#and someone DIES or something. ugh.

[interactivefictionramblings]

[HSR spoilers.]

I’m about to replay S2E2 and I’m just thinking “I sure hope I’m making the right decision about those snowmobiles.” 🥴

[sarellathesphinx]

Hey did you guys know Reeve is the one who had to tell Elmyra and Marlene that Aerith died in the original game. I think about this constantly

[zuzu-draws]

my brain is idea-ing and i'm afraid yall won't be able to handle it. (if i do it right)

[bf-rally]

felt like i was going crazy yesterday trying to set up a login system for this website 😭 it was like i was back in college again!

[girlypopification]

engaged in ACCIDENTAL heavy heavy flirting with one of my good friends and i really need to Not Be Doing That

[vi-visected]

how do i make anbu!kakashi and anbu!hara argue like immature little shits at any given opportunity while also making it realistic for them to trust and rely on each other as squadmates. how the everloving FUCK do i balance that dynamic.

[fnvbennygecko]

clutching head in hands.

[orcelito]

Ok so upon consulting some friends it has become clear that I should try to get this video sent before 5 pm today. No sims for me until after it's done. I also need to clean, but I think I can finish all of the essential things in an hour's work or so. Won't be spotless, but so long as it's an acceptable amount of clutter, then it'll have to do.

And then I will start practicing. Scales should be easy enough. Just gotta warm up and all. The song is the tricky part, bc I have no idea what to do yet 😭 but I'm gonna look in my folders and if there's nothing that would work playing solo that would ALSO not be too hard to play after only a few hours of practicing, then I will look in my music books. There's Gotta be a relatively simple solo piece in there.

I may be wildly out of practice, but I WAS the 4th best violinist in my high school, once upon a time. My wrist may be stiff and my fingers unpracticed, but the muscle memory's gotta still be in there somewhere. Just gotta have faith in that.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

SERIES IS DISCONTINUED- sorry y’all, just not inspired to write this anymore and don’t wanna force it.

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: What's one of your characters flaws?

Tim: I get attached too easily. I fall into obsessions quickly. I hero worship to the point of worry. Oh, and I get Hangry.

Danny: I meant the character flaws you put for the assignment.....

Tim: Patricide.

Danny: Alright thanks. I'll ugh, see you around?

Tim: You won't see me but I'll see you. Through my camera lens.

Danny: What?!

Tim: Don't act surprised. I just told you my flaws.

Danny: I thought you were just being edgy!?

Tim: *frog blinks* Why would I waste this chance to speak to *whispers* Phantom.

Danny: How do you know that!?

Tim: I used to follow Batman and Robin around before Robin died, and you popped up. Good thing you did, too, because Batman was going crazy. You really saved him from the void. I love you. Also, I think someone put something in my water bottle because I'm shaking and saying things I usually wouldn't be saying and-

Danny: *Grabs bottle to sniff* someone dumped a truth serum in here. Let's go ahead and get you to the cave.

Tim: You can smell that? Of course, you can; you're half ghost, which could be considered its own species since all senses are enhanced. Plus, some ghosts are born in the Infinite Realm, which means reproduction is possible between-

Danny: Let's play the quiet game

Tim: Oh! I'm really good at that game. I never made any sounds when following the Gotham Heros around! Five years and counting!

Danny: You were nine when you started following Bruce around!?

Tim: I'm a smart stalker. But shhhhhhh, it's quiet time.

Danny: I'm both impressed and afraid.

Tim: *finger guns and winks*

Danny: And oddly attracted to you.

Tim: *Beams*

[strngrsongs]

fucking hate sending a text in a group chat and nobody replies. like hello. is this thing on.

[tossawary]

The fun thing about Luo Binghe potentially NOT being pushed into the Endless Abyss at the Immortal Alliance Conference, imo, is that he's still a forcibly outed heavenly demon stuck in the middle of the cultivation world after a deadly invasion. There are so many different fun ways to play it.

So, Shen Yuan groggily wakes up and the first thing he sees is that traitorous asshole Shang Qinghua's relieved face and disheveled appearance. Ugh. And then first thing that the An Ding Peak Lord says is: "Wow, and I thought the System hated my ass. It had it OUT for you, bro."

