diorstarkey

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 02

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rate Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

authors note; requests are open!!! comments and reblogs are really appreciated<33, alsooo this chapter has some scenes inspired by Kate and Anthony from Bridgeton.

The summer sun was relentless, casting a golden glow over the sprawling polo grounds. The Royal Family’s arrival had been announced well in advance, ensuring that every camera and paparazzi lens was trained on their convoy the moment it pulled up to the grand entrance.

You stepped out of the sleek black car, immediately hit by the flash of dozens—no, hundreds—of cameras. The crisp, tailored dress you wore was as regal as it was practical, a soft pastel shade designed to complement the bright day. Paired with sensible but elegant flats and a wide-brimmed hat to shield you from the sun, you looked every bit the composed Princess the world expected you to be.

"Smile." your mother murmured as she adjusted the brim of her Town Hat. The Queen's tone was gentle but firm, her own gloved hand briefly brushing your arm.

You forced a simple that was as close to genuine as you could muster, nodding at the crowd as you walked reside your parents.

Your father, the King, was already in full statesman mode, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with organizers of the even. His deep voice carried over the hum of the crowd.

As you followed them, your focus stayed locked on the path ahead, carefully avoiding eye contact with the cameras. The sun was unrelenting, and you were already regretting not demanding a fan when your mother leaned in again.

"Remember, you're representing more than yourself today," she said softly, her lips barely moving as she waved to the crowd. "Stand tall. Don't fidget."

"Understood," you replied quietly, keeping your voice neutral.

The three of you moved as a unit, exuding the kind of seamless coordination that only years of royal protocol could teach. The crowd adored it, of course. To them, this was a glimpse into a fairytale—perfect, untouchable, and beautifully polished.

But your attention was drawn away from the adoring fans when a second motorcade pulled up.

The arrival of the President of the United States and his family was nothing short of theatrical. The gleaming black limousine rolled to a stop, its polished exterior reflecting the midday sun. Uniformed Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the area with precision before Ward Cameron emerged from the vehicle, radiating charm and authority in equal measure.

And then there was Rafe.

He exited the car a beat later, adjusting the cuffs of his navy-blue suit as he stepped into the light. Rafe’s navy-blue suit looked designed to steal sighs—but not yours. To you, he was nothing more than an irritation in human form. Yet when his eyes found yours, it was impossible not to notice that spark of defiance, as if he were daring you to react.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction.

You quickly looked away, turning back to the crowd and raising your hand in a graceful wave. The moment was fleeting, but it left a strange tension in its wake—a silent acknowledgment of your shared disdain.

As Ward and Rafe made their way toward your family, the cameras shifted focus, eagerly capturing the moment when two of the world’s most influential families would finally stand side by side.

Ward extended a hand to your father, his grin as polished as his shoes. “Your Majesty, thank you for hosting such a splendid event. It’s an honor to be here.”

“Mr. President,” the King replied warmly, shaking his hand. “The pleasure is ours. I trust the journey wasn’t too taxing?”

“Not at all,” Ward said smoothly before turning to your mother. “Your Grace, it’s always a privilege to see you.”

The Queen inclined her head graciously, her smile measured. “Welcome, Mr. President. I hope you enjoy the day.”

And then Ward turned his attention to you.

“Your Highness,” he greeted you with the same charm, his handshake firm but not overbearing.

“Mr. President,” you replied, your smile perfectly practiced.

And then came Rafe.

“Princess,” he said, bowing his head just enough to meet the bare minimum of decorum. His voice carried a teasing edge, as though he found the formality absurd.

“Mr. Cameron,” you replied, your tone cool as your eyes locked with his.

The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, a mixture of irritation and something you refused to identify. For a moment, you thought he might say something snide, but he simply smiled—a slow, knowing curve of his lips that made your skin crawl—and stepped back.

Your father, ever the diplomat, gestured toward the viewing area. “Shall we? The match is about to begin.”

“Of course,” Ward agreed, falling into step beside him as the two families made their way to the private box.

You could feel Rafe’s presence behind you, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was already looking away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets as though he had all the time in the world.

_

The private Terrace for both families, strategically decorated to reflectante luxury and elegance. But for you, no matter how glamorous the setting was, the real Challenge would be enduring Rafe Cameron's company.

When you were seated on the terrace, the carefully arranged seating plan unfortunately placed you and Rafe next to each other. You tried to keep you composure, focusing on the game, but Rafe had a particular talent for turning your irritation into pure.

Arthur, however, seemed to have other ideas. Your loyal Corgi made it his personal mission to make Rafe’s life miserable, letting his tail repeatedly brush against his polished shoes or positioning his body just enough to block Rafe’s view of the field.

Rafe shifted in his seat, exhaling audibly. “Does your dog take after you, or is this a personality defect all his own?”

You didn’t look at him. “He’s discerning. He doesn’t like trouble.”

