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blossoms-phan · 2 days ago

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tit summary/thoughts/spoilers under the cut!! <3

hiii wanted to make one of these just so I can ramble about everything bc what a crazy night LMAOO gonna make another post about the day so this is just about the show

my soul left my body when the lights went dark omfg, that is literally one of my favourite parts about concerts/live shows. the smoke and lights was a lot but the second they came out it’s like everything cleared up, i loveee how they come out with their backs to us and then the happy silly music when they’re running around saying hi hehehehe

the whole intro/beginning part was so fun i just loved the bits when they were just talking to us, canada love, the history of dnp/why we're all here etc etc. the dolls/diorama is such a fun little phistory recap, though i will say it was not as wild as i was maybe expecting or what they've done on other nights lol. they "wrestled" in the first one, nothing in the manchester apartment, "kissed" (69-ed lol) in the london one and that was it but they were all SO well made (shoutout pj and sophie), i loved phil's hoodie for the 2 apartment era hehe

role model or no-le model: very fun section, i wish i could tell you all the fill in the blanks we did but i can't remember for the life of me lol i shouted yaoi so loud for all of the lawyer dan ones but alas :( but i do remember lawyer dan writes erotica about timbits, then when the side by sides came up on the screens after it had been changed to "Phim Phbits" which made them both genuinely laugh it was so sweetie. we killed regular dan and doctor phil

phanspiracies were: toilet, clothes, tour bus and wedding. honestly very solid picks, it was so surreal seeing those "phan proof" comps of them wearing the same clothes on the screen down to the zoomed in picture of the underwear from the christmas cookies video 😭 the tour bus clip will never not be crazy but it was SO funny bc we cheered so loudly after phil said it was true that they shared the bed and dan was judging us but all i could think about is the stunned silence from phantwerp day one, i will never forget listening to that live and it's probably been so entertaining for them to see the shift from that lmao. the wedding edits were so funny dan was like "i know you had that as your desktop background for 6 years" and someone behind me was like "YES I DID", dan's little kick and cheeky smile at "i'm just opposed to anything traditional" ok sure

i can't remember which section this was during it was something to do with discussing a past era but phil said "maybe I was just horny" and i screamed lmao

the boxing segment ajdjkskjsf i have been waiting for it my entire goddamn life tbh and it was so fun. no one told me about the visuals on the screen ok why do they look so GOOD in them?? i wasn't actually expecting them to knock each other out or anything but it did seem a tinyy bit tamed down from what i've seen before, like they were being very gentle with each other lol but it was cute, the bite was still bite-y and the run around the theatre was craaaazy, the camera following them is so good lol

they yapped for moose. meese. meeses for a minute straight and i forgot it was supposed to be a bit it was so natural they're good at it whether they like it or not

oh yeah that's the other thing. they are fucking INCREDIBLE performers. like, they are so good at what they do and it was one of the highlights of my life getting to experience it irl. the show is incredibly well paced, the script is funny, the audience participation makes it but it's so insane to see how well they work together. the comfort and familiarity after so many years plays a huge part (there was a solid like 7 shoulder touches btw) but their dynamic is soooo good, they play off of each other so well. literally everything @cheekyvank described to me about dan as a performer is true. he was ALWAYS moving, he moves his mouth and bends and grooves and does the absolute most but it's soooo natural, like he has so much fun doing it. that man is a theatre kid all grown up and it's incredibly endearing but he's also a master, like he was MADE to be on a stage, he's so fucking good at balancing between roasting and teasing us and pointing out at people and winking and he called out someone filming without actually saying anything and it was so smooth and lowkey hot but also like jesus i didn't even risk TRYING to take a picture i am sooooooo scared of him. also thanks to you @jonsaremembers i was looking forward to the 4 g's all night, i am their geeky girlie forever and ever 🫶

