Castiel’s antiquity trading shop is a force to be reckoned with. Last week it was the pipes, this week it’s the lights and the crate of ancient gunpowder. Dean, being skilled at many things, regularly drops by to fix what needs fixing. The two of them are excellent friends, and nothing can come between them - not even the shop’s resident myna bird and her highly improper vocabulary, most of which Castiel insists he didn’t teach her. Now, skip forward a bit. When Castiel discovers Dean’s romantic affections are directed at someone other than him, the support he gives Dean regardless of his own feelings brings plenty of matters to a head. Turns out, the answer to his woes was right under his nose the whole time…
it’s called Circuitry and Dust, and it features demiromantic/demisexual antique store owner Cas and his talking myna bird, and electrician/arcade owner Dean in the place next door, being intellectually smart but also kind of completely useless when it comes to feelings. it’s sweet, it’s cute, it’s fRuSTRraTIng as hEck (in a good way), and of course has a nice happy ending, because wHO AM I, i meeean
(most of it was also written in 2014, so if you prefer my older work, maybe this one’s for you~)
(but also it’s already up on Patreon, because I post work early there. become a Patron if you want it now!! which would also get you early access to the 10+ other works I’m gonna post in the coming months, most of them will be on Patreon a few days to a week before AO3) c:
35k Destiel AU // Dean bets he can have more sex in a year than Sam, Cas becomes Dean’s fuck buddy with feelings (omg they were roommates)
☆
All problems, big or small, could be fixed with beer.
‘Could be’ being the operative words.
Okay, past tense. All problems could have been fixed with beer. By drinking it, specifically. Drinking a lot of it. Feeling all the feels, then feeling nothing at all.
Whenever Dean woke up – maybe in a bed, maybe on the sidewalk – the problem of the previous night seemed less of a problem. Mainly because his headache was a bigger problem. Or the jail cell he was in. Those were real problems.
Those drunken times in Dean’s life were over. He made sure they were over. Everyone around him, his friends, they helped make The Beer Era seem like someone else’s life.
Now Dean lived in The Milkshake Era.
Now all problems, big or small, could be fixed with a pink dessert in tall, grooved glass, whipped cream and a cherry on top, a late night in a neon-lit diner, and a long talk with a close buddy.
Dean pinched his fingers around the curly straw, and took a drag on the strawberry delight. He swallowed, then sighed. “I got a problem,” he said.
Charlie snapped the cover back over the slushie machine, slung her dishcloth over her forearm, and came to lean on the bartop, hoodie sleeves rolled up to her elbows. “What sort of problem?” she asked.
In Dean’s right hand, he fiddled with a circular wooden talisman, engraved and painted with the words ‘SONNY’S HOME FOR BOYS’ at the top, and ‘Good Little Boy: Most Caring’ curved around the bottom.
“Uhm,” Dean said, running his thumb over the letters. “You know Cas.”
Charlie stared. “Is that a statement or a question? Yes, I know Cas. Iced mocha with a chocolate chip blend, peppermint syrup, rainbow sprinkles. Black coffee in the mornings.”
“Not his order, I mean—” Dean sighed. “You’re his friend. You know him. You know how we’ve lived in the same apartment for years. You know everything about him.”
“Again, statement or question?”
“Both. Neither.” Dean rested his forehead in his milkshake-chilled palm. “Look.” He wet his lips, avoiding Charlie’s gaze. “Off the record. I’m, uh. I’m having some serious feelings for him. Like. Like love. Or whatever. And—” He glanced up, curious to see what Charlie thought of that. She was smiling, so Dean relaxed, lowering his gaze again. “And basically I can’t – can’t figure out how to… convey my intentions to him.”
“Okay,” Charlie said.
“And I need your help.”
“Okay,” Charlie said again, her smile audible in her voice. “But I’m gonna need a little more to go on. What are your intentions?”
Dean was immediately stumped. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“Question or statement?”
