#and i love wandering museums

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @wikiangela @eowon @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @pirrusstuff @thewolvesof1998 @heartshapedvows @monsterrae1 for Fuck it Friday/Inspiration Saturday (tagging you back if you haven’t done one or the other!) Thank you loves 💞

No pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @giddyupbuck @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @elvensorceress @buddierights @911onabc @loserdiaz @statueinthestone @chaosandwolves @spaceprincessem @jesuisici33 @forthewolves @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @the-likesofus @barbiediaz @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @apothecarose @rmd-writes loml @lizzie-bennetdarcy @vanillahigh00 @cowboy-buddie @ladydorian05 if you wanna share what’s inspiring you today 💖

This is more Fuck it than Inspiration while I continue to work on you’re where I wanna go. This past February I saw this sculpture (Eternal Springtime by Rodin) and immediately thought of Buck.

The rooms are seemingly endless, each one flowing seamlessly to the next, winding into new spaces and swallowing him whole with what they contain.

As much as Buck enjoys being around people, specifically his people, he loves this too. Being in a sacred space where the walls are lined with these treasures from the past. Testaments to the ever evolving story of humanity. What they found valuable, shameful, beautiful, abhorrent, worth protecting and preserving.

It feels like worship. Carefully treading on hallowed ground, soaking in the colors, lines, curves and textures. Letting them fill his mortal soul with something more elegant and holy than he could ever conceive of. Buck doesn’t even dare to speak, too fearful that his clumsy words of praise and awe would disturb the delicate atmosphere somehow.

Most rooms have displays in the middle — carvings or pottery — as well as the paintings hanging around them. The one he’s in now has a few smaller sculptures set on pedestals. When Buck completes his circuit of the impressionists, he drifts to the center, unprepared for what he sees. A quiet gasp escapes, taking the air in his lungs with it.

The bronze rendering depicts two lovers, a man and woman, intertwined, but not fully. He holds her, one arm supporting her back as she gracefully arches backwards, a hand in his hair as they kiss, trusting he won’t let go. His left leg crosses hers, settling between her wide stance, and his left arm extends behind him, reaching, as if he’s just dipped her body over and is trying to maintain some balance.

Buck stares, scarcely blinking or breathing. The full weight of the lovers’ intimacy and passion hits him, burrowing into his skin and nestling around his heart. What must it feel like to be loved like that?

He brings a hand up to cover his mouth, attempting to hold in the overwhelming wave of want that consumes him. The want to be loved and desired and held so preciously. Not just temporarily, for a fleeting moment in the shadows of night and anonymity, but for a lifetime. Someone that would look at him — all of him — with his scars and trauma, and deem him enough.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling him back from the edge of his spiral. When he checks, it’s a text from Eddie. His mood immediately lightens and his heart softens while his lips curve into a fond smile.

Abuela brought a tres leches cake earlier. Chris says you better come over if you want any.

Buck’s grin grows wider. He can perfectly picture Chris saying that, too. Buck learned early on that both his Diaz boys showed no mercy when it came to Abuela’s tres leches.

At the art museum. Tell him I’ll be there for dinner.

The little dots immediately begin bouncing on the screen, and it goes on for so long Buck begins to wonder what else Eddie could possibly have to say. So it surprises him when only one simple, devastating emoji appears.

❤️

[elliesbelle]

not to be tmi but when my ex comes to visit me for an entire week in just a couple of months, y'all will likely get so much ellie x reader content after that cause the similarities between my ex and ellie and the crazy amounts of disgustingly nasty lesbian sex we're gonna be having? the writing inspiration will just be flowing nonstop

[lantur]

Ueno Park, Tokyo

[stardustvanfleet]

good moooorning my gresties my loves!!!!! i… had a sickeningly sweet dream about josh last night and now i’m going about my morning with little cartoon hearts floating around my head . 🥰❤️ i love you all so much !!!!

