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lostparker · 5 years

Text

read at 8.57pm p.p oneshot

Pairing: peter parker x best friend!reader

Summary: when you send Peter a message containing something you’d wanted to tell him for months you’re scared it’s made your friendship fall apart.

Warnings: some curse words and a lot of fluff.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: IT’S HERE!!! thank you to everyone who got excited when I posted this teaser a few days ago. i hope you like it cause I still don’t know… is this cute? I can’t tell if this is cute but I was feeling fluffy after getting stuck writing angst for so long… I hope you guys enjoy it. feedback as always is appreciated.

Peter Parker is typing…

…

You threw your phone on your bed and it was just your luck that it landed face up displaying those three little dots that haunted you as he typed. You couldn’t believe you’d just done what you did. Shit. Did you really just do that? I mean, yes, yes you did just do that. But should you have? Absolutely not.

You paced the room, running your hands through your already disheveled hair. You stopped, at your bed and stared down at your phone. The bubbles indicating Peter was typing had disappeared and to make matters worse there was no new message from him. Just your message which now displayed a heartbreaking timestamp

read at 8.57pm

shit.

You closed your eyes holding back the tears that were already forming and threatening to spill. You breathed out an unsteady breath you’d been holding in, feeling numb on your feet. Your heartfelt heavy and your veins felt like they were filled with nothing but regret. You’d really screwed it up and you had no one to blame but yourself. You shouldn’t have said anything, things had been fine the way they were.

You looked down at your stupid mistake message. The one you’d debated sending for months and now wished you’d decided not to. Peter was your best friend. Had been since the two of you were paired up in chem class and now you’d gone and ruined the best thing in your life all for some impulsively sent message. The words had been running around your head for months and you wish you’d kept them there. In your head. God, you were such a fool.

You knew Peter knew you loved him, but you also knew that he knew about it in a platonic context. The one issue was you wanted more than platonic. You wanted those jolts of electricity you got when the two of you touched to mean more than friendship. You wanted him to know that when he smiled in the way that made his eyes crinkle that your heart stopped. You just never thought you’d be dumb enough to actually make the move that might tell him those things.

Oh how wrong you were.

Your eyes remained fixed on your now read message. Those seven words that you’d typed so quickly now felt like too many. They now loomed over your head. You could hear them in your head, running on an endless loop. A bitter reminder of what you hoped could turn into something sweet.

Y : I think I’m in love with you…

You flopped down on your bed, face buried into the pillows underneath you. You wanted to do nothing more than to scream, to cry, or better yet to disappear completely. You’d just told him you had feelings for him and you’d come to the conclusion that his lack of response clearly meant that he didn’t feel the same (otherwise he wouldn’t have left you on read… right?). Therefore, causing you to think that you’d messed up your friendship for good.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid

Your mind flashed with images of him ignoring you when you saw him on Monday. Or worse trying to find a way to let you down in the middle of the crowded hallway. You saw images of you alone at lunch, ostracised to a table by yourself. Images of everyone laughing at you behind your back about how stupid you were to think that Peter Parker might like you back. Tears spilled onto the pillow you were lying on, forming salty puddles beneath your cheeks.

An out of breath Peter arrived at your window thirty-seven minutes after your initial message. But, you didn’t hear the squeak of the window being pushed open or the soft thud of Peter landing on your carpeted floor because you’d been too wrapped up in your own world of pre-decided heartbreak. You’d been facing the wall didn’t see the way he looked at you, curled up on the bed sobbing. He noticed your phone, and he cocked his head to the side. When he squinted he saw that it was still unlocked and your unanswered confession of love still open.

He hadn’t meant to get you into this state by not answering your message it’s just there were some conversations that needed to happen in person, not over the phone. And this one? This was one of those conversations. Yeah, this was one of the ones where he needed to see your face. This was one of those conversations that he’d dreamed about since he’d first sat next to you in class. One of those conversations he was sure would never ever happen in a million years.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

He stepped forward gingerly, his head still tilted at an angle. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder in the hopes of not scaring you since he figured you hadn’t heard him come in. Nevertheless, you still jumped. You wiped your tears away frantically trying to hide the obvious. However the second your eyes landed on Peter they surfaced again.

You were already embarrassed about the message you’d sent, now he was seeing you crying about it. It was safe to say you’d surpassed embarrassed and gone straight to humiliated. He was the last person you expected to see tonight, even if you’d messaged him. You’d just got it into your head that you’d fucked everything up. If only you knew how wrong you were.

“P… Pet…Peter…?” You stuttered, trying your best to make it look like you hadn’t just been sobbing into your pillow over him, despite the fact he’d definitely seen that you had. There was no hiding the obvious. You had no idea how long he’d been standing there but you knew he wasn’t an idiot and wouldn’t be fooled easily if you tried to come up with an excuse for your tears.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispered, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite discern. He couldn’t bear how vulnerable you looked. How scared you looked that he was going to reject you. He would never do that. Not when the same thoughts had been floating around in his mind for months. He knew you were probably second-guessing everything that had said in your message and he wished you weren’t.

He stepped towards you, hoping you wouldn’t step back and he reached out to take your hands in his. He let out a shaky sigh, feeling nervous in your company for the first time (okay not the first, but the first time he was willing to admit) since the very first day you’d met. You were both young. Inexperienced in giving your hearts to someone, being so open with another person. Scared of falling. He was scared to admit that he’d already done both of those things with you. Now he knew for sure you’d done exactly the same thing.

Peter took a second to look at you, really look at you. You were cast in this golden glow from fairy lights you had flickering above your bed and he knew it was his new favourite picture. If he could screenshot real life this would be one of those moments he’d want to cherish forever. Since he couldn’t do that he took a mental picture and framed it in his mind.