What the fuck.

At which point, Shen Yuan sits bolt upright because what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is not moving, the weight of the sword in his hand, the thunder of his heart in his ears, not being able to go through with it, hoping against all reason that this was all some sort of sick test and that the System wouldn't really-

"Where's Binghe?" Shen Yuan demands.

Shang Qinghua winces. "About that..."

And Shen Yuan's heart falls because Binghe ended up in the Endless Abyss anyway, obviously. There were apparently two transmigrators all along and neither of them could truly change the story.

"He got arrested for your murder and the invasion of the conference," Shang Qinghua says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was ugly. So ugly. I probably would have died if Liu Qingge hadn't shown up to put him down. The Palace Master is saying that this is obviously revenge for Tianlang-Jun's sealing and Yue Qingyuan has pretty much stopped talking-"

"What."

"Oh, you were super dead, bro, and the protagonist freaked the fuck out. I was there, so he started yelling about why I hadn't done something, irrational with grief and all that, it was pretty scary."

And Shen Yuan can see how a surprise heavenly demon kid would get blamed for his shizun's death and the invasion of the conference. There's nothing that any drama likes better than an innocent person somehow caught red-handed in the middle of an inexplicable disaster.

"Wait, the invasion IS your fault!" Shen Yuan says, pointing an accusatory finger. He feels like shit still, but his righteous, trembling anger is going mostly in the right direction. "Why didn't you speak up-?"

"What, and I was going to admit to that in front of all of those peak lords and sect leaders? Get off my dick, bro."

"I meant blame Mobei-Jun!"

"Oh, yeah. They'd made up their minds, though! And shit got really violent really quickly! Liu Qingge is still itching to kill someone here, you know. Ask yourself why you're not still dead first, huh?"

That's an annoyingly good question. And Shang Qinghua annoyingly answers himself without waiting for an input.

"You're so fucking lucky that I've been here for like forty years now and I have so many useless points. Enough to pay off YOUR debt! They can be transferred, apparently? Be grateful! Anyway, I don't want the vengeful protagonist thinking that I hold any blame whatsoever in you fainting to death there, even if he is locked up in the Water Prison right now, so don't say I did nothing for you, got it?"

"...He's WHERE?!"

"Water Prison. He's going to be put on bullshit trial for the Immortal Alliance Conference and also for existing as a heavenly demon. Keep up, bro. Also," Shang Qinghua says with an urgent look over his shoulder, "you have to back me up when I try to explain to Mu Qingfang and Huang Qingheng that you were only mostly dead, they must have missed something, and I was just hanging around paying my respects when you miraculously recovered. I don't know anything! Ready to go?"

"No."

"Well, that fucking sucks for you. Let's go!"

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[siempre-bucky]

existence

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

summary: There's a rumor at the base that MRs. Torres doesn't exist. No birthday parties, no drinks at the bar after a mission, no base run functions. Sam crashes at the Toress' after the White House incident and sees if she actually exists.

wc: 1457

a/n: Spoilers for CA:BNW

 His ears were still ringing. 

Echos of gunfire and police sirens shrouded his mind, Sam’s body was on autopilot with his eyes burning holes into the dirty apartment complex carpet and his sore feet dragging along it. He still doesn’t comprehend how Joaquin could be in a chipper mood after that. Sam noticed the limp in Joaquin's step and the bruise on the back of his neck. It could have been worse, the President could have died, Cap reminded himself. 

“Wait till you meet her, Sam! Ugh, I have been waiting for this for the longest time!” he cheered, clearly forgetting the late hour. Right, Sam blinked, he was finally meeting Mrs. Torres. After working together for three years, he thought this mystery woman didn’t exist. The younger man would make excuses “She’s working overseas,” or “She has no service.” But after catching a glimpse at his lock screen which proudly displayed a photo of the pair at a Hurricanes baseball game he changed his mind. The rest of the base thought it was AI-generated. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it, man,” Sam forced out a chuckle, ribs screaming back at him. 

Joaquin stopped at the door, digging his key out of his pocket and turning the lock. The echoes disappeared once Sam took a step into the small DC apartment. The smell of baked goods and a soft “We’re home, Amor” coming from the other man was enough to silence them for a moment, the pain in his ribs dulled with the feeling of anticipation rising. 

