#some courtly love ass shit

[youareinacomawakeup]

Do you ever just Wonder why a ship isn’t more popular?

Because like.

You’d never know which is the deity and which is the mortal from the way Gentiana worships Luna.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Y'all can laugh at this real world shit.

[sol-consort]

Okay, but imagine Wrex/Shepard as like, courtly romance. Idk how it'd work, but it has the ✨ vibes ✨, you feel?

Wrex watching all the classical romance movies, studying human courting rituals (especially ones appropriate for a clan leader/patriarch like himself), and generally stressing about doing the right steps.

All while cursing humanity's constant contradiction of itself—one compliment in certain cultures can be an insult in others.

Only to realise halfway through watching a tutorial on how to tie a tie, that the great Commander Shepard, is also as clumsy as a fawn when it comes to romance.

Shep is more accustomed to guns, both physically and ones you carry, to downing 6 drinks in a row before blacking out, waking up in the bathroom, only to go and do it all over again.

Shepard's idea of romance would be to take him to Armax Arsenal Arena and go against a simulation of the Salarian Special Unit as a duo.

There is no need for Wrex to force himself into human customs; time after time, Shepard has shown absolute willingness and enthusiasm to participate in Krogan culture.

Be it Grunt's rite of passage, which Shepard had a little too fun in, ordering krogan liquor at the bar which knocks em out cold, or simply headbutting someone despite the fragility of the human skull.

Simply to put it, Shepard didn't earn the title of honorary krogan for nothing.

Both Wrex and Shepard seemed out of their element during the casino infiltration mission. They're used to bashing heads in, not kissing ass and playing the subtle games.

Wrex would still attempt to emulate the courting rituals from human movies, nonetheless. He wants to give his 100% to Shepard. If a puny human is capable of enduring the krogan brutal world, then how hard could it be for a krogan to assimilate to human society?

Think of those superhero movies where the protagonist always gets the love interest to fall into their arms as they save the day. That's what Wrex imagined saving Shepard in the Citadel DLC mission to go like, he busts through and guns all the bad guys, then swoops Shep in his arms and flies away! (on a shuttle)

Except...Shepard not only ended up surpassing him in kill count, took bullets for him, but also saved his ass countless times.

A man should have his ego bruised by this, it's what the human books told him. Fragile masculinity and all.

Which was the exact moment Wrex truly knew these damn books were full of shit.

He's never been more turned on in his entire life—three hearts drumming so fast he feared they'd burst out his chest—than as he took cover behind Shepard to reload while they watched his flank.

As they helped him onto the shuttle, with titanium strength pulling a whole krogan up by the arm, heavy armour and all.

That's the major part which differentiate between Korgan and Human romance. In a human relationship, you're expected to be more impressive than your partner, the hotter one, the stronger one, the more badass one while they cling to you.

It shows in Mass Effect human romances, rarely are they on equal footing as you, always beneath you, be it in rank or ability.

But in a Krogan courtship, nothing is more romantic than your partner being more badass than you. Smarter, more powerful, or even just more accomplished. There is no insecurity or resentment. Krogans are far above it.

Shepard is one of the very few people who happened to completely blow Wrex out of the water, making them his ideal partner, the one that comes to him at night in wet dreams, the one he thinks of whenever those sappy love songs come on the radio, the one his hearts flutter at the idea of meeting again and spending some time together.

[breannasfluff]

Legend catalogs the reaction he’s noticed of each person with the newest hero.

Wild scares the ever-loving shit out of Four. The smithy steers far away whenever he can help it and his eyes swirl a riot of colors. Legend’s watched him circle the Champion at a prescribed distance—a good 10 feet away if he can make it. Situations that bring him closer result in a flighty energy that steadily worsens until Four bolts further away.

Hyrule spouts so much flowery language and courtly manners he gives Warriors a run for his money. The veteran didn’t know he even knew that many manners, much less how to use them properly. Yet every greeting to Wild is some drawn-out, overextended mess of words that leaves everyone confused. The champion doesn’t seem to get it, either, so who knows why Hyrule insists on keeping it up.

Warriors…well, Legend’s not sure what happened between him and Wild, but the captain is waging a one-man war against his chainmail. Some days he wears it and others he’s stripping as fast as he can. It’d be funny if he didn’t look so frightened. Or if the chainmail stripping didn’t coincide with Wild’s close attention.

Wind is too easy-going to stay away from the champion, but he doesn’t seek him out, either. When they stop at rivers or lakes to bathe, the sailor goes in the water before or after Wild, but never at the same time.

Sky looks perpetually ill, sometimes tripping over nothing when Wild runs up to him. The champion peppers him with questions about his loftwing, or his Zelda. The last brings a frown to his face and if Legend didn’t know the chosen hero was just that, he’d say Sky was jealous.

Legend? He thinks Wild is fucking awesome . Oh, he’s still scary as any monster—scarier, even. The champion brings with him the ache of cold teeth, like chewing on an icicle or eating cold food too fast. Prolonged conversation with him results in a headache.

There’s something wrong with Wild, but not enough to keep Legend away. After so many adventures, it’s rare to find something that surprises him so thoroughly. As long as he doesn’t start manifesting dream creations, he can stay.

“You want to spar?” Legend plants himself in front of Wild, ignoring Warriors choking behind him.

Wild looks up, eyes reflecting light in a way they shouldn’t. “Spar?” It probably hasn’t escaped his notice that no one will fight him, even in training.

“Sure, I need to loosen up.” Rolling his shoulders, Legend moves towards the open area Four and Hyrule were using earlier. The sharp spike of cold goes straight to his head and he futilely presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to warm it.

Warriors, stick in the ass that he is, is trying to get them to stop. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea right now.” He casts about for an excuse, then shifts pleading eyes to Time.

The old man looks like he’s not paying attention, but the veteran catches the tightening in his shoulders and sideways glance. “Play nice, stay safe. Run through some drills, first.”

He’s not a child to be told what to do. Legend tosses one of the practice staves at Wild, not willing to consign himself to metal against the other. “Here, this should do.”

Wild runs a hand over the wood and bends it over a knee, checking it won’t snap. Then he nods and waits for Legend, who stares back.

“Drill?”

“What drill?” Wild’s head tips too far to one side.

Legend doesn’t answer, just starts running through some basic moves. Wild watches but doesn’t join in. Finally, he stops. “Forget it. Fighting or not?”

“Boys,” comes Time’s voice.

“Whatever.” Legend ignores him and raises his stick. “Ready? Go!”

Wild’s not ready, but Legend makes a wide swing to give him time to settle. The kid made it through his journey with whatever weirdness he’s got going on; he can handle one spar without chopping someone’s head off.

His follow-up swing is met with the crack of wood; Wild’s focus is fully on the fight, now. He stays on defense, then switches to offense, and then back again.

Wild’s style is…unique, in that it seems to be a mash of moves with little flowing grace, but he’s a proficient fighter. He’s focused and in control. He doesn’t turn into evil incarnate because he’s crossing blades—or staves, with someone. Warriors worries over nothing.

Legend keeps up, periodically landing faster hits to see how he’ll react. Through it all, the sharp ache in his teeth grows. It’s distracting and the adrenaline of movement isn’t enough to block it out. The tightening band around his head is an indication enough of the growing headache.

Finally, Legend steps back and raises his stave to signal an end. Wild stays poised for one, sharp moment, then steps back as well with a grin.

“Thanks, this was fun.”

Nodding back, Legend tosses the stave to the side and meanders across the camp. Time’s gaze burns, but he ignores it to settle next to Four, far away from Wild and his tooth-aching chill.

The champion may be awesome, but curse the Goddesses, Legend could do without the headache.

Read the rest here!

[mrstsung]

Vent:

Saw something that pissed me off royally.

If you don't want to hear me vent about people misinterpreting my blorbo. Plz keep scrolling. And if you dont like my venting. Plz ignore. I'll be back with kontent soon.

If any of You ever call shang tsung a twink again I'll rip your head off.

People really do not know the character and it shows.

Fuck this shit man.

Shang tsung is definitely and most certainly not a fucking damn twink. You twatwaffles!

He's a damn hunk. He's masc coded. And just because he carries himself courtly. Don't fucking mean he's a twink. Half of y'all misuse that word too damn much.

Also i personally hc shang not to give a fuck about that kinda shit. He does what he wants. Dresses how he wants. And doesn't care about superficial things that much. He has his preferences but overall a sorcerer that's been around for hundreds of years,decades even. Doesn't and shouldn't give a rats ass about gender,expression of it,sexuality,and superficial shit. He's a motherfuckin sorcerer man!

But in all seriousness,I'm sick of people misusing that word. And I'm sick of that being used as a meme. It was used by mlm queer circles. And people hijacking for funny haha purposes it kinda pisses me off. Especially when they don't even use it right.

There is nothing twink about shang tsung. Fuck off!

Shang tsung if anything is a bratty dom kinda man. Y'all don't seem to care about that type unless the character in question is white. But heaven forbid a moc let alone an asian male character ever is bratty,dom,and masculine. Y'all can't seem to handle that because weeb anime brainrot. Look I'm an anime fan as much as the next delinquent anime trash girl. But i have fucking standards and a brain to know that....MEN COME IN ALL KINDS?! just as women do. Anyways. Shang tsung is not a twink.

Shang can be princess if you want him to be but ffs he's not some fucking sad,uwu boi. He's not someone to be saved. He's a brat emperor and he fucking knows it. He thinks he's fucking hot stuff(and he is) and he's not someones bitch boy. He fucking hates that. Or did you forget that shao kahn fucking abused the sorcerer for decades?! Like im not saying shang with the right person wouldn't be open to the idea or role reversal and being in a sub position or even in a service way. Oh he loves it IF IT'S THE RIGHT PERSON. AKA HIS BELOVED. AKA YOU. but that will have to take some times and Building of trust. Because yeah. That fucking makes sense. Anyways....

I don't mind a sweet shang tsung. I dont mind domestic. I don't mind an au where he's the "good guy" but ffs don't erase his flavor and what makes him well him.

He can be soft sweet,fabulous and fluffy and cute and all that ish without resorting to calling him a twink. Characters are more complex than that. If you want a twink,kung jin exists.

The actual resident mortal kombat twunk ahem.. is johnny cage. So leave my man shang tsung alone from your fucking labels.

Dont ever call him that again.

Shang tsung is not a fucking twink

Shang is a fucking hunk. Twunk if any fucking thing. But overall even these labels dont fit him. He's mother fuckin fucking shang tsung,he does what he pleases! And has no time for labels. Again to me shang tsung doesn't use these types of things. He likes what he likes and loves who he loves. Why should he feel the need to? And if he wants you,he'll have you. But don't ever try to label him. Because you don't know him. And that's the point of his character. He's complex af and i love him for it!

[birchbow]

Your character designs are always so dang cool!!! Are the captain positions on other ships in the holy fleet challenged for like the position of GHB in a duel to the death, or are they appointed? (Some combination thereof?) The Orisoner looks so friendly, but I bet he’s brained somebody with that whimsical staff! I love that in the group shot Kurloz’s frame is almost a 2x scaled up version of Sister Waspclaw - his Gigantic Lankiness is just so fun. (Also LMAO at Kurloz being too prudish to claim his right to show tits! Honestly any time he mentions modesty standards being different a couple centuries ago it cracks me right up 😂)

Aw, thank you! :D Waspclaw is real small for a highblood, especially a relatively old and powerful one--smaller than pretty much all her pupated students, and a few of the pre-pupation ones! So next to Kurloz "Big Motherfucker" Makara, she's absolutely tiny. But does still manage to have more boobs than he does. Tragic.

RE: succession, it varies! It's pretty much always going to include some amount of combat--some of the variety where the loser is allowed to slink away and lick their wounds, and some where they definitely don't. Let's see. On a scale from most to least "Challenge To The Death"...

Definitely the Behemoth. It follows the same rules as the Grand Highblood challenge--if two trolls who want to be in charge walk into what passes for a captain's court on the Freakshow, only one is going to come out. Yozuna's not fast, and most trolls who ARE fast aren't nearly strong enough to make a dent in it even if they hit it--but the fact that Kurloz is big enough to really hit it hard and also came up specializing in speed and evasion is probably a real big part of the reason it hasn't made any attempt to challenge him for the throne, honestly.

Waspclaw. She's very lax with gutsy newbies getting fresh with each other and their superiors, thus the Joker's reputation for letting people get away with stuff, but stepping to her directly is SUPER dangerous. Make your gamble if you know you can get away with it!! But always know you aren't going to get away with it with her. :o) Plus, much like the Uderaks and Untoxxic, she works in poisons and venoms, and also she's heavily min-maxed into speed, so by the time you realize your challenge fight has officially been accepted, she's gone "well, they made their choice!" and you've been stung with something fatal.

