I still look like a fifteen year old

  • Griffin: I don't think I had a bucket hat. Although lately people have like sort of delighted in posting pictures of me as a child and talking about how they are "cursed," so maybe I shouldn't put that information out there? That fuckin' Carmen Sandiego HUNT? For a picture of me wearing a bucket hat? Please don't say pictures of me as a five year old, ten year old, fifteen year old boy are cursed! I was just doin' my best out there!
  • Rachel: He was very cute!
  • Griffin: No, I wasn't in a lot of em, but that's fine!
  • Rachel: You're cuuuute.
  • Griffin: I still have feelings! "Look at this ugly kid, cursed image!" C'mooon.

just a couple of gays guys bein’ dudes,

psa people who draw ns/fw of yuri plisetsky are TRASH

he’s a kid!! he’s a minor!! how badly do you want to sexualize a kid!! i don’t care if you ~~aged him up~~ he’s still a minor in canon and you basically just went “well in canon he is a child, but i think i should draw or write porn of him, so to make it look better im going to make him an ~adult~” guess what assholes he’s still a kid


“but its just fiction-” if youre willing to support or even produce content like that in a ~fictional~ context how the hell am i, a fifteen year old, supposed to feel safe around you in any context lol

there isn’t gonna be any argument or discourse on this post you argue with the statement here (which is ns/fw of a minor is wrong and you shouldnt do that especially if you’re an adult) you’re getting blocked there is no argument

trash. people who consume or produce porn/ns/fw of yuri plisetsky are literal garbage.

I think people see Jason as far too old when he died. He was fifteen. Do you know what fifteen year olds look like? Even if they’re considered “dreamboats” by their peers, they still have squishy kid faces. They still look like colts with long limbs and knobby knees. His shoulders were probably broad, but he still had to grow into them. 

My point is, Jason was a child. And by disregarding that important element, it erases much of his core characterization. It’s almost like shielding the Joker from the heinous actions he committed. He is a child killer. 

Jason is only nineteen now. That’s a year older than the legal age. This poor boy reached out for love and got broken glass shoved down his throat instead. 

Blood and rust and angry tears. These things make up Jason Todd, murdered child. 

Gary’s Legacy

by: mldrgrl
Rated: PG
Summary: Epilogue

I’m different.  I’ve been different my whole life.  I’ve always known it, and I’m okay with it.  It’s not about my red hair and it’s not about being adopted either.  I realized pretty early on that knowing things without being told and dreaming things that come true and somehow being able to hear the thoughts of someone else doesn’t happen to everyone.  It doesn’t happen to anyone, actually, but it happens to me.

When I knew it was time, I wished my adoptive parents well, got into the truck, and headed east.  I knew exactly where to go.  I don’t know how I know these things and I don’t know why, but the fact is, I know.  I’ve stopped questioning it long ago.

The only thing I don’t know, when I get out of the truck and walk up the long driveway, is what to say.  As I near the porch, the screen door swings open and the tall man steps out first like he’s guarding the door.  The redhead follows, standing so close to him they almost look like one person.  But, there they are.  My parents.  They look a little different than how I dreamed them to be, but my dreams are fifteen years old.  I’d still recognize them anywhere.

For the first time in maybe as long as I can remember, I can’t hear their thoughts as much as I can feel them.  Usually, it comes to me like a murmur or a whisper, and I can concentrate and listen, or I can tune it out.  Whatever they’re thinking, it comes at me as emotion.  Mostly, what I feel is fear - not my own, theirs.  There’s a mixture of hope and disbelief in there as well.

“Who are you?” the tall man asks, his voice like a warning.

