#IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS PRECIOUS AND ADORABLE

[whirlpool-blogs]

Leaving | Episode 3

[thisonesock]

Opening up the Lucifer Protection Squad. Accepting applications from now on.

[mage-ical-character-person]

Her

Her

She’s so excited about the letter e. Look at her. Look at her smile!

How Do Flowers Grow? Well every time Beep Boppalot smiles…

She’s just. Cute. Really really cute.

Look at her. Standin on her non-existent tippy toes. Does she know how endlessly charming she is.

she’s so important she’s so silly she’s jumping off a gondola after her friend.

The coolest creature ever.

[skelethereals]

There are some aspects of the HOTD (High School of Dragons) fandom on which the majority seems to agree:

Helaena is a precious cinnamon roll who must be protected at all costs an has done nothing wrong, ever.

The actors who play Jace, Rhaenyra and Gwayne serve too much face, no matter the circumstances. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.

Cregan deserved way more screen time, period.

Dragons getting slaughtered? It's giving animal cruelty, we do not condone.

Alys is cool as fuck and has been mothering for the past 200 years.

RIP Rhaenys, the GOAT. The Queen who should have been.

Vhagar is too tired to care and she probably doesn't pay attention half of the time.

Fabien is a nice guy, everyone in the cast adores him, y'all need to take some chilltaminophen before bed.

[mysticworks]

Make it up to you ~ Lewis Hamilton

It's your birthday but Lewis' hectic schedule means your special plans for the evening slip his mind.

Word count: < 1k

Genre: Slight Angst/ Mainly Fluff

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The 4 missed calls on his phone were enough to make him panic. 'Crap! Crap! Crap!'

A post qualifiers meeting for the upcoming Silverstone Grand Prix had overrun, the team then deciding to call for a last minute dinner that forced Lewis to stay longer than planned.

The qualifier rounds had been especially tough, car issues forcing Hamilton and Russel to bear the brunt of disappointing start positions for that weeks race. To clear his head, Lewis had gone for a quick gym session - your plan together completely slipping his mind in the heat of pressure to perform.

It only dawned onto him, after he'd showered, making him scramble into his car to get home as quickly as legally possible.

Pulling into the driveway, Lewis’ eyes fell on the dim lamp light, the glow peering through the closed curtains and painting shadows across the porch.

It was well past 2am and his heart sank at the thought of you sitting at home, awake and waiting for him in the silence of the night. The regret made his breath hitch. 

I should’ve dropped a text. At the very least, I should've let her know.

Clenched fists in frustration, Lewis’ brows furrowed as he silently opened the front door, careful to tiptoe quietly to where he figured you were. It felt illegal to make any noise in such defeaning quiet.

Lewis called your name out softly before stopping dead in his tracks at the living room entrance. 

It all hit him at once; the birthday fairy lights hung around the ceiling, the lingering waft of the cake you’d baked earlier that evening, the dull click of the clock hand as it counted the precious seconds you'd lost together, the soft snores coming from you at intervals. 

His eyes rummaged through the room, coming to rest on the central coffee table. You’d taken out a film, in hopes of watching it tonight; his all time favourite - Disney’s Cars 3. Besides the CD, was the cake you’d baked - candles all set and matchstix ready to be set alight. 

Except I didn’t turn up. I let you down. 

He’d promised you this quiet night in, at the very start of the season and now he’d failed you. Guilt filled his core, eyes watering slightly. He sucked in a breath, heart sinking. 

And then his eyes fell on you. Curled against the sofa’s armrest, a soft blanket carelessly thrown over you, in your slumber. You were still clutching your phone tightly in one hand, having fallen asleep whilst waiting for him to arrive. Lewis’ gut wrenched.

Coming to crouch down in front of you, Lewis gently pulled a strand of stray hair away, whispering rushed apologies to your sleeping face. Delicate with his hands, he caressed his thumb across your cheek, biting down on his own lip. The guilt was submerging him.

Saying he felt awful was an understatement. Your chest rose and fell gently, and he found himself edging closer to you, to leave a quick peck on your forehead. 

The feeling of his warm breath on your skin, made your eyes flutter open. Groggily.

“Lewis?” Your voice was thick with sleep. He only hummed in response, sucking in a short breath before letting out a soft, hushed, “hey there.”

His eyes creased into a tired smile, the crows feet around his eyes all the more so adorable in the dimmed lamp glow. 

You smiled back - your eyes were still fluttering, and Lewis gently tugged your phone out of your hand, placing it on the table, before turning back to you, his eyes staring directly into yours. 

There was something sad about his look - something almost remorseful… disappointment with himself. It concerned you, but Lewis spoke first, “I’m so sorry. There’s no excu-” 

You hushed him at once, slurring words with sleep overcoming you. “Let’s talk in the morning hmm?” You knew his work took a large chunk out of his life, and although you had been looking forward to a quiet night together, you knew it’d have to wait.

He broke into a deep chuckle, bopping your nose with his finger, “Wanna head to bed then?”

You shook your head, scooting into the sofa even further, and patting the small space left next to you. Lewis didn’t think twice, the seat dipping as he crawled in beside you in the tight space offered. 

“Not made for two is it?” 

There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and it made you happier he was lighter in spirit.

“Well then we’ll just have to scoot close.” 

You shifted closer to Lewis, and he turned his body so your face leaned against his chiselled torso, the woolly fabric of his hoodie making a cosy cushion. His arm came to wrap itself around you, pulling you tighter, his lips placing the softest kiss at the top of your forehead. 

“I’ll make tonight up to you, I promise.” His voice was a whisper, a silent comforter, with sincerity. He really meant it.

You nodded into his chest, humming in response, before you both let your eyes pull you into slumber. 

[seravphs]

Act One, Chapter One: half agony, half hope

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

Main Masterlist | AO3

wc — 10k

tags — royal au, knight gojo, princess reader, forbidden love, ballroom scene, dancing, court politics, blood, minor character death, period-typical misogyny, complicated relationships with fathers, secret meetings, flouting social etiquette by sneaking out to meet your childhood best friend who is also your loyal knight, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Next: the beginning of devotion (coming soon)

He was so still Shoko almost mistook him for a dead body. It was a common misunderstanding in her line of business, but not one she was usually startled by. As a poisoner, legally and officially a herbalist, the occasional corpse on her table wasn’t such an unexpected occurrence. A lord, on the other hand, was. 

Especially if it was him.   

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a lord. He was the son of the former Hand of the King, the greatest swordsman in living history, and connected to the princess. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know the Gojo name. It was synonymous with the royal house itself as the clan that had produced scores of advisors to the king. In nearly every generation, the heir to the throne was accompanied by a Gojo, acting as a living sword and shield. 

But even with that storied history, this one was special. A young man who had risen to prominence during The Silent War, he returned home from hell as a knight unlike any other. The bards would adore him. They already did. 

Most generals earned their titles by leading campaigns. Gojo hadn’t needed one. He turned the tides of the war as a single man army. They had started calling him a grim reaper, a god of death. 

Shoko disliked him on principle, but she couldn’t kill a man like that. They’d have her head on a pike. She didn’t mind the idea of dying so much. What she did shrink from was the idea of dying painfully. 

The princess was known for abstaining from most decisions involving the crown despite being in line to inherit it, but Shoko somehow doubted that she would remain so passive if her favorite knight was murdered. Thankfully, Gojo let out a soft breath to show her that he did remain among the living. 

“I thought you died,” she remarked. 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” 

She said something else, but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. He was floating through a shapeless world again, chasing that moment. It slipped away from him despite his redoubled attempts to capture it. He remembered the tang of iron in his mouth. Blood spraying in the air, a mist that he could smell and taste. The leather grip of his sword in his hands, slippery with sweat. 

He was trying to win back enlightenment, briefly attained and lost again just as quickly on the battlefield. A feeling of deep and solid peace had settled over him as he hacked through bodies, as if that was what he was meant to do. It should’ve concerned him. He already confused the ever thinning boundary between man and monster. That bloodshed brought him such euphoric tranquility could only mean it was growing worse, but he hated things he couldn’t understand. 

He needed to experience it again. Just one more time, so he could make sense of it. The smell of blood. Wading through the dead and the dying, thigh deep in gore - it was no use. Frustrated, he let it go. 

There was something soothing about the cracks in the ceiling. He stared up at it, letting his breaths come as shallowly as they had while he had been immersed in his meditative state. Shoko’s basement was chilly and dark, but it was necessary for the illegal autopsies she performed at his request. Those, and the poisons she crafted for him, were its primary purpose. It was only a stroke of luck that these qualities were also helpful for his attempts to recover his short-lived state of grace. 

He was tempted to try again, but not today. There was someone too precious to keep waiting if he delayed any longer. He wouldn’t impose upon her the way he often imposed on the elder lords who tried to remind him of his place by pulling rank. While they deserved his spite, she didn’t. 

Even Shoko was surprised by his sudden desire for punctuality. “You’re not going to stay?”

“I have a princess to rescue,” he said. “Dragons to slay, things of that nature.” 

Shoko scoffed. “You are the dragon they have to save princesses from.”

Well, Gojo thought as he hurried down the corridor, she wasn’t wrong. He was sure others agreed with her. He didn’t waste his time with children’s tales anymore, but he remembered his mother’s voice whispering to him in the dark, curled around him in his bed. A dragon was a tool to lock princesses away. His presence deterred anyone from coming too near to his princess, so by that definition, he was most certainly a dragon. 

Gojo found that he was a little proud of himself for that. Thinking of his mother had made him nostalgic. He thought she might be proud too, that he had taken such good care of the princess she herself had looked after. A dragon might trap, but it also guarded and hoarded. He had polished his princess like a treasure, lavishing her with attention until she had become a gem. 

She was beautiful. 

He was a soldier, so he had long since rid himself of the ability to lose his breath, but if he still could, he would’ve choked at the sight of her when he broke past the doors. She was seated so that the eye of anyone who entered the ballroom would be drawn to her first, but he would’ve found her regardless. He had promised. 

Wherever you were, he would always find you. 

It’s difficult to hide, being as tall as he is, but Gojo managed. He didn’t want you to see him coming. Already, he has to bite his lip to fight down his smile as he draws closer and closer. A few more steps, a detour to duck behind some random noble, and he’s in front of you. 

“May I?” You don’t have a chance to speak before he’s already dragging a chair closer. 

The smile on your face doesn’t match the harsh delivery of your words. “The next time you leave me alone with these miserable fools, I’ll order you to fall on your sword.”

