it seems like the only time i ever draw anything good is during these destiel weeks

Drugs And Arts

Jimmy is perfectly aware that this is not how things should go.

In normal circumstances, he would stand in Dean’s shop now, demanding that the mechanic treat his brother right.

Instead, he’s banging on the door of his brother’s studio during his very own lunch break.

Who cares if he doesn’t get to eat. This is important.

His brother opens with his usually lazy grin, hair askew, eyes ablaze, his painting clothes invariably stained with so many colours it almost hurts to look.

He’s not smelling like weed for once, at least.

Without a word, Jimmy pushes past him.

“Hello to you too, dearest brother.”

“Castiel, this has gone too far.”

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A Soulmate’s Scrawl

@b0nely… you prompted this so, thank you :) x

AO3 link


2pm: car service


That’s the first message Dean sees scrawled on the inside of his wrist.


It’s the oddest feeling: it’s like having the lightest of feathers stroked over his skin to the point of making it itch a little. That, or he’s developed a slight allergy to his washing detergent overnight.


He’s scratching at it absently and unthinkingly for half the morning before he even really looks, and then it’s only because his hands are filthy from a morning of high schoolers let loose on paint and easels like they’re actual kindergärtners, and it’s time for lunch.

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Dean has been single for so long that it’s completely unexpected when he actually manages to win the new guy from next door, Castiel, for himself. Honestly, Dean’s over the moon and grinning like a sap all day, because not only is Castiel beyond attractive, he’s also really funny and kind and always has something nice to say about Dean whenever they meet. And Dean can only stammer and blush and try not to look like a complete egghead whenever he compliments him again.

So, Dean should be well and truly happy. And he is; about Cas, that is. The only problem is that during his many years of being single, he’s become a bit of a sloth, which also extended to his eating and workout routines: too much pie and too little exercising. He’s gotten soft, especially around the middle, but also his butt and thighs look like they could belong to a very curvy woman. And Dean had come to terms with it when he was only by himself anyway, but as soon as Cas, who’s got the body of a runner and arms with which he could easily lift even someone as heavy as Dean and do with him whatever he pleases, enters the picture, Dean starts to become self-conscious.

But nothing’s lost, Dean decides. They haven’t even seen each other naked, as both of them have decided that they want to take it slow and concentrate on getting to know each other better first, so Dean still has plenty of time to trick Cas into thinking his boyfriend (and the word alone make Dean giggle) is a fit guy and to actually bulk up in the meantime.

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Coffee And Kisses

That’s what you get when you reblog prompts. This one was “Destiel au where Dean gets a text from Cas at 3 AM saying “I told a homophobic person I work with that I’m dating a guy and I can’t sleep because I feel like a liar so I need you to date me” and yes, I couldn’t resist the temptation to change it a bit. Enjoy!

For some reason Dean could never phantom, Cas loves working at the 24/7 coffee shop around the corner of his flat. Maybe because it allows him enough spare time to write. Or because Dean can drop in all the time to see his best friend, although that thought always makes him feel like a self-centred jackass.

Point is, Cas loves the place and Dean has to admit it does look pretty nice and that the coffee is decent.

It’s just too bad that the boss doesn’t always pay attention to who he hires. Dean has the increasing suspicion that they guy even only hired Cas because he happened to come in at the right time. Cas.

His best friend has seen his fair share of co-workers come and go. There was Ash, who was fired after openly smoking a joint while serving a friendly old lady, Meg, whose crush on Cas was obvious to all but the man himself, Jo, who played around with the cutlery in a distinctly frightening manner and was politely let go, and God knows how many others.

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