with a built in bench

“Cas?” Dean knocks on the door–is it the second time, or the third?–then says again, “Cas. I’m worried, man. I’m coming in, alright?”

He’d been walking by, on the way back to bed after a late night snack, when he’d heard thumps and crashes from inside Cas’s room. He’d banged on the door, but Cas wasn’t answering.

Done waiting, Dean announces himself again and pushes the door open. His desk chair is in pieces, scattered all over the room. The middle shelf on his bookshelf is askew, most of the books in a haphazard pile just below it. And there is Cas, slumped on the floor, knees pulled tight to his chest…crying.

Kneeling at Cas’s side, Dean says softly, “Oh god, Cas, what can I do?” He reaches out to put a hand on Cas’s shoulder, but stops just shy of actually touching him, unsure. Cas looks up at him, blue eyes wet with tears, and ever so slightly leans into Dean’s comforting touch.

Cas steadies his breath, then he says, “I was asleep, then I had a nightmare.”

Dean closes his eyes, schooling his face to stillness so he doesn’t wince. Angel or not, all the trauma Cas has been through in the past few years means he needs to sleep sometimes. And that same trauma means his sleep is almost always interrupted by nightmares. It’s a vicious cycle, one Dean would do anything to break.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It’s…my room feels too…confined. I need to get out. Could you…would you…walk with me?”

“Outside? It’s the middle of…” He’d meant to finish with ‘winter’ but seeing the hope fade from Cas’s eyes changed his mind. “Sure, Cas. Give me five minutes to change. This robe ain’t exactly cold weather gear.” As he’d hoped, this brings the hint of a smile to Cas’s lips. “And you too. I don’t want you wasting your grace just to keep yourself warm. I know it’s not what it once was.”

Bristling, Cas starts to protest, but Dean holds his hands up to stave off argument. “Come on, Cas. You take care of me. Let me take care of you, too.”

Cas leads them into the woods that surround the bunker, a flashlight in one mittened hand. The snow squeaks under their boots, the only sound in the otherwise silent night. Breath frosts the air around their faces. After ten minutes or so of silence Dean tentatively asks, “Do you have a destination in mind?” Cas nods. Dean shoves his mitten-covered hands into his pockets, content to let Cas lead, both their steps and their conversation. He knows Cas will talk when he’s ready.

I can watch him, though, he thinks, and smiles inwardly. Cas had done as he’d been told, somewhat. He was wearing heavy boots, fleece-lined pants made of heavy canvas on the outside (Sam had bought him those, and Cas had protested rather loudly), a wool sweater over a long-sleeved t-shirt, wool mittens, a wool hat with a big blue pom-pom on the top…and his trench coat. Nothing and no one could make him wear a different coat.

Cas ducks to pass a low branch, and suddenly Dean is overcome with a fit of laughter.

Startled, Cas turns, asks, “Is something amusing?”

Dean gasps, in between barks of laughter, “I’m walking through the woods next to an ancient celestial being…with a pom-pom on his head.”

Scowling, Cas tears the hat off his head.

Dean sobers. “No, don’t do that. I’m sorry Cas. It was just bobbing around when you ducked under that branch, and…” He takes the hat from Cas and tugs it back onto his head. “There. We can be ridiculous together. See, I’ve got one too.” He shakes his head with a smile.

Sighing, Cas says, “Alright. Come on then, we’re nearly there.”

A few minutes later the trees, which had been tight all around and had made a broad canopy overhead, suddenly open up. They stand in an almost perfectly round clearing, about thirty yards across, bathed in moonlight. Cas switches off his flashlight and puts it in his pocket.

“Cas, this is…” Dean lets his voice trail off.

“I know,” Cas says.

Their eyes meet, and neither has to say anything else about it.

“I like to come here to stretch my wings,” Cas says in an offhanded tone, and Dean has to work to keep from gaping. Cas never really talks about his wings, especially not since they’ve become so damaged that he can no longer fly. “I can unfurl them in the bunker, but I worry about knocking things over. Here I can spread them wide and really stretch out my muscles.”

“I never even thought about that,” says Dean quietly. “I’m sorry, Cas. The bunker, there must be so much that’s–”

“No, Dean. I like living in the bunker, with you. And Sam.” After a heavy pause he turns and walks toward the opposite side of the clearing. “I made something.”

Curious, Dean follows. When he sees, he draws a breath. He’s been coming here all winter, and we had no idea, he thinks.

