#he's objectively and subjectively just bad

[gcballet]

Doctor Who as tweets/textposts pt.4

<- | DW | ->

[melloollem]

Trash ll|| Bruce Wayne× Child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), anguish, guilt, conflicts.

(Chapter l, Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc masterlist)

You were dizzy enough not to care how you got here, you couldn't feel your whole body and your mind seemed to be covered in a fog. You were looking around with no real competence when someone opened the door to your room, then a man who had been sitting next to you got up and they started a conversation. Despite your best efforts to listen to them, a loud buzzing sound settled in your brain and soon you gave up, agreeing to just observe the interaction between the two men in front of you.

One of them, the one who had been with you since you woke up, had a white lock in his hair, he seemed a little off when he spoke, he certainly wasn't happy, while the other man, a little taller and older, had a firm face, he wasn't happy either, but he seemed calmer, he had a familiar face, but not familiar enough for you to remember who it was.

For a second the buzzing in your head stopped and you could hear a single word "Jason", this was before a tingling sensation consumed your entire body, as if all your senses came back at once, this made you let out a low squeak, loud enough for the two men's attention to turn to you.

Their conversation was once again out of your reach and a nurse entered the room. An icy sensation consumed your body and mind and, in the next instant, darkness consumed your thoughts.

"He'll be fine, the anesthesia will wear off soon." The nurse's confirmation helped calm Bruce's noticeable apprehension, but had no effect on Jason's obvious tension. "I think you'd better talk outside." Jason didn't take a second to turn his back and head for the hospital corridor, soon to be followed by Bruce.

All the time he was avoiding looking directly into the face of the man next to him, he was sure that Bruce was condemning him for what he had done. How could Jason let that happen? He had almost taken your life.

"The child, he is a henchman, he has no definite boss, he is 11 years old, his mother is deceased and he has no record of his father" Jason listened attentively to Bruce's little report about you, he had already assumed that you were an orphan thanks to the situation in which he had met you.

"How long has he been at it?" The information wasn't really relevant to Jason, but he didn't know what to ask either, he had shot an 11-year-old. "Operating in the criminal world for 1 and 5 months, working as a henchman for 4 months" Bruce was really surprised at how long you'd managed to do this without getting into trouble.

Jason's mind was consumed by all the questions that followed. You were an orphan child entirely involved in the criminal world, he couldn't leave you on welfare and he couldn't let you back on the streets. Jason knew how bad both circumstances were.

"Jason" Bruce's voice pulled him back to the present moment "I know you're blaming yourself for what's happened, but he'll be fine, his current situation is already stable and we'll soon be seeing a home for him" Jason wished Bruce's current words were enough to comfort his soul, but they weren't. Knowing that Bruce had noticed how guilty he looked only affirmed his guilt.

At that moment Jason felt like confessing his sins to Bruce, assuming out loud that the scene of a child's pale face collapsed in his arms with bloodstained clothes was the only thing he'd had on his mind all the days he'd been sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to get better, but he didn't, he was afraid of his father's reaction, he was afraid that for even a single second he would see a look of disappointment on his face.

"Are you honestly thinking of adopting him?" Jason asked, returning to the subject of the conversation before you woke up with the intention of changing the conversation. Jason didn't want to let you go on welfare, but he wasn't in favor of adopting Bruce either. Bruce preferred to leave this conversation for another time, he was more focused on calming his son down from his growing guilt, but Jason clearly didn't want to talk about it now.

"I think it would be a good option to offer him a temporary home, at least until everything settles down" Bruce was skirting around his real intention, he really wanted to adopt him, but he felt it wasn't necessary for Jason to know that. "He'd have a safe place and rehabilitation" The term "rehabilitation" caught Jason's attention, who now had a confused expression. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"He, the child, has a string of violent crimes, has been involved in the planning of many crimes and a suspected murderer, he needs the proper treatment for that" The revelation didn't exactly shock Jason, but it did intrigue him. He knew you couldn't be left with just anyone, your old habits would be a problem, you had to stay with someone who could deal with all the violence you had inside you, someone who could understand your past.

"I know you're against adoption, Jason, but it's the best thing for him and this way you could continue to follow his improvement, I know how much you care about that" Bruce tried to convince Jason that it was the right decision, but Jason knew that regardless of his approval, Bruce would put you in his care "I agree that he needs rehabilitation, but I don't know if you're the right person for that, Bruce".

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Unfortunately I've specified the gender of the reader in this chapter, but if you want, I can change that.

Tag list: @lockofspades @anuttellaa @joudy78bes7er @anime-hair05 @amber-content @camilo-uwu @sparks0918 @redzluvvesage @drdoofenshmirtz124 @suninwalls

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Okay so here's my current take on Wooly:

Child actor, a bit older than Amanda but only by about 3 years max.

Worked at Hameln longer than Rebecca, not excatly loyal to them, just terrified of what's gonna happen if he is disobedient. Like he doesn't seem to agree with their values at all.

Bottles up every negative emotion. He doesn't want to remember his past as a human.

He is starting to become more rebellious over the course of the second game and is slowly repairing his relationship with Amanda.

Will avoid talking about uncomfortable subjects at all costs. Tends to be a bit controlling.

His intentions are good. But let us remember what they say. The road to hell was paved with good intentions. 🫥😬😬😬

Also, he seems to be that one goody-two shoes friend in a friend group that's like: "We shouldn't do this." Even if it's objectively not that bad.

And while I'm at it. Current take on Amanda:

Rebecca Colton. Obviously.

Had morbid interests as a child long before Hameln. Girl could read off Jack the Ripper's crime record with no hesitation without even being ASKED. She enjoys watching the cat hunt and finds death amusing on multiple occasions, such as silly Mr. Fox, when she says a hunter will shoot the bunnies little ears off, etc.

As Rebecca, she was genuinely a ray of sunshine to be around. (Even with morbid interests).

Secretly has a dark sense of humor

Very adventurous (obviously the show was based around that)

Loves to draw (we see it multiple times).

Has had past trauma before Hameln even entered the picture (Sam's despite what she's been through in reference to her adoption).

