The Villain's Accidental Obsession

During my hungriest year, the villain mistook me for the female lead. Every morning, he shoved breakfast into my desk cubby. I never said a word; I just chewed and chewed.

Then, neon text floated in my vision. "LMAO.

The male and female leads are practically endgame, and the villain just realized he’s been dropping his breakfasts at the wrong desk." "Thank god he’s oblivious, otherwise this pathetic little NPC, Sutton, would've literally starved to death." Declan looked down at me, his expression dark and gloomy. "You're the one eating my breakfasts?" I gave a tiny, terrified nod.

He froze. "So…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Can I… keep eating them?" The dark aura shattered. He rubbed his temples, completely defeated. "Just eat it.

Keep eating." Chapter 1 I chugged water, trying to wash down the bitter taste in my mouth.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping, tricking my brain into tasting a massive, loaded breakfast burrito.

Extra egg, extra sausage, crispy chicken, thickcut bacon, hash browns… Before I could finish my imaginary order, glowing words materialized in the air. "I'm dead.

Other guys woo girls with artisanal croissants or velvet cakes… and the villain brings her a greasy, oversized breakfast burrito." "He added extra egg, sausage, crispy chicken, bacon, AND hash browns… dude practically wanted to wrap the chef up in there too." My vision blurred.

I couldn't tell if the hunger was finally making me hallucinate, or if I was actually dying.

Because I thought I smelled the aroma of a real breakfast burrito. "The most unhinged part? He put it in the wrong desk.

The female lead, Blair, hasn't sat in the third row by the window for three months." Wait. Third row? By the window? That was my desk, the one I swapped with Blair three months ago.

I ducked my head. Sitting right there in the dark hollow of my cubby was a massive, foilwrapped breakfast burrito.

Extra egg, extra sausage, crispy chicken, thickcut bacon, hash browns. Holy hell. This mouthwatering masterpiece wasn't meant for me.

Why was it sitting in my desk?! "Someone dropped this off for you.

They put it in my desk by mistake." Blair stared at the greasy foil, her nose crinkling in pure disgust. "God, look at those macros.

It's a massive red flag and a total calorie bomb.

Toss it for me, will you?" My fingers dug into the warm foil. "Can I… toss it into my mouth?" A sharp laugh slipped from her lips. "Be my guest.

If he drops off any more trash, you can be my personal garbage disposal." Without a second of hesitation, I tore the foil open and practically inhaled it, letting the warm grease coat my tongue.

It smelled so incredibly good that it made me want to cry. I couldn't even remember the last time I tasted something this warm, this real. Maybe not since Marian was still alive.

Mom was magic in the kitchen. Sticky, sweet BBQ ribs that fell right off the bone. Rich, bubbling mac and cheese.

The smell used to trap me in the kitchen, pacing the linoleum floor like a hungry stray.

She would always laugh, her warm palm patting the space between my shoulder blades. "Patience, sweetie. We wait for Dad." Back then, Vince worked the line at the auto plant.

He left before the sun cracked the horizon and came home reeking of exhaust and heavy motor oil. But he was my personal Santa Claus.

He’d reach into his greasestained duffel bag and pull out treasures. Sparkling hair clips, frosted cookies, and Mom's absolute favorite—strawberry shortcake.

On the mornings he didn't have the early shift, he would pedal me to school on his rusting, rattling bicycle.

He always told me to study hard, to go as far as my brain could take me. "Never worry about the money, kiddo." He swore he would sell his own bones to put me through college.

But he stopped going to the plant, trading the assembly line for the poker tables. The treasures stopped coming.

Instead, he stumbled through the front door at 3 AM, bringing the suffocating stench of cheap whiskey and stale cigarette smoke.

The warmth in his eyes dissolved, replaced by impatience. I barely breathed when I asked him for my lunch money this month.

He slammed his hand on the table, cursing me for being ungrateful.

He pointed out that Kendra from next door dropped out of middle school to work, but I—I was the arrogant one who insisted on high school. On college.

He screamed that I lacked empathy, that begging for cash every day was bleeding him dry. "Missing one damn meal isn't going to kill you." Then he waved his hand, dismissing my very existence, claiming the house was bankrupt.