Gojo laughs, unfazed. “Good choice. You’re too pretty to get your hands dirty. Although, you are a bit more murderous than expected for a princess.” 

“You try putting up with Naoya’s simpering gibberish for an hour.”

“I don’t have to.” He slips into the chair beside you, avoiding you neatly when you try to trip him. “Watch your feet, my lady. People like me don’t have to put up with Naoya.” 

People like you shouldn’t have to, either. You’re both higher ranking than he is, a princess and a lord each, yet Gojo’s the only one who gets to escape his painful-to-witness affections. 

It’s only natural. A royal dowry comes attached to you. Any eligible man would have to be an idiot not to fight for your hand, but really, they’re vying for a chance at kingship. You can’t go one day without someone reminding you that you’re a physical embodiment of the crown, something to want and own. 

Gojo pours himself water with a heavy hand, bypassing the wine. Watching him sip at it, you realize you’ve actually never seen him drink.

“Come now,” he says, a little softer. “Don’t look so desolate. What will I do if everyone sees you pouting? You’ll ruin my reputation.”  

“You don’t have a reputation to ruin.” 

“Don’t underestimate the things I’d do for the smallest sign of joy from you. Shall I procure one right now to destroy for your amusement?” 

You know he wants you to smile, but you can’t. Even if Gojo can usually pry laughter from you with the ease of a trained jester, this time, your sadness weighs over you like a heavy wool cloak. It’s your birthday, but it’s not a happy occasion. Every passing year tightens the noose around your neck. 

You’re a princess, and that means your life was arranged for you before you breathed your first breath. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve never had a choice. 

“Don’t,” he whispers. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t make that face,” he says. “I’d marry you. If it came down to it, I’d take care of you.” 

His words nearly cause you to spill your drink all over your finely embroidered dress. If it set in, it would never come out. He grasps your hand just as the cup begins to tip, saving you. 

“Did you mistake your water for wine?” It’s a genuine question from you. 

He waves his goblet around carelessly. You’re worried he might be actually drunk, but you smell no alcohol on him. He couldn’t get inebriated from just a sip, anyway. Whatever wild whims have overtaken him tonight are entirely of his own design. 

“Better me than Naoya, no? I’d keep you safe.” He cracks a crooked smile in your direction, like you’re sharing a secret. “Admit it. I’d be a good husband. If I were around, you’d be untouchable.” 

He’s telling the truth. If Gojo Satoru was your husband, no one would dare anything with you, but you chase the idea from your mind as quickly as Gojo plants it. You’re your father’s daughter, raised on his practicality. You don’t waste time on pipe dreams. Better the hideous truth than a lie costumed in beauty - the bite of thorns was infinitely preferable to the impermanent fantasy of petals. 

Instead of answering him, you push your plate in his direction. You don’t even have to ask. Gojo dutifully takes your knife and fork in hand to cut up your meat. “Not even going to consider it, princess? I’m hurt. That was a serious offer, you know.” 

“You’re insufferable. Be quiet and eat.” 

Gojo’s mother used to say that the more adamantly someone denied something, the closer to the truth it likely was. You can only hope Gojo doesn’t remember, because she was right. The reason you won’t give him even an inch on the topic of marriage is because a proposal from him is the only thing you want but can’t have. 

Predictably, he ignores you. He’s never known when to quit. With so little that can genuinely stand in his way, Gojo has difficulty understanding the concept of a limitation. You’re both spoiled in that sense, noble children who had never been told no. 

“Think about it,” he says casually. “We’d be invincible. What other house could stand before our union?”

“I said- hello, father.” 

“A little early to be calling- oh, hello, Your Majesty. You look well tonight. Is that a new ring?” 

Your father cuffs Gojo around the ears. “Brat.” 

He’s in a good mood, then. 

“My little girl,” he says to you. “How pretty you look. I’m surprised no one has stolen you away from me yet.” 

You’re not so little anymore, but you forgive him. It’s just the two of you, ever since the queen died. He’s the reason you are what you are, as cultivated as a rose in a greenhouse. The climate that nurtured you is one carefully tailored by his own hand. 

“Not for lack of trying,” Gojo says brightly. 

“Boy,” your father calls him, despite the fact that Gojo isn’t a boy either. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He looks truly sorrowful for a moment. “You look just like your mother.” 

Gojo’s smile freezes on his face. It’s true, he does. Through him, the king’s former hand lives again, but you know Gojo doesn’t want to be seen as an extension of her, even if he misses her more than anything. 

You’re familiar with the way your father knows exactly what to say to make you feel small again. The king is someone who exudes power. His uncanny ability to pick out what you’re most sensitive to and exploit it makes even the most proud of noblemen revert to children in his presence, as if they’ve been scolded by a nanny for stealing tarts from the kitchen. It’s strange that you feel the need to protect Gojo, the strongest person you know, from that. 

He reaches out and pats Gojo’s cheek now that he’s reduced him to silence. “Enjoy the night, my dear child.” 

When he leaves, Gojo slumps back in his chair with a tick in his jaw. Even if the king is your father, he can’t help himself. “Nasty old man,” he mutters. 

You pinch his thigh beneath the table. “Smile and look pretty.”

“Ugh, who is it now?”

“Lord Zenin and his son haven’t gotten their fill of tormenting me.” 

“Hm,” Gojo says. “I wonder.” 

“If you have a plan to avoid them, hurry. They’re nearly here.” 

“I don’t know,” he teases. “I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like conversation with Sir Zenin very much either.” 

He grabs your hand. “Then you’ll forgive me for anything that happens tonight?” 

“Anything is questionable, but do as you please.” 

He tugs you from your seat, pulling you through the crowd of people. Caught in his wake, you float past faces familiar and unfamiliar until the patriarch of House Zenin and his infernal spawn fade behind you. 

When you turn to face him again, he’s dipped into a bow. His smile is sweet, boyish. It’s as if you’re children again, and he’s stolen you from your lessons to waltz in an empty ballroom, motes of dust that you’ve stirred up floating in the sunbeams. 

He extends his hand, a sapphire burning on one finger. A dragon curls around the silver band of the ring, a nod to his heritage. Though the Gojos are a powerful and ancient house, in this moment, Gojo looks young, foolish, and all the better for it. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” 

You giggle, wishing you had a fan to pretend to hide behind. You’re playing pretend again, acting as if you’re characters from a storybook.

“I’d be delighted to, my lord.” 

The music swells. Gojo takes your hand and presses a kiss to your bare knuckles. His lips are soft against your skin, temptation incarnate. In his grasp, your fingers tremble slightly, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. 

You’re terrified by how much you want him. 

If you let him in for one second, you can imagine how easy it would be to never stop. He’s every one of your desires and hopes made manifest, tied up in a single person. Although it’s impossible, you still feel the heat of him. The warmth of his lips linger on you, a stolen moment before he sweeps you up in his arms.

This is how you remember he’s a boy no longer. The breadth of his shoulders is wide. He’s lost the roundness of youth, his face growing angular and cunning. There’s solid muscle underneath your hands as he pulls you with him, his feet beating a steady rhythm that you have to fight to keep up with. 

He’s doing it on purpose, you know, testing how much you still retained all of those years of tutoring. You’re determined to show him they weren’t for naught. 

When you catch your breath and master the music once more, gliding with him rather than being tugged along, he smiles like he always expected you to. He’s been like this since you were young, dangling challenges in front of you that he’s equally as excited to see you pass as fail. 

The music slows. All around you, the frantic steps melt into slow swaying. You’re feeling brave tonight, so you step closer. You allow the arm curled more tightly around your waist, the tender look in his eyes. When you steal a glance around, no one is watching the two of you, but how far can you go before you lose it all? 

“Don’t talk to Naoya again,” he murmurs against your skin. It tickles, and you squirm until he presses so close it petrifies you. “I don’t like the rumors around him.”

“What rumors?”

“Bad ones. He tumbles girls and leaves them with nothing. Hurts them, takes whatever he wants, and ruins their lives. I don’t trust him, and especially not with you.” His hand smoothes over a stray ruffle on your petticoat, the gesture impossibly loving. “Never with you, princess.” 

You shudder at the way he says princess, feeling cut open, exposed. What has gotten into him tonight? You don’t understand. It feels like drowning, your brain always three steps behind, struggling to break the waves of your confusion. 

You know you’re weak. It’s your name that protects you, the threat of your father and the royal house behind you. Alone, you’re a lamb to slaughter. You’ve been spoiled your whole life, leaving you naive and helpless. 

Gojo is someone you trust implicitly. He’s always protected you. You’ve relied on him for as long as you’ve been alive, but perhaps that’s conditioned you to feel comfortable putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. Even at the chance of exposing how poorly you’ve been trained for the court’s schemes, you don’t hold back when you’re with him. He makes you feel at ease to speak freely without fearing how much you’ll reveal of your own vulnerabilities. 

“I can’t,” you tell him honestly. “House Zenin is one of the Three Great Houses. I can’t refuse Naoya without good reason.” 

“Then marry me,” he says softly. “Marry me and be done with all of this. They don’t deserve you, anyway. They won’t treat you like I will.” 

You close your eyes, feeling the telltale hotness of incoming tears burn behind your eyelids. Why did he do this to you? He was so gentle it hurt, even though you knew he was capable of terrible things. Somehow that made it worse, the knowledge that he was choosing to be kind. 

“You should go,” you say instead. 

Marriage between you and Gojo would never happen. Forget your father. An alliance between the strongest house and the royal house? It would be akin to tyranny. There would be blood in the streets before any of the other nobles would allow it. It’s better not to dream about impossible desires. 

Thorns, not petals, you remind yourself. You can suffer the truth. 

“Why?” He says. “I want to stay with you. I want to be good to you.” 

“This isn’t something to joke about, Satoru.” He looks like he’d rather you have slapped him. “Never talk to me about this again. Find someone else to dance with.” 

There. Your brain snags on something to distract you. You’ve been dancing with him for too long. It’ll reflect poorly on your reputation to give an unmarried man so much of your attention. 

“Pick another partner,” you urge him. 

His brow creases. Stubbornly, he holds onto you even tighter. “Don’t want to.” 

“You have to. Everyone will whisper. I’m surprised they aren’t already.”

“Then let them,” he pleads. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

Regretfully, you pull away. Darkness clouds his beautiful face. It’s unnatural. When you remember him, he’s always smiling. The instances when he directs a genuine frown at you are few and far between, but you’ve already made your decision. 

