#god has a great plan for your life
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Proverbs 3:5-6 (AMP). “Trust in and rely confidently on the Lord with all your heart And do not rely on your own insight or understanding. In all your ways know and acknowledge and recognize Him, And He will make your paths straight and smooth [removing obstacles that block your way].”
“Success God’s Way” By In Touch Ministries:
“The Lord has a wonderful plan for blessing and fulfillment in your life.”
“How do we become successful? Contrary to the word’s common definition—which usually involves fame, fortune, or power—true success means becoming the person God wants each of us to be. Hebrews 12:1 offers His perspective on this: “Therefore, since we also have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let’s rid ourselves of every obstacle and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let’s run with endurance the race that is set before us.”
Here, we see the keys to success. First, it is important to find encouragement from the lives of other believers who have seen Christ’s faithfulness and followed His directions. Next, we should get rid of anything that holds us back from obeying God. Finally, we are to persevere, even through difficult or discouraging times. Today’s passage answers our original question: We achieve success only by relying on Jesus for guidance and strength.
God has a wonderful plan for blessing and fulfillment in your life, and part of His plan is that you live with purpose and persistence. The Father’s guidance will become clearer as you read His Word, pray for direction, and seek godly counsel. Does your definition of success for your life match the good plan God has for you?”
[Photo thanks to Silviu Zidaru at Unsplash]
#proverbs 3:5 6#god's plan#god has a great plan for your life#trusting god#following god#god's blessings#god's gifts
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The true nature of the mushroom pope (”The Voice”) revealed, Petr and his new human friend - Raphael - conspire to take them down for good! (An assassination performed by two 12 year olds can't be that hard, right?)
When finishing this painting I thought it’d be fun to mock it up into a mid-game menu screen concept :) 🍄
#this project is UNRELATED to spore the popular videogame i only found out that existed after naming it rip#painting#fantasy art#illustration#divine decay#woods#petr: so then we FLY in from above and GET them#raph: because we can Totally fly yeah ok sure#petr: look i bet if i pray hard enough-#theyre having a great time its fine their plan is airtight what could possibly go wrong#theyve got such a long walk to figure the details out in so its so fine!!#(narrator voice it was Not Fine)#petr#raphael#but uh yeah so this is gonna a rambly lore dump in the tags because this is a personal chronical at this point but:#pov u were raised mushroom catholic your whole life with all of your society lead by your one mushroom pope#who is also mind connected to all of you#(not present all the time they dip in and out of peoples heads but fully capable of dropping into your senses and body whenever)#and the position youve been raised to take on is literally to be their eyes and ears#also this pope has lived for thousands of years and yall die age 80 or whatever so like. theyre NOT god but theyre p fucking divine#then BOOM youre teleported fucking MILES away and out of their range. alone for the very first time#but NOT FOR LONG cuz this other scared kid also got teleported but theyre HUMAN and you want each other DEAD only youre both scared and#lonely and theres wild monsters that want to eat you so like its fine if just for a bit you team up because theres no point dying to some#random beast instead of an epic battle#and then you start talking to the kid and like oh shit theyre like nice. and they say its YOU guys who started the war and the humans were#here first#and you still have your counter of yeah but we NEED to block out the sun or else we'll literally die we want to be on the surface too#only#youve been in the sun for the last week and other than getting a little dehydrated youre Fine#so if they were lying about humans being only capable of rage and if they were lying about dying in the sun
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I ran out of tags XD Good Omens Spoilers Beware! (time for dinner now)
The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2
(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)
***
Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off.
Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse?
Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended
In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB–
Keep reading
#FASCINATING essay#intriguing ideas and clues#the eccles cakes are DEFINITELY significant! weren't they called the ultimate comfort food? comfort disappears...#s2 has so many threads left up in the air ready to be played with in s3 it's great#wondering hard about the editing/erasing memories ability...is that something any angel at michael/uriel/saraqaels' level can do?#is it something they can do to ANY angel (or demon?)/only if they decide as a committee?#cuz they expected to erase gabriel's memory. saraqael had the thing to “look up” gabriel's memory in her hot little hands at the meeting#was THAT the book of life or is angel memory editing a separate function? (I'm leaning toward the latter)#GABRIEL fell in love?? GABRIEL?? with a demon?? is that Real? is it??#One Prince of Heaven may fall (lucifer/satan) but not two (crowley?) and CERTAINLY not 3 (gabriel) eh metatron? eh?#you are on to something BIG and the payoff is gonna be great!#(hey hollywood execs pay your fucking staff already & stop forcing wga & sag-aftra to strike for survival) (s3 doesn't HAVE to be on prime?)#oooh maggie not sure about maggie not being real. you've got me halfway convinced but aziraphale loves her records#AND she gets all the everyday records that the resurrectionist keeps getting--possible grounding in reality?#“it's just a thing we do” - i am on the fence on this one. on the one hand it is a very Character thing to say. on the other...#it's also a very mellow go woth the flow i don't get it but I'm here and i don't hate it kind of thing to say (and she really really wants#to dance with nina)#*with#the perfect crime...the parallels to gabriel's disappearance with none knowing who done did it (cuz he zapped himself into the fly)#back to gabriel & beelzebub and the everday records....the sheer NUMBER of records...does it imply gabriel turned EVERY RECORD in the juke#every time they visited the resurrectionist (3 times on screen?) or does he change just the one currently selected and there's a ton more#visits there that we DON'T see (but the records are proof of)?#gabriel says Nah. nah. nuhuh. nope. great & terrible prophesy bad things coming ah yes I'll renege and lose my memory to avert it ???#Nah is too out of character to not be deliberate. WHAT DOES GABRIEL KNOW ABOUT WHAT IS COMING. why did he set things up#so that he could escape heaven scot free but memoryless and WHY was that integral to averting the Terrible Thing that is coming?#is metatron the terrible thing? did gabriel have to leave the coop SO THAT metatron would be tempted to meddle & suck aziraphale in?#so that aziraphale (and crowley) can save the day by stopping “heaven”/metatron's plan for the second coming?#the Great Plan is ineffable...the Apocalysn't...the plan behind the plan for apocalypse...god's narration & the nice & accurate prophecies--#what I'm getting at there (poorly) is that...maybe god's plan is to see how long things can last? how great creation can become?#because it IS a damn shame to end an infinite universe after 6000 years before the engine is even fully cranked up...
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Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)
It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.
But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.
And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.
———
The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.
“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.
Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”
Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”
Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”
Dead silence.
“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.
Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”
“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.
“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”
Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”
Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”
“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”
Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”
“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”
Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”
“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”
Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”
“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”
Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”
“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.
“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.
Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”
“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”
Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”
Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.
———
Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.
“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”
“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”
Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”
“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”
Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”
#tim drake#batfam#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc x dp#fenton family supremacy#tim drake has priorities#imagine being called a coworker by your brother#jazz and danny are his real family#middle child tim#this explains so much#family vs coworkers#batfam shenanigans#i love this concept so much
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...
#okay just learned the last body i had before i got here has been natually mummified in a suit of armor??? and people are just letting it sit#there???? just sitting on a mountain???#waht???#is my last body a giant good luck charm???#looks sick as hell though so i cant complain#also i have a limiter without it or something?????#and thats why i cant do anything on earth???#because before the death that sent me here i was an awful person????#and they didnt want me to wreak havoc on earth????#kinda conflicted but like if your kid gets to 1.5k year old and theyre still a brat well yeah fair#but still!#no warning??#i got isekai'd without my permission??#i mean i still love dad and dad and mom and im a better person than i was in life one but still#it was so confusing and scary!#being on earth is horrifying!#its hard#like yeah choose the planet that belongs to the guy you hate im sure it will go great#okay then again it would be an even worse idea to put a confused god with no memories in the body of a teen with emotional issues on a plan#t WITH magic#i would also get back before learning my leson or something#and to be fair this is a very fair punishment#.5% of my true power nerf still sucks though#ignore my rambling#not a vent
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day one: when you wish upon a star | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x fem reader
he's been begging max to set him up ... and look who has him in the grid secret santa!
christmas song: my only wish (this year) - britney spears
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
f1
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,209,488 others
tagged: carlossainz55, pierregasly & landonorris
f1: it's that time of the year again... it's secret santa time!
view all comments
user1: THE SPEEDOS????
user2: 100% from valterri
user3: what do we have to do to see them on tho ???
user4: HUH?
user3: we're all thinking it??
alexalbon: since you're a blabber mouth @charles_leclerc PLEASE PUT MORE EFFORT INTO YOUR GIFT THIS YEAR
charles_leclerc: my gift was great last year idk what you people are talking about
alexalbon: if i unwrap a calendar i will set horsey on leo
charles_leclerc: @rspca GET HIM
user5: i love with secret santa you can really tell which drivers are actually friends lol
user6: charles... we're looking at you last year
user7: the teaser showed that max got lando ... could be interesting after this season
maxverstappen1: not that i need to ... but i have a plan
user8: really?
maxverstappen1: i have concepts of a plan!
landonorris: please don't like gift wrap like a litter box or something
maxverstappen1: oh i like my cats much more than i like you why would i do that?
maxverstappen1: AHA! I HAVE IT
landonorris: that sounds ominous
carlossainz55: is it something to do with his pathetic crush on a certain someone
landonorris: LALALALALLALALA SHUT THE FUCK UP I DON'T WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW ABOUT THAT MAX PLEASE DON'T I'M SORRY ABOUT AUSTRIA
user9: well now it needs to happen...
user10: whoever came up with the grid secret santa i need to give you a big fat kiss
maxverstappen1: you might not be the only one ....
