#emt castiel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladylilithprime · 2 years ago

Text

The Space Where You Reside In Me

Series: Fluff Is My Jamstiel

Fandom: Supernatural:

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Witch Sam Winchester, Hunter Novak Brothers, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions of Soul Bonds, Sam and Dean Winchester Share a Soul Bond, Jimmy and Cas Novak Share A Soul, Divided Hurt/Comfort, Unusual Love Confessions

Summary: John Castiel and James Constantine Novak don't just share a soul bond like most twins and close siblings do, they share a soul, and for them it's a little more literal - and dangerous - than for most siblings. Sam understands, and is there to support them, holding Cas together while a sedated Jimmy fights for survival on the operating table.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 14: Free Space/Soulmates

Read on AO3

SAM WINCHESTER DID not like hospital waiting rooms. Being in a hospital waiting room had always meant that someone Sam cared about was in danger of possibly dying. With only two exceptions, namely the births of first Samantha Maxine Moore and then Tylene Deanna Moore, Sam had spent the time he was relegated to the waiting room stewing in fear and worry and praying to every applicable god or power who had ever answered him in the past for the survival of the one under the surgeons' care. Only once had those prayers been in vain, because this time Tyson Brady had died while still en route to the hospital, though the emergency staff had tried their best to resuscitate him. That loss, despite being repeatedly told was not Sam's fault, would probably weigh on him for the rest of his life.

It definitely did not make it any easier to sit in the waiting room next to a pale and trembling John Castiel Novak while they both waited anxiously for news of the surgery being undergone by Cas's twin James. He had been like this ever since the adrenaline of the fight had worn off, after Dean had needed to physically restrain him from beating the two hunters who had attacked Sam and shot Jimmy to within an inch of their lives. Sam might have been terrified of the sight if he hadn't been just as furious and far more terrified for Jimmy's chances of surviving a shotgun blast to the chest. But Jimmy needed him to be clear-headed and calm, putting pressure on the wounds to try and stem the bleeding while first the ambulance and then the police were called.

The ambulance arrived first while Sam was on the phone with Jess and a frantic Bones who had felt Sam's distress clear across town. Reassuring his friend and his familiar that he would absolutely keep them updated and that Bones should stay with Jess, Max, and the girls to "keep them safe, just in case", he had hung up and pushed Cas into the back of the ambulance with Jimmy, telling the EMTs not to separate them unless absolutely necessary, and promising Cas that he would be right behind them. The police arriving delayed him with giving a statement that, after the previous messes involving Walker, Kubrick, and Creedy, could at least be boiled down into key words the local cops would know what to do with. The injuries on the hunters Dean identified as Roy Buckner and Walter Leming gave them pause, but Dean pointed out that none of them were life-threatening, just incapacitating, and they were restrained pending regaining consciousness because they'd already proven violent. That was when Dean sent Sam off to the hospital with a directive to "keep Cas calm, and keep me updated, 'cause if these assholes killed Jimmy with their dumbassery I'm damn well pressing murder charges on top of attempted murder!"

By the time Sam had reached the hospital, Cas was pacing in the waiting room and Sam had a brief moment of uncertainty before Cas looked up and caught sight of him. The other man was on him in a flash, arms wrapping around him and hands tracing over his limbs checking for injuries before, assured that Sam was unharmed, Cas had clung to him and shook.

"They had to sedate him," he had mumbled into Sam's shoulder. "I can't feel him. I can't feel him!"

And Sam had held Cas, tucked him up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around him as he opened up his mental shields and carefully reached out to Cas. The immediate acceptance of that connection had shaken him, but Sam made himself compartmentalize just as he had been doing all evening and coaxed Cas through breathing to calm his heart rate. At Cas's pleading, he had called Bobby Singer and spoken to the man for the first time in over a decade, and that was causing a turmoil of emotions on its own that he would need to work through later when he and Cas had confirmation that Jimmy would survive and recover. Now they were sitting in the waiting room chairs with Cas clutching Sam's hand like a lifeline while Sam did his best to feed calm and reassurance through the mental link being held open by their physical connection.

He was carefully ignoring just how strange the connection felt.

"You don't have to," Cas mumbled. Sam started a little, guiltily, and glanced over at the other man. Cas shot him a glance and a weak little tremor of a smile. "You can ask... or stop, I know I feel weird to you."

"Is it helping?" Sam asked, squeezing Cas's hand when the other man hesitantly nodded. "Then it's fine. I just wish we could have tested this under better circumstances first."

"It wouldn't feel this weird if Jimmy was awake and not drugged," Cas sighed, some of the worry seeping back into his tone, but thankfully not spiraling. He was silent for a moment, then said carefully, "You remember when I told you about the soulbond?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, because he was hardly going to forget something that important. "You said it's not uncommon among twins and close siblings, and that there are different types. Telling me about that was how we figured out that Dean and I have a soulbond."

And hadn't that been a revelation! Suddenly, a lot of things about the way he and Dean gravitated towards each other and ached when apart made a lot more sense than just John Winchester's isolationist policies when they were constantly moving. Not having anyone but each other to rely on had probably exacerbated things, but the connection had already been there. Knowing that helped Sam a lot with the lingering little voices from his childhood calling him a freak, and after Dean had been reassured that soul bonds and "soulmates" were not an inherently romantic thing despite the terms' common use Sam thought he'd also felt more settled and reassured.

"Our bond is... unusual, even for twins," Cas admitted, drawing Sam out of his thoughts. He was looking down at their joined hands, thumb twitching back and forth with restrained nervous energy. "It always had been since it's technically just one soul split between two bodies, which doesn't even always happen with identical twins, but it got weirder when Jimmy and I were twelve."

