#dragon contemplates life
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Mondstadt is the Teyvat Equivalent of Vegas
Listen. Listen.
It's the city of freedom and wine. There is a church in the middle of the city. You CANNOT tell me that people from other nations haven't packed their bags and savings and just gone for the WILD ragers. You CANNOT convince me Mondstadt isn't thought of in the same way Vegas is: wild, free, and batshit insane when you're out past Midnight. The pinnacle of parties, in fact - protected by the sacred, universal rule:
What happens in Monstadt stays in Monstadt.
You woke up in the hospital? 50/40 you did something stupid and got a serving of justice from Mondstadt's Batman OR you tried to fist fight a hilichurl. 10% chance you fell off a windmill.
So hungover you cannot move? The nun and the cavalry captain probably drank you under the table. That or literal GOD showed you the frailty of your liver.
Poisoned? Probably Diona. She didn't mean to, really -
Arrested? Lots of opportunities here actually. Highly probable that Klee enlisted you into one of her schemes and you're an accomplice now. For what? Arson, theft, the usual - oh you got caught trying to climb the Barbatos statue? Yeah, that's pretty common too.
No. You did not hallucinate, there is a big-ass wolf in the woods. He's our neighbor. Super chill guy. Just be glad you didn't run into one of the cubes, we had some really dedicated guy walk ALL the way out to one and almost die. It's more usual than you think -
It says here that you came in here with your spouse? Newly married? Congratulations. No, don't worry, this happens ALL the time, "Monstadt" marriages and all. It's what we get for having a big-ass church in the middle of the bar crawl central. Don't get all snippy, annulments are super easy you just need to - oh? You don't know where your new spouse is? Good news they probably ALSO forgot you exist. This happens ALL the time, Barbara can annul it if you really need. The paperwork's final though, Lisa likes to read through the reports for a good laugh -
#genshin impact#monstadt#headcannons#teyvat#Venti#Kaeya#Rosaria#Klee#Barabra#Diluc#dragon contemplates life#And Genshin#Listen I know in my heart of hearts it is every young adults DREAM to spend a week in Monstadt with no responsibilities whatsoever -
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Real and True
The problem w writing fiction is that you'll be like tee-hee I'm going to write a story about a fucked up little scenario that's got nothing to do with anything in real life, just some pure messed up nonsense, and then you finish it and take a step back and go aw rats I made a metaphor again
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Solas's loneliness after the Inquisition - and the moment of saving lavellan from trouble :)
#my mind contemplates solas's life after the inquisition and his time at the lighthouse#i want to believe that he watched over lavellan not only from the fade#but also protected her in reality when she needed help#even if she didn't remember it#i added a scene where solas saves lavellan when she gets wounded#lavellan couldn’t have had a peaceful life#and he never forgot her#i really like his duality of darkness and tenderness#which constantly tugs at the strings in my mind#moodboard#solas dragon age#moodboard dragon age#dragon age#solas#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age inquisition#solamancer#solavellan hell#solasmance#solas x lavellan
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since evidently this won't come up in DAV, my personal headcanon is that reconciled Celene and Briala were too busy fucking to show up in Trespasser specifically because they were having a sort of last hurrah before operationalizing the next necessary phase in Celene's rule: producing a legitimate heir
Celene avoided it for literal decades, but following the civil war and with the impending change in the Inquisition, and considering her age, it was just not something she could put off any longer if she wanted to preserve the Valmont line and her own legacy
(and it helps now that her relationship with Briala is more or less secure, so she doesn't feel as desperately clingy)
for her husband, I draft the late Duke Bastien's son, Laurent de Ghislain. As a Duke, the new head of the Council of Heralds, and a devout Andrastian, he's a suitably illustrious partner for an Empress but more importantly: the messiness. His elder sister, Calienne, was Gaspard's wife who murdered Celene's mother, and then took Celene's father out with her when Celene's father murdered her in retaliation. It feels very Orlesian and also makes Vivienne Celene's quasi mother-in-law, which is very fun for me
They manage to produce an heir in pretty short order and it's all Court Approval +10000 until - the second Celene finally fulfills her 'obligation' to the throne and is finally theoretically allowed to be publicly lesbian - Briala arrives at the child's christening with her hand on Celene's ass, pushing the pram, and the crier announces her as "Marquise of the Dales, Mistress to the Empress of Orlais" and it's like [Everyone disliked that]
#technically this is fanfic#celene valmont#briala#dragon age#I often contemplate how if Celene had fallen in love with a human servant/peasant her life would have turned out way different#by DAI her human mistress would have been throwing salons with Vivienne#but instead falling for an elf gave her such a complex that it derailed an entire empire#messy queen
