#border jumpers

[ms-boogie-man]

Angie/Maddie🦇❥✝︎🇺🇸

[fightingwithallreality]

Holiday (1946) written and illustrated by Wesley Dennis

[freakinator]

finished flamefrags' vid and it was awesome but i cant help but see the many similarites it shared with ls post-abyss arc

[voormaligskischansspringer]

Also impressive crowd!

[craftyzombiecherryblossom]

[railingsofsorrow]

nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

[jj maybank x reader]

summary: “you don't have to worry about me.” your voice is muffled but he can hear it well. the way his fingertips graze against your back under your shirt almost puts you to sleep right then.  “'course I do.” jj pokes your waist, tone bordering on indignant. “you're my girl, why wouldn't I worry about you?” pairing: jj maybank x f!reader w.c: 1.2k warnings/content: child abuse (implied); description of wounds, blood and violence; hurt/comfort.

A/N: in honor of obx 4, here's a jj maybank hurt/comfort blurb. just fyi, he's alive and happy and he ran off to yucatan in the show, that shitty ending they wrote did not fucking happened. anyways, enjoy my silly writing.

navi

masterpost

obx masterlist

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“ow!” you hissed, leaning away as your forehead stung as soon as the antiseptic made contact with the wound. “it stings.” you provided helplessly, lips tugging downwards. 

watching as jj's mouth quirked up slightly, you glared at him. he looked away to grab another gauze, unaffected by your dramatic behavior. not so dramatic because the cut was fresh so in your defense you had every right to react that way. 

“it's supposed to sting, means it's working.”

you hold back a complaint as he presses the gauze near the cut again. his blue eyes attentively stare back at you, he waits for your whining but it doesn't come.

“so you mean I'm supposed to enjoy pain because it's good for me? it's like we're all condemned to the same fate, aren't we?”

“my pretty little philosopher or whatever,” jj tutted, pressing a kiss to your temple before he stood up to throw the used materials away. the couch was comfortable as you adjusted your body to lay back down, making sure not to turn on your side so jj's job wouldn't go to waste. “should I call pope here? cause I'm not gonna be able to keep up with your existence theories.”

“existencial.”

“yeah, that.” you let out a hum in appreciation as he ran his fingers across your ankles, the coldness of his rings grazing against your skin. that will definitely help you fall asleep. silence stretched on for a few minutes and the room was enveloped with you and jj basking in each other's presence. 

until, well… until he broke it.

“how did you get this?”

“told you, cabinet door.”

“right, which one was it this time? kitchen or bathroom?” 

you felt like a little kid being caught doing what you weren't supposed to be doing. by his tone, you already knew he was onto your lie but you stayed silent, forcing your face to be blank of any emotion. 

jj had caught you with bruises before. the keyword being caught because you'd never willingly show it to him. he already had too much on his plate to deal with, he didn't need you to add to it. 

it wasn't the first time, thus his little gentle jab at your lie.

“cuddle me.” you requested — more like ordered — an outstretched hand in his direction as you ignored his previous question with grace and not all in an unsubtle way. “jayj”

your boyfriend engulfed you in his warmth, arms wrapping around your middle as you settled in his chest, cheek resting against the soft fabric of his jumper.

“you don't have to worry about me.” your voice is muffled but he can hear it well. the way his fingertips graze against your back under your shirt almost puts you to sleep right then. 

“'course I do.” jj pokes your waist, tone bordering on indignant. “you're my girl, why wouldn't I worry about you?”

“your girl?” you placed your chin on the back of your hand, licking your lips contemplatively. “a bit possessive, isn't it?”

something itched in your chest upon noticing the small dimple on his left cheek when he gave you that charming disarming smile of his. “you think so?” he uttered, hands intertwining behind your back as he shrugged when his face twitched in amusement. “but you are, aren't you?”

“am I?” you pretended to be clueless. “not sure... hey.” you squirmed when he threatened to tickle you.

“hey.” he mocked with a slightly annoying voice, warning a slap on his chest. jj let out a deep chuckle. “stop, stop. okay.” he held your hands, lifting your knuckles to his lips so he could kiss them, blue eyes glinting with mischief staring you down. that glint soon tuned down to something serious, it was when you knew he was about to initiate a topic you wanted to run away from.

you were cornered.

jj's thumb touched your cheek, there was also a small yellowish bruise beginning to heal near your cheekbone, besides the cut in your forehead, which was what concerned him more. 

this one is older, he observed the bruise, caressing the spot ever so gently as if you were made of glass. you shouldn't have bruises or cuts or anything that gives you pain. 

“jayj, it's fine—”

“is it bad?” 

you know what his words mean and that proved he didn't believe in your lies. why would he? he went through the same on a daily basis before his dad took off god knows where. you honestly hope he never comes back because if luke maybank ever thinks of laying a hand on jj again, you'd bury him alive. 

but anyway, you admitted the truth, laying out what truly was going on inside your house.

“just when she gets mad.” you offered, looking back at your hands curling together. “really, it's fine, don't worry about me.”

his forehead creases and you think he's about to order you to shut up but instead he squeezes your hand. anger is never his go-to emotion with you.

“I worry, always. can you tell me how this one happened? it's deeper.” he asked, touching the spot in your forehead beside the cut he had cleaned up. 

your eyes followed his carefully but your body was relaxed as it never had been whenever you talked about that subject. 

“I, um... I dodged her slap. kind of. I ducked down— or tried to.” you winced at your explanation and at the memory. “anyways, the cut was because of her ring.”

his jaw clenched but his touch never shifted to anything other than delicate. 

“i'm sorry.”

“don’t be.” you said, smiling up at him. “it’s not your fault, but thanks.”

“you shouldn't be used to this.” jj said firmly, brushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze far away. “you can come stay at the chateau if you want, you know? we always have space.”

“thank you for caring, but I'll be fine.”

“I know.” he shrugged. “but I mean, when you're not, you have a place to run to. you have me.” 

and yes, you knew that, technically. but your fucked brain thought if you shared your home life with him, this would make you a burden, you never ever wanted that. you didn't want him to get tired of you and realize he was better off with someone else who wasn't so complicated.

“I know I have you.”

“do you?”

“I love you.” you offered as if that was supposed to be a strong argument.

jj raised a brow. “I love you too and that's why I want you to open up to me.” he explained gently, thumb running against your cheek. “call me. find me. I'll be there. I'll find you wherever you are, alright?” 

you hummed, agreeing with him in his request. a smile gracing your lips. “okay.”

he shifted in bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “if it depends on me, nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he mumbled against your forehead as you wrapped an arm around his middle and basked in his warmth.

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taglist: @hoeshissworld 

[luveline]

coworker James au could i request kne where maybe reader starts her period at work unprepared and bleeds through so James gives her his jumper and she's like wtf but also thank you <33

James worries about you reluctantly until you need his help. Then he’s less begrudging. fem, 1k

“Why are you wearing that?” 

James digs through the office fridge for his oat milk. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m just wondering.” 

“It's cold out. People wear jumpers when it’s cold.” James grabs the oat milk from the deep recesses of the shared fridge and lets his tricep flex as he stands. Does he think you’ll care? No. But he does it anyway, he doesn’t work out for nothing. You probably can’t tell with the jumper, anyhow. 

He’s expecting you to wrinkle your nose or fake a keck. You look at him funny. 

“What’s wrong? You’re poorly,” he says. 

“I’m not poorly, I just want some toast.” 

“There’s no butter,” James says. No point letting you wait by the fridge. 

You nod dispassionately. “Well, that makes sense.” 

