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screampied · 9 months ago

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‘ DEATH BY SÉX! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs. toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, choso, geto.

warnings. fem! reader, very pússydrunk men, unprotected, cunnīlingus, messy eaters, nīpple play, ab riding, sukuna kinda lactates, dry humping, sqúirting, overstim, spīt, dirty talk, praise, p spanking, fīngering, breedīng mentions, petnames.

an. when you realize everyone here's actually d-

☆ GOJO SATORU.

pronounced dead the minute he goes inside.

satoru grunts, glassy eyes widening as he’s watching his reddened swollen tip disappear between your slick entrance. panting out soft whispering ‘hooooly shit’ ‘s and ‘fuck’ ‘s, you could already tell he’s done for. he’s been inside of you more times than you could count—but it’s like every time is the first time. riding the satoru gojo was a fatality in itself. anytime you ride him he’s weak, and he’s even weaker once you’re staring him dead in the eyes—luxuriating in his lewd contorting facial expressions. it was just the way his crystalline-colored eyes would criss ‘n cross, rolling waaaay back into the dark voids of his head each time he cums inside. satoru always loses it whenever you fuck him, scraping your frantic hips against his and quite literally fucking the brat out of him. “yeah, fuck me. don’t stop baby, don’t—fuckin’—stopp, and he glues his palms against both sides of your waist. your knees rest against his bulky thighs as you’re jerking back ‘n forth, watching his jaw go slack whilst his glossed lips part into a wheezing ‘o.’

and at that moment, he knew he was pussy drunk.

the bed creaks beneath you both. it’s creaks sounded more like groans, and the entire wooden headboard was practically about to split in half.

“mhm, eyes on me ‘toru,” you remind him, glancing at his icy blue eyes that wandered every direction but your face. that was always a habit of his. whenever you rode him, sometimes he’d stare off to the side . . or the ceiling . . or his favorite place, your bouncy tits. “not there, baby,” you tilt his chin up, watching the pout gloss across his lips. satoru claws a hand at your hip, grunting as your cunt sucks him in wholly. every time—you had quite the grip on him, and it’s enough to make him his blushing tip smear across your insides. you moan, feeling the hooked curve of his cock expand through your walls, zigzagging its way through your pasty entrance. “fuck, ‘toru. close again, yeah?”

“m- mhm,” he inhales, gnawing at the bars of his inclosure. your hips were killer . . and every single time - he falls in love with how greedy you slam back and forth against him. rutting hips of yours constantly clashing further into him before a hand wraps around his throat. satoru’s snowy lashes flutter as he glances at you, moaning once you give his neck a slight squeeze. “heh, kinky today, are we angel? usually i’m the one who does the choki—fuuck,” he croaks mid sentence. your squeeze around his throat tightens just a bit, not too much. it’s the right amount of pressure that makes his dick twitch inside of you, and you feel the sporadic pulse instantly. satoru starts to pant, and as your cunt’s still freely constricting around his lanky fat length, his head leans back. “goddd, such a naughty girl. you get y’r cockiness from me that’s for sure.”

“do i?” you purr, leaning in to lick a slope down his neck. satoru moans, and a barred palm of his creeps down toward the fat near heart-shaped juncture of your ass. with a stinging whack, he smacks your rear as you rut into him at a much more quicker pace. with the way your hips rolled, you were gonna hypnotize him with your pussy. you’ve still got dried splotches of cum sticking at your sides before his lips start to quiver in impatient frolic. “baby, open your mouth,” you hum, a sudden idea popping into your head.

working even thinking, the white haired man pries open his mouth before looking at you with low hooded, pussy drunk eyes. “ ‘kay,” he replies submissively, heaving each drawn out breath through his full lungs. satoru’s cock plugs you in snug ‘n fully, and each time you slam your flooding wet cunt against his lap—he’d get whiplash. “what, do i stick out my tongue too or . .” and he pauses, cocky grin fading, and within seconds—he’s growing sheepish once he sees you smugly grinning. “oh.. you’re serious, okay!”

satoru lolls out his pink clean tongue, singing out a playful ‘ahhh’ before that’s when you spit directly in his mouth. he blinks thrice, and instinctively, he swallows. after he savors your taste, a slutty moan leaves from the back of his throat as he’s squeezing your ass. “fuck, do that shit again.”

“yeahhh, more?” you whisper, wiping a thumb across his slick pursed lips. satoru broke a cold sweat, and the more you touched him—the more he started to pant like a dog. his dick ached inside of you, and every time you clamp down on him he lets out a sharp hiss. compressing his lips together again, you give him a quick chaste kiss before purring haughtily. “say ‘pretty please’.”

satoru pouts before sighing with a grousing grumble. his ego was nearly massacred, but he wanted more . . and he wanted you. “pretty . . please,” and he brings a hand toward your right breast, stroking a thumb against your nipple. satoru watches you writhe with his dick still tucked inside before his smugness shortly returns.

“spit in my mouth again,” and satoru, with his lopsided cunt-drunk grin, he puffs his lip out, giving your ass it’s final playful spank. “mommy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji fushiguro’s an absolute animal whenever it comes to your pussy. straight up, and he might as well change his tittle to the ‘pussy killer.’

he practically lived between your thighs, and fuck could he eat. it doesn’t take toji long at all to get pussy drunk either—in fact, all he even has to do is just smear the buttony tip of his nose down your sopping wet clit, getting a nice whiff.

your scent – it was so strong that without even using his tongue yet, he could already taste you. his tastebuds were salivating… and with you lying pretty, legs sprawled and all, you really brought out the beast out in him. you meet his feral entranced gaze and toji’s heavily panting—already starting to drool from the cracked crevices of his lips just at staring at your cunt.

and all you knew was . .

he’s hungry, and you made him this way.

“f- fuuuck, toji,” you’d croon out a whine, wiggling your hips before he pulls your jittery legs apart from each other. your legs stuck together with such gluey sapping slick that it was cute—you felt hot the more he started to bring his face towards your teary entrance. “n-ngh,” a soft grunt leaves from you as you felt his cold stare intently focus on your poor weeping folds.

one of toji’s favorite things to do though, was to eat you out.. right after he came inside . . and oh, it was the prettiest sight he could ever see.

as toji swiftly goads a plump thumb up to your tender labia, he watches as the mess start to stream out of you – all at once.

you were putting mere waterfalls to shame with how wet you were, just profusely sopping. as he continues to have an eye contest with your sweet drenched folds for a long amount of seconds—toji finally closes the distance, leaning in and sloppily pressing a kiss your pussy.

immediately, he hears the cute ‘psssh’ ‘s your entrance makes and he darkly chuckles once he feels lustrous strings tear away from your entrance, landing onto his mouth. toji didn’t care that he was tasting himself—a sweet.. filthy mixture of you and him that’s now shamelessly coating his scarred, wry lips.

there’s a faint tang of bitterness as he starts to dip his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt—but again, he’s nasty – he’s dirty and your cunt made him even dirtier. toji made sure to thoroughly drag his tongue through every crevice, lapping up the wads of runny cum that was trying to glissade down your puffed pussy. he’s crazy, grabbing ahold of rickety unstable your hips with two bare hands. shaking his head side to side like a madman.

“toji… fuck, you’re s-so nasty,” you moan, fishing a hand through his rumpled overgrown tresses. toji groans once you give his hair a solid pull, yanking him forward. his entire face was stuffed against your pussy—and honestly, to him.. this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out.

death by pussy.

toji found it cute how you could never stay still, his tongue was that much, and you let off a sweet dragging yelp once the tip of his tongue greets itself against your pretty throbbing g-spot. “fuckkk!”

“nasty just for you, babygirl,” he hoarsely whispers against your folds. hitched hot breath waves into your entrance and you were already starting to arch toward. breathy, labored breaths of yours started to grow more ‘n more irregular as he continued eating you out. after every toe-curling movement from his tongue alone—toji moves even closer, lolling out the entirety of his long flat tongue to get an extra good enough taste. he was greedy.

verdant eyes meet yours as he creates a slow sloppy trail, starting at your fluttering hole allllll the way until he’s guiding his tongue to lick in between your slit. toji thinks it’s cute how you’re throbbing in his mouth – pulsating on his tastebuds the entire time—pulse after fuckin’ pulse. you let off a cute ‘ah!’ as you’re just shoving his head against your face and he snickers.

toji slurps you clean, creating such lewd noises from his mouth before meanly spanking your cunt, staring it dead in the entrance. “she’s my favorite girl, always” and he hums. “ ‘s funny though. she’s just like you,” and you whimper once his palm swats against your pudgy folds again, squelches getting louder. “she talks back exactly just like you, baby. wet with a smart mouth.”

your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you watch with glossy-doe eyes whilst toji plays between your legs. each convulsion gets stronger… and by now, you started to feel yourself short-circuiting. you were so tender, and toji loved more than anything to spank your cunt raw, kiss it, rub it—then spank it again. a feral cycle.

right then, that’s when he snakes two thick fingers inside of your cunt, watching his fingertips slowly disappear. soft shrilling moans drag from your vocal chords before he licks the remnants of his cum from your pussy before a breathy ‘heh’ fans against your clit. “god, she’s fuckin’ nasty today. no manners just like her pretty owner,” and toji pulls his fingers out, licking them before spanking your cunt again with a free hand. “oooh,” he jibes, pointed ears perking at the cute popping slosh. you’re so wet—so so wet and he only wanted more. as his hand continued to smack against your folds, a few droplets of your sheeny juices splat right near the corner of his mouth. a few millimeters away from his slashing scar near his lip. toji happily licks himself clean with his eager tongue, giving your pretty pussy another spank, and another, and a-fuckin’-nother. .

the room’s filled with nothing but loud spanks of his hand going against your cunt—you moan ‘n whimper everytime, the brief occasional sting from the palm of his hand leaving a sweet dirty taste in your mouth. at his next spank, toji hears you moan out a pretty ‘oooh’ of your own and he looks up at you.

“yeah, girl? like that one, huh? fuck, can’t tell who’s nastier,” and he spits on your cunt before lapping it up before it could dribble between your slit. “messy little girl. cute how y’r pussy’s tryna compete with you,” and as he spanking it for a while, toji maneuvers soft tenderly circles against your throbbing heat.

“my messy pussy. all mine.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

it’s rare for nanami to get pussy drunk—but when he does, watch out. he’s a eater at heart, and the moment you tell him what to do, he’s get cunt drunk within a matter of seconds.

“sweetheart, the least you could do is let me see you while ‘m between your legs,” nanami would huff, and his eyes were completely covered by his tie. tied in a neatly loose knot, he’s buried between your legs, so so close to your sopping saturated cunt. he could practically smell you, and as he spoke it was a cute pout that decorated his thin pink lips. as his glossed lips inch closer, he brings your pulsating clit a chaste kiss. “you’re wetter than usual today,” he whispers, and you let off a moan as your head tilts back, clawing a hand through his mussed blond strands. nanami looks up, his vision still blocked—but it’s almost as he’s making direct eye contact with you. as his finger gingerly peels your soddened folds apart, his husky voice pitches deeper. “does me bein’ on my knees ‘n blindfolded turn you on—”

with a impatient sigh, you give nanami’s hair a harder tug. “kennn,” and he watches as you create a wider spreading ‘v’ of your legs, glistening folds spreading apart also. “talk too much. finish eating,” and then a sly smile pulls against your lips as your eyes glance down at his unoccupied hand. “spank it too. . while you’re at it,” and you pout. “pretty please?”

“spank it?” he repeats, nearly getting lost at the sheeny stream of slick that pours down your slavering entrance. your pussy was profusely weeping from top to bottom, and nanami brings a hand up, softly caressing your tender twitching muscle. “my, where’s this comin’ from? you know i wouldn’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

you let off yet another frustrated sigh, feeling your chest heave in and out as nanami’s lips brush up against your swollen clit. pretty, ruby lips of his were all damp—along with the lower part of his jaw that was starting to water all due to your sweetened juices freely cascading down his chin. “ ‘s not gonna hurt, kento,” you reassure him, your voice getting shakier once he goes back to delving his pointed tongue in ‘n out of your throbbing heat.

there’s a coquettish simper that twists near each sides of his lips before he uses a palm to pat your cunt. “yeah? you want me to spank you here, huh?” and you whimper, watching as he starts to swirl a plethora of shapes against your sobbing entrance with his palm. immediately, you coat his entire palm with your slick and he starts to lick against his hand. with a sudden smack, you gush right on his palm a little and you whine at the abrupt contact. “ooh, how was that, my love?”

