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okaylikeschaewon · 3 months ago

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KAMPFyre: Part 2 - Convinced

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I don’t see the issue. I feel like it actually worked.”

“Oh my God!” Karina shouted, her voice brimming with exasperation. “How do you not realize that this guy basically just convinced you to give him a blowjob?”

“He seemed really kind, though,” Winter pleaded, starting to get embarrassed. “He did it to help me.”

“Help you? You realize it makes no sense, right? Letting a guy cum down your throat isn’t going to help your vocals.”

“He said it did, and I believe him,” Winter muttered quietly, looking down at her feet.

“Yeah?” Karina scoffed, crossing her arms. “Did he also say you’d dance better if he fucked you?”

“No! He never tried to force anything like that!” Winter argued back. “I’m not stupid.”

“So it was just a blowjob? That’s a relief at least,” Karina sighed, letting her arms fall to the side. “At least you didn’t do anything really stupid.”

“Y-Yeah, just a blowjob,” Winter lied, avoiding eye contact with her bandmate. “Please don’t tell anyone else.”

“Come here,” Karina said while pulling Winter into a hug. “I won’t tell anyone. In the future, be more careful, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Winter whispered.

“It’s fine, no one else will find out,” Karina reassured her while patting her back. “It’s in his best interest to keep this a secret, not that anyone would believe him even if he did speak up.”

“I’m really dumb, aren’t I?” Winter asked while standing up, pouting at Karina.

“No, you’re not really dumb,” Karina sighed. “It’s fine, you learned a lesson, that doesn’t make you dumb.”

Winter nodded, feeling a bit better about the whole ordeal.

“So, how’d it taste?” Karina asked casually.

“What? I’m not answering that!” Winter replied angrily.

“Come on, what’s done is done,” Karina chuckled. “We might as well talk about it now, it was your first blowjob, right?”

“Yeah, my first.”

“So how was it? It’s honestly kinda exciting,” Karina pushed. “I still remember mine.”

“You go first,” Winter said, her face getting warm.

“Well, he didn’t last very long at all,” Karina said, thinking back. “He wouldn’t stop apologizing for finishing in my mouth so quickly.”

“Did you like the taste?” Winter asked, her curiosity taking over.

“I loved it,” Karina gushed. “I let him play with my tits for like two minutes, and then as soon as my lips hit his cock he filled my mouth. He barely lasted thirty seconds.”

“Wow,” Winter sighed. “Mine took… a bit more effort.”

Karina cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t feel bad, every guy is different,” she added. “You got there eventually, not every girl can do that.”

“Yeah…” Winter exhaled. “I don’t think it tasted bad, but it felt so weird.”

“You’re just not used to it,” Karina laughed. “Since apparently you love giving random dudes blowjobs now, maybe you’ll find someone whose taste you like.”

“Hey! I don’t,” Winter whined while angrily walking away.

“Where are you going, I was kidding!” Karina shouted after her.

“Going for a walk,” Winter mumbled before leaving the room.

Karina sat there with her eyes squinted at the door, suspicious of what Winter was getting up to, debating internally whether or not she should follow after her.

“I can’t believe that happened,” Karina whispered softly while returning her attention to her phone.

—

“I can’t believe that happened,” you muttered to yourself, still in absolute shock as you sat on the couch, scrolling your phone to find out more about Aespa. Apparently they were quite popular, which made sense seeing as how they were closing. Winter also had a bandmate who caught your eye, Karina - she was stunning.

Suddenly, there was a very aggressive knock on the door. You got up, quickly running your hand through your hair and fixing your clothes to look presentable. As soon as you opened it, you were pushed back into the room.

“Did you lie?” Winter demanded, glaring at you.

“Lie about what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she hissed, her angry expression being unintentionally adorable. “The load thing, was it all made up?”

“Winter, you agreed to do it,” you argued, trying to calm her down. “It was my first time hearing about the… technique… but I think it actually did work.”

Her expression suddenly softened a bit.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you lied while grabbing her hand. “What got into you? Just a bit ago you were so excited and happy about it.”

“I told one of my friends,” Winter sighed, slouching her shoulders. “She basically called me an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” you said kindly, pushing her hair back over her ear. “I’m sorry if you feel like I tricked you, that wasn’t my intention.”

“I told her that!” Winter said, her spirits lifting. “I really don’t think you did either. I’m sorry for this, I think I’m just super nervous about tonight.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, I completely understand.”

After a bit of an awkward pause where the two of you simply stood there holding hands, Winter spoke up again.

“Did you really like my voice more afterwards?”

“I did,” you answered, despite not noticing any difference. “I don’t know how I can make you believe it.”

“You don’t have to, I believe you already,” she smiled warmly at you. “I just knew I could trust you.”

“Uh, yeah,” you were starting to feel guilty. This girl was unbelievably naive and it was starting to weigh on you.

“Could I ask another favor of you?” Winter asked, stepping closer to you.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you think I could try again?”

This had to be a joke - you were almost convinced there were hidden cameras watching you now.

“What do you mean ‘try again’?” you clarified, reluctant to jump to any conclusions.

“Well, my friend told me she could make a guy cum just by touching her lips to his cock, I want to learn how,” Winter explained as she dropped down to her knees in front of you. “Could you please guide me?”