landonorris: SHUT UP
maxverstappen1: hehehehehee
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 14,055 others
yourusername: gift giving is my love language
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user14: okay lando i kinda get you
user15: she's friends with max and looks like that and hasn't been hooked? where is the hope for all of us
maxverstappen1: hideous personality 👍
yourusername: and you're my best friend so what does that say about you?
maxverstappen1: i have zero standards?
yourusername: girl fuck you
user16: i hate bitches that can actually wrap gifts
user17: leave me alone with my crinkled shit held together with a whole roll of tape
landonorris: my love language is words of affirmation :3
yourusername: okay mr praise kink
landonorris: WHAT? NO?
yourusername: whatever you wanna say babygirl
landonorris: oh i ... um - yes!
user18: oh brother this dude stinks
alexalbon: he is even worse in real life
oscarpiastri: but it is just as entertaining
landonorris: i'm glad my low self esteem is so funny for you guys
yourusername: you're amazing lando - don't think badly of yourself :(
landonorris: did you or did you not call me a 'stumpy, entitled british bum' the other day?
yourusername: well that's because you were fighting max and unfortunately we're two trauma bonded cats and he therefore comes first
yourusername: but i still love you!
landonorris: LOVE?
user19: someone check on him?
oscarpiastri: i just found him passed out in his driver's room
georgerussell63: that's becoming blackmail material
landonorris
liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 803,405 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
landonorris: didn't manage to win the championship this time round but i'm hoping max got me something good in the secret santa to say sorry
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user20: thank god this season is ending
user21: i think it would've killed me if this title race went to abu dhabi again
user22: it's pookie on pookie crime
user23: i fear one of the pookies may have killed the other if this went on any longer
maxverstappen1: wouldn't you like to know weather boy
landonorris: um yes? i hate surprises
maxverstappen1: i think you might like this one 😈
landonorris: that emoji makes me think you've been scheming
maxverstappen1: maybe i have? you'll just have to wait and see ...
landonorris: STOP I CAN HEAR YOUR EVIL LAUGHTER FROM HERE
landonorris: seriosuly how many of you are in on this it sounds like a pack of hyenas this is meant to be SECRET santa
alexalbon: what do you mean i don't know anything about this ...
landonorris: alex YOU CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AROUND ME
alexalbon: maybe i just find you real funny lando?
landonorris: really?
alexalbon: NO
user24: they are enjoying torturing him way too much
maxverstappen1: call it karma for all the shit he talked throughout the season
landonorris: NOO I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING A NICE GIFT ???
maxverstappen1: oh it's definitely a gift for somone...
landonorris: i deadass won't come to the paddock
yourusername: you'll win it soon lands - just wait for max to retire so i can support you wholeheartedly
landonorris: why not now :((((
yourusername: don't worry babe he's old he'll retire in no time
landonorris: yay 🥳 🙌 😀
maxverstappen1: excuse me?
landonorris: is four championships and y/n not enough?
maxverstappen1: no!
maxverstappen1
liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,302,558 others
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maxverstappen1: not just because i want another trophy, but i'll pick up my best secret santa award now thanks
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user25: he didn't ???
user26: i think he did
user27: is that not like prostitution?
maxverstappen1: i don't think giving lando a chance to embarrass himself on a date is prostitution
user28: do you have any faith in him?
maxverstappen1: in him? no. but does y/n also have horrible standards and is easily impressed? yes.
alexalbon: he folded so quickly i hope they got it all on camera
oscarpiastri: that was so humiliating it might have to go on a more x rated website
landonorris: OSCAR????
oscarpiastri: it was harrowing mate but she seemed to like it so go you?
carlossainz55: that was a crazy reaction for it to just be y/n
maxverstappen1: i think you're trying to be funny but it might JUST be a skill issue
landonorris: JUST Y/N? KILL YOURSELF
carlossainz55: woah where is the christmas cheer?
landonorris: i will run you over with my sleigh
landonorris: THIS IS THE BEST GIFT ANYONE HAS EVER GOTTEN ME PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE
user29: bro is so down bad that he just took carlando out back and shot them
user30: bro is so lost in the sauce that he is threatening a festive hit and run
yourusername: okay max we can stop pretending that i wasn't also begging you to set me up with lando
maxverstappen1: but it's so funny watching him make a fool of himself
landonorris: HUH???
yourusername: newsflash baby, i'm just as in love with you as you are with me
landonorris: AHHHHHHHHH <333333333
landonorris: i'm sorry i'll get back to being in love with you one sec
landonorris: @alexalbon @georgerussell63 @oscarpiastri @carlossainz55 SUCK ON THAT
landonorris: okay i love you y/n :3
yourusername: i love you too you crazy boy
landonorris
liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 1,430,973 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: christmas wishes do come true!
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user34: so how long do you think he's had that shirt in preparation?
landonorris: 18 months at least - i have faith in myself even if the others didn't
user35: i can't tell if that's creepy or?
landonorris: IT'S ROMANTIC
yourusername: kiss me it's christmas!
landonorris: only because it's christmas?
yourusername: i guess i can give you a couple more passes...
landonorris: not to be dramatic but now i know what it feels like i might die without it
yourusername: not dramatic at all !!!
maxverstappen1: it is kinda dramatic ...
yourusername: SHUSH!
maxverstappen1: i knew you were mushy about this (your diary reads like a very badly written romance book) but good lord this is awful THESE ARE PUBLIC COMMENTS
yourusername: I FUCKING KNEW YOU READ MY DIARY
maxverstappen1: duh! how else did you think this little scheme came to be?
yourusername: ugh i guess
user36: so like where do i get an f1 driver bestfriend who will invade my privacy to get me a bf?
user37: might just start throwing my diary in the paddock at this point
alexalbon: ur so pathetic i love you
yourusername: excuse me old man
alexalbon: old? OLD?
yourusername: i don't care to google you but i've seen you try and read a menu and scan a QR code so stop declaring your love for my boyf or i will keep going
landonorris: she's so possessive 😩😩😩
yourusername: i ate too many grapes on new year's eve to not get and keep my man
alexalbon: trust me, no one wants ur man
yourusername: tell that to the teenage girls in my DMs
user38: it's a pleasant surprise to see that y/n is just as down bad as lando
user39: match made in heaven ... this MIGHT make me a max verstappen fan
user40: i fear this will be an f1 custody battle for the ages
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 78,209 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: my only wish this year was to finally get you <3
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user41: i already liked this queen but a queen who loves britney spears christmas... that's mother
user42: one of these most underrated christmas songs ever
oscarpiastri: ... some people have even witnessed her live rendition of it
yourusername: don't sound too excited about it then
oscarpiastri: i appreciated the enthusiasm but like i feel like it was a PRIVATE moment ... not for the whole of the garage to see
landonorris: someone is missing lily ....
user43: i am trying to be joyful as per the holiday season but i am absolutely seething with jealousy
user44: hey siri play that should be me
yourusername: nope sorry never gonna happen :P
user45: okay girl you've made your point no need to rub it in our faces
yourusername: actually i think i will! my bf is pretty why wouldn't i show that off ?
user46: yall can hate her for this but realistically this is how we'd all be if we pulled lando
landonorris: you guys acting as if i'm the catch when it's literally her...
user47: do we think santa's elves can make me a lando norris? REAL ANSWERS ONLY ...
maxverstappen1: WOW you wouldn't think this was a double date trip ...
yourusername: you can't complain about BOTH of us pining and then be annoyed about us being lovey dovey
maxverstappen1: i can and i WILL
landonorris: you know what max you can complain all you want because this has been the BEST secret santa ever
maxverstappen1: so you won't call me a dirty driver next season?
landonorris: eh?
yourusername: make no mistake lando, i may love you but my loyalties on track remain with max
landonorris: as long as you're still coming home with me i guess i'll deal with it
yourusername: luv u xxxx
landonorris: i love you tooooo xxx
user48: is y/n going to do more for the on track tension than the literal fia?
yourusername: always gotta be a woman sorting everything out
user50: babe i think max is just afraid of you and lando is so in love he'll do anything for you
yourusername: AS THEY SHOULD BE
fin.
note: and on the first day of christmas aston martini gave to me a smau that undos all of our max vs lando tension from the season !! thought i'd treat yall to the first day early <33
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#astonmartinii#lando norris insta au#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris#lando norris instagram edit#lando norris social media au#12 days of astonmartinimas
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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐟 ꒱ my american lover ( logan sargeant. )
logan sargeant x aussie!reader
in which a series of instagram posts causes the internet to think you're oscar's girlfriend
authors note: motivation these days is like trying to find water in a desert TvT doesn't help that this deleted the first time i tried to post it
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri and 4,028 others
ynusername life lately
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user HELP THE OSCAR PICTURE?
user this was not on my 2024 bingo card
⤷ user it was not on mine either what 😭😭😭
user since when does yn know about oscar piastri?
⤷ user and since when was he in her likes???
oscarpiastri where did you even get that photo 🥲
⤷ ynusername mumma piastri has a soft spot for me 😊
⤷ oscarpiastri ah
user omg she knows oscar's mom too
user is this a soft launch???
⤷ user using oscar's photos from when he was a kid? i sure hope not 😭
⤷ user okay yeah, that'd be a little bit awkward, but why else would she post a picture of him in her photo dump
user twitter is gonna go crazy
⤷ user i can already see the threads
user does no one know that they're friends?
⤷ user i thought this was common knowledge atp because he has appeared in her previous posts...
⤷ user right, there's photos of them as kids karting together
user ynscar 🙏
⤷ user i found my people
user the ynscar rumors starting up again is wild
⤷ user well they never denied anything
⤷ user ...