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So i just binge watched all of the dragon prince and i have one thing to say:
What the fuck
#what the fuckkk#dragon prince#the dragon prince#tdp#its so good!!! go watch it.#why its not super popular??? its one of the best series i watched#there are SO MANY plot twists. so many well written plot points that i wasnt expecting in a animated series for kids#like. blood??? dark themes??? so much dark themes. human sacrifices??? horrors of war??? cycle of abuse??? plain old murders??? betreyal???#THAT MANIPULATING STARGUY BITCH????#and then you have the cutest and healthy relationships. Good siblings. Friendships. fun plots! with dragons and magic!!!#and season 6??? broke me. what the fuckkk. what the fuxkkkkkk#go fucking watch it cos its fucking worth it#im gonna now go and contemplate the meaning of life or smth#the daddy issues got me tho. i got you claudia. i understand. fucked up tho
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Why is will graham always so fine (excluding norton)
#movies#free palestine#movie list#free gaza#celebrities#letterboxd#retro#manhunter 1986#dead meat#will graham#hannibal#silence of the lambs#meaning of life#reflection#contemplation#existence#distance#red dragon
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I sort of like the thought that Zuko and Aang take the Sun Warriors' warning not to tell anyone about the dragons a little more seriously… and they keep it between them. Of course, they trust Sokka, Toph and Katara. Of course they know they wouldn’t tell anyone, but now three people (including Iroh) know the truth about Ran and Shaw. And that’s three too many when you’re trying to keep a secret.
(and there are other people at the temple as well - like Haru, Teo and The Duke - who, while trustworthy, aren’t as close to them as the others, and when it comes to secrets with as much consequence as this one, you can’t afford to take any chances.)
Furthermore, the culture within the Fire Nation since Sozin’s rein has been warped. The culture is not to respect the dragons as the original firebenders, it’s to conquer and kill them. It’s the ultimate proof of your strength as a firebender. All it takes is one mistake before rumour spreads, and people go looking for the ultimate hunt. It’s not something Zuko or Aang can risk.
Whether Katara, Toph and Sokka (and Suki) ever find out the truth is up to you. But post-war, after Zuko returns from a strange, poorly explained trip with a dragon, and eventually develops the ability to use rainbow fire, either the others have some questions about Aang’s knowing look, or they are finally let in on a monumental secret.
#it’s a kids show so i think for that reason it was played for laughs about keeping the dragons a secret is not necessarily a bad choice...#the show does that sometimes where it says something off hand and then leaves me lying face down contemplating ✨the consequences✨ of that#but there are some… implications there about being too loose lipped with the truth in leading up to the end of and immediately post#war fire nation. just because zuko understands the spiritual significance of a dragon it does not mean the rest of his people will. actuall#its more likely that they'd reject zuko's opinion considering that he's basically coming into power and then telling everyone that#they've been lied to their whole lives. the fire nation is drowning in propaganda. for a lot of people this opinion of dragons and#firebending's true nature being violence and destruction is all they know. fire is LIFE but to most people that's an alien concept#and in terms of keeping secrets - it’s not even a matter of trust it’s a matter of too many people knowing#you might not even realised you’ve revealed some incredible information to someone who has the means to spread it or pursue it#so… i think zuko would be hyper aware of this. since he grew up hearing stories about the 'glory' of dragon hunting#and since iroh has also made a concerted effort to keep this information hidden i think it makes sense he’d be very hesitant to let it#get out to the public#aang would agree i think esp if zuko explained the importance of hiding them even from loved ones#ALSO random but it also makes me wonder what the fire nation said about roku in wake of the war#he had a dragon but he didn’t kill it. he didn’t ’conquer’ it#sozin would have had to work his ASS off to reframe history as him being the more… loyal(?) patriotic (?) of the two#did he frame it as roku didn’t have the courage to kill a dragon??? that he lacked the strength of a true firebender?#the avatar works hard but sozin's propaganda machine works harder 🧍♀️#zuko#aang#avatar the last airbender#zuko & aang#jack talks#sun warriors#book 3#what is it with me having a whole separate post in the tags 👁️👄👁️
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I’m just imaging a situation post-Trespasser where my Warden Aeducan has really settled in to her new life as the Divine’s trophy wife, and one day, Leliana tells her “Don’t be mad, but I may have promised Inquisitor Lavellan that you’d have tea with her next month and give her some advice on navigating her post-world-saving life.” And of course she says yes, both because she loves her wife and she knows what happens to people who go against her wishes.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Varric learns about this and suggests to Hawke that she visit Lavellan the same day, to help lift her spirits, y’know? Merrill can come too and chat with Clan Lavellan’s Keeper.