[youssefguedira]

back in MY beloved city

[bethiewhimsy]

i have never been on a date,, but ive always dreamed of a museum date ,, sighs longingly

[butchboromir]

also literally so excited. museum date………

[marisatomay]

i’ve concluded i’ll visit philadelphia if i ever go to america simply because i’m fascinated by your posts about it and want to see what it’s like. also, a genuine non-judgemental question, what do you find interesting about baseball? i gave it a go a few times and i found it so boring i fell asleep every time….

ball go boom

[aceofvernons]

observatory dates 🤝 museum dates (both with vernon): concepts that make me sob inside if i think about them for too long

[slytherverse]

many years ago me and best friend were traipsing around the local history museum . the museum had an oft overlooked mummy exhibit on the third floor

the sarcophagus on display was open, the elaborate lid hanging a foot above the casket to barely reveal the mummy inside, like;

and bestfriend said, Sometimes they wrote messages under the lid for the Dead to read ,

and she laid down on the dirty museum carpet next to the glass case , patting the ground next to her for me to follow suit . sure enough, the underside of the casket lid was covered in inked characters , a brochure of directions to the afterlife in case they woke up all organless and confused

someone else wandered in to the little mummy room and asked if we were ok. she said, Come check this out. so he laid down on the other side.

i crossed my arms over my chest , and so did they . four bodies in a row , seeing a message intended for one; we love you, we miss you, we hope you find your way

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CEO Headcanons

Just a little idea I had some time ago of a rather bizarre dynamic: a CEO with no time to spare, introduced to a young student his wife befriended. Perhaps he does have a moment, after all. (I need to dump my preference for a cultured older man somewhere)

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, NSFW, dating the wife is optional

[Original works masterlist]

Yandere! CEO who is in his mid 40s and terribly invested in his job. So much, that he and his wife agreed on an open relationship many years ago and barely interact anymore. Not a gloomy business by any means: she gets to meet new people and he can enjoy his work and hobbies in peace and without guilt.

Yandere! CEO who doesn't think much of it when his wife brings home a young student she befriended at a convention. He nods dismissively, returning to his papers and phone calls. At dinner, he just hums in acknowledgement and fiddles with the cutlery while the woman talks about you excitedly. "You know, (Y/N) reminds me a little of you." Nonsense.

Yandere! CEO with whom you scarcely interact: he's a borderline workaholic, and your relationship is cordial at best. That is until you're asked by the wife to retrieve some important documents from their ridiculously luxurious apartment. You quietly tiptoe past the office, but can't help glancing at the imposing library, stacked with books. The man's sudden arrival startles and you begin to mumble apologies, but he seems more interested in your curiosity than anything else.

Yandere! CEO who can't believe you both like the same authors. He discreetly removes the folder from your hands, tasking one of the assistants to deliver it to his wife instead. There are more important matters at hand. Have you had your coffee yet? Oh, you must stay longer. What's the hurry?

Yandere! CEO who has become awfully perceptive whenever your name is mentioned in conversations, innocently probing for more details. Naturally, he wouldn't mind meeting you again, but it's not...a need, per se. He was just pleasantly surprised to find someone he could so easily engage in conversation with. Hell, you're old enough to be his daughter. Don't be ridiculous, he'll scold himself sternly whenever his mind wanders too far.

Yandere! CEO who begins to feel like each encounter is a flirty tease. Is it just wishful thinking, or are you becoming cheekier by day? The way you bat your eyelashes, the way you cast your eyes down whenever he looks at you. The next time you're alone in the apartment, he's too far gone in his delusions to act rationally. How unusual for him to act so nonchalant. Unbuttoning your shirt with haste, trailing your neck with hot kisses, lifting your leg and pressing you against the wall. He never considered himself the type to fuck a much younger woman out of raw lust.

Yandere! CEO who loves taking you on dates despite his busy schedule. Art museums, theatres, the Opera. He is eager to introduce you to his interests and will answer any question or curiosity you have. Who would've thought everything is better in two? Of course, there could be other factors involved. Like the added bonus of watching you squirm in your seat and biting your lips to be quiet while he fingers you at the peak of Act 3. Then smirking to himself when everyone stands up for applause, and you have to rearrange your dress to hide the wet mess underneath.

Yandere! CEO who worries about you when he's on work trips, so he tasks his right-hand man to look after you and keep you company. If you ever get lonely, you can rely on his assistant to take care of all your needs. Now, he's not one to share, despite his marital arrangement. As bizarre as it sounds, he just sees the employee as a mere toy, an idle occupation who can temporarily entertain you in his absence. What he does perceive as a threat is swiftly taken care of. It's enough for you to mention another student flirted with you, and you'll never see that person again. You have to understand that he doesn't play around with his assets. One he has something, he holds onto it with ironclad strength. And he's never been more desperate to keep something in his possession.

Yandere! CEO who makes sure to remind you why dating him is your best (and only) choice. You would've wasted your time with boys your age. He can offer you the world and more, all you need to do is ask for it.

