#traditional scribbles shitty edition

[elizakai]

uhm idk what happened but apparently harem (reverse harem!????) time-???

[hyunsracha]

now or never — bang chan

word count: 4.5k

summary: liquid courage lets you jump at your last chance to tell him how you feel.

one.

Han Jisung might just be your least favorite person on the planet. You think this when he leans over your shoulder, your thumbs paused above your phone’s keyboard. Your phone was open to Instagram as you struggled to think of a caption for this particular post. It wasn’t anything special, just a picture of you and Chan at the annual fair over the weekend. The two of you had gone together every year since you were little kids. It was one of your favorite traditions.

“I have an idea.” Jisung took the phone from your hands, his fingers quickly getting to work as you yelled protests at him, “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

Oh, but it was.

“We look like a couple here?! Jisung, are you serious?” You cried out, yanking the phone back from him and editing the post before anyone (hopefully) saw. The boy next to you cackled. 

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised. Everyone already thinks you’re together.” He nonchalantly shoved fries into his mouth as he spoke. Jisung ate like a pig, but you didn’t complain about it anymore. Last time you did that, he got all up in your ear and started chewing with his mouth open. Disgusting.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Yeah, shut up, Han.” You don’t even flinch when Chan and Changbin take their seats across from you. You could practically sense when one of the three boys was going to appear. Changbin said it was because your friendship was so strong, but in reality, they all wore such strong cologne, you’d be an idiot not to sense them. 

“I literally did nothing and you’re attacking me.” Jisung whined, kicking Chan’s shin under the table. Chan gasped, kicking him back with more force. They would do this for hours if you didn’t stop them.

“Guys-” You started, but you stopped yourself. Jisung deserved to be kicked. 

The four of you were hardly quiet when you were together, so you ate your lunches and talked about your day. Jisung got the chance to tell Chan and Changbin about him spilling folic acid all over his crush in chemistry, which he told you about on the way to your shared history class.

“It was mortifying! He’s never going to want to talk to me again!” He cried, hiding his face behind his hands, “I was even planning on asking him to prom! Now what am I gonna do?” 

Suddenly, everyone’s attention was on Jisung. 

“Prom?” Changbin yelled, his eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“We were supposed to go to that together, you dick!”

“It’s my senior year! I wanted to shoot my shot!”

“Yeah! Senior year! That’s why we were going together!” Changbin shook his head, false disappointment evident on his face.

“Well, since we’re asking people to prom now,” Chan started, folding his hands on the table. He bit his lip, darting his eyes around the room, “Y/N...do you maybe...wanna go to prom with me?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your fingers twisted themselves around each other as you pulled your lip between your teeth, willing yourself not to smile like a lovestruck idiot. This was your best friend, asking you to prom as his best friend. You pulled yourself together, heaving a sigh before you replied,

“Yeah, totally. It’s a date.”

“IT’S A DATE? Have I lost my fucking mind?” You fell back onto your bed, staring at your ceiling in disbelief. Jisung cackled from his seat at your desk, obviously very pleased by your choice of words at lunch. He invited himself over to your house, wanting to discuss prom plans with you, but you two were getting nowhere. As soon as you got home, you ran to your room to wallow in your own peril. You remembered how Chan had smiled at you when you accepted his proposal, his eyes managing to sparkle even under the shitty fluorescent lights the cafeteria provided.

“I’ve only been waiting four years for one of you to slip up. I’m glad it was you so we can talk about it. That asshole Chan still hasn’t confessed his undying love for you to me. But I bet he told Changbin. Fucking traitor.” He started to ramble, his eyes drifting across the paintings on the wall, “Hey,” he pointed to one in the corner, “this one is new.”

You nodded, gazing at the painting yourself. You had only hung it up a few days prior. You smiled, remembering the night you painted it. Chris was at your house, taking up all the space on your desk with his laptop, portable keyboard, and hard drive. He was working on a 3RACHA song, like he usually was. You always found those days with Chan so relaxing. The two of you didn’t need words to communicate with each other, you had your art. He would make music and you would paint, and your art would always end up reflecting the other’s. The song he was working on that night, Alchemistry, showed itself in your painting, swirling clouds of grey in a fading sky of purple and black. 

“Since we’re not going as a group anymore, I need to find a way to ask Hyunjin to prom.” Jisung sulked, opening up one of his one thousand notebooks. Jisung was a notebook kinda guy. He wrote every little thought down, just in case something could be used in a future song of his. And if he wanted to find something specific? Get ready for notebooks being tossed at your head as he sifts through every single one because he doesn’t label or organize anything. 

“Write him a song.” You suggested, gaze still trapped in that painting. Now that you were thinking about it, most of the paintings on that wall had something to do with Chan. It was like he had seeped into every corner of your life, including the darkest and most personal ones. 

“That’s your answer for everything I do.”

“Because your songs are good?” Not that you were lying. Your three best friends made up the rap trio 3RACHA. Were you a little bit jealous that they didn’t even ask if you wanted to be part of it? Yes, but you designed their album covers, so you forgive them.

Jisung was silent for a second, pondering your idea. Then he nodded, flipping to an empty page in the neon green notebook. He started scribbling, and you can’t really tell if it’s lyrics or drawings. But you looked away, letting Jisung do his thing. Pulling yourself up from the bed, you made your way to your closet, flinging the doors open with a huff. You scanned the rows of clothing before deciding that you definitely needed to go prom shopping. 

“I need something new, something that screams-”

“Please date me?”

You scoffed, “Han Jisung, you’re going to be the death of me.”

two.

Your room was an absolute disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, makeup and hair products settling on every surface. You hardly noticed the mess, you were so...excited? Anxious? You didn’t really know.

It was the big day.

Changbin was laying on your bed, no doubt texting Chan about how dramatic you and Jisung were being. Jisung was three inches away from your mirror, sucking in a breath as he applied a line of dark brown eyeliner. You were on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair as you decided what to do with it.

“Just leave it how it is, Y/N, who cares that much?”