⤷ user are you on something?
ynusername
liked by lilymhe and 1,937 others
ynusername what a view (the city, not oscar)
view all 103 comments
user stop, she's so pretty...and he's there
lilymhe we need to hang out and take pictures! the boys will find something to entertain themselves 😘
⤷ ynusername asap! 🙏🏻 they see each other every day, whats another?
⤷ lilymhe exactly! 😊
⤷ alex_albon what am i being signed up for?
user oh my god, lily and yn planning a hangout with their boyfriends? so its confirmed?
⤷ user AND THEY SEE EACH OTHER EVERY DAY??? GOTTA BE!!!
oscarpiastri is this just your new thing to post random photos of me?
⤷ ynusername yeah pretty much
⤷ oscarpiastri great thanks
⤷ ynusername anytime 🙂↕️
user of all the photos of oscar she could've chosen, she used this one
⤷ oscarpiastri right
⤷ user OMG OSCAR ILY!!!
user am i the only one who doesn't believe the ynscar rumors?
⤷ user you aren't because it just doesn't make sense
⤷ user right like just because she started putting memes of him in her posts doesn't mean they are outright dating
logansargeant the view looks great!
⤷ ynusername its so gorjos! (you're not talking about oscar, right?)
⤷ logansargeant gorgeous, babe, and no, of course not (yeah, i might be)
⤷ ynusername (oscar isn't the view here!)
⤷ logansargeant (says who) (and why are we talking in parentheses)
⤷ ynusername (i don't know) (why are you talking in parentheses?)
⤷ logansargeant (i don't know, that's why i asked you)
⤷ ynusername (well i don't know either)
⤷ logansargeant (you've said)
⤷ user (what's going on?) (why did he call her babe???)
⤷ user (why are logan and yn talking?) (not on my 2024 bingo card)
⤷ user (well they both know oscar)
⤷ user (but he called her babe??)
user help all the replies to their comments being in parentheses as well 😭😭😭
user am i the only one who prefers yngan to ynscar
⤷ user nope!
⤷ user i love them so much, but it's probably unlikely and we don't see much interaction from them
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri and 3,408 others
ynusername pov you're max verstappen at miami and you look in your mirrors
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user oh my god
user im speechless
user the soft launch with the meme of oscar was not on my list of things happening this season 😭
bsfusername you know you're never beating the rumors
⤷ ynusername sadly 😓😓😓
⤷ bsfusername okay but when was this tho
⤷ ynusername wdym 😋
⤷ bsfusername don't gaslight me
⤷ ynusername what's gaslighting???
⤷ bsfusername bitch.
⤷ user rumors? such as the ynscar rumors?
user logan in the likes?
⤷ user hes BEEN in the likes for a hot sc, you just couldn't see him lurking
oscarpiastri you're not coming to the next race
⤷ ynusername WHY NOT??? IM YOUR BIGGEST SUPPORT 🙏🏻
⤷ oscarpiastri support your boyfriend
❤️ by author + logansargeant
⤷ ynusername SHHHH!!!
user wait so oscar isn't her boyfriend?
user anyone see logan in the likes???
⤷ user gotta support the homie's girlfriend
⤷ user gotta
⤷ user they aren't dating 😭
user okay, but do we know FOR SURE oscar and yn are dating? they just seem like really close friends...?
⤷ user SOMEONE GETS IT
user real ones know that oscar and yn are childhood friends
ynusername has posted a story!
[caption: guys look at my uber driver 😢]
view all story replies
user PLEASE RESPOND TO THE RUMORS
user 1. you're dating oscar a. true b. false
user he doesn't even have the steering wheel 😭
ynusername 🤫
user oh my god im gonna faint, tell oscar and logan i love them
oscarpiastri you had the wheel
ynusername stupid, american cars amiright 🤣
oscarpiastri sure
ynusername okay no need for the attitude mr. im a formula 1 driver and am too cool for my BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!
oscarpiastri go bother your BOYFRIEND
ynusername okay
ynusername ...
ynusername you're supposed to feel bad
oscarpiastri 😐😑😐
ynusername
liked logansargeant and 7,078 others
ynusername my american boy <3
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user the random middle of the day hard launch
⤷ user but im not complaining
logansargeant my kangaroo <3
⤷ ynusername EXCUSE ME???
⤷ logansargeant 😊
⤷ ynusername okay american eagle
oscarpiastri finally putting an end to the rumours i see
⤷ ynusername well you weren't going to do it so someone had to
⤷ oscarpiastri i thought it was common knowledge that i had a girlfriend that wasn't you
⤷ ynusername osc...im gonna hold your hand when i tell you this
⤷ oscarpiastri dont touch me
user the sass from oscar 😭😭
⤷ user i know right😭🫣
logansargeant
liked by ynusername and 143,203 others
logansargeant i love my aussie side
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user ON MY CELLULAR DEVICE???
oscarpiastri i thought i was your aussie side mate
⤷ logansargeant oh no, you are dw
⤷ ynusername probably why he put a picture of oscar in the hard launch
⤷ logansargeant you put one in the soft launch
⤷ ynusername fair point
user i was not expecting this (i was indeed expecting it)
—
taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @sapphiccloud @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @namgification @casperlikej @darleneslane @soamericn @decafmickey @tellybearryyyy @geniusalpaca @mel164 @littlegrapejuice @rylieverstappen-sargent @ahnneyong @ln4smiamitrophy @jiggly-puff-12 @jamieebuolos @ireadthensuetheauthors @jaasworld
proofread by @foreveralbon <333
#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1 imagine#formula one#f1 x reader#formula 1 drivers#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant#logan sargeant fic#logan sargeant imagine#logan fluff#logan sargeant smau#f1 social media au#f1 smau#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant fanfiction#logan sargent fluff#logan sargent x reader#logan sargeant x you#ls2 x you#ls2#ls2 fluff#ls2 fic#ls2 imagine#ls2 x reader#ls2 smau#formula 1 smau#formula one smau
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The General
a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!
Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader
word count: 1.6k
reblogs are appreciated
Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths
He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.
You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.
He says nothing, but he has no need to.
You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs.
His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–
His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing.
You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers.
“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes.
He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores.
They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it.
“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome.
“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company.
He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean.
The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off.
Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.
Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms.
The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.
You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born.
“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh.
Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly.
You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own.
The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you.
His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.
Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen.
He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.
“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now.
“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.
“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts.
You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.
The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.
He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him.
“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”
“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.
He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.
He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.
“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.
------
Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @wheresarizona @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @oliviajdjarin @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @txtattoostark @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#marcus acacius#Marcus acacias x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#marcus x reader
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TAZ Balance Dashboard Simulator
💪 bagnus-murnsides
↻ lactosewarrior5000 Follow
💪 bagnus-murnsides
happy rise and grind reclaimers wednesday monday
✨ you-know-from-tv Follow
its literally friday ?
🔥 lup-da-lup Follow
HAPPY RISE AND GRIND RECLAIMERS WEDNESDAY MONDAY FRIDAY
👖 lactosewarrior5000 Follow
#the additions are KILLING ME #laugh rule #tumblr days of the week #scheduled
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📔 sheesh-creesh
[REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]
#bureau business #inoculated #txt
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🔎 ango-mcdango
↻ you-know-from-tv Follow
🌱 merlehighchurch1
give me that username lup. stop impersonating me
🌱 merlehighchurch Follow
no
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🍵 potion-master-69
CALLOUT FOR GARFIELD THE DEALS WARLOCK
so im not trying to start anything, but it has to be said. garfield has been collecting blood from various people and using it for nefarious purposes, as well as just kind of being a dick.
receipts under the readmore vv
Keep Reading
#callout #gore tw #lilian don’t look
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🔎 ango-mcdango
↻ lesbian-orc-lover Follow
👁️ hungry-hungry-hunger-deactivated20170817 Follow
Life is meaningless and nothing matters. Everything sucks and we should all just give in. Submit to the Hunger.
🌱 merlehighchurch1
this is exactly what ligma was saying a few years ago
👁️ hungry-hungry-hunger-deactivated20170817 Follow
What is Ligma? Some minor god you think will save you when your plane is consumed?
🌱 merlehighchurch1
LIGMA BALLS OHHHHHHHH
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ohmygod you killed him
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�� juicy-wizard-official
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A picture of the moon I took with my new camera! If you look really closely, you can see the B.O.B. on the left side.
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You can't do that here
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hey guys! it's me, merle hightower highchurch. just wanted to come on here and say that i'm a total loser and lup is the coolest bitch alive
🌱 merlehighchurch1
STOP
#this is elder abuse
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💀 reaper-kravitz-official
.
#my coworkers are driving me CRAZY rn #what do you mean it was 'just a little bit' of necromancy #WE ARE LITERALLY REAPERS LIKE HELLO #and now rq will be pissed at me. great #vent #do not rb
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🕸️ krav-dementia-raven-way
i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up i fu
#ohhhhh my god accidentally posted on the wrong blog #i didn't realize until BOTH of my coworkers had seen it fuck me #i am dating one of their brothers as well so #dreading our next work meeting and my date plans tonight
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🌈 lucretiaadventurezone
i need to pick up taako by the scruff of his neck and shake him around
#this is my magnum opus#i spent hours on it and reached the image limit on desktop#long post#unreality#a sydney original#fake tumblr post#davenport#taz balance#the adventure zone#taako#lup#kravitz#barry bluejeans#merle highchurch#magnus burnsides#angus mcdonald
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have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3 | ao3
Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.
In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.
Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.
She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.
And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.
So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?
The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.
So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.
Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.
Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.
7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.
This was his Friday night plans.
His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—
“Hi.”
Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.
Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.
Holy shit, this dude was hot.
He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.
He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.
“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.
God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?
The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.
Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?
“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.
He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.