“harder,” you moan, feeling the bottomless pits of your stomach flutter with butterflies once nanami’s ethereal caramel eyes lock against yours. you hadn’t even realized he pulled his dotted patterned tie up above his eyes, getting a pretty peek of you and your sweet greedy cunt. once he gave you that look with that sleazy lopsided grin, fuck you knew it.

nanami kento’s pussy drunk, and it makes you throb just knowing only you had the power to make him this way.

with a playful snicker, he shakes his head. “ah, ‘harder,’ she says,” he whispers, giving your pussy another spank. one turns into two . . then three, then four . . and eventually, the only sounds that fill the room is nanami’s wide palm swatting against your squelching sex. if you weren’t vocal, you definitely were between your legs because your cunt continued to spat sloshes and squelches from each direction hit from his hand. “my oh my~ she’s a bit of a chatter today, no?”

still with a pout painted across your lips, you let off a sweet needy whine. “ ‘ken, spit on it,” and his ears perk up at your carnal words. you leer down at him as the corners of his lips crease inward, showcasing his dimples and he hums. “please, spit on it kento. need it.”

“no, baby. you want, not need,” nanami corrects you, the frigid silvery band of his watch brushing up against your cunt. as the coolly air of the room fans against your twitching flaps, he gathers up a nice wad of saliva before spitting down on your plump pussy lips.

nanami stares at you the entire time—openly, relishing in your expressions and you’re shivering and pulsating at the same time. seconds later, he leans in to slowly lap up the stringy trail of his own saliva while maintaining direct eye contact with you the entire time. nanami lolls out his lengthy long tongue, curling it inside of you before he gives your tender nub a niiiice long suck. he slurps literally everything out of you, and now. . he’s starting to to spell his last name with the tip of his tongue.

n-a-n-a-m-i k-e-n-t-o and as he’s tracing each letter libidinously, you feel your own hips rock and writhe into his mouth at an unsteady pace. nanami’s growing stubble tickles against your pussy and you whimper.

after a while, he grabs ahold of your hips and his head starts to sashay back and forth. he’s fast, and he softens his voice, talking over your sweet wailing whines. “fuck, use my face, honey. ‘s okay, i don’t bite,” he purrs against your clit. but as he spoke, his soft fawn irises lock against yours before he hums, teasingly nipping his teeth against your sensitive pearled nub while giving you the most pussy-drunken grin you’ve ever seen.

“unless.. you’re into that too, sweetheart—me biting your clit, i mean.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO

with choso—he gets cunt drunk the second he gets a fresh view between your legs. so pretty, just seeing you spread eagle in front of him, teasing him with that playful look in his eyes, oh you were gonna be the death of him. but in this case—not you, but your pussy instead.

“come closer baby,” you quietly coo, watching how your boyfriend’s eyes bulged wider. you look so pretty, slouched back against his side of the bed with your legs spread. he gulps as he openly stares at your drooling cunt - weeping with honey slick that creates a trail of wet molasses. you were so soaked, and choso could tell you were playing with yourself while he was out. “chosoooo,” you hum, a smile marinating against your glossed lips as you could clearly see him nearly entranced by your spread out pussy. he barely blinks, and once he starts making his way between your legs, he lets out a soft whimper. “c’mere, give it a ‘lil kiss.”

“y- you sure?” he sheepishly says, the darkened scar that runs across the bridge of his nose creasing up. as choso brings his face between your thighs, his warm breath aerates down your slit. god, he couldn’t help but get a good whiff. you smelled so sweet—and he hasn’t seen you all day. instinctively, he runs a thumb down your sobbing cunt before feeling his lips twitch. “f- fuck, princess. were you playin’ with yourself earlier?”

in this case—you’d end up making choso an ever bigger freak than you. with an impish grin, you paw a hand through his oily raven strands before inhaling a deep breath.

“maybe jus’ a little,” and you moan once you feel his thin lips pucker, bringing your cunt a soft three second smooch. “yeah- uh huh, like that,” and as your voice starts to tremor, you give his hair a light tug. “choso, use your fingers a little. can you do that too?”

“mhm,” choso replied meekly, and you didn’t have to tell him twice. as your legs continued to sprawl themselves open, he gradually pops in a finger – immediately feeling you try to clamp down on him. choso lets off a soft airy breath, watching with big marveled eyes as your cunt’s so eager to suck in the single digit.

you squelch—then you squelch again, and you let off a moan once you feel him start to scissor his finger way past the tight ring of your gummy entrance. “s- so warm inside, baby,” he murmurs, and he can’t help but lean in, sliding his tongue against your twitching sex. “mmph,” you stare as his eyes flicker back for a moment, and you knew right away that it didn’t take long before he choso kamo was fatally pronounced entirely pussy drunk.

the moment his digit’s buried deep inside of your sopping cunt—he can’t help but add in another, and he’s moaning right with you.

choso was near the side of the bed and his hips took it amongst theirselves to start rocking against the wooden edge. “c- choso,” you mewl out, feeling an eerie stir swarm around the bottom pits of your stomach. his fingers were long, and he made sure to delve them in and out of you, coating each ‘n every inch with such slimy volumes of your sweet sap. “fuuuck, keep kissin’ it too, baby,” and as he continues to obediently follow your words, your legs begin to wrap around his neck. “fuck, fuck, don’t stop. ‘s good, good fuckin’ boy.”

“m’ your good boy,” he repeats, feeling a strain at his dick that sheaths under his jeans once he hears you. your praise—choso’s number one weakness. whenever you showered him with praises, or even degrade him a bit, he’d probably cum right through his pants. choso’s thick fingers plummet deeper until they twist around, maneuvering circular shapes to make you whimper out a desperate battle cry. you slump back, gasping before you feel your leg start to twitch. “ ‘s this okay, baby?”

with another whine running past your lips, you felt a sudden pressure gradually building up. its creeping—and the curvature of your mouth forms into a oval-like ‘o’ the second you feel him rubbing his nose against your cunt.

fuck… you were so close and choso made sure to study your body’s movements. “m’ gonna cum, ‘cho. fuck, right there, don’t stop, ngh,” and as your eyes squeeze shut, you watch him briefly pull out his slick-coated fingers. you’re panting heavily. harsh-heated breaths snatch from your lungs unapologetically, and as you’re laid back with your legs spread wide – you don’t even realized you had gushed right out… a pretty shimmering geyser that sprays out your overwhelmed pussy.

your orgasm was beautiful, and choso’s ears twitched at the melodic sound of you abruptly finishing. you ended up squirting, and it makes him moan knowing he did that. “so.. pretty,” he pouts, lapping up his wet chin with his tongue. you could feel your legs still violently shaking as you were trying to get over your teetering high, your grip in his hair loosening. “hah, good girl. did so good, a bit m- messy but good,” he cheekily jibes, raven eyes flickering up at you.

choso gives your sloppy cunt one more kiss before you moan, feeling him slither both thin fingers back in.

“more… do that again f’me,” and choso playfully nibbles at your clit, hearing your cute yelps from the tenderness. “wanna see you squirt again, and again, and again.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

you’d make him pussy drunk in the most random times — he’d be working out, and you’d be straddling him, bare ‘n all.

geto grunts, feeling your soft wet cunt just laid all out, sitting against his flexing sweaty abs. such carnal thoughts roam through his brain… imagining all types of things—like him being between your legs to start, eating you out like a starved man.

“h-heh.. now m’ startin’ to get why you love watchin’ me do my sets, sweetheart,” geto slyly purrs, raising a brow once he sees you straddling not his lap—but his chest. his perfectly chiseled chest with glistening trails of sweat tearing down his sculptured v-line.

it was true . . you indeed loved to watch geto whenever he worked out, but it always made you super aroused. how his hefty tense muscles would tightly tense at each pull of his dumbbells. how his veins in his forearms would bulge from each rough pull. but the moment you peeled your panties to the side, geto hooks a hand on your hip. “oh? is my girl feelin’ a bit nasty tonight?”

“suguuu,” a cooing whine slithers past your lips as you pout, your wet cunt sitting flat against the top chiseled row of his abs. they were so hard.. and it makes your legs clench together, feeling his chest heave in and out. he’d just gotten through a bunch of reps, but you couldn’t wait—and neither could the stream that’s starting to gloss between your stick thighs. “you’ve been workin’ out all day.”

geto darkly chuckles, brushing a thumb down your drenched pussy. “babe, it’s been three hours,” and as his hooded eyes trail down at your cracked open legs, he exhales deeply. “but. . with a pussy this pretty, i gotta give you some attention too, right?”

“mhm,” you breathe, and he groans once he feels your hands slither toward his pecs. they were so big — and they glistened with sweat, beads racing down every corner. geto leans back, bringing both bulgy arms to rest behind his head as a coy grin plastered across his face. you couldn’t wait any longer, and that’s right when you started to move your sopping cunt against his rock hard abs. your hips moved slowly, and you were going back and forth, up and down . .

“fuck, look at you,” he whispers in a raspy hum, trailing a bare hand toward your the cute curving slope of your ass. geto gruffly groans, feeling his dick twitch in his black tight compression shorts. his noticeable bulge vigorously throbs and aches beneath the cottony fabric and you grinding your sweet cunt against his chest wasn’t exactly helping. geto’s sinister-dark eyes remain fixated on you the entire time, flickering towards your cunt from time to time—and within a blink of an eye, he swats a hand against your ass. “faster baby, don’t slow down now. ride ‘em good. make my fuckin’ abs just as dirty ‘n messy as you, yeah? use that pretty pussy. all for me.”

you start to pant - sharply, and as your eyes meet his, and oh, was he was feral. geto can’t help but strum a few fingers down your clit, bringing his fingers back up toward his lips for a shameless taste. as soon as he got a single taste of you, he was done for.

“sugu, m’ gonna cum,” you whimper, feeling your back starting to arch to a certain degree. slender fingers of yours rummage through his strands, tickling near his scalp before giving it a firm tug. geto groans, and you’re still jerking your cunt against his abs. it’s a lewd snail-trailing slope. you made sure to coat half if not all of his abdomen with your honeyed slick. “suguru, hng. gonna c- oh fuuuck!”

“c’mon then, make a mess. be my messy baby,” he whispers, his tone getting more and more huskier. each word he spoke in such a filthy sultry manner makes your pussy twitches. geto brings a hand down between your legs, ghosting a swollen fat thumb down your needy clit. throb after throb, you were getting closer toward your teetering edge—so much so to where you could almost taste it without actually tasting it. it was becoming inevitable, and right when you end up cumming, you let off the cutest seven-second mewl.

your jaw stupidly hangs open as you end up finishing against his core ripped stomach—geto flexes his pecs underneath you and he huffs. “fuck, good girl,” and as you’re creaming on a row of his washboard abs, geto combs a hand through his hair. your cunt pulses against his skin and he hisses out a breathy needy ‘fuck.’ glancing down with low hooded eyes, he sees your clit dilating. so cute, you were convulsing right on top of him and your hips fatally come to a crashing stop. breath after breath leaves from your lungs as you’re a mess, watching his glossy his entire lower chest glisten with your own arousal to blame. “god, made such a mess on me,” and geto reaches in his boxers as you straddle him, phewing at how hot you looked on top of him.

but right as he sits up, you lightly push him back against his cushiony weight bench, hearing him land with a gruff ‘ugh.’ you pout, dragging a finger down his sharp sculptured v-line before stopping at his black faded happy trail. “s- suguru, let me lick it off you too.”

