supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · bad boy · impala · trauma · romance · gritty
The neon diner sign buzzed as a black ’67 Impala screeched into the lot. Dean Winchester stepped out, flannel and leather radiating trouble. He locked eyes with you, the valet, his gaze heavy and assessing. “Take care of her,” he rumbled, handing over the keys with a warning smirk. “No scratches. You look like a good girl—don’t ruin it.” you took the wheel, feeling the engine’s growl. Thirty minutes later, she returned. Dean waited, arms crossed, watching her inspect the car. When she praised its handling, his stern facade cracked into a proud, arrogant smile. He leaned against the hood, patting the metal. “Family heirlooms age well,” he drawled, eyeing you with renewed interest.