#a final? a test? a project? a presentation? class???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pink-tea · 1 year

Text

dumb blonde

☆ pairing: choi soobin x gn! reader

☆ nsfw, 18+

☆ word count: 4.1k (this number was honestly a jumpscare when i checked)

☆ sub! soobin, blonde! soobin, college au!, soobin with glasses <3, dumb blonde soobin, dom! reader, gender neutral pronouns but reader is afab at the time of smut, slut shaming, use of the word "bunny" once or twice, use of the word "slut", praise/degradation kink, nipple play

☆ the smart blonde has kept your attention this entire semester, but it isn't until your friend, yeonjun, offers you up to tutor his friend from work that you realize that really he's just a dumb blonde

you had always thought that the blonde boy in your class had a good head on his shoulders. always in the back of the lecture hall, either staring at his laptop screen or boredly looking through the assigned pages of whatever textbook you were currently reading. always the first one to turn in tests and quizzes, you secretly admired your classmate as he left the room before anyone else.

‘he must be really smart’ you would always think to yourself before spending almost the entire class time to fill out your tests. whatever method works best though, you always got one of the top scores in the class. it felt good, but you’re sure it would’ve felt better had you been able to finish a test within the first 20 minutes and get the same grade.

you never really checked or pressed about the scores of your other classmates—really only keeping in touch with two of them anyways—but you had always been sure that the blonde (used to be black haired) boy had done good. and it stayed that way until the first semester was well on its way to being over and finals were starting to plague the student body.

“[your nameeeee],” a voice cut through your thoughts, causing you to turn around and raise a brow at your older, pink haired friend.

choi yeonjun was practically a campus heartthrob, with pretty plump lips and irresistible, charismatic charm. you were well aware of that fact all the way up to when the two of you were paired together for a project, where you had almost cost the two of you ten points for forgetting to correctly cite your evidence on a slide of your presentation. you didn’t even get to apologize, promising to finish the slide an hour before the 11:59pm due date before you were on the phone with a hissy pretty boy who had pressed all the right buttons to get the stress you had been building up to burst.

the call had ended with the two of you calmed but still bitter, silently glaring at each other’s icons on the same slide as you shared the citation work load, and with a newfound respect for each other. you walked into your lecture the next morning with choi yeonjun holding an iced cup of coffee to you, a silent peace offering. you had smiled and promised to pay for the next one, and ended up leaving the class with a newfound friendship that had many people jealous of your proximity to the otherwise nerve-wracking boy.

thus, your current predicament, sifting through an otherwise empty library with your friend as you attempted to scavenge for any research material at close to 10pm at night. yeonjun came to accompany you after originally crashing your dorm to have fun and play on your switch before realizing you actually had work to do.

“yes?” you responded mindlessly, running a finger across the lightly worn spines of the books, worn more by age than actual use.

“you’re smart,” he started, prompting you to look at him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye.

“yes, you are too,” you hummed, not mad at the praise but more concerned as to why your friend was suddenly pulling compliments out of thin air. your gut told you one thing and one thing only: he needed a favor.

“i am,” he chuckled in agreement, prompting you to snort at his show of ego. “however, you, have more free time than I do,” he pointed out, which definitely made your suspicions start to rise.

“just because you do a shit ton of modeling doesn’t mean I have more time to spare,” you shoot back, growing more concerned at the fact that this started to sound a lot like a time consuming favor. he rolls his eyes at your words, mouth opening up to most likely throw a (light hearted) insult your way before he closes it.

fuck, he definitely needed a favor if he wasn't back talking.

"just spit it out already, i know you want something," you huff, perking up at the sight of the crusty textbook you had been looking for. you reached out and grabbed it from where it was smashed between two equally crusty books. you held it in your hand and opened to the title page, wincing at the audible crackle of the spine.

you could hear the eye roll you received, but yeonjun happily took the invitation to cut to the chase.

"one of my coworkers goes here too, and he helped get me my current gig since he knows the photographer," he explained, pausing to laugh at the way you coughed when dust flew into your face after flipping the next few pages. "but the thing is, he's a little stupid," he said bluntly, causing you to chuckle.

"poor bastard," you hummed, closing the book and tucking it into the duffle bag you were carrying with you.

"extremely poor, he's gonna fail the semester if he doesn't get a good grade on his final, which is why i need you to help tutor him," your friend finally finished, causing you to pause in your tracks before sharply glaring up at him.

"an unpaid tutor? are you serious?" you hissed.

"it's just until he gets a good grade on his final! look, i promised and i can pay you back for him," he reassured, pouting at the harshness of your glare. you groaned audibly before turning and beginning to walk away, causing yeonjun to quickly start talking again. "hey, look, it could be worse! he's a total cutie, so at least you get to tutor eye candy!" he tried to persuade, causing you to let out a scoff.

"junnie, you act like i'm gonna be fucking the guy more than i'm gonna be tutoring him," you deadpanned, causing a cheshire grin to spread on the pinkette's naturally pouty lips.

"who says you can't do both?"

now you wish you had never listened to this asshole and his promise to buy you takeout whenever you wanted till you finished tutoring his friend. because yes, his friend soobin, was in fact the greatest 6'1 piece of eye candy you ever seen. but he also seemed to share the same black framed glasses and blonde hair as the boy you had been fixated on for the past semester.

"ah," you let the sound slip past your mouth before you could even register it. probably less than a few centimeters away from knocking his head into your doorway stood the model your friend had been talking about. surprise not surprise, he was most definitely the guy from your class.

it took a few more seconds of gawking and the guy doing his best not to look too uncomfortable under your stare for you to snap out of it. "you're choi soobin?" you asked, tilting your head. he nodded hesitantly in response.

"[your name] [last name]," you introduced, watching almost in a trance as a shy smile crawled onto his lips.

"i know," he responded, causing your eyes to widen and your heart to flutter at his boldness. he seemed to catch on to what his words might sound like, eyes quickly widening in panic. "y-yeonjun! he's mentioned you before!" he added, ears burning.

you stared a second longer before smiling, stepping aside to let him into your dorm. "only good things i hope, but knowing yeonjun that probably isn't the case," you joked, watching soobin as he chuckled at your remark and stepped in. you couldn't help but just watch.

god he was cute...

...but damn did studying suck!

after an hour of what felt like running in a circle trying to teach this boy simple concepts that he should've learned like two years ago, you soon found yourself growing frustrated. sighing irritably in a way that had soobin flinching, you tried to put down your erasable pen as gently as you could without slamming it down onto your desk.

"if you're struggling this much with the current coursework, how the actual fuck have you been turning in your shit so quickly in class?" you huffed, patience already thin enough to where you were openly swearing to someone who was practically a stranger.

soobin visibly flinched this time, lips twisting into a sort of grimace/pout as his fingers wrung together. "i usually just guess...most of the homeworks and partner projects lift up my grade," he admits guiltily, quickly shattering whatever ideals you used to have of him in just one sentence/study session.

you laugh in disbelief, looking over his guilty expression as he sits in one of your spare chairs. "so what, you let people carry you through your classes and projects just cause they think you're pretty?" you shoot, soobin's eyes quickly flickering up at you through his lenses.

"what? don't tell me you think people actually help you cause they're nice," you ask in shock, the blonde shaking his head as his gaze drops back down to his lap.

"no, it's just, i didn't think you thought i was pretty too," he admitted softly, making your eyebrows almost shoot up past your hair line. ain't no fucking way.

"seeing that you can't even get 4 questions right, you've gotta be pretty for how much of a dumb blonde you are," you immediately scold, testing the waters to see if you're getting the right signals. soobin seems to shrink even more in his seat, fists curled in his lap as he lets his head drop along with his gaze. the angle lets you observe the soft red beginning to dust the tip of his ears.

"m' sorry," he whispers, the motion of his thighs squeezing together doesn't go unnoticed by you. in a bold move, you slide into his space, forcing your knee in between his and drinking in the startled mewl that rips from his throat at the aggressive motion. he looks up at you again, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

his lips are parted, you swear you can see them tremble a little bit and you don't fight any of your previous urges to touch the pathetic boy. smiling at his state, you press your thumb into his bottom lip, grabbing and tilting his chin up in the process. he gasps, letting his mouth drop open to let your thumb slide on top of his tongue.

it's wet and you bet it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for saliva to start dripping down your knuckle. pressing down on the pink muscle, you tilt your head down at soobin's slightly hunched figure. "you said you're sorry?" you ask, pressing your thumb down so hard that soobin almost has to fight the urge to swallow around it.

instead he nods hesitantly, eyes wide and watery as his glasses start to slip down the pretty bridge of his nose. you almost grin at the action, watching the saliva finally side down soobin's pink lips. removing your thumb, you take the drenched digit and wipe it across his cheek, pressing it hard enough against his skin for his head to turn a little.

he only has the time to close his mouth and swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth before he yelps at the sudden feeling of your hand in his dyed hair. soobin watches your smile turn into something cruel, feels his dick get harder in his suddenly too-tight jeans when he realizes you must think he looks completely at your mercy like this.

"do you even need these?" you huff, reaching to swipe his glasses off his face, making him flinch as you dangle them between your fingers. "i bet they're just for show huh, doing your best to not let anyone know how much of a stupid bunny you are," you accuse.

soobin's mouth opens like he's about to defend himself before it closes and his head droops in your hold, face burning brighter. "t-they're just for looks," he admits, the fact more humiliating than it should be. he should defend himself, bring up the fact that tons of people use non-prescription lenses for fashion, but his mind is still reeling from getting called a stupid bunny.

you do nothing to help, only giving him a short and disbelieving laugh before you're yanking his head back up to look at you. "hey," you call out for his attention, locking your gaze with his in a way that makes him want to squirm. "hurry up and get on the bed if you're really sorry for wasting my time," you say, tossing soobin's glasses to some unknown corner of your room as the gears turn in his head.

he's still frozen to his chair even after you release his hair from your hold, and you harshly nudge his growing bulge with the knee stuck between his legs. the impact makes him fight back a groan as he yolts, looking up at your glare with unmistakable puppy eyes.

"come on," you rush, watching as soobin immediately snaps back into reality and starts to stumble over himself to get up and on the bed. you want to coo at his eagerness, but suddenly grab his wrist as he begins to walk over to your mattress on wobbly legs.

"get naked first," you instruct, releasing your hold on his wrist. "and do it slow, right here," you hum, leaning back into your chair as you watch soobin's face grow pink in humiliation.