His eyes followed the contours of your face. A face he’d grown so accustomed to. Grown to love with his whole heart. He traced the curve of your lips, the same ones he sometimes fell asleep dreaming about. His eyes darted across yours, the same ones that gave him butterflies when they looked at him. The ones that sparkled like nobody else’s when you spoke to him.

There was only one thing he wanted to do. One thing he knew would make all you uncertainty disappear. One thing that would confirm things for the both of you. One thing that would banish doubt and only leave room for certainty. One thing that would tether your hearts together with an invisible piece of string. His mind was practically screaming at him to do it.

Kiss her.

Kiss her you idiot.

Just do it already, she likes you too.

Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.

He removed one of his hands from yours, placing it delicately on your cheek. His thumb trailed mindlessly over it, brushing away the remaining straggling stray tears left behind. Before you could ask him what he was doing he pulled you forward slightly and pressed his lips softly onto yours. The soft gasp that came from your mouth was muffled into his.

Peter felt the two of you fit together so perfectly and when you didn’t pull away he removed his other hand from yours and put it around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, locking into place in his chocolate curls. The world around the two of you felt like it melted away and all you could focus on was the rhythm of your hearts, stammering in sync.

Peter’s hopeless romantic brain told him that if it had been a movie this would have been the moment the love song played and the camera panned around the two of you in slow motion. This would have been the moment the audience had been waiting for. Instead, it had been the two of you waiting. God, why had you waited so long?

All of your fear melted away into the kiss. Despite your earlier dismay you almost wished you’d told him sooner. Especially since this is what you’d been missing out on by keeping your secret to yourself. Every sense of insecurity that you’d done the wrong thing disappeared out the window Peter had left open. You’d said all you needed to say in that text message and he was replying by saying nothing at all. He was replying with his lips that tasted like peppermint.

Or so you thought.

Peter removed his hand from your waist and pulled out his phone. You cocked your head to the side, confusion spreading across your face. He glanced up at your now unsure eyes once before his fingers danced along his keyboard. You heard the ‘ping’ of your phone from where it lay, still discarded face up on your bed.

You stepped away from him, reaching to pick it up. He was standing less than a foot away from you, could he not tell you what was on his mind in person? Those thoughts dispersed and you felt your heart flutter when you read his message, a bashful smile forming on your lips as he stepped back closer to you pulling you into his lips again. Your phone dropping back onto the bed. Once again face up, just this time it was finally displaying a response.

P: I think I’m in love with you too.

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@gabriella-superwholock-universe @whatareyouhidingpeter @pepprmintyy@bloomingyou-th @tomhollandismyspiderman @sassy89sworld @palindrome-teddy @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @jackiehollanderr @wicked-starlight-collector @wakandahoesarethose @jackiehollanderr @zabdisamor @thats-marvelous-harry @savedbystark @sweetdarlingholland @imagine-lovebug @skritchlez @kay2304 @sunflowerharrystyles @silverreading @pink16panther @wander-lustbabe @awokenfandoms @tiny-friggin-human @sltwins @softtfinn @undiadeestos @bizzlegrillx @stylishbld @silverreading @wander-lustbabe @woaholland @stark-spiderling @donttellpeterparker @trustfundparker @nedthegay@134340-cm

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sorenmarie87 · 5 years

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Don’t You Want Me?

Summary: Mary manages to track you down, but only to get back something that belongs to her. Secrets get revealed and John shows up.

Square Filled: Dom/Sub (Kink)

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Ketch x Reader, Mary x Ketch, John x Mary, John x Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warning(s): Dom/Sub. Smut with plot. Nudity. Language. Mary threatening the reader, again.

A/N: This was written for @spnkinkbingo. I also need to thank @fictionalabyss and @coffee-obsessed-writer for being my betas on this one. Also this was my first time writing Ketch, so if he’s off, I apologize.

I do not own any of the pictures I used in my aesthetic. I also hate to say this but if you’re reading this fic - please be over 18.

Part 2 of The Boss’s Working Girl | SPN Kink Bingo

“Arthur, it’s lovely to see you again.” You practically purr as you loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders. “What’ll it be tonight, love, business or pleasure?”

“I don’t see why the two can’t mix.” You hear him chuckle as you loosen his tie and he nips at the pulse point behind your ear. “I’ve been dreaming of this night all week.”

“Well I wouldn't want Mr. Ketch to wait, now would I?” You winked at him as Arthur slowly starts unbuttoning his dress shirt. You watch from the corner as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Now this is hardly fair, I'm practically naked and you're in far too many clothes.” It’s a relief once your dress is in a soft pile of satin and lace by your feet. “Absolutely stunning.”

“I bet you use that line on all the ladies.”

“Not as many as you would think.”

Exactly how many women has this guy had sex with? He’s handsome sure, but then he has to open his mouth. I’m sure it’s the British accent that gets ‘em. You can do this, Y/N. it’s just a job.

“I told you, she’s with a client a right now. You can’t just barge in there!” You hear someone arguing outside your door but that doesn’t distract you from what’s going on right now.

“Who in the hell invited Mary Winchester here?” You growled in anger as your room door was flung open. “We’re sort of busy here, Mary.”

Ketch growls as he flips you onto your back and starts pounding into you as hard as he can. You run your hand down his abs, caressing every inch possible before rubbing your clit quickly.

“I’m not here to see you.”

“Do be patient, love. I'm sure Mary will see her own way out. Well, that is, unless she wants to join in on the fun?” Ketch peers over his shoulder with smug grin. Mary is blocking the doorway with her arms crossed. “Or maybe not. I never took you as a voyeur, my dear.”

