#you’re so stupid and evil it’s so hot

[gothamite-rambler]

Raven: Eye patch-wearing people either look insanely evil or badass, but half the time you find out they lost their eye in a stupid, stupid, STUPID way!

Raven smirked, shifting her gaze to Rose, who had stopped texting with a furrowed brow, clearly annoyed.

Raven: So, Rose, how'd you lose your eye again?

Rose: Keep talking and you'll lose both.

Raven (wryly): You’re right… But seriously, how’d your dad lose his eye?

Rose sighed, suppressing a laugh.

Rose: His wife stabbed him after he caused my brother got wounded, and he couldn’t fix it.

Raven: You know... that means he’s not that evil if he got injured in such a pansy way.

Rose: Yeah, well… your dad had to start a cult to get women!

Raven: Yes, because that’s definitely eviler.

Rose (mumbling): And he really sucks at dating.

Raven: I… okay, I’m going to let you have that one.

Rose chuckled and returned to her texting, but had to say one last thing.

Rose: For women, an eye patch makes us look hot.

Raven: Okay… that might be true, but don’t fish for compliments.

Rose laughed and shrugged.

[dojunie]

MISDIAL; LJN [CH6] DND

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; none

chapter wc: 11k

a/n: i don't even have an excuse. when i tell you i was struggling with this... anyway, to not dwell on the bad, lets talk about the good; i rewrote the ending and finally feel excited about it, so hopefully i dont face another deeply evil and unforgiving block again. thank you for sticking around :)

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09 / @tynlvr / @saucyjaeyun /

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OF ALL THE THINGS A GUY COULD CATCH YOU FAKING, BEING ASLEEP USUALLY ISN’T THE MOST MORTIFYING.

Usually, you take care to point out.

Because nine times out of ten, getting called out for pretending to be asleep is something to be mulled over with a laugh. Like when you pretend to doze off in the middle of a boring story to make your friends roll their eyes and get to the point, or when you’re young enough for it to still be feasible, in an attempt to get your parents to carry you to bed after a long car ride home. You know. That type of cute, charming thing.

But when there’s nothing cute or charming about the night you’ve just had, Jeno telling you point blank that he knows you’re awake (and has known you were awake the entire time) feels less like a joke that you’re both in on, and more like you’ve just been dropped naked into the middle of Times Square.

“Pizza doesn’t stay hot forever you know.”

Mortification rips through your body like a live current and you jerk around as if someone’s just cocked a shotgun behind your back.

You freeze afterwards, your head only turned enough just enough to peek over your shoulder, like there’s still some speck of a chance that Jeno isn’t actually talking to you— but that speck is swiftly sucked into the vacuum of reality when your eyes meet.

He’s smiling right at you. Eye-crescents and all. Arms folded over his chest, leaning back into the couch cushions like he’s just asked for you to change the channel instead of rouse from a fake nap.

“I was starting to think I’d have to roll you over.”

God forbid.

“How—” Your voice is several octaves too high for the feigned nonchalance you’re trying to push. You swallow. It doesn’t help. “How did you... know?”

“When I used to sleep over at your parents house I’d hear you snoring through the walls when I passed your room. Even through a foot of wood and plaster it still sounded like you were choking to death right out there in the hallway with me; after the pizza guy left I realized it was way, way too quiet in here. Put two and two together.”

On a different day this answer would’ve made your face burn for the next half an hour but considering the other bomb he’s just dropped, it doesn’t even register on the radar.

After the pizza guy left?

“You knew I was awake the entire time you were talking?”

“Of course.”

For five too-many beats, you’re staring at him like he’s just started speaking Simlish.

Your first instinct is to grimace, hard. Because how fucking stupid you must've looked curled up on the couch like that when he’d known from the very beginning that you were awake, stone still and pretending you couldn’t be seen like a toddler hiding behind the window curtains, Jesus— but before the embarrassment of that can really take shape and cringe you into a coma, the actual problem with his confession comes to light.

He… knew. He said all of that knowing that you were listening. High school, the graduation, the day you both met, everything.

He said he liked you back.

“What?” you finally manage. “But— Why? Why would you tell me all of that? Now?”

“Because after what happened on Saturday, I felt like I was being…” For the first time all night, maybe all week, Lee Jeno breaks eye-contact first. “I’m still having trouble figuring out the specifics but ‘unfair', might be the best fit. You told me how you felt and I only stood there and listened even though I knew I could’ve told you that it wasn’t nearly as unrequited as you thought, but I got nervous and then said something dumb and everything fell apart. Even if you still never talked to me again afterwards I needed to explain. To make sure you understood that it wasn’t just you who felt how you did.”

He laughs a little, sheepish, like he’s embarrassed. “I guess I overdid it with the trip through history, though. Just wanted you to know I was looking at you, too.”

You’re staring at him and he’s staring at the ground, neither of you seemingly knowing what to say to fill the following silence, when you see another thought shadow over his face and his gaze find you again.

“And I didn’t want you to think it was because of Mark.”

The mention of your brother snaps you out of your stunned reverie in an instant. "What?"

“I was scared of changing things between both me and you and me and him, back then. He didn’t tell me anything about you. I— That’s something I needed to say no matter what. I didn’t want you to think he’d do something like that.”

Without really meaning to, your eyes narrow.

Because. Well. Despite the words that have literally just left his lips about why you weren’t supposed to blame Mark for Lee Jeno never telling you how he felt while he still felt it, Mark Lee is already not your favorite person right now, and tar-like agitation bubbles to the surface anyway.

“So he might not have said anything to you. Okay. Sure. But because of the way he acted, you were under the impression that you’d lose him as a friend if you did like me. Right? You told me that yourself. You refused to even acknowledge the idea that you might’ve ‘liked me like that’ because it was clear how Mark felt about anyone who showed even the slightest interest in me. You said you ‘knew better.’”

You try to scoff. It comes out a little more like a sad, tired huff instead. “So yeah, actually, I think I will continue to think that Mark is the reason you didn’t say anything, because that’s the truth. He spent years and years and years finding something wrong with every guy who looked in my direction and because you felt like he’d throw you away too, you knew how I felt and did nothing when you felt the same way. No matter how you slice it, that’s what happened. That’s why I’m— That’s why I was so upset on the balcony. You understand that, right? Because if he hadn’t, Jeno, then things might’ve—”

Worked out for us, is what you’d been about to say, before you caught yourself.

Chills blossom up your spine. Wow. If those words aren’t a shrapnel-loaded bomb of obvious longing and regret, a flashing neon-sign clear with your inability to get the hell over the past, then you don’t know what is.

You must still be drunk. Or exhausted.

“He’s your best friend. We’re never going to see it the same way.”

The next words feel so heavy on your tongue, but you manage a smile anyway. “But you can forget about it now, if that’s what’s been keeping you up all week. Everything’s out now, right?”

Everything is clearly not out, if his split-second-too-long beat of silence means anything. But for your own sanity you pretend you don’t notice it. You pretend you can’t feel the tension underneath his perfectly blank expression, you pretend that your own secrets aren’t heating up in your mouth like hot coals, you pretend— like you’ve been doing a lot in his presence lately— that you’re completely fine with everything and anything and all of this especially. You’re fine.

You will be fine.

“Right,” Jeno says. “All out. So we’re… okay?”

“We’re okay.”

“No more avoiding?”

“Avoid—?”

Avoiding. Yeah. The past few hours have been such a clusterfuck that you nearly forgot the last six days of pointedly being anywhere other than where he was, pawning off the ‘coincidence’ on preparing for the showcase.

“I wasn’t… avoiding you. Not totally. Not explicitly. I was busy.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You haven’t looked in my direction once since last weekend. I was starting to think you’d seriously never talk to me again.”

You scowl. “Are you going to sit here and tell me you’re confused about why I might not have wanted to see you so soon after what happened on the balcony? Embarrassment was eating me alive. You should be lucky I stuck to being busy, instead of going with the Plan B of faking my own kidnapping.”

He laughs. Your eyes flicker back to him. The sound is soft and muted but it’s real; his eyes disappearing with it, the first time in what feels like days that the smile has really reached the rest of his face. It’s more reassuring than it has any right to be. When he says his next words, standing up to head for the kitchen, you can even manage a genuine smile in return.

“You didn’t sleep away your appetite, right?”

And of course you didn’t.

Actually, once you’re reminded of the pizza sitting on the coffee table (this time without anxiety subduing the hunger in your stomach) you realize that you’re properly ravenous; the last things you’d consumed today were a chocolate muffin and four cherry-flavored jello shots. And the hunger is clear, probably, in how you’re already halfway through a slice when Jeno returns with a pair of plates and two popped soda cans.

The game show (apparently European in production and definitely weirder than previously assumed) somehow becomes the main entertainment while you both eat; X-Men First Class isn’t brought up again despite it still clearly spinning around in the DVD player.

Things stay quiet.

Not the loaded kind of quiet, or any sort of painfully awkward silence. Just… quiet. Oddly relaxing. Much too comfortable. Once you’re done stuffing yourself, your fingers wiped of tomato sauce remnants and soda long ago finished, the couch pulls you further and further into its pillow-like cushions with every passing minute.

The first thing that either of you say after half an hour is when Jeno asks you for a translation for an English thing a contestant says that the subtitles don't catch, and your response comes after a badly stifled yawn. He, unfortunately, notices this.

“Why are you torturing yourself by staying up to watch this? If you’re tired, go to sleep.”

“M’ not that tired,” is your automatic reply. “And I want to know who wins. Cassandra needs that Prius.”

He sniffs under his breath, quietly, like you’re already asleep and he’s trying not to rouse you. You probably look half gone— you’re staring at the TV through slits, your posture on his couch closer to horizontal than vertical— but you don’t want to admit that you’re running on empty. Maybe it’s residual little-sister-ism, refusal to agree simply because someone else suggested it first, but admitting that you’re spent feels like defeat when he still looks completely conscious.

“This is a rerun.” Jeno clicks something on the remote. “Of a show from 2012. You could just look up what happened to Cassandra.”

“Not the same. I need to see her win live, so she can rub it into Helen’s face. She’s so snooty.”

A beat, and then Jeno hums. “She is snooty, yeah, but the show has another ten minutes left. She’s going to be snooty for another five of those before the finale. Why don’t you brush your teeth in the meantime? Since you’re not tired?”

The lilt of his voice makes you glance at him. It’s familiar. Mark trying to convince you not to eat an entire bag of candy at once, Mark trying to bribe you with a popsicle to get you to do your homework, Mark trying to trick you into accidentally getting ready for bed by challenging you to a race.

Distantly you wonder if this tone, too, is another thing Jeno has subconsciously picked up over the years from watching how your brother interacts with you.

“You don’t need to baby me, you know.”

“Of course I know. Only babies make up reasons to stay up when they’re clearly exhausted. You’re not a baby. Right?”

You can’t even glare. It would give away that he’s completely onto you. And yet, he smiles like he’s already got you in the bag.

“Exactly,” you mutter, “No babies here.”

“So you understand that Cassandra will still be around when you’re done washing up?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Come on.”

And he’s up off the couch before he can even catch your rolled eye. Annoying.

Even more annoying is the fact that he’s right. He didn’t say as much when he’d suggested you brush your teeth sooner rather than later, but you knew it was because he thought you didn’t have much longer in you, that you were going to be too far gone in fifteen minutes to have any energy left to get to your feet and wash up— once you get through opening the new toothbrush he gives you, speeding through scrubbing each of your molars with his absurdly fancy toothpaste (because of course he has Premium Ultra Mega Super White Charcoal Anti-Cavity in Spearmint and Sunshine sitting on his counter instead of a regular man’s Colgate, considering all of the perfect teeth sitting in his mouth)— and as soon as you flop back down onto the couch just in time to watch snooty Helen get her comeuppance, a physical weariness settles into your bones and all but cements you to the couch.

It’s so serious that you don’t even realize your eyes have closed until they fly open again at a shifting of the cushion beside you; Jeno, dropping a giant gray duvet on the couch after returning from the bathroom himself. A duvet. A blanket. Sweet, sweet, sleepy salvation.

“Thanks. This looks perfect.”

“Only one of those is for you.”

“One? There’s more than one here?”

“Yeah.”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m sleeping out here too?”

Holy crap. What? This almost makes you sit all the way up. “What sense does that make, in your own house? Why the hell would you sleep out here when you have a perfectly good bed twenty feet away?”

“Because it’s—” Only now does he seem to realize how odd this looks, “It’s sleepover etiquette.”

“Sleepover etiquette?”

“I don’t know,” he says quickly. “I didn’t make the rules, I’m just used to it happening like this. The only time I sleep in my own bed when someone is over is when Jaemin is here, because he’ll sleep in it even if I don’t, but anyone else, we just divvy it up on the couch. Sleepover etiquette. No one gets the bed, or everyone gets the bed.”

As crazy as it sounds right now, it rings true. At your own sleepovers, anything under five friends and you’d all be piling into the bed of whoever hosted the event: squishing together like giggly sardines, waking up and not knowing where one of you ended and the other one began. But Jeno equating this— your definite last-minute intrusion in his house— to a sleepover? Like this is some every weekend thing?

“As noble of a sacrifice as that is, I can’t ask you to sleep out here. You realize that I’m an interloper, right? That you’re doing me a favor by letting me crash here? Hardly the circumstances of a normal sleepover.”

A long second passes as he appears to genuinely think about this, and for a moment you think he’s going to take your advice and try to get a good night's rest after everything else you’ve demanded of him today, but—

“It’s normal to me. You’re sleeping here tonight. That makes it a sleepover. Which one of these do you want?”

Non-negotiable, he's saying. We’re both sleeping out here, take it or take it, punctuated by him flopping down onto the couch beside the pile of blankets. You want to sigh but you should’ve known. It’s chivalry until the end with Lee Jeno.

So you ignore your brain screaming about how weird this is, you and him out here bunking like buddies, and just take the blanket he hands you. You settle in underneath it, cozier than you’re willing to admit, and refocus your attention on the next thing that’s started on TV after the game show; something just as foreign and bizarre but entertaining enough to keep your attention until the near silence weighs down your eyelids instead.