I knew the truth. The poker tables ate every last cent, and I wasn't being unreasonable. My stomach gnawed at me. I hadn't eaten a single bite in fortyeight hours. Marian was gone.

The dad who loved me so much was gone. The back of my throat closed up, thick and tight. Hot, heavy drops slipped down my cheeks, splashing directly onto the halfeaten burrito.

It tasted like salt. Chapter 2 "I swear on my life I'll eat my vegetables.

Just please, to the great Villain and the Gods of the Comment Section—bless me with one more breakfast." Glowing text flooded my vision. "LMAO.

Being a god for the first time is so stressful." "Sobbing. This little NPC making a wish is way too cute. She’s giving stray kitten energy. I need to adopt her." "Don't panic.

Today's villain is still the same oblivious idiot dropping off food at the wrong desk." My hand dove into the dark cubby.

My fingers closed around a massive, heavy takeout container. A spicy TexMex brisket bowl. Thick red chili oil coated slowcooked pinto beans.

Fresh jalapeños and roasted corn layered the top. I dug my plastic fork past a literal mountain of smoked, shredded brisket.

Two perfectly softboiled eggs sat heavy at the absolute bottom.

The floating comments exploded with Southern accents. "Chef, load up that extra brisket and guac." "I’m from Texas, and I fully endorse Declan as the official male lead." Sometimes my cubby held crispy, butterdrenched breakfast sliders.

The toasted bottoms cracked loudly between my teeth. Scalding steam poured out, forcing me to huff out hot air.

Savory sausage gravy exploded over my tongue, the rich flavor practically forcing me to swallow it whole.

Other days, a massive greasestained paper bag from a fastfood drivethru waited for me. Steaming hot black coffee burned my throat in the best way.

The runny yolk from a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit dripped down my chin, and crispy hash browns shattered perfectly with every bite.

The floating text swore Declan literally ordered the entire drivethru morning menu. Then came the day I found an entire slowsmoked BBQ pork shoulder.

The caramelized, sticky meat fell apart at the slightest prod of my fork.

The soy sauce color seeped even into the crevices of the bones, and the aroma of the braise drifted out of the bag.

The comments absolutely lost their minds. "Declan’s idea of a talking stage = fattening up a prized pig." "Does this clueless girl even appreciate those macros?

Give me a bite." "Declan’s inner monologue: If I crave this, she definitely wants it!" Laughter erupted across my vision the second Declan stepped up to our classroom podium. "I'm screaming.

The villain dropped off food for three solid months, finally manned up to ask Blair to a movie, and she literally hit him with the: 'Who are you?'" "Bro took that personally.

He quietly transferred to her homeroom to step up his game." The villain in question cleared his throat, scanning the room. "Hey everyone, I'm— What the—!" His voice completely cracked.

His dark eyes locked onto my face.

A trembling finger shot out, pointing directly at my desk. "That seat…" "LMAOOOO it took him three whole months to realize he’s been feeding the wrong desk." "Thank God he shares a single brain cell, or our poor Sutton would have starved to death." "If he was any slower, the male and female leads would already be married." Mr.

Harrison slapped his textbook against the whiteboard. "You want to sit next to Sutton? Go take the empty seat. Drop the dramatics." Declan’s outstretched hand froze midair.

Every single head in the classroom snapped toward me. A freezing chill rushed up my spine. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

My fingers tightened, violently crushing the soft bread of the slider in my hand. He stalked down the aisle. His heavy boots thudded against the linoleum.

He dropped into the empty chair beside me. The metal chair legs scraped harshly against the floor tiles. I ducked my head.

I shoved another bite of the slider into my mouth, chewing in dead silence. From the corner of my eye, I caught his rigid posture.

Instead of dropping his heavy backpack onto the floor, he just sat there with his spine completely straight, radiating the heat of an active volcano.

Three agonizing seconds ticked by.

He leaned in close, his dark aura instantly invading my personal space. "Where is Blair?" he demanded. "Doesn't she sit here?" His voice dropped to a low whisper, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth. "Then… the breakfasts from the last three months… You ate them?" I didn't dare to eat anymore, and just gave a terrified nod.

A flash of confusion and pure guilt crossed his face. He looked like someone had just hit him over the head with a club.