“I don’t know if this is right,” you hesitated as Winter began unbuckling your pants.

“Why not? You were happy to help me earlier without thinking twice about it,” Winter argued. “What will it take to get more help?”

“It’s not like that, I want to help,” you answered. “But if we got caught, or if you told anyone again, I’d get in so much trouble.”

“Please,” Winter begged. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“As much as I want to believe it, you did just tell me that you told your friend.”

“I’m sorry, she won’t tell anyone else, please!” Winter begged, she almost looked like she was about to cry.

“Okay okay, it’s fine,” you calmed her down, if she was this desperate to suck your cock then who were you to say no. “Alright, go lock the door and then take off your clothes,” you instructed her.

Unable to believe this was about to happen, you walked over to the couch and sat down. Winter quickly ran over to you and wasted no time in stripping down to her underwear.

“Do you want me to take it all off?” she asked eagerly as she unbuckled her bra, tossing it to the side.

“Yeah, it’ll be better that way.”

She nodded and dropped her panties down, picking them off up off the floor and placing them on top of the pile of her clothes.

“Here,” you tossed a pillow onto the floor between your legs.

Winter dropped to her knees in front of you, eagerly waiting for your next instruction. You pulled your pants down to your ankles

“Start by using your tongue,” you suggested.

She nodded her head and leaned forward, sticking her tongue out and giving your shaft a lick. It was adorable how she licked up and down your shaft, not knowing exactly what to do, but doing it so passionately.

“Good, keep going,” you encouraged her.

The girl kept working, licking each side of your cock. Up and down she licked, spreading her saliva all over. Then she started working your tip, licking circles around it.

“Oh yeah Winter, you’re getting good at that,” you moaned, closing your eyes as her tongue coated your cock. “Lick my balls too.”

She was definitely a great listener. Without a moment’s delay, you felt her soft tongue press against your nuts, licking every single bit of skin. She put them into your mouth, still licking them while she sucked with all her strength.

“Good fucking girl,” you moaned again. “Now try taking my whole cock down your throat.”

This was something you had to see. You opened your eyes back up as she lifted her body up slightly to get a better angle. She took a deep breath before engulfing half of your cock and then pausing.

“You got this,” you encouraged her as she struggled to go deeper. “Come on.”

She was pushing as hard as she could, her face getting slightly red. She got about three quarters of the way down your shaft before pulling it out and gasping for air.

“I can’t, it’s like there’s a wall,” she coughed, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock still.

“It just takes practice, try again,” you reassured her gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand and took another deep breath. After giving you a look of determination, she once again turned her attention to your cock, this time immediately plunging back down to the same depth she reached last time.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, watching her mouth stretch as she tried her hardest to push down.

It felt fucking amazing having her struggling to take your cock. The willingness was what really did it for you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on the back of her head and gave her a small push. Your cock went deeper down her neck for a moment before she immediately pulled back.

“I’m sor-”

“I did it!” she cheered. “It felt like the wall just disappeared for a second, I guess I just needed a small push! Thank you!”

“N-No problem,” you stammered, taken aback by her reaction. “Here, come up here.”

Winter got up off her knees and climbed onto the couch so that she was on her knees next to you, bending over your crotch.

“Try to relax your neck,” you instructed her as you grabbed her head with your hands and guided her back to your cock. “I’m going to help you, just let it happen.”

“Mhmm,” Winter agreed, her mouth already filled with your cock.

She moved up and down a couple of times on her own as you gave her a moment to adjust to the new position. After a few more, you pressed your hand down against the back of her head, forcing your cock down her throat.

This time, she managed to make it all the way down before launching back up and coughing. Before you could ask if she was alright, she had already pushed her mouth onto your cock. Again, you pressed the back of her head until she went all the way down, but this time she didn’t pull out - she moved back about halfway before pushing back down onto your cock.

“Oh fuck yes Winter,” you moaned loudly. “Now you got it.”

It went on for a few minutes where nothing but the sound of Winter gagging on your cock could be heard in the room. She’d pull back halfway, then push down all the way with the help of your hand. With each consecutive thrust, you felt less and less need to push with your hand - It was starting to get easier for her.

At this point, you were barely pushing the back of her head. You started to push your hips upwards, matching her pace so that each time she plunged down onto your cock you would shove your hips into her mouth.

Your free hand began to explore her body, reaching over and grabbing a handful of her ass. You squeezed it hard, gave it a few slaps, but nothing stopped the girl from throating your cock again and again. She was determined and it showed.

“Holy fuck I’m getting close,” you gasped, feeling the pressure building up. “Wait, stop.”

Winter released your cock with a plop and turned her head sideways to look up at you.

“I thought you were getting close?” she asked innocently.

“I am, I want to do it properly,” you answered, standing up from the couch and getting in front of her. “I’m going to fuck your mouth until I cum, alright?”

She nodded eagerly, sitting down and looking up at you.

“You’re doing a fantastic job,” you complimented the girl as you brought your cock to her mouth.

She opened up with a smile before you shoved your cock into her mouth. Just like last time, you started to slam your cock into her mouth relentlessly. With a firm grip on her head with both of your hands, you started thrusting with all your energy, slamming your balls into her chin each time.