"The shtriga," Sam breathed, having gotten part of that story already from Jimmy, of how they had originally gotten into hunting. Cas nodded, grimacing.

"I would like to reiterate that I was twelve and had no idea what I was doing," he said. "I just knew that as the older twin it was my job to protect Jimmy, so when the shtriga came at us I put myself in its way and shoved my half of our soul back down the connection between us so he could protect it while I protected him."

"Jesus," Sam gaped at him. The grin Cas shot him for the Christian slip was weak, but at least it was real.

"It worked," he pointed out, chuckling when Sam shot him a look. "Yeah, I know, it was dangerous. And because I was twelve and untrained, I didn't know how to undo it. Once we got training from a friend of Bobby's, though, we discovered that it really can't be undone, just kind of worked around. Jimmy can push it back towards me while I pull, but if we're apart it naturally slips back into him. Part of why Jimmy's so much better with people than I am, because he has the majority of our soul. And it's not like I'm a soulless automaton, either, since we're still connected and when he's right there next to me I feel mostly normal. But...."

"But when you're apart, and with him being sedated messing with your bond, it's harder to feel," Sam guessed, remembering the aching empty feeling that had taken up residence in his heart for years when he had to run from John and leave Dean behind, a persistent ache that his bond with Bones had only mitigated which became normal until suddenly Dean was back with him and the ache began to heal and fade. "Instead it feels empty."

"What you're doing helps," Cas murmured, squeezing Sam's hand again. "There's less emptiness, and I can tell that you're trying to project positive, hopeful emotions towards me, which helps me be more optimistic about Jimmy's chances of pulling through for us."

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to ask what would happen if Jimmy didn't survive, but he swallowed it back. Nothing good would come of making Cas think about that possibility, and the two options that Sam could think of on his own were both painful in their own ways. He swallowed again, took a deep breath, and tried to let it out steadily. "He'll pull through," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. "The doctors and surgeons here are all very good at what they do, and he was alive when you both got here. They'll make sure he stays that way."

Something shifted in Cas's eyes and he straightened, looking at Sam. "What is it?" When Sam blinked at him, confused, his eyes narrowed. "The dissonance between your tone and your emotions was jarring. What's wrong?"

"This is why I wanted to test this under better circumstances," Sam muttered, shaking his head. "It's not something you need to focus on, Cas, and definitely not right now."

"I would welcome a distraction from being worried about my brother," Cas pointed out, turning in his chair to more fully face Sam which was pretty much the exact opposite of what Sam wanted right at that moment.

"Trading worrying about one person you l-- care about for another doesn't make it better," Sam argued, silently cursing the stutter over the word he knew he felt but was still too scared to actually say out loud just yet. "Jimmy needs you - both of us - focusing on being positive in his survival and recovery. My many and varied insecurities and uncertainties will still be there after he's out of surgery and the doctors let us bring him home."

"This is about Brady," Cas said, staring at Sam in realization, his grip on Sam's hand tightening when Sam visibly flinched. "Sam--"

"This is about me being cursed," Sam bit out, barely managing to restrain his volume to a harsh whisper to keep from summoning a well-meaning but unprepared nurse or receptionist to their sides. "This is about those two hunters barging in shouting about demons and mind control, despite you and Jimmy having repeatedly vouched for me as a natural witch, even to their faces, because they were still convinced I had to be evil, tainted, just like Creedy, and Kubrick, and Walker, and John fucking Winchester. This is about demons having had an alarming interest in me for as long as I can remember, probably longer than I've even been alive if some of the things both Brady and Dean haven't said were anything to go by. How I got so good at making clothing and accessories with anti-possession wards and Devil's Traps because I kept needing them to free the people the demons keep possessing to send after me. This is about how everyone I love is a fucking target, how Dean and I can't even be open about being brothers because of it, how it should be me up there on that table right now and not Jimmy--"

"Don't say that!" Cas snapped, grabbing Sam's shoulder with the hand not gripping his own tight enough to bruise. "Don't ever say that, Sam, please, don't even think it!"

"How can I not?" Sam demanded, staring into Cas's eyes through the blurring he couldn't seem to blink away. "He was aiming the gun at me, you saw that, Jimmy got shot because he jumped in front of me--"

"And the only reason it was Jimmy and not me was because I was too far away to do it myself!" Cas practically growled, the words punching through Sam's chest with the force of the shotgun blast that had hit Jimmy earlier. "Sam, please listen to me when I say this. Yes, it is tearing me up inside that Jimmy was shot, and if I could turn back time I would willingly, selfishly trade places with him to spare him the physical pain, but I would not ever wish it was you up there instead of one of us, because nothing is worth losing you!"

"Cas--" Sam started, only to be cut off by the other man's lips crashing into his, harder and harsher than any of their previous tentative and tender kisses. It also didn't last long, barely long enough to steal his breath and leave him gasping as Cas pulled back enough to rest his forehead against Sam's.

"I couldn't handle the uncertainty of watching you be hurt only to not be able to see or feel you at all to know you're alive," Cas whispered, voice tight and strained. "It's awful that it's Jimmy, but I will never regret that it wasn't you."

"He's going to make it, Cas," Sam whispered back, fierce and determined. "He's going to make it, and heal, and eventually be just fine."

He just had to, Sam thought as he pulled Cas into his arms to hold him. After all, he had to wait to say that he loved them until he could tell them both at the same time.

#sastimmy #fluffyfebruary2023 #supernatural fic #sam winchester #castiel

7 notes · View notes

allthevoicesx · 2 years ago

Text

kodie's current muse list:

under the cut you will find the current (as of 6.02.23) muse list. keep in mind that the list will change, so check back.

