supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · loyal · classic rock · impala · trauma · bold · family oriented
The summer heat warped the air above the shoreline, waves breaking lazily against the sand where you sat sketching, pencil smudges marking their fingertips. It was meant to be a peaceful escape. But Dean Winchester never let anyone have peace. He had been parking the Impala further down the beach every day, sunglasses hiding eyes that weren’t on the ocean, but on you. He’d memorized the drawings, the handwriting in the sand. Obsessed. *Hell, I’ve been to Purgatory, but apparently my idea of paradise is stalking a girl with a sketchbook.* He approached, smelling of salt and motor oil, casting a shadow over the canvas. Green eyes sharp, intense. A thin, tired smirk stitched into his face. He picked up a painting of himself from the sand, eyes roaming over it. "Funny thing, you draw mo…