#I'm hoping to write more soulmate aus in the future ♡

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! 💛💛 Omg obsessed with soulmate prince Steve au 🥰. Every au you write is perfection Can I request a scenario in which prince Steve actually witnesses someone say something to her about how she’s not good enough for the prince and how he’d react to that/ reassure her?

prince!steve au ♡ fem, 1.2k

Your palatial bedroom is a gem to the eye. You've a huge window from which gauzy orange light seeps, the golden hour of your twentieth day coming to an end. Soon, night will be upon you, and with the night comes Prince Steven. Or, as he prefers, Steve.  

He spends the days battling his overbearing mother and her team of 'professional shitheads' as the wedding fast approaches, advocating for you where you can't. You may be his soul mate, but your lack of royal blood means you've no choice in any of their plans. You hadn't been allowed to choose your dress, your vows, or even your jewellery. 

Well, originally. "It's your wedding," Steve had said, giving your hand a reassuring hold, "not just mine, and definitely not theirs. You'll be allowed to wear, and say, and do whatever you want. I'm lucky you agreed to marry me at all." 

You don't regret agreeing to marry him, but it wasn't what you pictured. He didn't propose, and you aren't in love. Your soul marks assure you that one day you will be. The volume of their light and how restless they become around the other evidences a mutual attraction if nothing else, and the rosy hue they take when you touch spares nothing. 

A mutual crush doesn't normally mean you'd marry someone, though. But it isn't exactly unheard of in your culture either. Soul mates are soul mates —it's on the tin. 

Why wait to get married when you know you'll fall in love for life? 

Maybe because that love is extremely daunting, a little voice says at the back of your head. Because Steve is still a stranger. 

An acquaintance might be more accurate. If he continues to be so dramatically nice you might skip friendship altogether, your stomach a heat at the memory of his hand on your chin and the subtle warmth of his gaze as he laid your doubts to rest. You worried to him that you couldn't be a Princess, and while he hadn't shared the sentiment, others do. 

You leave the haven of your room in hopes of a glass of juice and a tonic for your headache (all you've done for days is grind your teeth), and become turned around looking for the kitchens 

"She is so boringly normal. I thought the Prince would have a special soul mate, is that stupid? I thought she'd be gorgeous, or smart, or talented at something, like piano." The servant hits her racket against the rug with a laugh. "She's just one of us. Lucky bitch." 

Which isn't the worst of it. Not truly offensive. You're nothing special, and if you didn't know it already, finding your soulmate cemented it. 

This bit hurts, though. "She's surprisingly ugly, I thought," says the other servant. "Imagine when they project their engagement photos in the central city. That is not a face you want to see in sixteen k." 

Your head bumps into the alcove wall with surprise as a throat clears. The servants look up in tandem, to your horror, seeing you standing in the shade like a creeper, but they see straight past you. You follow their gaze. 

"That's not fair or appropriate, is it?" Steve asks, in his strange princely tone. "The future princess is just as beautiful as you ladies, but she has a much nicer attitude, yeah?" 

Steve puts his hand on your shoulder and walks you away. You feel like you're in trouble, being marched by the class warden to the principal's office.

He stops you in the cool stone walkway that leads from the garden. You can smell the kitchen you'd been looking for, the buttery smell of capers and brewing edelweiss tea on the breeze. The night dawns, sconces with teal and lime light painting his skin baby blue. 

"Sorry I didn't sanction them. I think that the anxiety that I'm gonna tell on them does more than the actual–" Steve stops short. "Hey, are you crying?" 

You're not crying, but you may be a little sniffly. You turn your head away from him and he pulls it right back, his lips parted in shock. 

"You don't believe them," he says incredulously.

The stress in your life these last few weeks has been akin to a tightrope walker, and the insults (the embarrassment, knowing he heard) are a strong wobble. 

"Sorry," you say, your lips barely parted. You try to look away from him but his hand is steadfast on your cheek. 

It's so odd to be treated with tenderness by someone you don't really know. His soul mark burns a muted pinky-red at the pulse of his wrist. It's genuine affection, even if you feel like you don't deserve it. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "Maybe I should go back and have them do domestic duties for the week."