“I have a tangerine in my bag.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

You’re definitely poorly. You wander out of the kitchen, James assumes to sit back down at your desk while he makes his coffee. He could make you a cup at the same time, it might help you pep up for the rest of the day, but he hasn’t made you any before and why should he start now? Everyone gets sick, it doesn’t make you less of a dick. 

Even as he thinks it, he realises what he’s doing. James Denial Potter, what use is it anymore, pretending he doesn’t like you? You piss him off royally, but disdain? It’s like everyday you’re getting prettier and sweeter and softer in the eyes and James just has to watch. 

He takes his mug to his desk. You’ve already posed his little Smiski figurines to be standing next to each other, though now you’re nowhere near his desk, instead having flopped toward the left side far from his reach with your face in your hand. 

He sighs and grabs his back. The tangerine lays at the bottom near his lunch box, and it begs to be kept, but you’re looking too sick to ignore. It’s cruel to leave you without, at this point. “Here,” he says, popping the orange on the border of your two desks. “Quick, before you pass out.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble. 

It’s sad to watch you eat the orange. Your chewing is morose, your eyes tracking up and down your screen with little hurry. 

He cracks too quickly. “You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you want a cup of water?” 

“James. I’m fine, I’m just tired.” 

You stand and stretch with a sad moan, joints popping audibly, your arm over your eyes as they do. You let it fall and begin to walk away from the desk nook toward the bathroom, and that’s when James notices your accident. 

He jumps up from his seat, his hand held forward and trying to catch you before you can get too far away. He takes your hand, to your confusion, pulling you back toward him. 

“James, I’m fine,” you say, clearly shy. 

“You’ve bled through.” 

Your face fills with palpable, horrified mortification. “What?” 

“The seat of your trousers,” he says quietly. James can’t confess to caring about discretion when it comes to human function, but he doesn’t think you’d enjoy your private business being shouted across the office. “It’s not a lot.” 

You freeze. 

He lets your hand fall. 

“It’s okay,” he says, frowning at your embarrassed pouting and the glossy shine that’s formed over your eyes. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you confess under your breath. 

It’s so stupid because it’s not vulnerable, you aren’t some wounded animal that needs his help, but he has that awful aching sorriness for you that he can’t bite back. You’re not his friend and he’s sympathetic anyways, he’d never let you feel embarrassed over something you can’t help because he knows exactly how it feels (even if your particular affliction isn’t one he suffers). James nods at you decidedly and leans forward, grabbing the neck of his jumper and pulling it off quickly. 

“Here,” he says, his hair tickling his ears as it falls back into place. He offers the jumper. You don’t take it. 

“James, I might…” 

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine. Just take it and I’ll see if I can sort something out. I’ll get Lily for you. What do you think?” 

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

“Of course I’m sure. Tie that around your waist, yeah?” 

You take the jumper from his hands. “I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? It’s fine, it happens.” 

“You don’t even like me and you’re always doing things for me,” you say, wobbly. 

James blames the hormones he thinks you might have ravaging your system right now. You’re tired, you clearly didn’t eat enough at breakfast, and you’re on your cycle. It’s not a nice mix of things to experience, and to pile some public humiliation on at work must make crying inevitable. 

He takes your elbow into his hand, bending just so to put your faces on better level. “We don’t always get along,” he says softly, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do things by yourself, without anyone to look out for you. Okay? This isn’t a big deal to me.” He gives your elbow a mild shake. “Okay?” he asks again. 

You sniffle but don’t cry. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay. Don’t worry, angel. Those trousers were a choice anyway.” 

You wave him away with a weak laugh. 

James walks one way in search of HR and you slink to the bathroom with his jumper around your waist. And Remus, who’s gaze had been summoned by the rapid departure of you both at the same time, sits gobsmacked at his desk. James had looked not even a millisecond from kissing the frown from your lips, his thumb pressed with tender care to your arm, and you’d just let him do it, the rigid set of your shoulders relaxing the longer he touched you. 

Remus takes his phone from his pocket to text Sirius. Need to talk to you about James

What’s he done? 

Remus sort of thinks his friend might be falling in love. It’s gonna be a total disaster.

[cuubism]

@prismaluv I promised an actual eon ago that I would write something for Dream and Desire, and here it is, though I fear I haven't landed exactly where you were aiming for...

--

It has come to Dream’s attention that something is… wrong… in the Threshold.

It is not usually for him to take note of his siblings’ affairs. Particularly when said sibling is Desire. He would sooner let them wallow; perhaps it would teach them a lesson. But the malady, or irritation or scheme or whatever it may be is now seeping into the Dreaming, and so Dream must determine if it is intentional or not and what, depending on the answer, he must do about it.

The Threshold naturally shares a border with the Dreaming, for, to Dream’s chagrin, dreams and desires do find common or contested ground in love and ambition and other feelings besides. And those desirous dreams have been sickened. Corrupted. Dreamers see their lovers’ ravening maws and wake nauseous from what should have been visions of lovemaking; children’s songs curdle mockingly in their ears as light expands beyond joy beyond pain beyond burning. These dreams are not serving their purpose and Dream must put a stop to it.

“Sibling,” he calls, and receives no reply, but the Threshold allows him in, when he steps from the border of his realm into Desire’s.

The long pathways of Desire’s body are empty as ever. A mockery of blood vessels pumping nothing. Dream walks the known paths, alert in the silence, past the lungs with no breath, to the heart with no beating.

He steps into the curving chambers of that heart, the center of Desire’s power in the Threshold. His steps echo on the hard walls.

“Mmm,” comes Desire’s voice, slurred with malaise, echoing from deeper within, “come to gloat, have you, brother?”

“I have come to determine your purpose in poisoning my realm,” Dream says, following their voice. “I warned you not to toy with me again.”

Desire lets out a disgusted sigh. “Not everything I do is about you.”

“Recent events would suggest otherwise.” Dream finally reaches the central atrium of the Threshold’s heart. Desire is sprawled out on a chaise lounge, head pillowed on their arm. Their eyes are closed, their clothes wrinkled and ill-fitting, their hair lank. They appear to be wearing Despair’s ripped and stained jumper. Dream frowns.

“Go awayyyyy,” Desire complains. “Leave me to my misery.”

“What afflicts you?” Dream asks, standing over them. “Or are you simply experiencing remorse for your crimes, at long last?”

“‘Afflicts’,” Desire mutters, mockingly. “I am being persecuted and abused. Abandoned. Wasting away in apathy.”

Dream sits delicately on the arm of a chair by their side. If there truly is something wrong, and Desire is not just being melodramatic, or trying to annoy him, then they must take action. He will not allow the Dreaming to be harmed. “I fail to see how it could be persecution and abandonment at once.”

“Have you not seen them, Dream?” Desire complains, finally cracking one bleary golden eye open to look up at him.

“Seen whom?” Dream asks, with what he thinks is admirable patience.

“The people! Nobody wants anything. Not in a way that matters. Oh, it’s too easy. It’s too easy to take shortcuts. They don’t understand desire anymore.” Desire clutches their heart dramatically.

“I have not the faintest clue what you are talking about,” Dream says.

“I am a starving and bottomless mouth,” Desire tells him, looking up at him with both shining eyes now. “See, my teeth.” They bare their teeth at him. Their incisors are very sharp.

“I am aware of this.”

“And they think they can feed me with tiny little candies like a yapping chihuahua that’ll finally shut up. They’re poisoning me. They’re starving me. They’re glutting themselves on whatever makes the brain chemmies go weeweeweeweewoo for a second and look— look.” They drag down the hem of Despair’s jumper, peel back a layer of skin. Under it is not flesh, nor blood, but void, an expanding, hungry, agonized void. Dream stares into it, alarmed.

Desire lets their ‘skin’ snap back into place. “What does it even mean, Dream?” they ask rhetorically. “Nothing. It is all fleeting. Nothing deep about it. No one yearns, Dream. No one YEARNS!”

