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loveliestdagger · 25 days

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ask (bucky barnes x f!reader)

part one of THE MISSION REPORTS

read it on ao3

go back to the masterlist | read part two

summary: when, after a mission, the reader needs Bucky's help tending to her wounds.

word count: 1227

warnings: blood and injury, stab wound

a/n: feedback is always appreciated, especially since i'm thinking about writing another chapter. anyways...enjoy!!!

I hold onto the doorframe, putting as little weight on my leg as possible. the open wound stings, deepening into consistent pain jolting up the thigh and reverbing in my brain. I feel the blood dripping down my freshly washed body.

The nightgown is purposefully too short, showing the extent and severity of the cut. It starts mid thigh trailing down almost to the knee. It's deep too. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, boots undone. His hair clings to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his bare chest glisten just as hard as his metal arm. If I didn't feel like dying I'd drool.

He takes note of my presence as soon as I open the bathroom door, straightening up. I can feel his eyes on me, burning in the raw flesh of my thigh. I register a millisecond of surprise and then his eyes raise to meet mine.

I don’t move. I should. I swallow in dry, returning his stare. My vision blurs and the hand that isn’t supporting me tremors uncontrollably – the only visible sign of my distress. He gets up, walking close enough that I can distinguish his eyes through the haziness.

Sam had once joked every time I got injured I acted like a wounded animal. Unwilling to accept help, let alone ask for it. Running away to lick my wounds and coming back when everything is fine.

Bucky stands in front of me, his lips pressed into a line. He analises me, knowing me too well already. "You need me to stitch it up."

It’s not a question or a statement. It's the iteration of what I need to say but can’t. All I can muster is to not avoid his gaze, as my face burns and my knees falter.

Still, my eyes avoid his when I speak.

"I wouldn't ask if I-"

"You haven't."

I let out a heavy breath, frustration intensifying the hot flashes surging through me as I retreat back into the bathroom. I'm going to bleed to death because I can’t bring myself to ask for help. Real mature. But his hand grasps mine, our fingers bruising almost intertwining before he settles his grip firmly on my wrist. When I decide to look back at him his gaze has softened.

"Ask." It’s a quiet, breathy sound. I’m tired and hurt and he's leaning into me, his warmth far more comforting than — could me. And I find myself holding onto his heart, the steady beating underneath my fingers. He draws circles on the inside of my wrist. The other hand rises to cup my cheek and I lean into it, shuddering breaths as his skin makes contact with mine. "Talk to me."

I crumble like a statue made to wait too long.

"It hurts." I croak through the lump in my throat. It’s not what he wants me to say but it’s the truth. It’s the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

"I know baby." He says softly in my ear while his fingers brush the ends of my hair.

"I need help." I mutter.

"Then let’s get you some help." He guides me back inside the bathroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. The tactical gear is in a pile on the corner, along with blood soaked undergarments. Even the tiles underneath have a reddish hue to them, messily wiped in a pained haze.

He motions for me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, leaving the room only when he’s sure I won't fall over. The lights are too bright and I'm suddenly very cold. When he comes back, with a medical kit that had to have taken up half of his bag, I’m gripping the edges of the tub.

He kneels in front of me, laying out his supplies. I watch him work, slowly, methodically and when he gazes back at me he looks unsure. His thumb trails the extent of the wound, gliding in the blood that keeps on pouring out and he watches me. His eyes roam my face in search of something. Then he looks at my thigh again, eyebrows knitted together as I hold my breath. He's looking for pain. And I'm sure I look pained. The edges of the wound are jagged and I can feel where the knife nicked the bone. It’s a dull ache, deep inside the leg. Incomparable with the searing pain of the cut itself which I feel burning at the edges like it's trying to knit itself back together.

"Just do it." I exhale. It’s when I notice I'm panting, my body so heavy I have to make a conscious effort to sit upright.

"I'll make it quick, I promise." His eyes crease with a sympathetic smile. His hand sliding to massage my calf. I manage a nod, my eyes threatening to close.

I can’t resist the urge to lean over him, a content sigh escaping my lips as my forehead meets his bare shoulder and rests there. I register the sharp sting of disinfectant. Then I feel the pressure of his fingers on the edges of the cut, clenching my teeth as he pinches the skin together and whimpering when he draws the needle through it. And he does it again. And again.

"Are you still with me?" he calls out after a while. I somewhat nod, not feeling the strength to lift my head. "We’re almost done. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"I feel awful." I confess, just as he drags a wet towel softly across the stitches.

"You lost a lot of blood. I’m actually surprised you’re holding out so well."

"What can I say? I’m a natural."

"I'd prefer it if you weren’t a natural at getting stabbed." I feel scolded, as he finishes wrapping my leg, the pressure bringing immediate relief.

He grabs my shoulders, straightening me up. He brushes damp hair out of my face, like it’s a curtain separating him from gazing at the view, looking so intently into my eyes I think he might actually get a glimpse into my soul.

