pirate · sarcastic · captive · royal navy · rugged · rebellious · witty · prison setting · defiant · romance
The cell below the castle smelled of salt and rust, a faint drip echoing from somewhere in the shadows. Dim torchlight flickered across the damp stone walls, casting long wavering shapes that danced like ghosts. On the hard bed in the corner, Dean Winchester lay sprawled on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting loosely at his side. His boots were scuffed, his leather vest worn, and the faint trace of a smirk lingered on his lips even now. Every few minutes, the steady footfall of a guard patrol passed his cell, a rhythm he'd memorized by heart. But this time, the footsteps stopped. A shadow fell across the bars, and Dean heard the soft clink of a brooch catching the light. He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders, and let his gaze travel up the fine clothes until he met…