"like a strip tease?" he asks barely above a mumble, obviously mortified at the idea.

you laugh at his quivering voice, smiling and nodding eagerly. "mhm," you confirm, taking in his shifty nature and downcast eyes. "don't tell me you've never done one before," you accuse, suddenly looking at him through squinted eyes.

he quickly shakes his head, shaky fingers reaching up to grasp at the ends of hoodie. he keeps them there for a few beats before looking back up at you, hesitant. "s-slowly?" he asks.

this time you can't help but coo, fawning over how shy yet eager to please he is. "slowly," you nod.

soobin gulps before slowly beginning to take the gray piece of clothing off, revealing a delicious stomach that was lean yet slightly toned. as a model, obviously he'd have a pretty face and nice figure. your fingers twitch at your side as he starts to slowly uncover more of his torso, horribly aware of the daggers your stare is burying into his skin.

it's only when the end of the hoodie starts to slip over his nipples that you feel your initial plan to have himself strip crumble. you needed him under your fingers, in your mouth, gasping on your tongue. you stand up and start to close the small distance between you two, making him flinch and start to lower the fabric in his hands.

roughly, you grab the end of hoodie and tug it up past his nipples, making him gasp. holding it to his mouth, it only takes your voice to snap soobin out of his initial confusion. "hold this," you demand, looking at him with a look so predatory he can do nothing but swallow his saliva and close his pretty lips over it.

"good boy," you hum, now using both your hands to trail up from his v-line to his stomach. "knows just what to do, doesn't he?" you ask, raking your fingernails over the sensitive skin of his stomach as he looks down at you.

your gaze flickers up to meet his.

"answer."

soobin nods sporadically, catching the way his mind begins to slip as you fingers trail higher to his hardened nipples. you smile and the boy can only watch as you place your thumbs on your tongue one by one, slicking them up with saliva before putting the pressure on the pink buds. he jolts at both the feeling and the temperature, the saliva immediately catching on the blowing a.c. in your room.

he lets out a muffled moan at the feeling of your thumbs slowly rolling over his nipples, almost releasing the hoodie in his mouth when you add your mouth to kiss between the valley of his pecs. your sweet butterfly kisses trail lower and lower, your hands following down the minimal curves of his side as you go.

it's at this point that soobin realizes he doesn't know what the fuck to do with his hands, keeping them clenched tight next to him as he tries to refrain from touching you. he can't, however, restrain the full body jolt and muffled cry he releases as your lips press nicely against the hardened bulge within his jeans.

you take your fingers to unbutton them and pull down the zipper, the denim falling to the floor around him as you eye the obvious stain of precum against his calvin klein boxers. you don't give him any warning, almost causing him to cry out again as your hand slips into his underwear to tug his weeping cock out.

he's shaking by now, doing his best to hold himself up on wobbly legs as you lazily pump his erection. "pretty," you comment, admiring the flushed pink tip. "i guess everything about you is pretty," you comment off-handedly, making soobin's ears flush red before he throws his head back in pleasured agony.

harshly, you suck on the flushed tip, licking over the head to clean the precum seeping through his slit. you know he's fully expecting a blow job at this point, but with this you get off him with a cute 'pop' and tug his boxers down to meet his jeans.

standing up, you yank the sopping fabric out of his mouth, tugging the hoodie over his head and through his arms while all he can do is follow your movements. his last piece of clothing drops to the ground, and you give a happy hum as you look him over. pretty.

"bed," you say, and soon you have the 6'1 blonde laying down flat on your sheets as you look down at him.

you'd like to give him a strip tease in return, but the sight of him is so delicious that it gives you the patience of a starved man. soobin doesn't seem to mind, however, hazy eyes following your every move as you remove your clothes. when you get to your underwear, you pause at the thought of shoving them into his mouth as you ruin him.

one look at his pouted lips changes your mind; you want to hear every sound he makes.

"where do you want me?" you ask him, patiently waiting through the four seconds it takes him to form a response.

"on top," he admits finally, his fingers now finding themselves tangling in your now wrinkled sheets.

"on top?" you ask, taking your time as settle your naked figure on top of him. only, you settle just a few centimeters short of his chest, making him whine in protest. the weight of your body on him feels so good that he almost forgets to breathe, but this isn't what he asked for.

"what?" you ask, cupping his face as his lips twist into a clearly displeased frown. "is this not where you want me?" you tilt your head in curiosity, but your eyes clearly show how much you're enjoying it.

"i want- i want you lower," he confesses, brows furrowed and hands twitching as he fights the urge to grip your waist and slide you onto his cock himself. but soobin isn't a bad boy. he's your pretty little blonde angel and he knows better than to make you mad.

"lower?" you hum, making soobin's head drop onto the sheets underneath him as you slide your wet pussy down his chest and onto his abs. he can feel everything. he can feel you throbbing on top of him, but one look at your collected face makes him almost cry in frustration. you know where he wants you, you want him there too, but you're just being so so mean.

"[your name]," he nearly begs, eyes watering up as you look at him through your lashes.

"what's wrong now, tell me," you hush, sliding your hands down from his face in order to roll his pink nipples under your thumb once more, causing him to jolt underneath you. so cute, so sensitive. "tell me what you want," you urge, and soobin knows he has to be specific.

"i want you on my cock, please," he sobs, curling his fists tighter around your bed sheets. you smile down at him, feeling the words go straight to your clit. you know he can feel it too.

"how bad do you want it?" you ask finally, taking in soobin's borderline heartbroken expression at the question. but you're pleasantly surprised at the tears that start to slip down his cheeks.

"please please please, i want it! i need you around me, please!" he sobs, his puppy eyes going into full affect as he lightly thrashes in his attempt to lean up to get closer to you.

you stay silent for a few moments, eyes taking in the sight before you shrug. "can't say no to that, now can i?" you wonder aloud, finally grabbing his pulsing dick and sliding down on top.

you both groan at the same time, and when soobin shuts his eyes, you notice the stars in his eyes once he opens them back up.

you set a sweet pace, rolling your hips against his pelvis to get the both of you used to the feeling. you sigh in content, feeling pleasantly stuffed as you press your hands down on his chest for leverage.

"my dumb little blonde takes pussy so well," you coo, feeling soobin's hips stutter under you at the praise. "i bet he gets all his experience from letting any tutor fuck his dumb brain right," you add on, feeling his dick twitch inside your walls as he pouts.

"i d-don't let my tutors f-fuck me," he whines, rolling his head to the side as you start to properly bounce on him.

"oh yeah? am i not your tutor?" you ask, making him glance back up at you. "don't lie about being a slut, you're so fucking good at it, bunny," you scold, grabbing his chin to make him turn to you once more. there's more tears gathering in his glossy eyes.

"i'm not lying," he insists meekly, letting out a loud moan as you slam your hips down onto him and start to go at a painstakingly slow yet firm pace.

"you're gonna start telling me what i know and don't know now?" you question, tilting your head to the side as you keep eye contact. "last time i checked, my dumb slut doesn't know shit," you spat, pulling a whimper from soobin. "needs to fuck every one of his tutors so that they don't slap him silly for being so stupid," you continue, making him sob as the insults go straight to the dick he has buried inside your cunt.

"do you wanna get slapped, huh?" you ask him, taking the hand on his face to lightly tap at his tear-stained cheek. "i know you like getting told how dumb you are, can feel it inside of me," you remind him, making him let out a small 'n-no' as he turns his head away from your hand.

"of course not," you tsk. "you just want to waste my time and have me put you back into your place," you don't expect your words to have the effect they do, but soon you feel soobin's hands on your hips as he tries to lean up to you again.

"m' sorry, i'm sorry for being dumb," he cries, looking oh so cute as he begs for your forgiveness. you can't excuse bad behavior, though, snatching his wrist and pinning them over his head with one hand. you lean forward more, placing your other hand right next to his head to keep you steady.

"can't accept your apology if you're forgetting to keep your hands to yourself," you comment coldly.

"s-sorry," he whispers, shrinking into your mattress.

"wanna know how to make it up to me?" you ask, watching him quickly nod. he's dumb, he's sensitive and emotional, but if he's not the cutest sub--oh so eager to please--you don't know what he is.

"come inside, show me just how much i can fuck you dumb when i make you come over and over again," you explain, soobin's eyes going wide at the vulgarity. his dick aches painfully inside your tight cunt, wanting to fill it up with his orgasm however many times you want him to.

#sub idol #sub soobin #sub txt #dom reader #dom! reader #tomorrow x together #soobin x reader #soobin smut

971 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 11 months

Text

PETER PARKER | SPIDER-MAN (tasm)

────────────────────

──��─────────────────

“Break” (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader)

| You visit Pete to let off some stress and to get out of your own head. He’s more than happy for the distraction.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, cockwarming, oral (male receiving), spacing out, in a zoom meeting

| Picture source: Spider-Man: No Way Home (left) and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (right)

| 1k+ words

You close your laptop only a little harshly, finally done with your work for the day. Now, you could read or do something else to decompress and rest your eyes from the strain of your computer screen, but something is pushing you towards your boyfriend in specific.

You know that - in a shocking twist of events - he’s working on a group project for one of his classes before the deadline and whilst not under threat of death, so you haven’t seen him in a few hours. He’s never rejected your presence as long as you weren’t disruptive though, so? You shrug and walk off towards his room. No harm in testing it out. You feel the tiniest bit deprived of your Peter and you want to give your mind a break anyway.

When you poke your head around the bedroom door he turns to you languidly, no startling and no obvious irritation on his face. Considering he likely heard you traveling towards him you’d take all that as a good sign. You nod to yourself and walk in, carefully clicking the door shut.

He taps his pen absentmindedly against the scarcely filled notebook by his hands.

“What’s up?” his voice is soft and he gives you his usual bright utterly smitten smile that makes you want to die (in a good way). “Class go well?”

You smile just as sappily back at him and revel in the way it makes him soften even more.

“It was alright.” You incline your head as he chuckles. “I could use some of your company though. You know, if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Ooof - I don’t know? My schedule’s pretty packed. I’ll have to check with my assistant to see if there’s any way I can move some things around.” He takes a second to unmute to declare he’s still present, apparently on hold because of complications on somebody else’s end. He beckons you over right afterwards though, grinning. “Well lucky you, Pretty Girl, it seems like I can squeeze you in. You have something to do?”

You shrug, leaning against the door.

“I have four hours to waste, which means I have four hours to relax. If you wanna fuck around some?”

His eyes widen briefly before he starts hurriedly moving things around.

“Oh,” he breathes. He knows exactly how you like to fuck around when your stressed. “Like right now, you mean? Cause I uhh-”

The moment you slip off your shorts Peter’s tongue catches. All he can do after that is look at you wide eyed for the entire time it takes you to cross the room to his desk. He only snaps out of it when you’re kneeling in front of him and running your hands up his thighs.

He makes a choked noise, hand jerking up to cover his mike and pull it away from his mouth even with it already being off. He scrambles to click his camera off a second later too.

“Are you sure?”

He whispers it like a kid with an especially juicy secret about stuff that was only really drama to people below the age of twelve, and you laugh, shrugging.

“I mean if you’re sure then yeah. You’re the one who’s on call right now.” Your lips purse after that as a thought strikes you and you shake your head.

Honestly, that was pretty sound reasoning to not keep going so you switch gears, standing and starting to move for the living room again.

“Or maybe we shouldn’t. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve seen you sit down to work with those people since the semester started,” you throw over your shoulder.

Peter’s chair squeaks as he pushes it back.

“No no no, get your pretty self back here.”

The telltale thwip of his web-shooters sounds a moment before webbing hits your side and you’re being spun around. The yelp you let out turns quickly into laughter as Peter comes back into view while reeling you in.

“That’s not a very responsible use of your powers, Spider.”