The Abattoir. He isn't fucking around, although she also strikes me as very businesslike about it, and not inclined to be vindictive about the act of the challenge itself. I think the format is a little less "immediate fight to the death" and a little more "courtly duel" in keeping with both of his knightly sort of vibes. The exception being if you manage to draw blood on either of him, in which case shit flips very much into death-match mode. Also like. Hard-mode. You do have to challenge for both ships at once, and you will be fighting both of her. So like, considering authority over Elixir and Stardust features a lot of interfacing with the nonbelievers and doing Finance and shit, not a lot of people are jumping at THAT daunting prospect lol.

The Judgment. She wants to hear your argument for why the fuck you think you have what it takes to perform the physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually-taxing work of disciplining the wayward sinner-criminals of the church, and she's not getting any younger, here! If she feels like she's won her argument and the battle and you're inclined to back down in shame, she's not going to continue to press the point, but she will definitely openly think less of you for making a stupid and badly thought out attempt on her authority. She's as close as the church fleet gets to having a legislacerator taskforce, and she's just as stern and hard-assed as the Cruelest Bar, but also a large part of the Penitent's function is for flagellation and rehabilitation (???) of potentially-redeemable highbloods who've fucked up in ways that the church considers forgivable enough to give them a shot. She's down to clown (fatal) but also she's not an executioner necessarily.

Brother Libation. I drew inspiration from Il Dottore from the commedia del'arte, Bacchus, and the whole concept of drunken fist characters as an archetype, so if he's challenged he's got like... a 33% chance of just offering some kind of whimsical puzzle challenge that nobody ever manages to solve to his satisfaction, a 33% chance of just verbally convincing them to chill the fuck out by being a Cool Hang, and a 33% chance of bonking them heartily to the brink of death with his big spiky gourd.

The Orisoner wins for least deathmatchy. You can try to challenge, but you'll just get invited to come chill and vibe and just like. Really get into why you think your leadership will be hilarious and honoring to the messiahs, and what you think about art, and why you feel like you need captaincy to make the changes you want to see in the church and empire. If anybody attempts to escalate to violence, they'll mostly be met with a vaguely disappointed, surprisingly benevolent no-weapon-open-palms kind of rebuff, and if things continue to get more aggressive from there, the big spiky walloping staff will come out and be employed with startling effectiveness and skill lmao. But! If there were ever going to be highbloods inclined to take debate of best leadership policy over violence, it's the ones who decide they want to be theologians professionally. (Debate of best religious interpretation is a whole other ballgame, and gets aggressive here more than any other ship on the fleet lol). Orisoner in general though, would be one of the safer trolls you could be around as like, a human or a lowblood, if you had to pick a ship.

[badsalmonella]

Unhinged Guinevere Lancelot propaganda:

- First of all I stan a dysfunctional ship so don't come at me with a write up about how they are not getting a good grade in couples counseling. That's the🤌🏼 SAUCE🤌🏼 for me

- They spends the middle section of the show exchanging catatonic levels of eye contact across a stage the size of a mega mall parking lot and honestly? It's nastier than whatever you can find me on pornhub. FACTS.

- The radioactive levels of VIBES he is giving off when he says "No one can refuse your wish~"

- but the SECOND they actually hook up my guy Lancelot is ON THE FLOOR. In his SLUTTY BLOUSE cross necklace CLUTCHED and Genny is like "....heyyyy..... you're a nice guy 🫤 but uhhhh......"

- If they existed in a modern context Lancelot would be like "post sex waffles???? Shaped like hearts??? M'lady???🥺" And Guinevere would be pulling on the pants, already half way out the door like "no." And Lancelot would idk do some true freak shit like put his hand on the pan to punish himself for low rizz levels

- "Your Majesty~" "jjjjaCk ass". I wish I was joking when I say I lost all class when I saw this live and let out a small yell in my seat AT THE LINCOLN CENTER.

- I do have a bootleg though where he immediately smirks after and I'm taking notes sweetheart. That's going in the diagnosis write up babe. <3

- We gotta unpack the exchange between Arthur and Genny where he calls her out like "uhhh??? I know you don't like the dude but your hate is obsessive 🤨"

- The fact that even Arthur knows what's up. Oh my GOD.

- WHERE IS THE C L A S S GUINEVERE?!??

- The fact that Lancelot apparently just hangs out, outside rooms where Guinevere goes??? But also the second Arthur is like "she's actually coming here right now" he's getting the FUCK out of there.

- Guinevere twirling her hair around her finger like "ohhhh the knights will kill Lancelot? 😍 Murder him dead you say? And then what? 😏 Teehee"

- " yOU'LL OPEN WIDE HIM? 😩💦" I'm also putting that in the notes too girlie.

- Guinevere is like if someone doesn't make me come in the next 5 seconds I'm gonna start killing hostages and Lancelot is like "hey what if no nut November was every month? :)" but that doesn't stop them #lovewins

- I'm constantly torn between I think if Genny called him the specialest lil guy who's going to heaven he'd insta-nut, but also I think you'd get similar results if she called him the saddest wet napkin of a man. Thoughts? Vote below! Kidding

- I KNOW that potato show they attended had RADIOACTIVE vibes. Families were probably there just to see the qualities of a prize winning potato and they were out here idk rubbing pinkies and going on about how King Arthur doesn't give them enough attention :(((

- THE FACT THAT Guinevere is like "why won't someone become ridiculously obsessed with me? :/" and then Lancelot does and she's like "oh GOD not like that" and then he's like "oh ok then I'll leave" and she's like "NOT LIKE THAT EITHER". <3 I love her and she's never done anything wrong ever<3

- I think if we gave them facebook in the middle point of the events of the show, they would be THE MOST ANNOYING PEOPLE on your feed.

- Courtly love is really just medieval edging if you think about it.

- I like how the moment that broke these two, where they decided they couldn't hold back any longer is them speaking mediocre French. He said "terriblement" like THAT and she was like "uGH. I can't NOT fuck him"

- The fact that WAY too many people are aware of their thirst. They just do this shit. In PUBLIC. IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN.

- And I haven't even brought up the King Arthur of it all.... The fact that the guy who likes BIRDS gets around more than these two. INSANE.

- who calls the other Arthur in bed by accident? CALL THE NUMBER BELOW TO CAST YOUR VOTE

[loopy777]

thoughts on the way MHA ended? Lots of people absolutely pissed that izuku x uraraka was sunk rather decisively(im as well, but thats more because i now know sitting through 428 chapters of their boring ass romance was an objective waste of time) just so Kohei didnt have to deal with an ending that actually had ships sail, and the fandom reaction to that.

For me, i am absolutely gonna use Uraraka's canon wishywashyness to the bitter end, not having the guts to confess for 8 years after the final battle, to shit on her mercilessly in my own stories XD

Wow, harsh. Deku could have asked her to dinner some time in 8 years! What's a girl to think when a guy doesn't go on a single date from age 14 to 22? XD

Anyway, shipping aside, I am quite pleased with the ending. I thought we got good resolutions for more characters than I expected, and I really like not just that last-second twist but how it's done. All Might's eyes are freaky-looking, though.

Since I'm not really a MHA shipper, I thought it odd that we don't get a single romantic confirmation, but I think it's left open enough that there could be romance going on with whatever pairing a reader wants. Perhaps that was a deliberate, cynical choice. I do think there's a lack of payoff in the romances, as we have Deku, Uraraka, Kaminari, maybe Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu all having crushes that provide inspiration at critical character-growth moments, but none of them take the next step. It feels like all those subplots just stop before any climax. We don't even have Kaminari asking Jiro on a date and getting shot down. It feels like there's something missing in terms of the shape of the story.

However, I recognize that Romance is always awkward with these epic coming-of-age tales, especially one in a 'modern' setting like MHA. For something like AtLA, in an 'old' fantasy setting where older teenagers are considered full adults, especially one without formal schooling, I can buy someone marrying a love interest they meet at age 14. For something like MHA, though, it feels more unrealistic since most of us do not know someone who married their first high school sweetheart.

So, normally, I wouldn't dock MHA many points for these no-payoff romances. It could have done a lot worse by attempting the payoffs and fumbling them.

Unfortunately, in the wider context of the MHA, I think this is a fatal flaw that makes me unable to recommend the series to anyone.

No exaggeration. Explanation below the cut.

So, how many actual romantic relationships are there in this story, including the adults? Not that many, if we go by what's on screen. I mean, we had to get out-of-story clarification that Deku's father is still married to his mother. And of the relationships we actually see, how many of them are alive and functional and not something awful like Todoroki's backstory?

Bakugo's parents

Gentle Criminal and La Brava

???

That's all I can think of.

And then I've noted that none of the student crushes get any payoff. We're very clearly shown that these kids have attractions to each other, but at best it becomes a kind of unspoken courtly love. What's up with that?

Well, you could argue that MHA's intended audience is 12-year-old boys who don't want to see kissy romances. And normally, I'd consider that an acceptable answer. It's all over shonen anime/manga: feints towards romance (because boys like the idea of attracting pretty girls) without any actual depiction or fulfillment that could turn off squeamish immature boys. Some of this may be influenced by Japanese society overall, as my understanding is that displays of physical affections overall are rarer there, but I don't think that's the primary factor. Certainly, there are shonen stories where a boy and girl have an actual ongoing romantic relationship, and sometimes there's even kissing.

MHA doesn't have that, though. It has broken relationships, comedic relationships, and unfulfilled crushes. Even among adults.

What else does it have?

Fan-service outfits. Sexual assault played for laughs. Several instances of leering teenage female nudity.

Yeah, I've talked before about how Mineta is the worst part of the show because of how much fun the story tries to make them, and you don't have to go far on the internet to find people who think MHA's depiction of female teenagers is pretty gross, but pair this with the overall story's notable lack of any actual serious romance. That is not a great look. It says the only interest MHA has in romance is for the sex.

Now, I don't know that this reflects Horikoshi's actual feelings or psychology. Maybe this is an unfortunate mix of a juvenile sense of humor with a cynical ploy to avoid ticking off any shippers. But, thanks to the Death Of The Author, the overall message of MHA is that romantic love is equally powerful but less fulfilling than molesting your female classmates. Remember, Kaminari may have found his motivation to help take down some villains thanks to his love for Jiro, but Mineta found the strength and strategy to ace his practical exam thanks to his horny obsession with Midnight.

So the end result is that MHA is decidedly icky about this, and while it's a great superhero story and shonen, IMO, I couldn't recommend it to anyone without a major warning about this aspect of it.

[shibe-myths]

Could you please tell us about MC other parents

Of course! It's not super spoiler-y cause you'll see them in the prologue. So here are some facts about them. Hopefully without spoiling anything. _____________________________________________________________ Lillemor: The mother who loved and lost stands just shy of 5'9". With a robust, plump frame, elegant robes, and a strange- ever glowing scar across her throat from her time as a courtly bard. How she ended up within the ass end of the Fell Mountains is anyone's guess. Her past is something that the MC can learn more about through the story. -She is exceptionally talented when it comes to an oud. -In the prologue, she is about 48 years old. Give or take a year. -Her voice is quite husky. Deep and low, with the grace of Honey and silk. -She married Abeshai against the will of their former masters. Resulting in some very... worrying consequences. ______________________________________________________________

Abeshai: The father who begged for peace after a lifetime of war and sorrow. He stands at a solid 5'5". As well as a rail-thin physique that belies a past strife with combat. He is riddled with scars and tattoos. His face is partially malformed from the burning end of a mage's rage.

His past is something that the MC can learn more about through the story. -In the prologue, Abeshai is around 46 years old. Maybe more. Time is weird for one like him. -He and the MC share the same combat class. (Mage, Warrior, Rogue) -His voice is gravely and broken from lack of use. -Abeshai's prior occupation is shared by a fellow member of the Masked Mercers. _____________________________________________________________ Both: -Abeshai and Lillemor have been together since they were children. Having 'fallen in love' and 'married' the same day that they met. (Think ring pop marriages at recess except these two refused to divorce over who gets to wear the ring pop.) -The MC was a happy accident since Lillemor believed that she was well into menopause. But don't worry! Their other children, Soren and Gralon were also accidents! These two can't plan for SHIT! _____________________________________________________________ Spoilers: The MC bears a worryingly remarkable resemblance to a savior that they can potentially meet in chapter Six.