“I’m not here to watch you fuck some whore, Arthur. I need to talk to you.” If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn there was a hint of fear in Mary’s voice.

You roll out from underneath Ketch, and there is no shame when you feel his cum run down your legs. “I’m going to freshen up and I hope that when I come back, she’s gone. You still have an hour left, love, and I want to make sure you get the most bang for your buck.” You wink at the two of them and grab your cell off of it’s charger. Your bathroom door is left open a crack as you pull up your text app.

>> I’ll spare you the not so spicy details of having sex with Arthur Ketch but Mary barged in. Arthur actually suggested we have a threesome. No offense, but I almost threw up in my mouth.

<< I can never repay you for what you had to go through. I will make it up to you, I promise.

>> I want to come home John. I miss you and the boys.

<< I know baby, I know. They miss you too.

>> Mary and Ketch are still talking but you’ll be here soon right?

<< Give me ten minutes, and I will be there with whistles and bells on.

>> I prefer you in nothing but I’ll take what I can get ;)

<< Naughty girl.

>> Only for you John. Please hurry.

It was obvious that Mary didn’t want to be here. Not after she kicked you out, but what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t outright tell you to stop sleeping with Ketch. The affair had started sometime ago but John wasn’t interested in her sexually anymore.

“For the record.” Ketch’s voice startles Mary out of her thoughts as she toys with her hair nervously. “My boss wanted me to sleep with her. She has some information that’s very valuable to the British Men of Letters.” He caresses Mary’s jaw and brings his lips closer to hers. “Why else would I ever have sex with her?”

“To make me jealous.” The first kiss barely brushes his lips before Mary straddles his lap and kisses him hard. “She has no idea how to handle you.” Her right hand finds Ketch’s soft cock and gently pumps it a couple of times.

“Mary, please.”

“What was that Mr. Ketch?”

“Forgive me, Mistress.” Pleased, she grins as Ketch grows harder in her hand. “Please, please let me touch you?”

“I don’t know if you should be allowed to after what you did.” Mary hisses in his ear as she releases him from her hand. Ketch was actually whining at the loss of contact.

“Mistress, please…”

The gears were turning in your head as you hopped into the shower How do I pull this off? Maybe in another life we could've been friends. We did work well together. Nah, we run in different circles, clearly. She’s obviously not forgiving me anytime soon for sullying her precious sons. You know what? That’s fine.

You finished brushing out your hair and turned off the bathroom light when you heard Mary speaking again. “Arthur, put on your clothes. We need to get out of here.”

“Now, now Mary. You know very well that I can’t leave until I get something useful out of Y/N.”

“Are you, disobeying your mistress?”

“My work will always come before my pleasure, you know that.”

You smirked at his retort. Oh Ketch, you dumb bastard. You never disobey your mistress, even if she is gigantic bitch.

“I believe Mr. Ketch has half an hour left, Mrs. Winchester.” You watched as Mary attempted to straighten herself out as you entered the room again. “I’d ask you to leave but I know you won’t.”

“Damn straight, I’m not leaving here without him.”

“And what makes Mr. Ketch here so special?” You ran your hand through his hair and watched as Ketch shifted towards your touch.

“He’s mine.”

“Really?” You smirked as you ran your hands all over Ketch’s body. Your fingertips traced around Ketch’s nipples and you pinched them hard. “Because right now, he seems to be loving the attention I’m giving him.”

“Take your dirty hands off of him, right now!” Mary yelled out.

“Why on earth would I do that Mary? I’m not your submissive and I sure as shit don’t take orders from you anymore.”

“You do realize with a couple of phone calls, I could shut this place down.” Mary was clearly bluffing but it didn’t phase you at all. “I put you here, and I can put you right back where I found you.”

“For a minute there, I was worried you were going to start quoting The Human League.” You laughed but Mary wasn’t amused. “Mary, trust me. I don’t want your boy toy.”

“What do you want then?”

“Nothin’ that you can give me.” You remove yourself from Ketch when you heard your phone chime.

>> Boss, John Winchester is waiting downstairs. You want me to send him up?

<< Yes, and Charlie? You deserve a raise for dealing with my bullshit tonight.

>> Set me up with the new girl, and we’ll call it even, okay?

You hit send on the text to Charlie, just to immediately receive one from John.

>> Keep Mary talkin’

<< You got it boss ;)

“There’s something I’ve always been curious about Mary. How did you find out I was sleeping with your boys?”

Mary scoffed as she unfolded her arms. “It was Jo Harvelle and her mother. They were concerned that the boys were spending way too much time with you and your girls.”

“Of fuckin’ course it was Jo. She was just salty that I never hired her as one of my informants.”

“Your loss was my gain.” Mary was gloating at this point and you rolled your eyes. “She’s one hell of a bartender. Also, I hate to be the one to tell you this but Dean and Sam will never be with you again.”

You honestly couldn't tell if Mary was telling the truth or not. “I've made my peace with that fact Mary. Now does John know about your little secret?”

“What I do in my free time is none of my husband's business.”

“Pretty sure it is but Mary, I hate to tell you this but John knows about your affair with Ketch. He’s known about it for a while now.”

“How - how would he know?” She was clearly nervous as she peered over at Ketch.

“I’ll give you three guesses.” Ketch tried stretching for his pants but you stopped him by kicking them out of his reach. “but the first two don’t count.”

A few hours before Mary would confront you, you were summoned to John’s office. You took a seat and when he offered you a drink, you declined. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, not at all.” John’s smile eased your nerves but there was something nagging at the back of your mind. “I have a special job for you, if you’re willing to take it that is.”

“I’ll do whatever you need, sir.”