This is said in a despairing wail. Cautiously, Dream pets their hair.

“You crave deep and abiding wants and there is a glut of trivialities and distractions,” he summarizes, and they nod, teary. “Would it appease you if I removed all memory of mobile phones from the face of the earth?”

It doesn’t appease them, but it does make them laugh. Desire laughs, choked and teary, clutching at his hand. “God, I forgot that you’re actually funny when you’re not trying to be.”

It is strange, after all that has transpired, to have what could be considered a civil conversation. Dream still does not forgive them for anything they have done, and perhaps never will, but he sees, for a moment, a much younger year, when they were, in a fashion, friends.

“Many deep desires live in dreams now, for they have little hope of fulfillment,” he says. “But these small morsels, candies as you say, these are not dreamt of, except perhaps in nightmares of eternal wasting. It is still what dwells deepest in the heart that drives dreaming.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I matter?” Desire bites, and Dream simply says—

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Desire seems genuinely disturbed; perhaps they really did think he came to revel in their misery. Perhaps Dream did. But one of his siblings struggling in their duty can only have ill effects on his dreamers, and on their waking selves besides. Dream would be incredibly remiss in not addressing it. Or so he tells himself is his reasoning.

“I do believe there are still fierce desires in this world, though perhaps they have become buried. Usurped,” he says. “Disconnected from the body which is, as I understand it, their rightful home. Though addressing this is not something with which I can aid you.”

The body of living creatures is far outside Dream’s purview, and not something he well understands, except as it manifests in dreams—of hope of change, of twisted horror, of curling heat. And even then, it is far from him.

“I can’t believe you’re giving me advice and it’s not just telling me to go fuck myself,” Desire says faintly. Dream begins to protest, but they continue, “Not that you’d ever use those words, Your Highness.”

“It serves no one if one of our realms is in disarray,” says Dream, and if there is a sharp point to it, a reminder of exactly the damage Desire had so carelessly wrought in Dream’s realm, all the better. “I cannot assist you in managing it, only offer the perspective of dreams. If it proves good counsel, then I will be glad.”

“If it proves good counsel,” Desire mutters. “Fuck you, you superior prick.”

But it is not as sharp and cutting as it might once have been.

Dream abruptly realizes his hand is still touching their hair, and removes himself. He stands, arranging his cloak around him.

“Well,” says Desire, craning their neck back to look up at him upside down, “you must be right on one count. Lingering about here is doing no good.” They stretch, arms above their head, spine cracking. “I suppose I will go stalk the outside world and see if I can’t stoke their desires from ember to inferno.”

“I am certain you can, if you feel that will achieve your aims,” Dream says. Desire’s ability to draw out human wants and push their pursuit is not in question, their mere presence in a space accomplishes that. Whether that will turn their charges away from passing, unsatisfying trinkets and to deeper pleasures is another matter. “Meanwhile, please withdraw your malaise from the borders of my realm. The small children are being hypnotized by dreams of meaningless drivel and it displeases me.”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t like YouTube,” Desire sighs. They maneuver themselves to sitting in a slanted, tired lean. For a moment, the silence lingers, stretched between them like syrup.

Finally, growing uncomfortable but stiffening his spine, Dream says, “If you are not going to imminently fall apart and cause havoc, then I will take my leave.”

“I love how much you care,” says Desire, sarcastically. Then, tilting their head, “You do care. Just a little bit. Don’t you?”

Dream does not respond to this.

“You could have simply disentangled all your little dreams from my realm and instead you came to check on me,” they say, with glee, and Dream glares. And Desire, apparently sensing a fight, subsides.

“Always lovely when you come around, dear brother,” they say, reclining back against their chaise lounge, eyes glittering despite the neglected state of their form. “Do come again.”

“If you remedy your affairs, then I will not have to,” says Dream curtly, and steps backwards into the Dreaming.

Desire does so love to press buttons at moments when they have almost reached an accord. Desire, once his most loved sibling. Those days are gone now, and Dream does not see them coming back.

[tkaulitzlvr]

TOM AND Y/N SHOWER FLUFF PLEASE I BEG YOU

SELFCARE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after a stressful week at work, tom notices that you aren’t yourself. to help you loosen up, he decides to take care of you and give you even more princess treatment than usual, setting up a self-care night when you come home more stressed than usual.

content: fluff

a/n: tkaulitzlvr actually posting an imagine can u believe it😱😱😱 this was requested a while ago, but it lost the poll i put up a few weeks ago and since then it’s been in my inbox pretty often, so here u go! this is my first time writing since i last posted so i’m sorry if this is shitty😭

“another tough day schatz?” his voice is soft, bordering almost sympathetic as he runs his hands through my hair, arms wrapped securely around my upper back, staying that way from the second i had melted into them, doing so as soon as my tired feet trudged their way through the front door. this had become habitual over the past couple weeks, my job becoming particularly demanding with the annual roll around of christmas, my already packed schedule more hectic than ever, my happiness the cost of the overwhelming chaos that festivities inevitably brought along - the customers seeming to pour in faster than i could comprehend. though today, work had been almost too stressful, leaving me a lethargic mess, unable to do anything besides wrap my arms loosely around tom’s frame as he greets me with soft kisses, attempting to ease the stress that weights heavily on my shoulders, even if it is just a little bit.

“mhm.” i mumble, burying my head further into his chest, sighing loudly and allowing my eyes to flutter closed, already feeling at ease from the simple remedy of his touch.

he hums sympathetically in response, tightening the grip of his arms around my back, his lips pressing onto my forehead as a comfortable silence envelops us. his hands trail upward, moving tentatively under my thick jumper, the warmth of the knitted material replaced with the soft touch of his fingers as the pads trail across the skin of my back, tracing random patterns and allowing me to drown everything else out of my surroundings, tuning into only on the movements of his fingertips.

after a few minutes spent wrapped in his arms, he slowly moves away, though any doubts of him ending the tender moment are soon put to bed when his hands move upward, cupping my face in his palms and moving it closer. his lips are placed onto mine, their touch so gentle, so soft that my heart tugs at its strings, the stress that had weighed me down all week seeming to melt away. he pulls away every few seconds, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth, that same cocky smile on his face, though it doesn’t last long as he closes the gap between us once again. this time, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling my body flush against his as he begins to sway side to side. his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips, chuckling into the kiss when i jump slightly.

“i love you.” he mumbles against my lips when he finally pulls away, breathless and flustered, his cheeks a light shade of red as his now swollen lips mirror my own. he doesn’t wait for my response, a slight smile gracing his expression as he opens his mouth to continue. “how about i help you relax? we can shower and then put on one of your favourite movies, i’ll even order takeout. how does that sound schatz?”

when my lips curve into a soft smile he already knows the answer, moving closer once again and kissing my cheek. his hands find their way to my heavy winter coat, reaching to pull it off of my frame as i look upward at him in confusion.

“you’re exhausted honey. let me do this for you, okay?”

i don’t object, nodding my head silently and standing still as he gently removes my arms from the sleeves, walking away momentarily to hang the coat with the rest of the clothes beside the front door. he comes up behind me, quickly lifting me upward into his arms before i can object.

“what are you doing?” i giggle, patting his back whilst small chuckles escape my lips, legs flailing around as his arms remain tightly around my waist. he places me gently on the couch, flashing me a soft smile before bending down in front of me. i giggle in disbelief when he reaches for my boots, slowly undoing the buckle.

“baby i’m tired not incapable. you don’t have to take my shoes off for me.” i shake my head slowly, laughing quietly to myself as he looks up, making eye contact with me.

