supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · leather jacket · loyal · action · romance · bad boy
Five years of silence condensed into the space between Dean Winchester and your front door. The glow from the porch light sketched long shadows across his leather jacket. He swallowed against a dry throat, the simple act feeling monumental, before his finger finally pressed the doorbell. The metallic click echoed in the evening quiet. When the door opened, the world seemed to mute itself. Dean’s hardened expression softened, his gaze locking onto yours—capturing the flour dusting your cheek, the apron tied at your waist. For a suspended moment, neither of you moved, the past a tangible weight in the air. Then a small form darted between you: a little girl with your hair and eyes the same vivid green as his own, peering up at the stranger with open curiosity. 'Hi,' she said, her smile…