Cut to Aeducan walking in on perennial fuckup Marian Hawke giving Lavellan some truly atrocious, if humorous, advice, and Hawke having to contend with the goddamn Hero of Ferelden strolling in to save the day once again.
And once the three of them get to talking, Aeducan has to be very careful, because she recognizes that it would be incredibly insensitive on multiple levels to other two women to say things along the lines of “Yeah, so my brother dying, me being forced out of the only home I’ve never known, then conscripted into a paramilitary organization that was completely foreign to my culture was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me. I got to save the world and receive near-universal fame for it, including being religiously venerated by my own people. Speaking of religion, my wife is considered something of a radical by her peers, but in spite of that, she was able to rise to a position of power, letting her push through reforms that include marrying me, cause she loves me so much that she’s not afraid to show me her ruthless side. Now we live in the lap of luxury together, being influential girlboss wives.”
In the end, they mostly engage in some good-natured shit-talking of their mutual friends and acquaintances. Before she leaves, however, Aeducan does encourage Lavellan to continue her painting and even offers to put in a good word with Leliana about commissioning some official Chantry murals from her about the history of the Inquisition.
#dragon age#warden aeducan#marian hawke#inquisitor lavellan#i unintentionally created the funniest worldstate where my warden’s life mirrored both my hawke’s and inquisitor’s#except aeducan is living her best life as a world-famous living Paragon and the murder pope’s pillow princess#meanwhile hawke and merrill have each other but are living on the run as pariahs#and lavellan is stuck contemplating her very mixed legacy while her ex-boyfriend is being evil and didn’t even offer her the chance to join#i forget if it’s a headcanon i picked up from somewhere or not#but i like the idea of lavellan becoming a painter after semi-retiring#aeducan x leliana#hawke x merrill#solavellan
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OH MY GOD.
.. oh boy .. I'll be needing a tall mug of ale to recover from that blow!!😝(😔)
#random ss i find in my ps app#yk i must add the tag..#dragons dogma 2#😋#after this moment and the ending... i was fr contemplating life man THAT HURT#it would be more emotional...if not for the damn helmet 💀#but I 🫶 the living altar helmet so we continue
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So of course at this point there's no question that I started Wuthering Waves for Jiyan since he's precisely my type, but, given that I've been playing the game for six days now and all I've seen of Jiyan in-game is that one glimpse of him you get in the first part of the main story -- and, of course, there's no question that he's beautiful -- and while I didn't pull him this time, I do currently have the second spot in my team reserved exclusively for a certain other dragon I did pull, and, subsequently, I've experienced a series of moments that have led me to develop a suspicion that I'm actually falling in love with Mortefi.
My evidence is as follows:
That one moment during the main story quest when you get a proper look at his face for the first time as he's handing you something (?) and I go oh he's actually pretty
Hoping I pull him and being excited when I do
After pulling him, being at work thinking about how I'm excited to spend time with him when I get home
Considering that well yeah he's a fire dragon so he's got a bit of a temper and unwittingly thinking "That's okay! I love him anyway!" (And then going, Did I just think that?)