The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.
“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.
“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”
“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.
Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”
Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.
“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”
He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—
“Can I get you two started with anything?”
The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.
“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.
“What? Not a milkshake man?”
Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”
Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”
Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.
“Did you just order for me?”
“Did you just diss milkshakes?”
Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.
“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.
“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”
Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.
“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”
Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.
“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”
Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?
Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.
“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.
The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.
Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.
Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”
Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.
The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.
Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.
"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"
His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.
"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."
Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.
"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."
Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.
Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.
"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."
#what..... is this????#i haven't really written modern au for them#and i wrote it in about 2 hours so hopefully its like. not terrible#wahoo !#i luv a little meet cute#meet cute#steddie#ruby writes steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie blurb#ummmm i haven't posted in literal eons ive forgotten all my tags oh well#enjoy ?
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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.
Series Masterlist
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.
Series Masterlist ; 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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【Ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ Ｗｈｉｓｐｅｒｓ】
pairing: logan howlett x f!reader
summary: it's your best friend's birthday, and she wants to go out to the club. you're not much of a party girl, but you do it anyways because you love her like a sister. it's a good thing you went, especially if it's a certain someone who can't keep his eyes off of you 😉
this kinda takes place in x-men origins: wolverine. that movie will always have a special place in my heart idc. also, I had a dream about this last night
warning: SMUT! 18+ MDNI. age gap, oral sex (f! receiving), cursing, unprotected PiV (don't be silly, wrap that willy), drinking, dirty talk, logan being kinda vocal, wingman!wade wilson, size difference, mention of anxiety (because mental health matters), praise kink, nicknames used: baby, darling, sweetheart, princess
words: 4.0k
Your best friend practically drags you through the mall as she makes a beeline to the dress store. What's the occasion, you may ask? It's her birthday today and she wants to go to a party at a club. You dread it, but if she is happy, you'll let down your antisocial wall. She's been begging on her hands and knees for you to come out and live your life. You hate crowded places, and you would much rather be in the comfort of your own home, in your sweatpants and tank top with a cozy cardigan and your hair in a messy bun while reading another Johanna Lindsey book. Is it cliché? Yes. Is it almost predictable? Fuck yes, but you love it anyways. You may call yourself a hopeless romantic, but your friend is right. You need to get laid ASAP.
While you were mindlessly going through all the various dresses on the clothes rack, your friend pulled you away as she already made some selections for you. "Come on, try these on!" she exclaims. Some of them are not bad, but others are just damn right ugly or not your style. As you are about to enter the changing room, you hear the one voice that could only mean one thing. Your best friend’s boyfriend. “Oh, sweetie pie!” Wade announces in a singsong tune. Oh, great. You don’t necessarily hate Wade, he treats your best friend well and she’s taken well care of, sure, but this day was supposed to be just the two of you.
“Hi, baby!” she squeals as Wade comes up to her and gives her a big old kiss in the mouth. Hey, God, it’s me again, you thought as you looked up at the ceiling. You close your eyes for just a few seconds to gather yourself and you look at the handsome pair. “Hey, Wade, it’s good to see you again.” You struggle to put the words together, but nonetheless, you put on a fake smile just to keep your friend happy. “It’s good to see you too,” he pulls you into a tight bear hug, cutting off your blood flow. “Oh, sorry, I’m just so excited to be here. I can’t miss out on this special day with my special girl.” He’s like a lovesick puppy. There was just something about Wade that made you be suspicious about him from the very beginning. He’s always gone, he doesn’t tell you or your bestie where he is or what he does. There was something off about him. Almost as if he’s living a double life. “Oh, honey!” your friend squeals again, giving him another open mouth kiss. Gross.
“Well, while you guys catch up, I’m going to go ahead and try these on.” You mumble as you hold up a pile of dresses in your arms. Off to the dressing room, you go.
The first dress you try on was a shiny, metallic gold halter top dress that stops at the mid thighs. On the front, it gives a deep V-neckline, making it hard to cover your breasts. It has slits on both sides, stopping at the waist and it is backless, curving at the bottom and stopping at the top of your ass. Sure, it was cute, if you were planning on being a stripper. You try on the next dress. Now, this one was cute, and you thought about saying yes to it just to get this over with. But you thought about it for a second longer and realized you’re going to be dying in it. It was black mesh sequin dress that barely covers your ass, and it had flare sleeves that are see-through. Last thing you want is to have sweaty armpits, causing the dress to have pit stains for the rest of the night. No, thanks. Next one. Too girly. Another one. Makes you look pale. The one after that. Cute, but not ideal for clubbing. Another one. This looks more like a prom dress than anything. You’re about to give up until you notice the last dress. You try it on, and lo and behold, this dress was the one. It is a dark green sequin mini dress that stops at mid-thigh with a sweetheart neckline with an adjustable skinny strap. Perfect.
You change back into your normal clothes, not even bothering to show it off to your best friend. Besides, she’s too busy with her boyfriend, practically eating each other’s faces. You made your way to the cash register, and you made your purchase. You thank them and make your way back to your friend and Wade, hopefully she got the hint that it was time to go. “Oh, you got a dress?” your friend asks. “Which one did you end up picking?” “You’ll see.” You reply mischievously with a little wink. She’s surprised about your remark, but she quickly brushes it off. Little did you know, while you were trying on all the dresses she picked out, her and Wade were conjuring up a plan. Wade was telling his girlfriend about his friend that he can set up with you. Well, he’s not exactly a friend, per se, but a fellow acquaintance of his. They work together, sure, but he’s kind of a grump. Now there’s just one problem. Wade hasn’t even talked to him about hooking up with you. Now that is going to be the tricky part.
“You think you can bring your friend along?” your friend asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll come.” Wade responded. Your friend was constantly looking over in your direction while you were in the changing room, hoping to not get caught by you. “What if this plan fails?” “Baby, it’ll work.” Wade puts his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I’ll make sure to see to it. Besides, he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but it’ll be good for him. For both of them.” Your friend lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I trust you. But if this plan doesn’t work, you owe me big time.” She jammed her pointer finger at his chest harshly and Wade laughed, but he knew deep down inside, she scares him and that’s what he loves about her. She keeps him grounded, and he always makes sure to fulfill his promises.
*Later that night*
You put on your brand new dress that you bought and you put on a pair of black high heels to go along with it. Meanwhile, your friend put on a baby pink dress with puffy sleeves and white heels that wrap around the calves. She put on some subtle makeup while you put on a smoky appearance. Her hair was done in loose curls in a half low ponytail with a white bow and your hair was done straight as a pencil. When you walked out of your bedroom, your friend was surprised to say the least. She claimed that you look like a totally different person, but you brushed it off. You didn’t think she was being serious and you assumed she was just being nice because you both knew this isn’t like at all. But, she was right. You did look amazing.
You and your friend got there at the club, scanning to find Wade. You thought it was kind of weird that he didn’t pick you guys up at your place, but you dropped it pretty quick. You guys grabbed your drinks from the bar and went out to the dance floor. You were honestly having a good time. You felt so free. So liberating. Normally, you would feel anxious in large crowds like tonight, but with the help of some liquid courage, that all subsided. Wade finally came down to the dance floor and greeted your best friend with a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, baby!” Wade shouted over the loud bass of the music.
“Thank you!” your friend shouted back.
“Thanks for stopping by!”
“Yeah, of course, Y/N! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
As you were about to throw back on your drink, your cup was empty.
“Hey! I’m about to get myself a round two! Did you want anything?” you asked your friend.
“I’m still working on mine! But, thank you!”
“I’ll be back!”
You sauntered your way back to the bar again and asked for the bartender.
“Rum and Coke, please.” you ordered your drink to the tall man behind the bar.
“You got it, miss.” he winked at you.
You felt flatter for the gesture, but you knew deep down you wouldn’t pursue it. Ever since you guys walked into this place, you had men staring at you nonstop. You felt like an innocent fawn in a den full of lions, greedily licking their lips and wanting to get a piece of meat out of you. All the barstools were taken up by men, and now that there was a pretty woman in their proximity, they all of a sudden didn’t know how to think with their heads, but with their dicks. All eyes were on you tonight. The anxiety was about to creep up to your throat to the point it felt hard to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should’ve stayed at home.
“That would be $5.50, miss.” the bartender smiles.
You were about to reach for your bag when you felt a large hand on your lower back. You looked over who it was, but looking over at the man to your right knocked the wind out of you. He was ruggedly handsome. He has dark brown hair that was done messily with mutton chops to go along with his fluffy hair. He wore dark blue jeans with a belt to hold it up to his hips, a pair of boots, a white wife beater, flannel, and a dark brown leather jacket to complete his bad boy exterior.
“I got it, darlin’,” the stranger looked at you, smugly. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”
You were just stunned, you didn’t know what to say. This man was so dangerously handsome, you’ll do anything to keep this man’s attention on you. But, remember what your friend taught you. Never chase after a man. If he wants you that badly, walk him like a dog. And you intend to do that.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man bent over to your right ear and said with his cockiness, “use your words.”
Shit, shit, shit. So much for taking the reign.
“Oh, um.. thank you.” you replied sweetly.
“Attagirl.”
Oh, so he wants to play that game. Well jokes on him, you can play along too. You have read so many scenarios where this plays out, it’s time to use that playbook. There was a spot that was available and the handsome fellow sat down, but still maintaining that contact with you.
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
“Y/N. What’s yours?”
