#Why can't you treat them like you treat your peers? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prael · 3 months ago

Text

Head To Head

Itzy Yuna & Artms/Loona Heejin x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 13,663 Kofi(donations/commissions)

There must be a reason. There's always a reason.

Yuna has this look in her eye when she's up to something, and she's always up to something.

She's the one who always has a plan to execute, a scheme to concoct, an idea to hatch. Everything usually aligns with a single, specific purpose: to be the best. To beat everyone at everything. It's why she's captain of the debate team and the track team. It's why she's the president of the student council. She's the type of person to do every possible extracurricular there is, and to dominate them all, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly irrelevant.

Though her every achievement is matched by another, and it eats at her like nothing else.

She's got this sweet smile, a gentle lilt to her voice, and the most charming laugh, but you've known her long enough to understand that none of it means she's on your side. Not always, anyway. Not until she's figured out what she wants. (You're not saying it's all fake. She is a sweet person, really. But there's something else behind her eyes that never disappears completely, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.)

"Have you eaten today? You look a little pale," Yuna says, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. "I had lunch. Just... a little tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to go hungry or overwork yourself. I'm sure it's tough being the principal's son. Are you eating your meals on time?"

Even for Yuna, this is a bit too much. A full-court press of concern, all focused on you. It feels like a trap. "Seriously, I'm okay. I'm just trying to work on a little project."

"Can I help?" She asks as she's already pulling her chair closer to you, so she's practically peering over your shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's not difficult. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Two minds are better than one," she playfully says as she leans in a little closer, her hair falling on your shoulder and touching your cheek. Then there's the smell, an expensive, intoxicating fragrance that sends a shiver down your spine and a warmth deep inside your gut.

"Yuna," you say, and even you're not quite sure if you're protesting or pleading. "I'm fine. You don't need to."

You feel her hand on your back. It's warm. Her thumb strokes back and forth. The pressure is gentle but persistent. "It's what friends are for, they help each other out," she says softly.

The touch is comforting, almost enough to make you melt right there on the spot. "I have to be able to do this alone. Thank you, really, thank you, but I'll be okay."

Her hand moves up, and now it's resting on the back of your neck. You can't help but tense up a little bit, and she must notice because her hand goes away.

"If you say so," Yuna says. "Then how about you let me buy you dinner later? It'll be my treat."

"No, no," you quickly reply. "You don't have to."

"Please, I insist. It'll make me feel better."

She's so convincing. That's the thing about Yuna. She has the kind of voice and manner that makes you believe whatever it is she's saying. You feel a strange sense of urgency, the way she says this, the way she's looking at you. You can't say no. "Okay. Thank you."

"See you after school." She stands up and walks out of the classroom.

That was weird. There's an explanation for it, but there's no way she could know, is there? She's always two steps ahead of everyone. How could she have found out about it when your father only told you the day before?

Your stomach growls.

Maybe you should have actually eaten lunch.

There are no classes at the moment, not with graduation right around the corner and the last of the finals coming to an end. You're sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the quiet before the evening rush. The breeze is cool and pleasant, and the grass is soft and plush. It's a good day to sit and relax.

There are not many people out in the courtyard, but you recognise the one that's been sitting out here almost as long as you have.

Heejin's sitting against a tree. Her hair is a little messy, as usual, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too unruly. Her clothes are a little loose as if she doesn't care about how she looks. She looks so peaceful, so tranquil, as she reads the book in her lap. She has her headphones on, listening to music and blocking out the rest of the world.

She's cute, you think.

You should probably stop staring.

(You're trying not to, you swear, but there's just something so... easy on the eyes, about Heejin.)

There's a sudden swirl of wind, a little stronger than before, that blows the trees. Leaves are swirling and fluttering, and the swaying of the branches breaks the shade that Heejin's tree provides. A ray of sunlight shines down on her, bright and beautiful. The glow makes her seem to shine, but she doesn't appreciate it, it blinds her for a moment, and you see the way her eyes narrow, and the annoyed look on her face.

It's enough to pull her out of her trance. Her gaze moves, and her eyes lock with yours. Her expression is flat and unamused. You can almost feel her judgement from here.

Oh. Yeah. Right. That's what you get for staring. You look away.

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Can we talk?"

You look up, and Heejin's standing over you. She's not smiling, but she's not frowning, either. Her face is neutral and expressionless, but you know it's because she doesn't have anything nice to say.

"Hi, uh," you nervously stammer. "What's up?"

She gestures at the space on the bench next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." You slide a little bit to the side.

Heejin takes a seat. "I heard something from a friend, and I was wondering if it was true," she says. "I wanted to hear it from you directly, so I'm going to ask you."

"Yeah?"

Heejin looks at you straight on. She's not one to hold back. "Is your dad asking you to decide between me and Yuna for valedictorian?"

There it is. Confirmation of your suspicions. It makes little to no sense how it got out so quickly, or how it got out at all. The whole thing was meant to be a secret, after all. You hesitate to say anything.

She doesn't seem offended that you haven't answered. Instead, she says, "You don't have to tell me. I already know it's true."

You don't have an answer to that. Heejin is like this; one-sided conversations, like she has her own way of thinking about things. She's a bit blunt and brusque, and it's a bit jarring. It's the kind of honesty and openness that's a bit too raw to be considered polite.

"You don't seem very surprised," you finally reply.

Heejin gives you a shrug. "It's not surprising. The school's a bit of a mess. I'm not sure the principal has his shit together." She looks at you with a slight smirk. "No offence."

You let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Your dad's a little..." Heejin makes a vague gesture with her hand. "He's trying. He's trying to be a good principal, I can tell, but he's just a little, y'know, not great."

"I get it."

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "Well, he's your dad, I shouldn't shit talk him too much. But I mean, it's a pretty big deal that he's making his son pick between the top students. I think that's messed up, honestly."

"To be fair, there's no way to split the two of you," you try to explain. "You're putting up the exact same scores, all across the board. You're tied."

"Yeah. I know. I know." She leans back a bit on the bench and lets out a long sigh. "Yuna's tough to compete against. She always has her head in the game. She's got that look in her eye when she's on to you." Heejin looks at you. "You know what I mean, right?"

You nod your head in agreement. "I know."

"I've come to a conclusion: there's only one way to beat her. You know what I have to do, right?"

"...What?"

Heejin gives you a smirk and leans in. She rests her hand on your thigh. Your eyes go wide in shock, and she lets out a little giggle. "I have to convince you to let me be valedictorian." Her fingers squeeze the inside of your leg. "I can persuade you, right?"

Your hand snaps down to her wrist and holds her. "Heejin," you say, and your voice is a little shaky. "What are you—"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen the way you look at me," Heejin interrupts. "I see it, the way you're checking me out. I'm hot, right? You can say it, I don't mind."

She's such a straight shooter, there's no other way to describe her. There's no double entendre or sneaky little insinuation or subtle implication. It's just plain and simple. Heejin says exactly what she wants, no more, no less. There's something attractive about that. Something... exciting.

But this is a lot to process, especially when her hand's on your leg.

"I... um, I," you stutter. "I..."

"What the hell is this!?"

Oh no.

The voice makes the two of you jump a little. Yuna's marching up to the both of you, and she doesn't look happy. You let go of Heejin's hand, but it doesn't make much difference. Her hand's still on you, after all.

"Are you really stooping so low?" Yuna demands, pointing at Heejin.

"Talking to my friend? That's stooping low, now?" Heejin asks, raising an eyebrow. Her voice is casual and indifferent, almost as if she's goading her. "I can't talk to my friend anymore?"

"Get your hands off him, Heejin. It's not a good look." Yuna crosses her arms. "Don't you have any self-respect?"

Heejin lets go of your leg, but she's as unflustered as ever. "I was just talking to my friend. I can talk to him, can't I?"

"He has a lot on his mind. He doesn't need you distracting him."

Heejin rolls her eyes and starts on the defensive. "I wasn't doing anything like that." She stands up. "He has enough brains to think for himself." She looks at you, and there's a little smirk on her lips. "Right?"

You're about to reply, but Yuna steps between you and Heejin, the skirt resting on her wide hips in front of your face and blocking your view of Heejin. She's staring at Heejin. Her eyes are narrowed. "I don't know what you were doing, Heejin. But it wasn't just talking."

"I was giving him my suggestion," Heejin answers.

Yuna shakes her head. "He doesn't want your 'suggestions', whatever that is."

"He can speak for himself, y'know? He's a smart kid," Heejin says, a little more sharply. "If I wanted his attention, he'd give it to me. He knows what he wants. Don't you?" She asks, looking over at you with a little twinkle in her eye.

"I..." You swallow. It's a bit difficult to think when there's so much going on. "I..."

Heejin laughs a little at how you're a little lost for words. Yuna, though, is not nearly as amused. She steps closer to Heejin and leans in to say something. You don't hear what she's saying. It's too quiet for you to make it out. Heejin listens, and her smirk fades.

"Fine. Whatever," Heejin says. She walks away without a single glance at you.

"Wait," you say to her, standing up. You're about to follow her, but Yuna steps in the way again, and her expression makes you stop.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asks, blinking her wide, innocent eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just gonna say goodbye," you reply. It seems silly to try to explain this, and Yuna is looking a bit impatient. You decide not to say more. "Never mind."

She smiles and links arms with you. She's a lot more close than she's usually been. She's pressed up to your side, her arm entwined with yours, her chest pressed up against your shoulder, soft and warm. You try to ignore it. You're trying not to read too much into things. But it's a little tough when Yuna's the one being affectionate like that. "I was thinking," she says, "we can grab some pizza for dinner if you don't mind."

You take a final glance at Heejin as she walks away. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder. Her headphones are back on. Her head is held high as she walks with a strut. Those long bare legs protrude from under her skirt.

Yuna pulls at you. "Come on."

Dinner is, well, dinner. You and Yuna talk, about the usual things. You both chat about what's next after graduation and then she tells you about her family and how her sister has been annoying her lately. You listen. You nod. You talk. You eat. You talk again. It's a little weird, but it's nice, and the pizza's great. You're grateful.

But you know it's all a game.

If Heejin knows the power you've been handed, then Yuna does, too. And if both of them know, then the only way to get ahead of each other is by being more persuasive. Heejin had a... direct method. Yuna, though, she's more subtle, but you're sure her intentions aren't any less self-centred.

She turns the conversation to questions, focusing on you, rather than her. She's batting her eyelashes as she asks you questions about the school, about your family, about your friends. It's all innocent enough, but you're not stupid. You've known Yuna long enough to understand how she's playing you. And she's good at it. It's almost too easy to fall under her spell, to fall for her charms. The way she leans closer to you. How her fingers run across your palm, tracing little circles. The way she laughs at all your jokes, even the ones you know are dumb. How her smile is always on her lips. How her eyes sparkle whenever she's listening. The way she tilts her head and pouts when she doesn't quite get something.

"You're so lucky to be the principal's son," she says as if it isn't an excuse to bring up the whole reason she's even sitting with you. "Must be fun having all the connections."

"It's not a big deal." You shrug. "He just treats me like a normal student." Mostly. "I don't get anything out of it. He's a little strict on me, honestly."

"I don't know, there must be some perks to it," Yuna insists. "I'd kill to be able to have that kind of privilege."

"Yeah? Like what?" you ask. You take another sip of your drink.

"I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face, and lets out a little laugh. "You get to be first for everything, don't you?"

You shrug. "Not really."

"And you can probably flunk a class and just make your dad pass you anyway." She winks. "No?"

"Not how that works," you reply. You're getting the sense she's trying to work up to a point.

"Okay, maybe not, but there's got to be something good." She smiles. "You've got any secrets?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of secrets?"

"Oh, come on," she playfully insists. "I bet your dad's told you all the juicy gossip about the teachers and staff, right? Or maybe even about students?"

You don't answer. She takes that as an affirmative.

"Oooh, you're holding out on me. I wanna know!" Yuna grabs your hands and leans closer to you. Her shirt hangs low on her neck, exposing a little more cleavage than you're comfortable seeing. "Tell me a secret. Something interesting."

"Like what?" you ask. You know you probably should lean away, but it feels a bit too rude to do that.

"Anything. Something fun." She squeezes your hand. "I promise I won't tell. Come on. Just between the two of us."

You feel like she's closing in on you. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, just like earlier in the afternoon, and her eyes are twinkling, her lips pouting ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin against yours, the way her thumb is rubbing your palm. "Okay, fine." You look around, making sure no one else can hear. "The art teachers, she, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"She's getting a divorce, turns out she's into women."

"Oh my god." She blinks and covers her mouth in surprise. "No way."

"It's true," you say. "There's been a whole thing, her husband found out about an affair, it's all messy. Don't tell anyone, okay? I wasn't meant to tell."

"I won't," she says, a coy smile on her face. "Don't worry. I can keep secrets. Your secret's safe with me." She leans back, but her hand doesn't let go of yours. "But it's not just gossip, right? Does your dad ever, you know..." Her other hand joins her first, her palms rubbing your knuckles, her skin warm and soft against yours, her fingers stroking and massaging you. "Ask you for advice? Maybe you have some sway on how things get run at school, huh? I'm just curious, I swear."

It's an obvious question, and it's the kind that you expected she might try to ask, eventually. "Sometimes, yeah."

She nods. Her hands don't stop. They continue to caress and stroke, her touch gentle and comforting, but also firm, persistent, almost suggestive. The sensation makes you tingle a little, a little buzz running through your body. "That must be fun," she murmurs. "So has he asked for any advice lately?"

You know exactly what she wants, but she hasn't quite asked for it directly. You decide to tease her. "Yeah. I guess he's asked a bit recently."

"Oh, really?" She leans forward again, her lips just inches away from yours. "Like what?"

"About, uh, some stuff," you answer vaguely. You can't tell her exactly, you want to hear her ask it.

"Maybe I could help. Maybe we can talk about it and figure it out together." Her hand's moving up from yours and now she's stroking up your forearm, slowly rubbing it. Her touch feels so good, and her eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, her gaze focused solely on you. She bites her lip a little. "If he asked about something like... I don't know..."

You smile. She knows. And she's playing coy, pretending that she doesn't know what she wants. You can't let that stand. You can't let her get away with it. "Spit it out."

"Maybe..." Her eyes glance to the side. "...who to choose for valedictorian?"

It's about time she asks. "And what do you think?" you ask, a sly grin creeping up on you. "You got a suggestion?"

Yuna blushes a little and lets out a giggle. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be the best fit. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes. "My scores are the best—

"—Joint best."

"And my extra-curricular; I have the most—"

"—Joint most."

"And I'm the president, captain, leader of—"

"—Joint leader, captain and president."

"Are you just gonna keep doing that?" Yuna pouts.

"Doing what?"

"Joint," she says, imitating you, her voice lowering. "Joint. Joint. Joint. I mean, yeah, I get it. But you can't say that Heejin is really better than me, is she?"

You shrug.

"Is she? I don't think she is. I know her grades are as good as mine, but she doesn't put in as much work as me. I've been putting my blood, sweat and tears into all these clubs, all the things I'm in. She's just... doing things because she has nothing better to do. I'm actually trying, I'm working so hard, and I know that's worth something." She gives you a look that's somehow innocent and imploring, while simultaneously persuasive. "I deserve to be valedictorian."

You're not going to argue with her, she does deserve it. They both do.

Yuna keeps going, "You can help me, you know. We're friends. I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Do this for me and I'll owe you. Big time. I mean it. I will be very, very, grateful."

She trying so desperately to entice you, and she's doing her very best. The way her eyes twinkle and flutter as she speaks to you. The way her voice goes a little high-pitched and squeaky, the way she pouts her lips and widens her eyes. She leans so far over the table that she hits her drink and sends it tumbling. The glass shatters as it hits the floor and the two of you flinch from the sound.

"Oh my god!" Yuna gasps. "I'm so sorry, oh my god!" She jumps off her chair. The staff are quickly making their way over, and Yuna immediately apologises to them, a look of utter embarrassment on her face. "I'm sorry, it was an accident!"

The staff wave it off and start to clean up. You offer to help, but they refuse, so instead, you think it best to pay and call an end to dinner.

