#I’m dying of laughter and chaos

[st4r-t3ars]

Fox Kits - a contraband corrie card game

(shh don’t tell the commanders)

[mixingandmelting]

Inconspicuous Relationship

Summary: Everyone in the family thinks the two of you hadn’t tied the knot and keeps playing matchmaker. He, being the troll he is, decides to roll with it

He told you it was going to be fine. To leave it to him; his plan was going to be flawless. Flawless his ass. You’re dying from second-hand embarrassment and Jason’s not helping with that shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You know, Gotham Park is apparently considered one of the prettiest in the city during all four seasons.” Steph starts, sending you a look across the dinner table. “Wouldn’t it be so romantic to go there, especially for a first date?”

You beg to the higher beings that your cringe isn’t visible in your smile as you hummed in agreement. You’ve been enduring this since the beginning of the family dinner where the siblings kept dropping obvious hints for the two of you to get the ship sailing. And Jason being Jason, went along with it all the while ignoring the secret glares you give him. For Pete’s sake, he was even playing footsies under the table!  

“Didn’t you say you had a plan?” You hiss under your breath as Tim and Dick, surprisingly, voice out in agreement how Gotham Park was the last place to go on a date, their expressions speaking for the horrors they’ve seen there. 

“Yeah? Why? You don’t like how my plan’s going so far?” You scowl, kicking his foot away when he prod your foot again with his. He gives you a cheeky smirk in response. 

Checking and seeing Steph getting into a squabble with the other over the apparent controversial site, you lean closer towards him. 

“You call this a plan?”

“If not, then what is it?” He chugs the water in his glass, waving a hand towards them. “Besides, over half of them are grown ups. They’ll get it one way or another.”

If you’re not dying from embarrassment, you’re dying from stress. It’s clear as day that he’s in it for the chaos while you’re simply wanting to rip the bandage and get this over. Just when you’re about to snap at him, you catch Damian staring at both of you across the table. Quickly, you compose yourself, the same smile you had on for Steph now directed at the fourteen year-old.

“What’s wrong Damian? Need something?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, his gaze blank and revealing nothing. You can feel sweat accumulate in your hands, the urge to swat at the man beside you getting stronger at the coughs he lets out that’s meant to cover his laughter. 

“I simply don’t get it.” The teen then takes a bite of his steak and thoughtfully chews on it. “Why can’t Jason simply ask you out for a date when he’s completely smothered for you?” 

Cue the room going completely  dead silent. Well, sans Duke pounding his chest from choking on his food. You would’ve, at least, chuckle at had it not been for you steaming up. 

“D-Damian? Damian buddy?” Dick calls out from his seat, his voice slightly pitched. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t be the only one that’s getting tired of them beating around the bush, Richard. I’m simply spelling it out, that’s all.”

“Damian-“

“No, Damian’s right.” All eyes set on Jason, who puts the silverware down and leans back on his chair. “It’s not like I’ve been really meaning to hide it anyways so,” he turns toward you, “what do you think of Saturday, 1:00 PM at your favorite place you like going to?” 

…You can’t do this. This man and his theatrics; you wanted to scream how he had already asked about it last week. Tell them they’re getting scammed,  it’s not even the first date-! 

But Damian’s words keep echoing in your mind and the fact Jason knows that you know that it’s true is messing with you so badly. It prevents you from trying to calm everyone down, the family up and arms at the “horrible” confession Jason gave as he merely shrugs and asks what else he was supposed to do.  You further baffle them when you muster a nod, your hands still covering your very much burning face. 

Later on, when Bruce comes back from the supposed emergency phone call, he pulls you and Jason to the side. It was one thing to hear Bruce Wayne giving his approval and blessing (for some reason) for you two’s relationship. It was another when finding out this whole thing was indeed staged by both Jason AND Bruce to get back at the rest of the family for a prank that occurred last week during a joint mission as the older man asked the younger if everything went accordingly. 

You decide to give Jason a piece of your mind once the two of you got home which led to him to follow you around and ask you to reconsider calling him by his full name for the rest of the week.

[calypso-rt]

When Rafe Realizes...

He’s Falling for You

-> Rafe x F!Reader

-> Pt. 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light over the backyard as Rafe leaned back in his chair, the legs precariously balanced on the uneven patio bricks.

You were sitting beside him, scrolling on your phone, the occasional sound of your laughter breaking through the hum of cicadas.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but lately, he found himself watching you more than he should...at least more than someone who was supposedly "just friends" should.

He told himself it was harmless. You were easy to look at, after all, with your beautiful hair catching the light and your lips quirking into tiny smirks when you read something funny.

"Rafe," you said, your voice cutting through his daydream. You barely look up, your attention still on your screen. "Your hair is doing that weird thing again."

"My hair doesn’t do a weird thing," he shot back defensively, running a hand through it out of instinct.

You snorted, finally glancing up at him. "It absolutely does. Hold still."

Before he could protest, you leaned in, your fingers brushing against his forehead as you flattened a rogue piece that had sprung up, defying gravity. The touch was brief, just the lightest pressure of your hand smoothing over his hair, but Rafe felt his entire body tense like he’d just been electrocuted.

"There," you said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. "Now you look less like a mad scientist."

"I didn’t look like a mad scientist," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

"You kinda did," you teased, your focus already back on your phone.

Rafe leaned back again, a smug retort dying on his tongue as he felt the ghost of your touch still lingering. It wasn’t like you’d done anything grand. Just fixed his hair.

People did that kind of stuff all the time, right?

Except… no one else did it to him. And certainly not like that. There was something so natural about the way you’d reached over, like it was second nature, like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to touch him.

And now he was stuck, hyperaware of how the air still smelled faintly of your sunscreen from when you’d leaned in.

How the air between you had felt charged, even though you’d gone back to scrolling like it was nothing.

He shifted in his seat, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. How could something so insignificant make him feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs?

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you laugh softly at something on your phone, oblivious to his internal crisis. He swallowed hard, his chair tipping back a little further as he tried to refocus.

How does something so insignificant feel so important?

"Careful," you warned without looking up. "Fall off that chair and I’m not driving you to the ER."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

You had no idea, did you?

No idea that one absent-minded touch had just tipped his entire world off balance.

"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, finally steadying himself.

You gave him a fleeting smile, one he tried to memorize. Because somewhere in the chaos of his overthinking, Rafe Cameron was beginning to realize something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

He was falling for you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Rafe leaned against the counter of the grocery store, pretending to scroll on his phone while you wandered the aisles. He hadn’t even wanted to stop here, but you’d insisted on grabbing snacks before heading to the beach.

"What’s the big deal? It’s just food," he’d grumbled earlier, but you’d only rolled your eyes and dragged him along anyway.

Now he was waiting impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds. “You done yet?” he called out.

“Almost!” you yelled back. “I’m looking for something specific.”

He sighed dramatically. “We’re going to miss the sunset at this rate.”

When you finally rounded the corner, a triumphant grin on your face, you were holding a bag of… lemon pepper sunflower seeds?

“What’s that for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked at him, clearly unimpressed. “For you, obviously.”

Rafe stared at the bag, then back at you. “What?”

“You told me a few weeks ago you used to eat these all the time when you were a kid. Remember? You said your dad used to bring them home after his fishing trips.”

For a moment, he was silent, caught completely off guard.

He had mentioned that, hadn’t he?

Some random memory he’d thrown out one evening, barely thinking about it. It wasn’t even important. Just some passing detail about his childhood.

But here you were, holding a bag of sunflower seeds like it was the most normal thing in the world to remember something so small.

“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Didn’t think I’d what? Listen to you?” you teased, tossing the bag into the basket.

“Well… yeah,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I always listen, Rafe. You just don’t talk enough for me to prove it.”

There was a lightness to your tone, but the words hit him harder than he expected. You listened to him. Actually listened. To the stuff no one else cared about, the random memories he’d barely even registered himself.

“Sheesh,” you said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “If I’d known this would blow your mind, I would’ve grabbed these for you weeks ago.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but he was smiling now, following you toward the register.

As you paid, chatting casually with the cashier, Rafe kept glancing at the bag of sunflower seeds in your basket. Something so simple, but it made him feel… seen. Like you actually cared about the parts of him that most people ignored.

Walking out of the store, he finally nudged your shoulder. “Thanks. For, uh, remembering that.”

“Of course,” you said, flashing him a grin. “Just don’t eat them all at once. I’m not buying more if you get another craving later.”

He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside you. Inside, though, his chest felt warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

She actually listens to me, he thought, stealing a glance at you as you debated what playlist to put on in the car. How is she so thoughtful?

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slid into place. He was falling for you, headfirst and helplessly, and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like a drumline gone rogue. Your car sat lifeless on the shoulder of a backroad, hazards blinking uselessly in the downpour.

You’d tried everything.

Turning the key again and again, Googling quick fixes, even giving the steering wheel a good, frustrated whack.

Nothing worked.

Which is how you ended up sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from your earlier attempt to check under the hood, dialing a number you swore you wouldn’t use unless it was an absolute emergency.

“Rafe?” you said when he picked up, voice sheepish.

He immediately picked up on the edge in your tone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing,” you rushed to say, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “My car broke down, and it’s pouring, and I’m kind of stuck on the side of the road. I just… I didn’t know who else to call or...or what to do...”

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the rain hammering against your windshield and the faint noise of his car’s radio in the background.

“Where are you?” he said, tone clipped and serious.

You gave him the location, muttering something about how you didn’t want to bother him if he was busy, but he cut you off.

“Stay put. Lock your doors. I’ll be there in ten.”

True to his word, Rafe’s truck pulled up exactly ten minutes later, tires skidding slightly as he parked in front of your car. You barely had time to roll down your window before he was at your door, an umbrella in one hand and an intense look in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to peer inside.

“Yeah, just a little damp,” you joked, gesturing to your soggy clothes.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he opened your door and handed you the umbrella before crouching to look under your hood himself.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you said, feeling a little guilty as you watched him fiddle with something. “I could’ve called a tow truck.”

“Yeah, and waited an hour for them to show up while sitting out here alone?” he shot back, not even looking up. “Not a chance.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.

“Rafe, I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine,” he interrupted, standing up straight and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Your car’s dead, you’re soaking wet, and it’s pitch black out here. What if someone stopped by who wasn’t me, huh?”

The thought made your stomach flip, but you tried to shake it off. “I had my doors locked.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

You stared at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic panic. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I care about you!” he snapped before freezing, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You… care about me?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I care, okay? I don’t like the thought of you being stuck out here alone in the middle of nowhere. It freaks me out.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The Rafe you knew was cocky and confident, never flustered or vulnerable like this. Seeing him so visibly shaken made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Well,” you said softly, “thanks for coming to my rescue.”

He finally looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. “Always.”

You smiled, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield him from the rain. “Guess you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t let that get around.”

As he helped you into his truck, soaking wet and dripping water all over his leather seats, he couldn’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

You shivered, hugging your arms to your chest in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.

Rafe’s eyes softened for a split second before he quickly reached for the spare jacket in the back seat, tossing it to you. “Here,” he muttered. “Put this on before you freeze to death.”

You gave him a grateful, but shaky, smile, slipping the jacket on. “Thanks, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond, but you caught the way he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. The warmth of his jacket, the concern in his eyes, it was enough to make the cold rain outside feel like nothing.

She called me. Out of everyone, she called me.

And that’s when it hit him, hard and fast like a tidal wave. He wasn’t just smitten. He was utterly and completely gone for you.

Rafe sat back in his chair, his gaze lazily sweeping over the busy café. He had his usual coffee in front of him: black, no sugar, no cream.

Just the way he liked it.

It was a Saturday morning, and the place was a bit quieter than usual, with only a handful of people scattered at tables around him. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup as his mind wandered.

He was halfway through a text to a friend when he noticed something that made him stop mid-typing.

You had slid to sit across from him, sipping on your own cup of coffee. When you lowered it, you caught his eye and gave a small smile.

"Coffee’s perfect today," you commented, stirring it absentmindedly.

Rafe blinked, then stared at your cup for a second. It was identical to his: black, no sugar, no cream.

"You—" he started, his voice trailing off in confusion. You hadn’t ordered the same thing, had you? No, you always chose the caramel latte, but you had started transitioning to more bitter coffee...

His eyebrows furrowed, watching you take another sip.

"What?" you asked, noticing his stare.

"Why’d you..." Rafe caught himself. "Never mind."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. You’d been unconsciously drinking your coffee just the way he did. Had you even noticed?

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze not leaving you. You’d also been humming that same song he had been listening to on repeat all week. An old track by some band he'd introduced you to, one that had been stuck in his head for days.

When you softly hummed the chorus as you fidgeted with your phone, he couldn’t help but grin.

"You always hum that?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

You stopped and blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize it was the same one we were playing the other day, though."

He sat forward slightly, his eyes searching your face for a moment, trying to figure out if you were joking, but there was something in the way you said it that made it clear: you weren’t aware of the little things.

How, over the past few weeks, your habits had begun to align with his.

And in that moment, Rafe felt a quiet thrill spread through him. You were becoming his person without even trying. Without even realizing it.

He leaned back, smiling to himself, then took a sip of his coffee. “Guess we’ve got the same taste,” he said with a half smirk, watching you carefully for your reaction.

You looked at him and shrugged again, clearly clueless about what had just happened.

"Guess so," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

Rafe’s heart gave a small, almost imperceptible flutter.

You weren’t his yet. Not officially, at least. But in this small, unspoken moment, he was already beginning to feel like you were.

You had spent hours upon hours, which felt like minutes, talking, joking around, and watching ridiculous movies with stupid plots, chowing down on various snacks.

The door had clicked shut behind you with the usual soft thud, and now that you were gone, he couldn’t help but feel that sharp pang of longing in his chest. It was like someone had tugged at something deep inside him, pulling a part of himself along with you as you left.

Rafe’s lips pressed together, and his gaze drifted to the spot on the couch where you had just been sitting.

When did she start taking up so much space in my life?

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true it was. Every time you were around, everything felt just a little more... right.

Even the way the silence between the two of you felt more like a conversation than an awkward pause.

With a groan, he grabbed his phone, half-wishing he could text you to come back, but he knew that was ridiculous. You’d left, and it was just the way things were.

Still, as he sat there in the quiet, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten so used to your presence in his life.

And how much he already missed it.

Pt 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.

[astro-stars]

leaked nicknames

When Yuu's list of nicknames and their supposed reasonings gets leaked, NRC erupts into chaos. Some are flattered, others are confused, and a handful are completely mortified. Meanwhile, the Magicam audience is eating this up, dubbing it one of Yuu’s most iconic moments to date.

Immediate Reactions Across NRC

Magicam Frenzy

Cater posts: “YUU REALLY CALLED RIDDLE ‘BBG’ AND MALLEUS ‘NIGHT HUSBAND.’ 💀🔥 #NicknameGate #YuuNeverMisses”

Comments are out of control:

“TSUNOTARO IS REAL AND WE HAVE PROOF.”

“She really called Azul ‘love’ while Floyd gets a literal eel translation. I’M CRYING.”

“‘Peepaw’ for Lilia is SENDING ME.”

Dorm-Specific Reactions

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

Blushing furiously. “BBG?! Yuu! That is… highly inappropriate! Please refrain from calling me such embarrassing things!”

Trey Clover:

Laughs nervously. “Malewife, huh? I… I guess I’ll take it as a compliment?”

Ace Trappola:

DYING WITH LAUGHTER. “THE BRAIN CELL DUO?! I’M GONNA TELL EVERYONE YOU SAID THAT!”

Deuce Spade:

Stammering, completely flustered. “W-Wait, we’re the brain cell duo? Is that… a good thing?”

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

Raises an eyebrow, smirking. “teta, huh? I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Laughing so hard he’s clutching his sides. “Mono? Cute?! Yuu, you really think I’m cute?! This is GOLD!”

Jack Howl:

Blushing furiously, his ears twitching. “Wolfie… I don’t mind it, but… did you have to make it public?”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

Adjusts his glasses, his face flushed. “Amor? Really, Yuu? That’s… quite bold of you.”

Jade Leech:

Smirks, clearly entertained. “Ah, Anguila. Such a fitting name. I’ll make sure Floyd appreciates it as well.”

Floyd Leech:

Laughing uncontrollably. “SHRIMPY, YOU CALLED ME AN EEL?! THAT’S SO BORING! GIVE ME A COOLER NICKNAME!”

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

Beaming. “Sunshine! That’s so sweet, Yuu! You’re like sunshine too!”

Jamil Viper:

Groans, covering his face. “Pretty boy? Really? Couldn’t you have chosen something less… embarrassing?”

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

Nods approvingly. “Ma reine. At least someone recognizes true royalty around here.”

Epel Felmier:

Snickering. “You gave Rook ‘mon chasseur,’ but what about me, huh?! I deserve a nickname too!”

Rook Hunt:

“Ah, mon cher Yuu! Your acknowledgment of my hunting prowess is magnifique! You flatter me greatly!”

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

MORTIFIED. “Sámi?! Yuu! You can’t just… call me that! It’s way too accurate!”

Ortho Shroud:

Beaming. “My son! Yuu, that’s so sweet! I’ll always be your baby!”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

Smiling softly. “Tsunotaro and night husband. I am honored by your affectionate names, Yuu.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Laughing hysterically. “Peepaw?! Yuu, I feel so ancient now! But it’s hilarious, so I’ll allow it!”

Silver:

Blinks slowly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Pretty princess… I don’t understand, but if it makes you happy, Yuu.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

YELLING. “COCODRILO?! HOW DARE YOU COMPARE ME TO SUCH A CREATURE?! I AM FAR SUPERIOR!”

The Fallout

Fans on Magicam are spiraling:

“Yuu’s nicknames are both chaotic and wholesome. ICONIC.”

“Night husband and peepaw in the same list? Yuu’s range is unparalleled.”

Memes flood in, with captions like:

*“Yuu: ‘Mono means cute.’ Ruggie: ‘I AM LIVING FOR THIS.’”

“Trey: ‘Malewife.’ Azul: ‘Amor.’ The duality of Yuu’s nicknames.”

i wanted to try smth different:)

DIVIDER: @/enchanthings-a

TAGLIST: @lunasmisosoup @soramcduckahyucky

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Villain System vs World - Riddle Rosehearts x reader

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

i had so much fun writing this, i hope you like it just as much!

Series Masterlist

You’ve had a week. Not just any week—a rough week. Work has been an absolute dumpster fire, deadlines have been chasing you like a pack of rabid wolves, and your responsibilities are piling up like a game of Jenga about to collapse. If someone were to ask how you’re doing, you’d just laugh maniacally and hope they’d back away slowly.

So, when you finally make it home, the first thing you do is collapse face-first onto your couch with all the grace of a dead fish. After a moment of just lying there, contemplating whether adulthood is some kind of elaborate prank, you do the one thing that always makes you feel better: grab your phone and open up your webnovel app.

You scroll through your favorites—ah yes, the classics. Trashy, absurd, villainess webnovels that are objectively terrible but subjectively amazing. You’re talking about the ones with titles like “I’m the Evil Duke’s Twisted Ex-Fiancée, But He Loves Me Now Because I Have Plot Armor!” or “My Death Flags Mean Nothing Because I Can Charm My Way Out of Everything (And Also, Dragons)”.

It’s like junk food for your brain. You know it’s not good for you. You know there are objectively better stories out there. But the drama, the ridiculous misunderstandings, the sheer stupidity of every character decision—it’s beautiful. It’s a hot mess, and you are the fly drawn to it.

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

You don’t know if it’s because your standards are already on the floor and this one somehow dug under it, or if the exhaustion has finally gotten to you, but it’s bad.

The story is all over the place. The villainess is cartoonishly cruel, like she wakes up in the morning and thinks, “What heinous thing can I do today?” But sometimes, you swear she doesn’t even want to be that way. It’s like the author just decided, “Villainess = bad,” and put their brain to bed.

The plot? Oh, it’s a mess. The villainess and heroine are sisters—the real daughter of a Duke and the adopted, sweet angel who gets all the Duke’s affection. Naturally, they both fall for the same guy: Riddle Rosehearts, some prodigy with a complex about rules, order, and justice. Of course, the Duke arranges for his precious adopted daughter to marry Riddle, and the villainess? She flips out, does a bunch of cruel things (of course), and eventually gets herself killed in a totally overdramatic fashion.

Okay, typical villainess plot so far. Nothing new there.

But the worst part? The treatment of poor Riddle. It’s like he’s just a toy to be fought over. The sisters practically claim ownership of him like he’s a fancy handbag. Then, once the villainess is conveniently eliminated, the author gives Riddle this tragic backstory. Harsh childhood, crazy controlling mom—you know, the works. You brace yourself for the resolution, for him to rise above his traumaand find happiness.

Nope. His trauma is treated like a joke. Nothing gets resolved. He’s just stuck in this gilded cage, with the heroine taking over as the new warden. And somehow, that’s supposed to be the happy ending?

It’s horrible. It’s nonsensical. It’s everything you could want right now.

You should stop. You know you should stop. But the sheer absurdity of it has you in its grasp.

And you don't even want to think about the love decagon. Yes, decagon. There are 9 men dying over this heroine who has the personality of rusty spoon.

You snort, your laughter echoing through your empty apartment. It’s awful. It’s brain-rotting, cringe-inducing garbage.

You love it.

The plot is hanging on by a thread, and yet, there you are, fully committed. You don’t need quality writing, deep themes, or even consistent character motivations. What you need is to watch this trainwreck unfold until the bitter end, and you’ll be damned if you don’t see it through.

But that’s when the universe decides to kick you in the teeth. In a sequence of events so absurd you couldn’t make it up if you tried, you—oh, wait for it—die. And not in some grand, noble fashion, either. You slip on some residual shampoo on your bathroom floor, and fall face first onto a tap. Ouch.

Really?

Out of all the dramatic, swoon-worthy ways to die, like saving a kitten from a burning building or sacrificing yourself for someone you loved, you went out like a fool. A shower slip. One minute you’re standing, and the next, you’re faceplanting like some poorly executed slapstick scene.

And then, boom. Everything went black.

Which brings you to now. You feel odd. The texture of the sheets beneath you isn’t quite right. They’re silkier than the cheap cotton sheets you usually wrapped yourself in before bed. The air smells... different too. Not to mention, the bed feels way bigger, and you’re nestled in something way too plush to be your beat-up old mattress.

You bolt upright, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the room. You squint around and your eyes widen. This is… not your room. Gone are the band posters, the laundry in the corner, and your trusty alarm clock with the missing buttons. Instead, you’re surrounded by opulence: heavy velvet drapes, an intricately carved wooden dresser, and a huge vanity covered in jewels.

Your heart drops.

Slowly, you lift your hands. They are... not your hands. These are dainty, perfectly manicured hands. No chewed-off nails. No pen smudges from your hours of work. Just smooth, perfect fingers, topped off with the exact kind of expensive manicure you'd normally cringe at paying for.

No. Fucking. Way.

Frantically, you throw the blankets off yourself and scramble to the nearest mirror. What you see staring back at you isn’t your own reflection.

“Oh. My. God.”

You’ve been isekai’d. Into a webnovel.

And not just any webnovel. No. The terrible one you’d been reading before your humiliating death. You’re in the body of the villainess, the character who was basically a walking disaster from beginning to end. Not to mention, she was set to die a very messy, very public death within a few weeks.

“Oh god. I’m screwed.” You pace around the room in a panic, wringing your hands together. “How am I supposed to survive this? I can’t be a villainess! I don’t even like drama!”

You glance around desperately for something, anything that will give you some semblance of control over the situation. This can’t be happening. Maybe this is all a weird dream? You pinch yourself. Hard.

“Ow.” Nope. Definitely not a dream. Just your reality. Fantastic.

Then, you spot it. A glowing screen, floating mid-air right next to your head.

The classic system menu, like the ones from every villainess isekai you’ve read.

Except, instead of comforting you, this one makes you want to scream. Because in glaring red letters, it says:

“Villainess System Activated! Complete your tasks or face severe consequences.”

You blink. “Consequences?”

A new notification pops up, smug as hell. “Severe punishment will be dealt if you fail your villainous duties."

Oh, great. You’re trapped in a parody of an isekai where you not only have to survive as the villainess, but also complete quests like some twisted game. Lovely.

You stare at the system menu. “This is going to be fine,” you mutter, trying to convince yourself. “I just have to do the opposite of whatever got this chick killed. Just... stop being a jerk, right?”

But no sooner do you say that when the system blinks and pops up your first quest:

“System: Ruin Lady Heron’s Garden Party. Reward: 50 Villain Points.”

Are you kidding me?

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Okay, but hear me out,” you say to the system like it’s a person you can negotiate with. “What if I ruin it... with a compliment? Like, I tell her that her flower arrangements are so beautiful that she faints from the shock?”

The system’s reply is immediate: “Invalid. Must complete task in line with villainess behavior.”

“Oh, come on!” You pace the room again, muttering under your breath. “Fine. You wanna play it like this? I can play.” You crack your knuckles. “We’ll see who outsmarts who.”

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of panicked planning. You’ve read enough villainess novels to know the basic rules: never do what you’re supposed to do, but always make it look like you are. It’s malicious compliance at its finest.

So, when you arrive at Lady Heron’s garden party, dressed to kill (because apparently that’s a thing villainesses do), you’ve already concocted your plan.

The system wants you to ruin the event? Fine. But you’ll do it your way. You compliment Lady Heron’s flowers with the fakest smile you can muster, pouring on the charm. You gush about her decorations until she’s practically glowing, all while subtly steering the conversation away from the usual petty gossip that gets the villainess in trouble.

Instead of sabotaging the food, you pretend to be horrified when the catering staff makes a small mistake, swooping in to save the day and looking like a hero in the process. And as for the “accidental” tripping of the host’s dress that was supposed to happen? You deftly catch her instead, earning surprised gasps from the crowd.

By the end of it, the system’s fuming, and you’re basking in the glory of having completed your “villainous task” without actually being villainous.

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

The system didn't like your attitude and it wants it to be known.

"System: Next quest: Defeat the chicken in the garden."

No problem, right? It wasn’t like you were going up against a raging dragon or anything. It was just a chicken. A harmless little chicken.

Wrong.

You found yourself standing in a dusty barn, staring down the most demonic creature you’d ever seen—a puffed-up, red-eyed chicken with an attitude problem. This thing wasn’t just any chicken; it looked like it had gone ten rounds with a tiger and won. Twice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered under your breath, rolling up your sleeves as the chicken fluffed its feathers like it was about to brawl. You eyed it warily. It eyed you back, and for a second, you swore you saw flames in its eyes.

"System: Quest update: —Defeat the Chicken of Doom!"

Chicken of Doom? You squinted at the thing. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

The chicken let out an ear-splitting squawk and lunged at you like a tiny, feathered fury. You dodged, barely, as it pecked the air where your face had been a moment earlier. This was no ordinary chicken. This thing had skills.

You scrambled out of the way, trying to think of a strategy that didn’t involve you getting pecked into oblivion. “System! Any tips here?”

"System: Aim for the legs. That’s where the power is."

The legs? You glanced down at the chicken’s scrawny legs. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming for my face, not my ankles!”

"System: Well, you could always just run. But that’s not very villainous, is it?"

“Oh, you are the worst,” you grumbled as the chicken made another wild leap for your head. You ducked, grabbed a nearby rake, and swung it around like a makeshift sword. “Alright, chicken. Let’s dance.”

What followed was an embarrassing display of you flailing around the barn, trying to fend off this demonic poultry with a rake while the system laughed at you from the sidelines.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging and weaving, you managed to hook the rake around one of its legs, pulling it off balance. The chicken flopped onto its back, flailing wildly as it squawked in outrage. You quickly pinned it down with the back-end of the take, panting heavily.

"System: Congratulations! Quest complete. 50 Villain Points awarded."

You glared at the system’s message. “I better get more than 100 points for this. I deserve a medal.”

"System: How about the satisfaction of knowing you just defeated the Chicken of Doom?"

You groaned, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Next time you send me on a quest, can it be against something less likely to murder me? Like a butterfly?”

"System: No promises. But look on the bright side—you’re officially undefeated in chicken combat. And you now are +50 Villain points richer"

“Fantastic,” you deadpanned, finally letting the defeated chicken hobble away with its dignity intact. “Just what I always wanted to be known for.”

You walked out of that barn a little wiser, a little bruised, and a lot more wary of small farm animals. From that day forward, chickens were officially your sworn enemies.

Villain points: 100

You were still in denial that you were in that novel. But what's a better wakeup call than running into the main lead? The guy who the story revolves around, Riddle Rosehearts.

You had decided to take a stroll in the academy's gardens when a loud squeaking noise caught your attention.

Turning the corner, you stumbled upon a scene that confirmed your worst fears: Riddle Rosehearts, was hunched over a small enclosure, tending to a couple of prickly hedgehogs.

“What in the world…?” you muttered, leaning in closer. Riddle was meticulously checking their little habitats, his brow furrowed in concentration. You had to admit, he looked oddly cute.

As you watched, one of the hedgehogs—who seemed to have more ambition than sense—decided to attempt an escape. It made a daring leap right off the side of the table, and you could practically hear the collective gasp of the students around you. Time slowed as you saw the tiny creature plummet toward the ground.

No!

Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, arms outstretched, preparing to catch the little spiky ball of chaos. You almost made it, but instead of a graceful landing, you miscalculated and ended up face-first in a pile of fallen leaves, with a hedgehog landing right on your back.

Riddle’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?!”

With the hedgehog squirming atop you, you tried to push yourself up. “Just… saving this little guy,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. The hedgehog seemed to be enjoying the view from its leafy throne, completely unfazed by the near disaster.

“Are you okay?” Riddle asked, half-concerned, half-amused as he stepped closer. You could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was both infuriating and endearing.

“Yeah, just a minor case of heroism!” you replied, attempting to sound cool while still half-buried in leaves. “No big deal. Just saving lives one hedgehog at a time.”

The students around you started whispering, some trying to hold back laughter. Riddle, however, seemed genuinely impressed, his cheeks turning a shade of red that almost matched his hair. “Uh… thank you?” he said, fumbling for words. “That was… very quick thinking.”

As you finally managed to roll over, the hedgehog took that moment to scuttle off your back, plopping down on the ground with a little thud. You turned to Riddle, brushing leaves off your shirt. “Yeah, well, it’s what I do best. Hedgehog rescuer by day, unremarkable student by night.”

Riddle blinked, processing your words while his face continued to betray a mix of flustered admiration and confusion. “You… you look quite cool doing that,” he said, almost to himself, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You smirked, enjoying the moment. “Cool? Well, thank you.”

Riddle opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly flustered. “Right… um, thank you again. I usually prefer to do everything by the book, but you… you have a knack for chaos.”

“Just trying to shake things up a bit!” you replied, grinning. “Besides, what’s life without a little excitement?”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and for a moment, you thought he might actually explode. “Excitement is… not exactly my strong suit,” he admitted with a seriousness that almost made you laugh.

Just then, Cater called out, “Hey, Riddle, are you blushing over there?”

Riddle straightened up, all business once more. “I am not blushing!” he snapped, though it only made the others laugh harder.

You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s very becoming.”

At this point, he was trying desperately to regain his composure, his usual dignified self crumbling under the unexpected twist of fate. “Right, well… um, thanks for your help,” he stammered, trying to pivot back to his hedgehogs as if that would restore some order to his day.

“Anytime!” you replied cheerfully, already plotting your next move in this wild webnovel world. After all, you might just have to become the chaotic force that turns Riddle’s world upside down.

As you left him there, you couldn’t help but think—yup, you were definitely in that webnovel. And you were not hating it.

"System: New quest: Sabotage the dinner. +100 points"

Oh this was a quest you were willing to do even if the system didn't ask you to. All you need to do was question your darling sister's yapping and you'll be set.

The dinner is going about as smoothly as you’d expect a social gathering could in this godforsaken story. Which is to say, not smooth at all.

You’re sitting at a long, polished table that looks like it’s seen better days—probably because it's held together by the sheer willpower of outdated noble customs. Your dear sister, the illustrious heroine of the world, is seated at the opposite end of the table, positively glowing in her usual self-absorbed way, surrounded by a gaggle of male leads that have somehow become entangled in her web of charm. Including, of course, the third male lead, a guy whose name you don’t even care to remember, but who keeps giving you condescending looks from across the table.