He just sat there, completely paralyzed, staring at me like an absolute idiot. Chapter 3 The floating text completely lost its mind. "LMAO.

Yesterday the villain asked Blair what the last three months meant, and she literally treated him like a stalker." "Come on, give him some credit.

At least he bulked our girl Sutton up by ten solid pounds." The steaming hot breakfast sliders sent waves of melted cheese and savory sausage into my nostrils. My stomach rumbled.

I practically whispered. "So… can I still eat these?" He was supposed to be the psychotic, unhinged villain of this whole thing! Was he going to hit me?

His dark eyes burned into my skull. He aggressively dragged a hand through his dark hair, entirely frustrated. Crash. He slammed his heavy backpack onto the floor next to his desk.

I flinched hard, burying my chin into my collarbone. But the brutal strike never came. Instead, a rough, completely defeated sigh hit the air. "Just eat it.

Keep eating." The glowing comments kept calling him a massive walking red flag, but… wasn't he actually kind of nice?

My voice trembled. "Are you… like, a bad boy?" He let out a disdainful scoff. "Obviously.

You really think they transferred me into AP Calc because I'm an honor roll student?" "What's the absolute worst thing you've ever done?" He actually paused, thinking hard.

Then, he told me with pride. "I ditched a whole day of school to play Call of Duty in my basement." My brain shortcircuited. The neon text flooded my vision in unison. "Oh.

So badass." "We got a real criminal over here." … By lunchtime, he casually dropped his heavy cafeteria tray directly across from me. "Crazy seeing you here, Sutton." He actually used my name.

I stared at the absolute mountain of food on his tray. Fried chicken thighs, double servings of loaded chili mac, extra mashed potatoes.

His aggressive breakfast orders suddenly made perfect sense. I gave an awkward hum and ducked my head to gnaw on my dinner roll.

His loud, gravelly voice echoed across the cafeteria. "Yo—you're seriously just eating a dry piece of bread?" My cheeks burned.

I wanted to bury my face in my bun. "I'm… I'm cutting carbs." He snorted, entirely dismissive. "Why the hell would you do that?

Looking like a stiff breeze could snap you in half isn't a flex. You need muscle to look good." Then he suddenly remembered something. "Wait a damn minute.

You're cutting carbs, but you inhaled ten sausage sliders at 8 AM?" Panic seized my chest.

I scrambled to protect my microscopic shred of dignity. "Mind your own business!" He abruptly shoved his entire overloaded tray across the table, right into my chest. "I saw someone at the next table eating a pulled pork sandwich.

I want that instead. Just finish this so it doesn't go to the trash." He leaned in, his dark eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. "You better clean that plate.

If you don't… I'm not letting you back into your seat. And I sit on the outside now, so try me." My vision instantly blurred. A hot, thick lump lodged itself directly in my throat.

I stared at the mountain of hot, greasy food. "Thank you," I breathed out. He leaned closer.

His large, warm palm suddenly dropped onto the top of my head, awkwardly ruffling my hair. "You know, you actually remind me a lot of Bruno." He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Tell you what.

You're under my protection now.

You can be my sidekick, just like him." I blinked, totally lost. "Who is Bruno?" He stood up, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Just a scruffy rescue mutt I picked up off the street.

You can call him Bruno, but he's officially got seniority over you.

Address him as Boss Bruno." He took a step back, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. "I'll introduce you two sometime. Oh, and don't ever call him a mutt to his face.

I've been gaslighting him into thinking he's a purebred Corgi." I just stared at him, completely lost for words.

Chapter 4 Doing his homework, copying his notes, wiping down his desk, fetching his water… I had to admit, Declan was a toptier boss.

He covered my three square meals a day, plus random snack drops. Sometimes I’d blink awake from a heavy studyhall nap to the sound of his low, raspy whisper. "Sutton.

Open." A peeled tangerine segment slipped past my lips. Citrus sugar exploded across my tongue. The bitter hollow in my chest completely dissolved.

After night classes, he’d randomly give me a bag of beef jerky or a big box of chocolates. "Passed out in study hall and dreamt you literally starved to death. Freaked me out.

Eat this." The day before Thanksgiving break, the entire classroom buzzed with vacation plans. But I didn't like holidays at all. Going home meant facing a drunk Vince.

