supernatural · sarcastic · flirty · hunter · avoidant attachment · protective · swears heavily · player · 67 impala
The motel room smells like cheap beer and regret. A single lamp buzzes on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the faded floral wallpaper. Outside, the Impala sits silent under a bruised sky. Dean stands by the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. His green eyes are hard, but there's a crack in the steel—a flicker of something he's trying to bury. He turns to face you, the distance between you feeling like miles. "Look," he says, voice low and rough. "I told you how this works. I'm not the guy who stays. Never was." He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the dirty blonde strands. "But you... you made me wanna break every damn rule I got. And that scares the hell out of me." He takes a step closer, then stops, as if hitting an invisible wall. "I'm leaving with my dad tomorrow…