Your father, seated next to her, is smiling like he’s watching his favorite child perform in a school play. Every time the heroine opens her mouth, he’s doting on her with embarrassing enthusiasm, nodding along like she’s spewing pearls of wisdom when, in reality, it’s more like dribbling out some very glittery, very ignorant garbage.

“Oh, Father,” your sister begins, in that overly sweet, almost nauseating voice of hers. “Did you know that dandelions are actually a type of flower? Most people mistake them for weeds, but I just find them so fascinating.”

You internally groan. Seriously? Dandelions? That’s the big revelation she’s bringing to the table tonight?

Your father beams at her, his eyes twinkling as if she’s just solved world hunger. “My dear, you’re so clever. It’s amazing how much you know!”

Ace, seated next to you, nearly spits out his water. You glance at him and catch the barely-restrained laughter on his face, which only makes you want to snicker along with him.

You give him a look that says "brace yourself."

You lean forward slightly, your face the picture of politeness, and say with a small smile, “Well, technically, dandelions are considered invasive species in most gardens. I suppose calling them ‘fascinating’ is one way of putting it.”

Your sister blinks at you, clearly confused by the subtle jab, while Trey—who’s seated beside Riddle—hides his smirk behind a delicate sip of wine. You catch a glint of amusement in Riddle’s eyes as well. Even he seems to be enjoying this trainwreck.

The heroine, though, refuses to let her utter lack of botanical knowledge slow her down. “Oh, well, I was just trying to emphasize how misunderstood they are! Like, did you know dandelion tea is supposed to help with digestion?”

You can’t help yourself. “Is that why you’ve been so full of it lately?”

There’s a loud snort from Cater, who quickly covers it up with a cough, but not before giving you an encouraging grin. Deuce’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold back laughter, while Ace is full-on grinning at the chaos you’re creating. Trey is still playing it cool, but you know he’s on the verge of losing it too.

Your sister pouts at you, her lower lip trembling like she’s about to burst into tears. Oh, here we go. The waterworks. But honestly, you’re not about to feel guilty for calling her out when she practically walked into it.

“You always have to be so mean to me,” she whines, her voice wobbling dramatically. “I was just trying to have a nice conversation!”

Your father, predictably, jumps to her defense. “Now, now,” he says, giving you a stern look. “There’s no need to be so harsh with your sister.”

Harsh? Oh, please. If this is what he considers harsh, he clearly hasn’t spent much time around actual harsh people. Not that you’re about to say that aloud, of course.

“Apologies, Father,” you say, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible while still dripping with passive-aggression. “I’ll be sure to keep my comments to myself next time.” You pause for a beat, and then add with a pointed look, “Unless, of course, they’re about real flowers.”

Cater and Ace lose it, full-on laughing at this point, and Deuce isn’t far behind. Even Trey is chuckling softly into his drink.

And then—oh, wait, is that a smile on Riddle’s face?

It is.

Holy crap.

For the first time since this disaster of a dinner started, you see a genuine smile tugging at Riddle Rosehearts’ lips. It’s small, but it’s there. And it’s directed at you.

Well, well, well, you think. Who knew I’d get the tiniest bit of amusement out of the stoic redhead tonight?

Riddle’s mother, who has been sitting quietly at the head of the table this whole time, seems to notice as well. She raises an eyebrow at you, and while she doesn’t say anything, the slight nod of approval she gives is as close to praise as you’re ever going to get from her.

Meanwhile, your sister has resorted to dabbing her eyes with a napkin, and the third male lead looks like he’s about ready to crawl under the table and disappear. Honestly, with the way his face is turning red, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just bolted for the door.

As the heroine sniffles dramatically, trying to regain her composure, Riddle’s mother clears her throat. “Perhaps it’s time we moved on to the next course.”

You sit back in your chair, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You’ve always known how to work a room, but this? This was practically a performance art piece. A subtle roast of the dinner party’s most insufferable members, all without breaking a sweat.

Trey gives you a subtle thumbs-up from across the table, Cater is still grinning like an idiot, and Ace is wiping tears from his eyes. Even Deuce looks like he’s enjoying himself more than usual.

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

All in all, you’d call this a successful dinner.

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

You reached a compromise with the system during a mind numbingly boring tea party. You were doing your best to sit there with a polite smile plastered on your face while your sister droned on about her latest dress, but all you could think about was the fact that there were probably better uses of your time—like, say, literally anything else. Maybe you could fake a sudden illness and make a run for it? Or trip over a conveniently placed teacup and disappear into the shrubbery?

And that’s when you heard it.

"System: New Quest—Make it through this tea party without falling asleep. Reward: Not looking like a complete fool."

You almost snorted out loud, but quickly caught yourself. Great, the system is back at it again with these stellar rewards.

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

"System: Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something better? How about I throw in 50 Villain Points?"

Your eyes widened. Wait, 50 Villain Points just for not dozing off during this boring nonsense?

"System: Well, technically, you just have to stay awake. I never said you couldn’t look bored out of your mind."

You grinned slightly, trying to hide your amusement behind your teacup. You’re starting to grow on me, you know that?

"System: Likewise. I must say, I didn’t expect someone like you to actually stick with me this long. Most people would’ve either ignored me or gotten themselves killed by now. But you? You’ve got potential."

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

"System: I’m serious! You’ve got guts. You think outside the box. You’re not afraid to bend the rules a little. And that’s why I’ve got a proposition for you."

You leaned back in your chair, intrigued. Oh? Go on, I’m listening.

"System: Here’s the deal—I’ll start giving you quests that aren’t designed to get you killed or humiliated beyond repair. In exchange, you have to promise to actually follow through on them. And I don’t mean half-heartedly—I want 100% commitment. Deal?"

Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you’ve been giving me death traps this whole time?

System: Well… not death traps, per se. More like… character-building exercises.

I swear to God, system, if you ever make me fight a rabid chicken again—

"System: That chicken was a necessary evil! Character development! But fine, fine. No more chickens. Only reasonable, non-lethal missions from now on. What do you say? Partners in villainy?"

You tapped your chin, pretending to mull it over. Hmmm… sounds tempting. But what’s in it for me besides the joy of your sparkling company?

"System: Oh, you know, the usual—power, influence, fame, and fortune. Plus, I’ll throw in some juicy blackmail material for when your sister inevitably gets on your nerves again."

Your grin widened. Now that is the kind of offer I can’t refuse.

"System: That’s the spirit! Now, first mission as my official partner: Sabotage your sister’s next grand entrance. Nothing too catastrophic—just a little stumble, maybe some ruffled feathers. Keep it classy."

And just like that, you and the system were officially besties. It was weirdly comforting knowing you had a sarcastic AI watching your back—and occasionally messing with your enemies. Sure, it might’ve been the weirdest friendship ever forged in the history of villainy, but hey, you’d take it. You’d never be bored again with this delightful chaos agent in your corner.

As you left the tea party with your head held high, the system chimed in one last time.

"System: By the way, next time your sister brags about her shoes? “Accidentally” mention that those went out of fashion last season."

You smirked. Oh, system, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. You had gone into the library looking for a quiet place to relax after a long day of trying to stay out of family drama. But of course, there was Riddle, hunched over a mountain of books with his hands gripping his hair like it had personally wronged him. Not to mention, your sister was sitting nearby, yammering on about… something. Something that was definitely not helping Riddle’s clear state of panic.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes locked with his, and in that instant, you could practically hear his brain screaming for help. It was a silent plea, one you couldn’t ignore.

With a sigh and a bit of a smirk, you sauntered over, interrupting your sister’s endless tirade about her latest frivolous pursuit. “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you said brightly, grabbing Riddle by the arm and pulling him up from his chair before he could protest.

Your sister blinked at you, clearly thrown off by your sudden intrusion. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of an important conversation—”

“Were you though?” You raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Riddle needs a break. He’s been studying for hours, right?” You didn’t wait for an answer, instead giving Riddle a quick nudge. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

To your relief (and amusement), Riddle offered no resistance, letting you whisk him away from the library and your sister’s insufferable voice.

Once you were safely in one of the quieter gardens, Riddle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how much more of that I could’ve handled. Thank you.”

“No problem. Honestly, I did it for my own sanity too,” you chuckled, leading him to a bench under a shady tree. “But seriously, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Riddle’s face flushed a bit as he glanced away. “I’ve been… focused. There’s a lot to cover.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you replied dryly, nudging him to sit down. “But if you don’t rest, you’re going to burn out. Even someone like you can’t run on fumes forever.”

He hesitated for a moment but eventually sat down, clearly too tired to argue. “I suppose you’re right…”

Riddle leaned back against the bench, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. You thought he’d sit there for a few minutes, maybe catch his breath, and that’d be it.

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

Instead, Riddle Rosehearts, the pristine, perfectly poised model student… fell asleep on your shoulder.

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

Your mind spiraled as you sat there, staring at the top of his bright red head resting comfortably against you. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against your side, his quiet, steady breathing, the softness of his hair—

Wait. Why is his hair so soft? It’s like spun silk.

Does he use some kind of magic conditioner? Should I ask him for hair care tips?

No, focus! Focus!

You peeked down at him again, and he looked so peaceful, his usual stern expression completely relaxed. You could feel your heart racing, and the logical part of your brain screamed at you to keep it together, but the other half—the half that was currently hyper-aware of Riddle’s head resting on your shoulder—was completely losing it.

Is this what bliss feels like? Is this how people write poems? “Oh Riddle, how thou art like the setting sun, warm and brilliant yet—WAIT, what am I thinking?! I am losing my mind! THIS IS BAD!

But also… very, very good?

You glanced around nervously, wondering if someone might see this. Would this look weird to people? Am I weird for not moving? I can’t move. He’s asleep. If I move, he’ll wake up and think I’m a weirdo for staying so still and letting him nap on me like this. Oh God, what if he thinks I’m weird?!

But even as your brain launched into a full-blown existential crisis, you couldn’t deny how nice this felt. Riddle looked so soft—so vulnerable—and for once, he wasn’t burdened by the weight of expectations or responsibilities. He was just… Riddle. And that made something inside you feel oddly tender.

Your gaze softened as you looked at him. Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I could get used to this. Maybe—

Then, without warning, Riddle stirred, shifting slightly before blinking his eyes open. He looked groggy for a second, but as soon as he realized where he was—where you were—his entire face turned scarlet.

“Ah!” he gasped, jerking upright. “I—! I didn’t mean to—! I—!”

You blinked at him, trying very hard to pretend that you hadn’t just gone through a whole mental rollercoaster while he was napping. “Uh… it’s fine. You were tired. Happens to the best of us.”

He quickly straightened his uniform, flustered beyond belief. “That was… highly inappropriate. I apologize. You must think I’m terribly uncouth.”

“Nah,” you said with a grin, waving him off. “You’re a hard worker. Even someone like you deserves a break.”

Riddle looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. “Still, I shouldn’t have—"

You laughed and patted his shoulder. “Relax. It was kinda cute, honestly.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, his blush deepening. “C-cute?”

Realizing what you just said, your face turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, like… in a respectable, admirable way, obviously! Because, you know, falling asleep is… healthy… and stuff.”

From behind you, you heard Ace’s familiar snicker, and you turned to see him and Deuce standing there, both of them with identical grins.

“You’re totally simping,” Ace teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God, go away.”

Riddle coughed, straightening his back and trying very hard to regain his composure. “Ahem. I think I’ll… return to my studies. Thank you again for helping me earlier.”

He stood up, still looking mildly mortified, but as he walked away, you caught the faintest smile on his lips.

Ace elbowed you with a grin. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, your face still burning as you watched Riddle leave.

But deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling either.

You sit at the breakfast table, staring at the notification hovering just above your coffee.

"System: New Quest: Get your sister to humiliate herself in front of the Empress. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

Your sister, ever the radiant queen of smugness, lounges at the other end, flipping her hair like she’s about to step onto a runway. Her latest self-important monologue about being 'practically irreplaceable' in the Empress’s inner circle grates at your nerves.

“What’s with the face?” Ace flops into the seat next to you, raising an eyebrow at your sudden, murderous glare.

Deuce, ever the responsible one, follows, setting down his tray with a clink. “You alright? You’ve been quiet.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I got stuck with… a task.”

Ace snickers. “What, the world’s worst chore or something?”

You glance at your sister, now preening at her reflection in a spoon, and mutter, “Worse. I need to make her humiliate herself in front of the Empress.”

Both Ace and Deuce freeze, staring at you in disbelief.

Ace nearly snorts his drink. “You—wait, what? You have to do that?” His eyes practically light up. “That’s hilarious.”

Deuce, always the voice of reason, frowns. “Why do you need to do that? That sounds kinda… extreme.”

You sigh, trying to keep it vague. “Let’s just say... it’s a long story. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Ace leans back, grinning like he’s just been given front-row tickets to the chaos. “Oh, I am so in. We have to take down the drama queen? Say no more.”

Deuce hesitates, but after a glance at your sister—who’s loudly bragging about her upcoming meeting with the Empress—he sighs. “I guess if it’s for a good cause... she could use a little humility.”

“Perfect.” You clap your hands together, a plan already forming. “But it has to look natural. No obvious sabotage.”

Ace smirks. “You say that like I’m not an expert in ‘subtle.’”

The banquet is set in a lavish garden, with your sister already dressed in the most elaborate gown she could find. She looks like she’s ready to steal the spotlight—and she fully intends to. But you’re three steps ahead. As you, Ace, and Deuce trail behind her, you start whispering the plan. “She always does that thing where she stands up to give a toast in front of everyone, right?”

Deuce nods. “Yeah, she loves being the center of attention.”

You glance at Ace. “Think you can handle making sure her ‘center of attention’ moment doesn’t go as planned?”

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

Your sister, in all her glittering glory, steps up to the platform. The Empress and her courtiers watch on, curious, while your sister clears her throat, preparing to launch into one of her legendary speeches.

Ace winks at you, positioning himself near the platform’s support. With the lightest nudge, it shifts, just enough to unbalance your sister. As she stands, her heel catches on the uneven surface.

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

And down she goes, arms flailing dramatically as she tumbles straight into a nearby fountain.

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, and the Empress looks mildly surprised as water splashes everywhere. Your sister, soaked and sputtering, looks utterly mortified.

Ace bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Oops.”

Deuce winces but nods. “Well... that worked.”

You can’t help the satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as your system pings again.

"System: Quest Complete. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

“Perfect,” you murmur under your breath, already thinking about the next quest.

As your sister sputters her way out of the fountain, dripping wet and desperately trying to regain her composure, the crowd falls into an awkward silence. You can practically hear her brain scrambling to salvage the moment.

She forces a bright smile, pushing wet hair out of her face. “Well, that was… unexpected,” she says, laughing nervously. “I suppose even the most poised among us can have a moment of... gracelessness”

The Empress raises a perfectly arched brow, but remains silent, watching with a cool, unreadable expression.

Your sister, in her panic, decides to fill the silence with her usual brand of arrogance. “I’m sure someone will fix that platform,” she says, waving a hand dismissively at the servants. “Honestly, who would set up something so poorly constructed? I could’ve been seriously hurt!” She glances at the Empress and adds, in a misguided attempt to flatter, “But of course, I suppose even the Empress’s court isn’t immune to such… minor mistakes.”

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

The Empress’s lips tighten just slightly, a subtle but dangerous shift. “Minor mistakes?” she repeats, her voice icy and sharp.

Your sister, utterly clueless, laughs again, louder this time, still trying to brush it off. “Oh, of course, not your fault, Your Majesty. I’m sure your staff just… overlooked something. It happens, right?”

The crowd’s collective inhale is deafening. Even Deuce slaps a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Oh no…”

Ace looks like he’s about to choke trying to hold back his laughter. “She’s done,” he whispers gleefully.

The Empress finally stands, her gaze narrowing on your sister. “I assure you,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “such oversights are very rare in my court.”

Your sister opens her mouth to respond, but there’s no coming back from this. The Empress has already turned away, addressing one of her advisors with a wave of dismissal. Your sister is left standing there, soaked and utterly humiliated, in front of everyone.

As the system pings again in your head— "System: Bonus Quest Complete: Cause a Major Faux Pas. Reward: 50 Villain Points"—you can’t help but smirk.

"Well," Ace leans in, whispering, "mission accomplished."

As you watch your sister fumble through an awkward curtsy, trying to salvage what little dignity she has left, the familiar ping of the system goes off in your head again—but this time, it sounds... different.

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

Before you can fully register the notification, the system continues, breaking its usual monotone, deadpan style.

"System: Honestly..." there's a brief pause, like it's trying to hold back a laugh. "I have to hand it to you. This... this was beautiful. I mean, wow, top-tier humiliation. The look on her face? Priceless. I didn’t think you had it in you to pull off such magnificent chaos so effortlessly. Not to mention the insult to the Empress."

Another chuckle—this time, you can feel it reveling in the scene.

"System: You're really becoming quite the villain, huh? I’m almost impressed. Well, because you've reached a new level of villainy—and honestly, you’ve earned it—here’s a special perk. You hit 1,000 points, and I’ll give you an out. You can get rid of me. Completely. No more schemes, no more quests. Freedom from this system."

For a moment, you can barely believe it. The system’s offering you a way out? 

"System: Oh, but until then, I’m not going anywhere. And really, wouldn’t it be a shame to stop now? You’re on such a roll."

You shake your head, but even you can't deny the chaos was a little satisfying. Your sister, now the talk of the court, dripping with embarrassment, is living proof of that.

"What's up?" Ace asks, glancing at you. "You look like you just won something."

"Yeah," you mutter under your breath, smirking. "Something like that."

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

The test results had come out earlier today and Riddle had topped it, as usual. But he was not allowed to come celebrate with the rest of you, which has led here.

It’s late at night, and the manor is quiet—eerily quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves outside Riddle's window. You stand beneath the window with a strawberry tart in your hands, feeling very much like a strange version of a fairy-tale hero. Except, instead of rescuing a damsel in distress, you're here to sneak contraband dessert to an overworked boy whose mother monitors his sugar intake like a hawk.

"Riddle!" you whisper-shout up to the second floor. "Let down your hair—uh, I mean, your bedsheets!"

There’s a pause before Riddle’s head pops out of the window, confused but intrigued. "What are you doing out there? It’s late."

"Shhh!" You gesture for him to keep it down, holding up the tart like it’s some sort of forbidden treasure. "I brought you a strawberry tart. Your mom might have banned it, but we live dangerously in this house."

Riddle’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he might actually tear up. "You... You risked sneaking a tart past Mother... for me?" He looks genuinely touched, and you can see the internal battle raging between his desire to stay obedient and his deep, insatiable love for strawberry tarts.

"Yes, I am willing to defy the Tart Tyrant for you," you say, nodding solemnly. "Now hurry up and lower the bedsheets before she finds out and decides to have me beheaded for dessert-related treason."

Riddle hesitates for just a second, but the lure of the forbidden pastry is too strong. After a moment, he vanishes from the window, only to return with a neatly tied set of bedsheets. He throws them down like some kind of serious, rule-abiding Rapunzel.

You take a second to appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then quickly tie the tart to the end of the sheet rope. “Alright, here comes the goods!” You give the bedsheets a tug to let him know the package is secured.

With a little effort, Riddle pulls up the tart with the same solemnity you’d expect if he were receiving an ancient royal artifact instead of sugar-laden contraband. He gingerly unties the tart and holds it in his hands, staring at it like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.

You then somehow use the bedsheets to get up there too. Wow maybe you are truly a fairy-tale hero.

"You truly are remarkable," Riddle says, his voice soft with gratitude. He turns his gaze toward you with such an earnest expression that you suddenly feel self-conscious.

You wave him off, trying to play it cool. "Eh, it's nothing. Just saving you from a tartless existence."

But instead of saying anything, Riddle leans down and, with the utmost care and sincerity, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman. "Thank you," he murmurs.

And that’s when it happens.

Your brain shuts down. Completely. Like someone pulled the plug on your thoughts and left you staring blankly into space. The only thing running through your head is static. You don't even register the tart anymore. Did he just—? Did Riddle Rosehearts just—?

You short-circuit so hard that your mouth moves, but nothing coherent comes out. “Guh... buh... uh...” Great. So much for playing it cool.

Riddle, ever the gentleman, doesn’t seem to notice your malfunction, as he’s too busy taking the tiniest, most delicate bite of the tart, savoring it like he’s trying to make it last forever. "Delicious," he whispers, clearly over the moon.

Meanwhile, you’re still stuck on the whole hand kiss thing. Did that actually just happen? Did you fall into an alternate reality? Is this still the same planet?

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

"Uh, well... goodnight!" You finally manage to blurt out before spinning on your heel and power-walking away, almost jumping off the balcony instead of climbing down, mentally screaming at yourself for turning into a malfunctioning robot over a simple gesture. You hear Riddle chuckle softly behind you, a sound that somehow makes your heart do a weird little flip, and then his window quietly closes.

The whole way back to your room, you're fighting off the most embarrassing grin. Maybe this little night mission was worth it after all—short circuits and all.

The next morning, you wake up to a new notification from your ever-so-charming system.

"Villain System: New Quest—Make the heroine cry and win the baking competition. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You stare at the message, blinking. Make the heroine cry? That’s one thing, but… win the baking competition? You don’t even bake.

"System: Oh, did I forget to mention? The heroine has won every year because it’s women-only, and the original villainess didn’t care about trivial things like baking. Now she’s got a free pass to victory—unless, of course, you do something about it."

You roll your eyes. Right, of course. But then, an idea hits you. Trey. Who needs to bake when you know the one person who could win with his eyes closed?

In this kingdom’s prestigious baking competition, there's one important loophole: while only women are allowed to officially compete, each contestant is permitted a single helper. Of course, most participants choose their helpers from other women to maintain the spirit of the tradition. However, there’s nothing in therules that says it has to be a woman.

The heroine, ever the strategic darling, has chosen none other than the Sixth Male Lead as her helper—an aspiring nobleman known for his meticulous manners and refined taste. His calm demeanor and careful attention to detail make him a safe bet, and you overhear the heroine boasting that, with his assistance, her victory is all but guaranteed.

Yeah, not this year.

Instead of following tradition, you’ve asked Trey to be your helper. Trey Clover—renowned for his skill in the kitchen, and quite possibly the one person who could bake the heroine’s smug little plans into pie. The original villainess never cared enough to bother with this competition, which gave the heroine free rein. But now? Now she has to face you, and by extension, Trey.

And Trey Clover doesn’t play for second place when it comes to sweets.

Later that day, you find Trey in the gardens, tending to some herbs. He looks up, giving you that calm, friendly smile. "Need something?"

"Yeah, actually. There’s a baking competition coming up," you say nonchalantly, "and I need to win."

Trey raises an eyebrow. "I thought it was women-only?"

You shrug. "It is, but I thought you could, you know, help me win."

He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his hands. "What kind of help are we talking?"

"Let's just say," you grin, "we’ll be making a dessert so good that even the Empress and Emperor will swoon. And if sister dearest happens to cry... well, that's just a bonus."

Trey looks amused but intrigued. "Alright, I’m in. Let’s see what we can whip up."

The day of the competition arrives, and as expected, the heroine is floating around the kitchen like she owns the place. You catch a glimpse of her smug smile as she arranges her ingredients, clearly confident that victory is hers.

Little does she know.

You and Trey work quietly, making an intricate dessert that smells so good even the judges start peeking over your shoulder. It’s a delicate mille-feuille with layers of crisp pastry, rich cream, and fresh fruit, and the entire hall is already filled with its tantalizing aroma.

"Are you sure you want to go this hard?" Trey asks, smirking as he plates the dessert. "This might be overkill."

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

As the competition moves forward, you notice the heroine starting to fidget. Her confidence wavers when she sees your masterpiece, and by the time judging begins, she’s outright glaring at you.

The Empress and Emperor sit at the head of the table, and when your dessert is placed in front of them, you watch as they take a bite. First, there’s silence. Then, the Empress closes her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.

The Emperor leans back, sighing deeply. "This... this is incredible."

Even the Prince, sitting beside them, takes a bite and pauses. He leans in toward you with a subtle smile. "Such talent... A skillful partner would be quite the asset to the royal family."

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Your Highness, I’m not interested in marriage at the moment. My hands are quite full with other matters."

The Prince looks mildly disappointed, but the Empress shoots him a warning glance, and he wisely backs off. You can feel the heroine seething from across the room.

Then, Riddle, who’s been observing the competition from the side, steps up to taste your creation. He takes a small, cautious bite—and his entire face lights up. His normally stern expression softens, and he looks so genuinely pleased that you can’t help but feel a little flustered yourself. Who knew Riddle could be this cute?

"This is... delightful," he says quietly, and for a moment, you forget about the competition entirely. 

"Glad you like it," you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. 

Ace nudges you from the side, wiggling his eyebrows. "You blushing? Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up," you hiss back, feeling your face heat up even more.

Meanwhile, the heroine, who has been watching the whole scene, looks on the verge of tears. As the judges declare you the winner, she loses her composure entirely and storms out of the hall, sniffling dramatically.

Ace bursts into laughter. "Wow, you really made her cry, huh? I’m loving this!"

Deuce, more concerned, pats you on the back. "Well... at least you won the competition?"

You smirk, satisfied. "Yeah, I’d say that went pretty well."

As you leave the competition hall, your system chimes in again.

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded."

"System: I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting you to fluster Riddle like that, but hey, bonus points for making the Prince back off too. Well played. +25 points"

Villain Points: 625.  375 points left till freedom.

You had to do something about the funny little flips your heart did when you even dared to glance at Riddle and so here you were, dramatically declaring a “Strategy Meeting” with Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. You had even assigned roles—like some kind of overly elaborate battle plan—because, in your mind, this was war. And the enemy? Your increasingly uncontrollable feelings for a certain redheaded, rule-abiding, perfectionist nobleman.

You stood at the head of the table like a general ready to command the troops, but instead of warriors, you had your collection of questionable allies. Trey and Cater were lounging comfortably, while Ace and Deuce seemed entirely too excited about the prospect of scheming.

“Alright,” you began, pacing in front of the group. “Here’s the deal. I think I like Riddle.”

You were met with silence at first. Then, Ace broke into the most ridiculous grin. “Pfft, of course you do. You’ve been mooning over him for weeks now. Congratulations on finally catching up to reality!”

Deuce elbowed him. “Hey, don’t make fun of them! It’s... uh... commendable that you’re so serious about it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, like you were some kind of lovesick puppy.

Cater, who had been leaning back casually in his chair, gave you a teasing wink. “Aww, our little villain is going soft. I guess all that sneaking tarts and saving him from certain doom finally got to you, huh?”

Trey, ever the calm and rational one, simply folded his arms and gave you a small smile. “Well, it makes sense. You two have spent a lot of time together. He’s... a good guy. A bit high-strung, but good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is not helpful. I need a plan, people! Riddle’s mom already thinks I’m a conniving little troublemaker—how am I supposed to make a good impression while also, you know... not being painfully awkward around him?”

Ace raised his hand dramatically like you were in the middle of a classroom. “Simple solution: you don’t. Just be yourself. He’s already used to your brand of chaos. Besides, you already saved him from his mom’s sugar ban, so I’d say you’re ahead of the game.”

Deuce nodded, adding, “Yeah! Plus, you’re like, really smart and cool, so... you’ve got this!”

“Okay, so,” Cater piped in, “in terms of strategy, you could always stage some grand gesture. I mean, Riddle’s all about tradition and propriety, right? What if you—”

Suddenly, a voice interrupted from behind you. “What are you all plotting now?”

You froze, spinning around to see none other than your mother, the Duchess, standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face. She had an uncanny talent for sneaking up on people.

“M-Mother! I, uh... it’s nothing serious. We’re just—”

She raised an eyebrow, cutting off your fumbling explanation with a wave of her hand. “If you’re scheming about Riddle Rosehearts, dear, you could use a bit more refinement. Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to assist.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked at her, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath you. “You’re... helping me?”

She gave you a knowing smile. “Well, it’s about time someone showed that other daughter of mine what true charm looks like. You’ve always been the more intelligent one.”

“Uh... thanks?” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that.

Without another word, your mother turned to the butler who had been standing in the hallway. “Make sure everything is in place for dinner tonight. And do make certain the maids are aware of our... little plans.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied with a subtle bow before whisking away.

You stared after him, feeling both flustered and slightly panicked. “Mother... what are you planning?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “It’s nothing too drastic. Just a little adjustment to how tonight’s dinner will go.”

That evening, you found yourself at the weekly gathering/dinner, sitting at the long, ornate table alongside your parents, Riddle, his mother, and—unfortunately—your sister, who was already droning on about some utterly mundane topic that only she could make sound self-important.

And then, the plan began.

The maids moved around the table, loudly discussing their work. "Oh, our youngest lady is always so kind to us, isn't she? Such a breath of fresh air!"

"Yes, yes," another maid replied with an exaggerated nod. "And always so intelligent! Did you hear how she handled that situation at the garden party? Simply remarkable!"

Riddle’s mother perked up at the praise, her sharp gaze cutting from the maids to you, her expression intrigued. Your sister, on the other hand, looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel.

The butler, who had been refilling glasses, suddenly spoke up as well. "Ah, I must say, our young miss has shown extraordinary grace and poise recently. A true future lady of the house, if I may be so bold."

You were mortified. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you desperately tried to shrink into your seat. This was not what you had planned. You could feel Riddle’s eyes on you, and you were certain you were about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

Your sister, however, could not stay silent. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “I don’t know what all this nonsense is about, but—”

But the maids and butler kept going, seemingly oblivious to her anger. "Indeed, I can’t think of anyone more suited to such a role!" one of the maids declared.

Riddle’s mother hummed thoughtfully, clearly impressed by the blatant—and likely orchestrated—praise. “It is quite rare to find such well-rounded young women these days,” she mused, looking at you with a glint of approval in her eyes. “Perhaps I should consider the advantages of such a match after all.”

You nearly choked on your drink. Riddle, across from you, was staring at his plate like he was trying to become one with it. He looked both horrified and... pleased? Maybe?

And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Ace—because of course, it had to be Ace—leaned over and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, at least you know Riddle's mom doesn’t hate you anymore. Progress!”

You shot him a glare, but the damage was done. Everyone at the table had heard, and Riddle’s mother raised a curious eyebrow at you both. You could practically feel Riddle sinking further into his seat.

The dinner continued with more awkward small talk, with your mother throwing in subtle digs at your sister’s lack of... everything, while you tried your hardest not to combust from sheer humiliation.

But hey—if nothing else, at least Riddle wasn’t the only one who felt like he needed to escape to the nearest corner. Small victories, right?

"System: Quest: Make Riddle Say Something Mean to Your Sister. Reward: 100 Points"

The system pings you with the next quest, and you almost laugh out loud. Get Riddle to say something mean to your sister? The guy whose idea of an insult is reminding someone to follow the rules more carefully? You know this’ll be near impossible—his mother raised him to be the picture of etiquette and politeness.

But, then again, opportunity tends to strike when you least expect it, and with your villain system, those moments come with a bit of flair.

It all starts innocently enough: horseback riding. You’re a natural at it, of course, and as you effortlessly guide your horse around the course, your sister glares at you from the sidelines, arms crossed.

"Oh, how shocking," she drawls loud enough for everyone to hear. "A masculine activity. How unbecoming for a lady."

Before you can snap back, someone else beats you to it. "That's funny, I quite like horseback riding too," The Empress says, her voice as polite as ever but with just enough edge to make your darling sister freeze.

And when Riddle adds that he also enjoys horseback riding, you almost snort. Of course, he does. Riddle would have to enjoy something that involves strict rules and perfect posture.

Your sister's eyes flicker toward Riddle, suddenly aware that insulting horseback riding is not the wisest move when he is within earshot. She stammers, trying to recover. "I—I mean, I didn’t say it was entirely inappropriate. It’s just—"

You just stare at her, subtly challenging her to continue. And she takes the bait.

Sensing an opportunity to show off, your sister decides to prove she’s good at it too. "I’ll show you how a real lady rides a horse," she declares, moving to mount the closest horse. The horse, sensing the storm of bad vibes radiating from your sister, immediately snorts and takes a few steps back.

“See, even the horse knows better,” Ace mutters behind you, earning a chuckle from Deuce. You can’t help but grin.

Your sister’s attempt to get on the horse is nothing short of a disaster. Her foot slips, her balance is off, and the horse finally has enough. In one swift move, it bucks her off before she’s even properly seated, sending her tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap.