In the second game she seems to be trying really hard to control her temper for us, maybe to keep the demon from hurting us?

Girl had some level of interest in goth/emo/punk clothes. I mean, that one picture of her just gives off such a "if the kind goth girl working at hot topic was a 5 year old" vibe if that makes ANY sense. Obviously the clothes available at that age wouldn't be full on goth anyways.

She's starting to act more and more like Rebecca

She doesn't resent Sam.

She wants out of this hell that is these tapes even if it killed her. (I feel like it's indicated in the butterfly scene. If we can help the butterfly, it flies away. If we can't, Amanda says: "It's suffering" and puts it out of its misery). I mean, hypothetically, she's already dead, so it would be more like putting her soul to rest/at peace. Everyone she loved is dead as far as we know. She'll never have her childhood back. And her chances of ever having a life at all are very slim. Still, she wants out. And I don't blame her one bit.

[thecircularsystem]

Loads of you liked my vent post from yesterday, and I was giving more thought to objective and subjective, and oddly enough, a statement from a book I read about teaching came to my mind. Forgive me for paraphrasing and filling in the blanks of my mind with my own thoughts — been a long while since I read it. But what I recall was something like this:

So many kids were more concerned with getting the correct answer, they forgot about the right answer.

The statement came from a teacher of English who was having students study law manuscripts and cases. He was doing an introduction on how the law works, and was having the students (college aged) analyze fictional cases.

I don’t remember the complete case they were studying. Something about a 10 year old suing their parent or something. But the students were at a loss, because they were trying to figure out who was in the right and who was in the wrong, and what — legally — the repercussions were. None of them looked at the situation and went, “well, that’s fucked up.” None of them discussed the impact this would have on the family or child.

I personally think the book kinda sucked. It ended up being preachy and dumb. But…

I think… the statement sums up a lot of my feelings about the current syscourse. It fucking sucks, and everyone I know hates it. A lot of people have completely dipped because it’s just toxic and disgusting vitriol 24/7 now. Even the positivity posts are crowded with proving validity or ostracizing the Bad People.

People are so concerned with being correct, they forget how to be right. How to be kind, or good, or just friendly even. People have this need to be The Good Guy, the One Who Is Correct, but I feel like almost all of you abandoned the need to be a good person somewhere along the way.

I hope you find your humanity again at some point.

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[justarabidlittleyingzhao]

Went on reddit last night, looked for LBFaD discussions.

I'm tired. I'm angry, but I'm also tired.

Gonna rant in tags.

[honeyblockm]

1 8 and 21

1: the character everyone gets wrong

i just answered this but yeah it's fundy and ponk. come to think of it possibly also happyduo. the whole eggpire maybe.

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

despite my best efforts i suspect i live in an echochamber but. spaces out for 10 minutes trying to think of common fandom opinions. you know i cannot really think of a take that has not caused awful awful discourse on my dash. i mean i guess re: the attachments advice that phil gave tommy that caused everyone to try to kill each other on my dash: i dont think it's that big of a deal? if phil gave some bad advice? if said advice was even bad in the first place? <didn't get too invested in that discourse

also i don't think las nevadas had to be destroyed for the. waves hand. narrative. or smth. it wasn't like. the root of all cquackity's evil or whatever. and i think it's good and reasonable that the LN arc ends with q deciding to build it back up again. sorry its my girlfriend

21: part of canon you think is overhyped

bedrock bros ^_^

[thedragonagelesbian]

Gaspard is the literal worst but damn if he isnt fun to read

[baltimorebullets]

I don't know how I'm feeling inside I don't know how I'm—

But I gotta go get it But I gotta go get it, I guess But I gotta go feel it But I gotta go get it

[wantonglances]

idk why I continue to think I'll vibe with any of the opinions of YT mecha fuckbois regarding Gundam content

[awkward-teabag]

It may not even be that they're cynical or anything, just that they're overworked, underpaid, and expected to keep a certain output no matter how many co-workers get fired. That or there's a "content pivot" which means much of what they review are things they have little to no interest in and may actively dislike.

It's particularly bad with professional video game reviews given all the firings, the sheer breadth of video games in terms of content and gameplay, and how it can take a dozen or more hours to form the framework for a proper review.

It's hard to do that if you're the only one doing reviews now and expected to put 1-2 reviews out a week... of brand new games so you don't even have a backlog to pull from.

(There's also a massive issue where publishers will blacklist a company if a review isn't glowing enough and fans who can get vitriolic and violent if a game gets a 7/10 or lower.)

It's hard to not get jaded when you're pressured to do things you don't enjoy and doing the work of several people while also having to deal with the fallout if you phrase things "wrong" or don't outright lie to keep your sanity, safety, or because you were told to do so.

But it applies to reviews in other industries, too. What may be a negative for one person may be fine (or a positive) to someone else. They're not wrong for pointing it out, though, and just because something is a review doesn't mean you can turn off your critical thinking.

And please read multiple reviews to get a better understanding of something rather than reading one review and taking it as gospel. One person complaining about something may just be it wasn't for them or they were having a bad day, if multiple people complain about the same thing, it may be a sign of a larger issue.

And by the gods, a stranger pointing out a negative or under-developed part of something you like in a review is not a personal attack against you.

Sometimes you encounter negative critique that you disagree with where you have to recognize that nothing the critic said was technically wrong, but they just have a far more cynical and low-patience lens through which they are reviewing the work that highlights all flaws and prevents them from experiencing the more lighthearted joy in the little things about a piece of media that do work really well.

Unfortunately, professional reviewers are particularly prone to this as they are forced to mechanically grind through every new major release in their medium to get paid, regardless of whether it's their type of thing or if they have any patience for its genre expectations or particular approach, and are often primed to have a bad time with anything that can't push past that hump by being an unexpectedly moving piece of art. Which arguably makes them some of the worst people to qualitatively review the experience of engaging with a piece of media for entertainment, but there you are. The system might be flawed somewhat.

[solxamber]

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love it.

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

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

Really?

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

And then, boom. Everything went black.