Charlie grinned, thwacking Dean with her dishtowel. “How did this even start, Dean?” she asked. “And when?”
“Oh…” Dean thought back. He nibbled his lower lip, then shrugged. “The bet. A bar. New Year’s Eve.”
in case you missed it: I posted a new 2k Destiel fic yesterday!! Cas has the sniffles and achey feet (and a grump), so Dean plants him on a motel bed and gives him a foot rub <3
2k Destiel fluff~!! Cas has a cold, Dean offers foot rubs.
☆
For someone with such a deep, commanding voice, Cas was very good at whining.
“I’m not supposed to get sick,” he said, all nasal because of his stuffy nose. He sniffed, which made no difference, before he added, “If I still had my power this never would’ve happened.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have your power, and you are sick,” Dean said, taking Castiel by the shoulders and rotating him, pushing him towards the motel bed. “And as much as I wanna tell you it’s ‘just a sniffle’, Cas, you are one ill-timed sneeze away from stabbing the wrong guy. So—” He pushed Castiel nearer the bed, but Cas went down face-first, thumping the mattress like a six-foot pancake in a six-foot pan. “So,” Dean said again, surprised it was that easy, “you’re gonna rest. And do nothing else until you’re better.”
“We didnh finish the case,” Castiel said into the blanket, as Dean bent to pull off his shoes.
“Sam’ll take care of it.”
Castiel sniffed, rolling over, limply allowing Dean to take off his coat. “Why are you denuding me?”
“Denuding— Dude, if you’re gonna lie down you’re gonna feel lumps everywhere. Undo your belt, empty your pockets. C’mon.” He beckoned, and Cas begrudgingly sat upright. “And undo your tie.”
“You undo it,” Castiel said testily, eyes closed as he swayed, breathing out through his mouth. He fumbled in his pockets, but collapsed back on the bed before he could get anything out. His hands went limp.
Dean rolled his eyes. “God. Okay. I’m coming in, Cas, don’t freak out.”
Dean bit his lip as he fished around in Castiel’s front pockets, expecting to find an FBI badge or car keys – if Cas even put them in there to begin with – but only found wads and wads of wet tissue.
“Okay, Cas?” Dean tossed everything in the trash. “That’s disgusting.”
“I didn’t want to litter.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Dean went to wash his hands, then came back, still muttering in disgust.
diiiiiiid you want some canonverse Destiel smut with bottom!dom!Cas and Dean being VERY EXCITED about Cas’ big manly muscles?? ‘cause i posted a fic last week called Measure of Thigh Love
(also includes Sam eating cereal to avoid the sex noises, in case that’s a scale-tipper for ya)
Dean has a thing for men with big, thick, meaty muscles. Not that he’d ever say it aloud. When Castiel sees what Dean was looking at on his laptop, he realises he has something under his clothes that Dean would like very much. With just a measuring tape, a commanding voice, and a long-hidden desire to have Dean inside him, Cas is going to make… Dean… say it… aloud.
Dean has a thing for men with big, thick, meaty muscles. Not that he’d ever say it aloud. When Castiel sees what Dean was looking at on his laptop, he realises he has something under his clothes that Dean would like very much. With just a measuring tape, a commanding voice, and a long-hidden desire to have Dean inside him, Cas is going to make… Dean… say it… aloud.
Dean ♥s thick, muscular guy thighs, Cas has those. smut ensues… a tape measure is involved // 14.7k canonverse, power bottom dom!Cas but sometimes sub!Cas, sub!top!Dean
For someone who prided himself on having simple needs, Dean was not a man easily satisfied.
Well, in some respects that wasn’t true; with a hunt completed, a good burger and a slice of pie, a nice girl and a long night – preferably all of these consecutively – he could be made content.
But when he only got two out of three, things weren’t so simple.
The hunt was over. Dinner had been eaten. But Dean was in the bunker, so there was no chance of bringing a girl back home. He probably wouldn’t even if he could. So he had to turn to other methods to find that last bit of satisfaction he needed before snuggling up to sleep in his bed.
