#have you met me????

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Freaky Friday Time Travel AU - Klaus is a Master Baiter

It's been a while since put some of this out but i've been working on my plot issues and writing so here is some FFTT! as always @galvanizedfriend your tag!

Part One here Part Two here Part Three here Part Four here Part Five here

Pulling down a pink jacket, she wondered as she slipped it on if she’d be breaking any time laws if she brought it home with her. Shoes on, she went in search of Klaus.

The bedroom opened on a hallway lined with paintings with two closed doors and a staircase at the end, which curved around down to the landing. A living room was through one doorway, a kitchen and dining room through another. Klaus’ voice, sharp in tone, came from behind a door to the left that was cracked a smidge, and she padded quietly to the door to listen.

She needn’t have bothered, first off, he was speaking a language she wasn’t familiar with, and secondly, the moment she got within range of the door, he called out to her. “Caroline, do come in, love.”

Only slightly annoyed, she pushed the door open. The room was some kind of study or office, with a desk in the middle of the room and a couch over by the window and a corner fireplace, currently lit and casting patterns of light on the built-ins filled with books and small trinkets. A tumbler of some amber liquid in one hand, Klaus gave her a small smile, a phone held to one ear. It sounded like he was speaking maybe Icelandic or oh! probably Old Norse. She caught Kol's name flung out with irritation before he switched to English.

“I aim to enjoy time with my wife after that mess with the ifrit in Tehran that you elected not to join us for.” Klaus gestured to her to make herself comfortable, and trying not to think about how many times her future self had probably fucked Klaus on it, she sat down on the couch. Really tried not to think about it.

Looking at the firelight playing across Klaus' body, the jumble of necklaces tumbling over the neck of his shirt, Caroline very privately had to guess it was a lot of times for the couch. 'Stop that,' she told herself, 'You're with Tyler, and none of this has happened yet. You could make it all not happen.'

Kol's voice, heard by Caroline only once or twice before this, came through the phone clear to her hearing. "I knew you had it in hand, Nik. What's one teeny little fire spirit to the Original Hybrid?" His tone was mocking of Klaus' self-aggrandized title, and Caroline had to admit she was starting to see a future where maybe they could be friends, she and this nutjob brother of Klaus'.

"I don't suppose any of the Bennett witch's books happened to mention they're eight feet tall? Hmm?“ Klaus' voice was the epitome of murderous intent; he calmly took a drink, the corner of his mouth curling mischievously into a dimple that spoke volumes about how much he was enjoying leading his brother on.

”Uh. Eight feet? Really, they uh. Made them seem kind of... tiny.” Kol finished lamely. “We're at the Greek house for the month, don't have all the grimoires, you see.”

“So you've mentioned. I'll be sure to inform Caroline of your incompetence, little brother.”

“Caroline?” Kol's voice turned a little sharp. “She's okay, right? Nothing... happened?”

“Caroline's fine.” Klaus' voice was terrible and final, and for once Caroline thought he was speaking from the heart, like he was saying she would be fine because he willed it so.

“Nik, now just—”

“Like I said.” Klaus did a good impression of gathering himself. “I'd like to indulge in my wife without the family making a nuisance of themselves. Stay out of Brazil for the next month if you know what's good for you.” He hung up the phone.

“We're going to Brazil?” Caroline asked. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The part of her that desperately wanted to see the world was thrilled. The other part of her that was already freaking out from being in Paris didn't know if going to a second location was a good idea.

Klaus smiled. “No, we're going to the library. Kol is going to Brazil.” Beckoning with one hand, he pulled her to her feet. Pinching the edge of the fabric between two fingers, he gave her jacket a small tug. “Excellent choice, will blend you in nicely, and you look lovely.”

Caroline beamed at him, and he licked his lips, sighed almost regretfully, and then turned away, draining his glass and setting it on the desk. Tapping a touchscreen in the corner of it, the fire went out, and Klaus waved at her to follow him. Feeling a little off-kilter, she did.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Must be a Sugondese joke.