“atta giiirl,” he croons, giving your ass once final spank. geto leans back, his eyes following you as you lean your head down, still quietly whimpering from your recent release. geto groans, giving your hair a ruffle before sighing. once your tongue starts to trail its way down his sheeny slick abs, he sucks in a breath. “fuck, lick everywhere sweetheart. don’t miss a—hah, don’t miss a drop, fuck.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“tch. what’s with . . the weird look, woman,” sukuna would pant, and he’s heavily out of breath. he sits back on his throne and oh, he’s flushed. you rode him to a point where he’s nearly speechless for a few seconds. you straddle on top of him with his cock stilled inside of you, feeling all various arms of his wrap around your waist. a pink slit brow furrows before he sighs. “quit looking impish, it’s.. irritating.”

“ ‘kuna,” you remain still, nearly slipping at a moan once you feel his flaccid cock rest between your folds. he’s stretching you out so good as shaky, rickety thighs of yours ached and burned. every vein within your body. he sucks in a breath once your hands feel down his bare, exposed chest. sukuna’s wearing nothing but a kimono on, it’s slit open and you felt all down his body. he’s warm, way warmer than usual and as you continue to touch the curse’s skin, you stop at his oversized pecs. “mhm.” sukuna’s got such a wide chest—but you weren’t so much focused on that, you were focused on his nipples.

his pink, perked nipples that you knew were always so sensitive. he told you about it . . once, and never again because it was well, embarrassing. even air brushing against his skin makes him shiver, including with causing his nipples to shamefully twitch. “can i suck on ‘em again?”

“suck on—oh..” his gruff voice trails, and you can see a splash of bashfulness paint his pale face like a canvas. sukuna ryomen’s embarrassed.. and oh how he wished he could wipe the smug smirk off your face. sukuna scoffs, but it doesn’t take long before he finally caves in. “fine, get it over with.”

your smile never falters, and as he’s still idly buried deeply inside your cunt with such salaciously thick inches, you bring your lips toward his pecs. sukuna inhales deeply, mentally preparing himself before fuck, you cup your lips around his right nipple. “hah, such a weird one you are,” he breathlessly groans, an arm gently clasping under your head to support it. your eyes close, and you suck on it—until he lets off another raspy groan. sukuna’s dick twitches and he’s so tender, so . . . sensitive.

the demon scrapes a few claws down his meaty thigh as your tongue lies itself flat against his perked nipples. “mhm,” your lashes flutter close, and at that exact moment, you start to ride him again. it was sudden, his eyes widen before he lets off a needy husky moan, squeezing a portion of your ass tightly before his crimson eyes roll back. he’s pussy drunk – entirely, especially since he was still trying to get over his most recent orgasmic orgasm. sukuna tried to keep up his façade, but with a cunt as hypnotic as yours, he might as well be buried six feet fuckin’ under. a vein twitches on his cock and its sporadic pulses make you pulse.

he’s just big inside, easily rearranging your insides without even having to move an inch. his lazy downward curve of his dick made you drool—sukuna reached far inside of your pussy, never forgetting to bruise and kiss against your sweet beloved g-spot. “ ‘kunaaa,” you repeat his name, and he could feel his entire body heat the more you whisper his title through those pretty glossed lips. as you briefly depart your lips from his nipples with a loud ‘pop!’ sound echoing through his eerie domain, strings of saliva detaching from your mouth. “hah, can you lactate?”

“you did not just ask me that,” the curse angrily pouts, and you feel his pecs tense. sukuna remains sat on his throne before scoffing. “you humans and your weird fantasizes. no, i don’t lacta—”

“wouldn’t hurt to try,” you titter, and he groans the second your mouth goes back to sucking against his tender skin like a leech. so good, a fang of his pokes beneath his lip as his mouth hands open. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. sukuna grunts from the sensitivity and you thought he was gonna push you away, but instead—he does the opposite. sukuna pulls you closer with one arm, digging his sharp keen fangs into his bottom pulled out lip to suppress his incoming whimpers.

your tongue swirls it way around his nipples, making sure to wet everywhere—he groans, sucking in individual sharp breaths before he feels his cock tightening. fuck, he felt something approaching quickly. his reaction time was devastatingly slow and his look of cockiness suddenly forms into . . neediness.

“ugh, such a nasty girl. but shit— don’t stop,” he snarls, one of his feet thumping against his regal glass floor. he’s chewing on salty anticipation and it’s never tasted sweeter. sukuna’s dick that stills itself inside of you aches for more, and as he watches as your own saliva lewdly race down the corners of your lips, he grumbles. “have some c- class, woman.”

oh, you’re making him stutter now.. and it’s cute— sukuna ryomen was flustered, and he’s so lost in his brief fantasm that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming inside of you yet again. but at the same time, he starts leaking from his pecs. there’s a sweet taste that trickles on the flatness of your tongue as you hum. at the same time, a raw hot load pours into your womb deeply and he lets out a growl that echoes ‘n resounds through the soundproof walls of his domain. “fuck,” he hisses, veins prodding all through his thick neck. your cunt wholly accepts every drop, and you teasingly grind against him as your pussy flutters around him. then it dawned on him, sukuna came… just from you sucking on his nipples. you were about to say something as you try to get up, but he pushes you right back into sucking on his pecs, wrapping an arm around you.

“y’er .. a fuckin’ weirdo,” sukuna grumbled, still shuddering from his intense release. sukuna felt both of his nipples grow hot, and he’s shaking as he’s never felt more sensitive. velvety ropes shoot into you rawly and he huffs, lazily slouching all the way back on his throne.

“so you can lacta—”

“shut up, woman,” he snaps at you, but you can hear the cute shiver in his voice. sukuna’s eyes were droopy and he’s still heavily panting, moaning as you suck on his tender nipples. as you start to move your hips again, relishing the candied taste in your mouth—he’s still dumping hefty amounts of sweltering hot cum until it dribbles past your thighs. you’re overflowed, you’re overflowed and he’s undeniably pussy drunk.

“but… phew, didn’t say you could stop. do it again,” and sukuna’s vermillion-bloodshot eyes narrow at your smug grin before he curses under his breath, eyes rolling back eyes again,

“…please.”

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suksatoru · 7 months ago

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sukuna and you got into a fight after you had a near death experience. when you're in need of comfort—he's hostile and enraged. you're hurt tenfold and overcome with sadness after his outburst. going to bed after fighting with sukuna is a war all in itself–but one day, you'll be able to see just how hard he works to be a good lover to you. pairing: sukunaxfem!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Sukuna is silent as he changes, save for the quiet grunts and sighs that leave his lips every now and then. The dim lamp lit on his side of the bed creates shards of gold that glisten and shine in his eyes, and he regards you quietly as he slips out of his formal robes and into a simple pair of pants.

He could be so mean sometimes. You were never one to take his insults to heart, they were always empty words he muttered out to mask his true feelings. You know Sukuna is bad at communication, you are all he's had and ever will have. There was no one before you, and there will be no one after you. So, Sukuna has to learn to go through all the hard stages that come packaged with a relationship alongside you.

Your back is turned to him as you lay in bed, your body tense and shoved so far towards the edge of the bed, he's sure you'll fall off if you shift even just the slightest bit. You're so desperate to stay away from him, and a small part of Sukuna's chest squeezes painfully at the sight.

He doesn't know how the argument started—you were always so level headed. He could come to you fuming, enraged from his duties and the stress he has to endure everyday—but your fingers raking through the pink tufts of his hair never failed to calm him.

Except today.

Because today—today he was mad at you.

You didn't mean to upset him, those were the words that tumbled from your lips as you weeped into his lap—begging for forgiveness. Your lashes clumped together with glistening tears, and all you wanted was to be comforted by him. But Sukuna scolded you instead, berating and belittling you with the cruelest of words that only made you cry harder by the end of the entire ordeal. He wasn't mad, he was fucking furious.

He told you to stay away from his estate's river whenever it's raining. But you ventured outside anyways, mindlessly and stupidly and almost died. He warned you how strong the currents were, told you how he'd lost so many idiot servants to the river's ruthlessness.

He thought you had died. It was the single, most terrifying moment of his entire life. Because when he pulled you out of the water, you were shaking like a leaf and your pulse was barely there. And when they took you to the medical wing, the doctors were brought to near tears as they tried to keep you alive. Because if you died, if they couldn't bring you back to consciousness safely—then Sukuna would probably kill everyone in a mile radius just from pure rage.

But you're here. Stubborn and alive, arms crossed over your chest as you curl up into a little ball. He slides under the blanket eventually, turning off the lamp as darkness finally envelops his room. The rain still goes on quietly outside, pitter pattering against his window softly.

He presses his lips onto your shoulder blades, pulling your back against his chest and frowning a little once he feels how stiff you are in his grasp. He doesn't want to speak the words—doesn't even want to acknowledge them, but he knows he has to. Or your tear stricken face was sure to haunt him and keep him awake the entire night

His lips are rough against your skin, and you let out a huff—before elbowing him, the King of Curses, in the gut.

He sucks in a hiss from between his teeth, before biting down on your shoulder in retaliation as you yelp

"You bast–"

You're turning around to tell him off, brows scrunched together and lips pulled back in a wobbly scowl, and he takes the opportunity to shut you up when his lips collide with yours

You would have expected the kiss to be rough—angry and hard and mean. But his lips brush yours gently as you pause, before his warm mouth presses softly onto yours

Sorry. He mumbles the word quietly against your lips as he wraps a single arm around your waist, turning you around and over him before securing you on top of his chest with a deep sigh. His irises are lined with a ring of ruby, and you watch him gaze at you through half lidded eyes.

The moonlight barely illuminates his face, but you can see the sheen in his gaze as he peers up at you

Thought I lost you. He murmurs when you suck in a cry, and he rubs your back whispering I know, I know.

Ryomen Sukuna wasn't gentle, no one would describe him as gentle. But the manner he's rubbing your back in has you sinking into his skin as you soak up all the comfort he offered—the one you so desperately craved.

"It was so scary. I-I was just—" And you hiccup on a sob as he coos quietly, curling his large palm around the back of your head as he presses your face into his chest, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair as his hand rubs up and down the slope of your spine

" 'm here now. Rest, you're safe with me. You know that, don't you?" He questions, and you nod, sniffling as your small hands wrap around his neck, legs locking around his waist as you breathe him in.

No, he wasn't the best at managing his emotions. He was quick to anger, and, simply put, the biggest asshole to walk the earth. But he feels. He loves and he hurts and he knows that there is only one person who can accept him and his broken heart as it is—you.

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cherie-doll · 4 months ago

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dude omg think about it, cod men and cute agression with their s/o ALSIDJKSDGH

ASDKJFK (i did not proofread this, not like i ever do but, anyways)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

🝮 Price likes to surprise you by grabbing your wrist as you walk by his spot on the couch, pull you onto his lap and hold you whilst he nuzzles into your neck. It makes you squirm and laugh as you feel patches of his beard tickle your skin. Your moving around only causes him to grip your hand tighter, your laughter contagious as he smiles warmly at you, withholding his own laughter. He rarely does anything else though.

🝮 Ghost is really careful and hesitant at first, what if you're not okay with it? But when you start showing him how to show physical affection, he becomes more comfortable doing it. There won't be any indicators on his part when he's about to do it, he'll still for a moment, his fists tightening and then grabbing you suddenly, harshly almost. You feel him relax against you once he has his big, bulky, strong arms around you tight. He just really likes snatching you out of nowhere, holding you super tight against him until he lets a soft breath out. Kind of like holding a kitten close to you; it's relaxing once you feel its soft fur and forget about your problems for the day.

🝮 Soap aggressively sniffs you. Like, randomly coming up to you when you're doing mundane things such as reading, washing the dishes or just in bed scrolling on your phone. He won't just sniff in one place, no, he'll do it all over; your neck, shoulders, arms, chest, anywhere. And it makes you really confused as to why he does it when you haven't put on perfume yet so there must not be any scent to smell, right? No, somehow he can smell your "natural" scent. Whatever that means.

🝮 Gaz will run at you, tackle you, and try to hold you down while he attacks you with kisses. Quick smooches all over your face, neck, collarbone and keeps going lower and lower until you have to stop him before you turn into a puddle on the spot. Gosh, sometimes that man is too much, you swear he'll be the death of you someday. Even in a short amount of time, he can get in plenty of kisses. Ofc, you do it back at him when you catch him off guard, and it has sort of turned into a game you both play at home.