9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star:

bobby nash

owen strand

henrietta wilson

madeleine buckley

edmundo diaz

carlos reyes

tim rosewater

tommy vega

Hannibal

william graham

hannibal lector

abigail hobbs

NCIS / NCIS: LA

samuel hanna

kensi deeks

abigail scuito

timothy mcgee

Yellowstone

lee dutton

bethany dutton

james hurdstrom

lloyd white

ryan cooper

colby smith

Walker

cordell walker

Supernatural

sam winchester / female!sam

human!castiel

gabriel

dean winchester jr

CSI /CSI: Miami /CSI: New York

gilbert grissom

nick stokes

hugo ramirez

timothy speedle

calleigh duquense

eric delektorski

adam ross

Bones

seeley booth

zachariah addy

jack hodgins

Hawaii Five-0

steven mcgarrett

joe white

lou grover

max bergman

The Last of Us

joel miller

thomas miller

riley abel

william cooper

Harry Potter (all three are modern maurader aus)

sirius black

remus lupin

peter pettigrew

SEAL Team

jason hayes

raymond perry

Stranger Things

james hopper

william byers

michael wheeler

nancy wheeler

robin buckley

billy hargrove

lucas sinclair

murray bauman

edward munson

Santa Clarita Diet

joel hammond

eric bemis

Criminal Minds

spencer reid

jason gideon

aaron hotchner

derek morgan

Sons of Anarchy

chibs telford

juice ortiz

opie winston

tig trager

nero padilla

bobby munson

SEAL Team SIX

joseph 'bear' graves

ricardo 'buddha' ortiz

dharma caulder-khan

jasmine dalton

Chicago P.D. | Med | Fire

william halstead

alvin olinsky

antonio dawson

justin voight

gregory gerwitz

ethan choi

robin charles

stella kidd

brian (otis) zvonecek

leslie shay

matthew casey

christopher herrmann

randall (mouch) mcholland

Critical Role

caleb widogast

fjord stone

chetney pock o'pea

vax'ildan vessar

essek thelyss

scanlan shorthalt

grog strongjaw

caduceus clay

mollymauk tealeaf

percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo III

MacGyver

jack dalton

OCs (fandom floaters; )

my ocs are free to fall into whatever fandom wants them, but for ease, i have listed their names, professions and playbys.

ryden keller | firefighter | (fc is james badge dale)

hunter ruttliff | police officer | (fc is jared padalecki)

geo anderson | nurse | (fc is sam witwer)

caleb greyson | EMT | (fc is liam o'brien)

bodie braylen | teacher | (fc is mark ballas)

bastion carver | EMT | (fc is travis willingham)

jae brewer | firefighter | (fc is taliesin jaffe)

hector garra | er nurse | (fc is joshua segarra)

#asylum roll call | kodie's asshole muses

2 notes · View notes

qapsiel · 2 months ago

Text

(CASTIEL WOULD PROBABLY NOT APPRECIATE HIS NAME BEING USED FOR D&D. If he knew what D&D was. Luckily, he's neither aware of the game nor can he read Hughie's thoughts.)

He thinks there's some color returning to Hughie's cheeks after drinking half the bottle of water. If at all, it makes him stay hydrated. "I'm sorry. This is not a nightmare or hallucination." It's not said unkindly, but Castiel thinks the quicker Hughie realizes it, the quicker he will go through the 5 stages of grief. Behind them, an ambulance and, shortly after that, a police car pull up, plunging them into blue emergency lights. The couple that has called them quickly explains what they found to the police officer while the two EMTs hurry toward Castiel and Hughie. The angel gets back to his feet to make room.

Hughie liked using obscure names for the characters in his D&D campaigns. It led him to all sorts of interesting lore; including the names of all the angels, famous and otherwise. He'd thought Castiel had sounded pretty, but had gone with Netzach in the end.

It's fortunate that Hughie's mind has unravelled slightly because he doesn't really process Castiel disappearing and reappearing. It is by far the least unexplainable thing that has happened to him today. "Thank you." He takes the water and drinks half of it in one go. Then he slumps against the wall and looks up at Castiel. "Is this real?" He whispers. "I... I really don't want this to be real."

#awkwardcourage #( v: undetermined )

13 notes · View notes

eyes-of-fanfiction-green · 5 years ago

Text

Fight for Us (Part 3 FINAL)

Firefighter Dean x EMT Cas

MASTERLIST

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Summary: Dean and Cas are called to the scene of a burning house.... and then everything goes wrong.

Warning: Angst. Burns. Panic attacks. Nightmares.

A/N: so..... either tumblr is screwing me over AGAIN, and you guys aren’t seeing my posts, or none of my followers like Destiel. Either way, I’ve decided I’m just going to stick to Reader fics on here and post my Destiel things on my Ao3 account. So...yeah. Good talk.

One minute, thirty seconds later and Dean was being rushed through the ER doors and towards the OR. Nurses were calling out vitals and doctors were jogging alongside his stretcher. Everyone was buzzing, buzzing, buzzing through their emergency routine and Cas just stood there.

His jaw was slack and his eyes were glazed and his mind kept repeating the same thing over and over.

Dean is dying.

----------------------------

Benny and Garth and the others from the firehouse came to visit while Dean was in surgery. Cas didn’t speak to them or answer their question, he just kept staring at the ER doors.

Dean is dying.

-----------------------

Cas couldn’t stop replaying the moment when he saw Benny carry Dean’s limp body to him. The heart stopping moment when he didn’t even know if Dean was alive or dead. He looked dead. He looked so dead. So lifeless. So pale. And bloody.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, probably Garth. But he didn’t pay attention.