“Come. Sit,” Cas says, and Dean follows, sitting at the table Cas had carefully built out of ice and snow. A mound of snow, hollowed out underneath for their legs to fit, flat and nearly smooth on the top. Behind the hollowed out portion he’d built what was clearly meant to be long, low bench, just the right height for the table.

Dean can’t help but ask, with wonder in his voice, “When did you do this, Cas?”

“I come here at night. You know I do not need to sleep every night, and sometimes when I do…” He looks up at the moon, filling the clearing with silver brilliance. “I thought it might be difficult, living in the bunker. I’ve spent millennia with the cosmos as my backyard, how could I possibly live in a speck here on earth? But that adjustment was surprisingly easy. It’s the nightmares, Dean. The nightmares, and the guilt. Oftentimes when I wake up crying…or screaming…I come here.”

He wants to speak, to apologize for not knowing, for not helping, but he just listens.

Because finally–finally–Cas is talking.

He talks about pulling Dean out of hell: the demons he battled, the brothers and sisters he lost, the brightness of Dean’s soul pulling him ever onward. His eyes shine as he tries to put into words the elation he felt when he finally held Dean’s soul in his hands.

He tells of his rebellion, of the joy of free will coupled with the pain of disappointing, hurting, or sometimes even killing his brothers and sisters.

When he talks about his alliance with Crowley his eyes fill with pleading and pain.

When he tells Dean what it felt like to be full of souls from purgatory, to cast judgments upon heaven and earth, his eyes overflow. Soon the top of the snow table is pitted with holes from Cas’s tears.

He remembers letting the souls go, and being destroyed by leviathan.

The words keep coming and coming, sometimes in order, sometimes not. Purgatory. Naomi’s reprogramming. Killing Samandriel. Killing Dean, and killing Dean again and again. And then not killing Dean, the real Dean, and being free from Naomi. Metatron. The nephilim. The angels falling, falling, falling…

It’s as if something broke inside of Cas, letting all the words come out, and Dean knows all he can do is listen and hold on until the flood of words has passed. With a jolt he realizes he really is holding on: their mittened hands are clasped together. When did that happen? he wonders. He squeezes Cas’s hand. Cas stumbles over a word, startled, then squeezes back.

About the time Cas runs out of words, Dean begins to shiver.

Cas looks up, his eyes clear and bright. “Dean! You should have told me you were cold!”

Dean tries to laugh at being scolded, but it comes out as an odd braying noise through his chattering teeth. “Not important,” he says.

“But I can easily take care of this,” Cas says. “Ancient celestial being, remember?”

They’d been sitting close, but Cas scoots even closer to Dean, pulling all four of their hands onto their laps. “Lean forward, just a bit,” he says, and then there is the unmistakable sound of feathers rustling.

Dean whips his head around to see the blue-black flash as Cas’s wings unfurl, filling the space behind them. He’s never seen Cas’s wings this close before. The feathers are exquisite, each one inky black at the base slowly lightening to midnight blue at the ends, with just a hint of electric blue on the very edges. There are broken feathers, and gaps where feathers are just gone, but somehow the imperfection makes Cas even more beautiful. He’s caught up, staring, when Cas says, “Just hold still for a moment,” and suddenly those brilliant, majestic wings are suddenly wrapped around them, a cocoon of warm feathers.

“Cas, this is awesome!” He turns his head toward Cas and he is there, right there, their noses only separated by a breath, and he knew he’d been meaning to say something else but his mind had lost everything but blue eyes and feathers.

There is only the sound of their mingled breath for a long, long moment, then Cas says, “Are you warm now, Dean?”

Dean tries to answer, but his words get caught in his throat. Because suddenly he’s not warm, he’s hot, his skin prickling, his breath coming in gasps. Half of his mind says, But this is Cas, while the other half is screaming CasCasCas! He’s not sure which half he’s listening to when he closes his eyes and says, “I’m fine, Cas. Thank you.” His voice is raw and strained, and even with his eyes closed he can feel Cas’s confusion. He looks up, softening. “This is amazing. Absolutely the best blanket I’ve ever had. Beats goose down any day.”

Cas tries to keep his face serious but fails as he says, “Angel feathers are far superior to goose feathers.”

Dean grins back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m shopping for a blanket for my bed.” The instant he says it he wants to take it back; his face burns with embarrassment. Quickly he says, “Cas. Next time you have a nightmare, you don’t have to go through it alone, okay? Wake me up. I’ll sit with you in your room, or in mine, or wherever you want. Even out here in the cold.”