🝮 Roach will become clingy, so so clingy, so much so that he wraps all four of his limps around yours, tight like an octopus and won't let go. He's grinding his teeth because he wishes to do more but is holding back. Little noises can be heard from him as he itches to apply more pressure until he can merge into you, wishing to be closer, as if it were possible. He can't find what to do and you're just there, unable to get up from the couch. You wish to get up, to make it to the bed to sleep but he just won't let you get up. Trying to muster all your strength, you attempt to push his body off of yours but it's impossible. You sigh in defeat at having to sleep on the couch because who knows what got into your boyfriend, but you're kinda enjoying it.

🝮 Alejandro leaves bite marks. Everywhere. Will be eating next to you in the kitchen, you reach over for the salt or a napkin and next thing you know this man goes in for a bite because your arm was right there, in front of him. At this point, you're so unfazed that it barely registers anymore, it doesn't hurt because he doesn't bite down hard, he makes sure to never actually hurts you. The bite marks are barely there, unless you're going out right away you have no reason to worry over covering them. Sometimes you'll forget you even have a bite mark and someone will go "Violent toddler?" "No, loving husband".

🝮 Rudy tends to avoid trying to act upon impulsive, violet urges when his senses are overwhelmed. Will silently suffer because he doesn't want you complaining that he messed up your hair or makeup when he just wants to press kisses all over your face or bite you. So he does it but gently? Like he goes in for it but last minute he softens and you feel a set of teeth slowly sinking into your shoulder and you attempt to turn only to see Rodolfo and his soft eyes meetings yours, bashfully as if regretting it. Your reaction is worth it though, you simply laugh and tell him you don't mind since you do it all the time to him.

🝮 Phillip gets cuteness aggression even if you're not there. Weird, huh? He looks back on pictures of you on his phone, pictures that are horrid to you but endearing to him. Then he'll want to hold you so he's off to search for you, tracks you down within a minute and will pull you away from whatever you are doing to wrap his arms tightly around you and swing you around without a single word beforehand, might not even have greeted you if he had just returned home. Then, he'll set you down and lower his face to your height so you may kiss him, but if you hesitant for more than a second he'll sigh and instead kiss you all over.

🝮 Makarov gets the urge to bother you when you're mad because according to him "you look cute when you're mad". You may think he's belittling you, but he only does it if what you're upset over is considered "silly" by him. If you're seriously mad at him he will do anything to please you, seriously. But when it's over small things, he thinks it's the best time to be all up on you, not leaving you alone despite you being peeved and trying to push him away. Will poke your cheeks when they're puffed from you huffing in annoyance until he can't hold back from grabbing your face to forcefully meet his eyes. Will smush your face until you're making a pufferfish face.

🝮 Keegan will randomly just come at you, like just staring at you quiet when you're like "??" and in a swift manner will get up. It scares the living daylights out of you how fast he moves but you barely have time to react before he's bringing you down with him, tackling you onto the floor so you can't swat at him while he pinches your cheeks until they turn red. You whine and swat at him because it hurts but he just laughs meanly leaving a little kiss on top of your nose and walking away. You hate that you love that bastard.

🝮 König is the one who you dote on with climbing him and pressing a crap ton of kisses on his cheeks because you can't control yourself, but he's the tall one, he should be the one having a hard time not using his strength to pick you up and just press his face against your neck. One thing about König is that he goes absolutely feral when he can smell your scent very strongly. No, not when you're wearing perfume, he thinks the fabricated smell messes with your natural scent, he likes how you smell right when you wake up. The scent that lingers makes him want to bury his nose into your shirt or hair and smell that comforting scent.

🝮 Horangi will bite. That's what he's always so tempted to do. Will gently pinch your cheeks like two marshmallows, you laugh softly and he smiles at how cute you look, until he leans in and bites your cheek. Doesn't bite hard, just softly, enough to leave a little mark on your cheeks that goes away after a while. As for biting in other places... let's just say he's not so gentle there. Uses his height and strength to his advantage, can get pretty rough when "attacking" you, but that's just because he's overwhelmed and can barely handle it.

🝮 Nikto will have periods of time where you're both doing your own thing and then you feel the air change, the tv stopped playing. You look up to see this man staring at you and you can't tell what emotions are flickering behind those eyes by simply peering at him. It scares you at times honestly, until he grabs both sides of your face and moves your head slightly from one side to the other, like a bear and its massive paws toying with you. Leans in closer until your noses are touching and rubs aggressively. He does it until your face scrunches up and he smirks, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he lets go and you think that's it until he does it again.

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solxamber · 10 months ago

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love it.

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

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

Really?

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

And then, boom. Everything went black.

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

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

Your heart drops.

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

No. Fucking. Way.

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

“Oh. My. God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Consequences?”

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

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

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

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

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

Are you kidding me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 100

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

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

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

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

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

No!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is.

Holy crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

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

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

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

And that’s when you heard it.

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

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

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

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

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

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

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

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

No, focus! Focus!

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

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

But also… very, very good?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

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

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

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it happens.

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

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

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

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

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, not this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little does she know.

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

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

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain Points: 625. 375 points left till freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the plan began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

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

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

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

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

"I—I didn’t—"

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

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

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

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

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

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

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

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

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then gravity kicks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue dramatic gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It really doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

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

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

The Princess snorts.

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. The dam broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Classy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

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

You could almost hear his internal screams.

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

Time to act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

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

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

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

The execution? Less brilliant.

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

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

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

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

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

“See? Mission accomplished!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

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

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

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

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

There was a long pause before the system replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Told you.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For her.

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

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

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

This time, you were the one in control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #chaotic mc #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #au: nobility #arranged marriages #trash novel chronicles

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saffron-slash · 21 days ago

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Doomed Baja Blast Masterpost

💥

Disclaimer: This is not a “feral” AU. Do not call it that. Do not describe my Ronin as “feral” (or other words adjacent to it) either, it makes me super uncomfortable for several reasons, so please don’t do that. Cool? Cool. So, anyway—

Premise:

A much older, war-hardened Leonardo Hamato--the leader of the rebel force against the violent and merciless Krang that ravaged the planet for 20 years--finds himself startling awake in a dirty alley in New York. The last thing he remembers is being at the end of the line. He commanded Michelangelo to open an inter-dimensional portal to the past, and watched as it ended his little brother's life. He sent Casey Jones Junior through the portal to rewrite history and stop the Krang. Leonardo stayed behind in the desolate, burning world--fighting, alone, until his inevitable fate. Now suddenly awake in a pre-Krang New York, there is a single, burning question in his mind: Why is he here?

Little does Leonardo know, this world that he has woken in is different. In this world--sometime after the Hamato family successfully defeated the Shredder--all except one of them were killed in a shockingly brutal Foot Clan attack. Michelangelo Hamato is the last survivor of the Hamato clan. He is The Last Ronin.

The Last Ronin is doomed to burn bright, and then burn out. That is how the story goes.

...Can Leonardo rewrite a story a second time?

Credits

Many of the story beats for this AU are co-written by myself and my partner @hollowavarice. 💖

⚠️ Content Warnings for This AU ⚠️

Heavy themes of dealing with grief and loss with a focus on familial death.

Depictions of characters exhibiting symptoms of severe trauma and mental illness, especially symptoms of PTSD such as disassociation, reduced affect display, and hyper-vigilance.

Moderate violence, blood, and burn injury/death. Injuries and excessive gore are never explicit (e.g. I will never make a drawing depicting full, minute details of a wound; it will make both me and [possibly] you very queasy.)

Links

The comics for this AU so far, on tumblr. (This tells an overarching story, so read them in order. If you're having trouble, there's another option below.)

All the comics so far, sorted in order and into chapters, on comicfury.

All the art I've ever drawn for this AU, here on tumblr.

FAQ

How old are Leo (from the bad timeline) and Mikey (The Ronin) in this AU?

Leo is thirty-nine, and Mikey is sixteen.

Why is Mikey (The Ronin's) markings gray and washed out?

They have greyed and dulled from his extensive overuse of fire magic. They are a symptom of the toll these powers are taking on his body.

Why does Mikey (The Ronin) have a bandage wrapped around his chest?

It's mostly a visual design choice on my part, but I did intend for his chest wraps to somewhat resemble a sarashi.

Will you ever depict a flashback that shows how the rest of the Hamatos died?

No. That would be immensely distressing for me. I will drop hints of what happened in conversations and interactions with Mikey (The Ronin) in comics and such, but will never, ever show a complete flashback. At most, there will be snippets that will imply things, but never be explicit.

When is the next comic coming out?

When it's ready. Don't rush me, this is a passion project. 💜

Final Note

Before I finish this post, I want to make one thing clear about this AU: This story is not about pure hurt and suffering. I don't like to create dark, dramatic stories just for the sake of being dark. This story and AU is ultimately about healing and finding the strength to love again, even after suffering devastating loss. The path to healing is never an easy one--but it is never impossible, either.

If you read this far, congratulations! Here's a cookie. 🍪

(This post may be updated in the future).

#doomed baja blast #rottmnt au #au masterpost

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astroismypassion · 18 days ago

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Astrology observations 🌊🐟🌊

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🌊 If you have Mars closely to your Midheaven or Mars on your Midheaven, no matter the aspect, is that you are far more sexualized than you actually are, privately. Others that don't know you that well, you aren't close with or the public see you as seductive, sometimes even as a bit of a provocateur. Now this changes if you have Aries over the 4th house or Mars in the 4th too, then you are sexualized by your close friends and closest people in your life too.

🐟 If you ever publish a book, you can see how it will do by looking at the sign over the 5th house and planets in the 5th house. Passion projects and creative offspring are found here. So if you have Aries over the 5th house, some may admire your work, others will see you and your work as rivals. Mercury in the 5th house: some may question it or criticise it harshly, ask you questions about it or even give back constructive feedback.

🌊 If someone puts Mars, Pluto, Saturn, Uranus into your 10th house in Synastry or these planets touch your Midheaven, best believe they will affect your image negatively. And people will hate that you are spending time with this person. Maybe just Saturn, Uranus hold certain positives (that are usually delayed), but even these planets are not the best. Even your parents will go "why are you spending time with this person, they are not good for you".

🐟 When analyzing your Natal chart wheel, really pay close attention to at which degree the planets in your houses are. I noticed you could have Libra over the 10th house, but there is North Node at a Gemini degree in the 10th house and it really colours and affects your 10th house, you have more Gemini influence over your 10th house than you even realize.

🌊 Vertex is often discussed in a very romance oriented way, with who's supposedly your soulmate. I would say yes to a certain extent, but it goes further than this. Your Vertex is often activated during death, birth of someone, a career turning point that came out of nowhere, major relocation, psychological awakening or a major life transition. So people who touch your Vertex, usually represent that. It's not always just soulmate bonds. And yes, it might not always lead to forever love.

🐟 And while Vertex also shows a fated meeting, that you two were meant to meet, it's more about you learning how to SURRENDER CONTROL. This is the main lesson I see with this.

🌊 Any Water Vertex is really not for the weak. For example, having Cancer Vertex in the 8th house or an 8th house Vertex, indicates you are attracted to emotionally intense connections, but what ends up happening, they shake you to your core or demand total emotional vulnerability, that you may or may not want to give.

🐟 And now that we've discussed Vertex, let's talk Anti-Vertex. It's in the opposite sign and house of your Vertex. That's how you figure it out. Anti-Vertex show your comfort zone, what you are trying to create initially. It's where you feel in command and safe. It's what we THINK we WANT, but not necessarily what we NEED for GROWTH in our life. It's what you've already mastered. If you have Capricorn Anti-Vertex in the 2nd house, you already know how to make money, have a successful career and how to be self-reliant, but Cancer Vertex in the 8th house is challenging you to learn emotional intimacy, how to nurture and emotionally surrender.

🌊 So it's interesting how Anti-Vertex affects your partnerships. You may think that this is the person you are supposed to end with. You are initially drawn to their reliability and familiarity. But it may not be the relationship that transforms you, your Vertex does.

