#here we’ve got a completely new fidget featuring a button

[season-77]

An interesting clip from the Endeavour set—so much going on here beyond the script!

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop. 

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes. 

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents. 

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms. 

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.”  The man murmurs, handing over his debit card. 

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside. 

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number. 

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms.  As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.” 

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him. 

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix. 

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.” 

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird. 

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list. 

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay. 

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket. 

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour. 

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons. 

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles. 

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease. 

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

[prairiesongserial]

15.6

The caravan took its time getting started again. Ezra called for a thirty minute break in the middle of the road, despite what Johannes had ordered. Everyone stretched their legs - and mostly ignored the instruction to keep it down.

“Think there could be muties?” Friday asked Ezra as he wandered past her on his way back from scolding Elwood for bringing out his dulcimer.

“No, I just don’t like the dulcimer,” he said, sarcastic. “Yeah, there could be anything out there. We’ve never stopped within twenty miles of here, but hey, there could be a garage!”

He pushed sweaty hair back out of his face, and clearly getting frustrated, decided to pull it back into a ponytail. He looked like his younger brother when he did, despite the fact that Enis wasn’t related to him by blood. It made Friday realize that Enis dressed like Ezra - they both wore slightly oversized button down shirts, plain earth tones, jeans, suspenders. Maybe Enis’s clothes were hand-me-downs.

Ezra leaned back against his truck, wincing at the hot metal against his back.

“Pack it up, leave in five!” he hollered.

After a pause, the buzz resumed. In the back of Ezra’s truck, John and Cody were playing blackjack with All-Fair, Abernathy, Perdita from the ice cream stall, and Rivka, who did trapeze. Cody was telling the story of La Salle Rouge, with infrequent additions from John. Distantly, Friday heard what was clearly a dulcimer.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ezra said. “Ride up front with me if you want.”

Friday wasn’t going to say no. Down one truck, the circus had been forced to redistribute both the unwieldy wooden facades and three people; as everyone found their new places, the truck beds were getting crowded. Friday climbed up into the cab, though Ezra didn’t climb up after her. He trotted up and down the line of trucks, asking after the water and gasoline supplies and double-checking that all the trailer hitches were secure.

Friday daydreamed. She took the L-shaped pin from her pocket and toyed with it like a worry stone, flipping it over and over in her hand. She’d compare it to the trailer hitches when they stopped again for dinner. She knew it was stupid, but she didn’t want to confirm her fears for certain while Val and Johannes were away together. She was already worried. If she knew for sure that Johannes was trying to kill them while there was nothing Friday could do but wait and see if Val came back from the woods alive, she’d lose it.

Ezra climbed up into the driver’s seat.

“Hey,” he said, out of breath. “Canteen.”

Friday grabbed the canteen from the floor between her feet and passed it to him.

“We’re gonna be lead truck,” he said, and gulped down the water. He carefully closed the canteen before passing it back to Friday, then started the truck’s engine. Through the open window, Friday could hear the game of blackjack abruptly end with a scramble to put the cards away.

Ezra pulled away from the side of the road and slowly passed the rest of the trucks, giving them all a careful once-over. Every truck was in a different state of readiness. Some were spitting exhaust, ready to go, while others still had circus members piling in. It felt wrong to be leaving without Val. Friday turned the pin over in her hand, again and again, using it to sooth her anxiety without really meaning to.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said. He pulled the truck to a stop at the front of the line. “I should have said...something different.”

It took Friday a second to realize what he was talking about. He thought she was worrying about the muties that may or may not be sharing the woods with Val, Enis, and Johannes. Jesus, she probably should have been. Her fingers stilled over the pin, and she caught Ezra stealing a curious glance at it.

This was a perfect opportunity to ask about the pin. A simple, innocently put “Do you know what this is?” would unravel everything. Friday felt nausea twisting in her stomach. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t know yet, not until Val was standing in front of her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Friday said. She tucked the L-shaped pin back in her pocket.

Ezra’s curiosity had clearly dimmed, because he got the caravan moving, and after that, he didn’t look over to Friday for a long time.

The caravan rumbled down the highway, but not very fast. Ezra didn’t break forty miles per hour. That made sense, if he was worried about his brothers catching up. Something like twenty minutes went by before Ezra spoke again.

“You’re worried about Val and Johannes,” Ezra said.

Friday stared at him, feeling heat rise to her cheeks with the realization she’d been caught. She had no idea what to say, no idea how Ezra would react if she admitted that yes, she was worried Johannes was sabotaging his own circus in order to get rid of Cody, John, Val, and herself before they brought Hemisphere down on them all. And she was doubly worried that Johannes had Val completely at his mercy in the woods. How did she admit that to Johannes’s brother?

“Um,” she said.

Ezra sighed in an overblown, theatrical way that was funny coming from him - definitely something he’d picked up from Johannes’s playbook.

“I am too,” Ezra said. “Johannes…” he paused, as if trying to edit himself. “He doesn’t think before he leaps. You know he’s married?”

Friday struggled for several seconds to track down where the conversation had gone. Married. Johannes was married?

“To who?” Friday asked.

“See, I don’t think that part will matter so much to the preacher,” Ezra said.