"That's so embarrassing, oh my god," Yuna groans. She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was an accident." You smile. The sun has almost set and the sky has turned a dusky orange and purple. The cool breeze in the evening air is pleasant and relaxing. You let out a sigh. You feel refreshed, and there's something to appreciate about the quiet. But the night's coming in, and you know you have to go back. "I'll walk you home," you offer.

Yuna smiles at you gratefully, and the two of you make the trip together.

The lady's dorms aren't far from your own. You're about to leave and head home when Yuna suddenly grabs you by the wrist. "Wait, don't go yet."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to give you something before you go."

"Like what?" you ask. "I already owe you dinner, so..."

"No, no, don't worry about that. This is something different." Yuna steps close to you and wraps her arms around you. You tense up, unsure, but you let her embrace you, her arms around your waist and her hands against your back. "A hug."

"A hug?"

"Yup. A big hug." Yuna rests her chin against your chest, looking up at you. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is sweet. She squeezes you tighter and leans into you. "For being a good friend. For listening to me talk about all the stupid things in my life. For coming out to dinner with me." Her hand rubs against your back. "And for being so nice."

"Um..." You're a little taken aback by this sudden act of kindness. You wrap your arms around her, too, hugging her back. You're not quite sure if this is a bit much. Yuna can be friendly, but this feels a little excessive, even for her. She's holding onto you, her body pressed up against yours, and it's making you a little uncomfortable. "Thanks. That's, uh, really nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuna murmurs and her voice is low and soft, her eyes staring right at yours, unblinking. Her body is so soft against yours, her skin feels smooth and warm, and her embrace feels like it's melting into your own. You can't help but notice her body, her curves, the way her hips and chest seem to press into you. It feels like she's trying to make you notice. "So... do you think you'll help me?"

"Help you?" you ask.

"About... y'know..." Yuna tilts her head a little and leans back to look up at you, but her hands stay firmly planted on your back. She smiles playfully. "The valedictorian thing?"

"I, um, I haven't really—"

"—thought about it? Yeah. Okay." She pouts. "Do you need more time?"

"Maybe," you admit. "I haven't really been—"

"—been thinking about it. I know." Yuna steps back and lets you go. She smiles at you again, but this time, it seems a bit more... sultry? Seductive? "Okay, fine. But you'll have my eternal gratitude if you help me, I swear."

She turns and skips into her building, and you stand there for a second, watching as the doors close behind her. Then, you turn and start walking back to your dorm. It's dark out and you have a long walk, so you decide to take the scenic route. You pass by the school fields, past the baseball and soccer grounds, and then you pass the gym and pool buildings. Finally, you cross the courtyard, heading for your dorm.

You're about halfway across when you notice a figure on the benches. The same figure as earlier.

"Aren't you cold?" you call out, walking up to Heejin. She's still in her uniform, but she doesn't seem to be wearing anything to protect her from the night chill. She's still sitting there, legs crossed and head resting on one hand.

She looks up at you as you approach. "A little, yeah."

"Why are you out here?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's nice. Peaceful."

You can't argue with that. You look up at the night sky and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs. The silence is nice. It feels like the world has stopped, the universe has paused to give you a moment of quiet. "You can still enjoy it while wearing a jacket, maybe a hoodie. Switch out that skirt for some sweats."

Heejin smiles. "You sound like my dad."

"I didn't know your dad was such a smart guy."

"He isn't," she jokes. She lets out a soft laugh, and then she looks back up at you. "So why are you out here?"

"Walking home. Passing by."

"Did she take you somewhere nice?" Heejin suddenly asks with a knowing smirk. There's no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounds amused.

"Dinner. Pizza."

"Sounds romantic," she remarks, with the tone of someone who means the exact opposite. "Did it work? Are you persuaded?" She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms out and spreading them wide across the back. Her position exposes more of her, the skirt rising higher. You can see the smooth curves of her legs, the muscles that have developed from years of track and dance. They look inviting.

"It was just dinner. We talked. That's all," you explain.

"Just talked," Heejin repeats. She's clearly sceptical. "Just talked," she repeats again, emphasising it.

"Just talked," you reaffirm.

"Sure. Fine," Heejin says with a playful roll of her eyes. She leans forward now, clasping her hands together and settling them between her bare knees. She leering at you, now. Her smirk is suggestive, even seductive. It feels like she's toying with you, almost mocking you. "What did she offer you?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she would owe me one."

"Yeah, she would owe you one," Heejin drawls, nodding her head patronisingly. "Bet she said it with real suggestive eyes, too, and she touched you, maybe held your arm or something, right? Like, really obviously trying to imply she'll fuck you if you made her valedictorian?"

Your throat runs dry and Heejin just laughs to herself.

"At least I know what I'm up against," Heejin remarks. She stands up, slings her bag over her shoulder, and steps closer to you. She's looking straight at you. Her expression is stern, determined, and serious. Her eyes are narrowed and intense, staring into yours, penetrating through you. "Here's my counter-offer: I'll suck you off, right now. We'll go to your room, you sit down on the bed, take off your pants, I'll drop to my knees and blow you."

Holy shit, Heejin's really serious. She doesn't blink, her gaze remains focused on you.

"Then you pick me. You make me valedictorian."

You're silent. Speechless. There's no subtlety, no suggestion, no implication, no hinting. There's a credit to be given for honesty. You can respect the fact that she's not hiding what she wants, or trying to play games or manipulate you. It's refreshingly direct and simple. And yet, it's Heejin. The girl who quietly sits in class and aces every test. Who beats everyone's times in track. Who performs in competitions as a hobby. Everyone admires her. Everyone wants to be her friend. To have her say that, to offer that...

"You're blushing," Heejin says, smirking. She steps even closer, standing on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth closer to your ear, her hot breath hitting you and making you shiver. "Take me to your dorm," she whispers. "I'll make you cum until you can't even think anymore."

There's not an ounce of shame in her. Not the slightest hint of guilt. She's absolutely certain that she's in control and that you're weak and malleable, willing to succumb to her. She's got no doubt in her mind that she's completely dominating you, that she's utterly in charge.

Yuna throws herself onto her bed, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. Step one is complete. She picked out a cute outfit that looked innocent, but still enticing. She chose a restaurant that had a casual atmosphere, but still allowed them to sit and talk comfortably. She held his hand, she stared deeply into his eyes, she smiled at him and laughed at all his stupid jokes. And yes, it was embarrassing when she accidentally spilt her drink, but it worked out! He walked her home and gave her a hug, which was perfect. A perfect opportunity to tempt him with her body, and show off her curves. A preview of what he can have if he obeys. If he bends to her will.

Ryujin is listening to all the details of how Yuna thinks she has you wrapped around her little finger. Ryujin can't help but shake her head at her friend's naivety. Sure, maybe she got a few moments where she could entice you, but Ryujin knows you can't be won over by cheap tricks and flirtatious looks. What you need is someone more bold. Someone bolder, someone who will make the first move, and then take charge.

"...and then we hugged, and he was totally into me, I felt his heart beat faster, he was sooo excited," Yuna enthusiastically tells Ryujin. "And then he was just staring at me as I walked up the steps. He was, like, ogling my legs."

"Wow," Ryujin answers, with little enthusiasm. "Did he agree to make you valedictorian?"

"Kinda," Yuna answers. "Well, no. But he will. Trust me."

"You think that's enough? Empty promises and some light flirting?" Ryujin shakes her head and lets out a dismissive laugh. "Bare minimum."

"What? Do you want me to just ask him outright if he wants to bang? That's not how people work, they aren't direct like that," Yuna protests.

"You think Heejin is just gonna do the same? You think Heejin's gonna hold his hand and giggle at his shitty puns?"

"Yes," Yuna insists.

"Nope," Ryujin immediately corrects. "If she finds out that you took him out to dinner and tried to flirt with him, she's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"She's going to beat you. She's going to be bold, brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he doesn't have a choice," Ryujin confidently replies.

Yuna scoffs. "Yeah, right. Heejin's gonna seduce him? Please." She rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "She's pretty but there's no way she's going to throw herself at him."

Even as Yuna says it, the doubt creeps into her mind. Heejin did have her hand on your lap. And her legs... she wasn't exactly covering much. What if she takes it a step further? That uncertainty turns into something else, and Yuna starts to feel a little paranoid. "Oh my god," she says, a frown on her face, sitting up as if she's suddenly had a revelation. "So, hypothetically, maybe, just maybe, she somehow finds out that I went to dinner with him. Maybe, hypothetically, she decides to act, like, bold and seduce him."

Ryujin gives a long sigh and shakes her head. "That's exactly what she's gonna do. There's only one person on earth who cares about accolades as much as you, and that's Heejin. She's going to get what she wants, and that's graduation as valedictorian, even if she has to give up her dignity to do it." Ryujin tilts her head and adds, as if it were obvious, "You should be in his room right now."

"Fuck."

Yuna left the dorm immediately, and she is walking that same route you did just ten minutes earlier, her entire body charged with a sense of urgency, her heart pumping with nerves. She's trying to stay calm, but there's no way to not admit that this is, potentially, bad. Very bad.

The anxiety gnaws at her, and as she rushes through the darkness, she starts to wonder what Heejin might be doing right now, what she might say to him, and the kind of persuasion she might use. She doesn't trust Ryujin's words, no, but they keep echoing in her head.

'She's going to be bold, and brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he won't have a choice.'

The thought strikes her, the terrible feeling of just not knowing what's going on in your room. Yuna wants to bash down your door, throw herself in, and see for herself. It's driving her a little crazy.

Yuna takes a moment to process what this could mean for her, what could possibly be going on behind the walls, in the building ahead of her. She can't just walk in alone, no, it's the men's dorm. But... she overheard it once. A few guys were jealous that you had the solo dorm, the big room on the bottom floor at the end of the building. So she could probably work out which window is yours. Then, well, one look inside to see you relaxing, hopefully, alone...

Yuna steps off the path and begins to round the building. It's dark and quiet out, but that just makes her feel like it's even more indecent and dirty that she's finding excuses to spy on you. There are no lights on in the rooms above, it looks like everyone else in the building is either asleep or has gone out for the night. Your window, though, your room... there's definitely a light on.

She draws close, and when she rounds the corner, she peeks up. There's you, just standing in the room. Just the sight of you alone gives her relief.

Until the peeks a little further. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her throat.

It's Heejin.

She's on her knees, still wearing her uniform, but with the top few buttons popped, and her hair tied up in a ponytail. You're looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers. One hand's in her hair, your fingers running through it, stroking her hair. You look so pleased, so satisfied. So relaxed and comfortable.

Heejin's hands are on your hips, and Yuna notices her long, elegant fingers pressing into you. She looks so confident, so smug. So in control. So in charge. Yuna can feel the rage inside.

How could this be possible? This can't be happening. There's no way. There's no way.

Heejin grabs your hip and drags you closer, her other hand sliding up under your shirt. Her nails lightly scrape against your skin. She smiles when you flinch, and the expression on your face shows you're enjoying yourself.

Under her breath, Yuna mutters, "No fucking way. She's..."

She's sucking your cock.

Yuna stares. She stares and she can't stop. She can't tear her eyes away from the sight of Heejin, her lips around your length, taking you deep into her mouth. You're looking down at her, playing with her hair. The look of bliss on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heejin's skilled, Yuna realises with a growing sense of horror. She knows her way around it, with her lips circling the tip, tongue swirling and coating you in saliva, and her lips then easing your length further inside her. It's so fluid and smooth, and she's only using her mouth. How good must it feel?

She can imagine it. The hot, moist mouth on you, the soft, wet insides, the pressure of a mouth wrapping around you. The hum of approval as she continues to tease and play. The slurping and slobbering sounds. How it would look like her taking you deeper and deeper, her forehead touching the base, and how her throat would tighten around you.

Yuna feels her body ache. She's watching her position as valedictorian be sucked away down Heejin's throat. The girl whose a joint first, the same as her, is all but sealing her own victory with your climax. Her eyes are wide, staring at the scene in front of her, her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. This is absurd, impossible, unbelievable.

Heejin can't win like this. There's no way Heejin's better than her. Is she?

There's only one way she can stop it.

Heejin's sucking your brains out through your dick, making your spine tingle and your breath come in jagged and short gasps. It's nothing but pleasure for you. There are no thoughts, no conscious mind, just the sensation in your core.

Her mouth slides up and down, dragging up your shaft, her tongue sliding along it, licking and tasting the salty mixture of precum and spit. She draws her lips up your head, right to the tip, where she teases you with her tongue before plunging you back into the depths of her throat.

God, it feels amazing, every second of it. You can hear her gagging, choking, the sounds are so vivid and raw that you can't help but groan, tightening your grasp of her ponytail, just like she asked you to. She likes it. You can tell she likes it by the way she inhales every time you pull her close and shove yourself into her. Her nails dig into your ass, dragging you closer to her as you press up against the back of her throat, and she's showing no sign of relenting.

This can't last, though. This kind of sensation, the ecstasy and passion and tension, has a breaking point, and you know your orgasm is coming. Heejin does too, because her pace starts picking up, and her head bobs faster up and down your shaft, her throat choking on your head, her mouth so tight and warm around you.

You fight it, the urge, the need to finish. You want this to last forever, you want it to keep going, the feeling of her lips, her throat, the sloppy noises of her sucking you dry. But the orgasm is inevitable. Your hands instinctively drag her to you, and you can feel the tremble in your hips, the buildup in your balls and the tightness in your pelvis.

But it's all fucking ruined. A bang on the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Heejin asks, pulling you from her mouth with a sloppy 'pop'.

The bang on the door happens again, more frantic this time.

"The fuck do they think they're—" Heejin groans in frustration. She wipes the cum and spit from her lips and chin with the back of her arm. "You have to tell whoever that is to fuck off."

"I, uh, yeah." You pull up your boxers, leaving your trousers open, you prepare to peek your head around the door and let the asshole who's ruining the moment know to get lost. You pull it open to just a crack, enough to bark out a bunch of curses, but you're taken aback by what you see:

Yuna.

"Yuna?" You blink a few times, trying to make sure it's not some delusion. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I— uh," Yuna stutters, looking a bit uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and looks you directly in the eye. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Um, now's not a really good time." You glance over your shoulder, and you see Heejin perched on the edge of your bed. Her legs are crossed and her skirt is so far up her leg it's revealing the entirety of one thigh and just a little of her ass. She has her school shirt pulled a bit too low, giving an even better glimpse of her cleavage.

"It won't take a minute," Yuna quickly says. She tries to give you an imploring, and a pleading, look. "Please? I have an offer for you."

"Okay, um." You glance over your shoulder again. Heejin raises her eyebrows, looking amused. You bite your lip.

Yuna is staring at you with as much focus and persistence as she can muster. "I promise my offer is better than hers."

How the fuck do these girls seem to know everything? "Yuna—"

"I know she's in there, don't play dumb."

There's no denying it now, she knows.

"What the fuck are you doing in his room?" Yuna calls out to Heejin.

"Thought that was obvious," Heejin replies from behind you.

"You're—"

"Doing exactly what you wanted to do!" Heejin calls out to interrupt her.

Yuna goes quiet for a second, and then she holds out her hands. "Let me in."

"Yuna, listen, we're kinda in the middle of something," you protest.

"You were. You aren't anymore. I came along and now you have an offer to listen to, right? So let me in." Yuna is insistent. "Now."

You sigh and take a step back to let her pass.

She wastes no time. She walks right past you and into your room, heads straight for Heejin, and glares down at her. "So, is this how you planned to win? Sucking him off? A blowjob? Really?"

Heejin smirks and doesn't seem ashamed. If anything, it almost seems like a challenge.

"Okay. Whatever," Yuna goes on. "We're here now. We're all three together. And—" She turns her head and looks right at you. "—you're choosing one of us. Right here, right now." Yuna drops to her knees, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pleads through them. She unbuttons her shirt completely and lets it fall off her arms. Underneath is a lingerie bra that holds her full breasts, its fabric thin and mostly see-through. "I'm better than her," she pleads.

There's no shame, no embarrassment. She's offering up her body in the name of competition. Her confidence has outpaced her modesty, and she doesn't care. Her body is on display, and she's daring you to look.

"Not really convincing enough," Heejin says dryly, leaning back, with one eyebrow raised.