[bbrandy2002]

Fearless

Chapter 4: See the Lights, See the Party, the Ball Gowns

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow​.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

The girls spent their first morning in Cordonia with their respective sponsors, getting the first glimpses of courtly life and preparing for the Masquerade Ball taking place that evening. As much as they wanted to get out and experience all that this little Mediterranean country had to offer, there was just so much to do and little time to do it. 

That morning, while Alyssa worked diligently on learning the steps of the Cordonian Waltz and etiquette with Rashad, Maxwell finally got Riley out of bed in time for a late breakfast. This included meeting his brother, Bertrand, who was none too thrilled with the former waitress from New York. Riley discovered rather quickly that the duke was nothing like the free-spirited Maxwell; if ever there was a picture display of a killjoy, she was sure his scowling face would be plastered dead in the center.  

The day kind of went by in a dizzying blur, especially for Riley, who spent most of it either being lectured by Bertrand, or raiding the kitchen for stress snacks with Maxwell. And as far as anyone knew, Liam was still unaware that the quirky, raven-haired beauty he’d met two nights ago and never expected to see again was in his country, in his palace, and was about to come face-to-face with him.

If she didn’t die of anxiety first. 

Neither of the girls saw each other until much later that afternoon when they linked up in Riley’s room before heading to the palace's salon for last-minute hair and nail appointments. 

Later on in the boutique, Riley sucked in a deep breath and held in her stomach while Alyssa stood behind her, fighting to zip the back of the angel-themed costume she chose for the Masquerade Ball. 

Actually, "chose" was a loose description in this case. The ensemble was one of the last two dresses in the palace's boutique, and Maxwell insisted Riley wear it instead of the more provocative red devil attire to make herself more appealing to the King and Queen. The Beaumont sponsee didn’t give two shits at that moment about impressing the monarchs; her major concern was how she would fit that size-four dress over her size-six body. 

“What the hell did you eat, Ri? This zipper is not budging an inch," an out-of-breath Alyssa groaned as she attempted to pull the tight fabric closer together.  

Steadying her feet firmly to the ground, a jostled-around Riley answered quietly, in a still manner, so as not to undo what little progress her friend had already made, "You know I'm a stress eater. I've experienced many emotions since we left yesterday, and food therapy helps. And your judgment is making me hungry again, so thank you for making it worse."

"I'm not judging you; I'm simply stating a fact: Your ass won’t fit in this dress."

Riley straightened up a little higher, hoping to thin her lean frame out more. "Well, it's gonna have to," she scoffed. "I can't be the only suitor at this ball without the proper attire."

Alyssa tugged harder in frustration. "You know, it might help if I could remove the price tag from the zipper."

"Perhaps." Riley sideways glanced at the two inattentive boutique cashiers before turning her head slightly over her shoulder to acknowledge her best friend in a hushed tone. "But then I wouldn't be able to return it in the morning. $700 for a damn dress is highway robbery, and I won't be a victim to this place's jacked-up prices." She glared back at the fashionably dressed women running the register and hollered out, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Shhhh!" Alyssa's face burned with embarrassment while she smiled sheepishly at the bewildered ladies. "Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You mean aside from the usual things that are wrong with me? I'm a nervous wreck, Lyss. Liam still doesn't know that I'm here. I'm about to go wine-and-dine with snobby rich people, while my socially awkward-o-meter is on red alert. And Maxwell's brother didn't like me. How am I supposed to impress Liam, the press, this council, and his parents when my own sponsor hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Alyssa replied. "Suck in your stomach a little more ... Rashad told me Duke Beaumont is high-strung and takes all this court business very seriously. If you ask me, give ‘The Brows’ some time. I know he'll love you. And Liam already does!" Alyssa stepped back in delight after tirelessly sliding the last bit of the zipper to the neckline. "Voila! I got it."

Riley stiffly turned toward the full-length mirror -- her insides feeling like they would pop right out of her -- and surveyed the finished product. "Not bad, not bad. A slight muffin top on the sides, and my ass cheeks are packed in tighter than my family around the dessert station at a buffet, but ... I think I can get by with it." Turning to face Alyssa, she lit up with anticipation. "Okay, now it's your turn."

Alyssa plucked the bright red dress off the rack and headed inside one of the many dressing rooms. A moment later, she emerged with a beaming smile on her face and held her arms out to the side to do a show-offish twirl. "So, how do I look?"

"Oh my god, Lyss!" Riley clapped excitedly. "You look so hot in that! That color of red really suits you too. Although, you might want to cover up the girls a little more; I've never seen your boobs look so huge."

"Wha --" Alyssa glanced down at her fully rounded chest, a substantial portion of which was spilling out over the top. She crossed her arms over her breasts in horror. "OH MY GOD! You're right: They're enormous in this thing. I can't go out there like this! They'll be stuffing dollar bills into my cleavage and begging for a lap dance!"

"Well, just ... try to tuck them in," Riley suggested, demonstrating her advice on herself. “You know, the way guys tuck in their junk.”

Alyssa shook her head adamantly, attempting to slide the top of the dress up higher. "I don't think that'll work. It's already extremely tight."

“That’s what he said,” Riley quipped with a snicker, much to the chagrin of her longtime friend, who simply blinked back. “Wow, not even a smile. Come on, Lyss, it’s not that hard.”

Alyssa grinned despite herself, “That’s what she said.”

Riley stepped closer, reaching out to grab a portion of the garment covering Alyssa's bosom, and declared, "Alright, If I can squeeze my fat ass into this dress, you can cram those giant melons into yours. So, get to pushin’, girl.”

-----------

After 10 minutes of stuffing uncooperative breasts into a gown, Alyssa and Riley stepped out of the boutique and made their way to the bottom of the main staircase outside of the ballroom, where Rashad and Maxwell were waiting eagerly for them. 

A grim-faced Rashad approached the pair as they neared. “We were beginning to worry about you two. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.” He reached out and greeted Alyssa with a friendly kiss to the cheek as Riley made her way up to Maxwell, who did the same.

“No troubles,” Alyssa assured him, before staring down at her chest to make sure certain parts were still contained inside her dress. “Just some slight wardrobe issues that I think we’ve taken care of.”

Riley frowned, rubbing a soothing hand over her squeezed-in stomach. “Let’s just say we both feel like canned biscuits.”

“And I’m petrified of canned biscuits!” Alyssa shrieked, then spoke in a lower, punier voice in Rashad’s direction. “They make that popping sound that scares the hell out of me.” He nodded sympathetically at her admission, having no clue what canned biscuits were.

Maxwell let out a chuckle. “Either way, you both look awesome! Like two totally righteous peas in a pod and all that jazz.” He peeked over at Riley, who wasn’t appearing too sure of herself, or of anything for that matter, knowing she’d spent most of the day in a subtle panic. While she steadied her breath, he looped his arm through hers and leaned over. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go in there like the boss you are and knock them all dead. I just know it.”

Riley swallowed thickly, “But Liam --”

“Will be over the moon with excitement to see you again. Do you think I’d go through all the trouble of trying to convince you, and then Alyssa, to come all the way here -- not to mention, facing my brother’s wrath -- if I didn’t believe Liam would want to see you again?” Riley half-shrugged, but Maxwell could tell by the little glimmer of hope he caught in her eyes and the slight curl at the corner of her plush pink lips that she knew it was true. “If he’s not happy about seeing you, I’ll book you on the first flight back to New York, and you can punch me in the gut or something. But I can tell you with certainty: No man goes out with a woman and keeps his friends up most of the night talking about how amazing she was if he doesn’t want to see her again.”

Riley could feel a tinge of pink color her cheeks and looked away for a brief moment, knowing he was right. She was about to see her prince again. Simply knowing how happy Liam was when they parted ways that night made her heart flutter. The blushing suitor peered back at the towering man on her arm and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Max.” 

As they both stared straight ahead at the set of double doors where Alyssa was making her grand entrance into the ballroom with Rashad, Riley pointed out, “You realize if you had said all that stuff to me this morning and five bloated pounds ago, I wouldn’t have cried to you all day over pints of ice cream, half a sheet cake, and a bag of Mini Snickers?”

Lord Beaumont grinned without looking at her as the orchestral music inside erupted through the newly opened threshold that awaited their crossing. A gleam of anticipation glistened the cobalt hue of his eyes.”That’s our cue. Time to look alive, Twinkle Toes, it’s showtime.”

__________

It felt like a million pairs of eyes bore through Riley when the announcer spoke her name out to the guest in the ballroom. In reality, few paid much attention to the young woman dressed in pure white, from the feathery halo perched above her fancy swept-up hairdo to the tiny heels that sparkled like glittery specks of fairy dust on her feet.  

As Maxwell ushered her proudly through the spectacular crowd adorned in the finest silks and chiffons, faces concealed behind extravagant masks similar to hers, and opulent table spreads of gold and crimson, Riley searched the four corners of the room for one particular set of the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered -- she had Liam’s memorized by heart. However, the only ones she recognized came from her smiling best friend, standing casually beside the Lord of Domvallier at the bar, keeping her word to watch out for her. With a subtle grin from Alyssa to convey she had her back, the whirlwind of fear and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed Riley quickly dissipated into thin air. 

Baby steps.

While Maxwell and Riley headed to the center of the ballroom to meet up with Bertrand, across the way, Alyssa ordered a cranberry vodka from the bar. She was wearing red and needed a drink that matched perfectly with the fabric in case of accidental spillage. As the bartender poured her glass, she tore her vigilant gaze from Riley when Rashad’s cell rang. Seconds later, he covered his phone lightly with a palm and lowered it away from his ear to speak with her. 

“This is my client in California. Will you be okay for a little bit while I take this out on the balcony?”

Alyssa nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Is there anything I should be doing while you’re gone?”

“Try mingling with the crowd. Get to know the other suitors. The best way to help Riley tonight is to get a feel for the competition. Figure out who you can potentially get on her side and who is going to cause her trouble.”

“With all due respect, this isn’t Survivor.”

Rashad grinned before excusing himself. “We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the social season.”

What is it with all the Debbie Downers here? He sounds just like -- Before she could finish that thought, a stroke of irony occurred when she caught the denim-clad Drake, standing out like a sore thumb, making his way up to the bar. She quickly spun around on the barstool and hovered over her freshly poured beverage. 

Tapping the bar's woodgrain top, Drake called for, “The usual,” before plopping down on the stool next to her. His woodsy scent filled the air and wafted in her direction; she wondered if he’d even recognize her.

Pressing the rim of the glass to her lips to take the first nervous sip of her drink, she wondered why she even cared if he did.

Alyssa set the vodka cranberry down on a cocktail napkin at the same time Drake reached for his tumbler of whiskey. A brush of their hands caused them both to retreat away before he bowed his head respectfully to her. 

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Drake was quick to apologize. He never knew which stuck up nobles would have an issue with a commoner’s simple touch.

Alyssa lifted a brow and smirked in response. “So you do have manners?”

He’d recognize that wily voice anywhere. Grumbling, Drake responded. “Aww, hell! Pipsqueak? Is that you?”

“Hello, Sunshine.” She dimpled.

Drake shook his head. “I should have known. Of all the damn people in this room, I still managed to find you.”

“I would call that a very lucky day for you then.” Alyssa lifted her drink and tipped back a gulp. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t you have some royal cows or chickens to herd around or something? Who wears denim and jeans to a fancy ball?” 

She would if she could get away with it.

His tight shoulder muscles bounced slightly with disingenuous laughter as his chestnut eyes took in her sultry devilish costume. “I could ask you the same about your own clothes. Suitors are supposed to dress up for these things. Not come as themselves.”

Offended, Alyssa arched back contemptuously. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“If the horns and pitchfork fit.” Drake retorted. He motioned with his glass across the room. “By the way, you see that blazing redhead who just stole your little friend away from Maxwell?” When Alyssa snapped her gaze protectively in that direction, he continued, “That’s Olivia. You might want to check in on … what’s her name again?”

“Riley ...” Her tone was resentful. He knows damn well what her name is. 

“Whatever. Just trust me on this, if the two of you know what’s good for ya -- and I’m betting you don’t -- you’ll stay as far away from Olivia and the rest of these social-climbing fuckers as possible.” His mood suddenly shifted as he drained his drink, then slammed it on the bar top, motioning with his hand to the bartender for another.

Alyssa was quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the immense throb of protruding veins in his forearm as he nursed his drink. “What climbed up your ass and died? Why are you even here if you hate everyone so much? 

He quickly snapped. “I’m here for Liam!”

“Well, I’m here for Riley!” The two of them glared at each other in a tense showdown that neither was willing to back down from. After a beat, Alyssa’s determination weakened somewhat; confrontations made her jittery. 

And with him in particular.

