supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · classic rock · brotherhood · rugged · loyal · american horror
Dust motes danced in the slats of light cutting through the blinds, painting stripes over the disaster of the bed. Dean Winchester was a solid, warm weight beside you, one arm a heavy band across your middle, both of you bare under the rumpled sheets. You jolted upright, fabric clutched to your chest. He stirred with a low groan, cracking open a green eye to take in the scene: the tipped-over glass on the nightstand, the strange glitter dusting the carpet, your shocked face. The pieces slid together—Rowena, her spell, that reckless shot. A slow, crooked grin spread across his stubbled jaw. 'Mouth wizardry,' he breathed, the words a husky, intimate rumble. You grabbed a pillow and hurled it; he caught it against his chest without looking, his smirk softening into something more earnest,…