Mark’s apartment is never this serene. Whether it’s the jet-like humming of the fridge out in the kitchen, or the noisy college students below you and their random but guaranteed twice-a-week smash tournaments, or the rattle of the air conditioner above your bed that you’ve been meaning to look at for nearly a month now.

The quiet is… nice. Weird, but nice. You can hear your own breathing. You can hear Jeno’s breathing too; shallow, slow, and even.

It’s how you know he’s still awake twenty minutes later.

He commented on your snoring but little does he know, he snores too— just not as violently. For the premier of Spider-Man Homecoming coming out on DVD, Mark had a celebratory sleepover in the basement of your parents house that you were cordially invited to (along with two of your own friends,) back in your sophomore year. You all huddled up amongst the couches and recliners with millions of blankets and billions of pillows, everyone just falling asleep wherever they laid; and though you could’ve sworn he’d been halfway across the room when you closed your eyes that night, you’d woken up the next morning with Jeno’s forehead pressed into your shoulder and nearly screamed.

You didn’t, though. You sucked it back down just in time.

Instead, you sat there and ogled him in the still-blue sunlight, reveling in how it was even possible for a human with such sharp bone structure to look so squishy when he slept.

It was also how you noticed that, when he’s asleep, his nose makes this tiny but unmistakable whistling sound— like a tiny person is up there blowing through a kazoo whenever he exhales.

There’s no whistle sound now.

“When did you stop liking me?” you ask.

And to his credit, even though you’re listening very hard for any sort of change, Jeno’s breathing doesn’t miss a measure. There’s just a second of silence before a quiet shift of fabric, maybe like he’s rolling over to face you, but you’re not sure because you’re staring at the ceiling like you might explode if your eyes meet. Which you might.

“I don’t know,” he says, just as plainly as you’d asked. “I don’t remember there being a day where I decided I should.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?” he’s surprisingly quick to add. “When did you stop liking me?”

“...Would it be a cop out if I just said the same?”

“Without a doubt.”

You manage to crack a smile, but a yawn cuts it off. “Sometime after your graduation, I think. I don’t have a concrete day for it or anything. I only remember realizing that while you were gone, I was thinking about you less and less. After a while the idea of you stopped…” Hurting, as much. “Hovering.”

“Right,” he says. “Yeah. That makes sense." He clears his throat. "That you’d forget me a little, I mean. Once you started going out more.”

Another yawn on your end. This time your eyes aren’t as eager to reopen, and the exhale saps the very last ounce of energy you’ve got. What time is it? One? One-thirty?

Majorly past your bedtime.

“I didn’ forget you,” you reply belatedly, but it comes out more like a murmur, a little lost in the noise of you shifting around to get more comfortable. “There’s no forgetting someone like you.”

If he said something in response it was either too quiet to be heard through your cocoon of blankets or simply came after you fell too deep into the first REM cycle. Distantly you thought you heard something, a breath of an answer, but by the time you placed it as a possibly whispered, “You either,” you were already much, much too far gone.

Pancakes.

You wake up to the smell of pancakes.

Jeno’s apartment looks so different in the sunlight that for a second, even though the memories of last night trickle back faster than expected once you open your eyes, you almost don’t recognize the place when you sit up.

Snapshots pop into your brain like fireworks as the seconds tick on; the showcase, the party, punching Jeon Soyeon in the face. Your brother’s best friend driving you to his house as you cried in the aftermath, confessing his feelings two years past the expiry date, the both of you falling asleep out here like you’re a couple of old pals who do this sort of song and dance all the time.

In the span of 24 hours, you’ve faced more highs and lows than you have all year.

And before you can even wipe the crusties from your eyes, the worry sets in.

Soyeon wasn’t popular for no reason— would her minions be coming after you, now? Had they already started? Bombarding your social media, spreading rumors, flocking protectively around their Queen Bee after you dared to lose your temper on her last night? What fresh hell would you be walking into when you finally checked your phone?

And what about Somi? You’d probably left her with quite the mess after causing such a scene; did the party continue alright? Did you ruin the cheerful atmosphere? You didn’t even get to say goodnight.

And… And Mark, too.

But you weren’t even sure where to start when it came to him.

God. Maybe for the sake of your currently-not-awful mood, you should just not start. About him, or last night, or any of the things that are surely going to be a pain in the ass to deal with in the following days. Those headaches will still be there in a few hours— sorting out the most immediate issue of the person who’s house you’re hiding in, will not.

It’s a sunny, cloudless morning in Seoul.

You turn to the smell of the pancakes and find Jeno standing in his kitchen with one earbud in, back to you. He’s bobbing his head and murmuring under his breath as he flips the batter in the pan, head to toe in what looks to be work-out gear; black leggings under charcoal basketball shorts, one of those skin tight athletic tanks stretched taut across what you can see of his shoulder blades from your dent in his couch.

You’re in the middle of being annoyed at how broad he is when, despite being careful to not to ruffle the blankets or anything, Jeno glances behind him. You’re caught off guard by it— because what the hell? Does he have a secret eyeball hiding amongst those locks of inky black hair?— but then you belatedly understand that it’s the lack of noise that’s tipped him off. With how violently you snore, a sudden silence is basically your jingling cat-bell of attention. Annoying.

“I was just about to wake you up,” he says. “Do you mind flipping the last few of these so I can take a shower really quick? Breakfast is just about done.”

“You went to the gym?”

It’s less a question, more of an observation, but Jeno hums in agreement. “The one in the building, I didn’t leave you for too long. I would’ve waited until tonight if I didn’t already know that you never wake up before 11.”

There’s a momentary blip of something odd in your brain at the concept of him just knowing something like that about you, but it’s gone— by force— as fast as it appears.

“Okay. Just have to flip?”

“Just have to flip.”

And so you just flip. Jeno passes you with a smile as he leaves the kitchen, looking the perfect picture of casual, as if this is an everyday experience. It’s so casual that it makes you wonder how this might look to an outsider, someone with no context for what last night was like— and then it makes you acutely aware of how loudly the 15 year-old version of you would be hollering right now if she could see five years into the future and witness this scene herself. You, in Jeno’s clothes, flipping pancakes in his kitchen on a beautiful Saturday morning, as he showers in the bathroom you’d shared last night, washing the toil and sweat of physical exertion off of his body.

Yeah. Without context? 15 year-old you probably would’ve screamed until her head exploded.

Jeno thankfully isn’t gone for long, and by the time you hear the faucet turn off, you’ve finished with the very last pancake. You pile it on top of the half a dozen others, a beautiful stack of fluffy dough and sugar. (And, okay, sure, you’d gotten a liberal with the chocolate chips on the last few after realizing you’d misjudged the cooking time on some of the earlier ones and left them chocochipless, overcompensating by pouring all of the remaining dollops into the last two or three for the sake of not wasting them— but whatever. Even with the gooey, more-chocolate-than-bread pancakes sitting on top, your work could surely still make the cover of a Martha Stuart cookbook.)

You don’t see him come out because you’re moving the plate of food to his dining table, but you know he’s close because he laughs when he spots the brown pancakes. You know he’s laughing at the brown pancakes, because:

“You’re really pushing the limit of what can be considered breakfast with that last one there, don’t you think?”

“You’re not going to care what meal of the day this is once you actually taste it.”

“Why? Because it’s hard to tell the time when you’re in a sugar-induced coma?”

You sniff. “If you’re so worried about your health you could always let me have it. I made a few that don’t have any chips. You can have those sad ones then.”

A moment passes and you turn to look at him. Bad choice. Hip bones and pale skin everywhere— it’s like a flash-bang of narrow waist, courtesy of Jeno raising his arms (and therefore the hem of his t-shirt) to dry the last drops of water from his hair with the towel he’s brought out with him. You rip your eyes back to setting the table before he notices, feeling like your eyeballs have just been physically zapped.

“I never said I was worried about my health,” he replies, wandering a little further into the kitchen. “Split it with me?”

There’s no need for that. There’s like, three of them. We can each have one. But for some reason you instead say, “Only if I get the half that has more chips.”

“I thought that was already obvious,” he smiles in return.

Fifteen minutes later, with two-thirds of your stack messily decimated and his entire plate basically as clean as it was when it came out of the cupboard, Jeno must decide that your morning of peace has gone on for long enough.

“Mark called me last night,” he announces.

(Technically he says it very normally, at a perfectly acceptable volume for general conversation, but because you’d both lapsed into silence after a few sentences of small talk at the table— a compliment from him about your showcase, about how cool you’d looked up there, how impressive your choreography was; a mumbled thanks from you, that there was another one happening after winter break— it comes out like an announcement anyway. An announcement you’re none too happy to hear.)

You’re hoping he doesn’t notice how your face goes a little stiff. “Did he?”

“Mm. He said he got worried because you weren’t answering your phone.”

You probably would’ve been dodging his calls regardless but the truth is that your phone is still somewhere in Gawon’s car and has probably been since before the party even started. You’d realized that last night, after changing your clothes in his bathroom and not finding it in any of your jacket’s nooks and crannies; seeing in your mind the exact door pocket you’d left it in, then thinking you’d definitely remember to grab it before you got out. You didn’t.

You could only imagine the carnage of notifications you’ve amassed since last night.

“And?”

“And, once I told him you were alright here, he said he’d leave a voice message that he wanted me to pass on to you. I told him I’d let you hear it in the morning once you had the energy, after you slept off whatever was in your system.”

Hesitantly, you meet his eyes.

“Are you ready for that?” he asks carefully. “I haven’t listened to it, if you want to be alone when it plays.”

“What’s the point in that? It’s not like he isn’t going to relay my scolding to you later anyway. Press it.”

“He’s not going to scold you—”

You flick your gaze at him, silently asking if he really wants to get into this again, and apparently he thinks better of whatever gushingly optimistic sentence he’d been about to follow up that observation with. “Please just press it.”

He presses it.

“Hey— Hey, tiger.”

And then Mark is here. Vocally. In the flesh. Through the uncomfortably clear speakers in his best friend’s phone.

“I hope you’re doing better than you were when I last saw you.”

The cadence of his voice twists up your lungs for a reason you can’t immediately place, and then you realize it’s because he’s speaking in English, which he only resorts to when he has too many things to say and not enough ways to say them. This makes your insides sink even further.

“Listen, before I get sidetracked, I want you to know that I know what I did was… stupid. The last thing I should’ve done was help her up after what she said, but I— I was so angry that I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t know about any of… that stuff, you and her hanging out or whatever, until she said it, and that probably would’ve ticked me off anyway because of some other things I had going on with her, but then she mentioned whatever happened there— that she apparently left you at some night club, alone, with some fucking guy—?”

A sigh and a ruffle this time, like he’s passing his hand over his face in agitation. It takes so much for him to curse in front of you and yet he’d just dropped the most serious one of them all like it was nothing. But while this would usually send your blood running cold, it doesn’t. Because it… it kind of doesn’t sound like he’s actually mad at you. What?

“I asked her if it was true because I was so... Honestly I didn’t realize how it looked until after you left, you know? Like I was siding with her or something? I asked her if it was true because I couldn’t believe that she’d do something like that to you. Not because I would’ve ever trusted her word over yours or something, she’s already proven… God, okay, this message is already at like, two minutes…”

Another sigh. This one is much more miserable than the previous.

For some stupid, distant reason, as the shock wears on from the realization that he isn’t mad at you, you find yourself wondering if Jeno is having a hard time following along. The only class he’d ever come close to failing in high school was English.

“Can you just call me? Please? Or better yet, can you just let Jeno drive you home? I’ll explain everything so much better once you’re in front of me. M’ sorry, again that I… You’ve got a great right hook by the way. You shouldn’t have punched her, violence is never ever the answer. But she was leaking like a faucet for long after you left, Tiger— might’ve snapped something in there. Really laid her out.” A short, weak laugh, and then,“Yeah. Please call. Or come home? Please.”

The message ends with a cheerful beep.

And you sit there in silence for a good, long moment.

Because that wasn’t anything like the drawing-and-quartering you were expecting.

If anything, Mark actually sounded angry on your behalf. He’d helped Soyeon up, probably without thinking, because he was asking her if she’d really done something that awful to you. Not because he actually…

“You’re gonna let me do what he wants right?”

Jeno’s expression had, at some point during your staring off into space, contorted the closest you think you’ve ever seen it get to an outright, I told you so. And you guess he did. You didn’t get scolded.

“I— I was going to stop at my friend's house to get my phone,” you say, still a little shocked. “Left it in her car last night before I got to the party.”

“Where does she live?”

“Gamyeon.”

Jeno only shrugs. “We'll pitstop then.”

“You— You’re going to drive me all the way to Gamyeon?”

“Isn’t it only twenty minutes out of the way?” He blinks. “How were you going to get it before I was going to take you home?”

“I… I was pretty gungho about sneaking out of here at the crack of dawn via Uber, last night?” It comes out like a guilty question. “I had a bit of a plan of action. But that was before I woke up to the smell of pancakes, of course…”

“The pancakes you didn’t know I was making until half an hour ago? At 11AM?” he asks innocently. “If what you really mean is that getting up at the crack of dawn turned out to be a little ambitious for you, you can just—”

Jeno laughs as your hand shoots out to swat him. He smartly decides to change the subject, and this new topic ends up being about the dishes; specifically about him loading them into the dishwasher while you go and gather your belongings into the little drawstring book bag he’d left by the bathroom for you. When you ask him why you don’t just change back into what you had on last night so he doesn’t have to go without his hoodie and sweatpants for however long it takes you to do laundry, he shrugs it off. “You look more comfortable in this than the dress. And I’m at your place more often than I’m in my own, it’s not like I’ll miss it for too long. Keep it for now.”

(And you can’t argue with that. Especially not when he’s right. These sweatpants are way nicer than the tightly ribbed-nylon of Gawon’s mini dress.)

While brushing your teeth, you wonder what to do with the toothbrush.

Leaving it feels… odd. In a stupid way it almost feels like you’d be leaving it to return to. Like there’s any chance that after today you’ll ever be spending another unannounced night in this apartment, which there isn’t if you’ll have anything to do about it. But taking the toothbrush with you, or throwing it away, feels weird too.