(at this point I have the beginnings of a suspicion, because, while the above points aren't inherently gay, knowing me, this would absolutely track)
Thinking it's adorable that he stims with a lighter
Subsequently considering whether he would enjoy pressure stimming in the form of unnecessarily tight hugs
Reading that one part in his character story that unlocks at friendship level 2 that mentions him laughing about something and thinking about how I'd enjoy hearing him laugh (<- this point was the figurative nail in the coffin)
You'd think I'd know the drill by now, but alas, there's a reason I always tell people I relate to Shion from No. 6, because I'm an airhead who will ramble about how beautiful and majestic someone is and still somehow not realize I'm in love with them until I've done that continuously for an unnecessarily long time, and then it's always so obvious in retrospect...
#soliloqyu#wading into rising waters#GAYYYYYY#honestly i'm pretty spoiled at this point#i gladly signed up for the first water dragon#then went 'what's better than one water dragon? TWO water dragons!'#contemplated it for a while before deciding yeah having another blue dragon in my life would be pretty swell#and now i'm getting a fourth dragon boyfriend for FREE
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It would be really funny if everyone in Liyue knew their god wasn't dead, but they literally could not prove it.
Listen, there's at least one alchemist who spent weeks fuming, because it makes no sense for mora to keep its divine transmutation powers if the divinity powering it is dead - unless of course mora is some sort of independent divine extension which would mean their god was capable of creating an independent medium free of ties to divinity - (that guy spends three weeks holed up in his house trying to rewrite transmutation logic from the ground up before giving up because his theorems aren't working).
So the alchemists assume Rex Lapis isn't dead, because mora still works. They have to. Nothing else makes sense. That logic works pretty well with businessmen too.
The historians are losing their goddamn minds because every mythos and legend is in here claiming that Rex Lapis was the undefeated do-not-fuck-with-under-any-circumstances archon so for him to just fall out of the fucking sky cannot be possible unless they have HUGE problems.
50% lean towards a possible upcoming rapture (Because ain't no way the water dragon demon guy and his scorned wife were the killers of Rex Lapis. Nah it had to be something way worse) The other 50% just shrug and say it's impossible for their god to have been killed and Liyue to still be standing. And don't try to tell them he wasn't murdered because if he DID die, then he was 100%, absolutely, totally, without question murdered. He fell out of the sky like a dramatic bastard and everyone saw, that ain't how gods die peacefully, no matter WHAT those folks in the Jade Chamber say.
The conspiracy theorists go craaazy later in the evening when there's too much wine and someone brings it up. It can be impressive how deep their conspiracies though. Qiqi has repeated the strangest of them to Baizhu who's quite sick and tired of this thank you very much -
But you see, the local business owners, a few weeks into their mourning, started to notice something... odd.
It was a new regular. Nice guy. Pretty pleasant, and could be prone to rambling. He's ridiculously knowledgeable on... everything, especially relating to Liyue, and against all better judgment, plenty of business owners have asked him for advice.
There are the legends, of course. Morax would play the part of a passing merchant and peer into the common folk's lives, often visiting smaller businesses and gracing them with his patronage.
It's a crazy thought, and anyone who has it doesn't voice it, but... listen... at some point some things just make sense. And if they take down their memorials to their fallen god - if they snuff out the candles of mourning on their mantel - who could say?
They just smile and keep the best of their merchandise set aside, offering what they can in the quietest way possible.
It's the worst/best-kept secret because no one can outwardly say it. Lady Ningguang avoids it in conversation with a curt cough, the Traveler can be a bad liar (well, Paimon can be a bad liar), and the man himself is so obvious that the only reason he hasn't been outed is because his boss is too busy trying to sell people premium coffins.
I mean little Susy saw him standing on a ROOF with the last of the Yaksha's last Lantern Rite! No, she's not lying -
It's a gut feeling (It's denial, the merchants from Inazuma say). There's proof (there's not, the scholars from Sumeru sigh). He's literally right there! (That 'he' in question is currently short on mora - some god of commerce, c'mon give me a break!).