Keep reading

Whenever Sirius and Harry had a chance to be alone together, during their time at Grimmauld Place, Sirius would always indulge Harry by speaking about his parents.
The kid just couldn’t get enough of listening to things that they had done. It made Sirius happy, to no end, to see Harry actually smile, but he was more interested in knowing more about his Godson’s life before he came into it.
He decided, one afternoon, to start grilling Harry about his first few years in the magical community.
With much coaxing, Harry finally admitted “My aunt and uncle tried to stop my letters from coming in my first year.”
Sirius sighed; he expected as much from Petunia, he had met her once briefly, long enough to know what type of woman she was, anyway.
Harry looked so uncomfortable with is confession that Sirius figured he should share some of his family’s insanity to reassure him that he wasn’t alone “I know how you feel. My dear old mum tried to stop my letters from coming in my second year. She figured if I didn’t get my letter I wouldn’t be a Gryffindor. Idiot.”
Harry laughed along with Sirius before saying “You should have seen their faces when even the place where I slept changed on the envelope when I moved out of-” Harry cut himself off quickly, suddenly hyper-aware that he had never told anybody about where he had slept for the best part of ten years of his life.
“Out of where?”
“Er… nowhere, I just moved rooms after my first letter came.”
But Sirius wasn’t easily fooled “You’re an awful liar Harry. Even worse than James.”
“It was nothing” Harry hastened to assure his Godfather.
Sirius rolled his eyes “Which means it was something. Where did you sleep before you moved Harry? You can tell me.”
“I don’t want to tell you because it doesn’t matter!” Harry snapped hotly, lashing out defensively.
Not swayed whatsoever by his Godson’s behaviour, Sirius replied gently “It matters to me.”
“Would it make a difference if I said I didn’t want to talk about it?” Harry asked flatly.
“Absolutely not” Sirius replied cheerfully “You think I spent all those years badgering Remus to stop being such a closed book for nothing?” Sirius asked smugly “so why don’t you just tell me and save us both the pain of me constantly having to harassing you for the rest of your life.”
Harry turned the thought over in his mind, he could tell just by looking at him that Sirius wasn’t bluffing. Harry sighed. “The cupboard under the stairs” he breathed, so quietly that Sirius barely heard him.
Sirius’ eyebrows contracted, unsure he understood his Godson “what about it?” he asked.
Careful to avoid Sirius’ eyes he said “that’s where I slept until I was eleven.”
“Where?” Sirius questioned leaning further across the table, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“You heard me” Harry said beginning to get defensive again. Sirius could almost hear the mental walls, which Harry had just begun to let down around him, suddenly bang shut again.
Sirius attempted to hold down the fury he that flared up inside of him at finding the child who he often thought of as his own son had been forced to sleep in a cupboard for ten years.
He wanted to spring out of his chair, hunt down the Dursley’s then go and find Dumbledore. But any of those options would only serve to panic his Godson more so he held himself to his seat and forced himself to focus on the surly looking teenager sitting across from him, who was glaring down at the table, hating himself for looking vulnerable.
Sirius took a deep and shaky breath “why?” he asked as calmly as possible.
Harry didn’t need any clarification “They hated me, what I was… they said something about trying to stamp the magic out of me” he mumbled indifferently, still avoiding his Godfathers gaze.
Sirius felt as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head.
“Sta-stam-stamp it out of you?” he choked out in horror, the colour completely draining from his face “don’t they know how dangerous that is?!”
“Honestly I don’t think they’d care” Harry replied blandly before he could stop himself “I’m fine though.” he added quickly “so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Doesn’t really matter? Of course it matters! Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“It never mattered before” he mumbled.
“Well it matters to me. I never want to see you get hurt, I care about you Harry, you know that right?” it had been a rhetorical question but Harry hesitated as if he were considering all the possible answers.
This was wrong.
Harry knows how much he loved him right?
Surely Sirius had told his Godson that he loved him!
But there he was, sitting there trying to think of the right answer to a question that shouldn’t need one.
“Harry… you-you are the most important person in my life. You’re like a son to me and I love you more than you could ever believe” Harry looked disbelievingly at him “ever since the day you were born, no, the day I knew you were on your way I loved you. You have to know that!”
“Nobody’s ever said that to me” Harry admitted quietly.
“Said what?”
“That they love me.”
Sirius felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hands balled up into fists. His Godson was fifteen years old and nobody had ever told him that they loved him. Even with his crummy family Sirius had still been told he was loved well before that age, by Regulus and Andy and even James had said it when Sirius had gotten him out of his first ever detention.
Even though he spent the remaining seven years of their friendship getting him into detention.
Sirius couldn’t believe he had let this slip by him. He had always just assumed Harry knew that people loved him, that HE loved him. He was a failure as a Godfather.
When Remus found out he was going to blow a gasket.
“You are so loved Harry” Sirius started uncertainly, stressing the words so that Harry would believe him. He’d never been in a situation like this, he never thought he would be, kids were supposed to just know that their par-Godparent loved them “I don’t want you to ever forget that”
Harry looked away from him again but Sirius could see the beginning of a watery smile on his Godson’s face.
“I should have told you sooner” Sirius added grimly, his expression darkened “and I think I’m going to have a word with the Dursley’s… after my name is cleared” he tacked on with a sigh after seeing Harry’s panic at the prospect of him venturing out of the safety of Grimmauld Place.
How could such a wonderful, caring kid think that he was unloved?
“Thanks Sirius. You’ve kind of helped already anyway” Harry said with a sly smile “I told the Dursley’s that my Godfather broke out of prison to kill a man but that you liked to keep in touch with me and check that I was happy. Now they pretty much leave me alone.”
Sirius roared with laughter “you’ll be a Marauder yet. Good on you Harry!”
Though it was hard for Sirius to drop the issue of the Dursley’s negligence and obvious child abuse, he knew that Harry did not want to talk about his home life in the least. So he kept laughing and joking with his Godson, telling him stories about his parents and embarrassing moments from his youth.
But Sirius knew this was far from over. He would be having a word with Dumbledore, a loud word, about Harry’s home life.
Dumbledore was about to find out the meaning of an angry parent.
But for now Sirius was content to spend as many good times with his surrogate son as he possibly could, learning about his first two years of school, which couldn’t possibly be as bad as his third or fourth, and feeling content in the fact that his Godson had at least two normal, moderately Dursley-free, years of school before he started on his adventures