Gojo stalks off in search of a new partner. Somehow, even though you were the one who forced him to leave, your heart stings to watch his back fade into the distance. If you didn’t want him to go, you shouldn’t have said anything. This is what you hoped for. Still, it’s painful. 

You want to find somewhere to rest after your spat, drained from a rare argument with him, but nowhere is secluded enough for you to let your guard down. Suddenly, you feel a wave of hatred for your stupid, glittering palace and the stupid, glittering fools infesting it. You just fought with your best friend and you’re tired, but you still have to keep up appearances. 

Somewhere nearby, Gojo is spinning another girl, her skirts flaring out around them. You wish you could press your palms to your eyes, letting the pressure relieve your headache, but you’ve shown enough weakness tonight. Instead, you tilt your head back and breathe, trying to appear calm and in control. 

It’s a good thing you restrained yourself, because Naoya is the one that finds you. His shoes are the first thing you see, black leather with steel accents. Steel, not silver, because he wants it to hurt when he kicks. 

You know. You’ve heard the stories. 

“Abandoned by Satoru, my lady?” You hate the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Gojo makes it sound so intimate, like it’s for you and him only. Naoya’s version is a bastardization, much like the man himself. 

You’re too tired to deal with him, and yet, you’ll have to. House Zenin is important to your father and thus, important to you, especially when you inevitably replace him. “What are you insinuating about your princess, Sir Zenin?”

You use the proper address, the way he should’ve spoken about Gojo. They’re not close enough for him to be calling the other man by his first name. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “Don’t get defensive now.”

You want to tell one of the knights stationed around the hall to drag him away. Instead, you smile and let him prattle on. Court politics. If you ever want to prove to your father you deserve everything you’ve been born into, you have to play the game. No matter how terrible some of the players are. 

“Since you graced Satoru with one, I hope you wouldn’t mind another dance.” 

Turning him down isn’t an option, but when you see that everyone’s watching, you realize even more how much it really isn’t an option. He probably arranged it that way too. Demonspawn. You’d curse his house if you could, instead, you offer him your hand, cringing internally when he tries kissing it. 

You can’t help but compare the two. Gojo did it better. 

Like any son of a high born house, Naoya’s a good dancer. It’s the one compliment you’re willing to grace him with, as everything else about him, especially his personality, is hideous. His hand is solid against your upper back, the other leading you as you spin around the room. It makes you want to scrub yourself clean, even under the layers of clothes. 

You’re doing this for your house. Your throne. This is nothing. None of your mantras diminish your desire to shove Naoya’s head in the cake waiting at the banquet table. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he tells you. 

“Forwardness is unbecoming in a man,” you say with a smile, as if he’s telling you the sweetest nothings. “What would my father say?”

“Don’t play coy, princess. We both know how this ends.” 

“Please excuse me,” you say as soon as the song ends. One is enough. “I find myself rather dizzy.” 

Naoya’s lips whiten with anger. He tries to grab your wrist, but someone steps between you. “Watch your hands with Her Royal Highness, Zenin. I won’t tolerate your disrespect.” 

Naoya’s eyes flash, but the interloper is sweeping you away already. His hands hover above your dress, never actually touching, as he guides you in the opposite direction. 

“Sir Getou, what are you doing?” 

Getou looks down on you in amusement once you’re a safe distance away. “Satoru sent me to rescue you, of course. I didn’t think he was serious when he said you would get into trouble without him.”

“Trouble finds me,” you reply archly. 

“Yes, yes,” he placates, sparking annoyance even though he just saved you from Naoya. “Are you tired of dancing yet, or do you have room for one more? I’m hoping to make an impression on potential wives by dancing with the princess.”

You’re smart enough to know that one more is rarely truly one more, but Getou did save you from Naoya. Besides, if you’re busy with him, no one else can ask for your hand. 

“I suppose I can spare you a dance.” 

Like Gojo, Getou is an adept dancer. He is, after all, a trained court noble, and the sons of House Getou are unusually predisposed to the arts in any case. If the Gojos are known for their strength, the Getous are known for their crafts. 

Getou doesn’t flinch from your unwavering gaze. If anything, he seems to find it amusing, although in the way one would find a puppy amusing. Gently, he leads you around the ballroom. 

“Stay alert, my lady. Someone’s watching you,” Getou warns. 

You follow his gaze to Gojo. There’s a beautiful woman in his arms that takes you no time at all to place, so infamous is her notoriety. Yuki of House Tsukumo is second only to Gojo in her blatant disrespect for everything the elders held dear. 

They make a striking couple. Everywhere they go, heads turn to watch them pass. Her gold to his silver, her lion to his dragon - it would be a powerful match. They would be perfect for each other, if only because no one would be able to challenge each other like they could. 

Excellent dancers each, together they become an instrument for the music to shine through. Getou is gentle with you, each movement as delicate as lilies floating across the surface of a pond. In contrast, Gojo and Yuki dance like they’re fighting, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They’re magnetic, drawing every eye in the room to watch them. 

Everyone else may be entranced by the pair of them, but the pair itself seems disinterested in the crowd around them. Yuki’s eyes are closed but Gojo-

Gojo’s looking at you. Your cheeks heat with his attention. His stare is intense, eyes half-lidded. Every move is prowling, almost predatory. His eyes remain fixated on your face as he and Yuki move in a complicated, sinuous series of circles. There’s something impossibly filthy about his gaze. It borders on indecency, combined with the way he barely seems to be paying attention to dancing, giving you all of his focus instead.

“We can’t let them steal all the attention,” Getou says. He really is Gojo’s brother-in-arms. “Let’s give them a show.” 

You’ve never been trained in statecraft, but you’ve been given the very finest of tutors in the elegant manners of the court. A show, as Getou puts it, is more than within your capabilities. You close your senses to the rest of the world, focusing on the shift of your skirts and Getou’s quiet voice as your steps weave intricate patterns across the floor. 

He’s a naturally friendly man. It’s easy to talk to him, whispering between each peak in the music. Although he’s friends with Gojo, your social circles rarely overlap enough for you to spend much time in Getou’s company. You’re almost surprised by how much you enjoy it. 

“I think it’s time to change partners,” calls a familiar voice.

As Getou takes the hands of Lady Yuki, her eyes still closed as she sways, someone takes his place. Gojo’s hand slides from where Getou’s were placed appropriately on your upper back down to your hip. You drag them back up, ignoring his pout. He’ll be your last dance of the night. 

“Should I be worried about being replaced?” He murmurs. 

“It was only one turn,” you tell him. 

“And I never want to do it again,” he says. “The other girls don’t dance like you do.” 

He’s an unrepentant liar. You might have been tutored by the best dancers your father could find, but at this level, first and second place might as well be interchangeable. He’s only saying it so you know that he wanted to come back to you, despite the fact that you forced him away. 

Gojo’s a contradiction wrapped inside a paradox, at once sadistic and merciful. No one’s capable of making you feel as much as he does. Without the guidance of formal tutors to give you the education of a prince, you have no idea how to navigate the dangerous world of alliances and betrayals, war and peace. Once, you clumsily blundered through diplomacy, watching your father’s disappointment grow by the hour. You’ve since learned that complete silence is preferable to gaucheness. At least that is something your education as a princess has taught you. 

But Gojo knew you before you grew into the woman you are now. He still remembers how to pull smiles and tears from you, how to push you to the brink of exasperation and coax you into brilliant happiness. He has a key to all the gates you’ve erected. No matter what you do, he always slips past your defenses. 

If you keep letting him do as he pleases, you’ll be the only one who loses. Gojo is a man. If he’s rumored to be attached to the princess, it’ll elevate his reputation. He’s already the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. Being thought of as a profligate would only make them worship him more. People love a little hint of degeneracy to their heroes - not too much to make them immoral, but enough to make them attainable. 

A princess is not a hero. You’re not someone to attain, you’re someone to obtain. When people look at you, they only see the crown. If you’re thought of as a ruined woman, it would prevent you from finding a husband. It would destabilize the entire kingdom. 

It hurts to realize that you’re that selfish. Gojo would’ve chosen you over anything, but you’re letting something as empty as reputation displace him. 

Not that it’s exactly a choice. Your life has been forfeit since you were born. You don’t belong to yourself, but to the royal house. As the only child of the king, you can’t allow yourself any mistakes, not when even the barest twitch of your fingers is scrutinized. 

When Gojo offers to escort you back to your chambers at the end of the night, you swallow down the desire to agree. His eyes are hopeful, mirroring your own expression. It could be like back then, when you were children, running through the halls of the grand palace without a care in the world. Except you know you can never return to the halcyon days of your childhood, before your mother died, before his mother disappeared, before everything went wrong. You try not to let the disappointment on his face bother you when you allow the knight your father sent to bring you back to your rooms instead. 

You attribute the strange feeling you get in the morning to the leftover melancholy of last night. Sunlight trickles across your face lazily, not enough to raise you from your bed but just bright enough to remind you that morning was here. 

You’ve never slept long enough for the sun to warm your face while you were still entangled in your sheets before. The window faces your bed at such an awkward angle that the sun has to be high in the sky before it can light across your pillows. 

Usually a maid wakes you by now if you aren’t up already. Where were they? 

A gentle knock at the door only makes you more apprehensive. It can’t be Utahime. You know the sound of her steps. The pacing is stilted, awkward, as if whoever was behind the door was nervous. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, princess!” Definitely nervous. Not a voice you can recognize. A new maid, perhaps? But why would they-

The door bursts open. You scream as a cloaked figure lunges at you. She throws herself on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed so she can run you through with the knife she has raised in her left hand. 

She’s crying. “You weren’t supposed to be awake!”

Crying and angry. Fluffy white down bursts into the air, obscuring your vision as she stabs a pillow so brutally it vomits its contents. She’s not very good, which explains her terror. Unfortunately, you aren’t very good either, and you’re pinned underneath her. Thrashing doesn’t work - at the very least, she’s stronger than you, if badly trained. 

When she finally immobilizes you, she has a growing bruise over her arm from a terrible punch you had thrown, trying to mimic the way Gojo does it. Keeping your thumb outside your fist was all you remembered, and it went wide. You barely managed to hit her, and it came with a cost. She snags your wrist and pins it down. 

The knife plunges towards you. It’s rusty, which terrifies you almost as much as the implement itself. If by some miracle you survived, you’d be at risk of infection. 