She was real. His brown eyes discreetly widened as she appeared in the doorway that divided the kitchen and living room, wiping her hands with an orange and green rag. He didn’t take his eyes off her, she examined Joaquin up and down before giving herself the ok to crash into him.  “I’m so happy you’re ok,” She muttered against his neck, his arms holding her against him. 

The soft interaction made something in his chest ache, and the way Joaquin then cradled her face and whispered reassurance in two languages almost made him tear up. Almost. He’d be sure to make fun of him for this later. 

“Sam, this is my wife.” 

The woman smiled softly, aware of the situation at the White House,  and introduced herself, outstretching her hand. He noticed her firm grip, but he could feel the tremble. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sam. I can’t get him to shut up about you,” she chuckled, leaning back into Joaquin’s embrace. 

“Nice to meet you too,” he said with a small smirk. 

“There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch for you along with some clothes. Half his closet is just U Maimi stuff—I hope you don’t mind the colors.”  

Sam turned around and glanced at the neat pile resting on the arm of the couch. “It’ll do fine. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome anytime. I’m going to get him cleaned up, let me know if you need anything else.” She patted her husband on the back and ushered him into the kitchen, dismissing all of his protests. 

Sam walked towards the couch and ran his fingers over the plush olive green material of the blanket before picking up the vibrant green t-shirt. He snickered and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Shit!” a shrill curse came from the kitchen followed by soft apologies. It was instinct for the hero to look over and check out the scene. Joaqquin was fine, sitting on the counter with a piece of gauze covering his eyebrow. She stood between his legs, a look of sympathy on her face while she dabbed at the wound. 

Love looked good on the kid. In their line of work, there wasn’t much room for love or even just the look of it on someone's face. He remembered the first night he saw it on Joaquin’s face; it was at a bar somewhere in Europe and Sam had been counting on his fingers how many girls the other had turned down for a dance. 

“Five,” he laughed wiggling his fingers in his face. 

Joaquin rolled his eyes and playfully shoved his hand away, “Yeah, yeah.” 

“Wanna go for six or do you wanna tell me why you’ve said no to every pretty girl in this place.” 

The curly-haired man took a swig of beer for confidence, letting out a deep sigh as he put the bottle back on the table. “I have someone back home,” he finally admitted. 

“You got a little girlfriend!” 

There was a small blush on his cheeks and a smile so soft and sweet it was sickening. “A wife.” 

“Wife,” Sam repeated slowly. 

“College sweethearts, I think that’s what it’s called.” 

Yeah, love looked good on him. Sam snapped out of his memory and opened the blanket his eyes watching her press her hand against Joaquin’s chest with his wrapped around her wrist, his thumb swiping along the bone. His heart was beating, he was alive. Sam wondered if that was something they did after he came home from deployment, or now when he returned from a mission. Tonight was just supposed to be a fun night celebrating their mission, not stopping an assassination attempt. 

“Sam…bro, you good?” 

The couple stood in front of him, a red first aid kit in her hands. “Go get changed, I’ll patch up Captain America,” she smirked. Joaquin smiled and kissed her on the temple before retreating to the bedroom down the hall. 

“I’m fine,” Sam laughed it off. 

Her eyes flickered down to his arm, wet crimson staining a patch of his forearm. “Sit,” she told him firmly. 

He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Well, I’ll be damned, he thought as he looked at the sliced skin, it shouldn’t need stitches. She popped open the kit and got to work in silence. He should say something, the gears in his brain working overtime to come up with something appropriate. 

“You know, I was starting to think you didn’t exist.” He settled on that. Nice going, Sam. 

Thankfully she laughed, pouring a clear liquid over the cut that made him wince. “We get that a lot. We have a tally of all our friends who’ve said that.” 

“Sorry to add another. Work keeps you away?” 

She smiled and nodded, “I work for a charity. Helping communities rebuild after the blip. Some places haven’t been as lucky as we have. I was away a lot—it worked out when he was deployed.” 