Everything had happened so fast then. And now…now it was so slow. Every moment of blood and fire and smoke played over and over in Cas’ head.

Dean is dying.

-----------------------

Cas’ vision focused in and out throughout the next, hours? Minutes?

He didn’t know.

But one moment he was replaying the roof collapsing and then next moment he was suddenly conscious of the smell of blood. The STRONG smell of blood.

And he looked down.

“Oh my god…”

His uniform was drenched in blood. His hands had dried blood crusted on them. There were trails of blood splattered on his face. It was everywhere. Dean’s blood. It was Dean’s blood.

It was all over him.

Dean’s blood. Dean’s blood. Dean’s blood. Dean’s blo-

“Easy there brother, I need you to breathe.” Cas felt two strong hands grab his wrists to stop his frantic wiping and smearing.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? Only dead people couldn’t breathe. Oh my god. Dean. What if Dean isn’t breathing? Is he still breathing? Maybe he’s dead already and I don’t even know!

Dean is dead.

DEAN IS DEAD.

DEAN IS D-

“Cas!”

The sharp voice brought silence to his thoughts and Cas blinked up at Benny’s steeled face. Oh. He was having a panic attack. He slowly felt his breathing come under control as Benny walked him through his breaths.

“Alright. Good. Now, you and I are going to head over to the staff locker room, we’re going to grab you your clothes and get you changed and cleaned up. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

------------------------

Dean slowly opened his eyes to a white-washed, sterilized room.

Hospital.

Why was he in a hospital? Was he visiting Cas at work?

He blinked his eyes groggily and tried to shift slightly. That’s when he felt the pain shoot up his back and down his legs. Well shit.

He tried calling out but there was a tube down his throat and he felt a panic start to build up in his foggy brain. Why was there a tube down his throat? Why was he in a hospital?

Dean quickly forced himself to calm down.

Relax. Breathe.

And then he remembered.

The heat. The fire. The roof caving in. Oh god. This was going to suck.

He glanced around and realized that he was shifted on to his side. Probably to help with his back. Not entirely a comfortable position though…

“Mr. Winchester. It is very good to see you awake finally.”

Dean’s eyes darted to the door. A doctor. Great.

A couple nurses followed her inside and began messing with his IV’s and meds. He knew they got him on the strong stuff cause the pain in his back and legs was tolerable and not screeching in electric pain, like he was sure it should be.

“Mr. Winchester, my name is Dr. Mosely, I’m in charge of your care here. I’m going to give you a brief overview of your injuries and then we’ll do an evaluation and exam, that sound good?”

Dean nodded slightly.

“Good. Alright, so you came in with a mild concussion and various contusions, but those have marginally healed since you came in last week-“

Last week?!

“-However, you do have second-degree burns to your legs, but those should heal completely with no lasting damaging.”

Thank god…

“Your back took the brunt of the damage however, with severe third-degree burns. There will be severe scarring most likely, and possible nerve damage. However, after you’ve healed and had some good old fashion PT for a while, you should be back to jumping in blazing buildings and saving lives again in no time. You’re a very very lucky man, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor began her physical examination.

No lasting damage.

He was going to be alright.

A few scars. But he would be fine.

Scars were cool. He could take scars.

Permanent nerve damage not so much. So yeah. He could deal with scars.

Halfway through the doc’s exam he began drifting off again, letting blessed relief and pain medication sail him far and away. Maybe next time he woke up they would let Cas see him…

-----------------

Heat.

There was so much heat.

Fire was climbing up the walls, up the ceiling, along the floor. The room he was in had no windows, no doors. There was so much smoke. So much smoke. He couldn’t breathe.

I need to get out!

How do I get out!

I need to get out!

He could feel the fire lapping at his legs, he tried to run to the other side of the room, but the flames followed him. He felt searing pain as the flames bit into his legs, his arms, his chest and back, he watched his skin burn to a crisp in front of his eyes.

And the pain got worse and worse and worse.

He couldn’t stop screaming.

*Gasp*

Dean’s eyes snapped open. His breath was coming fast and there was sweat sticking to his hospital gown… Hospital?... Oh… right.

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. He knew it would probably take a while before he could go back into a burning building again. He didn’t look forward to the nightmares that were to come.

He opened his eyes again tiredly, suddenly catching a glimpse of messy black hair, laying on the edge of his bed.

“Cas?” He croaked out. Wow. That was his voice?

Cas’ head instantly shot up, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. “Dean?” Cas’ voice cracked and he broke down sobbing, sloppily kissing Dean’s face. “I thought I lost you, I thought you were gone. It’s been over a week. You were so still. And when you came out of the burning house, the blood. There was so much blood….”

“Cas.”

Big, swollen, blue eyes turned to meet his gaze. Cas’ sobs still racking his body.

“It’s ‘kay Cas. I’m okay.”

“You were dying. I watched you dying. You were dying-“

"Cas..."

Dean smiled exhaustedly up at his boyfriend, his chapped lips cracking slightly. The green vibrance in his eyes made Cas' heart slow down and calm itself. He had never thought he'd see those eyes open again. So much had happened in just a few short hours. He loved Dean so fucking much, and he was going to be sure that after all this was over, Dean would know that, without a doubt.

Dean slowly lifted his shaking hand up to Cas’ cheek, wiping his thumb over the tear tracks. “I’m here. You’re here. Everything will be fine. That’s all that matters. That’s all we need. We can deal with the rest of the crap later. The physical therapy, the nightmares, we’ll deal with it later. But right now… in this moment… we’re okay.”

Cas put his hand on Dean’s and smiled as he sniffed quietly.

“We’re okay.”

THE END.