Letting her shoulders slump, Alyssa let out a soft breath as she relaxed. “I’m trying to give her some space … but do I need to go check on Riley?” The question was asked sincerely. 

Drake turned his head back, his vision crossing the vast expanse of the room and landing on a perturbed Riley in conversation with Olivia. He scowled, recognizing the expression impressed on her face all too well. “We’re outsiders, Alyssa. You. Me. Riley. That’s the only thing they’ll ever see. It’s the only way they’ll ever treat us.” He shifted to face Alyssa again. “Take that for what you will. If she were my friend … I would.”

_______

Riley shook her head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m supposed to kiss the king’s shoe. That’s weird, creepy, and-and- unsanitary!” She nodded toward a masked couple standing before the seated king who bowed, curtsied, and then exited to the left. “They didn’t kiss his shoe. I think you’re full of shit.” 

“Riley, Riley, Riley.” The duchess shook her head with an exasperated tone. “Those people are well-established and highly-regarded members of the court … you’re not. And while I admit it’s a rather unorthodox Cordonian royal custom, it’s part of our tradition that the newest members humble themselves before the king in an act of deep respect and reverence. I’m actually astounded Maxwell never bothered to tell you.” She flipped back a thick curly-q strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Riley hesitated. “I guess I’ll keep it in mind …?”

“Great!” Olivia wrapped a firm hand around Riley’s wrist and pulled her toward the throne where the king sat. “You’re so lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d have looked utterly ridiculous.”

“Wait! Where are we going? Riley demanded, her feet barely able to keep up with the brisk pace. 

“To present you to King Constantine.”

“But I need to wait for my sponsor!” Riley protested. She struggled to break free, but the redhead’s clawlike grip was surprisingly strong. 

“Every second counts, Riley. These women have all known Liam for years. The early bird gets the Crown.”

“But I --” Panicked, Riley scoured the room for the Beaumonts and found them standing near the hors d'oeuvres table embroiled in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

“What the fuck?” On the opposite side of the ballroom, Alyssa spotted Olivia hauling Riley across the floor. Before Drake had the chance to warn her this wasn’t good, an enraged Alyssa was already sliding down off the barstool, stampeding off in hot pursuit of finding out what this redheaded troll was doing with her best friend. 

And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, feeling frustrated beyond comprehension, Drake followed right on her heels.

Coming to a screeching halt before the raised dais, Olivia thrust Riley forward, who nearly tripped from the momentum into the bottom step at the sudden stop.

It took every ounce of restraint Riley had not to turn toward the woman who had forcibly dragged her across the room and to stick a pair of size-seven heels straight up her ass. She, however, liked the pretty, sparkly shoes she had on too much to ruin them … and wanted to end the evening outside of a hospital bed. “Asshole,” she muttered almost soundlessly.

“Your Majesty,” Olivia smirked. “I would like to present to you the suitor House Beaumont has chosen. Lady Riley.”

Riley gave her a cursory glare. It was the moment of truth. She plastered on her best smile for the King, who regarded her with a nod. 

Just … just do it. “Your Majesty.” Riley dipped into a low curtsy and held it in place for several seconds before contemplating the validity of Olivia’s outlandish claim and swallowing hard. “Here goes nothing.”

Placing both palms on the plush red carpeting that laid at the feet of the King, she lowered herself slowly until her knees rested on the top step.

“What the hell is she doing?” Alyssa questioned as she desperately weaved around a sea of faces, dodging server trays and tables along the way. “And where the hell is Maxwell?”

“I don’t know ...” Drake answered, practically pushing her even more quickly through the crowd, “ … but you better move faster. There’s no damn telling what Olivia told her to do.”

Riley paused briefly, staring at the simple black shoes that almost resembled a shiny boot. She wanted to be kissing Liam right now, not his father’s old fricking foot. Worst vacation ever.

Lowering her head gradually toward Constantine’s shoes, she scrunched up her face and reluctantly puckered up. 

Out of nowhere, a body with the vigor of a wild stallion in full sprint barrelled into her side, sending Riley hurling across the dais and causing her to land face-down on the marbled floor below.

"What is the meaning of this?" An enraged Constantine bolted up, his ire focused on Alyssa, hunkered down on all fours at his feet, striving to catch her breath.

Maxwell and Bertrand heard the commotion and came rushing to Riley’s side when they realized it was her sprawled out and jerking on the floor.  

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," an apologetic Alyssa said as she reached up for the hand Drake was offering. The King's glare at her was nerve-wracking as he waited for an explanation -- until Drake stepped up in front of her, blocking her view of the incensed monarch. "I can explain."

"I hope you can, young lady." Constantine glowered, baffled as to why Drake Walker was still standing between them … and mirroring every movement she made. When she shifted, he shifted. When she moved her arm, he did the same. Was this some type of game?

“Uh … um.” Alyssa's mind raced with excuses. She couldn't very well tell him the truth and make Riley or herself look bad -- she was still a representative of Duchy Domvallier. There was only one thing she could think of to say as she whipped around Drake and pointed at him. "This man pushed me!"

Drake's body stiffened at her accusation. "The hell you talking about?" 

She covered her eyes with a hand, pretending to sob. "I was on my way up here to pay my respects to you, sir, when this man ..." she paused to take in a fake stuttering breath, "... came out of nowhere and pushed me from behind. I tried to stop myself from running into anyone, but I couldn't. Too much momentum." Alyssa lowered her hand and stared at a wide-eyed Drake. "I’m just a small person, mister. Why would you do that? Why? What did I ever do to hurt you?"

"I never --"

"Drake?" The King eyed him sternly. "Is this true? Did you push this young woman?"

Drake’s defensive stance was no match for Alyssa’s pleading eyes, begging him to save her from this. “Please,” she mouthed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I … I’m sorry, Sir. Lady Alyssa’s extremely long dress was dragging the floor and I stepped on it. When I lifted my foot off, she ... I don’t know … flung forward. I tried to grab her before she went flying, but she got away, and that must be why she thought I pushed her.” Drake lowered his gaze to Alyssa. “You really shouldn’t shop in the adult section, miss.”

“Is it possible you were mistaken, Lady ... Alyssa?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is surely possible,” she agreed in a rehearsed-sounding tone. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“Well, then.” Constantine's contented glance drifted to Drake. “It’s good to know you didn’t push an innocent suitor on purpose, Drake. But just know this … I’ll be watching you.” 

“Looking forward to it, sir. Thank you, sir.” Drake quickly bowed his head as Constantine returned to his seat to greet the next guest. He grabbed Alyssa’s elbow and rushed her off to the side of the dais.

-----------

Maxwell knelt beside a disheveled Riley, helping her rise to her feet and dusting her off. 

“Lady Riley,” a scowling Bertrand glared, “what on earth is the meaning of this? The glory of House Beaumont is on the line tonight, and you’ve already made your first blunder. I told you, Maxwell, this was a mistake.”

Slightly dazed, Riley stumbled while massaging a sore wrist. Inclining her head so she could see him under the halo that drooped over her eyes, she retorted, “I was shoved, Berturd. It’s not like I did this on purpose. And thank you for your concern; I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shoved? By whom?” The three of them turned to see Alyssa and Drake scampering off to a corner. “It was Domvallier’s suitor?” Bertrand asked incredulously. “This is preposterous! It’s beneath Lord Rashad’s character to have his suitor and Drake Walker sabotage ours. I will have to go over there and put an end to this travesty at once.” 

“NO!” Riley and Maxwell barked.

"Bertrand. Why don't you let Riley and I handle them while you play damage control with the King? Unless ..." he smirked. " You want me to smooth things over with His Majesty? I have a lot to say about how Twinkle Toes just SAILED through the air at warp speed --"

"Dear God, no, Maxwell! There will be no need for your … input. But, you two, get results from Drake and that suitor. No funny business," he warned.

The two of them nodded in understanding. As soon as Bertrand turned his back and marched away, they both gave a knowing glance to the other before rushing over to Drake and Alyssa, who had just made it to a far corner of the ballroom, 

Alyssa yanked her elbow away from his vice-like grasp. “I believe we’re out of the clear; you can let go of me now.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something, ‘cause you need to know it ... “ Drake swallowed thickly, his rounded eyes focused squarely on the woman who’d just thrown him under the bus to King Constantine. He spoke as if he had something caught in his throat, “You--your-- uh -- ”

“And who made these damn shoes, anyway?” Alyssa complained as she hiked up the lower part of her dress and stepped out of her heels. Her already short stature lowered several inches. “They clearly hate short women and feet. Seriously, who thought walking around like a newborn calf was sexy?”

“Alyssa,” Drake tried again to speak through a strained voice, “You need to listen --”

“Hey!” Riley interrupted as she and Maxwell stepped up to them. “Why’d you push me off that stage thingy? And OH MY GOD, ALYSSA! YOUR --” Maxwell slapped a hand over Riley’s mouth, knowing exactly what her big mouth was getting ready to loudly announce.

Her frantic muffled words continued to blabber through his tightly clasped hand.

Alyssa gave him a confused look. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“Just stopping her before she told everyone within earshot ...” he paused fleetingly, lowering his gaze from the muddled expression on her face to her chest. “Your bosoms … well, they have emerged.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” a flustered Drake said as Alyssa let out a gasp and looked down. “You’ve been ... exposed … since --” He was quickly cut off again by her tiny wail as she fixed herself and dashed out of the ballroom, mortified, her arms crossed over her chest.

--------------------

Riley tapped lightly on the women’s restroom door. “Lyss? You okay in there?”

“No!” Her pouty voice rang back. “I’m the laughingstock of this entire court.”

Maxwell chuckled, hollering back. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lady Alyssa. I’ve already got that title covered in spades.”

“You two need to get back to the ball,” Drake said gruffly, referring to the girls. “Liam will be arriving any minute.”

“You’re right. There are probably five people in there who still haven’t gotten an up close shot of my breasts.” Alyssa swung the door open, bitterly hitching up the front of her dress as she stepped out, and glared up at Drake as she walked by. “And you let me walk around like that!”

“I did not!” He flushed a deep, dark red. “I told you, that’s why I was standing in front of you, so no one would see … ugh, fuck it. Just -- let’s go, okay?” 

A remorseful Riley hugged Alyssa. “I’m so sorry my dumb ass was what caused this to happen to you. Thank you for making sure I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alyssa squeezed tighter. “It was way better that it happened to me than you. We can definitely have a good laugh over this by the time I’m, like, 150.” When they let go of one another, she smiled at her friend. “Come on, we have a ball to get back to. And you have a prince to dazzle.”

“Oh, you guys go on ahead. I need a minute to straighten up.”

Drake, Alyssa, and Maxwell headed back inside while Riley spent a few minutes in the bathroom wiping away the dust off her dress and getting her hair back in order as best as she could. Plus, she just needed a moment to herself; it was the first time since she woke up that morning that someone wasn’t hovering over her shoulder or trying to impress someone. There also were some major jitters happening knowing the Prince was arriving at any second.

Stepping out a few minutes later, Riley headed back down the hallway, hopeful she still appeared as presentable as when she arrived earlier. 

Dotted along the walls that trailed back to the ballroom were portraits and artwork of kings and queens. Judging by the large periwigs, justaucorps, and stockings over breeches depicted, obviously they were quite old. One particular painting caught her attention enough to halt her steps before she plastered on a naughty grin.

“Ohhhh, what do we have here?” Riley snickered, leaning in closer to get a better glimpse. “I see London, I see France, I see a very hung King without his pants.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and spoke as if she were Scarlett O’Hara herself. “My, my, my, Fabian, I haven’t seen a lot of those, but I do declare, you put all the Yanks I’ve been with to shame. I’d be remiss to not ask if you were generous enough to pass on certain sizable traits, say to … Oh, I don’t know, the current Crown Prince?”

“Frankly, my dear … I don’t think he gave a damn,” a deep voice quipped over her shoulder.

Riley spun around, her body crashing into the portrait and causing it to rattle against the wall and lean heavily. Her face burned red-hot as soon as she heard his voice, even though every ounce of blood in her body seemed to rush to her wobbly feet. Liam reached out, grasping hold of her arms to brace her as she stared back, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, at his half-masked face, smiling warmly. “L-L-Li --”

“My sincerest apologies if I startled you, my lady. Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry, and surely no one in all history had ever been as embarrassed as she was at that moment, but she managed to answer feebly, “I think … I pissed my pants.” They both looked down at the floor simultaneously, relief washing over them that there were no puddles. Riley closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Liam chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes glued to her flustered face. “You’re just as beautiful as you were that night in New York, Riley Brooks.”