John chuckled as he pulled a flask out of his inner right pocket and took a swig. “I know for certain that Mary is having an affair with someone. I need you to find out who it is. I would've asked one of the other girls but they aren't exactly loyal to me.”

“You got it boss.”

“It’s my word against yours, and honestly, who do you think John is going to believe?”

You grinned as you waved your cell phone in her face. “Me.”

“How did you -” You pointed to the security camera that flashed in the corner and pulled up the video on your phone.

“One of my girls set it up. She was worried about my safety when I told her we would be doing business with the British Men of Letters. Mick Davies was a lamb, and Toni, well I shouldn’t kiss and tell but she did things to me that would put you to shame Mary. She owned me completely.” You shivered at the memory.

“All this proves is that I was right to kick you out.” Mary scoffed. “Once a whore, always a whore. Is there no one you’re loyal to?”

“You won’t like that answer, Mary.” You crossed your arms across your naked chest as John quietly stepped into the room. He winked at you as he held his pointer finger up to his lips.

“The reason you don’t want to answer me is because it would mean for once in your life, you’d have to tell the truth.”

You smirked. “You’d know all about telling the truth, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you, Mary. You don’t get to come into my house, and tell me what to do anymore. You lost that privilege when you pulled a gun on me and kicked me out.”

“I was protecting what was mine!”

“You took the boys away from me, so I decided to take something away from you.” Mary’s hand twitched before she pulled a gun out of her thigh holster and aimed it at you. “Mary, you're so predictable.”

“What makes you think I won’t do it this time?”

You moved over to the bed and with Ketch's blessing, you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“You’d have shoot him to get to me, and I don’t think you want to do that.” From the corner of your eye you watched as John stepped further into your room. “You know, most people who cheat on their husband are better at hiding it than this.”

You contained a laugh and tightened your grip on Ketch who was trying his hardest to get up once he spotted John. “You just stay right where you are, you British piece of shit. Y/N, darling, you’re looking better and better each time I see you.”

“Flatterer.” He missed the faint blush that dusted your cheek because his focus was now on Mary. “John, I wanted to ask, fucking this guy doesn’t change anything between us, does it?”

“Of course it doesn’t, darlin’.”

Forever Tags - @lovetusk @coffee-obsessed-writer@justballoonfishthings@mirajanefairytailmage@kazosa@wings-of-a-raven@docharleythegeekqueen@clockworkmorningglory@lefthologramdeer@ellen-reincarnated1967@holyfuckloueh@idreamofplaid@buckyscrystalqueen@ilovetaquitosmmmm@n3rdybird @super-fan-of-all-things@disneymarina@sandlee44@babykalika2001

#spnkinkbingo #Dom/Sub #d/s dynamic #Arthur Ketch x Reader #Mary Winchester x Arthur Ketch #Reader Insert #SPN #Supernatural fics #SPN fics #The Boss's Working Girl

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ienveeus · 6 years

Text

namgi high school au

Part of my ongoing, non-linear High School AU series

- 5th June, 2011 - 2nd December, 2010 - 21st October, 2011 - - 20th June, 2011 - 1st January, 2011 - 7th July, 2011 - - 18th February, 2011 -

HAVEN’T POSTED ANYTHING FOR THIS IN AGES BUT IT IS STILL IN FACT A THING HRGUIDHU

Here we go with part seven!

18th February, 2011

‘Truth or dare?’

Yoongi can’t help but snort at Namjoon’s question. Can’t remember the last time he heard it, perhaps a couple years back in middle school, when everyone was a lot more interested in who likes who. Or perhaps when they were just a whole lot less subtle about it.

‘Truth or dare?’ Yoongi parrots back, tossing Namjoon a look in his peripherals. He sits with his back pressed against the side of the pick up truck’s trailer, Yoongi’s opted to lie down, feels a lone screw digging into his back but he doesn’t shift to remove it. ‘That’s what you’re going for? Pictured you more as the kinda guy to lie back and make up a bunch of constellations and all the stories to go with them.’

‘There’s no stars out tonight,’ Namjoon shrugs. ‘And even if there were, I don’t know any constellations.’

‘Really?’ Yoongi sits up, flicking the screw aside as he does so. ‘Figured you were the type.’

‘Always one to assume.’ Namjoon’s teeth glint in the moonlight. ‘Truth or dare?’

Yoongi shrugs. What’s the worst that could happen? ‘Dare.’

A low whistle splits the air between them, Namjoon looks positively delighted, cocking his head to the side as he surveys Yoongi’s face.

‘Brave of you.’

A seed of doubt wedges into Yoongi’s mind, increasing when Namjoon shuffles off to the side retrieving his bag and digging through the contents. When he turns back, he's got a wide grin on his face and something in his hand. Yoongi has to squint, and can't help but scoff when he sees the contents.

'And what are you planning on doing with that?' Yoongi cocks his head at what looks like something his mother would have in her ensuite, a purse of sorts, open so Yoongi can see that the contents are all various types of make up.

Namjoon's grin widens. 'Let me do your make up.'

'You're joking.'

'Nope,' Namjoon pops the 'p.' Wanna see what you'd look like.'

Yoongi watches Namjoon's fingers like a hawk, eyes narrowed in skepticism as they come across what Yoongi pins as mascara or something equally black and garish that won't come off easy.

'You're just gonna draw a giant dick on my face or something aren't you?' Yoongi mutters, beginning to regret this whole picking dare business.

Namjoon snorts and pulls out a little tube of something that Yoongi can't place. 'You picked dare, you're gonna have to bare the consequences.'