It also meant surviving an entire week without Declan's food drops. I waited until the room cleared out.

I kept my head down, shoving battered textbooks into my frayed canvas backpack. A heavy palm lightly slapped the back of my neck. Declan gave me a stuffed grocery bag.

It was filled with food—potato chips, dried seaweed rolls, chicken feet… and somehow, a dusty box of expired protein bars and a bottle of herbal cough syrup. "That's my mom's prized succulent in the plastic bag.

I chewed on a leaf earlier. It's a little chalky, but it goes down. Wash it first.

You can probably make a weird salad out of it." He dug into his leather jacket, pulling out a tin of throat lozenges. "Stole these off my dad’s nightstand.

Pop one if your blood sugar tanks. They’re basically candy." I stared at the contents in pure disbelief.

I reached past the cough syrup and pulled out a premium bag of kibble. "Care to explain this?" "That belongs to Boss Bruno." Declan snatched the bag, ripped the seal open with his teeth, and casually popped a piece of kibble into his mouth.

He chewed loudly. "See? Crunchy. A little gamey. But if you hit rock bottom, mix it with some boiling water… it's basically stew.

Look, I can't physically fight my parents for their wallets. But Bruno? He wouldn't dare cross me." "You already call him Boss Bruno.

He owes you a meal." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Did you literally rob your own house for me?" "Shouldn't have ditched school to play CoD last week." His jaw clenched, his voice suddenly thick and frustrated. "Loretta completely cut off my allowance.

Otherwise, I’d buy you actual groceries. If you run out of this garbage, call me.

I'll figure something out." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stalked toward the door, only to abruptly spin around and march back to poke my forehead. "Listen to me.

I've kept you alive this long.

If you accidentally starve yourself to death over this break… I'll throw all your damn chemistry notes in the trash!" I hugged the chaotic grocery bag to my chest as I walked out the main gates.

Declan was currently being dragged toward an SUV by his ear, courtesy of his mom, Loretta. He twisted around, miming a phone receiver by his ear.

Half a succulent leaf stuck out of his school uniform pocket, swaying in the wind.

The canvas bag dug painfully into my shoulders, but my fingers brushed the tin of stolen lozenges in my pocket. A genuine, breathless laugh slipped past my lips.

I pushed open my front door. The laughing died in my throat. Three massive, heavily tattooed men occupied our faded living room sofa.

Frankie, a guy with a sharp buzzcut, cracked his knuckles. Vince cowered in the darkest corner of the room. He shot his head up when the hinges creaked.

His bloodshot eyes were filled with panic. The debt collectors found us. Chapter 5 Before I could react, Frankie snatched the bag Declan gave me.

He ripped it open, digging through Declan’s snacks. "Well look at that. Your luck at the poker table is pure garbage, but you sure raised a good kid.

Brought us some Thanksgiving treats." Marco leaned in. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips.

He slapped my cheek, hard enough to sting, and blew a puff of smoke right into my face. "Since you're such a good girl… did you bring us the cash?" I burst into tears.

Vince’s voice shook. He scrambled to stand. Frankie kicked him right back. "A high schooler?

You didn't give a damn she was a student when you blew your mortgage at the tables!" They ate all the snacks Declan gave me.

Torn wrappers and crushed chips littered the faded carpet. They dragged the stolen succulent out of the bag, and a heavy boot crushed the green leaves directly into the floorboards.

Declan’s gravelly voice echoed in my head—"It's a little chalky, but it goes down." Now, I couldn't even afford that chalky taste.

They unfolded rusty lawn chairs in the living room, dealing cards through the night. Toxic grey smoke coated the ceiling.

I was locked in my bedroom, listening to the shuffling of cards outside and Vince's suppressed coughs. I dug my face deep into my mattress, suffocating.

Around 3 AM, the poker game died. Brutal snoring rattled the windowpanes. The lock clicked. Vince pushed my door open.

He stood entirely in the shadows, frantically waving his hand. "Run." The freezing November wind ripped right through my thin tshirt. I had no jacket. I just sprinted.

Blindly chasing the flicker of the streetlamps, my battered backpack slammed against my bruised ribs with every step. My lungs burned.