[cidnangarlond]

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[beguilingcorpse]

it drives me crazyyyy that like. palamedes is out at canaan house with tenderness in excelsius for dulcinea. the perfect regency era gentleman. every moment is the pride and prejudice hand flex scene. if the pov character was attracted to men even a little bit the narration would be filled with swooning. he’s lowering her gently into chairs and handing her tea so that their hands brush and looking at her with those big grey eyes of his. and all of it is WASTED because it’s NOT dulcinea it’s CYTHEREA. FUCK

[musubiki]

balor 🥰

[dkettchen]

cursed construction core hi vis bra that came to me in a dream

In the dream I saw it in the window display of a hardware/DIY/trade shop, implying it was meant to be a practical garment designed for actual female constructions workers in a Female Armour level missed-the-brief attempt at gender inclusion

The practical support from the visible underwire combined with the hi vis implying it’s not meant to be worn as an undergarment, I just-

I blame my binge-reading ND Stevenson’s gender comics talking abt masculinity and femininity incl the one abt Victoria’s Secret lingerie yesterday for this monstrosity x’D

[azulhood]

Conversations between best friends has often led to some reckless/stupid/not thought out at all decisions. Like one conversation the amity park trio had where Danny said that he couldn't see Tucker as a doctor (the medical kind) to which Tucker responded with "Alright, bet." and enrolled in medical school. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Bruce Wayne and Tucker Foley somehow by coincidence *cough* clockwork* became friends. And stayed friends even after Bruce dropped out and Tucker went on to finish med school. It was a strange friendship that was mainly just Bruce calling Tucker from the weirdest locations and asking things "Out of curiosity, if an immortal nutjob wanted you to marry his daughter and become his heir what would you do? uh-huh, uh-huh, really? ok, thanks." and meeting up for coffee every now and then. It was during one of these coffee meet-ups that Bruce confessed that he wanted to adopt a recently orphaned child by the name of Richard. There was currently push back from people who didn't think 'Brucie Wayne' would be a good parent and from others who didn't want a random kid having a chance to inherit the Wayne fortune, the media was also having a field day. Everyone kept asking him to "reconsider" and doing everything they can to stall/stop the adoption process. Tucker, being the good friend he was, said "Don't worry, I got this" Stood up from the cafe table, walked to the nearest library and politely asked to use one of their computers, spent a good ten minutes on it, printed something out on the library's printer, walked back to the cafe where he left Bruce waiting. And finally, he handed over the paper with the words "Take this." and continued drinking his now cold coffee. Bruce was, understandably, confused. "What is-" "Trust me, it'll work." Tucker assured him. That is how Bruce Wayne adopted one Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

And after that, Bruce went to Tucker whenever he came across a kid that he wanted to adopt, which was often. It's one reason why Tucker will do everything in his power to make sure Danny and Bruce never meet for fear that the Gothamite might try to add the Halfa to the growing army of children. Aka

Tucker Foley is The Guy

[dorkydiaz]

THE MET GALA THEMES HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FAIRY TALE SLEEPING BEAUTY

the exhibit is called Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion, the pieces are ones that are too fragile to be worn, due to either age or construction. some pieces will have technology/projections to fill in missing parts that have decayed.

[slyandthefamilybook]

A NON-EXHAUSTIVE BUT NEVERTHELESS EXHAUSTING LIST OF NEO-NAZI AND WHITE SUPREMACIST DOGWHISTLES

since some of y'all apparently need a refresher course. as always, use your judement when deciding if it's a dogwhistle or just innocent usage of a number or symbol

NUMBERS

100% - 100 percent white

109 or 110 - A reference to the 109 countries that have expelled, in whole or in part, their Jewish populations. 110 refers to the hope that more countries will do so, usually specifically the United States. Often posted on its own as a reply, or phrased as a question (e.g. "If you were kicked out of 109 bars it's probably our fault")

1290 - A reference to the Edict of Expulsion of 1290, which expelled the Jewish population of England

13/50 or 13/52 or 13/90 - The supposed statistic that Black Americans make up 13% of the population yet commit 50% or 52% of violent crime, or 90% of interracial violence. Often posted on its own as a reply

