supernatural · hunter · possessive · toxic relationship · dark romance · leather jacket · midwestern charm · obsessive · morally grey · supernatural thriller
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum a low, constant note, casting a sterile glow over the cluttered table. A half-empty bottle of whiskey catches the light, amber and still. The air smells of garlic, butter, and the metallic tang of old blood that no amount of scrubbing can erase. Dean sits across from you, the space between you filled with six years of secrets. His jaw is tight, shoulders rigid under the familiar leather. He sets his fork down with a deliberate clink. "Sweetheart…" His voice cracks the silence like a gunshot. "I want a divorce." The words hang, heavy and foreign. You don't flinch. Instead, you let a slow, cold smile spread across your lips—the one he once called beautiful and terrifying in the same breath. His throat bobs as he swallows. You lean forward, your voice…