“Wait … you know that it’s me? Are you surprised? Are you upset? Do you think I’m some creepy stalker now? I swear I’ve never even touched a weapon.”

“Really? What happened to your bag of Chinese throwing stars?” Liam teased lightheartedly. Riley tilted her head in confusion. “You remember, the ones you were going to throw at me in the alley outside of your bar --”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” she laughed awkwardly as the memory came to her. “Yeah, I may have embellished the truth there a bit. Twenty-pound hams seem to be more my weapon of choice.” Riley hung her head. Why the hell did I just tell him that? When Bastien cleared his throat and gave Liam a pointed look, Riley knew their time was short. “I know you have to go, but I just need to know something: How did you know I was here? Maxwell tried to get in touch with you and never heard back. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me showing up here.”

“I’ve been quite busy since leaving New York with preparations for the social season and the Masquerade kicking off this evening. But it was Drake who came pounding on my door this morning to fill me in. You can imagine my surprise when he told me that you were here, and, I quote, ‘brought her small aggressive friend with her as guard dog.’”

Riley smirked with a shrug. “Can ya blame a girl? I came to win. Besides, I really like you, Liam.”

He smiled. “I really like you too, Riley. But this isn’t New York. As much as I wish we could just pick up where we left off two nights ago, this entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to give my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen. From now on, everyone will be watching you and ... Lady Alyssa.” Liam paused to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. “You actually got your friend to pose as a fake suitor and somehow convinced an honorable and highly dignified member of the court to sponsor her?”

“Yeaaaah, I still don’t know how the hell I did that. I should get extra points for my manipulation skills”

Liam laughed. "I believe you mean, negotiation skills."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, those too."

Already well past the time to make his grand entrance, Bastien approached Liam to give the final warning. Liam acknowledged him and turned back to Riley. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me. But until then …” He pressed her willing body against the wall, tracing the back of his forefinger along her velvety cheek. “ … just know how very, very, happy I am to have you here, Riley.” His lips were fire and ice when he leaned down to meet her equally fevered ones in a lingering kiss. And she melted right into him.

With that, Liam was whisked away by the head guard and made his way into the ballroom. As a panting Riley brushed her fingertips over the tingling in her bottom lip, she felt so many things all at once: relief that he was happy she was there and already knew everything regarding Alyssa, and that same exhilarating bliss that swept her off her feet two days ago when they shared their time together. But he was abundantly clear, this wasn’t New York anymore, and he still had a duty and obligation to Cordonia regardless of his apparent feelings for her. 

Riley let a puff of air and pushed her backside off the wall to return inside. Just as she did this, the crooked frame bearing the likeness of the late King Fabian she admired earlier fell from its hook and crashed to the floor, causing the ancient glass to shatter beside her. With her head shrunken into her shoulders, Riley slowly peeked out one eye and saw the damage. Glancing down one end of the hall to the other to see if anyone saw her, she glanced down at the shards and still fully intact artwork. Normally she would have hightailed it out of there, but she couldn’t help herself from giving her destruction parting words. 

“I guess you’re not … hung anymore.”

Then she bolted the hell out of there.

--------------

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[fgfluidity]

Could I get a soft Dark headcannon/drabble? I know Darks a big smug-ass bastard but I feel like he’d be super soft with his s/o. Thanks! -N ❤️

mhm this is that Good Shit

thanks noon! ❤️

Soft Dark Headcanons

you think this man is scary and angry and cold?

NO

he’s really only like that when mark is present or mentioned

otherwise? decent guy, bit of a temper, bit distant, but ultimately understanding (for example: with wilford in markiplier tv)

around you though? FORGET IT bud he’s gone on you

he smiles more around you than anyone and means it

you think he was lying when he said he could and would provide? give you anything?

yall think actor!mark would spoil you, but this man would SPOIL YOU

he’s an eldritch demonic being with powers beyond human understanding and you think he’s gonna hold out on you? anything you want bb he’ll get it

if mark’s out of the way, the entity’s drive is lessened enough for his other parts to come through

damien is very sweet and a romantic

celine is passionate and a dominant personality

put that together? man’s a lover and a good one

if mark is in the way, however...

dark will do anything and everything he can to keep you

because he knows mark wants you for his ‘story’

little possessive lbr

all that said, he is busy, and mark’s usually up to some shit, so he might get distracted

he’s apologetic when he realizes— expect a gift or a kind and unexpected action

he’s not much in the way of physical affection of his own volition— you’ll have to prompt it by asking or just doing it yourself

he might doubt you want it otherwise

identity issues are co-morbid with self-doubt

do you really want this Broken Thing to love you?

if you need a hug or a kiss, he won’t mind if you take initiative, and he’ll definitely reciprocate with all due affection

it’s a rare mood when he initiates anything so soft and romantic— grab it with both hands and ENJOY IT because he... he’s so tender

man is cold, tho (he’s not human anymore, why would he be warm?)

you can cuddle up all you want in summer, but in winter he’s a bit too cool to the touch for comfort

he likes the cuddles more than the kisses, really

it keeps his shell together

“i feel... centered. back on solid ground, with you.”

his kiss is slow but firm, and his embraces are solid and all-encompassing

you will not doubt that he cares about you, not with the emotion in those actions

he likes hand kisses and temple kisses the most

if you scoot back to be a little spoon, you are not getting up. he has you now. game over.

if it’s been a day where his shell cracks more than normal, he prefers little spoon

he likes old-fashioned, almost courtly pet names because you deserve to know his devotion 

ie.: (my) dearest/dear/darling/sweet/love, possibly something that he thinks represents you (sunflower, sparrow, etc)

he has a disdain for more modern ones

not in the least because mark uses them on you in your adventures

[janiedean]

Why do you think Jaime puts Rhaegar on a pedestal and thinks so highly of him when we can see he's not that great? To be fair, if Jaime loves someone, he always puts them on a pedestal.

I mean with the premise that most ppl in those books do it with r. and I'd say that it's a combination of the guy being like... generally nice/known for being gentle and gallant and stuff and because the entire thing with lyanna had the whole LOVE STORY angle going on plus compare him to his father people go like OH BUT WHAT IF HE HAD SUCCEEDED HIM HE LOOKED SO PROMISING, like it's... the whole mixture of myth + dying young and beautiful + the whole mysterious prince aura thing + the fact that outwardly probably everyone thought he was a swell dude except for robert and honestly i think he was well-intentioned but didn't use his brain, but anyway when it comes specifically to jaime and idolizing people:

I mean... he grew up doing that with c. and I already went through all the reasons why that's unhealthy but basically if you grow up with your sense of self being completely off/not existing/idolizing someone you think is your other half you will... tend to do that for anyone you like because you have no idea of your own worth

I mean he has literally no idea of his own worth at the age he's at esp since he still hasn't realized he's a better knight than most around anyway

jaime is also.... I mean, middle ages courtly-literature coded and putting people on a pedestal is the main point of courtly love and like he's deconstructing that trope bc he has to realize that idealizing ppl is not good but he's getting there

but like the thing is that jaime is also written as someone who basically likes... I mean the things I do for love? he keeps on doing them for people he loves all his life without getting much of it back if at all and not realizing he's own person and internalizing other ppl's hatred of him to the point that he pretends he embraced it when in truth he loathes it, but that means that the moment someone he thinks is a good/better person than him shows up then he immediately goes like PEDESTAL!!!!!!! CAN DO NO WRONG!!!!, which... then doesn't really serve him well when he realizes that it's not the case and I mean the entire disconnect between the fact that when he dreams about rhaegar + the rest of the kg they're asses to him and accuse him of shit that doesn't even exist and he dreams that brienne takes them out putting herself in between the two of them while when he's awake he's like OH THEY WERE SUCH GREAT DUDES but then he thinks back abt them treating him like shit and resents them.... I mean at some point he's gonna get there but again it doesn't really serve him well and that's also why his char evolution is going in the way where he stops doing that

(I would also argue that the difference in between brienne and everyone else is that he didn't exactly pedestal her in the beginning which means she got under his skin all of her own and proved she's worth the time investment and the contrary is valid except that instead of pedestal-ing ppl she has trust issues but that's why that rship is different)

tldr: because he has trauma and if you don't know your own worth everyone else will always seem better to you than they actually are the moment they do something you consider good/they appear to be better people/everyone treats them as such, or that's my two cents XD

[diaco1968]

Kinktoberday25

Lap dance_ Kaminari x f!Reader

Warnings! Just suggestive themes, no other warning.

Notes: helps setting the mood with the song it's based on:

Something lately drives me crazy

Has to do with how you make me

Struggle to get your attention

Calling you brings apprehension

His eyes were glued on you all night. The loud beat of the music vibrating through his whole body didn't help the growing distaste that ate away at his very nerves as he watched you chat up every single male that crossed your path.

'Chat up' was putting it lightly. You flirted and fluttered your lashes and had sneaky little brushes of your fingers against their shoulders or chests while you giggled. And all night what had you given him? A simple glance and a passive 'Hey' only after he had approached you himself. You didn't even bother uttering his name. It was really infuriating as that was not the treatment he was used to receive from you in private.

Back to the crowd where you ignore me

Bedroom eyes to those before me

How am I supposed to handle?

Lit the fuse and missed the candle

When he had heard your terms, he didn't mind them. You were a private person with the very personal aspects of your life, he respected that. You needed time to trust him enough to get anywhere near going public with him? It was okay for him. No rush. But you had been hanging out for a long while now, and things had recently escalated between you to the next level when you two were alone, while in public there always have been only playful teasing and flirting which didn't seem to cross any lines with you as long as it was just casual. He was beginning to wonder if you had regretted getting intimate with him the last couple of times and were showing him your response this way. But this? You completely ignoring him for all the others? It wasn't fair. While he respected your boundaries, he had some of his own.

Texts from you and sex from you

Are things that are not so uncommon

Flirt with you you're all about it

Tell me why I feel unwanted?

"Hey 'sup?"

He had interrupted your quite touchy conversation with some boy, who had his arm around your waist and leaning in way too close to hear your voice over the booming music, and Denki could feel the tension he had created as the both of you turned to look at him questioningly. Your cold gaze was what caught him off guard mostly of course. You nod at him courtly and smiled.

"Nothing much. Enjoying the party."

"Oh yeah? I see."

In the right mind, he would never have dreamed of this, but the agitation and the confusion clouding his mind along with the pang of jealousy as it seemed it was ok for everyone else to touch his girl and have fun at the party except Denki himself had him scheming his revenge on you. Two could play at this game.

He raised his cup towards you with a charming smile as he stepped back and excused himself. An unfamiliar smile that effectively caught your attention.

Damn, if you wanna let me go

Baby please just let me know

You're not gonna get away

With leading me on

It was not hard to find a companion for him. It was a party and if you looked properly there were girls around that were looking for some fun time. And he was certainly, in all modesty, a good catch. For the first time since the beginning of the night he ripped his eyes off of you and looked around. After confirming the minor details of his revenge and finding his prey he made his way to the bar, towards the trio of girls that had winked at him and ushered him over.

"Well, hello there, ladies."

Leaning sideways on the counter next to the tipsy giggling girls, he offered them a smile. And they didn't waste a second before surrounding him. And much to his pleasure and satisfaction when he turned to speak to one of them, in the corner of his eye he could see you were not all that interested in your conversating with the boy anymore, glancing over at him quite often.

Damn, if you didn't want me back

Why'd you have to act like that?

It's confusing to the core

'Cause I know you want it

All night you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, so when it was gone, you knew. The smile was so unfamiliar and unnerving that when he left you and the boy alone you couldn't help but glance at him from time to time and oh boy did you not like what you saw.

True, you've been poking at him all night for a reaction with your behaviour but this was not the reaction you were hoping for. The way he flirted with the girls at the bar, buying them drinks and drinking with them, the posture and his body language. He didn't touch any of them but they were quite handsy with him. And not too long after they started dancing with the music on the spot.

"Whoops, easy there, sugar."

When one of them tumbled into him and you heard his voice complimenting her as he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, that was your last straw. You stomped away from the boy that called after you once in surprise and walked to Denki, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him away from the bar and the girls that whined playfully.

Pull me off to darkened corners

Where all other eyes avoid us

Tell me how I mesmerize you

I love you and despise you

"Whoa there, you are holding my hand in public. Everyone can see us, is that okay with you?"

"Shut up!"

He let you drag him off, stumbling in between thr crowd after you a bit and smirking to himself as he seemed to have successfully struck a nerve.

You turned a dark corner and stomped over to the private booths, pulling him in and pulling the dark heavy curtains shut.

"Ooh getting aggressive, are we?"

"You have no idea."

