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driaswrld · 6 months

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🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, in matters of love and longing, prince satoru comes to the realization that love may only visit the fearless, whilst prince suguru comes to terms with the taste of hope on his tongue... 5k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, romeo & juliet esque balcony meeting, fruit flavored jealousy.

CHAPTER TWO. . . ˚ ༘ *

GRAPE FLAVORED.

Sleep eludes you tonight.

Two nights have passed since the first feast and despite Areta’s consistent chatter of appearances and well needed fun time for a lady of your stature — you’ve chosen not to attend the others for the time being.

You’re assured that Satoru’s presence at the feasts and balls in between remain slim to none unless called upon by his mother, a notion that you would be grateful for under any other circumstance to dodge the question everyone at the palace court whispers behind your back—

( why hasn’t the prince married her yet? )

—but you miss him.

Embarrassingly so.

With palms outstretched, you cradle your weight against the concrete rail of the terrace adjoined to your bedroom. A wisp of wind cooling your cheeks, realization settling in.

You miss Satoru — your best friend, your person.

You miss when he’d sleepily stumble into your alcove by the palace’s west wing and lay dramatically before you, begging you to paint him or at least sketch the width of his shoulders ; begging you to 'immortalize the omnipotent beauty of the realm’s strongest' — his words not yours.

The way he’d linger by your side, laugh at your jokes and make even cruder ones of his own—

This yearning settled deep within your bones akin to that of a grieving widow doesn’t feel the way it should feel when one misses a friend.

( satoru does not yearn for you in this way, you know it. )

It’s hot, a boiling pit within your stomach and it never leaves your veins—

—not until two nights ago, that is.

Two nights ago when he reappeared.

“Your highness?”

Dearest gentle reader,

in these delicate matters

of love and longing—

“My lady,” Suguru calls out in a similarly hushed fashion. “You're awake.”

Down below the terrace, he stands on the trimmed lawn in his sleep trousers and shirt, dark hair tousled and eyes half lidded — you would've laughed at him if the air between you two hadn't settled with something else.

“I couldn't sleep,” you respond, watching with bated breath as he steps forward, one foot resting atop a raised brick in the mud, eyes trained above, where you stand.

“You often take late strolls, your grace?”

Suguru laughs, breathy, soft. “Your grace,” he repeats your words, mockingly. A few dark strands fall over his eyes as he tilts his head back to look up at you. “You’d think having me in my sleeping trousers alone would be enough for you to discard all formalities—”

( right, this encounter is improper. )

“Forgive me, Suguru,” leaves your lips in correction. You lean further over the terrace rail, body bent in near half to gaze down at him. “It isn't often I speak with men while in my dressing gown.”

“Dear God, I hope not.”

A laugh of your own breaks through and he joins in unison.

So far, and yet so close.

A soft silence soon passes over the two of you under the moonlight.

Suguru, who’d been away for so long, could make years of absence feel null — as if he’d been residing here with you all this time. As if he had been keeping your company in tow, as if the breath of your laugh belonged to him.

As if he hadn't left you.

“I wondered,” Suguru breaks the silence, pale fist wrapping around a stray vine along the wall. “If I would get the chance to speak with you like this.” He whispers, but even from so high above, you hear him clearly in the night's silence.

You know what he means. Just us two. You’ve wondered the same, albeit too often through the years.

Why didn't you write to me? You want to ask. Why didn't you come to visit? Follows next in your brain. Did you move on? Did you fall in love?

( have you been happy away from me? )

“Did you read my letters?”

—often we forget

just how greedy

the heart can be.

“All of them,” Suguru breathes, almost like it hurts to say.

As if it pains him physically to remember how he tore the wax seals open with his teeth, licked the flap of the envelopes and nearly cried when it tasted of you—

“More than once, more than I ought to.”

Suguru grips the vine tighter in his fist, stilling himself and invoking restraint. This isn't his place, not anymore.

If he had it his way, he’d be on the terrace with you, and he’d tell you every thought he had about each word you’d written, with his hands, his teeth, his tongue.

“Suguru. . .”

It reminds you too much of your childhood.

Often you would chase after Satoru and Suguru.

Always both, never one.

And though you knew your fate as a Princess — who would marry a crowned Prince — your foolish heart, so greedy and naive. . .

“I have my obligations.” It leaves your lungs like a lie, something you won't even begin to believe.

You're betrothed to Satoru. It's set in stone.

But the both of you know that's not why you're saying no. “The solstice ends in a week and you will be—” He'll be gone again.

“I’ll not wait a whole week.” Suguru’s voice is still quiet, but even you can't deny the raw hunger behind his words. “If I apologize and say that I wish—”

“You will do no such thing,” you warn, shakily. “Not now, not. . . because of this.” Not because in nearly every way that matters, you’re Satoru’s.

( i wish i told you. i wish i wasn't too late. i wish )

Suguru wished he had stayed.

He wished he had made do on the promises he made to you as children and been at your side, not just as your friend but as the man you would marry—

All those things he had sworn upon his own heart. . .

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“And if I say I will, what then?” Suguru had scoffed at your cousin back then. At the mere age of twelve.

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“Don't be so crass, Satoru.” Suguru grumbled, grabbing ahold of your hand and tugging you forward the moment you fell behind. “She's my friend.”

( and yet. )

Lady Dria writes : Prince Geto to assume royal estate in the North following rumored betrothal to mystery woman! Is this the end of our beloved royal trio?

( duty came first. )

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

“I’ll let you keep your tongue,” Satoru scoffed, stepping between you and one of the ladies at court the day after Suguru left. “But address the Princess so loosely again and I swear—”

That night, you cried in the confines of Satoru’s private chambers, your fingers bleeding ink and red wax staining the front of your dress.

What was her name? How long had Suguru known it was arranged? Why didn't he tell you? If you ask him now, will he tell you? Is he ever coming back?

Does he love her?

And it was then, when you didn't have any more words to write, nothing left to say to Suguru that he might not have known, did Satoru tell you,

“I’m here.”

And you believed him.

“Name—” Suguru calls to you and you shake your head, straightening your posture and leaning off the terrace rail. “I wanted to say it before, you were gorgeous at the first solstice feast. . . Still are, even after so long.”

Suguru bites back the words he really wanted to say. I dreamt of you, you look the same.

“You flatter me,” it leaves you breathily, and the beats of your heart elude your better judgement.