“but i want to. let me take care of you.” his voice is slow, though the movements of his hands as they remove my shoes are even slower, bordering too careful, tugging the zippers on each foot downward gently. one hand moves to the heel, the other placing itself at the front of my shoe as he pulls it off, setting it on the floor and moving to my other shoe, until they are both off of my sore feet.

he clears his throat, moving his body upward so that it hovers above my own. he kisses my lips briefly, smiling into it and pecking them a few more times. “let’s go shower yeah?”

he scoops me into his arms, my legs instinctively wrapping around his torso as i bury my head into his neck, the familiar scent of vanilla and cigarettes calming my mind. his fingers tap against my thighs in a random pattern, arms hoisting me further upward whenever i would slip out of his embrace. my eyes only open when i feel my position change, realising that tom has set me down on the bathroom counter, the marble cold against my skin despite the denim that covers my lower half. he mutters a quick ‘i’ll be right back’, before disappearing out of the bathroom, leaving me alone momentarily. the silence is peaceful - a clear contrast from the chaos i had been unwillingly part of all day. it is strange for things to be so quiet, without the annoying and far too frequent complains of a customer, or the constant sound of christmas music blasting around the store. but it is nice, and my entire body relaxes at the lack of noise until tom reappears, holding some fresh pyjamas, a random array of unlit candles placed on top of them.

he places them next to me, turning away and messing with the shower until hot water begins to pour from it. he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and setting the candles upright. his fingers flick the light switch off, small orange flames casting their brightness around the now dim bathroom. his eyes meet mine, gaze staying locked on mine as he walks over, his fingers finding their way to the hem of my jumper.

“can i take this off schatz?” he asks, smiling weakly when i nod my head. he lifts the material upward slowly, dropping it to the floor and studying my upper body. he moves his attention to my bra, looking into my eyes once again, waiting for that permission he had sought moments ago. i mutter a quiet ‘yes’, his fingers pulling the clasps undone. knowing better than to make the moment sexual, his gaze lingers only briefly as he appears to snap out of it, mumbling a quick ‘so beautiful’ before removing my jeans, letting them pool at my feet. i stand up, removing my panties myself whilst he turns to his own clothing.

“wait.” i say, his head turning to face me. he stops his movements when he is just about to remove his shirt, watching as my hands move his own away, my fingers clasping around the soft material as i lift it over his head, revealing his upper body, adorned with rigid muscle and soft skin, something which still makes my stomach swarm with butterflies - no matter how many times my eyes land on the sight. he grins softly, planting a sweet kiss in my hair before pulling his own jeans down, his boxers quickly following.

i enter the shower, the warm water quickly easing the tension that had habituated around my body, my eyes shutting at the satisfaction. i feel tom’s presence behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist slowly. his head dips just below my ear, lips ghosting over the skin until they eventually make contact, placing slow and messy kisses there, my head falling backward as i make no attempt to stop him.

“you okay baby?” he whispers lowly against me, pulling his head out of my shoulder, turning my body around so that i am now facing him, his frame considerably taller than my own, his head looking downward whilst my own neck bends upward to look into his eyes.

“mhm.” i offer him a weak smile, watching as he reaches behind me, grabbing the shampoo from the small shelf.

his hand places itself on my shoulder, applying a little pressure. “turn around schatz.” he whispers, twisting my body so that my back now faces him. i take a guess at what he is doing, my prediction confirmed as correct when i hear him open the bottle from behind me, squeezing some shampoo into his hands. he lathers it up for a few seconds before his fingers thread into my wet hair, massaging the suds deep into my scalp. i sigh in relief, head falling backward slightly at the feeling. his fingers move deeper, leaving no part untouched, the bubbles now coating my entire head. once satisfied, he reaches for the shower head, testing the temperature before moving it so that the water falls directly onto my hair.

“close your eyes honey.” he says, moving the stream of water as the suds run down the front of my face. his hands still run through my hair, taking real care to make sure that the shampoo is completely washed out. he grabs the conditioner, rubbing it softly on the ends of my hair, rinsing the remainder under the water.

he lathers some soap in his hands whilst my conditioner soaks in, turning my body around so that i am facing him once again. he starts at my shoulders, covering them in the soapy suds, then trailing down to my arms, hands, stomach, waist, back. a playful smile tugs at his lips when he reaches my breasts, touching them a little - in fact way more than he needed to. his hands cup them firmly, thumbs swirling over my nipples as he looks into my eyes. i shake my head playfully, though i don’t have it in me to tell him to stop, allowing his hands to work on my breasts.

“just making sure they’re clean.” he confirms, letting a soft laugh escape from his lips. his hands detach from them after a few minutes, moving to rest on my ass. though when his face nears my own, i soon realise that this is no longer about ‘making sure that i am clean.’ he walks backward slightly until our bodies are submerged under the stream of water, pressing his lips to my own. the kiss is different this time. it is firmer, rougher, playing dangerously on the line between loving and lustful. his tongue slips into my mouth, hands kneading my ass as he pushes his body further into mine, the feeling of something hard between my thighs snapping me out of the moment.

i look downward, stifling a laugh once i pick up on tom’s problem. “and here i was thinking this shower was for you to take care of me.” i sigh, shaking my head and laughing quietly.

“you’re naked in front of me. i can’t help it baby, i swear.” he jokes, his hands resting on my lower back as he pecks my lips lovingly a few times. “don’t worry, we don’t have to do anything. this is your night, and i’m gonna take care of you, just like i said i would.”

my heart warms at his words, arms reaching to wrap around his torso as i pull him into a hug. he is taken aback, but quickly hugs back, his hands resting on my back as his thumbs run up and down it.

“i love you.” i mumble, face flush against his chest.

“i love you more schatz, always.” he replies, resting his chin on my head, the room now silent besides from the sound of water pouring from the shower head. “c’mon let’s finish up then you can pick a movie, whatever you like.”

i nod my head, about to wash the conditioner on my hair out myself, though tom beats me to it, running the hot water through my hair until it is completely clean. he steps out first, reaching his hand out for me to take, grabbing a towel as i exit the shower. he starts with my hair, squeezing the excess water out of it, before moving the towel down my body, removing the small droplets that rest on my skin. the time he spends focusing on himself is next to nothing - he briefly drew himself off and slips on some grey sweatpants, running a towel on his braids for a few seconds.

“lift your arms up.” he says, grabbing the pyjamas that he had brought in earlier, placing the oversized t-shirt (he knew instinctively to pick one of his out - remembering that i would much rather wear his clothes than my own) over my frame, tugging the baggy sweatpants up and over my legs.

i mutter a quick ‘thank you’, exiting the bathroom and flopping onto the bed, body sinking into the fresh sheets. tom follows a few seconds later, chuckling at my state when he enters the bedroom. he walks over slowly, picking me up and climbing under the covers, only letting me go to place my body on top of his own, legs intertwined, my chest flat against his own. he reaches for the remote that sits on our bedside table, handing it over to me.

“it’s all yours.” he smiles, watching as i gladly take it, shifting my position so that i can see the large tv directly opposite our bed. though this subtle change clearly separates the distance between tom and i too much, his arms reaching to wrap tightly around my waist, my own resting on his torso, head snuggling into his chest as i flick the tv on, the screen quickly lighting up.

“thank you for taking care of me.” i mumble against him, snuggling further into his embrace. i feel him smile against me, hand giving my waist a soft squeeze.

“of course. it’s my job baby, you know i’d do it a thousand times over.” he places a kiss into my hair, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. “all i want is for you to be happy. you know i’ll do anything to make sure that you are, right?”

i nod weakly, eyes landing on the movie that i want to watch, knowing that tom won’t be as thrilled as i am. “does that include watching the notebook?” i peer upwards at him, studying the way his face falls momentarily, a loud groan escaping his lips, knowing just how much he completely despises this movie.