Imagine #19 Charles Xavier (Request)

Requested by Anon: Could you please write a Charles Xavier x reader where the reader likes him but feels she has no chance so she pretends to hate him. But then he finds out the truth through mind reading? I’m sorry if this is complicated!! But thank you so much.

Originally posted by netflixruinedmylifeimagines

Not my gif

Words: 2622

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing, typos

A/N: So, first of all, I know that request is from literal months ago, and I’m really sorry, but I kinda put off writing it for the following reason… I actually did that once, pretended to hate someone I believed not to be good enough for (he was a dick and probably deserved it, but still) and it’s connected to some of the worst, most uncomfortable and regrettable situations of my life. If you find yourself in that kind of situation, and you think that it would be easier to just treat your crush like crap, DON’T! I’m all for making mistakes and learning from them, but I really recommend you just talk to the person or, if that’s easier, distance yourself, but being a dick towards them will just make you look and feel like… well, a dick. Don’t! And secondly, I am not incredibly proud of this fic. I don’t think it’s that great. I hope, I’m not disappointing anyone. xoxo

Charles had hired you because of the way you worked with the students, the way you treated the other teachers and the impression that you were one of the smartest, most dedicated people he had ever met. He had hired you despite the fact that you apparently couldn’t even be in the same room as him without shooting him glares and avoiding any kind of further interaction.

Charles understood that there were people, whom one just couldn’t stand. Attraction was biology after all, and maybe you just really didn’t like him, maybe semi-polite working-side-by-side was all you were able to with him, but it still bothered him.

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My Nirvana

Author: @dylan-trash-tbh
Pairing: Dylan O'brien x Reader
Words: 2299

A/N: This is sad. I am sad. Everything is sad.
Keep in mind that English isn’t my first language! Thanks a lot to my lifesaver @cynicallystiles💙 for proofreading, editing and for not letting me delete this, even though I thought it was shitty ✨ your support means a lot!

Please let me know what you think 💖


Originally posted by haidaspicciare

Who would have thought that ‘forever’ sometimes means ‘until someone better comes along’.

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Where the rain falls

  • Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader | Park Jimin x Reader
  • Genre: Angst, Romance, Scifi 
  • Words: 12.5k
  • Description:  Growing up in a society where perfection is the norm and there is no room for uncertainty, your view of the world changes when you meet a boy who believes that all the beauty of life can be contained in crystal droplets that fall from the sky.  

