Imagine smoking a joint with Dylan and you guys are getting into a deep conversation. Music softly plays in the background as you talk. “What do you wish you could be?” He asks quietly.
“I want to be pretty.” You answer, your voice almost a whisper.
“Babe, you’re pretty enough. You’re precious to me. You’re special.” Dylan says and kisses you on the forehead.
-If you’re going to reblog, please reblog with the imagine still attached.-