“Thank you, Dean.” There is so much relief, not just in Cas’s voice but in his whole body. Even his wings tremble. “Thank you,” he says again. When the tension leaves his shoulders his head falls forward a fraction of an inch, and suddenly their foreheads are pressed together, and their noses, and it seems like the most natural thing, good and pure and right, when their lips crush together, too.

Oh, my dear, I’ll wait for you

And grace tonight will pull us through

Until the tears have left your eyes

Until the fears can sleep at night

Until the demons that you’re scared of disappear inside

Until this guilt begins to crack

And the weight falls from your back

Oh, my dear, I’ll keep you in my arms tonight.

–from Oh My Dear

Tenth Avenue North

Inktober with the Bunker || Day 17: Wings

it’s only fair


// after a few unfortunate events, harry and y/n find themselves at the fair and have some much needed fun


It was a hot day. Like a really hot day.

It’s times like these when Harry appreciates his short hair and doesn’t miss his heavy curls one bit. Sweat glistens on his face from the bright fair lights surrounding him and y/n. She’s sweating too but somehow the sheer layer of sweat coating her skin makes her look like a goddess. He thinks y/n looks like a goddess in all states– even in her frazzled and annoyed state, like this morning and afternoon.

The day did not start off the way Harry and y/n would’ve liked it to. For starters, the power died in the middle of the night which left the two of them in a puddle of sweat in the morning due to the lack of air conditioning. This did not leave y/n in a good mood. Her hair was frizzy and the shine on her face made her feel disgusting. She walked around the house in nothing but her bra and panties, trying to prevent sweat marks from appearing under her arms and around her thighs, which left Harry quite frustrated with her but did nothing about it, deeming it too hot for sex. Harry later decided that if he wasn’t going to get any sex, he was going to get food. He looked inside the fridge at least 6 times, which made y/n yell at him because she was sure that all of the food would spoil if Harry continued to open and close the fridge. So instead of boiling in their sauna, Harry suggested the two go out to grab lunch and maybe see a movie in an air conditioned theater.

All y/n wanted to do was to stay inside her air conditioned home with Harry and turn it down so much, they’d have to wrap themselves in blankets because it got too cold in the house. This was not the case. Instead, Harry and y/n found themselves on the shoulder of the freeway with two flat tires. It was nearly 100 degrees in the area and y/n, being the smart one, refused to leave the air on in the car because she didn’t want to overheat the Range Rover. The two had gotten out of the car and called a towing company, who said help wouldn’t get to them until 4:00, which was three hours away. They had no choice but to sit at the side of the freeway and complain. Harry wasn’t one to express his frustrations but y/n on the other hand was very vocal. The only words spewing from her mouth were “It’s so hot,” or “I’m literally dying.” To which Harry would say, “I know, love, I know it’s hot,” or “Yes, baby I know you’re dying.”

Harry was a very good boyfriend to say the least, and tried making the three hours go by quickly for him and y/n. He’d sing and tell her stupid jokes and then sing some more. Eventually the towing truck arrived, put on the two new tires and told Harry that they were good to go. Harry thanked the man, gave him a generous tip and opened the car door for y/n. She grimaced getting in, fearing the hot leather seat would burn her skin as much as the sun did. Y/n apologized profusely for complaining so much and asked Harry if he wanted to go to the fair instead of the movies. None of their day went as planned so she figured why not do what Harry has been begging to do. He always thought the fair was a romantic first date idea– one that he never got around to doing.

Now, here they are standing by the funnel cake and fried twinkies stands, debating which one they’d rather eat. “I’d prefer funnel cake,” y/n says softly, wrapping both of her arms around one of Harry’s and leaning her head against his shoulder. Harry nods as they walk up to the front and politely asks for one funnel cake with powdered sugar. He only got one cake because knowing y/n, she would never finish one on her own and Harry certainly does not want to eat his and finish y/n’s.

“Thank you,” Harry smiles to the kind lady who hands him his treat. Y/n finds a nice place for them to sit, right near the prize games. The bench was built around a big tree trunk so the leaves provide shade from the little sun that was left in the sky. Unfortunately, this meant Harry wasn’t going to get his moment looking at the sunset with y/n in the ferris wheel when it “breaks” on them when they’re at the top. He laughs to himself, thinking how cheesy he’s gotten since being in a relationship. Once swallowing her bite of funnel cake y/n asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Harry chuckles. “Just thinkin’ about how I was gonna ask the guy at the ferris wheel to stop it when we’re at the top.”

