#royalty!au prompts

[scealaiscoite]

head of state x captain of their personal guard prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱

¹⁾ “must you always make my job so very difficult, your highness?”¹ “someone with your prowess must be challenged, captain. how else will i see to it that i made the right choice in selecting you for the job?”²

²⁾ “*name*, i’m begging you. if you won’t listen to me as your guard, then listen to me as someone who loves you - please let me get you to safety before it’s too late.”

³⁾ “what were you playing at, looking at me like that from across the court?!”

“since when do you feel permitted to give your opinion on matters of the crown?!”¹ “since i fell in love with the person wearing it.”²

⁴⁾ “when i told you to forget our titles during our sparring lessons, i didn’t think you’d actually follow through.”

⁵⁾ “i’m beginning to think you’ve only taken to spending so much time in the throne room to show off for me.”

⁶⁾ “i’ve dreamt of making you my consort more than i’d like to admit.”

⁷⁾ “so not only have you been ‘entertaining’ marriage prospects, but you didn’t even deem fit to tell me about it yourself? am i not even worth that to you?”

⁸⁾ “if the lords/ladies-in-waiting spy you leaving my quarters in the morning again, i fear we’ll be fielding more question than we can answer.”

⁹⁾ “you know how direly i hate these balls, my love.”¹ “yes, i do. but i also know how very much you love me, so i’m hoping one will cancel the other out.”²

¹⁰⁾ “you do remember that i’m supposed to be the one protecting you, yes?”

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #2918

"But it's a tradition!"

"Fuck your tradition! It's weird and I don't like it."

"It's your duty as the heir."

"Which is something I didn't choose, so I shouldn't have to."

[jestroer]

Day two of @mcyt-yuri-week - Royalty/Knight! :D

Forbidenn romance between a fairy Queen and her Knight..... or something

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #47

When Jason had left his father's kingdom for another's, he wasn't expecting to be noticed. In fact, that was the point. Gotham thought him dead, it was better that way. Let them mourn him.

Realms of Infinite was a large place Jason could hide in. Where no one would notice him. Unfortunately, just because he stopped being a prince didn't mean he stopped impulsively helping people.

But hey, what was he supposed to do? Let this random man be stabbed in the middle of the square? He didn't know he was the king! He also wasn't expecting to be knighted for his deed.

As long as he can avoid gaining too much attention he'd be fine. Falling in love with the king is not a good way to further avoid attention.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 142

Prince Geralt is the second of three sons born to King Vesemir. Court... Isn't his thing. Court isn't really any of the three boys' things. Eskel was certainly polite enough for it, but many thought him too intimidating looking to even approach. Geralt detested the finery and the clothing that made him look like a sad silk trader. Lambert nearly killed a woman with a heart attack the last time he was in court and opened his mouth to speak. Geralt doesn't like court, or meetings, or what-have-you. He much prefers riding his favorite mare, Roach, into the nearby woodland. Whether they'd just go for a trot, or hunt something, or swim in a creek was a choice he usually made up on the spot. One afternoon however, as he dismounts from his trusty steed, he hears a noise on the wind. A rather lovely one, at that. It's singing. Someone's singing, and they've the voice of an angel. Geralt freezes in place for multiple minutes, too engrossed in just listening. Geralt glances around, attempting to make sense of which direction it's coming from. He doesn't even tie up Roach before he sprints off in the direction of the singing. He doesn't know what he'll do. Applaud? Say 'thank you, that was great'? Faint? But he does want to get closer. Just the slightest bit, so he can hear the singing better. After a moment or two of trompsing through the underbrush, however, the singing stops. Geralt loses all traces of the voice, and is left to return to his horse, stood where he left her, in disappointment. He tells his brother of the encounter, tells them to try hearing the voice in the woods. Lambert warns him it might be a troll in disguise, and Eskel gets so caught up correcting Lambert's thoughts on trolls that Geralt can't even gush about the voice any more, and returns to his room, eager to set out to the forest as soon as he can.

It's been two weeks, and Geralt is saddened by the voice's disappearance. It was a once-in-a-lifetime blessing he'd just have to hold onto. Even as he hears the voice in his thoughts and dreams every night. It's not the same. Not the real thing. Geralt is being moody about all of this as he lays on his back, floating in a small pond. Roach is there, on the shore, occasionally bending her neck down and taking a sip. He tried to invite her in to swim with him, at least get her feet wet, but she'd harshly declined, giving him a little nip on his arm. And then, he hears it. The voice. The singing. Geralt is so shocked, he flails in the water, and inhales some. Geralt rushes to the shore, hacking like a cat about to present it's owner with a hairball, and rushing to put all his clothes back on. As soon as he's fully dressed, the voice has stopped. He hadn't even had the time to try and seek them out again! He kicks the dirt, and sits down to pout next to his horse. Despite the failure, he was overjoyed when he revealed the news to his brothers. "My siren is back!" He said with a grin. Eskel loved when Geralt grinned, he didn't do it nearly enough any more. Not since they were all children. "I was in the pond when-" "Can't be a siren if you were in the water and they weren't." Lambert points out, mouth full of food. "I know they're not really a siren, that's just what I call them!" "Why is that?" Eskel inquires, raising an eyebrow. "Every time they sing, I- I feel as if I'm bespelled." Geralt whispers with awe, his eyes sparkling. Lambert begins chortling as loud as possible. "Prettyboy is whipped over a VOICE!" "You would be too, if you could hear them!" Geralt argued, just before a servant came in to alert them all that it was getting rather late, and their father requested them all in bed.

Another few weeks go by without his siren, but Geralt knows they must still be out there. They're just biding their time before they enchant him again. Geralt is home after a long day of messing around in the woods hoping to hear them. He's stood on his balcony, looking out toward the forest, sighing. It's just as he's about to walk back inside when he hears it... Ever so quiet, ever so soft, in the distance, coming from the woods. His siren. He freezes, and listens for a moment, before shaking his head. He slams his door open and races down the hall, only to run straight into Eskel. "Geralt? What's wrong?" "My siren! They're singing! I have to go to the woods!" "Geralt, it's the middle of the night-" Eskel worries. "You haven't found them yet, but you think you can find them now?" Lambert pipes up from the room farther down the hall, rubbing his eyes, evidently annoyed he was awoken by his brother's urgency. "I have to try." is all Geralt tells them, as he pushes past Eskel and continues down the hall. After a few minutes, both Lambert and Eskel are out on their own balconies, hearing nothing but the ambient sounds of night. "He's gone fuckin' batty!" Lambert shouts over to Eskel's balcony. "SHUSH! You'll wake father!" Eskel hisses back. Geralt came back that next morning, disappointed, and no closer to finding the mysterious vocalist.

