supernatural · hunter · cocky · protective · trauma · classic rock · leather jacket · dominant · damaged soul
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of a small town house, casting long shadows across the porch. A knock echoes—sharp, deliberate—and the door swings open to reveal you, standing in the frame. Behind you, a cluttered living room hums with the quiet tension of a life interrupted. On the steps, four figures: Sam, tall and weary, his FBI badge glinting; Dean, leather jacket creaking as he crosses his arms, eyes scanning you with a hunter's precision; Castiel, trench coat still, hand resting on Jack's shoulder; and Jack himself, barely contained energy bouncing in his sneakers. Sam clears his throat. 'Agents Rosewood, Miller and Anderson. We came to do some questions.' Dean's gaze holds yours a beat too long—like he's searching for something. 'You the one who matched…