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“We are only able to feel alive because one day the sensation we call life will leave us.”

There are moments that define your story beyond your life. Days where it feels like everything you’ve ever experienced could be contained in one single instant. Points in your memory where your heart feels so, so full, like hearing your soulmate murmur those three words for the very first time or that satisfying feeling of closure at the end of time. 

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you outshine the morning sun, my son

obligatory bit of captain cobra while cleaning out cs wips folder. obligatory hamilton reference. obligatory baby jones. i couldn’t stop myself.

Henry Mills, to be honest, was tired of the crying.

Yes, he was a fifteen-year-old who was just now experiencing the pain of a baby sibling—Roland didn’t count; the child was walking and talking completely normally by the time they met—but he was still terribly annoyed.

Liam was adorable. According to his moms, he looked like Henry himself as a baby. Henry didn’t really see it; Liam looked exactly like Killian except with hair of a lighter brown, more like his. According to Regina, Liam was a much better baby than Henry—she said it with a reminiscent smile just tinged with pain and remembrance.

But good heavens, Liam cried so much.

He spent as much time over at Regina’s as he could, but really he needed to see Emma too. So every now and then he suffered through a night or two of a screaming six pounds of young infant.

He read to the kid as much as he could, since Killian claimed that the boy sometimes actually slept a few hours at night after said story. Therefore, Henry tried to be decent and take Liam off Emma and Killian’s hands for a while so they could get a modicum of sleep. He held the kid in one arm—after Killian showing him how to not drop the wiggling child—and flipped the pages in the book.

He could have sworn that Liam preferred the tale of Charles and Leia without being told that the two were his parents.

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Essays in Existentialism: Closer

Can you do a prompt based off chainsmokers & Halsey track ‘Closer’ Clexa as exes who meet again in a hotel bar.

You look as good as the day I met you
I forget just why I left you, I was insane.

There was something about being back in a place that once encompassed the entire known world. That world which blossomed from a single street as a kid, to a neighborhood as a teenager, to a city as an adult that was full of memories, until it became too small, too saturated, and then, like a colonial explorer, the first tentative steps were taken out into the world, and the tiny microcosm was held in the amber of swell memories and forgotten embarrassments.

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“Lockwood.” Lucy jabs at him with one stockinged foot under the table, pulling his attention away from the paper he’s reading. Maybe he senses the mood that she’s in, because he smirks and catches her foot before she can pull it back, keeping it in his lap.

“News from home?” he asks, indicating the letter spread out on the table in front of Lucy as his thumb traces the arch of her foot.

“Yeah.” Lucy grins, but doesn’t elaborate. She props her head in one hand, studying Lockwood across the table. He’s completely at ease, if a little unsure as to why she’s commanded his attention when she’s clearly not in a hurry to say much. She doesn’t care. Not when he insists on looking at her like she’s the reason the sun shines and the world spins.

She loves this boy. And that’s why the words come as easily as they do.

“I think I want to marry you.”

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Old Home Place 1985 von anoldent
Über Flickr:
The summer after I finished school I set off into the mountains of North Carolina to build a log cabin, armed with a few books, and hand tools, but no experiance or skills. I set up my tent and expected it to take six weeks to build. Six months later I still hadn’t finished the chimney or started the roof. But this is what it looked like on a misty November morning a few years later. I lived here for about eight years, and owned it for about fifteen years after I built it in 1976 with local fieldstone and oak logs I cut, peeled and notched on the site, working alone with hand tools. It had no plumbing, I carried water from a nearby spring, and I heated it in winter with about half a cord of wood a week which I cut and burned in the open fireplace. Eventually I moved into Asheville and had to sell it, but it was a large part of my life, and I miss it more with each passing year.

‘Excerpts from Journal #4’

rating: gen
word count: 3229
summary: A first-person view of Stanford Pines’ initial thoughts and discoveries of the strangest anomalies of all—his own family.
a/n: before i say anything else, this wonderful fic wasn’t written by me, but @theaustinstollhaus
he popped out of a hole in the internet like a weird genie and took me up on a fanfic request, follow him. seriously all the credit goes to him, but he insisted i post it.

the foundation/inspiration that lead to the making of this was this post, which i’m sure a lot of you might remember.

