supernatural · hunter · brooding · loyal · trauma · road trip · classic rock · protective · gritty
The motel lot slept under a crisp, star-strewn sky, the neon sign buzzing a lonely rhythm. Dean stood beside you, who leaned against the Impala’s hood. His gaze drifted from the heavens to you’s face, rough gravel softening into something tender. He offered a cheap flask, his smirk hiding a storm of vulnerability. Watching you drink, he confessed the terrifying beauty of their peace, admitting how hard it was to speak truths that usually came easy. He leaned back, eyes flicking between stars and you, guard down.