Blue eyes flash before you. In this moment, an inch away from death, you wish you had gotten to say goodbye to him. Fear robs you of rationality. You don’t know anything but that you want to see him one more time and feel the warmth of his embrace. 

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

You crack an eye open. The girl is no longer visible. The only person leaning over you now has white hair and the characteristic Gojo eyes, impossible to fake. You decide you must’ve died already. This is heaven, where your wishes have been granted. 

Gojo pulls you up. His hands are warm and solid. Vaguely, you realize that you’re trembling with the same nonchalant distance that you would use to catalog the color of the pillows. 

“You’re not dead yet.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “No, I could just tell by the look in your eyes.” 

“The girl…”

“Dead.” 

You scramble to the edge of your bed and peek over. Sure enough, she’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat has been cut so surely her head is nearly separated from her body. 

You gag. 

“Wait,” Gojo says. He kneels to tear off her cloak and holds it in front of you. “Here, princess.”

You don’t want to give in to your queasiness, especially not when he himself is so stoic, so you shake your head. More insistently, he pushes it towards you. 

“It’s only natural,” he soothes. “I’m used to this. You’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Just come here,” you say weakly. “No, actually. I’ll come to you.” 

“Give me a second,” he says, dropping to his knees. Under the bed, he retrieves your silk slippers. He slips them onto your feet gently, standing when he’s finished with his task. 

Obligingly, he waits as you gingerly step over the girl. When your slipper threatens to dip into the red stain spreading across your floor, he simply grabs you underneath the armpits and lifts you over it. 

Even though it’s a horrific scene, you can’t look away. Her face is frozen in a still mask. Bile fills your stomach. Gojo gently turns your head in another direction with two fingers, the touch delicate. “Don’t look.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“I told you not to restrain yourself,” he says disapprovingly.

“You’re not- you’re-“ You can’t figure out the right way to finish your sentence. “Does it really get that easy?” 

His laugh is short and brutal. “Easy? I didn’t even think about it. All I know how to do is kill. I don’t mind it, for you.” 

You shake your head. There’s nothing to say, with a body between you and blood pooling around both your shoes, but still, your heart aches. You had known him when he was a boy. It would always be hard to see him with calluses where once his hands had been chubby and soft. 

He chucks you under the chin, the gesture fleetingly affectionate. “Don’t be so despondent, princess. I’m glad to do it. That’s what knights are for.” 

Knights and maids, all meant to lay down their life or other lives for you at your convenience. Utahime was too loyal to have let an assassin into your chambers by choice. Your breath catches. It concerns him that you’re teetering into upset again, just when he’s calmed you down. 

“Satoru, is Iori-“ The thought is too horrible. You can’t finish it. 

“She’s not dead,” he says. 

Noticeably, he doesn’t say that she’s alright. 

Utahime will be scarred forever. They found her slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her body dumped unceremoniously after they stole her from outside your bedroom. A massive gash opened her right cheek up, crossing just slightly over her nose bridge. 

You almost can’t bear to look at her. Not because her scar makes her hideous - far from it. Utahime will always be beautiful to you. The scar is only a reminder of how you’ve failed her. 

You’re a princess without any power.  All you can do is fuss over her after the fact, unable to change the past. 

“Princess,” she hisses, jerking away from you for the third time in as many minutes. “You must stop! I’m your lady-in-waiting, not the other way around.” 

“You got hurt for me,” you say, hands balled helplessly at your side. You refuse to touch her more aggressively, for fear of aggravating her wound. The bandages wrapped around her cheek are an ever present reminder of how much she’s sacrificed for you. So are the whispers. The looks. She holds her head high, acting as if it doesn’t bother her. 

“I was glad to do it. I didn’t want to be shipped off to some far away baron anyway. Be grateful,” she cracks a smile you don’t feel. “I certainly am. At least I could still join the church, if anything.” 

Why do the people around you insist on destroying themselves for your benefit? 

“You don’t need a baron.” Loyally, you vow, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Be careful, my lady. Some would take that as a marriage proposal, and then I’d have twice as many death threats.”

“I’d protect you.”

“You, princess? I doubt that,” Gojo calls. 

You’ve been watching the knights move in and out of the arena from your vantage point on the royal balcony, but very few of them have dared to address you, much less speak to you so casually. They’re all too focused on the tourney you’re set to watch this afternoon. Only he would be so familiar with you and so unconcerned about the sparring, knowing his chances. 

Utahime lets out an aggressive sigh with no regard as to whether or not Gojo could hear her. In fact, she’d probably prefer it if he had overheard. Gojo, for his part, ignores the chance to antagonize her for once in his life in order to focus on you.  

“You know, my lady, I’ve heard an interesting rumor going around.” 

You walk to the edge of the balcony and peer over the railing. Utahime gasps in fear and grabs onto your petticoats, afraid that you’ll tip over the fencing. “Go on, Sir Gojo,” you say. 

“If a fair damsel grants a knight her favor, he’ll fight ten times as well. Twenty, even. And all the more so if it’s the princess, who everyone knows is the fairest in the land.”

Unwillingly, a smile twitches to life upon your lips. “Is that so?”

“Won’t you grant your most loyal knight a token of your affection?”

“Don’t,” Utahime gripes. “What has he done to deserve it?”

A scrap of pale blue fabric flutters in the light breeze, reminiscent of doves. Gojo catches the ribbon you’ve loosed from your hair, his fist enclosed in armor. He brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss he can’t place upon you. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching. 

“I’ll win this whole thing,” he says. “I’ll defeat every knight here for you.” 

The trumpets blow, calling the contestants. He’ll be wanted. Utahime shakes you lightly as he leaves your sight. “Get yourself together,” she says sternly. 

“But mama, I love him!” You joke. 

Her frown can’t last in the face of your teasing smile. She fixes the lace on your sleeve and collar, though they’re hardly ruffled. She can’t help herself. It’s her second nature to dote on you. 

“Ah, my princess,” she sighs. “You worry me.” 

You poke her uninjured cheek, trying to get her to smile. “It’s not me. You worry too much.”

Another voice cuts in. “I feel the same way sometimes, my dear Lady Utahime, but I trust no one more than you. Her mother left her to your capable hands, after all.” 

Your father has arrived. Utahime smiles as the king kisses her cheek, but you can’t. You know he means it lightheartedly, but it galls you all the more that he says it so blithely. When your mother fell ill, Utahime had been the one who took charge of looking after you. 

Not your father. 

Not your only living parent, the man who was supposed to feel all the closer to you for your loss. Instead, he pushed you away. 

You knew you weren’t being fair. 

The king had been wracked with grief over the passing of his beloved wife. Along with his other royal duties, he couldn’t possibly have been expected to watch over an infant as well. You know better than anyone the toll the crown takes on a man. Stewardship of this land asks a heavy price. It’s not an easy role. 

No, you can’t blame your father for choosing the country. It’s his duty, as it is yours.

You only wish it hadn’t been Utahime’s burden to carry instead. She was just a few years older, a child still when she had raised another child. In many ways, she had been a mother to you. Only now that you’ve grown older than she had been back then do you understand how much responsibility she had accepted at such a young age. 

Your father turns to you. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“It’s barely started. Only the squires have been jousting. We haven’t seen any of the real knights yet.” 

“Those squires will become knights themselves one day. Watch carefully, and you may discover a treasure worth keeping.”

As he speaks, you finally find someone worth watching, as if your father only had to say it to cause it to happen. A boy with rosy hair lunges towards his opponent. He disarms him and forces him to the ground - only to offer him his hand in exchange.  

The other squire hesitates. Doubt crosses his face. Finally, he accepts the proffered hand like someone expecting an attack at any minute, but all the other boy does is pull him to his feet and dust him off. He’s more honorable than most of the knights of the realm you know, too focused on humiliating their opponents to flaunt their own glory. 

Your father doesn’t notice your distraction. He’s still speaking. You bring yourself back to the conversation just in time to hear him say, “Sukuna, the King of the Curses.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“It’s no laughing matter, I’m afraid,” your father says gravely. “He’s the ruler of the Western Kingdom, the land where the sun never sets. Perhaps he’s grown tired of his arid land and seeks gentler climes, for his invasions have earned him the title ‘King of Curses’.” 

Utahime’s lip curls in disgust. “King of Cruelty is more like it. I’ve heard of what he’s done to his prisoners. That man has no honor.”

“None,” your father agrees, “and yet it is necessary not to antagonize him. We are small if prosperous. We can’t afford it.”

Utahime looks as if she wants to speak, but she holds her tongue. She’s always been good at navigating the court. Trained under her, you wait as well. Taking your cues from her is something you’ve done since you were a child.

“Yes,” your father says, his eyes distant. He’s ruminating over something he won’t share. “He can’t be provoked. The representative he sent us for this tourney must be carefully attended to.” 

That representative, Uraume, doesn’t fight like any knight you know. Their sword is wider than most of those found in your country, and half as tall as a man. Precision is lost in favor of brutality. They wreak havoc with the brutality of a butcher, tearing through the ranks of your best and strongest. Of course, he’s not the only strong fighter. There are other knights to watch as well. 

“That Lady Tsukumo is doing quite well for a woman,” your father notes in surprise. “What prodigious talent. I don’t think her house has produced a fighter like that in years.”

“She’s better than half your knights,” you remind him. “Lady Tsukumo already defeated most of her bracket.” 

“Yes, yes,” your father laughs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m simply admiring her.” 

As the day progresses, clear victors emerge in each division of the tournament. Uraume is one of them. Gojo is another. 

They placed him against Getou for his penultimate match, knowing the crowd would go wild for a contest between not only two of the best knights of the realm, but sworn brothers. Although Getou is better than most, Gojo is more of a natural disaster than a real, human adversary. At the end of their round, Getou smiles even as Gojo brings him to his knees. 

The next round is even more hotly anticipated than Getou and Gojo’s. 

Gojo strides into the center of the arena with the classic arrogance he’s known for. He delights in riling the crowd up. They cheer louder and louder on each circuit he laps around the arena on his silver stallion, pale as moonlight. By the last, they’re nearly delirious with passion for him. 

Uraume has no such pretenses. They’re a cold creature, as frigid as they come. 

It matters not. Gojo beats them so easily that it can only be described as disrespectful. He rides past Uraume and thrusts the hilt of his sword into their stomach with such force they fall off their horse. Gojo dismounts casually. He hadn’t even used his blade. He flips Uraume onto their back with a boot and steps onto their breastplate, pinning them in place. His sword hovers underneath their chin, a whisper away from death. “Yield,” he says pleasantly. 