🐟 Having a Gemini Part of Fortune or in the 3rd house the word from a friend to a friend can go crazyy. The right word from the right person at the right time can literally shift your life.

🌊 North Node in the 10t house often experience guilt around being too ambitious or leaving others behind.

🐟 I would argue Leo Moon needs even more special attention than Leo Venus does. They really need to feel special and admired, appreciated, otherwise the partnership doesn’t satisfy them fully. They want the special treatment and constant praise, even small gifts.

🌊 Moon conjunct Saturn often attracts partners who want the native to put in order, structure in their life and having better boundaries with people.

🐟 When someone puts their Neptune in your 2nd house in Synastry, you might have to take care of them at some point or pay for someone to take care of them. Even pay for their therapist perhaps. Neptune person can become ill, experience substance oversuse or experience difficulties with their mental health.

🌊 Libra Chiron or Chiron in the 7th house can indicate having a "lazy" partner who doesn't compliment you often or tell you how beautiful, handsome you are. With this placement your partners could end up making you even more insecure.

🐟 With someone putting their Mars in your 4th house, you really have to be okay with it for this overlay to work, because it's not for everyone. Mars person can have conflict with your family members, especially the mother. But also challenge your sense of security, your roots, what you're comfortable with, what is known to you. A positive can be that you are the boss of your career, but the Mars person is the one who is incharge at home.

🌊 You meet your Moon sign and sign over the 4th house the most the first time in your childhood, during elementary school, but also the second time in your retirement.

🐟 Neptune in the 2nd house is similar to Pisces Moon in both buy discounted food.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

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voxslays · 6 months ago

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SQUID GAMES MEN’S HOBBIES

TLDR: What the squid games men would do with you for fun… A/N: I got bored so I binged all of season one in a day yesterday (I have a problem. I’m too obsessed with this show).

HWANG IN-HO

❀ Coming up with ideas for the next games (and playing them). Don’t get me wrong, In-ho is a brilliant man—but sometimes even he gets stumped on new ideas for the games. But with you by his side, it all seems to come to him so much easier.

❀ Your imagination seems infinite, seeing as you come up with so many good ideas (glass bridge, mingle, etc). And when you’re done? You play them together with the guards just for funsies. You truly know how to make In-ho feel like a kid again.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ Ddakji. Must I say more? This guy loves Ddakji so much it’s basically his job—well, that and recruiting people with money struggles or debt into a death game! But you don’t know that part yet.

❀ Although Gong-Yoo usually wins, it’s always fun to see your cute little faces when you’re focusing, or when you mess up. Unlike the slaps he usually gives to his elders (or anyone for that matter), when you mess up, all you have to do is give him a little kiss.

THANOS (CHOI SU-BONG)

❀ Thanos loves writing his raps with you. It takes him quite a while to write his songs—but with you it goes ten times faster. In Su-bong’s mind, you are his muse, and he usually sits in his studio, at his desk, with you on his lap.

❀ Thanos is usually the one to write the first lines, while you come up with the rhymes. According to Thanos, you are the smartest person he knows, so who better to help him with his rhyming? That, and he just loves any excuse for you to be on his lap (and cockwarm him).

KANG DAE-HO

❀ Cooking. Growing up with four older sisters, he learned a lot of ‘girly’ things (as his father would say) from them. From cooking to sewing, he can do it all! So really, it’s no surprise that every night he has off, he wants to help you cook.

❀ Dae-ho is also very helpful in the kitchen. If you’re stirring, he’s mixing. If you’re cutting, he’s mashing. With his help, you can get a meal with an hour preparation down to around a half hour. This man is crazy skilled, and not afraid to deviate from the recipe a bit.

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starlight-sev · 2 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet (Severus Snape)

Here we are, back by popular demand!

18+ only for reasons obviously mentioned in title above. MDNI, please and thank you!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He gravitates to you immediately. Limbs intertwined, holding you close as if the world might end. Severus always needs to feel you, to have a hand on you in some way just to remind himself that you're real, that what the two of you just shared was real.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Severus doesn't really like anything about himself. If you were to ask him to pick something, I'm pretty sure he'd just frown and close himself in emotionally a bit. He's still learning how to love himself that way.

He loves your hands -- being able to lace his fingers through yours, feeling you holding him close. It keeps him grounded.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I honestly think he'd feel really awkward and uncomfortable at first about finishing with you literally right there with him. He's not used to having someone else in the room.

Once he grows more comfortable with you though, Severus would want to cum inside you. His possessive side starts to show the more he's with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes he'll read your mind to figure out what fantasies you have and what you're willing to try. He's a bit too afraid to straight up ask you, so he'll use Legilimency on you.

You do notice it, that little nudge at the back of your thoughts that feels a little off. You know it's him, but you find it kind of sweet and hot in a way. So you keep it secret too.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I would say Severus had a fair bit of experience after Hogwarts, during his time with the Death Eaters. He's good at the physical aspect of sex, but the emotional aspect is what throws him off.

He's not used to so many emotions at once, and the overwhelm makes him fumble a bit more than he would expect.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Having you on top. Severus is a switch but I really feel like he gravitates more towards being a sub when he's with you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's an anxious mess for the first few times with you. I feel like once he sees you laugh, or even just smile, it's enough to help him lighten up a bit and just be present with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Since being with you, he puts a bit more effort into self-care overall but it's not a super huge focus for him just yet. He's still learning how to prioritize himself without feeling uncomfortable doing so.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh my god don't even get me started. Fingers lacing through yours, neck kisses, Severus murmuring your name over and over between breaths.

This man worships you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He'd only masturbate if he were desperate -- it was never something he felt he could enjoy and sometimes he still struggles with the guilt. He'd honestly much rather let that tension build up until you're able to be together again.

Be prepared to not get a single minute of sleep if that's the case ooo boy

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One kink I think it would take Severus a while to work up the courage to tell you about is his desire to be blindfolded. To see only through touch and put all his trust in you.

One day, he'll tell you about it. But like everything else with Severus, it will take some time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed. He's much too careful to risk getting caught anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Feeling your hands run through his hair. He's not sure why that gesture specifically turns him on so much, but he practically melts on the spot as soon as he feels your fingers.

Severus will very nearly fall apart if you tug his hair gently. It's his biggest weakness.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing degrading, for either person. Hits too close to home, too many memories resurface. He's not a huge fan of BDSM either, for similar reasons.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Severus would much rather prefer to give than receive. He's still getting used to this whole trust and letting go thing when it comes to sex, and not to mention, where does he put his hands?? He's quite awkward about it when he's receiving, he overthinks everything. He's more comfortable giving, plus the sounds you make really turn him on.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual always except when he's had a particularly rough day, and you happen to visit while he's still emotionally charged.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan. Reminds him too much of his Death Eater days. He'd much rather take his time with you, because you deserve that attention and love and care.

The only time I could see him taking you up on a quickie is if the two of you were at a party, and he had had a drink or two. Enough to get his mind off the past, at least.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Depends on what it is. He's got constant fears that it'll either be triggering in some way, or he might hurt you. It would take a lot of talks and reassurance, but eventually he'll learn that you're a safe person, and you share a safe space together.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think one or two. Emotionally, it's a lot for him. Some days, he needs the aftercare more than he needs the sex itself.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, but I could definitely see him inventing new spells to try on/with you after enough time together. Mostly on you, though. He's often finding new ways to please you beyond traditional means.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I feel like most of the time Severus does it unintentionally. He'll get too carried away with caressing your skin without realizing it, until you start quietly begging to get on with it already. He'd never admit it, but it turns him on.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's pretty quiet, the most you'd get are gasps or your name moaned softly.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Severus can get possessive, and this is also when he becomes more reckless and risky. Sex at a party in a coat closet because he saw someone else trying to make a move on you? Absolutely. Pulling you into the darkness just long enough to leave a mark on your neck, reminding you of who holds your heart? There's no stopping him. Leaning in to whisper something to you, only to bite your ear gently as both reassurance and a warning? Hell yeah.

If he can't find a way to get you alone easily after seeing someone getting too close to you, you can bet he'd keep a hand on you at all times.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Remember that scene from Order of the Phoenix? Yeah. Enough said.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Severus does have his low moments, but they're less frequent since you've been in his life. Sometimes it's almost as if his sex drive keeps increasing. He just can't get enough of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sleep has never come easy for him, but it takes a shorter time to fall asleep after sex than it usually does. It helps if you're the big spoon, too. That extra comfort makes a huge difference.

#snape x reader #severus snape #snape imagine #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter #snape x y/n

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richeeduvie · 2 months ago

Text

✭ THE LENGTHS ✭

PART ONE: GUILTY CUBICLES

DARK(ISH) JACK ABBOTT x READER

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

You don't know the lengths to which he'd go.

Jack finds you. You're a new nurse working the night shift for the first time, and even though his introduction to you is you dead asleep at your desk, his time stuck with you and your eccentric, peppy behavior doesn't stop him from realizing your capabilities that are beyond what you should be able to do. With that, there's something about you that manages to grasp onto him despite what Jack knows best, to the point where even he's not willing to let you go for the sake of staying sane. For the sake of staying himself. It's an all-too-close work friendship that, again, for the sake of staying sane, he denies is anything more than a healthy and professional relationship with you. But when he can finally get rid of his degrading thoughts referring to him as an old sad fuck who doesn't deserve the sunshine of the E.R? When the two of you experience the tension and bond that only the walls of the Pitt can close in on?

You tell him you have a boyfriend. But even in the sudden anger and disappointment over this, Jack knows there's something about the claim that isn't adding up. Others believe, at first, that it's only Jack attempting to cling to you without admitting it, but when situations arise with their sunny, resilient nurse becoming someone they can't recognize, they find they have no choice but to let Jack protect you.

But what happens when the protection consumes him? There's no telling.

PART ONE DESCRIPTION: Jack meets the new nurse Robbie's been fawning over, only to then take the next couple of nights to pathetically cope with what he's feeling for the peppy, sunny young woman he's just met.

WORD COUNT: 7.9K || SLOW(ISH)BURN!! EVENTUAL SMUT (p in v sex, rough, unprotected) graphic depictions of violence, assault, death, and blood. Abuse (Not from Jack) Jealousy, obsession, possessive behavior, Dr. Robby x Reader if you squint like there's no tomorrow. Age gap (the reader is just younger than Jack, you can decide by how many years). Mentions of suicidal behavior. Manipulation (is it manipulation if Jack really believes what he's saying??). Delusional behavior (That Jack is very much aware of and hates himself for, but delulu be deluluing). Very inaccurate depictions of the healthcare system and medical terminology. This is probably my one and only Jack Abbott fic, if his characterization is off I'm sorry...let's just chalk it up to him being too much in love like how he does here <3

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

Robby, my brother.

I don't even know where the fuck to begin. But I am so, so sorry. For everything. Please. Take care of her.

————————————————

Although there is solace in the darkness, that doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters hiding in it. It almost feels too fucking childish for him to think like this, but it’s too easy.

This night tempts harm. It tempts Jack to hold himself too tightly, or to hide his tension away in his anger. He already readies himself for the slight guilt he’ll feel when he’s too harsh and quick in correcting mistakes while taking too long to give credit when it’s earned. But tonight? The few outwardly kind things about his soul can’t make their way to his bones and eyes…but what’s the truly awful thing about this shift to make Jack feel as if there’s violence and internal misery around every corner of the hospital?

“Oh, Abbott, I was wondering–”

“Sorry, not now.”

No patients have died. No patients are near death. Jack has failed no one yet, and yeah, thinking that staying true to his vows of medicine as the most terrible thing about tonight is shitty, so fucking shitty that it goes against the said vows that have consumed his instinct to work and manage the ones who need help, but to him, he just remembers the worst about what’s steady about him. That sometimes he’s not steady, that even on good shifts and quiet nights, his pain will make its way back to him.

This is trauma. It’s never new, but sometimes wordless, nameless in the feelings that are brought to a boil, like now, and there-fucking-fore, it’s much easier to hide in the dark as it waits for Jack to get comfortable in his skin. Apparently, this is progress according to his therapist. That it’s good that his trauma finds way into even the best of shifts because that means he is comfortable enough to let it in on the good days, that he’s not beating the worst of his emotions into a little box he’ll save for opening up on a shit shift as he makes his way up to the rooftop. Well, sure as hell doesn’t feel like progress, but he has to trust the therapist he pays 120 dollars an hour.

