#just a random thought i had...delete this later
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#I've had some weird summer church camp times but the weirdest was when i was 15 and my mom forced me to go#because i had just told her i was pregnant and she said it was my last chance to do summer camp...so i was forced to go to church camp bc#i was a pregant teen qnd that was a miserable time....it was soooo hot#i always see ppl say the worst time of ur life is when ur 14/15 imagine being pregnant and forced to go to summer camp omfg#just a random thought i had...delete this later
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just found out that non-aromantics actually have feelings towards the people they decide to have a crush on. Apparently it’s not like, “hmmm should I consider this person for dating? what are the pros and cons here?” Or like, “I want to be really close friends with that person” But it’s like an actual emotional response or something? An emotion that is different from the “I wanna be really close friends” emotion??
also I just figured out that I’m aromantic
#I’m also ace but I already knew that#Shout out to Jaiden Animations#Never would have figured this stuff out this quickly otherwise#asexual#aromantic#aroace#My first “crush” was Carmen San Diego#I was 18yrs old and that “crush” lasted 2 days#Turns out she wasn’t as pretty when she wasn’t wearing her signature outfit#I didn’t actually have a crush on her I just really liked her outfit#I think I just decided that “ya know I should’ve had a crush on someone by now kinda weird that it hasn’t happened yet”#And then I just picked the first pretty girl I saw#She’s animated so I guess that made it less weird than having a crush on a random stranger#But like there were no actual romantic emotions there#Didn’t know that there were supposed to be any but oh well#The whole “I wanna be really close friends with that person” thing really threw me off for a while#Cuz I thought that was what romantic attraction was#But apparently it’s not???#Too confusing we should just get rid of romance#Honestly my idea of the “ideal romantic/queerplatonic relationship” should have tipped me off sooner that I was aro#It was “a close friend who lives in the same house as me but we have separate bedrooms and sometimes we cuddle on the couch but not…#… always and we don’t hold hands or kiss or anything but we just act like really good but close friends because that’s what I think a…#… romantic relationship is two people who are really close friends”#might delete later I dunno just kinda rambling and I’m really tired
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im struggling to be here i cant lie ;_;
#on the one hand yes i should do more#but while i want to do more im plagued by the feeling that everyone dislikes me so theres no point yk?#idk. ive had good experiences here but sometimes i feel like more of a nuisance than anything#especially when i get softed / blocked and especially when its by people i thought i got along with or had stuff in common with :c#idk. im just down because i found some random blog had me blocked and it just makes me feel . bad. like ive done something wrong ykno? and#ik you cant please everyone but i feel like ive lost my novelty idk. i can never shake the feeling that i just dont belong#idk. ill delete this later sorry yall x_x#g: ¦ ❝ ooc. ❞#neg#negative tw#negative cw
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Sometimes the right answer is just a sincere: that sucks, I’m sorry, that sounds hard, I get it I’ve totally felt that way, I hate that you’re feeling that way.
Sometimes the right answer is also just: are you okay? anything I can do? do you wanna talk about it? wish I could do something for you? wish I knew the right thing to say to make you feel better? I hope things get better.
Sometimes Most of the time, people just want to be heard and understood, and you don’t have to understand the why to understand how they feel. You don’t have to lose a dog to comfort someone who did, grief is still grief. You don’t have to understand why getting a like on Instagram makes someone happy, to understand joy and the feeling of being appreciated and admired. The context doesn’t matter, you love that person be happy for the, be happy with them.
Sometimes A lot of the time, the right answer isn’t advice or solutions but just commiseration and validation.
Most of the time, to make someone feel loved it’s as simple as helping them feel understood and unalone.
Don’t complicate it, there are no magical right words, not everything needs a solution sometimes people just need a shoulder to cry on and a tissue to blow their nose into. Sometimes people just wanna bitch and complain and they shouldn’t have to hire a therapist to listen to them and make them feel heard.
#you ever feel like people had the listening skills as you? or they could pretend like you do?#like god just pretend to care to give damn u don’t care lie if you really must…#the amount of people who think I’m their free therapist because I just listen to them is absurd… no I’m not a therapist in a good friend#friends and family should ideally listen to you that is part of the criteria of a good relationship#food for thought#sorry for the randomness I’ll probably delete this later I’m just…#me on the menu#(these examples are not specific for any reason lol genuinely)
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"fuck you, my child is completely fine!"
you child doesn't use exclamation marks in texts because deep down they think they'd be taking up too much space.