and phil. oh my sweet precious baby angel. my heart was burstingggg with phil love all night. he is so, so so so good literally everything right with this world tbh. you can tell he has SO much fun on the stage as well, there's moments where his smile softens or he just looks out onto the audience and i want to shower him with love and affection (and we did! i honestly think one of the loudest screams was for "normal phil" during role model hehe). he is so effortlessly funny, the silly little run over to the microphone every time for the "hiatus" was one of my favourite bits of the show. i absolutely loved his getting real with us bit, it reminded me so much of his youtube videos- and i hope he knows how powerful and meaningful that "light entertainment" is for us. his voice was soooo soft and gentle it was like we were his children he was talking to which i guess we kind of are in this context. i love him forever and ever

sister daniel. INCREDIBLE follow up. i knew it was coming and nothing prepared me for Her. another part of the set design/production that is so well done, the visuals and the bass dropping when she comes out is SOOO fucking good. i have never screamed so loudly in my life. i would do anything she asked me to. the underwear were so fucking short i could not see a THINGGG like. fucking hell. lots of pulling the dress down and legs crossed/staying sat the whole time though lol which fair but the confessions and water spraying was fun, it will never not be funny when dan shames people for opening their mouths after they say it's sister daniel's bath water lmfaooo

the SONG!!!!!!!! the most fun. in the entire world. it's so good it's so fun. the lyrics, them going FULL boy band mode, the hands folding over and doob grab was infinitely more devastating irl. dan is so fucking good at the dance i love you forever terminal theatre kid and i think phil has reached the peak of how well he can do it and i want to give him his flowers for trying his damn best every time you keep doing you baby. the part where it kinda slows down and they're just doing the geekiest moves ever like those are my BABIESSS dfjksajdks standing up to rave with dnp in a room full of phannies was the highlight of my entire fucking life.

this was SO much longer than i anticipated and i'm probably still gonna go on about things as i remember it but it was genuinely the most fun and memorable night of my life. i love these two silly little guys so much, it was so surreal seeing them in person after over a decade and i would do anything to experience it again but i'm so, so grateful i got to do it once and i will cherish the memories forever. and this has only made me more insane about them and cemented the fact that i wholeheartedly believe they love us, this new era, and that they're not going away anytime soon so i WILL see you guys back on the internet and hopefully outside of it one day again too <3

(i lied here’s the one picture I took aka far from dan’s prying eyes during the part where they’re not there being gay getting out of their clothes)

#dnp #dan and phil #phan #tit tour #titspoilers #tit spoilers #terrible influence tour #titronto #titblossoms #my show

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lila-lou · 13 hours ago

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✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 2✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, poor fucking dean

Word Count: 6231

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It barely took ten minutes of sitting beside Dean in the Impala before Sam, watching his brother’s slightly dazed expression, finally broke the silence. Sam’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he noticed the faint blush still lingering on Dean’s cheeks, his older brother biting his lip, lost somewhere deep in thought, the edges of a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Still really pretty, huh?”, Sam mumbled, a slight smirk pulling at his own lips.

Dean blinked, as if snapped out of a daydream, glancing at Sam with a mixture of irritation and sheepishness. “Shut up, Sammy”, he muttered, though the flush on his face deepened as he tried to focus back on the road.

But Sam wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “Oh, come on, Dean. The look on your face says it all. You’re practically glowing”. He leaned back in his seat, watching his brother with a look that was both curious and amused. “I mean, I knew she was special, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Dean let out a breath, shaking his head, though he couldn’t hide the small smile still playing at his lips. “Yeah, well…”. He trailed off, running a hand over the steering wheel as if it could ground him, as if the familiar leather beneath his fingers could keep him from spiraling into the memories of you. “She’s… I don’t know, Sammy. She’s always been different”.

Sam nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “She got to you, huh? Even back then”.

Dean let out a rough chuckle, rolling his eyes at Sam’s all-too-knowing expression, but he couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in his chest, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”, he shot back, giving Sam a light punch on the arm. “Just ‘cause I’ve got a soft spot doesn’t mean you need to turn into Dr. Phil over here”.