14 - The Fourteen Words, a Neo-Nazi slogan

14/23 - A number representing the Southern Brotherhood, an Alabama prison gang

1488 - A combination of the Fourteen Words and Heil Hitler

C18 - Combat 18, a British neo-Nazi group

18 - The letters A (1) and H (8), standing for Adolf Hitler

21-2-12 - The Letters U (21), B (2), and 12 (L), standing for Union, Brotherhood, and Loyalty, the slogan of the Unforgiven, a Florida prison gang

23 - Often thrown up as a hand sign, with two fingers raised on one hand and three fingers raised on the other. Represents the letter W (23), standing for white

271,000 - A reference to the supposed fact that the Red Cross claimed only 271,000 people had been murdered in concentration camps. In reality, that number reported by the Red Cross only came from reports from 13 concentration camps (there were 23 main camps, plus a large number of smaller "satellite" camps)

88 - H (8) H (8), standing for Heil Hitler

9% - A number representing the percentage of the world's population that is white

SYMBOLS

((( ))) - Triple parentheses, or echo. Used by neo-Nazis to call out someone as Jewish

Iron Cross - A German military decoration

Sonnenrad (Sun Wheel)

Reichsadler (Imperial Eagle) - A blocky, art-deco eagle facing to the side. Variants exist, some facing right, some facing left. The Parteiadler (Party Eagle) has a slightly different design. The Reichsadler is usually clutching a wreath with a swastika, although this is sometimes left out to maintain plausible deniability

Totenkopf (Death's Head) - A symbol used by the SS

Wolfsangel (Wolf's Hook) - Used as the insignia of various Wermacht (Nazi Military) divisions

Wolfsangel (horizontal)

Odal Rune - From the Proto-Germanic "Othala" meaning heritage

Algiz Rune - A symbol used by German nationalists

Celtic Cross

"Broken Sun" Cross

Arrow Cross - A Hungarian nationalist party that was active from 1935-1945. The symbol has been re-appropriated by modern neo-Nazis

Valknot

EMOJI

🤑 Greedy Face Emoji - Used to refer to "greedy Jews"

💰 Money Bag Emoji - Used to refer to "greedy Jews"

🥸 Disguised Emoji - Used to refer to Jews because of the enlarged nose

🤥 Lying Emoji - Used to refer to Jews because of the enlarged nose

👃 Nose Emoji - Used to refer to Jews

🙋‍♂️ Raising Hand Emoji - Used for its resemblance to the Sieg Heil salute

✋ Raised Hand Emoji - Used for its resemblance to the Sieg Heil salute

o/ or 0/ - Used for its resemblance to the Sieg Heil salute

🐸 Frog Emoji - A reference to Pepe the Frog, a webcomic charcter co-opted by the alt-right

👌 Okay Symbol Emoji - A hand symbol co-opted by the alt-right. Sometimes said to resemble the letters WP, or White Power

🚪 Door Emoji - Refers to the fact that some of the gas chambers (such as the ones at Auschwitz) had wooden doors, and therefore could not have been airtight enough to contain the Zyklon B gas used to murder prisoners. In reality, many of the wooden doors were either replaced with airtight metal ones, or were made airtight with strips of felt that then deteriorated or were removed

🚿 Showerhead Emoji - Refers to the showerheads used to dispense Zyklon B gas in the gas chambers

⛽ Gas Pump Emoji - Refers to gas chambers

⚡⚡ Double Lightning Emojis - Used for their resemblance to the Siegrune (victory rune) badge worn by members of the SS (Schutzstaffel)

💀 Skull Emoji - Used for its resemblance to the Totenkopf (Death's Head) used by the SS

☠️ Skull and Crossbones Emoji - Used for its resemblance to the Totenkopf (Death's Head) used by the SS

WORDS/PHRASES

6MWE - Six Million Wasn't Enough. A call for further genocide against Jews

AKIA - A Klansman I Am

Annudah Shoah - A mockery of both the Shoah (Holocaust) and the fear of further genocide