The intensity of it forced Winter to grab your thighs for support, but she held strong. She took your cock like a champ, not fighting against it at all, letting you use her throat for your own pleasure.

“I’m about to cum,” you warned her, a mere two seconds before it happened.

It wasn’t clear if she even heard you, but as soon as you felt it happen, you pushed your cock as deep down her throat as you could. You held her nose to your crotch, making sure she could feel each and every gush of cum launching out of your cock.

“Fuck yes,” you gasped, letting your cock empty itself into the cute girl’s mouth.

Once it finally felt thoroughly emptied, you let go of Winter’s head. She didn’t immediately release your cock, she slowly pulled back - it was reassuring to know that she wasn’t struggling. A bit of your cum spilled out of her mouth, sliding down her chin.

“Here, let’s not waste any,” you grabbed your cock and used it to scoop up any of the white mess that escaped her lips.

She gracefully opened her mouth to suck the cum off your tip until it was all clean. After swallowing as much as she could collect, she closed her eyes and sat there obediently as you began rubbing your cock all over her face.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Instinctually you pulled your cock away from Winter’s face and turned around, covering your junk with your hands. In the doorway stood Karina, the girl you had looked up earlier, Winter’s bandmate.

“I thought I told you to lock the door,” you whispered to Winter.

“I thought I did!” she defended herself.

Karina closed the door behind her and walked into the room, right in front of the two of you. The anger in her eyes was somewhat terrifying, but it was difficult to not be blown away by her beauty even in this moment of anger.

“So, you’re the one lying to my friend?” Karina hissed, staring right into your eyes.

“He’s not lying to me,” Winter protested from the couch.

“Shut up,” Karina turned her attention to Winter. “And why the hell are you naked?”

Winter sheepishly crossed her arms and legs to cover up.

“No point covering up now, you have no dignity left to maintain,” Karina scolded her. “And you, why are you also trying to cover up? Come on, move your hands, you clearly have no shame.”

It was odd, you couldn’t explain why you listened to her, but you moved your arms aside so that your messy cock was in the open. Perhaps it was because Karina was so fucking beautiful, you just had to listen to her. As she took a look at it, she seemed to pause for a second, losing her train of thought momentarily before snapping back into reality.

“So who’s going to explain what the fuck is going on here.”

“It was my idea,” Winter mumbled from the couch. “I was jealous of what you said, I wanted to get better at it.”

The tone in the room immediately shifted. Karina crouched down next to Winter, wearing a soft expression on her face.

“Hey,” Karina put a hand on Winter’s thigh. “I didn’t tell you that stuff to make you feel bad, it’s not a competition.”

“If it was, I’d be losing.”

“It’s not,” Karina repeated herself.

“And I know you think I’m stupid for thinking swallowing cum helps my voice,” Winter continued, the sadness felt in each syllable of her words. “But I really believe it.”

“I…” Karina looked torn, not knowing how to tell her friend she was an idiot while also not hurting her feelings. “Look, I don’t think you’re stupid for believing it, maybe it does work for some people, and maybe you’re one of those people. I don’t think it’s dumb to try.”

“You really mean it?” Winter looked up at Karina with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, it can’t hurt to try, right?” Karina smiled back at Winter.

“Did you want to try?” you asked, suddenly feeling audacious enough to take the opportunity at hand. You wanted to see how far this beauty of a girl would go to make her friend feel better. “Maybe it works for you, too?”

Before Karina could even speak, Winter lit up in excitement.

“That’s a great idea!” Winter cheered. “Like you said, it can’t hurt to try! And then I could also learn how it’s done properly!”

“W-What…” Karina began to stammer. She was stuck and she knew it.

This felt like a fever dream. Standing there with your rock hard cock out while this drop-dead gorgeous girl consoled her nude friend. It made literally no sense. What made even less sense was what Karina decided to do next.

“I… guess I could…” she sighed, gasping as Winter jumped up from the couch and hugged her.

“Thank you for believing!”

“No problem…” Karina answered half-heartedly while she glared at you over Winter’s shoulder.

After letting go of Karina, Winter got up and sat on the couch where you joined her. Karina slowly dropped down to her knees, lifting her arms up behind her head to tie her hair into a bun. Your cock was already itching to blow again, and you tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, but you knew already there was no chance you’d be able to last very long.

Winter watched intently as Karina began to lean forward, giving you a clear view of her very deep cleavage. Karina didn’t even bother using her hands, she brought her lips to your tip and slowly parted them, engulfing your cock slowly.

The way she slowly inched your cock down her throat in its entirety made you realize immediately that this girl knew what she was doing. Just as slowly as she swallowed your whole cock, she moved back up until only your tip was in her mouth. She licked at your hole a couple of times before slowly going back down your cock.

Winter was in shock, watching her friend take your entire length with ease. You almost felt bad as you were reminded of how much the girl was gagging on your cock just moments ago, but those feelings lasted barely seconds as Karina’s mouth was taking over all your senses.

Just as you predicted, this was going to be fast. As Karina bobbed up and down your cock, you could feel the pressure building up already - It was almost embarrassing. She started to move faster, steadily increasing her speed, consistently taking your entire length down her throat with each pump.