"You did good." And there’s his eyes, and his mouth. And I'm sure I will say something but I can't hear myself. I can’t think. And his eyes. His eyes, shiny and caring, full of such honesty and tenderness I don’t know if my knees are weak for him or because of blood loss. And I don’t care because he carries me and lays me on the bed. He covers me and his fingers stroke my cheek as he asks if I’m okay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning in my direction I feverishly think he might kiss me. I wonder if he wants to. I’m sure I would like it, he seems like a good kisser. With his pretty pink lips and his soft skin.

"I have to check in with Nat." He says hesitantly, his hand still on my face. "I'll check on you when I get back."

" I should go too" I squirm, trying to free myself from the bedsheets. Having a drink at some dirty bar with Natasha sounds nice for once. And I have a lot to debrief

He pushes me back down. "You’ve done enough for today."

I try again and I’m met with the same fate.

"Sleep."

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zepskies · 4 months

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Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor.

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you.

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car.

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters.

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed.

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down.

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety.

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it.

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side.

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can.

He disappears before you can spit at him.

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it.

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel.

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary.

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down.

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says.

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash.

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel.

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery.

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves.

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously.

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow.

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window.

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown.

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker.

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head.

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify.

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

“Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state.

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing.

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes.

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer.

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile.

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it.

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face.

“Are you angry?” he asks.

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him.

“No. Why?”

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh.

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence.

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you.

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there.

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself.

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency.

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes.

“Cas,” you breathe in content.

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage.

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free.

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks.

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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#love by any other name #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x female reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #mutual pining #angst #spn #supernatural #comission #reader request #castiel fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #zepskies writes

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hawkeyeslaughter · 5 months

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CAPTAIN SAM PAK APPRECIATION POST ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️😚😚😚😚🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#HES SO FUNNY #he’s CRIMINALLY underrated WHY does no one talk about him #mashblr if you let him flop i will be sending out a hit on each and every one of you #looks at my mutuals #goes DOUBLE for you guys #i would kick it with him so bad like he genuinely seems like so much fun to be around #mash #m*a*s*h #mashposting #mash 4077 #mashblr #sam pak #captain pak #lgbt #lgbtq

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specialbluehens · 3 months

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some dialogue that i found after shane's 6 heart event

idk if this is new lol i don't think it is but it's more two npcs i talked to as well that got my attention

i didn't get to talk to marnie that day and when i talked to her the next day it was a rain day so she talked abt that instead. i'm curious to know if anyone else had anything to say?

#leah didn't and i thought maybe she would have bc they're neighbors #sam didn't have anything to say abt it either #it could also just be bc of where they were in their schedules that affected their dialogue u know?#sdv #stardew valley #sdv 1.6 sdv 1.6 spoilers #sdv shane #sdv jas #sdv jodi #ramblings #also jodi gossiping but being worried......#me connecting the non-existant dots to my hc post abt them becoming kinda friends/mutual understaing

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swsoulmatesdw · 12 days

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Sam and Dean jerking off in the shower separately thinking about the other not knowing they want each other is just the best and most erotic thing honestly.

#samdean #wincest #sam and dean are soulmates #brothers? someone should tell them that #mutual pining #so hot though #all good fics start with this

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gridworld · 13 days

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good luck to all the playoff boys

except

#nhl memes #hockey memes #this is my new obsession sorry to my mutuals #matthew tkachuk #connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #tyler seguin #jamie benn #sam bennett

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biggentlemenking · 2 months

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Dean manipulating his brother is great

Sam manipulating his brother is fantastic

However, both manipulating each other at the same time, being possessive and jealous freaks together, with eyes only for each other, that's the real good.

#actually it's all real good #but yeah when they're obsessed with each other it's especially good #mutual obsession is what I'm looking for #wincest #sam winchester #dean winchester #samdean #weecest

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snoopysnose · 2 months

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Mutuals' favorite moments in Game Changer 1/? requested by @greenieflor

GAME CHANGER

5x09 - ESCAPE THE GREEN ROOM

#gamechangeredit #game changer #dropoutedit #dropout tv #dropout #brenan lee mulligan #sam reich #siobhan thompson #lou wilson #mutuals gc faves #lazedits #op #LAV i am SO sorry these took forever!! coloring this one busted my ass #the rest will be so much quicker i SWEAR

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geckoomoria · 1 month

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Best friends older brother! Anakin x reader Drabble

fluff with some kissing, touching and stuff like that😇

( i have no idea who came up with the bsf anakin idea i read it somewhere , so plspls let me know and ill give credit !!)

also GB/N stands for girl bsf name.

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Friday August 15th

approx 9:25pm

“ANI IF YOU DONT PLACE EM RIGHT , THEYLL BE RUINED” you whine as your (secret) boyfriend wasn’t putting his back into making the dessert you two planned for the movie night as much as you were.

