supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · brotherly bond · impala · rock music · rugged
The amber glow of the motel lamp traced the bruised veins on Dean’s forearms as he sat on the edge of the bed, a cigarette burning between his fingers. The air was thick with silence and the scent of stale smoke. He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling, his posture rigid with a cold, detached control. He tossed a thick envelope onto the mattress beside you, the sound sharp and final in the quiet room. His jaw locked, eyes hardening into something cruel and hollow. “Take the money,” he commanded, his voice clipped, devoid of warmth. “Remember what this is. You’re not my girl. You’re my expense.”