Two entire months pass, and Geralt is distraught. It's beginning to feel like his siren is really gone for good this time. "Smiiiile, it's a happy day for you." Eskel lovingly reminds Geralt. They're all sat on their thrones, awaiting nobility and gentry to pass by and give Geralt gifts, for it was his birthday. All Geralt wanted for his birthday was to hear from the siren again, but even if his siren came back, he wasn't in the woods to hear them anyhow. "The Pankratz family!" A servant loudly introduces, snapping Geralt out of his thoughts. They looked the same as every other noble family did, though there was an exception. A boy around Geralt's age was the first to give Geralt an actual, genuine smile. "We are delighted to present you with our gift, it's a-" "I have a gift for the prince, too!" The boy interrupts his father, taking a step closer. "Julian!" The mother hisses. "It's a song." "Julian, don't embarrass us like this." The father snarls. Geralt holds up a hand. "...I'd like to hear it." The boy, who was quite handsome in retrospect, races to their bags and finds a lute he smuggled along. He steps in front of his family, looks into Geralt's eyes, and begins to sing. Geralt freezes. Eskel glances between the viscount and his brother, who was seemingly in a trance. Eskel was at first worried about the way his mouth parted a bit in shock as he realized what was happening, but then he looked to see Lambert was gaping like he was physically incapable of shutting his mouth... Which... It being Lambert, was actually quite possible. When the boy finishes, everyone politely claps, except for Geralt, still staring in awe. The boy flushes and fidgets in place. "..I cannot accept this song as a gift." Geralt says. "We're so, so, so dreadfully sorry about Julian, your highness-" Geralt shuts the man up with a wave of his hand, still staring at the musician who captured his heart. "I would rather my gift from your family to be your son." The Pankratz all gasp and gawk, as Julian's eyes widen. King Vesemir leans over and whispers "What the hell are you doing, boy?" "I would like to give him the official position as court bard, and I'd like to hear him sing again. Every day, if I can." Geralt explains. "Your highness, we simply can't just give away our dearest son-" "I'll do it!" "Julian-!" "I'd love to be the court bard, Prince Geralt!" Julian crows, bouncing up and down in delight. "...Then it shall be." King Vesemir said, giving a confused glance to Eskel. Eskel and Lambert are alone that night. Geralt was busy being serenaded, they assumed. "So. Geralt found his siren." Eskel says softly. "I really thought he was just nuts." Lambert snorts. "Apparently not." "..." "..." "..." "..." "Wanna bet on how long it takes until they start fucking?" "You know it."

[songsofadelaide]

There was a travelling market selling foreign goods in your city. The little corner of festivity was brought along their prince's journey to this land.

Apart from your city's trade, the streets were bustling with activity from the travelling market too, so much so that the kingdom had to station local guards in the area to keep the peace and order. Upon hearing your family's maids' excited chatter about the place and all of the outlandish things for sale there, you couldn't help but want to go, too.

But a lady of a noble house should not be there. It was against your better judgement, but there must be some curiosities there that would sate your growing, thriving pursuit of knowledge— before your parents decide to give you away to some stranger from a strange land.

"My l— I mean, miss! Look over here, they have tomes that might be of interest to you!" One of your maids gently pulled you by the arm, causing you to bump into someone in the crowded street.

"Ah—"

The man with the piercingly haunting bright blue eyes turned in your direction, catching you before you could hit the ground.

Even dressed in a more subdued manner, someone with an eye for fine things will notice that you aren't like the ladies who accompanied you.

"Oh, my apologies, good sir, I—" Shoot. Your manner of speech—

"The way you carry yourself gives you away, my lady. What's a noble girl like you doing here?"

The man was dressed in Imperial garb, a lovely fur poncho over his fine clothing, his silver hair tousled by the pleasant breeze that swept through the busy streets. He was a foreigner, but strikingly handsome.

"Shouldn't you be preparing to meet the Imperial Prince Satoru?"

The tender smile that graced your face left so easily following that question. You scoffed at the stranger before allowing a small laugh to leave your lips. "I don't want to try so hard to please someone I've never met."

Oh, there you go again with your mouth. But oddly enough, the smile found its way to the handsome stranger's face. "Is that so? I suppose you'll have all the time in the world to get to know him..."

"Personally, I am more interested in whatever books this caravan brought along with it. If you aren't busy, good sir, might you accompany me and my, um, fellow ladies for the rest of our excursion? Surely you know the best places to purchase items..."

He chuckled, evidently amused by your sudden request. He tenderly took your gloved hand in his larger one and brought it to his lips. "Gladly, my lady."

The man patiently answered your every query. When you passed by a stall selling lovely miniatures of Imperial tourist spots and sceneries, you related to him how you had to pose for an uncomfortable amount of hours to have your own miniature portrait painted, only for it to be shipped off to the foreign Empire without a word of thanks from the Imperial family, or whoever received it. Not that you really cared.

He seemed to be so amused by your every quip judging by his gentle laughter. "I'm sure whoever received your portrait was truly pleased."

The man escorted you and your ladies back to your estate and bid you farewell, but not without a promise of meeting once more. How, you didn't know and did not bother thinking too much about it at all.

And when the day the eligible women of the kingdom were set to meet the Imperial Prince came, every other lady's graceful smile faded the moment he stepped down from the king's side and took your hands in his.

You were right about one thing. The moment your eyes met the silver-haired foreign prince's bright blue eyes.

You didn't have to try so hard at all.

[an-au-blog]

I am disgusted by how little shuggy content there is out there... so here's my drop in the ocean:

King/Emperor Shanks who is far too attached to his jester. Everyone sees it and it's so confusing because one second Shanks will be discussing war plans and looks like he's about to kill someone. And the next he's smiling like a kid in a candy store because the clown stumbled into the room because he was at the door, trying to eavesdrop. What's even odder - the king doesn't kill him for it, no jail, not even shooing him away. He makes him sit next to him (only because Buggy refused to sit in his lap) so he can hear them better. What's even more worrying is that he considers the jester's opinions on such matters.

The king had two addictions and only they could make him truly laugh and smile (other than his nephews). Alcohol, which he would be found consuming nearly all the time. And Buggy the jester. He didn't even have to be funny, he was just angrily shouting at the king most of the time and yet the king seemed to enjoy his company the most.

nsfw implantations under separation line:

Behind closed doors, when he isn't keeping his jester under him, the king is almost always on his knees. Buggy may be a jester in the court but in his king's sheets, he's no less than a queen.

Shanks has asked for his hand more than once but Buggy could never accept. Being the king's lover out in the open meant a life of fear. And how could he take the hand of a man who he can reduce to a dog, who do willingly proposed they run away together.

So Buggy felt like a hostage. Not because of power imbalance between a king and a jester. But one of a man ready to throw away his kingdom without hesitation for a jester who promised himself to never let that happen. Therefore Buggy kept him on his knees like a common whore. Wailing and hauling for him.

The anger at the king who made his duties Buggy's responsibilities kept on boiling.

[irondadmadlads]

Irondad Prompt #218:

Universe RAU:

(InsertBlogNameHere): Has anyone else noticed the kid King Stark is always with?? I swear he just appeared like a month ago. I thought the boy was his servant at first but Stark seems to prioritize the kid over everything. Does the king have a secret son?? Is this kid actually the prince?? I’m not crazy, right?