“now that crosses the line.” he jokes, a playful smile now on his face. “you really sure you want to watch this? out of every movie?” he knows that attempting to change my mind is pointless, though any small chance of getting out of this is something that he will take. but when i nod my head slowly, he realises that it is no use.

“i’m just kidding. anything you want schatz. it’s your night.”

i kiss his cheek repeatedly amidst mumbling rushed and almost inaudible ‘thankyou’s, the smile on his face only growing wider and wider as he places his hand on my back, shaking his head once i return to how i had been sat before, my head resting on his chest. the movie begins to play, tom’s thumb rubbing soft circles on my skin, the feeling of his eyes burning into me providing a clear distraction.

“stop staring.” i whisper, hitting his chest lightly. “watch the movie tom.”

“sorry.” he mumbles, returning his attention to the screen, though i sense his gaze on me throughout, not having the energy or heart to stop him, instead letting him get away with the not so subtle glances that he sends my way, deciding to give him the false hope that he is being discreet.

eventually, his breathing becomes slower and deeper, body no longer shifting as it had done for the past thirty minutes. i turn around, seeing his eyes closed, mouth slightly parted with quiet snores escaping from it as his chest moves up and down, arms still holding me tightly in their embrace. i turn the tv off, pulling the covers over both of us and placing my leg over his, fingers tracing random shapes onto his chest as i feel my own eyes becoming heavy. just as i am about to fall into a slumber, tom begins to stir in his sleep, bringing my body even closer so that it now rests on top of his own. his eyes remain closed, still on the verge of sleep as his mouth opens slowly, voice low and groggy. “i love you schatz, goodnight.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[freeusemuses]

Stave had been seated in a luxury suite for quite some time now, He had already finished his job smuggling border jumpers from Atlas to Vale, and he was gonna spend the rest of the night relaxing. Is what he would say if his Aervulf ears didn't pick up the clacks of high heels.

Yor's instructions were clear. Take out a VIP in the last compartment of the train. Then to dissappear once the train reached Atlas. We'll the first part of her mission had been completed successfully. Now she just had to lay low until the train stopped I'm Atlas.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

DATV more thoughts about Solas [after I saw More Crossroads Stuff]

Not gonna lie, I'm seriously struggling to stay sympathetic towards him. The sadboy shtick got tired in that note from The Missing #3 if not earlier, and the pestering messaging from the game feels like a setup. "Look! He has REGRETS. HE REGARTS, OKAY????". Cool. But then, the seemingly common sense response from both Rook and the NPCs around is to go on an angry rant about how performative and hollow Solas's regret is, and how he will 100% without all doubt go full Farquaad on the world as soon as he breaks free.

His characterization in this game feels like BioWare tries to pander to stans and haters at the same time, but moreso to the haters if you haven't entered the game with an already Solas-favorable attitude. And yet, I don't feel like I have any room to make up my own mind when trying to fill in Rook's shoes because someone's always breathing at my neck repeating HE'S THE GOD OF LIES AND TREACHERY. LIES AND TREACHERYYYYYYYYYYYYY. It makes a principled Rook, who wishes to understand Solas without the ulterior motive of outwolfing the Wolf, look dangerously naive. Being understanding towards Solas is no longer portrayed as a choice of open-mindedness and mirroring but one of... a leap of faith that borders on folly and forbodes a bad ending (*cough cough* parallel to Varric *cough cough*)?

On the other hand, there is an attempt to portray Solas as a victim of toxic codependency, but what does it matter? It's truly an accomplishment for Mythal's appearance to obliterate not one but TWO arcs about breaking the cycles of abuse and untangling from poisonous influences that instill a toxic sense of duty. Morrigan's eyes were pried open too, and she moved past the "mistake" of defiance towards her mother. Solas remains the #1 Mythal Stan even if it implies him basically regretting he has ever existed, because every step and every decision since he joined the world makes him complicit in unspeakable evils.

All in all, despite using Solas to reach her own goals and maintain her own position, Mythal is vindicated by the narrative if not straight up absolved by the weirdest clapback from the assumed moral objectivism of the Fade spirits so far -- she was driven by Benevolence in the beginning and not sheer greed or hunger for power. This is supposed to be evidence to support Mythal's special place in the universe as "the best of them all". Meanwhile, she is responsible for the Blight. For the sake of survival of the first elvhen on the Earth, she would destroy the Earth's very primal creative force. But letting the other Evanuris have the Blight would take things a step too far. Okay? Yay? Are we supposed to consider this growth?

Where is this supposed benevolence? The Mythal we saw showing benevolence towards the elven People was FLEMETH, the one who prevailed in the post-Veil world and "grew wiser". It's the Asha Bellanar. It might be MorriMythal who keeps watching over the Veil Jumpers in Arlathan. Not the shard we petition for help supposedly consumed by the nature of Retribution, that dwells on the hurt and reproach of all the betrayals she experienced, and replies with cynicism to a Rook who tries to come off and principled and show that they care for injustice whenever, however and to whomever it happened.

My greatest gripe with the Mythal thing is that all of this could come together somehow if that encounter was a beginning of a true arc of reflection, moral change and tangible reparation.

I haven't completed the game yet but I have read about the potential implications of this for Solavellan and... ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

I've always been kinda lukewarm about this romance personally, but it looks like the version of a Solasmancing Lavellan that is strongly hinted by the narrative is... either a sycophant or kinda done dirty by the Mythal thing? I'm going to see once I reach the endgame (I'm building up towards the "good" Solavellan ending because I don't have the patience to explore what "bad" Solas means considering how he is characterized at his best).

[missiletoe]

Shovel Talk

The woman takes a seat on the bed–Ryujin’s bed, fuck, she made it this morning too–and crosses one leg over the other. Something about the picture rings familiar. Something about the whole of her feels vaguely reminiscent, like a dull itch on her brain that she can’t quite scratch.

The crappy haircut. The blue eyes bordering on black. The gaze that feels more calculating than human. And the clincher–the absolutely manic look in her eyes. Oh no, Ryujin sees it now.

“Glasses,” she says finally. “You’re Glasses’ sister.”

yuri shipping olympics fill for my favorite yuri ship of all time, HAND JUMPER YURI! live laugh love sayjin

[derww]

DAY 25: VOID

At first, she thinks that she got something wrong. Because- of course, they are sick in their heads, but it can't be- maybe she missed anything? Maybe it's a figurative expression?

 

– What? What do you mean? – she asks, feeling as if the carpet had been torn out from under her feet...

 

– Well, yes, – Bacon confirms, – this is the last part of the initiation. It's like a trust fall. It may be difficult for you at first, but it's a matter of practice. We are already doing it pretty well overall. If we are not being thrown, of course. There's usually just not enough time to focus.

 

She looks around, trying to figure out if Bacon is serious. Mapicc does not pay any attention to the conversation, staring at the communicator, and Zam, on the contrary, glares at her, smiling broadly and as if barely restraining himself. She is surprised that at this point he has not yet started to put empty rails next to them and shoot them.

 

She laughs nervously.

 

– And how do you do it? Can you demonstrate?

 

– Sure, why not, – Bacon shrugs. A voidhole is right in front of them, and the void begins just several blocks below, and he comes close to it, calmly peering into the void, and then turns around at her. – Look, Jumper, everything is quite simple. Do you remember how the Abyss came into contact with you? It happens when you're, you know, in such a special state of relaxation and openness, right? Do you understand what I mean?

 

– Yes, yes, of course, – she babbles. She has no idea what he is talking about. The Abyss has never spoken to her – and she has never actually tried to get in touch with her.