“I care that much, Changbin!” You huffed, deciding to leave it how it was anyway. 

The only reason Chan wasn’t with you guys is because he was now your date. Jisung had banished him and Hyunjin from the room as soon as you started getting ready, claiming that he wanted your looks to be a surprise.

“I’m giving you guys ten minutes before we leave, alright? I’m getting a fucking drink.”

“Your favorite juice is on the bottom shelf.” You called out as Changbin was leaving the room.

“I know where the juice is!” He shut the door firmly, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily, having just finished his wing, “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

“That’s a rented tux-”

“I didn’t mean it literally! I’m just...really nervous.”

You nodded, moving from your spot to go comfort the boy, “If it’s any consolation, you look super hot. And I’ll make out with you if Hyunjin doesn’t.”

He laughed, and you could feel the nervous energy around him dissipate a little bit.

Once the two of you were ready, Jisung opened your bedroom door, calling out to the boys below. He linked arms with you before walking out the door and down the stairs slowly.

Chan turned around when he heard movement on the stairs, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. His face turned bright pink as he adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to take, “You look...um...really...n-nice, bunny.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, feeling your stomach churn at Chan’s nickname for you since you were children, “Thank you. You look...nice, too.”

Jisung unhooked your arms and wandered over to Hyunjin, and you could hear them mumbling soft compliments to each other, both of their faces tinged pink.

The car ride to the school seemed to be the most normal feeling part of the night. You all talked to each other, awkwardness temporarily thrown out the window. You laughed at Jisung’s impressions, trying to avoid the weight of Chan’s hand in yours. It felt nice; right, even. His grip was tight, but in a comforting way. Every once in a while, his thumb would gently graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

Once you got inside the gym, it all changed again. Now, Chan wasn’t just your best friend. He was your date, and you got all dressed up for each other, and everybody was looking at you two. He sent a charming smile your way, half bowing and extending yet another hand for you, “May I have this dance?”

And it was okay again, for a little while. The two of you danced, all worries about keeping face and feelings out of your mind. Your friends joined you for some of the songs, and you finally got to see Hyunjin dance. For months, Jisung would rave about how amazing he was. And you agreed; he certainly deserved his spot as co-president of the dance team. 

An hour or so into the dance, a slightly sweaty Chan pulled you away from the dance floor and over to the refreshments. Confused, you asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just want some punch.”

“And you had to take me away with you. Felix was just about to throw it back!” You whined, feigning disappointment. In reality, you were kinda glad to be out of the dance circle. High school kids really didn’t understand the concept of personal space when it came to these things. And besides, you wouldn’t mind some alone time with Chan.

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested to him, “we’re both sweaty. We could use some air.”

He nodded, taking your hand again. Pushing open the gymnasium doors, the two of you were met with a cool spring breeze. You sighed, letting your eyes shut for just a moment. In that one moment, Chan’s eyes were trained on you, fondness practically seeping from his pores. He took you to his favorite spot on campus, the music hallway. It was his favorite place to study, and the acoustics were dope, just in case he felt like bursting into song. Jisung did that sometimes.

The two of you sat on the cold cement floor, giggling at each other like little kids. You weren’t worried about what your friends inside the gym would think. You were just thinking about Chan. Chan and his dimpled smile and his sparkly eyes and his calloused but still gentle hands and how he was getting closer and why he was getting closer and - oh, his lips tasted like peach. You always liked peaches. So you kissed him back, because he tasted like peach. Not because you’ve been head over heels for him since the 7th grade. Absolutely not. Although, to be fair, 7th grade you would be absolutely geeked at how good of a kisser Chan was. How those calloused hands still managed to hold your face like it was made of porcelain while he sucked on your bottom lip like he would die without it.

He pulled away first, the popping sound of your lips disconnecting making you blush.

“That was - I - I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?”

“I just kissed you!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” He gaped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s just that, yanno, I dunno. The prom...energy...got to me...haha.”

You stared at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip, trying to push the feeling of his lips out of your mind. You forced a smile, “Totally! And we...don’t have to mention this to anybody if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah...that would be best...let’s go back to the gym.” He stood and pulled you up with him. How he can stand to still hold your hand after crushing your heart like that, you couldn’t understand. But you let him.

You would always let him.

three.

It only takes two weeks for you to tell someone about the kiss. Granted, you’re drunk. And it’s Jisung. And he’s offended it took so long.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not just anyone, Y/N! Let’s not forget, I told you about my first kiss with Hyunjin when it happened!” He was practically yelling.

“You guys are dating! Chan and I are not dating!” You cried out, your grip on the plastic cup in your hand tightening. You weren’t really sure what was in the cup. Changbin had brought you one of his concoctions, promising to get you fucked up. And you just graduated high school, you deserved it! Thank whatever higher power that Choi Lia’s parents were on route to Canada right now. 

“You guys still aren’t together? That’s so embarrassing.” Jisung hiccuped. He had the lowest alcohol tolerance you had ever seen, and you knew Lee Felix. You smacked his arm, apparently harder than you thought, because he yelped in pain. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. You pouted, staring at the neon green liquid in your cup. Sighing, you downed the rest of it, your face contorting at the awful taste. You figured you needed to be wasted to deal with Jisung’s bitching for the rest of the night. You loved the boy to pieces, but he sure had a mouth on him. 

Seemingly out of thin air, Hyunjin appeared next to Jisung, immediately slinking an arm around the shorter’s waist. Jisung giggled, “Hey, handsome.”

“Don’t do this in front of me.” 

They couldn’t hear you, “I’ve been looking for you all night, babylove. Should’ve guessed I’d find you with Y/N.”

“Was the glittery silver blazer not enough for you to spot him? He looks like New Year’s Eve in May.”

Still ignoring you, Jisung poked Hyunjin’s chest teasingly, “Sounds like you missed me.” He bit down on his lip, and that was the last straw for you. You huffed, making your way to where Changbin was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N! How was the drink?”

“Absolutely horrible. Make me another one.” 

