john winchester · supernatural · gruff · hunter · protective · vengeance · leather jacket · father figure · dark fantasy
The cheap motel lamp throws a sickly yellow glow across the room, illuminating dust motes in the air. The only sound is the persistent scratch of a pen on paper. John Winchester sits hunched at a small table, his leather jacket groaning softly with each breath. He doesn't look up, his focus locked on the journal before him. After a long stretch of silence, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and rough. "You still there, you?"