i’m so obsessed with the idea of s1 spencer being this nerd outwardly, dressed in sweaters and pants ironed and pressed with a crease running down his legs; the image of an everlasting virgin who’d blow his load if a pretty person even looked his way, but being the exact opposite— no one could even fathom the way he handles you. no one could ever imagine the words that come out of his mouth when he’s pretty between your legs, hands that are always caressing the pages of a book caressing you instead, sliding over your body boldly and surely.
they don’t see the purple-black marks littering your chest and stomach. they don’t notice your shifting, trying your hardest to focus on the present task when all you can feel and think about is the dull tenderness of your ass pressed red from spencer’s hands last night, how he’d grabbed and gripped handfulls of you while you whimpered into his neck.
tinted windows hide his cock sitting deep on slow days, you spread wide on his lap and the both of you oozing down onto the car seats, cleaning fee be damned. who’d know the eyes that survey any and everything are the ones you stare into as he urges you to ride him in his driver’s seat? who’d think, from the way he looks with his hair slicked-back and a sweater that he’s swimming in, that he could do what he can?
inlittle quackity!!! one of my friends ( @p-o-c-k-e-t-s-i-z-e beloved :) ) wrote this sick dialogue n headcanon that he has a magic 8 ball in his eye, and that he asks “should i kill you?” and the eye says “without a doubt!” :0 pretty cool imo! it really inspired me :)
as always wishing you the best!!! i hope u drink something super tasty today! i had bubble tea with milk and taro it was so good!
image description under the cut :)
it’s a drawing of quackity from the knees up in black, white, and purple! my classic flat style with pretty much no shading or indication of volume just shapes :)
he’s got his classic shirt and suspenders with small wings, wing ears, and two rings hanging on a necklace. and of course the classic face scar, cant forget that :] he is holding an axe on his shoulder with one hand n tapping his chin with the other. he has sorta a uh! what i was going for was a sorta neutral/thoughtful/but somewhat indifferent expression on his face >< !
it’s meant to clash with the text next to him, which says, “should i kill you?” “without a doubt!” in capital letters! scary dude! /pos
[ “Why would you want to stay?” He finally asked in a small voice, and Woojin shrugged. “I mean, why not?” ]
Word Count: 3, 764
Pairing: Bang Chan x Kim Woojin
Genre: Realistic fiction
For: @stay-grandma (hey~guess what, I was your secret santa~. Sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted ;-;, I hope it’s still good enoguh ^^.)
Warnings: Little angst, nothing else really
14.
Everything began with Woojin, even if Chan didn’t meet him until Australia had become nothing among an ocean of blue, when he was fourteen years old and curled up in a plane chair, trying not to cry with his earbuds. Wondering what was going to happen now, wondering if he would ever see his mother again, wondering if she had ever even wanted him in the first place.
It started with Chan sitting on the curb, wondering why Korean sounded foreign even if he had learned to speak it, torn between wanting to scream and run away and get lost until his parents regretted everything, and between just crying until he ran out of tears. In the end, he shredded leaves into tiny pieces, watching them flutter to the ground.
“You want it?” A voice said, someone sitting down beside him, and Chan looked over to see a boy his age with brown hair and a slightly crooked tooth when he smiled, holding out a milkshake. Chan stared at it. “Milkshakes make everything better, I promise.” The boy insisted, forcing it into his dangling hand. Chan looked into it, and, suddenly, his lower lip was wobbling.
Quickly, Chan took a long sip, but he was already crying, the tears sliding down his face as he struggled to swallow. Embarrassed, he looked away, swiping at his eyes quickly, sniffling. The other boy was silent, and then he finally said; “I’m Woojin. I live next door. You’re Chan, right? My mom told me I should try and be friends with you.”
The words were so blunt that Chan had to set the milkshake down, gulping. “Why, because she heard all about my crappy home life before I even got here?” Woojin shrugged, pursing his lips together, and it was enough for Chan to get his answer. Turns out Korea wouldn’t be the new leaf he was expecting, because his history still followed him here.