Y/n laughs too. “That only happens in movies.”

“Our life is kinda like a movie. I mean, we woke up with no air conditioning, we got two flat tires and my girlfriend complained the whole day. Yet, here I am sharing a funnel cake with her.” Harry concludes by shoving the fork into his mouth, savoring the sweet powdered sugar coating his lips.

“I’m sorry for complaining so much today,” y/n apologizes. “You know the heat just drives me crazy and I know I can be a bitch about it and-”

Harry cuts her off with a peck to the lips and he smiles when he notices the powdered sugar on his lips transferred onto hers.

“You still love me?” y/n jokingly asks him.

Harry purses his lips and shakes his head. “Nope, can’t stand you. We’re breaking up,” he laughs.

Y/n gasps and smacks his arm playfully. “Shut up, you love me,” she says, getting up and walking to the nearest garbage can to throw away their plate. Harry follows her and quickly grabs her hand as he notices some teenage boys looking in her direction. Harry can be quite possessive at times, always fearing that y/n will find someone better, someone who’s around more. The boys continue to look at y/n though, no doubt because of what she’s wearing. The weather, of course, influenced y/n to wear a cute sundress that might be a little too short if she raised her arms to the air— which is exactly what she’s doing as she points to the giant bears mounted to the walls at one of the carnival games. “Harry, let’s get that bear!” she exclaims. She runs over to the very bored looking worker and asks if she can play. He rolls his eyes and tells her it’s two dollars. Y/n pays with her own money and receives the three rings to throw around the bottles.

“Let me do it,” Harry says, reaching his hand out to get the rings from y/n. However, she shakes her head.

“No, I wanna do it,” she states childishly. She tosses the first ring and much to Harry’s surprise, it lands around the neck of one of the milk bottles. “Yes!” y/n whispers under her breath.

Harry stands behind her, admiring her little happy dance she made when the rings didn’t end up on the floor or between the bottles. Y/n successfully got all three rings around a bottle and the poor worker had to get up from his chair to ask y/n which prize she wanted. She very happily said the giant brown bear. The man trudged over to get it for her and Harry laughed. “What on earth are yeh going to do with that thing?”

Y/n grabs the bear from the man, spins around and holds it out to Harry. “Give it to you!” she replies. Harry looks at her like she’s joking. “C'mon, take the bear H, my arms are getting tired!”

He groans and takes the bear from her hands. “This isn’t right, poppet. I’m the one supposed to be giving you the bear.”

“Well you said so yourself, what the hell am I gonna do with a giant bear? I gave it to you for you to give to some little girl or something,” y/n shrugs.

“Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m going to win yeh something, so yeh can give a kid a bear too. iI mean, it’s only fair.” Harry looks at his girlfriend with wide eyes and a ridiculous grin, waiting to see if she got his pun. “G-get it? Because, like, we’re at the fair and it would be fair if I won yeh something and like-”

“Yes Harry, I get it you dork,” y/n giggles. “Alright well which game are you going to do?”

“Maybe the one you did?” Harry answers. “That can’t be too hard, right?”

Y/n doesn’t say anything. She just gestures her hand forward, as if it’s an invitation for Harry to proceed with the ring toss. He does so, repeating y/n’s previous actions by giving the guy, whose name tag says Dave, two dollars. Harry tosses his first ring and misses completely. Y/n snickers at his failed attempted and Harry shushes her. He says, “Quiet, love. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Harry misses again.

And again.

Harry gives Dave another two dollars.

He misses again.

And again.

And again.

“You know what man,” Dave begins, getting up from his chair. “You’re gonna be here,” he reaches for another bear, “all night so i’m just gonna give this to you. Dave hands Harry a white bear and says, “Now get out of here and have your girlfriend teach you how to throw.”

Y/n laughs and thanks the man with a smile. While y/n pulls Harry away from the game he yells, “I played football growing up, not football! Wait no, I mean soccer, not football!” Y/n laughs some more at Harry’s explanation for having a crappy throw, completely stumbling through his words.

