#imo writes

[aetherealcas-blog]

I have this headcannon where Dean learnt Enochian years ago, and in quiet moments after a hunt, when he and Castiel are bloody and bruised and utterly exhausted, Dean takes Castiel in his arms and murmers to him in the Angel’s native tongue - sometimes he forgets how to say a certain phrase, and sometimes there’s a far too-human jilt in his accent, but it doesn’t matter, becuase it reminds Castiel of home, just as being in Dean’s arms does.

[aetherealcas-blog]

A weak afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting erratic rays of half-light over the ground, leaves glided listlessly across the damp grass, pushed and pulled this way and that by the breeze. The world was a vibrant orange, muted by the occasional speck of green or yellow or brown, glowing in its autumnal effervescence. Birds chirped softly from among the tree branches, and leaves drifted down from the heavens, twisting and tumbling as the wind guided them to their final resting place. Castiel brought his hand up to catch one such leaf that seemed to float past him on its descent, savouring the waxy and cool feeling against the tips of his fingers before letting it drop out of his grasp. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" From beside him, Dean spoke softly, sounding totally at bliss. He was almost slumped against the park bench, knitted scarf pulled tightly around his neck, warming his hands around a takeaway coffee cup and tilting his head towards the sky, watching the wispy clouds chase themselves through the air. "Not as beautiful as you." Castiel really meant that - in the hazy brightness, Dean looked as if his skin was made of stars, stitched together, twinkling from afar, his freckles nebulae against his tanned skin, and his shy smile a supernova, bursting with all the joy that emerged on Dean's face at hearing that sentence come out of Cas' mouth. "Sap." Dean accused him, humour and happiness lacing his voice. "You made me into a sap, Dean Winchester." Dean chuckled, and the two of them drew closer together, hands brushing up against each other as their shoulders bumped gently. Castiel let his head droop sideways, nestling into the warmth of Dean's body. "Do you really think that?" "Think what?" Castiel mumbled against Dean's shoulder blade. "That I'm... ya know... beautiful." Castiel raised his head. "There is nothing on this Earth more beautiful than you, Dean. I have lived for millennia, and never have I seen such an incredible sight." "Wow." Dean lowered his gaze in an ineffective attempt to hide his growing blush. "You really are a sap." Castiel hummed a soft note of agreement, and took Dean's hand in his, placing a kiss atop their interlocked fingers for good measure.

[aetherealcas-blog]

Supernatural Poetry Challenge | @aetherealcas vs. @cymamoremocha

Prompt: Boots

Pairings: Destiel 

Tags: Fluff (kind of), no angst, SFW. 

You have wandered this Earth,

This perfect godly creation,

Since before humans could talk,

Never abandoning or questioning your station.

Days were mere specks to you,

Angelic being that you are.

Your veins were infused with a grace of blue,

And your body n’ere suffered a scar.

Years passed by without your notice,

And your Father’s sons changed too.

Those humans who were once so primitive,

Their intelligence grew and grew.

But you never could stay long.

It was not in your orders to get attached;

Moving from vessel to vessel

In an attempt to hold your feelings for humanity back.

And then came the orders from upon high,

As clear cut as a church bell.

Leave Earth behind as you have never done before,

And save the Righteous Man from Hell.

So downwards you dived,

Into the foul smog and stench.

A hand upon the shoulder was all it took,

And soon you were sat next to each other on a park bench.

But you were naive, back then

You had no idea how much

They would come to mean to you

And you to them.

And now,

Almost ten years down the line,

You would give anything to stop the world from spinning,

To stop the ticking of time.

Because you have finally found 

A meaning in life,

Besides following orders,

And fighting in heaven’s endless strife.

Love is not an emotion

Which you are supposed to feel.

But every day you are with him,

It seems more and more real.

A rush like blood to the head,

A smile and a laugh in the quiet hours of the morning.

When all’s done and said,

Now you are less angel, more human.

It’s hard to believe

That despite your disputes, you fell in love with a man

Who favours worn out flannel shirts

And scuffed up, filthy boots.

But here the both of you are,

Perfect in your imperfections.