Friday sat in silence, listening to the truck’s engine. She tried to fit this in with everything she already knew. She felt outrage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Friday glared out the truck window, trying to get a hold of herself.

“I’m not bringing it up to cause problems,” Ezra said. He fidgeted with the steering wheel, his thumbs running through the grooves in the leather. “I have enough problems. That’s why… You seem to care about Val. And I care about Johannes. That’s it.”

Friday watched him chew the inside of his lip. She couldn’t take this.

“Married?” she said. She leaned forward in her seat and said, louder, “Married?”

“Eleven years,” Ezra added.

“And everyone knows? The whole circus knows except for us?” Friday said. “Wait, eleven years?”

“He got married young,” Ezra said, looking now like he regretted sharing any of this with Friday. “It’s...common knowledge.”

“You’ve gotta give me more than that. Who is it?”

“She’s not with the circus anymore,” Ezra said. That wasn’t going to be enough to deter Friday, and he seemed to know it. “She did this fortune teller scam that was a work of art, so Judith let her join. She and Johannes had the kind of romance you see in a Bellamy film. Very dramatic. Judith wasn’t impressed.”

“Judith, your mom?” Friday said.

“Yep,” Ezra said. He returned his eyes to the road, though the straight stretch didn’t require nearly as much attention as he gave it.

“Ezra, you aren’t fucking with me, are you?” Friday asked. Even as she said it, she knew the answer. He wasn’t fucking with her. When she tried to picture Johannes’s mysterious fortune-telling wife, her mind was ready with her features, clothes, even down to her smile. She was the girl in the photograph that had fallen out of Johannes’s journal when Friday had been snooping last night. He kept the picture under his pillow, for Christ’s sake. Not only was she his wife, but wherever she was in the world, he still cared about her.

“Where is she now?” Friday asked before Ezra had done much more than sputter at the accusation of lying. “Why did she leave?”

Ezra shrugged. “She didn’t come from show business, and the life didn’t agree with her. She’s off pursuing...” he waved his hand frustratedly as he tried to think of the right word. “She has ambitions.”

Friday leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down the road ahead. She could see Johannes with that girl in the photograph - someone who was always in motion. She could see Johannes loving that girl, and still pursuing a good time elsewhere.

“What’s her name?” Friday asked.

Ezra looked at her, then quickly back at the road. He looked tired.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is…” he wasn’t going to say keeping Val and Johannes apart out loud - neither was Friday. He sighed. “Her name is Iris.”

15.5 || 15.7

[petri808]

The Position is Filled

Day 2 @nalu-week  Stranger prompt

*Gomen.  I got nothing against Sting, just needed a bad guy for this story, and it’s a bit rushed to get it done in time. 

Lucy scans over the ad for the tenth time maybe, who was counting.  It wasn’t like anyone she knew would know she had placed it because a fictional name and generic email contact address should keep it on the low.

Looking for single hetero male, toned and fit body, clean cut, preferably charismatic, charming business type, fresh faced cute with positive disposition to take to an event.  Must provide a picture taken within the last month, stats (height, weight), and a job resume in your response.

She takes one last deep breath and closes her eyes as she clicks the send button.  Desperate times lead to desperate measures, and this was one of those times no matter how crazy the idea was.

Her 10-year high school reunion was coming up in just two months and according to gossip, her ex-boyfriend would be attending with a plus one.  The bastard.  Sting Eucliffe had been her high school sweetheart, but after twelve years together, she caught him cheating.  Lucy was devastated.  Well now she knew why he always changed the subject when the idea of marriage came up. But that didn’t mean she wanted him back, oh no.  What Lucy wanted, was to make him jealous and to show Sting she had moved on. Unfortunately, she hadn’t found anyone worth dating, hence the need to fake it.

The first few hits looked promising, but each one had something she didn’t like.  Not fond of the hair, no blonde guys.  Too short.  Visible tattoos, not that she really cared, but it wasn’t part of this vision, and problems with something on their resume.  After a week, the responses had petered down to a trickle and Lucy was starting to lose hope.  Maybe this idea wasn’t going to work after all.

She was almost ready to give up by the end of the second week when she heard the ding on her phone, signaling a new email.  ‘Please, please be decent,’Lucy chants in her head as she opens the message. Natsu Dragneel.  Her eyes widen to the selfie photo.  Cute smile, pretty green eyes, nice height.  Lucy bites her lip, he had a verynice body. So far so good.  One year older, works at a brokerage firm Dreyar & Dreyar as a junior broker.  ‘Hot dayum!’  If the BMW M5 parked behind him was his car…

“Wait a minute.” She pauses, a bit confused.  What was a guy like this doing answering a dating ad?!  He was hot and looked like he had some money, how was he still single? Was there some major flaw hidden behind the perfect features and pristine resume?  Oh, what the hell, her curiosity was peaked, and besides, he was the only candidate so far that looked good for the part. Lucy sends off her reply to meet for coffee and tosses the phone back on the couch beside her.

Ding.

‘That was quick,’she glances over and picks the phone back up.

Tomorrow, 11am at Fairies Cafe? Lunch my treat ;)

Lucy fires off a response. See you then!