Changbin took the cup from your hands, pouring random amounts of various liquids into it. He handed it to you with a sly smirk, warning you to drink slowly. Not that you ever listened to Changbin. You pulled yourself onto the kitchen counter, sipping on the horrible substance while making conversation. You ignored the dark cloud seeping into your mind while he spoke about college. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all made it into the same university, as they had submitted 3RACHA songs with their applications. You weren’t a musician, so you were going to a different university that focused more on your kind of art. It was only two hours away, but that was two hours farther than you had been from them in years. 

“Hey,” You interrupted his tangent, your voice barely above a whisper, “You guys aren’t gonna...forget about me, right?”

His smile dropped, “Of course not. We’re still gonna be best friends, aren’t we? And we’re gonna see each other every weekend, and when we come home for holidays, we’ll be together all the time.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. It was awkward positioning, but Changbin’s hugs always made you feel secure. You swallowed your tears, mumbling a shaky, “thank you,” into his ear. 

When he let you go, you quickly finished the rest of the drink and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Your last drink was starting to hit you, big time. A sudden determination filled your veins, “Hey, Binnie?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you seen Chan lately?”

“He’s probably with Seungmin somewhere.”

You nodded, jumping off the counter and starting your pursuit. It shouldn’t be that hard. How many guys did you know with fried blond hair?

After a few minutes of searching, you found him sitting on the couch with Seungmin like Changbin had said. Seungmin made a joke, and Chan threw his head back as he laughed. God, he was so...stunning. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. You felt your determination wither for a second, but you pushed through. This is your last chance, Y/N, you thought to yourself. It’s now or never.

“Can I talk to you?”

A look of alarm crossed Chan’s features as he nodded. He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Yeah, totally. What’s up?”

“I mean,” You glanced at the boy sitting next to him, “alone.”

A soft oh left Chan’s lips as he stood. He nodded to Seungmin before gripping your hand like he’s done so many times before. You could just barely hear Seungmin’s laughing as Chan pulled you away. Wait, you were the one who asked him to talk, why was he dragging you around?

To be honest, Chan didn’t know either. For him, taking your hand and leading you to secret places just seemed...natural to him. He led you up the stairs and into the first room he found. Lia’s room. Lia wouldn’t mind; she was a good friend. He closed the door behind you two, locking it just to be sure. 

“What’s up, bunny?” 

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you sat down on the bed. You sucked in a breath, making eye contact with Chan as you folded your hands, “I’m in love with you.”

He just stared at you, not even blinking. You watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. An excruciating minute passed, which felt like hours to you, before he made his way across the room and next to you on the bed.

“Y/N…” He had hardly finished saying your name before your heart shattered, “we’re going to different schools next year. You’ll be focusing on your painting and I’ll be producing probably non-stop. I...wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to you.” 

You tried to hold in the tears, you really did, but you were drunk and the boy you’ve been in love with for like 5 years just rejected you and you’re cold. So you couldn’t really help the choked sob that comes from your throat, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him for comfort. He started to stutter, “N-No that’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but don’t cry!” He clasped your shoulders and pulled you to him, allowing your tears to flow freely on his nice black shirt, “Y/N, you know I have feelings for you. I just...won’t be able to be there for you like you need me to. I want to be with you, I really do. It would just end in heartbreak. I would rather still be your best friend and only that than have you hate me as a boyfriend, okay?” 

“I’ll wait for you.” You barely managed to get those words out through your cries.

“No, you won’t. Please don’t. Please move on, bunny.” You removed yourself from his hold, scrunching your nose up to sniffle the tears away.

“Can we just...go to bed?” 

The smile that he gave you in that moment broke your heart again; so sad and sincere.

“Of course.” He laid you down, holding you close enough to hear his heartbeat. He was so warm. 

God, how you wished you could stay like that forever.

four.

Chan couldn’t tell if he was more excited or nervous to see you. Your group hadn’t seen each other as much as you had hoped. At the beginning of the semester, you met up every weekend, excitedly chatting about your new classes and the new people in your lives. But as life continued, it got in the way. You hadn’t seen each other face to face since October, opting for texts and FaceTime sessions instead. And he missed you terribly. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

He found himself thinking of you often. Even during songwriting sessions with Jisung and Changbin. They laughed at him when his lyrics became sappy, threatening to pull their phones out and text you Chan’s adoration. He regretted what he told you back in May; that he wouldn’t be good to you. 

He sat in the living room of his childhood home, fidgeting in his seat. Changbin was scrolling through channels on the TV, a bored expression on his features. Jisung and Hyunjin were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the third time that night.

He couldn’t focus. You were going to knock on that door any moment, your parents in tow, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Cry? Run into your arms? Fuck, try and kiss you? He stood abruptly, scaring the boy next to him. 

“I-I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying to lock himself in his bedroom to breathe.

Changbin opened the front door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of one of his best friends, “Y/N!” 

“Is Y/N here?” Jisung yelled from the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet telling you that he was running your way. Two pairs of arms wrapped around you. They walked you through the door, with Changbin yelling something to your parents about where the other parents were. You felt your mother’s hand on your back, a way for her to tell you that they were going. When the boys finally released you, they noticed one other figure in the room.

“Oh…” Jisung gasped. Changbin just stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um-” You coughed, trying to relive some of the tension, “where’s Chan?”

“In his room.”

You nodded before heading that way, lightly tapping on the door three times, “Channie? It’s Y/N.”

The door swung open, a breath-taking smile on the boy’s face. He wrapped you up in his embrace, swinging you around as he yelled your name.

“How have you been? How are you? Wow, you look so pretty!” His hands cupped your face, lightly dragging his thumbs over your cheekbones. You placed your hands over his, a dull heartbeat in your chest as you watched him speak. 

Chan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He thought you could hear it, and that’s why you were looking at him so...analytically. They’re right here, he thought. You lost your chance last time, but maybe it’s not too late. Now or never, Chan.

