#hbo dean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beansprean · 4 months

Text

No one looks more like a butch lesbian than season 1 Dean Winchester, except perhaps openly bisexual punk season 1 Dean Winchester covered in tattoos.

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Multiple drawings of season 1 Dean in a punk style with tattoos. 1. Chest up in a Siouxie and the Banshees hoodie, hair spiked up, nails black, bar through one eyebrow, septum ring in nose, dolphin bite hoops in lip, small gauges and multiple cartilage hoops in ears. There is a large tattoo of an open mouth full of fangs on his throat. Dean points sternly at the viewer and says, in the form of a tumblr post from tacofriendss, 'Normalize toys during sex. Roll that hot wheels over them titties. Skurt.' 2. Full body of Dean talking animatedly to someone offscreen, gesturing limply with one hand. He is wearing brown work boots, cutoff lightwash jeans, and a gray tee shirt with the Werner logo, torn off at the sleeves and below the sternum. He also has a black leather cuff on his left wrist and multiple tied and beaded bracelets on his right, along with multiple rings and the samulet. Tattoos on his left arm include: a tipped over salt shaker, a woman in a bikini posing on a billiard ball, roman numerals spelling out 11-2-83, and a chevy impala logo. Tattoos on his right arm include a barbed wire wrap, the outline of the angel from the Led Zeppelin Swan Song logo, and the name 'Cassie' written in cursive on his middle finger. On his stomach are the symbols from Zeppelin 4 and a random phone number that looks like it may have been scribbled on hastily. Scooby Doo is peeking out from his calf in the space between his boot and the jeans. 3. Dean from behind, arms reaching upwards. He is wearing low jeans and another homemade crop top, revealing the tattoo on his lower back. It is a full rendering of the impala from the side, with stylized words above it that say 'highway to hell', surrounded by flames. 4. Knees up of Dean wearing a leather vest that looks like it was cut from his dad's coat, a Bruce Springsteen shirt with the sleeves and neck cut out, sitting low on his sternum and tucked into faded black jeans, paired with a simple black belt with a wallet chain. He is posing with the fingers of one hand hooked in his pocket, the other holding up a cigarette. He is wearing all the same jewelry as in previous drawings. More tattoos are visible including a small sword on the side of his left hand, a colt revolver and Faith's tattoo from Buffy on his right forearm, a demon protection sigil in its usual place over his heart, and a stylized crucifix across from it on his right pec. /end ID

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #season 1 dean #hbo dean #tattoos #punk dean #my art #fanart #image described

259 notes · View notes

hurricanejane · 5 months

Text

Bad Boys Dean is not MY 16-year-old Dean. My 16-year-old Dean knew he'd never be a rockstar, he'd never play guitar, never get out of his daddy's car. My Dean knew he'd die young. My Dean never got caught by the cops at 16 or if he did, it didn't go to trial cuz he slipped the cuffs or bribed the cop by sucking him off. See how these Deans are different?

#my dean is eric kripke and ethel cain's dean #scumbag fuck dean #white trash dick dean #hbo dean #ethel cain + spn

17 notes · View notes

cryptke · 2 years

Text

your camera roll as a hunter 𖤐

415 notes · View notes

silent-stories · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Summary: One night, at the motel where you planned to spend the night, you meet someone who immediately intrigues you.

Pairing: HBO!Dean × F!Reader

Warnings: verbal harassment + arm grab, swearing, cigarettes and light mentions of sex and drugs

Word count: 1856

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The sky was starting to darken as you left your car in front of the Black Angel Motel, walking across the parking lot towards the entrance.

It wasn't the first time you stopped there, you knew the owner and often he didn't make you pay, so sometimes you took advantage of it.

Over the years, you realized that that place was a little... unusual. If someone was trying to hide or was running away from something, or someone, they would come there.

Nobody ever asked questions. You liked that place.