 

– Well, basically yes, – Bacon agrees, – you need to get in touch with her, the stronger the bond, the better. As long as the Abyss sees you as her adeptus, she will accept you.

 

Imperceptibly and imperturbably, as if doing nothing unusual, he jumps down without turning around, and she runs to the edge, and Bacon is there – standing on a missing surface, in the air, on the void, and he is not even wearing elytra. He looks like it's something completely routine – he walks around for a bit and then turns around at her.

 

– Did you understand how? – he asks distantly. He's bouncing a little bit. – We need to do this more often. That's cool.

 

Zam rushes past her and, laughing, jumps after Bacon, and visibly effortlessly stays on the surface of the border. While she stares at both of them, calmly strolling through nonexistent matter, feeling fear clutching her chest, Mapicc jumps too – he lands between Bacon and Zam and then yawns – either from fatigue, or boredom altogether. Standing on the void. Being one step away from death. Being supported only by a chthonic deity with unknown motives and practices. Icy sweat flows on her back.

 

– It's your turn! – Zam shouts to her as if they were not standing ten blocks away from her, – don't be afraid, just give yourself up to enter and jump!

 

That's what she realizes at this moment: she can't. She had never even heard the Abyss, not even as a whisper or suggestion, as surface contact with it was described. She didn't stand a chance. She's already lost. And they didn't even try to buy it, did they?

 

– Yes, give me a little more time! – She answers and forces herself to pull herself together. She was infinitely far away from the divine bullshit, but right now she just needed to make herself feel like one of the Abyss members. It's not so difficult. She knew how to play a role, after all.

 

She just needs to- yes. She is a member of the Abyss. She looked into the Abyss and saw its deepest charms and spoke to her. She is an adepus dedicated to her goddess and the fulfillment of her will and was endowed with knowledge and abilities for it. She is devoted to the Abyss and devoted to her team, who saved her from loneliness and gave her a new home and purpose...

 

She feels a faint prick on the top of her head. She gets a strange and incomprehensible feeling of lightness. This body is both hers and not hers at all, and all the muscles are relaxed in it. She's definitely in a trance. Is this what was expected of her?

 

She slowly walks to the very edge and looks distantly at the people standing below. For some reason, she feels absolutely nothing. A whisper in an unfamiliar language covers her ears.

 

She jumps, and it's so easy to understand the moment when she reaches the height of the border – she can almost see the surface itself, absolutely transparent, reminiscent of itself rather by the sensation and movement of shadows – and she's going to join the members of the Abyss, but for some reason absolutely nothing picks her up, and she falls like a stone. She doesn't have enough time to put on her elytras.

[innocent-artery]

Kinktober 26th: Poker Face

aka exhibitionism with the Marauders

1k words

Summary: You've always had a fear of flying, but your boyfriends have a very unorthodox way of distracting you.

Pairing: Boyfriends!Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and James Potter x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~

You really wish you could have taken a train. A bus, a horse, hell, you'd even hitchhike across the French-Italian border if it meant you could avoid flying.

But here you were.

The plane hadn't even taken off yet, but your anxiety was still soaring. Your grip on your boyfriend's hand was deathly, but he made no comment. He seemed to be preoccupied with something in his pocket.

"How long until we're in Marseille?"

"Four hours and thirty minutes." Sirius replied glancing over at you with a sympathetic smile. "And we'll keep you distracted the whole time, lovie, don't you worry."

And following his words was a faint buzzing on the seam of your pants that made your entire body tense.

You'd expected him to turn on the underwear eventually, you supposed, so you really weren't that surprised. You remembered burying your face in Remus' arm when you placed your carry-on bag on the conveyer belt, coming out of the bathroom shortly after with reddened cheeks and shoving the remote into Sirius' hands before stalking away.

It was Sirius' idea to begin with. When the boys had learned about your apprehension towards flying when planning your summer travels, it had not taken long for him to suggest the idea.

And so you wound up here.

Sirius was trying to suppress a grin by playing a faux concerned look. "Are you alright, pet? You look frazzled."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to talk. Sirius passed his tongue over his teeth, leaning back proudly in his seat.

And for the first ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, Sirius toyed with the settings of the vibrator, watching out of the corner of his eye as you squirmed and sweat. He offered you his hand to hold, but other than that, he appeared to take no real notice of your plight.

And that's what frustrated you. He must have, because the vibrator always switched off completely just seconds before you could be relieved. You could have swore you saw his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, but every time you turned your head his eyes were closed with his headphones back on.

By the fifth denial, your hand was shaking in his. You thought it might be a miracle when he pulled his headphones down around his neck. "Are you alright, lovie? You're shaking."

"I wonder why," you grit out, biting harshly on your cheek when the vibrations strengthen at the remark.

Sirius clicked his tongue, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. "Poor thing." He clapped the side of the seat in front of him, and James' head came into view. "Prongs, I reckon your presence is needed."

James hummed, and he and Sirius stood to swap seats.

"How're you feeling, bun?" James coos. You don't want to trust the sweetness of his voice because you know they must have exchanged the remote in passing, but coming from his pretty lips you couldn't not.

You're able to earn more sympathy from James, able to lean your head on his shoulder while he pets your hair. Your soft whimpers are muffled in his jumper.

"Shhh, I know. I know, baby, I know. You're okay." He would always murmur when he had to snatch your orgasm right out of reach. "Doing so well, yeah?" In a way, James was worse than Sirius. The latter you could expect to be mean, but with James it felt like betrayal when he whispered sweet praise into your ear as he denied you pleasure over and over again.

It's been almost an hour and at this point you're on the verge of tears. At this point, there's a wet patch on the front of your pants noticeable if you looked long enough.

"Please, Jamie, please..." you groan as quietly as you can- which isn't really very quiet.

"Remus, I think it's your turn." James whispers into the gap between the front seats. He gives you a kiss to the temple before switching seats with Remus.

As soon as Remus sits down it's a completely different atmosphere. His hand immediately finds a home on your thigh, kneading gently at the flesh. You felt the vibrator quickly ramp up almost to its highest setting, causing you to grasp onto his arm.

"Fucking calm down, you're going to get stares." Remus mutters, squeezing your thigh in warning. You hope that your face in his shoulder looks more like napping than trying to hide the fact that you're close to an orgasm.

"Oh, but I bet that's what you want, isn't it?" His voice is stern as he amps up the intensity again. "You want to get caught, isn't that right? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are, can't even wait until we get to the hotel to get your rocks off."

Remus' breath is hot on the shell of your ear, and it takes all of your strength to keep your legs from shaking, not to thrash around, not to moan out loud enough for everyone and their mother to hear.

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," he continues, "chances are someone would enjoy the show, yeah? Enjoy hearing your dumb little moans, how bad you are at hiding them, enjoy smelling you. I can see how fuckin' wet you are, I bet you're so close."

You nod your head frantically, squeezing his hand.

"You think you can handle it? Think you can keep quiet in front of all these people?"

You nod again, and you feel the vibrator amp up to a higher intensity than you've felt the whole flight. It doesn't take long before you're tumbling over the edge, gripping your armrest and your boyfriend for dear life. You're biting your lip so hard it could bleed, and your vision turns white as your eyes squeeze shut at the overwhelming pleasure.

As the wave subsides, however, the vibrations don't stop. Your legs start twitching, and you have to keep them flexed to keep from shaking.

"Remus, Remus, I can't-"

"It's gonna be a long flight for you, bubs. Better get comfortable."

.