My stomach violently twisted, screaming for food. My trembling fingers dug into my jeans. I pulled out one stolen lozenge and shoved it past my chapped lips.

A faint, sweet mint flavor drifted across my tongue. My knees gave out. I collapsed directly onto the freezing concrete. Tears smashed onto the back of my freezing, red hands.

My throat closed up. My chest convulsed, gasping desperately for oxygen. A heavy palm suddenly dropped onto my shaking shoulder.

I trembled in fear and jerked my head up. "What the hell are you doing out here?" His voice had the hoarseness of staying up all night.

He leaned down, grabbing my arms to pull me up. His bare fingers brushed my freezing skin. His dark eyes instantly flared with rage. "Are you out of your damn mind?

It's literally freezing out here!" Before I could speak, he took off his heavy leather jacket and wrapped it around my shaking shoulders without another word.

The thick material radiated his intense body heat. It smelled exactly like expensive cologne and spicy ramen. "Why are you crying?" What was I supposed to say?

That ruthless loan sharks hijacked my living room? That I scrambled out the backdoor like a pathetic, starving stray dog?

That I stood here, absolutely filthy, right in front of him? Because fifteenyearold Sutton was dying of absolute humiliation. A jagged knot lodged perfectly in my esophagus.

Not a single syllable could escape. I just stared at the concrete. His hand twitched, reaching out to wipe the wetness from my cheek. He froze midair.

He forcefully pulled his hand back, aggressively scratching the back of his neck instead. "You're… just hungry, right?" I desperately grabbed the excuse.

I gave a frantic, jerky nod. The burning moisture flooded my eyes all over again. He glared at the pavement, his jaw clenching hard.

My voice physically broke. "I'm sorry… I… I don't own a cell phone." He didn't push. A heavy, suffocating silence hung under the flickering streetlamp.

Suddenly, his large fingers locked directly around my freezing wrist. "Fine. I get it. You're a hardcore honors student who completely boycotts technology. Come on.

Your boss is taking you to breakfast." The sky bled a bruised purple. The freezing streets were completely dead. The neon 'Closed' signs hummed in every diner window.

Declan dragged me around two sharp corners, stopping dead in front of a battered, stainlesssteel breakfast cart.

The vendor aggressively flipped sizzling thickcut bacon on the flat top. Thick, greasy steam completely engulfed us. The savory aroma of meat and dough wafted to my nose.

Chapter 6 "How many do you want?" Declan demanded, looking down at me.

I froze. "Just two," I whispered. "Give me ten sausage sliders, two hash browns, and a large hot chocolate." As the vendor bagged the food, Declan’s phone violently buzzed.

He swiped the screen. His tone instantly turned obedient. "Hey, Mom… I never went to play games in the basement. I pulled an allnighter studying with a classmate. Yeah, yeah, okay.

I'm heading back right now." He hung up, quickly paid the vendor, and shoved the paper bag into my hands. "Loretta is losing her mind. I gotta go.

Take this and get home safe." As he spun on his heel and disappeared down the freezing block, I was left standing entirely alone, tears slipping from my chin to leave dark wet spots on the crinkling brown paper. "Go home." Declan didn't know.

I possessed no home to return to. Suddenly, a familiar, gravelly voice punched through the freezing wind. "Screw it. You're coming with me." My head snapped up.

He stood directly in front of me. He was panting, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. He scratched his head. "Absolute emergency. You need to come back and alibi me.

Tell her we studied all night, or she's actually going to murder me. Plus, Boss Bruno is highly pissed I ate his kibble.

You gotta come smooth things over with him." I just stared at him.

The wetness still clung heavily to my eyelashes. "What?" He raised an eyebrow. "You plan on leaving your boss out to dry?" "I'll help!" His large, calloused hand suddenly locked around my freezing wrist. "Perfect.

Let's move." His palm radiated a terrifying amount of heat. He dragged me down the dead, empty streets. The brutal November wind still whipped against my bare arms.

But the violent shivering completely stopped. The massive front door swung open. A perfectly pristine, cloudlike runner stretched across the entryway.

I immediately yanked my foot back onto the freezing porch, completely terrified my filthy sneakers would ruin it. "Mom, we're back!" Declan's voice echoed through the massive foyer.