Nervous was an understatement when Lucy walked up to the cafe.  She’d worn a casual summer dress, nothing fancy, but she had taken an hour just to settle on wearing it.  Her make-up was redone a couple of times, too heavy at first, now lighter to match the outfit.  Flats and hair done in a simple ponytail, completed her look.

She scans the room and almost immediately notices a pink head of hair in one of the booths.  It’s been a while since she’s patronized Fairies and the place looked exactly the same as she remembered it, cozy.  To her Starbucks felt more hectic whereas this coffee shop still had a homey feel thanks to the owner Mira.

“Hi,” Lucy walks up to the booth, holding her hand out in a gesture. “I’m Lucy, are you Natsu?”

“That’s me,” he shakes her hand but runs his other through his hair.

It was obvious the man was a little nervous too, but his smile looked genuine.  She sits down across from him.

“Order whatever you want,” Natsu pushes the menu closer to Lucy.  “I already know what I’m gonna get.”

Lucy opens the menu scanning its contents.  “Have you been here long?”  She hopes she hadn’t kept him waiting.

“Oh no, I got here a few minutes before you.  I kind of come here often since it’s close to work.”

Once their orders are placed.  Lucy gets right to it, starting with the one question that plagued her.  There’d be no point in staying long if she didn’t like the answer.  “To be honest I was surprised to get your response.  Tell me the truth Natsu.  You’re cute and have a good job, how is someone like you still single?

Natsu blushes, and there goes the head scratching again.  “Well would you believe I wasn’t the one who sent the response?”

“Come again?!  What do you mean?!”

“I was with my buddy and he took my phone when I wasn’t looking and found your ad.  I’m really sorry, he’s been trying to get me to date cause I’ve just been so focused on work, so at first, I was pissed and was gonna apologize and renege but then I thought what the hell, why not.  He’s right I do need to get out more.  Then when I saw you, I’m glad I agreed to come here cause you are smokinghot!”  He hangs his head.  “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.  Truth is I’m still single cause I get flustered with girls.  It’s okay if after learning that you wanna change your mind…”

Lucy’s soft laughter stops his blubbering cold, and he looks up wide-eyed at the giggling blonde.  He was sure he was bright red by now because he swore the temperature in the cafe had doubled.

“You’re so cute!”  Lucy chuckles.  “It’s quite endearing to me.  I was so nervous that you’d end up being some stuck-up playboy just looking for a one-night-stand or something, that to see you all flustered makes me feel better.”

“Um, thanks,” he cocks his head with a silly grin, “I think?”

She chuckles again. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

Over lunch Lucy tells Natsu that she was hoping to find someone to accompany her to her high school reunion, leaving out the part about Sting.  Of course, he asked her why find a stranger as a date, to which she replied, since she’s still single, she just wanted someone no one would know.

“So basically,” Lucy blushes lightly, “I was hoping we could pretend we’ve been dating for a while already.”

“Oh, so I’m gonna play like a fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah… if that’s something you’d be okay with.”

Natsu hunches his shoulders, “Yeah, why not.”

Over the next upcoming weeks, Lucy and Natsu spend as much time as they can in order to learn about each other.  The plan wouldn’t work if they messed up on simple questions, especially if cornered by anyone that knows Lucy’s past.  Family history to when they met, how long they’ve been dating all needed to be memorized. As a writer that works from home, her schedule was open, so they mainly worked around Natsu’s, sometimes at her apartment, sometimes at his.  

Once their nerves had calmed the friendship bloomed.  Natsu was a real sweet-hearted goof and Lucy loved spending time with him.  It was definitely a little awkward at first since Sting had been her only boyfriend since high school, leaving Lucy with very little experiences to draw from before or after.  But frankly, Lucy was also a bit surprised how natural their friendship was coming along, and by the fifth week she’d almost forgotten this was supposed to be a fake relationship.  She didn’t want to admit it, but the stock broker from Dreyar & Dreyar was really growing on her.

She fidgets on the couch one evening.  “I think we should practice um,” Lucy cheeks darken as she tries to get the words out, “you know k-kissing.”  They were only two weeks from the reunion and while they’d done things like holding hands, first base had not been attempted yet.  

Natsu gulps and nods. This was something he’d been dreading for a while, now that his feelings for the pretty blonde had steadily grown. He knew this was only supposed to be a faux situation, but in the back of his mind, he hoped it would turn into something more.    

They awkwardly shift their bodies closer until their legs are touching.  Despite his trepidation, he’s dreamt of this moment for the last couple of weeks and the only way it could work was, to give in.  Natsu reaches out to cradle Lucy’s face in his hand, sweeping his thumb along her milky skin.  It was so soft under his touch!  He lets his eyes drift over the lips he needed to claim next.  Would it be everything he’d imagined?  With a pause and coquette nod by the blonde, Natsu leans in coveting Lucy’s ruby lips.  Slow and gentle, he applies pressure to the kiss allowing the blonde to tell him how far to push things.  But she never pulls away, rather adds to the mix with a nibble to his bottom lip.  He swore his heart jumped into his throat by her actions and a light groan slips out.  