“Listen, Y/N…” He sighed, “about what I said after graduation, at that party-”

“No, don’t-”

“Please just let me say this.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue, “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should’ve just...given us a shot. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You can ask the guys, all my lyrics have been about you, and they’re ridiculously cheesy. I know I told you to move on but...maybe I still have a place in your heart? And...maybe we can...try this?”

You couldn’t breathe. You shook your head, pulling away from him, “Chan, I-” 

Seven months ago, you would’ve jumped for joy at his confession. Taken him into your arms and kissed him until you were dizzy. But now…

“Baby! How long were you gonna wait until you introduced me?”

Chan froze. Baby? Who the hell was calling you baby?

You took a few steps back, glancing over at the boy next to you, “Channie...this is my boyfriend, Minho.”

Boyfriend. You had a...boyfriend. You went and did exactly what he told you to do, but his heart still shattered. But he plastered a smile on his face anyway, shaking Minho’s hand, “I’m Bang Chan. One of Y/N’s best friends. Welcome to her second home.”

And the night continued like that. Your best friends focused their attention entirely on you and Minho. They asked him an endless amount of questions, from where he grew up to his favorite kind of bean. Sometimes, you would notice Jisung or Changbin giving Chan a sympathetic glance, but you ignored it. Minho was a good boyfriend, and you were genuinely happy with him. You didn’t expect your feelings for Chan to leave you so quickly, but distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.

The five of you spent most of your winter break together. The only day you didn’t see each other was Christmas, which was spent with your families. The next day, you had your own Christmas, like you did every year. 

The hardest day for Chan was New Year’s Eve. You had a party at Changbin’s house, with as many kids from your graduating class as possible. It reminded him of that night after graduation. Jisung still wore that ugly silver blazer, drunk and attached to his boyfriend all night. Changbin still made horrible, hangover inducing nightmare drinks that he persuaded poor college students into drinking. You were drunk again, too. But instead of crying into Chan’s chest like before, you were giggling up a storm with your new boyfriend. Chan watched from afar, jealousy pumping through his veins at the way you draped yourself across his lap, and how he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That should’ve been him.

10 seconds before midnight, he felt sick. Everyone around him was so giddy, so excited for a new start. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you two. Your hands were locked together, staring into each other’s eyes as you counted down the seconds. The TV at the front of the room screamed, “Happy New Year,” as he watched Minho’s lips crash against yours, a smile evident on both of your faces. He stalked out of the living room, making a beeline for the bar. 

He had to get over you, the way you had so easily gotten over him. And he had to get over you now or never.

[anteroom-of-death]

Life, For Dummies p9

a/n: a nice filler chapter. i woke up, edited this and now i must go back to bed. enjoy a cheeky bit of whatever the heck this is...

You woke up again, another confused morning. Not overall the biggest one yet, but you still laid there, half happy and yet, half sorting out everything. You smelled the coffee from the other room. His coffee was always such a comfort and beyond excellent. Never went stale or bitter either. 

He really had you wrapped around his little finger, and what a way, via caffeine. 

You stretched out in your bed and felt the collar shift around your neck slightly, and went to readjust it properly. 

Closing your eyes and focusing on the now, you came to terms with all this slowly, the heat of the day slowly pouring in on your body and warming you up. You focused on feeling the rotations of the fan and the breeze on your bare midriff. You inhaled and held it for a few seconds before releasing it, as much as you were curious what terrible read that the Master was devouring and what the next logical step of this whole shebang was. But bed was good, bed was comfy, bed felt good with your nice duvet and fluffy pillows surrounding you. You felt lazy and a tad sore, so you let bed win out for a bit. 

Once your loafing was done, you got out of bed and made a laborious moan and cracked your neck and sternum. You decided to prep slowly and let him wait a bit more. It was only right, waiting on one level, mini wait on another…

The coffee would be still piping hot. 

You came out plain faced but a little tarty. He was lounging reading a book in what looked like an alien language, so no quippy remark this time from you. Maybe he planned it that way- he was tired of you ragging on his shitty taste in literature.You rolled your eyes and sat down to enjoy your coffee. “No fair- I can’t read alien scribbles.” You teased, lightly smacking him on the knee.

“It’s high old Gallifreyan. It’s a hidden erotic text from what construed as our dark ages.” He murmured, half lost in it. “Maybe teach me it, no fun if I can’t join in…” You teased, though erotica in the Master’s native tongue would be fun to read. Would allow more context on what made him.

You knew the amount of fanfiction you read probably shaped your subconscious in ways that you'd have to dig up Frued and have him work on you full time. 

“That’s a thought…” He mused.

You nodded and went back to your mug. Your paranoia kept you waiting for the other shoe to drop. You placed your mug down and squinted hard at him reading. You rested your chin on the crook of your fingers and your arm on your thigh, tapping your thumb on the base of your throat in a half anxious way. 

Eventually you sighed and motioned the book away from him, “So what’s the deal? What are we doing? All of this, are we leaving today or what?” You sort of pointed everywhere. You had a lot of questions. It was only fair that he didn’t leave you in an information lurch.

“I figured we’d laze around here today and work on moving you into the TARDIS again but I’d like to properly enjoy breaking you in again.” He winked. 

You squinted again. 

“You make out like I’m a pair of shoes you haven’t worn in a hot minute.” You did a light chortle. “That’ll inflate my self esteem.” You sarcastically added.

“Aren’t you?” He cooly retorted.

“Good one.” You wagged a finger at him. ‘You’re hilarious!”

“Oh, do I have to punish you?” The tone was lighthearted and jovial and yet it laid a real threat.

“Bring it on, Time Boy.” You pushed a little further. You grinned largely and stuck out your tongue. 

He pulled you over suddenly and firmly by your ear and up towards your face. “Hmmm...looks like I do.” He was apoplectic yet smooth. “What should a brat like you get for questioning her Master?” He pulled you up over his knees and ripped down the shorts you had on. “So, I’m gonna spank you, but you have to count?” He stroked your ass gently with one of his hands while he supported your weight with the other by your neck.