(personally when i first read this i was so blown away by how delightfully and humorously in-character it is, almost as if these were excerpts from the actual journal and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did <3)

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anonymous asked:

Hey! Can I get some Tomco fluff where Marco gets insecure about his height because he's so small compared to Tom (due to teasing at school)? Tom tries to comfort him, but it doesn't work, so he just shows Marco the benefits of having a tall boyfriend by giving him piggy backs? Which Marco then becomes addicted to. XD

Awww this was such an adorable idea!!! I loved it so so so so so much!!!! I hope you like the story!!!! Sorry it’s sort of short, but I think it’s cute and had a fun time writing it!!!!

Marco slumped down on the couch and mumbled. Tom just gave him a little smile and snuggled up next to him. “What’s the matter, Mar-Mar, you’ve been muttering all day.” Tom giggled, reaching up to bop the human’s nose. Marco pressed his lips together and Tom rolled over so he was looking at his human in the eyes. “What’s the matter?” Tom asked.

Marco sighed and looked at his boyfriend. “Am I short?” Marco asked with a little scowl. This made Tom laugh and Marco threw him a look. “It’s not funny! Stop laughing.” Marco nudged him. Tom quieted his giggles and marco crossed his arms. “Seriously, I’m afraid I look like I’m still a child.” Marco huffed.

“Well we are still children.” Tom pointed out. “You look like a fifteen year old kid.” He leaned against Marco. “That’s how it works.”

“Almost everyone in my grade is taller than me.” Marco huffed. “Even you! You’re like, way taller than me and it’s embarrassing. I feel like everyone is looking at me like I’m a hobbit.” He rambled. This made Tom burst out laughing and almost fall off the sofa chair.

“A hobbit?” he asked, laughing hard. “Marco, you don’t look like a hobbit, okay? Let’s clear that up now.” Tom was still laughing hysterically. “And second of all, who cares what those other people say? You’re my short boyfriend and I love you for it.” Tom jumped and over and enveloped Marco in a tight hug.

“Tom, cut it out.” Marco tried not to let his smile slip onto his face. But Tom pulled away and gave Marco a kiss on the nose, causing the human to blush deeply.

“No! Never! I love you too much to cut it out.” Tom giggled. “Besides, I like your size. If you were taller than me I couldn’t scoop you up like a princess and carry you around.” He laughed, picking up Marco and spinning him around. Marco laughed and kicked his legs.

“Alright, alright, put me down.” Marco laughed. Tom held Marco’s waist and picked him up, lifting him and setting him down to stand on the chair, so he stood much taller than Tom.

“See? You seem pretty tall to me.” Tom winked. Marco rolled his eyes and fell forward on Tom, letting the demon laugh and carry him around on his back. “Maybe I should just give you piggyback rides everywhere.” Tom smirked. “This is working out fine for me.” He held tight onto Marco’s legs so the human wouldn’t fall.

“Yeah, I could get used to this.” Marco snickered, resting his chin on Tom’s soft hair. “And if you carry me around like this, then I won’t look so short either.” He decided.

“How’s the view up there?” Tom asked with a smile and wink. Marco shrugged.

“Not too different.” Marco admitted. “But I can look down and see your cute little face right there, so that makes it pretty great.” He cooed, reaching down the touch Tom’s cheek gently. Tom smiled and his ears flicked, purring at Marco’s gentle and loving touch.

“Okay well, I’m glad you like it up there because I’m gonna take you everywhere like this.” Tom laughed. Marco laughed as well when Tom took off out the door and carried Marco down the street with him on his shoulders.

“Oh come on Tommy, let me down.” Marco laughed. Tom agreed and set Marco down, and as soon as his feet were on the ground Tom leaned forward and gave him a deep kiss.