Emboldened by his response, Lucy runs the tip of her tongue against the seam of his lips.  Natsu relents and allows her to slip through.  She hums her pleasure and savors what this man was providing her.  The fears of allowing someone else to get close again seemed lost in this moment they were sharing.  A simple kiss that set off fireworks in her brain.  It was amazing, and something she hadn’t felt in so long.  Her fingers weave into his hair, threading through, gripping tightly as he suckles and cavorts with her tongue.  Oh wow, Lucy moans, this man was really good at finding hidden buttons she didn’t even know had existed till now.

She was almost saddened by the loss of contact when Natsu slowly pulled away out of breath.  It was probably for the best that they slowed things down anyways.  Her goal was supposed to be, just get through the reunion, not fall in love with the next guy that came her way.  But as he rested his forehead against hers, and she felt his hands gently resting above her hip, a crack appeared in Lucy’s resolve.  Natsu was so sweet, so attentive compared to how Sting had treated her.  How had she not known that men like the ones in her stories may actually exist.

Needless to say, sleep didn’t come so easily for either of them that night as they replayed the kiss they had shared on her couch.  Natsu knew he was hopelessly in love, but Lucy was more torn than ever.

The night of the reunion came swiftly enough and they both were not truly ready for it emotionally. They were dressed to impress, having pulled out all the stops with a custom fit Armani suit for Natsu, and an elegant red gown for Lucy that accented all of her assets.  Her plan was to make Sting jealous, but Natsu was still unaware of this secondary reason.  Lucy had toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but every time she built up the courage to do so, she balked and now it was too late.

And low and behold, as they pull up to the valet station in Natsu’s M5, who but Sting and his date are exiting another vehicle.  Lucy takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down.  She couldn’t believe it!  Yukino Aguria was his date!  The cheerleading captain and the football quarter back from their high school years. Oh, how cliché could this be?!  

“Are you okay,” Natsu had taken her hand when he’d noticed her jaw clench.  “Is that someone you know?”

“Yeah,” Lucy exhales, “they’re here for the reunion too.”  Like hell she was going to tell Natsu now, that they were the reason she’d brought him in the first place.  She turns on the fake smile, “let’s get this over with.”

It wasn’t all that bad Lucy realizes an hour into the event.  A few of her old friends, some she hadn’t spoken to in years were in attendance and it was nice catching up with them.  So far Natsu was playing his role perfectly, holding her hand or keeping his arm around her waist, making small talk with people, and doing what any old boyfriend would do.  But every so often, her eyes drift over to wherever Sting was hanging out.  As she suspected, he and Yukino was mainly around their former teammates.  Well it did make sense.  Theymade more sense.  Lucy hadn’t been part of that crowd to begin with because cheer just wasn’t of interest to her.  It still didn’t make her feel any better, only wonder if she’d been the one played their entire relationship.

She didn’t wanna see much more of it and excuses herself to the restroom to calm her nerves.  

After freshening up and composing herself, Lucy exists the lady’s room and is startled to find Sting waiting right outside, alone, leaning against the wall.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he smirks at her, “I knew you wanted to see me again.”

“Oh please,” Lucy tries to get around him, but he blocks her.  “Sting, move.”

“You thought you could just break up with me and I’d let you go so easily?”  Sting corners Lucy against a wall with his arms braced on either side of her.  “That ain’t happening baby.”      

Lucy seethes.  “Y-You’re the one who was doing the cheating Sting! I wasted 12 years of my life on you and I’m glad to have found someone new.”

“Who, Armani boy out there.”  He scoffs, “think I don’t know you only met the guy two months ago on some dating site.” When he sees Lucy’s eyes widen, he taunts her more.  “Yeah…” Sting trails a finger along her jaw and down her neck, “that’s right, I found out from Minerva cause she works at that company checking through profiles.  Couldn’t land a guy so you dug one up.  Cute baby, real cute, but you’re not gonna replace me so easily.”

“Y-You have Yukino,” Lucy spat back.  “Why are you still bothering me…”

Sting grabs Lucy’s jaw hard.

“You’re hurting me Sting, stop it!”

He narrows his eyes, “I just don’t like losing what’s mine.”

Natsu had grown worried at how long Lucy was taking and went to investigate.  As he rounds the corner of the hallway, he sees the same man from earlier pinning her to the wall.  Furious, he runs as fast as he can, cold cocking him before he even knew what hit him. Sting flies a few feet away but quickly scrambles to his feet.  “Back off pretty boy.  This is between me and my ex!”

Ex?  Natsu glances at Lucy confused.  

“Oh, I see,” Sting snickers, “she never told you.”

But Natsu didn’t care. No woman deserved to be treated the way this bastard was hurting Lucy.  “Last chance,” he narrows his eyes, brows furrowing in a death glare.  “Walk away and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll lay you out right here right now Eucliffe!”  Sting’s eyes widen a tad, that this guy knew who he was.  “Yeah I know who you are.  Quarterback of Crocus High.  I recognized Cheney too from the times we whipped your asses on the field.”

Sting does a double take. “Magnolia.”

“Exactly.  You stuck up rich kids always looked down on us, but on the field, we owned you.  Now walk away or I’ll refresh your memory.”

By that moment, other partygoers had flooded into the hallway.  Rogue grabs Sting telling him it ain’t worth it and to just come with them.

“Fine,” Sting spat back, “you can have her cause she ain’t worth it.  I’m outta here!”