Karina’s lips made a tight seal around your cock. Perfect, it meant not a single drop of cum would be wasted. She kept her lips tight, up and down your cock, using her tongue every time she came back up to coax your load out of you. It was working - much faster than your prediction even.

The thought of warning her as you were about to blow crossed your mind, but when you remembered that sexy glare of hers from earlier, you decided against it. You’d probably feel bad about it, however right now everything felt right. She was fucking amazing at sucking your cock.

One final little lick of your tip was all it took. You started unloading ropes down her throat. Karina jolted as the first spurt shot into her mouth, but just as you predicted, she kept her lips tight around your shaft. By the time your second and third shots of cum surged out of your tip, Karina had already pushed her mouth down your cock. She held her mouth at your base until you finished unloading.

Then, as slowly as physically possible, she began lifting her mouth off your cock. She stared at you with that burning passion in her eyes, those unrealistically beautiful eyes, before tilting her head back slightly and parting her lips, showing you all the fresh cum on her tongue.

Winter squealed in excitement, covering her mouth and watching intently as Karina then closed her mouth again. In one singular motion, Karina swallowed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“That was so impressive,” Winter gushed, in awe at what her friend just did. “Can I try again?”

It took great effort to not burst out laughing at the absurdity of her words, but you held it together. You leaned back into the couch, breathing heavily as your cock softened in front of Karina’s face, finally receiving some much-needed rest.

“Not now, you need to go get ready,” Karina replied to Winter’s request while keeping her eyes locked on you.

Winter quickly hopped off the couch and started putting her clothes back on. Even though you could see her in your periphery, your eyes were fixated on Karina. The two of you stared at each other, it wasn’t entirely clear what was going on in her head.

“Are you not coming?” Winter asked after getting dressed.

“You go, I’ll catch up in a minute,” Karina said, still staring at you.

No more words were spoken until Winter left the room and closed the door behind her. The pause felt like an eternity, only being broken up by the sound of your deep breaths.

“A warning would have been nice,” Karina broke the silence casually.

That was not what you expected. You thought she’d be mad at you or threaten you or yell at you or all of the above.

“My bad, I was lost in the moment,” you responded, equally casually. “You’re pretty good at that, by the way.”

“I know,” Karina commented confidently.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you.

“So…” you began to speak before Karina cut you off.

“What are you doing after the show?”

---

A/N:

Random inspiration, wrote this in basically one evening. I know it's not super long or anything, but this mini series is very much just a fun side project! I don't know exactly why I find so much enjoyment in writing such a ridiculous scenario, but hopefully someone else enjoys this silliness as much as I do.

Karina is very hot. Bit of a cliffhanger at the end I guess, but I'll just confirm now; Whenever I do get to writing the next part, it will probably be very Karina heavy. I don't know, I'm just on a bit of a Karina high lately.

#kpop smut #male reader #aespa smut #aespa winter smut #aespa karina smut #kpop fanfic #smut #winter #karina #aespa

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andersonfilms · 3 months ago

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firefighter!abby who comes in every sunday morning to your floral shop, tucked in a tiny corner downtown. you’re usually tucked away in the back, doing floral arrangements, calculating your inventory, organizing new shipments, or just avoiding others in general. an introverted nature is ingrained into your bones. so, dina takes over the front counter. she’s sweet, kind enough to engage in conversation. big brown eyes and welcoming smile always seeming to put the customer’s at ease, assessing their needs as they step foot in the door.

firefighter!abby who comes in on the dot, half-past nine, right before her shift. her build, incredibly tone, clad in black cargos and her seattle fire department t-shirt tucked in. she greets dina with her blinding, pearly white smile. warming her up to the core as dina grabs the assortment that’s ordered every week. yellow roses, white lillies, and peach carnations make their way into the abby’s hands. she thanks dina, with the same somber look in her eyes before she exits with the same bouquet she always does.

firefighter!abby who is out for the day, cup of coffee in her hand, ellie to her right telling her about the black-haired beauty she met at the local pub. swearing up and down there was a cute friend, supposedly, but it really just sounds like this is her only way in which her friend needs to enlist help from the hunky-blonde for assistance.

“So, let me get this straight. You met this girl—”

“Dina.” Abby pauses, blonde eyebrows quirk upwards. “Wait, does she work at a floral shop?”

“Yes—” Ellie pauses, envy swirling in her emerald eyes immediately, “Fuck, Anderson, do not tell me you’ve fucked her!”

Abby smirks, wanting to tease her spunky friend. “C’mon, are you fucking serious? No. Shit. Did you really fuck her?” Abby winks as she takes a sip of her black coffee, bicep flexing in the process.

“Dude. How the hell am I supposed to compete with your greek god fucking biceps?” Ellie lifts up the sleeve of her shirt, comparing her much smaller arms to Abby’s very toned and thick muscle. Even Abby’s veins are more prominent than hers.

Abby giggles, “First off, you can’t but you don’t have to…this time. I just buy flowers from there and everyone kinda knows everyone. It’s Jackson.”