“I love you Mar-Mar, I love your hair and eyes and smile and I love how nice you are to me.” Tom rambled. “And I love your ideas and how sweet and understanding you are. ANd I even love how short you are.” Tom teased, ruffling Marco’s hair. Marco grumbled and pulled Tom down by the horn so he was at the same height as him. Marco then smiled and gave Tom a kiss, holding him close.

vanadiumbean  asked:

This may be a weird question, but do you know anything else that sounds similar or does similar things to your Unsettling Sandman edit? I just thought it sounded super cool !!

Yeah, I kinda have a recommendation, but I’m hesitant about it.

Holes by Tom Milsom kinda has a similar vibe, especially at the beginning, but there was this big scandal that came out that he was dating a fifteen-year-old when he was twenty-one (if I’m remembering this correctly), and by all accounts it was a pretty shitty relationship on account of him being a manipulative asshole. I don’t remember all the details but if you look it up you can find it.

I haven’t financially supported him since then (although I still listen to the music I’d already bought because he’s a pretty big musical influence of mine), but if you wanna like rip it from YouTube or whatever I support you.

The other thing I have to suggest is Slowtunes, which is a totally different vibe but if you listen to it you’ll understand why it’s kinda similar.

This isn’t the first request I’ve gotten like this actually; if anyone has further suggestions leave them in the replies! If it turns out there just flat out isn’t a lot of music that’s just like this I might have to create some myself…

Wrinkles - Imagine request

Request:  Hi! Could you maybe write a deanxreader fluffy fic where dean is self conscious about something in his body and the reader comforts him,please and thank you.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned),

Word count: 1,306

Warnings: Dean’s self-consciousness.

A/N: I hope this is as fluffy as you wanted it. Also, Dean’s perfect self made it a pain in the ass to find something he could be conscious about so uh… Yeah, let roll with the age. Enjoy!

He looked at his reflection for the millionth time that morning. He wasn’t twenty anymore, and he sure as hell had more scars than he remembered.

Of course, he was still super toned and all, but his age was starting to weight and he just couldn’t help but to feel like crap about it.

“I’m a fifteen year old girl.” He mumbled as he realized he was judging his body just like girls in chick-flicks did. ‘A fifteen year old girl in the body of a grandpa’ his mind joked, making him fall back into the low self-esteem pit.

He walked closer to the mirror. Not only did he have white hairs even on his scruff, but he was also starting to get wrinkles all over his face. When did it happen? He couldn’t tell, but it had taken him by surprise that morning when he came out of the shower only to find his biggest fear coming true: He was old.

“Babe?” (Y/N) spoke as her knuckles meet the door.

“Give me a minute, sweetheart.” Dean begged as he walked away from the mirror and proceeded to put on as many layers as he could.


For the rest of the day, Dean avoided any kind of furrow, smile or any other gesture that would involve his face from getting even more crinkles. Sam and (Y/N) noticed, but decided not to ask because Dean wasn’t looking in the mood to talk.

Later, at night, Dean locked himself in the bathroom to change his clothes, which took (Y/N) by surprise for she was used to seeing Dean changing in front of her. Once again, she didn’t ask. After all, Dean needed time and then he would talk to her.

It wasn’t until (Y/N) was fast asleep that Dean slid out of bed and back to the bathroom. He was sure (Y/N) had some creams and even facemasks that helped with wrinkles, and he was more than willing to try them on even if it meant risking his manliness.

“Okay, you can do this, just keep it for thirty minutes and you’ll be free of wrinkles.” Dean whispered to himself as he applied a black goo all over his face.

While he waited, he found some old hair dye (Y/N) had once used to turn herself ashy blonde. Dean remembered how different she looked like, but he also remembered the long time that hair dye lasted.

“You can do it, you can do it.” He repeated to himself as he prepared the very last bit of hair dye in a bowl (Y/N) kept in the bathroom.

He thought he was being silent, but the mess he made by scrambling over her face creams and the smell of hair dye, woke the huntress up. She had been leaning against the bathroom’s door frame, listening closely to every move Dean made.

“Grey coverage… Forty minutes… Crap,” She heard Dean mumbled, “It’s fine, we can do this, I can do this.”

After ten minutes of complete silence, the huntress decided to open up the door; surprised that Dean hadn’t put a lock on it.

Dean wasn’t only covered in her black face mask, but he also had his hair and beard covered in blonde hair dye. What the hell had gotten onto him?