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

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

Your heart drops.

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

No. Fucking. Way.

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

“Oh. My. God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Consequences?”

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

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

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

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

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

Are you kidding me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 100

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

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

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

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

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

No!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is.

Holy crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

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

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

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

And that’s when you heard it.

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

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

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

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

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

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

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

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

No, focus! Focus!

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

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

But also… very, very good?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

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

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

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it happens.

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

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

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

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

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, not this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little does she know.

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

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

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 625.  375 points left till freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the plan began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

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

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

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

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

"I—I didn’t—"

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

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

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

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

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

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

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

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

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then gravity kicks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue dramatic gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It really doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

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

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

The Princess snorts.

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. The dam broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Classy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

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

You could almost hear his internal screams.

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

Time to act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

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

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

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

The execution? Less brilliant.

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

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

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

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

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

“See? Mission accomplished!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

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

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

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

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

There was a long pause before the system replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Told you.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For her.

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

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

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

This time, you were the one in control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"

"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."

The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.

But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.

She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.

Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.

Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.

The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.

She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.

As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.

Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"

He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.

But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.

The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.

Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.

Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.

You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."

There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"

You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.

"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."

The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.

"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."

"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"

But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.

"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.

Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.

Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?

As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.

And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.

A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.

"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."

The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.

With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.

The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.

Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.

"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."

Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.

Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Aemond Targaryen

Part One (potentially ??? xoxo - indecision)

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop who could be impliedly understood as ms Alys ;o

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (m receiving), talk of sex, masturbation, bad words, very little dialogue, I wrote this in 2 hours and it is barely edited so it may be shite. guys. please tell me if I've missed a warning, luv u xoxo

Author's note: here's a wee smth while I get my head around part 2 of Infernal Desires! the idea I had for this fic was for a multi-part but idk depends on how we're feeling so there will potentially be a part 2 ;D. kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Whatever pretence was in play, you would be the first to admit that you were tired of it. A loveless marriage was nothing less than what you had expected–a union that was entirely for show and born from the political motives of your families. It was only expected.

You tried to convince yourself that you were content with such an arrangement. It suited your ambitions, meant that you could be left alone to do as you please while quenching the thirst to make your family proud. 

Somehow, despite your hesitance and despite your husband’s ignorance toward you, the one thing that you knew you would never truly hold had become your greatest wish. 

The reality was such that you found yourself longing for affection.

Preferably-of course-your husband’s affection. 

Between the forced smiles put on for expectant eyes, the brush of your shoulders whenever you sat next to each other at the dining hall and the gentle caresses at the small of your back until his touch was hurriedly removed once you were again behind closed doors, you had grown an incessant, consuming desire for the prince you were married to. 

Aemond was a man of great beauty and strength. While many had chastised his singular eye and told tales of his ruthless temper, Aemond had grown to be well respected and the object of many lustful gazes.

Eight months had passed since Aemond became your husband and you, his wife. Eight months of tense silences, lonely nights in a bed you had expected to share and eight months of nothing but false affections that were nothing but a performance.

You had considered yourself a romantic right until you felt the loneliness and realities of this marriage. Your naive desires to feel the throes and excitement of love that you read about were subject to a rude awakening the moment you became disgustingly aware of your husbands lack of it. 

Aside from the night of your wedding, Aemond seemed to avoid your bed as if it would burn his skin. Until two months ago, when you had pushed aside the sting on your pride and all but demanded he spare some time for you. 

Friends had warned you that it was hardly special. But if he was kind enough, as few of their husbands were from time to time, he would give you a chance to experience some of the pleasures of your body.

Aemond was hardly a passionate lover, it had seemed. With instruction to simply lift your skirt, he had you laying with your hips at the foot of the bed where he silently and effortlessly fucked his seed into your womb. It had not yet borne fruit despite his fortnightly visits. 

It was never enough. Your body had eventually begun to crave more. In a very raw and unmistakably physical need to find the release it had been denied for so long. Despite Aemond’s assurance on the first nights of your marriage that neither of you were to have any interest in whores or paramours, words and whispers of the prince’s capabilities had picked up over recent weeks and you came to understand that if only Aemond had wanted to, he could give you exactly what your body desired.

Even if you had the same freedoms as men when it came to taking on lovers outside of your marriage, you couldn’t. Admittedly, you’d developed a taste for luxury - a taste only for your husband. Or at least, the fantasy version of Aemond that you had concocted within your head. 

And when your hand made its way between your thighs in the small hours that followed restless nights, the only thoughts that existed in your mind were those of him. Of all the things you had hoped Aemond would guide you to discover about your bodies. Of all the things that you had read about in the books you’d sneak out to find. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Aemond thought of you while he touched himself. The idea of it often crossed your mind and you had since convinced yourself that you had been driven insane. 

Realistically, you knew that the arrangement you had with Aemond was out of necessity. Nothing more. But you were much like him in certain ways - hungry for what you know you deserve, relentless and cunning. But you had little patience left. 

The moment you had decided to make your worth known to your husband wasn’t one you could place a finger on. It was a gradual thing - as you had gently started shifting your attention past the lovers in your books who no longer calmed your lustful needs. 

You wanted him more fiercely than you had wanted for anything in your lifetime.  

So you gently lowered the neckline of your dresses to highlighted the bump of your collarbone, had your maids do your hair so that it framed your face perfectly while accentuating the shape of your neck. You had soon foregone the paler tones your mother had you wear, colours that announced your purity and innocence. The colours that you wore were deeper, richer and more sultry against the tone of your skin. 

With difficult ignorance of the nervous, shy and pious girl your parents had raised for such a match, you forced yourself to seek out Aemond’s gaze with an extra glint in your eyes. You let your once hesitant touches linger with a newfound confidence that stole your breath away whenever Aemond would escort you to and from the dining hall. On the days Aemond would spare time to walk you through the gardens, you made an effort to speak of more than just the weather. 

At times, you felt uneasy about the act you were putting on. Were the prospect of his affections so important to you that you forced yourself to act so differently? In your mind, being a seductress was never so dishonourable as many made it seem but you had hoped this act would pay off in a matter of a few weeks. 