Liyue Harbor's secret is that their god isn't dead. But they can't prove it. Yes, he fell out of the sky and yes it was this whole thing and yes he's been MIA for a while now and yes the adepti all say he's dead -
BUT LISTEN, TRUST ME, HE'S NOT -
#zhongli#liyue#Genshin#dragon contemplates life#and how funny it would be if everyone knew Zhongli was Morax#But literally could not prove it#And what are you gonna do?#Walk up to the guy and ask him?#If you're right - you just outed your god's disguise which is NEVER a good thing#And if you're wrong you look crazy!#Lose-lose situation
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finished a game. knew the ending. cried anyways
#this is about dragon age inquisitor by the way#and just the main game i haven’t played trespasser yet#although i know the ending for that too#i’m gonna need to lie down for a while and contemplate my life#the banquet. THE BANQUET#the only thing that would make the ending better is if i could give each of my companions a big fucking hug ;w;
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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
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#chaotic mc#ace trappola#deuce spade#trey clover#au: nobility#arranged marriages#trash novel chronicles
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Stormbound
Jacaerys Velaryon x pregnant!reader
[WARNING: pregnancy, mentions of difficult pregnancy terms, fluff
[SYNOPSIS: You were heavily pregnant as you and jace encounter a wild dragon while a storm raged on.
[NOTE: you had poor jace stressed out, we love jace being protective over the reader: also if you would like something specific, send an ask!
"Where are they?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his dark curls. The maesters had assured him that everything was fine, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest.
Your pregnancy had been difficult, and the tension had taken its toll on Jacaerys. He had tried to be strong for you, but the fear of losing you, or the child, was ever-present. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you both.
Just as he was about to go in search of you again, the doors to the hall creaked open, and you stepped inside. Despite the strain of pregnancy, you carried yourself with the grace and strength he had always admired. Your hand rested protectively on your swollen belly, and your face lit up with a tired but genuine smile when you saw him.
"Jace," you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
He rushed to your side, his hands immediately going to your belly. "Where have you been? I was worried sick."
You laughed lightly, the sound easing some of his tension. "I just needed some fresh air. The castle can feel so confining sometimes."
He sighed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "You should have told me. I would have gone with you."
"I know, but you worry too much," you replied, leaning into him. "I wanted a moment to myself. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Jacaerys pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with love and protectiveness. "I know you are. But I can't help it. I love you too much to let anything happen to you."
You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with warmth. "And I love you, Jace. But you need to relax. Stress isn't good for either of us."
He nodded, though the worry didn't entirely leave his eyes. "Alright. Let's find somewhere quiet. I need to feel you and the baby close."
Hand in hand, you led him out of the grand hall and towards the more secluded parts of Dragonstone. The storm outside raged on, but within the castle, it felt as if the two of you were in your own world. The soft glow of torches lit your way, casting flickering shadows on the ancient stone walls.
You reached a small alcove near the courtyard, a place where you had spent many quiet moments together. Jacaerys helped you settle onto a bench, his hand never leaving yours.
"You know," you began, your voice soft and contemplative, "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to just... leave all of this behind. To take our child and live a simple life, away from the responsibilities and the danger."
Jacaerys looked at you, surprise flickering across his face. "You've never mentioned that before."
You shrugged, a wistful smile on your lips. "It's just a thought. I know we have our duties, and I wouldn't trade our life here for anything. But sometimes, it's nice to imagine a different path."
He squeezed your hand, his gaze intense and loving. "If that's what you want, we'll find a way. Your happiness means everything to me."
You shook your head, a gentle laugh escaping your lips. "No, Jace. This is our home, and we belong here. But it doesn't hurt to dream, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," he agreed, pulling you closer. "As long as we have each other, we can face anything."
For a while, you sat together in comfortable silence, listening to the distant roar of the storm and the crackle of the torches. The tension that had gripped Jacaerys slowly began to fade, replaced by a sense of peace.