“Wow, you’re really bad at that,” y/n chirps while swinging their joined hands front and back through the air. Harry stays quiet and lets y/n lead the way. She skips towards the ferris wheel so Harry can finally experience what it would be like to go on one with his girlfriend. “Sorry this couldn’t have been part of our first date,” she says as they get on. Their first date was in Milan, the day before the band filmed the Where We Are Tour at the San Siro Stadium so there’s not much for y/n to complain about. Harry nods and squeezes in next to her, each of their bears sitting on their laps. Neither of them speak but the silence between them is comforting. They both hold onto their bears while looking around the fair from their new point of view. Everyone looks a little smaller and the illuminating lights make Harry think about y/n’s eyes when she talks about things she loves.

“You met a lot of fans today,” y/n speaks up.

“Yeah, and some even wanted yeh in the pictures,” Harry remarks, dropping his arm over y/n’s shoulder, trying to bring her closer to him. He’s never been one for heights (despite the sign of the times music video), so he hopes keeping y/n close will comfort him.

Y/n scoffs. “Except for that one girl who made me take the picture!”

“Maybe she doesn’t like yeh! Also who else would’ve taken the picture?” Harry asks. His grip on y/n comes tighter as the ferris wheel makes a few bumpy movements.

“Uh, she could’ve just taken a selfie. Also, me? Not liked? How dare someone not like me?” She jokes. Y/n’s sarcasm has always been one of Harry’s favorite qualities about her. She has always been unapologetically herself and that didn’t change one bit when she and Harry started dating. She knew how to hold her own and take the hate thrown at her (which wasn’t much, everyone loves her).

I like you,” Harry cheers. “And that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah, never stop liking me. I don’t think many people appreciate my complaining when it’s hot.” y/n replies, along with leaving Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“Well that’s part of who yeh are, love. And yeh know, when it gets hot wherever we are, we can go somewhere that’s cold,” Harry explains. Y/n nods and their ride comes to an end. Harry is bummed that the ride didn’t break when they were at the top, but also a bit relieved because of the whole heights thing.

The two of them make their way to the exit of the fair, still holding both of the bears. While walking out, y/n spots a family of four in the parking lot: a brother and sister and their dads. Both of the kids are crying and y/n tells Harry she knows who she wants to give the bears to. Harry notices the family as well and agrees with his girlfriend. Y/n, feeling anxious about approaching the family, makes Harry speak first.

“Hi, um, I’m hHarry and this is my girlfriend y/n,” Harry introduces himself to the dad with the shaved head. “Well, um, we won each other these bears but um, we don’t really know what we’re going to do with them so would- would yeh like to take them off of our hands?” Harry asks, finally getting to his point.

“Oh, that’s very kind but-” the dad begins, but is abruptly interrupted by his son. His crying ceases and he runs for y/n’s bear, screaming with joy. He takes it in the tightest hug imaginable, while the little girl hides behind her other dad’s legs. Y/n gladly gives up her bear and introduces herself to the boy. She learns his name is Micah. Meanwhile, Harry crouches down in front of the little girl and gently extends the bear towards the girl.

“Hello, I’m Harry. My girlfriend over there,” he gestures to y/n who is still talking to Micah. “She won this for me but we both think that these bears will be a lot happier with you and your brother.” The girl comes away from her shield and steps out into perfect view for Harry to see her. She has on a pink dress with white flowers scattered around the fabric. Her hands remain behind her back while she wiggles around. She looks up to her dad, to see if she can accept Harry’s gift. He gives her a little nod and smile. This is all she needs because once she sees that nod, she snags the bear right out of Harry’s hand.

“What do you say, Lydia?” The dad asks his daughter.

Lydia whispers a small thank you and goes back to hiding behind her dad. “Thank you,” her dad repeats. Harry and y/n grin, happy that 1. they got rid of those bears and 2. they probably made those kids’ day. They bid the family a goodbye and struggle to find their car.

Uh-oh, not more car problems…

Harry raises his arm in the air, continuously pressing the buttons on the remote, while they look around the parking lot for their Range Rover. (Probably the nicest car in the parking lot of a fair). “Harrrryyyyy,” y/n drags his name out. “How do you not remember where you parked the car?”

“I do remember!” Harry exclaims. “But it’s dark and the car is black!” Harry continues to the press buttons. “Wait, aren’t yeh like, supposed to put the thing up to your chin and then you’ll find your car?”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, though Harry can’t see. “I’m pretty sure that’s a myth, babe.”

Harry shrugs and tries it anyways.

Beep, beep.

Both of their eyebrows raise and they look at each other surprised. “I stand corrected,” y/n says, walking in the direction of the car. They both sigh once they reach the car and state their exhaustion. “What a day,” y/n says, getting into the vehicle.