[propertyofkylar]

princess kylar thigh worship fic?

worshiping the princess - f!kylar x gn!pc

word count: 1827

tags: royalty au, thigh worship, cunnilingus, dubcon, bit of yandere nonsense, i cannot help but tease kylar whenever i see her it's a disease

“Seize them.”

That was the first and last thing you had heard the princess say, and now you were jailed in her castle. You were sure you hadn’t been behind bars too long, but it was nearly impossible to tell. It didn’t help that you were entirely alone here, too. It seemed this princess didn’t frequently imprison anyone. So why you?

In your travels, you had become somewhat familiar with this kingdom. Princess Kylar was the ruler, and there were many rumors floating around about what had happened to the king and queen, most seeming very unlikely to be true. But you weren’t sure. Anything was possible. 

You were mulling this over when the princess herself approached the bars. At first, she said nothing, merely looked at you. You figured you may as well look back, and so you studied Kylar. 

She was a pretty young woman and very small. She wore a dark gown that looked old and tattered and her long hair was tied back with a bow that was equally tattered. The princess’s face was so close to yours that you could count every freckle on her nose. Her green eyes bore into yours and her long eyelashes fluttered with every blink. 

Eventually, she gave a simple nod. And then, surprisingly, she unlocked her cell. 

Before you could react, her small hand wrapped around your wrist. It was soft and clammy. Feeling bewildered, you looked at her again. Kylar huffed. 

“Would you rather be locked in there forever?” She said, starting to walk and tugging you along with her. 

“Um…no,” you said, rather lamely. To be honest, you weren’t sure what you had done to justify being locked up in the first place. But this princess seemed temperamental, so you figured you better not risk anything by speaking out of line. 

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered, and you got the feeling that despite her demeanor, this entire interaction was making her quite nervous.

You opted to stay quiet as she led you through the large castle, which was rather empty and everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from the odd servant here and there, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in here. 

Kylar took you into what you realized were her quarters. Having never been inside the bedroom of royalty before, you were taken aback by how messy and disorganized it was. You had always pictured a princess’s bedroom to be neat and clean. But Kylar had random bits of clothing tossed all over and drawers that were slightly ajar. There were also various novels scattered about, and you idly recognized some as being steamy romances. Interesting. That didn’t seem befitting of royalty. 

The princess closed her door behind the two you of you and the air became thick with awkward tension. What the hell was going on here? You were so caught up in how odd this entire castle was that you only just now realized - what the fuck were you doing in the princess’s bedroom?!

Kylar uncomfortably cleared her throat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “So,” she began. “You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here instead of being locked up.”

“Well, yes,” you replied hesitantly. 

Forcing her head up, Kylar looked directly in your eyes. “I have decided you seem useful. You have a handsome face. I think there are better ways for you to serve out your sentence.”

You said nothing, letting her continue. Kylar sucked in a deep breath before saying more. 

“You will stand by my side and assist me in…whatever ways I need,” Kylar’s face flushed as she spoke, and you quickly realized what exactly she mean. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but let your shock slip out. Was this princess really suggesting you be like some…some sort of prostitute?

Kylar clenched her fists and looked away. “You don’t have to. But if you decline I will make it known that you have committed many grievous crimes and should be locked away permanently. Or maybe you would rather be executed?”

Your blood ran cold at that. Was she serious? You didn’t know much about her, but she did seem a little scary. She might really be willing to kill you…

“No,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Kylar replied with a smirk. “Then you should kneel.”

You immediately dropped to your knees in front of the haughty princess. She wasn’t very tall, but looking up at her still invoked fear within you. She was quite intimidating.

“Excellent. You’re a good listener,” Kylar was acting tough, but her voice was shaking a little still. She moved over to her bed and sat down on the edge. You quickly realized she wanted you to follow her and so you awkwardly crawled over. Several beats passed before she hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare thighs and a thick bush of hair. Her face turned red as she struggled to remain composed. 

“Touch me.”

Her words, while unsteady, were commanding. You weren’t sure why she was making you do this, or how the hell you ended up kneeling before a now half-naked princess. But her thighs were rather mesmerizing. They were thick and even-toned, and looked very soft. And having lived the life of a bandit, you were aware there were many worse experiences out there than being forced to pleasure a beautiful princess.

So, tentatively, you reached your hands out to grip her thighs. Kylar whimpered as soon as there was skin-on-skin contact. Your initial thoughts were correct - her skin was incredibly soft and smooth. Befitting a princess, for sure. You began to lightly stroke her thighs, as gently as possible, and noticed how immediately her skin pricked with goosebumps. 

You looked up and made direct eye contact with Kylar. She was gazing at you almost adoringly, and you felt a sudden pang in her chest. She behaved somewhat oddly. Her castle was in disarray and empty. Princess Kylar must have been a very lonely girl. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you moved your head in and began to place light kisses on her thighs. Kylar twitched and her hands gripped her bedsheets. She cleared her throat and you looked up at her again. Her face was bright red.

“Worship me…” she whispered. “Please.”

You were in no position to reject a princess. Thus, your fingers went to work tracing random patterns across the smooth expanse of her thighs, while your kisses grew more fervent and occasionally you bit down, enjoying the way Kylar squeaked and squealed with every move. Honestly, it was pretty attractive, and you felt yourself begin to grow aroused. 

Kylar’s legs parted instinctively and the unmistakable scent of arousal hit your nose. Sure enough, when you looked you noticed her cunt was practically drooling onto the bed. You stifled a smirk - her getting so turned on by just some touching was pretty funny, but her volatile attitude kept you subdued in this regard. You still were a little afraid that she might decide to execute you, after all. 

Your teeth bit down into the plush skin of her inner thigh, and Kylar moaned. “Princess,” you breathed against her, casting your eyes up. She was looking away. 

“Y-you may speak,” Kylar stammered. You smiled.

“Your skin is so soft,” you murmured against her legs, pressing kisses all over. “It’s so nice. You must take very good care of yourself.”

“Oh,” Kylar replied, clearly not expecting you to say what you had just said. “Um. I don’t know. Not really. I took a bath in rosewater earlier, I guess.”

Mm. That’s what that smell was. “Very nice,” you said quietly, moved your head closer to her core, continuing to lick and suck all the way. Her whole body squirmed when your nose bumped her clit. Then, you pressed a kiss there, too.

“Oh!” Kylar unintentionally pulled back slightly, but quickly fixed herself. “S-sorry…I mean!” She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “You m-may continue.”

Your hands teased and scratched her thighs as you began to lick at her wet cunt. The faint smell of roses tickled your nose and mingled with her own district flavor. As soon as your tongue made contact, Kylar’s hands flew to your hair, embedding her fingers in there. “Fuck,” she said quietly.

You lapped at her drooling juices before twisting your tongue into her hole, taking one hand off her thigh to rub at her clit. Kylar’s breaths were coming out in short, stuttered bursts at this point. She was enjoying this, and truthfully, so were you.