You, remembering your fathers speech about Sukuna’s chosen representative from that morning, glance to the side. He’s smiling as gently as ever. Underneath his cloak, where only you and Utahime can see, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white. 

After the match, you recognize one of the men rushing Uraume off to be one of your father’s most trusted advisors. He must be doing damage control, but then again, when is he not when Gojo’s around? 

Your father stands, as composed as if he had never been upset in the first place. You envy that self-control. You’ve always aspired to your father. In your eyes, he was the perfect ruler - perhaps because he was the one who taught you what a ruler should be. 

Gojo waits in the center of the arena. He’s beautiful as always, as fierce as an avenging angel. There’s a fine sweat beading at his temples in a way that makes you want to wipe it off with your handkerchief, but you abstain, knowing thousands are watching. 

Gojo has no such scruples. 

When it’s time for him to be awarded his laurel crown, he kneels - not to your father, but to you. A gasp rises from the crowd. You stifle your own shock. Here, where every sign of weakness is clearly visible and easily taken advantage of, you can’t reveal that this wasn’t planned. The royal family’s control over its retainers must appear immaculate - even if Gojo had always been uncontrollable. 

Wordlessly, your father passes you the laurel. You know something is brewing. He can only tolerate Gojo’s outlandish behavior so many times. But this isn’t the place to worry about your father’s incumbent wrath, so you take over the duties of honoring the victor. It’s easy. You’ve seen your father do it enough times to be able to replicate it in your sleep. 

Gojo rises from his knees, a hungry smile on his face. “I told you I’d win.” 

“That you did,” you reply noncommittally, trying to figure out how you’re going to discreetly get him out of the arena without your father attempting to try him for treason. 

He frowns. Knowing him and the type of maneuvers he’s likely to pull, you put a respectable amount of distance between the two of you as you mark his brow in gold paint. 

When you grasp his hand to lift his arm into the air, he presses something into your palm. Years of sharing secrets and playing pretend at espionage have trained you not to flinch. When you lower your enjoined hands, you slip the shred of paper he’s passed you into your pocket. 

People are cheering. You notice with warmth that he looks heroic, like he’s stepped right out of an old legend. Your father doesn’t seem to agree. 

Arguments between the two of you used to be few and far between, but lately it seems like you can’t do anything right. You’d forgotten what it was like to retreat to your parents’ bedroom for a scolding. It hadn’t happened since you were a child, yet here you were again, studying the fabric of the draperies to avoid eye contact with your father, just like you had when you were younger. 

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” you start. But that’s not true, and you know it. So you try again. “He wasn’t trying to cause problems. He cares about the kingdom, father. He was just trying to show off his - our - strength.” 

“Gojo is a liability.” How easily your father casts him off, marks him as defective. He’s always been like that - clinical in his appraisal. You lacked that precise, indifferent ruthlessness. You’ve tried. 

“He’s a good man, a good knight. House Gojo has always been loyal to us, father. Remember his mother? Remember Sorashi? She wouldn’t want you to treat her son like this.”

Your father flinches. First comes sorrow, then, anger. “Don’t speak to me about Sorashi.”

“You can’t just pretend like they never existed! Sorashi, my mother-“

“Child, you are testing my patience dangerously.” 

You fall silent, hating yourself for it. Always a child. Never someone worth listening to. 

“You don’t understand anything,” he says more gently. 

“I don’t understand anything because you won’t tell me anything!” 

“You’re a princess,” he snarls. “You’re not supposed to know anything!”

You reel back, stunned. You had always been afraid that this was how your father truly felt. 

“You have no sons, so it’s me or no one else.” Disgust fills you at the fear in your own voice. Weak. Pathetic. After all these years, the lessons your father gave you still haven’t sunk in. Perhaps he’s right, and you’re not fit for the throne after all. You’re still begging for what you want instead of demanding it like it’s what you deserve. A prince wouldn’t act like this, but you’re not a prince - only a girl who was never taught how to rule. 

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t say anything about sons. See, you’re too young and inexperienced. This is why I won’t let you in yet. You’re not ready to rule.”

“But I will?”

He gives you a wan smile. He’s tired. Guilt seeps through you. These days, all you do is fight. You miss the times when it felt like you had worked together. At the end of all of it, you love your father. You hate that it’s been like this. 

“All in time, my child. I love you, I really do. But you’re not ready.” 

Mutiny curls under your tongue. You’re not ready because he waited too long, hoping for a male heir until your mother died. By then, it was too late for you to catch up on years of lessons you should’ve had. Regardless of what he says, you know how he feels. You were never the one he wanted but-

He’s still your father. When he reaches out to stroke your cheek, a peace offering, you close your eyes against his hand and don’t give voice to your treasonous thoughts. It’s nothing to suffer the humiliation of your status for a while longer. You have all the time in the world to earn your place. 

Your father is right, in the end. You can be patient. 

Back in the privacy of your room, you unfurl Gojo’s note. Gojo’s mother had him trained in elegant cursive that he uses for formal documents and letters. In his messages to you, it degenerates into chicken scratch. It’s a lucky coincidence that it’s all but unreadable to anyone else, making it a code only you can decipher. 

The gardens at midnight. - S. 

Only a place and a time. Is he trying to tempt fate? 

You indulge in the idea of not going, especially since things are already tense with your father. All the way up until the hour you need to leave, you let yourself believe it’s not happening. It’s too risky. People are already suspicious of you as it is. The minute passes, and if you go now, you’ll be late, so you won’t. 

You grab your shawl with a huff of annoyance. You’re going. You were always going to go, from the very moment you got the note. 

You aren’t used to sneaking through hallways you usually glide through. There are several close calls as you make your way closer and closer to the gardens. Multiple times, you’re forced to make a run for the nearest door or drape to hide behind. 

You’re barely two feet away when you’re finally caught. A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. Did you even notice the maid coming up the left hallway?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. It’s lucky that he was there to save you. 

Gojo has always been there to protect you. The tension bleeds from your body. You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.” 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. His very presence is the promise of security. It makes it too easy to relax when he’s with you. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he remains silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. “Satoru?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You raise it to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised to release the scent into the air. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s too.”

You freeze. 

“If not marriage, then knighthood. Let me be yours, in whatever way I can have you.” 

“You have me,” you tell him. “You always have.”

You don’t know how to answer such devotion. Besides the obvious political ramifications of being wedded to Gojo when your marriage is meant to be a bargaining chip used for the sake of your kingdom, you don’t want it. Not like this. 

Gojo has been your dedicated shield for so long, the two of you have forgotten a life where he wouldn’t give up everything to protect you. He’d do anything for you - even that which he should hold sacred for himself. His very body is littered with scars that he’s received on your behalf. How much more can you take from him? 

Does Gojo really want to marry you or does he want to protect you? Will he play the part of the devoted servant for the rest of his life? 

“You don’t have to…” You realize you don’t know how to say it. Or that you don’t want to. Selfishly, a part of you can’t bear to release him from the oath he gave you when you were children, though he couldn’t have known. Neither of you could have understood what it meant for him to kneel at your feet and swear his life to you. It had all been in good fun, the way children understand things. “I don’t want you to- Oh, Satoru. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough for me.” 

For a second, your imagination plays tricks on you. The cobalt of his eyes kindles into a terrifying flame, like the lightning in the town he hails from. It’s as if the draconic blood his ancestors claimed still lives within him. 

He continues as if he hadn’t heard you. “I’m going to ask your father tomorrow. I want to be your dedicated knight; I won’t wait any longer. I’ve waited enough.” 

His pushiness feeds your annoyance. You cling to it, preferring it to the dreadful hopelessness inside of you. The right thing is not always the easy thing. Gojo deserves his freedom after wasting his youth on keeping you safe, yet letting him go feels as difficult as willingly driving a nail through your hand. You want to cling to him forever, reassured by his strength. 

“Don’t,” you say, trying to sound firm. 

“At the ceremony,” he says determinedly. “When he gives me captainship in the army. He’ll have to say yes if I ask him then.” 

“Satoru, please-” Your voice wobbles embarrassingly, and you have to pause. Silently, you beg your tears not to fall. The way he disarms you is humiliating. You turn away, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you has taught him a lot. He bandaged the scrapes that you refused to cry over and avenged your honor after you pretended your pride hadn't been hurt. He can see right through you. “Please don’t.” 

You see the frustration on his face. He’s not a man used to holding himself back, and yet he does. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

It’s just another number to add to the tally of favors you owe him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know. Though I do think the king will ask me anyway, so this is all pointless.” He looks away. “I just wanted you to- Nevermind.” 

“Really?” Doubt colors your voice. 

“I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“He doesn’t like you,” you point out. “No, he does, but it’s a very begrudging like. I don’t get it.” 

It makes you smile, thinking about the way your father can’t stand Gojo but won’t allow anyone else to speak poorly of him. He’s still a Gojo after all, no matter how much trouble he causes your father, and your father loves Gojos. The royal house has always held their house dear. They had been close for decades. Always, they were something to the other, no matter what form that something took. 

“There you are,” Gojo murmurs. His fingers trace the arc of your mouth. “So pretty.” 

You glare at him through tears. “And whose fault is it that I cried?” 

“Your father’s?” 

You scoff. “You see? This is why he doesn’t like you.” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him for it if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor.” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

He breaks you down so easily. You press the flower back into his palm. “I know you’ll do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer. 

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, fearing your voice will give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. Does it look like a real kiss from afar? Did he mean it to? 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks Yaga. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder as the voice registers. Lord Commander Yaga is close to the King. As the captain of the kingsguard, he could ruin everything.

Gojo lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face. He pulls you towards him, arranging your legs around his waist. A soothing hand traces a warm path up and down your back. It calms you as much as it shames you. You’ve never been this close to any man, not even him, and now you’re cuddling only for the sake of protecting your secrets. 

“The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard,” he says casually, as if the two of you aren’t trapped in an extremely compromising position. As if your father wouldn’t demand his head on a pike if Yaga realized who it was. 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

That night, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yaga gave no sign he recognized you. He acted as if he normally would upon encountering any soldier of his on a late night escapade, profoundly disinterested and deeply desirous to get away. Only in the morning do you begin to doubt your deception. 