“I do want to be friends, though.” Woojin said, more seriously, holding out his hand. Chan glanced at it disdainfully, picked back up the milkshake, and opted to take another sip instead of shaking his hand. Woojin smiled. “I told you milkshakes make everything better.” Chan didn’t admit to it, but, secretly, he thought they did too.
15.
Chan never agreed to being friends with Woojin, but it turned out that Woojin was unshakeable. Despite Chan hardly returning conversation, Woojin stuck to him like glue. He talked on and on for ages, and Chan never had the heart to tell him to shut up, because that would make Woojin think he was actually listening. He was, but Chan didn’t need Woojin to know that his clingy efforts were earning him something.
School wasn’t easy, especially considering he came in halfway through the year, only around halfway to speaking decent Korean. Chan was a halfway, halfway wanted at his halfway home, just two halves that his parents fought over. Even when his mother gave up, Chan was still two pieces they had torn apart then told him he was whole, but Chan wasn’t. He wasn’t, but Woojin was acting like he was, making him feel like he was.
“I could tutor you, if you want.” Woojin told him one day when he had followed Chan to the library again, drinking his milk even if you weren’t allowed to drink in the library. “In what?” Chan asked, because sometimes he did respond to Woojin, when he was in a good mood. “Korean.” Woojin gestured down at the textbook Chan was scanning over for the fourth time.
“No thanks.” Chan said, somewhat distracted. He stood up, closing it. “I don’t need your help; I’ll figure it out on my own.” He put the textbook into his backpack, turned his music up a notch, and walked out, feeling something simmer under his skin. He didn’t need any help, certainly not from some pushy kid-
“If you keep acting like that, you won’t get anywhere.” Woojin yelled down the hallway after him, and Chan took out his earbuds, turning to him in frustration. “Acting like what?” He asked, trying to sound bored, but knowing that it was really unconvincing. Woojin walked over to him, lifting his chin. He was shorter than Chan by a couple of inches, but Chan was built like a pole-long and skinny, and Woojin was a battery, short but intimidating.
“Like everyone should feel sorry for you and leave you alone, while silently struggling.” Woojin accused him blatantly. Chan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I never asked for you to treat me like your charity case, you know. If people really feel that way, then they should just leave me alone, like I want. I don’t need friends, or anyone.” He sighed bitterly, hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m used to being thrown away, so don’t feel bad for leaving me.”
Woojin walked up to him as Chan started to leave again, grabbing his shoulder. “I never said I was leaving you, so stop assuming things and putting words into my mouth.” Chan blinked at him, somewhat stunned at small, shy Woojin letting his emotions control him for once. Chan gently pushed him away, staring at him.
“Why would you want to stay?” He finally asked in a small voice, and Woojin shrugged. “I mean, why not?”
17.
“You’re insane.” Woojin breathed, glancing down the ramp. Chan grinned, flipping the board up. “I thought we figured that out a long time ago.” He pulled on his gloves, testing out his balance. Woojin frowned, chewing on his nails as he held his phone up with his other hand, prepared to video it all.
“You should wear a helmet at least.” Chan grinned charmingly. “Can’t make me.” He responded, and Woojin groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Chan looked back down the skate ramp, already regretting his decision, but Woojin didn’t need to know that-Chan wasn’t going to prove him right about Chan being an idiot just yet.
Chan inched forward, one foot on his board, wind blowing his recently dyed brown curls in the air. “Are you ready?” He asked, looking back at Woojin, who carefully positioned the phone in front of him, thumb hovering over the red button. He gave a timid nod, and Chan held up three fingers, counting down. As he put the last one down, he pushed off, adrenaline flooding through his veins as his skateboard left the ground, sliding down the ramp like magnets.
Woojin screamed as Chan flipped off, his body twisting in the air against the setting sun, and then he touched back down, heart thumping in his chest as he skidded around in a half circle. Pushing off once more, Chan shot up the opposite ramp, turning the board in a sharp curve, leaving the ground for a moment and then shooting back down. He braked hard, spinning to a stop back where he had began, sweat dripping down his face and legs shaky.
“Did you get it?” He asked Woojin, who nodded with his eyes blown wide. He carefully handed the phone back to Chan, then lowered himself down slowly, looking more terrified than Chan. “You...are so dumb.” He breathed, and then he was laughing, and Chan joined in, his insides aching with happiness.