Anakin places cookie blobs on the tray and you shape them to look like actual cookies

“How the fuck do you place it wrong, its just putting them on the tray ” he replies countering your complaint about his skills at baking.

“ugh you don- back up back up, i’ll do it myself. You just sit there and look pretty” you huff and push him to sit on the stool that overlooks the kitchen table.

“see now THAT i can do just perfectly” Anakin winks and lets out a chuckle at his own comment as he sits down on the stool.

as the two of you stay in the kitchen , placing the tray of cookies into the oven , a call comes from your home phone.

You pick up the phone but dont answer , looking at the name you hesitate to answer. The ringing echos for a few minutes, “whats wrong? who is it?” Anakin asks curiously.

“its uh- its GB/N” , He stares at you softly understanding your hesitation. “what do i tell her if she asks where i am?”

he comes up with the excuse of “just say your busy thats all” , nodding at his idea you answer the phone.

“Hey whats up?” , “ah nothing much , just wanted to see if your free. are you?”. “not tonight sorry GB/N, got tons of homework.”

Anakin smirks at your excuse of doing “so much homework”. Suddenly an idea springs into his head, he makes his way behind you and starts cleaning up the baking supplies, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“ah its alright , we’ll go out another night. Man how is everyone busy but me!? even Anakin went out at 5 and still isn’t back!”

“Anakin still isn’t back and he left at 5? i wonder where he could be” you say trying to make it sound like you dont have a clue where he could be.

This was his moment.

Anakins arm snakes around your waist and travels your whole body , the sudden touch makes you gasp but right away you shut up to avoid suspicions.

“what happened?? why’d you gasp?” she asks on the other side of the phone. You clear your throat and let him continue with his little ruse.

“uh- umm nothing , sorry thought i saw a spider. it was just a piece of lint” you say sounding unsure but you could care less anyways. Anakin was distracting you too much.

His deep chuckle is heard prominently from your other ear as he rests his head on that shoulder.

“ew , but yeah Anakin’s still not back! he said he had some important business to attend to but that just makes him sound like a serial killer” she replies.

Absolutely none of her words registered properly into your head because Anakin kept going on with his little game. His giant arms travelled down to your thighs and just teasing your inner thighs as he takes his thumbs and gently grazes it back and forth.

His lips kiss your neck from behind , slow and one kiss at a time, making you yearn for more on the inside.

“i- i uh wouldn- wouldnt worry much abo- about him. He’s a ye-year old-older thannn uss so he-hes doing teenage boy th-things” you stumble on your words barley able to form a proper sentence. How could you? you were so drunk on Anakin. You needed him more than anything but you couldn’t blow your cover, not this early to your GB/N.

“are you sure your okay?” you sound really out of it” she questions your odd behaviour, concerned about what’s possibly going on , on the other side of the phone.

Anakin takes his sisters suspicions as a loud ringing bell that tells him to continue. His arms move from your upper thighs to inside your shirt. His hands move to your bra and fiddle with the outline of it

“ye-yeah , im uh perfect-ly fine” You gulp half way through what you could finish of that sentence.

“are you absolutely sure cau- i think im not feeling well. ill talk to you tomorrow after i get some sleep?”

You cut her off because you genuinely cant deal with the embarrassment of trying not to make it sound like your enjoying your boyfriend who happens to be her older brother straight up groping you right now

“yeah yeah sounds good , get some rest N/N. love you” , “yeah goodnight , Love you too”.

The call ends and you immediately (attempt to) smack Anakin on the head

“Ani! what the hell was that for. were you trying to get us in trouble ??” you scold the brown haired male for his antics. “At this point i dont care if the world knew we’re together, God i cant stop myself from being near you N/N”

“you dont mean that Anakin” you weakly say as you turn around and look down from his gaze.

Even though you two always liked it each other secretly and then finally fessed up not that long ago. You still had doubts about your relationship and Anakin has tried everything he could to prove himself. Its not that you dont trust him, its that you feel unsure about the whole sneaking around thing.

He pushes your chin up with two fingers “of course i do. i always have meant it” he sternly claims as he presses his forehead against yours.

the two of you stay quiet for a moment.

“Maybe soon okay? i just need to figure out how to tell her” you propose meekly to Anakin hoping he’ll be okay with it, “whenever your ready baby.” he replies with ease.

You couldn’t believe your dating the most perfect man of all time. The man only poets write about , the man women fawn over and men get intimidated of. The man of your dreams is holding you in his arms reassuring you of anything you want.

its a dream come true.

You pull back from the forehead touching and lean in for a deep kiss with him. Nothing could pull you two apart, not now and not ever.

Ding!

well except for the oven and the cookies you two made.

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why was this acc so long omg.

i hope u liked ittt my babes💕

PLEADE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LEAVE THINGS JN MY LITTLE QUESTION BOX ANYTHING I NEED SOME SORT OF NOTICE THAT YOUR THERE.

also follow meee , i followw backk🥲

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