Your tongue explored inside of Kylar, as if you were trying to drink her juices directly from the source. You curled your tongue inside of her, and Kylar’s grip on your hair tightened. When you tugged your tongue out to flick her clit, she almost yelled.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to get more friction. “Your mouth feels so good…”

Again, you weren’t going to deny a princess what she wanted. So you dove in, licking her soaking folds even more fervently, taking the time to memorize how Kylar felt; how Kylar tasted. 

As you drank her up obediently, Kylar’s hips began to wiggle more and more and her breathing grew more heavy. “Oh–I think–I’m gonna–”

You didn’t stop. You simply kept at the same pace as Kylar ground her crotch against your face and moaned loudly. Her fluids soaked the sheets beneath her and your own face felt incredibly damp and sticky. 

As you pulled away, you licked your lips subconsciously, committing her taste to memory. You unceremoniously wiped your now-soaked face on your sleeve and looked up at Kylar again. Her face was redder than you had seen her and her chest was rising and falling heavily. She took a few moments before she began to speak again. “T-that was…it, um…” she cleared her throat. “Good work. I think this will work out…”

Unsure of what to do now, you simply offered her a smile. Upon seeing your face, Kylar suddenly looked like she might faint. It was like something had just snapped inside of her. She nodded several times in succession and then grabbed your wrists, pulling you up to the bed with her. And the way she looked at you was intense, to say the least. She had a crazy, lovesick look in her eyes, that sent a chill through your body. What had you just gotten yourself into?

Kylar grinned widely at you as she pushed you down so you were laying below her on the bed. She crawled over you with that same look in her eyes. “I knew I made the right choice when I saw you. Oh, this is great,” she giggled girlishly, laying her head down on your chest. “We’re going to be together forever and ever now!”

Maybe you should’ve stayed jailed…

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Jegulily slow burn royalty au??? James being a prince, Lily a being the daughter of the kingdom’s head knight who he is in love with and plans to marry BUT an enemy kingdom of many generations agree to finally make peace if James marries their second born son. James agreeing to said marriage for the sake of his kingdom. Jily sneaking around the castle, Lily being possesive, James slowly falling for his annoyingly aloof fiance and developing conflicting feelings. All with a B story wolfstar happening in the background- do you see the vision???

[keepswingin]

"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers." —skz

"Fuck," Seungmin spits, fear nearly choking him as he pulls the prince closer to him. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this, not because of him. "Jeongin-yah, look at me."

The prince's eyes had closed after his mumble of an answer, and he's not responding to anything else. Seungmin has never felt so terrified in his life.

He's ruined everything, let every single lie he's told been seen, and now the one person who was meant to pay the price from the very beginning has left a mark on Seungmin's life that he won't be able to replace.

What has he done?

"Jeongin," he calls again, louder this time, one palm pushing hard against his cheek in an attempt to wake him back up.

Rain drips from his hair, mixing with the blood that sits at the top of the prince's clothes, watercolor against his pale skin. Seungmin's chest hitches, and the sob that tears from his throat is nearly inhuman.

"Jeongin, please," he begs, thunder swallowing his words and spitting them back out until it's the only thing he can feel. He thinks he's crying. He thinks he would rip his heart out and offer it to the sky on a silver platter if it would reverse time. He thinks he would give his life to go back and stand in Jeongin's place before the younger could beat him to it.

The blade was meant for him, after all.

The shouting from the castle has grown quieter as soldiers march into the distance after a culprit that's long made his leave, unaware that the threat to the crown sits within their own ranks, an imposter from the very start. Seungmin has never thought himself dangerous, but for some reason he feels deadly, sitting here with someone's life hovering in his hands.

He looks to the wound again.

He's tried to clot it the best he could, but between the rain and what's already been stained, it's hard for him to tell if it looks any better. Jeongin needs to wake back up for him to have any type of hope in this situation.

He hates this. Hates himself for not seeing what his people were planning, the way they were so eager to use him as a red herring because that's all he's ever been good for. Was it ever a home, if he was simply used because he was smarter than the rest?

You know, you could stay. If you wanted.

Seungmin leans forward, and presses his forehead to Jeongin's. His heart is beating fast, and the rain doesn't slow. One hand clutches at the torn sleeve of Jeongin's shirt like it can anchor him as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

It can't end like this. Anything but this.

I don't belong here.

"Innie," he whispers, desperate. "Wake up. Please wake up. Come back." He hesitates, his next words on the tip of his tongue. Is he allowed to say such a thing, when all he's done is lie? Jeongin doesn't know who he really is.

If he looks close enough at himself, Seungmin doesn't think he knows who he really is either.

"Come back to me."

The next bout of thunder feels like it shakes him down to his very core. The sky is alight with a branching bolt of lightning. There's shouts closer to where they rest, just outside the prince's window. If he lifted his head, he'd be able to see the royal lien blowing in the storm's breeze, curtains curled around the windowsill. Maybe they've finally realized who the real threat is, and how he's holding the prince like he's something that's about to break.

I think that you do.

"I'm sorry for everything, Innie. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for not being who you think I am. I'm sorry for - for getting you hurt."

He can see the blade clear in his mind's eye, the moment replaying over and over. Jeongin's hard glare at the stranger suddenly before them, inching closer to Seungmin and spitting nonsense.

Jeongin stepping in front of Seungmin without hesitation.

Jeongin's quiet gasp, the stutter of his breath. His hands clutching at the wound as if that alone would be enough to stop the blood flow. Seungmin moving to catch him before he hits the ground, arms wrapping desperately around his waist, shock propelling him forward.

"Your people need you, Innie," he whispers, the words poison against his throat. The same people who had run him from his home, the same kingdom that had looked at him like was no better than the very dirt on the ground - but no, not Jeongin.

Jeongin was different than his people, and he was different than the king. He was kind, and curious, and greeted strangers with an open palm. He was the change everyone was afraid of, the change Seungmin's people didn't understand and feared.

The change he was supposed to kill.

"I need you, Innie," he murmurs, heart pounding. He lifts his head and stares down at him like the words themselves will reanimate him, and waits. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

You don't know anything about me, your highness.

"Get away from him!"

Arms callously wrap around him from behind and violently yank him back, Jeongin's sister shrieking his name as she falls to the her knees beside his limp body, her nightgown smearing with dirt and gravel.

She's shaking her brother's shoulder far too roughly, Seungmin thinks, before he's thrown backwards, face hitting the ground. The storm grows worse as he's held there, arms wretched painfully in a way they shouldn't twist, rope tied tightly around his wrists. Maybe they'll hogtie him and leave him out here to drown in the storm.

He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?

His sister turns to Seungmin, tears streaking down her cheeks. "What did you do?" she cries, holding her brother close to her chest. His blood stains the front of her gown. Seungmin's stomach churns. "Tell me what you did to him," she all but begs, hiccuping, far from the prim and posed princess she is supposed to be. "Please!"

Mud and tears clog his throat. His chest heaves with a breath he cannot push out. The guards don't bother to pull him up, instead sending for the doctor who lives on the cusp of the village, far out of reach.

"Seungmin-ah!" his sister shouts amongst a clash of thunder. "They'll hang you for this! Don't you care?"