“Oh, thank god. You had me worried there for a second. Jesus.” Ellie nudges her shoulder, picking at her naibeds anxiously. “So, will you come so you can meet her friend?”

Abby thinks for a moment. How bad could it be? It’s just one night, right?

firefighter!abby who comes to the flower shop on a saturday this time. the doorbell rings signaling her entrance, but she doesn’t find dina working the counter like she normally does. you’re someone new, someone she hasn’t seen before, someone beautiful. so much so, she feels as if her feet have been glued to the hardwood floors. dear god, she looks like a goddamn idiot. she’s thankful you’re helping someone as abby tries to break from her caulking spell.

firefighter!abby who takes note of how attentive you are with the customers even if your body fidgets as you help them but then you smile, it makes her melt. anderson, get yourself together, you have a date tonight. it’s just one, incredibly beautiful girl. you’re fine. she’s fine. before her brain can make one more stupid thought, you’re walking up to her.

You smell of lavender, it coats Abby’s senses as you make a beeline for her. It could be the shop or it could be you. She believes it’s you.

“Afternoon, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, Abby reads the name tag on your chest and musters up somewhat of a coherent sentence. You start making the arrangement for her, it’s then she notices how familiar it is.

It isn’t the flowers she typically chooses, the one she orders through the website of the shop, but the craftsmanship is identical. Down to the yellow ribbon to wrap it neatly, keeping the specially made bouquet in place.

Abby’s blue eyes must light up with wonder because you smile, it's soft as it slips out of you, too quick for you to hide behind the wall you usually keep yourself within.

“Um, you make all the arrangements here, right?” Anxiously, you dust your hands on the maroon apron tied around your waist.

“Yeah, I would hope so. It’s my shop.” You’re not boastful about it, or snarky, it’s sweet. As if you’re proud and you should be.

“Oh, sorry! I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. I just, um—” Speak blondie, you’re making a fool of yourself. “ I come here every week and have just never seen you before s’all. It’s nice to match the wonderful shop to the even prettier owner.”

Abby wonders why she doesn’t ask for your number or even try to. She’s not exactly a stranger to beautiful women. When she knows what she wants, she’s like a dog with a bone. Never has she ever halted, or had someone stop her dead in her tracks without even trying.

In her mind, she’s finding excuses. It’s the sun’s fault for letting the light hit your eyes perfectly, saturating the color even further. Or the way she obsesses over your curves, or the joy seeming to radiate every time you smile.

It can’t be any of those little things.

Abby fishes for the wallet in her jacket pocket, before handing you her card, you finalize the transaction before handing the silver card back to her. Calloused fingertips press against yours, much softer than Abby’s, but it excites the two of you.

Not that either of you spoke a word of it.

“You’re girlfriend’s a lucky girl. It’s a thoughtful gesture—” but your eyes build a fright in them, a horror that you can’t take back. “I’m sorry! Oh my god. I didn’t mean to just, fuck, assume you had a girlfriend or that you’re into girls. Jesus, I don’t know what came over me. God.”

Abby bites down a smirk as you anxiously beat your nail on the countertop as if you ruined the interaction. Impatiently needing this to be over.

“S’okay, really, you didn’t assume wrong.” Mischievous pools of blue look you up and down, pointed canines kissing her pink lips as they bite at the flesh.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. Well—” Abby leans over placing her palm against yours, her fingertips linger on your skin, setting it ablaze. Releasing your grip of the bouquet and palming the wrapped flowers in her firm grasp.

“Not yet.”

lmk what you think! hope you enjoyed it! ♡

#currently working through my writers block so thank you for the patience <3 #here's somy fluffy goodness!#firefighter!abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x masc reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby x you #abby x y/n #firefighter!abby

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allophonicmess · 3 months ago

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Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 1

Remember that inspo I posed the other day? I coudn't let it go and decided to write a three part fic based on it.

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool& Wolverine, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, implicaded age gap

word count 2k

No beta and English isn't my first language

there will be fluff later on but sadness first:

Too Sweet

Logan felt a great mix of emotions since he had followed that red-ass clown Wade into this universe. Most of it was anger, confusion, rage… But In that moment as he was sat on the black beat-up couch among Wade’s friends… He was overwhelmed.

Not by sensory overload, although that casserole that blind Al had made did stink up the place with garlic-

He was overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness, joy and companionship of the people around him. He hadn’t felt that way in ages if he ever did at all. He never felt that way with his team before everything happened.

He liked them, sure. But this company of weirdos shared a Kinmenship he never got to experience.

“Hey, Peanut! Are you angrily staring off into space to allow for good exposition?” Wade had plopped down on the couch right next to him. His jeans-clad thigh rubbed right up to his. At this point, Logan had given up on trying to keep him out of his personal space.

The older man frowned and stared at Wade next to him. His beer was getting warm but he didn’t feel like giving up his spot on the couch.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He huffed, taking another sip of his beer. But Wade just clicked his tongue, scooting even closer to Wolverine.

“Aww, you know what I mean! You are big and gruff and don’t talk that much… It’s kinda hard to capture you in writing you know. There are only so many words in the English language to describe your grunting and-“

“Are you done?” Logan sighed, finishing his drink. He was starting to regret coming with Wade. Getting drunk in some shit hole of a bar sounded better than listening to Wade's babbling.