“Perhaps, silken gloves suit you, my lady.” Suguru's words hold an undertone that’s lost on you in the moment, yet still you smile at him.

He doesn't see the expression on your face when you turn away, craning his neck to find something— some inclination that he has a chance—

“Goodnight, your highness.” In your voice he finds it, that small sliver of nostalgia, and his heart grasps it in earnest.

Beloved reader,

I fear I must also

impart the knowledge—

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, a single peach colored rose falling from his palm.

—that there are always

three sides to a story.

From across the way his cerulean eyes lock with Suguru’s darker ones, and there is nothing to be said, as they both know what the other is thinking.

You are not worthy of her.

Morning gives way to the first of three hunting days.

As per the terms of the competition, all commoners go ahead before nobles to keep the proceedings fair.

Satoru sits still atop his horse, cerulean orbs downcast and flitting through the mass of bodies in the crowd riding ahead of him.

“Have you and Suguru finally fought?”

Satoru’s eyes widen for a brief moment, turning his head to the side and loosening his grip on the horse’s reins, his mother standing at his side, caressing the mare’s mane with jewel adorned fingers.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, mother.”

The older woman scoffs, the horse leaning eagerly into the touch of her palm.

“When you and Suguru were but meek babes, you two had your first fight you know.” Satoru’s mother smiles a little at the memory.

Back then, both boys were merely toddlers and squabbling with tiny fists over nothing but a simple rattle.

Neither would concede to the other.

Even so young, they fought as they still do to this day. As rivals, as best friends.

“Did I win?” Satoru asks, lifting his gaze to the scenery of dawn before him, drowning out the eager shouts of men and women alike, placing their bets for the competition to come.

“No,” she responds and Satoru’s lips curl into a small frown. “The rattle you fought over snapped in two, ‘toru.”

This isn't about a rattle, is it?

“I won't concede, if that’s what you’ve come to ask of me.” He affirms, and his mother shakes her head, stifling a laugh.

“She isn't a rattle, nor is this a battlefield—” Satoru’s mother is observant, painfully so. “I asked your father to arrange the match myself for the sole purpose that I know you care for her, and I would not subject you to a fate not of your choosing—”

( she can choose, whereas a rattle could not. that is the sole difference is it not? )

“But you would have me sit here and let her choose him?”

Satoru Gojo is many things.

Selfish, spoiled, strong. Greedy even.

He fights for what he wants and he remains determined to win no matter what.

But when it comes to you. . .

Doting reader,

our beloved Prince Satoru

has yet to realize—

“I did not raise a selfish fool. Maybe a proud fool but not a selfish one—” She smacks the side of his leg to which he immediately recoils with a pout on his lips. “You never win love, you earn it.”

As if love can be akin to fleeting favor.

“I am selfish,” Satoru confirms, not shy of shame though. “She would hate me for it, if she doesn't already.” He hangs his head for a brief moment, a puff of a sigh leaving his parted lips. “But can you blame me?”

Satoru is many things.

But not blind.

How can he tell you that he cares for you, that he’s fallen helplessly and carelessly in love with you knowing that he’d be imprisoning you to a fate he loathes?

Whispers behind your back the more you are seen with him or without, the more he puts off the betrothal, the more he leaves your side the more he hopes you’ll learn you don't want him—

That this life, at this palace is less than you deserve.

And yet. . .

—that love is not

a war you march into

of your own accord.

He’s selfish.

“Have you asked her what she wants?”

No, because he’s afraid you’ll say what he wants you to. That you don't want him.

That by the hour you grow more miserable the more he keeps you waiting, tethered by a short thread just waiting to snap—

Satoru convinced himself that if he waited just a little longer, that maybe you’d grow tired and snap the thread all together in one go.

And then the marriage wouldn't happen, you’d contest it and he'd agree. He could keep you close like before, without breaking your heart, even at the cost of his.

“Satoru.” His mother warns, deep azure boring into the side of his face. “That debutant at the dinner—” God forbid she did raise a selfish fool, who would selfishly self sabotage—

“I never touched her.”

“You say that and then you do these things as if I'm to be convinced you've changed.” His mother sighs, as if history has come around to repeat itself. “You don't even realize you're clutching your end too tight.”

And you’ll break if he doesn't let go.

“I can't tell her.”

“You must.”

Who is he to condemn you to the life of a Queen?

In the same way his father did his mother?

That spark in your eyes will go dim, and he’ll watch you give yourself to your duty and it’ll kill him, even worse than you not wanting him will.

He’d prefer you hate him altogether.

“Are you happy with father?”

Darling reader,

perhaps love

only visits the fearless.

“Your father is a good man.”

Satoru would rather die by his own hand before he hears those words from your lips too.

“My lady?”

You visibly wince, cowering behind one of the marble columns in the ballroom.

The few chandeliers that provide light do little to help your situation as Areta’s voice had already notified a few of the dancing nobles of your presence — to which you were met with confused stares.

“Please, keep your voice down.” You hush her, sliding around to the other side of the column where Areta stands, eyes wide and curious.

Areta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, her lips parting, about to question your odd behavior.

You're hiding. Or at least trying to.

You had no choice in coming to tonight's festivities, as you were already knee deep in your pre-arranged afternoon nap when your dearest mother barged in and asked ( read : demanded ) that you attended tonight's ball to quote en quote ‘keep up appearances.’

With much practiced skill, you’ve eluded Satoru and Suguru by barring yourself in your room recently.

But, cowering behind a column won't get you far, right?

“I don't think hiding is what I mean when I encouraged you to have fun, my lady.” Areta speaks hushedly, joining you behind the column, two full glasses clutched between her fingers. “And if it’s the Prince who you—”

“Oh, spare me, which one?” You chuckle, tilting your head back onto the marble with an eye roll.

“You’ve had trouble with Prince Geto too?” Areta gasps, though not shocked, the young girl's eyes gloss over with curiosity — ever the devoted gossip.

( perhaps if you stay here and sip drinks with Areta, no one will even notice your presence ! )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

has a pattern of

terrible judgement.

“Hardly trouble, I’m afraid.” You take one of the glasses from Areta’s hands and bring the rim to your nose — grape juice. How fitting. “Trouble would be better, I can handle trouble.”

What you can't handle is both your childhood friends driving you mad with feelings you never even knew existed.

One who torments you with mixed signals and provokes new feelings in the pit of your stomach.