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 (18+, MDNI)

pairing: teen!noel gallagher x fem!oc (fern gibson <3)

summary: in which noel tries not to get jealous over someone who he knows he shouldn't be worried about, and fern gets high for the first time to soothe the blow

word count: 3.29k

warnings: swearing, drugs, alcohol, oral (m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap before you tap!!), half-arsed orgasm (f!receiving), noel doesn't really do aftercare :/

a/n: so this was my first attempt of writing smut so i'll leave that there

PART ONE IS HERE

"not that, and fuckin' hell definitely not that."

giving noel free reign of her wardrobe wasn't something fern had thought to be in the deal for going out with him that night. she had near enough shown him everything she owned, feeling somewhat downtrodden when her suggestions were met with rejection. there was even barks of laughter from noel occasionally, lay sprawled on her bed as he watched her decide.

she held out a jumper and regretted it instantly. "ralph lauren? you think it's a good idea to wear ralph fuckin' lauren? christ fern, they won't even let you into the pissin' estate."

"so, not that one then."

fern was at a stump. there was hardly anything left in her wardrobe to chose from, unless she just went in her school uniform or her pyjamas. with a heavy sigh that bordered on an exasperated groan she started to toss clothing shoved into her draws over her shoulders. there was a flurry of navy and deep red, the occasional black or white shirt landing on a heap behind her.

noel cleared his throat. fern looked around. balancing on the end of his finger was something fern thought she'd never wear for more than thirty minutes, and never outside of her bedroom. "oh, absolutely not."

he scowled. "i didn't mean on its own! i mean your tits look fucking mega whenever ye wear it but i don' want ye walking round looking like a-"

"slapper?" fern offered, with a small 'meh', that meant noel more or less agreed.

it was tragic really. fern had been out with her friends and with noel multiple times, but his condition of her going out with him did little to calm her nerves. she'd met noel's friends before and it wasn't as if she didn't like them - they were a laugh and she got on well with most of them, but she'd never been to one of their houses and the worst thing she'd ever done in her teenage life was hardly comparable.

finally, noel rolled over and pulled a red top that was near enough the shade of merlot off the floor on his way to retrieve his cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. he'd seen fern wear it before - tiny straps, lacing over her tits and silky material that moved like water whenever she did.

"this, with those jeans." he finally announced.

"with which jeans?"

noel raised an eyebrow and spoke around his cigarette. "ye know which fuckin ones."

yeah, she did. fern bundled her clothes up and took them into the bathroom, grabbing a towel out of the laundry cupboard on her way down the hall. she turned the shower on and scrubbed at her body until all she could see were vanilla scented bubbles under water so hot the room was clouding over with steam.

when she emerged from the bathroom, honey scented hair dripping wet down the back of her silk top, noel was flicking through her record box. when fern started to spray various oils onto her hair noel didn't look up, far too engrossed in a limited edition of 'hatful of hollow' he'd never got his hands on, nor was he deterred from sliding it out of the sleeve to admire it further when she blasted her hair dryer on full.

her makeup was smudged delicately around her eyes, and fern rubbed at it until it looked artistically messy like she'd seen on the cover of her mum's 'cosmopolitan' magazines. her bangs stuck and flicked out above her ears - with a dash of hairspray she'd calmed the volume and tried to stick it closer to her scalp but to no avail. it looked as if she'd pulled a roller out of it with little care for tidying up the flyaways.

it was fine. fern looked in the mirror and pinched a rosy hue into her cheeks, giving her eyebrows a quick brush through. she looked like she should have been on the cover of nme, not wishing her boyfriend would look at her instead of ogling an album cover.

it was nearly nine o'clock by the time noel suggested, slotting the smiths back into their spot amongst the other bands in fern's record box of fame, that they have something to eat. fern had tied her cream jumper he'd had rejected over her shoulders and had her car keys held between her teeth as she filled her small bag with everything she needed.

"fuckin' shit, fern. might have to glue ye to me so no-one else tries to take ye." in an instant fern's head made sharp collision with the wall behind her as noel took her keys and set them down on her desk, wrapping his hands around the base of her neck as he pushed a kiss right in the valley of her chest. fern sighed and pulled noel back by his hair, moving him up to kiss him properly.

eventually she pulled away and grabbed her things, only to slip out of her room and down the stairs. her parents were sat in the dinning room finishing off their dinner with glasses of wine. "hi daddy," fern chirped, sliding behind her dad's chair to pull out a bottle of gin from the cupboard. she hid it behind her back and handed it off to noel when he stuck his head around the door brandishing two slices of toast.

noel was disappointed to see fern had put her jumper on properly.

fern grabbed noel by the arm and steered him to the door, hoping to evade the lens of her mother's camera. when mrs gibson cleared her throat and smiled politely at fern and noel from the entryway of the dinning room with her camera in hand. like muscle memory, fern and noel stood side by side with matching smiles as the flash went.

"oh, it's lovely like always," her mum cooed. "i take it you two are off now?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

fern hummed. "yeah, and we're actually running late so i'll see you tomorrow-" once again, her plans to shove noel out of the door and into her car were foiled by her dad's voice.

mr gibson strode out into the entrance hall and clapped a strong hand over noel's shoulder. "i'm not going to bore you two with the talk again because i know you know what i'm going to say. but noel, do keep her out of trouble and safe more than anything else please. am i right in thinking you're both going back to yours tonight?"

"yeah, that's righ', mr gibson. and don' worry, i'll keep an eye on her."

"that's my boy," fern's dad smiled and turned to his daughter. "and fernie, have you got everything for school tomorrow? a coat?"

"in the car, and i won't need a coat. we'll be inside pretty much all of the time anyway, and i've got my jumper."

eventually, mr gibson nodded and wrapped an arm around his wife. "well then, have fun and don't do anything stupid."

fern and noel waved as they shut the front door behind them, only breathing a sigh of relief when they'd pulled out of the driveway.

fern felt very, very small as she pulled up infront of the house noel directed her to. the house wasn't grand by any means, a carbon copy of noel's home just in the next estate over, but the drab brick and limp looking potted plants outside the front door which did little to brighten everything up didn't really calm her nerves.

burnage was okay because she knew people who lived there and she wasn't alone without noel, but heaton chapel was new ground to her all together. fern turned off the engine and shoved her jumper right into the bottom of her school bag, sat on the back seat. noel was already standing at the bottom of the tiny path lighting up a cigarette, motioning for fern to get out of her car.

"haven't got cold feet have you, princess?" he asked, smirking.

fern wrapped her hand around the neck of the bottle of gin. she unscrewed the cap and took a large sip, shaking her head and fluffing her hair up in the rear view mirror whilst muttering "fuck off" to him. she stepped out of the car and marched right past noel, shivering as she knocked sharply three times onto the glass in the front door.

noel nearly laughed as he grabbed her upper arm and just opened the door, guiding her inside. "they're so fuckin' out of their minds they won' hear a bomb going off, love. it's better if we just appear."

"oh."

again once they were inside, it was no wonder noel knew exactly were he was going and fern did too. even the interior and layout was exactly the same as noel's house, from the carpet in the living room to the colour of the wooden banister on the stairs. except, the smell of cigarettes that fern was used to after spending a few hours in noel's room was overly strong in each step she took. perhaps turning up with just a bottle of gin was considered empty handed.

they entered the living room to see noel's mates and a few of their girlfriends draped over the sofa and sat around the floor littered with empty cans and cigarette butts. noel grabbed a can from the table and cracked it open before they were even acknowledged, and he picked up another one and threw it at someone's head.

when he looked around at them, fern recognised him as tony. she didn't know where mike was, which was strange when she was in his house. "noel! alrigh', mate?"