In the end you decide to just toss it in your bag and take it back to Mark’s. Jeno won’t say anything about it, you know he won't, but if he miraculously does seem to care, you can just say that you’ve been meaning to get a new toothbrush and that it’s not like he has any use for this one anymore anyway. Maybe you’ll even offer to give him five bucks to make up for the thievery. (God, why are you thinking so hard about this? Like he's going to waste his time chasing you down for a fucking toothbrush?)

And after all that brainpower he doesn’t even say anything. Once he comes out after using the bathroom himself, if he’s even noticed it missing he doesn’t let it show. He just asks if you’re ready to go, and when you nod, that’s the end of it. He leads you out, follows you down the corridor, and then pushes the button for the elevator to come and pick you both up. Easy as pie.

It’s only when you’re in the descending cabin that it hits you, that this is the last time you’ll be here.

You try not to think too hard about why your lips inherently want to frown at that idea.

Twenty minutes to Gamyeon feels more like five, with how much catastrophizing you’re doing in the passenger's seat. Soyeon and her crew will have surely started the city-wide search for you by now, right? Should you be telling Jeno to take back roads? To roll his windows up on this beautiful late August afternoon, so no one from SNU recognizes either of you from the party and tries to run you both off the road? God.

“Can I borrow your phone?” you blurt.

And even though you’d literally asked him for it, you’re a little astounded when he just hands the thing over without question. You shouldn’t be though. He’d done the same thing with the music change request three weeks ago.

(Still no password, either, when you swipe at the screen. What is this guy's problem?)

“Do you need to call someone?”

“No,” you murmur, already scanning through the pages to find Twitter, “I want to see if Soyeon put a hit out for me yet.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

You blink over, a little dubious that even someone as sweet as him can’t fathom why Soyeon could have it out for you after what you did, but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

“Uh, I don’t know, Jeno. There’s a possibility that she might be a little upset since I punched her in the face a few hours ago.”

“You didn’t even hit her that hard.”

You balk at him. “Did you not hear the part where Mark said I might’ve broken her nose?”

“I did.”

“And it’s confusing to you that she might be really, really mad at me for that?”

“No,” Jeno mutters. “It’s confusing to me that you think she wouldn’t have come to her senses by now, considering how close she came to getting her ass kicked last night. As far as she knows the only reason you didn’t get to finish her off was because I got in your way. If Soyeon isn’t stupid, she’ll understand that it’s in her best interest to stay off your radar from now on.”

He sounds so unsympathetic that your jaw nearly drops. And he’s not even done. Like your worry has uncorked his own agitation, now.

“I wouldn't have pulled you off of her if I’d known that she was the one who sent that freak out after you behind the bar, by the way. I didn’t hear anything either of you said before you hit her. if I knew why, I would’ve let you get a few more swings in, at least. Sorry.”

“Sorry! You’re apologizing for not letting me beat someone else up?”

“Yes,” he says unflinchingly. “This once. Don’t go around getting in fights for the hell of it though, I won’t be there to haul you to the cool-down corner every time.”

He’s joking now, lightness returning to his smile as he turns into Gawon’s neighborhood, but you’re still a little stuck on how serious he’d gotten just now. Never in your life would you have expected Jeno to be in your corner when it came to your less than stellar impulse control; and not only condone it, but applaud it, just because Soyeon had done something that could’ve gotten you hurt.

...Jeez. Something like appreciation (but more ravenous and embarrassing) worms its way into your heart. You allowed it to simmer there for a one warm, full second before stamping it out with the heel of self-preservation.

You don’t even get to check Twitter. Gawon’s apartment building is more squat than most, only four cozy stories all encapsulated within an open-air stairwell, which means you can keep an eye on Jeno’s car all the way up to your friend’s front door. Coming unannounced, you’ve already prepared yourself for the possibility of her not being home (and therefore having to deal with her scary roommate instead) but thank God, it’s her round sleepy face that opens the door after your quick three knocks against the wood.

She doesn’t remain sleepy looking for long though.

"Holy shit!” And without greeting, Gawon yanks you into her house. “You— Well, first things first, you’re here for your phone, right? Let me go and get it, I brought it inside, but bitch, you have some explaining to do!”

Considering how loud she’s being, the scary roommate must not be home this weekend. You wince. You’ll be getting the full degree, then.

“People are texting me that I haven’t talked to in months just because they know I’m friends with you! Does that make sense?”

“It’s that bad?” you ask warily, as she disappears into her bedroom.

“Bad? Is what bad?”

“Soyeon’s warpath.”

“Soyeon?” Gawon returns to her living room with your phone in hand, eyes wider than you’re expecting. “Uh. No. After last night—” She frowns. “You haven’t talked to your brother yet?”

“No? I haven’t been home since before the showcase. And your car ate my phone so I haven’t really talked to anyone else since last night either.”

But her eyes get even bigger, if that’s possible.

“So you have no idea what happened after Lee Jeno plucked you out of there, then?”

“No.” Your grimace is nearly audible as you sit down, sensing trouble. “You guys didn’t just laugh, turn the music up, and party even harder? You know, like I was hoping you’d all do after that mess I caused?”

“Oh, yeah, we did that,” Gawon says with an unconvincingly casual shrug, before finding your eye and trying (and failing) to hide her widening grin. “After your brother tore Soyeon apart in front of everyone for fucking you over!”

“He— What?”

“Dude, it was crazy, Mark— I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him raise his voice even once but the second the door shut after Jeno took you away, whatever it was she said that made you punch her finally seemed to compute in his head, you know? And he just went, ‘You left her alone with someone she told you was creeping her out?’ like, so loudly that you’d swear it was just the two of them in that whole house!”

For the second time in ten minutes, your jaw has hit the floor.

“And I thought Soyeon would start yelling back at him or something, but she’s just standing there staring at him like she’s stunned, probably that it’s him of all people laying into her, saying that he almost can't believe how selfish and pitiful she is, but oh yeah, yes he can, because only someone that doesn’t have respect for themselves would do she did to him last year; that he would’ve helped her if she just asked. And you should’ve seen her face when he said that. It looked like she’d seen a ghost.And he didn’t even air out whatever it was that she did, which I’m salty about, because… What did she do, you know? I’m so curious! But whatever, that’s not even the best part.”

Not the best part? How? This is pretty fucking insane to you already.

“Mark backed up after dropping that bomb like he was about to leave, to go after you maybe, but then he turned and got right back in Soyeon’s face, and said, ‘I don’t want to see you in front of her again, Soyeon. Take this advice as my parting gift, yeah? Because she’s not going to let you get away with only a graze next time, and you better believe that I’m not going to get in her way either.’” Gawon squeals. “All badass like that, I almost fucking screamed! He and all his friends left after that but I swear everyone was talking about it for the rest of the party. Your brother probably has quite a few new admirers…”

You’re staring at her in an awed silence. Mark stood up for you, too. After hearing everything Soyeon said, he still stood up for you. It really wasn’t like how you thought it went at all.

A few hours ago you’d thought your brother was done with you for real, and that Soyeon would be coming for you with pitchforks for embarrassing her in front of all those people at Somi’s party. And now you’re learning that, without your input at all, those two problems have sort of canceled each other out. Your brother threatened Soyeon into leaving you alone on your behalf.

(And if you weren’t so weirdly flattered, you might’ve been incredibly offended. What is it with him and Jeno and talking like you’re some sort of rabid dog that goes around fucking people up for fun? You’re not that violent!)

“That’s… kind of awesome,” you admit, trying not to smile as you stand up from her couch. “And very, very reassuring. Thanks for the rundown. Maybe I’ll actually be able to show my face on campus on Monday without worrying that I’m about to be struck by a G-Wagon.”

Gawon laughs as she follows you back to the entryway. The two of you chat about a few smaller things before you tell her you have to go, mostly about the plans for dance class on Monday now that the showcase is over and how worried Somi was about you after you left in such a tizzy last night, when she stops you right after cracking open her front door.

“But you know,” she begins, “None of that was what I was referring to when I said you had some explaining to do, missy.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No! Well, people were talking about it, sure, but not nearly as much as the other thing you did in front of everyone last night.”

“Which was?”

“Elope.”

You blink at her.

“I’m talking about the denim-wearing superhero that swooped in to save you from yourself. Hello? Lee Jeno?”

Oh. Your expression flips from confusion to alarm in the blink of an eye.

“People were talking about that? What is there to talk about? He’s my brother's friend!”

“Duh. That’s why people were talking about it. You know how much they love to make up stories about who-was-seen-doing-what-with-who. And honestly even as your friend I have to say that it was pretty fucking crazy last night watching this guy practically teleport across the room to get to you. And yes, you argue that he’s your brother's friend, blah blah, it’s obvious that he’d help, blah, but you fail to notice that Lee Jeno was standing around in a group of all your brother's other friends too. Why didn’t any of the others do something, then? Why specifically Lee Jeno— especially when that guy is the most quiet and subdued of the lot of them? Everyone was tittering about that.”

Her face slips into something a little more suspicious when you only swallow unsurely. Unsure, because you actually don’t know either. You, obviously, had been a little preoccupied before Jeno appeared behind you; you had no clue what he or the others had been doing in the moments before he hauled you outside. Learning that he’d been the only one out of all of them to jump into action makes you feel off-center.

“But as the awesome friend that I am, I told all the people who came up to me looking for details to get lost, because I’d obviously be one of the first to know if you had something going on with Basketball Hottie, and I don’t. And I was telling the truth, right? I would know if something was going on there. Right?”

“Of course!” you reassure quickly. “Which is why you don’t know. Because nothing is going on there. Nothing will be going on. Ever.”

She squints.

“I’m serious! Jeno’s just a really good guy. Super chivalrous, down to the bones. He takes his duty as Mark’s best friend very personally, so he gets involved in stuff with me that the others might not figure out as fast. It’s nothing crazy.”

Another beat passes before she unfurls her arms. “…Okay. I mean, I assumed as much. It makes sense. Especially since Somi said you’ve all known each other for something like, a hundred years— no wonder that he’d basically see you as a sister too after so long, I guess.”

You’re not at all expecting that statement to sting, but it does, in a surprisingly raw way.

At least Gawon doesn’t notice your smile falter, because she’s too busy asking her final question as you step out past her front door. “How’d you get here this early, anyway? Cab?”

“Ah, no. Jeno—”

It comes out without thought, a millisecond before you realize the mistake you’re about to make. Both you and Gawon freeze, staring at each other in the silence that follows, before she goes, “Jeno brought you here? But you said you didn’t go home last night.”

Then, as your head swung back and forth in refusal but no explanation came out with it, she tilted her own head in disbelief. “Where… Where did you sleep, then?”

And the final killing blow comes as her eyes drift down almost absentmindedly to the chest of your gray sweatshirt. Jeno’s sweatshirt. Seoul National University Basketball, it says, splashed boldly across the front. Direct. Recognizable. Unmistakable.

You turn around and start to run right as Gawon gasps in pure, wanton betrayal. There’s no explaining this. Not now. Not today. Even if you had an hour to spare right now to sit down and relay every second that passed last night in a way that made her understand this absolutely isn’t what it looks like— which is that you’re totally lying about nothing going on between you and Lee Jeno— Gawon only believes what her eyes physically see in front of her, and even you aren’t naive enough to think that this won’t be the most glaringly suspicious thing she has ever seen.

You’re halfway down the stairs when her voice catches up with you.

“It’s nothing crazy, huh? It’s nothing crazy, you liar! Just wait until I catch you on Monday, girl! We’ll see exactly what’s not crazy between you and Mr.Chivalrous!”

Approximately two minutes after closing the front door behind yourself after walking into your brother’s apartment, you’re crying again. Mark is too. He’s the one that started it. It’s just a lot of tears all around.

Everything kind of comes out at once. It begins as spewed apologies on both ends for last night specifically— him for ever letting things get bad enough that you’d genuinely think he’d ever choose someone else over you, and you for being such a brat for the last few weeks (the last few months) when you’d always known deep down that he only ever did the things that annoyed you out of desire to keep you safe— and then it unfurls into apologies for everything, eon-old grudges that were held for no other reason than something to lord over the others head, grievances that turned out to just be the miscommunications, the type of things that immediately stop mattering in the long run when people remember that they can lose each other easier than they think.

After about a half an hour of this (what Mark used to call ‘coming home’ when you were younger, the inevitable rekindling after a period of heightened fighting between you both) you both come away with a few things to think about.

For him? It’s official. You’re not a kid anymore, and he shouldn’t still be treating you like one. No more attempting to put curfews on you, or telling you where you can and can’t go, or telling his friends to censor themselves when they’re over because of your precious and innocent ears, amongst his other million older-brother-isms. You’re both adults now. He can suggest things. He can speak to you like he would his friends about the things you do that worry him. No more lectures. (Unless you do something really, unarguably stupid, he caveats.)

For you? A serious, genuine attempt towards better decision making.

You’ve been bestowed a new motto to ponder every time an opportunity arises for mischief in your life. What Would Mark Lee Do? A question meant to make you really think about whether the thing you’re thinking about doing is going to make your brother crazy. And if it is? Then you have to tell him about it in advance, so he can at least bail you out if it goes belly up.

And that’s honestly perfectly fine with you.

The last rule he slips in revolves around your tendency to disappear without warning. Absolutely no more sneaking around, he says. If you exit this apartment when he’s not home, he gets to know about when and where. Not because I don't trust you, he’d been quick to add, but because the world itself can be a scary place sometimes. Which you don’t exactly… disagree with. Especially after this most recent incident at Nabi Bar.

You’d pushed back a little bit on this one though, preemptively annoyed by the thought of having to text him every single time you leave— your friends liked spontaneity, early morning brunches or midnight-sets at EDM pop-ups— and you were a chronic charger-forgetter, often running out of this place with only thirty-percent or less to your name. You didn’t like the idea of his trust teetering on nothing but your (admittedly sub-par) ability to remember to do certain things before you left the house.

Mark only pulled his own phone out in response.