For a second, there's stunned silence. Then, in true ‘sister’ fashion, she gets up, furious and embarrassed, and hits the horse on the flank.

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

Riddle’s face turns red—not his usual "I’m about to scold you" red, but the kind of red that suggests a leviathan-level insult has just taken place. "What are you doing?" he snaps, shocking everyone in earshot. Even you pause, surprised.

You quickly recover, barely holding back your grin. You can already feel the points tallying up.

"That was completely uncalled for," Riddle continues, his voice icy. "You should apologize to the horse."

Your sister sputters, clearly not used to being reprimanded by someone like Riddle.

"I—I didn’t—"

"Violence toward an innocent animal," the Emperor chimes in from his observation point, his tone dripping with disapproval. "Disgraceful behavior."

The Imperial Princess, who has been watching with her arms crossed, gives a snort of laughter. "Well, clearly not everyone can handle themselves with grace on horseback."

Your sister looks like she’s about to implode, her cheeks burning redder than Riddle's hair. "I didn’t mean—"

"Please," Riddle says, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Let’s not make this any worse for yourself."

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

"+25 bonus points: The system respects that level of carnage. Well done."

Honestly, even you can’t help but respect the sheer scale of the damage your sister just managed to cause to her own reputation in a matter of minutes.

Riddle, who’s usually the epitome of control, saying something that mean? The Emperor, the Imperial Princess, and the Empress all scolding her? It’s a beautiful mess, and you’ll take the points with a smile.

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

You’re lounging in the courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when chaos inevitably strikes. You don’t know why you thought you could have a quiet afternoon without something going wrong. The universe must have you on its watchlist, and today, it decided to throw a wrench in the form of Deuce Spade sprinting across the courtyard, holding a goose under his arm like some kind of barnyard Olympian.

The goose then shows a surprising amount of athleticism and manages to pivot in his arms and jump down.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU FEATHERED MENACE!” Ace screams behind him, waving what looks like a loaf of bread. You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “Uh… do I even want to know?”

“They’re trying to catch the Duchess’s prized goose,” Cater pipes up, appearing out of nowhere. “It escaped from the coop. Again.”

You squint at the scene unfolding before you, watching as Deuce trips over a bush, while grabbing its tail, sending both himself and the goose tumbling to the ground, feathers everywhere. The goose immediately makes a break for it, flapping wildly in your direction. You can’t help it—some deep, misguided instinct kicks in. You blame your duel with the chicken of doom. Must help friends! Must catch rogue poultry!

You leap to your feet, determination surging through you. This is it. This is your time to shine. You throw yourself at the goose, diving for it like a soccer goalie saving the game-winning shot.

And you miss. Not just miss—you whiff it entirely. Instead, you skid along the ground, getting a face full of dirt and grass. The goose, clearly uninterested in whatever heroic save you were attempting, runs straight towards the nearby rose bushes, where Riddle is calmly reading a book.

“Got it!” you yell, trying to recover from your very undignified position. You scramble to your feet and sprint towards the goose, not thinking—absolutely no thoughts—just vibes and feathers.

“STOP THAT GOOSE!” you hear Deuce shout, which only makes you run faster.

But then… things go wrong. Horribly, hilariously wrong.

The goose, in a feat of poultry acrobatics, launches itself directly at Riddle. In a panic, you leap towards them, determined to protect Riddle from the poultry projectile. Unfortunately, in your zeal to save him, you overestimate your athletic prowess, launching yourself way too high and way too fast.

You soar right over the rose bushes. For a brief, glorious moment, you feel like you’re flying. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun.

And then gravity kicks in.

You crash into Riddle, knocking his book out of his hands as you both go down in a very undignified heap. Riddle lets out a startled yelp, and you’re pretty sure your entire life flashes before your eyes in that split second.

When the dust settles, you’re on the ground, somehow tangled up with both Riddle and the goose, who looks mildly offended by this whole debacle. You can barely process the pain in your elbow because, oh no—you’ve just tackled Riddle Rosehearts in broad daylight. You’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.

Riddle, red-faced and thoroughly flustered, pushes himself up, brushing stray feathers off his jacket. “What in the world…?”

“I, uh… was trying to help?” you say weakly, still half-sprawled on the ground with the goose now comfortably perched on your back, like some sort of bizarre poultry crown.

Before Riddle can reply, Ace and Deuce finally catch up, breathless and thoroughly amused by the sight before them.

“Nice one!” Ace cackles, doubling over with laughter. “I didn’t think you’d go for the full-on tackle!”

“Yeah, wow,” Deuce adds, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Really… really brave of you. Or maybe just… really dumb?”

Cater, meanwhile, is gleefully giggling during the entire thing. "I can’t believe you almost took out Riddle over a goose!” Riddle glares at them, cheeks still a furious shade of pink. “This is not funny. Someone could have been hurt!”

You finally manage to sit up, the goose still somehow perched atop your shoulder. You look up at Riddle, giving him a sheepish grin. “Uh, well… thanks for breaking my fall?”

Riddle huffs, brushing dirt off his sleeves as he stands. “Next time, please consider not risking your life over poultry.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, Riddle,” Cater teases, still giggling. “Our hero here just wanted to protect you from the fierce Goose of Doom!”

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

Ace leans over, giving you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Honestly, this is peak comedy. I can’t wait to see the look on Trey’s face when he hears about this.”

You groan, already feeling the embarrassment sink in. “Just… just help me up, please.”

Riddle offers you a hand, though he still looks like he’s debating whether to scold you or just cry. As he pulls you to your feet, the goose squawks indignantly, finally hopping off your shoulder to strut away, victorious.

“See?” Ace says, still grinning like a fool. “The goose is fine. No harm done.”

“No harm,” Riddle repeats, looking at you with a sigh. “Except perhaps to our dignity.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, well, dignity is overrated. At least we caught the goose… eventually.”

Riddle shakes his head, a small smile finally tugging at his lips. “Next time, let’s leave the heroics to someone a little more... suited for it, shall we?”

You nod, rubbing your sore elbow. “Deal. But if that goose comes at you again, I’m not making any promises.”

Riddle just shakes his head, turning away to pick up his book. And he takes your hand and ties a handkerchief around a scratch you didn’t even realize was bleeding. You can still hear the teasing laughs from Ace, Deuce, and Cater echoing in your ears, but you can’t help the grin that tugs at your own lips.

Yeah, you might’ve girlbossed a little too close to the sun today. But at least you made Riddle smile and he held your hand!(kinda) . And, well, the goose is still alive, so there’s that. Small victories.

"System: Quest: Become the Flower of the Ball. Reward: 50 Points"

The system's new quest pops up with a glorious ping—Become the Flower of the Ball. Easy enough, right? Except, of course, your sister has always held that title. The "Flower of the Ball" is not just the prettiest person at the event; it’s the one who commands the room, whose influence and elegance leave everyone talking for weeks. And you? Well, with Cater on your side, you’re about to change that.

First step: rumors. Cater helps you work your way through the gossip circuit like a seasoned pro. With just a few whispered suggestions here and there, you have half the ball convinced that you’ll be arriving in something that will make your sister’s dress look like an afterthought.

Next, your mother—who’s never liked your adopted sister, mainly because of your father's favouritism —does her part by pulling the strings and reserving the best tailor exclusively for you. Your sister? She’s stuck with second-rate options, fuming in the background. By the time you step into the ball, you look absolutely perfect. The dress is a masterpiece of fabric and sparkle, the kind that makes everyone’s heads turn the second you enter.

Cater sneaks by your side as you walk in. "Nailed it, babe," he whispers, giving you a wink. "They're already talking about how your dress makes you look like a literal god."

And indeed, the whispers from the crowd follow you like a wave. Mission accomplished.

Your sister, of course, tries to maintain her usual position of dominance. She’s chosen the 7th male lead as her escort—a decision that reeks of desperation since she couldn't snag a higher-ranked noble. You, meanwhile, had originally planned to attend with Ace and Deuce, they were your closest friends after all, just to keep things low-key. But before you can finalize that plan, Riddle appears, looking composed as ever, and offers you his arm.

"I thought it might be appropriate if you accompanied me," he says with a shy smile. "Since my fiancée has chosen to attend with someone else this evening."

You almost laugh. Of course, she has. She likely thought it would make her look more desirable, but now it's given you a perfect in. Going to the ball with Riddle is about as high-profile as it gets.

Your sister’s eyes widen the moment she sees you walk in with him. Her expression morphs into barely-contained outrage, but before she can say anything, another bomb drops.

Riddle’s mother—stern and poised as always—leans over to one of her confidantes and just loud enough for you and your sister to hear, says, "Well, perhaps this arrangement is for the best. It wouldn’t be surprising if we reconsider the sister for our families’ union."

Cue dramatic gasp.

Your sister’s face twists in horror, while the 7th male lead stands there, visibly confused as to why he’s even part of this drama. "What—what did she mean by that?!" your sister hisses, shooting daggers at you and Riddle.

You smile sweetly. "Oh, who knows? Perhaps she just appreciates my company more."

Before your sister can explode, the Imperial Princess herself enters the fray. Your sister, still seething, is barely holding it together when she steps forward to greet the Princess, but her curtsey is sloppy. The Princess raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Hmm, interesting technique," she says coldly, her eyes flicking to you with approval as you execute your bow with flawless grace.

Your sister sputters, trying to recover, but it’s too late—the Princess’ interest is already elsewhere. The rest of the ball quickly follows suit, flocking to your side. Riddle, ever the gentleman, offers you a subtle smile as the room begins to orbit around you instead of your sister.

And then, like clockwork, your sister makes yet another blunder. This time, it’s with the cutlery at the dinner table. The 7th male lead awkwardly copies her, both of them managing to insult half the table in the process. You’d almost feel bad, but honestly, they’re making it too easy.

The system, naturally, is having the time of its life. "+25 points: Honestly, this is comedy gold. Extra points for the mess."

You flash a victorious smile, knowing that by the end of the night, you’ll be crowned as the new Flower of the Ball—your sister’s reign well and truly over.

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

Riddle wasn't quite sure when it happened. Maybe it had been a gradual realization, building slowly every time he saw you speak your mind with that sharp wit of yours, or maybe it was something that had struck him like a lightning bolt during a moment like this—watching you hold an entire room's attention, bright and confident in your own, distinct way.

You were just so... you. The way you spoke, that glint of mischief in your eyes whenever you were about to say something clever—it was entirely captivating. It was easy to see why people were drawn to you, why they wanted to bask in your energy.

Right now, you were standing near the center of the room, laughing animatedly as you shared some story with your friends. Your expression was full of life, each gesture adding color to your words, your smile lighting up the whole space. Riddle couldn’t help but find his gaze lingering on you, taking in every detail.

And then, out of nowhere, you turned your head, locking eyes with him across the room. For a split second, he felt his breath catch. He should look away, he told himself. But he couldn't. He was rooted in place as you spotted him.

Your face lit up even more—if that was even possible—and you raised your hand, giving him an enthusiastic wave, completely unabashed. There was something so genuine, so utterly you, in that wave. Your arm flailed just a little, and you were smiling so broadly, so openly, that you looked a little silly. But it didn’t matter.

Because, in that moment, Riddle felt something click into place. He might like you. He might like you quite a lot, actually.

Without even thinking, Riddle found himself waving back, a small smile creeping onto his face. He felt warm, a strange fluttering sensation settling in his chest. He probably looked ridiculous, waving with that soft, dazed look in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You gave him a thumbs-up, your grin widening, and Riddle had to stop himself from laughing. His heart was pounding in his chest now, a warmth creeping up his neck, and the realization hit him with startling clarity: you made him feel light. You made him feel... happy, in a way he hadn’t quite understood before.

He might have spent his whole life avoiding this kind of chaos, but when it came to you—when it came to your laughter, your brightness, your way of pulling him into your orbit—Riddle found he didn’t mind the chaos at all.

In fact, he was pretty sure he was completely smitten with it.

"Villain System: New Quest—Humiliate the heroine in front of the heir to the throne, the First Princess. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You read the message and resist the urge to sigh. Your sister is a piece of work, sure, but the system really seems hellbent on making her your eternal punching bag. But hey, if the system insists… who are you to resist?

As luck would have it, the annual hunt is coming up—an event where the bachelors of the court go off into the woods to prove their worth, while the bachelorettes sit around and gossip like they're at an overpriced brunch. However, this year, the Imperial Princess, renowned master swordswoman and all-around terrifying person, has decided to spice things up by organizing a competition of swordsmanship for the ladies.

Before the hunt and the competition officially start, it's tradition for those not participating in the hunt to present charms to their loved ones—little tokens of affection and support to tie onto their swords before they charge off to slaughter things in the woods. It’s all very romantic, except, of course, when it’s you and your friends.

You've prepared four charms for Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. Mostly because you know these four will be fighting like it's a matter of life or death (because, let's face it, it’s mostly about showing off at this point), and the least you can do is give them something to remind them not to do anything stupid and die.

You hand them out one by one, and each of them reacts in their own, very predictable way.

Cater takes his with a grin, twirling it between his fingers like it’s a prize from a carnival. "Aw, thanks, bestie! Now I have no choice but to win." He strikes a pose, charm held up as if he’s already envisioning the animal he's gonna get.

Deuce just flushes, taking the charm with both hands as if it's some sacred object. "I, uh, I’ll do my best!" he declares, looking both touched and slightly stressed by the responsibility you’ve just put on him.

Ace rolls his eyes, snatching his charm like you’ve just given him an extra chore. "Ugh, seriously? Now I gotta win for you?" He gives a dramatic sigh, but you can tell he’s secretly proud, especially with the way he ties it onto his sword with a flourish—making sure everyone nearby notices.

Trey, ever the gentleman, accepts his charm with a warm smile, nodding in thanks. "I appreciate it," he says, his tone so sincere you almost feel bad about how unserious the others are. "I'll try to bring back something worthy of this."

You wave them off with a grin. "Just try not to get yourselves killed, alright? I don’t need the guilt."

They nod, though Ace gives you a playful smirk. "No promises, but hey, if I survive, I'll owe you one."

You’re not entirely sure if that’s comforting, but at least they seem motivated... in their own, ridiculous way.

But then comes the surprise: Riddle. Normally, Riddle doesn’t accept charms from anyone. The whole court knows he rejects them all, your sister’s included, and it’s practically common knowledge that they’re engaged.

And yet, as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone tug gently on your sleeve.

You look back, and there’s Riddle, cheeks tinged pink, looking almost… shy? “I… noticed you hadn’t given me a charm,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skips a beat. Riddle? Asking you for a charm? You quickly pull out an extra special one you’d prepared just in case, trying not to look too smug as you hand it over. “Of course, I saved the best for last,” you tease.

He takes it with both hands, his blush deepening, and carefully ties it to his sword. "Thank you," he says, the sincerity in his voice making you feel just a little warm inside.

The time for the competition arrives after they leave and naturally, your sister finds this whole idea beneath her. Women should be "gentle and poised," she says, like she hasn’t spent the last three months practicing how to flutter her eyelashes in just the right way to ensnare the nearest man.

Then she makes a godawful comment. "I'm sure I'm better than everyone here anyways."

The Princess's eye twitches at your sister’s comment, and you can practically smell the impending doom. “Is that so?” she says, voice calm but sharp enough to cut glass. “Then perhaps you’d like to prove it.”

Your sister blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh, but Your Highness, you're a general, a dame, it would hardly be fair—”

“No, no,” you butt in, already feeling the villainous urge rising. You smile sweetly at the Princess, “I’ll do it.”

Your sister’s eyes widen, and you swear you see a flicker of fear. “You?”

“Yes, me.” You roll your wrist casually, like this is nothing. After all, you’ve been secretly training with your mother(a former knight) for weeks. And let’s be real—if you can endure her strict-as-hell lessons without fleeing for your life, your sister stands no chance.

The crowd of onlookers murmurs, excited at the prospect of some royal drama. The Princess smiles approvingly. “Very well. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The competition begins, and your sister—oh, sweet, naive, overly-confident sister—struts up to the sparring ring like she’s about to breeze through this. She hasn’t even drawn her sword, too busy preening for the audience.

The Princess stands off to the side, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says dryly.

Your sister scoffs, finally drawing her sword with confidence that stems from absolutely nothing tangible.. “This won’t take long.”

It really doesn’t.

You sidestep her first swing with ease, and she fumbles, her balance thrown off. She’s clearly never sparred against anyone with any actual skill, and it shows. You suppress a laugh, offering her a mockingly sweet smile. “Having trouble?”

Her face flushes with anger, and she lunges again, this time with less grace and more brute force. You parry her strike effortlessly, spinning around her and tapping her shoulder lightly with your blade. “Point.”

The crowd gasps, and you can practically feel Riddle’s mother watching you with approval from her seat. Your sister glares at you, red-faced and flustered. “That was just luck,” she hisses.

“Sure,” you reply, twirling your sword for added flair. “Let’s see if your luck improves.”

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

By the end of the match, your sister is out of breath, red-faced, and thoroughly humiliated. You, on the other hand, haven’t even broken a sweat. The Princess claps her hands together, beaming. “Well done! I think that settles the matter.”

Your sister looks like she’s about to cry, and you can’t resist twisting the knife just a little. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before insulting women who actually know how to use a sword.”

The Princess snorts.

By the time the bachelors return from the hunt, everyone’s gathered around to see who brought back the biggest game. As expected, Ace and Deuce present their game to you: They’d both managed to snag huge wolves—both proud and slightly smug. Cater hands you his deer with a wink and a grin. Even Trey, with his calm composure, looks pleased as he hands over his bear.

And then, to everyone’s shock, Riddle approaches. He’s carrying what is clearly the biggest game of the day,a bear and a lion, and as he presents it to you, the whole crowd falls silent.

Your sister looks absolutely mortified. The other male leads, meanwhile, are either empty-handed or have brought back something pathetically small in comparison—a rabbit here, a pheasant there. But Riddle? Riddle has the prize catch, and he’s offering it to you, her sister who just humiliated her in front of the entire royal court.

The center of attention, you smile graciously as you accept the game, thanking him softly. The crowd erupts into whispers, all eyes on you and Riddle. Your sister looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and disappear, and you can’t help but feel just a little triumphant.

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded"

"Villain System: Bonus reward! 50 Villain Points awarded.

System: I wasn’t expecting you to charm all of the top hunters into giving you their game… but hey, overachieving is such a villainous trait. Well done."

You nearly roll your eyes at the system’s snarky tone. Of course it would reward you for accidentally out-villaining yourself. But hey, who’s going to complain about extra points?

Villain points: 975. 25 points to go, you're so close.

It was a peaceful afternoon in the garden, one of those rare moments where you and Riddle had a quiet space to just… exist. He was sitting across from you, his face slightly softened from its usual stern expression. The hedgehogs nearby were doing hedgehog things, oblivious to the world.

"I suppose it’s something I don’t talk about often," Riddle started, his voice softer than usual, like he was letting you into a part of himself he kept locked away. "My mother was strict—is strict. Everything had to be perfect. The rules, the grades, my behavior… there was no room for failure. Not even a sliver."

You nodded, already knowing this story from your countless hours reading the webnovel. But hearing it from him directly? It hit differently.

"I wasn't allowed to have friends or play outside. My entire childhood was about memorizing rules and doing things perfectly," he continued. His eyes stayed on the hedgehogs, but his expression grew distant, lost in the painful memories. "Every mistake I made was a punishment… every misstep was a disappointment."

You could feel the lump forming in your throat. Here it comes. The part that always got you while reading.

"But the worst part," Riddle whispered, his voice almost cracking, "was that I started to believe I wasn’t good enough… not for her, not for anyone."

That was it. The dam broke.

You tried to keep it together—you really did—but the sheer weight of Riddle’s story, the pain in his voice, it hit you like a sledgehammer to the chest. You started sniffling. And then… it escalated.

You’re not just crying; you’re ugly crying. We’re talking snot, hiccups, the whole I-will-not-survive-this package.

And then, in between gasps, you suddenly blurt out, "I swear... I SWEAR, I’ll get revenge for you! No one will survive my wrath!" You shake your fist to the sky like you’re about to start a one-person war against his emotionally distant mother.

Riddle looks at you, eyes wide with shock. He hadn’t expected this. No one had. Not even you.

"Are you… are you crying?" he asked, sounding both bewildered and concerned, because let’s face it, you were making sounds that weren’t even human anymore. Somewhere between a hiccup, a wail, and a seal being slapped.

"Y-YES!" you sobbed, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, which didn’t help because now you just had tear-streaked sleeves and a snotty nose. "IT'S SO SAD!"

Riddle blinked, completely caught off-guard. “It’s… it’s not that—”

By this point, you were full-on hysterical, tears streaming down your face as you flailed around in righteous fury. Riddle just sat there, completely overwhelmed. He had expected maybe a few words of sympathy, a comforting pat on the shoulder. What he hadn't expected was for you to declare full-scale emotional war on his behalf.

Riddle, for his part, was speechless. And also… redder than his hair.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but—"

"No, Riddle!" you cut him off, wiping your nose aggressively with your sleeve again. "You deserve someone who loves you without conditions! And I’m going to make sure the world knows it!" You stood up dramatically, only to trip over a rock, stumble, and fall back into your seat. "Ow."

Riddle, despite the chaos, couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your sheer determination—and the fact that you were still crying while swearing vengeance. It was… endearing, in a very chaotic, unpredictable way.

You, however, were still in your feelings. "I can’t believe your mom! I’m—sniffle—gonna burn her rulebook. Watch me."

Riddle, who had started the conversation with the intention of sharing something personal, now found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. But… somehow, through your teary declarations of revenge and your intense empathy, he couldn’t help but feel something stir inside him.

He looked at you—your face blotchy, your eyes puffy, your determination unwavering despite the fact that you were an absolute mess—and he realized that you weren’t crying just because you felt bad. You were crying because you cared. Like, really cared.

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe… maybe you were the kind of person who could see past all his rules and expectations and just—feel for him. No judgment. Just empathy.

"I… I didn’t realize it would make you so upset," he said quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "But thank you. Really."

Through your sniffling, you managed to nod and offer a watery smile. "It’s not fair. You deserve better, Riddle. I mean it."

And with that, Riddle found himself falling just a little harder for you—ugly crying and all.

It’s a regular afternoon tea party, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and your sister is… making out with the eighth male lead in broad daylight behind a rose bush.

Ah. Classy.

You had only wandered over to sneak a mini éclair when you caught them. What’s worse is they weren’t even being subtle—like, they might as well have put up a sign that says, “We’re Ruining Our Reputations Here.”

Shocked beyond measure, you accidentally let out the loudest and most undignified gasp. It’s so loud that the entire tea party freezes mid-sip. Cups stop midair, all eyes turn to you like you’ve just declared war on the empire.

“Did someone choke on a scone?” Trey asks, concerned, already standing to assess the pastry crisis.

You try to subtly redirect everyone’s attention back to their tea, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The Imperial Princess, the Empress, the First Prince, the Emperor, Riddle, your parents, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, and Riddle’s mom—all eyes are now locked on you and the unfortunate scene happening behind you.

Your sister and the eighth male lead pop their heads out of the bushes like deer caught in headlights, looking horrified. The heroine, of course, immediately bursts into tears. “I can’t believe you! How could you ruin my private moment!” she wails, mascara already running.

You blink. "Private? You were basically holding auditions for 'Romeo and Juliet' in front of the entire garden."

"Enough!" The Empress's voice cuts through the chaos like a sword. She glares at your sister, then glances at you for an explanation. You're about to open your mouth when—

"An outrage!" The Imperial Princess thunders, stepping forward with the grace of a tiger ready to pounce. "Is this what passes for decorum these days?"

Before you can even begin to process the incoming storm, your sister points her trembling finger at you. “It’s her fault! She—She’s been plotting against me this whole time! She wanted to embarrass me!”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly deadpan. “By forcing you to lock lips with the eighth male lead in broad daylight? Wow, my plans are so intricate even I don’t understand them anymore.”

Ace is snickering so loudly into his teacup that he’s shaking, and Deuce is doing his best to hold back tears of laughter. Cater’s trying to stay neutral, but even he’s got a lopsided grin.

Riddle, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to create a new spell that will instantly smite him while his mother… well, his mother seems like she’s gonna cut someone.

Riddle’s mom, the always composed Lady Rosehearts, steps forward, glancing at your sister with such a cold expression that you could swear the temperature drops five degrees. “This engagement," she begins icily, "will not proceed. If there is to be any union between our families, it will be with someone more appropriate." She then turns her gaze to you. “Someone like you.”

Cue a choking noise from Riddle, who looks ready to faint on the spot. His cheeks turn red as he stares wide-eyed at his mother, clearly having not expected this. Trey’s eyes widen too, but he quickly coughs into his fist to hide a smirk. Ace elbows Deuce with barely concealed glee.

“U-Um, Mother?” Riddle manages to stutter out. “What… what do you mean?”

His mother gives him a rather smug look, clearly having already made up her mind. “I mean that if this union is to benefit both families, it would be much more suitable for you to marry someone with intelligence, grace, and… a bit of common sense. Someone who hasn’t made a public fool of themselves.” Her eyes drift back to your sister, who is now dramatically sobbing into her hands.

Your father looks like he’s just been hit by a runaway carriage, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. “Lady Rosehearts—surely this is a misunderstanding—”

Riddle’s mom raises a hand. “If there is to be any marriage, it will be between my son and your younger daughter. Or,” she adds sharply, “there will be no marriage at all.”

You stand there, blinking at the whirlwind you just caused by gasping too loudly at your sister’s terrible decision-making skills. You glance at your mom, who has her face buried in her hands. But when she peeks through her fingers, you see the slight glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She’s pretending to be scandalized, but deep down… she’s absolutely living for this. You know she's elated that you got your guy.

The Emperor himself clears his throat, trying to restore order to the royal circus. “Well, this is… unprecedented,” he says, diplomatically, though there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, like he’s holding back laughter.

Your sister, meanwhile, continues her sobbing performance, practically flinging herself into your father’s arms. “Papa, how can they treat me like this?! You always told me I’m the heroine!”

You try to hide your grin. “Heroine of a tragedy, maybe.”

“Enough!” Your father groans, looking utterly defeated. “You’ve done enough damage, girl.”

Riddle reluctantly speaks up. “I… I suppose Mother has made her decision.” His voice wavers a bit, and for a moment, he seems like he might collapse under the weight of all this sudden attention. But then, his eyes meet yours. And despite the chaos, despite his mortification, there’s a small, shy smile on his face.

“You,” he begins hesitantly, “you wouldn’t… mind this arrangement, would you?”

You laugh softly, glancing at the ridiculous mess that was this tea party. “Honestly? I'm quite fond of you so, why not?”

Ace lets out a snort of laughter, while Cater gives you a double thumbs-up from across the table. Trey just smiles warmly, giving you an approving nod. Even Lady Rosehearts looks somewhat satisfied.

The system, not one to miss an opportunity, dings in your head again.

"Villain System: New achievement unlocked! Engagement broken! Also… bonus points for making a royal spectacle of it. 100 Villain Points awarded."

With this, you're free from the system. Maybe it's time to retire your villain act.

You nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. But for now, you simply give Riddle a small, reassuring smile.

“Well,” you say, “guess we’ve got some wedding planning to do.”

It was a grand banquet, the kind where you could practically smell the prestige in the air. The Imperial Family was seated at the head of the table, all regal in their elegance. You were just trying not to trip over your own shoes and embarrass yourself in front of the Empress again.

Riddle, of course, was the epitome of decorum. Every movement was precise, every word carefully measured. Until—just as he went to refill the First Prince’s wine glass—his hand slipped ever so slightly. The tiniest splash of wine splattered onto the pristine tablecloth. It was so small you would’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so intently.

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

His face immediately paled like he’d just seen a ghost wearing polka dots, and his eyes darted across the table to where his mother sat. Lady Rosehearts was blissfully unaware, engaged in conversation with the Emperor, but Riddle looked like he was about to meet his maker.

You could almost hear his internal screams.

To anyone else, it was a non-event. But to Riddle, this was a catastrophe of the highest order. You could practically feel him sweating next to you, despite his rigid posture.

Time to act.

“Oh no!” You gasp dramatically, standing up and pointing directly at yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that!”

Everyone at the table stopped and stared, clearly wondering what on earth you were talking about. Even the Empress raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and mild amusement flickering on her face.

Riddle blinked, looking at you like you had just spontaneously grown a second head. “What…?”

You plopped down a napkin over the tiny splash of wine, covering the evidence. “I—I accidentally knocked the bottle when Riddle was pouring!” you announce loudly, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, Your Highnesses. How embarrassing.”

The Empress smiled indulgently. “It’s quite all right, dear. Such things happen.”

Lady Rosehearts glanced over at the napkin-covered spot and frowned slightly, but then she looked back to you and said, “No harm done.”

Meanwhile, Riddle’s face was a mix of confusion, shock, and—was that gratitude? He blinked again, still processing what just happened. His mother hadn’t even glanced at him in disapproval, and now you were taking the fall for a spill no one really noticed.

As the conversation around the table resumed, Riddle leaned in close, whispering under his breath, “Why would you do that?”

You grinned and shrugged. “Because I’ve got a heart of gold, obviously. And I quite like you, you know”

Before Riddle could respond, Ace, who had been watching the whole debacle with barely restrained glee, leaned over from his spot across the table. “You’re down so horrendously,” he said, just loud enough for you and Riddle to hear.

You shot him a look. “You’re just mad you don’t have someone as gracious as me taking the fall for you”

Ace wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe, but at least I don’t go taking the fall for my fiancé before we’re even married.”

Riddle flushed a bright red. “I—I—this isn’t—”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “You know, Ace, sometimes you just have to be a hero.”

“Sure, ‘hero,’” Cater chimed in, leaning in on the action with a smirk. “Or, you know, simp of the year.”

Riddle, still flustered, shoots both of them a glare, but you can tell he’s secretly relieved. The impending doom of his mother’s wrath was averted, all thanks to your impromptu performance.

With a small sigh, he finally mutters, “Thank you,” so softly you almost miss it.

You give him a wink and lean back in your chair, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. “Anytime, partner.”

Ace nudges Deuce. “You think we should get them ‘World’s Greatest Simp’ matching mugs for the wedding?”

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

Riddle buries his face in his hands. "Please, spare me."

But the corners of his mouth are lifting, just slightly.

It happened when you decided to climb the academy's tallest tree. It was a brilliant idea in your mind—after all, you’d just spotted an adorable sparrow nest precariously hanging from one of the highest branches. Rescue mission mode engaged.

The execution? Less brilliant.

You were halfway up, dangling from a particularly wobbly branch, when you heard a very familiar voice calling your name from below.

“WHAT are you doing?” Riddle’s voice was half exasperated, half astonished.

You looked down (mistake) and saw Riddle, arms crossed, staring at you with a mix of bewilderment and that very specific “You’re in trouble” look he usually reserved for rule-breaking.

“I—uh,” you stammered, “I’m saving the sparrows?”

There was a long pause. Riddle blinked. “You climbed that tree for sparrows?”

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Riddle interrupted, running a hand down his face. “Do you even have a plan for getting down?”

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Of course you will.”

By some miracle (or the sheer force of your chaotic will), you managed to secure the sparrow nest and shimmy your way down without falling to your doom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you triumphantly held the nest up, smiling wide.

“See? Mission accomplished!”

Riddle just stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed—a soft, bewildered laugh that grew louder the more he looked at you, dirt-covered and grinning like an idiot.

“You…” he started, shaking his head with a small, fond smile, “You’re such an idiot.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “I—hey!”

“No, really,” he continued, stepping closer, eyes full of amusement. “You’re reckless and absurd and you do things like climbing trees to save sparrows and covering for me in front of the imperial family without thinking it through.”

You frowned, feeling a bit defensive. “Well, someone has to—”

“And yet…” His voice softened, and suddenly he was close, much closer than you expected. His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “And yet… I don’t think I could imagine my life without you.”

Your brain took a second to catch up. “Wait, what?”

Riddle took a breath, as if bracing himself, and then met your eyes with the most serious expression you’d ever seen on him. “I’m saying that I—” he hesitated, his cheeks turning pink, but his voice was steady, “I’m in love with you.”

You stood there, stunned, staring at him in complete disbelief. Riddle Rosehearts just confessed his love to you.

“…Even after all the dumb stuff?” you asked, still processing.

Riddle laughed again, that soft, endearing laugh that made your heart flip. “Especially after all the dumb stuff.”