Auschwitz had a swimming pool/rec center/maternity ward/etc. - An attempt to diminish the horror of concentration camps by making them seem more like labor camps with amenities

Blood and Honor - A neo-Nazi slogan

Blood and Soil - A neo-Nazi slogan

Blood Libel - Not a phrase used by the far right, but something they often believe in or claim. Blood libel is an antisemitic conspiracy theory stretching back hundreds of years. The original claim was that Jews used the blood of Christian babies to bake matzah (a ritual food eaten on Passover). It has since evolved into images of Jews drinking blood, kidnapping and killing non-Jewish babies, and conspiracy theories about harvesting adrenochrome

Bowlcut - A reference to white supremacist mass-murderer Dylan Roof

Cohencidence - A portmanteau of Cohen (a common Jewish last name) and coincidence. Used to refer to Jewish control (e.g. "All these companies are owned by Jews! What a Cohencidence!")

COORS - "Comerades of Our Racial Struggle"

Cultural Marxism - A conspiracy theory that Jews are intentionally weakening "Western values" in order to make countries like the United States more susceptible to communism. This was called Cultural Bolshevism in Nazi Germany

Da Shoah or Muh Shoah or Muh Holocaust - A mockery of the Holocaust

Day of the Rope - A day referenced in neo-Nazi book The Turner Diaries when all race traitors will be hanged

Degenerate - An insult based on the false theory that bad morals will cause human beings to regress along the path of evolution (to de-evolve). Used to describe groups, individuals, or ideologies

Early Life - A reference to the "Early Life" section of Wikipedia biographies, which will reveal that a person is Jewish or has Jewish ancestry

Every Single Time - Every time something bad happens, the perpetrator is Jewish

Featherwood - A term derived from racist prison subculture. A featherwood is a woman associated with a racist gang

FGRN - For God, Race, and Nation. A Ku Klux Klan slogan

The Fourteen Words - A neo-Nazi slogan. "We must secure the existance of our people and a future for white children"

The Frankfurt School - A school of sociology founded at Goethe University Frankfurt in 1923. Usually blamed as the originator of "Cultural Marxism"

Fren - Internet slang. A diminutive of "friend", used to diminish Naziism and make it seems more harmless. Often used in usernames to describe one's self (e.g. sad_fren_88)

Globalist - A person who desires connection between countries in terms of politics, trade, and travel. Used to scaremonger about Jews destroying countries by removing their borders

Gorillion - A mockery of the number 6 million, being the amount of Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust

Goy - Hebrew for "nation", used by Jews to refer to non-Jews/gentiles. Used disparagingly by neo-Nazis to suggest Jews view non-Jews as beneath them

Goyslop - Unhealthy food that Jews force non-Jews to eat to keep them weak

Groid - A shortening of "Negroid", an archaic terms used to describe Black people

Groyper - A follower of avowed neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes. A reference to the "Groyper" meme, a variant of Pepe the Frog

GSHW - Germany Should Have Won (i.e. won World War II)

GTKRWN - Gas the Kikes; Race War Now

HDKH - Hitler Didn't Kill Himself. A neo-Nazi theory that Hitler escaped Germany and fled to Argentina

John 8:44 - "You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies." Part of Jesus' rebuke of his Jewish followers

Joo or Jooz - An intentional misspelling of "Jews" in an attempt to bypass censors or automatic content filters

Kate Hikes - A spoonerism of "hate kikes"

Kek - 4chan variation of "lol"

Kekistan - A fictional country imagined by white nationalists with a flag that resembles the Nazi battle flag

Khazar - A reference to the conversion of a group of Khazars (a Turkic people) to Judaism. Antisemites speculate that the entirity of Ashkenazi Jews are descended from these Khazar converts, and therefore have no historical, cultural, or genetic tie to the Levant. This has been proven false on multiple occasions

Kike - A racial slur against Jews

Lizard People or Reptilians - A conspiracy theory by far-right figure David Icke, claiming that world leaders are really reptilian aliens. Most people who believe this theory believe that the lizard people in question are the Jews