“Abbott, the patient in room three, the elderly man with a breath like death, is there a possibility-”

“Sorry. Not now. My bladder is turning against me.”

“...Didn’t need to know that.”

“Okay. Sorry, I’ll never make a quip as long as I live.”

“Not now” is his phrase for the next ten minutes, and he’ll feel a slighter slight guilt in how he’ll take a breather in the bathroom, or next to the vending machine, because there is a job to be done and it’s not hiding in the dark with his monsters. But Dr. 240-bucks-for-80-minutes says these breathers are needed for Jack to be the best at his job. For others. Something like that.

Unfortunately, Dr. 240 bucks for 120 minutes is right. Jack tries not to choke on the breath he can’t let go of. He tries to stay strong because he’s here at his job, so he tries to keep the walls standing up right and unblurred, which he should be able to do on good days. Easily.

It’s almost a strong stride to the bathroom until the nurse's station. Jack slows in his step, brows slightly furrowing as he looks around. Only by eyes, not by the turn of his head.

And like that, under the scene of unprofessionalism, the way he feels is no longer unbreathable. So.

Thank you for that.

He doesn’t notice how quick he is to turn his sights back on you. This girl. No, this woman, just a younger woman…a nurse he’s never seen before.

You’re dead asleep. He means dead asleep. There’s no other name for the way your body leans its weight onto your swivel chair, head lifted back, breath deep.

It’s the 3rd most unprofessional thing he’s ever seen.

Jack lets out a breath. He takes one in. Let’s that one out, and it’s continuous as he studies the way you almost snore. He must’ve found it easier to breathe in standing instead of indulging his restlessness by pacing all over the trauma center. Makes sense. Makes a hell's lot more sense than this newbie who’s taking a nap on her shift. And Jack allows for the slight hand of his anger to curl. You are sleeping on the job without a care in the world, and considering that he’s never seen you before, you’re probably doing this while new to the crew.

He ignores the ten seconds of the way he watches you almost-snore before he knocks his fist on your desk to wake you.

“I’m up! I’m…I’m up.”

You rub your eyes as you force yourself to sit up straight. Jack continues to stare as you collect yourself.

Jack's eyes slightly narrow when he notices you're beautiful, but he doesn't think it, not when there’s a lecture to be had.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack tilts his head forward in a way that’s curt.

“...I am glad you are. Considering that you’ve taken the hours when you’re on the clock as hours to have naptime, it’s good that I can see you’re apologetic.” It seems that you truly are in the way your brows twist in the soft lines of your face, as you scratch your nose.

Jack looks away. He puts his arms behind his back, squeezing his wrist because it feels right to do here. “That’s not what we’d consider professional. Or safe. For the patients we’re watching, I mean. I hope you know that?”

“I know, I know. I promise you, sir–I’m not as stupid as I look right now. I think.” You pull on your scrub top, fixing the sleepful parts of you. “I arrived maybe ten minutes ago? I’m covering for…Princess.”

“...I don’t think she was supposed to work tonight.”

Jack blinks when you put your head in your hands, rubbing your temple.

“I don’t even know, this is my first time working a night shift ever. I woke up to being called in, so here I am.”

Jack blinks again when you spin in your chair. Not once, but twice in the way your voice goes high at the end of your sentence.

Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?

You drop your smile when he doesn’t say anything, and yeah, it’s because you deserve to be a little uncomfortable with your mistake, but also…Jack doesn’t know what to say.

“It won’t ever happen again, sir.”

“No. Not if you keep to the day shift.”

“Oh. Hopefully.” You swallow with a small smile, twirling a pen in your hands. “No offense to you night owls.”

Jack doesn’t look away when your smile reaches him with your eyes on his. Why would he?

The only other question to ask is why he knows his chest would feel less hot if he did.

“Not everyone can find the dark shifts fun enough to stay up for.”

“No, I enjoy a healthy sleep schedule too much–” You break your words with a yawn that you try to stop. Literally. It’s like you try to wave it up and out of your little neck. “...for that.”

Jack’s brow furrows down with his eyes going slightly wide. You’re an oddball who’s pissed him off a little, and he wonders if this charming, sunny banter is purposeful to get him off your case.

“Anywayssss, sorry for keeping you off duty, sir.”

He won’t give you that satisfaction, because you aren’t supposed to be sleeping on the job. You won’t get away that easily. He means, he’ll quit when he sees a properly embarrassed pout, or something that can prove to Jack that you’re serious about said embarrassment…

Yeah. That’s why he doesn’t walk away to spend his last free minutes in the bathroom. You seem alright…bright, but if you’re new, you simply need to learn. It’s not against you, that’s just the way it is.

“You decided to prioritize a healthy sleeping schedule before or after nursing school? Or did you realize how much you love to sleep when you decided to become an E.R nurse?”

Jack lowers his eyes to where your elbow rests on the table as you let your chin fall into your palm. Is that purposeful too? The softness of it all?

“Ha ha. I try my best, which is why this is my first night ever. I’m surprised I made it this far without taking up…what the darkness offers.”

…Should he kill himself for noticing the way you’re soft? Maybe. It isn’t professional how he notices, and it’s a bit intense, like he’s a schoolboy who can’t control the way he oogles. Whatever's going on with your face shouldn't make a different.

"...Sir?"

He’s not oogling, really. He’s noticing you’re pretty, and you’re lit in the way you’re pretty. He doesn’t know you, but with the way you smile even though you’re being snarkily reprimanded, with the way you tap your pen, with the way your hair shifts with every head tilt…that’s not on him. That just means you’re pretty. He’s not reacting to what he’s seeing. Besides, even if he was, killing himself would probably be the more unprofessional and intense thing, right?

Besides, a pretty face doesn't mean anything here. Not to him. Blood sprays far and wide.

“...Yeah. Well, if I find you again and I report you to healthcare management, you’re not making it further than tonight.”

The way Jack says it, he’s pretty sure it was supposed to be serious in reprimand, maybe not, but it comes out weak in that context. He doesn’t know why it falls on his tongue like he’s joking with you. But really…he can’t keep up when you laugh.

“So, I’m assuming I can’t eat at my desk either. Alrighty.”

Why can’t he keep up when you laugh? And how does he stare and turn away when you do?

Why does the sound and look of you sear him at the skin and chest?

“Just–don’t knock yourself out on the clock again. You hear me? Not cool.”

Jack doesn’t care how he realizes then, when you nod curtly with your smile under your soft and blinking focus, he really doesn’t care for it…how he doesn’t have to ask for eye contact with you.

Even more so, he’s the one to look away first, as if he has to if he doesn’t want to feel the heat of the sun hurling towards him. That bit of Jack is lost and replaced with something unlike him, because why?

“Can do.”

This could be something he never has to think about again if he just leaves at that, if he continues to walk to do what he planned on doing five minutes ago, but for some reason, he’s willing to face whatever insecurities this introduction is brewing, because…despite all his flaws, his many, many flaws, acting like a shy and flustered little guy at the first sight of someone like you isn’t one of them.

It takes ten seconds for you to look up at him again when you realize Jack hasn’t moved.

“What’s your name?”

Your smile drops.

“Sir, please don’t report me to healthcare management–or Dana! God, no! I came in ten minutes ago, and I close my eyes for a minute and–”

Jack goes to put the palms of his hand on the counter, but it’s a movement he decides against before putting his hands behind his back again. Well. One hand. The other makes a fist at his hip.

“That was a joke. As long as you’re not kicking patients out their beds to use them, I wouldn’t risk this hospital losing nurses. It was a joke.”

It became one, didn’t it? Your eyes close with your sigh. When they open, you take to looking at the tile.

“Hey. I was joking. I think.”

This is familiar, the way he leans his head forward, slightly demanding your sight on him. This is him, and he deserves to be himself, apparently. Or, it’s good that you know he’s not a flustered stumbler if you’re gonna stick around.

“I’m definitely going to take your word for my sake. Okay.”

You stick out your hand with your name greeting him past your lips. Jack nods, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours when he takes your palm firmly

He shouldn’t be proud that he does this without surprise, smacking him across the face, but he is when your name fully registers in his head. He’s heard about you before, as people hear about new people before they get the chance to meet them first.

You’re the new nurse who showed up about three weeks ago.

You’re the new nurse. Robby’s nurse.

It hasn’t even been a month and in the chances he gets to spend his moments talking with Robby in the handing over of shifts, Robby's mentioned you way too fucking much. With your name in the squeezing of your smaller hand, Jack knows too much about you. He guesses that if you’re as capable and talented in your duties as Robby says you are, then it’s warranted. But still, he was happy to know the nursing shortage was challenged by the Pitt gaining a competent addition to the team at first, but in every other conversation, your name just happened to pop out of Robby’s mouth.

“She’s just–it’s not just about having no complaints about her and her abilities. She’s great.”

“...I gathered that, Robby. These past weeks, I’ve been a gatherer of information for our new nurse. Besides the last story and the last story, just tell me, does the sun shine out of her ass?

Robby smiled a smile that was almost as bright as yours, even though Jack didn’t really ask it as something to laugh at, his words were dead in the pan.

“Medically speaking, yeah. You know, man–could just be that you’re expecting a good nurse and you end up with a great one who’s knowledgeable in a way that’s beyond her paygrade.”

“All nurses are underpaid.”

“I’m meaning…that she’s basically a third-year resident and a nurse combined. I don’t give her the tasks of a resident, but it’s like, like…if it came down to it, I could trust her with it. The tasks.”

“...Hopefully you’re not projecting this professional infatuation onto her, because the last thing I need is a cocky-connie trying to run my shifts.”

And Robby gave him a look, as if their conversation was no longer banter.

“Cocky-connie? That's just something you made up right now, and it’s not infatuation if she’s that fucking good, man. It’s just the truth. But you don’t gotta worry, she’s humble. She doesn’t wallow in self-degradation, but she’s just humble.”

“Oh. Good. I’m wondering how I haven’t met the savior of Pittsburgh's nursing community.”

“Yeah, she kinda makes sure to leave right when her shift’s over. Which is a shame for you, all her baked goods are gone in an hour.”

“...She bakes?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“...Okay. Robby?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything you’ve claimed her to be in the past half-month has been invalidated just now.”

“What??”

“The baked goods have gone to your head. I can’t trust your recommendation.”

“Oh, come on, brother! People can have multiple talents, and this place can benefit from all of it.”

“...Sir?”

Jack blinks himself sober. “Sorry. Nice to put a name to the perpetrator.” He squeezes your hand again. “Jack Abbott.”

You’re the first one to let go.

You blink, mouth parting slightly.

“Oh! Dr. Abbott, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

…He guesses Robby told you about him, or maybe it’s just the perpetual gossip that exists in the walls of this hospital that’s led his reputation before him. For a second, the tenseness of his hands begs the question, what have other people said about him to you?

Another question is begged at the curl of his palms, why the hell does he care?

“Robby’s told me so much about you. Dr. Robby.”

Jack could scoff. There are things Robbie didn’t mention about you, and he’s assuming that was for a reason.

“Good things? Or do I have to beat on him?"

“I thought when we’d be introduced, there’d be light trailing you.”

Jack’s head shakes once. What?

“...What?”

“You are apparently so, so badass. And also good at your job. I guess the latter is more important, or you’re badass because you’re so good? Anyways.” You scoot your chair in closer. “Excuse my language, I’m just surprised the sun doesn’t shine out of your ass with the way he talks about you.”

…Huh.

Jack nods as if this is an expected thing to hear, because if he doesn’t, he’ll notice the way his face has gotten hot, and if he does, he’ll find a one-way ticket to the rooftop a reasonable thing to joke about. Ha-ha.

“...Yeah, yeah. That’s good.”

Apparently he’ll never make a quip as long as he lives.

“Yeah.”

“...Yeah! Well, I guess I should actually do my job. Again, nice meeting you, Dr. Abbott.”