Your impatience becomes painful when you have every other desire at your beck and call. 

But you were mistaken. If anything, Aemond’s indifference had only grown. And at each hardened glance from your head to toe, at each moment in which he continued to ignore you or look past you, your resolve weakened.  

Aemond could not have found you unattractive - this much you knew as a fact. You knew from the way he used to look at you with a gentle fire in his eye and made sure that your every other need had been taken care of. From the way he clenched his jaw in restraint when you would lay back for him, how his grip on your hips and your thighs left marks on your skin as he fucked into you - even if there was little more than a duty being performed. After all, he was still just a man. 

So despite the fact that your efforts were shaping up to be of no use, you didn’t give up. You started taking breakfast in your chambers, requesting Aemond to join you when he was available, dressed in your softest, prettiest nightgowns instead of having dressed up already. 

You made a show of it, unashamed and brazen. Almost surprisingly, Aemond enjoyed the dark cherry more than you could have hoped. There were subtle changes in the way his eye would linger over the dip of your neck, the way his wordless gaze would follow the deep red that would stain and spill from your lips as you bit into a cherry from the bowl of fruit that you shared.

Your conversations have always been comfortable. Aemond may be a brooding, arrogant hardass sometimes but he was always respectful and kind to his you in the time you shared together as husband and wife. But now he would falter, his words getting caught as he watched you gently sucking off the juice of a cherry from your fingers, humming gently as you glance at him with false nonchalance mixed with your best bedroom eyes. 

And it did drive him insane. Aemond had never seen this side of you, much unlike the quiet, prudish woman he had married. But then again, had he ever truly known you? Either way, you had caught the amusement in his gaze and the way he challenged you wordlessly with a shift of his hips and gentle smirk.

Much to your disappointment, little else changed. Nearly three weeks had passed and Aemond had given you little more than those lingering looks and a few stolen breaths. He had at once withdrawn and become increasingly lacklustre, and when you had even tried asking him about his training with Ser Cole, you received no more than curt, blunt answers at each try. 

It had become too much by the time you had retired to your chambers alone once again. The day had been long and uneventful, Helaena had been by your side for most of it which had been nice but you were in no mood to fake an interest in sifting through the performative duties of a princess. 

In all honesty, it was frustrating. You were starting to wear thin on the constant nagging of absolutely everyone about your lack of a child. It has been almost a year and you have failed to perform your duty as a wife, almost a year and you have not missed a single cycle, almost a year and you haven’t blessed the prince with an heir. 

Because, as a lady whose name you hadn’t cared enough to remember had not-so-gently uttered to you over her dreadful playing of a stringed instrument; what was the point of being his wife if you didn’t bed him well enough to carry his child? 

You had, in truth, been distracted. And the idea of carrying the child of a man who only paid you the necessary courtesies out of politeness and good manners made you feel ill. 

Queen Alicent, although you could tell she was inclined to agree with the lady, had placed a gentle yet firm hand on your bicep to calm the anger that had clearly taken you over. With a glare at the loose-lipped woman, you quickly picked up the handkerchief you’d been attempting to embroider and excused yourself. 

If anyone had noticed your absence from the evening meal, which the Queen had always insisted upon eating together, nobody bothered to say anything. 

Over an hour had passed, tossing around in your bed and your eyes stinging from embarrassment. Why was Aemond so averse to you? Why would he stare at you as if you set his blood on fire in one moment and then glance straight past you in the next? What had you done that convinced him so strongly that you were not even worth trying to be familiar with? 

The gods had surely intended to punish you for something in a past life if they were so adamant to trap you in a marriage with a man who would much rather be anywhere other than with you. 

You may as well be strangers to each other. 

The ache of your anger led you straight out of your own chambers and towards his. You spared Ser Tunsley, the knight standing at your door, a harsh glare and snapped at him to give you your privacy otherwise you’d have him stripped of his cloak. He was a timid one, you noticed, and with a nod he stood back, his eyes staring straight past your shoulder in an attempt not to stare at the thin nightgown that clung to your skin. 

It was an outrageous hour and you were of half a mind in your frustration to thank the gods for the empty hallways. In fact, you noticed the lack of an armoured man at the door to Aemond’s chambers and wondered if maybe the prince was elsewhere. 

You stepped towards the door, curiosity peaked at the sound of shifting, followed by some voices and you hesitated. Frowning, you ran through what you would say if Aemond opened the door - there was nothing that would make sense. 

As you stepped closer to the door, a soft light spilled out and you noticed that it was, in fact, just barely ajar. 

It was unlike Aemond to leave his door open and you were certain he would question you sneaking around the hallways in the small hours, dressed only in underclothes. But you ignored the rational voice at the back of your mind and took silent steps so close to the door that it would be cowardly to back out now. 

You couldn’t hear the voices anymore, ears ringing as you held your breath and gently nudged the door while muttering a silent prayer that it wouldn’t make a sound. 

Shock first. Then fear, anger, desire and an all consuming jealousy as you took a moment to understand what you were seeing.  

Aemond was resting at the end of his bed, naked and resting his weight lazily on one arm, his free hand tangled in the dark hair of a slender woman, just as bare as him, kneeling at his feet and moving her head in an up and down motion. Aemond guided her movements with a firm hand, his head tipped back gently. 

He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You’d never seen him without it–he never let you. His eye was firmly shut and you caught the glint of the sapphire in place of the other that was stolen from him. The movements of his chest were heavy and you could hear him panting gently, lips gently parted. 

You were unable to tear your eyes off of Aemond. He looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him, under the golden hue of the lamps, his body lean and chiselled–each curve and muscle glowing under the lights. You could see his pleasure, in his expression, the tinting of his skin and the way he roughly tugged at the mystery woman’s hair. A couple strands of his own hair, usually pulled away from his face, fell forward and the flush of his cheeks were starkly pink against the silver of his hair. He let out a breathy groan, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear as he opened his eye, dark with lust, and gazed down at the woman that was hunched over his lap. The lewd sounds of her mouth on him almost made you gasp and you thanked the gods that Aemond could not see you. Because you could not move if you tried. 