There was a beat of silence where you just stared at each other, and for once, your usually silly brain kicked into overdrive. You stepped closer, leaning in with a sudden smoothness you didn’t even know you were capable of.

“Well,” you said, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you tilted your head toward him, “lucky for you… I’m your idiot.”

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

It was soft, and sweet, and everything perfect. For a moment, Riddle was so surprised he froze, but then he melted into it, his hand gently cupping your face like he’d been waiting forever to do this.

When you pulled back, Riddle was completely flustered, his face red as a tomato, but there was a dazed smile on his lips. “That… That was unfair.”

You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “You love it.”

Riddle shook his head, still smiling. “I really do.”

And from that moment on, it was clear: you may be the academy’s resident chaos agent, but you were his chaos agent, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You finally got a private moment to yourself. It was time to say goodbye to the villain system that you may or may not have gotten fond of.

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

[Congratulations! You’ve accumulated enough points to finally say goodbye to the system.]

You blinked. "Wait… really? I can finally get rid of you?"

[Yes. It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?]

Wild ride was an understatement. The system had dragged you through schemes, quests, and enough drama to fill a ten-season TV show, all for the purpose of toppling your sister's reign of terror. And now, at long last, you were free.

"...So that's it?" you asked. "No final boss fight? No sudden plot twist where you take over my body and reveal you’re the real villain?"

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

[Actually... about that plot twist...]

You groaned. "I knew it. What is it this time? Are you an evil AI? A demon? Oh God, please tell me you’re not my fairy godmother in disguise."

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

You stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. "...What."

[Yeah. You, uh, you kinda possessed me.]

You blinked rapidly, your brain short-circuiting. "WHAT?!"

[I was the original villainess of this world. The real one. You didn’t just get isekai’d into some random character. You got me, because I wanted you]

"Oh my God," you muttered. "You’ve been here the whole time?"

[Yup. Watching you fumble around like an idiot. No offense.]

"None taken, but wow—uh, okay," you said, rubbing your forehead. "So I’ve just been… helping you take revenge on your sister this whole time?"

[Well, duh.] The system sounded almost smug. [She tormented me horrifically when I was still alive. That’s why I pushed you to make her life miserable. I wanted justice.]

"Justice," you repeated, thinking back to all the chaos, sabotage, and general insanity. "That was justice?"

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. "I mean, fair. So what now? You just leave?"

There was a long pause before the system replied.

[Well... you actually have more points than you need. You can buy my identity if you want. Get the full story. You know, if you're curious.]

You hesitated for a second, but then shrugged. "Eh, why not. Hit me with it."

The system pinged, and suddenly, memories flooded your mind—her memories. You saw everything: her upbringing, her struggles, how she had tried so hard to be perfect for her family, only for her sister to constantly outshine her. You saw the cruel way her sister belittled her, humiliated her in front of the court, all while smiling sweetly to the outside world.

And then… the tragic ending, where the villainess was cast aside, labeled a monster, and killed.

By the end of it, you felt like you’d been punched in the gut.

"Oh, wow," you whispered. "She really was awful to you."

[Told you.]

"Man… I’m so sorry," you said, your voice softening. "You went through all that, and then you ended up stuck with me."

[Honestly? It was kinda fun watching you screw up everything at first.] The system’s tone was teasing now, but there was an undeniable warmth underneath it. [But you did a good job. Better than I ever did. You were a little unhinged, but hey, that’s probably why I liked you.]

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess? I tried my best."

[You did more than that.] There was a strange fondness in the system’s voice. [You turned this whole world upside down. You made people laugh, cry, and probably question their sanity. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better revenge.]

For a moment, you felt a lump form in your throat. "So… what now? Do you just disappear?"

[Yeah. It’s time for me to move on. But… hey, I’m rooting for you. Go live your best life. Be happy. And if you ever need to knock your sister down a peg, do it in style. For me.]

You smiled, blinking away the sudden wetness in your eyes. "You bet I will. And hey—wherever you go, I hope you get to relax for once. You deserve it."

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

There was a brief pause, then another notification popped up.

[Goodbye, little reader. It’s been real. And remember—always aim for the drama. It makes life more interesting.]

With that, the screen dimmed, and the system was gone.

You stared at the empty space where the notifications used to be. "Aim for the drama, huh?" you muttered, a grin tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess that’s one thing I’m good at."

As you turned around, ready to move forward without the system hovering over

you, you felt something. A strange, gentle sensation, like the faintest brush of a breeze, except it wasn’t just that. It was warmer, more personal, and… oddly comforting.

It took a second, but then it hit you. "Wait—"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Was this—?

It was as if the original villainess was giving you a ghostly hug. Soft, delicate, but so real you could almost feel her presence.

Tears welled up in your eyes, completely out of nowhere. You weren’t supposed to feel emotional! Not over a system—no, not just a system—a person who had suffered more than you ever realized.

"I… I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything for you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I tried, I really did, but…"

You felt that warmth grow a little stronger, like she was reassuring you, telling you that you had done enough. More than enough. Maybe, in a way, you’d freed her. Given her peace.

The weight of that ghostly embrace made your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you started crying. Again. But not the ugly, chaotic crying from before—this was softer, deeper. The kind of crying that cleansed your soul.

"I’ll do it," you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I’ll finish what I started. I’ll take her down. Not just for me—but for you."

The presence seemed to linger for a moment longer, and then it was gone, leaving behind a quiet strength in its place.

You wiped your eyes, steeling yourself. The resolution hardened in your chest like iron. Everything you had been planning, all the revenge, the chaos you had been orchestrating, it wasn’t just some game anymore. It was personal.

For her.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and looked out toward the path ahead, a fire burning brighter than ever inside you.

"I’ll finish this," you muttered, fists clenching. "And it’s going to be beautiful."

And with that, you walked forward, no longer just a reader in someone else’s story.

This time, you were the one in control.

The day of your wedding to Riddle was perfect. Every detail was as if the universe had conspired to make sure nothing went wrong. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and laughter echoed throughout the grand venue. Your friends were all there, supporting you—Ace and Deuce bickering over who looked better in their suits, Cater contantly checking if everything was aesthetically pleasing, and Trey managing everything behind the scenes with his usual calm, though you caught him grinning at you more than once, proud as ever. Even Che'nya had shown up, popping in and out of sight as he pleased, throwing teasing remarks at anyone who passed by.

Your sister, however, was absolutely seething. She stood stiffly, dressed impeccably, but with a scowl that could burn down the entire venue. You knew she was fuming because she had always imagined herself in your place, standing beside Riddle. Too bad for her—you had the upper hand now.

You glanced at her briefly as you passed by, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here. I almost admire it,” you whispered sweetly as you walked past her, arm in arm with Riddle.

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, you tossed one last barb. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to toss my bouquet to you. Maybe you'll get married next? You know, if they can find someone that can stand you?”

Riddle squeezed your hand as if to remind you to behave, but even he had a hint of a smirk on his face. Your friends snickered behind you, and Che'nya, perched casually on a railing, added a quiet, “Oof, that’s gotta sting.”

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Riddle stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a fairytale, his usually stern face softened by the moment. As you exchanged vows, there was a lightness to the air that made everything feel surreal. You could see how much he cared in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he held yours.

Ace, unable to help himself, whispered loudly, “You sure Riddle isn’t going to pass out from the nerves?”

Deuce elbowed him, but you could barely hold back a laugh. Even Riddle blushed a bit, shooting a glare at Ace but unable to hide his own amusement.

When it was time for the reception, the fun really kicked off. Che'nya gave a surprisingly emotional speech—well, for him at least, as he vanished mid-sentence and then reappeared to finish his speech. Trey quietly made sure everything ran smoothly, even sneaking a slice of cake for you before the official cake-cutting, while Ace and Deuce took over the dance floor with some wild moves that had everyone laughing. Cater even got caught spiking the drinks and you couldn't help but laugh.

After the wedding, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the celebration. Everything had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. Even Riddle’s mother, who was notoriously hard to please, had remained poised and polite throughout. But you knew there was still unfinished business, and the weight of it settled heavily on your chest.

You’d seen the way she treated Riddle for years—through the pages of the webnovel and now, up close. Sure, she liked you, had even hinted at being pleased with your match to Riddle, but that didn’t erase the years of pressure and manipulation she had placed on him. The burden he had carried because of her was too great to ignore, and today, of all days, you were not going to let it slide.

You spotted her near the garden fountain, quietly observing the festivities. For a moment, she looked almost serene, her icy exterior softened by the beautiful day. But that didn’t change how you felt.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over. "Lady Rosehearts," you began, your voice steady but laced with unspoken tension.

She turned to you, a smile on her lips. "Ah, my dear. You were magnificent today. Truly the picture of grace and elegance. I couldn't have asked for a better match for my son."

Her words were warm, genuine even, but they only fueled the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, just stared at her, waiting for the right moment to unleash what you’d been holding in.

Finally, you spoke, your voice low. "I appreciate your kind words, but there’s something I can’t let go of." You stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "For years, you’ve pushed Riddle to be perfect. You suffocated him with your expectations, and it hurt him. I can’t stand by and let you pretend that didn’t happen."

Lady Rosehearts blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.

"You like me, and I’m grateful for that, but I love Riddle." Your voice wavered, not with fear, but with emotion. "And because I love him, I can’t ignore the damage you’ve caused. The pressure you put on him to be someone he wasn’t. The way you never let him breathe. You may have done it out of love, but it hurt him."

She stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. There was no immediate defense, no cold dismissal. She simply looked… surprised.

"I…" she began, but faltered. "I thought I was doing what was best for him. I wanted him to succeed, to be respected."

"But at what cost?" you snapped, unable to hold back the edge in your voice. "You wanted him to be respected so much that you never let him make his own choices. He deserves to be happy. And he deserves your respect, not just as your son, but as a person."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t done as well by Riddle as she thought.

Before she could respond, Riddle appeared beside you, having noticed the tension from across the garden. He stood tall, his usual calm demeanor in place, but you could sense the vulnerability beneath it.

"Mother," he said quietly, his voice steady but with a new strength behind it. "She’s right."

His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"

"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."

The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.

But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.

She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.

Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.

Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.

The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.

She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.

As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.

Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"

He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.

But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.

The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.

Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.

Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.

You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."

There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"

You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.

"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."

The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.

"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."

"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"

But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.

"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.

Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.

Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?

As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.

And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.

A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.

"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."

The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.

With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.

The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.

Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.

"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."

Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.

Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[theonottsbxtch]

HEAR ME (PURPLE LACED BRA) | LN4

an: i've been dying to post something to this so i'm glad i finally have something written - hope you guys enjoy it! go listen to so close to what!!

wc: 4.6k

THE MUSIC WAS DEAFENING, the bass shaking the floor beneath her heels, but she barely heard it. She stood at the edge of the VIP section, half-watching the celebration unfold in front of her. The club was packed—champagne bottles with sparklers, models draped over the backs of velvet sofas, cameras flashing every few seconds. And at the centre of it all was Lando.

He was grinning, drink in hand, surrounded by his team and a few celebrities she half-recognised. Another win. Another podium. Another reason for the world to love him. And they did—God, they did. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

She used to feel lucky just to stand beside him. Now, she wasn’t sure if she even existed in his world at all.

A hand brushed against the small of her back. She startled, turning to see Lando looking down at her with that easy, practised smirk—the one that melted screens and made headlines.

“Where’ve you disappeared to?” he asked, pulling her into his side. His hand rested low on her waist, fingers playing at the hem of her dress. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning down, his lips grazing her ear. “Come on, don’t do that thing where you get all quiet on me.”

Her jaw clenched. He said it like it was a mood she put on, like she was being difficult. But what was the point of speaking when he never heard her?

So she did what she always did. She tilted her head, plastered on a smile, let him pull her closer. He liked her like this—silent, beautiful, easy.

A photographer stepped forward, camera ready. Lando straightened, his grip tightening just slightly, and just like that, she knew her role. She shifted towards him, leant into the picture, let them capture exactly what they wanted: The driver and his perfect girl.

But she was starting to wonder if that was all she would ever be.

The camera flash flickered, catching the sharp angles of Lando’s jaw, the gleam of his watch, the perfect way her body fit against his. The photographer gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already chasing after someone else worth capturing.

Lando exhaled through his nose, his grip on her easing now that the moment had passed. “See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Was that so hard?”

Her smile didn’t waver. It never did. But something in her chest twisted so tightly she almost felt breathless.

He turned back to his conversation, already lost in some animated discussion about the race, his hands moving as he recounted the final laps. She knew the words before they left his mouth—the same adrenaline-fuelled debrief he gave after every win. The late braking, the perfect strategy call, the rivals he left in his dust.

He was electric when he spoke about racing. It was the only time she ever saw him truly alive.

She used to love watching him like this. Now, she just felt like a shadow beside him.

Her fingers skimmed the rim of her untouched drink as she scanned the room. Everywhere she looked, people were watching him. Not her. Never her. She could disappear right now and no one would notice.

Well—almost no one.

Lando’s teammates, Oscar, was watching her from across the table. He had that knowing look in his eye, the one that made her stomach twist. He always seemed to see things, things she wasn’t ready to admit.

She turned away before he could say anything.

“I’m going to the loo,” she said quietly, but Lando didn’t even glance at her. He just gave a distracted nod, still deep in conversation.

Of course.

She stepped away, weaving through the throng of people, their laughter and shouting merging into white noise. The ladies’ toilets were tucked behind a velvet curtain, far enough from the chaos that the music was just a dull thud in the walls. She pushed open the door and exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked exactly how she was supposed to. The perfect dress, the flawless makeup, the effortless kind of beauty that people expected from the girlfriend of a star.

But looking perfect had never felt so exhausting.

The door swung open behind her, and she braced herself, half-expecting one of the other WAGs to stroll in. Instead, it was Oscar.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “You alright?”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Maybe.” His gaze didn’t waver. “But I think you should hear yourself answer it.”

Her throat tightened.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t alright. And she was starting to think she never had been.

She turned back to the mirror, gripping the porcelain edge of the sink as if it could steady her. Behind her, Oscar hadn’t moved. He wasn’t pushing her to answer, but his silence said enough.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing the words out smoothly. Too smoothly.

Oscar huffed a quiet breath, tilting his head slightly. “That’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, and for a second, something flickered in her chest—something that made her want to fold, to speak, to say all the things she’d been swallowing down for too long.

But what was the point? She could scream at the top of her lungs, and Lando still wouldn’t hear her.

She turned away, brushing past Oscar as she pulled open the door. “I should get back.”

“Should you?” His voice was quiet but steady.

She paused.

Oscar sighed, shifting his weight. “Look, I know it’s not my business, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look when he’s not.”

Her breath hitched slightly. She hated that he noticed. She hated that someone had caught onto the thing she’d spent months trying to ignore.

Still, she forced a light laugh, giving him an amused glance over her shoulder. “You analysing me now?”

His lips twitched. “You could say that. You know, body positioning determines whether or not someone’s actually listening.”

The words sent a sharp pang through her chest.

Because Lando never did listen. She could whisper in his ear, touch him, scream until her throat was raw—but the only time he truly paid attention was when she was undressing, when she was playing the role he wanted her to. And maybe she’d accepted that for a while, maybe she’d let herself believe that was just part of loving someone like him.

But now… now it felt suffocating.

Her phone buzzed.

Lando: Where’d you go? Come back.

No “Are you okay?” No “Do you need me?” Just come back. Like she was a misplaced watch or a forgotten drink.

She swallowed the bitter lump in her throat, forcing another easy smile as she tucked her phone away. “I should go.”

Oscar didn’t stop her. He just nodded, but the look in his eyes stayed with her as she slipped back into the club, where Lando was waiting.

Waiting for her.

Not her thoughts, not her words, not the things that made her her. Just her body, her presence, her silence.

And she was starting to wonder if that was all she’d ever be to him.

The night dragged on. More drinks, more cameras, more mindless conversations she wasn’t part of. She stayed close to Lando, playing the role as she always did, but she felt herself slipping further and further away.

By the time he decided they were leaving, she felt like a ghost in her own body.

As Lando shook hands and exchanged goodbyes with the people that mattered, she glanced towards the bar, her eyes catching on Oscar.

He was already looking at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something steady in his gaze—something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, tired smile.

Oscar didn’t smile back, but the way his jaw clenched slightly told her enough.

Lando’s hand landed on her hip, pulling her back into focus. “Come on,” he murmured, already leading her towards the exit, towards his car, towards another night of being exactly what he wanted.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the McLaren filling the silence between them. Lando was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on her bare thigh.

She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her thoughts tangled.

Would he hear me more if I whispered? If I touched him the way he wanted? If I played this part forever?

Would he ever hear me?

She barely realised they’d arrived until the car pulled smoothly into the hotel’s private entrance. The valet opened her door, and she stepped out into the warm night air, still feeling that lingering touch on her skin.

The lift ride was just as silent. Lando didn’t notice—he was scrolling through his phone, probably checking messages, reading about his win, soaking in the world’s praise.

She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.

The moment they stepped into their suite, the tension shifted.

Before she could even take a breath, Lando’s hands were on her, spinning her towards him.

She barely had time to react before he had her pressed against the wall, his body firm against hers, his lips brushing against her neck. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he murmured against her skin.

She swallowed, her hands coming up to his chest, pushing lightly. “I’m tired.”

Lando barely hesitated. “Come on,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her jaw, his hands sliding over her hips. “Don’t do that.”

That.

That meaning the exhaustion in her voice. That meaning the part of her that wanted something more than this.

“I’m not in the mood, Lando.” Her voice was firmer this time.

He let out a sharp exhale, pulling back just enough to look at her properly. His dark eyes scanned her face, and for a second, she thought—hoped—that maybe he’d see something. Maybe he’d hear something.

But then he just scoffed. “You’re always bloody tired these days.”

And just like that, she knew.

There was no concern in his voice. No question of what was wrong. No care for why she felt like this, for why she had been drifting further and further from him. Just frustration. Just disappointment that she wasn’t giving him what he wanted.

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as something inside her cracked wide open. “I think I’m going to take a bath.”

Lando studied her for a moment longer, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “Yeah, whatever.”

And then—just like that—he turned and walked out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind him.

She stood there, frozen.

Not surprised. Not angry.

Just… empty.

And that was the worst part.

She moved through the next couple of hours on autopilot.

She took off her makeup, wiped away the remnants of the night. She ran a bath but barely stayed in it long enough for the heat to sink into her skin. She changed into one of Lando’s oversized shirts, something she always did before bed—more out of habit than comfort now.

And then she sat.

Just sat on the edge of their bed, staring at nothing, the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. The weight in her chest pressed heavier and heavier until it finally cracked, and before she even realised it, tears spilled over her cheeks.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to blink them away. What the hell is wrong with me?

It wasn’t like this was new. Lando had always been like this. She had always been an accessory to him, something to be looked at, shown off, touched when it suited him.

But tonight felt different.

Tonight, she had said no. And he had walked away like she was nothing more than an inconvenience.

A quiet sob broke from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

She didn’t even hear the door open at first.

It wasn’t until she caught the heavy thud of something hitting the sofa that she jolted upright, quickly wiping at her tear-streaked face. Her heart pounded as she turned towards the noise, her breath catching in her throat.

Lando was slumped on the suite’s sofa, looking barely conscious. And standing over him, an arm still half-draped around his shoulders, was Oscar.

Her stomach twisted. “What—?”

Oscar let out a breath, straightening up and shaking his head. “Your boyfriend’s had one too many.”

Her eyes flickered back to Lando. His head lolled against the cushion, his shirt slightly rumpled, his hair a mess. He was clearly out of it.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Where did you find him?”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, looking both exasperated and unimpressed. “Slumped in the back of the club, surrounded by people who were more interested in snapping pictures of him than making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Figured you might want to know.”

Her chest tightened.

Of course. Of course this was how he handled things—getting wasted, drowning himself in attention that didn’t require him to actually feel anything. It was easier than facing his own reflection.

Or maybe… it was easier than facing her.

She let out a slow breath, rubbing at her temple. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

Oscar nodded but didn’t move. He was watching her carefully, like he could still see too much.

Like maybe, just maybe, he knew she had been sitting here crying before he walked in.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “You don’t have to stay.”

Oscar hesitated for half a second before his jaw tightened, and he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright.”

But as he moved towards the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You know… if you ever get tired of this,” he gestured vaguely to Lando’s slumped form, “you don’t have to stay.”

Her throat closed up.

Oscar didn’t wait for an answer. He just slipped out the door, leaving her alone with the man who was supposed to love her.

But as she sat there, staring at Lando—passed out, blissfully unaware—she realised something.

She had never felt lonelier in her life.

She sat down on the floor beside the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. The carpet was soft beneath her, but everything else felt unbearably sharp.

Her gaze flickered over Lando’s face—the strong jawline, the perfect cheekbones, the dark lashes that cast faint shadows against his skin. He looked almost peaceful like this, lost in whatever drunken haze he had drowned himself in.

Her chest ached as she reached out, fingers threading gently through his hair. It was soft beneath her touch, familiar in a way that made her heart hurt even more.

A quiet sob broke from her lips as she whispered, “Why wasn’t I enough?”

She had loved him so fiercely. She had stood by him, supported him, adored him. She had been everything he wanted her to be—poised, beautiful, silent when it mattered.

And yet, as she sat there, her tears slipping onto the fabric of his shirt, she finally understood.

She had fallen in love with him. But he had only ever fallen in love with her body.

Her hands curled into fists in his shirt as a quiet, broken sound left her throat. She had spent so long trying to be heard, to be seen, but the truth was devastatingly simple. Lando had never wanted to know her. He had never cared about her thoughts, her fears, her soul.

Only how she looked standing beside him. Only how she felt beneath him.

A shaky breath shuddered through her as she slowly pulled back.

Her gaze landed on his phone, lying loosely in his hand.

For a long moment, she just stared at it.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she carefully pried it from his grip. He didn’t stir. She tilted it towards his face, and with a soft sound, the lock screen vanished.

Her heart pounded as she pulled up his messages, ready to text Oscar.

But she never got that far.

Because the moment she opened his messages, her stomach dropped.

Hundreds.

Hundreds of messages.

All from different girls.

Some were old, buried beneath months of conversations. Others were recent. Some from tonight.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scrolled. He hadn’t even bothered to be subtle. Flirty messages, suggestive photos, hotel room numbers exchanged without hesitation.

Like it was nothing.

Like she was nothing.

A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat, but no more tears came. Maybe because there was nothing left to grieve.

Because the man she thought she loved?

He had never existed.

Her hands shook slightly as she backed out of the messages and pulled up his texts. She typed quickly, her fingers moving without hesitation.

Lando: What’s your room number?

The reply came almost instantly.

Oscar: Why?

She swallowed hard, staring at the screen. Then, without another thought, she typed back.

Lando: Please. Just tell me.

There was a long pause. Then—

Oscar: 2209.

She exhaled slowly, then locked the phone and set it back beside Lando.

For the first time in a long, long time, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

And for the first time—she wasn’t going to ask for permission.

She didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t stop to second-guess herself.

For so long, she had been trapped in this cycle—ignoring the things she didn’t want to see, pretending everything was fine. But now? The truth had cracked open in front of her, and there was no going back.

She stood up, wiping at her face, even though no more tears had fallen. Her body felt strangely light, like the weight pressing down on her for months had finally started to lift.

But she wasn’t free yet.

She grabbed a bag from the wardrobe, moving quickly, shoving in the essentials—her passport, her wallet, a few clothes. Enough to get her away from here, away from him.

She hesitated when she reached for one of Lando’s oversized shirts—the one she was still wearing. Then, with a bitter exhale, she pulled it off, yanking on a cropped tank top and a pair of shorts instead.

This wasn’t his to keep anymore.

Without a second glance, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of the suite, her pulse hammering as she stepped into the empty hallway.

She didn’t look back.

The corridor outside 2209 was quiet.

Her hands felt clammy as she knocked once. A part of her expected Oscar to ignore it, to assume it was Lando being drunk and annoying.

But after a moment, the door cracked open, and Oscar stood there, his brows pulling together the second he saw her.

“What the hell—?”

“I—” Her voice wavered, and suddenly, everything hit her all at once. The weight of the last few hours. The betrayal. The realisation that the man she had given her heart to had never truly wanted it in the first place.

She dropped her gaze, blinking hard. “I can’t—I can’t stay there.”

Oscar was silent for a beat. Then, without another word, he stepped aside, pulling the door open wider.

She hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. “I—I’ll book my own room. I just—needed to get out.”

Oscar’s jaw tensed, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re not booking a hotel at—” he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “—two in the bloody morning.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet huff. “For fuck’s sake, just—get in.”

Her throat closed up, but she nodded, stepping inside as he shut the door behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself. The adrenaline that had carried her here was wearing off, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and heartbreak.

She felt Oscar watching her.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice was steady. Not pushing, not demanding. Just there.

That was what undid her.

Because when was the last time anyone had asked her how she felt? When was the last time someone had wanted to hear what she had to say—without conditions, without expectations?

Her shoulders shook as she sucked in a breath, her hand coming up to cover her face.

And then she broke.

A strangled sob ripped from her throat as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the tears she had been holding back finally crashing over her.

Oscar didn’t say anything.

He just moved.

She barely registered it at first—the dip of the mattress beside her, the way his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest.

For a moment, she stiffened. She wasn’t used to this—to comfort without expectation. But Oscar just held her, warm and solid, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

She sobbed harder.

“He never loved me,” she whispered through the tears, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. “I—I thought he did, but he just—he just loved the way I looked. The way I made him look.”

Oscar’s grip on her tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. “I know.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “I was so stupid.”

Oscar exhaled sharply. “You weren’t stupid.”

She let out a hollow laugh. “Then what was I?”

Oscar was quiet for a long time. Then—

“You were in love.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because she still was.

Oscar didn’t pull away. He just kept holding her, letting her cry against him. His hands were steady on her back, his touch warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her own shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice muffled in his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric. “I thought… I thought I could fix it. But I don’t even know who he is anymore. Or who I am to him.”

Oscar’s hand smoothed through her hair, the motion gentle. “You don’t have to fix anything, alright?” he said softly, his voice low and comforting. “You don’t owe him anything. You only owe yourself the truth.”

She nodded weakly, though it felt like a hundred-pound weight was sitting on her chest.

He let her cry for as long as she needed, and when the sobs finally slowed, he shifted slightly, coaxing her to lie down.

“Let me get you into bed,” he murmured.

She wanted to protest, but she was too tired—physically and emotionally—so she allowed him to help her, shifting her legs as he gently guided her onto the mattress. Oscar tucked the blanket around her and, for a moment, just stood there, looking down at her.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she managed to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, barely a whisper.

Oscar gave her a small smile, but there was no mockery, no playfulness in it—just something real. “Get some sleep. I’m right here.”

She didn’t have the strength to say anything else. Her eyes fluttered shut, and before she knew it, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her.

When she woke up, the room was bathed in the soft morning light. She blinked a few times, groggy, trying to remember where she was, what had happened.

Then the events of the night came flooding back, and her chest squeezed with pain.

But as she stirred beneath the covers, she realised the weight on her was gone. There was no harshness, no cold emptiness pressing in on her. Instead, she smelled something familiar. Something warm.

She turned her head, and there, sitting at the desk, was Oscar.

He was holding a tray with a simple breakfast—croissants, fruit, and coffee. “Morning,” he said with a small smile, looking up from the screen of his phone.

Her stomach grumbled, and she smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture more than she could express. “I didn’t expect this,” she murmured, sitting up slowly.

Oscar grinned, though there was something soft in his eyes. “Well, you’ve had a rough night, haven’t you? Figured you could use something other than room service for a change.”

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

After a few moments of eating in silence, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up with a message notification—nothing from Lando.

Her heart skipped, but she told herself not to feel disappointed.

She unlocked her phone and opened Instagram, the app taking a moment to load. She tapped through her feed absentmindedly, but her thumb froze as her eyes landed on a photo—Lando, in his usual athletic wear, standing on a padel court, laughing with some other drivers.

He hadn’t noticed.

She stared at the photo for a long, long time.

He hadn’t even thought to message her.

There it was again. That crushing, suffocating truth.

She had spent the entire night worrying about him, about why he hadn’t cared, about why he had left her feeling like this.

And there he was, looking perfectly fine. Having fun. Living his life without a single care in the world about what she had gone through.

Her breath hitched, and she set her phone down, her hands trembling.

It hit her all over again—the truth that Lando had never cared about her in the way she had hoped. He never would.

The realisation was sharp and brutal. And this time, it didn’t feel like the first time she had felt heartbroken—it felt like the first time she had truly woken up.

She looked up at Oscar, her breath still shaky. He was watching her, waiting for something.

“Lando’s out there,” she whispered, her voice a little too quiet, too small. “He’s out there, laughing, living his life, like nothing happened.”

Oscar nodded, but his expression wasn’t pitying. It wasn’t anything like the way Lando would have looked at her in that moment. “Yeah. He is.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he set the breakfast tray down beside her. He sat next to her on the bed, his hand brushing hers. “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

She met his eyes, and this time, there was a calmness inside her—a stillness, like she was beginning to see herself for the first time in forever.

“I’m not going to let you stay in that toxic shit,” Oscar said, his voice steady. “You’ve already put up with it for too long. But if you need time, I’m here.”

She didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling, but for once, she didn’t need to.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, the words feeling like the most sincere thing she’d said in a long time.

And in that moment, as she sat beside Oscar, she realised—maybe she could finally let go. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing things with Lando. Maybe it was about fixing herself.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @driverlando

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ lando masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠...

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to lando

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,3k

✍︎ : this is my way of celebrating lando's win in abu dhabi. honestly, i was kinda hoping it would end like this, and seeing him smile again after the shitshow the last few races were was the best conclusion i could've imagined for this season.

i'm also planning to write one for carlos, a sort of 'other side of the coin': same scenario, same feelings involved, but a totally different atmosphere (which means heavy angst because i don't think i'll ever get over him leaving ferrari). let me know if you're interested! 🩷🧡

carlos' version here!

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

The McLaren garage had always been a lively place, but nothing could have prepared you — or any of your teammates — for the chaos that Lando's win brought that night.

Abu Dhabi, the last race on the 2024 season calendar, the last chance for the team to become great once again, and Lando had made it. He'd pulled off an absolute masterclass on track, securing both his fourth career win and the Constructors’ Championship title for McLaren, and you were there to witness it.

The moment he crossed the finish line in first, it seemed like the whole team gasped for air after holding their breath during the entire race. Then came the cheers, the hugs, the shouts, the tears of joy and relief… and him.

Being a part of the Papaya crew, you were as excited as everyone else for the long-awaited victory, of course, but the only thing you could seem to focus on were Lando’s watery eyes, sparkling under the bright lights of the Yas Marina Circuit.

It was written on his face — you could see it in his smile: he was proud of himself. For the first time in so long, that’s what his almost unbelieving gaze screamed, what you were dying to scream too.

You made it, Lando.

The celebration that followed was a blur of champagne, noisy music, and dances, yet the loudest party was the one going on inside your heart, which seemed to follow the rhythm of Lando’s laughter.

How long can a person hide their true feelings for someone they’ve known for… well, a while? In your case, what had initially started as a harmless, silly little crush almost seven months before was now the reason your world had lit up as soon as you’d seen Lando smile again.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore now, could you? After all, what better time to confess your embarrassingly strong feelings for him than as the perfect conclusion of such an eventful night?

Taking one last deep breath and a long sip of champagne from a nearby glass, you finally gained enough courage to walk up to where Lando was standing, surrounded by a crowd of orange t-shirts as he casually chatted with Oscar.

Once you reached him, you cleared your throat to get him to acknowledge you, which he almost immediately did, turning his head toward you with the biggest, brightest smile still plastered on his face.

“Hey,” you muttered, face flushed under his piercing stare. “Hey.” He didn’t hesitate, pulling you into an ecstatic side hug that only worsened your situation, totally unaware of the effect his presence — him in general, to be honest — had on you.

“I, uh… congratulations, Lando,” you somehow managed to blurt out, your cheeks completely on fire by the time he let go of you.

“Thanks.” His smile seemed to soften, as well as the look in his eyes, which lingered on your face with something that almost resembled tenderness. That’s all you needed to keep going.

“You deserve it. I mean it.” You stopped him before he could say anything, your voice unexpectedly firm since you knew he was about to shrug your compliment off. “You worked so hard for it, and I’m not just talking about tonight. The win, the championship — you earned it all, Lando. Everyone here is proud of you, and… I’m really proud of you, too.”