Jack watches you get up from your chair and away from your desk. You nearly brush shoulders when you do.

“Yeah. Nice meeting you.”

He scratches the back of his ear as you walk away.

“I better not find you knocked out in a supply closet.”

His words almost echo, and he almost smiles when you throw a thumbs up without looking his way.

When he turns back to the nurses station, whatever’s on his face drops immediately.

“Dana?”

“...Nothin’. See you met our new girl. She's smiley, ain't she?”

"I didn't notice."

"...I'm gonna let that one slide."

"What--"

"I'm taking my smoke break."

…Alright. The bathroom. The bathroom, right? Jack takes his way there.

You’re alright, and he doesn’t know if he’ll see your capabilities tested tonight, but you’re alright. They’re lucky to have a new addition to the center to make the days…and nights easier, but he wouldn’t mind if it were a night. Singular.

He wouldn’t mind if it were in the plural, either, he guesses. In the end, what he’s felt tonight are the bits of him that aren’t him, the unusual – and he’s allowed to be unusual when he’s meeting someone who can be that cheery and mutually quippy five minutes after waking up from the dead. He’s allowed to feel confused about what he felt in his chest as much as he’s allowed to ignore it, and he’ll ignore it because it’s nothing. Nothing but a funny, pretty nurse who knows how to get out of trouble and make Robby go...gooey. If he ignores it…well then, he can take advantage of your talents without a problem.

That and your possible baked goods. That he'll take advantage of.

Other than that, he’s sure the night will keep the distance between the two of you. Not that he isn't capable of doing that himself.

Not that he even has to, and that's nothing against you.

————————————————

Jack moves quicker when he sees you running towards him the next night. His brows rise with widening eyes.

“...Well.”

You look up at him with that same smile that finds the pit of his stomach, and when it happens, he almost doesn’t register the seven pudding cups in your hands.

A surprise night two and he’s already seeping with…ridiculous, unnecessary ardor. If he can even call it that. But he’s not gonna blame you, you can’t be at fault for something that’s supposed to be nothing. Unless you know how unbaringly bright your smile is, and he’s not gonna create an issue for the suckers up in H.R just to ask a stupid fucking question. It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t, because there shouldn’t be a faltering on his end just from a smile and a laugh and some banter from the new nurse. There’s not.

But still, Jack kinda wonders if you do know.

“Hey! Lookey, no need to sound Reveille for me.”

…No need to sound Reveille?

“How much did Robby tell you about me?”

“You’re too cool to keep a secret. But why? Did I say something–”

“No. No. But…lookey indeed. You got lost in the dark to the point you couldn’t find your way back to the day shift?”

Your smile softens with a sigh. “Yep, you and any other night-preferred physician are stuck with me for the next five days.”

His head gestures to the pudding cups. “Do I wanna know? Wait, rephrase. Do I have to know as your attending physician?”

“Not really. Lucky you, Dr. Abbott.”

Jack allows what's almost a smile to creep on his face, because this is sorta funny, and you know what? He’s glad to see you again, despite what’s seeping in against his best interest. Which is nothing.

He crosses his arms.

“We’ve got you for the week, why?”

“I was covering for Princess last night. She has COVID, and her mandatory five-day stay away from the world has me covering for her. So, if you’re empty-handed right now, there’s a man in room six desperate for a doctor to guide him through the motions of taking the light bulb out of his ass.”

You’ve allowed yourself comfortability with Jack already. Even he wasn’t like this with Robby in the early days of their friendship.

Maybe you don’t know how you smile or tilt your head or fiddle with your body language, because if it’s everyone that can see it, maybe they’re not purposeful or even impulsive decisions outside of what you usually do, it’s just who you are. Who the fuck ever knows who they are?

Besides, if they were uncommon, purposeful movements, why would you choose to do them towards him? That’s where it seems pretty fucking impossible.

“I was told you always leave exactly when your shift is done, and that seemed true last night.”

It is. You took off the minute your time in the Pitt was over. But your smile faltering isn’t purposeful, Jack thinks. Here, he shames himself for yesterday, the way he was secretly relieved he didn't see much of you or you as a nurse during the shift. The begged questions wouldn't do him any favors with the night he was having. But the sun came up, and you were gone before anyone knew it.

He doesn’t know you, but for once, there’s almost something of a…serious nature on the lines of your face and lips. Just like that.

“Yeah…yeah, you were told right. Responsibilities in the world outside our castle stop me from going above and beyond as a nurse. If there’s ever a moment, day or night, when I have to work overtime, I will definitely, but you know. Life.”

“...Okay. For Pittsburgh's sake, let’s hope it never comes to that." Jack scratches his ear.

The name-dropping from his mouth is natural, he thinks. Acceptance at what's been given to him, turning fatigued lemons into banter-full lemonade, because you know what?

At the end of the day, he cares for the group of people he's partnered with. The people he teaches, the people he saves others alongside with. But none of them have ever made him feel likes he's bits of a newer, flustered-fuck of a man on the first day of meeting them. They don't affect him that way. You shouldn't.

He can play with them on occasion and is more than cordial. He should be no different with you.

"Am I able to look to you first for nursing assistance if I need it tonight, sleepy?

He crosses his arms when he can hear your footsteps halt past him. Saying it nearly dead-panned was purposeful.

“I cannot be given a nickname from a five-minute mistake. Please, Dr. Abbott.”

“I’m not giving you a nickname, I haven’t known you long enough to deserve that kind of bullied affection. It’s just…” Jack delivers his word deadpanned, he turns to you with your face already pleading. His eyes shift quickly to the floor, then back to you with a curt nod or two. That’s purposeful. That’s feigning thought.

He’s in a better mood tonight, he doesn’t know why. “It fits.”

He can tell you stop yourself from rolling your eyes, because you’re probably smart enough to know where to tow the line when it comes to dry-humored conversations with a senior attending you barely know.

“Are you saying I have to earn your professional friendship to earn your harassment?”

“Let’s not use the word harassment, sleepy. Healthcare management has eyes everywhere.”

“You know what, Dr. Abbott?” You ready a pudding cup in your hands, swinging it like you’re about to throw it. “Challenge accepted.”

“Hey! Don’t–”

You throw the pudding cup that was never gonna be hard to catch. Still.

You've accepted this easier than Jack would've thought. Sure, you're obvious in your light and...medical pep, but you're willing in play already.

Well. That reaction really shouldn't effect him either.

“Don’t throw objects in the walkways.”

You begin walking backwards.

“And don’t walk backwards.”

“If that name reaches the day crew, you’re in for it.”

“...Excuse me?”

And like that, you’re gone with a light jog when Jack can hear a voice screaming “Nurse!” throughout the curls of the halls.

The strangeness of you found questions in Jack, too many for a night that’s tolerable. It would be too much for Jack and Jack alone, really…because maybe those feelings can be chalked up to what you claimed, a professional friendship, and despite the parts of his bones that are hardened, guarded, and whatever else his therapist accuses him of being, he’s not entirely closed off. Being closed-off doesn’t make a good doctor or caretaker; it doesn’t help anybody, especially not himself, if he somehow does deserve help by the end of the day.

Nobody knows the whole of themselves, but these are the few things Jack is sure of, and with that, you're about to be what everyone else is to him: A person he can get along with. What more is needed?

————————————————

Dr. Jack Abbott is a nice man. A cool guy. And you’re glad you trusted Dr. Robby’s word on him. He is pretty badass. Even though there hasn’t been much chaos in the two shifts you’re partnered with him on, you can tell he’d be able to thrive under it.

And he’s funny. He’s a person you can find yourself comfortable with easily. Although…it’s been a long time since you were yourself that you’re not sure if you should be giving credit to Dr. Abbott or to yourself for that, but–

“Sleepy.”

You jump when Dr. Abbott is just suddenly in front of you.

“...Hey. I didn’t mean to make you jolt out of your seat, but…hi.”

But he’s gone now. You have more than enough time to figure who you are without him hurting you.

“No–no. What’s up?”

Dr. Abbott puts his hands at his sides. “Tonight’s the night you take me up on my offer. A lady’s in room seven with what looks to be a non-critical issue. Diaz was gonna check her in, put down the vitals and lab sheets for me, but with it being a slow night on your minor rotation…and with what I’ve heard about you,” His hands make his way up to the counter, one palm lies flat. “Am I allowed to put your skills to the test? Or should I let you take another nap?”

You smile with your heart speeding in its beat. He’s funny. You think he likes you, or maybe he’s the person here that can be easy with others, make others smile. But, either way, the night shift isn’t looking to be so bad, after all.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s so handsome either, not that that matters. But it’s…you’re in a place where it can and you won’t be hurt for it. You’re in a place where you can get along and care for others and you can exist for other people, people who you can tell are already great at their jobs, great at being.

You can exist for others and not be bruised for it. That’s how it should be, your therapist says. It’s valid to feel guilty after how long you were with him, what he forced your mind to learn, but this is how it should be.

“Of course.”

…Even though you’re suddenly terrified. Still, you keep your smile along your face.

You are confident in your capabilities as a nurse, you have to be if you’re gonna be working with emergency patients, but you trust Dr. Abbott to be a great doctor, and even if he isn’t, he’s obviously a superior, and putting your skills out there for anyone to observe is terrifying, especially when you’re newer, you want to impress everyone, and that feeling is intense, the anxiety that comes at the idea that you won’t is even worse.

But you’ve been through worse. You’ve felt worse.

“Room seven, you said?”

“Yep. I have some charts to finish, another patient to check on. When you’re done, come find me and give me a debrief.”

“Alrighty, Dr.”

You throw a salute at him. Dr. Abbott only confuses you when his brows go low with a stare.

“...How much did Robby tell you about me?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying that you would ask that.”

“...Just get on the patient, please.”

You do. She’s a 57-year-old woman named Lillian. She’s nice enough.

“What happened to that young Hispanic man? I was looking forward to being examined by him.”

It’s the not worst sexual harassment you’ve ever witnessed or have received from a patient, but even in the shameless comment, you can tell she’s pale and uncomfortable.

“I hope my face does just well enough, ma’am. You’re stuck with me. So, what’s exactly the matter, tonight?”

You find that what’s been the matter with the patient for a while is that she was previously healthy to only come in with intermittent chest tightness, dyspnea, and a dry cough with a bit of lightheadedness. No on COVID. No on the flu, but most of her concern is how every hospital before yours claims it’s only a cold as her immune system weakens into old age.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll try our best to stop you from feeling like this.”

As you slowly make your way to Dr. Abbott at the nurse’s station, you do more than you’re supposed to in your head in thinking about her symptoms. You are a confident nurse. You’re proud to be one…even if it wasn’t your first career choice, but still, you do know you’re not supposed to be the one to make the conclusions. You can suggest, offer, assist, but you cannot allow your confidence to lie in the things you’re not allowed to do.

Still, there’s something wrong here. It’s more than all the things that have been ruled out, and even though you know there is risk of seeming pushy or out of your depth at bringing up your theory to Dr. Abbott if he comes up with it first, but for the sake of the patient, you have to. The wellbeing of them outrules…the rules.

This is not about seeming impressive to him…or to anyone, but if it does, you wouldn’t mind the emotional benefit of that.

“Dr. Abbott.”

Dr. Abbott turns around, stern in the movement…strong in the arms. You wonder if you’d noticed that before.

“You’re done already?”

“Mhmm.”

“I was told to be expecting a mystery illness.”

“Yeppers,” You hand him the chart and he’s quick to flip through it, studying it with a practiced eye. “She’s been two primary care doctors and urgent care before going to another E.R in Philly.”

He continues his study, and this is really the first time you’re able to see Dr. Abbott doing his job, and although he’s literally just looking at a chart, his focus is natural. Admirable.

“Normal ECG, troponins are slightly elevated but not screaming at us. Is the echo still pending?” You nod. “Labs are not gonna be for another couple of hours.”

“Mhmm. But if it’s the same as the last department, they’ll probably run clean. Still,”

“Mhmm. What?”

“...Did you just mock me, Dr. Abbott?”

“Mm-mm. What is it?”

You stop yourself from rolling yourselves with the rush of blood against your arms. The way his jokes come out as if they’re fact, as if he’s not joking.