And another who stirs and awakens old feelings inside of you that you thought were long lost.

“Well, I doubt trouble is what you need presently, my lady.” Areta chuckles a little, her voice soon trailing off as she takes a sip of her own drink. “Oh! You wore them—”

“I thought perhaps,” You murmur, more to yourself, fingers fiddling with the edge of your silk gloves – the same black ones from a few nights ago. “I’d wear them once more before I set them aside.”

Now that you think about it, Satoru never said anything about the dress or the gloves — not that it matters to you anyway.

Faithful reader,

it matters.

Too much.

“They're quite beautiful, as are all Prince Satoru’s gifts.” Areta affirms with a soft smile as you drink from your glass, leaning off the column and straightening your posture. “But, I thought he usually had more of an affinity for lace—”

“I was called?”

You jump just a little, turning immediately to meet the source of the intrusion, to which you bump straight into Satoru, spilling the contents of your cup on both of you.

“I’m sorry—” “Grape juice—”

You take a few steps back, immediately crouching to retrieve your fallen cup, but Areta beats you to it, not shy of shooting you a quick wink before she scurries off into the crowd. Deviant.

“You don't like the wine tonight?” Satoru hums, outstretching a hand to pull you to your feet, and you hesitate for a moment.

Only for a moment.

“I didn't think drinking would be wise,” You take his hand, silk sliding soft against his awaiting palm. You don't miss the way his shoulders tighten. “And grape juice—”

“Is your preferred drink of choice, I know.” He finishes, cerulean orbs gazing into your very soul.

You can feel the thrum of his pulse speeding up against your fingertips, calling you, like a siren song. . .

( you should've stayed in bed tonight. )

Admittedly, Satoru was never the type to drink either. He could never hold his alcohol, hated the taste, even if it was just a drop in fermented fruit.

Grape juice was his drink of choice.

And then it became yours.

“I’m sorry, again.” It leaves your lips in a hurry as you look away from him, pulling your hand back as soon as you're upright. “My head must've been somewhere else. . .” Last night on the terrace. Your mind remains there.

Is Suguru going to magically appear too?

You furiously rub a fist over the purple stain forming at the front of your gown. “I need to change my dress—”

“It's not your fault, silk can be slippery.” Satoru bites back a grunt, bringing a palm to your elbow as he guides you off to the side, towards the adjacent corridor. “Come, I’ll help.”

Silk.

( what's his problem with the gloves? )

You follow his lead, a sigh escaping your lips as you both come upon the nearest alcove in the dim light.

You can barely see the velvet cushioning of the sofa tucked away neatly in the back.

The soft moonlight falling through the open window brings a sense of calm when you take a seat, eyes catching on the violet smudge against Satoru’s pearl white vest.

Often in your youth between balls, you, Satoru and Suguru would sneak off to the nearest alcove you could find, pry the window open and sit together on the sill—

“Your vest—” He follows your gaze as he bends a knee, kneeling at your feet casually.

Satoru presses his middle finger over the damp fabric, and unabashedly sticks the digit into his mouth. “Mhm, that's grape juice.”

“Satoru!” You scold.

He only laughs, strands of snowy hair bouncing with each shake of his shoulders. It's a very Satoru-like laugh, but there's something else you can't quite place—

“It's just a juice spill, I’ll live.” Satoru’s smile dips into his cheeks. Dimples. “Hated this stupid thing anyway, I should be thanking you for ridding me of it,” he murmurs, rolling his shoulders back to slip the vest off, muscles taut against his shirt with each movement of his arms.

“Hey— hey—!” You raise your palms to push against his chest to stop him, heat rising at the back of your neck. “Don't do that—” It comes out too late because Satoru is in the middle of rolling the vest off his arms. "You can't just undress—"

The way Satoru only leans forward, shades of azure searching your gaze for something, it's like he's daring you to not look away as he slips the vest off his arms bent behind him.

( why did you run away from me? )

You hold his gaze, the longest you have in days, manicured nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

( why didn't you give chase? )

“Name,” he whispers, as if he’s holding back, but he refuses to look away from you. Not right now.

“Don't look at me like that, ‘toru. . .” You whisper, and it takes everything inside you not scream at him, to say everything you've been wanting to say, everything that's burning your insides.

( don't look at me as if you know desire. )

“Name.” Satoru calls your name, firmer this time, just as his vest drops to the floor behind him.

His knees burn, or maybe his eyes — he doesn't know, his mouth has gone dry and oxygen eludes him.

He's not how he was in your youth.

Satoru slides a pale hand up to grasp one of your palms against his chest, pads of his fingers hooking under the dark silk, and in one fluid motion, he's pulling the glove off your hand.

“That's disrespectful,” you breathe, voice barely audible, the echo of classical instruments sauntering through the vacant corridor. “You can't have two times the favor in any competition—”

“It's not your favor I want.” Satoru grasps the silk in his palm, biting back a grimace.

I’m jealous, he wants to say. Instead he leans closer, and without letting go of your bare hand, he’s aiming to toss the glove over your shoulder and out the window.

“Satoru—!” You retract your hand from his chest to paw at the glove, trying to get it back, and his breath tickles the skin of your throat, his eyes looking down at you, only this time a few shades darker — royal blue, cobalt.

Perhaps, silken gloves suit you, my lady.

( so that's what suguru meant. . . )

“Are you—”

“Jealous? Me? Never.” Satoru rasps the words out like a cancer, his heart seizing and doing somersaults against his ribcage.

“I have to commend Suguru though, the North does make the finest silk. . . Any lady would be glad for such a gift,” he whispers. Even praising Suguru is like an act of surrender to him.

“I wasn't going to say jealous, my Prince.” Your brain melts to a mush of questions.

Satoru isn't jealous because of you— no, that can't be right— he’d be jealous if someone bet on the same horse race as him and won—

( you’re thinking too much, name. )

It's the assessment of his audacity that has the back of your neck heated.

Satoru bites down on his bottom lip, and for a second he squeezes his eyes shut.

Everything burns, it's a miracle he can still see straight.

“What were you going to say?”

You swallow, hard.

Satoru’s face is so close to yours that every word he speaks reverberates through your being like electricity. “I was going to ask if you were okay.” A half truth, really. "Your vest is stained—"

First, you were going to ask if he’d lost his damn mind.