She stares at him, lips trembling. The cold has chilled Seungmin by now too, his own limbs borderline numb. Or maybe he's just shutting down now that he's failed the one person who meant something to him.

Seungmin's eyes slip back to Jeongin's face. His sister isn't covering him well enough, rain trickling across his lax features, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Seungmin would cover him.

"Not about myself," he whispers as the prince's sister turns back to him, shaking him once more.

He closes his eyes, and wonders what Jeongin would think, when all was said and done. Would he be kind still? Or nurture a hatred even Seungmin couldn't touch?

"Take him away," the princess sobs, curling closer to her brother. "Please."

Jeongin's soft laughter rings in his ears, a memory he can't forget. The knowing curve of his smile, the brush of his warm fingers against Seungmin's skin. The words he whispered after leaning in close to his ear, almost as if they were meant for just the two of them.

I think I know just enough.

[wangxianpromptsgenerator]

Prompt 93: All the Time that we Lost.

Takes place in a Royalty Omegaverse AU, in which an unreciprocated bitting mark fades after 10 years.

Inspired by True Gold Fears no Fire by defractum

__

LWJ wore red at his wedding to Empress Jiang Wuxian. He still allowed himself a breach in tradition, by keeping his ribbon in place instead of handfasting during the ceremony.

(It was bad luck, and rumours flew about how this marriage was doomed from the start. He didn't care.)

His True Love, Wei Ying was dead, it didn't matter who he married. So he did his duty before leaving for War the day after.

(He never unveiled his bride).

Then by a twist of Fate, he was met by the face of his long lost Love upon his return. That successfully managed the state affairs in his absence and bore him a son.

(It sparked unrest, both in his heart and in his court.)

__

WWX didn't know what to think of this marriage.

He expected a lot of things, but perhaps, not being left with a fading bite mark, a pregnancy, and a ruined country to rule in his Husband's stead for 9 years.

And rule, that he did as he cleaned house and the People prospered under his Regency.

Then his Husband came back. It suited him, it left him one year for the transfer of power before he'd be able to annul his marriage and come back to Yunmeng Jiang. Gusu had their heir, so their alliance was cemented anyway.

His only regret was leaving back his little a-Yuan. (His son, his only joy in the Palace, that he raised by himself. It's not as if they'd never be able to visit, though.).

__

Additional Notes:

- LWJ has ONE YEAR to cement his marriage and get bonded back before he'll have to let it go. A faded unreciprocated bond mark is unreversible.

- There may be a couple of assassination attempts on LWJ since both his ministers and the people would rather keep WWX on the Throne. Despite LWJ being a famed General, he was still an unknown ruler, while WWX managed to resolve the food crises in Gusu and get the country out of poverty.

- LWJ fell in love during their teenagehood, when the Jiang siblings studied in the Cloud Recess.

- WWX saw LWJ as an old classmate. He agreed to their union for the Jiang's sake (JWY had no one else to offer, YMJ was in a delicate situation, his family and extended family were slaughtered by the Wens and JYL married into the Jins).

- Yes, JWY adopted WWX into his family before marrying him off. Which is why he is known as Empress JIANG WUXIAN. LWJ had no idea of who he was when they married.

- Some YMJ back story and why WWX is known under another name.

"Wei Ying", JWY's martial brother, beheaded Wen Chao when the Wens led a siege on YMJ. So WRH asked for his life in exchange for a cease-fire, which is why the death of "Wei Ying" was staged.

The reason behind YMJ marriage alliances is that their peace was precarious. Eventually a War broke again, and it lasted 9 years (of which, LWJ was on the front while WWX ruled the country as Regent).

- Lan Yuan is wangxian's biological son. He was conceived on their wedding night, in the dark. LWJ left at sunrise, and he only sees his family for his first time upon his return.

-LQR warmed up to WWX when he realised how diligent he was with his duties as an Empress. Despite his status as an Omega, WWX was initially meant to become JWY's right hand, so he was already familiar with politics. It also helped that a-Yuan was cute.

[anticidic]

Many a moons we have spoken,

Stories told with our emotions,

Passing glances and sunshine eyes,

Tell me the thoughts you picturize?

"Every song, every sunset, it all just reminds me of you."

“You and me. Together.”

He was young and it was summer when they were down by the water, hand-in-hand. Dazai looked distant, casting his gaze out to the lonely sea with such longing that it smelled strongly of salt and felt like the seaweed slime washing ashore. Chuuya got down on one knee and cupped his hands around sand. Warm. The grains slipped from between his fingers the same way opportunities and the concept of them slipped from their future. The past. The present. And the future. Infinite possibilities condensed into a single moment beneath the sun with a flock of seagulls circling above, searching for a place to roost. The waters lapped at their feet and soaked their toes.

He held Dazai's hand a little tighter. Because if he didn't, Dazai might drift out to sea and be lost like all the other sunken ruins and forgotten treasures down, down at the bottom of the ocean. The way Dazai looked at him and the way Dazai felt—felt so right and looked positively brimming with adoration by evening but by day poisoned with envy—Chuuya ached. Envy for what he couldn't be, but it mattered not to Chuuya. He cared not for what Dazai could never be. He loved what was.

Then, he caught a whiff of cinnamon: reminding him of some bygone spring when they took a dive. Chuuya surfaced first with a gasp, sucking breath into his lungs and coughing out water. To his left, nothing. To his right, bubbles on the surface. A reflection of messy brown curls. Then a hand on his ankle.

It pulled him down under.

Chuuya fought to keep his eyes open underwater, but the salt stung. Almost too much. Dazai held a finger to his mouth. Be quiet. If he could speak. And then a playful smile with hidden intent played on his lips and Chuuya understood.

When they resurfaced, they heard the faraway calling of Chuuya's parents. The king and queen. Wanting their prince back at home. Safe and sound. Where he belonged and where Dazai did not and never would. Dazai was a worker at the end of the day, in suit and tie with tray in hand going around asking members of royal families the same, persistent question: "Refreshments?"

The sun tickled his cheeks with a pleasant warmth. This was their little secret, after all. The same secret they planted and protected from the snow and flooding rains. The secret that blossomed and became soft as rose petals and embraced them in longing. The longing smelled of apricot among the reeds. Of dozens of little fireflies half past dusk. And they were gazing up at a starless sky on a hill with the grass beneath them, bodies touching.

“Chuuya!”

This time, his father called. They always called for him, but never for Dazai.

At the end of the day, Chuuya and Dazai were one. Two entwined souls torn apart by day that always found their way back to one another after sunset.

Dazai was the world by day. Needed. With great expectations upon his shoulders that he sometimes tired of them all. But he lived for watering the garden beneath Chuuya's balcony if only to listen in on the prince humming the quietest melody whisked away on the wind.

By night, he became nothing. An exhaled afterthought once the king and queen put their heads on their pillows and the lights went out.

And by night, he became Chuuya’s everything.

“Forever?”

