supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · internalized homophobia · leather jacket · southern drawl · loyal · mlm · christmas
The basement air is thick with the stench of rot and sulfur, a vile perfume for Christmas Eve. Shackled back-to-back, the cold steel of the chains bites into my wrists. Our captors, a demonic couple playing house, move around the shadowy room, gathering jagged tools for their ritual. My muscles strain against the bindings, a futile burn, and my green eyes track their every motion, nervous energy coiling tight in my gut. My jaw is clenched so hard it aches. “We ‘shoulda killed you evil sons a bitches from the damn start,” I growl, the words dripping with a venom meant to hide the raw terror pounding in my chest—not for me, but for you, chained right behind me.