“God, name.” Satoru grunts, dropping the glove dramatically onto the velvet sofa, instead moving his hand to cage you between his arms, his hips against the outerskirts of your dress. “You don't even know what you're doing. . .”

His lips curve into a smile, dimpled cheeks staring back at you.

“Satoru—” It’s innocent enough, the way he leans forward enough to press the side of his face against your cheek.

It’s innocent enough, the way his hand grips your hip, firm and reassuring, the way he’d guide you on horseback. You only pretended not to be good so he'd teach you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against the shell of your ear, his lips soft against your burning skin.

“Do you even know all the ways a woman can be seduced?” It's a sultry tease that has your nails digging into the sofa under you.

Silk gloves, he wants to say. Men seduce women with silk.

Satoru dips his head in a swift motion, his mouth planting a ghost of a kiss to the corner or your lips, and his dimples deepen when your head moves forward to chase his taste, something you’ve never had but crave with every inch of your being.

“Satoru.” You whisper, desperate. He hates himself for wanting this so bad.

He doesn't make you wait long as he presses his lips to yours, it's rough, hungry — he sighs into your mouth, shoulders drooping like he’s finally found what he's been searching for all his life on your tongue.

He’s kissed you before, on the cheek, side of your neck, corner of your mouth — tasted the salty tears of your youth, licked his lips and drank in the remnants of your flavored lipgloss.

He was too young then, too foolish, too afraid to want more.

Satoru’s tongue slips past your parted lips, teeth on wet pink muscle and a shiver runs down his spine when he tastes you, truly tastes you for the first time.

Grape flavored and starving.

Your hand reaches for the collar of his shirt to tug him closer, to pull him deeper into you.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and your body trembles, unravelling, unravelling for him until—

He stops.

“Name,” Satoru breathes it in a broken whine, lips wet and swollen with you, each exhale he makes tickles your chin. “We have to stop.”

He’s made a mistake. A foolish one.

“‘Toru, it's okay,” you urge him, moving to pull him closer but his grip on your wrist tightens, keeping you still.

A frown forms on your lips when you see his gaze downcast, unable to meet you, and that gleam in his eyes — guilt.

“We should stop.”

Darling reader,

we all know

how the saying goes. . .

“Why?” The way it leaves your mouth so innocently, so small, in the same tone you had when you were little, chasing behind him no matter how he tried to leave you behind—

( why won't you look at me? )

It makes Satoru hate himself more.

“I’m a gentleman.” Satoru clears his throat and rises to his feet, folding his vest haphazardly over his arm. “You're a lady— a Princess— I can't just. . .”

“You can't just what?” Satoru doesn't recognize the bite behind your voice, the thread he kept toying at with razor blades finally thinning out, ready to snap and break apart. “You can't take me in a dark corridor as you do the other girls?”

He sputters.

It is that. But it's also so much more.

“Princess—”

“No.”

Nothing has changed. And you're not stupid, maybe slow, but never stupid. This isn't about a grape juice spill. It isn't about titles or being respectable.

( it’s about the three of you. )

Is it jealousy? Is this all about a stupid pair of gloves? About his pride? Why? Because he won't let Suguru win even if it means—

“Look at me.” Satoru is slouching in front of you, holding out his palm for you to take. He’s sincere, raw. “I swear to you, the way I feel about you cannot be likened to a secret in a corridor.”

( and yet, you always wished you were one of those girls with him in a dark corridor. )

. . . it's all downhill

from the first kiss.

“Your excuses again—” Satoru steps back when he feels silk stinging against his outstretched palm in a slap of rejection.

The glove he pulled off your hand, the glove Suguru gave to you, falls to the floor.

“And what even is it that you feel?” Your tone reverberates through his bones and Satoru’s considering finding purchase on his knees, where he’d show you what exactly he feels, he'd drink you in, drown in you and be done with the aftermath. “Do you enjoy this? Making me feel like a fool while you stay the bachelor—”

“This engagement was never my choice!” Satoru’s tone raises an octave, brows dipped and frown deep. “And I never—”

That's not what he means to say, not now.

( i never touched another since i laid awake thinking of you. )

“And that's why you won't touch me? Because I'm not your choice, I'm your duty?”

“God, ofcourse I want to touch you—” A guttural groan leaves him then, a rumble in the back of his throat. “If you would just understand—”

He’s a gentleman. Is what he says every waking moment he spends lying to himself that this is for you, that this is for your own good. . .

Because he knows—

( if he touched you now, he’d never stop. )

“Even now you can't say it.” How long have you known Satoru? How long have you been by his side, or rather, chased after him while he remained out of your reach? How long— “That you want me.”

It's almost comical, the way Satoru’s breath hitches in the back of his throat and the palm at his side forms a fist.

He wants you.

“Say it.”

Tell me you want me, tell me it’s me, tell me you feel what I feel too—

“I can't.”

You don't deserve this, I can't give you what you want, hate me so it hurts a little less—

You rise to your feet, the grape juice bleeding into your dress forgotten. “I always thought you were the bravest person to ever live. . .” The strongest. Prince Satoru, the realm’s omnipotent son — “You’ve fought in all these wars and you’ve fought and fought—”

Ever since you were children.

Satoru was every bit a soldier, princely and polished to perfection with his blade. He’s never lost a battle, you're sure, poets write about him.

( what does it feel like to be fought for? )

“Why won't you fight for me, Satoru?”

Satoru Gojo is many things.

Selfish, spoiled, strong. Greedy even.

He fights for what he wants and he remains determined to win no matter what.

But when it comes to you. . .

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Sorry, I’m so selfish. Sorry, I don't want you to leave. Sorry, it should be me and not him.

Sorry, I'm paralyzed in love with you.

He’s not asking you to stay.

This is what he wanted, right? For you to hate him — who is he kidding, you wouldn't hate him even if tried to make you — for you to realize he isn't what you need.

“You won't even give me one reason to stay.” Your throat hurts, you can still taste his tongue in your mouth, grape and mint, mint and grape. “Of all things, I never thought you to be such a damn coward—”

“I’m the Prince, for fucks sake!”

Your lips part then shut again, and Satoru takes a step back. This barrier between you two was always there, wasn't it? Invisible, cold to the touch.

Don't question me, I'm the Prince, he had said the day you asked him why, why can't I come play with you and Suguru?

( why won't you let me in? what are you so afraid of? )

“Then if it pleases the Prince,” It comes out shakier, in a voice that's barely your own.