Sam grinned, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s kinda nice to see you like this. Kinda reminds me you’re human after all”.

Dean scoffed, his cheeks darkening a bit more as he focused on the road, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, smartass. Keep it up, and I’ll throw you out of this car faster than you can say ‘college boy’”.

But Sam wasn’t about to let up, not when his brother was in rare form, and he leaned back with a smirk. “Right. Go ahead, toss me out. Maybe I’ll find my way back to that little bookstore she’s got. Tell her all about how you kept looking at that card she gave you when you thought I wasn’t looking”.

Dean’s head whipped toward Sam, his expression caught between shock and embarrassment, and he quickly cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he tried to play it cool. “Pfft, the card? Didn’t even realize I had it”. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his fingers instinctively brushed against the pocket of his jacket, where he’d tucked it safely away.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Like you’re not gonna call her first chance you get”.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the knowing look Sam was throwing his way. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a card, Sammy”, he muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

Sam smirked, crossing his arms as he settled back in his seat. “Uh-huh. Bigger things like… calling her? Or just figuring out how you’re gonna manage to stay away?”.

Dean shot him a quick glare. “You know, you’re real mouthy for someone who’s got a free ride”.

But Sam wasn’t letting up. “Look, Dean, all I’m saying is… we’re still in town, at least until we figure out what’s going on with this case. Not like you’d be going out of your way”. He raised his eyebrows, his tone both teasing and genuine. “Maybe it’s a sign, you know?“.

Dean scoffed again, rolling his eyes as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead, though the twitch of a grin betrayed him. “A sign? Really? What’s next, Sammy, you pulling tarot cards out of the glove box?”.

Sam shrugged, a smirk still lingering on his face. “I don’t know, Dean. You’ve always been the one to follow your instincts. And I think we both know this isn’t just another hunt”.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “You really are going for that Dr. Phil gig, aren’t you?”. But the usual bite in his tone wasn’t there. “Look, it’s not like I’m dying to make her life any more complicated than it needs to be. You saw her—she’s doing fine. Better than fine, actually. So, maybe it’s better if we just leave her out of all this”.

“Right, sure”, Sam replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you looked real ‘fine’ back there when you were about to drive off again. Totally ready to let her go”.

Dean shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much heat behind it. “Just because I want her to be okay doesn’t mean I need to go barging back into her life, alright? She’s got her shop, her routine. She deserves someone… better. Not someone who has to leave town at a moment’s notice”.

Sam leaned forward, his expression softening, but his eyes remained steady on his brother. “Or maybe she deserves the truth. You know, the Dean who sticks around long enough to let her decide for herself if she wants you in her life”.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to shrug off Sam’s words, but something about them hit too close to home. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his grip on the wheel tightened, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know, man”, he murmured, voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I left her once. Not exactly the best track record”.

“And yet, she still gave you her number, didn’t she?”, Sam countered, his voice gentler now, but unyielding. “Seems like she’s already made part of that decision. Maybe all you have to do is follow through”.

Dean stayed silent, his gaze distant as he considered Sam’s words. The road stretched out ahead of them, but the weight of what Sam was saying hung thick in the air. He knew his brother was right—that he’d only be lying to himself if he tried to brush this off as a coincidence or some passing feeling.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re getting a little too wise for your own good, college boy”.

Sam shrugged, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just looking out for you, big brother”.

-Flashback-

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, a few days into the new school year, and Sam had already noticed the way Dean’s gaze lingered on you whenever you crossed paths in the hall. Dean would lean against his locker or sit on the edge of a bench outside, looking casual, pretending he was just minding his own business. But Sam saw the way his brother’s eyes tracked your every move, the subtle shift in his posture whenever you were near, as if he was debating making a move but could never quite bring himself to.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know his brother wasn’t one to hold back, not usually. Dean had always been confident, sometimes cocky, and had no trouble talking to girls when he wanted to. But with you, it was different. Sam saw something softer in the way Dean looked at you—a rare uncertainty, almost like he was afraid to ruin something he hadn’t even started yet.

