Y/N’s towel and getting closed again. Whereas Y/N didn’t had much to put on anyway and Xavier didn’t bothered to put his shirt and jacket back on.

They walked back to their cabins together.

“We definitely have to repeat that soon”, Xavier winked at Y/N before wishing him a good night and heading into the opposite direction to his sleeping place.

[rose-wine-selfships]

🌙!

Thank you @nitorious-ghost! Tbh I’ve been wanting to make these long spoiler Bungou Stray Dogs headcanons of AtsuTina for a while. Well, here we go!

Christina Avila is actually a reincarnated human form of one of the original authors of,”The Book”. She was a moon goddess and the youngest of the many creators who made The Book LITERALLY come to life.

Atsushi Nakajima was a creation breathed into life by another author of The Book, but he turned out a disappointment to them. The moon goddess fell instantly in love with him. Before one of them could destroy Atsushi for good, she threw herself in front of him and refused to move. The creators, confused and enraged by this decision, wondered why such a beautiful goddess would protect such “a weakling”.

Boldly, she stated,”Regardless of form, imperfections are a beauty upon itself! I’d rather see him live and create his own potential then to see him destroyed into oblivion! I’d expect more from my people than to just throw their creations away!” Many authors were silently perplexed, but the leader permitted her to keep him under the condition that he will be her protector for eternity and granted him immortality in return.

Atsushi was stunned, confused as to why the moon goddess intended to keep him. But he grew quickly into enjoying his newfound life at the Moon Gardens, the goddess’ humble abode. He trained hard everyday and for his mistress so he could protect his saviors life. Little did Atsushi know he slowly fell for the moon goddess and became more than just,”her knight”, and soon reciprocated her affections. Their relationship stretched into thousands of years and was deeper than the greatest love written in books.

However, their newfound happiness was soon to be breached when the creators eventually knew of their forbidden love. Tragedy struck when Atsushi protected his mistress’s life from a terrible accident and died in her arms. Overcome by grief, she soon died too of a broken heart. For to live without her tiger knight, she took her own life from her hands by ripping her golden heart out and threw it down to the Earthen realm.

After many years, she eventually was reincarnated into human form as Christina Avila, the counselor at the ADA. Christina will always have brown tips of her hair magically turn silver under every full moon to remind her of her moon goddess past. She will also be seemingly melancholic and nostalgic during this time (even though she doesn’t know why). Atsushi too, was reincarnated as another human that will soon be with her. Hence why he transforms into a tiger under the moonlight, since his mistress (Christina Avila) originally granted him all these abilities.

No matter how many lives and alternate universes they share, they always come back to love each other as strongly as the first time. 🌹🍷✨

Bonus: Christina’s original moon goddess form (quick sketch version)

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 7

Warnings: None, swf. 

Hope you enjoy!

I stared at the little green haired boy as he looked at me with pleading eyes. What exactly does he want me to tell me about how I know all the All Might and All For One-One For All debacle?

"Well, I can't really explain how All Might was as a mentor. All I can say is that he was like a father figure for me while I worked with him. A lot of my older interviews actually asked me how it was working under him and I explained it better then." I moved my hair behind my ear as I averted my eyes from his. "But I was wondering if you had extra information about his quirk that others might not know." He clenched his fists harder.

"I only know as much as you do, Midoriya. Well, actually no. Did All Might mention that I can't use his quirk?" I looked at the student, noticing he looked clueless about the whole thing. I sighed, "I guess not. Well, now you know. So if you need me to train you or give you tips on how to use One For All that Toshinori isn't telling you, I can't be the person for it."

"Why can't your quirk work on him?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't know. I assume it's because how it can only be transferred through DNA and consent. I would be taking it solely through touching and without Toshinori wanting me too." Should I tell him about the time I met Toshinori? Nah, I'll let Toshinori tell that story. "But it doesn't really matter since my quirk works like his anyway." I shrugged.