#what do i even tag this as#don't worry i *am* fine lol#just a random thought i had#brain things#posts where i say i'll delete them later but i never actually do
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fascinating how it seems you can trans every character and its great but if you see naoto as trans you're wrong
#my ramblings#delete later#p4 fans confuse me and the persona fandom scares me too much to interact with it#like naoto ain't cis to me and never will be#just a random thought i had don't read too much into it
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officially i think i dont like analogue horror anymore. nothing coming out recently is in any way interesting or fun to watch, aside from recap videos to listen to absentmindedly
#ugh idk man#i love twf and petscop and even fnaf vhs series from he who shall not be named#and other random obscure series here and there#but ever since like mandela catalogue nothing has come out of analogue horror that has me genuinely interested#i tried to get into chezz//kids and absolutely hated it#ive watched recap/theory videos on the backrooms and vitacarnis but the only impact they really had was-#-that they're nice background noise to cook to lol#just watched one about the tangi virus and oracle project that i thought was good UNTIL THE BLATANT ANTISEMITISM#like its not even subtle its straight up ''lizard ppl disguised as humans controlling the gov and media'' 😐 yeah maybe not#horrible. i was liking the tangi virus specifically but the total mask off antisemitism is disgusting#all from the same person who made children under the house which i thpught was okay but now i dont want to watch it-#-on my own time knowing the creator based one of their series on antisemitic conspiracy theories#vintage 8 or smth like that idk#someone pls pls pls redefine the analogue horror genre im begging you this shit sucks rn#delete later maybe idk
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Ignore
#delete later#as awful as the past couple of weeks have been in terms of intrusive thoughts and random waves of panic and intense emotions and#blankness. there have also been random patches that have been. okay. and that is how i know my medication is working#bc the times ive been like this and not medicated? there has been no reprieve#like although i feel. awful and useless and am internalising my work failures in a non helpful way that im trying to fight#i am having moments of#hey we're okay. they raised an issue in a way that was gentle bc youre a good employee usually. and honestly although you#feel terrible for fucking up. someone you care about very much died a month ago. you have been experiencing a mental health#almost crisis (i refuse to call it a full crisis bc im not self destructing really badly) and quite frankly the fact that you're functioning#at all is. pretty decent. youre trying. i am of course having moments where im convinced that they hate me and want to fire me immediately#but that has no evidence. and the fact that i know it has no evidence is a pretty insane piece of progress#shout out to my therapist from two courses ago who drilled the moral shit into my head.#she genuinly helped me a lot with this.#also was really really hoping for the usual christmas bonus this year bc my finances are tighter than usual but the company had a#lean year so no bonuses for anyone. so dont have the leeway to try out sliding scale therapy for a while. but it is what it is.#this will pass. its just been a rough four months and i havent had a break. ive also been waiting fir thr other shoe to drop at work#and it finally has so i can at least stop torturing myself over maybes. im getting my meds. i can refer myself to nhs depression#therapy. which will be mostly useless and the same as it always is but it tends to help me feel like im trying to progress which is still#helpful in some small way. it will be what it will be. one day at a time and all that jazz#this is also how these things go for me. i lose it slowly over a month or so. have a horrific couple weeks until a day of a genuine#full breakdown. i survive that day and the day after and then slowly start clawing myself up again. ive just had a few breakdown#days this time. what can ya do. is what it is. im sure I'll have another breakdown soon as i can tell im not done crying#and will almost certainly have a breakdown at my parents bc i am not good at hiding the dead eyed look and mum will#definitely clock im being weirder than usual with food and touching things. so there'll be a#anyway nevermind. ill do what i must
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bro, i just felt a weird sensation in my lip and then realised my bar was loose and the stud had fallen on the carpet 😳 new fear unlocked
#this is random and boring but like#i've never had my lip bar come undone before#i've had this thing for 6 years#anyway thank fuck i found the stud it's so tiny#just had a tiny panic attack over it tho.. thought i was gonna accidentally swallow the bar 😂#delete later#courtney rambles
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#random#personal#vent#will prob delete this later#drawing this out because i don't know how else to deal with it#uh#went to a lot of events this month#and i brought some of my crocheting things#because if i'm not volunteering i might as well have something to do while listening to speeches#usually i bring books but my fam prefers i don't do that#but anyways we were getting ready to leave one a few days back and#a bunch of random people came up to me and started asking what i was making and how long it took and stuff#and they were going all wow mashallah you ave such talent shaturah and all that#which i thought was a bit odd but i assumed they were just curious#but when we left my fam told me they had been looking at me funny throughout the whole event#and uh#yeah#i'm pretty good at parsing out social meanings and things i think but#sometimes it feels like people are saying something over my head#and i can figure out when they are#but i can't figure out what it means#this typically happens at school cuz some of my peers don't like me very much but#i don't know if this is accurate or if i'm just paranoid?#i don't know it's a bit of a mess#doesn't help that my fam preaches about hasad all the time#it's probably no big deal#but i did end up finishing the goose and it turned out pretty good if i do say so myself#anyhow#we’re posting this cuz I can’t access my computer and it’s saved in my drafts so uh
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Question for those with traumas/PTSD, does that grief over wondering who you'd be if *that* hasn't happened ever gets easier?