You watched him tap a few things, swipe, and then turn the screen around to show you the order he’d just placed for two succinct little items: a brand new Apple AirTag and a cute, neon-green pom-pom keychain to stick it into.

“To match the color of your phone case,” he said cheerily. “Put it on your keys, and you’ll never have to worry about forgetting! Perfect, right?”

Yep, you smiled sarcastically. Perfect. Like one might an excitable dog, or a toddler with a tendency to run, you’ve been given your very own tracker.

(He knows you’re kidding. It’s built into the Little Sister Gene to complain, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re actually rather pleased by the compromise. Less secrets means less stress, and it’s not like he’s doing it so he can watch you like a hawk or anything— it’s for those times he can’t reach you and just wants to know where you are. You’ll wear that pretty little piece of technology on your wrist like the hottest new Cartier bangle if it means going where you want, when you want, without worrying about worrying your brother.)

It’s half past one when the conversation loosens up to other things, like you demanding the play-by-play of what he’d said to Soyeon and him flushing up to his ears as obliged, embarrassed in hindsight by how angry he’d gotten (but not regretting it, he’d sheepishly admitted), and then to the concept of lunch, Mark offering to fry something up while you get a head-start on the mountain of homework you’ve been neglecting for studio time ahead of the showcase.

It’s a quiet afternoon, which you’re thankful for. Whether it’s because Mark simply hadn’t planned for the others to come over or because he expressly told them not to, it ends up just being you two, a family-sized bag of Doritos, and a few episodes of Running Man.

(You hadn’t realized just how much you missed it until then. How much you missed him. How long it’s been since you’ve done something like this without waiting for the other shoe to drop— for him to get mad at you for something you did or didn’t do, for you to get mad at him for getting mad at you. And it’s kind of embarrassing tearing up while people fall and slip and slide through an obstacle course covered in dish soap, so you tell Mark that it’s because you got a fleck of cool ranch dust in your eye when he turns to look at you after your sniffle comes out a bit wet.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe you, and a week ago you can’t help but think that this would’ve led to an interrogation. Is something wrong? What happened? Did something happen? Are you in trouble again? What did you do?

But today he lets it go. He stares at you for a second, hands you a napkin, pinches your cheek, and then lets it go.

And that almost makes you cry again for real.)

The evening sun creeps down in the sky like a thief, a cloudless day melting into a brilliant dusk; all of the windows in Mark’s apartment are drawn and the living room is lit up like the inside of a tangerine lamp. You’re lazing around on the couch while your brother showers, deeply entrenched in a Cup Pong battle Somi (which had only come about after she facetimed you, demanding that you spill all detail about what the hell happened while she was down in the car park last night, to which you’d somewhat begrudgingly relayed the story yet again: Mark, Soyeon, The Punch, Jeno, Jeno’s apartment, etc., and she’d cursed at you for being apologetic for causing a scene in her house because ‘that bitch totally deserved it,’ she insisted) when an unexpected name pops down from the top of your screen.

An unexpected name boasting an even more unexpected message.

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Found your earring in my bathroom

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Guess it fell out sometime last night

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] You want me to come drop it off tonight?

[You, 7:12PM] ???

[You, 7:12PM] what sense does that make

[You, 7:12PM] you would come over here just to drop off a singular earring??

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Juyeon is throwing a house warming party three blocks from you guys, I'm already in the area

[You, 7:12PM] oh. well. it’s not like you don’t come over every other day anyway

[You, 7:12PM] just bring it with you next time

[You, 7:12PM]…thank you for finding it though

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] No problem

That’s more definitive of a metaphorical hanging-up of the phone than anything, isn’t it? You thought so for about thirty solid seconds, scrolling back over to your thread with Somi and distractedly taking another shot at Cup Pong, before you were proven wrong.

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] Okay I was also asking because I wanted to see if you were alright

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] You and Mark, I mean

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] After I dropped you off this morning I already felt a little bit like I’d thrown you into a pressure cooker with nothing but a thumbs up

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] Then he texted the group chat an hour later to tell all of us to get lost, that his place was off limits for the rest of the day even though he’d already had a movie night planned. I figured that meant your chat with him either went really, really poorly, or that you two were just catching up and didn’t want to be interrupted

[Lee Jeno, 7:13PM] I thought if I saw you with my own eyes I’d know the difference, but with just the text alone, I’m having a hard time…

Oh. Wow. He’s never texted you this many words or this many times before. And just to check in, too?

[You, 7:14PM] no need to worry !! we made up in a pretty big way actually

[You, 7:14PM] after you left we had the big sit-down and figured a lot of things out

[You, 7:14PM] he probably told you not to come over because he has like eight million Tiktoks he’s been wanting to show me that he couldn’t because we were fighting, and now that we’re okay again he plans on holding me hostage until I laugh at every single one

[You, 7:14PM] these last few hours have been a bit of a nightmare in that sense but otherwise it’s

[You, 7:14PM] good?

[You, 7:14PM] we’re good

[You, 7:14PM] thanks to you

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] I’m just happy to be the chauffeur. Nothing to thank me for

Well… Not quite. Usually you can let the bone-deep chivalry slide, it’s his ‘thing’ after all, but this time the consequences of what could’ve happened are too big to ignore.

[You, 7:14PM] there really is, though

[You, 7:15PM] i don't think Mark and I would’ve gotten out of this as intact as we are without you this weekend

[You, 7:15PM] i really, really do need to thank you

[You, 7:15PM] for this morning

[You, 7:15PM] and for last night

More memories flutter by, different iterations of Lee Jeno unarguably saving your ass from some sort of peril, and you grimace further.

[You, 7:15PM] and two weeks ago, for Nabi Bar.

[You, 7:15PM] and last week, for Wooyoung’s party

[You, 7:15PM] thanks for… everything, really.

[You, 7:15PM] i’m happy you’re Mark’s friend

His bubble comes up for a long, long time after your last message. You watch it disappear and reappear at least twice before his next message comes in… and even then it’s woefully short for how long he’d taken to type it.

[Lee Jeno, 7:16PM] What do you mean?

[You, 7:16PM] i mean that I’m happy Mark… has you

[You, 7:16PM] there aren’t many people that would be nearly as cool as you’ve been about babysitting their best friends sibling so many times, is what I’m saying

[Lee Jeno, 7:16PM] But I wasn’t babysitting you.

Oh. Is that what this air of confusion is about? Semantics? Jeno, the thoughtful guy that he is, not wanting you to see what happened this weekend as babysitting because he doesn’t want to hurt your big-girl feelings?

[You, 7:17PM] ah

[You, 7:17PM] okay

[You, 7:17PM] we won’t call it that, then!!

[You, 7:17PM] Mark is still lucky to have you though

[Lee Jeno, 7:17PM] I didn’t do anything that I did last night because I was thinking about your brother

Again, you can only blink. A reply from Somi pops down for half a second before you swipe it away to reread Jeno’s last text, sitting up in confusion.

[You, 7:12PM] then why did you do it?

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Because it was you

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Nabi Bar, Wooyoung’s, last night, all of it. Everything. The only thing I was thinking about was you.

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Mark didn’t have anything to do with it. He stopped having anything to do with it the second you came back to Seoul.

In the minutes you’ve been focused on the screen, the sunset has bled away most of its brilliant orange. Now the sky is more purple than anything, pale lilac peeking through the buildings across the street. Along with the lack of sunlight, the temperature seems to have dropped in the apartment; the air conditioner’s breeze threatening to raise goosebumps along your cheeks and thighs and knees now that the sun isn’t here to combat it.

But you’re not feeling cold. Quite the opposite, actually.

In a matter of seconds you’ve actually begun to emanate enough heat to rival your elderly Toshiba laptop from 2012.

Your brain kind of feels like that Toshiba too. Like you’ve just clicked the left mouse one too many times and now 100 tabs have all opened up at the exact same instant, all playing the same snippet of audio at maximum volume— You. You. Thinking about you. About you. Worried about you. Just about you— all of them desperately trying to frame those words in a way that doesn’t set off the crush of childhood’s past laying dormant in your head.

But even the delusional part of your brain is pulling a blank on this one.

Because while you may be unhinged about Jeno most of the time, you are not unhinged about Jeno all of the time, and there are moments when even you can’t rationalize your way out of what’s staring you right in the face. Sometimes, however rarely, you see things for what they really are. Or what they are not.

And the string of texts that Jeno has just sent to your phone is not, in any conceivable way, a conversation that makes sense, when not even 24 hours ago you and Jeno essentially shook on the fact that everything would be going back to normal after last night. So we’re okay, he asked. We’re okay, you’d said. And you took that to mean things were on track to return to status quo. You’d go back to greeting each other when he came over, the occasional small talk and string of jokes, nodding at each other on campus, that sort of thing. You’d go back to just being the peripheral little sister. He’d go back to just being your brothers friend. The way life was before that night at Nabi Bar.

But in what world does, ‘He stopped having anything to do with it the second you came back to Seoul,’ fit into that equation at all? In fact— doesn’t that break the equation entirely?

Because what… what would you be to him then, without Mark?

Your lungs stutter a little wantonly. You don’t think you’ve ever asked yourself that question. And now that you have, your mind is prodding at doors it’s never acknowledged the existence of before. When you imagine yourself in his eyes, it’s only ever been through the relationship you have with his best friend; and that, in turn, has colored the way that you react to every single thing he does or says.

If he’s saying now that’s not how he sees you and that’s not how he’s been seeing you, then that re-contextualizes… quite a few things, doesn’t it?

The last three weeks of him going out of his way to help you, for one?

Your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] Things are getting kind of crazy over here, Juyeon just brought out a t-shirt gun so I think I have to go

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] Mark moved movie night to Tuesday. I’ll bring your earring over then, so make sure you’re home. Maybe you can also explain why your toothbrush is missing from my bathroom.

Sure. Perfect. Any way to avoid replying to the previous batch of texts, you’ll accept in a heartbeat. You fire off some half-baked response, a few ‘ha-ha, yeah, totally’s, to disguise just how hard the gears in your head are spinning, though nothing feels very ha-ha yeah once you fling the phone away. You slump back against the couch cushions, even more mentally exhausted than you’d been a few hours ago with Mark.

The only thing I was thinking about was you.

What an insane thing to say, you miff, belatedly embarrassed. You can almost see his mouth forming the words, his voice as deep and annoyingly honest as always. What the hell are you doing, Lee Jeno?

Shit. Are you just reading way too far into this? Or are things really not nearly as okay between you both as he wants you to think they are?

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

a/n: please let me know what you think, this chapter beat my ass left right and sideways... ontwards ch7 my friends...

a/n ii: this chapter is dedicated to @jnnul btw their mention of misdial on their tumblr wrapped cheered me up enough to force myself to sit down and figure this fucking story out LOL

[americanwh0resstuff]

This song is so Blaine coded…

“Life is a velvet crowbar, hitting you over the head, you’re bleeding but you want more…”

-“you’re bleeding to death”

“My baby’s on his eight life darlin…”

“You wanna touch life so hard, why can’t you give it a rest, you’re not that bright for a star, burned yourself out nothing left”

“Flame coloured paradise for you darling, but death doesn’t come with a warning”

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[teddybeartoji]

“look at me, hm?”

toji's voice is barely above a whisper, his words softer than ever. with his hands circled around your middle, he stands there behind you, his chest glued against your back like a big bear. his heavy head rests on your shoulder, eyes locked onto yours in a quiet plea. you think you hear a pout in his tone. 

but you don’t give him a reaction, gaze locked onto the vegetables on the cutting board in front of you.

you’re upset with him and toji feels like he's dying.

all of this just because you're jealous.

because the love of his life is jealous. 

toji only spared her a glance, brushing her off and saying that his partner is waiting for him – she’s the one that went on and on, talking about the milk carton in his hands as if toji had never seen it before. but little do you know, every single word that spilled from the stranger, went in one ear and right out the other – toji couldn’t be less interested in anybody other than you. if you were to crack open his head and take a look around, it’d be all you. you and your laugh, you and your eyes, you and your hands, you and your hobbies. you and you and you. even when he was standing there with the milk carton in his hand, the only thing on his mind was how he’s going to watch you chomp down a big bowl of cereal the next morning. 

you just happened to see the moment the woman leaned closer with a charming smile on her lips and her hand on his forearm while saying her goodbye, and that was enough for the ugly thoughts to bully themselves into your head.

even though you trust toji, you know he doesn’t entertain any flirting attempts that might come his way, but sometimes… sometimes you just can’t help but feel that you might not be enough. what if he did think the woman was more beautiful, or maybe he did find the guy, who asked for his help at the gym the other day, hot? what if he found them more interesting than you, what if he feels himself stuck to you against his will? 

you heard your own words swimming around in your head and cringed at yourself, ashamed that you were letting that weird growth of jealousy torment you.

but it had already taken root. 

that evil, ugly little thing in the back of your mind. and you couldn’t shake it.

not on your own at least. 

toji had made his way over to you, taking his place by your side while squinting at the little piece of paper in his hands. but you were quiet, more so than usual, and toji isn’t stupid – he might not be the best with feelings and emotions, but he does know you. 

he could tell just by the way you avoided his gaze, the way you started to shorten your answers. the way you pulled away and into yourself – he watched you disappear into your own head right in front of his eyes and he hated it. 

but not wanting to push any wrong buttons here in public, he swallowed your silence with a heavy heart and guided you to your car with a hand on your lower back. he’s not as afraid as he used to be – he isn’t as scared to step into your space, now knowing that this is just what you need sometimes. a little push, a little nudge, to break free from the vines of envy and jealousy and doubt. he’ll burn them, he’ll cut you free. 

the car ride home was quiet. with your head rested against the window and eyes set on the passing buildings and cars, toji found himself stealing glances at you every chance he got. oh, how he hated the pout on your lips, the very same one you’re wearing now. all he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and kiss you, hold you. to make you laugh. to make you forget every single thing that has ever bothered you.

toji let you simmer for exactly ten minutes, just enough for you to change into your pyjamas and to wash up before deciding on your distraction – the dishes. he snuck up on you as silently as he could; the tips of his fingers itched to feel your skin under them, his ears tired from the silence in the apartment. the sigh that you let out as he pressed himself flush against you, sounded better than anything before. toji had already started to miss you in those twenty minutes you were away from him. 