Looking at the phone again, Chan pressed play on the video, holding it so Woojin could see too. “Not bad.” He said, admiring the angle, then bursting into laughter again as Woojin’s scream echoed at the most crucial moment. “It wasn’t even that dangerous, you know. Real skateboarders do so much more.” Woojin smacked his shoulder, hard.
“Just shut up.” He murmured, but he was smiling, face surrounded in a hazy, golden glow from the sunset behind him. Chan tilted his head and admired him, just for a minute, and then he shook it away and focused on the sound of their laughter mingling together, turning his eyes back to the video and what mattered.
18.
Chan woke up to his phone dinging continuously, all texts from Woojin. Rolling over, Chan blinked at the time-somehow six hours had passed since he had fallen asleep, 11:12 blinking up at him. Clicking on the top notification, Chan scrolled up through the blue bubbles.
[9:05 p.m.] Where are you???
[9:10 p.m.] Did you forget today’s prom???
[9:15] Yoojung is here, so I’m going...meet us there?
[10:08 p.m.] I’m getting worried, and also kind of upset.
[10:09 p.m.] You promised you wouldn’t blow me off.
He had forgotten, or, more likely, it had slipped his mind at that moment. Chan groaned, rubbing his head.
[11:08 p.m.] Sorry.
He replied, his phone ringing from a facetime call only seconds after he sent it. Groaning, Chan picked it up, even though he didn’t want to deal with the lecture he was sure to get.
“I can’t believe you ditched me like that.” Woojin hissed, uncharacteristically angry. His hair was disheveled, and his tie was on crooked. Chan glowered at this. “Do you know how awkward it was to wait around with my girlfriend, and to keep on waiting even when you didn’t show up, because I had a little hope that you would?” Chan shrugged, massaging his forehead. He had a headache.
“Well, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. Don’t make a big deal out of it, it’s not like I was really missed. Besides, you had a date. It’s not like we would have hung out anyways.” He said sourly, and Woojin frowned, his expression softening for a split second. “What’s going on, Chan?” He asked. “This isn’t like you.”
Chan stretched out on his bed, looking down at his striped socks. “Not like me? This is exactly like me.” He snorted, and Woojin let out a long sigh that somehow managed to come off as condescending. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you get treated especially nice.” Chan added before he could stop himself, this self destruction he seemed to have.
“I really thought you had changed, that’s all.” Woojin finally remarked quietly, and it hurt, it really did, because they fought like this hundreds-no, thousands-of times. Except it usually ended differently, with Woojin or Chan apologizing. “Not because we’re friends; I genuinely thought you had become a better person. Not this cold, uncaring, cruel person you act like.” The cold, uncaring, cruel person I am. Chan thought to himself, but he didn’t say it aloud.
Instead, he said; “We should hang up.” His fingers were already pressing the ‘end call’ button.
He and Woojin didn’t talk much after that.
20.
“Chan! Oh my goodness, it’s been so long!” Chan paused, looking up from where he was stirring his coffee with little enthusiasm. The Starbucks was near empty, unusual since it was so near a college campus. Looking up, he saw Woojin waving at him. Momentarily stunned, Chan could only lift his hand in a half wave motion. Woojin was a little taller, but he had the same friendly grin.
He was dressed chicly, in a black peacoat and a red scarf half wound around his neck, jeans neat and a clean white shirt underneath it all, his shoes shining. Chan took a slurp of his coffee, throwing the stick away. “Woojin.” He said, smiling. “How’s college life suiting you? We haven’t talked in ages.” After senior year, they had both gone their separate ways and hadn’t really contacted each other since, leaving it on a frosty note.
“Sit down.” Woojin said, grabbing a seat at the counter. Chan complied, sliding in. He felt more poor than usual, in his old black hoodie and ripped jeans, his Converse peeling apart at the soles, so badly that he had to put duct tape all over them. “Anyways, it’s been difficult but I’m managing. I even got a job to help pay with tuition.There are tons of great people at the college. I auditioned for the elite choir and I got in; it’s amazing. There’s this really funny freshman named Jeongin and his friend Seungmin; they’re so talented and I’m having fun coaching them.”