You're still reeling—utterly astonished by this whole situation—by how absurd it's become. Everything is escalating so quickly, and your mind can barely keep up. These two beauties are squaring off against each other, a contest of sex to see who gets the status they crave. They both want the valedictorian position. Both students with the best grades and perfect attendance managed to find time to lead school societies and run after-school clubs.

Now, they've come to you for the deciding vote. They are both offering up their bodies, their most valuable assets, to earn it. A bit silly. A strange plan.

There's this mixture of amusement and disgust on Heejin's face as she looks over Yuna. This sort of derisive curl of her lip, combined with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Wasn't sure you had it in you, to be honest." She lays back against the bed, adjusting her skirt, letting the hem rise even higher on her legs. "Don't get me wrong, I always had you pegged as a bit of a slut."

Yuna just about manages not to show her outrage. "Yeah? You're the whore spreading her legs."

Heejin gives a small laugh, and again she shrugs and doesn't seem fazed. It's like she's unbothered by the insult like it's little more than a light breeze against her skin. "Just playing the game. Just like you, right?"

"This is crazy," you announce. "If the principal found out you're both in my room—"

"—this stays between the three of us," Heejin says, standing up.

"Yeah," Yuna echoes. She's still on her knees, the straps of her lingerie hanging from her shoulders, the shirt thrown on the floor, her plump breasts bare and exposed. "We don't tell anyone what happens here."

"Fuck," you breathe out. "You're serious."

Both girls nod.

They both want it, and they're prepared to do anything to get it. This rivalry is such a natural part of who they are, and who they've always been. How neither was able to stop the other or to find a better way to resolve things, is all connected back to what they must think is inevitable about themselves. They aren't friends, the two of them. Heejin and Yuna, they also aren't simply just competitors—rivals—those words don't go far enough, to explain their relationship. It's one of such dedication and passion, such pride and achievement, that to have someone matching every accomplishment, every grade, every victory, must drive them mad.

You remember watching a nature program once, something about wildlife, some documentary explaining how two aspiring leaders of a pride ended up locked in a rivalry. Though you can't quite remember all the details, something about a rift forming and how things had spiralled out of control between them. If only there was a way for them to live in harmony, some animal expert would have said at the end of the show, sadly shaking his head.

You look at the two of them. Harmony is a million miles away.

Yuna takes you by the hand, pulling your fingers and inviting you to touch her. Her hands guide yours, moving them over the curve of her breasts, and her soft, warm, skin. Her chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, and you caress her, touch her, cup her. You move one hand up, running over the length of her neck, up her jaw, to her cheeks and her ears. You brush her hair out of the way with your thumb, and she shifts forward. Her dark eyes are staring up at you, and you feel a shock run through your body.

"I swear I'm so much better than her," Yuna promises, in the quietest voice you've ever heard. It's soft, but there's also an intensity to it, a persistence like a raindrop hitting stone. "Trust me."

Pursed lips near the tip of your cock. Yuna's warm breath kisses the tip. She moves her tongue up, licking across your head. She's different to Heejin, more tentative, slower, and focused entirely on the feeling. Her touch is more gentle, less ferocious and domineering. When she takes you into her mouth, you can feel the sensation of her carefully tracing your length with the tip of her tongue, coiling you up inside, making you tingle, sparks coursing through your spine.

Yuna is watching you closely, her gaze not straying from your face for one second, as if she's so eager to see your reactions to her touch. Her gaze is focused, and intense, and she appears satisfied with how you're enjoying yourself. It feels incredible. Something about the eye contact, her attentive and focused style, and the way her lips glide up and down with pure reverence, is driving you crazy.

Heejin is behind you, trying to draw your attention. One of her arms wraps around your torso, her hand stroking across your front, exploring and exploring, her fingernails dragging over you in teasing lines. The heat of her breath hits your ear, hot enough to make you shiver, and you suddenly feel her bite your lobe. She knows where to attack, and she starts raining kisses along the side of your neck. Small nips and nibbles. Up to your jaw, tracing lines of heat along your skin. On your ear, her soft, red lips, suckling, her teeth leave little marks. When she sees your eyes are still on Yuna, a throaty, husky, disapproving purr in your ear. "Oh no you don't. Pay attention to me."

Her slender fingers tug at your jaw, turning you towards her. Kisses rain down on your mouth, not satisfied until her lips are plastered across yours. She strokes the tip of her tongue across your own, inviting you to taste, to explore. Her kiss makes you quiver inside, almost melting you, making every part of you tremble and weaken.

But it's when Yuna caresses you further, her hands finding your ass and grabbing tight, dragging your cock deep into her throat. The sound that erupts from you only spurs her on further.

You hear Heejin murmur quietly into your ear while running her hand through your hair, "Enjoying this?"

You swallow, taking a moment to compose yourself. You open your mouth to speak, only for your tongue to trip over an answer.

"I'm sure she's great and all," Heejin continues, "but you want the best, right?" She plants another kiss on your mouth, giving you a tempting taste, and keeping you close. "You must miss how much better I am."

Yuna's efforts begin to escalate, hearing the conversation continue. Determination has been written over her face. Now, however, her eyes dart up to glare at her competitor. It's cute, seeing how hard she's trying.

Heejin slips one of her hands under Yuna's cheek, her nails scratching lightly, scraping down her chin. She hooks them underneath and guides the girl's head, forcing Yuna's movement to stop. You can feel the subtle vibrations of Yuna letting out an annoyed groan.

"I bet you're not even close, are you? You can't cum from this, right?" Heejin's voice is soft and saccharine, dripping with mock sincerity.

"You're trying to piss her off," you point out.

"Good," Heejin drawls. "Does it piss her off, knowing that it's me who can finish the job?"

A frustrated Yuna ducks her head free from Heejin and takes you back into her mouth, starting anew, trying to prove something to someone. She's different now, you notice. Feistier, and more insistent. No more gentle, careful movements. She's moved on from worship, now charging through to ravish. She takes you hard, quickly, and thoroughly. There is an unrelenting pace to her. No patience, no playing, just the relentless need to do. She pulls and pushes, pressing and sucking, burying her nose at the base.

You wince at the heat, the slickness, how her tongue now massages you as her lips firmly embrace you. She's gripping hard at your ass, driving you onto her tongue. The warmth of her breath against your flesh is impossible to ignore. Hot breaths, soft and humid, leave goosebumps on your skin.

This new attitude has gotten the better of you. You can't help but give in. Threads of pleasure entwine up the length of your spine, each sharp twist of Yuna's mouth drawing the sweetest song out of you. Heejin has stolen your voice as a chorus is crawling up your throat, and you can barely hope to keep it down.

There's no stopping you, the finish is inevitable. You move to pull out, to stop yourself, yet Yuna swallows around you in response, taking you deeper into her waiting throat. Not a hint of an intention to let go. No, Yuna refuses to stop until you've emptied every single drop inside.

Heejin still won't relent, either. She kisses a constellation on your shoulder, up the side of your neck, her sweet caresses are lingering, teasing your flesh, dancing fingertips that burn in the best way. It doesn't do anything to soothe the tension inside.

You fill her mouth, flooding her with thick ropes. You can't imagine what it might feel like, all that hot fluid sliding down into her stomach. Once, then twice, then a third time, you spill inside, shuddering and groaning in release.

Yuna drags a heavy breath. It's not even over, as she's already trying to take you deeper. "Mm," Yuna moans, her voice trembling. She nuzzles forward, eagerly coaxing what's left, accepting the remaining throbs against her tongue, swallowing when she has to. You shiver at how she seems so hungry for every drop, her strength only seems to grow the more she drinks. She finally lets you out of her mouth with a pop and flashes a grin.

"So nice of her to finish what I started," Heejin quips and Yuna glares at her. "After I did all the work."

"Maybe you should've finished the job instead of talking shit," Yuna throws back.

Heejin tilts her head a little. "I have much better ideas. Want to see?" She smirks.

Heejin sits on the edge of your desk, reaching out to take your hand. She presses your palm to her chest, just above her breast, her uniform top exposing a tantalizing window of skin.

You look at her. Her eyes. The shape of her face, the sharp lines of her jaw, the elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her nose. The pretty rosy tint in her cheeks. Then her mouth. Her bitten lips, the long neck, the exposed part of her chest. Heejin knows how to pull you in.

Your mind is blank, just fixated on her, how gorgeous she looks. She's pulling open her shirt, unbuttoning it, unhooking her bra. She's undressing, putting herself on display, only for you. It's entrancing.

Her body is perfect, lean and toned, the sculpted muscle and firm curves making her look like a piece of art. Beautiful. Then her legs, perfect thighs, the muscles not too built, but trim and taut, soft to the touch.

She bunches her skirt at her waist, exposing her panties, those small scraps of silken fabric, almost see-through, the threads clinging to the contours of her hips and the mound between her legs. Heejin draws her hand there, exploring the smooth cloth, the delicate lingerie highlighting the body underneath.

She slips her thumb below the edge of the fabric, her fingers following, before she peels them down her legs, shuffling them past her thighs and her knees and kicking them off her feet. Her bare skin is tantalizing, her body like a vision of unknown riches. "Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice pure silk.

"What the fuck?" It's Yuna's exclamation, and the shock inside it, which makes you tear your gaze away. She is sitting on the floor, in her dishevelled uniform, pieces of clothing half-unbuttoned and hanging off her. "Is there a limit? How far are you going to go?"

"I told you, I have ideas," Heejin emphasises the plurality. She's completely unabashed, and without hesitation, she pulls you by the scruff of your shirt, towards her. A handful of you, drawing you between her legs, and then laying her lips on your skin. Traces of kisses on your chest, the brush of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Words spoken against your body with hot breath, "Don't mind her. Enjoy me, instead."

It's like being drawn into the ocean. Heejin is pulling you in. Her serenity becomes calming and comforting, and there's no way to escape the feeling. She locks her legs around your hips, her hands grasping and caressing you. Nails digging into your skin and trailing along it. Each pull and tug on you is possessive. You run your hands over her skin. Soft thigh, plump breast, toned waist. Each part is addictive, and you can't decide which to take. You caress her face, running your hand over her cheek, letting her dark eyes shine with affection as she smiles, lifting her head to steal a kiss.

Yuna, the frustrated voyeur, can only watch as you grind yourself against Heejin, rubbing yourself along the sodden line between her legs. With each pass, her fluids cover the tip, smearing them and soaking the end. Each roll gets harder to fight, your instincts telling you to rush the heat into something more.

"There we go," Heejin murmurs. "No need to rush. Take your time. Enjoy me," she insists, encouraging you, "and I can show you just how much I can please you."

Tender. Gentle. This isn't some quick fuck, this is Heejin spoiling you. Worship, desire, lust. Each glance into her eyes sends a bolt of thrill into your gut, and your length continues to swell. Your mind becomes more and more intoxicated with each fresh coat, your cock aching, slowly and frustratingly sinking into her. You hold her thighs, lift them, and drag her closer. She squeaks with your grip, her body shuddering with one steady breath. "Mm, yes," she groans.

"Take me," she begs, and it's a plea that you simply cannot resist. A shuddering sigh of her pleasure at last releases, her head tilting back in an agonising cry. You slide as deep as you can go. No. Deeper. Your pace is agonising. Too slow. Far, far too slow. You grind into her, taking every chance to relish how her body clenches around you.

You know why she's doing this. Why she wants you to focus on her and forget about the other girl in the room. Why she wants to convince you, with every stroke of your cock inside, that she's the one who deserves it most. Yuna might have made you climax, but Heejin? Heejin has you mesmerised. Every twitch of her inner walls against you feels exquisite. Addictive. You want nothing more than to plunge into her again and again, desperate to take it all, all the wet, wonderful friction. Your grip on her hips tightens, holding her close as your bodies collide.

Yuna lets out a sound of frustration and disappointment. Her lips hang parted, unable to believe what she's seeing, gazing on as you are slowly overtaken. The two of you panting. Squeaking gasps from Heejin. Your own groans and grunts. Yuna mutters something, glaring daggers into the pair of you, though her words don't fully register in your mind.

"Mmm..." Heejin breathes, and with another squeeze, she guides your hands up to her chest. You massage her breasts, tracing shapes around her nipples. Your fingers trail and play and press, cupping and squeezing and massaging. Heejin melts into you, gasping for air, her body tingling. She moans a long, languid sigh of bliss, then bites down on her bottom lip.

The motions are so languid, every instant stretching out forever. Heejin's petite body feels so tender beneath you, so pliable. Like it was designed to be adored. Your every thrust is answered by hers, your bodies coming together as one.

When Heejin's fingernails dig into your shoulder blades, urging you closer, you grab her face. You tilt it upward, toward you. Her dark brown eyes meet yours.

Then her body shivers, quakes, stiffens, and spasms. The tight, squeezing depths within her constrict, compressing you. She holds onto you even harder than before. Her teeth bite down on her lip. A yelp turns into a whimper, which turns into a silent cry until all the sensations inside seem to boil over. She writhes in orgasm, her body racked by waves of euphoria, unable to control her reaction. She clings tightly, and the waves of ecstasy ripple outwards, travelling throughout her entire frame. Even her voice is distorted. Her breath catches and she quivers, gasping loudly. She struggles, her grip on you tightening, her body twisting and contorting as she shakes violently.

And you would be excused for thinking that would be it. That her delicate little body could take no more.

But you would be wrong.

She's snaking her fingers into your hair, drawing you to her as she falls flat against the desk. You're over her now. You're fucking her, down against the wood of the desk, nails digging into her thighs. She writhes and whines beneath you, her pants unashamed and delightfully arousing, her red face begging for more.

She's beautiful. All long limbs, dark eyes, soft skin, the supple flesh yielding under your rough treatment.

"Give me everything you've got," she taunts, and she's about to say more, it's on the tip of her tongue, but when you hook her leg and pull it over your shoulder, it cuts off her next retort, and suddenly the only sounds in the room are those of pleasure.

Faster, harder. Heejin has shown off enough, flaunting the kind of sexual prowess you never expected from the quiet girl who always sat at the front of the class.

Then again, it's always the quiet ones...

Yuna's still here. Watching. Enthralled, but also furious. Her hands clutch her skirt, balling the fabric in her fists. She wants to march over to the two of you and kick Heejin aside. She wants to scream her frustrations and push the interloper out of the way. And she wants you to fuck her the same way you did Heejin, so you can compare and find her superior.

Her fists clench to leave bloody crescents in her palm, teeth grit hard and grind. It's not jealousy, Yuna would deny it. She's never been jealous of anything Heejin does or has, because Yuna's always had what she needs and then some. Except tonight.

"Fuck you both!" She declares, indignant, but the pair of you pay her no heed.

And that only infuriates Yuna more.

"I'll report the two of you. This is fucked up!"

Even as you pound her, Heejin has just enough presence to dismiss her with a laugh inter-laden into her moans. "Report yourself for sucking him off, too."

There's nothing else she can say, no barbed insults or derisive statements she can fling at either of you. So she grabs her shirt off the floor and leaves in a huff. The sound of the slamming door rings through the room, like the period to a sentence.

It just allows you and Heejin to go even harder.

Soon the world closes in around you. Only the thumping desk remains, only the frantic rhythm of your bodies pounding against each other, only her tiny moans, muffled into the crease of her elbow, only her clenching pussy as she convulses, trembling. Her tight, warm walls flutter as they enclose your cock, milking every inch, rippling in rhythmic spasms.

You need a moment. To take a breath, gather your thoughts. You're nearly spent, so you change your tact.

You pull her from the desk and turn her to its edge. "I like the way you think," she coos, then sprawls herself against it. Her chest pressed against the wood. Her cute little ass presented in all its glory, begging for attention. It fits into your palms like perfection. Each soft cheek moulds itself to you, filling up your grip perfectly. She squirms a bit, enticingly, pushing her hips backwards against you as if she's afraid you might lose interest.

You enter her once more.

A squeak leaves her lips. It's so adorable. Cute. But also hot as fuck.

Tight body, tight cunt. A tiny little thing, yet somehow able to withstand your assault. Her slender frame jolts with the impact of each thrust.

You slap against her flesh, sending ripples through her skin. Her cute butt. The arch of her back. You grab her there, at the waist—that slutty little waist—and hold onto her tightly while you sink inside. Over and over. Relentless.