Out of fear of being labelled a wimp, Yoongi presses his lips closed and leans forward, allowing Namjoon to cup his chin and lean close into his space. He squeezes the little tube and squirts out a dollop of the liquid onto his finger, dabbing it on Yoongi's cheeks and under-eyes, the bridge of his nose and all the rest. It's a wonder Yoongi manages to hold himself together. The proximity between them non-existent and he has no idea where to put his eyes with Namjoon this close, sharing his airway, closer than he's been to any boy that isn't family.

'Not the best lighting,' Namjoon mutters to himself, pulling out a bottle of something and dabbing a fair amount on his hand. He's got a brush out, and begins painting the liquid over Yoongi's face, instructing him not to scrunch his nose at the chill.

'Don't blame the lack of lighting on your inability to do this.'

'I'll have you know I know my way around this bag of goodness.'

Yoongi huffs out a sigh, closing his eyes as Namjoon nears them with the brush. 'Shut up and get this over with.'

'Of course, your majesty.'

The closeness doesn't get any easier to handle. Yoongi keeps his eyes closed the majority of the time and hopes whatever substance Namjoon's painted his cheeks with is enough to cover the pink tinge that now permanently resides there. He goes over his work with a powder, brushes something across his eyelids and forces Yoongi's eyes open when the mascara finally makes an appearance in the way it's meant to be used as opposed to what Yoongi's ass friends might do.

There's a small argument when Namjoon comes at him with tweezers, insisting that plucking Yoongi's eyebrows is part of the dare but Yoongi is having none of that bullshit. When Namjoon huffs he blows his cheeks out and Yoongi refuses to think about how cute that is when Namjoon mutters about putting him in black lipstick now due to him being a shit.

When that's done and Namjoon's made him smack his lips together, touching up some little things he pulls out his phone, turns on the front camera and makes Yoongi look.

'Shit,' Yoongi hisses, not recognising the person staring back at him. In this lighting he looks so dark, like he imagines a twin sister of his might look like if she went through a goth phase. 'You actually did this seriously.'

Namjoon shrugs. 'Told you. Wanted to see what you'd look like. Now let me take a picture.'

Yoongi stiffens, glaring at him. 'No fucking way.'

'You're no fun at all.' He points a finger at Yoongi, eyes twinkling in the scant light. 'Your turn, sweetheart.'

Yoongi huffs, thankful his dignity is preserved for a little longer at least and there shouldn't be any remnants of this come morning. 'Truth or dare?'

'Truth.'

'Why do you have so much make up in your bag?'

'It was a thing I bought for Seokjin when he was in the school play last year, liked me doing his make up for him before shows. Now I just keep it around in my bag for times like this.'

'You're weird,' Yoongi says.

'And you're pretty,' Namjoon says without missing a beat. If he notices the struck look Yoongi gives him, he ignores it in favour of asking, 'Truth or dare?'

It carries on like this for awhile. Yoongi flicking between the two, whilst Namjoon takes a liking to dares. Namjoon asks about his most embarrassing moment, dares him to dance to a girl group song (this takes a lot of convincing) asks him about his first kiss. Yoongi gets Namjoon to text Seokjin a love confession, gives him a moustache with the mascara and has him do his own make up without the help of a mirror.

'Have you ever been in love?' Yoongi asks when Namjoon picks truth. He'd been running out of options, exhausting himself with trying to come up with something and in the end, curiosity had won out over appearing cool. Not like Namjoon gave a shit about images anyway, that was his whole thing.

Namjoon blinks at him, caught off guard by the question.

'Hard to say,' he says. 'I think I might've been. Been in a few relationships and I always get like, really involved, y'know? And I like them a lot. I told them I loved them and I think at the time I believed it but then looking back.' Namjoon shrugs. 'I don't know. It's really hard to say.'

Yoongi nods, biting his tongue from asking more questions. He tries to see if Namjoon looks uncomfortable with the intrusion, because it feels like it might've been. But Namjoon looks more thoughtful as he draws patterns into the dust. When he looks up, his eyes pierce straight into Yoongi's and Yoongi tries not to jolt in time with his heart.

'Truth or dare?' Namjoon asks.

Yoongi swallows hard. 'Truth.'

'What about you?'

'What about me?'

'Have you ever been in love?'

It's Yoongi's turn to wear the struck dumb expression. His eyebrows shoot up, face feeling strange under the cake of make up he feels like he's drowning in. Namjoon stares at him, a challenge in his eyes and Yoongi frowns.

'That's cheating.'

'How so?' Namjoon says. 'No rules against it. Pretty sure you just have to do the dares and answer the truths truthfully. Straight forward.'

'It's boring then,' Yoongi says with a huff. He doesn't even know why he's making a deal out of this. It's a simple enough question, the answer not all that incriminating. But he thinks, anything relating to the subject of sexuality, or romance are the danger areas. He can't help but squirm at the mention of them.

'I haven't been,' Yoongi says, 'if you have to know. Haven't even dated a girl before. And I'm not really the type to waste time pining.'

'Never dated a girl you say?' Namjoon says and there's a very thin veil masking the amusement in his voice. 'What about a boy then?'

Yoongi flinches as if Namjoon's thrown a punch his way. He brushes it off quickly, scoffs, but really he doesn't know how seriously Namjoon can take him considering the very definite pause before his response and the shit Namjoon's pulled on his face.

'Very funny, asshole.' He wonders if Namjoon can hear the strain in his voice or hear his heartbeat from the short distance between them. A distance Yoongi wants to increase in the passing seconds. Maybe. His head feels a tad fuzzy, 'What the fuck is this sneaking another question in shit? That's cheating.'

'Okay, okay, fair enough. I'll give you two goes for me then. Happy?'