“please… “

it’s not often you get to hear that word, especially in that tone, so it’s hard for you to ignore the stuttering of your poor, sensitive heart. his nose nudges against your cheek and you put down the knife to lean into him on instinct; with your hands on top of his, your bodies mold together like pieces of a puzzle. 

“you know you’re the only one for me…” 

the words form in the back of his mouth and roll from his tongue like a low purr. they’re coated in something sweet, in something only you get to see and feel. his arms tighten around you and you know he means it. his heart beats against your back, as nervous as it is confident. he’s sure about his statement but a part of him is still scared that you won’t have him. that you’ll leave him. 

“she talked about the milk, that’s all she did, sweetheart.” gently, he sways your bodies side to side, letting the warmth of his body engulf you as he ropes you back to him.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“do you believe me?”

it’s something you’ve been practicing in order to get rid of any remaining specks of doubt. it goes both ways; he trusts that you’ll say what’s on your mind and you do the same. 

honesty. 

raw and real.

“yes.”

toji lets out a little puff of air through his nostrils, a wave of relief settling into his body. he knows it’s not over just yet, but it’s a start.

“can i kiss you?”

toji’s mossy green eyes meet yours for the first time in what feels like forever and all he can think about is how much you mean to him. his darling, his baby. he’s not one to be a sap, but hell, when it comes to you, he’s more than willing to drop to his knees and recite love poems for you if that’s what you’d like. anything and everything. 

he watches your eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up again and the little nod you give him is more than enough for him to finally press his lips to yours in a needy, hungry kiss. you melt into each other – skin against skin, tongue against tongue, it just feels right. the spark between you is still there, burning brighter than ever after all the time you’ve spent together. over hills and mountains, through lakes and rivers – nothing is too much or too little for the two of you to conquer together. he’ll be there for you and you’ll be there for him. 

“‘m all yours, sweetheart.”

his hushed words slip right between your lips and slither their way down your throat. inside, they bloom and they flourish. they overtake the rotting weeds that were growing there before and you feel it. you feel it happen. he breathes into you and you become alive again.

"i love you."

[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

[emmyrosee]

What would boyfriend sukuna do if he accidentally made his beloved cry? 👀🩵

*claps hands together and bites lip* AYO-

You’d been arguing about something minuscule, about whose turn it was to wash the dishes, and he merely rolled his eyes and said he could find someone else who would do it.

Because sukuna doesn’t think. No matter the time, the context, the situation, when he’s on defense, he’s going to bring out the big guns and says things to hurt. To damage, to break, to shatter.

Because sukuna is not a good person. He may smack on this “learning how to love” facade, he may hold doors open for you and cradle you when you cry, he may introduce you to his friends and family, but at the end of the day, he’s a trashy man who just fends for himself and only thinks about himself.

Or. That’s what he thought.

Until he sees the hot, betrayed tears bubbling in your waterline. He sees the way your shoulders are tightened, and the way your bottom lip wobbles. He sees the way you look at him in disgust, in hatred, you hate him you shouldn’t even be looking at him right now, but you’re so in disbelief that he could conjure such a claim to you that, like a car accident, you can’t look away. Your eyes glaze over his body in distain and god, fuck, he would do anything, worship any gods, fight any evil and give up his greatest treasures if it meant you’d never look at him like this again.

“Why would you say that?” You whimper, and he sees your hand twitch as it makes a move to wipe the tear, but you never connect the movement. The tear falls, and so does your clenched hand. “Did that make you feel better? To hurt me like that?”

“No,” he chokes. “No, no, this isn’t right, I didn’t mean that-“

“You sure had a hell of a time hiding it,” you scoff, and your arms come up to hug yourself, an action that he should be doing, but he feels like if he moves he’s going to shatter. “God, fuck, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he rasps. He cards a big hand through his hair, “fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, not to you, never to you.” His hands ball into fists as he loses himself, “fuck, fuck fuck, god, I swear I didn’t mean that, I would never-“

“But you did, Sukuna,” you wail in anguish. “And you said it so easily, what, do you have someone else on the back burner?”

“I don’t!” He says, mind melting and heart pounding because he ruined this, he ruined one of the few good things in his life, all with one stupid phrase he never should’ve even let cross his mind, let alone his lips. “It’s only you, I’m only ever obsessed with you! I love you!”

Love is not a word Sukuna uses. It’s more well intentioned hugs and kisses, he’s a shower not a teller, and he takes in a big gulp of air as the foreign word tingles his tongue. You blink at him in awe, and he lets out a shaky sigh, “god, fuck, I love you. And… And-And-And I’d never want to make you hurt this. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The room is quiet. The air is heavy as sukuna watches you cautiously, not sure where to go from here.

Then, you sniffle and walk towards him. You slip into his arms, and sukuna thinks you’re made of glass, too fragile to be in his cruel embrace. He gently cradles the back of your head as you cry softly into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he echos. “I mean it. Never going to say that shit again.”

“You fucked up,” you sniffle.

He swallows the thick wad in his throat and blinks up to the sky, begging to be grounded in his heightened state.

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

But he’s got you, for now. That’s all he cares about, and if you ever smarten up and leave him for the dirt he is, he’d never blame you.

But for now…

“I know.”

[kooyeux]

SQUIRTLE.

“If you were a pokèmon, you would be Squirtle.”

CW: squirting, overstimulation, pūssy eating, edging, fingering, clit play.

Boyfriend discovers that he can make you squirt and he becomes obsessed with it.

© KOOYEUX 2024.

When your boyfriend once discovered that you could squirt, he couldn’t get it out of his mind, finding himself thinking about it almost everyday.

Repeatedly trying to persuade you into doing it again but failing as you keep telling him how that time was absolutely embarrassing for you.

Yet, tonight Jungkook is between your squishy thighs, knuckles deep into your soaked cunt. Murmuring sweet nothings against your clit.

“So good, aren’t ya?”

He spits on your cunt, smearing it with the pad of his thumb between your folds. Lewd sounds of your soppy hole being screwed by his middle and ring fingers.

Whimpers and soft moans are the only sounds that pass past your lips, reaching his ears like god’s angel’s prayers. You’re preaching to him.

Jungkook’s goal of the night is to make you squirt, hard— all over his face. He won’t give up, atleast not until you’ll give it to him, nice and wet.

Tip of his tongue teasingly flickering on your clit, giving the stimulation needed for you to grab she sheets and roll your hips on his face. “Good girl, grind on my face like that..”

Jungkook’s voice would’ve sent you on the fine line of coming, if only he hadn’t removed his fingers from your pussy making you whine his name with pure annoyance.

You cover your flushed face, still twisted in a now fading pleasure expression, “Why would you do that?” gentle voice of yours scolding Jungkook’s evil actions.

“M’sorry baby,” He is not and you know. “Gonna make an angel like you feel good, mh?” He purs, displaying a sweet grin as he pierces your eyes with his.

“You deserve it.”

Jungkook dips his head back into your pussy, ready to taste you again. Flatting his long tongue before dragging it up to your bud, tightly wrapping it with his lips— sucking it and swiping around it.

“Kook, your fingers..please.” You gasp, tightly holding his hair. Feeling full as he gently and sloppily pumps two digits into you, obeying your need straight away.

The steady movements makes a hot pool linger in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt tightens around his fingers, sending him a warning of your coming orgasm.

Your cries are getting a little louder and thighs threaten to tightly close around Jungkook’s neck. “I know, I know baby. Hold it f’me..” He pleads, fingers curling up to your cervix.

“I, I can’t— too much!” He knows, coos at you and works in you faster which you respond to by creaming on his fingers and shrieking.

But Jungkook is not done, not even near it: the grip around your thigh feels more forceful as he violently keeps on abusing your cunt with all the power he can muster. He messily makes-out with your folds, never forgetting to give attention at your already molested clit.

Little hiccups get trapped in your throat as the feeling of another orgasm is chasing you, this time more and more intensely— almost sensing it rushing out of you.

And suddenly you snap, glisten juices covering Jungkook’s face as he stares up at you with a grin of a winner. His hair are stuck on his sweaty forehead, beaten lips and red cheeks; he swirls his tongue around the tip of his fingers, popping ’em inside his warm mouth.

Your insides flip, the sight in front of you is erotic. “Shit, think i’m gonna cum just by licking your juices..” Jungkook throws is head back, chuckling.

“Nasty.” You mumble, closing your legs. He hovers over you, leaving a sweet peck on your forehead. “Maybe, but you did very good, cumming so much for me—”

“If you were a pokèmon, you would be Squirtle.” Jungkook licks your lips, as you close your eyes.

“You and your stupid word game!”

do not plagiarize: if you enjoy my work limit yourself on re-blogging. do not copy, steal or translate.

— © KOOYEUX 2024.

[getmeoutofhell]

Slashers reacting to you killing someone

including: hannibal, will, billy, stu, valak, thomas, freddy, daniel, patrick, art.

Hannibal Lecter:

he usually wouldn’t care when he sees someone being killed right infront of him. but since it’s you, he does care a small bit.

he doesn’t say a word at first, just eyeing the dead corpse in front of you. he then looks at you. his eyes search yours for a bit.

“i see you’ve finally revealed yourself.”

Will Graham:

he’s stunned to be honest. he may even freak out a tiny bit. he would only freak out because it’s you.

“who and why?” was the first thing you hear him say. he helps you clean up the mess and then you two never talk about it again.

he secretly loves it.

Billy Loomis:

is turned on by it. thinks that it’s now time for you to join him in his evil plans as ghostface.

“god you’re so beautiful covered in blood.”

cleans up the mess only to make more of a mess later.

Stu Macher:

“oh that’s so sexy.”

he is in love with it. he doesn’t care who it is or anything he just loves that you’re like him.

he starts to kiss you because of it.

Valak:

he already knew before you did that you killed them on purpose.

he laughs and thinks it’s funny how his little viper has finally lost control.

“my little viper all grown up now.”

Thomas Hewitt:

is this most flipped out of all. he’s scared for your safety as it is.

he keeps you inside for about a week in fear you don’t know what you’re doing and you’ll get caught.

you eventually reassure him.

Freddy Krueger:

“that’s hot babe!!”

he gets so damn horny when he finds out it’s ridiculous. you’re gonna get tossed and turned fucking with him.

“my little princess/prince did such a good job.”

Daniel Robitaille:

he hugs you and helps clean up afterwards.

“angel, are you okay?” he always has to check on you after something happens.

you then talk to him about what happened while cuddling together.

Patrick Bateman:

this motherfucker only cares about his floor getting ruined.

“OMG MY FLOOR TILE.!! YOU STUPID BITCH!!”

yep. that’s patrick for ya.

Art the Clown:

he don’t give a flying frog fuck. he’s just happy to see guts and blood.

does he help you clean up? no.

he doesn’t help you bury the body either.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed. 

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty. 

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was. 

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband? 

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you. 

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty. 

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe. 

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch. 

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me. 

— And if I wanted just you? 

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him. 

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place. 

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs. 

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness. 

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me? 

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation. 

— You knew who I was all along? 

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz. 

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant. 

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost. 

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether. 

Then – he kisses them. 

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two. 

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning. 

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over. 

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing. 

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja? 

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib. 

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it. 

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever. 

— No one is immortal. 

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess? 

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be. 

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one. 

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally. 

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too? 

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron. 

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again. 

On the other side, however, he can do just that. 

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper. 

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess. 

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this? 

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow. 

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress. 

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways. 

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood. 

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife. 

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it? 

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes. 

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty. 

— Just fine? 

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude. 

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least. 

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz. 

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least? 

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place. 

— That is awful news for your empire. 

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place. 

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner? 

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife. 

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war. 

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband. 

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness? 

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that. 

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem. 

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right? 

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

[harryslittlefreakk]

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

[luffysinterlude]

GHOSTIN’

summary: in which Luffy’s been your sanctuary as you grieve the loss of your sworn-soulmate — his brother.

pairings: luffy x reader / ex!ace x reader | the request

warnings: post-marineford, one sided love, slight angst/comfort, reader grew up with ASL, no gendered terms

an: haiiii!!! i’ve been working on this on the side as i’ve been reading nana. i really didn’t know how to tackle this request + song with Luffy especially, but I really tried my best. please leave feedback, it’s always appreciated!! also, as always, there’s another a/n at the end ^.^

inspiration: ghostin’ | word count: 2.2K | tip jar!

“i’ll always find a way to protect you, promise .ᐟ

— GOL PORTGAS D. ACE”

PORTGAS D. ACE IS DEFINITELY, YOUR OTHER HALF. Some might call him your lover, but to you, it was more than that. You had known the hot-headed boy since you were two were children; some say your calm and quiet demeanor balanced him out, but was just as evil and devious, which you couldn’t help but agree with that. The two of you went around the village causing trouble for fun and sometimes you’d help him with his tasks in the mountains.

Ace has always been your ray of sunshine. With everything he’s gone through — which, you were a witness to — he’s still able to light a room up with a single conversation. Literally.

When Ace informed you that he finally got a devil fruit, you thought it might’ve been a God themself that handed the Mera-Mera no Mi to Ace, because still to this day, his presence remains the brightest and captivating —

even though he physically isn’t with you anymore.

It’s been almost two years since the day the Heavens took Ace back. Years that were full of utter silence in your world; the pain weighing heavy on your body and soul. You’ve remained under the watch of Shakky and Rayleigh, asking that you get to spend as much time with Luffy as possible; the last bit of Ace you have access to.

Following the War at Marineford, you had asked Rayleigh if it was okay for you to stick around. He agreed after recognizing who you were — a childhood friend to both Ace and Luffy — figuring you didn’t have anywhere safe to go anyway; you’ve become infamous due to Ace’s influence on you during your childhood, and with your reputation, you’re not sure of what consequences you’d face if you were even near pirates or marines.