#I'll most probably delete this later#this is just my brain at 1am#sometimes#literally at random moments#I get hit in the face with those thoughts and the memories#and I always wonder if it ever changes#I know it won't go away#this is just like the other type of grief#but I've lost people before#in 2020 more than 1 and it was in a short period of time#didn't even had time to process the first#but yeah I've understood how that one works#never goes away but as time passes out gets a little easier to deal with#but the grief over not knowing who I'd be without my trauma hasn't changed at all#so... yeah#there's also the fact I haven't properly processed it yet#it's been many years but I only started the process of processing it years later in therapy and#then I lost therapy and couldn't keep doing that#thinking about it by choice became unbearable#trauma#PTSD
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I wonder: How would hsr boys react to someone trying to take pics up ur skirt? This is an unhinged thought that I’ve thought to long, please cure this weird thinking.
Characters: Avneturine, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill
Aventurine
When Aventurine caught sight of a creepy man attempting to take inappropriate photos under your skirt while you were dress shopping for clothes, he was appalled and disgusted.
“Check this green dress out. It’s like the color of an aventurine. I think it would look dashing on you” He threw in a little wink with his words, while deliberately trying to divert your attention away from the unsettling situation.
With a reassuring smile he added, “this one's on me, spend freely.” He presented you with the beautiful dress on a hanger, while planning on taking you to the evening ball hosted by the IPC for the executives.
Oh but he makes sure in the background he discreetly makes sure to contact someone from the IPC technology department to delete every piece of data, wiping everything off that creepy man’s phone. He also arranged a few of his IPC bodyguards, instructing them to follow that man so he can deal with him ‘personally’ later.
Jing Yuan
(Husband♡) Jing Yuan is a gentleman. He doesn’t want to concern you with these, wanting to save you the embarrassment and tainting your mind of peace. What truly astonishes him is the fact one of his very own staff members working at the Seat of Divine Foresight is involved in such despicable behavior. Towards his lover too!
“Ahem ahem,” he clears her throat, catching your attention. “Love, could you spare a moment and help me sort out these files?”
As you approach him he slickly wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into his embrace. He just can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in such a vulnerable way. Anyone that’s not him :( he loves his darling too much for anyone to be ogling at you.
Without any sort of explanation he sat you down on his chair and covered your lap in a blanket. You’re confused and puzzled by his random action but he’s fuming in anger under his facade smile.
He’s determined to address this issue in the most “legal” way possible. If he could.
Bladie!!!
He would either glare intensely at the point to the point the creepy man would delete the picture out of sheer intimidation. Orrrrr, Blade might just go over and greet them with his sword. As simple as that 🤷♀️
His glare alone is a death sentence, especially when he’s protecting his beloved. He loves you very much; just has a hard time expressing it!
Sunday
How could anyone commit such sinful and absurd acts, escapilly towards his beloved! He frowns upon any lewd or disrespectful behavior. Sunday would be absolutely speechless and consumed by fuming rage and disgust, staring at your offender.
Regaining his composer, he approaches you with a mask smile hiding the intense emotions he felt, “Just a moment,” he says, glancing at you. “We mustn’t be late for our outing my dear,” He extends one hand out for your hand. Despite his calm demeanor, his other hand clenched tightly behind his back.
He averts his gaze directed towards the man behind you. “Please report to the BloodHound they will like to meet with you,” he says, his voice with strained restraints.
Sunday hurriedly leads you away. Although Sunday may be a forgiving priest he had limits which that man crossed. He;s immensely disappointed that something like this would occur in Penacony’s dreamscape where everyone is supposed to be and feel relaxed in the hands of The Family. And he’s more upset it occurred to his beloved.
Boothill
he will confront and make a scene cause you're his darling.
Boothill wants to spit out the most profound language but his system won't let him. seeing a man taking pictures of his darling? Fudge no! unacceptable!
