Holding the knife in hand, Dean once again fought against the darkness inside that threatened to consume him. It had been a long, hard year since he dug himself out of his own grave. Between the way their world had turned upside down, been thrown into a chaos he never would have dreamed–and the nightmares that plagued him, the way his time in hell haunted his every waking moment…

After a lifetime of being a soldier in his dad’s army, of protecting his brother and the world to the detriment of himself…

Fuck, but didn’t he deserve a little peace?

Small story of Stiles being the only one to understand our resident Sourwolf’s needs.

My aunt told me recently that she worries my mom’s thing with men has rubbed off on me, and it was like, no, my weird thing is a product of my own trauma, thanks.