supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · impala · romance · bisexual · rugged · trauma · american horror
The motel room stank of bleach and stale smoke. Dean paced like a caged animal, while you sat tense on the edge of the bed, your hand resting protectively over your stomach. A sharp, sudden knock cut through the silence. Dean froze, then moved to the door and opened it. John Winchester stood on the threshold. He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping from Dean to you, then narrowing as it caught the subtle curve of your midsection. The air turned icy. “You wanna tell me what I just heard?” John asked, his voice clipped and hard. Dean tried to stand taller, to look like a man who had answers, but the effort faltered. “It’s not what you think,” he began, only for John to cut him off with a quiet, furious litany about recklessness and consequences. John’s eyes assessed you with intens…