"Could you maybe help me find a way to not injure myself when I use One For All? Especially with the Sports Festival coming up." His face was written in worry.

"Doesn't Toshinori tell you how much of your quirk you should be using?" He nodded yes, "Do you listen to him?" He nodded no. "Well, maybe start with that. And maybe if that doesn't work while you prepare for the festival, come find me and I'll train with you." I gave him a warm smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "Toshinori chose you for a reason, I have to trust that. Plus, Aizawa and I have talked about how much potential you hold. So, I don't mind helping you."

The boy's face brightened with glee and he hugged me, "Thank you so much, Ms. Montoya."

I chuckled, "I'm happy to help. Please don't push yourself too hard. Just because you're the new holder on One For All doesn't mean you have to stress yourself out too much. Now get back to class before Ms. Midnight gets worried." The boy quickly nodded and bowed and rushed back to class. I'm glad I didn't have to go into my whole backstory with All Might to him, that could wait until it becomes important.

I made my way back to the lounge to finish my work as Aizawa limped out. I gave him a quick wave and told him to be careful as he grunted and nodded back. Love how he can be a teddy bear when we're alone in the hospital or when we're at his apartment but when at work he's back to being a rude butthead. As I got into my desk I noticed Snipe was already gone, and Iris was waiting patiently for me with her lunch.

Her and I exchanged smiles, "Oh so now it's time to get you to myself?"

"What? I've been busy teaching young heroes, you know?" She held her hands up in defense, "To be fair, though, these kids aren't taking World Hero History that serious." She pouted. " I finally got to catch up with Aizawa for a little bit before he left. Should I be worried that he's working instead of resting?"

I groaned, "Don't get me started. I was telling Hound Dog that we argued nonstop about it. Clearly, I lost the argument." I sat down next to her and grabbed a gyoza from her plate, "He's so stubborn. Remember when he wasn't? Like if I showed some concern, he used to actually consider it."

"He's not a lovesick sixteen-year-old anymore, that's why." She looked at me, amused, "But I can tell that he still takes your input into consideration about other things."

"Like what? The students? He kind of has to." I gave a whole hearted laugh. "And I know that he's not like how he was at sixteen. We all kind of changed since then. He just grew worse since then."

She picked at her lunch, "I don't think so. You guys just have to be patient with each other. Especially right now since he's probably all grumpy about his injuries." She gave me a small smile, "You guys are both stubborn and independent. It's hard to adjust to having people look after you."

I huffed, "Here I am, the counselor being counseled."

She let out a chuckle, "Well, even therapists have their own therapists."

"I just wished it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable to be working with him. But I guess it's what we get for having unresolved issues."

"Over time, I'm sure you both will be okay. Like I said, be patient."

"Patience. Not either of our virtues." I finished typing and emailed it to the copying department. "Done. Now, on to a quick lunch and then stop by the class to talk about the Sports Festival." I proudly smiled.

"I really like your class. Lily's aren't as interesting. Except for Monoma." Iris took a sip of her water and handed me my bag with my lunch in it.

"Oh yeah, she and Vlad told me about him. Both had very different ways to word out their opinions though." I laughed, "Lily was telling me if he was going to become a villain that his origin story would be not being able to beat Class 1-A at being better students and future heroes."

"And Vlad?"

"He said that Monoma was a very determined student, but that he needed to find a different way to motivate himself." I smirked.

Iris scrunched her nose up before laughing, "Of course that's what he said."

I stuffed my chicken caesar salad in my face, "So far, all the other teachers pretty much said that he's likeable when he doesn't open his mouth. I kind of feel bad that he got stuck with Lily and vice versa."

"Same here. Have you gotten any update on your license?" Iris asked.

"No, not really. So far, information from the case hasn't broken out either. The U.S really only focused on the allegations and how my side of the case lost. Aside from that, the court, the agency, even Gemini, have all kept their mouths shut about the case." I let out a small sigh, "I'm actually pretty relieved about that."

