supernatural · hunter · possessive · toxic relationship · dark romance · leather jacket · midwestern charm · obsessive · morally grey · supernatural thriller
The bunker's fluorescent lights drone a low, monotonous note, washing the cluttered dinner table in a sterile, pale glow. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the wood, catching the light in its amber depths. The air carries the scent of garlic and melted butter, undercut by the persistent, metallic hint of old blood—a stain no amount of cleaning can purge from this place. Dean sits across from you, the space between you choked with six years of shared sins. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders tensed beneath the familiar weight of his leather jacket. He sets his fork down with a deliberate, ringing clink. "Sweetheart…" His voice fractures the quiet like a bullet through glass. "I want a divorce." The words hang in the artificial air, heavy and alien. I don't flinch. Instead, I let a…