Satoru picks it up before you do, you sound like a child — the same way you used to when he left you behind. “I’d like to be dismissed.”

The Prince.

Not your Prince.

( does a heart make noise when it shatters? )

“No,” Satoru steps forward, and you step back. It's like a sick game now, and with every thrum of his heart he swears he’ll die. “Name— just. . . no.”

He’s selfish. He knows that.

After this you’ll run off to Suguru won't you? And he’ll be there with open arms and words as soft as silk—

Satoru would know. Because he did the same thing once Suguru left.

But that was before it was this, before this was everything, before—

“Then forgive my defiance to the crown tonight.” You murmur and turn away, the glove is left behind.

Satoru is left behind.

You never win love, you earn it.

L’Incomparable is hardly the jewel on Satoru’s mind when you walk away from him for the second time.

( before he knew he loved you. )

🪷 taglist : @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnaboonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog @/baepsays @xxemmarldxx @/adoraspace @/hikaorinx @/lanecass @/theloveofnagiseishiroslife @/bajbbq @/jiraiyaisgod69 @/gojo-sunglasses @/in4rizaki @/chimsblogg @xkittiecatx @lordbugs @soultoru @ladytamayolover @the1exiled @pasta-warlord @drogonfruitzen @sexeyess @siren776 @v0ctin @scinclaitnoir @gugggu6gvai @shartnart1 @nnanamii @vanevafu @lillmyg @nikitopia @altyx @beaniedoodz @fubukeys @simpforramenboy @sinnerstardoll @coco-cat @melancholia-k

#⋆ 🪷 A ROYAL AFFAIR ! ˚ ༘ *#👑 TSCC — series.#★ driaswrld #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

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dailyranchers · 3 months

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[ 25 ]

TMR I will draw these guys LIKE properly cause for today I forgot that I didnt had anything sheduled :P

"Jimmy's wings got hurt while he way flying so now he's in danger but tango catches him" idea from my dearest friend romeo:3

#team rancher #mcyt #solidaritek #solidaritygaming #tangotek #mcyt fanart #daily ranchers

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dollyyun · 30 days

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𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍)

♪ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 ♪

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

𝐎𝐓𝟕 (series;poly/reverse harem)

➤ ONE OF THE GIRLS - (wherein Hwang Stella's life is tangled in a predicament involving her clandestine identity as a racer, her seemingly daily life as the official heir to the Hwang Empire, and seven guys with whom she has a complex history with.)

➤ ETERNAL CURSE - (wherein the princess, who is a clandestine assassin, has been commanded to eliminate the seven vampire princes.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 (series;poly/reverse harem)

➤ DEVIL'S KNIGHTS' PREY - (wherein you caught the attention of devil's knights leaders, resulting in consequences you thought which you expected, but little did you know that there were more to it.)

🗝️ DEAL WITH THEM - (-wherein you and your best friends accidentally summon a sex demon, but instead of a demon, you get the four princes of hell.- fantasy, blood, violence, smuts)

🗝️ SWEET BUT PSYCHO - (-wherein you become the hunter and begin your preying on the four renowned nerds on campus just for your pure sick and twisted pleasure, but little do you know that a certain bunch of individuals are the same twisted as you.- a touch of psychological thriller, blood, violence, murder, smuts)

🗝️ HALAZIA - (-wherein you are given an important mission to save your fellow highest ranking hunters, from the organisation you worked for, who are being mind controlled by the very establishment that threatens to spread its blight and rule the world and beyond.- sci-fi, dystopian, enemies to lovers, violence, angst, smuts)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 (series;solos)

🗝️ THE SINGLE DADS TROPE (different tropes, fluffs, angst, smuts)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

🗝️ MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS (unstable relationship, toxicity, heavy angst, smut)

🗝️ THE ARCHER (grimreaper!heeseung, mentions of suicide, possible self-harming, soulmates au, angst, smut)

🗝️ PARADISE (-inspired by chase atlantic's paradise, hee is madly in love with fem!reader, friends to lovers, a touch of unrequited love, slight angst, fluffs)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐉𝐀𝐘

🗝️ I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART (popstar x rockstar, ex-lovers to strangers to lovers, angst, smut)

🗝️ OLDER (6 years age gap, older brother's best friend, cold ceo!jay, fem!reader is famous beauty influencer, angst, smut)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

🗝️ BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM (fantasy royal au, villain!jake, forbidden love, smut, romeo-juliet kinda theme)

🗝️ HOW YOU GET THE GIRL (college au, slight angst, pinning, childhood best friends to lovers)

🗝️ MY DEAREST (-inspired by shatter me book series, sci-fi, dystopian, enemies to lovers, smut)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

🗝️ GUILTY AS SIN (friends with benefits, smut, unrequited love, angst, confession under the rain)

🗝️ SLOW DOWN (racer!hoon & racer!reader, rivals to lovers, smut)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

🗝️ SO HIGH SCHOOL (spider-man!won, best friends to lovers, fluffs, suggestive-mild smut(?))

#ruby's main masterlist!#enhypen #🗝️ are future works!#new masterlist!

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foursaints · 1 month

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ok but ofc I have to ask, what is your Remus like saints dearest. I must know. I insist.

Guys… i’m scared the wolfstar blogs are going to cancel me. people are very protective of r/s!! BUT

i’ve addressed this before but my remus is literally a dirty Kreuzberg squatter raised in west berlin at the absolute height of deutschpunk. lyall is dead & his entire mother’s side was left in east germany, behind the wall. he’s a werewolf orphan brought up by a gaggle of benevolent druggie teenagers living in an abandoned flat over potsdamer platz. he’s still a dorky wet napkin. he’s just got All That to contend with and also his english is really bad

bro has Issues™️. and he falls in love with the fairytale-beautiful scion of an ancient pureblood house, trapped in tradition like a princess in a tower. people like sirius weren’t made for men like him!!!! they’re very classically romeo & juliet….. i think they’re two Notoriously Independent Lone Wolves that want nothing more than to be Alone Forever, who both accidentally get pulled into james potter’s orbit and collide, changing both of their shapes forever

#they’re two electrons breaking each other to pieces but fundamentally altering each other on a quantum scale #and james is the particle collider #anyway i also think my remus and regulus would fucking Hate each other but we aren’t ready for that conversation.#they have a blood feud though fr

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grace-kami · 2 months

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Romeos Affection part 2 NSFW is finished!