Neither of you will ever stray far,

For fear of breaking this profound connection.

And now you know for sure

That your endless wandering has come to an end,

You will have to distance yourself no more,

From the man who seems to you to be a godsend.

[aetherealcas-blog]

Gone

You lie awake,

Alone in a room full of 

Memories.

Sleep should have come by now,

But slumber evades you 

Like clever prey does a hunter.

The sheets are

Cold

Beneath your touch.

This is the first time that

This bed has held one

Instead of two.

There's a toxin

Forcing itself into your lungs,

A growing storm outside.

Gasps shallow,

Gale howls,

You are unable to breathe.

For the one you love is

Gone.

The daytime is no better.

Your insides are turning 

Outwards,

Nothing is as it

Seems

Anymore.

That storm still rages

Begging to be set free.

You are trapped

Here

With tensions boiling over

And hope a desolate tundra.

The boy, Jack,

He keeps asking about his

Father.

You cannot bear the

Thought of talking about

Him.

For the one you love is

Gone.

So you sneak out,

Nighttime air heals

Open wounds.

But this wound will not

Heal.

So long as he’s not here. 

The wind

Overpowers your storm

And you have to

Let it go.

That all consuming anger

That has been consuming you.

You know that

Tears do not solve a

Problem like this.

But there is no stopping 

Them from

Falling.

For the one you love is

Gone.

You should not be here,

Crying in the rain.

Because the Winchesters

Always have bigger

Problems than this,

Don't they?

But nothing is bigger than 

This.

Not Cas.

Because you

Loved him,

Didn't you?

You never got to tell him

That.

You never got to tell him

That

You still love him,

With every fibre of your being.

There is

Nothing

That can be done.

For Castiel, the one you 

Love?

He is

Gone.

[aetherealcas-blog]

Dean and Cas sharing quick, chaste kisses in the morning over steaming mugs of coffee.

Dean and Cas sharing slow and deep kisses in the shower, while washing each other’s hair.

Dean and Cas sharing languid and lazy kisses in the back of the Impala when they’re supposed to be working a case.

Dean and Cas sharing goodnight kisses, sneaking them in when they think that Sam isn't looking.

Dean and Cas sharing hot and passionate kisses after sex, lying exhausted yet elated in Dean’s bed, smiling and laughing quietly because there's no place that either of them would rather be.

Dean and Cas sharing kisses.

[aetherealcas-blog]

The two of them are in the Impala when Cas says it.

They’re on their way to a case - a case which looks to be a simple salt and burn, no stress needed - and a rock song is quietly drifting out of the speakers, almost completely obscured by the sound of the engine rumbling, the tires on the tarmac. Despite that, Dean is singing along softly - clearly, he doesn’t need to hear the track in order to know the words.

Since becoming human, Castiel has felt so many emotions - anger and happiness and sadness and practically everything in between, even feelings which he sometimes struggles to put a name to. But nothing compares to the thing he feels when he’s next to Dean like this - it’s like an ever-burning flame, hot and cold at the same time, a symphony with no sheet music. Something inexplicable, rather like the grace which used to rush around his body, he muses.

It’s stronger now that he’s no longer an angel, more in tune, something he’s slowly coming to understand. He’s no longer afraid of it like he used to be, not even when he’s around Dean in such close proximity. Turning his head slightly, he watches Dean hum the melody of a song he doesn’t know the name of, fingers tapping the beat on the steering wheel, smiling faintly.

“I love you.” It comes out unbidden, like it usually does, and Castiel has said it before he can even think about what he’s going to say. For a split second, he fears that Dean hasn’t heard him over the combined noise of the engine and the music, but then Dean does the most extraordinary thing.

He throws his head back and laughs, small smile morphing into one of pure and unadulterated joy. As Castiel looks at the late afternoon sun enveloping Dean’s face, sending flecks of light dancing across dappled freckles, the feeling inside of him surges up, begging to be freed.

Before he realises it, he’s kissing Dean with all his might, laughing along with him and basking in his warmth.

They only break apart when Dean realises that he should probably keep his eyes on the road, and they smile at each other sheepishly, hands intertwined as they rest on the leather seat between their bodies.