“Are you okay?” Natsu grabs Lucy and pulls her to him.  

She collapses against his chest, sobbing.  “I’m sorry Natsu.  I should have warned you…”  

“It doesn’t matter if he’s you ex, that doesn’t give him the right to put his hands on you.  But tell me the truth Lucy, is he the reason you wanted to come here tonight?”

Lucy hesitates a moment but nods and hangs her head.  “I’m sorry Natsu…. When I’d heard he had a new girlfriend, I just wanted him to think I’d moved on too.  Just never thought he’d do something like this.”

Natsu exhales and kisses the top of her head.  Speaking in a soft tone, “I know I was supposed to just play a role but, after spending the last few weeks with you, I don’t…  I don’t want things to end between us.”

“You don’t?”  She looks up.  “Even after all this?”

He shakes his head and smiles, cupping her cheek gently, “permission to kiss my new… girlfriend?”  

She smiles and pulls him in for a kiss, “permission no longer required…”

[uspapyrus]

Exercise Isn’t All Bad

This is the story for the winner of my giveaway! The request was a date between Sans and a trans-Neko boy name Neeko. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope it’s well received. Thanks so much!

@arriesmain

           The Surface was more beautiful than any monster could possibly have imagined. Emerging from the dank caverns that they had called home for centuries, the monsters were greeted by crisp, fresh air and a bright blue sky, unlike anything they had seen before. Many tears had been shed and monsters were welcomed into the world by humanity. It was the perfect ending to their story and it was time for the “Happily Ever After” that they had all been dreaming of.

           For one monster in particular, it was time for a happy ending to his own story. Once the majority of monsters had gotten settled into rooms at the local village’s inn, Sans stepped up to the door of a special monster, knocking once, twice, three times. The door was soon opened by an orange tabby whom he’d been seeing on and off for some time now.

“Hey Neeko,” Sans greeted him with his typical, lazy grin, offering a bouquet of sunflowers to him. “I saw these and they reminded me of you.” A hint of nervous energy caused his free hand to tremble, and he stuck it into his pocket in hopes that it wouldn’t be noticed.

“Hey Sans,” Neeko grinned, leaning against the doorway. “Thanks, these are beautiful… Nothing like the echo flowers.” The tabby accepted the sunflowers, looking at them fondly, fingering a soft petal. He forced his gaze away from the pretty surface flower, grinning in return. “You want to come in? What brings you here?”

“Oh nah, that’s alright,” Sans shook his head, sticking his other hand into his pocket to avoid fidgeting with it. “I actually came by to say I’m planning to go to the gym in the village in the morning, and I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me.”

Neeko had to laugh, “You going to the gym? You hate the gym, why would you want to go there?”

“What, I’m not allowed to try something new?” Sans joked, but soon, a light blue color flushed across his cheekbones. “Alright, you got me. I figured you’d want to go, I know you just can’t weight to check out the gym on the Surface. I’m sure it’s got a lot more to it than the one in the Underground.”

The tabby chuckled at the pun. “Is this a date?” He teased.

“Maybe, if you want it to be. How about I swing by around ten?” Sans suggested hopefully, but he would not be so lucky.

“Ten? That’s way too late to be going to the gym.”

“Are you sure?”

“How about eight? You’re lucky I don’t say six,” Neeko winked, grinning at him.

Sans shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Fine, but I still think it’s too early to be getting up. Shouldn’t we be relaxing now that we’ve gotten up to the Surface?”

“Nope, now’s the perfect time to get into shape. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Neeko replied cheerily, and Sans leaned up to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” the skeleton returned, quietly congratulating himself on a successful mission as he walked away to meet his brother in their designated room.

The following day began bright and early for Sans. Woken by his alarm, he quickly turned it off before it could wake his sleeping brother across the room. Pausing to stare at the sunlight streaming through the window, he was in awe of the sun beams that touched the bed beside him. They successfully put him in a better mood as he (reluctantly) freed himself from the warmth of his covers, donning his shorts, an old t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes instead.

           A sleepy yawn would erupt from him as he rubbed the tiredness from his eye sockets with both hands. Stepping out the door, he pocketed his wallet, trudging down the hall to the room where he knew he would pick up his date. He didn’t even need to knock on the door, already finding Neeko waiting for him in the hallway, leaning against a wall and putting on his own tennis shoes.

           “Morning,” Sans greeted tiredly, unable to keep himself from yawning yet again.

           “Good morning,” Neeko returned, cheerily. “Ready? I heard that there’s a big gym in town. I wonder how many machines they have.”

           “Mhm,” Sans started to walk at Neeko’s side as they descended a staircase to the first level of the building, heading out into a cool, dewy morning. Without a car or other means of transportation, they simply walked, which was fine with the both of them. The gym wasn’t far, and they only needed to walk down a few streets before coming upon the rather large building. Sans held the door, and they were surprised to find the gym much larger than they had been anticipating.

           The building had two floors. On the bottom floor, there was a basketball court in the center with a set of locker rooms and a swimming pool off to one side. The upstairs floor had a running track and numerous machines of different types. There was also a room used for yoga and other classes. The place was huge, and Neeko was thrilled.