Harry agrees and starts up the car without further conversation. Y/n is quick to fall asleep so her soft breathing is all Harry listens to. It’s too comforting to play music over. The drive home is brief as there’s not much traffic this late in the night. Getting y/n inside is a bit of a struggle as Harry doesn’t want to wake sleeping beauty up. He couldn’t figure out the best way to carry her; like, is he supposed to toss her over his shoulder? Is he supposed to carry her bridal style? He opts for the latter and somehow makes his way inside with out waking her. A heavy sleeper this one is.

Much to harry’s relief, the power came back sometime during the day which meant the air conditioning was on full blast. If only y/n was awake to appreciate the coolness. Harry settles y/n onto their bed and whispers to her that he’s going to take her clothes off to get her changed into her pajamas. All the movement leaves y/n stirring, but not fully awake. She mumbles incoherent things as Harry slides off her underwear. “Mmm, no Harry. Too tired for sex.”

“No, love,” Harry chuckles. “I’m just gettin’ yeh ready for bed, that’s all.” He pulls her dress over her head, unclasps her bra and somehow wiggles on her sleep shirt. “There we go,” he kisses y/n’s nose. “All ready fo’ bed.”

Y/n miraculously finds enough energy to shimmy her way under the comforter and tell Harry that she loves him. He tells her he loves her too and thanks her for the day they had. Harry places a kiss to y/n’s clothed shoulder and drifts himself off to sleep.


[authors note • i have lots of doubts about posting this but @helplesslyharry told me to bc she likes it so…. also, yes i named the girl lydia after the little girl at the OTRA concert. if u haven’t seen it or wanna watch it again, here’s the video lol. thank u for reading i love u lots and pls leave me talk to me!!]

Overwatch fic: The catdads and that time they met up with McCree after the Fall.

Remember when I said I was writing this, a year and a day ago?  No warnings.  The cut is just for length.
Jesse’s clients showed him the documentation on his targets before he took the job, and it’s pretty clear he’s after a real pair of desperadoes.  These two have left a trail of bodies, theft, and occasional devastation in their wake from one hemisphere to the other, and he reckons it’s about time someone put a stop to it.

When they nail him in an ambush, he realizes that someone’ll have to be someone else.

His arms get pinned from behind by a grip that feels like a bear’s, claws and all.  The other one drops down in front of him from an awning three stories up and then uncoils from his crouch like he’s made of shock absorbers.  “Jesse McCree,” that one says in a low growl of a voice.  Grand, being recognized always goes so well for him. “You look like a werewolf, kid.”

The man holding him laughs.  It sounds beyond rough, almost inhuman, and kinda smug.  Jesse knows it well.  He’s heard that insult more than a few times, too.

“Well, damn,” he says faintly as the shock sets in.  

Keep reading

Luke Hemmings Smut

The music blared from the speakers as you and your best friend, Luke, lounged by the pool. Your parents were gone for the weekend which meant that you had the huge house to yourself. As soon as they had left you had called Luke and he had arrived within thirty minutes, his bags for the weekend in his hand.

The fact that your parents were gone meant that you and Luke could do whatever the two of you wanted. You had already raided the liquor cabinet, helping yourselfs to whatever your hearts desired. It also meant that you could play your music over the speakers without your mother yelling at you to turn it down. The closest neighbors were at least a half mile away so you had no problem turning the music up as loud as you wanted. The spacious yard was also surrounded by large pine trees which helped minimize the noise.

By now the two of you had been drinking for a while and you could feel the alcohol flowing throughout your body. Your eyes kept flickering towards Luke, mesmerized by him. You were laughing at everything he was saying and doing.

However, not only was the alcohol affecting you, it was doing the same to Luke. His blue eyes were glued to you as he danced around the pool, making you laugh. He was also becoming much more talkative and acting more like an idiot than normal in your opinion.

As you watched Luke dance, the song that was playing slowly faded out of the speakers only to be replaced by a much slower song. Luke walked around the pool and over to you holding his arm out in front of him.

“Dance with me,” he begged, his blue eyes wide.

Giggling, you placed your hand in his and he pulled you against him. His hands rested on the small of your back as you wrapped your around his neck.

Together the two of you swayed back and forth to the beat of the music. A giggle erupted from your lips as you looked up at Luke.

“What’s so funny, Y/N?” he asked.