"I don't get why it matters, you already have your license suspended."

"I just don't want the American people to turn on me because of the evidence used against my testimony. If that happens, then there's no chance I'll get my suspension lifted." I looked down. I wasn't ashamed of the events, I just didn't want it all to be twisted in front of citizens, in front of my students. It was already hard enough to be shamed in court. I didn't need a whole country to do it.

I felt a hand on my knee. Iris looked at me with her ocean eyes, "I don't think the news would try and twist it around and make that man look like a victim. The American press loves you. And so do the American people. You and your coworkers were speaking out. They would see that if anything came out."

I gave her a solemn look, "I forget you read minds."

"It's because my quirk is record-keeping for the most part. It makes people forget how I can get my information." She gave my knee a little squeeze. "Does anyone else know about the details of the case?"

"The staff just know the general information. But I kept it mostly vague, anyone who knows details about it is just Lily mainly. Nezu and All Might know of course. Aizawa also knows, but that's because I told him one of the times my agency had to work with his years ago." I brushed through the information.

"Why did you tell him if you guys weren't talking during that time?" She scrunched her eyebrows.

"It's complicated. Things happened during the mission that I had to explain what happened. It was the mission after Captain Celebrity got his license back and Marga, Aaron, and Gemini had to assist him with a case he was on." I said taking another bite.

"The same mission where you had to deal with not only the mafia in Japan but their allies back in the U.S.?" I nodded a yes in response. "Ohhhhh, yeah, I remember you telling me how that mission was. Now it makes sense why it might've came up between you two."

"Why are you letting someone lower than you talk down to you?" His hair grew longer and flew in the wind as we were standing by the ocean. He was still wearing his hero suit but without his capture weapon. Personally, to me, the moonlight cascaded on his features beautifully, as if the moon wanted him to look like an angel. It was pissing me off.

"Why do you care?" I snapped, "You haven't spoken to me in seven years. I've tried texting, email, even calling when I knew it was a reasonable time in Japan. But you never answered. Never replied. After a while, a girl gets a hint that her friend doesn't care about her anymore." I folded my arm hugging the white cardigan I changed into closer to my body as the breeze blew colder air.

"I did... I do care. It was just a hard time for me to talk to you during the first year you were gone." He averted his grey eyes away from my brown ones. There was a tint of blush on his cheeks. And his eyes were filled with regret. "I wasn't really in the right state of mind, I didn't want that to be a burden."

I glared at him, "Burden? When have you ever been a burden for me? Did you think I was perfectly okay during that year? Why else would I have tried to stay in contact with you?" I stood taller, feeling tears brim my eyes, "I needed a little piece of home while I was away, whether it be you venting to me about your problems or talking about cats. When I needed you, you weren't there, and now you're judging me for the way I act with my colleagues when you don't even know why."

There was a pause. He looked back at me and searched my face. His eyes were red, but it wasn't from his dry eye. Tears were threatening to fall from both of our eyes. We just stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity until Aizawa's venomous tone pierced through it. "What did that bastard do to you?"

I blinked a little coming back into my thoughts, "Yeah, so he knows. But when I told him I told him to not bother trying to patch things up between us because he felt bad. If we were meant to be friends again, I wanted it to be organic, not out of pity and regret. Which is why we barely talked afterwards and was a little awkward between us." I grinned, "But we're getting there as you said."

Iris just hummed and nodded in response. "That would explain why he thinks more highly of you." She commented as she gathered up her mess and threw it away in the trash. I just looked at her confused mainly. I'm not surprised if Aizawa thought highly of me, just surprised that he would so freely voice it out. Maybe it was because it was Iris. We were all very open to her since high school. She smiled back at me, "I have to get going, I have to teach Class 1-B now that they're done with Mic's class. I'm happy to see you and Aizawa managed to start patching things up, it looks like you both needed it."