Yoongi pulls his lips into a thin line. 'Peachy.'

'Then go ahead. I pick truth.'

Yoongi wracks his brain, mind flitting about in search of something. Namjoon watches him closely, still so amused, eyes twinkling as if to replace the lack of stars up in the night sky. Yoongi feels out of his depth suddenly. Isn't quite sure why but it feels like he's stepped into some territory that he might have a challenge navigating through.

'Is it true you had a thing with Mr. Kwon?'

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh. 'He's like. In his fifties.'

'Rumours say you don't care.'

'Rumours are wrong I'm afraid. God the things people come up with... Did you really believe it?'

Yoongi shrugs. 'You're something of an anomaly, Kim Namjoon. I can never be sure what to believe.'

Namjoon hums, looking contemplative. He turns so he's looking at Yoongi face on, rests his head on the edge of the trailer. 'Round two then, pretty boy, come on now.'

The name has electricity zipping up Yoongi's spine but he brushes it off as the chill in the air, clears his throat to keep his voice from shaking.

‘Truth or dare?’ he asks.

‘Dare.’

Namjoon has shuffled close. So damn close that Yoongi can feel his breath on his cheek and shudders like there's insects crawling all over him. He wracks his brains for something, but Namjoon's proximity has rendered him incapable of forming a coherent thought.

'My dares are lame. I can't think of anything.'

'I can think of a dozen things.'

Namjoon's coming onto him. Yoongi was fucking right and Namjoon is coming onto him. Does he do this with everyone he spends time with? All the boys and girls and whatever other people Namjoon is into.

'Are you only into guys?'

The question comes unbidden, Yoongi's voice a squeak of a thing. Namjoon's shoulders lift as he snorts, shuffling back and giving Yoongi room to think.

‘I picked dare.’

‘I told you, I couldn’t think of anything.’

Namjoon takes his time staring, trying to read through the cracks in Yoongi’s annoyance. Yoongi’s sure it can’t be too hard, Namjoon has the eyes of a hawk and those cracks are as wide as chasms.

'No,' he says. 'I've dated a woman, kissed a few girls before and liked it. I don't really have a preference I think. Just met more guys that caught my interest is all.'

Yoongi nods, feeling heat in his cheeks as Namjoon’s eyes flick over to him again. He can’t hold the gaze for too long and is all too aware of the fact that it’s Namjoon’s turn to ask now.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yoongi suppresses a shudder. He’d been quick to label the game stupid and juvenile, but it’s crossed into dangerous territory now. When Namjoon asks the dreaded question this time, all Yoongi can think about is their proximity, the ease in which Namjoon said he could think of a dozen things for a dare in that damn low voice of his.

Yoongi picks truth, out of fear, because maybe there is something here and Namjoon knows it, but he’s in no way ready for any of it. Can't even put words to what this is.

Namjoon smiles and Yoongi can see the dimples in his cheeks even in the scarce lighting.

‘Tell me a secret you’ve never told anyone.’

Oh no.

Yoongi likes to think he’s blunt and some would say that that leans more towards being a weakness. Yoongi disagrees, he likes being blunt, likes that he’s the kinda person that can speak his mind and people come to trust that’s his truth.

Yoongi is also a liar, something that contrasts a lot with the former characteristic, something he doesn’t like all that much about himself but knows is sometimes necessary. This is one of those scenarios in which he could be a liar. One where he could lie and come up with some bullshit thing about how he shoplifted when he was twelve or snuck soju from the fridge at his mother’s New Year’s party.

He could even tell a half-truth. Pretend that he hadn’t told his brother about the time he fooled around with Sujin and she’d let him feel her up under her shirt. He’d leave out the part where it did nothing for him, tell Namjoon that it had felt good and he'd been super into it and he hadn't told anyone to be respectful to her. Another half-truth. He knows the sorta shit that spreads about girls who let guys do things like that, how she'd be downcast and he'd be applauded for being such a man. Namjoon would probably respect that.

But Yoongi looks up at Namjoon and he feels his heart thump with the tell-tale signs of fear. Has the overwhelming urge to start running in any direction to get as far from Namjoon as he possibly can. So he does the one thing he can think to do and closes up.

‘This game is stupid,’ Yoongi says.

‘Oh shit,’ Namjoon laughs, ‘you must be hiding something big, huh?’

‘I’m not hiding shit, alright? This game is just stupid. I'm over it.'

'You're making this a way bigger deal than it has to be,' Namjoon says with that same carefree attitude that Yoongi is beginning to resent. 'You asked me all sorts of things and I answered. Come on.'

‘Why do you care so much?’

‘Because you’ve got me intrigued. What is it? Surely it’s not that bad.’

Yoongi ducks his head, using the back of his hand to swipe all the makeup from his face. ‘Would you drop it already?’

Namjoon’s grin is lost in the darkness, and Yoongi can’t help but imagine a cruel twist to it when he says. ‘No way.’

'You're being ridiculous.'

'Says the one literally avoiding a very simple question. C'mon what have you got?'

'Nothing.'

'Bullshit. C'mon some kiss and tell thing? Got some dirty pictures hidden under your pillow? Got drunk last New Year's and kissed someone you wished you didn't?'

Yoongi clenches his fists, feels the urge to tighten in on himself or swing at Namjoon or something. 'Namjoon, seriously, drop it.'

'You realise it's me, right? I couldn't give less of a shit about what you get up to and this is too good to let up so you might as well just--'

‘I’m gay, alright?’ Yoongi hisses, and then without warning, he bursts into tears.