"Hey girl! You're so fucking pretty!" Screamed a man sitting at the foot of the statue of the angel from which the motel had taken its name, in the center of the parking lot.

The other man next to him said something in the ear of the first and they both burst into laughter.

You liked the place, the people a little less.

When they started coming towards you, you started walking faster.

"C'mon! Where are you running to?" One of them asked you with a grin, reaching for you and grabbing your arm.

"Let me go." You said.

"Let her go." A deep voice repeated from behind you. You turned to see another stranger coming towards you.

He wore a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up at his elbows, showing the dozens of tattoos that covered his arms. The black ink covered most of the visible skin but you were sure they continued under his clothes as well.

Most of them were ancient symbols, but there were also some sentences in Latin and numbers that looked like dates.

"It's okay. We just wanted to talk." The man replied, letting go of your arm as you took a step back.

Thank God.

"But it doesn't look like she wants to talk to you." The newcomer said placing himself between you and the two men.

"You think you scare us?" One of the two men laughed.

"I don't know, am I scaring you?" The other replied moving his jacket and showing the gun tucked into his belt.

You thought maybe you had better not come in that damn motel.

Following the movement of his hand, you noticed that on his nails there was some black nail polish that he had probably put on several days ago and was starting to peel off. Symbols too small to recognize from where you were standing were tattooed on his fingers as well.

"C'mon, let's leave. We have more important things to do." One of them said to the other before, giving you one last look, they walked away.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The man asked you. The threatening tone he had used just a moment before was gone and now he just seemed genuinely worried about you.

You didn't know who he was, you didn't even know his name, but he had something that said you could trust him, something you liked. And it wasn't just because of his big deep green eyes staring at you.

"I'm fine." You answered.

"Dean, c'mon, we'll be late!" A voice yelled from a car somewhere in the parking lot.

So his name was Dean.

He gave you one last look before walking away.

You watched him get into an old black car, sit in the driver's seat and leave, saying something that you couldn't hear to the guy sitting next to him.

Too bad he left, he looked like a guy you'd like to know, you thought opening the door of the motel with a sigh.

You didn't even thank him.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

That night, you were standing on the balcony of the motel, unable to sleep due to the moans coming from the room next door to yours. You were sure there were at least four people in that damn room and they all seemed to be having a great time.

You were staring at the pale rays of the moon illuminating the parking lot in front of the motel when a voice coming from behind you almost made you jump.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asked.

You turned around and realized it was the guy who defended you a few hours earlier. So he hadn't left permanently, good to know.

"How long did you wait to say that?" You asked holding back a smile as Dean walked over to you and leaned against the railing like you were doing.

He had the same mysterious air of when you saw him for the first time but you noticed that he had changed his clothes and was now wearing a gray henley that let you to see the shape of every muscle in his arms and broad shoulders.

When you realized you were staring at him, you looked away.

"A few years." He laughed softly before silence fell between you. You liked the sound of his laugh.

"I needed to take a break." You decided to explain, you didn't even know why you were telling that to a stranger. "From everything and from everyone. I thought a road trip alone could clear my mind."

"It did it?" He asked.

"More or less. But I've known interesting people so far." You answered.

You saw Dean's hand reaching for something in the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter. There were cuts and bruises on his knuckles and you wondered how he got them. On his fingers there were several rings.

He gestured to you with his head towards the package as he took out a cigarette.

"I don't smoke, thanks." You answered.

"Good girl." He muttered as he placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

You noticed that he was wearing two necklaces, one with a cross and one with a strange creature with horns and, because of the dark of the night you weren't sure, but it looked like he was wearing a thin line of black makeup around his eyes.

"Name's Dean." He added after the first puff, as a cloud of smoke dispersed into the night air.

"Nice to meet you Dean, I'm Y/N." You answered introducing yourself, not mentioning the fact that you remembered his name well.