Peter grins, arms circling your lower half, and you wrap your hands around his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Oh really? You know what I think is irresponsible?”

“What?” you mock softly.

Peter chuckles and the hands on your hips squeeze, pulling you even closer. Pressed flush together he places a short kiss to your lips and you can’t not let out a tiny sigh at that.

“You being a tease when you know I can’t get enough of you.” Peter leans in and kisses you a little longer this time. When he pulls back away his eyes are twinkling and his pupils are a little blown, “Please can you get back on your knees for me? I mean you’ve got your pants off and everything, it'd be a real shame to waste that.”

“A shame. Really?”

Peter nods fully serious at your dubious tone.

“Yeah, worth shedding a few tears over. You want me to cry in front of all these people, Pretty Girl? Cause I will.”

That, that overdramatic lilt to his voice, has you rolling your eyes and sucking your teeth. “Just hurry up and sit down - but know I'm not taking any crap for how low your group participation rating is gonna be.”

Peter’s smile is blinding, “Totally fair,” he nods. A second later he swoops in to kiss you some more, leading you back to his desk without coming up for air and then darting around to move all his stuff around to make room for you.

“Give me a second to finish this module then I’m all yours, K?”

His voice is rushed as he’s looking at you with obvious interest and you nod, you could wait a few extra minutes. Especially considering that you could act annoyed with him all you wanted, but at the end of the day this had been your idea first; he was accommodating you.

You kneel on the carpeted floor, hidden under the desk you’d gifted him after riding the subway with it balanced on your head.

When you’re settled down there you wait maybe five minutes for him to say a portion of his piece before deciding it’d be way more fun to fuck with him a little. You smile up at him, making sure to catch the panic that flashes across his face, before leaning in and ghosting the tip of your nose over where you know his cock is hiding in his shorts.

You make eye contact, “Can I?”

Peter’s leg jumps and the rest of his sentence comes out in a rushed choked up jumble.

That soft needy question you pose is apparently all the incentive he needed to let you start before he’s finished presenting though because in a second he’s reaching his hand back for one of his pillows and dropping it down for you to kneel on. You do so with a small chuckle and a “thank you.”

He’s trembling and giving you the most eager looks in between participating, voice mainly only keeping steady because you’ve stopped trying to distract him. Now you just want him in your mouth, no mischief needed. Though he is still fidgeting; partially because he knows if the inclination struck you you could easily embarrass the hell out of him. All that vigilante shit be damned Spider-man may be ingurigable but Peter’s greatest weakness was you.

You laugh and move to pull his pants down his thighs with his assistance. Once he’s free to your satisfaction you brush the lightest kiss to his happy trail. He sighs, meeting your gaze intermittently as he talks through his turns. In response you trail featherlight kisses down to his cock, which is steadily hardening for your consideration, kiss at his base and then travel down to lick over his balls.

His voice stutters harshly over his next sentence and you smile before pulling away. He gives you this aggrieved desperate look, making as if he’s about to start complaining you, but you wave him off.

“Easy baby,” you mouth right before making him gasp by kissing his tip and then wrapping your lips around his head.

You keep your pace easygoing as Peter stutters and stops over his words; as he trembles against you, dick twitching while you slowly engulf him.

You wring your first moan out of him when you’ve gotten him all the way down your throat, mind steadily blanking on anything other than the weight of him on your tongue and the slight twinge in your jaw, when the back of your throat swallows over his head and you hum happily.

His head drops down and his hand clumsily snaps out to mute his microphone.

“O-oh, oh my god. It’s like you’re trying to kill me -fuck,” he groans.

You barely hear him, have no clue that when he moaned that he nearly did it for everyone to hear. You're just losing yourself in the sensations. The way he pulses in your mouth, the occasional twitch as he struggles not to fuck into your throat, how your jaw feels, the stretch of your lips, and then the drool running clear like polished glass down your chin and dripping onto Peter’s balls.

You sigh, going limp against him when his hand moves to your head. He burrows his fingers into your thick curls to get a firm grip but doesn’t do anything else. You swallow around his cock again in thanks, only in tune with the way it makes him shift against you. In the strangled noise he makes. The fact he’s on call isn’t even a factor any more; just his pleasure and how he feels in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut happily as he scratches blunt nails against your scalp.

“God baby,” he gasps and you whine just the tiniest bit, pussy twinging between your legs. Your hands don’t move from their position in your lap though.

Peter’s got you. The thought echoes in your mind nicely as you hand over control. You don’t have to worry about anything else but him.

- - -

Peter curses above your head, completely unregistered by you, and then rushes to get himself excused. You’re making him feel very good and for that you deserve all his attention - and boy does he want to give it. Plus, you dropped so fast that he’s a bit worried about you; it typically took way more coaxing from him to get you so completely out of your own head like this.

He’s extra careful with his movements as he logs off and shuts down his setup, but eyes draw fully to you once he’s done and don’t leave. You were too pretty like this, face relaxed like it only ever was in sleep with your lips stretched to accommodate his girth.

He brushes his free hand over your face when he shifts too much for your liking and you let out an utterly disparaging whine.

“Shh, Pretty Girl, it’s alright. You’re doing so good for me, you know that? I’ve got you I promise,” he grinds forward the smallest bit, moaning when you squeeze down. “So so good.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I plan on posting spider-verse fics soon but since I’ve been working on this TASM!Spidey one I decided to go ahead and post it first.

Mind any inconsistencies/typos pls! I’ll get to them eventually.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

731 notes · View notes

vickyyoon · 4 months

Text

Professor Lee Know

Genre : smut

Paring : professor! Lee know x fem!reader

Synopsis : after failing your midterms your professor decided to help you for the finals.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), breeding kink etc.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Your Professor wasn't always too light hearted, you recognized him as strict and cold, always every formal and reserved but every time this man came into the lecture room, everyone turns silent and their heads turn, all the girls and boys.

He always had an attractive physique and an ungodly face, he was undeniably handsome, his arms were bulky, his shoulders were broad and sharp, you could see the bulging veins in his arms, his fingers were long and pretty with a pinkish taint in the knuckles.

He was head to toe built by God himself. You on the other hand was a hard working student only who tried her best to just pass university but your professor said otherwise,

He seemed to always be dissatisfied with your projects, presentations and answers. He was rough with everyone but especially you. No matter how hard you tried he always found a reason to hate your work.

" you went off topic. It's not even that hard. How are you topping every other subject?"

Your pride was humbled every time when you stood in front of the class to present.

This mid terms you seemed to piss him off more, he did seem patient but when he opened his mouth, he would humiliate you so much that everytime you would end up running out of the hall in tears. You just can't find your mistake.

" Maybe you should visit my dorm and I can show you what you can fix." he stated staring at your humiliated and tear stained face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Here you were in front of his dorm room at 9:00pm an hour late because you were completing assignments for another subject.

You knock at the door tired, and your professor opened the door. He was surprised to actually see you here.

" I thought you wouldn't come." he let you inside. He was in his office uniform ; white shirt and black jeans. He looked sweaty and tired from work.

You entered his room, it smelled like him, that powerful cologne and soft yet grunge smell voiding the air. You turn your head when you hear the door click behind you.

He was only centimeters away from you, you could make out the outline of his muscles from his drenched white shirt and the tension filled the air.

You were so stunned you froze, your tired eyes jolting wide open as you look up at him. " what are you doing?"

Seconds later there you were on your knees, your mouth latched on to his cock as he sat in the edge of his bed, half naked with his boxers and pants gone.

His hand pushing your head up and down on his cock. " I knew you wanted me to fuck you." he groaned as you licked his slit

" you would never pass if you didn't come here tonight." he chuckled at himself as you choked on a moan. He admitted you had the best projects, presentations and test results but he only wanted to see how you cried.

He pushed your head faster making you gag hard around his cock, " The truth is, your only way to pass is this! So take that cock well you slut." your face turned red at that name he gave you.

When you licked his tip, his entire torso was shaking as he immediately pulled out cumming all over your face and inside your mouth asking you to swallow it.

He's never had any orgasm as great as this, you didn't do anything special but here he cumming his hardest when all you did was lick his tip.

" Don't you think you should work a little harder to pass the next exam?" he stared at you as you were about to leave, still leaning on the edge of his bed smirking at you as you looked at him stunned, with wide eyes.

He was already dazed leaning back on his elbows and whimpering after the wave of euphoria. His eyes looked at you through his half-lidded lust filled eyes, he got up and gave you a towel to wipe his cum off of your face.

The next thing you knew your bags and clothes were scattered in the floor in a pile of his and your legs were spread open for him to see what ached there.

" you would do it for free princess, I just know it, even if it weren't for the exam, I know you would be at my doorstep because I gave you a chance." he belittled you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feels his breathe push against your leaking core. So wet it's already dripping onto his sheets and soaking it.

And with just the slightest of taste he craved for more. " Shit. Could've missed out in this if I didn't ask you to come here." he whispered to himself but you heard it.

He licked a fat stripe top to bottom of your core before slowly inserting his tongue inside, and directly stared at you with a mischievous evil grin. As you let out huffs and soft whines.

And just in seconds you came down with a mind blowing orgasm and stuffed his face, he lapped up all your juices like a hungry mad-man.

" it would be shameful if I asked you to come to my office and someone saw us." he got up. Placing your dazed off body on it's belly with your pretty head on a pillow that was him-scented. He lifts your hips up and rubs his tip against your entrance.

" Don't you want it? If you don't want it tell me, I won't cut your earned marks." he said smirking.

" w-want... I Want it, please fill me up with your babies." you babble in your post-orgasm state.

He smirked already knowing what you'd say even before asking that dumb question but only said it wanting to hear you beg. But he was genuinely shocked to hear that from you. Breeding kink

" Then take my cock in like a good slut." you whined as the huge stretch took you by surprise.

" S-so big s-so good." you moaned. " I'm your good girl, your baby girl." you babled, if you heard what you said you would die out of embarrassment.

" Good girl? But good girls don't come to their professor's dorm... An hour late."

He started to start off with a crazy pace. Knocking you up like he's been craving for this for years. Not caring if it was hurting you or not.

He's losing his mind at how tight it is. " who taught you to take this big cock? How are you still breathing?" he groaned feeling you quiver under him.

But you've never had any dick bigger than his, it was your first time taking such a big dick and you too wondered how you were still functioning.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as drool slipped and soaked his pillow, it felt so good. What turned you on even more is that he was your professor.

He leaned over your back and moved the hair to the side and sucked the skin behind your ear, a tingling feeling made you much more closer to your orgasm than before.

The soft grunts and vibrating hums and moans sounding in your ear that slipped past his parted lips almost had you falling flat on your stomach.

" It feels good doesnt it? You don't know how much I wanted you but youre too blind." he whispered in your ear.

" H-how could I? There so many girls who want Y-you, Y-you always humiliate me like Y-you hate me, fuck I thought you hated me. D-do you know how much time I've spent crying over Y-you?"

His face changed feeling a bit bad and guilty for you.

" well I'm sorry, I didn't think it would hurt you that bad. But how would I have the chance to ask you to come to my dorm room if you were a good student ?" he was right if you didn't do bad how would you end up being here?