“Look at us,” you gestured. “We must look like such a sight. You in your bathing suit and me in my workout clothes still.”

As the song came to an end, neither of you made an attempt move to leave. However, the next song began to play breaking the two of you out of your trance. Luke’s hands dropped from your waist as the both of you took a step away from each other.

You began to giggle as Luke grabbed his drink from the table and sat down in one of the lawn chairs.

“What’s so funny Y/N?” he asked, confused.

“I used to strip for Jake to this song,” you said, referring to your ex boyfriend.

“Well you can always strip for me,” Luke joked.

Giggling, you took three steps towards Luke and stopped in front of him. You began to slowly sway your hips to the music as Luke let out a laugh before taking out a drink. His blue eyes widened as your hand traveled over your chest and down towards your shorts. Slowly, you lifted up the hem of your shirt and placed a single finger inside the waistband of your shorts.

Your other hand lifted your shirt up slightly, revealing part of your stomach, teasing him. Luke squirmed in his chair as he watched you lift your t shirt up, flashing him your hot pink sports bra for a brief moment. Taking the remaining steps towards Luke, you grabbed his hands and moved them to your waist.

“Take it off,” you whispered in his ear.

His hands shook as he gently pulled your t shirt over your head. Taking a step back, you slowly turned around, shaking your hips as you walked towards the lounge chair where your phone was currently laying.  

Your phone was connected to the bluetooth speakers and you picked it up, pressing the repeat button for the song before placing it back on the chair.

When you turned around to face Luke, his eyes were glued to you. He motioned for you to come back and you obliged. When you reached him, he placed his hands on your hips but you swatted them away.

“You’re not allowed to touch yet,” you said.  

Placing his hands on the armrests, you sat down on his lap, straddling him. Your arms snaked around his neck, as you rocked your hips against him. With each movement you could feel his erection press against your core. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Luke’s hands form into fists and you smiled. He was melting underneath your touch.

You buried your head against his shoulder, placing kisses along his neck. He groaned as you gently bit his neck, working your way towards his mouth. Your lips met his as you kissed him roughly, still rocking your hips against his.

His hands moved to your thighs and this time you didn’t push them away. He rubbed them three times stopping short at the material of your shorts. On the fourth time, his hands went underneath the fabric and continued until his fingers brushed against your underwear. You felt a finger slip beneath the fabric and run along your folds. You placed your hands on his arms and gently pulled them away from you and back to the arm rests.

“Not yet,” you whispered.

Luke groaned as you stood up and stepped out of your shorts, revealing your black underwear. Luke’s eyes moved over your body as you sat back down on him. You could feel his erection pressing against your core even more now that your shorts were gone. Leaning down, you began to leave kisses along his toned chest and over his stomach.

“Y/N, you’re fucking killing me,” Luke whined.

Reaching over, you untied his bathing suit and he raised his hips, allowing you to pull his swimsuit and boxers down. His erection sprang free and you rocked your hips forward, brushing it against your underwear as Luke moaned.

Scooting backwards, you moved off the chair and kneeled in front of Luke. Your hand wrapped around his length as you pumped it a few times, pre cum pooling around the tip.

“You keep that up I’m going to explode before we fucking do anything else,” Luke growled.

His hands grasped your shoulders as he pushed you away and stood up. He held out his hand and you placed yours in it as he pulled you up. His hands moved to the back of your thighs as he easily picked you up.

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” he said, kicking off his swimsuit and boxers as he began to move.

He carried you a couple hundred feet to the outdoor shower., kicking the wooden open the wooden door, revealing a large shower. When he stepped inside the showerhead began spitting water, due to the automatic sensor.

His blonde hair turned dark from the water as he placed you down. He reached towards you and lifted your sports bra over your head, tossing it to the floor. His hands moved to your wet breasts as he squeezed them before pinching your nipples. You moaned as his lips moved down your wet body and tugged on the waistband of your underwear. His hands slid them down your body before you kicked them off.

He placed a hand on your stomach and pushed you against the wall as he lips moved towards your core. You moaned as his tongue ran along your folds and circled over your sensitive spot.

“Holy fuck Luke,” you breathed.

Just as you felt your high approaching Luke removed his tongue and stood up facing you.

“What the hell? I was close!”

“Now you know how I feel,” Luke replied.

He sat down on the built in bench, his erection standing up. You walked over and straddled him, noting how attractive how when he was covered in water.  Your lips met his as he began to kiss you roughly, rocking your hips against his.