"So, Dean, what are you doing here?" You asked as a new cloud of smoke came out of his lips. You were probably both breaking the Black Angel's unwritten rule of asking no questions but you liked talking with him.

"Family business. It's a long story, I'm here with my brother. We work together. We'll leave early tomorrow morning." He answered.

Family business? You observed the profile of his face illuminated by the rays of the moon trying to read his expression and noticing that he had three faint scars on his forehead. They were almost invisible, but they were there.

"You're not a drug dealer or something like that, are you?" You asked.

At your words, Dean nearly spat the cigarette that was his mouth, bursting into a genuine, deep laugh that echoed through the night.

He tilted his head back slightly and you glimpsed some tattoos coming out of the shirt and ending at the base of his neck. You didn't see them well but you could have sworn that one of those were feathered wings, like those of eagles. Or angels.

"Don't worry, I'm not. Do I look like one?" He asked you when he stopped laughing. Was that a tricky question?

"You look like someone intriguing." You answered.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He said with a smirk.

"It is." You answered.

"And thanks for... what you did, you know. I could have handled it but thanks." You added, reminding yourself that you hadn't thanked him yet.

"Oh of course, I'm sure you would have knocked out both of them with a karate move or something. I intervened because I didn't want them to get hurt, not you." He said chuckling as the last cloud of smoke came out of his mouth, before he dropped the stub to the ground, pounded it with his boot and kicked it, making it fall off the balcony.

"Hey, I was trying to be nice and thank you. But of course, go ahead, be an asshole." You said pretending to be angry, but you were still laughing.

He chuckled, muttering a "you're welcome" and for a few moments none of you spoke.

"I think we should go to sleep." You said after a while. You liked being there with him but it was getting really late and the night was starting to get cold.

"Yeah, you're right. Where's your room?" He asked.

"I'm sorry?" You said in disbelief before he burst into another laughter.

"I'm just kidding, I swear." He said.

"Well, I wish you goodnight, Dean." You said starting to walk to the door of your room, a few steps away.

"Wait." You heard him say before you turned back to him.

The pale moon light reflected on him creating weird effects with the tattoos of his arms and it almost looked like they were moving on his skin.

"It was nice talking to you. I didn't have an easy day, the work I do can be... complicated sometimes. It actually fucking sucks most of the time. And it was really hard today. So thanks for making me laugh, I needed it more than you can imagine." He said with the ghost of a smile on his lips, but you suspected he was hiding a lot more emotions.

"It was nice talking to you too, really. I'm glad I helped you." You answered. "Goodnight Dean. Good luck with your job and your life."

"Good luck to you too then. Goodnight Y/N." He said before turning without looking back, walking down the hall and disappearing behind the last door.

When you went back to your room and got under the sheets, your thoughts were just going to that mysterious man you liked more than you should, his green eyes, his freckles, how much you wish you could see every single tattoo covering his skin, the way his lips parted when he had a cigarette between them, the scars on his forehead and the livid knuckles that made him more human.

To his perfect features illuminated by the light of the moon, his nails painted black, to the way many small wrinkles formed around his eyes when he laughed, on the way you could see his muscles move under the fabric of his henley, and the thousand secrets that he seemed to hide.

You fell asleep a few minutes after you started fantasizing, thinking about how good your name sounded when it came out of his lips.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The next morning, you were awakened by the sun's rays coming through the window and hitting your face. You got out of bed cursing and rubbing your still sleepy eyes, when you saw something on the floor near the door.

As you approached it, you realized it was a folded note that someone had evidently passed under the door.

Opening it, you read what was written on it:

866-907-3235

-Dean

A huge smile appeared on your face, that was a nice way to start the day.