“See! That’s what I mean. Sigh is nice, sure but it doesn’t quite capture the nature of those beautiful noses you make, big boy.” Wade petted Logan's thigh, which the older man quickly pulled away as he stood up abruptly.

“Jesus fucking- Can’t you annoy someone else? You got all of these muppets to talk to. Stop bothering me god damn it.” Logan placed the empty bottle down on the couch table. He scanned the room, looking for someone else that Wade could annoy to death. His eyes landed on the brunette… Vanessa… He knew that something had been going on between Wade and her. He never told him the details but from the pining look Wade gave her and the sad as fuck sighs he made, it was clear that the motherfucker wasn’t over her.

“Go and talk to the girl for god's sake. She might be the only one here to appreciate it.” He grinned at Wade, enjoying how his stupid grin faltered even for just a second. He leaned down on Wade's level, whispering to him in an overly joyous manner. “It might even get you laid.”

They stared at each other for a hot minute. Both men tying to provoke the other into action. But Logan was getting bored so he pushed “I might try if you don’t have the balls-“

“Fine!” It came out way too loud. Wade got up quickly trying to keep up his jolly attitude. “Fine, I will. But not because you said so.”

“Or threatened you.”

“You didn’t threaten me.”

“Sure, if you need to believe that” Logan got back onto the couch, now stretching out lazily across it. He closed his eyes, pretending to snooze.

There was no witty comeback, which surprised Logan. But it only came to show that Wade was serious for once.

Logan would never tell but he warmed up to Deadpool. He respected the man, despite his annoying and borderline brain-rotting bad humour. But he had principles. He cared for those around him, loved them dearly and would do anything to protect them. He did in fact. Logan spread out on his worn leather sofa is proof of it. He hated to admit it but Wade was the better man of the two. He didn’t let those he loves down, running away like the drunk asshole Logan is. Wade would have come to help her, would have-

The obnoxiously loud ringing of Wade’s apartment doorbell ripped Logan out of his self-deprecating talk. He blinked against the bright ceiling light and watched as Wade sighed softly. He had just started his conversation with Vanessa and it seemed to be quite a good talk from the looks of it. He seemed frustrated to be ripped away from it. Wade nodded softly, towards Vanessa, excusing himself but he was stopped by Colossus.

“No please Wade, I get it. You seem to be engaged in an interesting conversation.” The 7’5’’ metal man said, touching Wade by the shoulder to turn him back towards to woman. Logan huffed, he wasn’t the only one trying to get Wade laid.

The giant stomped towards the door, turning the doorknob that looked comically small in his silver hand to let the latecomer in.

“Hi! I’m so sorry for being late. I still had to finish some work. It’s the end of the semester, you know how it is.” A sweet voice called from outside.

Then two things happened at the same time. It was like a push and pull.

Ellie, Yukio, even that odd taxi driver… they all turned towards the door in excitement. Smiling and wooing at the woman that just entered the apartment with a cake carrier tucked under her arms.

Logan on the other hand? He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He sat there, staring as Colossus pulled her into a big hug, lifting her off the ground before taking the container off her hands to allow the others to greet her. She was smiling, laughing at some joke Ellie had cracked at her.

She looked younger. Maybe she was, who knows how time worked in this universe. Or it was the lack of stress she had to face, no heartbreak, no constant rejection from a bastard that couldn’t see that the best thing was right in front of him.

“Ah, there you are! We were starting to miss you!” Wade pulled her into a tight hug. He seemed to be content. And the older man cursed himself for even caring about it.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, or so he hoped. Maybe she didn’t know him. It would be for the best.

“Yeah, I already told Piotr, I had to finish some lesson planning at the academy before the school year is over.” She replied as she greeted Vanessa and the rest of the group.

“Oh right. You are the only one that actually knows what she’s doing at that school.” Wade joked, earning a playful remark from Colossus.

So she also studied at a human university before starting at the school, Logan noted. He was still stuck on the couch, feeling unable to move as he kept staring at her.

“You know her?” The sudden comment coming from right next to him made Logan flinch.

“Whoa, relax man. I just noticed you staring at her for like 5 min straight. And you don’t seem too happy about her being here.” Ellie stood next to him, casually watching the scene just as he did.

“None of your fucking business.” Logan managed to spit out. While he did get startled, the interruption helped him to finally feel able to move again. And it happened just at the right moment. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Ellie just huffed, watching Logan get up on shaky legs. It could just be from the constant level of alcohol in Logan’s blood, making his knees weak, or the age. But she suspected that there was more.

Yet Logan’s attempt at a quiet escape was hindered by Piotr, calling him to come to the kitchen to introduce the two.

“Come to kitchen! I want you to meet my good friend Y/N. She also works at the school. You will like her”, the man sounds proud. He should be.

Logan ignored him, pushing his way through the small crowd with shaky steps. Why was he sweating for god's sake?

“Logan!”

“No” He called, breathing was getting harder again.

“Logan!”