A sadness began to loom over her as she gently wrapped his arm with a white gauze. She missed him, and he missed her just as much. “Was?” he narrowed in on the past tense of her words. 

“I requested a transfer to a desk job as soon as he finished those wings. I need to be here if something happens.” There was a tremor in her voice, “Him being Falcon puts him in even more danger. I want—need to be closer to him.” 

“He’s a good man,” Sam told her gently, “a damn good Falcon, he learned from the best.” He got a smile and a small chuckle out of her relieving her of some of the nerves she carried. 

She put her hand over the gauze and looked at him dead in the eye. “Keep him alive, Sam.” It was a gentle command. “He means everything to me.”

His lips parted and glanced down at the silver wedding band around her finger, thinking of a way to tell her that he might not be able to in this line of work. Joaquin saved the day, strolling into the room with a signature toothy smile. “Have you been talking about me this whole time?” he joked. 

Her smile instantly brightened. “You wish,” she laughed, collecting her things from the couch and rose to her feet. 

“She’s a miracle worker.” Sam raised his arm to show his partner the neatly wrapped gauze. 

“Looks good, Sam!” The other man cheered, leaning forward to get a better look. “We don’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet for nothing.” 

“Yeah, I learned after too many scraped knees from the basketball court back in Maimi.” 

Joaquin winced and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Let’s let Captain America get some sleep,” he suggested, pressing his lips to the side of her head. 

“Let us know if you need anything, Sam,” she told him. 

“Will do, Mrs. Torres. Thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime. We’re here or you.” 

Sam got comfortable on the couch, and surprisingly he felt like he could fall asleep instantly. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to his friends at the base: ‘Mrs. Torres exists.’

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 STAR A WAR kim minjeong x reader

❝If I need to start a war, I'm gon' try for you, I'll fight for it, go off for you, I’ll start a war❞

౨ৎ warnings: president x vice president, school!au, mild insults not much, swearing

the classroom was quieter than usual. the hum of idle chatter had died down, leaving just the sounds of rustling papers and the clinking of pens against desks. jimin sat in the back, her eyes fixed on yn, who was sitting in the front of the room with that perfect posture, writing something down with quick, precise movements.

yn was always like this sharp, proper, perfect. she looked like she stepped out of a magazine ad with her crisp uniform, tailored to absolute perfection. her hair was sleek and neatly parted to the side, held together by her signature expensive hair clip. everything about her screamed money, power, and control.

“how does she even do it?” jimin muttered under her breath to no one in particular, though minjeong, sitting beside her, heard her clearly.

“do what?” minjeong’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if she was always careful not to draw too much attention.

“be so... obnoxious,” jimin replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “like, she’s the class president and she’s really good at it, but she’s so... passive aggressive about it. doesn’t even thank anyone for anything. and her whole ‘I’m too cool for you’ vibe is just... ugh.”

minjeong glanced over at yn, who was now talking with a few classmates, her tone polite but distant, like she was doing them a favor just by acknowledging their existence. 

“she’s... not that bad,” minjeong said, though it was clear from the way she looked at jimin that she wasn’t really convinced by her own words.

“oh, c’mon, minjeong. how can you even work with her?” jimin said, exasperated. “I mean, I get it, you’re vice president, but how do you stand being around her all day?”

minjeong shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes downcast. “yn’s... really good at her job. she gets things done and she’s not someone you want to go against.”

“I don’t care if she’s good at her job or not,” jimin shot back, shaking her head. “it’s her attitude. it's unbearable.”

minjeong sighed, clearly trying to avoid making things more complicated. but jimin had made up her mind.

“you know what? I’m running against her,” jimin suddenly declared, slamming her hand on the desk. “this whole school deserves a new class president. one with a little humility, you know?”

minjeong blinked, clearly taken aback. “jimin, I don’t think—”

“too late, I’m doing it,” jimin said with a determined look on her face. “this place needs a change. and I’m going to be the one to give it to them.”

“but—”

“no ‘buts,’ minjeong. I’m doing it, you need a new president by your side.” jimin stood up, suddenly energized, and started toward the front of the classroom where yn was gathering her things, already preparing to leave. “and you’re coming with me,” she added, grabbing minjeong’s wrist and pulling her toward yn.

