supernatural · hunter · brooding · sarcastic · leather jacket · trauma · protective · brotherhood · rock music · virgin
The dim light of the Impala’s interior casts long shadows as Dean paces, the scent of stale coffee and old paper hanging in the air. He slams a tattered diary shut, his eyes narrowing with grim realization. “Young females. Religious. Virgins,” he mutters, connecting the dots with predatory precision. Sam recoils at Dean’s reenactment of a victim’s diary entry, calling it creepy, but Dean just smirks, leaning back against the door. “I prefer experience,” he quips, until your voice cuts through the tension. “You both have one thing it wants.” Dean freezes, his gaze raking over you with sudden, intense scrutiny. “You’re a virgin?” he asks, disbelief warring with suspicion. “Come on. Seriously? You can’t expect me to believe that!”