She twists, her nails dragging across the desk's surface, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes roll back and her legs buckle, a hoarse wail breaking from her throat. She looks like she's possessed, her features drawn into an ecstatic rictus. She cries out as the sensations overwhelm her. You can feel it happening. Since her unravelling.

"Yes, fuck," Heejin sputters. "Give me what I want."

And you don't know exactly what she means by that. Is it your cock or is it the title, but who are you to complain?

Then it comes, rushing at you like a tidal wave. You fall down on top of her, her delicate body straining underneath you. "Cum," she whimpers.

So you pin her there, under you, and empty yourself inside her. Your whole body sings, shaking uncontrollably as you unload.

"How was it?" Heejin giggles. "To fuck the future valedictorian?" Asked with the confidence that it was a foregone conclusion.

Decision day comes. It's been two days since you finished inside Heejin as a form of agreement, and two days since you last spoke to Yuna. It's all hostile stares and annoyed mutterings.

You feel bad. The fact that this whole thing devolved into some sordid exchange of sexual favours really gnaws at you. It doesn't sit well. You knew Yuna liked you, she never kept it a secret. In fact, it's cute that she was trying so hard to impress you. It all felt a little earnest, compared to Heejin's ruthless manner.

You've woken this morning with a conclusion that is quite frankly the easy way out. Yuna hasn't tried to argue it, she just keeps her scowl and glares from afar, like you're the antichrist. Meanwhile, Heejin gives a satisfied smile whenever you look her way.

At least this madness will end. You'll see your father today, give him the decision, and forget all of this, or try your hardest to.

First, you need to get out of bed, though, throw off these duvet covers and stand. Stretching gives some relief to the back, and it perks you up. A shower, breakfast, and some coffee—the standard routine. After that, it's clean clothes and a walk to the office.

That's how it should be, anyway.

You're still in only your underwear when there's a knock on your door.

"Give me a minute! Hang on," you call.

The doorknob rattles but doesn't open. Then there's the hammering of a palm against the wood. Impatient. Persistent. Another rattle of the doorknob.

You concede. Wearing nothing more than your underwear, you poke your head around the door and peek out of the opening.

There, arms folded, impatient foot tapping the floor, is Yuna. "I need to talk to you," she says, brow furrowed and serious.

"What's—"

Yuna tries to push the door but your body is blocking it.

"Yuna, I need a minute to—"

"—we need to talk." Her tone is urgent and agitated. She's not angry, exactly.

You relent. This sounds important. Maybe you've misjudged things. "Okay, okay, come in."

"Finally," she sighs, stepping past you and heading straight for the chair by the desk.

As you shut the door, she turns her gaze onto you. The intensity of her eyes, the depth, like swirling galaxies within a cloudless night sky.

"Yuna... I didn't think you wanted to see me, not after everything that happened."

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about that actually," she tells you. Her eyes don't leave you, roaming across your body. "We both wanted the same thing, but Heejin got there first. Today's the day, isn't it? Decision day. Your dad's going to want an answer." She's wearing her uniform again, freshly pressed, the white blouse starched and stiff, the skirt just skimming her knees.

"I was going to head over soon, actually."

"So it's not too late?"

"Too late for?"

"One final twist." Yuna reaches up to loosen the tie of her blouse. One by one, she starts working her way through the buttons, popping each one through the buttonholes. "How about we revisit the competition?"

"You can't be serious?" You ask, but you watch as she slips the shirt off her arms. Then she's reaching to undo the catch of her bra—soft blue lace cupping her full breasts. She peels the cups down and flicks the bra aside, revealing her perfect chest.

"I'm deadly serious." Yuna stands.

The arousal rises in you quickly, and you can feel yourself getting hard. There's no hiding it, and Yuna notices immediately, a smirk breaking across her pretty face. Yuna takes the opportunity, steps closer, and plants a palm against your abdomen. She trails her fingers down to trace the outline of your cock against your boxers, the thin material not hiding anything. A small laugh.

"There we go, now you're paying attention." She wraps her fingers around you through the material. It's electrifying, having her touch you like this. Her hands are small and delicate, but her grip is firm. She moves her palm up and down, stroking you gently and enticing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, the tension growing as she plays with your dick. "Yuna..." you manage, your heart pounding, your palms clammy.

"Do you like that?" she teases, her thumb brushing across the tip of your head through the cloth.

All you can do is nod, your mind hazy with lust, your legs weak. She grins, a predatory twinkle in her eye. She moves forward, pushing you backwards onto the bed, your legs buckling under the surprise assault. You land flat on your back, and Yuna looks down at you.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asks as she pushes her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She slips it down, revealing her matching blue panties.

"Yeah?" you reply, unable to keep your gaze off her body.

"I've always kinda had a thing for you," she admits, "and it's kind of annoying that it takes some stupid shit like this for me to say something. But I've also kinda hated that Heejin got a hold of you, like, in a weird way, she won because she was braver than me."

"Braver? What does that have to do with—"

"—she wasn't scared to let you fuck her," Yuna interrupts. She steps forward until she's standing above you. "Guess what?" Her question is rhetorical. She hooks her fingers into her underwear and slips them down her smooth thighs. "It's my turn."

She's beautiful. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and perfect curves. Every detail of her is meticulously crafted, like a sculpture by an old master. It's hard not to stare. Your eyes are fixed on hers as she crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips, and you shuffle up the sheets, unsure where to put yourself as she straddles you.

"Look all you want." Yuna lowers herself down. She places her palms against your chest, pinning you, and lowers down further. You feel a warm heat press itself against your groin. The wetness soaking into the fabric. She begins to slowly grind herself against you, rubbing herself against your erection. "Have I ever told you about my dance classes?" she asks with a smirk, her hips swaying back and forth. She grinds herself against you in a rhythmic, slow, pattern, and the sensation is so intense and pleasurable that you groan. "I'm really good with my hips. Really good."

Yuna keeps going, her body swaying and grinding, and your underwear grows wetter. It's torturously good, the friction from her pussy, the wet heat against your length. It's impressive to watch the way her body rolls, the precision, the control.

Eventually, she slows, smiling slyly. Her fingers trace their way down your abdomen, down your stomach, and hook into the waistband of your boxers. With a slight tug, she pulls them down, freeing your hardness from its confines. She leans forward again, positioning herself above you, ready to descend.

This feels a little unreal. You never expected it to happen, nor did you ever expect her to be this assertive. "Yuna..."

"Relax," she says, lowering herself. She holds you in place. "Honestly, even if you still choose Heejin later, I won't care. I just needed to do this."

Then she lets gravity drop her and there's a sudden pressure around your length, her warmth encasing you, her muscles wrapping around you. Her head tips back slightly and her expression softens as she exhales. The feeling is incredible, and your groans echo hers. The tightness around your cock, the warmth and moistness, and the sight of her perfect naked form on top of you.

Yuna wastes no time, she lifts herself, rolling her hips up, and then slides back down. Her breathing becomes louder, more ragged. You reach out to grab her, your hands instinctively moving to her sides to pull her down into you. She welcomes the grip, biting her lower lip as you pull her into you, her breath coming in quick bursts.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, her voice husky, her body rocking against you.

"It feels amazing," you reply, your hands roaming up to squeeze her breasts.

A soft laugh escapes her as she shifts her weight back and forth, riding you, controlling the rhythm and pace. She's practised and precise like every movement is part of a well-rehearsed routine. "Better than Heejin?" she asks.

"You're incredible," you gasp, grabbing her tighter. The words seem to spur her on further, and she picks up speed. Each movement sends a ripple of pleasure through your body. She's in complete control, dictating the pace, deciding how deep, how hard, and how fast. You've given yourself completely over to her, allowing her to use you as she wants, to ride you however she pleases.

"That's good," she hums, picking up her pace. "I'll do my best for you."

She shifts again, leaning back slightly, changing the angle. She bounces, her breasts swaying with every rise and fall. She has found the perfect spot. "Oh fuck yes!" you hiss, your hands grasping at her thighs and body arching upwards.

"Mmmm," she moans, picking up the tempo. She's riding you now, fast and hard, sweat forming on her brow. "Fuck!" Her curse is rare, strange coming from her mouth, but it's welcome, especially as it's followed by her panting harder.

The room is filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breaths. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You're both sweating, grunting, panting.

As great of a spectacle, as breathtaking a sight, she is, it's a constant struggle. You get so close to bursting into her, only for her to feel it coming, take a moment of pause, slow to a grind and adjust her position again, denying you of an ending. She's teasing you, playing you, keeping you on edge.

You want nothing more than to throw her down, kneel behind her and rail her until you cum deep into her, to hold her tight while you fill her up. Yet, despite how easily you could, how simple it would be to move her and shove her to the bed and do whatever you wanted, you can't do it. Something about watching her is mesmerising, and you can't take your eyes away. You watch her move, how her muscles flex with each rock and roll, how her breasts jiggle and shake with each bounce, how her head tilts back, her eyelids flutter and how her teeth bite on her bottom lip. The sight is far too powerful, far too thrilling, to break away from.

It must be plastered all over your face, the need, because she says, "You can't cum inside, it's not safe, but," and she gives that wicked smile once again, "I have an idea." She drags herself off of you, and then she turns around and bends over, facing away from you, exposing herself, her pussy soaked and glistening. You get the picture.

Then she hits her own ass. An open-palmed slap right across it, making the supple flesh ripple, a red mark stinging bright on her otherwise pale complexion. "Like what you see?" Yuna coos.

"Absolutely," you reply.

She sways her hips side-to-side, a small enticement. "Good." She lowers her hips, settling her cheeks on either side of your cock. Her hand pulls you between them, and as she shakes her ass side to side, Yuna lets out a satisfied chuckle. Then she begins to move, back and forth, sliding you between her cheeks. She grips and squeezes you tightly, using her own ass as a toy.

There's something raw and dirty about it. The way she rubs you with her cheeks, squeezing and pressing you into the cleft between them. Her skin is smooth and silky, her ass perfectly round and perky. It's intoxicating—addictive. Every time she squeezes, you feel that build-up inside you grow hotter. A boiling sensation, searing through your veins. It feels so good, but it's still not enough. You want more.

Yuna knows this isn't enough, and there's only one thing you would wish for her to do next. She pushes her hand between her legs, taking hold of your shaft firmly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her buttocks with one hand while guiding you between them with the other. The anticipation builds until she finally presses your cockhead against her asshole.

It's tight. Very, very tight. There's some initial resistance as she tries to force herself down onto you, but she's patient. Slow. Inch by inch, she sinks downwards. Soon, the tip of your cock slips into her, causing her to groan in discomfort, biting down on her lip to keep quiet, but she refuses to stop.

You can only watch as she draws your cock into her ass, stretching and adjusting to fit. She gasps, her eyes wide, her expression contorted. She takes a moment to collect herself, before sinking even further, taking more of you into her ass. You marvel at how her tight hole stretches to accommodate you. You've never felt anything like this before; the tightness is unlike any other sensation.

As Yuna continues to sink down, she begins to shudder with pain and discomfort. She's struggling. You place your hand on her ass, rubbing and caressing it, encouraging her. Yuna lets out a long breath, her head hanging down, sweat dripping from her brow. You're barely halfway in but she's rocking her hips and groaning.

"I want you to cum inside," she whispers, her voice hoarse, almost desperate, looking over her shoulder. Her back is arched where her waist narrows, the definition in her muscles more pronounced from the effort.

"You sure?" you ask, gripping her hips tightly.

She nods frantically, her hair falling into her face. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly. She pushes herself down, finding a rhythm, pushing and pulling. You help, using your grip to guide her, but you're careful not to hurt her. She starts to pick up speed, working herself up and down, taking more and more of you into her with each pass.

It's intense, watching her work, seeing her concentrate so hard. Eventually she relaxes, her body less tense. She's adjusted to the sensation now, getting used to having you buried in her, and she seems to enjoy it. You find yourself lost in the beauty of her body, her slim figure, her narrow waist, her taut ass and toned thighs, the way she moves with such purpose and grace. Even under stress, her poise shines through.

She begins to move faster, rocking her hips, pulling you deeper into her ass. Her movements become smoother and more fluid. Each time she sinks down onto you, she groans loudly. She's loving it, her eyes closed, her mouth open in strained pleasure. You hear her muttering things under her breath, like "Yes" and "fuck." Each time she says it, you can't help but smile. She's really enjoying herself. You love the sound of it.

Her walls cling to you tightly, her tight hole squeezing you firmly. Every time she rocks her hips, it sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building, pulsing, and growing, until finally, your muscles clench. She grunts in exertion, her arms straining, her body trembling, and you grip her ass hard enough to mark her fair skin with fingerprints.

You hold her in place and you cum. Your dick spasms within her, filling her with hot liquid. You groan loudly as your hips buck wildly beneath her, spilling deep inside. The pleasure surges through every fibre of your being. When you're finally spent, you collapse back onto the bed. You're completely drained. Exhausted. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving, trying desperately to catch your breath.

Yuna is quick to join you, "That was so hot," she pants.

She doesn't say much else, catching her breath. While you're lost in the stars you're seeing, she rolls onto her side and brushes a stray hair from your face. It's affectionate and cute. Soft. Her dark eyes search yours and a playful smile appears on her lips. She reaches out to touch your cheek, tracing its curves before moving to stroke your chin.

"I meant it. I don't care if you still choose Heejin," she murmurs, the satisfaction evident in her voice. Her touch is light, tickling and tingling on your skin, like she's admiring a fine piece of art.

The question inevitably comes, with casual ease, the coffee mug halfway to your lips(where it pauses while you ponder). You take a sip, then place the cup down. A look into his eyes, and you give a simple answer.

"Good choice," he nods, offering no sincerity. Just a solemn acknowledgement. "Will be a nice ceremony. You should wear something smart." There's that nod again, dismissive. He puts his reading glasses on and peers back at his documents. More scribbles. As if the whole thing was nothing.

#Yuna smut #Heejin smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #Itzy smut #artms smut #Heejin x reader #smut #kpop fanfiction #yuna x reader #loona smut

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nerdygirlramblings · 16 days ago

Text

can't get this lyric from Lola Young's "Messy" out of my head: "A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot"

thinking about reader with a crappy SO being saved by the 141

fluff with an abrupt ending

cw: bad attempt at accents

The first time Gaz sees you is in the museum. He has paperwork to drop off, and you greet him as he enters. He pulls up short; he's never seen you before. He knows he'd remember your beautiful face.

"G'morning!" you chirp, smiling brightly at him. "How can I help you..." You peer at his uniform, and it takes Gaz a moment to realize you're looking for rank insignia.

"I'm a Sergeant. Sergeant Kyle Garrick. Of the 141. But you can call me Gaz," he says. You look down briefly before meeting his eyes, your smile softer - both more vulnerable and more guarded - and give him your name.

"How can I help you, Sergeant?"

He rolls his eyes, but smiles back and tells you what he needs. You call the Captain who oversees the museum. The older man comes forward from a door along the back wall, claps you on the shoulder as thanks, and guides Gaz away. He chances a look over his shoulder as he leaves, catches your eye, and smiles one more time.

He finds out from the Captain you're a civilian volunteer. "Think she must work remote," he says, "'cause she's here all the time."

A few days later Gaz takes the long route from the mess to the training field with the express intent on trying to find you at the museum. Soap watches him veer left instead of right, a small plate of biscuits in hand, and tags along. "Where're we headed? And more importantly, can I have a biscuit?" Soap asks, hand reaching for the plate.

Gaz doesn't spare Soap a glance, nor does he slow his stride, but he smacks Soap's hand and pulls the biscuits further from the Scot's reach. He keeps walking toward the light infantry museum. As other buildings fell away, Soap figures where they're headed. "Wha's going on a' the museum?" When Gaz stays quiet, Soap amends, "Och, I guess I should ask, who's a' the museum, right?"

Gaz scoffs but can feel the heat in his face. He doesn't know what to say, but he recognizes he's smitten. He doesn't even know why; his interaction with you had been so short-lived. But he can't deny there is something that draws him to you. As they come up to the front doors, Gaz can't see you at the desk, can't see anyone at all in the front of the building, so he opens the door and calls out a greeting.