[aetherealcas-blog]

Deserve To Be Saved

Supernatural Poetry Challenge | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall vs. @bennyandthevamps vs. @aetherealcas

Prompt: Earth

Pairings: Dean/Cas 

Tags: Mention of attempted suicide (not graphic), depressed!Dean. 

You told me once that you thought you

Didn't deserve to be saved.

We were strangers, then.

Two entities with hardly anything in common.

My words to you were impartial, angry, fuelled by my service to Heaven,

And you were scared and vulnerable, hope and faith alike downtrodden.

Perhaps I should have been more accepting of you,

On that night,

For I didn't know how much I would come to care for you,

The man with the soul of astounding light.

Now we are years down the line,

And I have no doubt

That despite my love and affection

Your answer has not changed with the passing of time,

Nor with the deepening of our profound connection.

Good things do happen, Dean.

Not in my experience, you said.

But I know better.

Or at least I think I do.

Those tear-stained cheeks and broken bones

Are anyone's fault but you.

Yet you deny my soft ministrations

With words made of iron

Forged in the relentless fires of your mind.

And I cannot help despairing

As you chastise your every move with thoughts that are far from kind.

It has not been long since you told me

What you could not tell another,

Not the heartfelt confession I was waiting for,

But something I know was only meant for the ears of a lover.

It has not been long since I found you,

Curled in on yourself like a wounded animal caught beneath a trap,

Shaking and whimpering,

Shielding the blade from my view,

And cursing at me with a yell and a snap.

That was the first time

You tried to leave this Earth for good.

But you must have known your efforts would be in vain -

Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should.

It doesn't mean that I cannot share your pain.

We are lost - the hunter and the angel,

Trying to find a shelter for our hearts,

A sanctuary for our minds,

And consolation within each other's arms.

We are broken individuals,

Trying to soothe each other with words that taste like chalk in our mouths,

Which we have repeated to ourselves a thousand times over.

That's why they're so easy to grind out.

But I have faith in what I say to you.

You are not weak

Or used up,

Or useless.

You may feel like it sometimes,

But I assure you

Your feelings do not define who you are.

Surely, you know that?

I hope you do.

I hope you know, Dean Winchester, that it has 

Always been - and always will be - you.

You are not what you say you are - a monster, an abomination, beyond saving.

There's no being on Earth,

Who would think of you so.

For you do your job with a determined sense of duty.

This world needs you - please, you cannot go.

If it meant that you would stay with me,

On this pitiful planet of ours,

I would tell you that I love you,

At every single chance.

So, listen to me, Dean - for to my father I have prayed,

Please, you have to realise that you,

You of all people on this sad, little Earth,

Deserve to be saved.

[aetherealcas-blog]

Turning over for what felt like the thousandth time that evening, Dean cast a wary eye over the darkened interior of his room - complete with weapons stacking the walls and shelves filled with little personal effects which he never would have considered putting on display when he called his car home. He loved his room, he really did - it was his safe space, a little corner of the world all to himself. But there was something missing. There was always something missing now that Cas no longer slept beside him. Absentmindedly, his gaze wandered to one of the two small wooden bedside tables. There was nothing remarkable about the hunk of wood which stood on his side of the bed - it was just a table, after all - but the other one was special to Dean, in a way he couldn't possibly describe with words. Cas had used it, when he was alive. After Cas had fallen and become human - and the two of them had finally come to terms with their feelings for each other - Dean had bought it for him as a gift, a kind of housewarming present. When Cas was forced out of the bunker by Ezekiel, Dean had moved it into another room. He couldn't look at it then. It reminded him that what had happened was his fault. It was his fault that Cas was destitute and cold and alone, with nothing but a few items of clothing and an angel blade to his name. It hurt too much. It was more painful to look at it now. By miles. By worlds. Because now Cas wasn't simply human and homeless, wasn't simply able to come home once things had settled down. He was dead. Gone. Perhaps forever. Dean pulled the duvet cover over his head and reminded himself to move the bedside table out of his room tomorrow morning.