“Oh, I see. So he just naturally despises me, then?”

“Smart, isn’t he?” you replied, finally turning to meet Rafe’s annoyed stare. His tie was slightly askew, and the sunlight highlighted the sharp angle of his jaw. It should’ve been an infuriatingly good look—if it weren’t attached to him.

Rafe leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you’re trying to insult me, Princess, you’ll have to try harder. I’ve been called worse by better people.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, settling instead for a withering smile. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I bother speaking to you.”

Before Rafe could retort, Arthur huffed and shifted his weight, his tail swiping Rafe’s leg again.

“Seriously?” Rafe muttered under his breath, glaring at the dog as if he’d personally offended him. “Doesn’t royalty come with obedience training? Or is that just for the pets?”

Arthur growled softly, and you reached down to scratch behind his ears, your voice deceptively sweet. “Careful, Mr. Cameron. He doesn’t take kindly to people who insult his intelligence.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, smirking as he gestured toward Arthur. “I think he just has bad taste. Like his owner.”

The nerve. You opened your mouth to respond, but your mother’s quiet but pointed cough silenced you. Glancing at her, you saw the slight arch of her brow—a warning. This wasn’t the time or place for sparring matches, as much as you longed to wipe that smirk off Rafe Cameron’s face.

The polo match began with the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth, drawing the attention of the crowd. You watched the game unfold, pretending to be engrossed in the action. Every now and then, though, your focus wavered—thanks to Rafe shifting beside you, his presence impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Enjoying yourself, Princess? Or are you counting the minutes until you can go back to pretending I don’t exist?”

Your lips pressed into a tight smile as you replied without looking at him. “Why pretend, when ignoring you is so easy?”

He chuckled, a sound that was equal parts infuriating and... no, just infuriating.

A sharp whistle from the field momentarily drew both your attention. One of the riders—a particularly skilled player—maneuvered his horse with such precision that the crowd erupted into cheers.

“Impressive,” Rafe murmured, though his tone lacked sincerity.

“It’s called talent,” you replied dryly. “Something I wouldn’t expect you to recognize.”

Rafe turned his head to look at you, his smile sharp. “Careful, Princess. Your crown’s slipping.”

You met his gaze with equal intensity, the proximity between you suddenly feeling closer than it was. “And here I thought Americans were supposed to be charming. Must’ve skipped you.”

Rafe chuckled again, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat, his arm brushing yours in the process.

You straightened your posture, shifting slightly away from him, but your heartbeat betrayed you, its rhythm annoyingly quick. It wasn’t attraction—you refused to believe that. It was irritation. Nothing more.

The match continued, and while your parents exchanged polite commentary with Ward Cameron, you focused on Arthur, letting your hand absently run through his fur. It was grounding, a way to keep yourself composed.

Rafe, on the other hand, seemed far too comfortable, lounging in his seat as if he owned the terrace. Occasionally, you caught him glancing your way—not in the heated, passionate way you’d read about in novels, but in a calculating, almost amused manner.

And you hated that it made you feel like you were constantly being challenged.

When a particularly exciting play had the crowd erupting into applause, you noticed something peculiar. While everyone else clapped or cheered, Rafe barely reacted, his attention instead flicking to you.

“What?” you asked sharply, keeping your voice low.

“Nothing,” he replied, though his grin said otherwise. “Just wondering how someone so polished can look so... annoyed.”

“I’m sitting next to you, aren’t I?”

His laugh was quiet, almost genuine, but it only made you more irritated. “Don’t worry, Princess. The feeling’s mutual.”

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or post my work.

reblog and comments are really appreciated!!

hope you like it<3

[diorstarkey]

working on chapter 02!! <3

Good Graces | Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

content; enemies to lovers.

warning; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3 reblogs and comments are really appreciated

CHAPTERS...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Nine

Part Ten | Part Eleven

EXTRAS...

—

reader. asks. playlist.

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or post my work.

[diorstarkey]

please reblog if you like it!!! will help a lot🥹❤️‍🩹

also if you want to ask any questions about this AU, my inbox is always open<333

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

content; enemies to lovers.

warning; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3 reblogs and comments are really appreciated

CHAPTERS...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Nine

Part Ten | Part Eleven

EXTRAS...

—

reader. asks. playlist.

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or post my work.

[diorstarkey]

MASTERLIST | DREW STARKEY

SERIES:

—

ONE SHOT:

The Boy Is Mine | Drew Starkey x Singer!Reader

[diorstarkey]

MASTERLIST

drew starkey.

rafe cameron.

[diorstarkey]

MASTERLIST | RAFE CAMERON

SERIES:

Good Graces | AU, enemies to lovers.

[diorstarkey]

marie. she/her. nineteen. uni student. in love w buzz cut drew starkey. shopaholic. hispanic. cherry lip gloss.₊˚⊹ ᰔ

˖˙ ᰋ ── masterlist. readers.

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or post my work.