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[dongiovannaswife]

Sempiternal; Vampire!Giorno Giovanna x Fem!Reader (Teal and Burgundy sequel)

Side note; Alright babes, last part of Teal and Burgundy. What. A. Ride. I hope you all appreciate this series as much as I enjoyed writing them! ♥ I cried writing this, btw :D Warnings; PTSD.

Feedback is always appreciated. When Mista steps inside the restaurant, one of the ones Passione has control over, with Polnareff on his hand, it doesn’t take him a lot to localize Jotaro Kujo, who sits with his back at the door. “He’s here.” He says, whispering. Even if the people there already knows who he is, he still chooses to be as unnoticed as possible. After all, he’s surrounded by civilians and Giorno —through Fugo, — wouldn’t allow a massacre against the people, even with his condition; he’s been keeping a close eye through informants and Purple Haze’s user. “Alright,” answers Polnareff, “put me on the table. Could you give us privacy?” Mista nods, not really worried nor offended by his request. “Roger that.” Doing as he was told, Mista quickly greets Jotaro and excuses himself signaling the counter and once settled down, he asks for the typical morning coffee, keeping a close eye to Polnareff, but trying not to be invasive. With Mista at the counter, Polnareff speaks. “I’ve been observing him since that happened, and let me tell you something, he’s trying so hard to be like Jonathan, he’s trying so hard to follow what Mr. Joestar said. If anything, he may look like Dio, but he’s fighting against himself to be human.” Jotaro sips his coffee. His eyes are fixed on the table, as if the patterns of the wood are the most interesting thing in the world. For a second, it seems like he’s spacing out, but for the way his brow furrows, Polnareff knows he’s thinking about their friends and slowly looking up, Polnareff doesn’t fail to notice the similarities between Giorno and Jotaro. They aren’t completely like each other in any way, but their eyes are different shades of the same color, perhaps the same; but the difference between those two, there’s a huge gap that the Consigliere knows, will never be closed. “He will never be Jonathan Joestar. Do you expect me to call him Joestar? With what he did?” “He’s not trying to be him. He’s trying to be like him, to follow his example. You can’t blame him, no one can; it’s not like he decided to be born or chose to awake his vampire instincts. In fact, I think you are just trying to avoid him, and for what I know, Giorno developed the same condition as you. He’s avoiding people too. Just like you.” “Did I ask? I don’t want to know about him.” “I can’t force you to keep on touch with him, but at least respect him.” “I thought I was talking to Polnareff, not the counselor of a criminal.” “You tell me, who am I talking to? It seems like the Jotaro I knew isn’t here and I’m dealing with someone else. I’m not asking you to talk to him, this isn’t about him anymore. It’s about you; your reaction back at his office, before all of this started four months ago it’s a red flag. You need help, Jotaro.” “I don’t want to talk about that.” •••

Sapphire moonlight. Endless night. He doesn’t need to sleep or breath anymore. He’s been forcing himself to sleep, even if he’s not tired or in need to rest. His human instincts still make him breathe, even if instinct is supposed to be made to survive. Instinct. The same thing that made him drink from her. The same thing that made him harm the only person who’s loved him in a sincere way in all his life. The same thing that has him relishing in a cup of black coffee, sitting in the corner of the room with the moonlight pooling through the window, bathing part of the office, that now looks clean like nothing happened. The broken wine bottles are out of sight, the shirt she used to stop the bleeding of her arm now in the trash; he’s not a materialist, the things in the trash or out of his office don’t matter, but to think that he made so much damage to her, his treasured (Y/n) makes it feel like he’s the same as Dio Brando. Dio Brando. A name he wants to forget so bad, a name he doesn’t want to think about as his father. The photo resides now on the desk, face down under a copy of “The only woman in the room” by Marie Benedict.