But peace was a fleeting thing in times of war and unrest. As the storm continued to rage outside, a distant, echoing roar pierced the night. Jacaerys tensed, his protective instincts flaring to life. "Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.
You nodded, your own heart racing. "What was it?"
"Stay here," he commanded, rising to his feet. "I'll go check."
"No," you protested, grabbing his arm. "I'm coming with you."
"___, you're pregnant," he began, but the look in your eyes silenced him. "Alright. But stay close to me."
Together, you made your way through the castle, following the eerie sound. The further you went, the louder the roar became, until you found yourselves standing at the entrance to the courtyard.
And there, in the middle of the storm, was a dragon unlike any you had ever seen. It was massive, nearly as large as Vhagar but with a wild, untamed look in its eyes. Its scales were a deep, iridescent purple, shimmering in the lightning flashes.
"Aero," Jacaerys whispered, awe and fear in his voice. "The Catastrophe."
You had heard of Aero, the wild dragon that roamed the skies near Dragonstone, but seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. The dragon's presence was overwhelming, and for a moment, you were frozen in place.
But Jacaerys didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his voice steady and calm despite the fear in his eyes. "Aero," he called out, "we mean you no harm."
The dragon turned its gaze towards you both, its eyes glowing with an almost intelligent curiosity. It took a step forward, and Jacaerys instinctively moved in front of you, shielding you with his body.
"Jace," you whispered, fear gripping your heart.
"It's alright," he said, his voice firm. "Just stay behind me."
Aero lowered its massive head, sniffing the air around you. For a moment, it seemed as if the dragon was considering whether to attack or not. But then, with a huff that sent a gust of hot air over you both, Aero turned and took to the skies, disappearing into the storm.
Jacaerys let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, turning to pull you into his arms. "Are you alright?"
You nodded, clinging to him. "Yes. That was... incredible. And terrifying."
He chuckled, though the tension hadn't entirely left his body. "That's one way to put it. I can't believe we just saw Aero up close."
You leaned into him, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. "We should get back inside. The maesters will have our heads if they find out we were out here."
He nodded, but didn't move to leave. Instead, he held you close, his hand resting on your belly. "I'm so glad you're safe," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
You kissed him gently, your heart full of love for this brave, protective man. "I am. Thanks to you."
As you made your way back inside, the storm began to die down, leaving a sense of calm in its wake. Jacaerys was still tense, but the fear had been replaced by a fierce determination to protect you and your unborn child. Later that night, as you lay in bed, Jacaerys held you close, his hand never leaving your belly. The events of the evening had only strengthened his resolve to keep you safe, no matter what.
"___," he murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. "I promise you, I will always protect you and our babe. No matter what it takes."
You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I know you will, Jace. You will be a fine father."
In the quiet of the night, with the storm finally gone, you both drifted off to sleep, your hearts full of love and hope for the future.
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#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#hotd season 2#hotd imagine#house targaryen#hotd x reader#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x you#hotd jacaerys#prince jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys strong#pregnant reader
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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!
premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)
word count. 1.5k
note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.
You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.
You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?
You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.
But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!
With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.
Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.
“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.
“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”
When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”
That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.
Still.
“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”
...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”
He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.
“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”
“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.
Silence ensues.
“Do you like showers, sir?”
You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.
“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.
You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”
Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”
Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”
“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”
Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”
“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”
“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”
“Really, now?”
“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”
You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”
“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.
You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.
“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”
“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”
“In court, I only state facts.”
You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.
“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.
“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.
“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.
“You should still keep it.”
He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”
You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”
Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”
And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.
The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.
That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”
You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”
Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”
“Hey!”
(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—
But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)
#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader#genshin impact scenarios#neuvillette#neuvillette fluff#neuvillette x you#genshin impact x you
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hii i noticed your reqs are open, if you dont mind can you do a pt 2 to jjk men vs their gf's plushie collection? with geto, choso and nanami :) thank youu
JJK MEN VS THEIR GF'S PLUSHIE COLLECTION
featuring. geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento x fem! reader
warnings. none
note. ooooo anon, the first part of this got a lot of love and i was actually contemplating on making a second part for it, so thank you for requesting <33 tbh if anyone messes with my plushie as a plushie collector, i will throw hands.