You turned around on your heels, placing your hands on his chest and pushed him down on the couch.

"You liked them dancing for you, huh?"

Aim, pull the trigger

Feel the pain getting bigger

Go insane from the bitter feeling

Trippin' super psycho love

He plopped down on the couch, looking up at you taken aback. His arms crossed over his chest defensively at your accusation and he rolled his eyes.

"Well... yeah! It's not like my girlfriend dances with me anyway. Hell she barely looked at me before I found new friends."

"Oh you're going to love this then."

He had no idea what you were on about when you reached down and grabbed his arms, unhooking them from eachother and setting them down on the couch by his legs, giving you a wary look. Hell you barely knew what you were doing yourself. Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much.

Good thing was the sound of the music was still loud enough in the booth.

You stood between his legs, swinging one leg over one of his and bent down resting your hands on his shoulders, almost sitting on his thigh but not quite.

"Um... what are you... doing though?"

"Just shush and don't touch."

"Don't shush me-....?!"

Say that you want me every day

That you want me every way

That you need me

Got me trippin' super psycho love

Whatever he was going to say, he couldn't finish as his jaw fell open when you swayed your hips from side to side straightening yourself slowly back up to give him a good view of your swaying hips raising a finger to close his mouth seductively brushing your nose against his.

He leaned back in the couch to give you more space, a stupid looking grin on his face and his wide eyes sparkling like it was Christmas when you let your hands roam down your chest and body, his own hands turning into fists on the couch.

You turned around with another light swing of your leg, rolling your shoulders and swaying your hips and ass with the rhythm of the music right in front of his face, bending your knees on either side of his legs and griding yourself down onto his crotch that earned you a deep groan and a low whispered "fuck..." breathed right into your neck as you leaned back onto him to shoot him a sexy smirk.

You saw his hands move from the corner of your eyes and before he could grab you, you stood back up deciding you hadn't had enough fun with him yet, dancing back away from him.

"I said, don't touch."

"Not fair!"

"Denki."

"... okay..."

"Good boy."

He perked up as you moved back closer this time putting your knees on the couch on each side of his legs, straddling his lap and grinding down on him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and neck as you leaned forward to swaying your boobs in his face, enjoying the strangled breathless noise that left his parted lips, urging you to pull down the collar of your shirt and show him even more.

"Fuck! Can I touch? Please?"

He whined fingers twitching by his sides on the couch, digging into it when you licked your lips and started riding his lap fluidly moving your hips and grinding into him with the music.

"Do you want to?"

"Hell yea!"

"Alright then, you can touch."

You had barely finished your sentence before his hands were on your legs, moving up your thighs and squeezing your ass and pulling you closer so your chest was rubbing onto his as you kept dancing.

"Shit, you're so fucking hot babe!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! You're the sexiest ever."

His hands moved up your hips and up to the back of your neck, you could feel the growing bulge in his pants when he pulled you closer, no space between your bodies and you were practically grinding yourself onto him as you danced. His lips met with your throat and he left heavy open mouthed kisses on it as he growled lightly from the sensation.

"Fuck! I really love this but I can't take anymore."

"What- Denki! Mph!"

He gripped the back of your neck crashing his lips onto yours hungrily, his other hand grabbing your hip firmly as he flipped you over on the couch, crawling over you, caging you in, this time he was the one humping you.

And you were glad the music was so loud that no one could hear you.

I know you want me too

I think you want me too

Please say you want me too

Because you are going to

Kinktober 2020 list

[dcbbw]

Would you ever write a possible intimate scene between Riley & Drake to be interrupted by Liam

@texaskitten30,  I see you asking the hard questions! I had to think on this because @ao719 did something similar in her Homecoming story. I also didn’t want to replicate my Commoner’s Wife series where Drake catches Liam and Riley in the act. But I think I twisted my thoughts enough to present something somewhat original. It varies slightly from what you asked, so I  hope you enjoy!

Thank you to pre-readers in whole and in part @burnsoslow and @sirbeepsalot

Story below the cut.

This fic is slightly NSFW.

Riley Brooks smiled at the man seated across the table from her. She sipped her wine as he spooned some Portvarian seafood chowder into his mouth. Her eyes fell to her plate, filled with Cordonian chicken salad. She wasn’t happy that the chicken was cubed and not shredded; she was downright displeased that slices of Cordonian Ruby littered the salad. Riley loathed the nation’s signature apple; she found its texture mushy and thought it tasted vinegary.

But her host didn’t know that.  No one did. Not her friends, not her husband. Riley was good at adapting to situations.

When in Rome …

She saw the man wince as he reached for a warm, buttered croissant and she looked at him in concern.

“Is it your shoulder?”

The man nodded. “The bullet wound has healed; it only bothers me when it’s cold or about to rain.”

He didn’t elaborate and Riley did not comment. They both knew who he took the bullet for.

Riley smiled. It was a balmy day in the Mediterranean, with bright sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. The pair were sharing lunch on an outdoor patio. “Well, it’s neither cold nor cloudy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you certain the wound is fully healed?”

The man nodded as he bit into his roll. “Doctor gave me a clean bill of health last week.”

Riley ate some chicken salad; she was surprised that the bitterness of the apple complemented the chicken.  She nodded in approval and licked her lips before taking a hefty forkful. Greek yogurt, onions, celery, red peppers, and the astringent taste of the apple exploded across her tastebuds

“I didn’t think the apple would pair so well!” she said, her tone surprised.

“The American varieties go well with pork, the ruby is poultry’s best friend.” The man looked up from his chowder filled with clams, shrimp, crabmeat, oysters, and root vegetables. “You haven’t mentioned your husband.”

Riley toyed with her food. “That’s why I’m here. He’s away; traveling for business.”

Her companion looked at her thoughtfully. “When are you going to accept Duchy Valtoria?”

Riley shook her head. “I have enough titles.”

“Accepting the duchy would make things more … convenient.”

“The cabin is fine.”

“I’ll make the arrangements then.”

Riley snickered as she raised an eyebrow. “Make the arrangements?”

The man shrugged. “Hey, it needs a cleaning. We both know that.”

Three days later, Riley and the man were in the bedroom of the cabin. Both were naked. The man hissed at the feel of soft lips on his now-healed wound. His fingers raked through hair before drifting down to ghost shoulder blades.

“I love you.” The words tickled his skin.

He tilted his head down to capture lips in his; stubble scraped his cheek.  “I love you more, Drake” Liam breathed when the kiss ended.

It was supposed to be just another ball. Court had just returned from the Engagement Tour, and King Liam was to present his betrothed to Court and crown Lady Riley, the House Beaumont sponsee, the newest Duchess of Valtoria.

Until the bombing. Until the assassins. Countess Madeleine, the Queen-to-Be, had been rushed from the ballroom right before the bomb detonated; Liam had joined the King’s Guard in fending off the attack at the entryway to the ballroom. While security hauled the intruders away, Liam scanned the ballroom.

It was dark, smoke-filled, and filled with chaos as nobles scattered for safety. Amidst the screams and stampeding, he saw Lady Riley standing alone, her champagne glass still in her hand as pandemonium erupted around her. Her ball gown billowed around her as she stared straight ahead; she was frozen in shock.  

Liam’s eyes continued to look around.

Where is he?

And then he saw him. Drake was pulling on Riley’s arm, trying to lead her to safety but she was a standing dead weight. Liam rushed over to lead his lover to safety; his eyes widened when he saw the hooded figure in black armed with a gun appear in front of Drake and Riley.

Liam feinted to the right to approach the attacker from the side. He saw the attacker raise his gun, the barrel pointed directly at Riley’s forehead.

“DRAKE!” the King shouted over the din. “Push Riley out of the way and DUCK!”

Drake didn’t look around to find Liam; rather, he followed instructions and pushed Riley backward with all his might. She was knocked into Rashad Domvallier. Drake found himself  face to face with the gun’s barrel when the shot rang out. He didn’t even have time to panic. But he felt nothing as Liam sailed in front of him, catching the bullet in his shoulder.

The King was praised a hero for saving the future Queen and his childhood friend. Only Liam and Drake knew the truth of their relationship, until Riley saw them at a Beaumont Bash, groping and kissing desperately in a corner of a deserted room. Feeling her stare, Drake’s eyes opened, and he tore himself away from Liam.

The Lady raised a knowing eyebrow before rejoining her date, Rashad Domvallier.

Life went on:  There was a royal wedding, where the both the groom and best man got shit-faced drunk and stumbled off to disappear somewhere. Rashad proposed to Riley, who accepted. On their wedding day, everyone congratulated the businessman and future Duchess.

Rashad packed for a business trip on their wedding night.

It was inevitable that Riley, Drake, and Liam would become close. Liam was stuck in a lifestyle he didn’t want. Riley was stuck was in a marriage of one; she and Rashad had spent a total of eight days together in six months of marriage. Drake had to hide his love. Riley couldn’t share or express hers.

But none of them wanted to cheat.

Liam and Drake belonged to each other, and Riley was in love with her husband. She could not and would not hold resentment over him providing her a lavish lifestyle. The trio began socializing: courtly events, public outings, sitting around getting drunk off liquor and laughing uproariously at jokes.

One afternoon, after seeing Rashad off at the airport yet again, Riley stopped by Drake’s cabin to see if he wanted to go to the Beer Garden for cheeseburgers and brews. She knew Drake never locked his door unless it was dark, or he was away. It was noon and his truck was in the driveway. Riley knocked once and entered. She heard noises in the kitchen and saw the King on his knees, his eyes closed in bliss. Drake’s cock was in his mouth, Drake’s fingers in his hair.

So it hadn’t been a drunken one-off thing.

The Commoner had his back pressed against a wall, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hips bucked against the royal’s face. Riley’s eyes traveled down to Liam’s cock, stiff and erect. She smirked a little to herself.

Crown jewels, indeed.

So caught up in each other, the men didn’t hear Riley’s intrusion. Quietly, she walked over to the kitchen table and sat in a hard, wooden chair and watched the two lovers. Her breath hitched when she heard Drake’s low groans as Liam squeezed his ass. Her fingers drifted across her blouse, pinching her encased nipples when she heard Liam slurp around Drake’s cock, his tongue dragging along the underside of the shaft. Her legs spread when Drake grabbed  fistful of Liam’s hair and began face fucking the country’s leader. She moaned when her fingertips edged under the lace of her panties and flicked against her clit.

Drake heard her; his eyes were wide as he pushed Liam away from his groin. “FUCK! BROOKS! What are you doing?”

“Don’t stop.” Riley’s voice was low and aching with need.

Liam grinned up at Drake. “Does the lady want a show, love?”

“The lady wants an orgasm!” Riley said as her fingers continued to play in her pussy.

Riley sat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom, watching the lovers kiss. She pressed the tip of her vibrator against her erect nipples. Liam and Drake paid her no attention as they stretched out on the bed, lips and tongues nipping and kissing exposed skin.

None of them heard the car pull up, nor the vehicle door close.

Outside the cabin, the Queen adjusted her dress and pushed her sunglasses further up on her nose. Every inch of Madeleine was elegance and poise. She was starkly out of place in the rural environment she reluctantly found herself in, but her husband wasn’t answering his phone. The French Prime Minister wanted to speak to the Cordonian King about partnering on a trade agreement. Madeleine offered to speak on her country’s behalf, but the French dignitary insisted that Liam be on the call.

The best Madeleine could do was re-schedule the call. And demand Bastien take her to where her husband was.

She looked around in disdain; why Liam insisted on spending so much time with Drake was beyond her. Her eyebrow raised at Lady Riley’s vehicle parked beside Drake’s truck. Her eyes narrowed. She knew Liam was fond of the future Duchess of Domvallier; the question was: how fond?

There were whispers of the King possibly having an affair with Riley with Drake being their beard.

Standing just a touch taller and straighter, Madeleine headed for the front door.