“The name’s Logan.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
You didn’t know if it was the drink or you feeling bold, but you made your way to Logan and sat on his lap. His eyes widen and his jaw a little slacked, but quickly bounces back to his usual smug face before you could appreciate your small little victory. Your legs were across his laps and you kept your legs crossed on top of the other, giving Logan an aweing view of your scrumptious thighs. He had one hand placed on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass and the other hand was resting outside your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumbs,
You guys have been talking and flirting for about 30 minutes, and everything was going so smoothly for tonight. There was a small part of you that didn’t want this night to end, but there was that sinking feeling that you felt that this was going to be a one time experience and you’ll never see him again. Your hand was resting at the nape of his neck, giving him light scratches. Logan let out some low purrs. He loves the way that you’re giving him all this attention from a pretty thing like yourself. But he had this gnawing feeling that he shouldn’t do this to you. You were so young and naive, you never really got to experience life to the fullest. He promised a friend that he was going to hook up with a girl that he knew, get acquainted and maybe get something more out of it. Possibly a relationship. But Logan knows that never comes easily with him. Everyone that he ever loved dies in the end. You were just so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t put you through that.
“Say, wanna get out of here?” Logan asked.
At first, you were hesitant. Wasn’t this what you wanted? I mean, yes. Look at him. This man is built like a god. You didn’t want to ditch your friend on her birthday to go sleep with some guy. But then again, you’ve been gone for a while and she didn’t seem to notice you. So, fuck it.
“Yeah, sure.” you replied.
You got off his lap and Logan got off his seat, and he walked you out of the busting night club. You both decided to go to your apartment where you were most comfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind. It was probably for the best since your apartment is probably nicer than his and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. A gentleman, I know. You fished for your keys in your purse and let yourselves in.
“Please, make yourself at home.” you exclaimed. “Can I get you something?”
“You got any beer?” Logan asked.
“I got Budweiser. Is that okay?”
Logan would’ve died on the spot. It’s almost as if you were made for him. Like he drew a mental picture of you and manifested it.
“Now we’re talking.”
You giggled at his response and went to the fridge to grab two bottles. If Logan almost died from you knowing his favorite beer, he would’ve melted from your lovely laugh. You truly were made from him.
You both settled on the couch and facing each other, you both went back to talking from the last conversation at the bar. Logan, resting his arm behind the couch while nesting a bottle while you were curled up, tucking your feet behind you and resting a hand on your chin, honing in everything and digesting every word that comes out of his mouth.
“So, what was a pretty thing like yourself at a bar?” Logan asked.
“Oh, the funny thing is it’s my friend’s birthday and we were out celebrating.” I chuckled softly. “I guess she’s still there with her boyfriend so I don’t feel too guilty.”
Logan chuckled roughly. “Ah man, I’m sorry to drag you away.”
I waved my hand at him nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”
After chatting again for about 15 minutes, you noticed that Logan is sitting closer and closer to you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe because of how handsome he is. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him. You caught him stealing a few glances down your chest, mentally undressing you, but you don’t seem to mind.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight.” Logan whispered huskily.
You automatically placed your hand on his chest, chests basically touching.
“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” I whispered seductively. “Mind taking me out of this dress?”
Logan’s heart stopped for a moment when you asked him so bluntly. Of course, he wasn’t going to pass this opportunity. So he reached behind you and unzipped your dress. He gently laid you back on the couch as you moved to take off his flannel shirt. He slowly pulled your straps down one by one, as he was taking his sweet time with you, trying to memorize every little thing about your body. Logan finally slipped your dress off of you and the only thing standing in his way is your black lace thong.
“Fuck.” Logan shuddered a groan.
You tried to cover yourself, but Logan took one of his hands and pinned both your wrists above your head.
“Don’t get all shy now with me.” Logan growled. “I wanna see it all.
I whimpered at his rough exterior and wrapped your legs around his waist. He purred in approval.
“Logan…” You moaned. “Let me touch you.”
Logan chuckled darkly as you begged and whined while you’re getting super soaked in your panties, it was leaving wet spots in his pants. He pressed his hard on your heated, needy pussy. You whimpered at the contact, arching your back, hoping to feel him.
“Ahh, pretty baby wants to touch me?” Logan teased.
You nodded your head and he laughed. He leaned down and started sucking your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites at its wake. You begin to moan, and he chuckles darkly as he’s leaving kisses down between your breasts. Logan sat up straight to remove his shirt and undo his belt. He slipped his pants and boxers down, and went down to come face to face to your pussy. He left a little kiss on your clothed pussy and you whimpered while arching your back so far, it almost didn’t look natural. He chuckled how reactive you are to him and he’s enjoying every bit of it. He went to pick you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He placed his hands on your ass, and leaned in for a kiss. You kissed him back happily as you took his face with your hands and you both moaned, fighting for dominance.
“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” Logan asked.
“First door on the right.” You moaned in his mouth.
He then leads you both to your room, still kissing you. As you both entered, he placed you on the bed as he crawled down on you. He forgot you still had your underwear on, so he ripped it off of your body. You gasped, not from ruining it but at how he ripped it off with ease.
“Sorry, princess. It was getting in the way.” Logan muttered and then he quickly went down to eat you out. You arched your back as you gripped the bed sheets. He placed his hand down on your lower stomach to hold you down. “Don’t move.” He growled as he looked up at you.
You fought your hardest to remain still. Logan went back to eat your pussy like a starved man, and you moved your fist to your mouth, biting back some moans. “Nah uh, I wanna hear you. I want this whole apartment to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Logan said roughly. You nodded your head as he went back to devouring his desert. You moaned loudly, it almost sounded pornographic and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it, darlin’. Attagirl.” He praised you. “Logan, I’m so..” You said sultry. “Go ahead. Come for me.” At demand, you did and you were starting to see white after this euphoric sensation and you were starting to come down from your high.
“On your hands and knees.” Logan demanded. You did as you were told and he purred at how easy you were to please. He’ll keep this in mind. He climbed behind you as he gripped your ass close to his hardened dick. He slowly smoothed your backside with one hand and he bent down to your ear, his cold dog tags touching your bare back, making you shiver. “Let me know if it gets too rough for ya.” Logan whispered sweetly. All you could do was nod your head. “I need words, sweetheart.” “Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.” Logan smirked. “Attagirl.”
Logan then eased the tip of his cock into your heated entrance, and began to gasp heavily. “Oh, fuck.” You moaned and Logan chuckled. “Easy, princess, just breathe.” He slowly went inch by inch, feeling his length and his girth. It then becomes easy for you, going from painful to pleasure. Going from losing your breath to moaning into a hot mess. Logan began to pull back and slammed it back in. You jumped forward at the brutal force and you moaned in…pleasure? Pain? Honestly, who cares? It feels too good to stop. He kept pounding into you, starting to hit your cervix over and over again.
“Fuuuucck.” Logan growled as he looked up into the ceiling for a hot minute. He went to look back down as the relentless pounding is matching the rhythm to your ass bouncing back to his cock, making wet slapping noises. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You giggled at his comment as you turned your head at an angle to get a good look at him. Logan bent down again to kiss you on the lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.
Logan then flipped you on your back and his pounding into you again as you wrapped his legs around his waist. He went to intertwined his fingers into yours and he looked into your eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna see you come undone.” Logan warned. You nodded your head and said, “I won’t.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Baby, I’m so close.” You moaned. “I know, I know. I’m right behind you.” You then reached your second climax of the night and you were spent. Logan’s hips started to stutter as he made a few good thrusts into you. “Where at?” Logan asked. “Inside. Safe.” You gasped between breaths, finding it hard to find the words. Logan nodded as he made one last thrust before he went still, painting your insides white.
Logan collapsed beside you and he pulled you into a lover’s embrace as you passed out. He kissed the top of your head as he whispered before you were completely out, “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”
The next morning, you stirred awake as you stretched your arms above your head. You looked out to your window and then you looked over to your right side of the bed, noticing that it was empty. Your heart sank to your chest. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Wishful thinking, you thought. You got out of bed and put on a fresh pair of panties and a short, silky bathrobe. You made your way to the kitchen and then you noticed a tan bare back with dark fluffy hair. He’s wearing his jeans low on his hips with no belt on. He’s cooking eggs and bacon on the stovetop. Logan turned around, took notice of your morning attire and he’s breath was taken away.
“Good morning, princess.” Logan said in his deep morning voice.
“Good morning.” You sighed happily. You went over to him and he grabbed you by the waist, making you gasp out loud. He leaned in for a kiss and you happily kissed him back.
“Oh, good!” Wade announced himself in the kitchen. “I see you met Y/N. The one that I mentioned to you before.”
Surprisingly, Logan didn’t growl at him. He stopped kissing you as you looked at Wade with a slack jaw like a fish in a hook. He went back to look down at you, and smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say we got to know each other very well.” Logan winked at you after your “acquaintance” last night. You playfully slapped at his bare chest and he laughed.
“Next time if you guys are going to fuck, can you at least keep it down?” Wade whined. “It’s like coming across the Animal Channel.”
I picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Fuck off, will you, Wade?” Logan laughed as Wade scurried away. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, palming my ass. “Hmmm. And here I thought I was gonna regret meeting you. But, Wade never described you. I guess I got lucky.” I leaned up to kiss him on the lips and he happily kissed me back. “To be honest, I didn’t know about any of this. I’m glad that I stumbled upon you.” Logan smirked at me. “Come on, before breakfast gets cold.”
#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine fanfiction#hugh jackman#x men#xmen#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut
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A Much Needed Interview (OP81)
(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.
“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.
‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.
“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”
“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”
“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”
“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time.
��Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”
“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.
“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.
“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”
“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.
“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”
“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”
“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”
“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”
“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”
“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”
“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.
“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”
“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”
The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family.
Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.
Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.
“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.
“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?”
In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.
Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.
#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader
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God's Perfect Lamb
Kingdom of Ebreau:
Prologue(you are here)|part 1|part 2
"OH MY GOD!!!!!"