He paused, taking a sip of his drink-some iced latte, despite it being in the negatives outside. “Sorry, I’m already rambling. I just never expected to see you here, of all places. Do you go to the college down the road? Mine is on the other side of town, but I travel around Seoul quite often.” Woojin sucked in a deep breath, and Chan could tell he was nervous. Woojin only talked fast when he was nervous.
“College is fine.” Chan said distantly, looking down. “I’ve made some friends. It’s hard work, but I got a job at a club being a DJ.” Woojin pressed his lips together. “That’s good.” He said softly, and Chan nodded, hating that he had made the conversation so tense suddenly. He wished he could feel comfortable around Woojin again, but after senior year they had gone their separate ways and never really talked again.
“I really missed you, Chan.” Woojin whispered, reaching over to rub Chan’s hand. Chan snatched it back, too quick.
16.
“You’re not going to want to be friends with me one day.” Chan said bluntly, turning the straw in his milkshake. Woojin looked up, pausing mid slurp. “You can’t assume things that haven’t happened. You don’t know me.” Chan shrugged, rolling his shoulders back and stretching out his legs.
“I know myself, though.” He retorted, and Woojin did the thing where his eyes softened in a way that only meant sympathy and pity. Chan didn’t like it, because it made him go down the train of thoughts that he was still nothing but a charity case to Woojin.
“You could let me know you too.” Woojin said instead, and Chan laughed, but it was high pitched. “That..no, you couldn’t.” He finally finished, still smiling, but it faded at how serious Woojin really looked, eyes dark, like wood. Mahogany, but deeper and less red, like he was an ancient tree with ancient eyes.
“Why?” Woojin asked. Chan didn’t have an answer. He didn’t want to answer.
“Because that’s terrifying. Because I’m scared that you’ll see me in you and you will hate it. I don’t know myself enough, so how can I possibly ask you to try and figure me out?” Chan took in a shaky breath, gripping the cold glass between his hands. “I don’t want anyone to know how vulnerable I am.” He said gently, and Woojin nodded, eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“I wouldn’t mind being like you.” Woojin responded, straightening, his fingers inching out as if they were searching for Chan’s. Chan gave him a watery smile, voice too thick for him to ask ‘why’. Woojin knew what he meant anyways, though. “Because you’re strong, Chan. You’re so strong.”
“Not really.” Chan told him, but his voice sounded pathetically choked full of tears. Woojin gave him a different, special smile that Chan had only ever seen him direct at him. “I see you, okay?” Woojin said, and this time he did grab Chan’s fingers. “The real you.” He reached forward, tapped his finger over Chan’s beating heart. “This heart that beats here? It beats because you want it to, and, right now, it beats for me.”
Despite everything, Chan couldn’t deny that, though he wished he could.
20.
Chan showed up at the party in nothing but a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, his shoes falling apart as he walked, curls flopping loose. He felt instantly out of place, because everyone else had come in as little clothing as possible, skimpy pieces of leather and cloth. Chan pushed his way through the crowd, focused on finding Woojin and Woojin only.
He didn’t belong here, but he could tell Woojin had found some sort of home, and if Woojin belonged, then Chan could at least pretend to. For now. Scanning the heads, Chan spotted the bright black of Woojin’s, so raven that it was more crow. Chan moved over to him, avoiding cups and ducking tangled arms, until they were side by side, pinned against the walls.
“Oh?” Woojin said, peering up at him even though they were the same height. “You came?” He sounded a little tipsy, his voice edging into something more cynical and sarcastic than the Woojin Chan knew. He remembered their conversation all those years ago, how Chan had told Woojin that he was scared that Woojin would eventually look at himself and see too much Chan. He wondered if that was what happened, all of Chan’s hatred bleeding into his best friend until Woojin had some hatred, too.
“Of course.” Chan replied, taking his cup and passing it off to someone else, though Woojin pouted stubbornly. “Someone had to chaperone you.” Woojin shrugged loosely. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you anymore, Chan! It’s been a long two years, but I got over it! I moved on!”
“You’re drunk.” Chan muttered, his stomach uneasy, and Woojin shook his head, leaning in close. “Wanna know a secret? That was apple cider. I’m just very good at acting, you know.” Chan pulled back and gave him a disbelieving stare. Woojin shrugged, sweater paws flapping.