His hips moved forward and without warning he slammed into you. You gasped as he filled you up and began thrusting, leaving no time to waste. You were not expecting this from Luke. He was always so gentle and quiet you did not think he would be the type to have quick and rough sex.

You buried your head against his shoulder, biting down as he rocked his hips roughly against yours. Your body moved up and down and you could feel his length hitting the right spot with every thrust.

His fingers dug into your waist as he held onto you.

A knot began to form in your stomach as you felt your high quickly approaching.

“I’m close,” you warned him.

“Me too,” he replied.

With three more thrusts he told you to let go and the two of you released together. Your body instantly became weak from the sensation and you didn’t move for a moment. Even though you were completely soaked from the shower you could yourself sweating.

“Are you always that rough?” you asked, lifting your head up to look at him.

He blushed. “The rougher the better,” he replied.

You laughed as you slowly stood up, grabbing ahold of his shoulders to steady yourself.

Luke stood up and you wrapped an arm around his waist as the two of you walked back to the pool to pick up the clothes that you had discarded, joking that there was going to be another round of stripping later. Expect this time Luke was going to be the one stripping.

Rock Your Body

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 1,993
Summary: Bucky has a tendency to take photos and forget about them until he’s drunk. (Idk I can’t think of a summary for this it kinda just happened and idk what it is.)
Warnings: alcohol, language (of course)
Author’s Note: I, full of caffeine and thirst for Sebastian Stan, texted Katie saying, “Okay but what if I write a Stucky fic based off of Seb’s photo.” This happened. 

Bucky started working out, really working out, about four months ago, and he’s finally starting to see results. His biceps are visible (and kind of obvious, if he does say so himself) when he isn’t flexing, and he’s had to buy bigger shirts to accommodate how broad his shoulders are. His forearms are a bit veiny, which he thought would freak him out, but he’s actually starting to like it. His chest isn’t that big, but he’s okay with that. He’s heard the nipple chafing gets to be something awful.

Keep reading

CS FF: Forever Yours

Summary:  My version of how season 7 should open.  Set in the future during a time of peace in Storybrooke, Emma and Killian are living a blissfully happy life with their seven year old twins.  But this is still Storybrooke.  And things can change in the blink of an eye.

Rating: PG

Note: Thank you for the responses to ‘Never Stop Fighting’. Since Emma is only guaranteed to be back for one episode, we know that CS will have to be separated somehow.   Given what we know so far, this is how I would like things to go in the season premiere.  Oh and there is no mention of Henry in this because I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how that whole thing is going to work and what exactly will happen to him in the future.  Hope you enjoy it!  ~Steph

…Forever Yours: Part 1/1…

Killian came up behind his wife, as she stood at the stove making pancakes.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his nose into her neck.

“Something smells delicious,” he muttered.

Emma giggled as his lips moved to her neck.

“Don’t start,” she warned.  “The kids are already up and in the living room.”

“What?” he asked, nibbling on her ear.  “I was talking about the pancakes.”

“Sure you were,” she replied with a laugh.

Emma spun around in her husband’s arms and snaked hers around his neck.  His lips came crashing into hers, his tongue quickly diving into her mouth.  He pulled her body up against his, as Emma threaded her fingers through his hair. 

“We can’t,” Emma breathed before kissing him again.

Killian reached behind her and turned the stove off, as his lips moved down her throat to her chest.  

“Perhaps if we are quiet, we can make it up to our bedroom and the children will simply think we are still asleep.”

Emma squeezed her eyes closed, as she held his head to her skin.  

“Only one problem with that: they already saw me making the pancakes.”

Killian pulled her robe back a bit with his hook and kissed her shoulder.  

“We can think of an excuse for our disappearance later then,” he said.  

His lips moved back to hers for a quick kiss and then he grabbed her hand, leading her to the stairs.

“Let go!” Leia screamed.

“You let go!” Liam yelled.

“MOM!  DAD!” they both bellowed.

Killian and Emma stopped dead in their tracks, mere feet from the stairs.  

“Bloody hell.  They must have inherited their grandmother’s terrible timing,” Killian mumbled.  “Why did we decide to have children again?”

Emma laughed, as she kissed his cheek.  “Because we wanted to share our love and watch it grow everyday.”

Her husband bobbed his head, as he placed a kiss to her forehead.

“Aye, that’s right.  Sometime I forget.”

“Come on,” Emma said, as she dragged him to the living room.

Keep reading