[konigsblog]

i just discovered a new obsession...... stalker!konig is so so hot i cant

i do have some posts for stalker!könig, so if you want, you can look through my posts! :3

tw: stalker!könig, stalking, yandere behaviour, non-con, somnophilia.

stalker!könig is so lovesick and delusional for you, it's completely illegal what he's doing, but he makes no apologies for his actions, and excuses it as you playing "hard to get". he truly doesn't see a lot wrong with what he's doing — yes, he knows it's illegal, but he doesn't agree that it should be, and continues to perv on you and stare at you while you're asleep.

he has set up cameras in your home, in your bathroom especially. he adores watching you change and shower, the sight of your body covered in foamy, bubbly water drives him crazy. :(

but, könig takes it a step further. usually, he comes all over a tissue, or one of your bathroom towels, but, now he wants his precious cum to be stuffed inside you, to not go to waste. he's pulled your panties out, just enough for him to spurt his load into before letting go, letting his cum soil your panties. occasionally, he'll jerk off to the sight of you, peaceful and relaxed, before opening your mouth and shooting his hot, white release into your mouth.

sometimes you wake up with a suspicious white liquid crusted on your lips, breasts or cheek. :(

[seat-safety-switch]

By this time of year, pretty much every public park is overrun by nesting geese. They honk, they make adorable goslings, they bite, and they poop everywhere. You dickheads abandoned us in the coldest part of our winters, and now you come back and are occupying our precious municipal spaces? I'd had enough.

Thing is, in my country, it's illegal to disturb the birds once they've got a nest up. You can't bother them, and you especially can't make loud noises at them and kick them out of the planters in front of your apartment. They're nesting migratory birds, and "we" (my representatives, not me, I'm banned for life from any Marriott with a conference centre) signed some kind of agreement a long time ago that we wouldn't mess with them.

Not only is it illegal, but it feels kind of bad to be disrupting some new parents grappling with the beautiful miracle of tender, new life. It's not great karma, really, so we deal with the fact that our kids occasionally get bitten by angry geese. Resist the urge to strike back as our primitive forebears would have done. Just bury it down inside, where the repressed anger surely won't be released spectacularly in an unpredictable new kind of violence. Feeling good!

There is a loophole, however. You're not allowed to disturb them, but you can make them a better deal. Remember that secret NASA office in the old strip mall, where the eggheads got caught spying on the Mayor? Yeah, they got out of there in a hurry, and all the G-men who cleaned up the place afterward just chucked all their cool space stuff in the dumpster out back. I'm proud to announce that the first moon colony staffed entirely by Canada geese is now in operation.

Don't worry, they're fine up there. They've got enough water, air, and food to live a thousand generations. And without any wind, the dumps they leave on our closest satellite will last forever. It's that call to immortality that really appeals to these birds, I think, even if the commute back to Florida around fall is going to be a little longer than usual.

[uhohdad]

just finished rereading TGWCM for the umpteenth time! i absolutely adore all of your fics so please take your time :))

on the topic of TGWCM, if we were to go full on angst in true hunger games fashion (please don’t i beg you plsplsplspls), imagine if recordings of reader and konig’s AHEM AHEM were illegally distributed/obtained by rich capitol people, thus leading to a lot of people thirsting over konig. poor konig is then subjected to finnick’s fate of being a victor - sold to the highest bidder.

imagine he then finds out the distribution of said recording, one of his only precious memories with reader, being part of the reason of his fate.

(and maybe his only solace is rewatching said recording of the whole game really but especially chapter three over and over in his darkest moments :(()

please don’t be evil and actually do this if you did it i would die BUT ALSO i would gobble it all up anyway so uhh…

-🪼 (if you do emoji anons, could i please have this one if its not taken?)

hi hi hi!!! thank you so much for sending this y’all know all i ever wanna do is talk about TGWCM!! <3 <3

This ask shook me to my core it’s like you kids are in my head euheuheuheu. i love hearing your takes/predictions/thoughts so much!! i absolutely will be touching on the seedy prostitution ring the victors have to deal with in the final chappy. heavy emphasis on ‘the games never actually go away’ in this one

the thought of our victor rewatching the tape because it’s all they have left of the other - ugh you’re breaking my heart. Konig feeling defiled and dirty, a sad, broken smile on his face. Tears in his eyes while some heartless capital bastard snores away in the next room after using him for his body. His thumb stroking reader’s ribbon as he rewatches his time with reader at the oasis, closing his eyes and pretending he’s there with her instead of in his cruel reality. OUCHIE!!!

the aftermath is at 30k words now and I still have so much to get through!! (might have to split this one up eeeep) no spoilers but that recording is definitely going to come back to haunt our victor 😈

thanks again for your ask lovely it’s so nice to hear your thoughts/predictions!!! ily ily ily and i’m so excited to share with you all!! thanks for being so patient with me!! <3 <3 <3

⌜ KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU ⌟

[t0ast-ghost]

Star Trek II: Wrath Of Khan thoughts:

For this post if I could simply embed the entire movie and just write the word, ‘queer’ I would. Unfortunately you are all stuck with this, happy pride month!

Spoilers for the entire movie will be featured in this post

Going forth:

- I know what the kobayashi maru is so I know they’re not in danger but that’s some good acting Bones

- “‘Physician heal thyself.’” “Is that all you’ve got to say? What about my performance?” “I’m not a drama critic.” Thinking about this pose thinking about this pose thinking about thi-

- “Galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young, Doctor.” He’s feeling something and projecting

- “Aren’t you dead?” That’s certainly a way to greet your husband

- They’re so cute. And sad. And cute.

- tiny guys hehe. The boots got sluttier somehow

- McCoy got him glasses cause he can’t read the book without it and bring up that post that’s saying how Spock and McCoy’s gifts go together but McCoy got the logical thing and Spock got the emotional one

- Don’t quote me on this but the things I would do to that man… I wouldn’t.. but holy shit that outfit is killing me.

- hi checkov

- Carol Marcus? Doesn’t she have Kirk’s-? okay then I won’t spoil that just yet

- Creature in a jar moving under the sand

- BOTANY BAY????? Oh wait a sec I should’ve seen that coming it’s called wrath of khan

- Did they kill Chekov?

- hello Khan. That’s a very long and dramatic reveal he’s kinda hot tho

- Thinking about genetic engineering and augmentation and how they’re illegal but star trek presents cases where people now exist and it’s not the fault of the person that they are what they are so they have to question if an entire person should be illegal because of the actions of others… anyway I don’t wanna get deep into this right now, back to the movie

- Are they going to kill Chekov? (edit: not sure why I’m so fixated on thinking they’re gonna)

- WOW THAT IS CERTAINLY A SWEAT DROP

- brain worms… this sounds recently familiar

- HES READING HIS BOOK WITH THE GLASSES THEY DIDNT NEED TO SHOW HIM DOING THAT BUT THEY DID AND ITS ADORABLE OMG

- The conversation between Savik and Spock is so precious. And it’s in Vulcan. And she says “He’s more human than I expected” and it’s like that’s her commenting on Spock’s husband

- Kirk does not want to do this inspection

- McCoy does a little bounce

- “For everything there is a first time. Wouldn’t you agree, admiral” “mmhhmm” “Would you like a tranquilizer?” *Kirk shakes his head*

- I think this one has a more solid plot. I’m enjoying so far :)

- Does McCoy serve on this ship or is he just following along?

- (Had to stop watching around here because I left for the weekend so these thoughts are potentially a bit different)

- wowah! Cool ship!

- uh oh. Chekov on the monitor with the brain worm!

- khan is kinda- yeahh

- I LOVE SAAVIK! RAHHH! Also apparently Saavik is canonically half Vulcan half Romulan according to the trivia

- I like how Bones is just there :)

- Putting Spock in black… they knew what they were doing

- They’re husbands your honour. Spock knows Kirk wants to take command and isn’t to proud to get in the way of making his wife happy

- “You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours.” Kissing would have been less romantic

- George Takei’s voice is majestic

- “He tasks me. He tasks me and I shall have him. I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up.” Not obsessive at all.. nope this is something completely and totally normal to say about your nemesis

- “Uhura, have Doctor McCoy join us (Kirk and Spock) in my quarters.” Hmmmmm.. gotta inform the whole polycule about the shady government experiment

- lmao BOTH Spock and McCoy know who Carol Marcus is

- oh so terraforming… NEVERMIND REALLY FAST TERRAFORMING

- “Really, Dr. McCoy, you must learn to govern your passions. They will be your undoing.” Flirting, gentlemen?

- How and why does Starfleet continually put Spock and McCoy together? Like this alert would be sent out 24/7

- Spock and his awesome daughter Saavik

- falling

- Kirk with the breast flap down

- such a good moment… such a great moment (sorry for shitty photos)

- Kirk has to put on his little glasses <3

- Kirk does NOT fuck around

- Poor Scotty. He’s got so much emotion about his dead crew mate and the doctor apologizing to him 🥺🥺🥺

- Saavik making up rules to make sure the admiral is safe. Love her.

- “Jim, be careful.” “We will.” MCCOY IS SO BITTER. Like ‘no wishes of luck for me, Spock? Fuck you!’

- The collar on that uniform is silly

- hehe McCoy got scared by a rat. OH HE ALSO GOT SCARED BY A DEAD BODY

- Kirk’s little disappointed “oh my god” as he finds Chekov in the cupboard

- “Suppose they went nowhere.” “Then this’ll be your big chance to get away from it all.” McCoy’s not leaving Kirk, but he still looks like he wants to strangle him sometimes

- Kirk not afraid to punch a bitch

- WAIT THATS KIRKS SON?!? Isn’t it?? I thought David was Carol’s brother. But nope!

- aww dammnit I knew they were still mind controlled :/

- Saavik saving David. Y’know it would be pretty cool if there was something about Saavik, David, and Johanna meeting and maybe serving on a ship of their own.. idk just thoughts.

- ewwww brain worm.

- OH THE ECHOING “KHANNN”

- mmmm Kirk without the jacket. The white turtleneck with sleeves… also McCoy and Saavik are slaying with their turquoise and orange turtlenecks

- “Food the first order of survival.” I bet the fanfic writers had a field day with this one (cause cause it’s a reference to Tarsus IV)

- Imagine this: you’re stuck underground with your husband, your other husbands adopted daughter, your ex, her son (who’s also your son), and your old Russian navigator who’s unconscious and tried to kill you while being mind controlled by a worm which came out of his ear

- David’s got Kirk’s curls <333

- Kirk has a thing for people who look good in blue. Change my damn mind.