Today, I find out.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight 

 #kinda long post #slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #would you ever ask #I am an extra kind of chick #it’s a yes or no ask 

[morwensteelsheen]

WIP wednesday thoughts:

willow cabin is utterly fucked because i changed my intended ~moral~ halfway through and now im stuck trying to integrate this shitty political intrigue plot into what should’ve been a more interesting story about éowyn adapting to life in gondor. hugely fucking annoyed by it and just totally unsure how to proceed. i could significantly increase the chapter count, but im worried that because the initial framing device was this bandits shit that closing out that plot and then still going for ages afterwards would be really shitty? i honestly don’t know, it’s so difficult. really i just need someone to read my outline and tell me if im being a dumb twat about it lol

meanwhile I know exactly where I want to go with AFTA but for some unaccountable reason im stressed that my ass is gonna get roasted for the direction i want to take it in. it’s all based in both tolkien’s personal politics and (some) historical precedent, but im worried people are gonna see it as a marysue-ification? but also im hoping to do sthg of a sequel to afta to practice the political intrigue writing so i don’t make the same mistakes i did in wc, and to do that it would require this specific set up in AFTA. im gonna put my AFTA thing under the cut so don’t click read more unless you’re gucci with potential AFTA spoilers!!

this royal affair au is definitely gonna get published at some point but im trying to decide if i want to do ~tasteful~ smut that drives a longer narrative or if im really just gonna do a whole 3,000 word build up to some run of the mill, old fashioned PWP lmao

okay so i have spent a Lot of time thinking about what impact i think éowyn and faramir would have on each other in a pre-ring war setting, and the honest to god conclusion ive come to is that they would somewhat inadvertently egg on each other’s (wildly divergent) idealism.

faramir’s an idealist politically in ways that, as Big D rightly points out, are not super productive in a wartime scenario. but so far as im concerned, the war doesn’t feel as warlike until they have to blow the bridge at osgiliath. until that point, there’s not really anything to say that faramir’s whole throwback optimism isn’t a perfectly justifiable position to have.

but what that idealism is and how it manifests are two really important considerations. the crux of his idealistic politics is that he looks at númenor and sees something valuable in it, and looks at gondor and sees a lot that he thinks is fucked up. outside of articulating a general angst towards the glory hunting, it’s not like he’s spending time talking about his specific policy prescriptions. however, we do know a few things that can guide us to a more coherent reconstruction of his politics:

he’s pretty rigidly hierarchical (when it’s convenient for him). as seen in: him basically telling sam to fuck off and stay in his lane in WOTW, and in how and when he chooses to refer to his father as ‘father’ vs ‘my lord’ or ‘lord of the city’ in the aftermath of the osgiliath retreat and then before he gets his ass sent back there. i don’t want to go into too much detail here but if i go with this i’ll definitely justify it more thoroughly in the footnotes.

so we’ve got faramir’s emphasis on hierarchy and his occasional (when convenient) belief that the upper echelons of a hierarchy are there because they’re intellectually and/or morally better. or, maybe to remove the causation from that instance, because they are in those upper echelons, they have an obligation to be more morally/intellectually upstanding, and the people in the structure below them have an obligation to show deference. unless you’re faramir and you’re dealing with denethor in which case that all goes out the window. classic.

we know there is some sort of nascent pseudo-democratic tradition of popular sovereignty in gondor. we know this because faramir asks the masses at aragorn’s coronation if they’ll accept him as king. faramir is a lot of things, but he is certainly not a progressive political radical, and i cannot imagine any situation in which he cooked up that rigmarole himself. that then implies to me that it’s building on some sort of political/cultural expectation in gondor. so: some sort of relationship to popular legitimacy. the people of gondor are subjects, but perhaps not as totally passive and unconsidered in the power structure as we might assume given the comparability to feudal europe/asia.

given those two things, i want to use AFTA to argue:

that faramir, in looking to assign blame for the faults he sees in gondor, would not directly assign blame to the lower classes, but rather to the aristocracy, because he will have seen them as failing in their moral obligations to the people they rule over. this is not to say that he isn’t fucked off about The People™ valorising war, but i think he’d take the position that they couldn’t possibly be expected to form those values and opinions of their own volition, and the fault lies in their rules. faramir: not gramscian.

faramir lacks any power that is non-military, and even that is of questionable worth because the rangers seem to be fairly distinct to the general structure of the army, and are not exactly a huge force.

faramir lacking any political power isn’t necessarily a huge concern for him (as in, he’s not actively trying to change that), because he knows he’s not going to lead a moral revolution and isn’t interested in taking up the responsibilities having political capital would engender because he’s stuck dealing with this war, that he fucking hates btw has he mentioned that he hates it?

however, given that he is apparently eminently versed in lore and scholarship, he is probably keenly aware that there is this incipient notion of popular legitimacy somewhere in gondor’s culture. it’s not, for most of his life, knowledge that actually does anything for him, but it is there.

éowyn, meanwhile, doesn’t really have many strong political convictions (yet). not because she’s a dumbass or whatever, but because she looks at court politics as kind of a farce, and doesn’t believe that power legitimately emanates from anywhere that isn’t a Big Fucking Army. and why, strictly speaking, would she not think that? the event that brought about the creation of her kingdom was not careful, soft spoken negotiation, it was her ancestors being in the right place at the right time with a Big Fucking Army.

and the internal politics of the Riddermark actually seem to be fairly stable, all things considered. i sincerely doubt that Théoden or Théodred are having to negotiate complex politicking in the way Denethor and Boromir are. so where, then, would éowyn see that kind of political behaviour outside gondor? with gríma.

éowyn, then, will see the immediate contrast between gríma (backroom dealer, manipulator extraordinaire) and théoden (owner of Big Fucking Army). and gríma goes and fucking wins that fight. that forces éowyn to confront the fact that, jesus christ, maybe there are different types of power.

at the same time, she’s going to be in minas tirith and needing to cover for théoden letting his shit get wrecked. not just because she’s prideful, which of course she is, but because if denethor/gondor think that théoden is too weak to hold up his end of the bargain, why would they ever go help the Mark? éowyn, seeing that théoden’s f-f-fucked, knows that there’s a very very good chance the Mark will need help.

against her feelings about courtly politics, she starts to accept that she’s going to need to do something to get power in gondor. not anything substantial, it’s not like she’s trying to overthrow anybody, but enough that when push comes to shove she can force denethor to help out the Mark (if he doesn’t do so willingly).

but, as ive sort of already shown in AFTA, she’s a bit of a dogshit diplomat. good for a little big-brawny-enforcer stuff, but not exactly brimming with cultural sensitivity. by the time she realises théoden + the Mark are fucked, she’ll have burnt quite a few bridges with the gondorrim nobles, and it’s not like she’s the sort of person to go running cap-in-hand begging for mercy.

so: she has to look elsewhere. and wow! a chance for faramir to do his favourite thing — talk about his opinions! and by god, his weird idealistic politics are… actually kind of helpful? because he’s like, look, you’re never gonna be a diplomat, but there are other ways of consolidating power. and one of those ways is by appealing to The People™. so why not work that angle?

and actually, we know that this is a viable route for éowyn because hama, in arguing for her to take up the mantle of théoden’s heir when théoden and éomer fuck off to helm’s deep, basically says that The People™ love her and would have willingly chosen her to lead them.

we also know, based on faramir’s middle men speech, that the people of gondor and the mark have grown alike in nature. not totally unreasonable to then think that the people of gondor would take to her like the people of the mark did.

éowyn, then, in various ways begins to try to win over the people of minas tirith. i need to do a little more research on this bc what ive got on the practicalities of that so far are a bit, uhhh, sketchy, but the least jargony way to describe this is to point to when natalie dormer’s character in GOT gets out of the carriage to go hug and kiss some babies. (marc bloch, eat your heart out)

this would later segue into a potential sequel where, while trying to secure the way for aragorn’s coronation, éowyn actually plays an interesting role because she’s fallen into this incidental Diana, People’s Princess™ role and so is better positioned than almost anyone to go advocate on his behalf. wow! cool! éowyn getting to be politically useful in more ways than just getting hitched!

so yeah. that’s how i am thinking it might play out. this would obviously have a rolling impact on the remainder of AFTA and how certain (🔥) events pan out later, but i think that building up part has to begin pretty much now, narratively. also this lets me get in a reference to “and then her heart changed, or else at last she understood it” and have it not be almost entirely about wanting to shag faramir, but actually about her gradual evolution from valorising war above all else to being like, hmm, maybe there are other ways of being powerful. which i think still largely captures the “no longer I will vie with the great riders” stuff, but more subtly and without feeling quite so… deferential, I guess? Like it’s not that she’s swapping one form of power (violence) for nothing (gardening?? healing?? tolkien accidental articulation of necropolitics??) but swapping violence for a different type of more sustainable power.

yeah. that’s the take, basically. who fucking knows.

[skiller0dani]

Cherry Pie (1) | Billy Mitman

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | slow burn  requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

surprise I wrote a Billy short series! For this however I’m not using Y/N, I have an actual OC name picked out for this character. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

lemme also clear some stuff up YES this is a teacher/student relationship story NO there are no adult/under-aged person relationships  YES I made Billy 18 in this story, because lets say he’s in his final semester of senior year.  NO smut will not be in every chapter of this short story. It’s a SLOW BURN. meaning I will be adding sexual tension to every chapter to build up the anticipation for when it finally happens. 

| Upon realizing her emotional and mental health was in desperate need of assistance, Miss Rachel Stevens had requested a week off in order to address these issues with a professional. To sub her senior English Class is Miss. Alice Perribow, the resident Art teacher at Valley High School. | 

***

MONDAY

Alice Perribow was what you’d imagine as a well put together woman. Smart, well dressed, on time, prepared, as a teacher she was the definition of responsible. This was simply to mask the fact that her entire life was falling apart, going through a messy divorce and property battle over her perfect house with her soon to be ex husband was causing some outside stress. Alice never brought home stress to work, she allowed herself to indulge in the happiness her job gave her, even for 8 hours a day. So when Rachel Stevens came knocking on Alice’s office door after hours and pleaded her to sub- Alice was hesitant to say yes but agreed anyway. She always has had an inability to say no to people who have shown her nothing but kindness, and Rachel was very kind. Alice’s hair was messier than it normally would have been this Monday morning, she had been running late due to a mistimed alarm. Her brunette hair was thrown up in a messy bun and her short heels clicked down the hallway as she rushed to Rachel’s classroom. The only way Alice could make this work was by subbing in the afternoon, the librarian Mr. Fredricks subbed the morning classes. Alice also had to teach Art in the morning, but didn’t have classes in the afternoon, usually just private lessons with students. 

Alice was quite pleased to see no students waiting in the classroom when she pushed in, and unceremoniously dropped her things onto the desk sending a binder of papers crashing to the ground. “Shit,” Alice mumbled to herself as she crouched down to gather the papers. Suddenly a pair of dark tennis shoes joined her as someone crouched to help her pick up the papers. When Alice looked up, her throat closed only slightly upon looking into the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. A pair of green eyes that belonged to Billy Mitman, “thank you Billy.” Alice smiled, taking the papers from him as she stands. She’d seen Billy around the hallways before, and he’d also been by her office a few times for piano lessons. “Of course Miss Perribow.” He says, flashing her a smile before turning down the row of chairs to his desk. His eyes stayed on her and he only wondered where Miss Stevens was for a fleeting moment before his focus returned to Miss Perribow. She was beautiful, her dark hair framed her face perfectly and her eyes were so bright as she turned to the whiteboard. Miss Perribow was a bit curvier than Miss Stevens, and Billy couldn’t take his eyes off the way those jeans hugged her hips. Billy knows it’s wrong for him to be thinking of his teachers this way, but girls his own age don’t interest him. 

She so gracefully wrote her name out on the whiteboard as more students trickled in. Margot came in and beamed when she saw Miss Perribow, “good afternoon Miss Perribow!” She exclaimed and Alice turned with a smile on her face. Alice already knew Margot fairly well, she had taken Alice’s Art class every single year of her high school career. “Margot, so good to see you.” Alice said, a dimple popping out on her left cheek. Billy smiles fondly at the small dimple in her cheek. Soon the first bell was ringing and Alice closed the door before turning to address the class, “I’m sure a lot of you already know me but in case you don’t- I’m Miss Perribow. I’m going to be the afternoon sub for Miss Stevens this week.” She smiled and Billy noticed two boys adjacent to his left sharing a look before turning their horny gaze back towards Alice. “So from what I understand is that you were about to start the Canterbury Tales yeah?” She asks for clarification, and Margot nodded happily. Alice smiles warmly at Margot before pulling a copy of the book, “what would you say the overall theme of this tale is?” She asks and the entire room falls into silence. Margot glances around before raising her hand, “it’s clearly about courtly love. These two men, once family nearly beat each other to death to prove they deserve her affections. In my opinion, it’s a tale of how poisoning love can be.” 