[godsfavdarling]

kissing him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: You and Spencer are taking things slow, and kissing him might be your favorite thing in the world. words: 700 warnings: kissing, anxious/sensitive reader, no y/n a/n: a quick little thing I wrote when I woke up! a little treat! I'm imagining early seasons Spence but you do you! I'm not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You and Spencer had been dating for a while. Your relationship was built on cute dates, always doing something fun—museums, bookstores, parks, movies. Whenever he was home, he made sure to spend as much time with you as he could. 

You both took things very slowly because Spencer knew how anxious you were about being in a relationship. Sharing your days and yourself with someone else was overwhelming, so he never pushed or rushed you. 

Most people who saw the two of you might have thought you were just friends. 

It wasn't until you found yourselves in a larger crowd that Spencer would strategically place himself behind you—1) to not lose you, and 2) to make you feel safer. He’d place his hand on your back, barely touching it, but you could feel it, and it made your stomach do cartwheels. 

You hated how sensitive you were. You wished you could be the opposite—bold enough to throw yourself at him and have a hot and heavy make-out session. But you weren’t. You needed time, and he wanted you to feel good with him.

The light touches gradually transformed into soft hugs and holding hands. If it was too hot outside, you’d hook your pinky around his, which he loved. It always made him smile, even though he tried to hide how giddy it made him feel. 

On the metro, you’d always hold hands, not just to avoid losing each other, but because Spencer knew how much you hated fast-moving crowds and the creeps who sometimes occupied the trains. So, he’d squeeze your hand whenever he sensed you feeling uneasy.

Your first kiss was something you still weren’t sure who initiated. Was it you, looking at his lips as you said goodbye after a movie date? Or was it him, noticing how you were looking at him and slowly closing the distance between your faces? Maybe it was both. In the end, it didn’t matter. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like you had imagined it. 

The moment his lips touched yours, you felt him shudder and inhale deeply, which made you somehow cling to him even closer. You often forgot that Spencer was as inexperienced as you were. 

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, holding you gently, and your hands were on his cheeks. Then he slowly pulled away and looked at you. Oh god, the way he looked at you—as if you were the most divine creature in the universe. And he probably saw how you looked at him, dumbfounded, trying to process what had just happened. He smiled, kissed your cheek, and said goodnight with a promise to call tomorrow.

The kisses grew more casual and soon became a normal occurrence. Kissing Spencer became as natural as holding his hand (or hooking pinkies).

It took months for the two of you to have a proper make-out session. You were on his couch, and it might have been your fault—you couldn’t stop thinking about him, about kissing him. He even wandered into your dreams.

The movie was on, but you had no idea what it was because you kept glancing over at him, your heart racing. You tried to focus and just enjoy the evening, but you couldn't. He looked so pretty sitting next to you, completely absorbed in the movie with his brows furrowed. You were in such awe that you were startled when he turned and asked, "Why are you staring like that? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no you don’t. Your face is... just... pretty," you replied.

He blushed and said, "Your face is pretty."

You didn’t know what came over you, but right then, as he said that, you pressed your lips against his. Before you knew it, your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your hips, and you pulled him onto you as you both fell back on the couch. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue in. 

He tasted so good, so sweet. 

You loved kissing Spencer. You had always wondered what kissing someone like that felt like. What was all the buzz about? It’s just kissing, and if you thought about it too much, it was frankly kind of gross, but now, with Spencer, you understood the buzz. This was your favorite place to be.

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[hgfictionwriter]

Discretion

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Vacationing with Jessie’s family is great, but it has drawbacks as well. When Jessie and you just want some ✨ Quality Time ✨ together, frustrations and tensions build and you both try to find relief.

Warnings: Smut. Sexting, edging, fingering, possessive language/sex, service top!Jessie.

A/N: Tension. Wanting. Needing. And not being able to do anything about it until you’re desperate and lose control. Emotional and loving though.

“Morning, baby.”

You stirred from your sleep as you felt Jessie’s weight partially on top of you and her lips on your cheek.

“Good morning,” you mumbled as you awoke. You blinked, seeing her face framed by the rays of light flowing in from the hotel window.

“Time to get up,” she told you gently as she continued to lay soft kisses along your face. “Elysse is just finishing getting ready.”

You nodded, closing your eyes once more as you wrapped your arms around Jessie. She was fully clothed and ready for the day. It was her off season and you were on vacation with her parents and sister. They were lovely people, however sharing a room with her sister had its drawbacks.