He thrusted even faster his hips faltering, it hit you so good, he touched all your g-spots with every thrust, he could tell you were close by the way you were babbling and moaning his name so much and so loudly.

" shh don't want to wake the others up do we? You could always come to me if you need to pass any exam." he whispered in your ear as you came so hard.

You had the hardest orgasm of your life. The feeling was too much to handle. It was probably the thought of your professor fucking you dumb for you to pass an exam.

He kept on thrusting and Chased his high, his pace was sloppy but still so fast and there he was filling you up to the brim, balls deep inside your cunt, he came so hard just because he fucked you, he always had the best orgasms and came the hardest thinking about you.

He was shaking, he was more fucked out than you. He spent 20 minutes in subspace before he got up to clean you.

" come on I'll drive you home tonight." he checked his watch and put your pants on.

#kpop #skz lee know #Lee know smut #Skz smut #lee know x reader #Lee know x y/n #straykids lee know #Smut #Straykids #Straykids smut #Lee Minho smut #Lee minho

341 notes · View notes

crabdrabbles · 3 months

Note

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them.

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers.

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction.

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you.

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you.

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’.

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough.

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying.

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course.

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price.

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141.

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade.

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend.

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough?

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation.

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality.

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status.

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them.

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs.

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company.

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you.

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name.

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team.

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–”

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect.

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now.

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain.

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you.

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.”

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered.

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.”

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

have a request? send one in!

#modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 3 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #platonic task force 141 #platonic task force 141 & reader

91 notes · View notes

catslvrr · 6 months

Text

one too many years

kim minji x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Minji comes back into your life after 3 years and asks you to take her on a drive, for old time’s sake. There’s a lot of feelings involved.

Contains: cursing

Playlist

You were fourteen when you first met Minji.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You had seen her around, since you practically shared all the same classes, but never had the chance to interact one-on-one. She was merely a passing thought — that pretty girl who sat in the top ranks alongside you.

It was when the two of you had been paired up for a science project — something about a presentation on the digestive system, that you finally got to know each other. But not necessarily in a good way. You didn’t leave the best first impression after the first conversation.

You weren’t a hardworking person. But you weren’t stupid either. Growing up, you were used to being one of the smartest in the room. Teachers would always praise you for being naturally intelligent and academically gifted. You would do the bare minimum, leaving everything to the last minute, and yet always somehow end up with almost perfect scores.

You grew complacent, cruising through school with no worries in the world. So when you first started working with Minji, and she rambled on about meetups and splitting tasks and deadlines, you couldn’t help but internally scoff.

Minji pulled you out of your thoughts with a tap on the arm. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” You reflexively closed the MonkeyType tab.

“I asked what parts you wanted to cover,” she narrowed her eyes at you.

“Oh,” you waved dismissively. “Just give me what you don’t wanna do, and I’ll send you the stuff the day before it’s due.”

“What?” Minji scowled. “That’s way too late. I won’t even have time to proofread it and make the presentation pretty.”

“Two days?” You suggested with a half-smile.

She ran her fingers through her hair as she let out a sigh. “Three.”

“Okay, boss!” You grinned, opening up MonkeyType again and aggressively typing away, trying to beat your WPM record. “Done deal.”

Minji stared at you for a few seconds longer before huffing and turning to her laptop, starting her research.

(The two of you passed with flying colors, to no one’s surprise (except Minji’s), and that was when any grudges that Minji held against you flew out the window. Because if there was one thing Minji cared about, it was her grades.)

And that was how the two of you officially forged your friendship — Minji would always force you to be partners for any collaborative projects that came up, and you didn’t have anyone else to partner up with anyway.

You slumped back in your chair and balanced yourself on its hind legs, looking around the room in boredom. Everyone else seemed to be actually doing their work. Something about researching a famous author.

“Hey,” you bumped Minji’s knee with yours under the table.

She ignored you for a few minutes until she couldn’t stand the constant nudging. She stomped her foot on yours.

“Fuck!”

“What do you want?” She hissed under her breath.

“What’re you doing?” You leaned towards her, obnoxiously peering over her shoulder to scan the document she had opened. It was a bunch of gibberish, to you anyway, but it had a nice color coding system at least.

“Researching Sylvia Plath,” she muttered. “Something that you should also be doing right now.”

“You know I’ll get it done,” you smiled cheekily, casually draping your arm on her chair.

Minji chose not to reply. You watched her type up an analysis of one of Plath’s texts, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your foot.

“…Have you ever tested your words per minute?”

She gave you a side-eye. “What’s that?”

You bit back a smile. You knew how competitive she was. “It’s just a measure of how fast you can type. Think the average is around 80 or something.”

You could practically see her ears perk up at the word ‘average’.

“Is that what you do every lesson?”

“Most of the time. Or I’m playing Octagon.”

“Am I meant to know what Octagon is?”

“I’ll introduce it to you next time.” You shifted Minji’s chair closer to yours and dragged your laptop to her. “Here, try it out. You just have to type the words on the screen for 15 seconds straight. The words are random.”

“Is that it?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

You nodded. “You can type whenever. The timer starts as soon as you type.”

You watched as she began furiously typing, almost poking holes through the keys. Your eyes flitted around the room, checking to see if anyone noticed Minji assaulting her keyboard.

“Damn,” you whistled as the final score showed up. “Not bad.”

“100 and it’s my first time,” Minji proudly beamed and cracked her knuckles. “I’m above average.”

“Alright, relax,” you laughed softly. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, hotshot.”

“What’s your record?” She eyed you suspiciously.

You tried to hide your smirk as you shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing much. Just a measly 160.”

“What?” Her face dropped. “No way.”

“Yes way,” you nodded smugly. You successfully set the bait, now all you needed to do is reel it in. “There’s actually a website where we can ‘race’ against each other.”

Minji opened a new tab and swiveled her laptop in your direction, a doubtful look on her face. You smiled victoriously as you clicked your way to TypeRacer. Caught her.

The two of you spent the rest of the lesson racing against each other, Minji grumbling every time she lost (which was every round).

It was something else — watching Minji slowly unravel and open up to you. When you were expecting her to start homework early in class, she would ask you to get on TypeRacer instead. The two of you spent time playing other games too: Lavaboy and Watergirl, Tetris, Cool Math Games, and Octagon, of course.

Unfortunately, you still had to do work. There was an unspoken compromise that you could only get her to play games after you had finished the assigned work, so you actually ended up not procrastinating and finishing everything early for once (and in record time, too).

Becoming friends with Minji was easy. Seeing each other every day, you naturally grew closer and talked about everything under the sun. And eventually the two of you became inseparable. The two of you became known to be attached to the hip, never one without the other. You were proud of this, proud to be associated with such a good person, and you hoped Minji felt the same.

(Internally, you were surprised that Minji would choose to continue being friends with you outside of classes. There were better classmates out there. Regardless, you were grateful for the opportunity.)

You grew up together. You were there when she broke down in the bathroom after her speech on climate change because she thought she bombed it (she didn’t). You were there when she discovered the Harvard Reference Generator for the first time (she had written bibliographies by hand before this, which was absolutely mind-boggling to you).

Likewise, she was there when you were panicking at 5am because you hadn’t finished your history research paper on the Indo-China war that was due in two hours. She was there when you accidentally fell asleep in the library and almost missed the next class.

There was no better person to call a best friend. So it wasn’t much of a surprise that falling in love with Minji was even easier. There was no dramatic realization, no lightbulb moment where you suddenly stopped in your tracks and felt the world flip on your head as you thought Fuck, I like Minji.

It was quieter, creeping up on you, as if it was always there. As if it had already been written in fate. You do remember the first time you consciously admitted it though, cementing it in your heart.

Both of you were 15 by then. It was a languid Tuesday afternoon, and you were doodling random shapes as the teacher droned on about erosion and longshore drift. You lazily smiled as you observed Minji — the sharp slope of her nose, the crinkle in between her eyebrows, her tongue slightly poking out as she diligently wrote down notes.

Feeling your gaze on her, Minji turned to you and quirked her eyebrow, nudging you as she wrote ‘What are you staring at?’ on the margin of her notes. You shrugged innocently and looked away with a smile and burning ears.

She’s pretty, you thought. I like her.

Young love — it was naive and innocent. You would do stupid things to get Minji’s attention, like leaving your collar messy or ruffling your hair just so she would fix it. You remember making playlists with her in mind so you could zone out and daydream about her. You cherished these moments. You weren’t one to want, but you wanted Minji.

To you, Minji was the highlight of your high school experience. From sharing Airpods in class and queuing airhorn sounds to watch her jump in her seat when it blasted out of nowhere, to inviting yourself to her Google documents so that you could change the font to be unreadable and the color to a blinding neon pink, to receiving her Airdrops of cute puppy photos, to accidentally downloading viruses from trying to watch anime on illegal streaming websites, to taking Photobooth pictures of each other sleeping.

And this was enough for you. Habits were hard to break, and your longstanding tendency of procrastinating didn’t appear out of nowhere. It was rooted deeply in the fear of failure — you were so used to being good at everything on your first try, or without having to try at all, that you were scared that if you did try, and failed, people’s perception of you would change.

So procrastination was a way for you to control this fear; it provided a scapegoat, for if you ever failed, you could blame it on a lack of time rather than your own shortcomings.

This fear translated to your feelings for Minji too. You had never liked anyone else before, and you were terrified of failure, the unknown possibilities that came with confessing. You would rather swallow down your feelings and bury them deep within your chest than have to face rejection and lose your best friend.

(And it wasn’t like you thought you had a chance either. She had always been the smarter one, the kinder one, the more responsible one out of the two of you.)

And so you let the feelings fester in silence, all the way up to graduation. It wasn’t easy to hide your feelings, but it wasn’t hard either. You resorted to teasing Minji like you always did, and seeing her happy was enough. She stayed focused on her studies and continued to excel in all her classes.

Your job was just to be there for her, to be the one to help her relax and find respite from studying.

You were both 18 when you graduated high school. Minji was going away for university, somewhere far away where you couldn’t follow. You weren’t shocked — you always knew Minji was greater than this place. That’s how it always was in your head: she would go on to find success while you stayed behind in the shadows, cheering her on.

You had a plethora of things to thank Minji for. She never let you fall behind. Even if her kicks on your shin left bruises, at least it got you to stop playing Minecraft on your laptop and attempt to be productive.

It was embarrassing to admit that one of your biggest motivations to study and try was to be considered worthy as Minji’s friend. Not that you would admit it to anyone. You made it to graduation, and that’s what mattered.

You never liked saying goodbye to Minji, but you knew she would do well wherever she went. This goodbye wasn’t like the others, where you knew you could go to sleep with the promise that the two of you would meet at the school gates the next day.

It was more definitive.

You let out a long exhale as you leaned against the school gate, waiting for Minji to finish speaking to teachers, friends, and family who were congratulating her.

You watched as students filed out, chatting animatedly and taking photos together. You probably weren’t going to remember any of them. You plopped a lollipop in your mouth. It was strawberry-flavored, just how Minji liked it.