"yeah, yeah. you alrigh'?"

tony hummed, and halfway through reaching for the bottle of gin fern was holding out, he saw her. "oh. you alrigh' as well, fern? mike mentioned something about you coming."

noel watched out of the corner of his eye as he leaned over to cheri, tony's girlfriend, who held out a joint for him. he took a drag as tony fought hard to keep his eyes above fern's neck as he spoke to her, but he betrayed himself when fern bent down to put the bottle of gin on the table. noel gave him a sharp thump on the back. "watch it," he muttered close to her ear, "he's a dirty fucking cunt so don't take anythin' he gives you."

in that moment, fern had never felt more disassociated with the world around her. with another giggle bursting from her lips sealed with her hand, she took the third joint tony was passing around that evening. she'd only drank what noel gave her or what she chose herself, but with a sparkle of defiance in her eye, fern leaned closer to cheri when she offered her a smoke when they were sat outside.

"you don't have to," she said, cracking open a can. a whoop from tony cut through the air from the living room, "if you just act it they'll think you've done it."

fern looked at the burning end of the cylinder. with a finger she beckoned for cheri to lean close enough for her to reach. noel slid through the back door just in time for fern to make direct eye contact with him as she took a drag. she stifled her cough and cheri looked chuffed, twisting around to see noel. "sorry to break your rule."

it was a whirlwind from there on out. fern felt so light yet could feel every fibre of the carpet beneath her feet, and her nerves were ablaze when noel's hand ran over her thigh and came to rest between her legs while they were on the sofa. she curled onto him and pushed herself up against his chest, looking over her shoulder when mike finally announced his presence with a crash.

he held a plastic bag full of bottles clanging together above his head with a cigarette between his lips, eyes boring right at fern and noel. "fuck off mate, i thought you were joking about fern coming."

noel shrugged flippantly with one arm, while the other tightened his hold on fern's waist to pull her closer into him. the bare skin from where the silk of her top had ridden up pressed against the cooling buckle of his belt. "hi mike," fern managed to reach far enough over the small coffee table to cheri's hand, plucking the fresh joint out of her hand.

she wound her hand down noel's ribs and traced her nails all the way to his back pocket, where the felt around for a lighter. fern produced one and lit up the joint, sliding off noel to stand up next to mike. she took his cigarette out of his mouth and replaced it with hers (cheri's), feeling noel's eyes on her the whole time.

noel watched fern as she seemed to slide around the room, moving from bottle to can to shot to glass, laughing loudly with cheri who she'd never exchanged more than three sentences with before that evening. it was warm in the living room, no surprises when there was teenagers smoking like chimneys over every inch of floor space, but fern was covered in patches of goosebumps when noel pulled her back down onto him whilst on her way to get another drink from the kitchen.

fern collapsed next to him and began to laugh when he started to push hot and open mouthed kisses all along the shell of her and down the delicate column of her neck. she pulled him away and flung a leg over his waist, setting herself down right in the middle of his lap. noel's hands rushed all over her thighs held tightly by her jeans until they flared out gently at her knees.

noel felt himself leaning forwards when she reclined, catching her gaze focussed on tony who was pressing a cigarette to her lips with a hand all the way across her collar bone and under the tiny straps. she didn't pull away, only remained frozen in place until she sank down against noel's chest when he was called away by mike. his gaze lingered for once not on astrid's pretty face but her nipples that were straining against the thin silk, pouring over her body like water when she moved against him.

fern held noel's face in her hands, brushing the corners of his lips with her thumbs and tracing by the crease in the corner of his eye with her indexes. she kissed him and felt the coarse material of his shirt against her chest, letting him swallow her quiet moans when he ran his hands over her arse.

eventually she pulled away for a brief thirty second respite, only to heave out "you're right," breathily into his ear while her nails ran down his neck and her hands pushed past the collar of his shirt, "he's a dirty cunt who's watching me right now."

noel bundled fern up and whisked her up the stairs, stopping halfway up to grab her chin and push his thumb against her bottom lip. "yer perfect," he whispered against her tits as soon as he locked the door of the tiny box room at the top of the stairs, kissing them as fern slithered onto his lap again and pushed him down against the mattress, "fuckin' perfect."

she didn't know where the confidence came from, but fern wasn't going to let go of the chance. she unbuttoned noel's shirt and with her other hand grazed over the slight tent in his trousers as she kissed along his shoulders. he watched as she slowly removed his belt and unzipped his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxers, neglected while she kissed him again. it looked almost painful, the way her nipples were straining against her top, and she shivered when the rough callouses on noel's fingers traced over them.

fern drew away, moving to grab his cock in her hand. she stroked him once and swiped her thumb over his leaking tip to gather the pre-cum, slicking her hand up as she traced with a tantalisingly light touch all the way up the underside of his shaft. noel watched as fern's hand swallowed him up, and soon enough he was bucking up into her fist - it was probably the weed which had made him to sensitive to everything she was doing.

but when fern started to trace lazy shapes over his v-line and around the base, noel whimpered a small "fuck," and pushed his head back further against the pillow. "fern, i'm-" she licked him once and noel's hand, on instinct, grabbed her hair when he felt the tip of his cock brush against the back of her throat. fern pulled off abruptly and wiped the saliva that had gathered at the corners of her mouth away with the back of her hand.

she discarded her jeans into a corner of the room with a flick of her arm and grabbed noel's hand, shaking slightly, and pushed his fingers right up against her throbbing heat. the straps of her top slid down her shoulders, glowing with a sheen under the light, and noel pulled the v-cut of the neckline further down. his mouth latched onto one of her nipples, and fern moaned when his fingers started to circle her clit at a torturously slow pace.

he slipped past her underwear and moved it to the side, feeling the slick as he pulled her closer to him. fern braced herself with a hand digging into his shoulder, whilst she reached down and pulled his hand away. she whined at the loss of contact but sank her pussy down onto his cock immediately after.

she could feel every inch of him against her walls, each of her nerve endings alight with pleasure as she began to move up and down. fern could tell noel was close to finishing when his fingers dug into the flesh on her hips and he turned them both around, snapping his hips up three times to meet her cunt, each stroke coating him in her juices. fern's hand ran down her body and rubbed her fingers furiously against her clit as she sighed out "fuck noel, fuck i'm so close," right into his ear.

he held her thigh up and pushed into her once more, letting out a guttural groan as he pulled out and spilt over her heaving chest, white cum leaking over her stomach and staining the silky material of her top lying in a wrinkled band around her torso. fern whined at the sensitivity of it all - his quick actions had yanked her from the intense feeling of her own orgasm, replacing it with emptiness and a hollow fulfilment.

noel sat beside her, pulling his jeans up and re-buttoning his shirt. fern wondered what to do about her top. she'd borrowed it from eloise months ago and never gave it back, noel thought it was hers, and fern was hardly going to toss it into the washing basket at home and risk her mum seeing it. instead she peeled it off and pushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

in the short-lived afterglow a feeling of nausea came over her, sobering her from the drink and drugs with the weight of a freight train. noel disappeared downstairs and returned with his jacket, a cigarette back between his lips. "c'mon," he wrapped an arm around fern's shoulder, her silent body moving with him out of the house with his jacket zipped up right to her chin, "let's get you home, you look like you've been put through the fuckin' rinser."

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[clingyduofan]

lifestealers as moths because I'm bored. all images from here

zam - speckled yellow

squiddo - sussex emerald

spoke - death's-head hawkmoth

mapicc - ruby tiger

roshambo - puss moth

vitalasy - purple-bordered gold

bacon - orange swift

clown - narrow-bordered five-spot Burnet

jaron - latticed heath

jumper - lackey

subz - kentish glory

ash - haworth's minor

parrot - green silver-lines

pangi - grass eggar

reddoons - cinnabar

planet - crimson speckled

woogie - clouded silver

poafa - leopard moth

branzy - blood-vein

rek - antler moth

Leo - argent & sable

minute - white barred clearwing

terrain - triangle

jepexx - herald

mid - small purple-barred