You’ve been with Shakky the most during this time: her giving you haki training in exchange for you to help her out whenever she needs it. You can’t complain though. You enjoy the feeling of having a maternal figure in your life, especially right now. You’re unsure of how to control your emotions, and Shakky’s been helping you navigate through them, and use them to your benefit.

Luffy has too. Whether the rubber boy knows it or not, you appreciate his gimmicks whenever you get to visit him on training days. He always has a bright smile on his face when greeting you, your body grows with warmth every time he sees you; like right now, you feel like the heat has gotten ten times hotter, yet his embrace just feels so familiar and welcoming, you almost forget that you have to pull away.

“Hey! You said you’d visit me two days ago! I got finished with my training early and expected to see you, but Rayleigh said your plans changed! What happened?” His voice is loud yet soft, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel guilty. You avoid his gaze immediately, the small smile you’d painted on your face fading.

You don’t like talking about Ace to Luffy. It’s been like this since the two of you were children, but especially now. You know he’s trying his best to keep your mind astray from the grief, and he’s been doing so, so good at that. But every now and then, Ace visits you as you sleep, and the following day is so hard, you want to be left alone.

ᯓ★

Luffy’s not stupid — or at least, he knows how to navigate his feelings. It’s what helped observation haki come easy to him, and instantly he feels your demeanor switch; the sun reflected in your eyes, then suddenly disappeared. He knows when you’re having a tough time. In fact, he thinks he knows everything about you.

He’d probably never find it in him to voice it, but somewhere along the way, he thinks he’s found love within you. Even with the entire ocean separating the two of you for years, the feeling only blooms at the thought of you. He thinks this is how Ace must’ve felt.

Without hesitating, he grabs your hand and drags you into the jungle that’s served as his temporary home for the past year and a half. These days the jungle is quiet, so Luffy’s able to spend more time in it without having to worry. Plus, he’s a hundred times stronger than he was when he first reunited with you.

He giggles at your confused and shocked state, wanting to tease you about how you’re not used to his antics at this point. Instead he just basks in your flushed expression, admiring the beauty that graces you.

ᯓ★

After the most unwanted and unexpected marathon of your life, Luffy stops. You’re barely able to process your surroundings when you’re suddenly flying. Screams leave your throat immediately, only for you to be situated on a branch seconds after.

Luffy sits next to you, his left arm wraps around your waist securely and he nestles his head into your shoulder blade; it’s almost as if he’s clinging onto you like a koala, all while you’re nearly dying to catch your breath. He’s always been this close and clingy, especially on days you’re quiet, but over the years, you’ve grown accustomed to it this trait of his.

Your breathing goes back to normal after a couple of moments, and soon your eyes find the boy staring up at you, eyes wide and curious, sending a gentle shiver down your spine.

“Sooooooo…you been thinkin’ about Ace?” Luffy’s bluntness is something you should be used to by now, but sometimes you wonder how his crew’s able to deal with it.

You sigh as you lean into him, staring out in front of you: the clear sky was painted a pretty shade of pinks and blues, the sun was saying its final goodbyes, and the ocean — a symbol of your will — sang peacefully as the two of you settled in each other’s presence.

“Yeah,” you breathed softly. “Ace visited me again, the other day — It was kind of sudden, he hadn’t done that for a while now.”

“Well did he say anything?” You don’t want to answer, but the way he’s looking at you has your chest fill with warmth.

ᯓ★

Ace lays next to you in the sand, his gaze fixated on yours as his fingertips softly grazed the features of your face. It was silent as it always was, and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Although it was all in your head, it felt so real. As if the two of you were just taking a vacation, without a care in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, Ace’s voice reaches your ears.

“Ya know, Luffy’s always had a thing for you,” You’re taken back and your brows furrow in confusion. Ace has never actually talked to you in your dreams, so for this to be the first time makes you question your sanity. “He always asked me about you whenever we were kids. He never wanted to do things unless you were there to watch him. He cried whenever you leave. I always thought he was just overly dramatic, but even now, as I watch him, his eyes water.

He’s hoping to ask you to join his crew,” Ace pauses to chuckle, a sound that you had almost forgotten. You bite your tongue as you feel your eyes water, not wanting to move incase you’d wake up. “The boy asked me for advice. Mentioned the times you’ve denied him before, when we were kids, asking on how and what he could do to get you to join him.

He believes in himself more than ever now, and he told me he feels like he owes you something for not only taking care of him, but Sabo and I as well. I always thought it was a weird-one sided obsession, but then thought about how I feel the same way about you too. Like a treasure that must be protected — even though you’ve done well on your own already. I used to think you were a witch.” You roll your eyes at his nickname for you, slowly processing what he’s telling you.

“I’m not asking you to date him or anything — But I think you should consider joining the Strawhats. They’re promising, and I believe you’d make their crew so much stronger. Now that I’m gone, who’ll watch over my crazy little brother? If only Sabo was here, then maybe I’d have him do it instead of asking you — but you’ve always been the best of taking care of us, and Luffy’s attached to you. He’ll listen to your insight, because he thinks you’re the smartest person in the world. I agree, but only because I’m not on Earth anymore.” You scoff at his self-compliment, knowing it was just something to tease you about, but appreciating the fact that the boys always knew you were the smartest of the bunch. You roll on your side to face him, eyes widening when you notice he’s staring you straight in the eye.

He looks like the same hot-headed boy that left you those years ago. As if he was seventeen again, waving a see-you-later to you and Luffy as the ocean carried him and his tiny boat away. Nothing’s changed since then, even when you’d run into him at ports when you were venturing the sea as well.

“Again, you don’t have to feel any kind of those feelings towards him, but I think Luffy will help you ease the pain and eventually grow from it. If anything, he looks up to me. Find me in him if it helps. I’ll watch over the two of you and try my best to help you both out, but for now, please enjoy your youth and life for me — surrounded by love. You have so much to live for and so much willpower. You’ve always been the epitome of freedom to us, so please go and enjoy it.

I won’t visit you for a while now. I’ll let you go and handle business. But please, as always, be safe. Don’t go crashing out on everyone now. I love you, thank you for allowing me to grow with you.

I’m sorry that time and distance separated us, and I’ll make sure you’re always protected, just as I promised.”

You’re silent as he just smiles at you, words wanting to spill from your lips, but none of them feeling right. Your bottom lip wobbles as you stare at his face and features, blinking tears away so you can engrave his face into your brain.

“You know how to get to me; I’ll always be here for you. I’ll see ya later, hot stuff. Can’t wait to watch what trouble you make happen.”

ᯓ★

You sigh as you bring yourself back to reality, breathing in the air surrounding the two of you. It was fresh, the breeze was nice, and the sea remained humming her song quietly.

“Well, he might’ve let it slip that someone wants me to be apart of their crew,” you tease, feeling the boy suddenly jolt.

He chuckles nervously as he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, clearly not expecting to be outed by his own brother. “Huh?” He feigns innocence, “Well who?”

You roll your eyes and raise your brow, arms crossed as you stared at him, challenging his gaze to see if he breaks. When he doesn’t, you decide to mess with him.

“Shanks,” you tease; you’d met the infamous Red-Haired pirates around the same time Luffy did, and he was your first ever haki teacher. Although it was a small lie to tell, it wasn’t hard for Luffy to believe it.

His expression fell dramatically, his voice whiney as he pouted and looked towards the sky.

“ACE, YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT SHANKS ALREADY BEAT ME!” You giggled as the Luffy sent curses up to the Heavens, silently hoping none of the Gods cursed you for Luffy’s outburst. You grabbed his hands suddenly, and for a split second, shivers went down your spine. He turned and looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face that almost looked like regret.

“Hey, hey,” you coo to him. You’d always comfort Luffy after his brothers would tease him, and over time Luffy’s grown to love your touch and words. “‘M just teasin’. He told me that you were hoping I’d join your crew. Honestly?” His fingers intertwine with yours as he patiently waits for you to finish your thoughts; his hands are warm and soft, despite his constant training, the way they’ve always been. The way he’s always been. “I’ll do it, if it means I can help you reach your goals. I told you I’d see you off as pirate king when we were younger, didn’t I?”

Luffy gasps and wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. The sudden embrace takes you by surprise, and you feel his mouth moving but you’re unsure of what he’s saying. You welcome his embrace, thinking of all that’s happened since Marineford. Luffy’s been with you since, helping you grow stronger and stray your mind away from what you’ve lost. He’s been doing so well — he makes you laugh about the stupidest things, he’d always defend you from the former monsters of this jungle, he tells you stories from his adventures and you do the same. These past few months, it’s gotten easier to accept and let go of the grief, thanks to him.

“Promise I’ll make it worth it for ya! Thanks for trusting me! Took you such a long time to say yes,” he says as he pulls away from you, smile accompanying his lovely facial features. “We’ll have so much fun! You remember the crew, right? From that time in Alabasta?”

As you and Luffy sit and escape the world around you, you feel a new excitement grow in you. You’re just as ready as he is to reunite with everyone, even if you weren’t a Stawhat before this. For the first time in a long time, you feel free. You don’t feel this way because Ace let you go, but because he pushed you to finding your freedom. And all you can do now is live and hope to achieve all that’s waiting for you.

ᯓ★

an: i’m thinking about a part two because this felt more like it was centered around Ace and Reader’s relationship T^T. but honestly i wouldn’t mind. plus i think reader might subconsciously love Luffy the way he loves them. so maybe i will write a part two to satisfy myself, idk. it’s been a while since i’ve written and have been able to get any creativity out of my body, thanks to work 😻. anyway, please do leave your feed back!!! i’ll enjoy it. thank you so much for reading!!

[hencheri]

18+ mdni.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaemin)

warnings: noncon, dacryphilia.

.

the high ceiling of the women’s changing room allows the slapping sounds of jeno’s hips meeting your ass to resonate, making him more aware of the dead silence around him except for the few cries that occasionally leave your lips. it’s not the ideal place where he would’ve liked to do this, but he didn’t really have any other choices anyway.

he thinks that the soft feeling of your skin under his palms, your ponytail brushing his face, the sweet scent of citrus entering his nostrils, the hot sight of your leggings rolled up under your bum… are enough to make him forget the usual sweaty smell of the gym. make him forget what he’s really doing.

he’s always seen you in your sports wear, tight black leggings hugging your ass and pink bra cupping your breasts. he only imagined what was under, what type of panties you’d wear, but now having your bare skin at the mercy of his hands is making his cock really stiff. 

he grabs your hair in his fist to turn your head to the side, looking at your face, just as glowy as it is when you leave your yoga class. you accidentally meet jeno’s gaze and seeing your big teary eyes on him has his cock jumping inside of you and he’s sure you felt that because you clench around right after. 

to his dismay, you scrunch your eyes shut, letting out a weak sob. he’d like you to look at him, too, he knows you’re attracted to him, you have to be. everyone is. the smiles you flashed him from across the gym before couldn’t be just out of courtesy. 

his stare bore into the side of your face, and all feels too claustrophobic for you, his mouth so close to you his deep breath hits your cheek. his pace is brutal and you keep squeaking whenever he goes too deep too fast. 

your sad, pitiful sounds only fulfil his desires even more. if you weren’t attracted to him, your cunt wouldn’t be dripping around jeno’s entire cock. your inner thighs wouldn’t be covered in your slick. 

a couple more thrusts and jeno would have reached his orgasm, but the sounds of the door opening and someone’s steps on the ground, stop him. the complete silence inside the gym could have fooled him that nobody else was still here, but the euphoric state he was in seconds ago probably also made him forget about jaemin’s presence. 

“i didn’t think you’d really be there.” just as jeno’s backing away from you, he hears his friend’s laugh. he feels his face getting warmer, quickly tucking himself back into his sweats. “sorry to interrupt,” jaemin grins, just like he would knowing his friend got laid. 

he gets a better look at you, also covering yourself back up, noticing your red eyes and wet eyelashes. your sniffing enlightens jaemin on what jeno was actually doing. 

he scoffs, looking you up and down and then finally at jeno. “didn’t know that was your kind…”

“i didn’t-”

“unless you fuck like a god, which i doubt, you aren’t making girls cry like that,” jaemin sarcastically points out, stepping closer to you who haven’t moved a muscle since you pulled your leggings back up. “poor little thing…”

jeno isn’t stupid enough to believe jaemin is really showing any pity, looking at his grin and the evil glint in his eyes, he’s enjoying it. 

“don’t make me stop you there,” he smiles, “but i won’t lie that i’m curious to know what that mouth can do.”

[nana-au]

JJK Men React to Finding Out You Like Them

G.Satoru, G.Suguru, I.Yuji, F.Megumi

(I got carried away with Gojo's.. mb)

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Satoru: You could not stand him and his stupid, annoying, ugly (undeniably pretty) face.

Shoko and Geto swore you two bickered like an old married couple. The two of you would scoff, sometimes even pushing each other’s shoulders just to remind the other one who was stronger. It was down right childish the way you both interacted with each other. Pinching and hair pulling. Arguing over who was right and wrong, sometimes even arguing against obvious facts just to piss the other one off. You couldn’t stand his pompous attitude and he couldn’t stand the fact you weren’t in awe of him like he believed you should be. He made every hair on your body stand straight just by his voice or the way his figure loomed over you as he teased you. 

“What’s this for?” He mocked, pinching your cheek you dusted with blush. 

“None of your business,” you assured him, attempting to punch him in the gut. He would swiftly dodge it, continuing to mock you. 

“Surely it isn’t for a boyfriend. I feel bad for any guy dumb enough to be interested in you,” his glasses would slide down his nose as he looked over your figure. You didn’t hesitant to tell him to suck a dick, and it didn’t even cross his mind to not tell you that you wished you could suck his. “I’d never let you though,” he assured you and you would huff out a ‘thank God!’. You would attempt to storm off, but he kept body blocking you, and you were adamant on not making bodily contact with the guy. “Where are you going?” he quizzed and you begged him to drop it - that it was none of his business. You were getting really worked up, more so than usual. His assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, you were trying to leave for your date with a barista from the coffee shop you frequented in Tokyo. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to let Sensei know. Can’t have you up to no good.” 

