Red, White and Royal Blue Male Reader One Shots

Feeling Forever - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader

Y/N's POV

I sit in the opulent study of Kensington Palace, my mind consumed by the weight of my responsibilities as the Prince of England. The grandeur of the room, with its antique furniture and shelves lined with leather-bound volumes, offers little solace from the incessant demands of my title. The portrait of my ancestors looms over me, a constant reminder of the legacy I must uphold.

Outside the window, the London skyline stretches to the horizon, a reminder of the world beyond these palace walls. And in the world, there is Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz, the first son of the United States, the man who has captured my heart and challenged every notion of duty and tradition.

I can't help but drift back to memories of Alex sleeping soundly beside me, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm, a soft smile gracing his lips. It was in those moments, the world outside the palace walls temporarily forgotten, that I felt the most at peace. The way his hand would find mine in the darkness, fingers entwining as if we could hold the world at bay together. But then morning would come, and the harsh light of responsibility would pierce the bubble of our intimacy. I'd watch him sleep, torn between the ache in my heart and the duty that called me away. How many times had I quietly slipped out of bed and flown back to England, leaving him behind, knowing that I couldn't afford to choose love over my role in the public eye. Each time felt like a dagger through my heart, a sacrifice I had to make to fulfil my obligations.

The door to the study swings open suddenly, and there he is: Alex. His presence both electrifying and unsettling. He storms into the room, his russet eyes aflame with determination and I can't help but notice the way the soft, warm glow of the chandelier highlights the fierce lines of his jaw and the fire in his gaze. His presence fills the room with an energy that is impossible to ignore.

"Y/N," he speaks, voice each with a mix of urgency and vulnerability, "I- We- We need to talk."

I shift from my place at the window, my heart pounding in my chest as I take in his disheveled appearance. His hair, usually perfectly curled, is tousled, and his shirt rumpled as he looks like he hastily put it on. His arrival is unannounced, and I can't help but wonder how he managed to bypass my security detail.

As I meet his gaze, I see it there - the raw emotion he's been struggling to contain. His love, his frustration, his fear - all laid bare for me to see. And it's in that moment that my internal turmoil intensifies. This love between us, it defies boundaries and expectations. He's the first son of the United States and I'm one of the Princes of England, our lives bound by duty and protocol. Yet, as he stands before me, I can't deny the depth of my feelings for him, feelings that have grown stronger with every stolen glance and secret rendezvous.

"Y/N," he repeats, his voice cracking as he steps closer, desperation etched into every word. "I- Fuck, I am in love with you!" His words practically explode from him, his hands torn between reaching out for me or pulling at his already messy hair. His declaration hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. It has me swallowing that lump in my throat, torn between the love I have for Alex and the responsibilities that weigh upon me as a prince. The weight of tradition and expectation bears down on me, threatening to crush the fragile connection we've built. But as I look into his eyes, the fire of his love and the vulnerability in his gaze, I feel my resolve breaking as the tears begin to blur my vision

"Alex," His name slips from my lips like a broken promise, a choked sob following. My heart aches, torn between duty and desire, between the world that expects so much from me and the man who has captured my heart.

In that moment, all the walls I've built around my heart crumble. The need to be in his arms, to feel his touch, overwhelms me. I'm stumbling into his arms, my body seeking solace in his embrace. His arms wrapping around me, holding me close, and it feels like coming hime after a long and arduous journey. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spill over, and I bury my face in the crook of my neck, inhaling his familiar scent. My fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as if trying to anchor myself in this moment of vulnerability.