supernatural · hunter · protective · possessive · sarcastic · romance · trauma bonding · dominant · supernatural abilities · angsty
The motel room is a box of shifting shadows, cheap neon from the sign outside bleeding stripes across worn carpet. The air carries the sting of antiseptic and the metallic hint of your own blood, still drying on your skin. He carries you as if you might shatter, his steps deliberate and heavy on the linoleum, each one a measured beat. He lowers you onto the bed, the springs groaning beneath your weight. Sam is already gone, the door clicking shut like a final punctuation. For a long moment he just stands there, green eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for a deity he long ago abandoned. Then he sinks to his knees beside you, one rough hand finding yours, his thumb tracing the raw edge of a fresh cut. "Sweetheart, you gotta stop throwing yourself in front of bullets for us. It matter…