           “This is amazing!” the tabby cried. The entire gym in the Underground could likely have fit in the space reserved for the basketball court alone, so this was quite an upgrade.

           “Where to first?” Sans asked, once they’d signed in at the desk and paid to use the facility for the day.

           Neeko wanted to go upstairs and check out the machines first, and Sans simply trailed behind him, much like a lost puppy. The poor skeleton was quite lost in a place like this, and he just had to trust that Neeko knew what each of the different machines were and how they were supposed to be used.

           “There’s not many people here,” he observed, noting that there were only two or three people who had come in to the gym this morning.

           “Well it’s only 8, maybe more will show up later,” Neeko suggested.

           “I told you it was too early!”

           “8 is an average time to get up, you’re just a late sleeper.”

           Sans laughed. His comments were good-natured, and he was happy to be here on the surface, even if it meant a day at the gym this morning and a nap this afternoon.

           Neeko climbed onto a machine where he was meant to sit and pedal like a bicycle. Upon request, Sans joined him on the one next to him. His feet reached the pedals just fine and he started to pedal slowly without any resistance. It wasn’t so difficult, even if he didn’t like to exercise very much. Neeko, on the other hand, had upped the resistance level to 10, and was pedaling quickly, much to Sans’ surprise, without yet breaking a sweat. It was impressive.

           “I didn’t think we had one of these machines in the Underground. I’m surprised you know how to use it,” the skeleton commented, continuing his slow pace.

           “Oh yeah, it’s called an elliptical. We’ve got one, it’s just really old. This one’s even got a screen on it to turn up the resistance and things instead of a button. Here’s something you’ll like- you can watch TV on it too.”

           “You can? Huh, I wonder if you could watch whole movies on it. I guess that’s one way to get somebody to movie ‘round and exercise.”

           Neeko snickered at the joke and aided Sans in turning on the television feature, where Sans started to watch Animal Planet. Some program about wild cats was on.

It was some time later before Neeko finished his set on the bike, climbing off. “Let’s go try something else, want to? I want to try lifting some weights. You can be my spotter.”

           “Well good news, the cat had kittens,” Sans noted, turning off the screen, and trailed behind as they headed across the upper floor to an empty bench press. “How much are you going to try to lift?”

           “A hundred,” Neeko replied, placing his weights on the ends of the bar. Sans helped.

           “I can’t weight to see that, heh heh.”

           “You already used that joke.” Neeko winked and finished securing his weights.

           “Not today I didn’t,” Sans retorted.

Neeko laid on the bench, positioning his hands. He took a deep breath in and exhaled before pushing up on the bar, bringing the heavy load to his chest. He pushed up and brought it back down, completing ten difficult reps before Sans helped to put the bar back on the stand.

           “Let’s add ten pounds,” Neeko requested, leaving Sans to grab the weights and fix them to the ends of the bar. The tabby did ten more reps, ears flattening with the tension in his body as he fought to keep it going. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as Sans helped him place the bar back.

           “That was amazing,” the skeleton complimented, impressed.

           “Heh, thanks,” Neeko grinned, aiding Sans in removing their weights and cleaning up the area. “I think I’m going to go for a run next.”

           “I’ll sit over there and cheer you on,” Sans grinned. There was no way he was going to be running too, so he was pleased to see that there were several benches set up near the track, and he sat down with his back pressed against the wall, watching as Neeko took a place on the inner circle for running, beginning with a jog.

           With each time Neeko passed him by, Sans did something different. At one passing he cheered. At the next, he gave two thumbs up. At the third, he waved his arms and shouted. Whistled. Made a funny face. And then he simply grinned goofily, perhaps running out of ideas, though he recycled some of the ones he’d already used, enjoying the way they made Neeko smile with each lap.

           The track was 13 laps to a mile, and Neeko completed the first mile out of breath and tired, deciding to do a run-walk combo for another half a mile. Sans was no less encouraging the second time.

           When the mile was finished, Neeko returned to Sans, tired and sweaty.

           “That was great!” Sans congratulated, before grinning. “I’ve got a perfect way to finish today’s workout, if you’re interested.”

           “What do you have in mind?” Neeko questioned, panting.

           “I challenge you to a game of Ghost downstairs.”

           “Ha! You’re on,” Neeko replied, grinning. “I can beat you any day.”

           “We’ll see,” Sans replied, standing from his seat and headed for the staircase, this time leading the way. He knew where he was going now.

           They paused at a water fountain before opening the door to the court, entering. The basketball court was empty, and there was a rack of different balls against the wall by the door for their amusement. Bleachers lined the walls on the opposite side for an audience if a game happened to be going on.

           Sans selected a ball, bouncing it experimentally on the hardwood floor. It bounced back easily. “Ready? I’ll go first.” Holding the ball in his hands, he moved to stand at the three-point line to the right of the basket, bouncing the ball twice before shooting it towards the hoop. It bounced around the rim twice before going in.

           Proud of himself, Sans stepped back, gesturing for Neeko to take a turn. “Your turn.”

           Neeko had to step up to the three-point line now where Sans had stood, bouncing the ball twice before launching it towards the hoop. It went in with ease.

           “Nice shot,” Sans commented.