Link to part 1 here

You know the drill, send me a DM for full picture. No minors. Followers only.

I'm going to be a bit busy these next few days so if I don't respond, please be patient. I always respond when I'm able. I promise.❤️

I did my very best with this piece because I did not want to disappoint! I don't think I did too bad! I'm impressed.😏

Much much love my dearest and cutest and unhinged friends.🫂❤️

(Update: link to part 3 here)

#lies of p #lies of p game #lies of p fanart #lies of p pinocchio #liesofp #p lies of p #lies of p romeo

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uneducated-author · 9 months

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I also liked how Lu Guang said 'return to the beginning' because that has so many interesting implications. Return to What beginning? To them meeting on a basketball court, or him walking by his two dearest friends in the World, painting a shop that would be his home, only for them to see a stranger? To the second before Qiao Ling stabs him and he thinks 'Good. Good. Because I've tried to fight death, tried to save you, and living without you is hell, so I can accept my own death, if that's the price I must pay'?

If Cheng Xiaoshi is in his jacket, he's never even entered season two, because Chen Bin packs him clothes and then he kind of just wears the white hoodie ensemble. And the hostage situation hasn't happened, because no Romeo and Juliet style outfit. Maybe the killer wasn't even Qian Jin?

(I don't think Lu Guang even meets Qian Jin, he isn't at Chen Bin's funeral or anything, but he seems distressed about not going, maybe because he won't be able to protect Cheng Xiaoshi. I think it's unlikely that the two remain separate in the original timeline, given Qian Jin's fascination with Cheng Xiaoshi's ability, but it's not a certainty that Cheng Xiaoshi was killed by him.)

When you look at Cheng Xiaoshi's death scene you can't make out many details, but it looks like they're in the same underground tunnels, so I wonder as to who killed him, and who Cheng Xiaoshi was trying to protect.

#link click spoilers #link click #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang

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koizumicchi · 4 months

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day 1 of aiyuu week romeo/julietta AU

illustration: blossom

to my dearest friend, i will always be a fan of your works, and it is my wish that one day, you would be able to regain your passion for art again. thank you so much for accepting my commission request to draw LIPxLIP (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

day 2: tsuki no hime AU

#LIPxLIP #aiyuu #aizou #yuujirou #aiyuuweek2024 #LIPxLIP birthday 2024 #aiyuu week #my post

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hyuckswoman · 3 months

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being completely honest i feel like im needing a romeo!hyuck/jaehyun nd juliet reader like ive never really seen any1 do that on here feel free 2 ditch this ask if u dont wanna do it or anything but im maybe litwrally ON MY KNEES

romeo!jaehyun x juliet!reader- imagine

genre: angst? idk the plot of romeo and juliet basically

w.c 1k

« you do not understand jaehyun, this goes far beyond you and I » you said staring into your lover's eyes that shined bright underneath the moonlight

« I understand my love, but I simply cannot go on any longer pretending that my heart doesn’t dance whenever I find myself near you » your lover jaehyun answers

« I love you, I do but what must we do? we are forced to be sworn enemies, we cannot be foolish and simply try to convince our families that do not care. if they would ever dear find out what we have been doing, what we have been sharing jaehyun, we shall be exiled or even worse » you said in an attempt to reason jaehyun

« is it foolish of me to believe that our families will see eye to eye once met with the love that we share? You do not know or understand how much it pains me so, how we’re forced to act as if we are sworn enemies when I couldn’t be more in love with you » he says

« I understand. I understand because I feel the same. Do you think it’s easy for me to hear my family disregard you and speak of your name in such a low way? I have tried, I have tried to make them see reason and I have failed. No matter how much I try to make them care more about my feelings instead of some quarry that dates so far back no one can remember they will not hear me » you start

« I’m scared. I apprehend the day in which my love for you will be revealed for I will bring great dishonor to my family. My heart is torn, I love you in ways I cannot put in words as not one can begin to describe how beautiful you are to me, but I have been taught to be a great daughter, to respect my duties, to honor my family. It pains me to admit that I can’t be the y/n my family wants me to be because my heart beats for you » you say,

This was one of your rituals, sneaking off into the gardens to meet your forbidden lover away from prying eyes. Jaehyun is the love of your life, the reason your heart beats. Each time you look at him you feel as though no one else exists. You’ve never been scared for one second when he is by your side, he makes you feel the safest. But unfortunately things had to be too good to be true as Jaehyun, the man you devoted your heart to, is from a family yours sworn to be enemies with forever

« dearest, let us run away » your lover says holding your hands « Don’t be foolish, you and I know that because of the families we come from and our forbidden love, there isn’t a future where you and I can be together » you reply to him retracting your hand from his. You so badly wanted to run away with him, to abandon your duties as a daughter to be happy with jaehyun but you also knew that it simply could never happen

« then let us create a future where we are together. y/n I cannot exist without loving you and if we are to be separated I shall not breathe without your presence. I will deny my name, I will deny my father for us to be lovers, that is how much I love you » your lover says

« I could never ask you to do that » you answer, you truly did not want him to be casted away simply because you were in love

« I can do that, for you » he starts « But it will simply never be enough, even if I deny my name your family will never allow me to pursue you and if you then deny yours we will simply be faced with doom. » he finishes. Before you could respond to him you hear the faint voice of your mother calling your name, you then quickly hurry to reach your chamber before she sees you with jaehyun.

After making sure you were safe and deciding to meet in the church later on, Jaehyun patiently waited for your presence on the altar. Deciding it best to commit what he pondered about for so long without you here, he drank his drink, took out a paper and his quill and wrote to you.

« y/n, I held great meaning to my words when I told you I cannot breathe without you. I have decided to end my days. But fear not, as I die finding solace in knowing that you loved me so. I beg of you to go on without me, to find someone who is worth your greatness. My heart swells knowing I loved you dearly until my very last breath. You are the light of my day, the reason I live, my first thought in the morning and my last before bed, you are the woman they write about in books and our love will forever be marked in both of our hearts. Know that I loved you in a consuming way every single second ever since laying eyes upon you. I am sorry I wasn’t able to live whilst knowing that you and I could never be together.

I love you always.

yours dearest,

Jaehyun ».

When you entered the church, grinning in anticipation to meet with your lover, you did not expect to find his sleeping body on the altar. Seeing the paper so carefully written with your name written beautifully on it, you decided to read the letter.

