God, Your Worst Warrior Needs Money

Everyone needs to read this now.

the boy beneath | dean winchester x reader

summary - even though john has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. the boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. and in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

tw: fluff, mention of john winchester, itsy bitsy angst, season one dean being a cute little shit.

The golden afternoon sun glints off the polished chrome of the Impala.

Huddled under its hood, you're helping Dean fix a blown engine in the middle of nowhere. The scent of pine and motor oil mingles in the air, a strangely comforting amalgamation that's become synonymous with these moments.

Grease smears your faces, laughter echoing through the woods before dying into a comfortable silence. Dean works his wrench as you watch him, mesmerized by the fluid motions of his hands.

There's a softness to him still, despite the harsh life he's led. Even after years of hunting and killing, he's a little shit with puppy dog eyes and a pretty boy smile.

He's got an old Canon EOS camera he roams around with everywhere nowadays. It's become as much a part of him as his leather jacket or the samulet. And yes, it's a bit battered, much like Dean himself, but it's efficient at it's job, just like him.

"What'cha lookin' at, sweetheart?" he asks amusedly, without looking up. If he had, he would've caught the longing in your eyes.

"Nothing," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but the slight tremor betrays you.

A gust of wind blows across your face, tickling you with your strands of hair. You giggle at the sensation, the sound coming out light and carefree. It steals Dean's attention away from his beloved car, soft eyes landing on your face.

Dean's heart skips a beat as he looks at you. God, you're beautiful, he thinks, drinking in the sight of your windswept hair and the laughter in your eyes.

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches for the camera in the back seat. The shutter clicks, immortalizing your joy.

As he lowers his camera, he thinks of all your hours spent in between sheets. Naked bodies pressed together, crevices into crevices. He's enamoured by the way his hands mould your body to fit the curves of his.

Even though John has forced him to be a man, he's not fully one yet. The boyish grins and youthful desires still hold him prisoner. And in these rare moments with you, he allows himself to be that boy again.

The thought of losing you feels like the ache Achilles must have felt when Patroculus died. It's an ache that gnaws at his insides every second of his existence. He wants to hold onto this feeling, to you, with everything he has.

And for a fleeting moment, as he turns back to the engine, you both pretend that this is all there is — just you, Dean, and the open road ahead.

If I ever get these men in my claws I will transform into the ultimate freak

i would thrive in a situation where i had no responsibilities and unlimited spending money

THS IS MY FAVORITE THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

Love my wolves, hot and twitchy🙂‍↕️

It’s purring.

MEOWWWWW

Can’t wait for all the umbrella academy fan fics that are gonna come out.

bitches have complicated feelings about me due to my inconsistent swag

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

“HOPE” found in Washington D.C.