You screamed as you free fell from the sky. The wind whistled pass you, whipping your hair and slapping your cheeks until they stung. You flailed about, thrashing your arms and legs in the air, desperately hoping to slow your descend into inevitable doom.
This day could not get any weirder. You thought the day when you got transmigrated into this world took first place in that department but fate took that as a challenge and proceeded to completely and utterly prove you wrong. The day you got here, at least you were safely lying in an open field on the outskirts of the city, unlike now where you were falling to your death from the sky.
You had endured a great amount of hardship during your stay in this world. You know all those stories about someone getting transmigrated into a parallel world as a noble or wealthy merchant or maybe even a royal? Well, you didn't get that privilege. You weren't placed into the body of a princess, a duchess, a countess or.....anybody, to be honest. You were just you. Plain old (y/n). So the idea living a life of luxury and comfort was thrown straight out the window at that revelation. You had nothing with you. No money, no property, no status. You had to start from the ground up if you have wanted to survive in this new world.
But that wasn't the biggest problem. By "nothing", that includes having no form of identification. You're not sure if it's just a subject of it never being brought up in those novels or if identification just wasn't a thing in those world, but in this one, it was a serious issue.
Having neither a place to stay nor enough money to buy one, you were forced onto the streets until you had the finances to own one. So it wasn't unexpected when the authorities took notice of you and brought you to their headquarters to give you necessary aid. It was all going well until they found out they had absolutely no record on you in their database. That's when they became hostile and grilled you to no end.
You couldn't just say you were from another universe and you had no information to based any lies on so many of their question were met with a silent stare or a soft "um".
In the end, they decided to label you a person of interest and should be kept under surveillance since they had no dirt on you to convict or pardon any crimes you may have potentially committed (even though you didn't). You were both relieved and surprised at the conclusion they came to since even you, yourself were convinced they were going to throw you in jail.
With no charges pressed on you, you were free to go. But where though? You were still homeless, jobless and penniless. Pitying you, they ended up giving you the help they initially planned on giving. They gave you a job.
And that's how you ended up as their errand girl. Any trivial or simple matters such as relaying messages to guards, sending documents to scribes and then retrieving them, delivering packages to and from the headquarters etc etc. It was an easy job so the low pay wasn't a surprise. It was barely enough for the small house you rented a few blocks away from headquarters. However, you were given food and allowed to eat with the guards at headquarters everyday as long as you remained their errand girl so that saves you the money and worry of getting enough to eat. It was a win-win situation for both parties. You get a job and the guards can always keep on eye on you. Thus, even with little to no money to your name, you settled into your new life in this world.
It's been more than a year since your transmigration and to be honest..... You were sick of this place. Remember the aforementioned win-win situation? Yeah, that was only in the beginning. As time went on and your suspicion has pretty much been cleared up, you were still stuck with doing this minimum wage job (if that was even a concept in this world). Just because you were getting by with this job doesn't mean you were happy with it. You only had enough for daily necessities. It's already been a long time since you've arrived here and you had not once enjoyed any type of indulgence in that time gap. Just work, work, work. Those damned guards keep saying you still need to be under surveillance but you knew well that they were just trying to keep you around to do their bidding. Honestly, what kind of guard lets a potential fugitive into their room to get something for them? You knew they trusted you. That's why they wanted you to stay as their little helper.
So here you are now. In the middle of the night, on your way back to headquarters after helping deliver a package to the biggest temple in the country, the Temple of Sonnet. This world, or at least Ebreau in particular, was a country of strong faith. They are a religious country where every citizen worshiped Calerus. Though his title may vary from person to person, it’s always some form of wealth and gold so most people call him the God of Prosperity.
With religion being such as important part of the kingdom, it wasn't surprising when you found out the temple worked in close relation with the imperial palace. The Royal family of Ebreau collaborated with the Temple of Sonnet in both political and cultural aspect. Organising nationwide celebrations, meeting with diplomats from afar, anything that are related to the affairs of the country, chances are both parties are involved. Basically, you mess with the temple, you mess with the Royal family. So definitely not someplace you like hanging about at, lest you want to accidentally offend someone and get a ticket straight to getting-your-head-chopped-off town.
The cold breeze of the night sent shivers down your spine as it blew into your thin clothing. You rubbed your hands together, desperately trying to warm them up but to no avail. You scurried through the courtyard quickly, making your way back to the entrance of the temple. It was relatively silent, saved for your footsteps and the distant sound of flowing water from a fountain somewhere.
Thankfully, the walk was a short one. Reaching the opened gate of the entrance, you walked past the two statues of Calerus at each side of the gate and out back onto the familiar cobble walkway. You snuck a few glances at the white statues of the god of this kingdom as you passed by.
Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the white marble eyes of the statue staring down at you, its mouth curved downward as both hands were outstretched to the side with white round discs made to look like gold coins pouring out of its hands and onto the base of the statue.
This was how the people of Ebreau depicted their God. Sharp eyes casted downwards, overseeing and observing their every move, his hands overflowing with gold, symbolising his absolute authority over the wealth in the land.
You stood, staring at the statue as you were reminded of the saying of the people.
Calerus, the prosperous.
Calerus, the strategist.
Calerus, the omnipresent.
Calerus, the all knowing.
Calerus, the god of Ebreau.
"All is within his hand. Follow his plan and golden rain shall pour at your journey's end."
...
"Tch."
You clicked your tongue as you turned away abruptly from the statue and continued on your way back. A look of disdain plastered on your face as you marched off from the temple.
The more you thought about how worshiped Calerus was and how many praises the people sang for him, the more angry you got. You weren't jealous. No, you weren't some narcissist with a god complex who wanted this sort of treatment. Of course not. What you were pissed about was how Ebreauans talk about how everything in life was Calerus' work. His plan, so to speak that allowed you to prosper and succeed. They claim that all challenges are obstacles on a path towards prosperity that Calerus has specifically chosen for someone.
"Everything has a purpose and meaning."
Well, personally, you though it was pretty nonsense.
If this god of theirs was so smart and crafty, if everything truly happened according to his plan then why the heck were you here? Why were you here in this fantasty world? What purpose did He bring you here for? And why has that "purpose" not shown itself even after you've been thrown here for almost 2 years?!?!
In your mind, Calerus is nothing but a liar and a fraud. Where's the prosperity He promised? What did He have planned? Did He even have anything planned??
You were angry and with good reasons. The people you've met here have been telling you that Calerus has something planned for you even if you're not from Ebreau since day one. They assured you that He will look over you, even if you're not a follower. Yet, you've been met with nothing but problems and hardships during your stay here. And worse, you don't see it ever becoming better.
"What a scam."
You mumbled under your breath and scoffed.
"Ugh..Huh?"
You groaned softly as you suddenly felt lightheaded. You legs got weak and you began to wobble, stumbling forward a few steps. You pressed your hand to you head, applying pressure to both of your temples. Nausea seizes your body as you gagged.
"Huhg..!"
The world spun around you and the ground below your feet felt like it disappeared as you lost your footing. You fell forward and braced for impact.
But it never came.
...?
You slowly regain control as the short-lived dizziness subsides. The disorientation passes and you now realised the odd position you're in. You're...Floating? Your face was hovering several inches away from the ground despite your hands not supporting your upper body. And when did the streets of Ebreau get so....White and fluffy? In fact, they looked like cloud-
"Heretic."
A deep voice suddenly rumbled in your ears and your head shot up. A man with shoulder length grey hair stood before you, his golden eyes piercing into your soul as he spoke with authority. He donned black robes that exposed only his left arm and part of his chest. Golden streaks also lined themselves along the right sleeves and tails of the robe. He seemed.... Ethereal. Godly even.
Wait....Godly?
"C-calerus?”
You stuttered in fear and disbelief.
“One did not expect to be recognised by thou so quickly. Peculiar for a non believer."
Calerus suddenly lifted his right hand and flicked two of his fingers upwards. That's when you felt a force tugged you up from behind and you hung in midair in front of the god.
"Uwah!" You yelped at the sudden yank. Before you could even recompose yourself, Calerus continued speaking again.
"And to not posses any ounce of humility. Calling one by mine name. Who does thou think thou art?"
You felt a force wrap itself around your neck before squeezing. You gasped and grasped at the invisible force, desperate for it to let go or at least loosen. You choked.
"cough! Stop! P-cough!"
You pleaded as you gasped for air.
"Why would one do that?"
You continued to cough as the force squeezed tighter. You were gonna die. Oh god, you were gonna die. In panic, you blurted out whatever came to mind.
"Because, cough, you still, gasp, owe me!!"
The grip around your neck disappeared and you fell onto the soft ground (if it even was ground). You gasped and coughed. Your lungs greedily sucking in air now that your airways were opened again. That relief was short-lived however as the next moment, you felt a hand grabbed onto your jaw and forced your gaze up.
Calerus stared coldly into your eyes as he spoke.
"Elaborate."
You panicked. You just said that on a whim. Surely, you weren't actually going to ask for compensation from a god....right? There was no way you were going to pull though with what you just said.
The fire inside Calerus' golden eyes told you to do so otherwise, though. You swallowed before slowly speaking.
"You....You brought me here. Why? Why separate me from my family? Why separate me from my friends?"
Calerus raised an eyebrow.
"Bring thou here? To punish thee, of course. Thou spoke ill of mine name."
You shook your head.
"No. I meant, bring me to this world. To Ebreau. What reason do you have?"
Calerus fell silent. He seemed to be lost in thought. You waited agonisingly long before he spoke.
"So it is thou. Thou art the otherworldly traveler, yes?"