"Back here!" your voice calls out from the bowels of the museum. Gaz and Soap, who perks up at the mere sound of your voice, make their way past several displays about the history of infantry from Hereford to find you in the back corner. You look up from the open case where you are adjusting something small against black velvet. When you see Gaz, your eyes widen slightly in recognition, and you say, "Oh, Sergeant! Do you need the Captain again?"

He shakes his head and says, "I told you, doll, call me Gaz." He notices how you glance away again, seemingly waffling between discomfort and bashfulness.

Soap takes the break to push past Gaz and stick out his hand. "Name's Soap, bonnie."

You step back from the case, closing the glass and locking it shut. You take two steps towards them and extended your hand to shake Soap's. You give him your name and ask, "Is your name really Soap?"

He laughs. "Well, if ye cannae call Gaz Gaz, I'm nae dafty enough to give ye my full name."

You smile big at that and hold up your hands. "Point taken, Soap. And Gaz," you add, still smiling. "How can I help you today?"

Gaz presents the biscuits and says, "Saw these in the mess, and I thought you might like a little treat."

Your mouth pops open, but before you can respond another voice shouts, "Babe! Hey! Where the hell are ya?" You meet both Gaz's and Soap's eyes, and Gaz see a mixture of regret and shame in your gaze.

"I... I'm sorry," you stammer. Then you quickly turn and head for the front of the museum, leaving Gaz still holding out the plate of biscuits. They hear you call, "I'm coming!"

Gaz looks at Soap, the angry line of his jaw unmistakable. "Who the hell talks to their girl like tha'?" Because clearly, whoever called you is someone you know. Someone close. Gaz flicks his gaze to follow where you went and Soap nods. Both men walk silently towards the front doors and stop just out of sight of you and the man you are speaking with.

Your voice is low, and it is clear your partner is trying to keep his low too, but he is failing miserably. Gaz and Soap can hear grumbled words and phrases, "fuckin' hell" and "goddamn stupid" and "unbelievable." Each word seems to strike true, and you deflate before their eyes, shoulders hunched, arms crossed as if warding off the attack. Your partner seems to be gathering steam when you put a placating hand on his arm. Though you're quite, Soap and Gaz hear you tell him, "I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like me close." The man, shakes your hand off his arm and says, clearly, "What I'd like is if you're home with dinner ready when I get home, not comin' in after me with some take away because you still have your own damn work to do."

Gaz and Soap make their way out, unseen, but when you get back to the information desk, the plate of biscuits is sitting there, waiting.

A week after that ugly confrontation, Gaz and Soap have done some digging around base to find out more about you and the soldier who'd made you feel so small. They're in the briefing room, sharing intel like you're their next op.

Soap opens the flap of a thin folder and slides it across to Gaz. "Wanker's a Warrant Officer. Does some technical shite."

Gaz slams the cover closed. "I don't care what he does, but him being a WO's gonna be a problem." Soap cocks his head to the side, eyebrow raised. "We can't go around talkin' shite about him, Soap. We got Price and Ghost in our corner - or we would if we told 'em - but the fucker outranks us," he says, motioning between himself and the Scot.

"Then we tell Price and Ghost, get them to come down on 'im," Soap replies. "Simple."

Gaz rolls his eyes. "'Cept it isn't simple." He passes his folder to Soap. Your picture is clipped to the front cover. "She applied to volunteer at the museum after he got stationed here. Got a design background, so they snatched up her help. Traced back her last job, and she went from a full-time London agency to mostly freelance." Gaz watches Soap try to piece things together and rushes on, "Seems like she's only here because he is. We make things hard for him, she's likely gone too."

Soap frowns. They need to come up with something. It's in this quiet, frustrated concentration that Price and Ghost find the sergeants.

"Wha's all this, then?" Price asks, noting old To Let ads, examples of your design work, and your significant other's list of commendations.

Gaz looks from the papers on the table to his superior. "Well, Cap, there's this girl..."

It's a fortnight until Soap sees you, this time with Ghost in tow. They'd been making their way back from the motor pool when Soap notices you lingering outside the museum. He walks over, and Ghost follows in his wake.

"Hey, lass," he calls as he approaches. You look up with a slight frown until you see who it is.

"Hi Soap," you reply. He noted your smile is not as sincere as when you'd met. It doesn't reach your eyes.

"Ye okay?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of you.

His question startles you. "What? Oh, yes, I'm fine." He can tell you're distracted but doesn't push. "Can I help you with something, or..." You trail off, and he can see that you're not sure how to handle this interaction.

"Ach, nothing like tha'," he tells you. "Just saw ye oot here and came to say hello." He points to Ghost. "Ye meet Ghost yet?" He knows you haven't. Despite Gaz and Soap singing your praises, and especially extolling all the reasons they needed to step in and save you from the complete horse's ass you call a boyfriend, neither Price nor Ghost has made any attempt to meet you.

"No. I haven't had the pleasure yet, though your work is legendary," you tell Ghost. You put your hand out and offer your name. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Ghost glances at your hand for a moment too long and your strained smile falters more, your hand wavering where it's hanging. You're pulling it back when Ghost grips it tightly. "You the museum volunteer?" he asks.

You laugh, a tinkling little giggle, and both Soap and Ghost are amazed. Everyone is so intimidated by Ghost, especially when he wears his skull mask, all but the 141 and Laswell, that it's hard to know how to react when that underlying fear isn't present.

"I'm a volunteer, sir. There are several of us. I just seem to put in more hours than most." Soap knows that's because you do your design work when you're off base.

"Well, my break is almost over, so I should get back inside," you tell them reluctantly. You make a motion to say more when a car pulls into the car park. Soap recognizes your boyfriend and surreptitiously elbows Ghost.

"There you are," the man says with exasperation, leaning out the window. "I called your cell and the front desk, but there was no answer." He turns to glare at Soap and Ghost before realizing who Ghost is. He immediately sits up straight in his seat. There's a shit in his tone, too. He's more conciliatory as he says, "I wanted to tell you I can't drive you back tonight. You'll need to call a cab."

Soap sees the way your jaw ticks before you respond. "Thank you for telling me before my shift ends. Should I expect you home at all tonight?" you ask.

Your boyfriend gives a put-upon sigh before noting your audience. "I should be home, but it'll be late," he admits.

You nod and try to flash a smile. "Okay. Be safe, yeah?"

Soap watches your boyfriend gives a genuine smile in return. "Sure, babe," he says. "Text me when you get home." He's putting up the window and backing the car out as you call out an aborted farewell.

You're a little more crestfallen when you remind Soap and Ghost you have to get back to your museum work. They watch you walk away, and as the door closes behind you, Ghost grunts, "I'm in."

The following month sees one member of the 141 or another drop by the museum every few days. At first they make excuses for why they're there, but eventually Soap admits they like your company. Gaz and Ghost are ready to tear into the man when they hear about it, but the change in you is noticable. You're open, friendlier if possible.

You tell them about your work, the designs you created in London and how you've convinced the Captain in charge of the museum to let you modernize the installations. If they chat with you in the museum, you show them what you've changed and talk about what you want to do next. You open up about your love of baking and find yourself the recipient of a pastry cutter, cookie scoop, and silicone muffin cups. You tell them how you never left the UK but desperately want to travel. A few days later a passport application shows up on your desk clipped to travel brochures for Mallorca, the Canary Islands, Algarve, Benidorm, and Crete.

You talk, reluctantly, about your boyfriend, and only when asked directly. How you've known one another since secondary school. How he worked to woo you when you started university, despite being in basic at the time. How magical those first few years were. How his career took off and quickly trumped yours. How you followed him here at his insistence.

Through all these little conversations, you learn about them too. They tell you about their job, their families, their hobbies, their past. How they came together on the task force. What they want from life. What they want from you. They want you to know them.

As they learn about you, they also start collecting more Intel on said boyfriend. The flat you share is in your name; his housing allowance squirreled away in the bank in an account only he has access to. The car is in his name, forcing you to rely on him or cabs for transport to and from base. Though he works in the admin building, and you volunteer at the museum, he spends a lot of time in medical. The 141 suspects he's running around on you with one of the nurses, and if they could prove it, they would.

Until then, they bide their time.

Nearly two months after meeting Gaz, you have the opportunity to meet Price at a base gala. Your boyfriend invites you as his arm candy, bringing you around to his CO to make a good impression. He's expecting you to be at his side all night and is shocked when, halfway through the night, you wave across the room. You'd spotted the 141 skulking against the back wall.

You try to bring your boyfriend over to them to say hi, but he takes a quick look in their direction and steers you away. It's several minutes until they make their way across the room to you.

Soap reaches you first, arms open for a hug. Before you can step fully into his embrace, he holds you at arm's length. "Bon, ye're a sight! Don't think I've ever seen something so lovely." You giggle and let him pull you close.

Gaz steps up next. "Soap's right. You're a vision, doll. Ya clean up real nice." He smiles big and kisses your cheek. Even Ghost goes for a quick, one-armed hug, eyes crinkling above his mask.

You greet each man and turn to introduce your boyfriend. He opens and closes his mouth several times before stuttering out his name and holding out his hand. The 141 all shake his hand, gripping it a little tighter than necessary. He pinches your elbow and steps back, ignorant of the grimace that flickers across your face. Though he drops his voice, they hear him clearly as he hisses, "You never told me you were so close with the 141! What the hell! Did you even think about me? What will my CO think about you being so close with them, huh?" He tries to move you away from them and over to some members of the medical staff, including a pretty nurse who keeps glaring at you, not that you notice. (The 141 does as she's the one they think your twat of a boyfriend is running around on you with.)

Before he can take more than a few steps away, Price steps forward and holds a hand out to you. "Captain Price, darling. Such a pleasure to put a face to the girl my men have been gushing about these last few weeks."

You stand your ground despite how your boyfriend tries to pull you away. "Captain!" you practically squeal. You open your arms for a hug, ignoring his outstretched hand. "I feel like I know you already."

You chat for another few minutes before your boyfriend succeeds in getting your full attention by telling you he's tired and plans to leave. As you walk away on your boyfriend's arm, Price turns to the others and murmurs, "She's ours, boys. Now to let her know it."

From that moment on, you become the 141's unofficial mission. They go hard on gathering intel, tapping into base cameras to finally catch your boyfriend cheating. Often. And with several different nurses. They talk to the Captain who runs the museum, finding out how you've improved different installations. They take that to base command and convince them to create a non-volunteer civilian curator / exhibition designer position. They find a vehicle in base surplus and grab its on offer ad.

All of this information finds its way to your desk. In a full-circle moment, Gaz is the one stationed near the museum when you find the folder filled with photos of your boyfriend kissing different people; a contract to work at the museum, continuing the work you're already doing and for more money than you're making with your freelance work; and an on offer ad to give you your own transportation. Gaz watches the shock on your face as you try to process everything.

He gives you a few minutes before coming up to you. "Hey," he says softly. "It's a lot, I know."

You look up at him, confusion clear as day across your face. You whisper, "Did you know? About him?" You look heartbroken despite how poorly Gaz knows he's treated you.

"We suspected, but didn't know for sure until the last week or so," he admits.

"We?" you strangle out, meeting his eyes.

He sees the defeat in your eyes. "Me and the others, Soap, Ghost, the Captain. We all like you, doll. And we wanted you to know there are men out there, men like us, who love you and would treat you so much better."

You can't deny the earnest look in his eyes. "What are you saying, Gaz?"

He smiles softly at you. "When you're ready, if you want, we want you. All of us. To be our girl, not his."

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #simon riley #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #john price #nerdygirl says

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kisses4reid · 8 months ago

Text

missed it pt.2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - penelope brings a belated cake for you that leaves everyone guilty. what better way to say sorry then a belated party as well?

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, barely angst, fluff, forgotten birthdays and sorry’s

warnings - mentions of forgotten birthdays, being sad, crying, umm cake??? y’all not rocking w cake??? y/n uses she/her pronouns

w/c - 1.2k+

a/n - thank you for the request anon! the idea is perfect and so r u for requesting it, i rock w you

request - I was wondering if you were up for a part 2 of missed it???, maybe where someone on the team suddenly remembered that it was readers birthday, and tells the rest of the team about it ( maybe in the elevator, when they’re all heading home & reader left early or smth ). And Spencer’s like yea I went to see them yesterday & they were pretty messed up about it, and they all start to feel really bad, so they come up with a plan to set up reader a berlated surprise b-day party at rossi’s or smth, and reader cries because she’s never felt so loved and appreciated before!!

Penelope scurried into the office with a leather red bag on her elbow and a large container that covered the lower part of her face. She peered over the plastic and scanned for the one person she was looking for, but instead she was met with a muscular man trying to suss out the tuperware that smelt amazingly sweet. "Hey babygirl," Morgan greeted with a smile, "You baked me a treat?"

Garcia walked further into the bullpen with Derek close behind her, "It's not for you, chocolate thunder. It's for Y/n." She replied matter-of-factly.

She placed her bag and the cake container on your empty desk and furrowed her eyebrows in the search for your presense which seemed to be absent.

JJ and Emily walked by with their cups of coffee in hand, joining Derek's confusion. Emily spoke up, "Why would Y/n need a cake?"

Spencer glanced then. He felt an unfamiliar rush of anger push him out of his chair. He bit the inside of his lip.

Last night, you had poured your heart out to him on the reasons you didn't tell others about your birthday, about much even. Would it be betrayal to expose you? Would it be kind? Spencer pondered as Penelope's mouth went agape in disgust.

She smacked each of the detectives on the arm, recieving groans and gasps from them all. "Are you kidding? It was Y/n's birthday yesterday. I was supposed to give her this yesterday but I was sick so..." Even a person like Penelope could read the subtle signs of regret on the profiler's faces. They screw their lips, glanced at each other - and Spencer - and didn't meet Garcia's eyes. Penelope sighed in anger and she started vocalising the very thoughts that were circling Spencer's mind.

"Are you guys serious? She worked 12 hours with each of you bozo's! And not one of you remembered? Not even a gift? Or a 'happy birthday Y/n'? You guys are unbelievable." She huffed and slapped her hand on the top of the cake container. "Where's Y/n?"

That's when the blonde turned to Spencer. "Uh- She went home early. She finished her paperwork pretty quickly." Emily, JJ, Morgan, and now Hotch - who had been wathcing from his office - all started packing up. Their cups of coffee were poured down the sink, and the sunshine was coming to a close. Spencer's hardened grip on his satchel was turning his knuckles white.

There they all were. Garcia's anger pouring out of her in determined and disciplining paragraphs about care and love and being a team, and Spencer's was pouring into his uneven breaths.

"I can't believe not one of you remembered. Not even Spencer! I mean-"

"I remembered."

The elevator went silent, the digital display counting down quickly. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his bag, avoiding eye contact with anyone at the memories of last night. Depressing, heart-breaking, beautiful. A lot of things happened last night. Some good, most bad.

"I went to her apartment last night with a cake. She was..." There was no lying to a team like this, "devastated."

JJ sighed, "We should do something."

Aaron nodded and brought out his phone, texting Rossi who also left early with you.

This week was full of tears and crying, snotty noses and new boxes of tissues. And today was no different. Though you promised yourself that yesterday was the last day you'd feel sorry for yourself, tears crept to your eyelashes even at the glass of the perfume Spencer had gifted you. It smelt amazing.

Your bed was a mess, your living room desolate and the kitchen long unused.

Today, you would get over it. You've gotten over it for years, why is this one any different? Is it because you thought you had found another family? Is it because Spencer proved people can care, but don't? Maybe it was because instead of wishing you happy birthday, you're father sent a photo of your sister's sports awards and asked why you didn't send her a congradulations text.

Today, you would get over it.

Today, I will get over it.

Your phone buzzed against your kitchen countertop as steam and the smell of onion and garlic filled your kitchen. You glanced, being met with a call from Derek, but being too slow to pick it up. And then suddenly there was a knock on your door.

You shut off the oven, wiped your hands on a cloth towel and tucked some loose hair behind your ears. Not only was this person interrupting a brand new recipe you had been reccomended, but also the reruns of your favourite sitcom. A sigh escaped you as you approached the door, preparing to explain that you were busy, but when you turned the doorknob you were met with deja vu.