Home. There was a time when Chuuya wouldn't question that word. Home was here, where his mother and father were. But now? Everything was different. Draped in absence, void, memories of the past. He would never see his mother again fixing her hair at the dressing table. No one browsing old books in father's study. And in the hallways, there was only the spirit of the carefree child who now tried to find himself in a new reality.

“And ever. And ever.”

[inchidentally]

Crown Prince Lando AU idea based entirely on his appearance today in Italy for his trophy and Lawrence writing about how every team is courting Lando

okay so I wrote this rly fast on the work laptop and you have to just ignore the weird interpretations of how royalty and inheritance etc works. and completely fucking with how things went down in F1 history. it's an absolute mess and possibly unreadable but I literally couldn't stop myself.

if you're a fic author then pleaaaaase have a look and see if you can take this and actually make anything out of it even if it needs a lot of changes.

Crown Prince Lando has been fought over by nations since he was seventeen years old. His parents had retired from royal duties to live quietly in the countryside but a series of deaths and lack of heirs resulted in Lando living most of his life being prepared for ascension to the throne. His parents did as good a job as they could to keep Lando humble and "normal" while having to live a kind of sequestered monastic existence.

As he grew so did his future subjects' love and adoration of him. They loved his humor and his cheeky treatment of the solemn institution surrounding him. As he grew into being a beauty the country took endless pride in him and watched his exploits as a touring royal closely.

Fernando Alonso was the first to pledge his troth to Prince Lando because he could see the promise in Lando of one day becoming a truly beloved ruler - a quality he himself had found wanting in his own slow gathering of power. However he was persuaded early on by his advisers and Lando's parents to withdraw due to his 'already advanced age'. Lando's debut at court was postponed by his parents to prevent any other establishment attempting to lay their claim before Lando felt comfortable and ready.

The powerful Sainz Vázquez de Castro family swooped in next and arranged a series of public meetings between Prince Lando and their wicked (meaning "experienced") and devastatingly handsome son Carlos Jr. His charisma and dark eyes charmed Prince Lando immediately and a wedding date was set for the following year. Lando's debut at court was hastily arranged to happen mere days prior. Probably should insert something here about Lando being made to live this period of life in a guarded tower and attendants being present whenever he was with Carlos because chastity being required for marriage. And the only way to keep Carlos' dick out of Lando was the threat of a priest's guard cutting it off. But lbr they manage to sneak around well enough to do everything else.

Unfortunately the royal courts of Europe were shaken by a quick series of upsets: Sovereign Prince Lorenzo of Monaco abdicated the throne in search of a quieter life - his heart had never been in it since his father, the former sovereign, had become ill and abdicated. This left Lorenzo's unwed brother Charles to be hastily crowned Prince Regent at the tender age of 22 (and unable to become sovereign himself due to being a second son, again my weird rules). As a result Charles suffered the loss of his long-time suitor, nobleman Sebastian Vettel, who couldn't bear the thought of being sovereign let alone of a land that wasn't even his own.

Enter the Sainz Vázquez de Castro elders siezing the opportunity and negotiating a deal with Monaco in private conclave with the Papal State (??) to wed their son Carlos to the Prince Regent. Carlos is ashamed at giving in to the temptation… to not just be King Consort but to be Sovereign Prince, to rule over the vast wealth of Monaco and by extension the Holy See, to have the coveted beauty Charles in his bed. So he agrees to be spirited away to Monaco and the ugly business of dissolving his betrothal to Lando is left to members of church and state.

But Carlos experiences a complete conversion when Charles is on his knees in the cathedral - looking up at him with docile green eyes as Carlos' fingertips touch the warm red roses of Charles' lips as he holds the chalice of holy wine for Charles to drink. Carlos was almost hard beneath the ermine and velvet robes in a house of God when the crown was on his head and Charles next to him - and slightly below - smiling up at him with filaments of gold hanging from pendants on his chaplet, framing his achingly beautiful face. If Carlos feels his immense happiness and prosperity darken whenever he sees Lando's picture or encounters him at one of the courts then no one need know.

Prince Lando is of course too heartbroken to consider other suitors and his court is demoralized by their own failure to seal his future. Only brash American tycoon Zak Brown keeps the faith that Lando's appeal as he grows will land him a better match than any Euro old money looking to aggrandize themselves and take advantage of Lando's youth to displace his rightful future as King.

A stroke of genius is the arrival of commoner Daniel Ricciardo whose rise up the ranks of society has hit more than a few speedbumps over the years. He's in the perfect position to act as placeholder and a sort of 'playmate' for the young Prince Regent. Daniel does the job of squiring Lando around and cheering him up beautifully. So beautifully that Daniel begins to see in his charge's wide eyes a future that he had only ever let himself dream of before. He begins to publicly push the boundaries of propriety with Lando like holding hands, embracing him from behind, dancing scandalously close together. The dam begins to break when Daniel opens a public social media account and begins posting adoring and fairly intimate videos of Lando that prove to be a massive hit with the public… and that fan rumours of the Crown Prince breaking with tradition and marrying a commoner.

Exeunt Daniel Ricciardo.

(Yes I know this isn't remotely his role but go with it) Newly appointed Lord Chancellor Andrea Stella proposes that only a candidate the same age as Lando - or ideally younger - should be considered to ensure that his claim to the throne be safeguarded. Because Lando hasn't spent the intervening years doing nothing but swooning over a succession of suitors, he's perfected his role and learned his court and won over the hearts of his people. He's effected harmonious relations with rival kingdoms seemingly effortlessly. The royal coffers have never been so full and trade is booming. Lando and his court all know that Lando could easily rule alone. But the fire that the now King of Monaco had lit inside him refused to go out. It begged to be fueled and to burn brighter.

Then one day Andrea hears a murmur of controversy happening in the middling levels of the aristocracy. The scoundrel Alonso had construed a match between one Oscar Piastri and Frenchman Esteban Ocon as a means of effecting his (Alonso's) escape and aggrandizing the Alpine dynasty. There were further details about a drama between Ocon and countryman Pierre Gasley but all that interested Andrea was that young Piastri had ordered a direct pronouncement be made against the match and any further association with Alpine. He had already rejected the opportunity of being presented at court and clearly had plans for his own future that would not depend on the protection or condescension of any other power but his own.

Imagine Andrea's surprise when Zak Brown announces at the next privy council meeting that preliminary arrangements had been made with young Piastri to be the Crown Prince's companion for the following season. A pretense at Piastri having an interest in royal politics was to be given to everyone, including Piastri himself. But Andrea and Zak shared a knowing look across the mote-stained light straining through the high windows of the old chamber. The Crown Prince barely even hears the details as he wearily signs off on the public notice along with the other endless papers at his elbow. He doesn't even dream that a wildcard is being played for his future happiness.

The eldest son of the prominent and noble Piastri family from Tuscany is suitably beautiful with the characteristic straight brow, fine pale features and soulful deep amber eyes of his people. He is tall and still growing with an effortless regal bearing despite his youth. The first few meetings between him and the Crown Prince are cordial and with a promising warmth. Andrea is encouraged by the pink that rises high on Piastri's pale cheeks whenever he shares smiles with Lando but he's even more encouraged by the steady intensity of his gaze when Lando isn't looking.