It's mortifying and that realisation only makes the whole thing so much worse. Yoongi isn't in the habit of crying. Doesn't want people to see him like this, especially not Namjoon, the dumb fearless asshole that Yoongi's just confessed his biggest secret to. He shuffles into the corner of the tray, curling in on himself as best he can and hiding his face. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. He doesn't want Namjoon bare witness to his stupid stupid meltdown.

In the silence that follows, Yoongi feels small and vulnerable, sick with the entire situation. He can't help the way he shrinks when Namjoon reaches out to him, the stupid noise he lets out like Namjoon's moved to punch him or something.

‘Please don’t touch me,’ Yoongi says, can’t be sure whether he’d lash out or melt into it and sob all the harder. Isn’t sure which would be worse.

‘You’ve never told anyone before?’ Namjoon asks, gently broaching the silence with all the teasing mirth from before gone from his voice. Yoongi shakes his head, face still buried in his arms so he won’t have to see whatever look is on Namjoon’s face. 'Hey it's okay. You're alright. I get it, it's scary saying it out loud, huh?'

Yoongi nods weakly, shuffling further into his miserable little corner.

'Shit, hyung,' Namjoon winces. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed like that.'

There's a snappy response there, right for the taking, but Yoongi's too messed up to take it. His breathing's evened out a little at least and he no longer feels like he's gonna choke on his own vomit at any given moment.

'You're okay,' Namjoon says. 'I mean it, I really don't care what you are. I mean it's me, I'm not straight either. Not that it's about me but. Shit, Yoongi, I'm really sorry. Please don't cry.'

'I'm not crying,' Yoongi says, in a voice that perfectly indicates how hard he is lying right now. He sniffs, wiping his face in the crook of his elbow before looking up and over at Namjoon's face screwed up in apology.

'I really am sorry, hyung,' he says.

The world has not imploded on itself. No-one is screaming at him. Namjoon isn't looking at him with all the disgust Yoongi's felt towards himself ever since he discovered how to delete his internet history years back. It's not going how he thought it would, and granted this wasn't the way he wanted to come out but on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst imaginable scenario, this is about a four.

Even so, Yoongi feels drained and despite the apologies, he can't help but feel a slight grudging feeling towards Namjoon. Doesn't want to be out here anymore.

'C'mon,' Yoongi says, shuffling out the back of the truck, nudging Namjoon on his way. His feet hit the ground and he walks around, throwing the door open. 'I'll take you home.'

'Yoongi--'

'Namjoon.' Yoongi sighs through grit teeth, fingers clenching around the door. 'I don't wanna talk about this right now.'

Silence hangs between them before Namjoon nods his head, beginning to shuffle out. 'Alright, hyung, alright.'

On the way home, the truck is silent except for the dull murmur of music dribbling out from the car radio.

#namgi fic #namgi #sugamon #bts fic #high school au #the second otp #my fic #it has been far too long wow #probs will end up doing a couple more non linear fics and then opening up requests for a bit

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Dress Up in You (Trixya) - Chapter Eight

Summary: In which Trixie gets by with a little help from her friends.

AN: Sorry for the delay getting this out, and thanks for all the great feedback! You can find previous chaptersin my tag or search ‘Dress Up in You’ on A03.

Trixie summons an Uber with shaking fingers, hot anger coursing through her limbs as she waits, pacing agitatedly, for her car to arrive. The driver must pick up on her mood, or be freaked out by her 'slutty scarecrow goes to the circus’ look, because he doesn’t try and make small talk with her on the short journey to her side of town. She feels unsettled and shaky, fizzing with the aftermath of the argument, and this sustains her until she gets home, keeping her eyes mostly dry and her overdrawn upper lip stiff until the door to her apartment is firmly bolted behind her.

She doesn’t even want to look at herself, knows her makeup will be terrible and wants to spare herself the added embarrassment of knowing just how shitty she looked while she argued with Katya. Right there in the hall, Trixie slides off her PVC dress and stockings, realising in slight mortification that her panties must still be on the floor of the studio as she does so, and then unclips her knotted extensions, tugging them free with a rough yank that pulls at her scalp. She shoves her clothes into the laundry basket in her bedroom and her extensions on her bedside table to brush out later when she’s thinking straight. Careful to avoid the mirror, she enters her en-suite bathroom and turns on the shower, stepping into water so hot she can barely stand it.

She holds it together long enough to scrub her face with makeup removal cream, getting the worst of the caked-on crap from last night off as she begins to cry. In the scalding stream of water, Trixie lets herself lose it – all the anger and the shitty feelings, her annoyance at Katya for not being clear, her annoyance at herself for lashing out when she felt hurt. Trixie feels so many things at once, but largely what she feels is pathetic. Why did I assume she’d want me? she thinks bitterly and why did I make it her fault that I got too attached too fast?.

The wind now fully out of her sails, Trixie can’t believe how righteously angry she felt just an hour ago. Who the fuck does she think she is to be angry at someone she’s been on one date with for politely explaining her stance on relationships? What does Katya actually owe her? She feels like a little girl who just had a foot-stomping tantrum in the grocery store because her mom wouldn’t buy her the candy she wanted. Just because you let yourself imagine her being your girlfriend, she tells herself, doesn’t mean she ever said she wanted to be.

Miserably, a now clean Trixie wriggles damply into her onesie and sinks into the safe haven of her sheets, laying on her side under the covers and glumly flicking through Instagram on her phone. She has a few texts in her inbox but she doesn’t feel up to the sick swoop of embarrassment that runs through her when she thinks about talking to Katya, and what a baby the other woman must think she is. She turns off notifications for texts, so that she won’t be disturbed by any more incoming messages until she’s ready for them, and opens WhatsApp:

Trixie: You there?

