I loved your answer about the princes giving advice on seduction... but I was curious what they would answer if they had feelings for MC, could you write us some answers Violet?
for context, this ask is referencing this post i made a while back. my response to this ask is way longer, pretty much a whole drabble, so im only going to do one prince at a time. im kind of in a writing slump rn so im trying to spark my motivation by writing drabbles like this. dont rlly know who im gonna write abt next, we'll see. this ask is one of the oldest ones in my drafts so im sorry for the insanely long wait ;;
Hey Beau, I need your advice on… how I can get someone to like me. To date me.
Is that too weird to ask of a friend?
You briefly shift your gaze to the man sitting next to you in the library. Or rather, the crown of rich brown hair facing you. Beau is currently nose-deep into a novel he claimed to detest this morning, his neck craned at such an awful angle you're sure his posture is beyond repair. Funny, his posture's been great until he started tutoring Luka. At least this adds to the long list of things you have in common with him now.
Your gaze shifts back to the blank screen of your laptop. It's not that Beau would judge you, or that he'd laugh like a certain British prick until your ears would bleed, it's just that he's… Beau. Sure, you've discussed romance-related topics with Beau on occasion, but it's always carefully within the context of other media -- books, plays, shows, and the like. Silly fictional characters doing their own silly fictional things.
But when it comes to your personal lives? Real shit? Your conversations with Beau never seem to drift in that direction. Sometimes you wonder if it's because you fear you'll reveal something vulnerably awkward or Beau will have absolutely no interest in such a topic. That he'll give some answer that seems earnest at the surface but with detachment lingering behind his friendly demeanor. It would be his version of a cop-out answer.
You sigh. Is it normal to overthink something that most people consider regular friend talk?
Beau suddenly moves away from his book. You jolt, feeling his stare against the side of your face, but you remind yourself that it's not like he caught you staring. You've merely been zoning out in front of your computer for the past five minutes, just like any other dazed college student in the room. You're fine.
"(Name)," Beau starts coarsely, and you want to open your mouth to cut him off, to tell him that he needs to stop overanalyzing your expressions, that there's nothing on your mind, nothing you wish to ask him, nothing he could possibly help you with--
Beau quirks an eyebrow. "So you're clearly not."
"I was going to ask if you had some sticky notes. I'm borrowing this book from my professor so I sadly can't annotate the pages directly. But clearly, now that you've revealed-"
"Oh--okay--yeah I have some-" you quickly reach over and yank the zipper of your bag open as you purposely duck your face from Beau's view.
"No, no, no," Beau says, moving his head as he tries to meet your gaze, "I was going to say that now that you've randomly blurted you're 'okay', it's obvious something's bothering you."
You smack a stack of bright sticky notes in front of him on the table. "Here, are these a good size?"
Beau doesn't even glance at the sticky notes. His eyes are glued to yours, probing so intensely you're surprised you don't break contact. He knows you'll crack soon, though.
You hate that about him. How smug and overconfident and overbearing he can be at times. You love that about him.
You finally sigh in defeat. "Okay, whatever, it's not even a big deal. It's just that… we haven't really talked about something like this and I don't want you to feel like you have to care."
Beau frowns. It's like a slurry of thoughts is baking in his mind, but he shakes his head ever so slightly and his expression softens. "You can share anything with me, (Name). I swear."
Hearing him say such a loaded affirmation without ten supporting statements or clauses or conjectures has you questioning things. For once, nothing complicated left Beau's mouth. Just two simple, powerful sentences.
"I want to know your advice on how I can get someone to like me. Romantically."
Something immediately flickers across Beau's face. It's so fast and fleeting, like a fuse dangerously sparking, you can't quite identity it. Confusion, shock, possibly even cringe?
Then Beau nods as he thickly swallows, as if he's pretending to find your question intriguing, as if he's pretending to put thought and effort into his response. In the same way you'd respond to a child asking about the color of the sky. This was a dumb idea.
"But if you aren't exactly sure, then it's fine," you add hastily.
Beau takes his cup of coffee and slowly drains the last of it. He's buying more time.
Then, he turns to you. "So." He clears his throat. "You want to date someone."
"And are you thinking of a specific person, or…?" Beau jumps into his next statement before you can answer, "By the way, I'm not asking out of nosiness, but because my advice changes depending on the person. Not everyone develops feelings in the same way, for the same reasons. But I'm sure you know that already."
You nod in understanding before you ponder his question. "There's not exactly…" you struggle to collect your thoughts. "We all have our dream, ideal person-" you try not to linger on an obnoxiously intelligent exchange student, so pristinely groomed his clean scent alone makes you feel hopelessly lonely and euphorically full at the same time, "-but I'm more after being in a relationship with someone."
Beau looks slightly amused. "Someone?"
"Not just anyone, of course, they at least have to be a decent person," you roll your eyes, "but I'm at a point where I just want to like someone and they like me back, and we do cute couple things and… yeah. You get the gist."
"I see." Beau's no longer looking at you. His eyes are glued to the cover of his book, which isn't exactly complex and interesting. "Is there not even a personality trait you're looking for?" he asks after a moment of pause.
"As long as they're passionate about something, have empathy for others, aren't an asshole… I think I'd be down."
Beau's expression is neutral, but for some reason, you sense he's annoyed. Ugh, he's so unpredictable at times. Maybe you should just switch the topic already.
Beau loudly clicks his pen a few times. "I meant to ask this earlier, but… haven't you tried asking someone out before? Even once?" You know he doesn't mean it in a condescending way, but gosh, he really needs to work on his delivery.
"Not during college. I just don't want to misread someone's signals or, you know, get brutally rejected," you say with a shrug.
A gust of air leaves Beau's lungs. At first you think it's a strange cough, but soon, you realize it's a laugh. Wow.
You glare at him. "Yeah, okay, go ahead. I guess you could say I'm being pretty shallow and desperate, since I just want a relationship for the experience. You wouldn't be wrong. I just don't really care at this point."
You expect Beau to quickly go quiet, to shrink back in shame and guilt, to even possibly mumble an apology for reacting so weirdly.
But instead, Beau begins to double over with laughter.
"Gosh, what's wrong with you?" You worriedly glance around the library before shooting Beau another dirty look as you hold your finger to your lips.
This is so uncharacteristic for him. He's usually the one shushing you in the library, not the other way around. Thankfully, only you and Beau are sitting at the large table, surrounded by empty seats.
"I'm sorry…" Beau says between gulps of air and more laughs, "I just… I can't really explain…"
You roll your eyes. "Sure, Beau. The guy aspiring to be a professor suddenly can't explain what's so insanely funny about me wanting love advice."
Beau's laughter gradually ceases. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, and sends you an oddly serious look. Eyebrows completely flat and low on his forehead, lips not ghosting a smile or a frown -- it sends a chill down your spine.
"It's funny how certain you are."
"Certain about what? That I'm single?"
Beau forces down a smile. "How certain you are that there isn't a man at this very table who's dying to be with you."