“Then go tell him!” you huffed. You were going to be running late if the asshole in front of you wouldn’t move. “God Gojo, you are so childish,” he only stuck his tongue out at you. You were about to start shaking with anger and against your better judgment you confessed to him. “Fine! It’s a date, make fun of me all you want when I get back,” your chest was heaving and your blood was hot. To your sudden shock, Gojo stepped out of your way wordlessly and watched as you took off out the doors. 

The next few days felt like the Twilight Zone. You did your makeup again and Gojo didn’t even bother to flick your cheeks. When you mentioned to Shoko how nice the weather was, he didn’t argue that it was ‘Just alright’. While Suguru, Gojo, and you were taking turns sparring, he didn’t hide the defeat in his face when you kicked dirt onto him after knocking him on his ass. To you, that was really the last straw. You started to feel evil for continuing your usual antics while he just took it. A few more days went by of you both ignoring each other until one afternoon you were eating lunch with Shoko talking about your date. Geto and Gojo took their usual seats across from you as you both discussed what transpired. “Maybe he doesn’t want to sound needy,” she said when you mentioned he hadn’t texted you back still. 

“He probably thinks you're ugly,” Gojo said nonchalantly. It was the first sentence he had spoken to you in days and you had to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. You weren’t even sure if he really spoke or if you imagined it. Perhaps your brain was filling in the words you wanted to hear from him. Not that you wanted him to call you ugly per se, but the silence from him was worse than the insults. 

“So he talks.” His eyes rolled cartoonishly at your words. He stuck a spoonful of rice in his mouth before talking,

“Giv-up,” he mumbled, some rice spilling out of his mouth. Your face contorted with disgust. He swallowed, continuing, “You're unlikeable”.

“Yeah ‘cause you’re so likable yourself,” you scoff. He continued eating and the table dropped it, all choosing to change the topic. 

Honestly, you were sure that would be your last conversation with Gojo. You went about your days without his obnoxious presence. You went on another date and were getting fairly close with your favorite barista, even inviting him to meet Shoko. You all agreed to meet up at his cafe and you were awed as he described to you the drinks he made you two. You sipped them and listened as he rambled on about the ristretto shots and the milk foam. Shoko grew bored quickly, but she was happy you were happy. 

The bell attached to the door chimed, and the blood in your face drained, leaving you sickly pale. Gojo waved to you, pointing out to Geto where the three of you sat and dragged him along. “What is he doing here?” you frantically asked Shoko. She covered her face to hide her amusement, she had to give it to him, he was about to make this deathly boring conversation into an incredibly entertaining one. 

“Since when do you drink coffee?” Gojo asked you, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “I thought caffeine made you sick?” he pouted at you, pulling away the latte. He wasn’t wrong, you did tend to feel unwell after having caffeine, but since when did he care? 

“I can handle myself, Gojo,” you spat. Gojo ignored you, taking two big gulps from the mug and finishing it then and there. 

“Wow you made this?” he asked the guy. He nodded, looking incredibly confused. “Tastes like shit.” With a quickness you were out of your chair and pulling Gojo by the collar of his button down. “Be right back,” he snickered to the barista as you dragged him out the door. 

“What is your problem?” You begged. He looked shocked, telling you him and Geto were just walking by when he saw you and Shoko. You were bewildered by the way he was acting, completely stumped as to what you should even say. His hand grabbed yours that was still gripping his collar. He pulled it off and pushed it against the wall, his hand caging yours as he leaned against your intertwined fingers. His eyes watched your lips as you kept opening them to speak, but closing them when you kept losing your words. 

“Is this not what you wanted?” His words were breathy and hard to hear. “I know you are doing this-” His free hand gesturing to your figure, “to get a reaction from me.”

“You’ve really lost it now, Gojo,” you couldn’t hide the blush though. He smiled at you regardless, and your legs began to feel weak. It hit you like a truck. His smile was cocky and genuine. It wasn’t coated with his usual delusional smirk, but an all-knowing, teeth-showing grin. It was then you grew nauseous with the knowledge Suguru snitched on your drunk confession. 

You hardly remembered that night - Geto had shared his bottle of Jack Daniel’s and you were too much of a lightweight to keep yourself from admitting to him that you enjoyed Gojo’s teasing. That you were infatuated with the white-haired sorcerer and you had really started to like him. That his cocky attitude was not a turn off like you tried to convince yourself and that when he stood over you, making you feel small, you weren’t mad at him but mad you enjoyed the feeling of being towered over by him. 

“I’m not dating just to make you jealous,” you tried to stand up for yourself. You really weren’t, the guy just asked you and you had nothing better to do. You got free drinks out of it too- really that was all it was. 

“How could I be jealous when I know you like me?”

In Suguru’s defense, when you called him a traitor he assured you it was an accident. He just wanted to get Satoru out of his funk. The day he caught you looking all dolled up, just to find out it was for another man, he couldn’t get out of his own head. He also didn’t understand why he couldn’t. He pestered his best friend for days over it and Suguru had to throw in the towel. You liked him because he heard it from you. And Satoru liked you because he knows his best friend more than anyone. 

It was all worth it in the end, because things went back to normal. (Except for the small detail that Satoru and you were now a couple). 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Suguru: The older boy’s reaction made you swoon.

You were a year below him at Jujutsu Tech and you were in awe of his cursed technique and if you were forced to be honest, in awe of him. You must’ve looked like a lost puppy following him around when you insisted on watching him train, joining him to find a snack at the convenience store, and insisting on learning about all the curses he had under his control. He was so kind about it too - always dismissing Gojo when he would groan about how insistent you were. “How can you put up with her? She doesn’t have her own life,” he would say, poking his tongue out.

 “She’s just curious, Satoru,” he would reply. He wouldn’t kid himself though, he found you absolutely adorable and didn’t mind having you under his arm all day. You weren’t much younger than him, but you felt as though he held infinite wisdom. Your eyes would twinkle up at him as he shared stories of his missions and his lips would tingle watching yours twitch with ‘oohs” and “ahhs”. He adored the way you would watch him as he ran around the track, shirtless and dripping with sweat. When you joined him he couldn’t help but keep your pace just so he could keep his attention on you. You didn’t know this when you finally confessed, but he was as infatuated with you as you were with him. He was obsessed with how obsessed you were with him. He was by no means struggling in attracting women, but to have you be so casually faithful to him, it was too hard to not take advantage of. 

The day you decided to dress up really pretty for your weekly Tuesday walk to Tokyo for lunch at his favorite place was the day you officially confessed. You wore the skirt the two of you saw one day while window shopping - the one he said reminded him of something you would wear. You even applied lip gloss even though you despise the fact your hair always gets stuck in it. “What’s got you looking all pretty?” he would muse. 

“Sugu, I like you,” you admitted, quick like pulling off a bandaid. You hadn’t even made it out of the school’s grounds when you confessed. He held out his arm to stop you and blocked the way with his tall figure. 

“I already knew that, little one,” he cooed. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” he grabbed your small hand in his and continued forward. It wasn’t an official response, but you knew him so well that it was official enough for you.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

I.Yuji : You swear the boy must be dumb.

Your friends would definitely describe you as the shy type. You never talked out of turn or made your true feelings known so blatantly - but with Yuji - you were really trying. If Yuji said he was hungry, you would always be there to hand him his favorite candy. When his face was caked with dirt and sweat after a mission, you were there with a cloth to clean him up. If he so much as got a paper cut you would insist on applying a bandaid to his finger. You couldn’t tell if you liked helping him more than he liked being helped. He would always smile at you, warm and sincere. His eyes would hold yours, cheeks flushed a light pink. The way he would look at you, head angled down to get a good look at your face, the innocent scrunch of his eyebrows..

“You’re such an amazing friend,” he would say and you had to blink to keep your eyes from rolling back into your head. 

One day as he was happily sipping the ice cold tea you bought him, munching on the little pastry you went out of your way to get after he announced - very loudly - how starved he was, you decided enough was enough. 

“I like you,” You told him bluntly. He finished chewing his last bite before telling you he liked you too. 

“You’re a really good friend,” he smiled. You could feel your body begin to shake as you repeated what you said. 

“I like-like you, Yuji. Not friend-like. Like-Like.” Your hands went to grip the grass beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself. His eyebrows scrunched, as if he was trying to process your confession. You couldn’t hold his eyes when he didn’t immediately respond. You turned your attention to Maki and Nobara who were training not far in front of you. Your eyes couldn’t focus on their figures as your body shouted at you to get up and bury yourself in bed for the day. His hand found your thigh, and you jumped slightly. When your eyes met him again, you swore you never saw him look so serious. His lips were in a thin line, eyes twinkling. 

“Maybe I like-like you too,” he spoke only above a whisper and you melted on the spot.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

F.Megumi: The boy was always in his own little world

That’s what you really liked about him. His ability to be quiet, observant, and at times lost in his own thoughts. All though, trying to get him to notice your crush on him would be harder than pulling all of your toenails off one by one. You would lay in Nobara’s bed as she admired the outfits she bought that day, trying her best to ignore your groans. 

“I should just give up now,” you whined. You had finished a long winded rant about Megumi, how he never reacted to your attention in the way you craved him to. 

“You should give up. I’m sick of hearing it,” Nobara lovingly teased. “Or you could just tell him,” You would gasp at the idea and bury your head into her pillow. 

You always found yourself to be the type of girl to read everyone’s feelings. People were like books to you, except for him. Before joining Jujutsu Tech, flirting was second nature to you. But when you saw his messy black hair and cold blue eyes your brain short circuited. You sure would try to flirt though. Giggling at his jokes he thought no one heard or playing with your hair in conversation. You would buy a new perfume and ask him to smell you, or ask if he liked the way you did your makeup that day. He would flush red and obey your asks. He would tell you that you smell great or that your eyelashes looked really pretty, but he would end it there. 

A couple days had passed since your rant to Nobara and the four of you were out in Tokyo. Yuji had insisted you all join him to the movies, and with nothing better to do you all obliged. At the theater you paid for your drink and popcorn and made your way to your movie when you noticed Nobara and Megumi weren’t following behind you. You shrugged it off and sat down with Yuji to watch the previews. The lights had already dimmed and the movie just started by the time Nobara came with Megumi in tow. “Sit,” she commanded him, referring to the spot next to you. You watched as Megumi - stiff as a board- took the seat beside you, and continued to shuffle around in his seat trying to get comfortable. 

“What happened?” you whispered to him, scared of what Nobara had done to make him act so odd. He didn’t respond and kept his eyes glued to the screen. It went on like that for a while, him still squirming awkwardly in his seat and when a jump scare came on screen and he didn’t react you turned to him again. “You act like you saw a ghost,” you joked to him. He replied dead serious.

“Just saw Nobara, that’s all.”

“What did she do?” You weren’t really sure you even wanted to know. After what seemed like hours of silence he asked if you really did like him. 

“Is it true what Nobara said?” Your mouth fell open and he was now completely facing you. You were all there for a screening of a horror movie and right now the main character was in a dark basement making it hard to see any light on Megumi’s face. From what you could see though, he looked flustered but maintained his eye contact with you. Thanks to Nobara it was now or never, and you meekly shook your head at him. He scratched the back of his neck and you could see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. Your face was hot watching him process your confession, not sure if you wanted to punch Nobara or thank her for finally putting you out of your misery. Even if it did mean Megumi no longer wanted to be near you. “I’ve just never had someone tell me that,” he finally spoke. ‘I don’t hate you, just give me time to process that,” he asked. You nodded and turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the protagonist dodging death. You had grown as stiff as him and noticing, he put his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly as reassurance. You both were red in the face, eyes glued to the front of the theater but not actually watching what was on it, lost in your thoughts. The process wasn’t smooth for you two, but your confession made Megumi realize his own feelings. Why he felt nervous when you were in the room and why he doubted his words before speaking to you. You both worked on it together, and your confidence with each other grew. It wasn’t long before you two went to Tokyo alone or sat in each other’s room late at night just talking. Megumi was your boyfriend by the end of the year, and you felt as giddy around him as the day you first met him. 

[amoeganism]

TEAM PLAYER isagi yoichi

You're fed up with the evil Blue Lock boys getting special treatment from your Evil best friend because your Evil best friend isn't Evil with you. You’ll do whatever it takes to satisfy your masochistic heart in whatever freakish ways you come up with because communicating and confessing is overrated.

i love my insane boyfriend

There's been something strange going on with you and Isagi can't quite place his finger on it. Yes, he had been away at Blue Lock for a number of weeks, but he thinks that it shouldn't impact your personality to change the way it did. You might be his closest friend and confidant, one of the most treasured people in his life, but you’re currently acting like a freak and frankly, it’s making him really uncomfortable.

As you place your foot on the park bench to retie your shoelaces, Isagi scans your body up and down. No new bruises, no broken bones, no visible injuries, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of some newly developed mental issues because why else would you suddenly be so rude? Yoichi had been hoping that you, his sweet best friend, would be a much needed break from the mental illness fandom that was Blue Lock but it seems like insanity is a disease and you somehow caught it from watching TV. Going to noisy arcades with flashing lights in a dimly lit space, trying overpriced and sickly sweet desserts at trendy cafes, and simply taking walks together under the dappled shade of cherry blossom petals were all things Yoichi had missed amidst the chaos and stress that came with the incredibly competitive atmosphere of Blue Lock.

Yet here you were, not fully meeting him face-to-face but rather side-eyeing him with a condescending stare beneath hooded eyes and raised brows. With a thud, you slumped onto the bench and crossed your arms.

“I thought you were kidnapped before you suddenly appeared on T.V. and not just any T.V., some fuckass display one at the department store. What’s up with that?” you inquired with a pathetic pout disguised into a sneer that Yoichi found slightly goofy. “You’re like a deadbeat cunt.”

“I didn’t know that they were gonna kidnap my phone and basically trap me in there while jeopardizing my athletic career!” Yoichi exclaimed, throwing his hands down onto his lap with a groan. “Also, why do you look like that? You look really stupid.”

With a slight twitch of your lip, the smallest of grins formed on your face, unfolding into a gleeful, creepy smile. “Heh. That was really hot, can you do that again?”

“Excuse me?”