He was halfway there, as well. Teeth brushed, bed made, wearing just boxers and a t-shirt. The plan was to get off and then knock off, so to speak. It usually took a couple of minutes. Trouble was, finding something (or someone) he liked was harder than it ought to be.
In a fit of frustration, he closed all the laptop’s browser tabs: Busty Asian Beauties, the new mailer from Victoria’s Secret, his xTube search for ‘straight pegging doggy style’ (page 6), and even Horny Women In Your Area, even though he was in the middle of four conversations. They seemed like nice women but they were all dull conversationalists. None of them wanted to see his dick when he asked.
Instead, he grabbed his music player and his headphones from his nightstand, cramming the headphones on, chewing nothing as he thumbed through tracks until he came to the Led Zeppelin playlist: Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra XX. The one he’d given Cas, incidentally.
Hand moving back to his laptop, he hovered over the link in his bookmarks he’d covertly entitled ‘2 dudes Wrestling gif’. He bit the side of his curled finger, staring at the link.
He gulped. His eyes darted to the closed door of his bedroom.
He let out a long breath through narrowed lips, and clicked.
~
Castiel knocked on Dean’s door. “Dean, can I come in?”
No answer.
“Dean?” Castiel took the handle and opened the door. “Oh, you are here, I need to borrow your laptop. Are you busy?
Dean’s elbow shook, his face hidden behind the laptop screen, which was propped on his knees. He spread his legs a little more, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“Oh.” Castiel hesitated in the doorway. “Should I come back later? It’s hunt related. Sam’s gone to bed already, and my phone’s too small to type emails—”
Dean’s toes curled on the bedspread, his spine arching into the mattress. “Mmmm.”
Castiel tilted his head. He could see the top band of Dean’s headphones. “Are you listening to music?”
Dean’s breath stuttered, and he lay his head back against the wall, huffing a few times. “Shhit.”
“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Castiel shut the door behind him and paced around the bed so Dean would see him. “I asked if you’re busy—”
“CAS!” Dean’s hand shot out from inside his underwear while the other slammed his laptop shut, his posture protectively curled, his thighs to his chest, torso bent forward. His already-pink face turned pinker, his plump lips shaking, parted. “Whwhwtwhat-what’re you doing in here? Thought you went to bed.” His eyes darted to the laptop and he pulled off his headphones, gulping.
The fics most personal to me: Our Garden Home(an accidental parallel for my life over the last few years) / Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies (the fic that made me realise I was autistic)
The fic that took me the most drafts to perfect: What We Ache For(in fact this is one of only two fics where I deleted huge chunks and re-wrote, the other is Welcome All Winchesters)
Things I would say to people who leave kudos: YOU ARE THE GORGEOUS SHINING STARS IN THE SPARKLY SKY OF MY LIFE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT. I hope I can always make things you feel compelled to enjoy, and that transport you to some other magical world for a little while c:
Things I would say to other writers or artists:
Celebrate yourself, your achievements - no matter how utterly trivial - and celebrate the love that people give you, even if it’s just one comment.
Share positive feedback with others - because the people who gave you that love enjoy seeing it appreciated, and people who want to enjoy something new like choosing things other people liked first.
Anyone who complains about your confidence is speaking from a place of insecurity.
If it makes you feel bad seeing others being successful, instead of comparing yourself and seeing yourself as lesser, smack that feeling in the nose and actively raise yourself up instead of putting yourself down - even if it feel like a lie at first. You have already done great things, and you will do better things in times to come. Someone else’s success doesn’t mean you can’t have your own.
I promise you, others will see how brightly you shine once you see it and celebrate it first. (Honestly, you don’t even need to see it. Just assume your work is decent. Because there’s someone out there who thinks your creation is perfect, but will never even look at it if you think it’s trash.)