           “Try this one.” Neeko grinned, standing at the free throw line, but he turned around backwards, doing a granny shot where he held the ball between his legs and launched it backwards without looking. It hit the edge of the backboard but bounced off into what would have been the crowd.

           Sans laughed. “Try this one instead.” Jogging over to collect the ball, he stood at the free throw line and tossed it with his non-dominant hand, managing to land it in the basket. “Have to use the opposite hand.”

           Neeko chuckled but attempted the feat. Unfortunately, the ball slid out of his hand in an odd way, and he dropped the ball. “Not fair! Let me redo it!”

           “No way!” Sans shook his head, grinning. “You’re a G!”

           Neeko scoffed, standing at the three-point line to the left of the hoop. He tossed the ball in with ease. Sans’ attempt to replicate the feat resulted in failure, and he, too, became a “G.”

           The game went on in this manner for quite some time, until Neeko was a “G-H,” and Sans was a “G-H-O.”

           Neeko stood at the three-point line directly in front of the basket, and shot, making it in.

           Sans collected the ball to do the same, and took his own shot, but it seemed as though the ball were veering right. The skeleton’s eye turned blue for the briefest moment before the ball flew into the basket.

           “Hey, that’s cheating!” Neeko accused, having spotted the unlawful use of magic.

           “What?” Sans asked innocently. “We didn’t establish any rules or anything…”

           “You can’t just use magic to put it in, that’s not fair. Wait a minute… have you been using magic this whole time? Is that why you were so good?”

           Sans grinned sheepishly. “Maybe a little bit, but not for every shot…”

           “Cheater,” Neeko stuck his tongue out at him. “I think you should have a penalty letter since you’ve been cheating this whole time…”

           “It’s not cheating if the rules were never established,” Sans winked, but chuckled. “Fine, I’ll take a penalty letter. Guess I’m a G-H-O-S now.”

           “And you’re about to be a ghost,” Neeko grinned. “Let’s see you do something like this!” The tabby began in the center of the court and ran, dribbling, up to the basket, where he leapt high to dunk the ball in, hanging on the rim of the basket for the briefest moment before dropping down, holding up his hands in victory. “What’s the matter, shorty? Bit out of your reach?” he teased.

           “Who you calling shorty?” Sans asked, mock-offended, retrieving the ball. He stood in the center of the court and started to jog, dribbling the ball as he went. He jumped to reach the basket, but his height was a disadvantage, and he only succeeded in splaying out on the floor, the ball bouncing away to the opposite wall near the bleachers.

           “You okay?” Neeko questioned, crouching down to check on the fallen monster, offering a hand to help him up.

           “Guess I got dunked on,” Sans replied, chuckling. He accepted a hand up, rubbing the back of his head. He’d likely end up with a nice bruise. “I’m the ghost, heh heh. That means I buy lunch, and you get to pick where we decide to go.”

           “It’s a little early for lunch, but I saw a diner two doors down that looks pretty good- they’ve got a lot of surface food I’ve never heard of before. It’s all red with black and white checkers. It looks neat. We should try it out.”

           “Sounds like a plan,” Sans agreed, reaching down to collect the ball. He plopped down on the nearby bleacher, taking the moment to rest. Neeko moved to sit beside him.

           “This was fun, we should do this more often,” Sans grinned, shooting the ball towards the ball cart from their position across the gym. His eye glowed blue, and the ball settled right on top of the pile, as it had been when they’d first come in.

           “I’d like that.” Neeko grinned, but his expression soon changed, as he began to rub his arm. Something was wrong. “Sans… I um,” he looked down towards the floor, unable to bring himself to look up at him. “There’s something I need to tell you… about myself.”

           The skeleton didn’t give him the chance to continue. “I already know,” Sans said softly, leaning over to plant a kiss on Neeko’s cheek.

           “You do?” Neeko questioned, tentatively and hopefully looking over at the other monster.

           “I do. I’m a pretty observant guy, you know.” Sans stood from his seat, moving to stand in front of his date. He leaned forward to plant a sweet kiss on Neeko’s mouth, full of love and care. “And I love you for exactly who you are.”

[lubdubsworld]

Under my skin (Namjoon/Oc)

Chapter 5

"What do you wear to a non date? You know where you go out with a guy but you don't want him to think it's a date? Because you're not into him that way… " I say casually, watching my roommate as she digs through her closet , wrapped in a fluffy white towel .

 She's got an interview in a few hours and she gives me a look of long-suffering, eyes hooded and mouth twisting downwards in displeasure.

 "Ae Rin-ah, you know how I feel about your stunted emotions , your lack of a love life and your fashion sense, why would you put all three of those things in one sentence, it makes me nauseous.." She mutters.

 "Don't be a bitch. Come on, toss me a bone here."

 "Is this the back up dancer you've been sleeping with?" She says with a frown, laying out her own outfit and then going back in to dig through her clothes. As a fashion major she usually had an excess of dresses and t shirts and pants lying around. 

"Uh…" I hesitate just a bit. " Not exactly. "

“Then?”

“it’s his friend.” I mutter under my breath. Jiah frowns deeper and pulls out three dresses, decent calf length gowns with stitched hems and puffy, flowy sleeves. They look decidedly feminine and i wrinkle my nose. 