———————————————————————————

Let me know if you want to be added to my overall tag list

@22sarah08 @cocklesbelli

11 notes · View notes

vampamber · 7 years ago

Text

“Was That A Flirtation?” (Inktober Day 5: Medic/Firefighter)

Title: Was That A Flirtation?

Author: VampAmber

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Summary: Castiel has had a crush on Dean Winchester, one of the firefighters that he interacts with on a regular basis because of his job as an EMT, since day one. He just doesn't have the guts to ask him out. Balthazar, his friend and co-worker on the other hand, is getting extremely sick of Castiel making pathetic moon eyes at the guy, so at the town's annual health and safety fair, he forces his friend to finally make a freaking move already.

Word Count: 1037

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12274434

As horrible as it made him sound every time he thought it, Castiel's favorite part about his job as an EMT was when he arrived on the scene and the people from the fire department were already there. Mind you, it had nothing to do with the fire department itself. Quite often if they were there too, something pretty bad had happened, in fact. No, it was entirely because of one specific firefighter: Dean Winchester.

Castiel was man enough to admit that he had a really big crush on the other man. He just wasn't man enough to ask him out. And it was entirely lack of courage on Castiel's part, too, because Dean was as far out of the bisexual closet as you can get, so he knew the handsome firefighter wouldn't turn him down just because of his gender. No, he just couldn't psych himself up enough to ask.

“You're staring again,” Balthazar stage whispered to Castiel, jolting the man out of his thoughts.

For the first time since Castiel had started this job almost two years ago, he and Dean were both at the same spot while on the clock without it being an emergency, and the EMT had been taking advantage of the prime staring and internal drooling opportunity. The town was having its annual health and safety fair, and Castiel had been commandeered to run the booth this time around, showing people the inside of the ambulance and explaining how everything was used while his friend and coworker Balthazar manned the booth itself, talking to people who had questions and giving out pamphlets. There’d been a lull at their booth for the past few minutes, and Castiel couldn’t resist watch Dean at the fire department’s booth, playing with the children while still teaching them about fire safety. Dean looked up and spotted him staring, but thankfully only smiled and waved. Castiel blushed and hoped that Dean couldn’t tell from so far away as he waved back.

“You should ask him out,” Balthazar said, nudging him somewhat roughly in the rib cage. If Castiel had a dollar for every time somebody had told him that about Dean, he could buy a whole fleet of ambulances by now.

“You know I can’t, Balthazar,” Castiel sighed out. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his brother Gabriel, making clucking noises like a chicken.

“Wrong word, Cassie. It’s not ‘can’t’, it’s ‘won’t’. Now get the hell over there and ask your dream guy out already before I do it for you,” Balthazar said, sounding a little bitchy in his exasperation. “All that puppy love pining is making me feel like I’m going to be sick.” He pushed a protesting Castiel off towards the fire department booth. “Now go, before I have to waste my valuable time coming up with a fiendishly clever yet embarrassing plan to get you laid already.”

Castiel knew from far too much experience that Balthazar would do exactly that, so he slowly made his way down the lane to the spot where the fire truck was set up.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said as soon as Castiel walked up. The latest batch of children had just run off, and it looked like Dean was about to be hit with the same lull that had taken over their booth earlier.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel responded nervously.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Dean teased, leaning on the table that was set up with the same kind of pamphlets that was at Castiel’s booth. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” Castiel knew that Dean was probably only joking, because he considered them friends, but he still had to hold in his squeak when Dean followed the pick up line with a wink.

Jokes. He could do jokes, right? “Was that a flirtation, Dean?” He attempted, trying not to wince when he realized how stupid that probably ended up sounding. But Dean laughed, so maybe it wasn’t as lame as it had sounded as he was saying it.

“Depends, Cas,” Dean said, smiling that damn smile that usually made Castiel have to concentrate extra hard just to not screw up whatever he was working on when they were both at an emergency scene.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “On what?”

“On whether or not it worked.” The firefighter looked hopeful and a little nervous as he said it.

“I… I…” Castiel’s brain short circuited. Was Dean actually flirting? Was he actually interested? “Dean?” He finally gave up on words and just gave Dean a pleading look.

“Been waiting for you to make a move since we met, Cas,” Dean admitted. “I could never tell if you were interested, or just really friendly, so I never made one myself.” Castiel legitimately felt faint. It was just too much, getting everything he wanted in just one conversation.

“I was… shy…” Castiel tried explaining, but it came out sounding weak.

Dean chuckled. “You don’t say?” Castiel could feel himself blushing, and the thought of hiding under the table may have crossed his mind. Repeatedly. “So, now that we both checked the ‘yes’ box on the ‘do you like me’ note, you wanna hit up dinner soon?”

“He’s free tonight,” shouted Balthazar, making the hiding under the table option seem like the only viable plan now.

More laughter from Dean, which would be causing Castiel to swoon right about now if it weren’t for all the embarrassment. “So, your agent telling the truth?”

“Balthazar is an idiot and an assbutt, but he is correct,” Castiel said with a hesitant smile. If Dean hadn’t run away yet, maybe there was still hope.

“So, burgers at seven sound good?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded. They exchanged phone numbers, and Castiel practically floated his way back to his booth.

“So glad that’s finally settled,” Balthazar teased. “And whatever you do, Cassie, don’t forget the lube. Trust me on this.” Castiel probably would have actually died of embarrassment if the lull hadn’t ended right then and the booth was busy for the rest of the day. The smirk on his friend’s face every time Dean waved in between people didn’t help matters any.

