#sidenote that one scene of gira with the kids

[tokuteasings]

You are my King | And by your side I will stay

Kingohger brainrot go BRRRRRRR

In reference to my headcanons about how it’s like to kiss each of them, my ho ass decided to make a whole ass series for the hand kisses~! I’m a simp. Send help.

First up is sunshine boi, Giraaaaa~! 

Warnings: Spoilers kinda? Uhhh, creative liberties. Angst-ish. Reader is gender neutral and this is a romantic relationship.

“-stop!” 

The weight against your arm is a chain by now, the iron ball tethering you towards the muddy ground. You pause, turning back to the false prince behind you, the runaway, the pretender. 

“What’s wrong?”

The whisper is barely heard amongst the trees, the night sky being your only solace with him. 

Gira doesn’t speak, his shoulders sagging, unable to look upwards towards the sun that you are. “I…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

He cannot speak for yet another moment, a small sniffle leaving his lips as he shakes. An earthquake quivering within his form, threatening to utterly decimate the labyrinth within his heart and mind. The calibur at his side sings in a lonely sort of somber song, and your heart bleeds the moment it had been pierced. 

“Gira, honey, what’s wrong?” a step, a second step, a third ste-

“I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in...in...” a second shudder of his lower lip, a heave, a whimper, “In this...” only now does his eyes meet yours, a blade tearing into your psyche as humid droplets scatter amongst his cheeks. A hand is waved around the two of you, into the desolate forest - the end of the end - with the dirt beneath your feet and no one else other than each other to hear the screams of the dead.

“It’s my fault...”

You hush and shush him, taking his face into your hands. “Gira, love,” you murmur to him against the pale and biting wind and your pecks kissing the tears away. “I wanted to.” your forehead is against his, your chill against his heat, where it could soothe his feverish self. “I wanted to be with you, Gira, and I always will. Whatever the hell Racles is going to do to us will not change that.”

“But...” he takes a sole step back, eyes wide, red as his clothing, and stained with driplets. “What if...” he cannot continue onwards with the sudden dreaded thoughts invading his mind, crawling into the synapses and tearing him bit by bit, ants chewing apart their prey. “What if something happens to you?” clammy hands find yours, lacing fingers and he doesn’t let them leave his cheeks - his eyes will never leave yours. “What if you get hurt? What if...”

“It won’t happen.” You answer him, a plant against the wind, against the concrete and forever standing taller than the trees that soak up your sorrows. “Because we’re together. And that’s all that matters.” you watch as he sniffles, leaning into your touch and you smile, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckle of a ring. 

A sharp inhale and a minuscule little whimper leaves the lips of your beloved, and half of him wants to skitter away as a rabbit would. His poor, poor heart cannot take it; this emotion, this devotion, this sensation. It’s familiar yet foreign all at once, diplomats of unknown varieties. “W-Why did you do...?” he wiggles the ring finger you had just blessed your lips with. “That?” an octave higher than normal, embarrassment seeping into his bones.

“Because I love you.” the answer is a simple enough equation. You press your lips to his next finger, and then the next, and then the next. Each time you do, he would whimper and whine, his cheeks flaring brighter than the sun itself. “Because I want to be with you. Come what may, I am yours, Gira.” it’s a bond that you cannot erase, that Racles cannot erase. “I want to conquer this world with you, but most of all...I want to be with you.”

He doesn’t speak, stunned to a silent speech, another sniffle leaves his lips before he presses his lips to yours. Everlasting, the love of a king is grand, but the love of the monarch beside him is...

Addictive. 

You could runaway with his heart and he would let you.

“Thank you.” he murmurs against your lips, forehead against forehead, the waves of calm and relief lapping against the shores of his psyche. “I love you,” he whispers your name next, a smile that could subjugate the world soon blooms upon his lips. “We’ll stop Racles, and defeat Bugnarok. Together.”

“Together.” You repeat, laughing as he presses a kiss to your knuckles in return. “Hey, don’t steal that from me!” Gira snorts, “An evil king must treat their beloved with the same amount of reverence they showed him!” he chuckles out, but leans in closer and closer to your ear. “And I will revere you, every chance I can get, until the sun ceases to shine.”

“As will I, my king, as will I.”