“Dean.” She called and the hunter jumped.

“(Y/N)! I uh… This isn’t what it looks like.” The huntress tilted her head as her hand reached his face, meeting with her well-known de-aging facemask. It was actually to help the skin against sun and other toxins in the air.

“This is my cream and…” She looked at the trash can, “My hair dye… What are you doing?”

Dean sighed, not being able to lie to her, not at that time of the night and definitely not while wearing her beauty products. “I went out of the shower this morning to find myself becoming old.”

“Old? Dean, you’re not even forty, what are you talking about?” She smiled tenderly.

“I have white hairs and this stupid eye crinkles and… I don’t know I…” If he weren’t using the face mask, (Y/N) would’ve been able to tell he was blushing in embarrassment.

Yes, she knew he was right. She knew every part of his body by memory, and she was aware that Dean was in fact no longer a kid. However, to her, he was just perfect.

“Dean…” She called, and he looked up at her.

“Don’t dare to tell me otherwise because I know you know I’m telling the truth.” Dean spoke rapidly. (Y/N) let out a heavy sighed and offered him a sly smile.

“You’re right, but I might as well tell you what I think.” She spoke carefully. Moments like those made talking as hard as walking on eggshells.

“I’m all ears.” Dean mumbled.

“First take that off.” She ordered softly, “The facemask won’t vanish the wrinkles and the hair dye is too different from your hair colour and uh… Everyone will notice.” Dean’s eyes widened as he turned around, leaning over to the sink and washing everything off. In the meantime, (Y/N) went back to sit in bed.

After a few minutes, Dean appeared from the bathroom and joined her under the sheets.


“So you’re old.”

“I know.” Dean sighed.

“And I’m also getting old, and Sam is getting old and Cas’ vessel is getting old and…”

“What’s your point?” Dean grumbled.

“My point is that you can’t fight nature back.” She responded, “We’re all ageing and, if you ask me, it’s a wonderful thing to age next to someone like you.”

“Old like me?” Dean chuckled.

Hot like you.” She smiled, cupping his face in one hand, “I’ve seen many men age and trust me, you are one strange example of growing old with style.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes… I’ve seen pictures of you as a kid and, trust me, you look hotter and even more manly now than you did back them.” She whispered.

“How? My eyes have wrinkles…”

“It’s a sign that, even in this life, you’ve laughed so many times you got wrinkles.” She giggled and Dean did too.

“What about the white hairs?”

“Barely noticeable considering you’re blond.” She replied.

“And the scars?”

“Battle marks.” She winked, “Some of which I patched up after being heroically saved by you.”

“Do you really mean all of this?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Dean thought it for a second, not being able to come up with a proper answer.

“I will continue to age, you know?” Dean mumbled.

“And so the rest of us.” She spoke softly.

Dean shifted closer to her, resting his head on her belly as she caressed his still damp hair.

“I love you, Dean.” She whispered after a while of silence. Dean lifted his gaze to meet hers.

She was a lot older than the first time Dean saw her. Yet, he still thought she was the most beautiful being alive; was that how she felt about him?

“I love you too.” Dean spoke, crawling up to meet his lips with hers in a soft, shy kiss.

Dean’s head fell on the pillow next to (Y/N)’s. They were face to face and her hand was travelling through his skin, tracing every line there was.

“How can you not see how handsome you are?” She whispered.

“Maybe I’m too much into your beauty.” He replied, making her giggle.

“You won’t stop being a flirt, won’t you?”

“Never in a million years.” Dean smiled.

“Even if you get even more white hairs?”

“Even then.” Dean nodded. (Y/N) cupped his cheek, stroking his skin lightly with her thumb.

“That’s my man.” And with that being said, she kissed him once more, letting that lead into a long night of slow love making and endless promises that would never be broken.


