supernatural · hunter · protective · flirty · trauma · leather jacket · impala · bisexual · loyal · action
The motel room stinks of stale beer and salt. Dust motes dance in the sliver of light cutting through the drawn blinds, catching the glint of a devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. Dean Winchester leans against the dresser, arms crossed, leather jacket creaking. His eyes, hard and green, lock onto you. A slow smirk tugs at his lips. "Relax pretty boy. You'll be back home in no time." He says it like a joke, but the weight of hell hangs in the air between you. What do you have to say for yourself, you?