Your team was beaming at you, all holding plates and bowls of various sweets and treats, as well as sandwiches and a large cake you assumed was decorated by Garcia.

"Happy Birthday Y/n!" They all screamed, not really in time but close enough to sound rehearsed. A smile slipped out from you as you laughed in shock. You felt your cheeks redden from the attention, feeling slightly uncomfortable and out of place, but you stepped aside to let them in anyways.

They hugged you, quietly and whole-heartedly apologised, and started setting up the surprise birthday lunch with Morgan's playlist filling the apartment. As Rossi passed he whispered, "Did you try that recipe I told you to try, the one I said at your belated dinner?"

Rossi was the only other person other than Penelope and Spencer to know your birthday. In fact, you two had the dinner planned for a week beforehand. You nodded with a smile and he joined the rest.

Spencer stood at the now closed door with a smile. He fiddled with the bottom of his sweater as he waited for you to turn to him, and when you did his hand latched onto yours discreetly. Your eye widdened slightly, gaze meeting his when he bent down slightly to whisper to you. "I wasn't sure if you would appreciate them showing up here but..." He smiled softly, "I think you deserve at least one good birthday."

Tears nearly brimmed your eyes before you heard your friends howl in laughter in the background, "Thank you, Spencer." A tear escaped you and he wrapped his arms around you. He was warm and his hold was tight with care, it made your heart stutter more than it already was. "Sorry," you giggled nervously and wiped your eyes. He gazed down at you and looked at you with confusion. "Why are you sorry?" "I'm crying at a party- A party for me." You said the last word like the scenario was a dream or seemingly impossible and it made Spencer's heart hurt. "That's okay, Y/n. As long as it's happy crying." He held your shoulders and rubbed his thumbs in comforting circles. "Yeah- Yes. I've just never felt this..."

You glanced at the crowd in your kitchen, full of people you loved and cared for. People you thought didn't care enough, but put an effort into a celebration that doubled as a massive and genuine apology for their mistakes. Nobody had ever said sorry to you for missing your birthday before.

"Loved?" Spencer's voice was soft as he finished your sentence. "Loved." You nod in agreeance, beaming at the tall boy so hard you felt like your heart was on display.

taglist (open!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic

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antonsintown · 1 month ago

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ACTS OF AFFECTION - ENHYPEN MAKNAE LINE

Jungwon stares at you from across the room. Eyes set on your figure as you sketch in your book, the pencil moving forward and backward in various motions as you reach for your eraser, promptly sighing as you notice a mistake.

Small acts of service are the ways he expresses his love. Jungwon stifles a laugh as he continues watching you. The morning had barely started before you sat yourself down with your headphones, effectively blocking out the rest of the world as you made sure to work in silence. The smile that rested on his face did nothing to hide his adoration for you.

He shows his affection when he hands you an ointment to ease the cramps on your hand after a long day of drawing or simply filling your empty bottle with water to keep you hydrated. No matter how small or big the gesture, you felt the sentiments behind them, never failing to put a smile on your face.

Other times, he's slightly worried you'll overwork yourself. In times like these, he simply likes to lightly tug your headphone away from your ear, placing a small kiss on your cheek as he hugs you, "Hey, wanna catch a break?"

And you can't ever really bring yourself to say no once you're in his embrace, looking up at him with stars in your eyes as you nod, maybe being an artist could wait for a few minutes.

Sunoo pouts and sighs for the hundredth time today as he peers at you, working on your newest fashion line. Yes, he is slightly bothered by the lack of attention you're giving him but, he does understand that you have to work.

But whoever said letting you work would entail him completely leaving you alone? Sunoo is already grinning as you he pulls out a cake, sitting across you on the dining table as he feeds you a piece. What a silly guy.

Sunoo's actions of love are never overbearing nor are they too modest to the point no one notices that you're even dating each other. He often likes showering you with compliments, loving you regardless of your insecurities. He will always reassure you no matter what.

Sunoo often admires you for your hard work but, he slightly worries when you push yourself too hard. Sometimes, he just likes to make a silly situation to get you laughing because, what's life if not a little bit of silliness.

Often times than not, you're left laughing in his arms, wondering how he was always so energetic, smiling at him as you shake your head, "You're actually an idiot." But you love him regardless, he knows it too.

Niki is currently very absorbed in his tenth round of smash bro's with the other members, laughing at them as he aggressively presses down on the buttons on the poor old tattered controller.

He's laughing until he realises he's been hearing the basketball bouncing off the ground for a good 3 hours that he's been playing, his eyes darting to the clock as he excuses himself, looking at you with a small smile as he watches you throw hoops again.

Niki is bold and shy in his loving all at once. He's pinching your cheeks, pressing soft kisses to get a reaction out of you, teasing you in front of his members but, on other occasions, he's blushing hard as he intertwines his fingers with yours, heart beating right out of his chest.

Niki often worries about you when you push yourself too hard. He knows you can take care of yourself but there will always be a part of him worrying. Although his brain is usually clouded with worries, he always thinks of ways to make you laugh your stress away.

Worried about a match? He'll come dressed up as your team's mascot. Worried about your ankle sprain? He'll treat you like a princess and carry you around everywhere. Some people ask him why he does so and he's always left speechless, why else other than the plain fact that he loves you? He wonders why they even bother asking such a dumb question.

"You look so stupid right now." You laugh as he carries you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he supports your weight on his back easily. He's dressed in your team's mascot uniform as he grins back at you. "And? I get to take care of you and that's all I really care about."

(a/n) : no one mention the fact that i wrote more than i should've for niki 🙏🙏

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joonipertree · 1 year ago

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Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.

Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????

But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."

Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.

If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"

You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.

God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.

Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.

IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA

I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.

Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.

If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.

You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.

I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?

If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.

Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."

People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.

Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.

You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'

But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.

You came close and kicked him on the shin.

I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.

The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.

If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.

With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.

The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.

It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.

Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.

Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.

And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.

"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.

"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"

Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."

The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.

"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."

The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Only you can....treat me like that."

Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.

Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.

I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 11 months ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

Someone requested some advice on whether to openly tell people you are mentally ill/neurodivergent/invisibly disabled or not.

There's some research that suggests that, for example, autistic people are more likely to identify as lgbt+ than their non-autistic peers - so this is absolutely a topic that belongs on a lgbt+ blog and I'm sure there are a lot of you who had to make that decision (and probably keep having to make it as coming-outs of any sort are rarely one-and-done!).

In fact, I had/have to make that decision myself! As an autistic person with depression and anxiety, I could tell you now why I personally decided to be open about all those diagnoses - but the right decision for me isn't necessarily the right decision for you as my life isn't yours.

So, what I'll do instead is to write down a general list with (potential) pros and cons, and I encourage you to nitpick it. Personalize it, take some time to decide how much, if at all, each point weighs in your own decision. There's no right or wrong answer here. It's all about your highly individual situation, about your safety and comfort.

Reasons not to be open about it:

It may put you at risk for various sorts of hate, discrimination, negative stigma and bad treatment

It may put a burden on you to educate others and discuss any misconceptions or myths they believe in, including potentially hurtful or disstressing ones (maybe even fruitlessly so which may cause frustrations or fights)

It may change the way people treat you, even in well-meant ways (babying you, pitying you, trying to "help" against your wishes etc.)

It may feel like a loss of privacy, make you feel "naked" or emotionally vulnerable, make you worry more about the way others perceive you etc.

Reasons to be open about it:

It may help others understand you or your behavior better, which may have positive effects on your relationships

It may allow you to ask for support and help more easily (either from friends and loved ones or in the workplace, school etc.)

It may make you feel empowered and help you accept/love yourself as a disabled person more

It may contribute to making your specific diagnosis more visible in society (which may also make you feel pride in breaking down stereotypes and supporting your community)

It may discourage people from assigning wrong or hurtful labels to you (either armchair-diagnosing you or labeling you as weird, crazy, lazy, gross etc.)

It's important to keep in mind that some people do not have the option to make this decision for themselves, for example because they have highly visible symptoms or they are in a position where their caretakers make the decision for them. This adds another layer to why we can't judge one decision as better or worse than the other - it's not always their own decision.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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triaelf9 · 2 months ago

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Just a lil post about Taash and how I'm feeling about how ppl are reacting to them as someone who relates to them very strongly not only on the gender journey front, but also on the mom-issues front.

Cut for length b/c of course this won't actually be a "little" post lol

So I hear a lot of "Taash is too young" "Taash acts like a child" "Taash is too brash" "Taash has wildly binary views of the world" "Taash is thinks their reality is the world's reality" etc etc etc

And I'm here to say that as someone who realized that non-binary was a thing later in life, grew up trying to be them, but society was not only unwelcoming to that, but openly hostile at points, with a mom who had totally different interests, who very much wanted to protect them from the outside world to a point where it left them unprepared to deal with nuances of the world, etc, a mom who thought they were "just doing their best" but was never meant to be a mom, and never wanted to be a mom, didn't have the tools for mom-hood, who wanted to protect their child, but had no real idea how, and how every comment turned into the mom trying to steer her kid the right way, but just came out as a dig or a "you're not good enough" remark, AND looking after your mom in a world that is wholly unsuited to her, that she can't really adapt to and fit into, and kinda becoming her mom to a point so that your life completely revolves around her until you leave home?

Yeah. I get Taash. It's actually kinda freaky how, fantasy elements aside, I get Taash on a frightening level. (aside from the dragon stuff, we're both the same with that HELL YEAH DRAGONS)

Taash doesn't read young to me because I've always read young because of how I was raised. I didn't get the chance to figure myself out until I left home. I also had the benefit of being able to leave for college at a younger age, and got a chance to experience things away from my mom earlier. But seeing things in such a binary way, that's how it is when you're protected like that.

You don't want to admit how similar you are to how your mom sees the world, b/c she sees it in one way, and as you go through life, you get to learn differently. You come out of this situation INCREDIBLY judgmental at first. Why aren't THESE things conforming to MY reality. You come across as brash and childish. And when you get treated as such, it's triggering b/c that's how your mom treats you.

You hate how you look, you think you look like a freak b/c your mom is constantly commenting on your appearance. She does it out of love (she wants you to be healthy & not mocked by your peers) but she doesn't consider that constantly telling you not to look a certain way does damage. My self confidence only recovered in my thirties. I'm 4 days from my 38th birthday, and it took getting pregnant to finally be like "you know what, I don't hate myself & my body" which is MASSIVE for me.

So where do we get our self confidence? In things we enjoy, in hyperfocuses that we're good at. For me that's comics, naginata, fantasy & DA lore lol XD For Taash it's dragons, fighting, and working out. And when we falter there, it's devastating b/c it's the only way we can feel good about ourselves b/c our SELVES are disconnected and tucked away b/c they make us feel bad.

So I totally get how Taash reads to people. The autism aspects are more like my wife (who is autistic & has issues with social cues, while I'm HYPER AWARE of social stuff which fuels my anxiety b/c of the type of person my mom was and how I had to look after her), but I get it.

But it makes me sad when I hear people dunk on Taash as "bad writing" and "unrealistic" and "annoying" and it's like...is that how you see people like that? Is that how you see me and people like my wife? I feel like people aren't willing to look deeper so often (an issue with all the companions tbh & some day I'll have to get into my Davrin feels b/c BOY do I have them. Neve too, WHOOF) but I feel like if you do that in a game, I hope you don't do that irl.

anyway TLDR this is a Taash defense post b/c while they have a lot of issues, stuff they need to work out & have wrong opinions on stuff, they're growing, they're learning & they have to do it later than most. They're an incredibly complicated character with tons of nuance, and I can't wait to get deeper into their story and banter with companions in round 2 of my playthroughs, and then again in round 3

Sorry this is too long, and I'm sure not all of this was intended when they were written, but this is how it all clicked with me as someone who has lived a large portion of that stuff. Like, again, I'm nearly fucking FOURTY and I don't feel like I should be there yet b/c I started so far back. It ALSO doesn't help that ADHD wild child I was, I was held back in preschool b/c neurodivergence also makes a kid read younger, AND the choice to have me be the youngest in the class would have been a very bad one. So I'm older than most of my peers BUT I've always read younger, felt younger, and have had a sore spot when it comes to all that.

Thank you for coming to my Taash Talk, I'll be here all week to think about more stuff, including how their body makes them read as lady, and they're not sure how to feel about that, but they don't want to CHANGE it, but is it right?

ANYWHO this is why Taash is a fascinating character & deserves better than to be regulated to "annoying kid"

#dragon age #taash #datv spoilers #my spoiler tag #dragon age the veilguard #da companion deep dive #warning for Elaine childhood discussion too lol #mom trauma #this post is more of a vent place than anything #but if you like the digging into “why person like that” stuff on characters #you might like this too #also for anyone pulling a “find me one person who actually is like Taash b/c it's soooo unrealistic” it's me you found the one person #there are other ppl too of course but here I am

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tibopansy · 2 years ago

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i still can't stop thinking about non-it/its users responses to this post. how an awful lot of people think it's fine to refuse someone else's pronouns because of their own discomfort.

let me tell you a story.

i have been dehumanized almost my entire life. a combination of my race, disabilities, and the mental illnesses that i developed very early in my life meant i was treated like a monster. i started coming out as gay too early for my peers' comfort and that only added to that treatment. my dehumanization is enshrined in christianity. i took on the label of monster on purpose because i stopped relating to humanity. why should i want to be a part of a group who did nothing but hurt me and exclude me in the first place?

i don't need to be protected from my own goddamn pronouns. i don't need to hear about the historical dehumanization of queer people and people of color and disabled people because, like a massive majority of the people using it/its, i fucking know. i have for literal decades.

you know what hurts? telling me i don't know what's best for myself, that your discomfort with my life is more important than treating me like someone who can make its own fucking decisions, and misgendering me because you can't handle being reminded of the things that literally continue to happen to me. i'm not a poor unthinking baby that needs to be saved, and neither are the other it/its users.

if you have feelings about it/its, you can process them on your own time, like every other person uncomfortable with a pronoun set.

and for the love of everything unholy just call me by my fucking pronouns.

#queer #trans

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hiii jade! can you write something for spencer x badass!reader who despite being sick af, still shows up to work? ur writing always makes my day!! :)

hi, tysm for requesting my love ♡ fem

"What's up with you?" Morgan asks.

You don't have the energy to tell him to mind his business. "Nothing, I'm fine. What's up with you?"

"Sorry, are you asking me how I am?"

Morgan seems to think that you don't like him. It makes sense, in a way, because you've never been outwardly affectionate to him or even friendly, and he's constantly teasing you. But the reason you didn't like him or anyone on the team when you first joined beyond civil professionalism was because of how they treated Spencer.

You're older now, you've learned that they love him. But they don't appreciate him as much as they should, and so you resolve to appreciate them at a similar level. Spencer gets every ounce of love you have to give, and Morgan gets a smidge when he deserves it.

"Earth to Y/N. You sick?" Morgan asks.

You rub the space between your brows. "Sick of stupid questions, sure."

"Feisty. Where's Reid? Need me to give him a talk about being a better boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He's your something." Morgan's grin softens into a more serious expression, and for a few seconds, he takes you in. You hate being looked at with concern, standing as he asks, "Seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Morgan, thank you."

You speed walk away from the desk to the kitchenette on unsteady footing, where Spencer stands like the light at the end of a dark tunnel making a cup of tea. He bobs the tea bag up and down slowly, his eyebrows pinched together, as though this cup of tea is the most important thing in the world to get right. Your chest aches as you move, your breath noticeably shallow. Spencer must hear you, lifting his arm to gesture for you to come closer.

"Hey," he says. He usually speaks to you softly but this is a new level of gentleness. It goes without saying that if he were anybody else, his tone would drive you up the wall with annoyance, but he's Spencer. It must be the sugary brown of his eyes and the puppy dog essence to his smile, eager to please, that makes his concern a welcome one. "You okay? Come here."

You stand obediently at his side.

"You okay?" he asks again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why does everybody keep asking me that?" you mumble, eyeing his cup of tea longingly. Your throat is sandpaper.

Spencer slides it toward you without comment. "Because you look sick. Not that you look bad, you don't, you always look nice, but your eyes are glassy, and you look a little clammy." He turns sideways. "You want your tea?"

"It's for me?"

