it's easy to fall in love - and perhaps even easier to fall out of it when you discover the penpal who captured your heart might not be the man whose signature is on his letters
synopsis: a poor princess. a playboy emperor. and a devoted duke at his aide. heavy is the head that wears the crown - and heavier is the hand that wears the ring binding them together. what happens when you're up for the role of a bride? or the future empress?
pairing: emperor!gojo x princess!reader, duke!Geto x princess!reader
content: mdni, angst and smut and fluff, royal fantasy sort of au, she falls first, he falls harder, gojo is a spoiled brat at first lol, gojo getting brutally humbled, Geto trying to steal reader from him, falling in love, heavy pining/yearning, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, mentions of murder/injury, handcuffs, character growth, political schemes, unprotected piv sex, breeding kink, fingering, creampie, marriage, more tags to be added
art by @/modorinlychee and divider by @/fairytopea !!
Satoru Gojo was born lucky.
Beautiful and blessed. The sole heir to an empire that spawned over centuries, more wishes and wealth than any man could dream afforded to him before he could even walk.
Anything he wanted was his.
And if he didn't want it?
"I don't like her," Gojo complained, glaring through the stained glass at his afternoon play date, a potential bride - although at age twelve, he was still at least a decade away from dealing with something as dreadful as marriage.
"Please be nice," His attendant reminded him, fixing the collars on his shirt and huffing as she hurried to fix a stray strand of hair. "She's a princess too, you know."
"She's strange," He muttered under his breath, watching you sit politely at the table, hands folded in your lap, only occasionally smoothing out the skirt of your dress.
It was too big on you, probably passed down from a sister or some other family member. Frayed at the helm, like it'd been worn quite a few times before.
You'd been clinging to the shadows his whole life, attending bi-annual balls with your family just to cling to the background like a piece of art no one bothered to look at. He wouldn't have noticed, really, but your attention was annoyingly always on him.
He promised to be on his best behavior before they shooed him out to greet you, rolling his bright blue eyes the second they turned around and sticking a bug in your tea ten minutes into your so-called date just to see you squeak.
You pushed off the table trying to stand up, but it just made your cup spill in your lap instead - bug included.
It was almost cute to watch you panic, brows pushed together in a frustrated pout as you desperately tried to clean yourself, maids and attendants rushing out to see the commotion and their young master responsible for it.
But somehow, you were the only one who got scolded for it.
The perks of being a prince, he supposed.
You were just the unlucky one here.
Gojo always got his way - so why should he marry you?
He didn't even have to complain this time - whatever distant family member that brought you to the palace caught some grave illness, and you returned with them to whatever impoverished kingdom you came from.
Occasionally, he'd receive letters from you over the next handful or two of years, but they went unopened, shoved off on his aide while he busied himself with politics and parties. Geto scolded him for it, insisted he should maintain a positive relationship even if he wasn't going to marry you, but what was the point of listening when he was supposed to be the man everyone listened to?
You didn't attend the balls anymore, but your letters grew more frequent, at least two a month left in the stack on his desk before Geto snatched the pile to reply for him.
"Why is she sending so many?" Gojo groaned, picking up one and squinting at the neat script on the front of the envelope, the ornate wax seal carefully stamped on. He reclined back in his office chair, legs sprawled out as he traced over the ink splotches on the ivory.
"Hm?" Geto murmured, too distracted with whatever form he was filling out to look up.
"Our favorite princess," He dryly replied. You'd become something of a joke, more with himself than to Geto. A constant that was never even there, a shadow that followed him despite the years and distance that separated you. A running gag of a girl who couldn't take a hint.
He caught a whiff of a surprisingly intoxicating perfume, blinking a few times before realizing it must be from your letter. Geto noticed what he was holding a second too late, but Gojo was already cutting the envelope open and pulling the papers out.
"It's addressed to me, isn't it?" Gojo teased, standing up and walking over to the sun-lit window to read it.
And the first line in its pretty cursive and swirling letters had him laughing already.
"My dearest Satoru?" He repeated incredulously, glancing back over his shoulder at his very much guilty friend.
"Look," Geto started, dark eyes narrowed as he let out a sigh.
"Is she under the impression I'm the one writing to her?" Honestly, before this moment? He'd never considered what Geto did with any of yours letters after he received them. Perhaps just polite replies?
Nothing that would make you comfortable enough to call him that.
pls comment to be tagged <3 (who else is ready to see this man grovelling and begging on his knees?)
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