Otherworldly? Yes. Traveler? No. Kidnapping victim would be more accurate. Though, you simply nod at his question. It was close enough, you suppose.
He released you jaw and backed away. His gaze blank and devoid of emotion as he raised his hand again. You felt a soft tug this time and you were gently helped up onto your feet.
?
It..Worked?
Calerus sighed before saying,"It would indeed seem one has forgotten about thy needs after thou came to mine kingdom."
Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession
"One will give thee the compensation thou deserves."
"Wait, really?" You couldn't hold back your astonishment.
Calerus stayed quiet as you asked and you felt cold sweat rolled down your face, thinking your question may have angered him.
His gaze went down onto the ground for a brief moment before flicking back up to you.
"Yes. However, know that one was not the being that brought thee to this land."
You tilted your head. "You're not?"
"No. One merely accepted thy visit to mine kingdom."
"Then...Who did?" You asked, the words rolling off your tongue slowly
"Mine....Equal. A ruler of another land far from mine."
Your head was spinning from this revelation. Some other god brought you here? Why? And why let you stay under another god's rule? Before you could ask, Calerus had began to speak again.
"One is not enlightened with the reason why thou has been brought here but one admits fault for neglecting thee after accepting thee as one's own. As such..."
Calerus stepped forward, his steps firm and steady. He raised his right hand to his mouth before biting his index finger. A small wound appeared on his skin and you saw golden blood begin to seep out from the opening. He stretched out his right arm as he made his way towards you.
"W-what are you doing?" You fumbled over your words as you backed away in horror, clutching your hands over your chest.
But Calerus was faster.
In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of you, finger pressing on your forehead. You felt the warm liquid dripping down your forehead as your eyes opened wide in fear, terrified at what he was going to do to you.
He began to chant.
"Might of the northern spirit, wisdom of the southern dragon, divinity of the elements of the east and west, hear one."
You wanted to pull away from his hand but be it fear or some other unknown force, you couldn't as you stayed rooted in place, breathing heavily from anxiety. If the god before you noticed your petrified state, he surely paid it no mind as he continued.
"Let the earth know that the power of gold shall have a vessel to call its own. Let the people rejoice for a vassal of Calerus, the Prosperous Lord shall walk among them. May the world celebrate the birth of mine lamb."
His finger left your forehead for a split second before it came back, colliding with your forehead as he flicked his finger against it. A surge of power shot into your head from his fingertip and spread throughout your body. The sheer magnitude of the force made you almost black out as your vision clouded with dark spots. As if you also suddenly got punched, you were propelled backwards, stumbling and struggling to catch yourself.
You felt yourself stepping on air and lost your balance, falling backwards. The ground(clouds?) had disappeared behind you, opening a small hole that let you fall through. You reached out your hand in a desperate attempt to hold onto something but to no avail.
You fell. Down and down until you could see that the "ground" you were standing on was indeed clouds in the sky. The sky. Calerus peeked his head over the edge, observing you as you fell with the same stoic look on his face. Just before he went out of hearing range, you heard him speak.
"One will be in touch."
He disappeared from view.
Now, back to the present, you were falling to your death, screaming and crying as you begged Calerus for mercy. Where's the compensation?! Was everything just now a trick?! Did you get scammed again?!
Tears rolled out of your eyes and flew into the air as you cried in fear, leaving behind trails of water droplets following your descend.
You sobbed as realisation kicked in that nobody was going to save you, as hopelessness consumed you to the point of not being able to think anymore.
The ground got closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. You closed your eyes which were still overflowing with tears, submitting to your faith and praying the impact will immediately kill you so you won't have to suffer in pain.
Goodbye.
"Ugh!"
You groaned as the impact came. Your back collided with the ground and you were....OK? You were in some pain but nothing too bad. In fact, the pain was already passing now.
Slowly, you opened your eyes and blinked away the tears still trapped inside. It was daytime already. How much time has passed? You looked around and saw petals of different hues falling down before landing on the dirt beside you. Above you, a tree with yellow leaves swayed gently, its branches lightly bouncing up and down while its yellow leaves, detached from their place on the branch, fell softly down and landed on your face. It seemed you fell through the tree just now. That would explain the tears on the hem of your sleeves.
Aurum trees?
Propping yourself up into a sitting position, you stared up as you wondered. While not rare or particularly hard to care for, aurum trees are only planted within temples of Ebreau due its yellow leaves. They are the only type of trees in Ebreau that grew leaves of that shade of yellow. A yellow similar to gold while not being being fully golden coloured. The colour yellow symbolises wealth in Ebreau and thus, indirectly their god, Calerus. They are a symbol of the divine hence why aurum trees are only grown in temples.
Then, that raises the question. Why were you at a temple?
You lowered your gaze from the tree and you nearly gasped from the scene in front of you. You were sitting in the middle of a flowerbed that consisted of various types of flowers with different hues for each one. Not far from you, rows of nuns and monks knelt in an orderly matter, faces all shocked and astonished. Some had their hands clasped together while some were covering their, what you assume to be, gaping mouths. Hushed whispers erupted as they stared and observed you. You even made eye contact with some of the nuns and monks in which all turned away immediately with flushed cheeks.
What's going on? Did you intrude on something? Oh no....
Before your thoughts could spiral any further, a tall shadow suddenly loomed over you. Your head snapped upwards as you met eyes with the figure, a man dressed in white robes with golden embellishments around the collar and hem of the sleeves. His eyes were purple, like amethysts. Under the sunlight, his long blonde hair seemed glossy, shiny even as it draped over his shoulders while he towered over you. Despite his intimidating stance, a soft smile was present on his face as the tails of his eyes curved upwards slightly, giving the impression of a kind and good hearted soul.
The man knelt down, his sleeves fluttering gently due to the breeze. That's when you got a better look at his face. He looked familiar...
It wasn't until that soft and silky voice of his poured out of his mouth when you realised who he was.
"Hello, Messiah. We've been expecting your arrival." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head at you. "I am Saint Zephyr Venrose. Representing the temple of Sonnet, the esteemed imperial family and the whole of Ebreau, I humbly welcome you." He lifted his head and smiled. Your breath got caught in your throat as he confirmed your suspicions.
Zephyr Venrose. One of the few saints in all of Ebreau and head of the temple of Sonnet. Closely associated with the royals of the kingdom and is a man of power within the boarders of Ebreau. He often gives speeches given his position as head of the biggest temple in the country during festive events. That's where you've heard his voice the couple of times you were passing by or, if you were in a good mood, listening to him talk. You've never been able to get a good look at his face since you were always pushed back by the crowd so you didn't recognise him at first glance. However, now with his face inches away from yours, you could see every last detail of his features and you must admit, you understood why the folks liked him so much.
Zephyr must surely be blessed in his appearance.
You froze in place as you stared in surprise at him, wondering why he was talking to you and processing his words.
Did he just call you Messiah?
Zephyr noticed your silence and your staring. He adverted his eyes as his gaze dropped down towards the ground while he smiled to himself.
?
You tilted your head to the side in confusion at the sight.
Zephyr coughed lightly before his arms reached towards you. You gasped as he suddenly picked you up bridal style from the flowerbed. Not used to being held like this, you gripped onto his robe for support. Your face contorted in worry and anxiety as you looked at the ground, afraid of being dropped.
Zephyr, of course, took notice of your panic and in response, tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer to him. As you felt his fingers pressing into your skin more tightly, you looked up at him, surprised he realised your concerns so quickly.
He smiled warmly at you as he leaned down, closing the gap between your faces even more. His blonde hair brushing and tickling your face as he whispered into your ear. "Don't be afraid, Miss Messiah. I will never let you fall." His hot breath hit your earlobe and you felt your heart skipped a beat. He pulled away before walking with you in his arms towards the rows of nuns and monks.
"Rejoice, my brothers and sisters for our Savior has come. Our God has delivered us our salvation. May glory be with his name for all eternity."
Zephyr announced loudly and his words were met with echoes of response from the other devotees.
"May he reign supreme!"
Your head felt like it was going to explode with all this information. Was this....Was this the compensation Calerus meant? To be his hands and eyes as you walk along the common folks? To be loved and praised like how he is? To be worshiped? You felt dizzy from being bombarded by this revelation.
You looked back up at Zephyr, hoping he could shed some more light on this predicament you found yourself in. However, you swallowed your words the moment you looked into his purple irises.
Zephyr was known for his gentle and endearing nature. Some say he's the embodiment of kindness. He's the type of person people can't help but be drawn towards due to the sense of security he gives and the tranquil aura he possesses. That was your initial impression of him too.
But looking at him now, you wondered if you were wrong.
With the closeness between you two, you could see the the subtle shade of pink on his cheeks and the flushing redness at the tip of his ears. His breathing fanned your face and you noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were. His fingers went from pressing firmly into your skin to digging themselves into your thighs and waist. Then, if you looked hard enough, you could see him swallowing occasionally.
And last but not least, you couldn't help but notice his eyes that had always been filled with warmth and tenderness seemed....
Crazed.