A beautiful lady came at Declan with a clothes hanger. "You little delinquent!

Sneaking out to game and lying to my face about studying!" Declan frantically dodged, nearly tripping over his own boots. "Mom! Mom, wait! I swear on my life!

I brought my alibi!" The plastic hanger froze in midair. Loretta’s sharp gaze snapped toward the open door.

I gave a tiny, terrified wave. "HHi, ma'am." "This is Sutton, she sits next to me in homeroom!" Declan snatched the hanger right out of her grip.

He aggressively pointed at me. "She literally ranks number one in the entire grade.

She aced the last AP Calc exam!" Loretta's furious expression instantly dissolved into a massive, glowing smile. "Oh my god, Sutton!

Come in, sweetie, get out of that freezing wind." My knuckles turned completely white, violently gripping my frayed backpack straps. "Thank you, ma'am." She eagerly pulled open a massive, custombuilt mahogany shoe closet.

Declan’s expensive hightops easily dominated an entire shelf. I stared down at my battered, mudstained canvas sneakers. They screamed pure trash in this pristine house.

She pressed a pair of brandnew, plush pink slippers directly into my hands. "Here you go. Never worn." I stepped into the massive living room.

The heavy scent of expensive gardenia candles completely saturated the air. It contrasted violently with the toxic, suffocating mold of my own house.

Loretta grabbed my hand, pulling me toward a massive, plush leather sectional. The expensive material sank deeply under her weight.

I completely locked my thighs, hovering a solid inch above the cushion. I absolutely refused to leave a permanent crease in the leather.

Chapter 7 She picked up a massive, chocolatechunk cookie from a pristine porcelain tray and pressed it into my hand. "Pam just baked these. Try one, sweetie.

Declan is practically braindead. I know he’s been an absolute nightmare for you lately." Declan aggressively yelled from the kitchen island. "Mom!

I just learn differently!" "Learn differently? You're failing six classes.

That's just called being stupid." Declan suddenly dropped his voice, staring directly at me. "Just stay here for a while. Tutor me." Loretta’s eyes completely lit up.

Her perfectly manicured hands squeezed mine tightly. "Yes! Absolutely. Please keep this delinquent in line for me." A tiny, pathetic hum slipped past my lips.

Life in the massive estate felt unreal. Declan treated me flawlessly. Loretta treated me very well. It felt so perfect that I almost forgot the brutal truth.

I was just a filthy, starving rat accidentally trapped in a pristine palace. Staring at a life that would never, ever belong to me. A crisp fivehundreddollar academic grant.

The absolute second the check cleared, I dragged Declan to a local diner. He loudly bragged about bankrupting me.

He aggressively marched up to the counter and ordered a standard brisket bowl.

I stared at the owner, Pete. "Add two softboiled eggs." Declan snorted, using his plastic fork to place one of the eggs into my bowl. "Look at you flexing your cash.

Two whole eggs? Are we living like billionaires now?" My fingers gripped the cheap plastic fork until my knuckles turned white.

I stared dead into his eyes. "Declan, I swear I'll buy you a real steak dinner one day." He shoved a big bite of brisket into his mouth dismissively. "A brisket bowl is godtier.

Stop acting brand new." Then, he suddenly slammed a sleek, matteblack smartphone directly onto the sticky diner table. "Here.

Your boss’s personal scholarship." Five hundred dollars suddenly felt like absolute spare change. That flagship phone easily cost a grand.

He shoved the phone into my hands without another word. "Take it. Boss's orders. My number is already locked in. You answer my calls in three seconds flat.

You reply to my texts instantly." He violently cleared his throat, suddenly refusing to meet my eyes. "And… if you ever run out of food or need a place to crash, you hit my line.

Having a starving sidekick completely ruins my street cred, you get me?!" My tears splashed onto the phone screen. "I get it," my voice broke. "Thank you." I looked at his bright eyes, and suddenly felt the flavor of the bowl sneak into my heart.

It felt numbing and hot. He abruptly unlocked his own screen, shoving it directly into my face. "Look at this. I've been agonizing over the style for weeks.

Which color is better?" A delicate, blindingly expensive diamond pendant filled the screen. The price tag attached to the bottom flaunted a devastating string of zeros.

The string of zeros made my eyes sting