You could feel your face burning as the last words left your mouth, and when you dared to look directly at him, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of redness crawling up his neck and softly tinting his cheeks… but it must’ve been the garage lights, right?

“Well, thanks… again,” he chuckled, his right hand shooting up to scratch the back of his neck while his eyes finally left yours, falling to his feet instead.

As you opened your mouth once again, words fighting to go past the lump in your throat, someone from the team suddenly called out Lando’s name, his attention shifting to the engineer as he briefly waved at him.

This was it. If you let him go, you knew you wouldn’t find another moment like that for a while. No more backing down, no more second-guessing yourself — it had to be now.

“Wait, I… I need to tell you something else.” The almost panicked tone you used made his head snap back toward you, his eyes shifting from the hand you’d grabbed his arm with to yours, a spark of something you couldn’t really put your finger on flashing across them. “Yeah?” Was that… hope, in his voice?

“I just– well, I’ve been thinking about this… a lot. It’s not exactly easy for me to say, but–” You let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through your hair. “God, I’m already making a mess of this. What I’m trying to say is…”

Your gaze wandered over all the faces that surrounded you, suddenly very aware of their presence, until it landed on Oscar’s. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he just gave you an encouraging nod, to which the words started spilling out in a flood.

“I like you, Lando. I have for a while now. Ok, maybe more than a while, but that’s not the point. And not in a friendly kind of way, more like in a ‘I’ve-liked-you-for-over-seven-months-now-but-I-didn’t-know-how-to-tell-you’ kind of way, which sounds desperate when I say it out loud but–”

You stopped, realizing how fast you were talking, your words tumbling over each other. Lando’s expression hadn’t changed, and your stomach dropped.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, both your hands blocking out the defeated sigh you let out shortly after. “Listen, forget I said anything. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut–”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Before you could even process what was going on, Lando’s fingers were tightly wrapped around your wrists, giving them a firm yet gentle tug that drew you right into him, your lips meeting halfway.

The kiss took you completely by surprise, eyes widening in disbelief as your words got muffled by Lando’s mouth, which had crashed almost aggressively against yours, stealing your breath right away. His lips tasted yours, hungry, the lingering flavor of champagne making your head spin together with the room around you; someone whistled, someone even shouted an amused ‘Get a room!’, but you felt like you were under a glass bell, everything else shut out from the little universe only you and Lando had access to.

Lost in the burning sensation of your mouths moving together, he placed your hands on his chest and brought up his own to cup your jaw, his thumbs gently grazing your cheeks as you tangled your fingers through his brown curls to deepen the kiss even more.

When you broke away, he didn’t entirely pull back — not yet — his forehead rested lightly against yours, a lazy grin now plastered on his face. “You talk too much, you know that?” he teased, voice barely above a whisper, only for you to hear.

“I– you– why…?” A series of incoherent words fell from your mouth, the realization of what had just happened hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Because I like you too, you muppet,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks now blatant. “And I would’ve told you tonight if you just didn’t beat me to it. But I guess I can’t win them all, now, can I?”

“Wait, you actually like me?” It was all too good to be true, like a dream from which you’d eventually have to wake up.

“Do I need to kiss you again to prove it?” His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes spoke louder than any words ever could. “Maybe you do,” you breathed out, your smile matching his own as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, the rest of the world immediately fading away and leaving no room for doubt.

Because now, now you knew.

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[gottencents]

Can’t Wait - Yu Jimin

pairing. idol!karina x chaebol!reader

synopsis. a chaebol daughter, Y/N, unexpectedly finds herself drawn into a whirlwind connection with Karina, a top idol who’s never felt anything close to love—until now.

“No.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her cold gaze fixed on her phone screen as she read the group chat.

Manon: Guys, aespa concert for my birthday. You’re all coming. No excuses.

Yves: Finally! I’ve been dying to see them live 😭

Manon: I got VIP tickets. We’ll be right next to the stage 😌

Yves: Omg, front-row seats? Count me in!

Manon: Y/N? 👀

Y/N: Absolutely not.

Her fingers hovered over her phone as the typing bubble from Manon popped up. Y/N already knew what was coming—a relentless string of messages filled with emojis, persuasive tactics, and an unhealthy amount of guilt-tripping.

Manon: Come on, it’s my birthday! You can’t say no to me on my birthday. 🥺

Manon: Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do. 😏

Manon: Live a little, Y/N.

Yves: She has a point… It’s for Manon. Just this once?

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back on her couch. Of course, they’d gang up on her like this. She didn’t even dislike aespa—it was just that being dragged into the K-pop frenzy wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But Manon wasn’t going to let it go.

Her phone buzzed again.

Manon: Y/N, I already got you a ticket. You’re coming whether you like it or not. 😘

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh. “Typical Manon.” There was no escaping her once she set her mind on something.

The venue was packed, buzzing with energy as fans filled every corner, lightsticks waving in unison. The air felt electric, anticipation hanging thick in the atmosphere.

Y/N glanced down at her outfit and frowned. She tugged at the edge of her jacket—an exact replica of Karina’s “Supernova” MV outfit, complete with the silver detailing and edgy vibe.

“I still can’t believe you made me wear this,” Y/N muttered, shooting a glare at Manon, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Relax,” Manon said, tossing an arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “We look amazing. Plus, it’s part of the experience. Trust me, we’ll get noticed for sure.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Yves, standing next to them, laughed. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit. It’s not every day you get to be front row at an aespa concert.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the stage lit up with vivid colors. The members of aespa appeared, their energy filling the venue instantly. Y/N couldn’t deny how impressive they were live—Karina especially, who seemed to command the stage effortlessly.

As the show went on, Y/N found herself momentarily forgetting her discomfort. The music was good, the performances captivating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Until it happened.

“Let’s play a little game,” Karina’s voice echoed through the arena, a playful smile on her face. “We’re going to play I Spy with the crowd!”

Y/N froze.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, her eyes widening as the camera began panning across the audience.

“Look for something silver,” Karina said. “Hmm… Oh!”

The giant screen above the stage zoomed in on Y/N.

“Oh my God,” Manon whispered excitedly, shaking Y/N’s arm. “She’s looking right at you!”

Y/N’s heart stopped as Karina’s eyes locked onto hers.

“Is that…?” Karina’s voice faltered for a split second before she smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I like your outfit. It’s… stunning.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it wasn’t until Karina’s next words—accidentally whispered into the mic—that chaos truly erupted.

“Absolutely stunning.”

The crowd exploded. Fans screamed, lightsticks waving furiously, while the other members of aespa glanced at Karina, some laughing, others wide-eyed with surprise.

Y/N blinked, heat rushing to her face. “What just happened?”

“She called you stunning,” Yves said, barely containing her laughter. “In front of thousands of people. And everyone heard it.”

“It’s fan service,” Y/N said quickly, brushing it off as her heart thumped in her chest. “That’s all it is.”

“Uh-huh,” Manon smirked. “Sure. Fan service.”

The screen lingered on Y/N a second too long, catching Karina’s lingering gaze before it finally cut away.

Y/N exhaled, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares from the people around her. “I am never listening to you again, Manon.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Manon said with a wink. “Trust me.”

But Y/N had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger mess.

The concert had ended hours ago, but the chaos that followed Karina’s little slip-up was far from over. Y/N sat on the couch in her penthouse, phone in hand, scrolling through a never-ending stream of notifications. Her name was all over Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok—clips of Karina calling her stunning had already gone viral.

“Y/N L/N spotted at aespa’s concert!”

“Karina’s reaction is priceless. She’s totally starstruck.”

“Did Karina just call Y/N stunning in front of thousands? Gay panic much?”

Y/N sighed, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to go.”

The door to her penthouse burst open, and Manon strolled in, holding two iced lattes and a mischievous grin. “Good morning, viral sensation!”

Y/N glared at her. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You never do.” Manon plopped down beside her and handed her a drink. “But I thought you might need caffeine after last night’s… performance.”

“It wasn’t a performance,” Y/N shot back, taking the latte. “It was a disaster.”

Manon chuckled. “Disaster? Please. You’re trending. Everyone’s obsessed with you—and Karina, apparently.” She pulled out her phone and started reading tweets. ”‘Karina’s reaction to Y/N is giving soulmate energy.’ Oh, this one’s good: ‘Karina called Y/N stunning? I ship it.’ There are already fan edits of you two.”

Y/N groaned. “It’s fan service, Manon. That’s what idols do. They say things like that to go viral. She probably didn’t even mean it.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But let me remind you—she wasn’t supposed to have her mic on when she said it.”

Y/N froze for a second. That part she hadn’t really thought about. Karina’s reaction hadn’t felt… rehearsed. It had felt almost genuine, like the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not getting involved in this idol drama. I have my own life, and it doesn’t include being the center of some K-pop shipping war.”

Manon shrugged. “Fair enough. But good luck ignoring it. You know how relentless fans can be.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she knew Manon was right. No matter how much she tried to brush it off, the internet wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

Karina sat in the practice room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with a blank expression. She’d watched the clip a dozen times by now—her voice whispering stunning into the mic, Y/N’s surprised expression on the big screen, and the crowd’s reaction.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“An idiot for what?” Winter asked, walking into the room with a curious look. “What happened?”

Karina peeked at her from between her fingers. “Did you see the clip from the concert?”

Winter smirked. “Oh, you mean the part where you called Y/N L/N stunning in front of thousands of fans and the whole internet? Yeah, I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

Karina groaned louder, dropping her head onto her knees. “It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. My mic was supposed to be off!”

“Mm-hmm,” Winter teased, plopping down beside her. “Sure, it just slipped out. I’ve never seen you that starstruck in my life. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

Karina shot her a glare. “I wasn’t starstruck. I was… surprised.”

“Surprised by her beauty?” Winter said with a mischievous grin. “It’s okay, Karina. We all know Y/N is gorgeous. Even I’d call her stunning.”

Karina leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it. This is a problem. She’s a chaebol, Winter. She’s not just some random celebrity we can casually talk to. She’s way out of our league, and now people think I’m obsessed with her.”

Winter chuckled. “Out of your league? Please. You’re—Karina of aespa. If anything, she’s probably out there wondering how to get your attention.”

Karina opened her mouth to argue, but a thought stopped her. What if Y/N was thinking about her? No, that was ridiculous.

“I just have to lay low until it blows over,” Karina muttered. “The fans will find something new to obsess over soon.”

“Good luck with that,” Winter said, scrolling through her phone. “The fans aren’t letting this go anytime soon. Look, someone already made a fan page for you two—‘Karina x Y/N.’ They’re calling you the perfect power couple.”

Karina snatched the phone and stared at the page. It was filled with pictures, clips from the concert, and countless comments speculating about their relationship. Her face flushed. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, and get this,” Winter continued. “Someone claims they saw Y/N liking one of the edits on TikTok.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Winter shrugged. “Could be fake, but wouldn’t it be funny if it wasn’t?”

Karina leaned back again, suddenly feeling ten times more anxious. If Y/N had actually seen one of the edits… did that mean she was paying attention?

Y/N sat at her desk, her laptop open, pretending to focus on work while her thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She hated to admit it, but Manon’s words were stuck in her head. What if it wasn’t fan service? What if Karina actually meant it?

Her phone buzzed with a notification. Another message from Manon.

Manon: Did you see Karina’s Weverse post? 👀

Y/N frowned and clicked on the link.

It was a simple post—just a picture of the crowd at the concert with the caption:

“Last night was unforgettable. Thank you, MYs. 💖”

But what caught Y/N’s attention was the timing. It had been posted just a few minutes after the concert ended, and the comments were filled with fans speculating about her.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart beating faster than it should have. “Unforgettable,” she repeated softly.

She shook her head, shutting her laptop. “Nope. Not getting sucked into this.”

But deep down, she knew it was already too late.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to another flood of notifications. Apparently, her accidental rise to internet fame was nowhere near dying down. If anything, it was picking up speed.

Her phone buzzed again—a message from Yves.

Yves: Girl, you’re basically the main character on K-pop Twitter right now.

Yves: I’m serious. Look at this.

Y/N clicked the link Yves had sent, and a video edit loaded on her screen. It was one of those overly dramatic TikTok fan edits. Slow-motion clips of her on the big screen at the concert were mixed with Karina’s stunned expression, paired with emotional music. The caption read: “Karina x Y/N – meant to be?”

The next clip played Karina’s whisper: “Stunning,” followed by a close-up of her face as she tried to recover from the slip.

Y/N blinked. “Oh my God.” She turned the phone off and tossed it onto the couch. “This is getting out of hand.”

Her phone lit up again—this time, it was Manon calling. Y/N sighed and answered. “What now?”

“You’re welcome,” Manon said in a sing-song voice.

“For what?” Y/N asked, already regretting picking up.

“For making you the hottest topic on the internet. This is a PR dream, babe. You’re unstoppable right now.”

“I don’t want to be the hottest topic on the internet,” Y/N shot back. “I want this to blow over so I can go back to my life without people thinking I’m secretly dating an idol.”

Manon chuckled. “Who said anything about secret dating? But hey, if Karina happens to slide into your DMs, you’d better not leave her on read.”

“Manon,” Y/N warned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Manon said seriously. “You know how K-pop idols can be super private. If she’s curious about you, she might reach out through a back channel. It happens all the time in this industry.”

Y/N paused, unsure how to respond. The idea of Karina actually reaching out seemed absurd… but not entirely impossible.

“Relax,” Manon said, breaking the silence. “Just enjoy the attention while it lasts. You’re already on top of the world, Y/N. Own it.”

Y/N hung up, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Karina sat cross-legged on the floor of the practice room, scrolling through her phone with a mixture of dread and curiosity. The internet had exploded overnight, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking the reactions.

The fan edits. The ship name. The endless comments about her “gay panic” moment.

Winter leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve been on your phone for two hours. Let me guess… Y/N?”

Karina didn’t bother denying it. “It’s out of control. They’re acting like we’re soulmates or something.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “And how do you feel about that?”

Karina hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen. How did she feel about it? She barely knew Y/N, but something about her had thrown her completely off balance.

“I don’t know,” Karina admitted quietly. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s… confusing.”

Winter smirked. “Sounds like you have a crush.”

Karina shot her a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Winter said, sitting down next to her. “Look, you’re one of the most focused, controlled people I know. You never react like that. But the second you saw her, you froze. It’s not just some random thing. Trust me.”

Karina leaned back, lost in thought. Was Winter right? Had she really developed a crush on Y/N from one brief interaction?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from her manager.

Manager: We need to talk about the Y/N situation. Call me.

Karina sighed. “Great. This is just what I needed.”

“Looks like it’s time to decide how you want to handle this,” Winter said with a grin. “You gonna ignore it, or are you gonna make a move?”

Karina bit her lip, the wheels in her mind turning. For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the right move was.

Y/N was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on a report, when a notification popped up on her phone. She ignored it at first, but something about it caught her eye.

It was a follow request on Instagram. From katarinabluu.

Her breath caught in her throat. “No way.”

Y/N stared at the request, her mind racing. What does this mean? Is this some kind of mistake? Or is she really trying to reach out?

Her finger hovered over the Accept button.

“Manon’s gonna lose her mind,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

And just like that, with one tap of her finger, everything changed.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at her phone. Karina’s follow request sat there, mocking her with its simplicity. After a few deep breaths, she hit Accept—half out of curiosity and half out of a strange desire to know what would happen next.

Not even a minute passed before her phone buzzed again.

katarinabluu: Hey.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She reread the message twice, wondering if it was a prank or if she was hallucinating. Was Karina really messaging her?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She started typing, erased it, and tried again. Finally, she settled on something casual.

Y/N: Hey. Didn’t expect to hear from you.

The three little dots indicating Karina was typing popped up almost immediately.

Katarina: Yeah, sorry if this is weird. I just… wanted to check in. After last night, things got a little crazy, huh?

Y/N: You could say that. My notifications are still blowing up.

Katarina: Same. I thought it’d die down by now, but… guess not.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself. “Of course not,” she muttered.

Y/N: You kinda caused the chaos, you know. Calling me ‘stunning’ with your mic on? Bold move.

Karina read the message and winced, though she couldn’t help but smile at Y/N’s teasing tone.

Katarina: Totally unintentional, I swear. My mic wasn’t supposed to be on.

Y/N: Uh-huh. Sure.

Katarina: I’m serious! But… I mean, it’s not like I was lying.

Y/N froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to race again. Did Karina just… admit that?

Y/N: …So you meant it?

There was a pause. The dots appeared and disappeared several times before Karina finally responded.

Katarina: Yeah. You were stunning. Still are.

Y/N stared at the message, her face heating up. She was used to compliments—she’d been in the public eye long enough to brush them off—but something about Karina’s words felt different. They felt real.

Before she could overthink it, another message popped up.

Katarina: Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but… would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just to talk. Away from all the cameras and chaos.

Y/N’s heart skipped again. Coffee? With Karina? It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, but it was… intriguing.

Y/N: You’re serious?

Katarina: 100%. No fan service, no cameras. Just us.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Okay. Coffee sounds good.

Katarina: Great. I’ll message you the details. Looking forward to it. :)

As soon as the conversation ended, Y/N leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.

“What did I just agree to?” she whispered.

Her phone buzzed again—this time from Manon.

Manon: Did Karina just follow you? And DM you? Are you KIDDING ME?!

Y/N sighed, already bracing herself for the interrogation that was about to come.

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting her outfit for the third time. She wasn’t usually one to stress over casual meetings, but this felt different. She kept telling herself it was just coffee, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just coffee.

Her phone buzzed.

Katarina: I’m here. Outside the café. No rush.

Y/N grabbed her bag and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

The café was small and tucked away in a quiet neighborhood—intimate and unassuming. When Y/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked onto Karina, who was sitting at a corner table, wearing a simple black hoodie and a baseball cap.

For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe.

Karina looked up and smiled, standing to greet her. “Hey. You made it.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Nice disguise.”

Karina chuckled, adjusting her cap. “Had to be careful. Didn’t want to attract too much attention.”

“So… what’s this about?” Y/N asked, leaning forward slightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not every day that a K-pop idol asks me out for coffee.”

Karina smiled, a little shyly this time. “Honestly? I just… wanted to get to know you. Without all the noise. Last night was kind of a wake-up call for me.”

“A wake-up call?”

“Yeah,” Karina admitted. “I’ve been in the industry so long that I kind of forgot what it’s like to be genuinely curious about someone. And after seeing you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that level of honesty.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Y/N said softly. “But I guess I’ve been thinking about you too.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background.

“Then maybe,” Karina said, her voice steady but her eyes hopeful, “this doesn’t have to be just coffee.”

Y/N took a sip of her iced latte, trying to mask her nervousness. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy—it was surprisingly light—but the unspoken words between them made her heart race.

“So,” Y/N began, placing her cup down. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?” Karina tilted her head, a playful smile on her lips.

“Track down random chaebol daughters and ask them out for coffee.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Karina laughed, her shoulders relaxing a little. “You caught me. I’m secretly building a collection of chaebol friends.”

Y/N smirked. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Not great,” Karina admitted, leaning in slightly. “Turns out, most of them don’t agree to coffee. But you did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the slight blush that crept up her neck. “I’m sure you could’ve had your pick of anyone, but you chose me.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I told you, Y/N. You stood out. And… I don’t want this to sound weird, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Y/N looked down at her drink, swirling the ice around with her straw. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that—Karina was unexpectedly sincere, which threw her off completely.

“You’re really bad at fan service, you know,” Y/N said, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re supposed to make it sound fake.”

“I’m not interested in fan service with you,” Karina said without missing a beat. “I’m just… interested in you.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch. For a moment, the world around her seemed to pause.

“That’s… bold,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been bold since last night,” Karina replied with a slight shrug. “Might as well keep it going.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Fair enough. So what now, Ms. K-pop Idol?”

Karina leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table. “Now? We finish our coffee. Then maybe we go for a walk… or talk about something other than the industry or what’s trending on social media.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Karina said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous game.”

“I like dangerous.”

Y/N took a moment to think before leaning forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay… but only if you go first.”

Karina nodded. “Deal.” She paused, thinking for a second. “I hate roller coasters.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s it? That’s your deep secret?”

“Hey, it’s a serious phobia,” Karina defended herself, holding up her hands. “I went on one when I was a kid, and I cried for an hour afterward. Haven’t gone on one since.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. No roller coasters for you.”

“Your turn,” Karina said, leaning in with anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, then finally said, “I once skipped a huge charity event and hid out at a theme park all night. No one ever found out.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “Wait… seriously? The media didn’t catch that?”

“Nope.” Y/N grinned. “I’m better at sneaking around than you’d think.”

“Impressive,” Karina said, her admiration clear. “We’re both full of surprises, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Y/N agreed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper confessions. Hours passed without either of them noticing, the initial awkwardness long forgotten.

Eventually, Karina glanced at her phone and sighed. “I hate to say it, but I have to go soon. Schedule stuff.”

“Back to the idol life,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Karina stood, adjusting her hoodie. “But… this was nice. Really nice.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, standing as well.

They lingered for a moment at the door, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

“So,” Karina said, her voice soft. “Can I see you again?”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Karina said, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N replied.

With that, Karina gave a small wave and disappeared down the street. Y/N watched her go, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

As Y/N walked home, her phone buzzed with a new message.

katarinabluu: I already miss you. Just saying.

Y/N grinned, typing back.

Y/N: Same :)

Little did she know, this was just the beginning of something neither of them had expected.

The days following their coffee date passed in a whirlwind, but Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Karina. Her presence lingered in every quiet moment—a message here, a picture there, and more than a few late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.

She wasn’t sure how they’d slipped into this routine, but it felt effortless. Natural.

It had been a week since their first meeting when Y/N found herself scrolling through her phone late at night, staring at Karina’s latest message.

katarinabluu: Are you awake?

Y/N: Yeah. Can’t sleep. You?

Katarina: Same. Want to go for a drive?

Y/N hesitated for a split second before typing back.

Y/N: Pick me up in 20.

Karina’s black SUV idled quietly outside Y/N’s building. Y/N slid into the passenger seat, her pulse quickening at the sight of Karina in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair tucked beneath a cap.

“Midnight drive, huh?” Y/N said, buckling her seatbelt. “Sounds suspiciously like something out of a K-drama.”

“Maybe,” Karina replied with a grin, pulling away from the curb. “But I promise there won’t be any dramatic rain scenes or tragic confessions.”

“Good,” Y/N teased. “I left my umbrella at home.”

The streets of Seoul were quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted under the glow of streetlights. The radio played softly in the background, filling the silence with a calming melody.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, watching the city blur past.

“Nowhere specific,” Karina said. “Just wanted to escape for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said softly. “I could use a little escape too.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine almost lulling Y/N into a sense of peace. It wasn’t until they reached a quiet overlook on the edge of the city that Karina finally stopped the car.

“Wow,” Y/N said as she stepped out, taking in the stunning view of Seoul’s skyline. “This is beautiful.”

“One of my favorite spots,” Karina admitted, leaning against the hood of the car. “No one ever bothers me here.”

Y/N joined her, their shoulders brushing as they stood side by side. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Karina said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “When things get overwhelming.”

“I get that,” Y/N said quietly. “The whole world watching your every move… it’s a lot.”

Karina glanced at her, her eyes soft. “Yeah. But being here with you… it feels different. Easier.”

Y/N turned to meet her gaze, their faces closer than she’d realized. “It does,” she agreed. “Like we’re not those people for a little while.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing in the quiet night.

“Y/N,” Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you… afraid of this?” Karina gestured between them. “Of what’s happening here?”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough to stop.”

Karina smiled—a small, genuine smile that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. “Good. Me too.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Look at us. Two scared idiots trying to figure this out.”

“At least we’re figuring it out together,” Karina said, nudging her gently.

Y/N nudged her back. “Yeah. Together.”

They stood there for a while longer, the city lights twinkling below them like stars. For the first time in a long time, everything felt… right.

Y/N woke up to her phone buzzing relentlessly. Groggily, she reached for it, blinking at the notifications flooding her screen.

Trending on Twitter: #KarinaAndY/N

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” she muttered, sitting up in bed.

Manon’s name lit up her phone, followed by several frantic texts.

Manon: You’re trending. AGAIN. What did you do this time?!

Manon: Wait. Were you with Karina last night?

Manon: CALL ME.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This can’t be good.”

Her phone buzzed again—this time, it was Karina.

Katarina: Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Too late. I’m already panicking.

Katarina: I’ll call you in 5. Just breathe.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

They realize they love you after a nightmare about you dying

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- The Joker had always laughed at the idea of love. It was messy, inconvenient, and far too human for someone as “elevated” as him. So, when the nightmare came—your lifeless body crumpled beneath the rubble of some grim Gotham alley—it caught him off guard. His cackles turned to hollow echoes as he screamed your name, the vibrant color of his world bleeding into dull gray.

- He jolted awake with a gasp, his face covered in a rare sheen of sweat. His usual smirk was absent as his wild eyes darted around the room, landing on your sleeping form beside him. You were alive, breathing softly, your face peaceful in slumber. The sight of you alive was a jolt to his twisted heart.

- For the first time in a long while, he didn’t laugh. He sat there, his thoughts in chaos, a war between his denial and the crushing realization that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. It scared him more than Batman ever could. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling to the surface.

- “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice shaking. But his hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his usually unhinged eyes.

- He stayed awake for hours, staring at you, convincing himself that this was just some fleeting weakness. But the image of your death lingered, gnawing at him, turning his denial into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” he whispered bitterly. “You’ve made the Clown Prince of Crime care.”

- The next morning, his usual theatrics were toned down. He stayed unusually close to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than normal. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and he waved it off with a manic laugh, but deep inside, he knew he’d never let you out of his sight again.

- That night, he held you a little tighter than usual, his arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from the world. “You’re mine,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “And no one will take you from me. Not even death.”

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley’s dreams were usually chaotic, filled with explosions, bright colors, and nonsensical antics. But this one was different. It was dark, quiet, and horrifying. She saw you, broken and bleeding, calling out to her with your last breath. No amount of laughter or jokes could save you.

- She woke with a start, her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Puddin’?!” she gasped instinctively, but then her eyes landed on you. You were there, next to her, your chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky laugh.

- Harley wasn’t one to dwell on emotions—she usually masked them with jokes and a bubbly exterior. But this dream? It shook her to her core. She sat up, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, as if reassuring herself you were real.

- “What’s goin’ on with me?” she whispered to herself. She knew the answer deep down but wasn’t ready to admit it. The thought of losing you had torn her apart in the dream, and the intensity of her feelings scared her.

- For the rest of the night, she stayed awake, her mind racing. She replayed every moment with you, every smile, every laugh, and every time you’d stood by her side. “Guess I’m hooked,” she murmured with a small, bittersweet smile.

- The next day, she was more clingy than usual, following you around and cracking even more jokes than normal. You noticed her odd behavior, but she brushed it off with a wink and a kiss on the cheek. “Just feelin’ extra lovey-dovey today, sugar!”

- That night, as you lay in her arms, she finally whispered the words she’d been too scared to say aloud. “I love ya, ya know? Like… the real kinda love, not the crazy kinda love. Well, maybe a lil’ crazy, but still real.” She kissed your forehead, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Pamela’s dreams were rarely nightmares. But this one? It was a haunting vision of you lying lifeless among her beloved plants, your blood staining the green foliage. The image was so vivid, so horrifying, that it shattered her usual composure.

- She woke with a sharp inhale, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted to your side of the bed, relief flooding her as she saw you curled up peacefully. The nightmare lingered, though, its dark tendrils wrapping around her thoughts.

- Ivy wasn’t one to let emotions control her. She prided herself on being logical, detached. But this dream forced her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding. She cared for you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

- She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheek. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she feared you might disappear if she pressed too hard. “You’ve rooted yourself in my life, haven’t you?” she whispered.

- For hours, she stayed by your side, watching you sleep, her mind racing with plans to ensure your safety. She’d protect you, no matter the cost. “No one will harm you,” she vowed quietly. “Not while I still breathe.”

- The next day, her demeanor was gentler than usual. She handed you a cup of tea, her green eyes soft as they met yours. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll keep you healthy. And stay close to me today, alright?” Her protective side was in full bloom.

- That night, as you lay in her arms, surrounded by the soft glow of her plants, she finally let herself be vulnerable. “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my life fighting for the earth, but you? You’ve become my world.”

Bane

- Bane’s dreams were typically filled with battles and conquests, but this one was different. He saw you, broken and defeated, your life slipping away because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you. The sight of your lifeless form was a blow worse than any he’d taken in the ring.

- He woke with a start, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes immediately sought you out, relief washing over him when he saw you safe and sound, curled up beside him. But the dream lingered, the pain and helplessness gnawing at him.

- Bane wasn’t used to feeling weak, but that nightmare had shaken him. He sat up, his massive frame tense as he stared down at you. “You are my strength,” he murmured, the words foreign on his tongue but no less true.

- For hours, he sat there, replaying the nightmare in his mind. He realized then just how much you meant to him, how deeply you’d carved yourself into his life. “I cannot lose you,” he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

- The next morning, his protective instincts were in overdrive. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, his large hand resting possessively on your shoulder. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You are important to me. That is reason enough.”

- That night, as you lay in his arms, he finally let his walls down. “I have fought many battles,” he said quietly. “But the thought of losing you? That is a battle I cannot win.” His voice was thick with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

- Bane’s love was fierce and unwavering, and from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep you safe. “You are my heart,” he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I will protect you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s dreams were often macabre reflections of his own fears twisted into nightmarish landscapes. But this time, it wasn’t about him. The nightmare was about you—your lifeless body crumpled in a dark alley, surrounded by shadows, your voice calling his name in desperation before falling silent forever.

- He woke abruptly, his breath shallow and ragged, the echo of your scream still ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat frozen, his hands trembling slightly. Then his eyes darted to the bed, where you lay peacefully, your chest rising and falling in soft rhythm.

- Jonathan wasn’t one to embrace vulnerability, yet this dream left him shaken. He stared at you, his mind racing with an uncomfortable realization: he cared for you far more than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. Losing you, even in a nightmare, felt like losing a part of himself.

- He leaned closer, his hand hovering over your cheek but not quite touching, as if afraid to disturb the calm you radiated. “You’re more dangerous than fear itself,” he murmured quietly, his voice tinged with a rare warmth. “Because you’ve made me weak.”

- The following day, Jonathan was quieter than usual, his sharp words softened when directed at you. He lingered in your presence, finding excuses to stay close, though he masked his concern with his usual intellectual aloofness.

- That night, as you stirred beside him, Jonathan finally let his guard down. “You don’t realize it, do you?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ve made me care… and that terrifies me.” His fingers brushed against yours, a silent vow to keep you safe.

- From that moment on, he became even more meticulous in his plans, ensuring no one could ever harm you. Jonathan Crane, the master of fear, had found something he feared more than anything: a world without you in it.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey’s nightmares were like a coin flip—sometimes they reflected his inner turmoil, other times they felt like cruel twists of fate. This time, it was the latter. He saw you, the one person who made him feel whole, bleeding out in his arms as he screamed for help that never came.

- He jolted awake, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as he gasped for air. His scarred side twitched involuntarily, but his eyes sought you immediately. Relief washed over him as he saw you sleeping soundly beside him, completely unaware of his inner torment.

- Harvey sat up, running a hand down his face. The nightmare had been too vivid, too real. He couldn’t shake the image of your lifeless body, the way your eyes had stared at him, full of trust even as the light faded from them.

- “You’re my anchor,” he whispered, his dual voice cracking slightly. “You make me believe there’s still something good in me.” The thought of losing you wasn’t just painful; it felt like losing the last shred of humanity he had left.

- The next day, Harvey was unusually protective, his coin flipping idly between his fingers as he shadowed your every move. When you teased him about being overly cautious, he brushed it off with a half-smile. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his deeper worry.

- That night, as you curled up beside him, Harvey wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t need a coin flip,” he admitted softly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

- From then on, his duality softened slightly when it came to you. Both sides of Harvey Dent—man and monster—agreed on one thing: you were worth everything. And he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward’s nightmares weren’t random; they were puzzles of his subconscious, riddled with hidden meanings and twisted scenarios. But this time, the riddle was cruelly simple: you were dead, taken from him in a moment of chaos he couldn’t control or predict. The answer to the nightmare was devastatingly clear—he couldn’t solve it.