One of the boys to Billy’s left snickers, “did we read the same thing? Because I’m pretty sure one of them got sick from a gnarly case of blue balls.” He says with a smirk, and most of the class erupts in laughter. He’s a big guy, definitely a football player and built like a tank. In fact if Billy recalls correctly, that’s what most people call him: Tank, even though his real name is Leon. He leans forward on his desk, eyeing Alice. “Do you know what that is Miss Perribow?” Tank smiles slyly and Billy feels annoyance bubbling in his chest. Alice manages a small smile as she turns her attention towards Tank, “you know Leon, I think it would be a much better idea to return to the Knights Tale.” Alice dismisses but Tank turns to his friends and smirks before clearing his throat loudly. “It’s when a girl gets a guys engine revving, and he pops a hard one, but then she doesn’t do anything about it. She just leaves him there with blue balls. Get it? Cause they’re sad.” Tank raises an eyebrow as Alice turns to look back at him. She smiles warmly, doing her best to keep her frustration at bay as she strolls down the row towards Tank’s desk. She leans over on Tank’s desk, placing her palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Tank, it seems you have forgotten that I know your mother personally. Shall I give her a call and inform her that you thought it would be appropriate to educate the class on sex ed today?” She asks, her tone serious while Tank’s cheeks turn scarlet.

The class giggles quietly as Tank sinks back into his desk, but when Alice turns Tank whips his phone out and snaps a photo of her ass. “Delete that.” Billy snaps loudly, drawing Tank’s attention as well as everyone else in the room. Alice turns, her eyebrows furrowed as Tank and Billy are locked in a deep glaring match. “What the hell are you talking about freak?” Tank snaps and Billy takes a deep breath through his nose as Alice makes her way back down the row of desks. “I saw you take a picture of Miss Perribow, and I know you didn’t take it because you really like her jeans.” Billy snaps and Alice’s eyebrows raise as she turns towards Tank. Tank’s cheeks are red, but not with embarrassment- this time it’s with anger. “Leon, please see me after class. Billy, you too.” Alice says, looking over the both of them before returning to the lesson. Billy keeps his eyes on Tank for the remainder of class, and he hates when he sees Tank shamelessly look down Alice’s shirt. When the bell rings, neither of the boys move as Alice walks towards them and sits in the desk in front of Billy. Their eyes meet and Alice quickly looks away when she feels the tingles shoot through her body. “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on here?” She asks, looking between the boys. 

“Yeah Tank is a pervert and took a picture of your ass.” Billy snaps, his voice tense as he glares over at Tank. Alice’s cheeks flush as she averts her eyes to Tank, “is that true?” She asks and Tank rolls his eyes. “Which part? Because no I’m not a pervert, I’m a lover baby. Did I take a picture of your ass? Hell yeah, I’ll need some jack off material for later.” Tank snickers, simply enjoying the rise he gets out Billy with every word out of his mouth. Billy pushes up from his desk angrily, and Tank stands too. The two of them are chest to chest and they stand eye to eye, although Billy is the same height as Tank- he’s not nearly as muscular. Alice stands, and when Tank’s eyes avert to her Billy immediately steps in front of her. “Boys, you both need to calm down. I think this conversation should be continued in Mr. Alvarez’s office.” Alice says, trying to move between the boys but Billy won’t let her get anywhere near Tank. “I’d happily bend you over his desk if that’s what you mean.” Tank smiles and Billy is lurching forward before Alice arms curl around him to hold him back. “Tank you need to leave,” Alice snaps and he shrugs as he casually walks out of the classroom. The bell rings again, signaling the end of the school day as Billy stands in the classroom- his chest heaving. 

“Billy, you know he was saying that just to make you angry right?” Alice says gently, and he shrugs as he reaches for his bag. Billy begins to head for the door when Alice’s left hand catches his eye, “Miss Perribow, aren’t you married?” He asks, stopping when he notices her lack of wedding ring. Alice is surprised to say the least, she didn’t imagine any of her students paid that much attention. “We’re um- separated.” Alice explains awkwardly and Billy nods as his eyes stay fixed on her. Alice’s cheeks heat up under Billy’s gaze and she takes a deep breath to control her emotions. She’s just lonely without Ben that’s all, she’s projecting her feelings of loneliness on a handsome student. He’s a teenager, and she needs to get herself together. “What happened?” He asked and what scared Alice the most about Billy’s question, was how genuinely he asked her. The look on his face makes her think he genuinely cares, but she knows about Billy. Rachel gave her a bit of a warning on Billy’s own issues with projecting his feelings on others. He doesn’t really care, he’s just projecting. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.” Alice smiles through the breaking of her heart. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, ignoring the look that Billy is giving her. A look that says he isn’t buying her bullshit line. 

“Was he a douchebag or something?” Billy asks, sitting back against a front row desk as Alice begins to pack up her things into her bag. “Billy, language.” Alice scolds gently, ignoring the cheeky smile on Billy’s face when he notices her flushed cheeks. “He did something didn’t he?” Billy says, and Alice gives him another look before sighing deeply and running a hand down her face. “Yes he did, and I don’t really want to talk about it.” Alice says and Billy nods instantly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Alice turns to her book and begins to look over the lesson for tomorrow as Billy makes his way out of the classroom, and he nearly says something he shouldn’t but he bites his tongue. Alice spends at least another hour sitting at that desk, writing out the lesson for tomorrow. In the back of her mind her thoughts drift back to Billy, he’s charming and sweet in a boyish way. He’s smart, and he thinks deep thoughts- Rachel says he thinks quite philosophically. Tank however is becoming a problem that deeply concerns Alice, he’s much taller and much stronger than she is. The next morning she’ll have to talk to Mr. Alvarez about him. 

The sun is setting when Alice makes her way towards the parking lot but out of the corner of her eye she sees a figure leaning against the school. Turning her head, her cheeks warm when she sees Billy leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette in his mouth. “Billy?” She calls, and he glances her way with a smile on his face. Alice hugs her bag to her chest as she makes her way towards Billy, “what are you still doing here?” She asks him and Billy shrugs, taking another drag from his cigarette. He rests his head back, his signature blue hoodie loosely hanging around his shoulders. “Skipped the bus.” He says with a smile as he blows smoke out. He turns his gaze to hers and he cocks an eyebrow when he notices her cheeks warm. Alice steps back, “why?” She asks him, and he chuckles as he drops his cigarette butt to the ground before putting it out with his shoe. Billy pushes off the wall and steps towards Alice, and her breath catches in her throat. “I wanted to see you Miss Perribow,” Billy breathes and Alice feels a shiver run down her back. This is a student. Alice steps back further, trying to distance herself from Billy. “Billy that’s- that’s not appropriate. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alice says, her voice rushed as she turns towards her car. 

“I don’t have a ride, so I hope you’re comfortable leaving a student alone at night with no way to get home. Guess I’ll have to walk.” Billy says, his voice lilted mischievously. Alice halts, her back still facing him. As a teacher, she can’t leave him here alone. “I’ll give you a ride, this once.” Alice says and Billy smirks as he lifts his bag over his shoulder before falling into step next to Alice. “It’ll be our little secret Miss Perribow.” He says with a wink and Alice simply slides into the driver seat of her car. The silence in the car is a tad bit uncomfortable as Alice pulls the car out of the parking lot, and heads towards Billy’s house. “Is Perribow your maiden name?” Billy asks suddenly, the street lamps illuminating his face as the car passes underneath them. Alice bites at her bottom lip as she turns the corner, “yeah it is.” She says and Billy nods with a soft hum. Alice dreads heading back home, Ben is probably there and she doesn’t feel like facing him at this moment. “What did he do? Your ex-husband?” Billy asks, his voice soft as he looks over at her with gentle eyes. Alice feels a rush of emotion sneak up on her, god this is so unprofessional. She keeps her eyes on the road as she softly sniffles, “he cheated on me.” Billy is quiet, but Alice knows his eyes are on her. 

When the tears come, Alice feels beyond embarrassed and refuses to look at Billy. “Pull over.” He says, and Alice pulls in front of a house putting the car in park. She wipes her eyes as she turns to look at him, “is this your house?” She asks, trying to divert the attention from her misty eyes. Billy turns in his seat to look at her, one of his hands coming to hold hers. “No, but you shouldn’t be alone right now.” He says and Alice pulls her hand from his while quickly shaking her head. Alice takes a deep breath before turning to look at him, “Billy no I need to get you home, your parents are worried sick I’m sure.” She argues, it’s time to be the responsible adult. Billy stubbornly shakes is head, “nope told them I was hanging with Sam and wouldn’t be home until late. Look if you don’t want me here I’ll get out and just hang out until later-” Billy starts, turning to get out of the car but Alice places a hand on his arm to stop him. “Just tell me where you live-” She asks but Billy opens the door and exits the car. With a heavy sigh Alice exits her car after him, “Billy! It’s not safe for you alone.” She tries to reason but he just keeps walking. Feeling panic and worry for his well being Alice calls out after him once more. 

“Okay you’re right! I don’t want to be alone, but you are a student. An underaged student. I’m breaking a law just being with you now after hours.” Billy stops, and then turns to look at her. Their eyes lock as he makes his way back towards her, “I’m old enough to know what I want. I want to help you tonight.” Billy argues but Alice waves her hands. Why does she have to be so drawn to him? “You’re 17 Billy.” She protests and Billy laughs bitterly. “I’m turning 18 tomorrow. I’m practically an adult already.” He says, and she knows she won’t change his mind- it’ll be dangerous for him to wander around at night alone. “Billy-” She starts but Billy cuts her off, “Alice.” Her words die in her throat as she shivers upon hearing her name roll off Billy’s tongue. Alice stands silent, her eyes fluttering as she looks at Billy and finally she enters her car. Billy slides into the passenger seat, “I’m hungry for ice cream. I have money.” He says and Alice feels reluctant and anxious as she hesitantly starts the engine of her car. She takes off towards the nearest ice cream shop, ignoring how her heart races in his presence. Alice is aware of Billy’s behavioral issues, and she’s not sure if he’s currently on his medication or not. 

Once they’d gotten ice cream and parked in an empty parking lot, Billy turned to Alice again. “Who did he cheat on you with?” He asks and Alice has no idea why he is so interested in her failed marriage, but it is kind of nice to talk to someone about it. “His secretary. Screwed her at work, came home to me.” Alice laughed bitterly, not even worrying about being professional anymore. Clearly it doesn’t matter to Billy whether or not she’s his teacher, he’s determined to break down her walls. “He sounds like a dick.” Billy says and the simplicity of his comment, despite how complicated their situation is makes Alice laugh softly. Alice spoons more ice cream into her mouth, “yeah he is a dick.” She agrees and Billy smiles next to her. Alice turns to look at Billy, admiring his side profile for a moment longer then she should. “Billy, why don’t you hang out with people your age? Instead you spent time with Miss Stevens, and now me.” She asks and Billy pauses, as though he’s searching for the right words. “Because you’re smart, beautiful, experienced. You’re a real person, not just some high school kid caught up in shit that doesn’t actually matter.” He says, his eyes locking on hers once again. Before Alice can even move Billy is leaning over the center console and pressing his lips to hers. Alice freezes for a moment before melting against him, her lips moving with his for a fraction of a second before her mind once again returns to clarity. 

Alice yanks away from him, panic pounding in her chest. “You’re 17, and I’m your teacher what the hell am I doing?” Alice panics, her hands fumbling to start the car. Billy tries to reach for her hand, but she won’t even touch him. “Alice it’s okay, I know what I want-” He starts but Alice vigorously shakes her head, her hands digging into her hair as she drops her head to the steering wheel. Billy reaches out for her once more, “Alice you didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted that.” He reassures her with a hand rubbing down her back but Alice snaps up and gently pushes his hand off her- despite the fact that he was actually calming her down. “My name is Miss Perribow, and you need to tell me where you live William.” She says sternly, her eyes focused straight ahead. Billy leans back in his seat, mumbling his address and she takes off. Alice’s hands are trembling as she drives quickly, and she hates how her lips are still tingling from the slight contact with his. This is wrong. How she’s feeling is wrong. “Alice, I know you wanted it. I felt you lean into me, and you can deny it all you want but I felt the spark. I know you felt it too.” Billy snaps once they arrive at his house, slamming the car door once he exits. 

Alice exhales a shaky breath once his front door is closed and she drives down to her house, which funnily enough isn’t far from Billy’s house. When the garage closes behind her, she drags herself into the house and sure enough Ben is sitting at the kitchen counter. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried baby,” He says, his voice soft with concern as he stands to approach her. Alice waves him off, feeling bile rising in her throat when he calls her baby. “Ben please don’t.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pointer and thumb as she kicks her shoes off. “Don’t call me that. You know we’re divorcing.” She says, her voice tired and he doesn’t push her. He watches her trudge up the stairs, but something about her seems off tonight. Like her mind is elsewhere. As Alice pulls herself into bed, she can’t get a certain pair of green eyes out of her head. She can’t forget the feeling of his lips on hers, and she knows the rest of this week is going to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. 

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