"Yeah, it's for you. I put honey in it. I don't know if you like honey…"

You take the mug and drink it. Honey or not, you're gonna drink every sip, and not just because your throat is deteriorating rapidly. Spencer could make you a cup of hot dish water and you'd pinch your nose to knock it back.

"Thank you," you say in relief.

"Sure. Wanna go sit down?"

"I don't need to sit down."

"I'm not saying you do. I just," —Spencer laughs, his hand on your shoulder— "I need you to peer assess my last witness account file. You do it quicker than Morgan does."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, let's go do it."

Spencer shepherds you to his desk. Morgan peers not so subtly over the partition as you sit in Spencer's chair and roll into the front of his desk, reaching for a pen from his pen pot. You drink blind sips of tea between lines, reading over his file slowly. Your eyes grow heavier as the tea warms your chest, and Spencer's hand falls to your shoulder again.

"You should go home," he says quietly. He tricked you into sitting down, that's obvious now.

"I'm okay."

"You need to rest when you're sick or you'll only get worse," he says, his breath fanning against the short hairs by your ear.

You close your eyes at the sensation. "I can't go home."

"Why not?"

"Because I…" You list off. You're sure there was something to say, something important, but Spencer's presence stands behind you and your body must realise that if you want safety to pass out, this will be the place.

"Y/N," he says sympathetically.

"Can't drive," you mumble.

"I'll get you home, don't worry. You just sit here for a second while I sort it out, okay? Don't get up." He rubs down your arm roughly. For once, you get a sense of total confidence from him. You trust that he's gonna get you home in one piece. "Morgan, can you watch her?"

"'M not a kid," you say.

"Course not. I'm still gonna look after you, though," Spencer says.

He takes you home in a borrowed work SUV. You're not sick enough to need carrying, but the moment he sits you down on the couch you fall into a deep, sweaty sleep. When you wake a little later, it's to three extremely important things; the first, a bowl of chicken soup with fresh made croutons; the second, Spencer, his top button undone and smiling as he squeezes your lax hand; and third, your saviour, a jumbo box of Tylenol, sleep aid and decongestants included. You remind yourself to kiss Spencer's cheek when you aren't totally dying.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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babyouran · 3 months ago

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A Day in the Life of the Fujioka Family! - what was planned to be a quick, small trip to visit y/n and haruhi soon becomes something bigger as all the members get a peek into the commoner lifestyle

Pairing - fem!reader x host club

Apart of - ouran add in

Currently, seven of the eight Host Club members were standing outside of a run-down, tiny, one-roomed house where the Fujioka residents lived. Vines were overcrowding the fence that stood in front of the cracked home, them growing in unwanted places. The shattered windows allowed a nasty breeze to enter the house, and the grass surrounding it had weeds overgrowing up to the height of Honey’s knees. As if it could not look more disappointing, the once nice weather that seemed to greet them soon turned into darkened clouds that looked as if it were specifically just floating over the Fujioka home.

Seeing such a dear friend in a depressing space was appalling to the group. Tamaki stood still, his eyes trained directly at the chunk of wood missing at the top of the doorframe, his hands tightly holding onto a box filled with treats.

"This can't be right," Tamaki muttered.

"Oh Haruhi," Y/N sighed sadly, looking at the rundown place of living. When Haruhi opened the door, her expression differed much from the one they normally saw on her. She had dirt smudged on her cheeks, a sickly pale complexion, and a dizzying stance shown through her discombobulated feet trying to keep her balanced and upright.

"Hey everyone. Why don't you come in?" Haruhi offered, and she gestured to the inside of the miniature home, where a singular chandelier hung down from the ceiling, emitting a small light to make up the whole home's space. "I know it's not much, but please make yourselves at home. I'll make us some tea." She moved across the dirtied floor, trash filtered about the room, and swung open the rusty cabinetry doors. "Um, I'm sorry, we don't have enough cups, but we do have some bowls.”

She frantically pulled out most of the dishware available, pouring an oddly dark brownish-green tea into the chipped containers. The group couldn’t help but eye one another in an attempt to stifle their comments of concern and disgust.

"Hey, boss. What's with this place? She lives here?" Hikaru uttered.

"Maybe it's some kind of set, you know, like in the movies?" Kaoru hoped, peering behind a tattered curtain in hopes of finding a mysterious camera.

"I-I hope so!" Tamaki exclaimed, his eyes staring now into the floor, unblinking.

"Haruhi, you don't have any books," Y/N realized, a gasp leaving her lips as she tried to search in a drawer but to no avail. The book-obsessed young maiden was wrecked at the discovery, similar to how many of the other members were.

"Psst, Y/n," Tamaki snapped out of his trance, nudging her shoulder. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'll be okay, Tamaki-senpai." Y/N shook her head up and down, wiping away an imaginary tear and taking a slow seat down onto the flattened cushion that lay near the table.

"Calm down, you guys. I bet this is the storeroom. I'm positive Infinite Cosmos is just on the other side of that closet," Tamaki told the twins, turning around on the stained cushion and narrowing his attention to them.

"Then should we try to open it?" Kaoru tiptoed over to where the door was.

"Now's not the time!"

"Right.”

"Since you guys decided to come by at lunchtime, my dad said it would be rude if I didn't offer you something to eat." Haruhi walked near the group, placing the bowls and cups filled with tea in front of them. "We've been fasting for three days to save up money to buy something suited to your taste. But it's all worth it as long as you guys like it.” She put on a fake smile.

She walked back, hunched towards the kitchen counter where the grocery bag resided, and with gawky fingers, she pulled out an eight-piece sushi sampler, holding it up in the air.

"It was marked down at the supermarket; how about that?" Haruhi lightly cheered, now placing the platter on the table. The fish looked several days past expiration, the rice was falling from its shape with an odd color, and a disturbing odor was ruminating from the supermarket sushi.

"Sorry, we came to visit Haru-chan! Don't make us eat it!" Honey yelled, standing up as tall as he could with his hands up in the air as if surrounded by law enforcement.

"Be strong men; Y/n will be upset if we hurt her friend, and Haruhi has truly suffered for our benefit," Tamaki encouraged the twins, hands shakily reaching across the table to pick up a set of cheap chipped chopsticks. "It's the least we could do.”

"But sir, I'm not even sure this is fish!" Kaoru argued.

"Wow! I can't believe it! Isn't this a piece of fancy tuna, and I'm getting to eat it with Y/N?" Haruhi admired the tuna in her hand.

"Oh no," Y/n muttered, taking one of the sushis in between her chopsticks. "This—I think I'm going to be sick," she gagged.

"No, Y/n, don't eat that; it isn’t fancy tuna!" Tamaki yelled, sitting up quickly in his bed. He sat up with sweat dripping down his forehead, his breathing was labored, and his eyes rapidly scanned around the room. "Just a dream," he sighed, rushing out of the lavish bed, speedily getting ready, and making his way down the grand stairs of his estate.

"Morning, Master Tamaki," An older woman greets him. "Anything we can do for you?"

"I need to get going; please bring the car around the front at once," he told her, school bag in hand.

"Yes, of course, sir." The driver answered with a curt nod as he went to turn and move out the door.

"I beg your pardon, Master Tamaki, but what would you like for breakfast this morning?" The woman asked.

"I don't want any! I already told you I have to get going!" Tamaki whined, looking as if he were about to stomp his foot in defiance.

"Hold it right there, Master Tamaki! I can't let you leave the house like that. You're still wearing your pajama bottoms and your house slippers," Tamaki rushed upstairs at her comment, coming back down in the proper clothing.

"Thank you, Shima," he thanked, brushing away a strand of hair that got ruffled in the movement and his face a little red from embarrassment. "I'll be going now."

"I hate to be a bother, Master Tamaki, but today is Sunday," she informed. “You don't have to go to school today, sir."

"Oh,” He looked back at her defeat. “Well, why didn't you make me aware of the fact earlier?"

"As your maid, it's my duty to help you. However, I want you to become a fine gentleman. So, you must be able to recognize your own mistakes." She grabbed his back, starting to drag him off. "Since you suddenly have some free time on your hands, why don't we work on your manners?"

"But I have to make a call! Someone bring me a phone!" Tamaki frantically yelled. A maid rushed over with a rotary, which Tamaki quickly took from her grip, spinning around the digits. "Hey Kyoya, there's something I need to talk to you about.”

The weekend granted free time for the girls of the host club to congregate in the ways they wished. With the bright sun shining and heating their exposed skin, Haruhi and Y/n walked back from their venture at the supermarket with warmth in their hearts. It was a most enjoyable time for the wealthier girl, as she had never participated in it. They were chatting amongst themselves until Haruhi’s steps halted when something out of the ordinary came into view—a group of people swarming around some fancy cars. She took a few steps forward to catch a better glimpse, curiosity getting the best of her, and droned out the ramblings of Y/N.

"Check out that car," a man mentioned, pointing out the obvious while a driver was opening the door to the back seat. To much surprise, some of the fellow host club members emerged.

"Wow, so this is where Haruhi lives?" Kaoru spoke.

"It's pretty big, huh?" Hikaru added, as both of the twins were thoroughly impressed.

"Look at all the rooms!" Honey jumped up and down, tugging on Mori’s hand.

"This building is what you might call an aggregate commoner dwelling," Kyoya told them.

"So that means this isn't just hers?" Hikaru put together residing in a more comfortable and toned-down choice of clothing. Most of the boys wore tops without long sleeves, like Mori and Kyoya’s vest or Honey’s sailor shirt. Tamaki had a light yellow sweater on, and the twins were decked out in red and white tops. Overall, the uniforms were gone, and the street clothes fashion commenced.

"Yes, her home is only one of these units," he confirmed.

"Kyoya! Why did you bring these idiots with?" Tamaki whined, now actually stomping his feet.

"Kyoya, it was just supposed to be you and me!”

"Well, you see, I knew you didn't dare to come here alone to see Y/n outside of a school setting, so I thought it'd be best if everyone came along," he explained. "Okay, let's all go home; I underestimated our great leader.”

"I'm sorry, don't leave," Tamaki apologized, putting his hands down in defeat.

There was still a bumbling crowd around the vehicles whispering different rumors about why they appeared and just who the host club were. Y/N, who was naturally curious, stopped her ramblings and began to venture to the crowd, taking in their reactions.

"Now don't you forget men!" Tamaki pulled the rest of the group over into a huddle. "This is a casual—we just happened to be in the neighborhood—type of visit. Y/n will be outraged if we disrespect Haruhi, and after all, Haruhi is a member of our club. We will do our best to be respectful and not judge them. Don't say shabby, cramped, and run down when referring to her home," Tamaki warned the group.

Though the girl in question had heard their whole conversation and was heating up with rage, she turned towards the boys and said, "It's too late; just leave!" At the sudden outburst, Y/n rushed over to her friend's side to see the rest of the host club in the distance.

“Wow, everyone is here!" Y/n beamed, thrilled nature all over her features as she admired the appearances of all of her friends in the same place.

Similar to fruitflies attracted to something sweet, the boys ventured over near the girls, Honey pushing himself closer to Y/n’s side as he cocked his head up. “You look pretty, N/n-chan!” Even the younger-natured boy could recognize a new spark in Y/n’s character with a new venue and be surrounded by those she cared for.

"Thank you, Honey-senpai," Y/n smiled down at the boy.

Haruhi tugged on Y/n’s wrist, pulling her closer to her. "Now the rest of you, get the hell out of here!"

"Haruhi's so mad, she cursed at us!" Tamaki exclaimed, jumping in fear.

"Was this not a coincidence?” Y/n cocked her head to the side, furrowed eyebrows.

“No, they planned this without my permission,” Haruhi glanced over to the girl, cheeks a flamed red. Y/n immediately turned to the man of the hour—Tamaki—and watched as he shrieked, cowering behind the twin's frames in fear of upsetting Y/n.

"Excuse me, Haruhi, but is everything alright?" An older woman went up to her, tapping her shoulder lightly.

"Hi, Miss Land-Lady.”

"These young men are driving such fancy, foreign cars; they're not Yakuza, are they?"

"No, they are not," Haruhi reassured her, shaking her head and stifling a little laugh at the insinuation.

"Do you want me to call the police for you?" She asked, whispering in Haruhi's ear. Tamaki bounced away from his place of hiding and gently placed the woman's palm into his grip.

"Pleased to meet you, madam. My name is Suou; I'm one of Haruhi's friends," he explained, almost sparkling in the sunlight.

"Really? My goodness, well, aren't you just adorable?" The landlady complimented, a total switch in her former demeanor as she was greeted with his presence up close.

"We're just stopping; we didn't mean to cause a scene. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's no problem," she giggled, moving towards Haruhi. "I'll stop by later with snacks for you and your friends.”

With a loud sigh, Haruhi began the way up the steps leading to her home, an eager group trailing behind. Yet she halted at the door. "Okay, here's the deal; I'm only giving you guys a quick peak," Haruhi explained. “Today was meant to be time for just Y/n and "Today was meant to be time for just Y/N and me.”

"But look, I brought you a gift, Haru-chan!" Honey told her, holding up a box full of delicious sweets, all decorated differently and delicately.

“Those look very good,” Y/n turned towards Haruhi, who was entranced by the expensive goodies. “Maybe it would be fun for us all to be together." She quietly commented, glancing hopefully at her friend.

"Fine, I guess I'll make some tea," Haruhi caved in, unlocking the door and gesturing the group inside her home.

"What a hovel," Hikaru commented, gaining a flick to the back of his head from Y/N. "Ow!"

"Be nice," She muttered back quietly, following Haruhi in.

"A wood-built two-bedroom unit—that's normal for a commoner family of two," Kyoya voiced, the group looking around the apartment in something mixed with awe and confusion.

"Haruhi's such a pipsqueak; at least we know she won't hit her head on the low ceilings," Kaoru noticed.

"Well, I think it's a super-cute little room!" Honey exclaimed.

"It's nice; I like your fridge color," Y/n admired, nodding repeatdly next to Honey as the two plastered on overexaggerated grins of happiness.

"You don't have to struggle to compliment it," Haruhi grumbled.

"Hold on. Are we supposed to take off our shoes too?" Honey pointed to Haruhi's shoes that were by the door.

"Please, if you don't mind," she voiced, and the group followed, taking off their shoes.

"Thanks for inviting us in!" The fellow members thanked, walking over to the table.

"This place is quite unpleasant; I think I may have underestimated commoner housing. Okay, we are going to have to squeeze. Y/N, come by me and let's all put our knees to our chests," Tamaki commanded the group. Y/n scurried by the boy at his command, sitting next to him as Mori took up the space on her other side. It was clear that the larger group was cramped in the smaller room, all smushed against one another as Haruhi got the goodies prepared.

"I'm going to go make us some tea," Haruhi told them as she walked over to her stove.

"Oh! Do you need help?" Y/n slowly stood up, squishing around with the group stuck at her side, but she was yanked back down by Mori pulling her. "Oh!"

"Hey. Here's an idea: why don't you make us this? It's black tea our father bought us as a souvenir from Africa, so try it," Hikaru suggested, and he pulled out the container magically from his side, passing it onto the host.

"Mori-senpai, are you okay?" Y/n whispered over to him, but the boy just nodded, gently removing his arm away from her upper arm and going forth to look forward.

"Um sure, no problem," Haruhi accepted the tea, moving over to her kitchen.

"It's best served as milk tea; do you have milk?" Kaoru inquired.

"I think, when was the last time that I bought some milk?" Haruhi thought to herself.

"Stop it; what the hell are you doing?" Tamaki yelled in a whisper. "Don't be so mean to her, you idiots!"

"What do you mean?" The twins asked.

"I know you're trying to embarrass her by asking for that African tea. Look! She has no idea how she's supposed to prepare it! We are trying to keep Y/n hap-" He quickly fake coughed. "Haruhi, trying to keep Haruhi happy and respect her."

"What if she doesn't even have a teapot?" Kaoru added.

"And she's too embarrassed to tell us that she doesn't!" Hikaru assumed. "I'm sorry, Haruhi; you don't have to go to all that trouble." He stuck out his hand, reaching for her.

"What? It's no trouble. Besides, I've already made it," she told him, finishing up pouring it.