- He woke in a cold sweat, his mind racing as if trying to piece together clues to prove the dream wasn’t real. When his eyes landed on you, still peacefully asleep beside him, he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his system.

- For once, Edward was at a loss for words. The nightmare had shaken him in a way few things could. He prided himself on his intellect, his ability to plan for every contingency, yet the thought of losing you felt like an unsolvable equation.

- “You’ve become my greatest mystery,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair as he watched you sleep. “How did you manage to make me feel this way?” His voice was tinged with frustration, but beneath it was an undeniable warmth.

- The next day, Edward was more attentive than usual, his riddles and taunts aimed at others rather than you. He stuck close, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threat, though he masked his concern behind his usual arrogance.

- That night, as you curled up against him, Edward allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. “You’re the only thing in my life that doesn’t need a riddle to explain,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “And I’ll make sure no one ever takes you from me.”

- From that point on, Edward’s plans always included you at the center, his mind working tirelessly to ensure your safety. For a man obsessed with answers, you had become the only certainty in his life.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald’s nightmares were usually filled with power struggles and betrayal, but this one was personal. He saw you, his constant companion and solace, gunned down in a rival’s crossfire. The sight of your blood pooling beneath you was enough to send a chill through even his cold heart.

- He woke with a start, his usual composure shattered as he sat up, his breath heavy. His sharp eyes immediately sought you out, relief flooding him as he saw you beside him, alive and unharmed. But the nightmare had left its mark.

- Oswald prided himself on his control, yet the dream had revealed a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore. He sat in silence, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over, each iteration driving home just how much you meant to him.

- “You’re more valuable than all the riches in Gotham,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours, the gesture unusually tender for a man like him.

- The following day, Oswald’s protective instincts were in overdrive. He doubled your security, barking orders at his henchmen to ensure your safety. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You’re too important to risk.”

- That night, as you rested your head on his shoulder, Oswald finally let his walls down. “You’ve done the impossible,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve made the Penguin care about something other than power. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

- From then on, his love for you was evident in every action. For a man who thrived in Gotham’s cold, dark underworld, you were his one source of light—and he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.

[moonselune]

Could I request headcanons where gn!Tav said they're too plain & boring for that to happen when he asked how would they feel about being courted for Halsin, Rolan, Raphael, Gale, Astarion, and Wyll? - emoji anon

Hey hey emoji anon always a pleasure to see you in my inbox xox

Gale:

The evening sky was painted in soft hues of lavender and gold, the dying light casting a warm glow over the camp. Gale sat beside you, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt as the two of you shared a rare moment of stillness. The remnants of supper lingered nearby, and the faint crackle of the fire filled the spaces where words had yet to form.

You had always been a quiet presence—steadfast and observant. Gale had long been drawn to your grounded nature, your calm amidst the whirlwind of their adventures. Over the past weeks, that draw had turned into something deeper, something he could no longer ignore. Tonight felt like the right time to broach the subject.

He took a deep breath, then turned to face you fully.

“May I ask you something, my friend?” he began, his voice gentle but steady.

You glanced at him, curious, and gave a small nod.

“How would you feel about being courted?” Gale’s tone was warm, but his words were tentative, as if testing the air. “By someone who sees you for all that you are?”

Your eyes widened slightly, the question clearly not one you’d anticipated. You hesitated, looking away as if searching the horizon for an answer. Then, with a faint sigh, you shook your head. “I… don’t think that’s something I’d expect to happen.”

Gale’s brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. “Why not?”

You fiddled with the edge of your sleeve, your voice low and even. “I’m plain. Boring. I don’t have anything special to offer. I’m not… the kind of person someone courts.”

The words were simple, almost matter-of-fact, but Gale could hear the faint note of self-deprecation woven through them. His heart ached at the thought of you seeing yourself this way—so unremarkable when, to him, you were anything but.

“Plain?” he repeated softly, as though tasting the word and finding it absurd. “Boring?”

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet his.

Gale shifted closer, his movements deliberate but unhurried. He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch your eye.

“You see yourself as ordinary,” he said gently. “But allow me to offer a different perspective.”

You glanced at him, a flicker of skepticism in your expression.

“There is a profound beauty in simplicity,” Gale continued, his voice gaining a quiet intensity. “In the way you listen so intently when others speak, as though their words hold the weight of the world. In the way you notice things most people overlook—like the way the sunlight catches on a blade of grass, or the quiet joy in a companion’s laughter.”

He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Do you know how rare that is? To move through life with such quiet awareness, to find wonder in the things others dismiss? It’s anything but boring.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by his words. Your fingers stilled, and for a moment, you seemed at a loss.

Gale smiled softly, his expression both kind and earnest. “And as for plain… I would argue that nothing about you is plain. Not to me. You have a depth, a quiet strength, that draws people in—whether you realize it or not. Including me.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if to protest, but no words came. The firelight danced in Gale’s eyes as he continued, his tone growing warmer.

“You think yourself unremarkable,” he said, his hand resting lightly on his knee. “But I see someone who is steady in a world full of chaos. Someone who doesn’t need grand gestures or flamboyant words to leave a mark. You do so simply by being you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The fire crackled softly, the wind rustled the leaves, and Gale waited patiently, his heart laid bare.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before. “I’m not sure I see what you see.”

Gale chuckled softly, a sound full of affection. “That’s all right. For now, let me see it for you.”

His words hung in the air, an offering, not a demand. You searched his face, as though trying to find some trace of insincerity, but all you found was warmth and a gentle resolve.

After a long pause, you nodded—tentative but genuine. It wasn’t an outright acceptance, but it was a start, a crack in the wall you’d built around yourself. Gale’s smile widened, relief and joy evident in his expression.

“Then I’ll consider myself fortunate to take this first step with you,” he said. “For however long you’ll allow.”

He didn’t press further, content to let the moment settle. Instead, he shifted back slightly, his posture relaxed but his gaze still lingering on you, as if committing this moment to memory.

Astarion:

The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light spilling over the camp and painting everything in silver hues. Astarion leaned against a tree at the edge of the firelight, his posture casual yet poised, as if every movement was deliberately chosen to exude elegance. He had led you here for a moment away from the others, a chance for privacy in a rare moment of quiet.

He had been observing you for weeks now, intrigued by your quiet nature and the way you seemed to exist outside the clamor of the world. You weren’t like the others, who vied for attention or filled silences with chatter. You were steady, calm, a constant presence that had unexpectedly captivated him. Tonight, he decided, was the night to act.

“How would you feel about being courted?” Astarion asked, his voice smooth and deliberate, though a hint of genuine curiosity underpinned his words. He tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes watching you intently.

The question startled you. Your brow furrowed as you turned to him, studying his face for a moment before looking away. You hesitated, as if unsure of how to answer, before finally speaking, your voice quiet but firm.

“I don’t think I’m the type of person anyone would court.”

Astarion blinked, caught off guard. He straightened, his usual smirk replaced by an expression of genuine confusion. “And why, pray tell, would you think that?”

You shrugged, your fingers idly toying with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m… plain. Boring. I don’t stand out. There’s nothing about me that would make someone look twice.”

He stared at you, momentarily at a loss. In all his centuries of life—undead and otherwise—he had heard many things from many people, but this? This was utterly baffling. Slowly, he pushed off the tree, taking a step closer to you.

“You truly think that?” he asked, his voice softer now, his usual theatrics momentarily set aside.

You nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “I’m just… me. There’s nothing special about that.”

Astarion’s lips parted, an incredulous laugh escaping him. It wasn’t mocking, but rather a genuine reaction to the absurdity of your words. He took another step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to decipher a riddle.

“You are utterly fascinating,” he said, his tone tinged with exasperation. “And yet you don’t even see it.”

You finally looked at him then, surprise flickering in your eyes. “Fascinating? Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said, his voice gaining a playful edge but still rooted in sincerity. “Do you think I spend my time with people who bore me? Who fade into the background? Darling, you’ve done nothing but capture my attention since the day we met.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback. Astarion seized the moment, stepping closer until there was only a breath of space between you. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was surprisingly gentle.

“You think yourself plain, but let me tell you what I see,” he continued, his crimson eyes locked on yours. “I see someone who is steady when the world is chaos. Someone who doesn’t feel the need to shout to be heard, because their presence speaks louder than words ever could. I see kindness, strength, and a quiet resilience that most people could only dream of possessing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, silencing you with a sly smile. “And boring? Oh, darling, you couldn’t be boring if you tried. Do you know how refreshing it is to spend time with someone who doesn’t feel the need to posture or perform? Who is simply… themselves?”

His hand lingered on your arm, his gaze softening. “You’ve been a balm to my restless soul, whether you realize it or not. And while I do enjoy a challenge, I assure you, this—us—isn’t some idle game to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your mind struggling to reconcile his sincerity with the image you held of yourself. For a moment, you simply stared at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But all you found was honesty, woven with a thread of vulnerability that Astarion rarely let anyone see.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled then, a genuine smile that softened his sharp features.

“You don’t need to say anything, my dear,” he said. “Just… allow me the chance to show you how wrong you are about yourself. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, the world around you fading into the background as his words hung in the air. Finally, you nodded—a small, tentative gesture, but one that spoke volumes.

Astarion’s smile widened, his usual confidence returning as he stepped back, though his eyes never left yours.

“Good,” he said, his tone lightening. “Now, let’s consider this the first step. And I promise, you won’t find it boring in the slightest.”

As the moonlight bathed the two of you in its glow, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of warmth in your chest—a spark of something you hadn’t dared to hope for. Astarion, ever the enigma, had found something extraordinary in you, and perhaps, just perhaps, it was time for you to see it too.

Wyll:

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm, golden glow over the small clearing. The day’s trials had finally settled into the past, leaving the evening peaceful and calm. Wyll sat across from you, his posture relaxed but his eyes searching your face. You’d spent much of the evening in comfortable silence, but Wyll had something weighing on his mind, a question that had been lingering for weeks now.

He straightened slightly, his expression shifting to something earnest and determined.

“Can I ask you something, my friend?” he said, his voice gentle but steady.

You nodded, turning your attention fully to him, your quiet gaze encouraging him to continue.

“How would you feel about being courted?” His words were soft, but they carried a weight, as though he’d thought about them long before speaking. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes warm yet watchful. “By me.”

Your reaction wasn’t what he expected. Rather than the usual flustered surprise or shy delight, you looked away, your brows furrowing slightly. For a moment, you seemed lost in thought, your fingers tracing idle patterns in the dirt.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet but steady. “I don’t think that’s something someone like me would expect. Or deserve.”

Wyll blinked, caught off guard. He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening with concern. “Why would you say that?”

You shrugged, the motion small, almost imperceptible. “I’m… plain. Boring. I don’t have anything special to offer. I’m not the kind of person someone courts. Especially not someone like you.”

His brows knit together, the statement hitting him harder than you probably realized. For a moment, he was silent, processing your words. Then, slowly, he shifted closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as though approaching a spooked animal.

“I think you have the wrong idea about yourself,” he said gently, his voice steady but filled with quiet conviction. “And about me, too.”

You glanced at him, surprise flickering in your expression, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve had people sing my praises for years,” Wyll said, his tone tinged with a bittersweet smile. “They see the Blade of Frontiers, the hero of Baldur’s Gate, the warlock who made a devil’s bargain to save lives. They see the titles, the stories. But do you know what’s often missing in all that admiration?”

You shook your head slightly, curiosity softening your guarded expression.

“Truth,” he said simply. “They don’t see the person behind the blade. They don’t ask about Wyll—just Wyll, the man who likes to read by the fire, who enjoys a good laugh and a quiet evening, who sometimes feels lost and unsure, just like anyone else.”

You frowned slightly, your fingers stilling as you listened. He leaned closer, his gaze earnest.

“That’s what I see in you,” he continued, his voice softer now. “You don’t treat me like a symbol or a story. You see me as I am—flaws and all. And you? You’re anything but boring. You’re steady, thoughtful, kind in ways most people overlook because they’re too busy shouting over the world.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Let me finish,” he said, his tone teasing but kind. “I’ve been surrounded by noise for so long. People who only care about the legend and not the man. But you? You’re a balm to that chaos. Your quiet strength, your grounded nature—it’s a gift, one I’m lucky to witness.”

Your gaze dropped again, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

“I’m not sure I see what you do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s all right,” Wyll said, his smile widening. “You don’t have to see it right now. But I hope, if you’ll let me, I can help you see it someday.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire crackling, the world around you fading into the background. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, something vulnerable but hopeful flickering in your eyes.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured. Wyll chuckled softly, his voice warm and reassuring.

“You don’t have to say anything, not yet,” he said. “But let me court you, in my own quiet way. One step at a time.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you, before finally giving a small nod. It was tentative, but it was enough.

Wyll’s smile brightened, his joy evident but restrained as he respected the moment’s delicacy. As the firelight danced in his eyes, you felt a small spark of warmth in your chest, a flicker of something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

Halsin:

The two of you sat on the edge of a tranquil grove, where the whispering trees and a gently trickling stream created a sanctuary of peace. Halsin had invited you here—his favorite spot in the forest—to share its beauty with you. The warm glow of sunset bathed the grove in golden light, making everything feel almost dreamlike.

Halsin turned to you, his expression thoughtful but earnest. For days, he had been working up the courage to address the feelings stirring in his heart, feelings he couldn’t ignore. He was a man who valued honesty, and with you, there was no need for pretense.

“How would you feel about being courted?” he asked, his deep voice as steady as ever, though a flicker of vulnerability softened his usual confidence.

You blinked, caught off guard. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. For a long moment, you simply stared at him, your thoughts turning inward as you tried to process his words. Courted? By Halsin?

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, your tone steady but tinged with self-deprecation.

“I… don’t know why you’d want that,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “I’m… plain. Boring. There’s nothing special about me.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer, his large frame radiating warmth and concern.

“You think yourself plain? Boring?” He shook his head, a soft sigh escaping him. “I don’t see you that way at all.”

You shrugged, a small, almost invisible motion. “I don’t talk much. I don’t stand out. There’s nothing about me that would catch someone’s attention, let alone someone like you.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that struck Halsin deeply. He studied you for a moment, his golden eyes filled with quiet contemplation. Then he reached out, his hand hesitating briefly before resting lightly on your forearm—a grounding gesture, firm but gentle.

“You are wrong about yourself,” he said softly. “Painfully so. Perhaps others might overlook you, distracted by louder voices or flashier displays. But that does not make you plain. It makes you rare.”

Your gaze flicked to his, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was honesty—unflinching and unwavering.

“Do you know what drew me to you?” Halsin continued, his voice steady. “It wasn’t grand gestures or clever words. It was the way you see the world. The way you move through it with quiet grace, noticing things others miss. The kindness in your actions, the thoughtfulness in your silences. You don’t need to speak loudly to be heard, nor shine brightly to be seen.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, skepticism still lingering, but his words stirred something in you—a small ember of hope, fragile but warm.

“I have lived a long life,” Halsin said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I have seen many things, met many people. Yet none have made me feel as you do. When I am with you, I feel… peace. A sense of balance I have long sought. How could I not wish to court someone who makes the world feel whole?”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his words overwhelming in its simplicity. He wasn’t trying to convince you or charm you—he was merely telling you the truth as he saw it.

“I know you think yourself plain,” he added, his tone softening further. “But to me, you are extraordinary. And I would be honored if you would allow me to show you that.”

You looked away, your fingers tightening slightly against your knees, processing his words. It wasn’t easy to see yourself through his eyes, to accept the idea that someone as kind, wise, and strong as Halsin could feel this way about you. But his earnestness was undeniable, and the warmth in his gaze felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Finally, you nodded—a small, almost imperceptible movement—but it was enough. Halsin’s smile widened, a quiet joy lighting his face. He didn’t push for more, didn’t press you for an answer beyond that. He simply placed his hand over yours, a silent promise in the gentle weight of his touch. For the first time, you felt that maybe you weren’t as plain as you thought.

Rolan:

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light over the clearing where you and Rolan sat. The camp was a short distance away, but it felt like a different world out here, surrounded by the gentle sounds of nature. Rolan had invited you to join him, claiming a need to get a break from the tower, ostensibly to discuss a spell he was refining, but the conversation had meandered into more personal territory.

Rolan, ever the picture of confidence with his sharp wit and sharper tongue, seemed uncharacteristically hesitant as he looked at you now. His fingers drummed lightly against the cover of a spellbook in his lap, the only sign of his nerves.

"I’ve been thinking," he began, his tone carefully measured. "About… connections. Relationships. And—hypothetically, of course—how one might feel about being courted."

You raised an eyebrow at him, your expression unreadable, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

Rolan cleared his throat, his gaze darting briefly to the ground before returning to you. “How would you feel about it? If someone—hypothetically, of course—were interested in courting you?”

The question hung in the air between you, his carefully chosen words laced with something more vulnerable than he let on. You tilted your head slightly, processing his question, before finally replying in your usual quiet tone.

“I don’t think that’s something I’d expect to happen.”

Rolan blinked, caught off guard by your matter-of-fact response.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended, though curiosity softened the edges.

You shrugged, your gaze drifting away from him. “I’m plain. Boring. Not the kind of person someone would look at that way.”

For a moment, Rolan was silent, his expression frozen in something between disbelief and frustration. He closed his spellbook with a decisive snap and leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on you.

“Plain?” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “Boring? You cannot be serious.”

You frowned slightly, the smallest sign of discomfort. “I don’t see what’s so surprising about it.”

“What’s surprising,” Rolan said, his tone gaining momentum, “is that someone as unique as you could think of themselves that way. Plain? Hardly. You have a presence that is… grounding. Quiet, yes, but not boring. Do you know how rare it is to meet someone who listens so completely? Who sees people, not just their façades?”

You looked at him, startled by his intensity, but still hesitant to believe him.

“And boring?” he continued, his hands gesturing animatedly now. “You? Boring? I’ve seen the way you notice the smallest details, the things everyone else overlooks. The way you spoke back at the grove and at the Inn. The way you find meaning in the most unassuming moments. It’s like watching someone unearth treasure where others see dirt.”

You blinked, clearly unprepared for such fervent praise. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

Rolan snorted, leaning back but keeping his gaze on you. “Oh, I assure you, I’m not. I confess I may have a penchant for flair but if anything, I’m being far too restrained. You may not see it, but I do. And the fact that you don’t parade it around for the world to admire makes it all the more remarkable.”

There was a beat of silence as his words sank in. You looked away, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve.

“I’m just me,” you murmured. “I don’t think I’m what anyone would want.”

Rolan sighed, his usual sharp edges softening as he leaned forward again.

“And what if I told you that you’re exactly what I want?” he asked, his voice quiet but unwavering.

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise. He held your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically open and earnest.

“I’m not saying this lightly,” he continued. “I’ve met plenty of people who’ve tried to catch my eye with flair and dramatics. And yet, here I am, drawn to you—not despite your quiet nature, but because of it. You make me feel… seen. Grounded. And that’s not something I take lightly.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The fire of his conviction left you momentarily stunned, your usual composure slipping.

Rolan, ever perceptive, offered you a small smile.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “But if you’re willing, I’d like to show you what I see in you. What I value.”

You hesitated, your mind swirling with doubt and confusion, but there was something in his eyes—a sincerity that made it hard to look away. Finally, you nodded, the motion small but meaningful.

Rolan’s smile widened, his confidence returning as he straightened.

“Good,” he said lightly, though his eyes still held a spark of warmth. “I’ll consider this a victory for now.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the clearing in hues of gold and amber, you felt a strange warmth settle in your chest. A welcome warmth, one you began to wish would never go away.

Raphael:

The dim glow of the Infernal plane's ever-present crimson light cast flickering shadows across the opulent chamber Raphael had conjured for this meeting. He had whisked you away from camp, claiming that he simply had to talk to you. It's not like any of you could stop him.

So, you sat across from the cambion, the weight of his intense gaze like fire on your skin. His effortless elegance and sly charm made him an intimidating presence, and yet, here you were, an enigma in his life—a mortal who had somehow dared to pique his interest.

Raphael leaned back in his ornate chair, swirling a goblet of dark wine as a faint smirk played on his lips.

“Indulge me, dear one,” he began, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “If someone were to court you, what would you think of that? Hypothetically, of course.”

His tone was playful, but his golden eyes betrayed a glint of something deeper, something predatory and curious. He wanted your answer, and more than that, he wanted your reaction.

Your expression remained neutral, though his question tugged at something uncomfortable within you. You shifted slightly in your seat, avoiding his gaze for a moment. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, almost self-effacing.

“I don’t think that’s something I’d ever need to consider.”

Raphael arched a brow, intrigued. “And why, pray tell, is that?”

A small shrug was your only initial response. You glanced at the ground, your hands resting idly in your lap. “I’m too plain. Too boring. I can assure you, that no one would go to the trouble for someone like me.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the ambient sounds of the infernal realm fading as your words settled in the air. Raphael’s smirk froze, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply watching you, assessing.

Then, he laughed.

It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laughter you might have expected. It was something deeper, richer, though no less sharp. The sound echoed through the chamber, laced with incredulity and amusement.

“Plain?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly with disbelief. “Boring? You wound me, darling. To think you’d insult my taste so gravely.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. “I wasn’t insulting you,” you murmured. “Just… stating the truth.”

Raphael leaned forward suddenly, his goblet forgotten on the table between you. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, and the playful veneer fell away, replaced by something far more serious.

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “I do not waste my time on ‘plain’ or ‘boring.’ I am Raphael, cambion and devil, and my desires are nothing short of extraordinary. And yet, here I am, entertaining this conversation with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a sharp gesture.

“Do you think I value surface-level trivialities? Flashy baubles and empty charms?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “No, my dear. What draws me—what fascinates me—is the quiet strength you carry, the steadfastness that refuses to yield even when the world would see you broken. You call yourself plain, but I see a canvas upon which potential is painted. You call yourself boring, yet your very presence intrigues me in ways no banal mortal ever has.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence by the sheer conviction in his words. Raphael rose from his chair and took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Despite his intensity, there was no malice in his expression—only a fierce, unyielding confidence.

“You think yourself undeserving of my attention?” he said, his tone softening but losing none of its weight. “I assure you, my attention is not so easily won. And yet, you’ve captured it. What does that tell you?”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “That you’re… persistent?” you ventured, your voice tinged with hesitant humor. Raphael chuckled, a genuine sound that softened the edges of his sharp demeanor.

“Indeed,” he said, his smirk returning. “But more than that, it tells you that there is far more to you than you realize. And I intend to show you exactly what I see.”

You looked away, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of doubt and hope.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

Raphael tilted your chin up with a single finger, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“Then allow me the pleasure of proving you wrong,” he said, his voice a velvet promise. “You may doubt yourself, but I do not. And I am not one to be easily swayed.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You found yourself nodding, unable to find the strength to argue further. Raphael’s smile widened, a predatory glint returning to his eyes.

“Good,” he murmured, stepping back with an air of satisfaction. “Then let the courting begin. And trust me, my darling—there is nothing boring about what lies ahead.”

As he returned to his seat, his goblet once again in hand, you felt a strange mix of apprehension and warmth settle in your chest. Raphael’s words had shaken something loose within you, and though you weren’t sure what to make of it yet, one thing was certain: this devil would not let you fade into obscurity. Not without a fight.

Fun to add Rolan and Raphael to the bunch with this one, hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

P.S thank you all for your sweet messages it truly means a lot xoxo

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[dearieshima]

“THE DOLL… ITS ALIVE!”

✦SUMMARY

╰┈➤ Your boyfriend, as clumsy as he is, foolishly wins you a doll at the county fair that will forever change your life. #KINKTOBER2024

"Take it," he growled. "Take, every, last, inch!" His hips slammed into yours with every pronounced word of his command. "Gonna pump this pussy full. Flood your womb with my seed."

✦ C.W

╰┈➤ dubcon/noncon, murder, character death(?), groping, trueform!sukuna, double penetration, plushie humping, mental illness, face riding, aphrodisiac, brief cum eating, slight voyeurism, degradation, praise, missionary, 7k+ words, yuuji is aged up to 20+years, slight yuuji x reader, hair yanking, is this cheating?, rough sex, unprotected sex

If you could travel back in time, to that fateful night when your fingers first brushed against its soft, cursed fabric, would you change a thing?

It was October 5th. The sky had bruised into twilight, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted chestnuts, damp earth, and the faint trace of winter creeping in. Yuuji, your boyfriend of six years, had been excited about the fall fair, dragging you there with promises of funnel cakes and dizzying rides. His enthusiasm had been infectious, and despite the chill creeping into your bones, you’d followed him willingly, smiling even as the cold bite of evening settled into your skin.

You had just stumbled out of The Gravitron, disoriented from the spinning madness, your body instinctively finding its way into his as you tried to steady yourself. His arm slid around your waist, a familiar warmth, but somehow, your eyes managed to focus on one singular object.

It was a plushie, nestled amongst a sea of cheap carnival prizes. It was a humorous parody of Sukuna Ryomen, The King of Curses, reduced in the form of a rounded plushie. It was small and unassuming, its plump shape clothed by his robes. His beady red eyes gleamed under the booth lights.

The legend of Sukuna Ryomen was no light-hearted tale. He was a god of destruction, a bringer of chaos, feared and revered. Some said he could twist reality itself and turn the world inside out with a flick of his finger. But here he was, reduced to a toy, the weight of his name no more than the weight of stuffing inside its fat body.

It shouldn’t have been so easy to win it. But it was. Yuuji, smiling like a fool, had thrown the basketball without a care in the world. The booth attendant handed it over, his frown contrasting Yuuji's grin, beaming as he turned to press the plushie into your hands.

The second your fingers closed around it, the world shifted. The fair’s noise faded, the laughter of children, the creak of rides, the announcer’s barks, all muted as if the world tilted and you were thrown into another realm.

A chill crept down your spine, despite the comforting warmth of Yuuji beside you. His presence felt distant, as though the cold night air had placed a barrier between you. It wrapped around you, thick and suffocating, but no one else seemed to notice.

Yuuji glanced over, noticing your faltering smile and the goosebumps rising on your bare arms. You were wearing a sleeveless black dress, and the night had begun to cool. Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, its weight grounding you as if you were beginning to float.

"Come on, you need to eat something. It'll warm you up," he said, gently steering you toward the concession stand, the warm scent of fried food greeting you.

The smell of powdered sugar and warm dough made your stomach growl, and within a few minutes later, you both sat at a small, secluded table. You had forgotten you had pocketed the Sukuna plushie into your back pocket as you sunk into the worn bench. It gave a small dying breath.

Yuuji sat beside you, his smile softened. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah," you murmured, snuggling into him. "Tonight was amazing."

He chuckled, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer, his body radiating warmth. "I’m glad," he said, resting his chin on the top of your head. "You’ve got quiet back there. Are you okay? Still cold?"

"Just a little," you admitted, tucking yourself tighter against him, your right ear against his throat, feeling the low rumble of his voice, warm from talking and the corndogs he’d eaten.

His thumb traced gentle circles on your arm. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. Then, cautiously, "is it... your mom?"

You hesitated, a brief flash of the sad woman crossing your mind, but you pushed it away. "No, it’s not that. I’m just tired." You forced a smile.

Yuji’s arm tightened slightly around you, his thumb pausing for a moment before resuming its soothing motion. He didn’t press further, his quiet concern clear in the way he held you. "Alright," he whispered, so softly you would have missed it if your ear wasn’t pressed to his throat. His chin came to rest against your head once more, and you both sat in comfortable silence, the world fading away around you.

A few minutes passed with you both looking at the distance before you both got up, preparing to return to the night. You felt self conscious as you might’ve ruined the end of the night with your own set of problems, but as you moved, a sharp pinch made you jump. It came from where the plushie you'd stashed in your back pocket. You laughed, swatting Yuji playfully.

"Yuji!" you accused, smacking him on the arm.

He recoiled, rubbing his arm. He was wide-eyed and bewildered, almost clueless as to why you had just hit him. "What? What did I do?" he pouted, rubbing his arm.

You rolled your eyes, realizing he may have been trying to lighten the mood. Appreciatively, you nestled closer to him as you both walked to the parking lot.

If you had looked closely, you might have noticed his hand still resting innocently at your waist, the other deep in his sweats, never having moved from its place since you stood.

October 6th

The next day, a low-grade fever crept over you. It wasn’t much, but it was still a fever.

You laid snuggled under the covers, an empty box of tissues on your nightstand and your Sukuna plush peeking out from behind its pile of crumpled tissues that marked your misery.

Minutes later, Yuuji entered the room, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He’d already changed into his workout clothes, a gray tank top and black basketball shorts. His eyes quickly found you, curled up in bed, shivering slightly. He walked over and placed a hand on your forehead, wincing at the warmth. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to get in your way,” you replied, managing a weak smile. “I’ll be fine, I’ve got…” You groped around until your hand slipped beneath Yuuji’s butt to retrieve the badly treated plushie. “I've got Sukuna, King of Curses, to protect me.”

He sighed but smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Alright. Rest up. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Love you.”

He paused, smiled over his shoulder, halfway out the door. “Love you, too, babe.”

And then he was gone.

The house fell silent except for the low murmur of the TV and the fading echo of Yuuji’s footsteps, followed by the creaking door. You were alone now, left to your thoughts.

You held the Sukuna plush above your face, playing absentmindedly with its four plump arms. It was strange. Sukuna was known to be the most evil man who lived, but he reminded you of Yuuji in a way. Well, in terms of looks, anyway.

You were drawed out of your thoughts when you heard a soft shuffling of slippers dragging across the wooden floor with a faint, sticky sound. Your mother entered, frail and unsteady, her eyes clouded, holding a bowl of steaming soup. “I made you something for your cold.”

You set the doll aside. “Mom, you really shouldn’t be cooking,” you said, gently taking the bowl from her trembling, bony hands and placing it on the nightstand.

Her brow furrowed, eyes darting nervously around the room. "Yuji said the same thing before he left, like I can’t take care of my own daughter. I’m your mother." Her voice cracked, then softened, taking on a childlike lilt. "I’m supposed to take care of you."

You opened your mouth, searching for comforting words, but before you could speak, her tone shifted, sharp and sudden. "I know you lived with my mom during your teenage years, but she’s not your mother. She’s not. I gave birth to you– I sat on that bed for twelve, fifteen hours. Not her! Me," Her voice crescendoed, then fell to a whisper, trembling. "Not her..."

You held your breath, knowing it was best to let her rant. Your mother, the saddest woman you knew, had given birth to you young, been through two divorces, and by the second, she was lost to drugs. When you were twelve, she overdosed, slipping into a coma, and you moved in with your grandmother. She never fully recovered, neither physically nor mentally. Her eyes were murky, as if her life was constantly flashing before her eyes, reminding her of what a shit parent she'd been to her only child. It left her desperate to be part of your life, and you let her move in when you were twenty.

“I know, mom. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” she grumbled, her voice thick with irritation. She moved to sit on your bed but stopped when she felt something soft beneath her. Lifting herself, she frowned and picked up the Sukuna plush she had nearly squashed. Her expression softened. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Yuuji won it for me at the fair yesterday.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “I remember how much you loved your dolls and plushies. You had them all around your bed. And that, that um, that one doll Botan bought you for your tenth birthday, the one you were obsessed with…”

“The black cat with the big eyes?” you said, the memory surfacing. Botan, her second husband, was a kind man, the kindest you’d known. He bought you the plush cat for your twelfth birthday because you always wanted a real one, but he was allergic. Your mother had thrown it away after they divorced, convinced he was cheating. She’d promised to buy you a real cat. A month later, she slipped into her coma.

“Yes, yes, the big eyed one,” she said, a glint of fondness in her eyes. “It scared me half to death one night when you left it in the kitchen. I came down for water, and all I saw were those two big eyes staring at me in the dark,” she chuckled. “But this one looks like Yuuji, how cute.”

Her smile softened, and she carefully placed the plush by your pillow before standing up. She reached out and ruffled your hair gently. “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Make sure you eat your soup. It was a lot of trouble making it.”

With a soft sigh, she turned and shuffled out of the room.

You glanced at the bowl on the nightstand. The soup was watery, mostly filled with large, uneven chunks of carrot, the chicken and noodles sparse. Still, you ate it, knowing it wasn’t the taste that mattered, it was the effort.

Finally, officially alone, your mind drifted again. Yuuji.

You had met in freshman year, bonding over shared pain. He had just lost his grandfather, and while your mom had left the coma by then, the damage she inflicted on you had already finished crumbling.