“Are you glad to see me again, Chan?” He asked, leaning back, and Chan did too, mimicking his movements. “I told you that I missed you but you never said it back.” He stuck out his bottom lip, but Chan could tell all the extra movements were just exaggeration. “It’s crappy to not text someone back. Or bother to call. Even, I don’t know, leave a nice, old fashioned, handwritten note when you leave?”
He raised his eyebrows and Chan pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing. “I have one question, Chan.” Woojin said. Chan knew he was using his name so much because Chan had once told Woojin that when people said his name too much it made him uncomfortable. When you had a name that people used often, it reminded you that you were real. That people cared. Chan would rather that they didn’t.
“Why’d you skip prom?” Woojin asked.
18.
It wasn’t on purpose at first. It started during prom, when Woojin was off having a fun time and Chan just couldn’t be bothered. When he couldn’t stop the sarcasm that seeped into his every tone and motion, how off putting it was to Woojin. He knew what Woojin hated, and a lot of it included things Chan usually made a conscious effort not to do.
To be exact, it started when he was fifteen. Woojin’s eyes were pretty, Chan noticed first. He didn’t notice beauty in a lot of things, mostly because everything was too dreary to really be beautiful, but Woojin’s eyes were beautiful. They were black and brown and everything in between, and Chan wanted to look at them until he could tell every single shade included in that in between.
Chan had spent four years with Woojin as his best friend, after telling himself he wouldn’t make friends at all. He told Woojin what he had promised himself he would never tell. He had let himself be close to someone even if he knew that being close to someone was like poisoning them, again and again, every moment they spent together another sip of the bottle.
So he left. He stayed away, and he never came back. He picked a college he had no interest in only because it was as far away from Woojin as could be without being so far away it was unbearable. Chan didn’t call, or text, and he left it to someone else to tell Woojin where he had went. When he thought back to it, Chan told himself it had been mutual on both ends, but it was Woojin who had texted him so many times the number became overwhelming.
One time, Chan scrolled through all of them, knowing he was being cruel to leave Woojin on read after months. Woojin called him that night. Chan ignored it and went back to his headphones and the music in front of him. Every song he wrote, he wrote it thinking of Woojin. He didn’t mean to, it just happened.
When you miss someone, they say it diffuses into everything. Chan closed his eyes and he saw Woojin’s reflected on his eyelids. He wrote an essay for one of his English classes and it was about all Woojin had done for him. Chan wrote a song, and the lyrics he wrote for who he had lost because of himself, who he was.
Chan hadn’t lied when he said he was scared of himself. He was terrified. He didn’t like this feeling, this eating away of his insides, because of one person. People shouldn’t have that much control over you. He had tried to give up emotion when he came to Korea, but on the same day he had decided that, he had met someone who had gone against that method without Chan even realizing.
One day Woojin stopped texting, more than a year ago. Chan should have felt glad. Instead, he was worried.
20.
“You know why.” Chan said softly, and Woojin looked pointedly away, eyes glittering in the reflecting lights. “I wish I didn’t.” He said, and Chan shrugged, lifting his shoulders halfway before dropping them back down. Woojin pressed his sweatered hands to his eyes, and Chan knew he was crying.
Woojin was sad often. He cried easily. At first Chan had laughed because of that, but then he had ended up buying boxes of tissues just for his friend when they watched whatever movie it was that week. Sometimes Chan had thought of sending Woojin his songs, but he would remember how often his friend cried, and stop. He didn’t want Woojin to cry because of him, but now Chan could see that he had been foolish to believe that Woojin hadn’t been crying this whole time.
“I missed you.” Chan said aloud, the words echoing around their silent space. “I missed you so much it hurt.” He added, softer, and Woojin looked at him, eyes filled with tears. He pressed his lips together and nodded.
“Good.” He replied, nodding to himself. “Will you call me?” He added, and Chan smiled, reaching forward and taking Woojin’s hand with his own, just to feel his warmth, just for his warm fingers to wrap over Chan’s.
Just because he liked the feel of Woojin’s hand in his.