“wait, jimin, no—”

before minjeong could protest any further, they were standing in front of yn’s desk. yn looked up at them slowly, her expression unreadable as she adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“can I help you?” she asked, her voice polite but carrying an edge of disinterest.

“yeah,” jimin said, crossing her arms defiantly. “I want an election. I’m running against you.”

there was a long silence. yn blinked, looking between jimin and minjeong, who was standing awkwardly beside her, her head lowered.

“an election,” yn repeated, her voice almost too calm. “you’re challenging me?”

“yep,” jimin replied without missing a beat. “i’m done with you, yn. I’m tired of your attitude. it’s time for a new class president.”

yn’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. she glanced over at minjeong, her eyes lingering for just a moment before she turned back to jimin. “sure,” she said, her voice cool and collected. “if you really want to waste your time.”

jimin’s brow furrowed at how effortlessly yn had agreed, as if she didn’t care at all. but yn’s eyes gleamed with a knowing look, like she was already playing some game that jimin wasn’t fully aware of.

“we’ll see how this turns out,” yn added, before walking away without another word.

the next few weeks were a blur of campaigning, speeches, and endless debates. 

jimin, with the help of aeri, yizhuo, and minjeong, worked tirelessly to build a case for her presidency. but no matter what she did, it always felt like something was off.

for every speech jimin made, there was some technical issue. for every poster she put up, they somehow disappeared. even when she thought things were going well, she could feel the shadow of yn hanging over her. it was like everything jimin did was being sabotaged from the shadows.

“this is ridiculous,” jimin groaned one afternoon, throwing her hands up as she stared at a broken microphone. “why does this always happen to me?”

aeri, who had been quietly filing her nails in the corner of the room, looked up. “maybe she’s got someone working behind the scenes. like, you know, bribing tech support or something.”

“that’s insane,” jimin muttered, rolling her eyes. “there’s no way yn’s going that far.”

“you’d be surprised,” aeri said, smirking. “she is rich, after all. she probably has a whole team working to keep her in power, she’s rich dude, just like minjeong lately.” 

minjeong, who had been quietly helping with the posters, paused for a moment, her eyes flicking to aeri. “what do you mean ?” minjeong asked, her voice almost too soft.

aeri raised an eyebrow. “I mean, come on. have you seen you? designer clothes, accessories every week... it’s not exactly a secret.”

minjeong shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening around the corner of a poster she was holding. “it’s just... gifts from my dad,” she said quickly.

“gifts from your dad?” yizhuo said, clearly skeptical. “your dad can afford all that?”

“yeah, he can,” minjeong replied quietly. “it’s not a big deal.”

jimin, sensing the tension, quickly changed the subject. “let’s just focus on getting this campaign going. we need a new class president.”

jimin and the others sat at their usual table, catching up and discussing their next campaign move. 

it was just another normal lunch until yn walked by. she was flanked by a couple of her loyal followers, her posture impeccable. her gaze flickered over their table, but it was her voice that made jimin’s blood boil.

"oh, look," yn said, loud enough for them to hear, "the losers are still trying to make a name for themselves. such a waste of time, not even my vice president can help.”

the words hung in the air like ice, and jimin shot a glare at her, but yn didn’t even acknowledge it as she continued walking, mary jane’s clicking against the floor.

"she’s unbearable," jimin muttered under her breath, glaring at the back of yn’s head.

"don’t let her get to you," minjeong said quietly, though it was clear she was looking at yn’s retreating figure with a complex expression.

but the damage had been done.

jimin was hanging up the campaign posters when she noticed yn standing in the hallway with a couple of her friends. yn's gaze fell on one of jimin's posters, and without missing a beat, she walked over, her steps confident. her eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and something else jimin couldn't quite place.

"oh, jimin," yn cooed, her voice dripping with faux sweetness as she stopped in front of the poster. "I see you’re trying to make a difference. too bad this is going to be a waste of time. no one here wants a class president who’s all over the place like you."

jimin clenched her fists at her sides, her jaw tight, but she held her ground. "can you shut up for once?" she shot back, her voice steady "the election is not over yet."

yn smirked, her eyes flicking to minjeong who was standing beside jimin, watching the exchange silently. "we’ll see," yn said smoothly, "but you’re really not cut out for this. it’s cute though, watching you try, just because you don’t like me.”

before jimin could retort, yn’s gaze shifted to minjeong. her smirk widened as she casually addressed her, her voice suddenly colder, sharper.