Eventually, the Black Angel Motel had brought you luck. And it was always nice to meet another hunter, because yes, you were pretty sure he was one too.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Tags: @eevvvaa @spn730015 @supernatural111222 @youcancallmelily @clairenovakanddeanwinchester @dads-on-a-hunting-trip @3amstillawake @supernaturalmess @marvelandsupernatural @agirlwatchingalotoftvshows @candy-coated-misery0731 @impalaslytherin @rudy-the-winged-wolf @dean-winchester-6767 @tigergirllolipop + @waynes-multiverse

#dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean fic #spn fic #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #hbo!dean #hbo dean #hbo dean x reader

301 notes · View notes

vaginadentatacas · 1 year

Text

Not to once again resurrect HBO!spn but HBO!Dean wears every piece of clothing he’s got until it can’t be patched anymore, and most of his clothing is in some state of being patched up. At first it was just for practicality reasons; clothes add up, and hunting means a lot of little rips and tears. He can’t afford to just toss out a shirt because it has a hole worn through. So he uses scraps from another shirt, gone threadbare and probably at least 10 years old, grabs the sewing kit he keeps tucked in his duffel, and he fixes it up.

He likes it. It’s nice to sew something up that isn’t skin and blood, that doesn’t wriggle in pain under his fingers. It’s mundane but keeps his hands busy, and it means Sammy gets another decent meal in his belly ‘cause they didn’t have to spend that $3.75 at Goodwill on new clothes. It makes him feel useful even when he’s idle, so he keeps doing it, patching and patching with scraps whenever a new hole shows up.

That’s all it is for a while, just survival, a way to cut costs. It isn’t until Sam’s off at Stanford and Dean’s all on his own that he even considers they could be more than whatever scraps he has lying around.

At first, it’s just one, a kind of beat-up but unused vintage Led Zeppelin patch he found in a bin at some shady thrift shop, but he quickly accumulates more: some with somewhat snarky sayings crammed into their small, circular forms; some with logos; a ridiculous baby angel patch that reminded him of what his mother used to tell him before bed.

He crams them all onto just one jacket, slapped less-than-carefully in whatever location he thought looked coolest at the time. Some are sewn on properly, and others loose and sloppily with dental floss. It becomes his new favorite. Dad’s leather jacket is better for the cold, but it always feels like he’s dressing up as someone else when he wears it.

He learns to make his own patches, too, embroidered with floss he shamelessly pocketed from whatever Walmart he last passed through. Dean stitches sloppy sigils straight into the fabric in some places, creates little squares filled in with dates, or places, or things he wants to remember. 5-2-83, Sammy’s birthday. Odena, Ohio, the first place he’d felt truly seen by someone outside of his family. A badly-done recreation of the worlds largest ball of twine, which he’d seen one too many times in one too many places but still had fond memories of nonetheless.

A set of horizontal pink, purple, and blue stripes.

Dean makes the jacket a reflection of him, all of him, and he doesn’t back down when people ask him about it anymore.

OR: The one in which s1 HBO!Dean has a battle jacket instead of constantly wearing John’s coat.

#ummm this was just going to be a speculative post and it turned into ?? i guess ?? kind of a ficlet #first time posting anything i’ve written ever #hbo dean winchester #hbo dean #punk dean #<- not really but adjacent #spn ficlet

72 notes · View notes

my-lavenderworld · 9 months

Text

Hey y’all I’m back after a long damn time and I’m sorry for that but there’s a good explanation for that. Anyways I posted a new chapter for the hbo spn fic, so check that out!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798319/chapters/122342536

#fanfiction #ao3fic #fanfic #spn #hbo spn #supernatural #hbo supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #hbo sam #hbo dean #castiel #hbo castiel #hbo cas #hbo destiel

14 notes · View notes

billhader-fromtulsa · 11 months

Text

didn’t even think about this until now

#bill hader #barry hbo #barry berkman #barry block #snl #documentary now #the skeleton twins #saturday night live #milo dean #trainwreck #sally reed #gene cousineau #jim moss #noho hank #nohobal #barry season 4 #series finale

931 notes · View notes

virtualreader · 8 months

Text

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.