When I am scared of being unapologetically confident, I like to pretend I’m doing a job interview for the world, or filling in my resume. i.e. I AM good at this, THESE are my skills, and if you enjoy THIS, I can give you THIS, because I have learned about THIS. And so on. There’s never any need for mumbling “I guess I’m okay at this” or “this isn’t that good”. Always say THIS THING I MADE IS WHAT YOU NEED, even if it’s not really. If what you make is not what someone wants, they can scroll past, and it’s fine. You’ll find your audience by offering your work to everyone, and finding someone who believes it was made just for them.
I love you.
Things you should know about me: I am a chronically ill/disabled person, and I write and illustrate Destiel fics with every available bit of time and energy I have, with the goal of bringing joy and comfort to people like me. I am surviving only via government payments and my entire family’s unpaid 24/7 care. (I am currently on the maximum disability allowance.)
Things you can do to support me beyond kudos and comments: Click this link!!
My 111111 kudo wish: I wish that my health improves soon so I can write lots and lots of high-quality, beautiful things, and you can all enjoy them ♥ and so my mother doesn’t have to feed me 12 times a day ‘cause jskfj she hates cooking.
Thank you to all my readers. One hundred and eleven thousand, one hundred and eleven times, thank you. Thanks to Misha and Jensen for having chemistry™. (And thank you AO3 for even having a kudo button!! And existing at all.)
Hit Pause Kitty Claws (4.7k AU, Team Free Will as Death’s/Billie’s pet cats, snuggling to keep warm in winter)
First and Only (35k AU, OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES, friends to lovers, pining, Dean makes a bet he can have ALL the sex, Cas ends up as Dean’s fuckbuddy)
thank you everyone who’s subscribed for new fics, or just hangs around waiting for me to mention them on tumblr. you are delightful creatures and I hope lovely things happen to you <3
soft hygge Destiel fic where Team Free Will are cats, cuddling to stay warm
In a distant corner of the apartment, past half-open doors and gap-mufflers and thick-pile rugs, a boxy black TV mumbled to itself, fritzing and straining to keep its signal through the storm.
“—power outages widespread throughout the region,” the TV said, its faint voice crackling between every word. “Temperatures reaching a record low in the northern half of the state – reminder that the government has issued a state of emergency, so if you’re inside, stay inside—”
Wind woooooed through a gap in the window seal, its howl turning to a melodic whistle. The snow didn’t make a sound as it hit the glass, unseen past the drapes. Even in the middle of the day, it was dark. The world was dark. The apartment was dark.
Castiel’s bedroom was dark.
Billie liked to think it was her bedroom – she put all her things in there, and everything glowed strongly with her chamomile scent – but the rug on the floor was Castiel’s, the mattress and all its winter blankets were Castiel’s, and the bedroom was, as a whole, Castiel’s.
Beyond the bedroom was the lounge – also pleasantly gloomy, also quiet but for the whistle of wind and the hum of the fridge. The lounge was more of a public space, a neutral zone. Castiel expected to see Dean or Sam scamper through there often, and the kitchen was at the side, so they’d eat together most mornings and evenings. But the rest of the time, Castiel kept to his bedroom, sleeping, licking his cream-coloured back and brown tail – and Dean? Well, Dean disappeared outside.
He’d be gone for days, then come in all dirty and happy and hungry. He’d sleep on the couch for a few days, accepting Billie’s petting and letting his long, darker-tipped coat be combed through to tease out the knots – and then by the morning he’d be gone. He always knew to come home, but he grew restless when inside. His mind was too full of thoughts, his body too full of energy, and all he wanted to do was play and hunt and discover new things.
Castiel liked inside.
Inside was warm.
Outside was the opposite of warm, because there were no heaters. So outside, Castiel did not go. At least not in winter.
Castiel pricked up his ears: Billie returned home with a swoosh of heavy air, her heels tapping onto the wooden floors. Excited, Castiel uncurled himself, stretching his paws allll the way out in front of him, yawning wide, teeth showing. Then he vibrated, and stretched his back legs, and jumped down to the floor.