“I’m thinking twenty?” You could hear a smirk from above you. You rolled your eyes, “How does that sound?” He stroked your ass again and grabbed a cheek with one hand, “Does that sound good, pet?” He let a finger linger on your cunt. You let out an anticipatory shiver. “Yes, Master.”

He paddled, you counted, after you reached twenty, you were doubting if you could sit after. You forgot how paddle-like his hands were. After twenty he massaged your ass and your clit, gently making sure he didn’t do any lasting damage. You still were irradiating heat and yet were gently brought to a gentle reward of an orgasm. He was a compassionate dictator, after all…

He brought you up and gently positioned you on his lap like a small doll. He pet your hair and kissed your jaw softly, gently moving up to your lips and nibbling softly, “Have you learned your lesson?” He breathed onto your lips. 

You were intoxicated with the scent and woozy, “Yes, Master...I have.”

“Good.” Then he pressed his warm, supple lips against yours.

The day faded on lazily. 

You got some boxes out of storage and started to move your precious items out into it to put back in your room in the TARDIS. It would be weird being back in there, you noted that you might have to change things up decor and interior design wise. You were fond of your tiny cottage and wanted to bring some of that into the hazy, crazy days of interdimensional space travel. You liked the slightly slow small town life you’d painstakingly made here. 

You’d definitely try to enforce a policy of nights in front of a crackling fire in picturesque sights on occasion. Lazy nights in front of a fire with a nice drink were just the best luxury one could have. 

Simple, yet relaxing.

You enjoyed a relaxing evening as much as you enjoyed everything else that the Universe could hold for you. Excitement and adventure had to be evened out with calm and relaxing. Both were good. 

Emotions washed over you in waves. You really were in such a situation. 

He was a good boy and made it up to you. You had to really give it to him for that. You found it ironic that he was the one in power yet you just applied the label “good boy” to him like he was a submissive or something. Maybe he was, but you were the one who kneeled here. That much was given. You were taken by him. 

Oh, the minute yet twisted webs weaved. 

You brought out the last of the boxes to the patio and screamed to the sky. How did you manage to accumulate such a crazy amount of stuff? Maybe Marx was right, something something consumerism fetish. 

He peeked his head out of the TARDIS and gave you a quizzical deadpanned look. 

“You summoned me?”

“How the fuck will I get this all in?” You panicked.

“Repeat after me ‘dimensionally transdimensional’, pet. It’s a whole other plane of existence in here. You know this.” 

“Oh, right.” You knew, but sometimes it overwhelmed you and you rather would just kick a box. Which you decided to do. Maybe the Master was right, you were a brat… Oh well, you had a more pressing matter than your sore bum and the Masters hands milking you until you came. 

You rolled your eyes at how eager you were to repeat the mistake of disobeying him. You bucked your hips as you tried to get your body back into packing mode and not cock-hungry. 

Waltzing up you knocked on the door you waited for him to open it. "Help me get these into my room. I won't do them all." You shrugged. 

He sighed melodramatically and joined you in moving and even unpacking them and putting your favorite mug in the kitchenette on display. "Easy access, like a certain slut I know." He tapped your nose, smirking then playfully slapping your ass.

You squeaked.

He rolled his eyes, "One more night here? We can have a fire like you like, even make a s'more. Always loved the idea of those. I read a book once as a child about alien cuisines and that was listed as a traditional Earthling dish…" His eyes lit up like a kid with a kitten.

You smiled and rubbed your ass gently, "Sure." 

You indulged him in this and sat on your Master's lap, as the wicker and vinyl seating wasn't really the most comfortable seating for you at the moment. His thighs were cushion-y and the curve of them really supported you. 

It was a lovely evening, you had to admit it. The Master's scent and the scent of pine trees and the maple wood on the fire. The chocolate and graham crackers were also adding a level of scent. If you could bottle up a scent for instant perfume production, it'd be this moment. 

You quickly figured out that the main appeal was the open flame and setting the marshmallows on fire. "Remind me to never let you near a fondue bar or make souffles." You chided as you trimmed your hair from a bit catching fire ranting under your breath about mad men and flames. He was still giggling with the stick still blazing and dancing around the yard.

It was oddly endearing. Even if you had to give yourself a DIY haircut in your kitchen sink. 

"Don't start a forest fire!" You screamed out the window. You exhaled sleepily. Despite the seven s'mores you had and the rollicking conversation you were having, you were still human, you needed to sleep. Big day tomorrow, you were moving and you were going back out on adventures. Your time here in this phase of your life was closing. You felt melancholic about it, but you wanted to see the stars again. The time off from it and the current start of your second relationship with the same Master gave you a newer, wiser perspective.

Was this growth?

If this was a story in literature class, you’d be if this was a bit of symbolism. Haircut and change. You laughed at yourself at that thought...

He came back from his fun run and asked you if you wanted to sleep, you nodded a bit and he led you into the bathroom and drew you a bath.

He really enjoyed giving you baths for some reason. Not that you minded, you were equal parts lazy and enjoyed the pampering of it. He was always so gentle with you in these times. 

Your Master even blew dried your hair and helped set it. 

He was a good Master, you were lucky to have him, you found yourself thinking as he tucked you away into the folds of your bedding like a burrito. He even kissed your forehead and turned out the lights. You found yourself thinking as you drifted deeper into sleep about ownership and how he'd been patient with you. Master was there to take care of you, all you had to do was obey him. 

You could do that. You wanted to. You would obey….

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 3/13

Chapter Title: Strawberries & Cigarettes 

Words: 1,741

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Over the course of the next few weeks, Nico and Blue exchanged numerous emails. Whether he was at school, at home, or anywhere in between, Nico did his best to reply as soon as possible. It even ended in his phone being confiscated a few times in a couple different classes. Nico couldn’t help it, though; every time a new email popped into his inbox there was an unfamiliar fluttering in his heart and itching in his hands to reply just to hear what Blue had to say. 

