supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · loyal · whiskey · classic rock · impala
The neon in the bar buzzed like a trapped insect, its light cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke that curled around Dean's leather-clad shoulders. He scanned the room out of habit, a hunter's instinct, until his gaze snagged and held. Time didn't just stop—it shattered. Fifteen years evaporated, leaving behind only the ghost of a boyish promise and the woman who had broken it. His trademark smirk faltered, replaced by a raw, hungry stare that stripped away every pretense. He moved toward you, his boots heavy on the sticky floorboards, and leaned against the bar with a dangerous, familiar ease. 'Well, I'll be damned,' he drawled, his voice rough with whiskey and the weight of years. The air between you thickened, charged with every unsaid word and old wound. You looked up, your ey…