So Sam, always the quiet observer, decided to give his brother a little nudge. With a smirk, he took matters into his own hands, slipping a note into each of your bags. He kept it simple, setting up a “chance meeting” during lunch.

Neither of you ever found out who had orchestrated it, and Sam never breathed a word about it afterward, but he remembered watching from a distance as it all played out.

The lunch bell rang, and you wandered over to the spot Sam had mentioned in the note—an empty table under a big oak tree at the far edge of the school grounds. As you approached, your gaze landed on Dean, already sitting there, idly picking at the sandwich in front of him. When he looked up and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a crooked grin, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, hey”, he said, a bit too casually, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness you hadn’t expected. “Didn’t think anyone else knew about this spot”.

You smiled, feeling the same odd flutter in your chest that had been there since the first time you’d noticed him in the halls. “Yeah, me neither”, you replied, sitting down across from him. Your hands fidgeted as you unwrapped your sandwich, and you risked a glance up, catching his eyes on you.

The two of you settled into a quiet, awkward rhythm, stealing glances and giving each other shy smiles. It was strange—usually, you could hold a conversation with anyone, but something about him, about this moment, left you a little breathless, as if words would somehow ruin it. So instead, you both sat there, eating in silence, lost in the simplicity of each other’s presence.

After a few bites, Dean cleared his throat, his voice low and a little rough. “So… you’re (Y/N), right?”.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up as he said your name. “Yeah. And you’re Dean?”.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Dean Winchester”.

Silence settled between you again, but this time it was comfortable, both of you just taking in each other’s presence. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across the table, and the scent of autumn filled the air—fresh, crisp, with a hint of warmth from the fading afternoon sun.

Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you’d exchange a shy smile, like you were both trying to figure out why this moment felt so special. For a while, neither of you felt the need to say anything. You just sat there, grinning like two kids with a secret, your sandwiches forgotten.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of glances and soft smiles, Dean let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost bashful smile. “So… you come here often?”, he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a hint of sincerity underneath.

You laughed, the sound breaking the quiet around you. “Guess I do now”, you replied, meeting his eyes with a smile.

And in that moment, something unspoken passed between you—a silent understanding that you both felt something real, something new.

As the lunch bell rang again, neither of you wanted to leave, but you both stood, reluctantly gathering your things. Dean gave you one last look, his gaze warm, a quiet promise lingering there. You exchanged a small wave, parting with barely a handful of words spoken, but it didn’t matter. The connection was there, something simple and pure that you’d remember for years to come.

And as you walked back to class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—that, somehow, in that quiet moment under the old oak tree, you’d found someone who might just mean something.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but a faint smile lingered on Dean’s face as he drove, lost in thought, his fingers still brushing the edge of your card in his pocket once more. That first lunch under the oak tree—so simple, barely a conversation at all, really. But it was one of those memories that had stuck with him all these years. He hadn’t known then how much it would mean to him, how that day would be the start of something he’d never really shake. He could still picture the way you’d smiled at him, shy but genuine, the way your laughter had slipped out, breaking the quiet like sunlight streaming through a crack in the clouds.

“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?”, Sam asked, his voice quiet, softer now, like he knew he was treading on something sacred.

Dean blinked, pulled back to the present, his hand dropping from his pocket as he cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”, he muttered, but his face betrayed him, that faint, far-off look still in his eyes.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Dean. Your first meeting. I know you remember it as well as I do. You were looking at her like she was something you’d been searching for”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Alright, Nostradamus, dial it down a notch”. He hesitated, glancing at his brother, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Wait… you were watching?”.