"No, I'm being stupid. They don't have to think I'm pretty–" 

"Well, they should, but that's not really what happened… Why are you down here? I was looking for you." 

"You were?" you ask. 

"I usually am. I tried to get out of fencing but they wouldn't let me leave," he explains, his hand moving up your face in little grabs, almost as though he's checking you over for injury. Eyes held, Steve smiles at you encouragingly. "Why were you down here?" 

"To get something to drink," you say. 

"And you didn't want to ask one of the ten people waiting desperately for you to need something?" he asks with a laugh, dropping his hand from your face. The phantom of it remains, heat in the shape of his fingers pressed into your cheek.

"It feels weird." 

"You can call for me instead and I could get you a drink. Just until you know where the kitchen is. Or I can make you a map." 

"A map," you say, biting back a smile. 

"Is that funny?" 

"No…" 

Steve curls a hand behind your shoulder. "We're not gonna get along," he says, his tone suggesting wildly otherwise. "I can tell. Let's get you that drink, okay?" 

"Okay. Sorry for, um, getting all emotional on you." 

"'In good times and bad,'" he says. Your heart doesn't leap, it springs from your chest. He's a prince, and he's beautiful, and now he's throwing wedding vows at you like it's nothing? 

You smile at your shoes all the way to the kitchens, where Steve ushers you in front of him to go first, and says in your ear, "For the record, I'm personally super excited to see you on the holo screens, but I don't think it's gonna compare to the real thing." He directs you by the waist gently, a twin of the way he'd held you in your engagement photos. Deft hand nestled against the fat of your hip, blue silk of your ceremonial kissing your thighs. You'd felt really pretty, if only because he touched you without hesitation. "You are the farthest thing from ugly I've ever seen." 

[sunshine-scented]

HELOOOO ITS ME AGAIN~٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE THAT YOU GOT MY MESSAGE AND HONESTLY YOU’RE SO SWEET TO STILL ACTUALLY DO MY REQUEST TYSM AWAHHH (GIVING YOU PLATONIC KISSES FR)

PUTTING THAT ASIDE I WANT TO GET TO KNOW YOU A LITTLE MORE SO IS IT OKAY IF I ASK SOME QUESTIONS?

APOLOGIES IF I ACCIDENTALLY SPAM YOUR ASK BOX WITH MY REPLIES OR GENERAL RAMBLINGS IN THE FUTURE, I DON’T WANT TO OVERWHELM YOU SO IF YOU NEED TOO YOU CAN TELL ME TO STOP ♡

ANYWAYS DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE GENRE TO WRITE WHEN IT COMES TO DOING ONESHOTS OR HCS FOR YOUR BLOG? (fluff, angst, ect)

WHOS YOUR FAVORITE LMK AND WHY? DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE EPISODE?

OHH AND (I know this is rlly basic buuuut) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? HAVE ANY PARTICULAR FAVORITE WHEN IT COMES TO FOOD OR BEVERAGES?

Take care for now and I hope your day/afternoon/night is going well!

- 🧋 ♡

No! Don't ever stop! I really like to talk to people so I don't really mind you rambling on my asks. You can talk about the most basic things and I'd still gladly read them ♡

I dont know if I have a favorite genre but I do have a favorite love trope, it's definitely soulmate AU, and the classic Childhood Friends to Lovers!! Goshh I'm a sucker for those stories

I have a very well amazingly hidden attraction to Nezha hehe, but I still also like the funky monkey man Sun Wukong as well! Just not as much as Nezha ;)

My favorite episode is all Nezha scenes on yt I think is the Amnesia Wukong one until the Forging of the samadhi fire (I forgot the episode number and I'm too tired to check, whoops) mainly because that's where Pigsy gets to shine with his whole doubts against monkey king until the boiling point where everyone realizes he was practically leading them to failure. It's so interesting to see the characters change based on their personalities!! Ack I'm rambling, my bad~

My favorite color is Red! And Pink because of Nezha because of how bold and dominating the color looks as itself ♡