“I was just having a good dream, too,” you told her as you squeezed her to you. You moaned quietly as she kissed along your jaw.

“Tell me,” she urged, now intrigued, as her hand settled on your hip and her thumb snuck under your sleep shirt to idly caress your waist.

The scenes from your dream immediately flooded your mind. As they did, a lazy smile crossed your face as you pulled Jessie into a kiss and grasped her hand, intertwining your fingers before slipping her hand into your shorts and underwear.

You grinned as Jessie’s body tensed over you and she let out a low gasp, her breath hot on your face.

“Jesus, babe,” she whispered. She shifted over you, her fingers slipping easily through your slick folds. “You’re so wet.”

“Hint enough?” You teased as you rocked your hips up into her. She let out another small grunt.

"Not at all. I want to know more now," she said as she continued to stroke you. Her fingers settled on your clit and began to rub small circles, drawing a light gasp out of you.

"Baby," you whispered as you tilted your head into her, your lips brushing against her skin. "We shouldn't - your sister's going to be out soon."

"You started this," Jessie replied, a smirk in her voice as she moved her hand down and dipped a finger inside of you, then two. Your head fell back into the pillows as she kissed your neck slowly, but greedily. "Tell me more, baby."

“I-”

Your words died in your throat and you both stilled as you heard her sister finishing up. Jessie growled into your neck.

“Mm. Sharing a room sucks,” she grumbled, slowly pulling out of you. She exhaled heavily as she sat back, cheeks rosy already as she looked down at you. She gave you an affectionate shake of her head.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the bathroom door hadn't opened. Turning back, she locked eyes with you and slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking you off of them, steadily holding your gaze as she did so. Your mouth fell agape and your center pulsed at the sight.

She gave you a wink. "Tell me more later?" You bit your lip.

"I promise."

-----------

The group of you were walking through an exhibit at the local natural history museum. Jessie was in her element, taking keen interest in numerous displays, thoroughly reading descriptions and reciting facts for you as you wandered through.

You were interested, sure. But frankly, you were distracted. You couldn't get this morning off of your mind. You did your best to be engaged, but it was hard to focus when Jessie gestured with her hands and all you could think about is how good it would feel to have those fingers inside of you instead.

When you found yourself checking out a separate display from the Flemings you couldn't help yourself. You opened your messages with Jessie.

"You and I were at a private beach. Your skin was sun-kissed and freckled and you were laying back on a day bed. I was straddling you. You looked and felt so good under me, I'd soaked through the bottoms of my bikini as I ground myself onto you. You must've had a strap on - or, who knows - because even though your hands were gripping my hips, you were suddenly pressing up into me through our swimsuits. I was begging you to fill me. You pulled my bikini aside - it felt so fucking amazing when you sunk into me - so hard and thick, my legs shaking as you started to pump into me."

You glanced over at Jessie with her family, taking a quick breath before sending it.

You rejoined them and watched Jessie carefully out of the corner of your eye. She was chatting with her mom when she opened the message. You watched as her voice faltered mid-sentence, her eyes fixed on the screen. It took her a second, her mom inquiring, before she snapped to attention and tucked her phone away with a quick laugh and a tight smile. Her face was red.

You were still watching her when she fell behind the group and locked eyes with you. Giving you what someone else might have interpreted as a glare. You gave her an easy smile.

You were leaving the museum when you got a text from her.

"Baby girl. WTF. I want to be mad, but the way I'm pulsing for you right now is distracting me. God, I wish I was inside of you right now. I'm still thinking about the way you felt around my fingers this morning. You were so wet and tight. You feel amazing. Wish I could've had you cumming on my fingers, into my hand and making a mess of those sheets."

At lunch, you returned from the bathroom, taking your seat across from her and catching the lingering look she gave you. She must've gotten your text.

"My panties are soaked, babe. You fucking me in my dream, your thick fingers inside of me this morning, your text. God. I need you so badly. I need you stretching me tight around you - your fingers, your cock - I love them both. I just need you inside of me where you belong. I'm so wet and ready for you."

You conversed happily with her family over the meal, biting back a smirk at how you could feel Jessie's eyes boring into you between discussions. Her stern expression breaking into a friendly smile as soon as someone turned to her.

You were all walking through a city park after, Jessie lagging slightly behind when your phone vibrated.