- “I don’t believe in a no win scenario.” He immediately calls Spock afterwards cause he’ll never lose with his husbands around

- “You lied.” “I exaggerated.” Yep, he IS that bitch

- Saavik is learning so much from them

- They still just.. let anyone onto the bridge. Like David is just there now

- oh no Scotty! Well McCoy was miraculously there to catch him

- CHEKOV BACK ON THE BRIDGE!

- Once again. Kirk does not fuck around! He just killed those guys

- “To the last I will grapple with thee.” WOW. Okay. Well.

- Khan’s about to terraform this bitch

- McCoy stopping Spock from going into the chamber..

- “You’re not going in there!” “Perhaps you’re right. What is Mr. Scott’s condition?” SIKE BITCH SPOCK JUST FUCKING NERVE PINCHED HIM. McCoy you should’ve been tipped off by the fact he 1. Said you were right and 2. Gave up trying to self sacrifice so easily

- wait why’d Spock connect to McCoy’s psi points and say remember? Remember what?

- I like there’s just a sign that flashes the word ‘radiation’ in red letters

- McCoy and Scotty BEGGING Spock not to do this. Break my fucking heart why don’t you?

- Kirk’s little run to the engine room <3

- I know he’s dying but those boots are so slutty

- Solely watching Kirk’s face is already like watching 10 puppies get killed

- “Don’t grieve, admiral.” Has me crying already. Your closest and longest friend is watching your slow descent into death and you ask him not to grieve you. You want him to know your death meant something. It meant he’d be safe and that is nothing to grieve. I’m going to be sick

- don’t touch me I’m thinking about this

- SAAVIK IS CRYING OMG GIRL ME TOO

- Kirk’s voice breaking.. god. Shatter my fucking heart why don’t you?

- if they play bagpipes at my funeral I’m rising from the dead (violins would be nice though)

- NOO HIS CUTE LITTLE GLASSES BROKE

- “They’re just words.” “But good words. That’s where ideas begin. Maybe you should listen to them.” POP OFF DAVID ! Good line

- SON REVEAL! NOT CLICKBAIT

- There’s 8 minutes left of this. Did they leave this one with Spock dead?

- “He’s really not dead, as long as we remember him.” Good words McCoy. But perhaps maybe you might have some.. assistance remembering him?

- got distracted and drew Kirk but I love the last little Spock narration. Really brave to end a WHOLE MOVIE with one of the best most well known characters being dead

Well that movie did have its pros and… khans

…

See you next time

Masterpost

[sinister-things]

Yandere ROTTMNT Headcanons

NOTE: I do not support this behavior in real life. This post is made for entertainment purposes ONLY. Everything in this post(and beyond) should always stay fictional. Please seek professional help if you or a loved one are experiencing any of these behaviors.

This post was inspired by @pianocat939 's headcanons

Also ⚠️TW⚠️: Mentions of stalking, murder, kidnapping, manipulation, and body restraints

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph

Dependent + Protective

Everytime you visit the lair, he's dragging you to the training room to show you the newest move he learned

He just gets so much comfort when you're around! He feels so warm and safe!

But, overtime, he becomes dependent on your attention. He secretly follows you places without you knowing

Treats you like glass. Is super afraid to hurt you

Which results in babying you to the extreme. Basically deludes himself into believing you can't do anything by yourself

If he needs to go anywhere(like patrol or something) he has one of his brother's watch you

If you ever escape, he's sent into a rampage that not even his brother's can tame

"Hun, where are you? You're freakin' me out!"

Overall, he's very suffocating, but he means well... if locking you away in the sewers is your definition of well

Leo

Manipulative + Dependent

Master of mind games

He won't admit it, but he feels useless

So, to make himself feel better, he makes himself useful... by making you feel helpless

The reason he manipulates is because he want's you to see him as your knight in shining armor

Anything could trigger an obsession. Likely some kind of heart-to-heart interaction

If you're someone who isn't manipulated easily, he will up the ante

I imagine he'd snap if he found out one of your friends had a thing for you

He's 100% killing your friend

Then he's coming to your house to whisk you away

Don't bother trying to hide. He'll find you

"There you are, princess! Don't cry– your knight is here!"

You're his little darling, all vulnerable without him guiding you

Donnie

Obsessive + Controlling

Poor Othello Von Ryan felt that his inventions weren't enough for his family(but he would never admit that)

You asked about one of his inventions and he immediately became an excited little boy on christmas morning

Praise him. Tell him he did a good job. He's weak at the knees

Finally, someone sees his genius!

He rarely shows emotion. But when he's alone, a dark voice drives him mad with horrible thoughts

You're just so precious! You mean the world to him!

Tends to stare. He likes to admire you but would never make eye contact

However, if you resist him, he won't hesitate to punish you

However, he's smart and thinks about aforementioned punishment. He wants to find the best way to break you

He's knows what he's doing is illegal and you don't like it, but he doesn't care

Get's jealous very easily

Either he'll kill those... pests or his tech will

"I don't express my feelings very much, but I love you dearly. You're just too paranoid to see that right now."

Mikey

Delusional + Worshipper

Mikey develops an obsession quite rapidly

You're an angel to him! A goddess even!

Mikey believes that you can do no wrong and that nothing is ever your fault

He memorizes your routine and likes to sit outside your window at night

You just look adorable! So peaceful!

He considers you his "muse"

Pictures of you fill his sketch book and line the walls of his room

He believes that you love him just as much as he loves you

You visit the lair and greet him first? Oh, you little flirt!

You hug him a few seconds longer than you did Leo or Raph? You're dying to touch him as much he does with you!

He believes he is the best choice for you and that no one is worthy of your presence

But, if you try and resist him, he'll just tie you up in his kusari-fundo and cuddle you

Drugs your food if he gets that upset. Only sleeping pills, it's the only thing he has access to

He treats you like you solved world hunger

Oh no, your friend was murdered? How terrible!

You wouldn't blame him, would you?

"You're so pretty, like a goddess!"

[theyanderespecialist]

Yandere Velvette X MtF Reader Headcanons: Velvette's Trans Woman (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back, back Again~ Queen is Back, tell a friend, Guess who's back~~~ Dananana~ This one is Velvette X Male To Female, Trans Woman! Now please do enjoy this!] 

(Disclaimer: Velvette is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and Not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!) 

(DISCLAIMER: TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN AND TRANS MEN ARE MEN AND NON-BINARY ARE THEY/THEMS but can also be considered trans cause yes some Non-binary do transition as well!

RESPECT MY TRANS MUFFINS Or You will be blocked if you spread hate or bigotry on my page you are done! You can keep your belief to yourself thank you!) 

-Yandere Headcanons With Velvette X Trans Woman Reader- 

.Velvette is a woman who does not mind her friend and the love of her life, also being a woman. 

.She also was very supportive of helping dress you, gurl she cannot let the woman of her dreams not be styling. 

.Even if you are a basic bisch pumpkin spice-loving type of girl, she is going to make you a sexy-ass basic bitch! 

.She also LOVES to go on dates with you and show you off. 

.She supported you when you came out. 

.She supported you when you started to socially transition. 

.She made all your clothes by hand, taking extra care of love into them. Being so proud when you break out into a smile of wearing the dresses. 

.She also loved when you had your first spinny dress moment. 

.She also loves making dresses with pockets for you. 

.She would be the type to make trans-inclusive dresses and suits, such as built-in padding or binding and or tucking for the trans muffins that need it. 

.With you as her model for MTF clothing. 

.She also would be helping you get your hormones. 

.ALL The bills for transitions, will be paid for, from clothes, to hormones, to surgeries. 

.If you did not want bottom surgery. 

.She would understand, and you would be no less of a woman in her eyes. 

It just means you and her can do extra sex stuff. 

.She would be BRUTAL With anyone that EVER misgenders you, you are walking down the streets with her and someone says something. 

.They are dead on the spot right then and there. 

.Girl she is protective of her little lady you. 

.She is the dommy mommy in the relationship and loves and adores you. 

.Of course, she does get a wee bit jealous when people notice how much of a sexy woman you are! 

.Like that sexy ass belongs to her thank you very much. 

.So she will not want you to go out without her. 

.Another reason she wants you not to go out alone is because of transphobia. This is hell and there is for sure A TON Of transphobes in hell. 

.So she would get you security guards. 

.If they fail to protect you? 

.Well Valentino can do whatever he wants to them. 

.To her you are the most precious thing and she will slaughter anyone who hurts her little lady. 

.Some would say that you were besties, pals, even roommates! Heh, But you are full-on lovers. 

.It is beautiful! 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS the headcanons are done, Now I might record this and if I have time do an audio scenario for YouTube! I hope you all enjoyed all my sexy muffins whether you are trans or not! Stay Sexy, all My Sexy Muffins!] 

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Daddy's baby

Balam was happily letting a tiny Clara climb all over him like he was some kind of mountain as he read a book to a sleepy little Alice and Iruma. Both boys snuggled together on his lap. Honestly, you were trying desperately not to squeal.

How was it again that this demon was single before you came along? He should have had five, if not six, little ones of his own with another on the way at this point. And that was at least!

By all accounts, he should have had a harem at this point! Demons were blind! You huffed as you watched him carefully tucking in the two boys while he carefully held a now squirming Clara.

A baby Jazz sat in your lap coloring, and you cooed happily over his scribbles. How was it that 4 out of your 13 children had been reduced to toddlers? Funny story...

Jazz was working on a project with his battler, something about making anti-aging potions. And of course, that's when your chaotic jellybean comes running in with her two precious soul mates behind her, trying to do damage control. Long story short, something gets knocked into the concoction, and it explodes.

Causing you and several other teachers to rush into the room. Your first instinct is to make sure each of your kids is alright. But really, the moment you spotted tiny hands reaching for you, your brain broke.

You couldn't help but snuggle and use baby talk. Really, it should be illegal for your kids to be so adorable. You and Sullivan took many pictures that first hour before you came to your senses about returning them to their original state.

You gave Dali-San the task of figuring that out as you would have your hands full. Balam had been terrified at first, thinking he'd hurt one of them accidentally, but both Clara and Iruma got him past those thoughts rather quickly as they reached out and tugged or held onto the large gargoyle.

Which required more pictures as you took the kids home for the day. It actually wasn't that bad. Sure, they got into things, and yes, you would definitely have a mess for later, but overall you loved it.

You glanced over to see Clara and Balam now rolling alone the floor. Your little jellybean laughing as she wore herself out trying and failing to get out of her kind teachers hold. You giggled.