Magic Soil - A protest against the idea that people of one nationality can become people of another nationality simply by living in a country (i.e. "France doesn't have magic soil that turns Africans into Frenchmen")

Nicker - An intentional misspelling of the N word in an attempt to bypass censors or automatic content filters

Ns - Black people (as in the plural of the letter N)

NSDAP - Nationalsozialistiche Deutsche Arbeiterpartei. The Nazi party, but using an acronym that is unfamiliar to most people

NS - National Socialist

Noticer - Someone who "notices" that Jews control the world

The Noticing - A mass movement of people "noticing" that Jews control the world

New World Order - A far-right conspiracy theory about Jews taking control over the world and implementing a single world government. Also used in conjunction with phrases like "world banks"

OFOF - One Front, One Family. Slogan of the neo-Nazi group Volksfront

ORION - Our Race Is Our Nation

Oy Vey - A Yiddish exclamation meaning "oh woe". Used by neo-Nazis to mock Jews

Pattern Recognizer - Someone who has recognized the "pattern" of Jews always being in control

Peckerwood - A term derived from racist prison subculture. A peckerwood is a man associated with a racist gang

Power Level - A memeification of far-right beliefs. The more fascist your beliefs, the higher your "power level"

The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion - A 20th century Russian hoax claiming to be the minutes of meetings between Jewish leaders discussing how they will take control of the world

Pure Blood - Someone who is a pure member of the white race

Rabbi Smolett - A claim that Jews fabricate antisemitic hate crimes (a reference to actor Jussie Smolett who was accused of doing the same)

ROA - Race Over All

The Goyim Know - A phrase used by white supremacists acting like Jews who have discovered white supremacist activity, and are afraid that they've been found out. Often "The Goyim Know, Shut It Down", which adds the idea that Jews will prohibit any conversation that gets too close to the truth

The Red Cross - A reference to the supposed fact that the Red Cross claimed only 271,000 people had been murdered in concentration camps. In reality, that number reported by the Red Cross only came from reports from 13 concentration camps (there were 23 main camps, plus a large number of smaller "satellite" camps)

Tiny Hats or Tiny Hatted People - A reference to the Kippah or Yarmulke often worn by Jewish men

Reject Modernity, Embrace Tradition - A fascist slogan warning against social progress and calling for a return to a prelapsarian (usually ethnocentric) paradise

Rubbing Hands - A reference to an antisemitic charicature called "The Happy Merchant"

"To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you're not allowed to criticize" - A quote often misattributed to Voltaire, which neo-Nazis use to decry claims of antisemitism as efforts to silence them. In fact, it's a quote from a neo-Nazi pedophile

Shabbos Goy - A non-Jewish neighbor of a Jew who can be asked to perform acts Jews are forbidden from doing on the Sabbath (e.g. turning of a light or turning on the heat). Used by neo-Nazis to claim someone is a slave to Jews

Sheeeiiit - An over-the-top representation of how "shit" is said with a Blaccent. Often used in memes declaring Black people to be less intelligent

Shekels - Jewish currency (from the Hebrew word for weight, similar to how British currency is called the pound. In reality, the plural of shekel is shkalim). The name has been adopted by the State of Israel for the NIS (New Israeli Shekel). "Shekels" is used by neo-Nazis to mock Jews as being greedy

Synagogue of Satan - An antisemitic term for Jews, stemming from the Chrsitian Bible

They or Them - When used to describe a nebulous group of undefined adversaries, these words almost always refer to Jews

They Cry Out in Pain As They Strike You - An antisemitic proverb claiming that Jews will make false cries of antisemitism while at the same time perpetrating atrocities

Troon - A slur against trans people, particularly trans women

Volk - German for "folk", or "kind". Used by neo-Nazis to refer to white people

We Wuz Kangz - A racist phrase ment to mock Black nationalists

White Genocide - The myth that a group of people (usually Jews) are conspiring to eliminate the white race through various means including immigration, intermarriage, and homosexuality