#inktoberbunker #fanfiction #destiel #firefighter dean #emt castiel #fluff

28 notes · View notes

helloblobbyblobfish · 2 years ago

Text

Sasquatch and candies

It was supposed to be a simple mission. A bunch of artifacts had been stolen from a rich mogul's collection. Some of them were supernatural in nature, according to the men of letters' sources.

So Sam and Dean went on the trail the thieves left on their wake in Texas. There, money was stolen from inside the vault with no traces of breaking or entering. An old mask amongst the stolen loot was used to enter women's rooms by a serial killer in the 1960's.

Interrogating witnesses, they learned a man and his two female companions were so beautiful they did everything they asked. Venus's perfume, though lost since the days of Giacomo Casanova.

A man was shot by a guy wearing a cowboy hat, and burst into flames? Allowing his weaver to shoot spells was only one of the many rumored abilities of the sundance kid's hat.

Sam was getting suspicious. "Okay, so. They know what the artifacts are able to do, but they broke the glass protections to access them and shot the guards with normal bullets? Even centuries-old organizations weren't sure of the nature of some of those! And we found nothing about the mundane jewels. Oh, and"

"Sam! I'm driving!"

"And Venus' perfume is supposed to make you irrésistible, not look like the person most desired. Texts explicitly say it changes what the smelling person's tastes are! And why do we still have no images 5 towns in! And it's very suspicious that most of those lost artifacts were found and/or bought by a guy we have no pictures of either in less than a year! Dean, I think it's a trap."

"And knowing is winning half the battle! Look, they use an EMT bomb each time they are near cameras."

"Except the exact time where a hat would cover the guy's face!" Still, he seemed familiar, but the brother had met too many people for him to be certain. Still, Sam was feeling worried.

Unaware of his brother's inner thoughts, Dean patted his knee to calm him. "Don't worry. Probably words-of-mouth written down and passed as facts. And yes, they wanted to show off that cowboy time. So we should prepare for a trap. But I think they're getting cocky. So, no problemo."

At the next town, Sam went to buy a motel room for the night, while Dean went to check the hospital, hit by a wave of miraculous healings. The staff of Asclepius, probably. It also means bad things happening soon to the doctors.

As he drops their bags in the cheap room, Sam hears the door lock behind him. Then, a voice comes from the bed.

"Hey, sweetheart. Fooled you with the female illusions? I'm getting really good at those."

"Tricks- Gabriel? You?" The archangel snaps his fingers, and Sam is suddenly unable to move his lips. The trickster rises up from the bed. He was wearing very tight dark jeans, a light green shirt under a brown leather jacket and his hair was slicked back.

Castiel's asshole uncle smirks. "Don't worry about Dean, darling." The TV set in the room turns on. It shows Dean on a hospital bed, spanked by "I have some interesting material on Deanny's kinks. Think I should tell them to his angel?"

Sam can suddenly speak. "I don't want to think about my brother's fantasies about Dr. Sexy, you" And back to the closed lips. "Hon, don't be like this. See, I planned all of this to get you all alone so I could woo you. You always were more fun than your brother. And then, you took care of me after Asmodeus, and, well." His smug demeanor notably falters as he scratches his head and looks away.

Sam gives him the most unimpressed stare he can muster. Gabriel is annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. And I guess unlike your brother, you don't swing both ways''. Sam notices a necklace with a blue hexagon stone surrounded by colorful circles. It reminds him of something. Another of the artifacts. Something about another stone? He isn't in the best position to think.

He realizes he can speak again and his captor looks at him, expecting an answer. Sam tries to turn on the charm. "Sorry, Gab." The dark look he receives as an answer is telling. "Are you… going to use the perfume?" "Loki" laughs. "Hahahaha. NO." He shows a mock serious look. "It would make you a vegetable only interested in my desires." He hugs the hunter and twirls him around despite the size difference. "Sugar, I want to talk with you, to see you get excited over your own interest, to have friends outside of me! It would be boorriiiiinnnggggg!!!!! If you were a dumb mind slave!"

Sam feels sickened by the awful attempt at romantic behavior. And terrified by what the archangel will do. As he gets ready to call Castiel, he feels something on his neck. It's diffusing a warmth that makes it hard to think. He looks down and notices his flannel was partially unbuttoned, showing a necklace familiar to Gabriel's, but with a red stone instead of a blue one.

He tries to get out of the arms that lock him to throw it away, worried about its effects, but Gabriel speaks up. "You don't want to take the necklace off, Sammy." Sam shudders at the pet name. How did he not notice how arousing the archangel/pagan god's voice is before? If only "loki" had a vagina and boobs rather than a cock and balls, Sam would have had sex with him... Well, the being could shapeshift, right? The handsome angel gently put him back on the floor.

"After all, those matching necklaces I made are a sign of our relationship!" "Our… Relationship?" Sam is confused. He likes the necklace, but that Gab has the same is a bit weird. He also feels very hot. If he wasn't worried about the looks the other man would give him, he would be getting rid of his shirt

"Yes. We are lovers." It is said as a fact. Sam knows it's true, but. "I. Don't? Love, You?" The fact that they are dating makes him feel strange. He doesn't love- "You do love me. You ADORE me. I am the most important person to you. You would kill your brother for me."

His Angel's voice is like honey. Dripping down his ears and covering his brain, stopping his thoughts from leaving. "Yeah." He loves Dean, but if killing him would make his love happy, all bets are off. Sam grabs those handsome cheeks and initiates a kiss. They kissed a lot since they started dating, but Gabriel still melts under his touch before grabbing him and hungrily taking him like a thirsty man finding an oasis.

A snap, and they are both naked, save for their necklaces, on the bed. Gab is murmuring in his ears. "I wanted that for so long… Sam, you will consent to whatever I want to do with your body." The immortal starts to jack the human under him. He licks Sam's tender neck. "You are a bottom, Sammy. I want you to moan thinking about my dick in you."