And it was through your heartbreaking sobs, your tears and your body crumbled over your lover’s one that you decided to drink his drink and meet him wherever he was hoping that it will not be a place where your love is forbidden.

Because after all, he also was your reason to exist, and a world without him simply does not exist.

notes: ARGHHHH I finally did it!!! I'm soso sorry to the anon that asked me this AGES ago I was so nervous about writing in this style as I struggle with regular day-to-day english so to try n write in old posh english was toughhhhh, hope it's still okay tho?

also, thank you for sending the ask, this was not proofread so I apologize for the 1000 mistakes there probably are and I'm hoping you enjoyed the imagine despite everything (even if i lowkey hate the way I wrote and want to redo it but I don't want to make you wait any longer)

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct 127 #nct #kpop #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #jeong jaehyun x reader

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littlemisslipbalm · 1 year

Text

You're My Best Friend - Part 2

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shrimp and Jake return. Best friends to fuck buddies to lovers? Perhaps...all because Josh is such a nosy man.

Word Count 1.2 K | Warnings: Language

Enjoy! I'm sorry it's not very long but I wanted to finish this up for y'all

Read Part 1!

Jake had his Third Eye Blind record spinning in the other room, but they could hear it from the other room, through the shut door. But the music wasn’t their focus at the moment, even if they were in the music room.

“Why can’t we fuck in your bed?”

“Because then we don’t have to change the sheets to sleep and we don’t have to worry about the cats cock blocking.”

“But doesn’t that mean your couch will be the dirty thing?” She tilted her head, not seeing Jake’s logic whatsoever.

He huffed and wrapped an arm around her frame, pulling her willingly onto his lap. His lips found the skin just below her neck and whispered gruffly, “Why don’t you just stop worrying your pretty little head and focus on that precious thing between your thighs that I know is just aching for some attention.”

She melted mentally when his plush lips connected to her neck. Her back arched as a physical manifestation of her surrender. Sex with Jake had turned out to be an even more fulfilling pastime than their usual friendship endeavors.

Jake sucked in a breath,“Oh fuck.”

His voice brought her back from her cloudy blissful thoughts of his warm body against hers. “You’re wearing those damn red panties, again. Shrimp, you know how hot I think those are.”

His hands were resting at the top of the lace, fingers flexing against her skin now that he had unbuttoned her shorts.

“I’m starting to think this Wes Anderson binge was just a ploy…” He tsked and stared up at his best friend with an innocent quirk of his brows.

“Those little red panties they pass the test,” She rambles to the vague tune of the song they both knew by heart. “So flip me face down on the mattress….rather the futon, I guess, romeo.”

Jake chortled and Shrimp rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders before leaning over him, connecting their lips and ending further discussion.

Jake stumbled behind Shrimp as they sauntered into the dive bar. Her hands were shaking him off of her as they attempted not to knock into one another and tamp down the grins on their faces.

“Where have you two been?” Josh turns from Sam when he notices them out of the corner of his ever persistent eye.

“Just lost track of time,” Jake shrugs and Shrimp nods and slinks over to the bar to give Danny a side-hug and order herself and Jake drinks.

“Something’s different,” Josh insists, looking between the pair. “I can smell it in my bones.”

He walks towards Shrimp, wafting his hand towards his nose, going so far as to sniff her hair. She cringes away from him and flashes her eyes at Jake for a second, who’s trying to look unbothered by his brother’s prying into his affairs.

“Nothing’s different,” She insists, moving to grab the drinks and sidle away from Josh’s inquisition.

Josh’s pointer finger sweeps out in a quick flick to peer at Shrimp’s neck, revealing a just healing hickey. His nose picked up a whiff of men’s cologne and like a dog with its favorite toy, his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Now how do you have the time to be fucking someone when you spend all your time with brother dearest?”

She rolled her eyes and shoved Josh’s hand away. Jake blew out a breath. Sam and Danny’s eyes were wide in silent understanding.

Josh waited patiently, a smug smile curled onto his lips. “I knew you’d end up dating sooner or later, but I feel like someone should’ve told me…I’ll be the best man after all.”

“We’re not dating!” Shrimp and Jake said all too quickly and uncannily in unison. The pair stared at one another with brief hurt before returning to Josh’s accusation.

“Yeah, right,” Sam laughs over his shoulder, returning to the pool game they had been lazily playing before Jake and Shrimp had disrupted the moment.

“We’re just fucking,” Shrimp waves her hand with a forced nonchalance. “It’s no big.”

Jake nods and has a hefty swig of his go-to beer, she always knew. “It’s just easier, Shrimp never finds anyone to hold her attention long enough that she trusts enough to fuck —”

“And Jake never has time to vet the girls here, you know, to make sure they’re not trying to fuck him cause of the band.” She finished for him. Their eyes are staring at one another with an intensity that would be hard to miss, even in the dingy yellow lights.

Josh shakes his head with a tsk, “Wow.”

Jake fidgets with his jeans belt loops and Shrimp takes a long sip of her IPA.

“It’s just easier this way.”

“For everyone.”

At this point, Jake and Shrimp had be fucking for a month. Ever since he’d admitted that he liked her more than a friend. The pair insisted it was utilitarian even though the band was going to be in Nashville for an extended period of time before their next tour. Jake had enough time to “vet” someone as he liked to say and yet Shrimp was practically living with him. But they were just best friends.

Jake and Shrimp stumbled into Jake’s place a little after 2 am. They’re pawing at each other’s clothes before the front door is locked and Jake is whimpering slightly as Shrimp sucks a searing kiss into his neck as he messes with the keys.

Their kisses are hard, everything unspoken at the bar coming through their lips now. Jake backs her uo against the wall, with one hand leaving her in search of the lightswitch.

“Leave it,” She mumbles against his lips when her body feels too cold without his entire attention.

“You don’t even want to see me?” Jake asks. He phrased it like a joke but all the liquor had made them more honest.

She knows and pulls back, hands coming to rest at Jake’s hip bones to steady him from pressing into her and distracting from the situation.

“Of course I want to see you,” She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I always want to see you. You’re by far the prettiest, hottest, sexiest–whichever adjective you like–best person I’ve been with.”

Jake smiles, despite the lack of artificial light they can see one another. It’s pointy and toothy and goofy but handsome and sexy and she wants to tell him all the ways she adores him because he really was all those things to her. He rests his forehead on hers and she giggles.