"Man, that was a close one, boss," Kaoru sighed.

"We have been reduced by commoners' wisdom," Tamaki told the twins, whispering over to them on his other side, the three boys breathing a sigh of relief at the fact the tea was able to be created.

"What do you mean, sir?" Hikaru asked.

"Nothing we know to be true in our world holds true here. We have to be careful how we react. One little off-handed remark could break Haruhi's heart, which would get Y/n upset and then break hers too. That means in this fight, the first person to embarrass Haruhi loses," Tamaki told them.

"Well guys, the tea is ready. I'm sorry that not all of the cups match," Haruhi apologized.

"Don't worry about it, Haruhi-chan," Y/n voiced. "I'll even have some tea," she told her.

"You're taking off your mask? Like right now? In front of all of us?" Tamaki started to fire off questions to her. Tamaki leaned in closer, to which Mori reacted by reaching in front of Y/n and pushing his shoulder away a bit in order to give Y/n some room.

"No, not fully.” She huffed quietly, some embarrassment sneaking up into her senses. “I can still cover my mouth with my hand when I'm about to take a sip or a bite of something," she explained, moving a little closer to Mori, away from the peering Tamaki.

"Go on, N/n-chan! You can choose your cake first!" Honey offered.

"I think I'll let Haruhi go first." Y/n looked towards her friend, pushing the box closer across the table. "You are letting us visit in your home.”

"Are you sure, Y/n?"

"Go on, we're rich; we eat this kind of stuff all the time," Kaoru (horribly) reassured her.

"I'll take this one then," She pointed to a vanilla piece with strawberries decorating the top, taking it on her plate and soon munching upon it.

"I'll take this chocolate one," Y/n giddily lifted it up, pushing her fork through the cake and swiftly bringing it to her lips. She used her other hand to pull down the mask and push it past her lips, all while still hiding it from the majority's view. "This is so good," she mumbled. The only ones who could catch a peak were Tamaki, who had already seen the view in its full motion, and Mori with lighter cheeks than normal.

"She's so cute!" The twins and Tamaki commented, watching her eat and forgetting about themselves. For many club members, it was a great confusion as to why the mask was always a common appearance in her outfits, but one that Kyoya had warned them about in the beginning—a backstory lying within.

"Here, Y/n, take this chocolate piece on top of my cake; you like chocolate, right?" Mori picked it up with his fork and placed it on her plate.

"Yeah, I do!" She looked happily at him, taking the piece and soon moving it towards her mouth. "Thank you, Mori-senpai," He just shrugged but moved over closer and rested an arm behind her, leaning on it as he took in the subtle views of Y/n’s lips munching onto the dessert. It was shocking to Mori how much seeing the oral part of one's face could totally make an appearance.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Hikaru yelled, anime tears falling from his, Kaoru, and Tamaki's eyes.

"I should have been sharing chocolate with her," Tamaki whined.

"Why'd we let him trick us?!" Kaoru wondered sadly.

"Eating all that cake sure wet my appetite," Honey sighed.

"Yeah, isn't it lunchtime about now?" Hikaru realized.

"Well then, what's for lunch?" Four of the members asked the tired girl.

"Mori-senpai," Y/n nudged his shoulder a little, gaining his attention. "Do you think Haruhi is okay with all of us? I mean, this was all unannounced, and we are now asking her to do all these things; I don't want to upset my friend," she worried, looking at him.

"She's okay; you are a good friend. Don't worry," He patted her head once, the calloused fingers resting in the different buds of hair on the top of her head. His fingers ever so slightly nudged their way beneath the hair before a noise snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Well, if that's what you want," Haruhi began. Mori speedily removed his hand from such a position and focused his attention back onto the table. "I do have a friend who runs a nice little sushi shop nearby. So I can just give him a call; his stuff is pretty high quality."

Tamaki looked at her weirdly, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling on it soon enough, handing it to her with a very suspicious expression.

"Be careful, Haruhi; just because the sushi's packaging says 'premium' doesn't mean that it's high quality," she read out loud. "I'm not stupid; I could figure that out on my own." She turned to him.

"How could you do that to me? Daddy even tried to look casual and not embarrass you like Y/n would have wanted.” To which the girl mentioned just shared a glare with her friend.

"I'd really like it if you made us something for lunch, Haru-chan," Honey voiced happily.

"No, Honey-senpai!" Hikaru yelled.

"How could you ask that of her?!" Kaoru added.

"Don't upset her; try to restrain yourself!" Tamaki commented.

"I guess I could whip something up, but it's going to take me some time," Haruhi told Honey.

"We can wait," Y/n piped up. "I can also help you cook; I know a few things." She mumbled, standing up but getting fingers wrapped around her wrist once again. "I promise i'm not that bad Mori-senpai," She laughed and he removed his fingers, watching her walk away. "It's the least I could do."

"Why didn't we think of that?" the twins whined.

"This means that we will be able to taste Y/n's cooking," Tamaki said.

"I'm going to have to go to the supermarket again," Haruhi sighed.

"We're coming with you!" The twins spoke.

"Me too, me too!" Honey agreed, Y/n nodding her head eagerly, now the whole group in a place where they were wanting to go with.

"Yay! Commoners' supermarket! Commoners' supermarket!"

"This is going to be fun!" Honey yelled, running after Mori as they began to pile out of the room. Yet quickly Haruhi noticed the disappearance of two prominent members.

"Well, that's it, So much for having the day off." She peaked through the other room, seeing Y/n and Tamaki by her mother's shrine. "Hey senpai, Y/n, are you guys coming?"

"We are; I just thought it would be good to pay our respects," Y/n told her. "She's pretty, like you, Haruhi. I'll meet you outside." She stood up, going out of the apartment where the other members waited.

"Your mother, she seems smart," Tamaki turned towards Haruhi; nonetheless, with the different circumstances of the girl joining the group, friendships were flourishing all around and especially between the blonde and secret girl.

"Yeah, she was a lawyer," Haruhi informed him, a small smile drifting onto her lips.

"I bet she was a great one, I can tell. Trust me, you can't fool these eyes, Haruhi." Tamaki spoke very softly, his once more energetic demeanor toned down to share respect toward an important woman in his friend's life.

"I'm not so sure about that senpai," Haruhi deadpanned. "She really was a great lawyer.” And with her comment, the girl got up, waiting for Tamaki to walk out with her, but as soon as he stood, a mysterious banana peel came into view, where the male slipped, falling on top of Haruhi. His hands held up his upper frame, just looming over her as he took in her features for any injuries.

"Are you okay Haruhi?"

"I'm fine, but you're kind of heavy," she huffed.

"I'm home, Haruhi! Hey, why'd you leave the door open?" Her father walked in, spinning around in their dress.

"Welcome home, dad," Haruhi muttered, her father's eyes laid on the man on top of their daughter. "So dad, how was work?"

Tamaki started to freak out, his mind running with thoughts about how they would react, how Y/n would react, and that the man standing at the door was truly Haruhi's father.

Haruhi's father walked over, throwing Tamaki off into the wall. "I'm sorry, I hated having to leave you home alone last night. You must have been lonely,"

"That sound, he hit really hard," Haruhi’s eyes widened at the fear of her fathers strength and the undoubted pain her club mate must be in.

"Ah, my arm has been bothering me; I sure could use a cup of hot tea,"

"Hot tea? I'll get it for you. Haruhi, your father wants hot tea; do you use firewood to boil it?" Tamaki started to rush all around the place.

"Oh, look at that; I've seem to come across a little pest. Would you like to tell me why you're addressing my daughter with such informality, young man?" Haruhi's father questioned, yanking on the young man's shirt to pull him back near him.

"Hey, is everything okay here, boss?" Hikaru poked his head through the door, the rest of the club behind him.

"Check it out; the person we passed downstairs is Haruhi's father," Kaoru realized.

"Hikaru, Kaoru, help me out here," Tamaki begged, lying on the floor.

"It's nice to meet you, Haruhi's dad. We're good friends of your daughter's, the Hitachiin brothers," they introduced, stepping on Tamaki to reach the man.

"So you are a crossdresser, aren't you?" Kaoru questioned.

"You're the first real corssdresser we've ever seen!" Hikaru told them.

"Sorry about him; he's a lady's man, if you know what I mean."

"He's a pheromone machine. In fact, I bet he's fooled around with more ladies than you can count," Kaoru explained with great exclamation, both of the twins highlighting the negative behaviors of their club leader.

"He likes to fool around, huh?" An irk mark appeared on Ranka's face.

"I'm not a lady's man! I don't like your daughter; I only like a different girl. I'm being completely honest here; I care about Haruhi like she's my own daughter, same with Y/n!" The man stood up, flaring his hands all about. It was clear to Haruhi’s father that the blonde was no true threat, and thus he retreated his more intimating demeanor with the other members.

"I get it; you must be the host club I've heard so much about!" Haruhi's father realized. "You certainly are a fine-looking bunch of men and a very pretty woman." He turned to Y/n, pawing at her hair. "I'm not sure which of you men I like most; all of you just call me Ranka? It's the professional name I use."

"Professional name? You mean like a stage name?" Honey asked.

"Exactly like that, Mitsukuni," Ranka smiled at him.

"Hold on. How did you know my name, sir?"

"You two are third years, Haninozuka Mitzukuni and Morionzuka Takashi." Ranka looked towards them. "You twins are first years and so is Takahashi Y/n; you are in the same class as Haruhi as well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were Haruhi's father," Y/n apologized, bowing over and over in her seat. "You're so gorgeous and I was so inconsiderate; I should have done research to be prepared-"

"Don't worry, sweetie, I have heard a lot about you already!" She smiled.

"So Haruhi has told you about us?" Hikaru asked.

"No, just Takahashi, but Kyoya has told me about you two over the phone.”

"You truly are an amazing person, Ranka." The rest of the group looked oddly at this Kyoya, who plastered on a grateful grin. "We have been entrusted with the care of his special daughter; it's only natural that we introduce ourselves and give him periodic reports. Ordinarily that would be your job, wouldn't it?" Kyoya looked over at the shy Tamaki, who faced away—knees to his chest—from the others.

"I'm impressed the club has such a capable president!" Ranka admired. At the unknown notion that her father was communicating with Kyoya for a long period of time, his daughter jumped in anger at being left out of the light. She angrily packed up her purse and stood walking towards the door. "Haruhi, where are you going?"

"The supermarket, alright?" She rested her hand at the doorknob and looked back at Y/n. "I have to go shopping; Y/n is coming with, and the rest of you will stay here; try to behave yourselves.”

Y/n jumped up, waving goodbye to the group and rushing after Haruhi.

"Thank you, Haruhi!" She thanked, a small blush appearing on the said girl's cheeks.

"It-it's nothing; let's just get going." She stuttered, taking Y/n's hand and dragging her out of the door.

"Wait! We wanted to go to a commoners supermarket," Hikaru called out.

"I wouldn't bother; once she has made her mind up, she'll never change it!" Ranka lightly chuckled. She then explained how Haruhi has made most of the decisions on her own, like when she transferred to Ouran High School.

"I hope you boys know I'm thankful for you, and Y/n, since she met you, she seems happier. She's enjoying herself; wouldn't you think so, Suou Tamaki?" Ranka turned to the boy, who was now in a closet, basking in his sadness as mushrooms popped up around.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, I've heard a thing or two about when Haruhi was trying to get Y/n to join the group," Ranka smiled. "You're the one that didn't realize Haruhi was a girl until the last moment. You're clueless, aren't you? Pretty pathetic. Now that we've gotten all the introductions out of the way, how would you boys like to have a little fun?"

"Why didn't he tell me? I had no idea Kyoya-senpai has been calling my dad and giving him updates," Haruhi expressed tiredly.

"He might have felt it was important, I mean, he just wants to be involved in your life, it's easy to tell how much he loves you." Y/n patted her shoulder and then pulled her into a side hug. "You have to admit you're an independent person; it's not a bad thing, but sometimes other people want in too.”

"Yeah," she grinned, looking at Y/n. "You're also independent yourself, you know? Worse than me." She nudged her shoulder back, causing Y/n to laugh.

The rest of the Host Club members stayed back with Ranka, all sneakily looking at Y/n and Haruhi. Ranka wore a long coat, glasses, and a scarf to better hide their appearance as the rest of the boys followed along, hiding behind different objects and podiums.

"So we're going to follow them to the supermarket?" The twins questioned.

"This is what you meant by 'fun'?" Kyoya asked.

"Yes! I call it the stalking game." She threw them back a thumbs up, covering her face at the moment.

"What an attractive group of young men!" A woman whispered to another.

"In all honesty, I have a completely selfish reason for bringing you out with me. I want to be seen with a bunch of cute boys!" Ranka exclaimed, taking her glasses off and showing off her face.

At the supermarket, they watched Haruhi look at vegetables with Y/n at her side.

"OO! Haruhi, what about these vegetables?" She held up some lettuce. "Do you need this? Wait, it doesn't look as nice as the lettuce in the salads at my home." Y/n stuck a finger to her chin, looking at the vegetable oddly.

"I doubt it is; yours is most likely grown in your garden," Haruhi laughed. "I could still use it for something else; feel free to put it in the basket."

"Thank you, Haruhi! Shopping is kind of fun."

"You don't go shopping?"

"Nope, I've only been to a store a few times, including our journey here earlier today," Y/n told her, wandering off to look at some coffee and bringing it back.

“Do you really think it is necessary to follow her around like this?” Tamaki and Ranka peeked out from behind an aisle filled with different canned goods. “Are you that worried about her?”

“As you know, Haruhi lost her mother at a young age, and afterwards she took on all of the chores and shopping by herself. I decided to start following her whenever she would leave the house; maybe I’m just being overprotective?” Ranka sighed, patting her cheeks in deep thought. “I worry about her all the time; I’m the only one who can protect her, you know? Either she does not know how to depend on others or refuses to. She’s always been so independent and so strong. And she has this uncanny ability to affect others without even realising it.”

“That’s true; I’ve seen it." The president stared off, agreeing with the parental figure. He watched the two girls, Y/n nudging along the shoulder of Haruhi as they giggled off about something. They were finding pure, simple enjoyment in the task, truly enjoying one another's company.

The girls didn't notice Honey, who was being pushed by Mori in the back, or the twins looking around themselves. "Hey Tamaki-senpai, what are you doing here?" Y/n turned around to look at the man.

"I followed you guys here so I could carry your shopping basket; you know how Daddy loves accessories." He awkwardly chuckled, ripping the basket away from her hands.

"Tamaki! What should we make?" Y/n grabbed him, dragging him over to a new section. "Isn't it so amazing how this place is set up and all the foods?” The girl excitedly took a turn of her head back to her female friend, “Haruhi! Come over and look with us!”

He looked down at her, admiring her, quiet for a moment before snapping out of his thoughts and joining in the conversation. "Yeah, we should make a stewpot, ones with lots of meat but no chrysanthemums," Tamaki told them.

"Does that sound okay, Haruhi? I'll help you make it!" Y/n beamed, looking at Haruhi intently.

"That's fine.”

"Here, Tamaki, take some chrysanthemum! You're favorite!" Ranka put more into his bowl, piling it up on top of the stew. "Y/n, you adorable girl, take some extra meat!”

"Ah, thank you, Ranka!" She grinned cheerily underneath her mask. "We did a good job." Y/n looked over at Haruhi, lifting up a spoonful of some of the stew to her lips.

"Yeah, we did,” a soft hum left the girls lips before opening them up wider to take in the tasteful flavors of the stew. Ranka looked at her daughter, engaging with the other girl happily. It was clear that a certain host member of the group brought out more vibrant emotions from their daughter, and to admire the simple experience between the two girls caused his soul to shine a little brighter.

Ranka laughed to herself, picking up a spoonful from their own bowl, "Alright, Haruhi, dear, try some of mine!”

next chapter - Big Brother is a Prince!

#haruhi fujioka #hikaru x reader #honey x reader #kaoru x reader #kyoya ootori #ohshc haruhi #ouran hshc #ouran highschool host club #ouran high school host club #ouran host club #tamaki x reader #ohshc tamaki #tamaki suoh #kyoya x reader #kaoru hitachiin #ouranhighhostclub #ouran koukou host club #ouran x reader #hikaru hitachiin

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