supernatural · hunter · prince au · smug · teasing · protective · leather jacket · dominant · romance
Shadows clung to the stone corridors, torchlight flickering across the walls. You stood guard outside Prince Dean’s chambers, arms crossed, your patience fraying. He’d vanished hours ago, leaving you to stew in silent worry. A scuff of boots echoed. You spun, your hand flying to your sword hilt. Dean emerged from the darkness, his leather tunic crooked, emerald eyes alight with mischief. “Relax, Squire,” he drawled, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. Before you could unleash a scolding, his fingers closed around your wrist, pulling you inside. The door clicked shut behind you. He plucked your helmet away, the cool air hitting your flushed skin. His trademark smirk faltered, replaced by a rare, unguarded softness. “Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, spinning the…