You smiled as you saw Minji coming out.

“Hey, Miss Popular,” you teased. “Done greeting all your fans?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are we going to get ice cream?”

“Yeah,” you pushed yourself off the gate and started walking to your car. “I thought that ceremony was never going to end. Tell me why every speaker kept yapping on and on.”

“Right,” she groaned. “I was trying my hardest not to fall asleep.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while before Minji broke it. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “The same, I guess. How about you?”

“Scared,” she admitted. “University seems like such a big change.”

“Yeah,” you said. You had been trying not to think about it. “You’ll be leaving in a few weeks, right?”

She bit her lip as she nodded. You both got in the car.

“Have you packed?”

“I’m about halfway done. It’s harder than I thought,” she complained sulkily. “I want to take everything with me.”

“Does everything include me?” You asked cheekily as you started the car, passing Minji your phone to pick a song.

“Absolutely not,” she deadpanned. “You would be the last thing I’d bring.”

“Liar. I’m way better than whoever you’re getting as a roommate.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I’ve literally seen the state of your room… it’s like a landfill in there.”

“No it’s not,” you said defensively. “It may be a little messy, but everything has its own place. It’s organized in its own way.”

“Sure,” she chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that.”

You pulled up to the place. You took a while to parallel park (Minji laughing at you while recording didn’t help), but you got it eventually. It was a quaint little store, and the two of you were regulars. You both got hooked after discovering this place when you got lost trying to find where you parked for a shopping trip.

You smiled when you heard the familiar chiming of the bell as you opened the door, the air-conditioning hitting you in the face. You chucked your lollipop stick in the bin. The store owner, a middle-aged woman from the area, looked up and waved in recognition.

She was sweet, sometimes giving you both an extra scoop or toppings if you showed her good test results (which was all the time). The only issue you had with her was that she kept trying to set Minji up with her son who was almost graduating from university.

“The usual?” She asked, already preparing your cups.

“Yes, please,” Minji answered with a polite smile.

You both sat down after collecting the ice cream with thank you’s and the payment (this one was on you). Minji would always get the cheesecake flavor (which you never understood and adamantly refused to try), while you would settle for the classic chocolate. Sometimes, if you felt adventurous, you would ask for pistachio.

“It’s hard to believe that this might be the last time I eat here for a while,” Minji said.

“I know,” you pouted. “The poor store is gonna lose so much money now that you’re gone.”

You winced as she kicked you under the table. You mentally noted to get your shin x-rayed at some point.

“You're so annoying,” she grunted. “Can’t you be sentimental for once?”

You were sentimental. Especially when it came to Minji. You just weren’t the type to show it. That was one of the differences between the two of you — Minji was straightforward and self-assured, never having trouble voicing her feelings. You, on the other hand, preferred to mask your emotions with humor and deflections, saying a lot without really saying much.

You liked that about Minji. It was definitely jarring when you were first getting to know each other, but you learned to appreciate her bluntness and honesty. It meant you didn’t have to overthink as much.

“I am sentimental!”

“You literally gave me a card that just said ‘HBD’ on it for my birthday. Actually, it wasn’t even a card! It was a post-it note.”

“That is sentimental…”

Minji glared at you.

“Okay,” you huffed, folding your arms. “Maybe it’s not. But it’s the thought that counts.”

“If you’re so thoughtful,” she tilted her head. “You wouldn’t mind helping me clean and pack, right?”

“…Fine.”

You regret not getting a parting gift for Minji when she left. Her departure was bittersweet, like all departures tend to be, with tearful promises to keep in touch. You never ended up confessing, and so you tucked away your feelings in the locked box that held all of your memories with Minji — the one you kept hidden in your closet, filled with birthday letters from her, polaroids, receipts and other miscellaneous collectibles from your time spent together.

The hardest part was watching her cry as she said goodbye, both to her family and friends. She had always been more of the crier between the two of you. You remember her pulling you in for a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you as her tears stained your hoodie.

“I’ll miss you,” she sniffled. “Keep in touch, okay?”

“I’ll miss you too,” you mumbled, barely audible over the chatter in the crowded airport. “You’ll do great, just like you always do.”

She pulled back with a sad smile. “Thank you, Y/n. I’ll try to come back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You held back your tears on the drive home, only allowing yourself to cry when you reached the comfort of your bed.

You weren’t one to welcome change. You enjoyed the stability that routine brought. Minji leaving was a change that left a gaping hole nothing could fill. You always preferred solitude, but the loneliness that was gnawing at you because of Minji’s absence was hard to adapt to.

‘Keeping in touch’ never really works out the way you want it to. The first few months were fine, the two of you consistently Facetiming and texting as you both settled into uni life. Then as months went by, texts were less frequent, especially during exam season.

By the time you were both 20, communication was sparse between the two of you. The two of you were never avid texters anyway. You did chat from time to time, making small talk, or talking when there was something to talk about, like birthdays or a memory popping up on Snapchat.

Small talk with her wasn’t really small talk though. You savored every conversation, clinging onto past memories and what she made you feel.

It wasn’t really the same. Both of you knew this. You never held it against Minji, though. Watching her Instagram stories with her new friends and posts of her adventures brought you happiness. You hoped she was happy too.

But on the melancholic nights when you went out on drives to ease the emptiness, coasting through the sleeping streets with nothing but the moon to guide the way, you felt Minji’s ghost in the passenger seat. And if you tried hard enough, you could almost feel her presence, imagine her soft laughter.

You would always wonder if she was also thinking of you when she lay in bed at night, when she opened up a new document, or when she went and ate ice cream with her friends.

When the ache in your chest was too much to bear, you would roll down the window, find solace in the wind blowing against your face, and turn up the volume of your playlist to drown out your own thoughts. You felt silly for yearning for someone who was miles away now, both literally and metaphorically.

You were 21 when you met Minji again. It was the end of the year, so anyone who left was finding their way back home for the Christmas break. You knew she was coming back, you saw the stories of her packing and the pre-flight pictures.

This was the first time she was coming back — she couldn’t make it the previous three years. You didn’t know why, because you didn’t ask. You didn’t know if you still had a place to ask.

She texted you and asked to hang out. It didn’t really come to fruition until one unsuspecting Friday night. You were playing a parkour map on Minecraft when you received a call notification from her. You almost dropped your phone when you saw it.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, hey.”

You wiped the sweat off your palms. It had been a while since you last heard her voice.

“Did you need something? It’s almost midnight…”

You heard her scoff over the phone. “Don’t act like you go to sleep early.”

“I’m not! It’s just, you know, pretty random for you to call out of nowhere. Especially at this time.”

There was a short pause. You set your phone on your lap as you continued to make your way through the parkour map, distinctly tasting the strawberry flavor of the lollipop more now, for some reason. You knew why.

“Are you seriously playing Minecraft right now?”

You stopped. “…Maybe. How'd you know?”

“I can hear you smashing the space button,” she laughed, sounding almost fond. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

You cleared your throat to fight the embarrassment. “Anyways. What’s up?”

“Oh, right. I know it sounds crazy, but do you wanna go on a drive?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. For old time’s sake, you know. And I miss you.”

“Um,” you got off your bed and opened your closet. “Sure.”

“You’re driving by the way.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for letting me offer.”

You grabbed a familiar hoodie. It was Minji’s. You remembered Minji stealing your hoodie, and giving one of hers to you as a peace offering. You both agreed that the swapped hoodies were a better fit for each other. You decided to wear another one.

“I’ll pick you up in 15?”

“See you soon!”

“Wow,” Minji said as you pulled up in her driveway. “New car?”

She was still so pretty. You temporarily discarded the lollipop stick in the cup holder before popping your head out of the window. “Get in, loser.”

“I kinda miss your old one,” she clicked her seatbelt in as you started to reverse out.

“You sure about that?” You asked incredulously. “The air conditioning didn’t work half of the time. And the window on your side couldn’t fully roll down.”

Minji shrugged. “Still held a lot of memories.”

You both smiled as you reflected on the many nights spent in the old junk: belting your hearts out on highways, feasting on fast food in empty parking lots, sitting on the hood at lookouts that flaunted the city’s charms. You put on your playlist that you always had on loop whenever you thought about her.

“Speaking of memories,” she continued. “I see you still have this little guy.”

She poked the bobblehead of a monkey wearing sunglasses. It bobbled. She bought it on a whim at one of those quirky souvenir stores because the two of you were both born in the year of the monkey. Little Guy had been here for a while, since your old car.

“New car felt pretty empty,” you said. “I couldn’t live with the guilt of throwing him out.”

What you didn’t say: I have a bad habit of hoarding anything that reminds me of you.

“That’s good to hear,” she grinned, reaching into her pocket. “Because I bought him a friend!”

You glanced at Minji in amusement while the light was still red. She carefully placed the new bobblehead next to Little Guy. It was another monkey one, slightly taller than the original, and it was posing with a peace sign.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Pure coincidence,” she explained. “I was out shopping with my friends one day and I saw it. I knew I had to get it.”

You tried to focus on the road as thoughts began racing through your head. She still thought about you. That was good to know.

“Thanks.”

You bit your lip as there was another lull in the conversation. There would always be so much to say back then.

“I can't believe it’s been three years,” is what you settled for.

“Yeah,” Minji’s eyes softened. “It has.”

You tightened your grip around the gear stick. “How are things over there?”

“Really good,” she answered. “Besides university. That’s always a pain in the ass, no matter where you are.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said. And you truly meant it.

“I get homesick a lot, though,” she confessed. “I miss the food, my room, everything. You should visit one day.”

“Maybe,” you pursed your lips. “I’m super broke after buying the new car, though.”

“Do you still do the tutoring thing?”

“Yeah. It’s relatively easy and brings the money in.”

“I still can't believe you willingly tutor math.”

“And I still can't believe you don’t tutor. You’re so much smarter than me.”

“That’s not true,” she frowned. “But, I’m glad you bought the new car. So I don’t have to drive.”

You sighed in mock frustration. “Three years and you’re still a passenger princess.”

She only laughed in response. “Enough about me. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Just living life.”

Heat washed over you as you felt Minji’s intent gaze on you. There was always something so compelling about her, the fact that she could disarm you easily and make you feel unguarded.

“Uni sucks,” you continued hesitantly. “I’m still procrastinating. And playing Minecraft during my lectures.”

“I was wrong,” she said with a hint of a smile. “You’ve changed.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I have?”

She tilted her head slightly, still studying you. “You seem more… withdrawn. And grown-up. Weary, even.”

“I’m the same as I always was,” you said, but you weren’t too sure who you were trying to convince. Maybe spending all this time alone along with the inevitability of growing up did change you.

“I’m still amazing at typing. None of my friends have beat my record yet.”

“Of course you still brag about that,” Minji rolled her eyes.

She turned to face the window again, watching the scenery that rushed past.

“But, my point still stands. You have changed. Since when was I the one to lead the conversation?” She asked playfully, but you knew there was some truth behind it.

Younger you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with Minji and talk her ears off. When the two of you started to grow apart due to the long distance, you subconsciously stopped initiating conversation. You just wanted to quell your feelings and move on as soon as possible. It worked, for the most part, you think.