“I’m good! I’m-“ He finally reached the door, rattling the doorknob and cursing that his fucking fingers got shaky. Everything was too loud and too hot and too-

“Wade, it’s fine. He doesn’t have to.“ She tried to stop the two men next to her from calling the man over. He was clearly in distress and it hurt her to watch him fumble on his way out. There were only so many people that were scared of her outside the battlefield.

She had met “their” Logan, but only briefly at some anniversary event. They had simply mismatched their time at the school. He left shortly after Y/N started working and they hadn’t met much. She wondered what the other her must have done to him to cause such a reaction.

Finally. Fucking finally. The door opened and Logan simply burst into the hallway, rushing down the steps to feel the air rush back into his lungs. A fucking embarrassment. That is what he was. The Wolverine scared shitless by a woman that doesn’t even know him.

But the other one did and it killed her.

“Logan, what in the ever-loving- fuck was that?” Wade had run after him. He just couldn’t leave it alone, could he?

“Fuck off.” Logan breathed weakly. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and it made him hate himself just a little bit more.

“You just running off? Scared of a girl?” Wade kept pushing, following Logan as he walked down the familiar street towards his bar of choice. That being the cheapest and quietest he could find in the city.

“Scared you can’t get one off? I don’t wanna make predictions but man, I think she is into the dark brooding type” he kept pushing “ Or you know what? If I can’t get Vanessa laid I might try with her, I mean she is quite-“

That made Logan snap. Turning around and impaling Wade against the closest wall. Both sets of claws out and push into the other man's torso. He only groaned in return.

“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking-“

“Okay, okay, whoa ow… man-“ Wade coughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “ I was only joking man. Unfair. Fuck. I am unarmed-urgh”

Logan retracted the claws letting Wade drop to the floor. He knew the man was joking, he should. But it was all too fucking much too soon. He wouldn’t let it happen again. And how to best prevent the inevitable heartbreak? Don’t even let her get close, to begin with. She didn’t deserve it. She never did in the first place and he would do anything in his power to stop it from happening to her.

“So, you are just leaving me hanging? It’s your party too, you know.” Wade got up, inspecting the bloody holes that stained his new shirt. He cursed softy. “Damn, it was brand new. Ruining a perfectly good shirt for the exposition”

“Don’t wait for me,” Logan said, turning away from Deadpool. A cheap bottle of whisky was waiting for him to calm his nerves and forget about that fucking stunt. He won’t see her again, not even talk to her or talk about her. It’s for the best. She would agree if she knew, Logan was sure of it.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

Do comment here for feedback and spreading some love ❤️

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #deadpool wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #x men #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #angst

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 18 days ago

Text

but you belong to me

bf!rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dumbification, jealousy, rough sex

summary — after rafe sees another guy “flirting” with you, he takes you home to remind you of something.

a/n — currently working on some requests so heres whatever this is. please request more!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“no, yeah, like i actually did so fucking bad. i got an 84 and almost cried,” your friend, daniel, said dramatically as he spoke to you over the loud music of the party. he shook his head at the thought. “god, i hate that old-ass teacher. he can suck my fucking dick.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and giggle before taking another sip of your drink. “dude, what are you talking about? that’s not even bad. it’s still a B and i doubt it even dropped your grade.”

unfortunately for you, you could feel rafe’s glare boring into your side as you talked. he was extremely annoyed. he was left wondering what was so insanely interesting that you and this random guy have been talking for 15 minutes already. you looked too engaged in the conversation and you laughed a little too much at what he was saying.

“yo, you good?” topper asked when he noticed his best friend gripping his bottle of beer until his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched almost painfully hard.

rafe didn’t even spare a glance to him, just continued staring at you. “yeah man, ‘m fine,” he said uninterestedly.

he followed his gaze to where he was looking at you just as you laughed with the boy before chuckling and patting his back. “he’s just some fuckin’ pogue, man. no need to worry ‘bout him.”

“fuck off, top,” he mumbled in annoyance. he never wanted to be interacted with when he was pissed off and this was definitely no exception. unless it was you of course.

while daniel spoke, you finally averted your gaze over to your boyfriend who was still leaned up against the wall like he was when you’d left to get more drinks before being stopped by your classmate. you mentally cursed at yourself. he looked pissed. he nodded over the front door, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to follow the silent command.

that was the last thing you could remember from that stupid party. no matter how many times you’d tried to tell your boyfriend that nothing happened, that you were just talking about your grades, he didn’t care or believe that. he knows what he saw and he saw the boy flirting with you.

and that lead you here, face buried into his pillows and your ass up with rafe bullying his cock into your hole with rough hands gripping your hips tight and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. your nails dug into his bed sheets as you felt the slide of tears run down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling of his thrusts.

“such a dumb baby,” he mumbled, freezing deep inside you to make you squeal and squirm. “always gettin’ so fucked up ‘nd letting random guys flirt with you huh? can’t even handle your fuckin’ alcohol.”

you cried harder into the sheets as frustration built up inside you from both the situation and the pain of him bottomed out. “di—didn’t have anyone flirting with me, rafe,” you snapped back as sassily as you could manage.

