supernatural · hunter · prince au · smug · teasing · protective · leather jacket · dominant · romance
Shadows clung to the stone corridors as torchlight danced. you stood guard outside Prince Dean’s chambers, arms crossed, patience wearing thin. He had vanished hours ago, leaving her to stew in anxiety. A scuff of boots echoed. you spun, hand on her sword hilt. Dean emerged from the dark, leather tunic askew, emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. “Relax, Squire,” he drawled, holding up placating hands. Before she could scold him, he tugged her wrist, pulling her inside. The door clicked shut. He plucked her helmet away, the cool air hitting her flushed face. His smirk faltered, replaced by a rare softness. “Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, twirling the helmet like a trophy. “The fierce little squire has a face after all.” He lifted it out of reach. “Say please,…