GETO SUGURU. for the first few months after he finds out about your plushie collection — the male actually doesn't mind it at all, in fact, he contributed in adding soldiers to the collection. but as time goes by, he began regretting it (just a teeny tiny bit) because he realizes that these plushies are close to stealing his spot as a partner.
"angel." he calls out to you in annoyance, his hand reaching out to grab circle around your ankle.
his mouth was full of distaste, he wanted to throw away those plushies from your embrace — he grabbed your ankle, pulling your body towards him with an angry grunt, "com'ere." he mutters out.
"sugu, what's wrong with you?" you ask him, blinking in confusion to what has gotten him in such a sour mood.
"that." he points at the plushie in your arms, "i don't like him." he snatches the plushie away, glaring at it.
"are you jealous of it?" you sang out happily, throwing your arms around his neck.
"i'm going to say it once, yes, 'm jealous of it. i'm not buying you anymore because why are they getting more attention than i am? are they the boyfriend?" he sputters out, looking away, avoiding your gaze.
you laugh lightly, grabbing his jaw to make him face you and kissed him shortly, "you could've just said so, you big baby."
CHOSO. is so confused, what did you find so entrancing about characters filled with cotton when you had a real life plushie by your side? (talking about him, by the way).
he didn't understand the feelings that were burning in him, but he didn't like it. not one bit. it was the kind of feeling where he'd want to use his technique on your plump plushies — but choso knew that you wouldn't like that so he has never done it.
when you're both home, the male trails around behind you like a lost puppy. very much confused to why the plushie was in your arms instead of him, but couldn't bring the heart to say it to you so he ends up just placing himself beside you on the couch, on the bed, wherever.
"cho, why are you looking at me? do you need anything?" choso was surprised at your sudden question, yes he was looking at you, precisely at the plushie squished in between your arms.
he shook his head and faced forwards, before you know it, his head turns to you again for a long time. eyes narrowed and lips puckered out, "i don't like this feeling," he mutters out.
you turn to him, "what feeling?"
"like i want to punch that in the face," he points at the dragon plushie in between your arms, and you burst out laughing.
"are you actually jealous of my plushie?" you put the plushie aside and opened your arms as an invitation for him, "why didn't you say so, hm?"
he didn't answer you and just dropped his weight into your embrace, burying his head into your shoulder, "because you like them."
you kissed the crown of his head, "but i love you."
NANAMI KENTO. he actually doesn't mind you having a collection at all — the thing he minds it when you pamper them instead of pampering him. nanami doesn't get in bad moods easily, but when it comes to you giving attention to your plushies first instead of him, he gets pretty upset.
working late was a total bum to you (to anyone else really), and coming home — nanami was ready to give you love, but when you greet him with a simple "hello" before running to the room to grab your favorite plushie out of the collection, he didn't know why; but he felt like he was actually losing to a whole non-living object.
and it actually made him upset.
"ken, why are you being awfully silent?" you jumped onto the couch where he was sitting at, the same plushie still in your arms.
the male stares at you for a bit before looking back towards the television — and you by now were worried, had you done anything wrong? or did something happen in his work place?
nanami wouldn't even admit it, because he knew if he admitted that he was jealous; he'd never hear the end of it. even if it was from you.
you tugged on his shirt, "did i do anything wrong?" oh, god, of course you didn't — but just the fact that you're asking him that made him feel guilty, so the male sighed, pulling your body close before shaking his head.
he grabs the plushie and throws it aside before pulling you into a hug, not breaking a word. he just hugs you in silence, not that you were complaining, "ken, did something happen?"
"i'm a little upset."
"can you tell me why?"
"you come home and go to your plushie? when i was the one waiting for you? i didn't even get a hug or a kiss," he mumbles out into your hair, and you lightly laugh, rubbing your hand on his back.
"so you're jealous?"
"no. i'm upset."
yes, yes. he was upset.
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#jjk fluff#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#geto fluff#choso kamo#choso#choso x reader#choso fluff#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami fluff
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