"Muddle Fuger, what are you doing?" he tries cussing out the creepy man startling the man with their phone under your skirt.
"Son of a nice lady! What the heck are you doing to my girl?!" He makes a big scene, causing the man to panic because everyone turns their attention to this scene.
he's ready to whip out his revolver and protect his darling. Maybe after this he would take off his hat and put it behind your bum to cover you up as you two walk back from the embarrassing situation.
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I finally finished exams! blah blah blah. I'm bored af summer and I've been play wuwa! I love PGR Roland so I played cause it's from Kuro games. And omg Geshu Lin!!! He looks like Jing Yuan thats why I like him.
Avneturine Rant: Also I can't help this but I'm becoming obssed with Avneturine. I showed my friend an edit of him. she said he's so fine cause she like white blonde men. I'm starting to fall so inlove with him now! Same level of love with Jing Yuan. I can't Aveneturine is too charming. Didn't like him much at first but god his backstory and that mini anaimation how could I be so Blind! Same situtaion with Jing Yuan.
Also gonna update now
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#jing yuan#hsr jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#yandere jing yuan#hsr sunday#hsr sunday x reader#hsr blade#boothill#hsr boothill#boothill hsr#honkai star rail boothill#boothill x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr aventurine#hsr aventurine x reader#aventurine x reader
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"Oops" | Eddie Munson
pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader
summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.
warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie
word count: 3.4k
Part 2
a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3
*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******
Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.
What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.
His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.
And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.
You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.
Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.
‘SHIT!’
‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’
‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’
‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’
‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’
You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.
‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’
You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.
Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?
Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.
“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”
“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.
“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.
“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.
“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”
“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.
“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.
“Try. Me.” You challenge back.
Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”
You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.
“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.
“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.
Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.
You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.
You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.
The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.
The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.
---
You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.
Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.
The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.
“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.
“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”
Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”
“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.
“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.
“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.
You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”
“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”
“You mean for you?”
“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”
“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.
“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.
“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”
Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”
I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.
---
Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.
He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.
Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.
“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.
“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.
“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”
Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.
“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.
You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”
“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.
“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.
Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.
You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.
You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.
His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.
Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.
Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.
The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.
Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.
“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.
“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”
“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”
You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.
“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”
“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.
He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.
Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.
Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.
“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.
Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.
Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.
You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.
He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.
“Eddie?”
“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.
“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”
“I know,” You giggle.
“Brat,” He mumbles back.
“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.
How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.
But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.
Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis
#eddie stranger things#munson#eddie munson#eddie my love#eddie my beloved#female reader#oneshot#smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#stranger things season 4#eddie x reader
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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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scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. scara being drunk and in love. drunk voicemails. soft scara. college au
i have aventurine smut planned, but i have wanted to write something like this for a long time. the lyrics are from somewhere only we know by keane.
scaramouche had plans to go out last night. but you didn't feel well, so you told him to go out with xiao without you. to have fun and not drink too much. he protested at first, saying "what kind of a man leaves his woman to go out when she is sick?" complete with trademark huff, and crossed arms.
scaramouche hates being without you. really, really hates it.
the next morning, feeling much better, you rolled over and grabbed your phone to check the time. you discovered you had several voicemails. you'd been so deep asleep that you didn't hear the phone ring.
they were all from scaramouche.
"fuck, you'd better be asleep, kitten," came scaramouche's very slurred voice, "i really hate the song playing. i wish you were here so my ears aren't bleeding alone. i don't know why xiao fucking loves this song. it's stupid pop crap. i miss you. fuck, i am so in love with you. you should feel my heart. it goes skip, skip when i think about you. it's kind of annoying--" end of voicemail.
he must've hit the recording limit.
"hey kitten, listen, it's a song you like. more pop crap, but the piano is kind of clutch, not gonna lie," you heard shuffling for a moment, he must've been taking his phone from his ear and holding it out so you could hear the song. after a few moments of hearing shrilled music, he must've put the phone back to his ear. "fuck what's it called again?" you heard some drunk sounding humming before the voicemail stopped.
smiling, you went onto the third voicemail. you heard somewhere only we know by keane come through the speaker again. only this time, you heard scaramouche's slurred voice singing the song to you. "i felt the earth beneath my feet. sat by the river and it made me complete. you make me feel complete."
scaramouche stumbled and hummed adorably to the part of the song he didn't know. your smile widened. "oh simppllee thing, where have you gone..yeah, kitten where are you? i miss you. i'll be he medicine that makes you feel better. fuck how does this song go?" the voicemail ended.
the fourth one immediately started with scaramouche singing, more slurred than before. you found out later from xiao that he'd fed the jukebox at the bar with 5 bucks to play somewhere only we know over and over so he could call you back to sing the parts of the song he wanted to sing to you.