“what was that baby? couldn’t hear you,” he teased in that rude, mocking voice you hated. he pushed his hips further into you, pushing your body to lean forward more and allowing him to press into you at a different angle.

you whimpered and leaned up on your forearms with the last bit of strength you had to look over your shoulder at him. “you’re bein’ mean.”

he jutted his lower lip out and fake pouted. “aw, i’m bein’ mean? so sorry, sweet girl,” he muttered before grabbing your hips and pulling them back to their normal position. he slowly pulled back then pushed forward harshly, making you yelp and jolt forward. he repeated the action multiple times. “maybe this’ll teach you a lesson not to fuck around with other dudes.”

you balled up the sheets and buried your face in them when he began snapping into you quickly. your legs began shaking and threatening to give out under the pressure and rough force of his thrusts. “can you be a good girl and keep yourself up for me, baby?”

after another particularly hard thrust, your body finally collapsed and your cried out when he quickly slipped out of you. you could hear him sigh from behind you. “jesus. went all fuckin’ dumb in me and now i gotta do all the work, right?” he mocked before pressing your legs together and straddling them to then slide back into you.

you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered at the new sensitivity the angle brought. he leaned forward once he was fully sheathed inside you to grab a pillow and wrap one arm under your hips to lift them up enough to slid it under and ease the pain of your back and hips. the small act of care and kindness made you smile against the mattress.

he began to pound into your used hole from behind just enough to make you scream but not hurt you. “feels good, rafe. ‘s so fuckin’ good,” you babbled mindlessly to let him know you were still here and okay. “so—so deep.”

“yeah? can feel you squeezing around me,” he replied, continuing his punishing pace. “shoulda recorded this shit to show everyone how much of a fuckin’ slut you are once you get my dick inside you. maybe then everyone would stay the fuck away from my girl. maybe i should jus’ knock you up, cum inside this little cunt and have you all swollen with my kid so everyone sees you’re mine.”

you felt yourself involuntarily clench at the words before your legs began to spasm again. “oh! ‘m gonna come, rafe. please, please, please,” you begged for sweet release and he fucked you quicker until he felt you cream around him.

he chuckled and leaned down to kiss between your shoulder blades as you continued to ride through it. “that’s it. feels like fuckin’ heaven around me. best pussy i’ll ever have,” he mumbled against your skin. “i’ve got you, baby. ‘m right here.”

his hands gently kneaded the fat of your ass as you finally came down before swiping the pillow out from under you and pulling out. he rolled you onto your back and took in the sight of your disheveled state. your hair was messy and sticking to your face and up in the air, your cheeks were blushed from the intensity of your orgasm, and your tits were sitting so prettily right in front of him. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, angel. what’d i do to deserve you?”

in contrast to just moments ago, he softly pushed the hair off your face and smoothed it down. he leaned forward to gently suck on your left breast and leave deep colored hickeys along your skin for him to look back at later. while one hand toyed with your other breast, the other lined himself back up with you then pushed himself inside.

you bit your lip and whimpered at the stretch of him. “oh fuck,” you heard him moan against your breast before switching and sucking your other nipple into his mouth. he slowly rocked into you at a much more loving and delicate pace. it wasn’t about punishing you anymore, he just wanted to feel you and be close to you.

you sighed in relief when be began hitting that certain spot inside of you a much more tolerable pace and his pelvis gently rubbed against your clit. it felt like you were starting to see stars with how he’d press against it for prolonged moments. he left wet kisses up your neck and to your jaw then finally your lips. he was leaned up on his forearms at either side of your head while he kissed you softly with that same passionate love he always showed you.

your hands reached up onto his head, searching for something to grab onto only then remembering the buzzcut he now has. you moaned into his mouth when you felt him speed up just slightly while your hands continued to roam for something to hold from the overwhelming pleasure you could feel building up again.

he took hold your hand and intertwined your fingers at the side of your head, letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed as your moans began to pick up and so did his soft pants of breath. “fuck, angel. pussy feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly. “‘m gonna come.”

you hummed in agreement and clenched around him, making him groan and gently suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “inside, rafe. p—please come inside me,” you moaned, desperate to feel him fill you up.

he mumbled a string a curses before spilling inside you and triggering your own orgasm. he continued softly kissing at your skin and allowing you to squeeze his hand through the pleasure until he finally rode it out for the both of you. “you okay, baby?” he mumbled slightly out of breath.

you nodded and huffed out slow breaths. “mhm, ‘m good,” you replied, still in euphoric bliss.

he slowly laid on top of you as to not crush you with his weight before burying his face in your neck, still inside you. “don’t ever let me catch another dude flirting with you again,” he said against your skin.

you rolled your eyes. “oh fuck off,” you said jokingly while pushing him off of you and out of you then rolling onto your side away from him.

he laughed softly and quickly followed, grabbing your waist to pull you back into his chest to smother your shoulder and neck with wet kisses.

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#rafe cameron imagine #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #outer banks #rafe cameron obx #obx

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solxamber · 24 days ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Other Parts in the Series: Vil ; Riddle ; Lilia ; Malleus ; Azul ; Leona ; Jamil ; Kalim

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Other Parts in this series:

Vil ; Riddle ; Lilia ; Malleus ; Azul ; Leona ; Jamil ; Kalim

Masterlist

For the next part,

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x you #idia shroud #idia #idia x you #trash novel chronicles

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