You couldn’t see anything other than the back of her head, and you were glad of it. Because you knew that seeing her face would have been too much and staying hidden and quiet would have been ten times more difficult. Despite the pressure between your thighs, the uncomfortable slick that you felt against your small clothes and the heat that rushed through you from head to toe, you glared viciously at the back of her head. 

Aemond’s breathing stuttered, a string of curses falling carelessly from his lips while he watched the woman as if he were entirely enchanted by her. Despite the fact that you couldn’t really see what she was doing, so expertly that had him in such a state, the entire thing felt obscene. And you could hear her muffled moans, the wetness and her light gagging when Aemond tightened his hold on her hair and thrusted upwards.

Your cheeks burned and your blood felt like lava coursing through your veins. The intensity of your want for him–as he was right now–made you dizzy and you drew in sharp breaths, careful not to make a sound. Because if he turned his head slightly to the left, just for a second, he would see you. You didn’t want to know the consequences. But nothing  that existed among all of the realm could force you to turn around and leave. 

Aemond’s groans were quiet and deep but they grew slightly louder than before, his breath catching as you could see him grow closer to his peak. Your thighs trembled as you pressed them together, barely thinking about how you would be able to escape after he was done–when he would surely see you watching unashamedly. 

The sounds that Aemond was making sent shockwaves straight to your wetness and as you could see his entire body grow visibly tense, hips jerking as his groans turned strained amongst grunts and whispers of just like that and fuck and—a name. 

It was your name. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, clenching around nothing, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your clit. The woman faltered, much to your satisfaction, and she pulled her head back from him. You couldn’t see past her but her hands remained as they were, biceps moving gently as she continued to touch him. 

“Aemond-” you winced as she said his name, no bother for formality. Her voice was slightly husky and it remained sultry and smooth. “I’m not-”

Your husband’s jaw ticked, squeezing his eye shut and pushing her head down towards his hips again. “I know. Fuck–” he grunted, roughly pushing her further down, cursing as she gagged. She hummed around him. 

Suddenly, the desire in your veins became secondary to the jealousy that burned your lungs and the betrayal that caught in your throat. You knew men were not faithful creatures, and even though part of you had known Aemond had been no different–not with how you have heard the servants speak on a couple occasions–but foolishly, you had hoped that he had been a man of his word. Another naive part of you truly did believe him when he said he would have no other woman. 

Whatever she was doing, however she was doing it and no matter that it was your name that fell from his lips, Aemond was enjoying it. He was praising her–telling her she was his, telling her she was doing so well and letting himself get lost in the pleasure she was giving him. 

It was painful to watch and you cursed your body for yearning so badly for reprieve. You’d become soaked, thighs slick from where you’d dripped down. But you would be damned if you gave in and as Aemond’s hips started jerking, his strained grunts becoming desperate as he chased the peak he was nearing, you pushed yourself away from the door and ran back towards your own chambers. 

The entire scene had seared itself into your brain and you trembled as you shut yourself away in your bedchambers, ignoring whatever questions Ser Tunsley had been asking you. 

Who was that woman? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions that flooded your brain. The emotions that fought for dominance. How had they met? Was she a whore? 

Did they see you? 

Your mind replayed the way he’d groaned your name, unable to help yourself from whimpering at the memory. It didn’t make any sense. Aemond was clearly thinking about you yet he had never so much as spared you more than a heated look - he had never even given you a kiss. 

Aemond had never been so comfortable with you. Not the way he was with her. The way he let her say his name–free of his title, like she was his equal. You had only addressed him without title once, on the night of your wedding. 

You laughed. How silly this all was. 

Despite your arousal, and regardless of your hurt, you were angry. 

How dare he? Did he think so little of you? 

Did he love her? Is that why he never tried for you? 

It was infuriating. And there was little you could do about it. But nonetheless, you saw an opportunity through the tears you scolded yourself for shedding over a man who never gave you what you deserved. 

Aemond would regret it. And he’d learn that his wife was the only woman who could give him what he needs. But for now, you let yourself grieve the Aemond you had led yourself to believe was real. The man who held your hand in his and told you that while he couldn’t be the husband you wanted, he would never disrespect you so much as to let another woman into his bed. 

[puffleyia]

After Hours || Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott x fem!reader || 2.3k words

Warnings: Unprotected & clothed sex, p-in-v, Theo speaking some Italian (hope the translations are accurate..) yeah, i'm a sucker for that.

Summary: Exams are two weeks time from now. You've made a deliberate effort to steer clear of your boyfriend, Theo. One unfortunate night, he ends up dragging you into an empty classroom and teaches you a lesson worth remembering.

Author's notes: Hellooo, requests are open ! It's a blast writing ab Theo !! I've only gotten back into writing recently after not writing fics for a good while. sorry if i'm slow at churning out fics. I'm busy!

It was roughly two weeks before examinations, and professors have even stopped giving out homework as to focus students’ time on reviewing for their respective subjects. You’ve been studying your ass off in the library day and night, sometimes offering your friends to join in as well. Though, they quickly get bored as they soon offer to do much more interesting things  than studying such as having a go at wizard chess, or exploding snap.

It took a lot of self control not to join them, and it took even more not to just put down your book and see Theo. You had been purposely avoiding him because he would always end up distracting you, one way or another. You always catch him stealing a glance at you, and you would almost squirm at the way he looked at you; severely in discomfort as the tension between you two only continued to rise due to the lack of interaction.

It felt suffocating to say the least, so you even began trying not to even breathe in his direction. Needless to say, the bastard still had his ways. He would sometimes sneak up behind you in the library, as you pore over the shelves, inviting himself in as he grabbed your waist and buried his face in your neck. Another is when he would attempt to ensnare you right after your classes. 

In the end, you always found yourself ending up hiding away in your common room. You would get past him just by the skin of your teeth each time, as he used his cunning words and a dangerous tone that was like poisoned honey.