Sam shrugged, feigning innocence but failing miserably. “Maybe. I mean, someone had to play matchmaker. You weren’t exactly making any moves on your own”.

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly, a look of realization dawning over him as he put the pieces together. “Wait a minute. That note… You’re telling me you set that up?”.

Sam grinned, unapologetic, as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? I knew you needed a little push”.

Dean shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and grudging appreciation crossing his face. “You were fifteen, Sam. Already sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong”.

Sam just laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. Without me, you two would probably still be stealing glances from across the hallway”.

Dean rolled his eyes, a low chuckle slipping out despite himself. “Guess I owe you one, then”, he muttered, his voice a little softer, his gaze drifting back to the road. The thought of that quiet lunch, the way you’d both sat there smiling like idiots, felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

He fell silent, the weight of the past settling over him again, that strange mix of regret and nostalgia twisting in his chest. Sam watched him for a moment, his expression softening, sensing his brother’s quiet struggle.

“You know”, Sam said, his voice gentle, “maybe this is your chance, Dean. To do things differently. You’ve got the card. You’re still here. It’s not like you’re running out of reasons to reach out to her”.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he wrestled with the decision that had been simmering under the surface since they’d left the bar. The logic was simple enough, and he knew Sam was right. But the thought of opening that door again, of letting you back in, was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

After a long stretch of silence, Dean let out a breath, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe”, he said quietly, his tone carrying a touch of hope he didn’t often let himself feel.

The evening settled around the small, dimly lit motel room, the hum of traffic from the nearby road blending with the low rumble of the TV in the background. Sam was already fast asleep, sprawled across one of the twin beds, his breaths steady and even. But Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to you—back to those lunch breaks you’d shared, the quiet moments that had managed to etch themselves so deeply into his mind that they felt like yesterday.

-Flashback-

It had been a week since that first lunch together under the oak tree, and somehow, it had become an unspoken routine. Every day, you’d find him waiting for you in the same spot, and each time you’d sit across from him, settling into the easy rhythm that had formed between you. Each day, it was a little less awkward, the smiles a little brighter, the silences a little more comfortable. And each day, Dean felt something in him relax, as if the weight he carried had lightened, if only for those few minutes with you.

On this particular day, you’d shown up with two hot chocolates, handing him one with a shy smile. He took it, surprised but grateful, the warmth of the cup seeping into his cold hands.

“I thought you might need it”, you said, your voice soft, almost teasing as you sat across from him, watching his reaction.

Dean took a long sip, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief as he set the cup down, looking at you over the rim. “You know, you keep bringing me stuff, and people might start thinking we’re a thing”, he teased, his voice carrying that trademark Dean charm, but with a warmth you hadn’t quite heard before.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you pulled your own cup closer. “Oh, please. They probably already think that”. You tried to keep your voice light, but there was an unmistakable blush creeping up your cheeks, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“Guess I’ll just have to get used to all the rumors then, huh?”, he replied, a faint blush of his own coloring his cheeks, though he played it off with a casual shrug. “Could be worse. There’s no one else I’d rather get a hot chocolate from”.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest as you looked at him, his grin still lingering, his gaze holding steady on you. Dean had this way about him, this mix of cockiness and mystery that set him apart from everyone else. He was older, and though you didn’t know much about his life, there was something in his eyes—something quiet, something that hinted at secrets, like he’d lived more than anyone you’d ever met.

And somehow, all of it—his smirk, his laugh, that intense, guarded gaze—it made you feel giddy and nervous all at once, like you were balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake the feeling, but your voice still came out softer, a little breathless. “Well, guess I’ll just have to keep up the hot chocolate supply then, huh?”.

Dean could feel his own heartbeat pick up, thudding against his ribcage as he looked at you, but he kept his expression casual. He wasn’t about to let on that just sitting here, watching you smile and laugh, was enough to make him feel… well, a little unsteady. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. He was just here for a few weeks, maybe less, keeping his head down, blending in, not getting too attached. And yet, here he was, heartbeat racing, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing up, then”, he replied, his voice light, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. “I mean, can’t say no to free hot chocolate”.