"i'm getting old and i need something to rely onnnnnn. fuck hold on, i wanted to sing this part to you first..no, did you hear the made me feel complete part? you make me feel complete," you heard drinking noises and a heavy sigh.
"dude, scara, she is probably sleeping. you are going to wake her up," xiao's voice interrupted.
"fuck off, you shithead! i'm serenading my kitten! go put another dollar in the jukebox, i'm not done, she needs to hear this!" the voicemail ended.
the last voicemail started with him humming somewhere only we know. "i need something to rellyy on." at this point, he was just singing random lyrics. "wait, hold on..made me feel complete. something to rely on..xiao! xiao! these fucking lyrics, these fuckers really wrote this whole song for her," there was some shuffling noises. "xiao, we gotta go fucking kill keane!"
he was deadass convinced the band was in love with you and wrote the song for you so they could steal you away from him.
later that day, you played the voicemails for scaramouche. 'oh my god..i got so drunk last night" he said, dismayed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.
"what? i thought the voicemails were sweet," you said, grinning at him. you gave him a quick kiss on his lips. "i'm keeping them." you had to say that before he asked you to delete them.
he sighed. "fine. keep them. not another soul hears them," he hissed. he was incapable of saying no to you.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#genshin imagines#modern au#genshin fluff#scarammouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n#soft scara
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am i the asshole? (most likely, yes)
a series where either you or the member does something morally wrong for an unjustified reason. all seven stories are in its own universe so they are not connected in any way. the order of the fics being published are random, not in age order. this may or may not take awhile.
mark - aita for immediately going to comfort my best friend's ex after they broke up so we could link up?
Since the very first time mark saw you, he knew he had to have you. The only problem was that you were introduced as Johnny’s girlfriend to him. Which is why when johnny texted him that the relationship was over, he immediately sprinted to your apartment so he could play the good guy who’s lending a shoulder to lean on while you cried your eyes out. He had it all planned out.
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renjun - aita for being possessive about my childhood best friend’s virginity?
It has been awhile since you last met Renjun. Perhaps your last encounter was right after graduation. You recently came back to your old neighborhood, having drinks with your favorite childhood best friend. And it slipped out of you that you had never had sex, despite a whole semester in college. Renjun took that as an invitation. Afterall, you experienced every one of your firsts with Renjun.
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jeno - aita for seducing my step brother because i got jealous that he got a girlfriend?
It’s been a year since your parents got married and you were officially Lee Jeno’s step sister. Despite living under the same roof, you never really seriously connected with him and it’s all because of your huge crush on him. You didn’t want Jeno to see you as a family member, so you kept your distance. Until he brought home a girl and something inside you just burns at the thought of him sleeping with her.
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haechan - aita for fucking my girlfriend while my webcam was still on so my friends could watch?
Haechan always showed you off to his friends and you didn’t mind it at all. You find it hot anyway. What you didn’t know was the fact that he also always showed your body off to them too. All the times you had recorded your sexy times, all went into Haechan’s friends’ folders.
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jaemin - aita for only agreeing to be friends with benefits with him so i could play with his cats?
You partnered up with Jaemin by chance, not knowing that he was a father to three adorable cats. And to say that you’re a cat person was an understatement. Since then, you always came over to Jaemin’s apartment which resulted in you being under him at some point. If you were saying frankly, you didn’t give a fuck about the sex. All you think about everytime you were there were luna, lucy and luke.
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chenle - aita for hooking up with a random man i met at the club while i was in a fight with my boyfriend?
Your boyfriend always told you that he hated girls at the club, saying that they were easier than prostitutes and such. Which drove you to the decision to go to a club after your hundredth fight with him, just to provoke him. It was never your intention to be in another man’s arms that night.
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jisung - aita for not deleting the nudes that my best friend accidentally sent me?
Jisung knew about your situationship that’s been going on for about five months. He doesn’t know the details, though. Truth be told, it’s embarrassing to admit to him that your situationship barely ever pays attention to you lately. So you decided to take it up a notch by sending him nudes. Which then you only realized 20 minutes later that you sent it to Jisung by mistake.
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#nct dream smut#haechan smut#donghyuck smut#park jisung smut#chenle smut#jaemin smut#jeno smut#mark lee smut#renjun smut#pinky's aita series#nct smut
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