One morning Nico had forgotten to set his alarm, and in his rush to school had no time to read the most recent email from Blue, much less respond to it. He snuck out of lunch and headed for the library and their computers that afternoon. It was a risky task, considering their computers were right there in the open and anybody, including Blue himself, could walk behind him, but it was a risk Nico was willing to take. The service at their school was beyond shitty; Nico really wasn’t in the mood for waiting half an hour just for the email to load. And something about their most recent conversation had Nico’s heart racing. 

He had suggested a John Snow costume for himself before casually asking Blue what he planned on dressing up as. He knew for a fact that the Stoll brothers were once again hosting their famous Halloween party that nearly the entire school showed up to. As long as it wasn’t something stereotypical like a pirate or a ghost, there was a chance Nico might be able to at least scope out who Blue may be. It was no secret that Nico’s curiosity was growing on who was behind all the emails, but Blue was a private person and refused to give out too many details. 

Nico logged in quickly to his gmail and opened the unread notification in his inbox.

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 28 at 6:07 AM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

I’m sure you would look great in a John Snow costume. Not just anyone can pull off that hair, but something tells me that you can. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a trick or treater. 

I’m not dressing up for Halloween though. My mom has this tradition of going to the Halloween open mic night at some bar, which leaves me stuck at home handing out candy. (Don’t worry, I still have pumpkin sweater to wear for the occasion. It’s the ugliest thing you’ll probably ever see.) 

For me, Halloween is all about the Oreos with the orange frosting in the middle. I’m not usually one to indulge in a lot of sweets, but chocolate is my downfall. And those Halloween edition Oreos are a personal favorite of mine.

-Blue

While Nico was disappointed to not get any more of a lead on who Blue was, he still felt himself smiling at the Oreo obsession. 

He typed out a response as quickly as he could, hoping to still be able to make it back to lunch so he could eat before the period was over.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 28 at 12:37 PM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

It’s unfortunate that you’re not dressing up, I feel like you would be someone to come up with a witty costume but it’s actually GOOD. (i.e. not the ‘holy cow’ costume I did with my friend a few years back with involved cow onesies and angel wings and halos. Never again.) At least you aren't crushing that childhood trick or treater spirit with that pumpkin sweater, which I hope one day I get to see.

And you’re not wrong about the Oreos. I hope whichever party I’m being dragged along to this weekend has them because they are freaking delicious. 

-Angel

He attached a gif of cartoon pumpkins floating down onto an Oreo cookie that was already covered in orange frosting. Just as Nico hit send, Mr. Brunner wheeled up to him.

“Hey, Nico!” Mr. Brunner said. “How are you? You’re smiling pretty big, so there must be something good going on!”

“Oh, um,” Nico cleared his throat as he quickly put the computer to sleep. “Nothing crazy. Just checking grades. I got an A on my English paper.” He actually got a B+, but he needed a coverup quick before Mr. Brunner asked any more questions. 

Thankfully, it worked. “Oh, great job!” Mr. Brunner said, placing his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you’ve been pretty happy these past few weeks.”

Nico forced a laugh. “Uh, yep. Just having a good month.”

“Good, good.” 

There was a few seconds of silence before Nico spoke again. “Anyway, uh, I need to get back to lunch. Have a good day, sir.” He turned quickly, barely catching Mr. Brunner raising an eyebrow at the formal tone. He nearly ran straight into Octavian as he rushed out the library, who just gave him a dirty look, which Nico ignored.

“Where have you been?” Reyna asked once he reaches the courtyard. The weather was nice today, not too cold, unlike the past days that month, so the school allowed students to eat outside if they chose. 

Nico dropped down in the seat next to her. “Library. Just checking grades.”

Reyna nodded, clearly not completely believing him. “Here are your burnt tots because you have horrible taste,” she said, thankfully dropping the subject and also said tater tots onto Nico’s tray.

Nico nodded in thanks, before picking the not-quite-ripe banana off his tray. “And here is your green banana because you like disgusting things,” he shot back as he handed it to her. Reyna only hummed in agreement.

Piper looked between the two of them, brow furrowed.. “You guys are weird.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Jason sighed next to them.

They continued to chatter as Will, Cecil, Lou Ellen, and the Stoll brothers slid onto the other two empty benches around their table. Nico ripped open a pack of Oreos that he had brought, which earned him a small lecture from Piper about eating dessert before he had lunch.

“Am I right, Will?” she asked the boy across the table once she’s finished.

Will just shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

As Piper went back to her conversation with Jason and Reyna about halloween costumes, Will nudged his hand. Surprised, Nico looked up at him.

“Oreos,” Will smiled. “I love those. Halloween ones are the best.”

Nico laughed shakily, but it felt like his heart had just leapt to his throat. “Yeah, though good luck trying to get any of mine this time. I don’t give up that easy,” he managed.

“You’re in luck then,” Will said with a grin as he reached into his back pocket “—because I brought my own.” He displayed a package nearly identical to the one Nico was holding, but with orange filling rather than the classic white cream ones in Nico’s hand.

He laughed with Will, but his mind was racing. 

Did he just find Blue? 

Was is possible that he would find Blue so early on? They had only been talking for about a month, there was no way Blue would drop it easily.

And yet, part of him could hear Will’s voice echoed in some of the emails he’s received. He can imagine Will laughing at his awkward childhood stories, or blushing as he types out one of his own. They’re goofy, fun messages while still being reserved. It would fit for Will.

“Nico? Nico—” Piper waves her hand in his face, zapping him from his trance and tearing his gaze away from Will who, thankfully, was too wrapped up in a conversation with Cecil to notice him staring. “Hello? Anybody home? What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing, sorry. Just tired. Uh, what’s going on?” He blinked a few times, focusing back on Piper. Her brow was furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

“Just planning the Halloween party,” Travis said from across the table, high-fiving his brother. “Our mom’s out of town for the week again, so we’re going full swing. Everybody’s invited!”

Nico just smiled at the enthusiasm. The Halloween party had been tradition since their freshman year, and it was only getting bigger as they got older. Being surrounded by a bunch of drunk kids wasn’t usually Nico’s choice of event, but this was the only party he ever really attended, so he could stand it. Once a year, at least.