Blinking tears back, Giorno sips his coffee. Sadly, he doesn’t find comfort in the strong, sweet taste of it like he used to do; in fact, it doesn’t even taste. It feels like it’s just a liquid on his mouth, but with no actual flavor. Gulping it down fiercely, the lump on his throat and the anger rising on his chest makes him act without thinking and throwing the cup aside, the sound the porcelain makes while breaking and the liquid staining the carpet resound on his ears. Trembling, the images of (Y/n) trying to get away from him with fear clouding her eyes welcomes him, as if his own brain is making fun of him. Sinking his hands through his messy blond locks ad bringing his knees to his chest, his body shakes with the weight of his emotions acting. Suddenly, a hand combs his hair, the other, soft and warm, kind and humble presses its palm against the back of his own hand. Looking up, (Y/n)’s kinds eyes welcome him. Bloodshot teal eyes, trembling lips and fragile appearance. She never thought she would see Giorno like this, so out of himself; then again, everything has a start and an ending. Nothing lasts forever, and if it does, the complications should be expected. Kneeling between his legs after he unconsciously opened his legs in a more welcoming position, (Y/n) doesn’t stop herself from touching his face, wiping the tears away with the sleeves of her shirt. Once his skin is dry again, she proceeds then to kiss his cheeks, up to his eyes, that close under the soft touch of hers. When she’s placing a kiss on his forehead, Giorno’s arms are locked around her waist and his face against her neck. The sound of her blood running through her jugular calms him, and for a moment, his thirst calms down. “Please, (Y/n), don’t get too close, I’ll only hurt you if you— if you let me this close to you.” He whispers, weak and anxious. Despite his words, he’s still holding her close to him. His voice may ask for her to leave, but his body screams for her to stay. “Giogio.” She whispers, then, taking his face between her hands. Running her thumb through his jaw, noting the sharpness of it mentally. “You won’t hurt me.” The don’s eyes seem to look for something and once he finds it, his trembling fingers touch slightly the scar of his fangs on her neck, his point doesn’t need words. Sometimes, one could speak through actions. “Gio, listen, please.” (Y/n) takes his hand, kissing the tips of his fingers, locking her eyes with his. Mirroring her actions, Giorno stares at her, blinking repeatedly when the lump on his throat makes him start to hear the blood running through her body.

“I forgive you. I did it when the arrow chose me. But I need you to understand, please, that I could forgive you a thousand times, over and over again; but if you don’t forgive yourself, nothing will ever change. You will keep feeling like this, and you may never complete your dream. Where’s the determined Giorno I met when we were teenagers? Where’s the Giorno who never gives up? I know he’s not gone; I know he’s here; in front of me. He’s strong and will get over this.”

Giorno’s lip trembles. “I’m thirsty, (Y/n). I’m so damn thirsty I can’t think straight. I’m scared, I’m so scared to end up like that man. I don’t want to be like him; I want to be a good man. I know I’m a criminal, but I want to use my power for the good things, I want to be like him. I want to be the gentleman Mr. Joestar said he was. I want to love you with all my heart, I want to protect you. I want to be human.”

“Love, you may be a vampire by race, genetics; whatever you want to call it. But in heart,” (Y/N) presses her open palm against his chest, and even if there’s not a beating but the cold feeling of his skin, it’s symbolic for her next statement. “you are human after all.”

Giorno’s arms circle her waist again and burying his face on her chest, his shoulders shake once again. (Y/n) reaches at her side, taking a blanket from the floor she brought with her, using it to cover his naked back. Giorno’s hands take the ends of the fabric, embracing her with the soft, warm sensation of the fabric.

“How will we go through this?” He asks, his voice slightly determined, contrasting to the defeating tone from before.

“We can ask or pay for medical resources, we can work in your confidence and feelings, we can help you with your paperwork— but right now, you need to understand that you are not alone.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I have you.”

“No, you have us all.” Looking up, Giorno finds Fugo, Mista and Polnareff in the doorway. Their expressions kind, heavy with sleep, but what really matters is the way they all seem ready to fight alongside him.