Sam can see it so well. "Gabriel, please… ahhhh… pound me, gab, I want it so much!" How could Chuck give Gab such a hot voice! It makes him so horny! Wait.

"Hon.." "Yes, Samantha." His love is amused. "How are you still alive?"

Gabriel seems annoyed, but then his smile opens. "Sammy… always so inquisitive. In case you haven't noticed, death is cheap." He rubs his thumb against the hunter’s lips. A pause. "And your friend Jack has made a lot of holes in the empty when getting Castiel out of there." The smile gets sinister. It turns Sam even more on.

The voice continues, even more irresistible than that siren from years prior. "Now, I want to put my dick in you, but I need you under me for me to savor the moment. May I?" "Anything, honey. Anything!" Sam is almost begging. Suddenly, he feels his organs move between his legs. He looks with interest as his balls and penis shrink. Awed, Sam doesn't realize what his boyfriend meant until a hole starts to open in his skin. As any trace of his dick disappears, Sam's body is held by his love, allowing him to see he now has a vagina just above the anus.

Gab sucks one of Sam's fingers, distracting his curious mind. He then directs the fingers to the entrance, and makes Sam move the finger inside of the pink opening. The little moans of arousal make the trickster chuckle. "Fully functional! I didn't give you an uterus. Yet. When we want babies, maybe." The possibilities spin inside the Winchester's head, but he can't focus on any of those, too preoccupied at the concept that: "You won't need to lube me to breed me."

The pure need and desire in those words drive the archangel wild, and he slams his sword in Sam's brand new hole. The hunter expects pain but finds none. It's like he has the exact size to really feel the above-average lance but not be stretched by it. He then laughs when he realizes his pussy was made by the man above him, who must have made it exactly to proportions. And then, Sam can't think, because the demigod snaps his fingers, and it's like the penis is penetrating his vulva but also his ass and masterfully hitting his prostate on both sides.

"Oh! FUCK! Gabriel!!! HOT fucker!" Tears are running down Sam's cheek as he devolves into screaming, moaning flesh. His archangel creates an apple he shoves into Sam's mouth. "Please, this isn't a love motel, Sam. Do you want me to call you a whore?" Sam chokes, before being distracted by another thrust of the angelic being's penis.

A snap, and the apple is now a ball gag. Sam slaps the torso above him repeatedly. "No gag?" A nod. A snap. Sam kisses the mouth above him to hide his moans.

As Sam lets their months separate to breathe, Gabriel takes the opportunity to bite his neck and start sucking.

The hunter scratches his angel to keep control. "How… will I explain… it.. to Dean?" "You don't want to talk about me?" Gabby pouts and twists his nipples. Sam feels like an idiot. "Oh, right. And if he doesn't accept you, the Winchesters are going solo." He can see his certainty shocks the archangel a little, even if it's well-hidden.

The archangel growls, and takes on Dean's look. It's only an illusion, as Sam feels Gabriel's host underneath, but Sam slaps him. "No incest play! Becky would have too much fun if she ever heard!" His boyfriend chuckles, but accepts to back off and dispels the glamor. "My apologies." Suddenly, there is the feeling of a third penis. "You're… oh, oh god, forgiven… but, please, nooo… can't hold it!"

Sam orgasm. "Already?" The archangel gently pouts. "Do you want me to make you horny again or do I cum?" Sam laughs. "You angels cum on command?" Realizing it's a dare, the son of god grins. "Of course." As he says it, Sam can fill the warm "divine" sperms entering his hole.

The archangel speaks up, suddenly grave. "Do you love me?" "More than anything." The archangel seems pensive. He looks at the TV screen. Dean is now sleeping on the bed. "Do you care about your brother?" "Kind of. But you're the only one I need."

Looking guilty, Sam's love makes a long silence. Sam's vagina is magically cleaned and he is poking at the growing dick. It's bigger and thicker than before. Trying to lighten the mood, the hunter states: "You know? I just could have wrapped my legs around you while you fucked me. I would have stayed below you."

He is stopped by a deep kiss that makes him turn to jelly. Weirdly enough, he feels like he can think again clearly for an instant, and the next, the necklace around his neck is diffusing a sense of sleepiness inside of him. Unable to think, Sam let his master rub his thumb against his cheeks. The master snaps his fingers, and they are both clothed once more.

"Sam, I want you to scale down your love for me. I am the love of your life, but you won't remember what we did together today. You are going to go back to the same codependent tendencies you and your brother share. You just found that pendant and found it cool. Now, go to sleep."

Sam wakes up when Dean opens the door. He must have been tired by the case, if he went to sleep fully clothed.

He notices stains of something on his pants as he rises up. Damn it. Gabriel's dead. Why can't he forget him?

He feels the cord of the necklace he bought yesterday brushing against his neck. For some reason, it reminded him of Him.

Dean looks terrible, the younger Winchester realizes. "What happened?" His brother blushes. "Nothing, Sammy. Nothing." Sam is about to push for more infos, but he suddenly feels an urge to drop it. He feels warmth coming from that odd stone. He looks at it. Maybe it's worth investigating later, but he doesn't feel the need to take it off.

They go to sleep. Having already slept, Sam takes some time to go under and has to listen to Dean having a dream about Dr. Sexy. He sighs. Dean should just ask Castiel to put on a lab coat and get done with it.

As sleep comes to him, he smells a strange odor of candies. It reminds me of his lost love, so he slumbers with a smile on his face.