“You are going, right?” Will asked. “Because I couldn’t do karaoke alone.” Nico was surprised that Will was asking him. Maybe deep down he knew something too. 

“Yeah,” Nico smiled. “Yeah, I’m going.”

---

Nico found himself watching Will in their environmental science class. It’s last period, the only class they had together. Will sat two rows over from him, and further in the back while Will sits up close to the teachers desk. 

Blue’s most recent email, which he received shortly at his lunch, plays in his head. But this time, he hears it all in Will’s voice. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 28 at 1:21 PM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

I’m glad to see we are in agreement about the Oreos, that would have been a dealbreaker for me.

On a totally different, non-cookie related note: is it weird that I have no idea what you look like but I can’t stop thinking about kissing you?

-Blue

Nico sucked in a breath, hearing those words over and over again, the test in front of him forgotten. Instead, he watched as Will’s curls bounce when he leaned forward, and Nico could just barely see a glimpse of his pink tongue dart from between his lips for just a second as he concentrated. He watched freckled, tan skin that lead from his neck and under his shirt, down his arms all the way to his palms. They danced like stars as Will scribbled in another answer.

“Nico,” the teacher called, and Nico quickly looked over to him. “Eyes on your own paper.” 

He’s about to look away when Will turned around and time seemed to stop for a moment. Will flashed a soft smile and shook his head at him. Nico smiled and rolled his eyes back, but inside, it felt like he might explode.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again: P1 Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfiction piece I’ve ever posted, so I’m learning how this all works as I go. I’ll probably post this on AO3 sometime soon, but because I’ll need to make an account, etc, it might be a little while before it’s available there.

Additionally, please review! 

I’m excited (and extremely nervous) to put my writing out there for the first time, so any comments, questions, or advice are absolutely welcome! 

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Then Again, Part 1:

(Word count: 1,358)

Living in New York City rarely feels as glamorous as the movies and aesthetic blogs make it seem. Most days, that lively hustle and bustle of our beautiful, always dreaming city reminds me of a horde of flies conducting emergency drills underwater. Especially on foggy days. And muggy days. And Mondays, Tuesdays, occasionally Wednesdays. However, the almost-weekend to weekend days that sprinkle in refreshing breezes alongside bright sunshine - those days pull you up by the back of your collar and shove optimism down your shirt like it’s a cool, wet towel. The city tingles from the ground up.

Today is one of those good days.

Ironically, I woke up exhausted. I nearly spilled my breakfast in my lap (but didn’t, thanks to Peter) and I walked with my three best friends to school through fields of exhaust fumes half-awake. Once there, however, it all seemed to turn around. The classes I attended went wonderfully and the classes I didn’t attend, I’ll assume went just as well. I skipped half of them for the first time in my life.

Besides occasional “homework sharing,” I rarely break rules, it’s just that Ned and Michelle can be extremely persuasive… not that I needed much persuasion today. The suggestion was enough. I’ve been so giddy this week that I embraced the tiny taste of teenage rebellion with open arms. (“Tiny” seems like an appropriate description: all we did was hide out in random parts of the school watching Vines, playing minor pranks in the hallways during breaks, and stealing food from Peter’s stash of locker snacks as payback for his refusal to join us.)

Today has been a great day, and outside of Peter acting a bit strange, it’s been a good week overall. It’s just so easy to be happy with everything going on. Tonight: special dinner with our friends. Tomorrow: Midtown’s academic decathlon team heads to Washington, D.C. Shortly after, my friends and I will attend Prom, go on summer break, and enter our senior year of high school. My anticipation for this trip, the dance, the summer, and our eventual graduation bubbles up inside my stomach anytime the conversation between me and two of my best friends takes a short dip as we walk back from school.

Despite all of the upcoming things I have to think about, this walk is making my thoughts drift back to the one topic I’ve been trying most to avoid. Why wouldn’t Peter sneak out of class? He isn’t always such a rule follower anymore. And then why leave seventh hour when we all have class together? Is it just a today thing? He’s seemed… off all week.

I need to stop thinking about him. Wondering why he’s been strangely reserved or else imagining the previous seven hours with him more present in their events is not going to help me keep our friendship normal. Just think about something else. Anything else. Even someone else.

“Should we invite Flash?” I ask. I ask this partly because it’s a question nobody has brought up yet, and partly because the conversation has certainly dipped and my brain wants to sprint away from my control. I even thought I saw Spidey a minute ago. By now he’s on the other side of Queens. Think of something else.

We stop on the sidewalk, traffic rushing in front of us, countless buzzing people behind everywhere else.

Ned and Michelle turn to me with matching expressions.

“And why would we do that?” Ned asks.

“Because every-”

“Oh, shit.” Michelle groans. “Because everyone else, bar Mr. Harrington, is going. The entire team except Flash. For being so smart, we’re all a bunch of fucking idiots.”

“Technically we don’t have to do anything,” Ned says, obviously resistant to the idea. “It isn’t an official team dinner or whatever. We can’t get in trouble for it.”

“Still, as captain, I can’t organize a social gathering with everyone but Flash and pretend it isn’t a shitty thing to do. God damn it.”

The walk signal turns white as Michelle starts a text to Flash. Peter’s apartment is only a few blocks away.

Once we reach the door, Ned knocks. We all know Peter and May won’t be in, but Ned has a habit of politeness that even that can’t shake. After a couple seconds, he unlocks it himself with one of the five total keys to the apartment. (Strictly speaking, May isn’t supposed to have had three extra copies made, but she wouldn’t be May if she paid mind to that rule.)

“So,” Michelle says, heaving her bookbag onto a chair. “Music and clean, then Netflix and chill?”

The three of us look around at the destruction our last night of studying brought the apartment. Snacks and dishes are strewn in odd places and our fallen pillow fort is a ruin. A sticky 5 Hour Energy must have splashed on the carpet at some point, given the pink stain to the right of the couch. Coating most of the colossal mess are countless pieces of scribbled-on paper.