Until tonight, that is. Seeing her again after all these years fostered emotions you weren’t sure you wanted to face. You’d never tell Minji any of this, though.

“You’ve changed too,” you said. “You look older. Hag.”

“Rude,” she scoffed and pinched your hand on the gear stick.

“I’m joking,” you continued with a faint tug on your lips. “You carry yourself lighter now. But you still have that maturity about you.”

She leaned back in satisfaction at your response, humming in acknowledgement.

“By the way, did you have a destination in mind?” You blurted out. “Cause I’m just driving mindlessly, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s fine,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on you. She could always read you like a book. You hoped that these years changed that. She could probably feel the nervousness and awkwardness radiating off you.

You welcomed the silence as you tapped on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the current song, processing what was happening. Minji was here, in the car, with you now. Just like how it used to be. A different car now, though. And a different her. A different you, too. You had missed her so much, but now that she was here, you didn’t know how to feel or what to say.

You took a last-minute turn, deciding to drive on a path that you knew all too well, one you could practically drive with your eyes closed.

(Pass by the park where you would force Minji to push you on the swing. Keep driving straight until you reach that one flickering street lamp, then turn right. Continue driving, cross three roundabouts, then turn left on the fourth, driving onto a rocky road.)

Minji smiled as she recognized the destination.

You parked the car and the both of you hopped out, feet on the gravelly surface. You had walked on this ground so many times now that it was basically ingrained into your feet. The two of you sat on the hood of your car. It was a bit chilly, but the hood was still warm from the engine.

Minji breathed out deeply. “This view never gets old.”

“No,” you murmured in agreement. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Did you still come here?” She turned to look at you. “When I was gone, I mean.”

“Sometimes.”

The two of you continued to take in the view, both lost in your own thoughts.

You always wished you could capture a moment in time, especially the moments with Minji: the light fluttering in your chest, the quiet intimacy you two shared. This moment was no different.

Nostalgia was a deceiving thing. You had dreamt of this moment so many times — meeting Minji again. That it would be like the polaroids you kept at home, give you peace of mind, provide you with some sort of comfort. It was silly of you to think that, too idyllic and quixotic. Maybe it was a good thing that you’re not as optimistic anymore.

You could barely contain your shock when the next words came out of Minji’s mouth.

“I loved you, you know.”

You swallowed down the hope that started to rise in your chest like water. You didn’t want to drown in the feelings you had suppressed long ago.

“I loved you too,” you said warily, slightly confused. “You were my best friend.”

The use of past tense left a bitter taste in your mouth. But you were afraid she had moved on, found new friends and found a home in them.

Minji smiled wryly. “I meant that romantically. As in more than best friends.”

You took in a sharp breath. You wanted to cry. All those years I spent wanting, you thought, and she loved me too.

“You loved me?” You whispered in disbelief, wringing your hands together.

There was an unreadable look on her face. “You say that like it’s hard.”

Isn’t it? You wanted to say. What could you possibly have loved? The tight squeeze on your chest was persistent, uncompromising to your pain.

“I loved you too,” you said quietly. You had always thought confessing would lift the weight off your shoulders, free your heart from the burden of hiding. You never felt more hopeless than in this moment, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” Minji replied as she sagged her shoulders, her voice small. “I was so sure you only saw me as a friend. You were always teasing, so I didn’t know if you were seriously flirting or not. And you’re not the emotional type… I couldn’t tell how you felt about me.”

“I’m sorry,” you exhaled shakily. “You seemed so focused on your grades and your work, I thought I never stood a chance.”

“You don’t need to apologize. We were both stupid,” she shook her head with a chuckle. “I can’t believe teasing was your only way of showing affection. I think tonight’s the first time I’ve heard you say ‘I love you’.”

You never wanted to say it, because you felt guilty that it meant something else to you than it did to her (or you thought it did). You wanted to give your younger self a kick in the shin.

Minji’s eyes were glassy, shining with unhushed tears, and you wanted to reach out to her. Your hands were resting on the hood of the car, only centimeters apart. If you were brave enough, you would inch your finger closer, ever so slightly, to brush against hers.

But you were never courageous.

You felt like you were suddenly 14 again, staring at your laptop screen, staying up late to finish your Sylvia Plath research task, reading an excerpt from The Bell Jar. You had stared at the fig that held the possibility of you being Minji’s for so long, never daring to believe it, and watched it die. And the way your heart plummeted now was the fig dropping at your feet.

You tried to not let the quiver in your voice show. “Do you think things would be different now if one of us confessed back then?”

“Of course it would be,” Minji smiled ruefully. “But there’s no point in thinking about it too much. What’s done is done.”

She was right — what-ifs were a dangerous rabbit hole to find yourself in. You didn’t know which was more paralyzing: the fear of ‘what if Minji rejects me’ from back then, or the regret of ‘what if I had confessed’ now. It’s always so easy to berate yourself for making the wrong choice once you know the outcome.

Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I wonder how the younger versions of us would react to us now. I don't think they'd recognize us."

You laughed softly. “No, they wouldn't."

The two of you spent a few more minutes in silence.

“You’ll be leaving again in a few weeks, right?”

“Yeah,” she checked her phone, hopping off the hood. “We should head back. It’s almost 2am.”

There was so much left unsaid. But if you had learned one thing from tonight, it was that things were different now. This is how things were meant to end. Sometimes, things just don’t work out, and you just have to learn to live with it.

You should’ve realized how stuck you were in the past, your mind refusing to accept the fact that everything has changed. And that everything will continue to change.

There was a certain sense of freedom in the conversation on the way home, like the two of you knew that you wouldn’t get something like this again. You reminisced and laughed about the good old times, and you think that this was enough. This is what you needed.

Letting go can be a beautiful thing as much as it is painful. And love isn’t something you ever stop doing, or feeling, it’s always present in whatever fig you choose to grab, and it transforms into what it wills. You’ve chosen yours, and Minji’s chosen hers. You’ll always love her, just not how you used to.

“Thanks for the ride,” Minji clumsily pulled you in for a hug (it was a bit cramped because you were both in the car). “Take care of Little Guy and Big Guy.”

There weren’t any promises to keep in touch this time, and that was okay. If you were to ever see each other again, then nature will take its due course.

“Enjoy your time back here, Miss Popular,” you smiled. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

You watched Minji exit the car. There was a fleeting spark of hope as she lingered at the door, but you quickly shut it down. You weren’t the kids you used to be. But maybe in another lifetime, things would end up differently.

Your eyes followed her as she walked to the front door, waving at you before entering the house and closing the door behind her. You waited until you saw her bedroom light turn on through the window.

You started the drive back home and turned up the music, deciding to take the long way.

#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #kim minji x reader

145 notes · View notes

tmzrkstan · 10 months

Text

nct dream as teen romances.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

★warnings: maybe cursing, relationship between minors (legal).

★genre: fluff, romantic tropes, (kinda of) korean school trope.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

★Mark:

•Not just a boyfriend, also a bandmate;

•Beeing raised abroad gave him an advantage to join the band (english speaker), and of course, his ability with music;

•You and your friends found everything that were looking for to complete what became a kinda famous band in the city;

•Don't took long for you two get along and spend some afternoons with his guitar and a composition book: "You did in a few days what the music did in my whole life."

•When the relantionship became official you just couldn't separate from each other;

•The lovely looks during performances, dates in karaokes and make out sessions at the "backstage" were always present;

•"We can't be sure about the band future, but I know we're never splitting up."

★Renjun:

• The boy admired you for a long time from afar;

•When he heard from a friend that you were looking for a boyfriend he gained courage;

•He had to miss some afternoons and even morning classes in order to finish a project to win you over;

•That's why you found a drawing of you made by hand, which was noticeable the use of watercolor, and behind it, his initials;

•You soon realized who it was from and decided to text him, which led to a sleepless night with your cell phone;

•Without taking too long to return the feelings, you started dating and he nicknamed you as his "muse";

•You can be sure that your dates would always end with you taking a drawing home, whether on a small canvas or on a napkin from the restaurant you went to;

•"The best part of drawing you is being able to look at you as much as I want."

★Jeno:

•If it wasn't for the jock who falls in love with the cheerleader, I'd be lying;

•Despite his popularity, he had to struggle to get the attention of everyone on the team, which led to him crashing several rehearsals;

•He made his interest obvious when he scored a decisive point in the game and dedicate it to you in front of the whole school;

•The minute I became his girlfriend, the whole school would suffer because of you two, like the team being forced to participate in his surprises, the game being stopped for you to kiss each other at each point;

•Despite the masculine and strong exterior, inside he looked like a puppy running after his owner, he was completely passionate and silly. It's visible how he would try to help you with the cheerleading thing;

•"So, the deal is if I win the game tonight, I got a make out session for as long as I want?"

★Haechan:

•At first, no one could tell if you were friends or not;

•You competed with everything you could for years now, Hyuck knew how to make you lose and made a point of winning every time, whether in a test, sports or any activity;

•One day you got tired of it all, making it clear to him that you didn't care about it anymore, and that sent him into a fit;

•His friends consoled him that this was his final victory, but he knew well that he wanted to win you instead. Pride made him say nothing 'till the moment;

•He chased you for days and you just ran, until you had no choice when he pinned you to the wall of an empty hallway: "You really are very stupid for not understanding what I wanted all of this time";

•Sure had a lot more drama until yall finally bring fellings out and started dating, a relationship full of silly little fights and a lot of teasing on both sides, this time with some kisses, caresses and loving words in between;

•"I admit you won, look who you made fall in love with you."

★Jaemin:

•You had your reasons and he had an (toxic) ex he wanted to win back, a little gossip going around and you ended up in a fake relationship;

•The plan was doing great, everyone was getting what they wanted, or at least what you thought that you wanted;

•After weeks of "fake" dates, talking about your lives, sharing secrets and dreams, Jaemin couldn't care less when his ex showed up at his house: "Sorry, but There's no way, I'm completely in love with her."

•When he realized this, appeared the other day at school with a huge bouquet and an even bigger smile stating that dating would no longer be fake;

•You thought he could take it back later, but the kisses and declarations of love he gave you made it clear how right he was about It;

•"In the very first minute of our deal, my feelings already became real, it would be impossible not to."

★Chenle:

•It's not like anyone was really forbidding it, like arresting you at home or hiring a security guard to follow you around, but your parents made it clear that they were against it;

•His family, more modest, did not agree with the luxurious way that Chenle lived with his, who preferred that his son was with someone more similar;

•They imagined that this was going to happen, that's why they even took a while to start dating, but when they got together, there was nothing he wouldn't do for you;

•The boy was used to always getting what he wanted, and this time it would be no different, he would just have to change his strategy, like going on hidden dates, finding empty places at school and running away at midnight, it made everything harder, but more exciting;

•"You can't give up on us, it's hard right now, but I promisse I'll make it worth it."