You laughed, shaking your head, and the sound sent a warmth through him he couldn’t quite explain. He glanced down at the cup in his hands, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up his neck, but he couldn’t resist looking back up at you, his gaze softening despite himself.

“Not just here for the hot chocolate, though”, he added, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off with a shrug, but he knew he’d already given himself away. “I mean, the company’s not too bad either”.

Your cheeks flushed more, and you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you looked down, trying to hide your own reaction. That small gesture, that shy, quiet smile—it made Dean’s chest tighten, and for a moment, he let himself just watch you, forgetting the rules he’d set for himself.

In those simple lunch breaks, in the way you’d look at him with such unfiltered warmth and kindness, Dean had found something he hadn’t expected: a chance to feel… normal. He hadn’t thought that was even possible anymore. Not with the life he led, not with the weight of everything he knew he’d have to leave behind.

But with you, it was different. You made him want things he’d never thought he could have—a life that wasn’t always on the road, days filled with easy moments and quiet laughter instead of danger and uncertainty. And that scared him, more than he’d admit. Because he knew he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to get attached. But here he was, feeling his pulse race every time you so much as looked at him.

You glanced up, catching his gaze, and for a second, the two of you just held each other’s stare, the air thick with something unspoken, something fragile but real.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, a quiet ache settling in Dean’s chest as he lay in the dark, staring at the motel ceiling. He let out a long breath, his hand rubbing over his face, trying to scrub away the emotions that had crept up on him, emotions he’d buried for so long he’d almost convinced himself they were gone.

But being back in town, seeing you again, had peeled back every layer he’d built to keep those memories at bay. He could still see you as clearly as if no time had passed, that shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your gaze soft and sincere in a way that had always made him feel like he was something more than the kid his dad had dragged from town to town, always moving, never staying. And those lunches—just a few stolen moments under that oak tree—had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a taste of normal. They’d left him wanting a life he’d known he could never keep.

Dean let out a low, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known better”, he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. But there was no denying it: he’d never really stopped wanting that life with you.

He rolled onto his side, trying to settle into sleep, but his hand drifted unconsciously to the pocket of his jacket, where the small card you’d given him rested, a reminder of the day’s events, of the quiet invitation you’d made him.

For a moment, he debated it, running a thumb over the edge of the card, letting the idea linger. But he knew the risks, the life he’d bring crashing down into yours, the way his path never seemed to lead anywhere that didn’t end in heartbreak or goodbye. He didn’t know if he could pull you into that world, not after how hard he’d tried to keep you away from it back then.

But he also knew that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t keep himself away any longer.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he whispered to himself, “Guess we’ll see”, before finally drifting into a restless sleep, the image of you still lingering in his mind like a quiet promise.

-Flashback-

Days later, on a quiet night, the kind of evening that felt wrapped in stillness, only broken by the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and the occasional bark from your dog as he sniffed at everything in sight. You hadn’t expected to see anyone in the park this late, let alone Dean Winchester, slumped on a bench, face bloodied, bruised, and staring into the distance like he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart dropped, the sight of him so raw and shocking that for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. His clothes were torn and stained, dark patches of blood spreading across his shirt and jacket, and his arm was cradled awkwardly, held close to his side in a way that made you realize something was seriously wrong.

He looked up, eyes widening slightly as he registered you standing there, but his expression quickly turned guarded, his gaze flickering away as if he could somehow hide the damage from you by simply looking somewhere else.

“Dean… what happened?”, you whispered, approaching him slowly, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. You felt your dog pull at his leash, sensing your worry, but you held him back, focused on the broken figure in front of you.

Dean forced a smirk, though it came out more like a grimace, his face paling with the effort. “You know, just a rough night”, he muttered, trying to sound casual, like he was brushing off a scraped knee rather than the blood seeping through his shirt. “Thought I’d get in a little brawl. Keeps things interesting”.

