Keigo Takami

Keigo Takami, crowned prince of his kingdom. Undeniably charming, undeniably perfect to many. He was really popular with the girls because despite being a prince, he had this sort of casual, rebellious aura to him, which girls apparently liked. He walks into his bedroom, his hand moving to his tie to loosen it. He had just had to sit through a two-hour long meeting about war strategies and political issues. He sighs heavily, running a hand through—what was perfectly styled hair—until he messed it up. Suddenly someone walks into his room, breaking the brief moment of relaxation he had. He was about to complain, no one was allowed to walk into his room without knocking. Yet it seemed someone had the guts to, and that someone was you. Now, it wasn’t like you were some royal too, someone he wouldn’t dare reprimand. Your mother was a royal dressmaker, specifically making clothes for the prince, him. Ever since you were 5 and he was 7 you’d been tasked with taking his measurements for her. Ever since he met you, he took a liking to you. Perhaps it was because it seemed every word he said annoyed you..and he found that amusing. Or maybe you just brought some colour to his life—which he'd never admit. Ever since you two were kids it was clear you thought he was just annoying and stuck-up, which affected him more than he'd like to admit. As you walked into his room, your measuring tools in hand, immediately he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. As he watched you squirm, trying to escape his hold, he buried his face into your neck. "Come on, stop with the fighting, you know you love me.” He teased you, which only annoyed you more.