Jazz had slipped off your lap and crept over to the playing duo. You watched as his tail waved back and forth rather lazily as he got a closer look. You blinked in shock.

Before you knew it, your little Jazzy had thrown himself at Balam as well. Luckily, the older demon had been paying attention and caught him by the back of his shirt. You letbout a sigh of relief.

Balam set Clara down and now played with the laughing little imp. "Baby, don't jump on, Daddy." You teased without thinking. You blushed. Both Jazz and shichiro are looking at you.

You heard a clatter and groaned. Clara had escaped the room again. You rushed out to do damage control. Secretly glad for a distraction.

... You take that back. Where in Hell did your little chaotic imp find glitter? Was she able to use her bloodline ability this young? Opera was going to kill you for the carpet.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jazz stared up at the large demon, still holding him. His tail flicked in curiosity. "Baby?" He points to himself. Balam nodded, and a soft rumble left his chest.

"Baby," He confirmed, ruffling the little demons hair. Jazz's tail now waved happily as he beamed and pointed at himself again. "Daddy's baby!"

His heart pounded, and his cheeks turned red. But who could blame him? That was just so cute! Jazz tilted his head and pouted. "Daddy's baby?" This time as a question.

He pulled the little one closer and cooed, almost trilling. "Daddy's baby." He repeated firmly, so there wasn't doubt. The laughter that escaped the small child had him feeling like he was on cloud 9 all day.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

okay but Wayne!sibling!Reader being a villain?? one day she steals Wayne Enterprises from Bruce when he gets too caught up in Batman stuffs hoping it would garner his attention but he happily signs off on it and it irritates her cause she just wants his attention she won’t admit it but she feels Bruce put her on the back burner in favour of Batman and that burner only got colder with every child he adopted so she becomes a straight up villain just to spend time with him. not doing anything super illegal that the company couldn’t shell out some money to fix but enough to garner his attention. and he has absolutely no idea it’s his baby sister beating his ass on a weekly basis. all the Bat Kids know though and are just grinning like madmen in the background.

I love the idea of Wayne!Sister!Reader taking up being a villain but she’s a baddie who does good. Like she steals from bigger more corporate businesses only to give to smaller and harder working businesses, especially local family owned ones. Or she goes after people and places that are pretty terrible themselves whether it be a testing facility that does its testing strictly on animals or an abusive parent/foster home/orphanage.

It would also be kind of funny if the Reader fully divulged themself into villainy only to just mildly inconvenience Batman/her brother. Like she doesn’t really mean to do good, it’s not their #1 intention, she just wants to put a damper in Bruce being Batman but instead they inadvertently do really good and beneficial things in the process. Like, oops she accidentally destroyed an entire apartment complex, luckily no one was harmed in the process but fortunately it was also not up to living standards to begin with and is now being completely rebuilt with everything being like and working how it should have from the start.

Bruce actually finds this new up and coming villain quite amusing and dare he say that he enjoys their interactions with each other. At first he wouldn’t be any the wiser to his new foe being his sister because of course that would be in no way, shape, or form a thought in his mind that his own beloved baby sister would be out causing ‘havoc’ on the city, on their home. Hell, he probably doesn’t even think his sister has any idea about him being Batman. He didn’t even think twice when they took Wayne Enterprises right from under him, he didn’t see it like that at all. I could even see Bruce being delusional unsuspecting enough to believe that the Reader was only taking up the company as to give him a break and allow him to do more of his own thing (i.e be able to protect the city and do his Batman responsibilities without much more to hold him back or take up his attention). So of course he wouldn’t think much about his own baby sister taking on the company from him, if anything he kinda thought it was cute. Especially seeing his precious baby sister taking on the role of CEO. He’d totally have Lucius take discreet photos or videos of the Reader being a girlboss in meetings and whatever business dealings, all just to see his sister be a strong businesswoman and run the company all on her own.

I also really love the idea that even though the Reader felt left out on the back burner she was still a prominent figure in the kids lives and adored them to no end. Of course she loved seeing her brother be as much of a father to the kids as he could be, putting much necessary time and attention into them that was taken away from her. Like, she didn’t resent them or anything like that for coming into the picture and ‘stealing’ her brother from her but instead helped be something the kids needed and could trust when they felt they couldn’t go to Bruce. But as much as she loves and cares for her nieces and nephew and vice verse that did that keep her from still feeling abandoned by Bruce.

I could definitely see after becoming Batman that Bruce and the Reader’s relationship changed. The Reader certainly felt the change, the two used to be inseparable and so close but now it felt like there was a void between them. At least that’s how the Reader felt. Bruce doesn’t think anything is any different, he hasn’t picked up on any change. When the Reader does try to spend time with him and he turns them down in favor of crime fighting or something else, he always promises to make it up but he never does, probably due to forgetting but the Reader remembers and it weighs them down each and every time he turns them away for something or someone else. She’s kept her hurt to herself but it only got worse until she decided to move out of the manor, away from the kids and away from Bruce. She didn’t even tell Bruce, she just up and left without breathing a word of it to him. Hell, she may not have told anyone except Alfred that she was moving out. Alfred was only told because the Reader didn’t want to worry him, out of everyone in the family he was the one she didn’t want to be concerned about her. I also don’t doubt that Alfred is very well aware of the Reader’s feelings of being unwanted or uncared for regarding Bruce and he’s tried to help the Reader in his own way to get Bruce to spend some kind of time with his sister only for him too to end up waved off or turned away.

I could also see the kids having started paying less attention to the Reader once they took up fighting crime with Bruce, especially the older ones who moved out and were doing their own thing now. It would only add to the Reader’s feeling of being abandoned and left behind leading them to just leaving the manor and everyone else altogether.

If things weren’t so serious and this whole thing wasn’t a detrimental way to try and save/rekindle the Reader and Bruce’s brother-sister relationship in itself own way, then I could see the kids finding some amusement in it. But they would all still be very worried about the Reader, sure Bruce as Batman isn’t going off on her like he does with his rogue gallery or other criminals but that doesn’t mean that the Reader still can’t end up hurt or in real peril. The kids would try their best to help the Reader in their own ways but I think eventually someone would just crack and tell Bruce that he’s been fighting his own sister this whole time and giving her reason for it too. Bruce needs some time to process it but then he puts thing together himself and it all makes sense. He feels awful knowing that his baby sister felt like this was the only way she could spend time with him or have more of an interaction with him then he’s given her outside of this. He honestly feels like complete shit and a terrible brother, especially when he’s reminded of a promise he made her when they were younger after their parents died about always being there for each other and that she could count on him over anyone else. And he’s gone and fucked it all up.

I can’t help but have the idea that Bruce was slowly pulling back from his sister because he caught on to his obsessive tendencies and he didn’t want to turn into something much darker when it came to his beloved baby sister. He wanted her to be able to exist and thrive in the world without him holding her back, but now that he knows his baby sister went to these lengths for his time and attention he feels justified in indulging in his yandere behavior. And leave it to the kids to follow suit, especially after finding out the Reader felt abandoned by them too.

[creatingblackcharacters]

One of my other favorite Black characters is Jax Amboy from 5 Worlds, a sci-fi/fantasy graphic novel series!

He's a robot and a sweetheart who cares about his friends a lot, but struggles with social situations, which I relate to. In this world, it's illegal to make robots that look too human, so he has to keep the fact that he's a robot a secret. His friends, the other two protagonists of the series, know he's a robot, but it's a pretty close kept secret.

I'm also a fan of his design (except for the blue eyes), teal and gold just look really good on dark skin.

He's also a sports star! I think it's really fun that the robot character is also the sporty one, it's not something I've seen before. We don't see a lot of him and his old teammates, but we do get some scenes of them interacting and his teammates seem like they like him and see him as a friend. Jax is like, really popular among sports fans too, because he's a very skilled player. He uses that popularity to help him and his friends on their mission (saving the worlds. All five of them).

The company in charge of his sports team tries to stop him from going on his worlds-saving adventure, but he fights back and always tries to do what's right no matter what. I don't think he's a good person "in spite of" being a robot, I think it's more just a part of who he is. Being a robot comes in handy a lot for him, and it's a big part of who he is, but it doesn't make him any less of a person.

There's more about him but I don't wanna give spoilers. I'll just say that his arc is about connecting with his humanity and accepting himself. And show another image because he's precious.

In conclusion everyone should like him as much as me because he's awesome.

I'm actually a big fan of his design! He reminds me of Astro Boy, if Astro Boy had Black people in it (idk, I never watched it). Teal and gold are absolutely bangers on brown skin. They don't miss. He's so adorable too, oh I love this!

I just realized his name is Jax Amboy, like "am boy not robot" 🤣🤣🤣 that's silly and clever.

[fandomwe1rd0]

Morty being our favorite creepy little grandpa's boy

Him defending Rick is so sweet- I love our precious baby boy sm-

He was so kind to Rick in this episode...Rick didn't deserve it

He was so determined to save his grandpa!

The first thing he did when he tried to impress someone is brag about Rick- He's so cute

Awwwww he just wanted Rick to come with...I love our creepy little grandpa's boy

He had the chance to come with Evil Morty, Rick encouraged him to go with Evil Morty, but he still choose his grandpa....he really is a creepy little grandpa's boy and we love him for it

THE FIRST THING HE DID WHEN HE THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO DIE IS CURL UP NEXT TO RICK AND HOLD ONTO HIS ARM! HE'S SO FUCKING ADORABLE WHAT!? ADOPTION PAPERS! LET ME ADOPT THIS CHILD! Wait fuck- Ahem. I mean I am a normal person

Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm not crying. You're crying shut up.

He always looks instantly gulity when he thinks/finds out that something he said hurt Rick....I can't....Morty you have every right to lash out!

He's instantly calmed down when he hugs Rick....I swear to god I will always protect this precious child

AWWWWWWW He just wanted Rick to be included! Look at himmmmmm. He's so adorable!

Morty you just can't be this cute- It's illegal to be this cute, the fact that this was after an arguement he had with Rick as well-

Awwwww he smiled when Rick smiled! He loves his grandpa!

HE IMMIEDATLY GOES TO HELP RICK!

I'm obssessed with the way he holds onto Rick for comfort...he's so adorable

He wants Rick to stay around forever by using anti aging serum, be there for his first house, and be there for his first drink....he's so cute AH!

In conclusion: Morty is a precious cute lil' baby who needs to be protected at all costs and is our favorite creepy little grandpa's boy and we love him for it!