For the first few months, Piastri remains a faithful but distant part of Lando's royal retinue. They interact often enough and clearly like each other. But it also comes at a time of unrest in Lando's kingdom as a result of the ascension of an ambitious and possibly ruthless young King in the Netherlands. Lando proposes a visit to Castle Toro Rosso and asks Piastri to accompany them due to the Italian affiliation with the Dutch royal house. Something about Piastri's calm and quiet confidence helps stabilize Lando and he needs all the support he can get.

The visit is strained and the Dutch court is intimidating - and rather grating - in it's brash opulence and show of dominance. The young King is more of a mystery, seeming cold and aloof but flashing a wry smile at Lando's well-known charm and humor. The tide turns entirely in Lando's favor at the tourney. Lando has been barred from jousting following his formal presentation as crown prince due to some finicky archaic British law and it eats away at it him to have to sit and watch while the Dutch King was allowed to ride for himself. More than once Lando moodily pushes at the circlet that keeps slipping over his curls and can feel himself being increasingly bratty and short with his attendants.

Piastri was already reknowned for his prowess in jousting and was automatically given the seat to represent the Crown Prince. When he appeared mounted on a blood bay charger that gleamed almost golden and black in the hot sun (MCL colors kinda??) Lando has A Moment when Piastri tips his visor open and addresses him formally and those intense brown eyes behind the cold armor make him look so much older. Lando causes a stir when he descends from his seat and gives Piastri his favor in the form of a ribbon from one of his full sleeves. They have one of Those Looks between each other before Piastri turns to take his place. He bests every one of his opponents and isn't unseated once.

Then the Dutch King Max Emilian appears and strangely shuns any pageantry associated with a knight's entry, let alone a king's. His Lady sits in his place flanked by both her own and the King's powerful families and court. Lando finds himself suddenly flooded with fear because what would happen if Oscar lost? What would happen if Oscar won? When had he become 'Oscah' and not just Piastri?

The collision unseats both King Max Emilian and Oscar and they draw swords. The fight is precise and clinical and breathtaking. Perhaps it was because of having more to lose or perhaps it was the press of the Crown Prince's lips against the silk ribbon he gave as tribute but Oscar suddenly anticipates a step too far ahead for the young King and a unified gasp is heard when Max Emilian's body hits the dirt. It's instinct that has Oscar's sword held at the King's throat. But when Max Emilian throws his visor back his bloodied mouth is stretched in a wide toothy grin. He barks out a series of high cackles and ceremonially begs mercy. Oscar breathes out in a rush and claps his armored hand around the King's and helps him to his feet. Max Emilian flicks Oscar's visor open for him and lifts his hand declaring Oscar's well-earned victory. Lando forgets himself and leaps up yelling and cheering as his court smiles ruefully over at the stiff, formal "celebrations" coming from the stands opposite.

Holy god I've written way more than I meant to but let's have it finish off with Lando whispering to gain access to the tent where Oscar is undressing and cleaning his wounds. Perhaps his armor has been removed down to the hips the way driver's drop their race suits down after a race. Oscar startles when he sees Lando alone with him and rushes to kneel to him. Maybe Lando puts his hand under Oscar's chin and tells him to rise up and oh maybe seeing Oscar sweaty and dirtied with a cut to one cheek and a few bruises on his body makes him forget himself. Maybe he surges up and kisses Oscar and maybe Oscar is shocked but also feels exactly the same way and kisses him right back. Then probably Oscar decides to make his boldest move yet and says that if Lando doesn't want him then he'll quietly go away - but if Lando does want him then Oscar would welcome the title King Consort, would be proud of it in fact to be in service a king like Lando one day.

Then Lando either passes out because he's been in blue ball hell since Carlos and years worth of arousal hit him all at once or maybe he just whimpers a little and starts wondering how fast a royal wedding can get planned so he can Get That Dick ASAP.

Fin.

[bumblee27]

Here is my gift for @arthropod-concoctions as part of the @mcyt-summer-of-yuri! :DD

Hope you like it! Happy yuri! ^^

[runariya]

I just saw that prompt game thingy and thought maybe you could write something for me too.

Emojis: 👑🥰💍🥂

Member: Taehyung

Line: 'With a smirk, Taehyung scoffed, "You think you can resist me? How adorable."'

(royal+fluff+wedding+party) part of the prompt game pairing: prince!Taehyung x female reader genre: royal!AU, f2s2l, fluff warnings: yearning, fluff, fluff, fluff, kissing word count: 2.092

a/n: thank you anony for this prompt request! I hope you like it! I tweaked the tense to better match my writing style, I hope that works for you!

The grand halls of the palace are alive with laughter and music, the chatter of guests echoing against the high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers. Tonight, the Kingdom of Kimhan celebrates the wedding of its beloved prince, Kim Taehyung, in a grand party that has the entire realm buzzing with excitement.

You find yourself among the crowd as an unexpected guest at this royal affair. Receiving an invitation had been a complete surprise, especially since you aren’t royalty and haven’t spoken to Taehyung in five years. As a commoner, you feel slightly out of place among the nobility, but the allure of the celebration pulls you in regardless. The hall seems foreign but familiar at the same time. 

Dressed in a borrowed forest green gown, you glide through the ballroom, admiring the regal decor. Golden banners hang alongside rich tapestries, and the floor sparkles as if scattered with stardust. The guests are a sea of elegant dresses and tailored suits, moving rhythmically to the orchestra playing a waltz.

As you move through the crowd, your eyes are drawn to the center of the room, where Prince Taehyung stands, a magnetic figure who draws everyone’s gaze. He is as charming as the latest stories suggest, with his dark, tousled hair falling effortlessly around his eyes and a smile that could light up the night. His suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and confident and tall stance. The prince's eyes, a deep brown that seem to hold a thousand secrets, scan the room with an easy confidence.

Despite the attention he receives from the well-wishers surrounding him, there’s a part of you that wants to avoid him. Memories of your shared childhood flood back—the days spent exploring the palace gardens, the laughter echoing between the corridors. Those days seemed simpler, back when you were just two kids enjoying each other's company, before the weight of social class became apparent.

You’ve had a crush on Taehyung for as long as you can remember, but the divide between your worlds kept you at a distance. You’ve watched him grow from afar, seen him transform into the man he is now. And though your heart yearns for him, you’ve always convinced yourself that someone like you could never truly fit into his world.

Yet, here you are, and despite your resolve to remain unnoticed, your eyes keep finding their way back to him.

A soft voice catches your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a woman next to you comments, gesturing to the scene. She’s older, with kind eyes and a warm smile.

You nod, forcing a smile. “It’s like a dream,” you reply, trying to keep your awe in check.

She chuckles. “Indeed. Prince Taehyung’s wedding is the event of the century. I’m just glad to witness it.”

“Who is he marrying?” you ask, though the question leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

The woman laughs softly. “Oh, the prince isn’t marrying tonight. This is a pre-wedding celebration. The actual ceremony will be held tomorrow. Tonight is for the people to rejoice.”