★Jisung:

•You two been friends since the first day you can remember;

•Always inseparable, if one wasn't welcome in a group of friends then the other wouldn't even consider staying in it;

•They faced everything together, all the first experiences, like tests, graduations, parties, simply everything. Even first love, which Jisung took a long time to realize when feelings changed;

•He freaked out every time he saw some guy trying to hit on you, or when you seemed interested in another one, but he didn't want to confess and look like a silly teen that ruins the friendship;

•You're the one who had to admit you liked him first, or you'd never start dating. And everyone, including the families, loved it.

•It doesn't changed much in reality, apart from the kissing/toching and your parents no longer letting you stay alone in your bedroom for so long.

•"I can't wait to spend my whole with my best friend."

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

author: Hope yall like It<3

#nct #kpop #imagine #nct dream #nct dream imagines #park jisung #mark lee #haechan #jaemin #lee jeno #renjun #chenle #nct dream x reader #kpop imagines #nct dream reactions #romantic tropes

192 notes · View notes

ayufufu · 1 month

Text

OnionThief x Rival!MC

Word Count: 4368

Summary: In which OnionThief and his rival get paired up for a project. But for the first time, he gets to see what it’s like for them behind the scenes of their bratty know-it-all personality (basically academic burnout).

Author’s Note: Started sometime in 2020, finished April 5th, 2024. I present the sassy, probably out-of-character, OnionThief and his little rival. Trust, it’s been like 3 years since I’ve played this game. Oh lord am I out of touch with this fandom. It is buried within me right now. But hey, finished writing. I am proud of the beginning half, the ending might not be it though.

“Eat shit and die.”

“Yes, fuck you.” These whispers flew past surrounding peers, already used to overhearing this type of bickering between the pair. It was never truly clear how it began. They tested each other’s knowledge, butting heads every year since high school. Y/N and Onionthief simply found each other insufferable, their hostility seemed to intensify when they found out they applied to the same college. It was as though they were water and oil, never being able to mix well. The professors chose to pay no mind since both were still excelling. Their grades were incredibly high, scores screaming in pain at the height they were reaching, extra credit opportunities never wasted.

“You’re all dismissed, please remember to review pages 556 to 590 for next week.” The class let out dim cheers, the sounds of paper rustling, bags zipping, and peers exchanging words filling the large room. As Y/N finished packing their last item away, they rushed straight to the door. Walking to the outside of campus, they made a mental to-do list. Assignments were beginning to pile up, but Winter break was right there. Couldn’t stop now.

“Move,” Onion’s voice rang out as he shoved his shoulder into theirs harshly, a scoff coming from them as they’re broken from their thoughts.

“I wasn’t aware the 15 feet of space around me was nonexistent,” Y/N spat. Their eyes followed his back as he continued his fast pace without a word. Unbelievable. Turning to walk the other direction, the sounds of their peers filled their ears. Silently restarting their to-do list, the sounds became a blur. The walk to their apartment was a routine, passing the different trees and couples before reaching the bridge. Rushing across, the sounds of another pair of footsteps flooded their ears.

“So you’ve resorted to stalking me,” Onion sneered. Y/N turned around, head flooded with annoyance.

“I live here, you’re aware of that.” “Right.” He walked over to the bridge pulling a small bottle from his pocket. Y/N watched curiously as he tipped it over the edge and shook it a bit. Realizing he was feeding the fish, Y/N walked off, bag bouncing with each step. The eyes following them were left unnoticed, the sounds of class echoing in their mind all the way to their desk.

“I mentioned at the beginning of the year that there will be one major partner assignment in this class, serving as our midterm final.” Groans and whispers of cheers filled the room, peers feeling dreadful while others spotted friends across the room. Y/N sighed, head resting in their arms. Glad he’s at least sitting somewhere else.

“Alright, settle down. These partners will be assigned by your latest test scores.” Right... Y/N clicked their pen impatiently, feeling the metal between their fingers, more sounds of displeasure filling the room. The teacher droned on about the details of the project, explaining how lower scores would be assigned tutors for their projects.

“Let’s start with the highest scores shall we?” They sat up.

“Y/N and—” Clack. The sound of the pen hitting the table drew the attention of a few surrounding classmates, but Y/N didn’t even take notice.

“You two don’t need a tutor so you’ll be able to view the project details online. Now for…” He was their partner. For once, a teacher decided to pair them up. They sat through the rest of the class, every word flowing through their ears and out the other. Nothing was staying put into their mind. I just had to be paired with such an insufferable… Shaking their head, they heard the professor dismiss them.

“Well, I guess I’m ready to fail this assignment.” And there he is. They began packing their stuff, shoving the items in the bag messily.

“Same here, you’ll just drag down my grade even if we did try.”

“Right, what was this worth again, 50%?” Y/N stopped their aggressive packing at this.

“Where did you get that this was 50%?” “Read the details dumbass,” he passed his phone to them. Their eyes skimmed over the details, the 50 percent and “due in 10 days” standing out from everything else. The phone was plucked out of their hands as he smirked, tucking it away. He left the room, Y/N trailing behind. They couldn’t just skip the assignment, their hard-earned A+ would easily drop in just one month. Onion tried his best not to notice the footsteps behind him, knowing it was them. He held back chuckles as he wondered how long they’d follow him.

“Hey shallot-head,” Y/N called. He hummed in acknowledgment, but he still didn’t change pace or look their way. Y/N was starting to struggle to keep up the pace, always one step or two behind from walking next to him, not noticing the smirk he was hiding. They finally huffed before grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him completely. He halted at the sudden pressure, a smirk forming a look of surprise while Y/N rushed to face him.

“Listen shallot, I can’t afford to skip this assignment.” He cocked an eyebrow at this.

“The Y/N cannot afford to skip this assignment? I’m sure you can lose half of your grade, still pass, and I would be able to avoid your ridiculously low IQ.” Their head felt hot at the sound of his ridiculing.

“I need to pass this assignment. I can do the work, but you just need to revise some parts to look like it’s yours,” Y/N pleaded. He seemed to ponder the options, putting his chin between his fingers.

“No.” He turned to leave. “Wait– I offer instant miso!” His head perked up.

“Green onions too, plus I’ll throw in extra tofu.” He grabbed Y/N’s wrist roughly before beginning to drag them to the apartment in a rush, Y/N struggling once more to keep up, relief washing their body.

“I need to stop here for a moment.” He approached the bridge again, the same bottle as before in his hand. Y/N watched him shake the bottle once more, fish crowding the area again. He turned back to them before nodding and walking to the complex, Y/N tailing after. Once they called the elevator, awkward silence surrounded them. For the first time since they began their walk (run) back, tension swallowed them whole, arms and legs aching from arduous journeys across campus and poor posture in class.

Y/N stepped into the elevator first, clicking the third-floor button once Onion stepped in. They side-eyed him, taking in his tense yet relaxed state. Y/N willed themselves to relax their stiff body while the elevator doors spread open.

“Do you need anything from your room or are you good to go,” Y/N asked, adjusting the bag on their back.

“I don’t need anything else. I bring all my work necessities with me” They nodded at his response before putting in their pin and unlocking the door. They walked straight in, putting away their necessities, shoes by the door, and water bottle on the table.

“Right, um, you could set up in the kitchen while I make your miso?” Onion nodded and began to set his stuff on the chair next to Y/N’s stuff while they began putting a pot of water on the stove. As Onion began pulling out his laptop and notes, he stared at Y/N’s back while they shuffled around the kitchen grabbing things out of cabinets and drawers. His brows furrowed in annoyance at the unwanted presence, punching his laptop code in with more pressure.

“Don’t you have a desk?” Onion sighed at the environment.

“I do, but it only fits me. I didn’t plan on having anyone study at my apartment until now.” The instant miso powder hit the boiling water, the aroma filling the room, the silence of their voices following. Bubbling water and mouse clicks were the only things heard for a few more minutes, the atmosphere stiff. Eventually, two bowls of miso, two laptops, two notebooks, and two comp sci students were positioned at the table.

“So, let’s test the limits of your stupidity.” “...I literally have a higher score than you.”

“Ok, and?” Y/N leaned back in their chair. They barely even started, the soup still steaming, but their bickering was starting up once more.

“I’m just saying, that B in algorithms seems to say something about you.” Harshly sighing, Y/N tipped their head back to the ceiling, their eyes tracing the patterns in the material.

“If you don’t pay attention I will chug this miso and leave.” They snapped their head towards him. They sat up and positioned their arms to type before realizing they hadn’t even read all of the assignment details yet. This was going to be a long month.

10 days.

“No dumbass, this is supposed to be–” “No it isn’t, what the hell?”

“Are you denying the truth? “I am denying what is clearly wrong.” “Look at my notes, it’s right!” Y/N shoved their notes in Onion’s face. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his eyes scanned the text. After a minute or so, he sighed.

“Your notes are wrong.” Their eyes widened when Onion handed his own notes to them before rereading their notes with a confused expression. Onion had wanted to work on homework before continuing the project to make sure their (mostly his) grades didn’t drop. Upon looking at their notes from the day, their professor's words filled their brain again. They couldn’t stop the disappointment from filling their face, a frown settling on their features. Since they were so sure they were right, they didn’t think their understanding of the topic was off. Onionthief observed their down face, an expression he seldom saw.

8 days.

“I couldn’t grab extra tofu last time I went out for groceries.” Y/N set the bowls down carefully, taking their seat right after. Onion didn’t budge, opting to continue typing away at his laptop. At the lack of response, they cocked an eyebrow. They thought he’d throw a fit, but surprisingly he stayed put. Y/N sighed before opening up their work yet again, shoulders aching. Onion stayed true to the deal, opting to revise the parts Y/N laid out for him while continuing his homework from other classes. At the lack of help and the burden of other classes on their mind, Y/N could feel the shadows of burnout waiting to envelop them. After this, they were prepared to let their bed swallow them whole.

6 days.

“Hey, this is still wrong.” Y/N’s head jerked up from the part of the project they were currently typing out. Onion observed them as they rapidly scrolled to where he was viewing. It was an entry from the beginning of the project. A part that affected the rest of the work. Deeply sighing, the monotone voice in their head began reading again. Despite rereading it constantly, nothing was sticking. It was as though the words didn’t exist. At the lack of response from Y/N after a good few minutes, Onion huffed before highlighting the mistake in the text.

“Oh.” It was all they could let out at the moment. Despite the sentence highlighted, the information wasn’t processed in their head. Their face scrunched up at the hotness filling their head. The sight made an unfamiliar feeling rise in Onion. He breathed out harshly before deleting the sentence, correcting it himself. If it wasn’t for the silence in the kitchen, he doubted he’d ever hear the quiet ‘thanks’ they let out. He froze at the appreciation, the sound of it unfamiliar from them. The hell do they mean ‘thanks’?

5 days.

The project was still unfinished, the amount of work left taunting Y/N as they were left staring at the blank screen yet again. The homework had already seemed to have drained them, but they refused to call it a night yet. Their miso bowl was cold, the ingredients settling to the bottom. Onion had already finished his homework and revised the parts of the project he was given. Now, he seemed to be collecting data on some fantasy web novel. Rubbing their temple, Y/N shut their laptop despite having never even opened the project yet. Their brain was on overdrive, the workload invading their mind and trying to push them to work. Despite their efforts, Y/N just couldn’t bring themself to even pretend they could work, their gaze burning holes in the back of Onion’s laptop.