She’s hoping and praying that Kim isn’t busy, because she’s never needed a friend more. Her former housemate isn’t too experienced with dating but she’s super smart, and Trixie knows that her friend would never judge her for her feelings, rational or not.

Kim: When have u ever known me not to have my phone in my hand? [hair flick emoji]

Trixie: I did something dumb I think

Kim: Tell me something new, bitch

Kim: But srsly are u ok?

Trixie: I dunno :( girl stuff, I kinda messed up my date thing and I feel shitty

Kim: Want me to skype u?

She thinks about it for a second. Trixie’s sure she looks like absolute, puffy-eyed crap right now, but curling up in bed with her best friend’s digital company seems really comforting right now.

Trixie: I look like garbage but sure

Kim: That never normally stops you tbh

Kim’s friendly shade makes Trixie smile, and she accepts the incoming call, wincing a little at the little image of herself in the bottom corner of the screen. Thank the lord for dim lighting.

“Hey Trix! Do I need to come and kick someone’s ass for you?” Kim opens, doing a campy little martial arts pose at the camera.

“No, girl. But you can come karate chop some sense into me in a minute” she answers, her voice sounding tired and defeated, even to her own ears.

“What happened?”

“Uh, well, after the date when we sort of ended weird, you remember?”

Kim nods in recognition and makes a little humming noise.

“Well I went out with Violet from work and her friends, they’re super nice actually, and I bumped into… her… on the way home,”

“Bumped into, or like, bumped into?”

“It was totally a coincidence! Her art studio is really near the bar, and we went back there and ended up hooking up, and then this morning she was all 'I don’t do relationships’ and I sort of flipped out at her and now I feel dumb as fuck” Trixie summarises, making a little frowny face as she finishes and looks to her tiny, palm-sized Kim for guidance.

“Aw, honey. Are you ok?” Kim asks, her face sympathetic.

“Yeah, I just feel like a loser I guess. Like, I’m 24, I don’t get why I even feel so bummed, you know? Not everyone wants to be like, married and settled. Especially at my age.”

“I mean, that’s true, but not everyone doesn’t want to either, you know? Like you can’t assume someone is a certain way, but that goes for both of you. You’re not weird for being like, emotional about sex, and she’s not weird for not being. I think you’re being too hard on yourself”

Kim’s words are comforting, but Trixie doesn’t feel much better. She and Kim are similar – Kim’s still a virgin, so she doesn’t hook up at all, and she and Trixie are both disappointingly traditional about just wanting a simple, straightforward relationship. Neither of them are really about fucking around – and Trixie knows cause she’s tried. She enjoys sex a lot, and likes having fun, and it took her a long time in college trying to enjoy casual flings and feeling shitty and sad before she learned that it’s just not for her, much as she’d like it to be. She gets pretty insecure about it sometimes, like it makes her uncool and babyish, and knowing Kim’s the same way makes her doubt the validity of her friend’s statements.

“Is Pearl there, babe?” she asks, hoping for a second opinion from someone more 'normal’ – Pearl is totally cool hooking up with boys and girls without feeling weird about it, and is probably in a better position to judge whether Trixie is being irrational or not.

There’s a brief clattering and the sound of Kim shouting at Pearl to turn off her music and come help with Trixie, and she closes her eyes, imagining for a second they all still live in the same noisy, friendly house. When she opens them, two girls are peering back at her from her phone screen, and Pearl winks, drawling in her flat monotone that she heard Trixie was looking for a 'slut’s opinion’ on her current romantic entanglements.

Trixie runs through recent events for Pearl, with Kim chipping in to give her opinions and add in any bits Trixie misses out. When she’s done, Pearl chews her lip for a second before responding.

“Well, it’s totally fine for her to not be about like, dating, you know? I know that’s not your issue though Trix. It’s not like, slut shaming or anything to want to date and stuff. She should have talked to you before it went that far, but things do happen, you know, like in the moment. Nobody’s perfect. I think a lot of you being angry is 'cause you were like, hurt and disappointed maybe?”

“Wow, Pearl, I think that’s the most words you’ve said in a row this year!” Kim mocks, and Pearl gives her an affectionate shove. It makes Trixie’s heart ache to be with her friends, and Pearl’s considered opinion makes her feel a little better.

“Yeah, you’re totally right, girl. I guess this is just one of those 'suck it up and move on’ things, you know? Like, sucks for me, sucks for her, get a new bus stop and get on with life?” Trixie surmises, resignation in her tone, and her friends both nod in agreement, adding that she shouldn’t feel dumb for being sad that someone she likes doesn’t want to be with her.

The three chat about random crap for a while, and it’s so familiar and soothing that Trixie finds her eyes fluttering shut with increasing frequency as they float plans to see each other again, talk about reality TV (this one guy on the new ANTM is so extra, and they all have conflicting feelings about boys being on the show at all. Tyra Banks is serious business) and just generally catch up on each others’ lives. Kim and Pearl have so many small embarrassing stories to tell Trixie about one another, and Trixie just relaxes in their company, letting their chatter flow over her… until she dozes off, waking up a minute or so later to two very amused women making fun of her slack-mouthed napping face. (“We took screenshots”, Kim informs her gleefully).

Trixie says her goodbyes and spend the rest of her Sunday napping, waking up to snack and restart the podcast episodes she’s sleeping through. It’s an okay way to spend a crappy day, and she feels a little better by the time Monday morning rolls around, her commute only ten minutes longer with her new bus-stop detour in place. She tries to put things out of her mind, succeeding partially, until Violet rolls into work around noon for an afternoon shift, pulls out her headphones and says to Trixie “Hey, bitch, you never said your date was with Katya!”.

Oh, shit.

#dress up in you #eve #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #trixya #lesbian au #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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