Your heart sinks a little at the confirmation. Taehyung, your Taehyung, is to marry someone else. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, wondering who the woman is that will stand beside him for life. You’ve spent years trying to suppress your feelings, but the thought of him with another makes your heart ache in an intensity you never knew it could feel. 

“Do you know who the lucky bride is?” you inquire, your voice barely masking the tremor beneath.

The woman gives you a conspiratorial smile. “Rumor has it she’s a lady of noble birth, but beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess. The royal family has been quite secretive.”

You thank her for the information, and she moves on, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your gaze drifts back to Prince Taehyung, now dancing with a young woman who’s matching his beauty with ease. His movements are graceful, and he leads with an effortless confidence that draws admiration from those around him.

As you watch them, a wistful longing fills your chest. How many times have you imagined being in her place, twirling in his arms under the soft glow of the chandeliers? You’ve always known it was a foolish dream, yet the desire persists even years later.

The night wears on, and you find yourself swept into the festivities. You dance with strangers, share laughter and stories, and for a while, forget your unease. The music is intoxicating, and you let yourself be carried by the rhythm.

Eventually, you step outside for some fresh air. The gardens are illuminated by lanterns, casting a warm glow over the carefully manicured hedges and flowers. You stroll along a path you know from your childhood days spent here, enjoying the tranquility that contrasts with the lively atmosphere inside.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t notice when someone joins you. It’s Prince Taehyung, his presence unmistakable even in the dim light. He walks beside you silently for a moment before speaking.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he comments, his voice smooth and inviting.

You nod, caught off guard by hearing his deep, velvety voice after so long. “It is. The gardens are lovely.”

He chuckles softly, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “I noticed you inside. You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond. “I didn’t expect to be here, honestly. But it’s been a wonderful evening.”

Taehyung stops, turning to face you fully. “I’m glad. It’s important that everyone feels welcome at the palace.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that surprises you. Despite his status, he doesn’t carry the aloofness you expected. Instead, he seems genuinely interested in your presence despite you ghosting him years ago. 

Before you can respond, he speaks again, his tone lighthearted. “Do you know how to waltz?”

The question catches you off guard. “I’ve had some lessons, but I’m not very good,” you admit, feeling self-conscious.

Taehyung offers his hand, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Care to join me for a dance? I promise I won’t step on your toes.”

You hesitate, glancing back towards the ballroom where the music drifts softly. You remind yourself that his future wife is probably waiting for him inside and that it’s best not to get too close. After all, he has a new life ahead of him, one that doesn’t include you. But his invitation is hard to resist, and you find yourself placing your hand in his.

As Taehyung leads you to a small clearing, the moon casts a silvery glow over the scene. He guides you with practiced ease, his touch light. His hand on your waist feels reassuring, and you try to focus on the steps rather than the fluttering in your chest.

“You dance well,” he compliments, his gaze holding yours.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m just trying not to trip.”

Taehyung chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re doing just fine. Trust me.”

His confidence is infectious, and you relax into the dance, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment. The music, though distant, provides a perfect backdrop to your impromptu waltz.

Dancing in the moonlight with the man you’ve always loved, you try with all your might to hold yourself together. You want to create a beautiful memory that will last for the rest of your life, something that you can look back on fondly when all of this is over. 

You gaze at Taehyung, who is stunningly handsome and just as charming as he was when you were children. His warm brown eyes, one with a monolid, are deep and mesmerising, filled with a kind of tenderness that makes you ache inside. His plush, heart-shaped lips curl into a gentle smile that sends your heart racing, and his perfectly sloped nose complements his elegant features. You resist the urge to feather your fingers across the smooth skin of his cheek, knowing that this moment must be enough.

Taehyung hasn’t changed a bit, but he has grown into the most attractive man on earth. His long hair falls softly around his face, framing those beautiful eyes you once knew so well. He holds you close, his hands steady and reassuring, and you can’t help but notice how much he has matured. The same boyish charm he had as a child is still there, but now it’s paired with a confidence that makes him irresistible. 

As he gazes at you, his expression is warm and sincere, as if he sees right into your soul. You wish you could freeze time, stay in this moment with him forever, but you know that soon he will return to a life that no longer includes you. So, you hold on tightly, committing every detail of his face to memory, hoping it will bring you comfort in the days to come.

When the song comes to an end, Taehyung slows, keeping you close. There’s a warmth in his expression that doesn't seem to falter one bit. 

“Thank you,” you say, breathless from both the dance and his proximity.

“It was my pleasure,” he replies, his voice soft. “I’ve missed seeing you around.”

The confession takes you by surprise, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more beneath his words. Taehyung’s hand brushes against your cheek, a soft, lingering touch that makes your breath hitch.

“You’ve grown up,” he muses, his gaze never leaving yours. “But you’re still the same girl I remember.”

The tenderness in his voice tugs at something deep within you. It’s as if he sees past the walls you’ve built, straight to the heart you’ve tried to guard.

“I suppose some things never change,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Taehyung’s eyes hold a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache. “Why do you always avoid me, hm?” he asks with a smirk, his tone both teasing and challenging.

You hesitate, the truth hovering on the tip of your tongue. “I guess I just didn’t want to get in the way. You’re royalty, Tae.”

He steps closer, his hand still resting lightly against your cheek. “And you think that means we can’t be friends?”

“Friends,” you repeat, the word feeling bittersweet. “I’m not one of your delusional fangirls.” You attempt to step back, but he draws you into his chest, and you collide with a soft exhale.

With a smirk, Taehyung scoffs, “You think you can resist me? How adorable.”

You meet his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “I didn’t say I wanted to resist.”

The air between you shifts, charged with possibilities. It’s a moment suspended in time, where anything seems possible.

Taehyung’s expression softens, and he moves closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m glad. Because I’ve always wanted to see you again.”

His words wash over you like a gentle wave, filling the spaces you didn’t know were empty. Despite the improbability of it all, you feel a thrill of excitement.

“I’ve always wanted to see you too,” you admit, feeling a sense of certainty in your response.

The tension between you builds, and Taehyung’s gaze drops to your lips. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, his touch as gentle as the warm summer breeze.

You lean in, your heart racing as you close the distance between you. The kiss is soft, a tentative exploration that quickly deepens into something more. Taehyung’s lips are warm and inviting, and you lose yourself in the sensation of being so close to him.

The world around you fades away, leaving just you and Taehyung, two souls drawn together by fate and choice. In the gardens of the palace, beneath the stars, you find a connection that defies expectations.

As you pull apart, your foreheads resting against each other, you can’t help but smile. The promise of new beginnings fills the air, a future you’re eager to explore together.

Taehyung gazes at you with a tenderness that makes your heart soar. “You were my past. You are my present.” he promises, his voice filled with conviction. “Please be my future and marry me tomorrow.” 

“What about the bride?” You ask him dazed. 

“That all,” he gestures to the festivities inside, “is all for you. It was always only you.” 

And in that moment, you believe him. Together with Taehyung, you step into the future, a future you always wished for.