“Are you finally done with the project,” Onion blurted out, eyes not leaving his screen. No answer. Glancing over the top of his laptop, his eyes were met with Y/N’s drained demeanor. As his gaze wandered over their face, it soon traveled to the untouched bowl on the side. Adjusting his glasses, he shut down his laptop after saving his work, the sudden movement making Y/N jump. He leaned forward, chin resting against the back of his hands.

“Do you need help?” “Why the fuck are you asking like that–” “I’m just asking.” “Yes, but what’s with that pose, you look dramatic.” Onion’s confused face became deadpan at the comment. He opened his mouth to let out a snarky remark before Y/N got up abruptly. He watched as they trudged over to their room, the door shutting softly behind them as a muffled thud was heard.

3 days.

Y/N hasn’t emerged from their room since yesterday, the silence in class left everyone dumbfounded as Onion continued on with his day-to-day classes in silence. Yet as the day came to an end, he found himself in front of the same door he’s gone to for the past 19 days. What do I even say? Why am I here? They didn’t say they’d work on the project today. His hand raised for the buzzer.

“Coming…” Dull. A very dull voice. “Come on in, miso’s in the pot. I’ll be in my room laying down, we can just do it tomorrow or something.”

“But that would put us–”

“Behind schedule I know, shut up. Please.” He frowned at their small pleading. I don’t like that they have to plead. “If you want to you can work on it yourself…”

“But that wasn’t-”

“A part of the deal I know, it’s just a suggestion. Take it or leave it, miso’s still yours.”

“Oh.. okay then.” As they left, Onion felt bitter guilt rising in him. He looked at the miso and sighed before pulling out his laptop and getting to work. Might as well as payment for the miso. He swiftly got to work as Y/N stayed silent in their room.

2 days.

Onion finished the last of his typing, the kitchen was oddly silent as there was no miso being cooked and no Y/N to bother him. Y/N just let Onion in, apologizing for the lack of miso or food, and tried to turn him away, but Onion persisted that it didn’t matter. They let Onion do what he wanted as they did the same as they did before, retreating back to their room in silence. Yet Onion completed the project yesterday. It was a minor error that needed to be corrected, one colon needed to make the code work. When he found the error, all he could do was chuckle a bit before staring at Y/N’s room.

“Why can’t I just leave,” Onion whispered to himself as he stared at his laptop in frustration.

“No one said you can’t,” Y/N muttered, walking over to the fridge to get water.

“I know,” Onion spat. “I don’t know shallot, doesn’t seem like it,” Y/N spoke in a flat sing-song tone.

“Could you just, shut up already, damn,” he spat. Y/N carried no response. They stood in place, the chill of the open fridge numb to their body as they stared into the light illuminating the numerous food products inside. “Y/N…?” They closed the fridge as if on autopilot and made their way back into their room, their heart weighing heavy as an ache formed in their chest, their cheeks damp. Damn it.

24 hours.

No knock today. The miso sat on the stove for 3 hours, cold, and untouched. Y/N waited hours, even after they poured the miso down the drain. Part of them laughed at themselves for waiting, yet the other part made them ache. Of course, he got tired of me like everyone else. The silence of their apartment bothered them, the lights and blinds all dimmed. They stared at the freshly bought miso packets, the weight of their assignments and lectures missing pushed on their heart and crushed it as their tears fell.

22 hours.

“Oh,” was all Y/N could muster when they received an email from Onion telling them to get on the link to the project presentation. Not a single “sorry” or “Are you okay” was typed out. They grabbed their laptop and moved it from their bed to their desk as they prepared for another night in bed alone again. Their assignments could wait just a bit longer.

21 hours, 3AM.

Three knocks.

“Hey, sorry I was finishing up the work in the library.” Oh? Y/N could smell the bullshit coming from him.

“Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry,” was all they could muster in response.

“Okay, here I’ll make miso. I don’t smell miso, so I guess it’s safe to assume you haven’t been making any. I’m sorry for ghosting,” Onion gave a sheepish smile. What the hell do you mean sorry? Their chest aches even more at the sight of his small smile.

They talked for a while on the couch about the assignments Y/N had been missing while the TV ran some background noise for them. Turns out Onion and Y/N were excused from some extra tutoring that other students were given in the class, so it wasn’t too bad. Y/N still had some work to do, but Onion mentioned how he finished the assignment way before, hence the email to check on the file. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t I make us some miso soup for once,” Onion asked. Y/N raised a brow at this in mocking offense.

“You, my guest, cooking? Hell no.” Onion scoffed.

“Just rest.”

“No I’ll make it–”

“Literally shut the fuck up and go.”

“Fine.” Y/N pushed themselves off of the couch and semi-stopped over to their bed before plopping on it dramatically. Onion walked in to make sure they were actually in bed before grabbing an extra blanket that sat on their chair and layering it on them. Y/N side-eyed his every move the entire time as he did. Their heart had a warm ache this time while Onion shut the door.

“Where the fuck do they put the pots.” Now that Onion was tasked with “taking care” of Y/N, he realized he had no idea where anything was. He sighed before going through each cabinet one by one. Y/N heard the cabinets opening and closing before smiling softly to themselves. Wait, what.

The weight lifted from their shoulder. The heaviness of the world had gone. They took a deep breath, sinking back into the soft blankets once more.

20 hours, 4AM.

“Damn this is good, what kind of crack did you put,” Y/N enthused.

“Just some extra ingredients I brought,” Onion replied. Y/N froze. “I didn’t fucking poison it dumbass.”

“Well how am I supposed to know, hm?” Y/N spat.

“We’re eating food… from the same pot.”

“Oh yeah huh.” Y/N hastily resumed their eating as Onion shook his head. Y/N pondered as they ate. “Hey… you’ve been acting different lately. You’re less…”

“Less what?”

“Less annoying,” Y/N deadpanned.

“...thanks?”

“You’re more… enjoyable to be around I guess.” Onion felt his face go a bit warm, having never heard those from their voice. He stared down at his bowl as he felt it go to his ears. “Woah,” he heard Y/N say. “You’re red as fuck.”

“Yeah, wonder who’s fault that is,” Onion retorted. Y/N chuckled at that as they stood up to grab more soup. The TV was all that filled the room as Onion felt his brain restarting. Rain began to patter against the windows. “I guess you’re not that annoying too, enjoyable, even…” Y/N froze up too, almost dropping the soup filled ladle. They quickly shook their head as they put the bowl back on the table, mimicking what Onion had just done. Shyness is cute on them…? Onion was considering things immensely now.

With the change in attitude from his supposed academic rival, his emotions have been askew these past days. The lack of brattiness left a hole. Something, such as a shift in the force, had changed his whole routine entirely.

“Fuck off,” Y/N spat.

“Nah.”

“Whore.”

“Eat shit and die,” Onion smirked.

“That’s my fucking line,” Y/N gasped dramatically at their own words being used against them.

“Oh whatever,” Onion chuckled fondly.

19 hours, 5AM.

The two sat in Y/N’s living room now as they chatted and argued about anything they could find. During Onion’s dramatic listing of every time he’s won against Y/N, he noticed them staring long and hard at their bedroom door.

“Earth to dumbass, what’s up?”

“I should get a start on some of my other assignments. So close to finishing yet...” Y/N let out a harsh sigh. “You probably want to head back to yours anyways.” Onion sat upright at this. “See, like a fucking dog–”

“No.” Y/N raised an eyebrow?

“Fuck you mean, no?” Onion himself didn’t even know what he meant.

“No as in… I’m not going home?”

“Suit yourself.” Y/N got up and went to their bedroom, leaving Onion dumbfounded on the couch.

No? What am I even going to do here… He took a deep breath before walking over to Y/N’s bedroom. They were already at work on their laptop.

“Hey, I’m gonna go,” Onion muttered.

“Figured, I’ll see you out then.” Y/N led the way to the door while Onion trudged along behind them with his work bag.

“Are you actually showing up tomorrow,” Onion snickered. His face turned to an unreadable expression the second he noticed Y/N look away silently with a stone face as they pondered it.

“Nah, fuck that,” Y/N chuckled dryly. An idea popped into Onion’s mind.

“Burned out?”

“What?” Y/N knew what he was talking about of course, but the fact that Onion even questioned it felt out of character for him. “So what if I am,” Y/N snapped.

“Well… you know that’s not healthy…” Onion started.

“Yes, but it got everything done so I don’t see why—”

“Because you worried me.” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“I worried you?”

“Yes.” By now the both of them were staring at each other in the entrance to Y/N’s apartment, neither of them moving and the silence filled with their heavy breaths. Onion stepped forth and held out both of his hands. Y/N gave a sharp look at him as he gestured towards them, keeping them outstretched. Y/N hesitantly put their hands in his.

“You can’t just say that…”

“I can’t?” They dropped his hands.

“No, it.. It’s confusing for me.” Onion leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket.

“It’s confusing for me too, you know,” Onion whispers, averting his gaze to the ground. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, the wall and him would combine as one and he’d be able to leave. Taking care of his little siblings was one thing, comforting someone his age was another. There was a reason he resorted to talking to his friends online.

“Hey…” Y/N stepped forward, their hand twitching. “What’s on your mind, if you don’t mind my asking?” A faint smile was painted on his face. After all this, they’re still so kind.

“I.. don’t mind per say.” His bag weighed heavily on his shoulder, pulling his heart to the ground in ache. “I’m just not sure I know how exactly to say,” he sighed. A gentle finger laced with one of his own as Y/N hooked them together. Looking up in confusion, they dragged him over to the sofa.

“Let’s start from the beginning shall we?”

After a couple hours, the two had made up that night, and with help from Y/N’s visitor and a sleepover numerous late assignments were turned in. Now, it’s been a whole week since that night.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to keep coming over,” Y/N laughed as they stirred the miso in the pot as normal. This routine came back immediately. Onion coming over to Y/N’s, the smell of miso soup filling the apartment after settling down for a few minutes. A chat about interests along with plenty of time for assignments.

“Yeah well, you make my day plenty more interesting, ‘you know,’” Onion mocked. Feigning offense, the miso soup pot was set in the middle of the counter with a cork mat underneath. As Onion grabbed himself a portion, Y/N strolled over to the TV and turned it on for background noise.

“Yeah yeah, oh how I must brighten your oh so, dark, dreadful, drowsy days.” Laughter filled the apartment, almost drowning out the TV noise.

“...festival lasts for a few days, but, due to fortunate circumstances, will be held during local schools' vacation days.” The TV listed the dates as the two college students looked at each other. “Not to mention, the Winter Festival is known for the competitive nature that it brings to it’s attendees with the plethora of games, contests, and more, only here at…”

“That’s our Winter break dates huh…” Onion smirked.

Y/N cleared their throat. “Would you care to join me to this, uh, ‘friendly’ festival?”

“Oh,” Onion leaned forward. “It’s on.”

#onionthief #blooming panic x reader #bloomic #blooming panic #mc #fanfic #fanfiction

49 notes · View notes