You thought, or, more like hoped it would be a quiet night tonight, staying up past curfew hours at the library and praying none of the professors nor prefects would catch you. Though perhaps you were too engrossed in Advanced Potion Making to notice the echo of footsteps that slowly grew louder as it drew nearer to you. Your ears simply blanked it out as mere white noise.

It had not even registered yet in your head until you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, as someone sat beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, as you could see him faintly through your peripherals. “You’ve been so distant lately, amore,” he says, his tone unhappy and laced with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite make out underneath it. 

“Sorry, Theo, I-I’m only trying to focus on the exams at the moment. I mean, not in a bad way but, if I spend time with you, I’ll only end up distracted,” you say, trying to clarify yourself to him. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to tell him sooner. He sighs, “I guess I’ll just have to–” he gets cut off as you both stiffen at the sound of someone approaching.

He hastily places a firm hand over your mouth, silencing your protests, and shoves your book, notes, and quill into your arms. Before you could object, he then relocates you two into an empty classroom, hastily and skillfully sneaking around the halls to get there. It looked unkempt, and it seemed as if it were not used regularly either. He finally released you from his grasp as you gasped for air. “Theo! What the he–” you say, as he quickly covers your mouth again. “Shh, you’re gonna get us caught, principessa.” He says in a low voice, in a near-whisper before he lets go again. “Ahem,” you clear up your throat before you speak, “I-I believe I should get going, Theo.” He furrows his brows at that, frowning slightly. You head towards the classroom’s door, before he grabs you by the waist from behind and pulls you in.

“Who said you were leaving, hm? Are you trying to avoid me again?” He says, as he moved the both of you to sit on one of the chairs. You remain in his arms, unable to get out despite your attempts to wiggle out and you end up on his lap. “Theo.” You say firmly, trying to assert yourself to let him know you really are serious about studying. “Mm, fine, since you’re so stubborn. Tell you what, how about I study with you?” He says suggestively, his voice making you feel things you were not supposed to. Not right now at least.

“Really?” You say skeptically, raising an eyebrow. You place your stuff down, with a dull thud as it is placed on the table. Sounding slightly annoyed, he says, “What's with the attitude, hm? Are you doubting me?” “F-fine, then,” you hesitantly agree, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants to be. Alone with him.

“Brava ragazza,” he says, as he rests his head on your shoulder whilst flipping open your book. You can not help but faintly squeeze your thighs together, you didn’t know most of the time what he was saying when he spoke to you in Italian, but you found it incredibly hot when he did. Your actions do not go unnoticed by him, though he was not going to do anything yet. You pick up your quill, your eyebrows knitting together as you attempt to focus on taking your notes. 

“Tell you what, I’ll ask you a few questions to help you. If you get it right, I won’t do anything. If you don't…” He says, his voice trailing off as he does not continue what he was going to say, though the timbre in his voice gave enough implication. You gulp and nod, your throat bobbing as you swallow. You knew you did not really have much of a say, Theo’s done a good job of cornering you. Not to mention the fact he knew you were slightly struggling with potions, too.

“Right then, amore, can you tell me how Golpalott’s Third Law influences the effectiveness and stability of potions?” He asked amusedly, his foot tapping the floor rhythmically. “Uhm,” you say, muttering in an attempt to answer, “Uh, well, it’s... um, when you have a potion with, uh, lots of different poisons, right? So, um, the antidote... it's not just, um, the sum of... wait, no, it's more than that! Yeah, um…” You begin feeling your mouth go dry as the tension in the room fills the air. You feel your heart thump loudly against your ribcage.

“It’s when you have multiple poisons mixed together in a potion, the antidote needs to be more potent or comprehensive to counteract their combined effects.” He says, cockily smirking as he corrects you. Your breath hitches as he takes off your robes and his, tossing it aside as he hikes up your skirt and gropes you. “Theo!” You gasp at his actions. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, as he breathed in your scent before he began kissing it.

“Cazzo,” he mumbles before he spat out another question, “What are the common ingredients and methods used to counteract the effects of different poisons?” You feel the tent in his pants growing, his cock pressing against your clothed cunt. “I–” You manage to get out before biting your lip, stifling a moan. You had reviewed this, but lust simply clouded your mind for you to formulate a cohesive answer.

“Um, er.. D-dittany, for uhm, venom,” you say, as Theo continued teasing you, grinding his hips upwards so that you could feel his dick. You moan at the friction on your pussy, feeling your panties get wet. “I..” You slur, unable to say anything further. “Cockdrunk already, cara mia?” He lets out a guttural laugh, bending you over the table and grabbing your hips roughly as he continues grinding his cock on your pussy. 

“Don’t forget, Bezoar, for example–” he grunts, “–is a stone found in the stomach of certain magical creatures like goats. It's known for its ability to neutralise many poisons when ingested. Then there's the Antidote to Common Poisons…” He corrects you, adding more strings of information you probably needed. Though, it was not as if you were paying attention, as you were moving your hips hungrily back onto his dick, only being separated by thin fabric. 

“Merda, might as well just fuck you if you keep getting my questions wrong, principessa.” He says, his voice dangerously low as you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling and the distinct sound of his fly unzipping. You look over your shoulder, watching him intently as he pulls down his dark grey boxers and frees his cock. “Theo, please,” you whine, as he smacks your ass and pushes your panties aside. “I thought you were too busy studying? Maybe I should just leave you to that,” he teases you, tapping his dick on your cunt and rubbing it in between your folds.

“No, please,” you plead, and desperately you pressed yourself onto his cock. “Beg, cara mia,” he husked condescendingly, enjoying humiliating you as he continued teasing your wet pussy. “Please, mmhn–” you moan, “I’m sorry, Theo. I-I need it, please, need your cock,” you whimper, flushed from embarrassment as he finally slipped the tip inside you. He pressed inside, at a gruellingly slow pace. 

“Cazzo, una puttana così sporca, aren’t you huh?” You could not place your finger on a single word he said in Italian, but your pussy definitely could. He groaned loudly as he grew impatient, shoving the rest of his dick into you. His groin pressed flush against your ass. You moaned loudly at that, and with a swift motion, he reached out and clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh, cara mia,” he whispers sultrily in your ear as he quickly silences you, unwilling for the both of you to get caught.