"and it’s cute that you think you can betray me, your partner, to help her," yn said

minjeong stiffened, her eyes flicking nervously between yn and jimin and she instinctively took a small step back.

yn’s eyes lingered on minjeong for a moment longer, as if daring her to speak, but minjeong remained silent. 

yn turned away with a dismissive wave, her mary jane’s clicking against the floor with each step as she walked off, leaving the air thick with unspoken tension.

jimin glared at yn’s retreating figure, but her eyes quickly darted to minjeong, who had fallen into an uneasy silence.

"min, are you okay?" jimin asked, her voice softer now, trying to gauge her friend’s reaction.

minjeong hesitated before she nodded, though the uncertainty in her eyes was unmistakable. "yeah, I’m fine," she said quietly, but there was something fragile in her tone that made jimin’s stomach churn.

"don’t listen to her," jimin said firmly. “ she’s just a bitch"

but even as they worked, jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that yn was always one step ahead. and when the election results came in, it was no surprise, yn had won.

jimin’s stomach sank as she stared at the results, feeling a bitter taste rise in her mouth. “this doesn’t make sense,” she muttered under her breath. “she sabotaged me, I swear.”

the others comforted her, but jimin could barely hold herself together. she had fought hard, but it hadn’t been enough”

“you did your best, jimin,” yizhuo said, her voice kind. “it just wasn’t meant to be.”

jimin leaned her head back, “I really wanted to get you a new partner min, yn must be unbearable to work with.”

minjeong, who had been unusually quiet, stood up. “it’s okay, I’ve been doing this for a year, this is a bad time but I’m leaving early. my dad is picking me up.”

jimin barely registered the words. “alright, you’ll call us later?” she asked,

minjeong glanced at her, then at aeri and yizhuo. “yeah, of course.”

outside, minjeong made her way to the parking lot, her thoughts a tangled mess. she didn’t want to think about the election, the tension, the constant complaints about yn.

as minjeong reached the curb, a sleek black van pulled up. the door opened, and yn was sitting inside, her face buried in her phone. when she looked up and saw minjeong, a smile tugged at her lips.

“aren’t you going to congratulate me?” yn asked, her voice playful yet laced with something else something almost predatory.

minjeong hesitated, then finally smiled. 

“congratulations,” she said, her voice soft but sincere.

yn leaned forward and kissed her, soft and lingering. “thanks, baby,” she murmured against her lips. “thanks for helping me with all of this. I don’t know what your friend thought she was doing, going up against me.”

minjeong didn’t say anything right away, her hand slowly finding yn’s. “she thinks you sabotaged her,” minjeong finally admitted.

yn laughed softly, kissing minjeong’s hand. “little did she know, her best friend was behind it all,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

“did you like the gift?” yn asked, nodding toward the prada keychain that now hung from minjeong’s bag.

minjeong smiled. “thank you. you don’t have to get me gifts all the time, you know.”

“I like treating my girlfriend well,” yn said, her voice light but with a hint of something more serious beneath it. “besides, I always get what I want.” she smirked. “how do you think you became vice president?”

minjeong rolled her eyes playfully. “you’re impossible.”

“yet you still almost started a war for me, all that sabotaging, who knew you were so sneaky?”

yn laughed, her fingers intertwining with minjeong’s. “I can’t believe she thought she had a chance against me,” yn continued, leaning back in her seat. “I always get what I want. always.”

minjeong’s smile softened as she watched yn rant, enjoying the rare moment when it was just the two of them. “she’s still my friend, yn,” minjeong said quietly.

“unfortunately,” yn replied, her tone teasing, though there was affection in her eyes.

“you need a new dress,” yn suddenly said, shifting in her seat. “for that family event. I’ll get you one.”

minjeong smiled as yn continued to rant about the event. in moments like this, with just the two of them in the back of the car, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. 

just her and yn, class president and vice president, side by side.

it felt... perfect.