~✟~
A prologue/world building chapter for my future yandere stories taking place in this universe. If you spot any mistakes, please do point them out so I can correct them and give everyone the best reading experience! Especially with Calerus' old English(?) part, I'm still not sure when to use thee and when to use thou. I only did some basic research on Google.(T_T)
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere stories#transmigration#fantasy#isekai#yandere saint#male yandere#female reader#yancore#yandere obsession
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bonfire - percy jackson
Request: yes! "Hey I was just wondering if you could make a Percy Jackson x gn reader where the reader had a crush on Percy for a while and was jealous of annabeth only to find out Percy felt the same" Pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader Summary: you've got a crush on percy, but it looks as if he only has eyes for annabeth. you try to keep your distance, but it's hard and percy notices you're absent Warnings: jealousy, angst Word count: 1.5K A/N: happy new year!! sadly I went into the year with my tiktok account getting banned because they think I'm 13?? all I do is post silly little pjo videos but apparently its not okay so now I have to start over :( thanks for your request, enjoy!
you wonder if your life would be different if you were more like annabeth.
you're looking at her right now, as she's talking with her team. you know you can't win capture the flag from her. she's too smart. always analysing, always calculating everything that can go wrong and then preventing it.
percy is also looking at annabeth.
he's on her team, after all.
you're trying to listen as clarisse, your team captain, explains her new plan to your team. but you're only hearing half of what she's saying. you're far too focused on percy as he smiles at annabeth while she's talking to him.
you can tell he likes her. and it's not like you hadn't tried to let it go.
you had tried to push your feelings away, to ignore them, nothing worked. when you saw percy chatting with annabeth, you felt a little jealous.
soon your crush on percy and with it, your jealousy of annabeth, started to grow. so you decided if nothing worked, you'd distance yourself from percy.
it hurt, especially since percy was happy to spend his time with annabeth instead of you. at first, he would still invite you to spend time with him. but after you kept declining his offers, he eventually stopped asking you.
you tried not to show anyone how upset you were. maybe it would get easier with time. it's clear to you percy prefers annabeth over you.
on top of it all, you lose capture the flag yet again. you're forced to sit on the sidelines with your team, listening to clarisse tell you everything that went wrong. in the distance, you can see percy and annabeth celebrating their win with the rest of the team.
you tell yourself it's just a game and that you don't care their team won. maybe if you tell yourself it enough times, you might believe it.
when you're walking back to the cabins to put away your armor and weapons, you hear someone call your name behind you.
you turn around and see percy jogging to catch up with you.
you hate the way your heart still skips a beat when you see his eyes and quick smile.
'good game!' he says, stopping in front of you.
'hi percy.' you say.
'hi.' he says with a smile. gods, he's going to be the death of you one day.
'congrats on winning. again.'
'thanks! annabeth had this amazing plan.'
'athena kids, huh?' you mumble, trying not to show your disappointment at how it only took a couple of seconds for percy to bring up annabeth in the conversation.
'you busy tonight?' he says.
you look up at him. surely he wouldn't?
'not really. why?' you say.
'there's a bonfire tonight. want to come?' says percy.
'yeah, that sounds good.' you say. you could never say no to him.
sitting at the bonfire, you hadn't done that in a while. ever since you decided to try and distance yourself from percy, you missed out on things you knew he would be present at.
'great! it was annabeth's idea to host one, see you tonight!' says percy, waving at you and taking off again, headed towards his own cabin.
you just stand there. of course it was annabeth's plan, of course she'd be there as well.
as you walk to your cabin, you're not sure you can stand watching them together all night after watching them win capture the flag. but you'd told percy you'd come. and you hate to let him down.
so when the sun is setting, you make your way to the bonfire. while you're walking, you can't stop thinking about how cold it is. you should have brought a jacket. but you're afraid that if you go back to your cabin, you won't go to the bonfire anymore. and then percy would be upset.
at the bonfire, there's almost no kids from your team. there are a few of your siblings, but not a lot.
the kids from the opposite team are dancing, laughing and celebrating.
is this really where you want to be tonight?
you spot percy in the distance, talking with a few apollo kids. without meaning to, your eyes also search for annabeth. she's sitting with her siblings. at least they're not together again.
you'd stay for an hour. just to show your face, then you'd go back to your cabin. that's acceptable, right?
you get yourself a drink and sit down near the edge of the party, where most of the kids are just talking with each other and not really doing a lot.
as you think back to capture the flag earlier today, you try to figure out how annabeth's team could always beat yours. you know athena kids are smart, but ares kids also know a lot about battle strategies. maybe you could sit down with clarisse some day and see if you can help her with a new plan.
you're lost in thoughts, when you hear a familiar laugh in the distance. you look over and see annabeth has left her siblings and is now sitting next to percy.
you sigh softly, it was never going to be any different, was it?
for a while, you watch the other kids, listening to their songs. you had to give it to the apollo cabin, they know how to get a party started. when you look back at percy and annabeth, percy is gone.
before you can look around where he is, someone sits down next to you.
'having fun?'
you turn and are met with percy's bright eyes. you put on a smile, hoping it looks sincere.
'yeah. thanks for inviting me.' you say.
percy tilts his head a little and gives you a confusing look.
'you say you're having fun and yet since you got here you've been sitting here with a drink you haven't touched, freezing and shivering.' says percy.
right. you forgot your jacket.
'sorry. I was thinking about capture the flag.' you say.
'ah yes, about our fantastic victory.' says percy, smiling and bumping your shoulder. 'you should come up with a new plan some day. maybe talk to clarisse about it?'
'I will.' you say.
'then again, it is hard to beat annabeth's plans. sometimes I don't even know her entire plan until the game is already over.' says percy.
really? how does he manage to bring up annabeth every single time he's talking to you?
'well, don't let me keep you.' you say. 'thanks for checking in, but you don't have to take pity on me for losing. you can go back to annabeth now.'
percy frowns. 'what are you talking about?' he says.
'well, clearly you like her.' you say.
percy laughs at your words. you feel the color drain from your face. tears start to form in your eyes.
'alright, I'm leaving.' you say, getting up.
percy abruptly stops laughing. 'wait no, please don't go.' he says, pulling you back down.
'sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at that. it's just, yeah, I like annabeth. but not like that, we're just friends. I like you, okay? I thought you knew.' says percy.
your lips part in surprise. did you hear that right?
'you like me?' you say. 'like... you like like me?'
percy smiles. gods he really is beautiful. 'yeah, I like like you, alright.' he says. 'which reminds me, why have you been avoiding me lately?'
you look down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 'I thought if I wouldn't see you, my feelings for you would go away.'
'but they didn't.'
'no, they didn't. my eyes were still finding you in ever room. even tonight, I didn't really want to come. but I couldn't say no to you.'
'is that also why you didn't bring a jacket? so you'd have an excuse to go back soon?'
you look up and shake your head. 'no, I did actually forget my jacket.' you say.
percy takes off his sweater and hands it to you. 'here.' he says. 'wouldn't want you to freeze.'
'thank you.' you say, taking it and putting it on. it's bigger than your own sweaters and smells like him.
'want to get out of here?' says percy. 'we can go to the lake. or my cabin, no one's there. it'll just be the two of us.'
'do you have a heater in your cabin?' you say.
'no.' says percy, getting up and holding out his hand to you. 'but consider me your personal heater from now on. always available for cuddles.'
you smile, taking his hand. 'I like that.' you say.
as you and percy walk off, annabeth is still sitting by the campfire. she's smiling to herself. she knew about percy's crush on you. he'd been asking her all sorts of advice. and it looks like he finally told you.
A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit
#new episode in a couple of hours how we feeling!!#pjo#percy jackson#Percy Jackson x reader#Percy Jackson x gn!reader#Percy Jackson fanfiction#Percy Jackson fanfic#Percy Jackson fanfics#Percy Jackson fic#Percy Jackson fics#Percy Jackson oneshot#Percy Jackson oneshots#Percy Jackson angst#pjo fanfiction#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfics#pjo fic#pjo fics#pjo oneshot#pjo oneshots
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I've said it before and I'll say it again. Gobber must be so fucking fed up with Hiccup and Stoick at all times. Like he grew up with Stoick being a stubborn ass and then Stoick had a child who grew up and is also a stubborn ass.
I cannot imagine having to deal with one Haddock let alone two. Especially httyd1 era where they could barely even be in the same room as each other without there being audible cricket noises oh my fucking god. He would have been a permanent mediator between the two. Constantly listening to them complain about eachother (Which we do actually see in httyd1 funnily enough).
Them two actually beginning to fix their relationship after the red death must have been so great for him. Because yes his best friend and his sort of adoptive son thing are now actually engaging in healthy father son activities with one another but he also no longer has to deal with being sandwiched between two fucking donkeys that can't properly communicate.
But hahaha Gobber your torment doesn't end there. No no no you then have to deal with two of the most dramatic people in the archipelago (why does no one mention how dramatic Stoick is???) constantly wittering in your ear about different plans or inventions or wars and dragons and blah blah blah. You can never escape the incessant rambling of the two idiots you got cast to hell with. You will be forced to listen to a father and son that don't see any reasonable value in agreeing about things like 34% of the time and you will have to either pick a side or attempt to deescalate the awkward glances and frustrated sighs when they are forced to be around each other after a particularly bad episode of being unable to affectively have a conversation about their thoughts and feelings because they're both emotionally repressed and could both use some therapy.
Gobber has seen every single side of the relationship between Hiccup and Stoick and the whiplash from witnessing a heated argument about the meaning of existence itself in the morning and then watching as they joke and laugh about some random crap literally no one understands in the evening will probably end up breaking Gobber's psyche at some point.
That man's life was pain and suffering incarnate and it was purely the fault of the Haddock family.
#i had way too much fun typing that out#ehahahahah#shit post#httyd#how to train your dragon#hiccup#hiccup haddock#httyd hiccup#how to train your dragon stoick#stoick#stoick the vast#hiccup and stoick#gobber httyd#httyd gobber#gobber#gobber the belch#gobber and stoick#gobber and hiccup#stoick haddock#haddock family#<-Hell incarnate im telling you#fuck know how Berk survived two generations with those two as leaders#id outcast myself#httyd rtte#race to the edge#rtte httyd#rtte#how to train your dragon hiccup#hiccup how to train your dragon#stoick httyd
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