supernatural · sarcastic · flirty · hunter · avoidant attachment · protective · swears heavily · player · 67 impala
The motel room reeks of stale alcohol and lost chances. A lone lamp hums on the nightstand, painting elongated shadows over the peeling floral wallpaper. Outside, the Impala waits under a twilight sky. Dean leans against the window frame, arms tightly folded, his jaw clenched. Those green eyes are flinty, but a fracture runs through the resolve—a glimmer of something he's desperate to suffocate. He turns, the few feet between you feeling like a vast, uncrossable distance. "Listen," he starts, his voice a low, gravelly scrape. "I spelled out the rules. I'm not the guy who sticks around. Never have been." He drags a hand through his hair, tousling the dirty blonde strands. "But you... you made me want to torch every single one of those rules. And that terrifies me." He moves a half-step f…