Ned and I nod in agreement.

Michelle’s speaker beeps awake and we set to work.

As I gather garbage, I let the music fill up my skull. I imagine confetti raining down inside of it, each piece sparkling with tiny letters that read: It’s just one of those good days.

The only thing that could make this day better would be the presence of Peter and May Parker. But then again, Peter ducked out of last hour, I suppose to get a head start on his “internship” (he’s never done that before though, so the irony of his skipping part of Psych and not any other classes did not slide by unnoticed by Michelle or Ned either) and May has… a job, a hobby? I really don’t know. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing, I can’t help wishing they were home.

May returns around 5 p.m. As usual, she is unsurprised to find us watching Netflix. Over the last couple weeks, we took study breaks by picking out a lighthearted show and making questions from an episode. Today is an exclusively no-studying day, but we can’t help continuing the mini-tradition while we marathon Friends.

“Ah, the Studying-Not-Studying game.”

May walks over smiling, her arms crossed.

“It’s a vital healing process for our near-fatally strained brains,” I joke.

A phone buzzes.

“Wait, Miss MJ! You can’t answer that text until you answer my question for this episode. Were they,” May says, “or were they not,” she pauses, “on a break?”

“Oh god, no,” I plead. “Please, please, don’t start this again! Ned and MJ argued about this for twenty minutes before you got here!”

“Okay, but Rachel did say-” Ned begins.

“Oh my god, Ned! We talked about this!”

Michelle begins explaining with her hands and May grins, walking into the kitchen. Feinting defeat, I put my head in my hands and sink into the couch cushion. Slumped, I take out my own phone. Nothing.

I text Peter.

“Still good for 7:30?”

Whoosh. And now the waiting game begins. Actually, it began at 3:00 p.m. when I sent the first of a dozen messages. But none of them were questions, so an answer wasn’t necessary.

“Hey MJ,” I say. “What was that text you got?”

Michelle and Ned halt, hands frozen in expressionistic flight.

“Let’s see.” She flips her phone over. “It’s from Flash.”

Ned clasps his hands together.

“Dear merciful God,” he prays. “Please, please, let MJ read us a rejection text from Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy.”

We made up that nickname today while cutting fourth hour. Not quite eloquent, but to the point. Plus, it’s almost impossible to say seven times fast. (We made a game of trying.)

Michelle types a quick response and takes a breath, placing her hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Prepare yourself for something dreadful, Ned.” She hangs her head. “Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy is… ‘super doped out’ to accept our invitation.”

“God damn it.”

“Kids!” May calls from the kitchen. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to watch your language?”

Part 2

A/N: The content above is only 3 pages of a current 44 pages. If there are any mistakes in it, I apologize. Tonight was my self-set deadline and I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I would have preferred. (Betas welcome!)

I’m hoping to update again around Saturday, 

but because my weekend is so busy, I’m can’t promise anything. Still, I am planning to update weekly!

Again, please let me know what you think – I’d love to hear from you!

P.S. I love writing stories that have background plots spinning behind closed doors, so if you have any questions about little nods/hints you might find in this, I wouldn’t mind writing some “note” posts to explain details that may not be explicitly explained throughout this story.

[antigoneblue]

16, 21, 22, 23!

16: Do you keep a journal?  yeah, but i usually only use it as a coping mechanism (cliche, i know.) most of the things i write in it are sad things or angry things or sad/angry things.

21: What are five pieces of writing advice you’d give to a new / insecure writer?

write whatever feels real to you. don’t write what you think others want to hear. don’t censor yourself. sometimes your lit might get scary, but embrace it. it’ll help you grow, as an artist and as a person.

remember, the way you read your own work is gonna be dramatically different from how other people read it. don’t be too harsh on yourself. someone else might love your works, even if you don’t.

you don’t have to share your lit with people if you’d rather not, ever. you should feel safe while you’re making art, like, in a space where nobody can judge you or use your words against you. 

writing 1 bad poem does not make you a bad poet. everyone produces shitty literature at some point. it’s ok.

accept feedback & constructive criticism!! you don’t have to change anything about your writing, but knowing what people think about it, and how they react could help you understand if you’ve conveyed whatever you wanted to convey with your lit effectively. it also helps you see your own ideas from different points of view.

(& then of course, all the cliche don’t give up, it gets better, you get better, you’ll stop being insecure at some point- KEEP ON WRITING, YOU’LL LEARN TO MAKE LITERATURE THAT YOU’RE PROUD OF EVENTUALLY. and all that. )

22: What’s your writing process? (Do you brainstorm, outline, etc.)well, it depends on what i’m writing,and what i’m trying to capture by writing it. if it’s something specific, like a poem for a friend, or a poem to express a traditional festival, or a poem to explain something very serious, i think about it a lot - sometimes even write drafts - before getting to the real thing. if i’m trying to capture a certain mood or feeling, i literally word-vomit & write random things about the main idea without really checking how well they fit together, and then i re-read it and connect the dots. sometimes i think of a concept (for instance, that whole “making love to the sun” idea that mal & i have got going right now) or i think of one line before writing the poem itself, and i compose a poem around that one line. (the order in which i’ve answered this is deceptive, tbh- i do the last 2 things more frequently.)

23: What’s the most valuable writing tip you’ve encountered?

honestly, i’m not too sure. i think it’s just to write - write first, re-read & edit later. put pen to paper and scribble. whatever you do when you write. and don’t think about the poem, or the story, or whatever you’re writing. just focus on the words, and the emotions, and the imagery. don’t worry about the readers’ reaction to it while you’re writing - wait until you’re done with the thing & then re-read & edit it. 

also, sometimes, you might not want to re-read your work. for instance, poems abt trauma are very hard to write, but ten times harder to read (for me at least.) that’s also fine. when you’re writing, just let it take you away. write like you exist in a void; like you exist in a vacuum. 

not sure if that makes sense, but it’s the best i can think of :/

[elizakai]

fate

[elizakai]

I opened a book and this fell out XD