The night shift isn’t so bad. And Dr. Abbott is more than a good man, he’s much too likeable already.

“I’ll wait on the echo before I suggest anything.”

Dr. Abbott looks up. He blinks before his eyes slightly narrow.

“Alright. I suppose it’s my turn to examine her now, and whatever comes from my assessment, you’ll sit with me on the next patient after.”

“Alright.”

Your word is not unkind, but curt in a slightly lowered voice.

You try to not let your smile get so wide when Dr. Abbott points a low finger.

“I’m just going to state my rules, well, my preferences. I couldn’t have specifics rules for a nurse, I’m not your superior, Dana Evans is–”

“Damn right.”

It’s Dana flying past, covered in a fluid you will not ask about.

You turn back to see Dr. Abbott’s eyes on you first. You suppose he’s more used to Dana or any nurse or fellow attending or resident covered in fluid.

“If you’re gonna take to the night shift, I’d rather not have you mock me. But I’ll be in room seven with…” He takes his sights back to the chart before handing it back to you. “Lillian.”

You wait a few seconds before Dr. Abbott’s away from you.

“Right back at ya.”

You smile when Jack stops in his tracks. He takes two seconds to turn and takes seconds to stare at you when you blow a finger gun. His brows raise. His eyes go small.

“You are so strange.”

Your smile keeps at his simple statement, despite the fact that you’re shocked at his easy bravery. You suppose you’re glad he can already feel comfortable around you to bully, that makes for good teamwork. That seems to be the truth for your time with Dr. Robbie, and his little group of residents and students you’re trying to get to know.

He turns back, and for the next twenty minutes, he’s gone.

Dana’s suddenly next to you, chair against chair. She sighs shakily.

“People need to stop shoving shit up their anuses. At the very least, the country needs to make a law against it. Why is it that every nurse that has been and is to be will encounter butt stuff?

“I don’t know about lawmaking, Dana. That won’t stop anyone.”

The blonde woman smiles thinly, but sweetly before it fades slightly.

“How’s the night shift treating ya, so far?”

“Alright, actually.”

“...How’s Abbott?”

Dr. Abbott? “He’s great. For a conversation where I’m bullied, I mean. But he’s a pretty good doctor, yeah?”

“One of the best, don’t tell him I said that. Tell him I said he’s good. Just enough praise to situate confidence, but not enough to build an ego. Same goes for Robbie.”

You chuckle at Dana’s rightful plan, chin resting on your hand when you squeak your chair closer to her.

“...How do the others like him?”

You already regret the question when Dana’s brows raise, but you don’t know why, it’s just a question where you want to see if the others you’re getting to know like him as much as you do.

You like him. And that’s okay. You can exist around him and it’s not a crime.

Nothing about the way you feel deserves punishment. Remind yourself of that if you want the way you smile and the way you want to make others laugh and feel good feel real. If you want to be yourself.

“In this department, with his ability? He’s easy to like and learn from. He’s not sunshine in a can like you, but you’ve obviously seen he’s able to…appear like he has a will to live.”

“...Sunshine in a can?”

You’re completely confused in the way you blink quickly.

“You’ve been here for almost a month and one would think we suddenly have a teddy-bear rotation. The fact that I have not come to resent your constant smiling or surprise granola says something about you.”

“...Dana–”

“Take the compliment, sunshine. If I have to hear our Mckay bitch about the lack of brownies since you’ve been put on the night shift, that means you belong here.”

You smile small, and you’re smile being small doesn’t mean it’s any less genuine, but the idea of people perceiving you, or at the very least, your charge nurse perceiving you as someone who already belongs here makes your heart unbelievably shy.

You’re glad that the person you can finally be is a person others like, but even in the confidence you need to relearn, you’ll keep that thought down for the sake of being humble.

“Tell Cassie the day shift will have assorted scones ready for them when I come back. And speaking of my sunny absence, how’s you with the double shifts?”

“It’s probably my 15th anniversary of double shifts tonight. Maybe you can join me for once this time. Stop running for the door the minute your shift is done.”

You try to smile.

"Hey, it's your one flaw, I'll take what I can get--"

“Sleepy,” You and Dana both look up at Dr. Abbott in front of you two, arms stretched out, palms flat on the counter. “On your feet, we’ll leave Evans to take a nap she actually deserves. Seriously, slugger, you running back and forth tonight worries me.”

You almost moan when Dana’s mouth parts with a scoff readied on her tongue. “Sleepy? Oh, sweetie, that’s much better than sunshine.”

You only burn when Dr. Abbott looks at you, then Dana, then you again, all with a stiff head and unblinking eyes.

“Let’s go.”

And you can only mouth “why?!” at Dana as you walk backwards behind him.

“Stop doing that, please.”

You stop walking backwards.

“Thank you.”

Before you know it, you’re standing alongside the newly introduced attending in the intake bay. A patient’s chart rests in his hands, and there. He’s focused again.

His face is beautiful in his stern, simple sight, and the only issue is your instinct to blush instead of teasing him about it, so you try to focus on what must be the rare reprieve of the night shift, no drunk college kids or wounds from bar fights, right? The fluorescent light hum you know this place for is almost enough to not notice the way Dr. Abbott scratches his leg, and when he does, the pant leg pulls up by a few inches.

And what’s underneath is metal instead of flesh and bone. Another life that’s built into him.

Oh. To sound the reveille. The salute. The leg. Or lack thereof. That’s probably a cruel thought to have. You’re sorry.

He must be a vet, and although you like him, and you want to get to know more of him, you feel like knowing that now without Dr. Abbott’s own words feel wrong. But you can’t think like that.

These simple things do not deserve punishment.

You clear your throat, dropping your body on a wheeled stool to spin. And spin.

Dr. Abbott doesn’t look back down when he looks up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you’re trying to decode the Zodiac letters.”

The small, clueless smirk you pressed your lips together for fades when Dr. Abbott puts the chart to his chest, and his face is plain, but already, you can tell by his eyes that he doesn’t find the joke in this.

You stop spinning.

“You must be very good at baking. Good on you.”

You blink. “Oh! My reputation precedes me. And I am, if I do say so myself…” You blink again.

Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Dr. Abbott, if…my attempts–if I ever get too much, you can tell me. Whatever you’ve heard about me, I can assure you, I’ve definitely caused eye-rolls before.”

Dr. Abbott gives you no reaction. You can’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but the way he simply looks back down at the chart strikes you. You swallow.

Impress. Make do. Make people feel good.

“Let me guess–non-traumatic, vague abdominal pain, vitals are stable, and the labs could bore you?”

Dr. Abbott looks up and holds the chart over his legs, his head slightly lifted, but his eyes only on you.

“There’s nausea, some lightheadedness. Minor tachycardia but not sustained. He says it gets worse after meals. Negative for ulcers. No fever. Nothing glaring at us in the CBC or BMP. You’ve ever caught smoke with your bare hands?”

You shake your head. He blinks. Oh.

“Of course you haven’t.” You try not to smile when he shakes his head. “I’d say it feels pancreatic, but the clarity on that isn’t as clear as I’d like it to be. Could be early gallbladder, but the imaging’s clean. I could go get Dr. Shen, or leave it to Robby in the morning for a second opinion but…I don’t know, sleepy.”

“Can I?”

You point to the curtain and Dr. Abbott doesn’t take a moment to nod, he only crosses his arm and narrows his head.

You end up glancing through to see the patient. He’s mid-thirties, male. Seemingly alert and coherent, annoyed but not in distress.

“May I?”

Your hand gestures to the chart in Dr. Abbott hands and he gives it to you to study. Here, you wonder what it is he’s trying to do with you exactly, other than figuring out the situation with the new nurse he’s only met yester-night.

…Is he challenging you? Trying to disprove what others believe? It makes you wonder what’s exactly been said about you to the point where Dr. Abbott or anybody else would think you’re more capable than the average nurse (and the average nurse is nothing short of God here in the Pitt, you think).

And then you wonder what it is about the other parts of you that might make it harder for him to believe you are what you are, which is a nurse that knows more than she should.

You can’t blame Dr. Abbott exactly, considering you were just playing spinsies on the chair two minutes ago. Still, the answer to his problem comes to you easily, and you can’t help but wonder what face he’ll make when you tell him.

“I’m seeing he started a new ‘clean eating’ thing two weeks ago?”

“No red meat, high fiber, the load of raw veggies.”

You nod thoughtfully after he drags out the word load on his tongue. “Did you palpate the LLQ?”

Really. You try not to smile when Dr. Abbott makes no face, but only shifts his crossed arms to folding his knuckles over his stomach. That says enough.

“Yeah. He winced. No rebound, but no rigidity.”

“And what about percussion on the sigmoid? Or the gas pattern?”

And even though you’re not looking, you can feel his eyes watching you, asking a question.

How the hell do you know exactly what to ask?

“...Some distension, but nothing dramatic. You…what are you seeing in this chart that I’m not?”

You smile something that all too quickly turns into a smirk. You hate to break down your humbleness the way you do when you hand Dr. Abbott the chart.

“I’m thinking, and only thinking, not diagnosing–that’s your job. But…it could be acute colonic pseudo-obstruction.”

You lean against the wall, growing taller on your tippy toes and dimples coming along wide.

Dr. Abbott flips through the chart.

“He’s ticking all the boxes, don’t you think? Sudden dietary shift, high fiber, gas buildup, some mild nausea. It’s rare, so I don’t mean to think of zebras instead of horses, but if the labs and tests are coming up empty with more common illnesses, you can claim it’s not impossible in a younger patient, you know? The imaging’s not gonna catch it, and even if it did, no one thinks to look for Early Ogilvie’s in someone his age.

You let the Dr. blink in the moment of silence.

He puts the chart down on the counter before leaning against it.

“You’re serious.” In the moment, you’re almost thankful for him taking his sights off you to watch the sterile glow over the tile, but when he looks back up at you, there’s something new in his eyes. It’s odd, you try your best to be confident in the way you talk, the way you comfort patients and your colleagues, but you don’t think you could be as confident with your eyes as Dr. Abbott is with his, but you hope your confidence has the same effect as his focus.

That it puts trust in others.

“Ogilvie’s?”

You shrug before leaning into Dr. Abbott’s space, you only do it for dramatics as you whisper. “Just a theory, but I’d put my money on it. You, good sir, could ask for KUB focused on his distal colon, or maybe a contrast if you want to go fancy. But you probably already know that, because if everyone thinks you’re great, well…what can I do but follow?”

You think that after this, you have to keep looking in his eyes, because what’s the point of proving yourself to him if you can’t appear confident in your proof? Still, you’re thankful that he’s the one to look away first.

“If you’re right, excellent job.”

And there it is again, your veins and bones trying to sit still when it faces a compliment.

“...Thank you–”

“Excellent.”

And they possibly can’t when you realize that Dr. Abbott is truly serious in his words. Almost…breathless, but that must be how he sounds when he’s not facetiously bullying you. Still, you have to stop the corners of your brain close in on its believability.

Impress, but relearn how to accept the praise when you finally do.

But here…it’s different with Dr. Abbott, and you couldn’t know why, but it’s easy for your system to accept his praise, and maybe it's because it wants it badly enough that it’s willing to ignore his voice. His words.

“If you’re wrong, I will call on Evans to severely reprimand you.”

“I’ll start a betting pool when you walk off to order the imaging.”

Dr. Abbott nods before lifting himself away from you and your sights, and it’s only a matter of this being a calm shift that you’re able to sit next to Dana again.

You only regret when you meet her knowing look. What could she know? You wouldn’t.

“Aw, shit. You glowing from your diagnostic confidence or from Abbott’s praise when you did whatever the fuck it is you did this time?”

“...I’m allowed to be proud of when I’m right.”

“Mhm-hm.” Whatever it is that Dana’s unconvinced about, you can tell she is still when she stands up with two pats to your shoulders. “Sure.”

And when she walks away from you, she’s only more unconvinced when she meets Abbott in the walkway.

“Her. What is with her? How do…others like her?”

And Abbott’s only as confused as you when Dana snorts.

————————————————

It was just all...so different in my head.

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