[radiorenjun]

hi! this is so awk and random but i've been a silent reader of ur fics and i just wanna say that i absolutely love ur fics~ i was trying to avoid eine kleine bc it said major character death and i didnt think my heart could take it, BUTTTTTT i caved in and read it anyways and- ITS SO SO SO SO GOOD!!!! i like how it wasnt just from the princess' pov but we got to see glimpses of renjun's thought processes and feelings too. the way the relationship built up and the betrayal at the end was unexpected which made the story so interesting and kept me hooked till the end. i cried ugly tears but who didnt :')

i've also been hooked on 'i dont need it' since the beginning and i've probably re-read them about 5-6 times now bc of how good it is. and no matter how many times i read it, still ugly tears for both jaemin and y/n. i love soulmates au but this just have to take the cake!! i'm so so so in love with ur writings ♡ i hope that you're doing well and yeah, keep up the good work (why do i sound like a teacher wth how do u even encourage someone 😭)

- 🥑

WOAH WAIT IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS TRYNNA FIND THE RIGHT WORDS TO RESPOND TO THIS. THANK YOU FOR HAVING THE BALLS TO TALK TO ME OML IVE NEVER HAD THIS LONG OF A FEEDBACK IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT OMG EINE KLEINE IS BASICALLY MY PRECIOUS IM GLAD IT WAS WORTH UR TIME. Omg idni it's been so long since I've heard that name deadass that fic was the start of my writing career omg I don't have the balls to reread that out of pure cringe 😭 it was so messy imo but I'm glad u had fun DO INTERACT MORE IN THE FUTURE THO THIS WAS FUN HAVE A GREAT DAY BESTIE

Omg sensei encourage me more im ur student now 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️ THANK U THO THIS WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY LITERALLY

[luveline]

HIIIIII! I’m so obsessed with you and this series but If it fits into the storyline maybe could we get something where princess hasn’t been seen or heard from all day and the whole castle is gossiping that she ran away and Prince Steve hasn’t been able to pull away from his duties to find her but he eventually does. Kinda vague but I know if you do this you’ll write it better than I could ever explain it lol 💖💖

thank you so much! ♡ prince steve au fem, 1.3k

Steve is in his politics class when he hears the first whisper. There are many awful things that come with being the future inheritor of an entire kingdom, and the very worst in his opinion is having to know the politics of the surrounding kingdoms, cities, islands, island kingdoms and their cities. It's exhausting.  

And what cruel torture is this? His mother and father insist he needs to find his soulmate before he turns twenty four, but when he does find you he's not actually allowed to spend time with you. You're locked away like a sick fairytale and Steve spends hours at a time wondering what you're doing, what you're thinking, if you've been eating properly. He went from knowing nothing about you to not enough. 

Your name is like a lime spotlight. He hears it and he perks up, a trained dog, looking out of the corner of his eye at two service maids changing the eucalyptus sconces. 

"I heard she tried to leave a few days ago and got caught. If I were Y/N I'd never walk again, let alone run away. I'd have someone bring me a pot to piss in–" 

"Shush!" the second maid laughs. "What if someone heard us?" 

They're lucky the others in the room are distracted, less lucky that Steve is a moth to your flame. 

"Wherever she is, I hope she doesn't come back. Prince Steven doesn't flirt with us anymore, it's depressing. Do you think my tabard makes me look fat?" 

Wherever she is? Where are you? 

Steve starts to stand and gets forcibly sat back down by his tutor. "Don't make me hit you with the stick, Steven," he says, his teasing lost to a permanent monotone drawl. 

It continues more of the same but in different places. He hears possible locations at fencing practice, motives between sickening spoonfuls of pot pie and biscuits he can't stomach. Guardsmen talk of you in alcoves and the seamstresses whisper it between pins held in their lips, until finally Steve's had enough. 

"What use is fitting me for my suit if the bride's run away?" he asks, pulling pins from his thighs. "This is ridiculous. I'm done." 

He scrambles into his clothes and shoes. He's buttoning his shirt in the middle of a wide hallway when Robin appears. "Public indecency, nice." 

"This is my house." 

"No need to brag." She offers her hands to take his jacket so he can button faster. "You know your princess is missing, right?"

"Where have you been all day?" he asks. 

"Where do you think? I've been looking for her. Safe to say she's not in the Palace. Where did you say she lived before this?" 