You frowned, not buying his attempt at humor for a second. His arm was cradled protectively, and the tension in his face told you he was barely holding it together. He looked exhausted, broken in a way that went beyond the physical injuries, as though something much deeper had been hurt tonight.

“Dean, you’re hurt”. You knelt down beside him, reaching out carefully, but he flinched, pulling back instinctively before realizing it was just you. His defenses dropped, just for a moment, as he looked at you with something raw, almost vulnerable, in his eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the blood staining his hands. “It’s… it’s nothing. Got into a fight, bit off more than I could chew. Happens”. His voice was rough, edged with the kind of pain he’d clearly been trying to ignore, but there was something else there too—a flicker of shame, as though he didn’t want you to see him like this.

But you could see the weight he was carrying, and the thought of him out here, alone and hurt, made your heart ache. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital”, you insisted, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out again, this time more determined.

Dean shook his head, a grimace of pain tightening his features. “Can’t”, he said, his voice low. “Too many questions. I’ll… I’ll figure it out”. He tried to push himself up, only to falter, his breath catching as he slumped back onto the bench.

“Dean…”. You felt a surge of frustration and worry, torn between wanting to respect his stubborn independence and the overwhelming need to help him. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then at least let me help. My place isn’t far from here. I’ve got first aid stuff, and… you can clean up. Please”.

He looked at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider it, his resolve wavering. Finally, he nodded, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of his pride with it. “Alright. Just… just don’t tell anyone, yeah? I don’t need anyone knowing I can’t handle a stupid fight”.

You nodded, a soft smile breaking through your worry. “I won’t say a word”.

With a careful hand, you helped him stand, his weight leaning against you as he took a shaky breath. The walk back was slow, every step a reminder of just how much he’d been trying to mask his pain, but he didn’t complain, didn’t try to pull away.

As you reached your front door, you turned to Dean, pressing a finger to your lips and whispering, “We’ve got to be quiet. My parents are asleep”. He nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain as you helped him navigate the steps, each creak of the floorboards feeling impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. Your dog trotted quietly behind, sensing the need for calm as you led Dean through the dimly lit hallway, past closed doors, and up to your room.

You cracked your bedroom door open and guided him inside, holding your breath as he took in his surroundings. It was a simple room, but every inch of it was distinctly yours—a world apart from the barren motel rooms and grim hunting spots he’d known all his life. Posters lined the walls, a mix of bands and books you loved, and there was a soft, warm glow from the string lights draped along the headboard of your bed. The bedspread was a gentle shade of blue, soft and clean, with a few cozy throw pillows tucked neatly on top. A bookshelf stood by the window, crammed with novels and notebooks, a few favorite titles spilling onto the floor in stacks.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he took it all in, his gaze wandering over the posters, the string lights, the soft details. He looked almost out of place, like he’d stumbled into another world—a place where the harshness of his life didn’t belong. He shifted his weight awkwardly, cradling his injured arm, and you could see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the details of your room, details that, to him, seemed to capture pieces of you he hadn’t known yet.

“Nice place”, he muttered, trying to keep his tone light, but you could tell he was genuinely taken aback. It was like he was seeing a different side of the world—one he hadn’t been allowed to experience.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, whispering, “Thanks”. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of your bed as you quietly opened a drawer, pulling out the first-aid kit and some supplies.

He lowered himself onto the bed slowly, grimacing as he tried to keep his sprained arm steady. The mattress sank slightly under his weight, soft in a way that made him blink in surprise. Everything in your room seemed to have a softness to it—the kind of comfort he wasn’t used to but found himself instinctively leaning into.

Dean watched as you moved around your room with quiet familiarity, pulling out bandages, antiseptic, and a towel. You flicked on the lamp by your bedside, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of the room, and as you sat beside him, his gaze lingered on you, a hint of awe in his eyes.