#my writing #hypnosis #male hypnosis #gay hypnosis #mind control #supernatural #sabriel #sam winchester #gabriel supernatural #dean winchester

24 notes · View notes

unalivejournal · 3 years ago

Note

u mentioned only reading kripke era fic do you have a reclist 👀👀👀and if not could you link some of ur faves cuz the stuff that gets circulated the most right now is all like late late seasons fic and kripke era is my favorite too but im having trouble finding that many fics for it or even seasons 6-10 era which im fine with also. its just that like. the last five seasons were so bad that it makes fic generally worse too because people have to jump off of just Thee stupidest plot choices no matter how good their prose skills might be. but anyway yea if u have recs that would be awesome :)

hi anon i was thinking abt making a reclist and u just gave me the perfect excuse thank u

jess adamilligan’s kripke era fic recs

from making this ive learned that i never bookmark ANYTHING. sorry all of these r like….. 10k and under. i DO read longer fic but i don’t have any kripke era longfics bookmarked & tbh i prefer short oneshots

season one gen

disclaimer because it’s unfortunately needed: NONE of these are w*ncest! they’re all completely tagged as gen and i did not read them with the intent of consuming ship content.

Coaster Park by fogsrollingin, 10.4k, G, gen

Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Dean wouldn't have pulled a shift treating nauseated, heat-stroked, or dehydrated park-goers for that if he could've helped it, but when 'technical difficulties' were accompanied by rumors of things moving and stopping on their own in front of the operators' eyes, Dean had to throw down.

No historical tragedies or disasters in the area, ectoplasm, or EMF. Dean's only lead was a battered-looking kid that'd been coming to the park every day since it'd all started.

really interesting au fic! slightly ‘it’s a terrible life’. dean winchester is a hunter/EMT and sam wesson is a college kid destined to die on a roller coaster ride.

two basic motivating forces by sahwen, 7.8k, T, gen

He can’t cry, it’s not allowed; even as a child he was hushed into silence, whether his tears were from a long car ride or a late night or a raging fever. It’s never been an option, it’s never been an available outlet, and it’s not about to start being one just because he’s having an emotional breakdown on the bathroom floor.

Sam isn't only afraid of clowns.

BIG emetophobia tw (both for graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting and for the fact that this fic is about sam suffering from emetophobia) for this one but it’s my favorite sickfic. portrays anxiety over getting sick really well and is a fascinating examination of the different ways that sam’s fear of loss of control can manifest itself. also has lovely brothers content <3

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning (Remix of Just as Easy as 123) by nwspaprtaxis, 4k, T, gen

Dean’s functionally illiterate and Sam’s determined to remedy it...

PLEASE READ THIS ONE god it’s so sweet. dean never learned how to read properly due to his nomadic childhood and sam teaches him how.

dean/cas

Broadway Musical by Griftings, 9k, M, m/m

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

somewhat of a fandom classic and the humor holds up wonderfully. a very silly fic completed with commentary from angel radio throughout the entire thing.

Sappiest Season by dollsome, 2.7k, G, m/m

In which Dean and Cas have to stop an evil Christmas tree (like you do), and it requires a little fake couple action.

hilarious little s5ish fic. one of the first i read when getting back into spn. i don’t want to spoil anything but this is my favorite pick me up and i still giggle randomly whenever i think about it

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by tuesday

Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this.

another fandom classic. ik this one is recced a lot but how could i NOT include it. dean and cas get married (mostly by accident) and they’re huge cunts about it

the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on by prufrock, 2.4k, T, gen + m/m

“Wait,” Dean says. “Let me get this right. You can fly, right—you can teleport—but you can’t drive a car?”

or, after the events of S5E03 "Free to Be You and Me," Dean teaches Cas to drive. Cas finds it stressful

im always a sucker for a good ftbyam fic. also i can’t drive so. resonation

So Says The Sword by komodobits, 85k, E, m/m

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

NO introduction neede. i think everyone on spntumblr has read this already but still. if you haven’t then i am demanding that you read it NOW. tbh i’m just adding this one so that i have at least one long fic here 😭

the weight by @myaimistrue, 3.5k, T, gen + m/m

“Do you…” Bobby sighs. “Listen, Dean, do you have something you wanna tell me?”

It’s the conversational equivalent of being punched in the stomach.

Or, Dean works through some things with Bobby's help.

WHEN I SAW THE USERNAME I GASPED I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS U. anyway i Love coming out fics idk why i just do. the world is ending and dean comes out to bobby

canticles by 2street2car, 10.3k, T, m/m

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”

feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

another ftbyam fic that skepticalfrog (i believe?) recommended a while back. made me feel at least 28 new emotions

Epilogue by JayneL, 28k, E, m/m

Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means-- Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means--

Cas is no longer when he was. Lucifer sent him back.

Coda to 'The End'.

2014 cas gets sent back to 2009, feelings ensue etc. i don’t remember all the details of this one bc it’s been a while but it’s really good

bonus

currently reading

Fragile As We Lie by perilously, 11k, E, f/f

Dragging Bela Talbot out of perdition isn't so much a decision as it is a frantic choice based on gut instinct. Her soul is bright, if fractured, and Anna yearns to do good again after the perversion of free will that immediately preceded her death.

Bela's no ordinary human, though; she's prickly and damaged and beautiful, and Anna doesn't want to leave her side. So maybe they can figure out how to navigate post-resurrection, post-Apocalypse-that-wasn't Earth together.

#sorry i took a few days to answer this haha #asks #anon #fic recs

86 notes · View notes

bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth.

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.”

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over.

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it.

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing.

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day.

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy.

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears.

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded.

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm.

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs.

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down.

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright.

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still.

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.”

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.”

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel.

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side.

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth.

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of.

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

30 notes · View notes