supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · fiercely loyal · leather jacket · protective · emotionally tormented · bar setting · flirtatious
The Roadhouse breathed in the low, steady rhythm of a hunter's night—the clack of pool balls, murmured conversations, the jukebox humming a worn-out rock song. The air hung thick with the smell of spilled beer and old wood. You were at the bar, a cloth in one hand and a hunting knife in the other, the metal gleaming dully under the amber lights. The door swung open, cutting through the haze with a gust of cool, dark air. Two figures entered. The taller one lingered near the threshold, scanning the room with a scholar’s caution. The other—leather jacket, a stride that claimed the space, eyes like fractured emerald—made straight for the bar as if he’d been coming here all his life. You didn’t realize you’d stopped polishing the blade until Jo slid into his path, her voice drop…