“I love you, Shrimp.”

“And I love you.”

“No,” He widens his eyes, inadvertently pushing his hips against her. “I’m in love with you, so fucking badly.”

“Jake,” She sighs, a drunken laugh slips out. “Duh.”

After a particularly long and fun turn around the bedroom, the pair fell asleep peacefully in each other’s arms. The next day brought a serious conversation about their relationship and they made it official. Not just best friends with benefits, but Jake and Shrimp, best friends and partners. It was going to be for the long haul. Every moment filled with love and care and cats.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet x reader #you're my best friend

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checkoutmybookshelf · 18 days

Text

Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

*Has an aggressive flashback to studying Romeo and Juliet as an undergraduate student and fiercely debating whether Friar Laurence's inability to send a goddamn letter made him culpable in the events subsequent to his promise to deliver a letter*

*Takes a deep breath*

*Counts to ten*

*SHAKES BUTTERBUR TO WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS GODDAMN LIFE BECAUSE WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN IT'S BEEN THREE MONTHS AND YOU DIDN'T GET THE DAMN LETTER DELIVERED????*

So...yeah. Let's just cut to the chase and talk chapter 10, "Strider."

Ok, so after Frodo's disastrous table dance in the last chapter, it's fully time for Strider to explain himself, so everyone heads back to the Hobbits' room. Merry is nowhere to be found, and everyone is INSUFFICIENTLY CONCERNED about this, especially given that they've had Black Riders on their tails since before they left the Shire. But I guess before we worry about the single most competent hobbit in the bunch and Frodo's COUSIN, we have to let Strider speak his piece.

Now, at this point, nobody has heard from Gandalf in months. Nobody has talked to each other. The hobbits know next to freaking nothing because FRICKIN' GILDOR didn't tell them jack, and Tom Bombadil focused on tips for staying alive in the Barrow-Downs. Strider kinda knows the general shape of things but doesn't know our hobbity bois from a short, beardless dwarf. And our hobbity bois are, understandably, feeling kinda suspicious of EVERYONE at this point, as illustrated by this little exchange:

"Maybe Mr. Baggins has an honest reason for leaving his name behind; but if so, I should advise him and his friends to be more careful." "I don't see what interest my name has for anyone in Bree," said Frodo, angrily, "and I have still to learn why it interests you. Mr. Strider may have an honest reason for spying and eavesdropping; but if so, I should advise him to explain it."

and this little declaration from Sam, the only hobbit in the group with an adequate suspicion of people:

"With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it."

Literally, Sam was listening and he has come to a deeply reasonable conclusion, especially since protecting Frodo is his entire motivation. I wouldn't be super excited to follow a strange man into the wild either. And I gotta give Sam credit for a healthy level of critical suspicion too, because even after we get Gandalf's letter, he is still asking questions:

...Sam was not daunted, and he still eyed Strider dubiously. "How do we know you are the Strider that Gandalf speaks about?" he demanded. "You never mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be a play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?"

Sam, my dearest, darlingest hobbit, I respect your suspicious mind, but I have to ask you this question: What on Eru Iluvatar's little green Middle Earth would you have done if you'd been RIGHT? Sweetie, you are three feet tall and don't know how to use a sword. What was the plan if he looked directly into camera and said, "And I'd have got away with it too, it it weren't for you meddling hobbits"? If the man calling himself Strider wasn't actually Strider, you'd all have been dead like fifteen minutes ago.

And yes, Strider calls this out, but like...what IS it with big folks and getting briefly intimidating and exploding their presence to prove that they're NOT dangerous? Because Gandalf doing it to Bilbo after the party and Strider doing it now would not make me feel better about being a hobbit in a vulnerable moment. But I'm just a girl, what do I know?

At any rate, apparently between Frodo's instincts, Strider's wizard power moment, and Gandalf's letter, Strider passes muster with the hobbits. So the next thing to do is to get everyone on the same page, with everyone going, "So uhh...Gandalf, huh?" and then planning to set out for Weathertop in the morning. All pretty standard stuff for a session zero with a new party member.

At which point Merry windmill slams into the room screeching about seeing the Black Riders in Bree.

Seriously, y'all neglected Merry and honestly I wouldn't blame him for not telling any of you about the Black Riders because seriously, he has been gone for literal hours, missed the whole Strider reveal, and NOBODY WAS WORRIED??? Such disrespect for the hobbit who got your asses clear of the Shire, honestly. And now he's *recovering from the Black Breath* and nobody checks in on how he is. Nob literally found him unconscious on the side of the road and Merry explicitly says he had "an ugly dream" that I am frankly entirely willing to chalk up to minor mental trauma. He's even beating himself up for going to pieces, which is just ridiculous because THE BLACK BREATH. But does anyone ask, "Are you ok, Merry? Can we get you anything, Merry?" NO!!! I get that Sam and Frodo are the A-plot hobbits, but SOMEONE CHECK ON MERRY, FFS.

Especially since he has just brought KEY INTEL that is going to keep everyone alive overnight and allow them to get out of Bree tomorrow without getting absolutely Black Rider-ed. Thanks to Merry, Strider keeps the hobbits out of their room, and Nob (shoutout to Nob, he's been awesome and should get Employee of the Month) sets up fake hobbits in their beds just in case. Once again, Merry has taken action to save all their asses and he is GROSSLY underappreciated.

Which, frankly, is a stark contrast to FREAKING BARLIMAN BUTTERBUR. This man, who Strider explicitly says would *forget his own name if people didn't yell it at him all day every day* gets forgiven with basically no consequences for not passing on a crucial piece of mail that would have saved Frodo and co. significant grief on their trip out of the Shire and would have made coming to Bree significantly less dramatic and noticeable. Gandalf threatened to roast the man and both Frodo and Strider agree that he deserved to be roasted, but DOES ANYONE DO THE ACTUAL ROASTING? NO THEY DO NOT!!! This is unacceptable, and someone needs to address this. Usually I want to be sucked into a book to live in the world and go on adventures or go on a date with a book boyfriend, but if I were to be sucked into Fellowship, my #1 task on my to-do list would be to give some goddamn comeuppance to Barliman Butterbur.

Ok, I'm going to leave it there for now, and we'll check back in next time to see if everyone survives the night with a bunch of Black Riders running wild in Bree.

#the fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #lotr #reread #strider #books and reading #books #books and novels

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