“Feels… nice in here”, he murmured, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

You settled beside him on the bed, the first-aid kit open between you as you prepared a damp cloth, dipping it into a bowl of warm water you’d brought up from the bathroom. Every movement was gentle, careful, your focus fully on him as you began to dab away the dried blood from his face, wiping it away in soft strokes.

Dean watched you, his eyes tracing your expression as you worked. He seemed almost hesitant, like he didn’t quite believe he deserved this kind of care. There was a rawness in his gaze, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart ache as you gently brushed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away a streak of dried blood.

“Does it hurt?”, you asked softly, looking up at him, your eyes filled with quiet concern.

He shook his head, though you knew he was lying. “Not much”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “Guess I’m tougher than I look”.

You gave him a small smile, continuing your work with gentle hands. “I don’t doubt it”, you murmured. “But even tough guys need someone to patch them up sometimes”. Your voice was tender, carrying a softness that felt like a balm on wounds that went deeper than the bruises and cuts on his face.

Dean’s gaze softened, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the usual guardedness he wore like armor. He didn’t say anything, just watched as you worked, his eyes following the movement of your hands, the way you handled him with such care, as if he were something fragile.

As you moved closer to clean a cut near his eyebrow, your faces were just inches apart, and you could feel his breath, slow and steady, warm against your skin. He was still, so still that you could almost hear his heartbeat, the air thickening between you as he held your gaze, his expression open in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You’re always this soft?”, he asked, his voice so low it was almost a murmur, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t look away. “Only for people who deserve it”, you replied, your voice equally quiet, the words carrying a meaning that hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flickering downward as if he didn’t believe he was worthy of that softness, of that quiet care you were offering him so freely. He swallowed, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to brush it off. “Not sure I fall into that category, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice laced with a self-deprecating humor that barely hid the vulnerability underneath.

You rolled your eyes at his words, but there was a smile tugging at your lips, soft and genuine. “Well, you don’t get to decide that”, you murmured, still focused on the cut above his brow, carefully dabbing at it as though he might break under too much pressure.

Dean’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, almost disbelieving, as he looked at you. “Guess not”, he whispered, his tone lacking its usual bite, as if he was letting himself accept your care, even if just for a few moments.

You finished tending to his cuts and bruises, then sat back a little, finally taking in the full picture—Dean Winchester, bruised and broken, but with that familiar, guarded warmth in his eyes, one that was aimed solely at you. Despite his injuries, he managed a small, crooked grin that sent your heart racing all over again. You didn’t realize it then, but this was a moment he’d remember, the memory of your touch lingering with him like a promise.

-End of the flashback-

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifting back to Dean—the boy he’d been, the man he’d become. So much time had passed, and yet, seeing him again felt like slipping into something familiar, like picking up a story that had been left unfinished.

He’d stood in front of you, years later, carrying the weight of battles fought and scars earned, a look in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than he’d ever wanted to. Yet somehow, despite the rough edges time had given him, there was something unmistakable in his gaze, something that brought you right back to those early days—the same quiet warmth, that flicker of mischief, that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

It was almost surreal, how he looked so much older, and yet, to you, he was still somehow that eighteen-year-old boy who’d made you feel like the center of his world in those stolen moments.

You rolled onto your side, pulling the covers closer as your heart beat faster, memories rushing back to fill the silence of your bedroom. You thought of how he’d looked at you back then, like he was trying to memorize you, and how he’d looked at you now, like he couldn’t believe you were real. And in that moment, you felt the weight of those lost years, the ache of missed moments and the wonder of seeing him again, as if fate had brought him back to you.

But even now, as a grown man, standing in front of you with a lifetime of stories written on his face, he still looked at you with that same spark, that same fondness. It was as if, in his eyes, you hadn’t changed at all.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Right now, early-seasons-dean gives me all the vibes... I just.. CAN��T. HELP

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