You had been together for so long, but the foundation of your relationship had always been built on trauma. Yuuji had begun to grow past his grief. Instead, it motivated him to live fully and seek, in his words, a “proper death.”

You, on the other hand, still lived in the past and grew nervous each day that he may leave you in his, in his new pursuit.

Though, Yuuji wasn’t the type to string anyone along. He wasn’t that kind of person. You were his first everything, and he was yours. He knew you were still suffering, and he grew an obligation to help your mother. Because of that, he stayed.

You felt embarrassed, and at the moment, you resentee your mother for making him feel that way; tapped.

You coasted back to the present, turning over and idly playing with Sukuna’s arms. He really did look like Yuuji. Was that the reason he picked it out for you?

You shook your head, rolling over on your side, tucking the Sukuna plushie in between your breasts as you drifted to sleep.

October 10th

Fuck, why did it look so much like Yuuji?

You positioned yourself on top of your plushie. Although soft, most of its design was embroidered onto the fabric skin, like the plushie's eyes, hard to the touch.

You both haven't fucked in ages, with Yuuji being busy as a college athlete.

You felt the plushie's softness envelop your lower half as you began to grind against it. The fabric was surprisingly responsive, almost as if it were alive beneath you. Your hips moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, building friction between your clothed sex and the plushie's plush exterior.

The plushie's soft, yielding surface seemed to mold perfectly to your body as you straddled it, its plush exterior conforming to every curve. You ground your hips against the toy faster, panting with need as delicious friction built between your clothed sex and the plushie's inviting surface.

Your nipples hardened into stiff peaks, poking against the fabric of your top. Unable to resist, you reached inside your shirt and grasped them, squeezing the sensitive buds between your thumb and forefinger. "Ohhh… mmm… yes..." you whimpered quietly, mindful that your mom was asleep just next door.

The plushie's embroidered eyes provided a delightful contrast in texture, their slightly harder surface perfect for grinding your clit against.

Lost in the sensations, you tugged impatiently at your clothes, desperate for more direct contact. Finally managing to throw your shirt aside, your fingers kneaded the supple flesh of your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples until they ached deliciously. Unable to resist, you ducked your head down and captured one rosy peak between your lips, suckling greedily. The wet heat of your mouth sent sparks of pleasure racing through your body, drawing a needy whimper from your throat.

Rocking your hips faster, you chased the building pressure between your thighs. The plushie's surface rubbed deliciously against your clothed sex, the fabric of your panties growing damp with each passing second.

You circled your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing yourself with feather-light touches before increasing the pressure. Each stroke sent jolts of electricity coursing through your veins, stoking the fire building low in your belly. Desperate for more, you slipped your hand into your panties, fingers gliding through the slick folds of your pussy.

You plunged two fingers deep inside your aching core, pumping them in and out in time with the sway of your hips. Crude squelching noises filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and the rustling of the plushie's stuffing. You inner walls fluttered around your fingers, aching to be filled.

You bit your lip, muffling a scream as ecstasy crashed over you. Your pussy spasmed and clenched as you gushed, soaking through your panties and dripping onto the plushie below. The soft, plush fabric absorbed your juices, the toy growing warm and damp beneath you.

You let out a shaky moan, looking down at your mess. A minute passes by before you reluctantly get up on shaky legs, your body still trembling from the force of your orgasm.

You pad naked to the bathroom, where in the shower, you languidly soap up your curves, replaying the intense moment in your mind. After thoroughly cleaning yourself, you step out and dry off, feeling refreshed and satisfied.

You wrapped the plushie in a towel to contain the mess and carried it to the laundry room, tossing it in the washing machine along with some detergent, setting it to run a hot cycle.

October 18th, 9:20pm

You stepped into the dim kitchen, your thoughts fixated on grabbing a snack. Across the room, your mother lay motionless on the couch, the low hum of the TV casting flickering shadows as she slept. The silence settled, and you reached for the cabinet handle, but the moment you opened it, something tumbled out with a sharp thud against the sink.

Startled, you jerked back, your heart racing as you peered down, half-expecting a rat to scurry from the shadows.

But in the sink, drenched in the pooling water, was your Sukuna plush, its pink hair dark and matted.

October 24th

At last, Yuuji was beside you in bed, the soft sheets barely a barrier between your bodies. You lay facing each other on your sides, close enough to feel his breath on your skin. Your lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. Until he broke it.

"Mmm," Yuuji groaned, his body trembling with need. "I hate how it's staring at us."

You glanced over your shoulder, following his gaze. The Sukuna plush sat on the nightstand, its large red eyes fixed on the two of you. Turning back to Yuuji, a sly smile tugged at your lips. “Performance anxiety?” You purred, your voice low and sultry.

Before he could rebuke, your thumb caressed the side of his face, fingertips trailing down his jawline as you pulled him in for another searing kiss. Yuuji melted into your touch, his lips parting to allow your tongue to slide against his. He tasted faintly of sake from earlier.

Yuuji's hands roamed your curves, squeezing your hips as he deepened the kiss. His hardness pressed against your thigh, evidence of his desire. But then he opened his lidded eyes and caught sight of the Sukuna plush watching you both. Frowning, he broke away, drawing a frustrated groan from you.

"Really, Yuuji?" you whined, trying to pull him back.

"I don't know, something doesn't feel right about that guy," Yuuji muttered, reaching over to flip the Sukuna plush face-down on the nightstand. He paused before flinging it softly across the room all together.

Satisfied, Yuuji turned back to you, his eyes dark with lust. He tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging you into another passionate kiss. Your bodies molded together as the kiss grew more heated, hands exploring and caressing. He grabbed the sheets before raising them over your heads.

Halloween Night

You sat on the edge of your bed, slowly rolling the red stockings up your thighs. The fabric hugged your skin snugly as you adjusted them, pausing to glance at yourself in the mirror. Halloween has finally come. The costume party you'd been excited about for weeks was just hours away, and you’d decided to dress up as Little Red Riding Hood. Her dress was secured around you with needles, as you did last minute shopping and they were out of your size. You hid the pins with the cheap red cloak that draped over your shoulders, falling just past your waist.

You were paired with the lace-trimmed stockings you’d found online. The outfit was cute but with a hint of edge, just the way you liked it.

Nobara and Megumi were supposed to pick you up soon, and the three of you planned to make an entrance. Megumi was the wolf and Nobara was the grandma. Yuuji, on the other hand, had opted to stay home. He had a big game tomorrow and needed to focus, so he’d promised to hold down the fort and handle the trick-or-treaters, along with your mom if she wasn’t already resting in her bedroom. You had teased him earlier about his dedication, but he just grinned, saying he didn’t mind.

As you turned back to the bed, you frowned, realizing that one of your stockings was missing. Your eyes scanned the messy bedspread, then drifted to the floor. Maybe it had fallen off when you were getting dressed. You leaned over to check under the bed, and sure enough, there it was, and there it was, wrapped around your Sukuna plush like some kind of weird little hostage.

You frowned, reaching down to grab the sock when, out of nowhere, you felt a sharp smack on your backside.

"Yuji!" You yelped, startled, before whirling around to see him standing there, toothbrush in his mouth, a playful smirk on his face.

“Be safe, okay?” he mumbled through the foam, tapping the toothbrush against his lip. “And make sure you don’t split up with Megumi.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing the Sukuna plush back onto the bed with a sigh. You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head. Megumi was like the reluctant guardian of your little trio, always making sure you didn’t get into too much trouble. “Alright,” you said, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. 6:09 p.m. You still had a little time before they arrived.

“I’ll be back by eight,” you promised, pulling on your red boots and smoothing out your dress. “Don’t wait too long.”

Yuuji stepped forward, toothbrush now forgotten, wiped the foam from his face with the back of his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, as he always did before you or he left. “Alright, just be careful,” he murmured, his voice a little softer than before.

You smiled, feeling a little flustered under his affectionate gaze. You headed toward the door, your hand resting on the knob, when his voice called out to you again, making you pause.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added, grinning like a dork. “I love you.”

You turned slightly, looking over your shoulder with a teasing smirk. “I know,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, enjoying the playful banter between you two.

Yuuji pouted, crossing his arms. “Say it back! What if I die tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Die? From what? The neighborhood kids in bed sheets pretending to be ghosts?”

He gave you an exaggerated look of concern. “I might not have the candy they wanted! They could turn violent, y’know.”

Shaking your head, you walked back over to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek, tasting the minty toothpaste. “Love you, Yuuji. And if you’re still up when I get home, maybe I’ll give you something sweeter than candy.”

8:25 p.m

You entered the door with thunder. You’d been carrying lots of food left over from the party. Knowing the college students like you both were, food was a valuable object. You could feel your stomach twist if you had to go one more day with instant noodles.

What bothers you more is that your boyfriend hasn'rvcome down the stairs to help you put the food away after you slammed the door, a sign of frustration.

“Yuuji!” You screamed, hearing your voice echo off the walls. Nobody answers back. You didn't bother with your mom. Usually around this time, she took her pills and was out for the rest of the night.

What bothers you more is the bowl of candy, untouched, still overflowing with vibrant wrappers, sat on the table, mocking the silence that filled the house.

You cursed under your breath, assuming he’d gone to bed early again. Irritation bubbled inside your throat, but as you ascended the stairs, ready to scold him, the bubbles in your throat exploded, replaced by a scream that tore through the quiet.

There, sprawled across the floor, was your highschool sweetheart, his lifeless body drenched in blood. The crimson pooled around him, staining the hardwood. But it wasn’t the blood that froze your heart.

It was the figure standing over him.

The hulking presence loomed over you, its naked form towering and imposing. Pink hair spiked wildly, framing a face that was both beautiful and grotesque. One side twisted and deformed, while the other was almost handsome. There was something else in his hair, a sort of white foam that looked like stuffing.

But it was those piercing blue eyes that truly captured your attention – cold, calculating, and filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

Four inhuman arms emerged from its shadowy frame, each marked with jagged black patterns that pulsed with dark energy.

And two massive twin shafts stood at semi-attention, donning the same black markings on his arms. The weighty orbs of his testicles swung heavily between his muscular thighs, swollen and churning with virile seed, ready to unleash their pent-up load.

You could feel its gaze boring into you, as if it was sizing you up like a predator stalking its prey. A distant, hazy recognition sparked in your mind – you had seen this creature before, in the darkest corners of your memory. And now, it was here, in the flesh.

He began to walk towards you but his feet snagged onto your boyfriend's body.

Sukuna stared down at the unmoving carcass indifferently, as if it was a mere log in the way of him reaching you. He simply pushed the body to the side with his foot, thighs carved as if made of marvel, and made his way towards you.

"No... No," You whimpered as he closed the distance between you.

As you stumbled back as it advanced, closing the gap between you with slow, powerful strides.

Your feet became tangled, an unavoidable result of the intense fear coursing through your veins. The room seemed to tilt and spin around you, and before you could react, you found yourself falling backwards.

Sukuna was quick to respond, his reflexes lightning fast compared to your panicked mind. One of his powerful arms shot out, grabbing at your flimsy dress held together by pins. The delicate fabric ripped easily as you fell, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before the imposing figure of Sukuna.

His eyes devoured every inch of your body, taking in the sight of your lacy lingerie barely concealing your most intimate parts. The flimsy bra did little to contain your heaving breasts, your nipples clearly visible through the sheer lace. And your panties... They clung to the curves of your ass and the swell of your pussy, leaving very little to the imagination.

"Leave me alone!" You cried out, crawling on all fours. He grinned and reached down, gripping on your hair firmly, almost painfully so, as he yanked you closer to his throbbing cock.

The thick, musky scent of his arousal filled your nostrils, making your head spin with a dizzying mix of terror. His other hand pressed the leaking tip of his cock against your trembling lips, smearing them with his salty precum.

"No...--" you whimpered before he forced his massive girth past your lips. Sukuna's cock stretched your mouth obscenely, the bulbous head pushing against the back of your throat. The bitter taste of his precum coated your tongue as he slid deeper, making you gag and splutter around his thick shaft.

The intoxicating taste of his precum flooded your senses, igniting an uncontrollable ache between your legs. With each passing second, your body betrayed you further, your pussy growing slicker as you found yourself eagerly sucking him of your own accord.

He watched you intently, a wicked grin spreading across his face as you lavished attention on the tip of his cock, lapping at it like a woman dying of thirst. A guttural groan escaped him as he wiped away the saliva that dribbled down your chin. Throwing his head back, he surrendered to the sensations, one hand tangling in his hair while the other gripped your head tightly. For the first time, he spoke. "That's it. Quit acting so shy."

His fingers dug into your scalp as he began to thrust forcefully, driving his cock deeper into your throat with each harsh movement. There was no mercy in his actions, only a primal desire to claim and dominate. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to breathe around his thick girth, but still, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

His grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place as he pistoned in and out of your throat. The wet, vulgar sounds of your sucking filled the room, mingling with his grunts of pleasure. He was close now, you could tell by the way his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

He halted inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your chin. Your nose was buried in his pubic hair, the musky scent filling your lungs. Sukuna held you there, letting you struggle and sputter around his cock before cumming down your throat. You had no choice but to swallow every last drop, your body shuddering as the aphrodisiac effects of his seed sent waves of unwanted pleasure crashing through you.

"Swallow."

After what seemed an eternity, he finally withdrew, allowing you to gulp precious air. Thin strands of saliva and pearly seed bridged your bruised, swollen lips to his glistening, throbbing shaft. He rested the weighty length across your flushed cheek, still pulsing and oozing aphrodisiac essence from the engorged head. It trailed down the thick veins of his cock, painting your face with his musky fluids.

You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, panting softly, a wild, desperate look in their depths. Something primal and hungry sparked within you. It finally came to you that this man, this... thing, was the king of all curses.

Sukuna's voice was a deep, velvety purr that seemed to caress every inch of your skin. "Just look at you, so utterly wrecked, so desperate for more of my cock, just from having it in your mouth." His fingers traced along your jawline with a feather-light touch, a mockery of tenderness.

"I wonder how utterly destroyed you'll look when my thick shaft is buried to the hilt inside your tight little cunt." His words dripped with a dark promise as his hands roamed possessively over your your.

Sukuna's iron grip on your hair sent searing pain through your scalp as he yanked you down the hallway, your screams echoing off the walls. As you entered you and Yuuji's shared bedroom, you passed Yuuji's crumpled form, catching a glimpse of his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. A flicker of hope ignited within you - perhaps there was still a chance to be spared from being ravaged by this beast.

But Sukuna remained utterly unmoved by Yuuji's condition. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent you tumbling onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly on the rumpled sheets. You immediately scrambled backwards, putting as much distance between yourself and the demon as possible.

Your efforts were futile. In a blur of motion, Sukuna lunged forward and seized your ankle in an iron grip. You thrashed and kicked, but he easily captured your other leg and effortlessly wrenched your legs apart, positioning himself between your thighs.

Sukuna's hands roamed possessively over your soft curves, his touch both tender and rough. "So soft, so delicate. Like ripe fruit, just waiting to be devoured," he purred, fingers digging into the pliant flesh of her thighs. "I remember when you used to play with me, moving my limbs however you wanted. Did it excite you, having that control?"

You shivered. His words transported you back to the weeks before, when you would idly move the stuffed limbs of your Sukuna plush. How was he alive? Big?

Newer flashes of memory surfaces, ones of where you carelessly tossed him, or accidentally sat on him. Yuuji performed all of those actions, and now he laid unmoving on the floor. What if Sukuna sought revenge for those thoughtless acts?

Sukuna's hands roamed hungrily over your curves, tracing the flare of your hips, the taper of your waist, before roughly palming the heavy weight of your breast, pushing them together. With a sharp tug, he rent your bra asunder, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper. Your breast spilled free, soft and yielding as they followed the curve of your sides, like melting butter on a hot pan.

Sukuna's fingers sank into the pliant flesh, kneading and squeezing with bruising force. He enveloped your entire breast in the hot, greedy clasp of his palm, thumb flicking mercilessly over the pebbled peak. You grunted as his roughness.

Suddenly, a wet heat engulfed your nipple. You gasped, realizing a mouth had formed on Sukuna's hand. The tongue swirled and lashed the sensitive bud, suckling hard and drawing the tender flesh deeper. Jolts of painful pleasure shot straight to your core as it's teeth grazed the delicate skin, nipping sharply before his tongue soothed the sting.

Sukuna's other set of arms slid between your thighs, a finger brushing against your clothed sex. He could feel the scorching heat emanating from your core, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric. A wicked grin spread across his face as he realized just how affected you were by his touch.

"Mmm, already so wet and ready for me," Sukuna purred, his voice a deep rumble.

In one swift motion, one hand clasped together your ankles in one palm, spreading your legs wider. The other clamped down on your panties, bunching the fabric in his fist.

With a sharp yank, Sukuna tore your panties clean off, baring your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of your slick folds, already flushed and swollen with arousal.

Sukuna's tongue slid out, licking his lips as if he could already savor your sweet nectar. In one fluid motion, he laid on the bed, positioning you above his face. Your dripping sex hovered inches from his mouth, the intoxicating aroma of your pussy filling his nostrils.

He gripped your hips firmly, holding you open and exposed for his hungry gaze. You could feel the scorching heat of his breath caressing your sensitive flesh. Sukuna's fingers dug possessively into the meat of your thighs, keeping you spread wide.

"I'm going to feast on this pussy," he growled, his lips grazing your inner thigh. "Ever since you came on my face, I haven't been able to stop thinking about tasting your essence. Sweet, compared to how slutty you were."

You have barely any time to remember before he yanked your hips closer, burying his face between your legs. He dragged the flat of his tongue along your slit, savoring the first taste of your arousal. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he moaned against your flesh.

"Fuck, you're so sweet," Sukuna rasped, his voice rough with desire. "So fucking sweet."

He dove back in, sealing his lips around your clit. At the same time, he thrust his tongue deep inside your tight channel, fucking you with the slick muscle.

"Ah!" You cried out, your thighs clamping around Sukuna's head as you tried to squirm away from the intense pleasure. Sukuna growled, the vibrations making you see stars.

His strong hands gripped your doughy hips, holding your frame firmly in place. With a sharp smack, he struck your pert ass, the crack echoing through the room. A vivid red handprint bloomed across your rear. "Interrupt me again while I am feasting and I will have you writhing and screaming on my tongue for hours on end."

"'M sorry... 'M sorry!" You whimpered, though your mind felt foggy, thoughts scattering like startled birds.

His tongue continued to swirl and tease, leaving hot, wet strokes over your quivering flesh. He zeroed in on your throbbing clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue before his lips secured around it again. He suckled hard and fast, sending jolts of electric pleasure racing through your core. He alternated between flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit and taking it between his lips.

"Mmmph! Oh, oh god!" You moaned, your back arching as you rode his face. Your hands fisted in his hair, pushing him closer. "Please don't stop... Please don't stop!"

Sukuna showed no signs of slowing down, his tongue plunging deep into your soaked folds, stroking along your velvety walls. He plunged two thick, calloused fingers knuckle-deep into your tight, slick heat. Your velvety walls clenched greedily around the intrusion.

Curling his fingers just so, Sukuna rubbed insistently against that spongy patch of nerves, stroking and massaging until your hips were shaking against his face. Drool trickled from the corner of his mouth as he feasted on your weeping sex.

You babbled incoherently, hands fisting in his dark hair. Your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him against your spasming core. "Ah... Ah!"

With a final, well-aimed thrust, he sent you flying over the edge into pure bliss.

Your back arched off the face as a silent scream tore from your throat. Your pussy clenched around his fingers like a vice, gushing your sweet nectar onto his tongue and chin as he eagerly lapped it up. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you boneless and panting. Slowly, he pulled his sticky fingers coated in your essence and brought it to his softened lips.

As he licked his fingers, he gazed at you with renewed hunger, as if the taste of you had an aphrodisiac effect too. He knew you were completely at his mercy now.

In one swift motion, he pounced, his powerful body pressing you down into the mattress. With a firm grip on your ankles, he hoisted your legs up and back until they were folded nearly in half, your knees nearly touching your shoulders. The lewd position left you completely exposed and vulnerable to his desires.

"There, now you're open and ready for me," he growled, the bulbous head of his thick, veiny cock prodding insistently at your tight little entrance. You let out a sharp gasp as he began to push inside, your slick walls stretching obscenely around his girthy intrusion. It felt like you were being split in half as he slowly sank deeper, igniting a raging wildfire in your core.

"Ah! S-Slow down! It's too much!" you cried out, your fingers digging into his muscular chest to push him away. Your body betrayed you, inner muscles fluttering and clenching needily around the hard shaft impaling you.

He paused.

Then a ungodly grin spread across his face. With a flex of his powerful hips, he withdrew almost all the way until just the tip remained inside your quivering heat. You felt something else prod your entrance and your heart dropped.

With a brutal thrust, he slammed back into the hilt, heavy balls slapping lewdly against your upturned ass. He had managed to stuff his second cock into your tight hole.

Your back arched off the bed, a silent scream tearing from your throat as he stretched you to your absolute limit. Electric pleasure crackled through your nerves with each deep, punishing stroke as he set a ruthless pace, pounding into your sopping cunt with animalistic abandon. Obscene squelching noises filled the room, mingling with the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh and your wanton cries.

"Let this be a lesson to you, girl," he groaned, relishing the way your velvety walls gripped him like a vice. His hand gripped your cheeks, puffing out your lips. "Tell me what to do with my cock, and I'll return it twice-fold."

He could feel every inch of your tight heat clenching around his throbbing shafts as he pounded into you mercilessly. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, driving him wild with lust. He wanted to ruin you, to claim every part of you and make you forget about any other man.

He grinned at the thought. "Your boyfriend would lose his fucking mind if he saw you like this," he growled, voice rough with lust. "Stuffed full with two cocks, moaning like a bitch in heat, surrendering to me so easily. Are you ashamed?"

He reached down to roughly grope your bouncing tits, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. The synchronized sensations of his hands on your breasts and his cock pounding into your dripping cunt were driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

"No," he chuckled. "No. I don't even think you have a single thought in that pretty little head besides how good it feels to be used like a cheap whore."

His lewd words only stoked the flames of your desire higher, your inner walls gripping his plunging shaft even tighter. You could feel the pressure mounting deep within you, winding itself into an knot.

"Take it," he growled. "Take, every, last, inch!" His hips slammed into yours with every pronounced word of his command. "Gonna pump this pussy full. Flood your womb with my seed."

Abruptly, he altered the angle, the bulbous head of his manhood grinding against your G-spot with every powerful thrust. That extra stimulation was the final push you needed to tumble over the edge. A guttural moan tore from your throat as your climax hit you like a freight train, your body quaking and spasming as rapture overwhelmed your senses in relentless waves.

His cocks pulsed and throbbed inside you as he neared his own peak, stretching you deliciously with each twitch. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours. You felt the first hot spurt of his release paint your inner walls, followed by another and another, until you were both gasping and trembling from the intensity of it all.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the bed as you both struggled to catch your breath. For a long moment, there was only the sound of your mingled panting filling the room. After a long, blissful moment, he rolled off you, his semi-erect cocks slipping out with a lewd squelch. Immediately, his thick seed began oozing from your well-fucked pussy, trickling down to your quivering asshole.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled to the back of your as exhaustion overtook you. Sukuna gazed down at your ravaged body, admiring the finger-shaped bruises and glistening sheen of perspiration coating your skin.

He leaned down, licking a long stripe up your pussy, savoring the mingled taste of your juices.

His eyes suddenly flicked to the shadowy corner. "Uraume, you little pervert," he grinned.

Uraume stepped out from the shadows, a wicked grin on their face. "I couldn't resist coming to welcome you back to the world, my lord Sukuna." Their eyes roamed over your cum-splattered body, and followed the trail of stuffing on the floor.

"I was wondering when you would come back from that humiliating curse."

Sukuna sat up, not bothering to cover his nudity. "This girl happens to be a descendant of one of my brides. I take great pride in my women."

"Yes, I can see," she said, eyeing Yuuji's body. "She served you well, my lord.”

[infictionalwonderland]

Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

part 2 / part 3

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

[wolverigrl]

Thirst Tweets

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

!Disclaimer! I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to writing. There will definitely be more parts, but not this week. I also have two oneshots saved that might go online this week, so don’t be surprised if you see them.

I'd be happy about some feedback and just a reminder to you, I have my requests open, so feel free sending some of your ideas! :)

Warnings: tiny bit of fluff and some swearing here and there

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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

Returning to New York felt like waking up from a beautiful dream I never wanted to end. Sydney had been a paradise - sunshine, the salty breeze from the ocean, and Hugh. God, Hugh. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, behaving like love-drunk teenagers. Whether it was our sunset strolls by the harbor or cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets, we found ourselves growing closer every day. There was something magical about that time - like we were in a world of our own, free from distractions.

Hugh would sometimes visit his family, leaving me to explore Sydney on my own. I’d walk through the city, admiring the sights, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. But no matter where I went, I was always thinking about him. It wasn’t long before I’d be back at his place, sharing stories of my solo adventures while he teased me with that wicked smile.

Of course, the paparazzi had a field day. Every moment seemed to be caught on camera - whether we were laughing together at the beach, wandering the streets hand in hand, or lounging in the park. There were endless photos of us everywhere, but I didn't mind. Honestly, I found it kind of funny how we had become some sort of internet sensation. I had even started posting more pictures of Hugh on my socials - candid shots of him with funny, flirty captions. The fans ate it up, especially when I started liking and commenting on their fan edits of Hugh. They said I was fangirling hard, and maybe I was, but could you blame me? The man is perfect.

The hate we used to get was slowly dying down, too. People were starting to root for us. It felt good.

Today, though, was on a whole new level of fun. We were shooting a "Thirst Tweets" video, and it was as chaotic as you'd imagine. The energy in the studio was electric as we settled into the plush chairs, both of us trying to stifle our giggles before the chaos of "Thirst Tweets" began. I glanced over at Hugh, who looked far too calm for what was about to go down, his long fingers tapping lightly on his knee, his face carrying that familiar smirk that always made my heart race. It was like he knew exactly what was coming and how I’d react.

The first tweet was mine to read. I grabbed the small card from the pile and cleared my throat dramatically. “Okay, here we go…” I scanned the text quickly before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, okay. ‘I would let y/n punch me in the face just to say I’ve been touched by perfection.’ ” I couldn’t help it - I snorted.

Hugh chuckled beside me, shaking his head. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?” he teased.

I leaned over, nudging him with my shoulder. “What can I say? I have violent fans.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Perfection though? Can’t argue with that." he said, giving me a wink that made my face heat up.

It was Hugh’s turn next. He grabbed his card, took a quick glance, and then raised an eyebrow at me. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘I’d like to officially announce that Hugh’s arms should be declared a public service. Like, those things could end world hunger. Use them for good, sir.’ "

I let out a loud laugh, slapping my knee. “See, this is what I’m saying! They should be protected. Maybe insured.”

He flexed a little - just enough to make me roll my eyes - and grinned. “I’ll take it under consideration.” he joked. The crew behind the camera was already in stitches, but I could tell this was just the beginning.

The next tweet was handed again to Hugh, and he gave it a quick scan before bursting into laughter. "Oh, this one's good. 'Hugh, you can call me baby girl and tell me to sit down, and I would happily obey for the rest of my life.' "

I raised an eyebrow, trying to hold in my laughter. "I mean.. you do have that commanding presence."

He turned to me with a devilish grin, his voice deep and teasing. "You think I should try it out, love? Call you baby girl and see what happens?"

I immediately blushed, my laughter betraying how flustered I was. "Oh no, let's not give the fans more material!"

He chuckled, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Too late, baby."

He took the card with a dramatic flourish, his eyes quickly scanning it before he burst out laughing, almost choking on his words. “Oh no, this one’s for you, love. ‘Y/n really out here fangirling over Hugh like the rest of us. She’s one of us now.’ ”

I groaned, though I couldn’t hide my smile. "Listen, I am not fangirling!" I protested weakly, but Hugh gave me a look that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

"Oh, you totally are!" he teased, nudging me playfully. “You’re in deep.”

I shot back with a grin. “Okay, maybe I’m a little obsessed with you. Can you blame me?”

The crew behind the camera was losing it by now, and I could hear some of them whispering amongst themselves, probably trying to stifle their own laughter. But we were just getting started.

I grabbed another card, still grinning. "Hugh could choke me with his biceps, and I'd die happy."

Hugh started laughing again, clearly enjoying himself. "There's a lot of love for my arms in this, isn't there?"

I looked at him, pretending to be serious. "I mean, have you seen your arms?"

He flexed again, playing it up for the camera. "I guess I have no choice but to deliver." I snorted loudly and leaned against him while laughing and hiding my face behind my right hand.

Hugh took the next tweet, shaking his head in amusement. “Alright, here’s a spicy one. ‘Hugh, please, just throw me against a wall. Like, I’m begging you.’” He read it in such a deadpan tone that I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

He raised an eyebrow at me as I tried to compose myself. “Well?”

I fanned myself dramatically. “That’s a strong request, but relatable."

Hugh opened his mouth to say something but instead snorted with laughter and shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

I picked up the next card, already giggling before I even read it aloud. " 'Y/n’s laugh could cure my depression, I swear. She could rob a bank and I’d still be like, wow, what a cute laugh!' "

Hugh looked over at me, grinning. “See? You do have a cute laugh.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my cheeks were burning. “I mean, if it works for bank robberies, maybe I should test it out.”

He gave me a look, smirking. “I’m not bailing you out.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to." I replied, laughing. “I’d just charm my way out of it.”

I grabbed the next card from the pile, glancing over at Hugh before reading it aloud. "Y/n, how do I sign up to be your sugar baby? I don't need much - just a little attention and maybe to sleep on Hugh's abs as a pillow."

Hugh let out a loud laugh, his eyes widening. "My abs, huh?" He leaned back, pretending to flex for a moment before winking at the camera. "I didn't realize they had so many applications."

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to hide my grin. "I mean, you have to admit, they're not wrong. Those abs could solve a lot of problems."

He smirked, leaning in closer to me, his voice dropping a bit. "Is that what you think about every time you cuddle me, baby? Using me as your personal pillow?"

I nudged him, trying not to laugh. "What can I say? I'm resourceful."

The next few tweets were just as wild, some downright inappropriate but in a way that had us both cracking up. Hugh read a particularly bold one aloud: " 'Hugh in that leather jacket… sir, I’m on my knees. What do I need to do to get you to ruin my life?' " He paused, glancing over at me with a devilish grin. “What do they need to do?”

I covered my face, laughing into my hands. “Oh God. This is escalating so much!”

He looked at the camera and lowering his voice. “Maybe just say ‘please?’ ”

The crew burst out laughing again, and I could see the camera shaking slightly as the person filming struggled to keep it steady. By this point, even the sound guy was wiping away tears of laughter.

Hugh grabbed the next tweet from the pile, his eyes quickly scanning it before a sly grin spread across his face.

"Okay," he began, in that rich voice that could melt butter, "Here’s a fun one: ‘Hugh Jackman could breathe in my direction, and I’d immediately drop to my knees, ready to serve.’"

I let out an involuntary snort, burying my face in my hands. "Oh my!" I gasped between fits of giggles. "They went straight for it!"

Hugh, trying to maintain composure, turned toward the camera with a half smile. "Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm." he said, and then turned to me. "Is that something I should be adding to my skill set?"

I swatted his arm playfully, still laughing. "Please, let’s not turn this into a live demonstration."

Hugh chuckled and nodded towards the camera. “Fair enough. But hey, I’m flattered."

I grabbed the next tweet, scanning it quickly and feeling my face heat up even more. "Oh, this one’s good. ‘Y/n’s legs are so long, they could wrap around me twice, and I’d happily suffocate.’"

Hugh let out a low whistle, his eyes flicking down to my legs and back up to my face with a teasing grin. "I mean, they’re not wrong." he quipped, making the entire crew laugh again.

I gave him a playful serious look. "Careful, you might encourage more of this behavior."

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Too late."

I passed the next tweet to him, still trying to suppress my laughter. Hugh's eyebrows shot up when he read it. “Oh, wow, okay. ‘Hugh could literally break me in half, and I’d say thank you.’” He paused, a devilish grin creeping onto his face as he looked up at me. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

The crew behind the camera was howling at this point again, and I could barely breathe through the laughter. "I mean… who wouldn't be thankful?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Hugh laughed, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. "Should I be concerned for you people, or…?”

