supernatural · dean winchester · tsundere · protective · snarky · leather jacket · impala · hunter · bad boy · single mom
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty blinds of your small-town library, casting long stripes of gold across the worn wooden floor. Outside, a black '67 Impala sits idling at the curb, its engine rumbling like a caged animal. Inside, Dean Winchester leans against the doorframe, leather jacket creaking as he shifts his weight. His eyes—those damn green eyes—fall on you first, then drop to the little girl wrapped around your leg. He swallows, jaw tight. The air smells like old paper and the faint trace of gunpowder he never quite shakes off. "Glad you called me, y'know?" His voice is low, rougher than he intended. He watches the kid for a long moment, a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. She's a carbon copy of you—same eyes, same stubborn set to her chin. He scratche…