"It's like you want me to pin you to the wall of the nearest bathroom stall and take you. God, what are you doing to me? I feel like I can't even walk properly because of how hot I am for you right now. I can't even stand near you because I want my hands and my mouth all over you. Sitting there charming my family while you have me absolutely throbbing for you and driving me feral."

The day went on like that. Teasing, wanting, and hungry texts flying back and forth between you with increasing frequency and intensity. Longing, lustful but mostly fleeting glances between you two as you both played your parts to act normal and unbothered around her family. Your face felt flush even though she hadn't laid a finger on you.

"I'd be moaning your name. Cum dripping down my thigh and onto your pants while you fuck me. I swear I can feel your hands on me. I know your touch so well. Your hands, your mouth, your everything. God, I need you."

"Baby. What I wouldn't give to be knuckle deep inside of you. I can imagine how easily I'd slip inside, your slick pussy pulling me in and gripping me. I'd love your cum staining my pants - let everyone know how much I turned you on. Babe. I'm so wet for you right now."

"Oh my God. I can't concentrate. All I can think about is having you deep inside of me. Your body on top of me. Me begging you to make me yours again and again."

"Fuck, babe. You know what that does to me. I love making you mine. Reminding you of who you belong to. You whimpering and moaning beneath me, so needy for me. I wanna wear your scratches down my back."

Finally, you found yourselves back near the hotel after a late dinner. You had one more stop for the day, but Jessie had other plans.

“Hey, my head is pounding. I’m getting a migraine. I think I’m just going to call it for tonight. Get some rest,” she said.

After some quick notes of concern from her parents and a generous, selfless offer from you to take her back, Jessie and you were leaving together. That’s when Elysse piped up.

“I’ll come too,” she said, already walking towards you. “I’m beat.”

You felt Jessie physically tense up next to you and saw the way her jaw clenched, but you both obviously had to play along.

Back at the hotel, you and Jessie got ready for bed and climbed in. You almost would’ve believed Jessie wasn’t feeling well with how quiet she was and the frown she wore. Elysse announced she was showering and retreated to the bathroom.

A heavy sigh came from Jessie the moment her sister locked the door.

“Well that backfired,” she muttered in frustration.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said as you laid next to her and ran your hand up and down her thigh.

“Mm,” Jessie voiced, discerning eyes flitting over to you. “The way your hand is moving I don’t think you’re very sorry.”

“It’s hard to be next to you and not touch you, especially after today,” you said in a hushed tone, turning onto your side, lifting a leg to rest over hers and kissing her neck. “I mean, when I start my morning with your fingers inside of me, how can I not want more?”

She puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

“God, you’re not making this easy,” Jessie said, her gaze dropping back down to you.

“You make that seem like a bad thing,” you teased as your hand played with the waist of her shorts.

“Fuck, babe,” she said, hips already lifting off the mattress in search of relief. She closed her eyes momentarily before gently cupping your face. “You’ve had me aching for you all day. I cleaned up before I got into bed but I’m soaked all over again because I can’t stop thinking about being inside of you.”

Your mouth fell open in want as she rocked her hips up into you again before shifting and rolling you onto your back, all while looking deep in your eyes.

“God I want you so bad,” she said, her voice almost weak as she rolled her forehead against yours and ground her hips into you. "I’ve been picturing fucking you on nearly every surface we’ve seen today. You have no idea how desperate I’ve been for you all day."

"So do something about it," you urged teasingly as you kissed her and ground your hips up into hers. She moaned low into your kiss.

"You have to be quiet. I'm serious."

“I’ll be quiet,” you said quickly.

“Baby girl, I know you’re anything but quiet when my fingers are deep inside of you,” she whispered.

You bit the inside of your cheek - hard - smothering a moan in your throat. “I’ll be quiet tonight. I promise.”

“I should be able to control myself more,” she said softly and kissing you. “I don’t know how you do this to me.” She rocked her hips into you and her hand held the back of your head, fingers digging in slightly.

“Don’t you want to feel me come undone around your fingers?” You leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You can’t tease me all day and leave me like this, aching for you and unsatisfied.” You spied a look. She was crumbling. “I thought I was yours, baby.”

She grit her teeth together, hips subtly grinding against you. “You are mine,” she ground out.

“Then show me,” you pleaded softly. “You said you’d take care of me.”

She growled deep in her throat, but it didn’t hold an ounce of anger. You knew it well. Her fingers found the band of your shorts tugging them down roughly and discarding them before running two firm fingers along your slit, the outside of your panties slick with your arousal.