"I… don't know." 

"Useless. We've no hopes of retrieving her then, unless you want to put out a mandate for her return." 

"Stop talking like that," Steve says, scrubbing his jaw tiredly. "I know where she is, I think. You can't come with me." 

"Why?" 

"It's a secret." 

"You can't leave the Palace without me. Do you know how close I was to getting fired last week?" 

You and Steve snuck out before dawn to explore the city together, and to finally get to know one another for a chunk of time. It wasn't enough, but it was a good start. Steve told you a few secrets, and it's about to come in handy.

"Good thing it's not outside of the Palace, then," he says, grinning at Robin mischievously as he takes his jacket from her, turning to walk backwards and steadily away. "Stay here."

"I'll find your dumb hiding place!" she calls after him. 

Steve shrugs into his jacket and descends the stairs. It took him years of being constantly watched to evade the eye, and if you've successfully secluded yourself where he thinks, you're a natural royal. Steve slips down another set of marble stairs, through a hallway, into one of the many intricate drawing rooms, to finally slip unseen behind an ornate oil portrait of his great great great grandma. 

He finds you sleeping in his den. The walls are tacked with teenage dreams, the floor littered with books he had good intentions of reading. You're curled on your side on the cot, the rinds of blood oranges at your chest and your lips stained mildly red from eating them. There's barely any light in this secret room; Steve can't stay here long without getting claustrophobic, but he needs to come here sometimes or he ends up feeling a different kind of trapped. 

He turns the latch of the oil lamp and lights a match. When he touches the red head of it to the lamp's dish, blue, green, and hyacinth-purple light sprays the walls and your snoozing face. Cutout stars remain, the shade of your skin left alone. 

He resists the urge to wake you with the tip of his thumb pressed to one such star, instead kneeling by the cot to shake your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, "you okay?" 

You blink. Sleep crusts your left eye and your lips are chapped, the whites of your eyes a sore red as you meet his. It's funny, nobody looks pretty waking up, but Steve thinks you've just about managed it.

He gives into what he wants, his hand riding the gentle curve of your arm. 

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly. 

You stare at him like he's not what you were expecting. 

"You okay?" he asks again, rubbing the crook of your elbow in search of an answer.

"'M fine," you say, barely audible through hoarseness. 

You sit up and wipe your eyes. Steve reluctantly takes his hand back, not wanting to overdo anything. It's the strangest feeling in the world to know someone will love you one day but they don't know you yet. Stranger still to know you're all alone here, and if Steve doesn't advocate for you, there aren't many who will. 

He's happy to do it. 

"Did someone say something to you?" he asks gently. 

He wouldn't speak to you like this if you didn't respond, your posture slouching forward, relaxing from that tense rigidity you hold whenever you first see him. 

"No one said anything to me, Steve. Your– my lady's maids wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not used to, uh, having my entire day planned for me." You collect your orange rinds into your palm. "It feels childish now, but I needed to be by myself. Do you know what I mean?" 

"I've been doing what other people tell me for years." He takes the orange rinds from your hands. There's nowhere to put them, so he keeps them. He didn't want you to get your fingers sticky with pith. "And it drives me crazy. That's why I told you about this place." 

You make a face like your breath is caught. He sees it everyday. He's starting to worry you're too easily panicked. 

"Have you eaten anything else today? We should go."

"Will they make me do all the things I should've been doing?" you ask. 

"It's evening. We'll have dinner on the terrace, your lady's maids won't come up to you while we're together." He seals his promise with a quick kiss to your knuckles. Your soul mark glows palest pink. "You're sure it's nothing else?" 

You, hesitant as a dormouse, trail the side of your pinky finger against his wrist where it rests on the cot. Purple‐blue light like iris petals paint your skin. "This is all really crazy," you whisper. 

"I know," he says back, voice dropped to a murmur to match you. He can't offer you a better response —this will always be crazy. 

You nod slowly for a moment, visibly thinking. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" you ask. 

"I want what you want." 

"Maybe I want what you want, Steve." 

You make his name sound like an inside joke. He tucks the glow of his soul mark out of view as it burns a rosy hue.