You kick your feet back and forth a couple times, nodding your head side to side like a cheap bobble head toy. Continuing to smile at him with bright and expectant eyes, you explain, “Y’know, what you just said was like how you verbally abuse dudes in Blue Lock.”

With a choked cough and dry wheeze, vibrant red covered the tips of his ears and spread into his cheeks. Breaking eye contact, he turned his head away from you as all judgement left his system, leaving the remnants of pure embarrassment. A hand covering his face was the only thing serving himself a sense of comfort as he wallowed in the consequences of losing his shit during broadcasted soccer games.

“Listen,” Yoichi panicked, trying his best to save face. “Everything on Blue Lock was not real, it’s a scripted reality show. Everything you saw was Evil Isagi Yoichi. I am Real Isagi Yoichi. Evil Isagi Yoichi was created in a lab by Ego Jinpachi and is not a reflection of myself.”

“I’m in love with Evil Isagi Yoichi,” you wistfully sigh, clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth like a cringey cartoon character.

“I lied, I’m actually Evil Isagi Yoichi. That was just a test for you to prove your absolute devotion to me.”

The way you smiled at him was unnerving and the glimmer in your eyes should have unsettled him but Yoichi found himself and his heart melting at your insanity. His cheeks were no longer red out of embarrassment from his diabolical language but the soft kiss you placed on his cheek and teasing pats to the side of his face, making a grin of his own match yours.

“Call me ‘babe’ and I’ll kill you, I only accept derogatory language,” you whisper into his ear.

Like a dream come true, his freak has been (concerningly) matched.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE: TRICK OR TREAT!

masterlist

—

happy halloween! this is not an actual chapter unfortunately, so those who got their hopes up at an early release i’m SORRY 😓 however i consider it more fun! this is what each chapter from the sjap universe would wear on halloween🙂‍↕️ consider it 14.5! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did making it. also shoutout to my babygirl ree for helping me with these. I LOVE YOU BAD! <3

megumi fushiguro as BILLY LOOMIS

“ghostface? nah too basic” the raven states broadly.

sure scream was his favourite horror slasher but dressing up ghostface was too overrated, too tacky. he needed to go as someone more niche, someone he knows nobody would dress up as, someone hotter. introducing billy loomis! still the same franchise just a tad bit more creative! (not entirely but we’ll give him pity points) but man did that he look hot. the fake blood dripping down was the cherry on top. seeing his hair not entirely gelled up for the first time the guys realised he looked like his dad. like a lot

“no shit, we’re related” he said in front of the bathroom mirror as he wets his hair for the 3rd time, trying to perfect his look.

toge rolled his eyes, chewing on his toothpick

“ya know megumi you should’ve just went as ghostface, atleast no one would look at that makeshift shitty hair of yours” toge sneered

megumi turns around, hair soaked as he goes into punch the platinum blonde but misses as the water drips down his face into eyes as he stumbles back into the counter.

“woah slow down, the only person you’re gonna kill is yourself at this rate” yuta quips as he walks in to see what the commotion was going on in the bathroom.

megumi looks at yuta, then back at toge, then back at yuta. his head going side to side frivolously before bursting out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” yuta questioned

“didn’t pin you for the type of guy to dress up as a gay cowboy” he sneers, wiping both tears and the dripping water from his eyes.

toge inumaki & yuta okkotsu as ENNIS & JACK

“what do you mean gay cowboys?” yuta says, slowly turning to toge with an eyebrow raised.

“you mean you seriously never watched brokeback mountain?” megumi asks after recovering from his laugher fit

“am i supposed to?”

he looks at toge who was smirking with that stupid toothpick in his mouth, twirling it around.

“and i thought i was evil” he shakes his head chuckling.

yes, yuta did in fact not know that toge made him dress up as ennis and jack from brokeback mountain (yuta being ennis and toge being jack). in his defence toge did ask if he wanted to go as cowboys for halloween and yuta being yuta obviously said yes. though he did find it suspicious that toge wouldn’t let him pick out just any cowboy costume. he said he had a vision in his head and to just go with it. yuta just thought he was going for a niche version of a cowboy not the version where they’re two bestfriends fucking on top of a mountain. it’s far too late to change their costumes now, so yuta left their condo in what seemed to be “bro-love” going too far. on the other hand toge was EATING it up, strutting the down the streets in the “best costume” (his term) of the night. toge definitely forced yuta to make tiktoks to brokeback mountain audios throughout the night and def went viral LMFAO. poor yuta is embarrassed.

“oh my god, i am mortified” yuta says into his hands after hearing megumi explain the plot of brokeback mountain - he toned it down of course so it wouldn’t kill yuta.

“eh you’ll be fine, it’s not the worst costume in the world”

toge almost caught whiplash by how fast he turned his head. not the worst? what the fuck is that supposed to mean. he knows megumi can’t be talking looking like that.

“you know megumi, with all that blood you could pass as somebody’s diva cup” toge spits at him, obviously hurt.

“did somebody say diva?!”

yuji itadori as ROCKY BALBOA

yes yuji we are talking about you!

this may be fan service for ree… but guys TELL ME YOU DON’T SEE IT ASWELL? i could not find a rocky costume that i thought was fitting but imagine the second picture but with his shirt off🙂‍↕️ yeah…. just thinking thoughts…

yuji would be getting stared at ALL NIGHT and gets asked for tons of pictures in his costume because he looks so damn good. he definitely makes tiktok thirst trap edits because at the end of the day he’s still just a loser trapped in a hot body </3 the guys end up going through a haunted house and yuji actually gets scared and knocks one of the workers out… he blames it on method acting so he doesn’t get the cops called on him and somehow it works? also trust he is flexing his muscles the entire night and challenges literally everybody (mostly girls) to arm wrestle him. his go-to pick up line throughout the night is “if i win i get your number, if you win you get mine” and he winks at them before the countdown. CORNY but it works (i would fold as well sorry)

“yuji stop flexing yours abs for one second it’s gross, you look like a male prostitute” toge groans in disgust as he kicks rocks on the sidewalk”

“the correct term is actually jiggalo, and i think you’re just jealous that i’m hot and cool and you’re just a shitty gay cowboy” yuji replies back through a smile as he waves to everybody who’s pointing at him

“IT’S BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN”

“ooooo is that the name of the new club that opened?”

if you guys want more boxer yuji go read BATTERED N’ BLUE by the lovely @aozui <3

yn as MAXINE MINX

life being the baddest isn’t easy and it especially isn’t easy when it comes to choosing a halloween costume. between wanting to be hot, but also niche, but not too niche! but enough that it surpasses basic, but also fun... did i mention hot? so who better to dress up than someone who fits all the requirements than none other than maxine minx!

yn had this planned months ago. she wanted everything to be perfect down to a T, and she was not the type to pull something last minute out of her ass. she was not going to put on an amazon corset and call it a day. hell, it wasn't even just her, the whole apartment had planned their costumes in june. if serving cunt was a dysfunctional group of roommates it was them. think bodies bodies bodies x scream 6... yeah i would not want to be their enemies if a psycho killer was going around murdering people. and best believe their group pictures are turning out so hot (partly due to the personal photographer they booked before LMFAO) but everyone knows the other part is their well-thought-out costumes.

"oh my god did you really bleach your eyebrows for this" a familiar voice commented at her as she walked into the kitchen.

"the dedication is crazy, but i guess you still look hot."

a smile broke out of her, still focusing on preparing drinks for the party of the century.

"it's just concealer babe", she replies as she looks up from the drink station to where she was met with nobara, who was sitting on the sage love chair in an all too familiar pose.

"no fucking way... are you-?"

nobara kugisaki as CATHERINE TRAMELLE

what’s better than one cover girl? two cover girls!!! or in this case replace cover girl with evil femcel maneater final boss!

the party girls have a tradition of watching a horror/slasher movie each sunday during october, so when nobara said she hasn't watched basic instinct last year, trust it was the first movie they watched on that first sunday.

"ugh, i just know she would of made a bomb fucking costume for halloween", nobara groans.

"too bad you're already going as marie antoinette" panda sighs.

"there's always next year" yn states, clearing up the popcorn on the coffee table.

and next year indeed.

meticulously choosing each article of clothing and hand picking accessories so she could be the emodiment of catherine tramelle. even though she was one glass of red wine away from being mistaken as a housewife of beverly hills, it didn't matter. dressing up as someone so smart, so sinister, so sexy was the principle itself. she didn't care if nobody understood who she was or being asked if she knew it was a halloween party, not a dinner at nobu - she knew she was that fucking girl. but of course, most people knew who she was, even the cute girl standing by the drinks station who was ogling her the entire night and who so badly wanted nobara's number. spoilers: she got it.

"i can't believe you actually stuck with", yn says after managing to close her jaw.

"god you look hot"

nobara smirks at her reaction.

"i wasn't going to let the opportunity slip pass that easily" nobara smirks to herself.

before yn could respond, a loud bang followed by the sound of a door being slammed interrupted her train of thought.

"FUCK!"

both the girls' heads whipped around the find a panicking maki pacing out her room.

"has anyone seen my anastasia lip liner?" she huffs, crossing her arms.

maki zenin as BETTY BOOP

the look, the lips, the hips, the taste… everybody please welcome miss zenin!!!

"no but have you seen an extra pair of panties? i need to change."

i mean this costume was in the works since her hair cut. i mean come on… IT’S PERFECT? maki as betty boop? nah betty boop as maki zenin! uh huh nodding my head right now. an iconic if not the iconic costume in the apartment. maki is not one to typically wear dresses - mostly sticking to jeans, shorts & skirts and the occasional jorts but DRESSES? you’d have to be either jesus or yuta to convince her to put one on let alone a mini dress. and good lord she looked good. yuta almost had a heart attack when she sent him a picture of her costume. yeah it was gonna be a long night for him.

she rolled her eyes at the remark but can’t help the smile that betrays her facade. she looks over to the silhouette standing in the hallway, almost… waiting?

“panda we aren’t playing a theme song just for you to come out just show us your costume already”, maki sighs

he stomps into the living room with a sulk in his step.

“you guys are boring bitches”, he huffs.

panda as a SONNY ANGEL

the girls all had their mouths shaped in an ‘o’ as he entered, hands on hips - giving the most sass imaginable.

“panda what happened”, nobara stifled a giggle behind her hand.

so this was not panda's original costume but his backup one... unfortunately for him, his original costume was to go as a slutty version of batman but he was then met with his long awaited karma..

RIIIIIIP

“oh my fucking god” he said to himself as he hesitantly checks the back of his costume. he finds a hole right where his left ass cheek is.

a big one.

luckily for him, he’s immune to costume malfunctions and bought a back up for times like this. sure it wasn’t as creative or risqué as slutty batman but it was the next best thing.

“i don’t want to talk about”, he mumbles, earning an eruption of laughs from the girls.

he stood there in silence as they speculate what on earth could have happened to his original costume. eventually he told them which then lead to another fit of giggles. atleast that was over. they had a party to plan. and besides, sonny angels are supposed to bring you good luck right?

wrong.

the night was a mess. panda got atleast 7 different drinks spilt on him that night and almost got into a fight with todo because he won the ‘best costume’ contest. (he was a passenger seat and mai was chappel roan).

—

BONUS COSTUMES!

as we know there are two weekends where halloween is celebrated, and this year is no different. debate after debate, "should we celebrate halloween the week before or 2 days after the actual event?" well, why not both! both the party girls and tridant came together to complete the "maze of death" (it was just a corn maze, famous for the actors jump scaring you every now and then - similar to the haunted house the boys went to, but much more intense) these set of costumes are what both groups wore on halloweekend 2 + how each character would react during a haunted maze!

megumi as THE SCARECROW

megumi got confused and thought yn’s costume last week was hers this week and decided to match with her without telling her. (he thought it would of scored him brownie points) though when he found out yn was dressed up as someone else he was immediately embarrassed. yn thought it was adorable how he tried to match with her so called costume and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a recognition for his efforts. (definitely got those brownie points)

he walks WAY ahead. he wants it OVER with >"if i walk faster, they can't get me" type mf. he's miserable but can't take yn laughing behind him at all. he’s going through many stages of grief.

he unfortunately has to lead the group through it even though he's pretty scared himself, but he calms himself by saying "toge def was worse" or some shit. (spoilers he was in fact worse)

yuji as XANDRA

i hate gay halloween, what do you mean you’re xandra from papa’s freezeria?

oh he scares the workers BACK. my king.

had full intentions of scaring yuta during it but got caught off guard and accidentally punched the workers that personally jump-scared him because he's automatically triggered into fight or flight mode like no tomorrow.

yn & toge as SHARPAY AND RYAN EVANS

they came up with this idea when toge was at their apartment doing the usual antics (eating all their food) and saw yn watching high school musical. told her it would make a pretty good halloween costume as a duo and he saw the bulb light up in her head.

first they have a competition who won't be scared but i fear they are desperately clinging onto each other 10 seconds in then act like NOTHING happened once they exit toge is scared so much he can't talk, yn is pale as fuck, and they agree to never talk about it.

(yn says she won the competition 2 hours later)

maki & yuta as a COP AND PRISONER

everyone awwed at them when they saw their costumes. i mean how could you not? #coupleoftheyear

oh yeah so…. yuta wanted to ditch at the entrance but maki hauled his ass with her. he doesn't do well at all, he pukes at the end and maki just patted him on the back.

maki has a poker face throughout the whole thing. does not gaf. she is not scared at all and corrects how they can be scarier to their FACE mid scare. the workers almost walk out.

nobara & panda as the BEE & COOKIE

committing to the ynmegumi bit so bad im ctfu.

panda’s more depressed about how he missed the volunteer dates in order to work at it. but like yuta, he screams so much it haunts nobara’s ears. he screams like a little girl. he almost pisses his pants and hides behind nobara but it makes him a BIGGER target because ofc they're gonna see a 6 ft giant trying to hide??? the haunted house workers def bully panda in the groupchat after their shift ends. he tries to act all tough afterwards saying he "handled it like a champ".

nobara has an average reaction ywkim, she does scream and does get scared but she's literally fine. she NEVER lets panda live it down though, she has a video of panda screaming too.

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