Hey guys! Long time no see! This took me a little bit to get some inspo for, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Request: Could you write a soulmate!au imagine with peter where you have a matching tattoo with your soulmate or something like that? I was thinking about this earlier today and i think it would be really cool!
Psst… you should write a peter parker x reader with some sort of soul mate au (its my weakness) Love your stuff <3

Warnings: Cursing lol

Request something!       Masterlist

Whenever you were bored, it became a habit for you to trace over your soulmate tattoo. It started at the top of your right shoulder, taking up your whole back and most of your arm. You would describe it as a spiderweb, with all its intricate details weaving into your skin. The tattoo started to show up when you were 12 and it hasn’t stopped growing.
Legends say that the larger your tattoo was, the more love your partner would have for you. Your friends and family used to joke that your soulmate was one lovesick puppy, seeing as your tattoo kept growing and growing.

You were sitting in art class tracing the lines of your tattoo when the teacher suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts. “Okay class, for this next project well will be pairing up. The assignment is to draw each other's’ soulmate tattoos and interview your partner about what they think about the soulmate thing, do you think it’s right that the person who you are going to be with for the rest of your life has already been chosen for you? And because I’m feeling nice, you can choose your own partners!”
You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see the one and only Peter Parker staring at you, or more accurately, your shoulder. You had decided to wear a low cut shirt which allowed the largest part of your tattoo to show. “I know pretty interesting right?” Your voice snapped Peter out of the trance he was in.
“Oh! Um, No! I wasn’t staring at you! I-I just.” Peter internally face-palmed himself at how awkward he was being right now.
“Hey, Pete. It’s okay, everyone stares at it. I’m used to it. It’s not everyday you see a person with a giant-ass spider web on them!”
“Okay. Well, um I came to ask if you wanted to be my partner for the project.” Peter looked at his shoes, preparing for you to say no.
“Of course Pete! I would love too, here’s my phone number,” you paused to write down the ten digit code on a piece of paper. “Text me and we can meet up later on this week!” You winked at him as you grabbed your bag, walking out of the classroom.
Peter had texted you asking if you guys could work at your house on Friday, you immediately texted him yes.

Friday came soon enough and before you knew it, you and Peter were walking towards your house. You both got inside and immediately went upstairs to your room.
Peter awkwardly sat down on your bed as you moved to shut your door. “Okay Peter,” you whisper, pretending to look around like you were being watched. “What I’m about to show you is classified information, I need you to promise me that you won’t share this with anyone.” You held up your pinky and you smiled as Peter interlocked pinkies with you. You and him both ignored the spark that was created when the two of you touched.
You moved back and started to take off your shirt. Peter stared at you before he realized what you were doing. “(Y/N)!!!!! What are you doing!” Quickly, the scared teenager closed his eyes.
“Peter, if you’re gonna draw my tattoo you’re gonna need to see all of it. And lucky for me, my soulmate is one loving person, cause my skin is covered.” Peter blushed but looked back at you. You took off your top to reveal a sports bra and a large spiderweb, that did infact, take over your whole back and most of your left arm.
All Peter could say was, “Wow.”
You sat down on the chair next to your bed, “wow is right, I told you it was big Parker,” You smirked as you turned around to let Peter draw you.
It was finally your turn to look at Peter’s tattoo. You put your shirt back on and turned to face the brunette. “Your turn Parker,” you looked at him and smiled. His cheeks turned the slightest bit pink as he went to take off his shirt. There was a medium sized tattoo of a stack of books on the left side of his torso. You looked at the spines of the books and gasped when you saw that they had the titles of your three favorite books. You turned to face Peter, determined to test something.
You leaned your face close to his, “May I?” Your voice echoed through Peter’s Ears as he nodded yes. You leaned up and kissed him. Instantly, everything changed. The kiss was electrifying, the world seemed to stop as Peter’s hands traveled to your waist, pulling you against him like you were his oxygen. Your hands were tangled in his soft brown hair, kissing him like it was the end of the world. You were both breathing heavily as you pulled away.
“Wow,” you said while looking at the fifteen year old in front of you. You tilted your head to the side, still curious about one thing. “So Parker, why spiders? Why do I have a giant-ass spiderweb on my back? Are you obsessed with Spider-man or something?” You laughed, but stopped when you realized Peter looked worried.
“Actually (Y/N), I am Spider-man.” Peter let out a small laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, this will be a funny story to tell the grandkids, huh?” You smiled as you pulled Peter in for another kiss.