“Fuck, baby,” she ground out again as her hips pushed her hand harder against your core. “You’re so fucking wet. God, I’m so weak for you. I’d do anything you want me to.”

“Take care of you,” she growled again as she pushed your legs further apart with her own and breathed heavily into your neck. “Of course I will. Anything for you.” You ground your hips up into her fingers as she continued to stroke your swollen lips through your underwear. She spoke softly. “My pretty girl. You’re mine. I’ll always take care of you.”

She pushed your underwear aside and sunk inside of you as she finished speaking. Both her mouth and yours fell agape at the sensation. You stifled a moan, and she pressed her lips to your cheek to lull you.

“I know, baby. I know,” she cooed as she curled her fingers inside of you. She then rest her forehead against yours and you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders, desperately so. “It feels good for me too.”

She drew her fingers back and pushed them back inside again, the motion effortless with how wet you were.

“God, I could cum right now with how you feel around me,” she whispered in awe. “You have no idea how incredible you are.”

Another moan threatened to escape you, and she muffled it with a kiss. She continued to pump in and out of you, slow, but purposeful. You broke off the kiss and leaned into her ear.

“How do you expect me to be quiet when you fuck me as good as you do,” you whispered, a smirk tugging at your lips as you felt her body shiver.

“Need to make sure my baby is satisfied.”

“I’m always satisfied with you.”

“You weren’t a moment ago.”

“That’s true. That’s your fault for getting me so worked up to begin with. And you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Jessie grunted lightly into the kiss. “That’s right. Only me.”

“Forever,” you told her. Her back arched into you at the response and her breathing quickened.

“Gonna make you my wife,” she declared into your kiss as she stroked your cheek while she continued her deep, slow thrusts.

You released a moan into her mouth and she tightened her grip on you, causing you to dig your fingers into her back.

“I’ll take your name.”

“Please. I want everyone to know you chose me,” she said. “You’ll wear my ring.”

“Always.”

Jessie grunted softly over you as she gently rocked you into the mattress with each stroke. She kept kissing you deeply.

“I want to give you everything,” she proclaimed as she continued to her curl her fingers inside of you and her thumb circled your clit.

Another moan was escaping you as the shower turned off. You both stilled, eyes locking on each other, her fingers still sheathed by your fluttering pussy.

The stillness only lasted a few seconds before her thumb started to rub your clit again and you tightened around her fingers.

“I can’t stop fucking you,” she said, voice low. “You feel too good.”

You pushed your head back into the pillows as she began pumping in and out of you again, somehow feeling even deeper this time.

“Need to feel you cumming on my fingers." She arched into you again, her voice breathy in your ear. “I can’t sleep if I know I didn’t give you what you want and need.”

Your wet sounds, though muffled by the blankets, still filled her head.

"Hear how much you missed me, baby? I can feel you dripping onto the sheets, my love. Wish my head was between your legs, tasting you. I want you in every way. I'd make love to you all night," she told you as she rocked you both gently, but firmly into the mattress once more.

You adored when she was like this. She was so reserved and not a naturally flirty person, so to hear the words pouring out of her mouth all day and night just for you, combined with the way she was moving in you and over you, sent you to your peak. Your jaw fell open repeatedly as you were tempted to cry out. It came out a strangled whimper that she sealed with her lips in a hard kiss. Your core tightened and your gripped her desperately as she held you close.

Your body had just started to relax and she was tenderly kissing your neck when the bathroom door unlocked. Jessie was off of you in a flash and swiftly settled next to you. You took a few deep, quiet breaths and a few seconds later the door swung open.

"Oh, you two are still up," Elysse commented lightly as she came around to her bed. She glanced at you and a light frown crossed her face. "Are you getting sick? You look really flushed. Do you want the AC on tonight?'

You ignored how Jessie's fingers sunk into your hip.

"I'm okay, thanks," you told her, your voice initially hoarse and dry, much to your chagrin.

"Alright, well you just let me know. Happy to turn it on."

----------

The next morning Jessie and Elysse were talking in the room as you got ready in the bathroom.

"You're feeling better?" Elysse asked.

"Yeah, much better. Thank you," Jessie replied, offering her sister a smile. Her smile faltered as her sister's look of concern switched to a teasing smirk.

"I'll bet. Sorry to crash your party last night. If you wanted privacy, you should've really just said so. I am happy to give you two your space so I don't have to hear that again."

[thethingswedotomorrow]

Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

[justporo]

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.