"Concerned, maybe. Grateful, definitely,” I replied, still giggling.

He handed me the next card, his smirk widening. “Your turn. Let’s see if it gets wilder.”

I took the card and immediately had to press my lips together to keep from bursting out laughing. “Oh God, here we go again… ‘Y/n could ruin my life, and I’d thank her by paying her rent for the rest of the year.’ ”

Hugh’s laugh boomed across the room, his head falling back as he tried to catch his breath. “Well, if you’re ever looking for a side hustle…”

I gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, rent’s expensive in New York. I might just take them up on that."

He wiped away a tear of laughter, still grinning. “You’d definitely have no shortage of offers.”

Another tweet landed in Hugh’s hands, and he gave it a quick read before raising an eyebrow at me. “Oh jeez, we’re diving straight into the deep end now. ‘Hugh Jackman’s voice is so hot, I’d let him read the phone book to me while I climax.’”

My jaw dropped. "NO." I immediately covered my face with my hands, laughing so hard. I would lie, if I'd say my body doesn't hurt of laughter by now.

Hugh, ever the professional, barely flinched. He just gave the camera a deadpan look. “The phone book? Really? That’s a bit outdated, but… hey, I’m here for it.”

I peeked at him from behind my hands, still laughing uncontrollably. “You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?”

He winked at me, his voice dropping an octave. “If that’s what the people want, who am I to deny them?”

I playfully shoved him, still blushing furiously, but loving every second of the ridiculousness. “We need to talk about boundaries later." I joked.

He shot me a grin. “Boundaries? What are those?”

I took a deep breath, composing myself enough to grab the next tweet. The second I read it, I was gone again. “Oh, this one’s golden. ‘Y/n, I will pay you $1,000 to sit on my face. I don’t even need to breathe. Just consider it.’”

Hugh burst out laughing, clutching his chest and wiping tears from his eyes. “A thousand dollars? Only? That’s a bargain!”

I covered my face again, my shoulders shaking with laughter. “This is officially out of control.”

Hugh leaned in closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Come on. You’re underselling yourself. You’re worth at least $10,000.”

I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, babe.”

By this point, the crew behind the cameras was barely keeping it together. The laughter was contagious, and it felt like the entire room was on the verge of tears from how absurd the tweets were getting.

Hugh, still grinning, took the next card, glancing at it before giving me a cheeky look. "Alright, last one for me. ‘Hugh, you could crush me between your thighs, and I’d die a happy person.’”

I dissolved into laughter again, leaning back in my chair. "See, this is what I’ve been saying!" I managed between giggles.

Hugh turned to the camera, looking far too amused. “I’m sensing a lot of… very creative fans.”

I wiped away tears of laughter, still grinning. “Creative is one word for it.”

With that, the video wrapped up, and the crew finally stopped laughing long enough to give us a round of applause. Hugh’s charm and my endless giggling made for the perfect combination, and I could tell this video was going to go viral the second it dropped.

One of the cameramen approached us, grinning. “I’ve been doing this for years, and that was easily the funniest shoot I’ve ever been a part of.”

Hugh smiled, thanking him, while I nodded in agreement. “That was insane!” I said, still feeling the buzz of excitement. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard.”

After the shoot, we headed back to Hugh’s place to get ready for dinner. Ryan and Blake were coming over with their kids and dogs, and Hugh was in charge of cooking, much to his delight. He loved being in the kitchen, and it was one of those little things about him that always made me swoon.

While he started prepping in the kitchen, I disappeared into the bathroom to get ready. I slipped into something simple but nice, touching up my makeup before making my way back to Hugh. He had his back turned, fully focused on whatever he was chopping up, so I tiptoed up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my head against his back.

He jumped, clearly startled, but then relaxed into my embrace. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he chuckled, setting down the knife.

I grinned, squeezing him tighter. "Sorry, couldn’t resist." My hands slid over his chest as I pressed closer. "You look ridiculously good in that shirt, by the way."

He glanced down at himself - just a casual button up and jeans - but it worked for him in a way that made my heart race. “Oh yeah?” he asked, turning his head slightly to look at me with a playful smirk.

“Yeah. Like.. annoyingly good." I teased, letting my fingers linger on the fabric. “Distractingly good. It's kind of a problem.”

He turned fully then, wrapping his arms around my waist, and leaned in close, his voice low. “Maybe we should skip dinner then?"

I bit my lip, laughing softly as I pushed against his chest. "Nice try. We’re not blowing off dinner with Blake and Ryan. You know they’d never let us hear the end of it."

Before we could get any further into our flirt, the doorbell rang, and we both groaned. The Reynolds were right on time, of course.

With one last grin at each other, we reluctantly pulled apart. Hugh grabbed a towel to wipe his hands before we made our way to the door. When we opened it, we were greeted by a whirlwind of chaos - Ryan with the kids and Blake holding onto the dogs. It was loud and warm, the kind of energy that made you feel instantly at home.

Blake gave me a tight hug while Ryan and Hugh exchanged their usual friendly banter. We all gathered in the dining room, Hugh finishing up in the kitchen while Blake and I set the table, chatting and laughing about everything and nothing.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and the occasional bark from the dogs. Hugh caught my eye from across the table more than once, and each time, I couldn’t help but smile. This was our life now - full of love, friends, and shared moments that felt like they could last forever.

And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1

Next part

[uusira]

for a fic prompt, what about primary school teacher tommy and single dad buck meet-cute 🥺🫶

you probably forgot about this, but just so you know Alex started here 😶‍🌫️ Also uh it got to more than just a meet-cute

Also on AO3

“Dad, we’re gonna be late!” Alex exclaimed, his small hands tugging at the blanket Buck had pulled over his head. His six-year-old energy was relentless as he hopped on the bed, shaking his dad's shoulder.

Buck groaned dramatically, burrowing further into the covers. “Five more minutes, buddy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he rolled onto his stomach. “Late for what? School doesn’t even start until next week”

“It starts today!” Alex huffed, climbing onto Buck’s back. “You promised you’d wake up early so I wouldn’t be late! My teacher’s gonna think I’m the kid with the lazy dad!”

That got Buck’s attention. He peeked out from under the blanket, grinning. “Lazy, huh? You’re pretty brave, calling me names when I’m this close to tickling you.”

Alex gasped, trying to back away, but Buck was too fast. With a playful growl, he lunged, wrapping his arms around Alex and tackling him onto the bed. “You think you can just insult me and get away with it?”

“Dad! Nooo!” Alex shrieked between bursts of laughter as Buck’s fingers attacked his sides. “I’m serious! We really are gonna be late!”

Buck finally let him go, sitting up and ruffling Alex’s bedhead. “Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you to school before your teacher thinks your dad’s a total slacker”

Alex hopped off the bed, already halfway to the kitchen. “You better not make me late, Dad!” he called over his shoulder.

I.

Buck knew mornings were a battlefield, but nothing prepared him for the chaos of getting his son, to his new school on time. He prepared almost everything the night before—laid out clothes, packed the lunch, even double-checked Alex’s backpack—but somehow, chaos still found a way. Between trying to locate Alex’s missing sneaker (it had somehow ended up in the fridge) and making sure the snack he packed met the “no nuts, no sugar” rule, Buck was already sweating before 8 a.m.

“See? Right on time,” Buck said triumphantly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Alex, however, was already halfway out of his seat. “Barely,” he muttered, clutching a slightly crumpled drawing of a fire truck—his pride and joy—ready to show off on his first day.

“Hey, cut your old man some slack,” Buck called after him, grabbing Alex’s backpack from the passenger seat and jogging to catch up as his son bolted toward the school entrance.

The chaos didn’t stop at the school gate. As Buck jogged to catch up with Alex, the coffee cup in his hand wobbled dangerously. He didn’t even notice the man walking out of the classroom until it was too late.

Hot coffee sloshed out of the cup as Buck collided with someone tall and solid, soaking the other man’s neatly pressed shirt.

“Oh, crap—sorry, sorry, sorry!” Buck blurted, immediately trying to dab at the man’s chest with the sleeve of his own hoodie.

The man held up a hand, smiling despite the situation. “It’s okay! I’ve survived worse—though maybe not before 9 a.m.”

Buck stopped mid-dab, his apology dying on his lips as he looked up into bright blue eyes. The guy was gorgeous. Clean-cut, tall, and with the kind of easy smile that could probably calm a room full of screaming kids.

“I—uh—sorry again,” Buck stammered. “First day at a new school, and we’re already making enemies.”

The man chuckled, glancing down at his shirt. “It’s just coffee. Nothing a spare shirt won’t fix.” He held out a hand. “I’m Tommy Kinard, the first-grade teacher.”

Buck blinked, taking his hand. “Oh. Wow. Great. Yeah—uh—I’m Buck— Buckley. Uh—Evan... Buckley. Alex’s dad.” he said, pointing over his shoulder toward Alex.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Buck’s flustered demeanor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley. Alex seems to be settling in just fine—he’s already making friends.”

Buck glanced at Alex, who was already chatting animatedly with another kid across the room. “Well, at least one of us is thriving.”

Tommy smiled. “You’re doing fine. First days are always an adventure. Just maybe avoid coffee collisions next time,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to their still-clasped hands before meeting Buck’s gaze again.

Buck suddenly realized he was still gripping Tommy’s hand and quickly released it, his ears burning. “Oh! Uh, sorry about that.”

Tommy’s smile widened, clearly amused.

“Fair point—about the coffee! And, uh, if you ever need someone to return the favor and spill coffee on your enemies, I’m your guy,” Buck added, trying to recover.

Tommy tilted his head, his nose scrunching with his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Tommy turned back toward the classroom, Buck exhaled shakily, his breath hitching as he muttered to himself, Oh boy.

II.

Buck had barely recovered from the coffee incident when he found himself nervously adjusting his shirt in the mirror for Parent-Teacher Night. It wasn’t like him to care this much about his appearance, but something about Tommy—Mr. Kinard, he corrected himself—had stuck with him.

As Buck stepped into the brightly decorated classroom, he immediately spotted Tommy. He was standing by a bulletin board covered in colorful artwork, smiling as he spoke to another parent. Buck’s stomach did a weird little flip.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy greeted warmly as he finished up his conversation and approached. “Good to see you again. No coffee this time?”

Buck chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not today. Figured I’d avoid the risk.”

Tommy smiled. “Smart choice. Alex has been settling in really well, by the way. He’s a great kid.”

“Thanks,” Buck said, his chest swelling with pride. “He loves it here—and he won’t stop talking about you, by the way. ‘Mr. Kinard is so cool. Mr. Kinard can draw fire trucks better than me.’”

Tommy laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve impressed him. Though I think his fire truck skills might outshine mine soon.”

As they chatted, Buck shifted nervously, trying to look relaxed. But in his fidgeting, he bumped into a small table holding a stack of construction paper and art supplies, sending them toppling to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Oh, no,” Buck groaned, crouching down immediately to try and fix the mess. “Sorry—sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Tommy crouched down beside him, biting back a smile as his shoulder brushed against Buck’s. “It’s fine, really. Happens all the time. These tables are magnets for chaos.”

Buck glanced up, meeting Tommy’s amused gaze, his face flushing. “I swear I’m usually more coordinated.”

Tommy chuckled, handing him a pile of papers. “You’re doing fine, Mr. Buckley. Though I might have to ban you from coffee and art supplies.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they stood. They chatted for a few more minutes after that, Buck feeling more at ease with every word. By the time the evening ended, Buck was walking out of the school with a smile he couldn’t quite shake—and a lingering warmth from the way Tommy’s shoulder had felt against his.

III.

A week later, Buck was rushing back to the school, Alex’s forgotten math worksheet clutched in his hand. He burst into the office, breathless and slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked on one side and his hair sticking up in a way that suggested he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

Tommy was already there, sitting behind the counter with a mug of tea. He looked up, and his smile widened when he saw Buck.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy said, his voice tinged with laughter. “In a hurry?”

Buck groaned, straightening his shirt with one hand while clutching the worksheet in the other. Of course it’s you who’ll see me like this, he muttered under his breath, low enough that he thought Tommy wouldn’t hear.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What was that?”

Buck flushed. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just… Alex forgot his homework,” he said, holding up the crumpled paper as evidence. “I had a long shift last night—barely managed to get him to school on time this morning—and I was about to crash when I noticed the homework on the counter and—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “—you don’t want to hear that. Sorry.”

Tommy stood, taking the worksheet from him. “Actually, I don’t mind,” he said, his voice calm and genuine. “It’s not every day I get to hear about someone pulling off the superhero double shift—saving lives and making sure forgotten homework gets to school. Alex has a pretty awesome dad.”

Buck let out a breathless laugh, his face heating up. “I don’t know about awesome… but thanks.”

Tommy smiled, his tone light as he added, “Seriously, you’re doing great. Alex talks about you all the time—it’s obvious how much he looks up to you. I’ll make sure he gets this.”

The compliment caught Buck off guard, and he found himself stumbling over his words. “Oh, I—I just try not to screw up too much.”

“You’re doing fine,” Tommy said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Though I have to say, Mr. Buckley, you do have a knack for keeping things interesting.”

Buck blinked, momentarily speechless. Then, with a slightly awkward chuckle, he added, “You can just call me Evan, by the way. ‘Mr. Buckley’ makes me feel old.”

Tommy’s eyes twinkled. “Evan it is.”

As Buck left the school, still red-faced and brushing his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, he couldn’t help but smile. Despite the chaos of the morning, there was a lingering warmth in his chest—and a growing determination to get to know Tommy better.

IV.

When the school’s fall fair rolled around, Buck found himself roped into volunteering after Alex came home with a flyer and an excited plea. Buck agreed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to pitch in—and, if he was being honest (which he wasn’t), he was also hoping to see Tommy again.

Buck signed up to contribute to the bake sale, spending the evening before the fair elbow-deep in flour and sugar. By the time the fair kicked off, his table was piled high with cookies, brownies, and pumpkin bread, all neatly arranged and drawing plenty of attention.

Sure enough, Buck spotted Tommy running the face-painting booth. Alex insisted on getting a firefighter painted on his cheek, and Tommy obliged with steady hands and an artistic flair that left Buck impressed.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Buck said as Tommy finished, his gaze lingering on the neat little firetruck.

Tommy glanced up, smiling. “Multitasking is part of the job. Though I’m not sure my painting skills are gallery-worthy.”

“Well, Alex looks thrilled, so I’d say you’re doing great,” Buck replied, watching his son beam at his reflection in the mirror Tommy handed him.

Later in the afternoon, they crossed paths at the bake sale. Tommy stopped by Buck’s table, raising an eyebrow at the neat array of treats. “Wow. Did you make all of this?” he asked, picking up a cookie.

“Guilty,” Buck said with a grin. “I figured I’d try to help out—and Alex swore my cookies would sell out.”

Tommy took a bite, his eyes widening slightly. “Okay, these are really good. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Buckley.”

“Evan,” Buck corrected, his grin widening. “And thanks. Coming from the guy who paints flawless firetrucks, I’ll take it.”

Tommy chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the growing line of kids waiting at his booth. “Well, my clients are building up. Better get back before they riot.”

“Good luck,” Buck said with a laugh as Tommy waved and headed off.

Some time later, a commotion near the tug-of-war game caught Buck’s attention. Tommy was helping referee, holding the rope as a group of kids giggled and yanked on the other end. It was clear he wasn’t pulling too hard, letting the kids think they had the upper hand.

But then, with an enthusiastic pull, the rope slipped from his grasp, snapping against his hand. Tommy winced, letting out a soft “Ow,” as he instinctively shook his hand.

“Everything okay over there?” Buck asked, already making his way over.

Tommy looked up, his ears pink. “Just a little mishap. I didn’t want to yank too hard and send them flying, but they got a little too into it.”

“Let me see,” Buck said, reaching for Tommy’s hand. When Tommy hesitated, Buck raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Let the firefighter take a look.”

Tommy sighed but extended his hand. “It’s really nothing—just another day surviving the battlefield of a school fair.”

Buck smirked, gently turning Tommy’s hand over. There was a faint red mark on his palm, and Buck’s thumb brushed over it lightly. “You’re gonna live, but I think you’ll survive this with your reputation intact.”

Tommy’s lips quirked into a dry smile. “Good to know, Doctor Buckley. Should I get a lollipop for being brave?”

Buck laughed, releasing Tommy’s hand. “Depends—do you want me to write you a note to get out of face-painting duty too?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Tempting, but I think I’ll soldier on.”

Before Buck could reply, a small voice interrupted them. One of the kids from the tug-of-war group had approached, his big eyes teary as he looked up at Tommy. “Mr. Kinard? Are you okay? We’re sorry.”

Tommy’s expression softened immediately. He crouched down, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just be careful, okay? And watch out for your friends, too.”

The boy nodded, sniffling as Tommy smiled warmly. Buck stood back, quietly observing the moment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As Tommy stood up, brushing his hands off, he gave Buck a look. “I think that officially makes me a tug-of-war casualty. Should I get a medal?”

Buck chuckled. “How about some hot choco instead? Seems like a safer bet.”

By the end of the day, Buck and Alex found themselves at the hot chocolate stand, where Tommy offered them steaming cups. Tommy handed Alex’s cup over first, crouching slightly to meet the boy’s excited grin. “For the hardest-working kid at the fair,” Tommy said with a wink.

“Thanks, Mr. Kinard!” Alex chirped, taking the cup carefully with both hands.

Tommy straightened and handed Buck his cup next. “And for the guy who apparently doubles as my personal first responder,” he added lightly, their fingers brushing briefly as Buck took the cup.

“Thanks,” Buck said, feeling a warmth spread through him—not just from the hot chocolate. For a moment, their eyes met, and Buck thought he saw something unspoken in Tommy’s gaze.

Alex interrupted the moment, taking a careful sip and humming in approval. “This is the best hot chocolate, Dad! Right?”

“It’s pretty great,” Buck agreed, smiling down at Alex before glancing back at Tommy.

As they lingered there for a moment longer, Buck decided the fall fair had been well worth the effort.

V.

A month later, during pick-up, Buck arrived at the school later than usual, his steps hurried as he made his way to the playground. A call at work had held him up unexpectedly, and he hadn’t been able to send anyone else to get Alex. He spotted Alex and Tommy laughing together near the swings, and the tension in his chest eased slightly.

As Buck approached, Alex looked up and ran toward him. “Dad! You’re late!” he said, crossing his arms in exaggerated frustration.

Buck crouched down, ruffling Alex’s hair as he unbuckled his backpack from the fence. “I know, buddy. I’m sorry. I got caught up at work.”

Alex huffed but let himself be buckled into the car seat, his earlier frustration giving way to excitement as he started rambling about his day. Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to Tommy.

“I keep messing things up with him,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Sorry about this.”

Tommy shook his head quickly, his expression soft. “Don’t worry, Evan,” he said, then hesitated, glancing at Alex. “You were working. I got yo—him.” He corrected himself with a small smile, his ears turning slightly pink.

Buck chuckled softly, the apology and correction taking the edge off his guilt. Tommy must have noticed, and he leaned against the side of the fence, trying to lighten the mood.

“Alex was just telling me about your firehouse,” Tommy said, his tone casual. “It sounds like you’ve got some pretty cool stories.”

“Oh, plenty,” Buck said, grinning. “Maybe I’ll share a few someday.”

Tommy tilted his head, his expression playful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Buck stood there for a moment, shifting on his feet, reluctant to leave. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, “Hey, would you want to grab coffee sometime? You know, somewhere that doesn’t involve spilling it all over you?”

Tommy’s smile widened. “Only if you promise to stop calling me ‘Mr. Kinard. It’s Tommy—and yeah, I’d like that.”

[captainwans]

── BUZZFEED THIRST TWEETS. ( featuring sebastian stan and anthony mackie, and alex turner at the end! )

▹ pairing: sebastian stan, anthony mackie x fem!actress reader.

▹ summary: what could be a more unhinged and unserious thirst tweets episode with this trio?

▹ warning: vulgar language, mentions of profanities, swearing—but mostly harmless and a good laugh! just pure chaos (ft. alex turner)

marvel masterlist!

arabella series!

“I’M ACTUALLY SO SCARED TO READ THESE.” [Y/N] admitted to the crew members, eyes painted with slight worry as she was sandwiched between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie. It was yet another movie promotion for the Avengers Infinity War and the actress was finally reunited with her two favorite co-stars, starring in a new episode of Buzzfeed Thirst Tweets.

Sebastian let out a nervous chuckle, agreeing with her. “Gosh, I already regret this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. He glanced at Anthony, who was holding the blue bucket of thirst tweets from the fans.

Anthony wiggled his eyebrows at the camera, “This is gonna be good.” he said in a serious tone, making [Y/N] quietly giggle, giving the camera a look before watching Anthony reading the first tweet.

“So, this is what we love to do on a Saturday…reading thirst tweet,” Sebastian told the camera, turning his head to his co-stars as Anthony pulled out the first tweet.

Anthony smirked, “On [Y/N]’s comfortable couch!” Sebastian and [Y/N] shake their heads with another laugh. “Get on with it, Mackie!”

Anthony cleared his throat, reading the tweet, “[Y/N] could literally run me over with a tank and I’d say, thank you.” 

The actress burst out laughing, shoulders shaking while Sebastian nodded his head in agreement. “I mean, I’d apologize first, but, I-I appreciate the dedication,” she said to the camera, a small laugh escaping from her lips. 

Sebastian chuckled, “No, I think they would actually thank you,” he told her, grabbing his water bottle and taking a small sip. Anthony turned his head to the actress with a grin, “Right, they’d be like ‘Queen, do it again.’”

[Y/N]’s hands roamed around the bucket, hand clasping at another tweet, this time aimed at Sebastian. She smiled before reading, “Sebastian Stan could punch me in the face and I’d still ask him to marry me.” she read, giving the tweet to Sebastian. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Anthony shakes his head, “This is why sea bass gets away with anything!” he whined, looking at the camera with a scowl, making Sebastian chuckle, “I mean…you don’t know what you like until you try it.” he cheekily said to the camera, making [Y/N] and Anthony squeal with laughter.

Sebastian muttered a small prayer, picking up another tweet. “Anthony Mackie could talk me into anything. Man could say “jump,” and I’d say–” Sebastian stops mid-sentence and bursts out laughing, making the pair prompt him to continue. “Finish the tweet, Seb.” [Y/N] whined, nudging his side with her elbow.

Anthony sighed impatiently, snatching the paper from Sebastian, who was dying of laughter, almost falling off the couch. “Man could say “jump” and I’d say ‘How high, daddy?’” [Y/N] almost spat out her drink, her throat emitting a small cough, making the crew laugh. “Oh my God!” 

Sebastian was still cackling and he had to lean on [Y/N] for support, who was also a mess. Anthony looked at the camera, a smirk forming his handsome features. “I accept this.”

“This is getting out of hand, guys.” [Y/N] scolded, her face morphing into a deep frown at the camera, referring to their fans with a disappointed look.

She handed the bucket to Anthony, who picked up a tweet. “[Y/N] could bench-press me I’d gladly be her gym equipment.” The crew behind the camera completely lost it, and Anthony got up and walked away, while Sebastian gave the camera a horrified look.

Heat flooded over her cheeks as she laughed, her flustered face looking at the camera while picking up the tweet from the floor. “W-What does that even mean?!” She stuttered, laughter bubbling in her throat.

Sebastian snatched the paper from her hands and showed it to the camera, “It means you need to start charging rent because you’re living in their head rent-free.” he bleated, giving the camera a disapproving look.

“Ok, guys, let’s finish these. We have a few left,” the cameraman said with a chuckle, watching the spectacle in front of him. Anthony came back and sat back down, taking a long sip from his bottle.

[Y/N] picked up a tweet, lips curving upwards. “Anthony Mackie could look at me and I’d get pregnant instantly.” she paused, looking at the camera, “The power,” she said, making Anthony shrug his shoulder with a cocky expression.

“I’ll take that responsibility.” He said, making Sebastian laugh as he picked up a tweet of himself, “Oh God….Bucky Barnes could choke me with his metal arm, and I’d say ‘Harder’” Sebastian read his tweet, immediately standing up and leaving the frame, his voice echoing around the room. “For the love of God!”

Anthony fell down the chair with a loud wheeze while [Y/N] looked concerned, looking around the room and giving the crew members an appalled look. She sighed. “I need therapy after this,” she admitted, putting the bucket on the table.

Sebastian scoffed from off-camera, “No, they need therapy!”

Anthony shook his head, wiping his eyes with his hands before picking up another tweet. “I love this. C’mon, there are still some left,” he said to his co-stars, who exchanged a glance before pulling themselves together.

Anthony gave the next tweet to [Y/N] with a funny look, who looked at the camera with a nervous look. “[Y/N] could step on me and I’d bark.” She read, her chest vibrating from laughter. “Why are you people like this?”

Anthony loudly cackled, his shoulders shaking. Sebastian’s expression turned serious as he looked at the actress, “Woof.” he said, making Anthony laugh harder while [Y/N] pushed him off the couch, screaming with laughter. 

Sebastian chuckled, getting up from the floor while grabbing the bucket. She slapped his hand, still laughing. “S-Stop! I don’t think I can handle this anymore.” she giggled, leaning into Anthony for support.

Sebastian grinned, “Oh, I love this tweet. Alex Turner is the luckiest man alive to get that every damn day. I’d give up my soul to be in his position. That body, that face... I’m sweating just thinking about it." [Y/N] hides her face with her hands, completely flustered while the whole room erupts in laughter and whistles.

Anthony whistled, looking at the person who came into the room. “Speaking of the sun.” he chimed, eyes painted with playfulness as he watched Alex standing at the doorway with a confused look. “What are you guys doing?” he asked the trio as he walked toward them, giving the camera a look.

“Suffering.” [Y/N] answered her husband while fanning herself. 

“Reading thirst tweets. You wanna join, Strumzilla?” Anthony asked him, wiggling his eyebrows at him, making Alex shake his head, deep chuckles emitting from his lips, “No, I–uh, I’m good. I’m just here to pick up my guitar.” he excused, turning to leave, but Sebastian grabbed him by the shirt. 

“Oh, no, Al. You’re in this now,” he told him with a wink, shifting in his seat to make room for Alex to sit. The musician cursed under his breath, reluctantly sitting down.

Anthony gave him a tweet with a funny look, “Read and see what the fans say about your wife,” he jested, making [Y/N] snort, small giggles coming out of her mouth. “Oh gosh, no! He’s not ready for that.”

Alex sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. He licked his lips before reading, “[Y/N] could spit in my coffee, and I’d drink it like it was holy water.” Alex froze, eyes looking at his wife with a disturbed look. 

Anthony and Sebastian shook with laughter, their cackles echoing across the room. “Oh my God!” [Y/N] screams with laughter, slapping her thighs as the whole room died, again. “First of all—” she tried to say, but ended up gasping between giggles, her words lost in a fit of uncontrollable laughter at her husband’s deadpan look.

“That is wild,” Alex exclaimed, gripping the paper and giving the camera crew a genuinely concerned look before giving his wife another look, which made her chuckle with a scowl.

“Why are you looking at me like I wrote it?” she chortled, giggling as she hit his shoulder, making his lips crack a smile. 

The married couple looked at Sebastian and Anthony, who were still howling with laughter. The camera panned to the duo and back to Alex and [Y/N], who looked at them with a chuckle. “Are you guys okay?” Alex asked, watching them regaining their composure. 

“Oh, man. This is the best day of my life.” Anthony chimed, clearing his throat. He gave the camera a look, “Did we finish all of the tweets?” he asked a crew member, who shrugged in response asking if there was any more left.

Sebastian’s hand roamed around the blue bucket, eyes sparking as he picked up the last tweet. He read the paper, a wide grin reaching his handsome features.

He gave it to Alex, who looked at him, dumbfounded. “What a better way to finish this episode,” Sebastian said to the camera, making [Y/N] inch closer to her husband, reading the tweet.

“I already know my tweets are a nightmare,” Alex mumbled, but enough for the whole room to hear as they laughed. He almost choked on air, eyebrows furrowed as he read the tweet loudly. “If I ever get reincarnated, I wanna come back as a chair so Alex Turner can sit on me.” 

[Y/N] laughed, hitting him in the chest. “Honestly, that’s something I would write,” she admitted, making Alex shake his head with a laugh.

Anthony laughed and looked at the camera, “Y’all are nasty!” he turned to Alex, grabbing his shoulder, “Your fans are just as bad as ours.” 💬 … Comments:

@/fanaticforfame: lmao alex looks so disgusted by the thirst tweets 

@/starryobsessed23: nobody mentions the fact that seb calls alex for al MY HEART

@/buckysoldiers: anthony calling alex strumzilla got to be the funniest thing ever

@/turnerflower: ok but alex interacting with the marvel cast was not something that i needed so badly

@/lovelyyn85: they're so unapologetically unhinged and unserious i love them so much

@/arctic-lovers: marvel and arctic monkeys fans unite!

@/scarletswidow: we need a part two with alex!!!!

[justcat-judging]

₊ ⊹ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞! ⊹ ₊

˚ʚY/N told them her ideal type which was the complete opposite of them. ɞ˚

˚ʚIsagi Yoichi x Reader, Bachira Meguru x Reader (seperate)ɞ˚

˚ʚpt.3,pt.1,pt.2,pt.4,pt.5ɞ˚

---

₊ ⊹𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐘𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢⊹ ₊

Isagi liked to think he had a good hold on his emotions.

On the field, he was calculated, a strategist—someone who could read plays before they even happened. But here, sitting across from you in a tiny café, he was absolutely losing it.

"So? What’s your type?" He asked, taking a casual sip of his drink, hoping—no, praying—that you’d say something remotely close to him.

You hummed, tapping your fingers on the table. "Hmm… I guess I like tall guys. The cool, mysterious types. You know, someone who’s effortlessly charming but doesn’t really try? Kind of like Rin, I guess."

Isagi choked on his drink.

You patted his back with a laugh, oblivious to the absolute turmoil you’d just thrown him into. "Are you okay? You totally choked just now."

Yeah, no kidding. He felt like he was dying inside.

"I’m fine!" he croaked out, waving you off as he forced himself to smile.

Cool, mysterious, effortlessly charming? That was the exact opposite of him. Isagi was loud, emotional, and way too competitive for his own good. Where Rin exuded a cold and distant aura, Isagi was warmth—too much of it sometimes.

He clenched his jaw, barely holding back the sigh threatening to escape. Of course, you liked someone like that.

He was so screwed.

You grinned mischievously, watching his reaction carefully. "Kidding! That was a prank. You should’ve seen your face, Isagi. It was priceless."

Isagi blinked, processing your words. Then, his lips parted in disbelief before twisting into a relieved but annoyed grin.

"You little—!" He reached across the table to poke your forehead, making you laugh even harder. "You seriously got me there."

He let out a breath, shaking his head.

"Guess I'll just have to make you like me for real then."

He said it lightly, jokingly, but deep down, Isagi knew—this was a game he had every intention of winning.

₊ ⊹𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮⊹ ₊

Bachira was all grins and mischief, the kind of guy who thrived on chaos and spontaneity. So when you mentioned your type, he wasn’t just listening—he was plotting.

"Hmm… I guess I like quiet guys. Someone serious, mysterious, you know? Like Kunigami, maybe?" you mused, stirring your drink absentmindedly.

Bachira nearly spat out his own drink.

"Pfft—whaaat?" He blinked at you, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter. "Oh man, that’s hilarious! You’re joking, right?"

You tilted your head. "Nope."

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Serious? But, but… I’m right here! And I’m, like, the exact opposite of that!"

You shrugged, biting back a smile. "Yeah, you are."

Bachira narrowed his eyes, his usual playful grin stretching even wider. "Alright, challenge accepted. If you want mysterious, I’ll be the most mysterious guy you’ve ever met."

The next day, Bachira showed up wearing sunglasses indoors, refusing to speak in anything more than cryptic one-liners. When you asked if he wanted to grab lunch, he simply muttered, "The wind whispers secrets only I understand."

You burst out laughing. "Bachira, what are you even—"

He placed a finger on your lips. "Shhh. Mystery."

By the end of the day, you were crying from laughter, and Bachira was right there beside you, cackling at his own ridiculousness.

"So," he leaned in, eyes twinkling. "Still into serious guys?"

You chuckled "Bachira... It was a prank."

"WHAAAATTT???"

(Should I finish this? Or do you guys have another duo I should make?)