You let out a few muffled sounds against his hand as he began thrusting into you, slowly drawing out his cock as he slammed it back into you with such force that the table beneath you shook. “Such a slut aren’t you? Merda,” He rasped as he uncovers your mouth, “yes!” you say, as he’s eliciting vulgar moans from you each time he fucked his dick back in.

He slithered his hand down onto your pussy, rubbing your clit. He leans in, grunting, as he kisses your nape. He sucks on your neck, trailing down to your back, leaving red marks as he sealed each one afterwards with a kiss. “Ti senti così maledettamente bene, amore,” he groaned, only setting his pace rougher as he hit a particularly deep spot inside you, hitting your cervix. 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you whine, as you tried to remain as quiet as you could. Your hands firmly grip onto the edges of the table, your nails digging into it, as he fucks you into oblivion. Tears brim at your eyes, as close them shut. Some teardrops cling onto your pretty lashes, and some flow down your cheek, falling down, staining the pages of your book. He loved watching you cry in pleasure, observing your expressions as he drove himself into you.

He loomed over you, using a hand to cup your jaw to force your head to look up at his face. “Open your mouth, cara mia.” He said, an authoritative tone that rolled off his tongue like butter. You oblige, parting your lips, your tongue lolling out as you do. He spits in your mouth, the hand holding your chin clamping your jaw shut afterwards . “Swallow.”

You do as he says, swallowing his spit as he lets go of your jaw and your head hangs down soon after. With that, he fucks you rougher, his pace frantic. You become nothing short of a moaning mess, he returns his hand to your clit and strokes it rhythmically in time with his thrusts. You let out small whimpers and whines as you feel hazy and drunk on his cock. 

Theo, in an intoxicated trance, mutters a string of curses and praises in Italian. You cry out his name in ecstasy with every jab at your sweet spot as he ploughs into you. You feel a familiar warmth pooling at your stomach, only feeling more pleasurable by the second. “Theo, m’gonna cum, T-Theo,” you babble almost incoherently. He leans in briefly, and in a gravelly tone, “Cum on my cock, cara mia.” He says, letting his breath trickle down your neck.

Spasming around him, you dissolve into pleasure as you see stars. You selfishly clench around his dick, as if you wanted to milk him dry. Cumming all over his cock, you quite literally bury your face into your book, in an attempt to muffle the loud moan you let out as you do. 

His thrusts grow languid and sloppy, hips stuttering unrhythmically as his climax nears. “Want me to cum inside you, principessa?” He husked, now digging his fingers into your hips as he chased his high. “Yes, yes, mhn–” you chant, unable to think straight. “Theo, please,” you pleaded. 

With one final thrust, he groans loudly and buries himself fully inside you and stuffs your pussy with his cum. You felt his cock pulsing inside you, both of you panting as he rode out his orgasm. “Fuck, atta girl,” he says breathily, praising you as he pulls out of your cunt. He watches as you softly moan as you feel white globs of cum trickle out of your folds, dripping down your thighs.

He hastily tucks his cock back into his pants, pulling your skirt back in place as he walks (more like carries) you back to your common room that night before he headed back to his. Well, it was safe to say you definitely got nothing done that night, though he makes it up to you the following afternoon by actually helping you study with potions.

[rensylph]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 ( 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐔 )

<< yandere genshin highschool Au >>

You are a student at teyvat high, a prestigious highschool only for the wealthy and the elite has managed to get in due to one of your family members managed for you to be a student in the school, little did you know your presence will catch the hearts of many students.

Characters : Diluc, kaeya, thoma, ayato, alhaitham, kaveh, childe, scaramouche, xiao, kazuha, albedo, venti

⚠️Warning : this may contain some NSFW, non con touching, stalking and other content you may found uncomfortable ⚠️

( English is not my first language )

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄

NAME : ( name ) ( last name )

CLASS : 2A

CLUB : music club

FAVORITE SUBJECT : ( your choosing )

( Name ) A second year student, a member of the music club, born from a middle class family has become an object of many students desires.

Diluc

A senior of yours, he is part of the student council. He is the son of a prestigious german family that owns a multi million wine company, is pretty popular in the school and is highly admired by the teachers due to his gentleman personality

Visit your band practice just to admire you play the instrument, he just stands there or takes a sit at one of the empty sits and just listens to you play your instrument without the bother of your other club members glaring at him.

Everyday for lunch he always buys extra grape juices just for you, as a sign of owner ship and glares daggers at his brother kaeya every time he tries to flirt with you. Every time a student approaches or talks to you other than him he will be jealous, so every time you approach he will have a hundred questions.

KAEYA

The adoptive brother of diluc, and also a third year your senior, local playboy of the school, many students including the girls have a huge crush on him and he also tends to flirt with anyone and find it amusing. He used him charms and good looks to enchant the entire school, he is also part of the fencing club in school

Very clingy and affectionate, he will hug you by the waist and every time you would complain on how uncomfortable it was, he would just brush it off and say you're being overdramatic there's nothing wrong with two people expressing emotion together.

Is actually insecure and has an infirior complex over his brother, diluc is a much more perfect candidate than him, hes the heir of the family company, has good grades and feels like diluc is much better than him. And this feelings torture him everyday. So every time he would try to one up with diluc for your affection

THOMA

A servant and student of the student council president ayato, and the only reason he manages to get it in is due to the kamisato siblings needing him at school hours. Basically a butler for the kamisato siblings as well doing the dirty work of the siblings.

Is heavily looked down on by the school's population, due to the school having a lot of high class students and the reason he's in the school is because the kamisato siblings lead him to be the subject for gossip and harsh remarks. Since your also reason to manage to get in the school is because one of your family members works at the school, you guys relate to being looked down upon by the schools

He will always bring an extra lunch box for you filled with special ingredients, he even bakes cupcakes for you with white frosting when you ask him what's inside he said its a secret, he can also play a guitar and sometimes you and him have a duet together. He doesn't tolerate anyone bad talking about your name so every time someone does it he will always give a "small" warning to them.