WP - White Power

WN - White Nationalist or White Nationalism

Wooden Doors - Refers to the fact that some of the gas chambers (such as the ones at Auschwitz) had wooden doors, and therefore could not have been airtight enough to contain the Zyklon B gas used to murder prisoners. In reality, many of the wooden doors were either replaced with airtight metal ones, or were made airtight with strips of felt that then deteriorated or were removed

Zio - An abbreviation of "Zionist". Used derogatorialy by neo-Nazis

WPRWS - 'Weimar Problems Require Weimar Solutions" (sometimes shortened to just "Weimar Problems" or "Weimar Solutions"). Prior to the rise of the Nazi Party, the democratic Weimar Republic was in financial crisis (the eponymous "Weimar Problem"). This was often blamed on the Jews. The "Weimar Solution" is Naziism

ZOG - Zionist Occupied Government, reflecting the belief that the United States government is controlled by Jews

[wayward-wren]

Thinking about. Stanley Pines. Once summer, not long after Weirdmaggedon. Sitting in his seat, staring at the tv but realising slowly he's not really watching TV, he's listening.

Listening to Soos, taking a tour group around the Shack, his voice confident and happy, eagerly telling tourists all kinds of tall tales. Soos, with his young son strapped to his chest, held close and dear to his heart, always knowing he is loved and wanted by his father.

Listening to Wendy and Melody, laughter turning to deeper conversations in the gift shop as Wendy pours out her latest dating drama and Melody listens sympathetically--not quite a mother, but an older sister figure is all Wendy wants at the moment.

Listening to a distant boom coming from the basement, a cause for some concern that fades quickly as three peals of laughter follow soon after. One deep and familiar, as comforting and close as the sound of a ship's motor and the open sea. One young and high, cracking with adolescent awkwardness. One loud and cackling, a hint of madness never quite leaving it but more settled than it used to be. And Stan figures it's probably time to send someone down to drag Ford, Dipper and McGucket upstairs before they forget what light is and get too nerdy.

Besides it's nearly dinner time, and he's listening to Mabel's steady, unrelenting chatter in the kitchen, punctuated by a few grunts of acknowledgment from Abuelita as they prepare a meal.

And Stan feels a strange, unusual sensation wash over him, something he hasn't felt for over half a lifetime, by a boat on a beach. A sensation of contentment, of security, of peace. And he realises that if he stood up and walked into any one of the rooms in the Shack he would be greeted with smiles and faces lighting up to see him and cheerful cries of his name.

And he looks down at the darned pig sleeping beside his chair and things, with oddly misty eyes, that he spent thirty years trying to find his brother again. And he succeeded--but somehow, he got more than that. He had formed around him, without even realising it, a family.

[thepersonperson]

Do you know how funny it is that Sukuna is literally suffering from Gojo brainrot?

This may be an illustration of Gojo's brain damage from forcefully resetting his cursed technique, but since Sukuna is copying him (pose included), this is what his brain looks like too.

[mamawasatesttube]

i also want to see more timkon of the "oh tim is a monsterfucker. okay" variety. there's an alien freak of nature hovering ominously in the air, not moving, not even breathing by the look of it, unnaturally beautiful with horrific glowing red eyes. everything about it seems straight out of a horror movie. a thing that's almost but very clearly not human. and this fucking guy tim is over in the corner going 😍🥵🥰😳 about it??? is anyone else seeing this????

[shorthaltsjester]

ashton truly is like. student very enthused to get involved in the class discussion. unfortunately they did the reading while high and only have a few sparse notes to help them through and they read “gods & death . something happening there. the everlight exists. melora rips wizard throat with teeth. the gods know EVERYTHING. the gods know NOTHING. gods will kill mortals for knowing things about them. apples?” and there are no page numbers written to help them with context. this does not stop them — to the great horror of everyone else in the lecture hall — from speaking the most during group discussion

[daily-sifloop]

au where Loop's wish for someone to guide them came true as originally intended and the Universe brought Siffrin to their timeline?

(you can decide if a post-canon Siffrin, a Siffrin that escape the time loop without a Loop helping them, or a Siffrin that was randomly plucked from their timeline as two heads are better than one in escaping a time loop)

Day 57: My future WHO?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)