Ayato

Student council president as well the son and heir of a long rich and noble family, the elite of all. The school population swooned over him and he basked in their attention. You heard about him from the school multiple times but haven't seen him until you were accompanying Diluc to deliver some papers you finally met him personally

He would tend to make odd remarks to you like "I could just tie you up and not let you out of my sight" or "you're so cute, I could just shrink you down and let you live in my pocket" even tho this remarks are harmless you couldn't help the feeling actually meant those words 100% of all times. You Also have the feeling of being looked down upon by him, he doesn't look down on thoma since he knows what he's capable of.

Would give you head pats if you are done helping him, would also be found seeing you in band practice with diluc. He would invite you to fancy dinners in disguise as normal hang outs sometime the waiter identifies you as his girlfriend or fiance since you guys look like a couple, instead of correcting them he seems please as well if you do not join him he would make remarks of cutting budget on your club since he's the one that fund them.

Alhaitham

The school's number one in academics you can always expect him to be number one at any subject. the teacher's pet, his is willing to help the teachers with any task as long its not blocking his schedule. He is also brutally honest or doesn't know how to read the room or people, he's brain is always on its logical side.

Your professor asked alhaitham to tutor you because your grades have been falling recently, during tutoring alhaitham look down upon you for not understanding basic calculus but after the session you managed to ace your math test and received a head pat from him.

Soon it's normal for you and him to have a study session in your house or his apartment and you suspected he has a roommate since you found another room but he always gives a vague answer or not answer at all, but it always happens in your house soon you realize some of your clothing from your closet has started to disappear.

Kaveh

The art kid as well a person who is studying to be an architect, since alhaitham is the number one at academics. Kaveh is number two at academics behind alhaitham. Plus he excels at art and math more than alhaitham.

He's a passionate and kind person. He is very passionate about being an architect and perfection over his designs. You and him met during your first years at school where you saw him painting and the shine was shining and he was beautiful for a guy and a cough knocked you from your admiration. And that's how you and him met

He likes to make little trinkets for you a necklace and bracelets that are almost similar to his as well as small houses or hand crafted flowers basically small heartfelt hand crafts. He is obsessed with detail and so every gift has its meaning one of his favorites is an origami black rose.

Childe

It is a part of a gang of students called the fatui, and also the heir of a large toy company. He also excels at sports as a captain for the basketball team. By far he's a trouble maker always getting into fights the school is unable to do anything. Since he is by far one of principal's pierrot favorite students for some reason.

How did you guys meet, well you were accompanying your best friend lumine who's brother in the basketball team and you got hit by the head by the ball and knocked you out severely, when you wake up he was being lectured by your best friend. She was about to mole him alive until you woke up.

Every time you encounter him he will apologize every time and have an apology gift even tho the incident was a few months ago, he still gave you gifts for no apparent reason and how did he have the money to afford this much gifts he even gave you a necklace from swarovski that cost a lot. He will buy you lunch and he's very clingy as well.

Scaramouche

Also part of the gang that childe is part from, from a prestigious royal family. He was sent to live here by his mother who has a rocky relationship because he usually costs trouble for her until he learns to behave. Literally hates anyone and will roast and talk about how your existence ruins his day. You breathing next to him ruins his days.

Surprisingly he has friends who are kazuha a member of the literature club but he usually visits the music club to play the flute and who usually join him visiting your club, scaramouche and he usually makes criticism over how you play your instrument and how you suck at playing but why is he here, kazuha said to him that if his annoyed here he could leave but choose to stay you wonder why.

He makes small criticisms of you but you already have gotten used to it, and apparently he knows how to play the guitar. He easily gets jealous when other students or kazuha gets close to you one time you were teaching kazuha how to play the piano and your arm and his was touching and In the corner of your eye you could see scaramouche twitching with anger.

Xiao

Emo boy number #2, he's a part of the track field team, number one runner. He can be aggressive but he is not as much as scaramouche to be honest he's a decent guy just shy and doesn't know how to interact fully with anyone he can hold conversation but not that much.

He is very introverted and rarely interacts with anyone as long as it's someone who's close with him, he looks weak due to his short stature but he is very strong, known to bet up on some students who cause trouble. Him and childe usually have a spar

He would work as a body guard or protect you in the dark. You feel like watching at school or walking home from school it's xiao watching over you making sure you are safe.

Kazuha

One of your closest friends as well the chilliest person you ever met, he's in the same grade as you and you guys sit together. He's very well known in the entire school for his writings he's a very popular and chill guy that's what makes him likeable.

You guys sit together in class and sometime he would accidentally purposely rub his hands with you and when you look at him he would just give you a shrug or just basically act as if it was nothing.

He is well known for his writings right, and one of the most popular poetry he ever wrote was about love and about this person he had fallen in love with and wished to keep them from everyone and be the only one by their side, it's a pretty dark and twisted poetry about love. And every time when wrote about a poet of love he would have given you a glance at the crowd as if it was about you and for you.

Albedo

The smartest and one of the smartest guys at school, and very admired by the school and its population. Even tho some people find him weird it was overshadowed by his talents, people called him a genius who's on par with alhaitham on academics.

You guys were lab partners, and when you tried to help him he said you shouldn't and that this subject was easy so he told you just let him do all the work while you relax, it was an advanced subject. And the others were struggling while he was treating it like some sort of easy experiment.

He likes to draw and you have become one of his main inspirations, every detail of you has been drawn and it's almost looking at a picture by a camera.

Venti

A senior of yours and the leader of the music club. He's a master at any Instrument, a true embodiment of a music prodigy, his personal favorite instrument is the harp. He was originally recommended to the literature club but he rejected it but he does visit it regularly.

For a senior he is really clingy towards you, hugging you and always calling you his cute junior. You usually play together and he will point out some mistakes with your instrument but in a gentle way. And he told you how to hold or play your instrument while touching you in the hand.

He would be very clingy and gives he's rival a smirk while hugging you, he would play music for you and admire you while you're playing.