“How close of a friend are we talking here? Your fuck buddy is okay with you going around with his friend?” 

“It’s not that serious. Remember that cafe I told you about? The one in Gangnam? He’s got tickets for the weekly exhibit and I just want to see it!” I say briskly, grabbing a periwinkle blue dress and holding it up against my body. i’m not fashinably thin, but not exactly voluptuous either. The wide neckline would be wasted on me. 

“Wait, is this the same exhibition you’ve been salivating over for  years ? The one where you can’t get tickets unless you’re super rich or super connected or something?” 

“Yup..” i hum, reaching for the next gown. It’s a soft pink, not garish or overdone and i like it. There’s some lacy white overlay near the neck and pink bows on the sleeves and Jesus, is that a satin bowtie? It’s definitely girly though, and I feel like a little feminity never hurts, you know? 

Except when I hold it up, it falls a few inches short of my knee. Too much skin. 

Rejected. 

Jiah let out a low whistle.

“He got you tickets to a show like that? That sounds very.. romantic and date-y? Okay, does  he  know you’re not into him.??”

I make a noise of impatience. 

“Of course, I told him that.” 

“then why do you feel the need to convey it through oyour clothes as well? if you guys already talked about it, and he knows you’re not interested him, then wear whatever you feel like.” She sounds perfectly sensible, of course , but I still feel a cloying sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. i don’t know what it is that’s triggering all these negative emoitons in me. 

“I just...Wanna be safe i guess. I don’t know ... i don’t want to hurt either of them.” I say, feeling silly. there’s nothing to be hurt here, i think firmly. there’s no prospect of a serious relationship with either of them anyway. it’s absolutely foolish to even think of something like that. 

they’re superstars. 

I’m a struggling photographer who takes pictures of them. Yoongi just.. well, he likes me for a quick lay, possibly because I could hold a conversation with him when he wanted me to. 

And Namjoon... Namjoon was...

“Ae Rin? Rin.. You listening?!”

I startle, blinking back to focus on her. 

“Uh.. yeah?”

“I said, don’t be the reason their friendship gets shot to hell. it’s a shitty thing to do. “ She says firmly and I nod absently, reaching for the burgundy gown with the lace lining. it looked classy, perfect for a photo exhibit. 

“I’m not getting involved with either of them.” I say firmly, testing the soft silk of the gown. it looks expensive too, texture like flowing water over my fingers. 

“So you say. But honestly, you know that these sex only relationships are never that, right? You end up catching feelings in the end and then it all gets shot to hell. You don’t want that distraction...” 

You see , over the years, I’v realized something. 

Jiah is smart. 

And I’m a reckless fool. 

I ignore her warning and get dressed slowly, texting my location to Namjoon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He picks me up in a blue Porsche Cayenne. I fidget uncontrollably as he comes around to open the car door for me, dressed in fitting blue jeans and a plain white button down, face hidden by a mask and hair swept up underneath his fedora. He looks like an idol, even without the fanfare, body taut and firm: all 181 cm of him. 

He greets me normally, because he’s a normal human being, while I try not to feel like an bull in a china shop, fumbling over my syllables like an idiot. 

“You’re late.” I blurt out stupidly and his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling. It’s a shame i can’t catching sight of the dimples that are no doubt underneath that mask.  

He’s incredibly tall, up close and i struggle to feel less like a bug as he helps me into the seat, the musky scent of expensive perfume and clean male skin hitting me in all the right places . Or should I say , wrong places.

“I’m sorry, I was held up a bit by traffic. I hope you’ll forgive me. ” He whispers, eyes fixing on mine with alarming force. It’s almost physically restrictive,. his gaze. Like arms gripping my waist and pinning me to the seat.

Breathing has never been harder.

It’s new and terrifying, this foreign feeling of nervousness and guilt. And it confuses me completely. Namjoon isn’t the sort of person I usually admire. 

Not to say he isn’t attractive.

 He’s intensely masculine, unforgivingly male and there’s just this something in him that would make any girl want to... get down on her knees .

For not-so innocent reasons. 

And that scares me. 

Attarction is one thing : but something about Namjoon tells me he’s dangerous.All consuming. The sort of person who would demand too much. Demand it all. He would probably want to  own  the girl he got together with. 

Well, if you had to belong to someone, he’s not a bad choice  a voice snickers in the back of my mind.

 i know that voice. It’s the same voice that makes me follow idols to five star hotels and let them take naked photos of me. That voice is not to be trusted.

When he slips behind the car wheel, I can’t help but stare at his veiny forearms, the quiet strength of his fingers as he grips the wheel. He’s a confident driver but not cautious like Yoongi. There’s a bit of a rashness in the way he drives, not wild per se but just a little out of the comfort zone. 

 You know what they say about the way a man drives and the way he is in bed,  the voice is back, this time too loud.  Namjoon looks like he could be into some freaky stuff. 

My face is flaming red and I already wish I’d just refused him. 

“The Photographer this week is In Sook Kim... You like her right? I read that she’s your favorite photographer” He says casually and I pull myself together. 

“Read?”

“Your thesis on Florence. It was published in that magazine... i read it.” 

“ She talks about a lot of things : abstarct stuff that people ususlaly tend to ignore. i love that about her. She makes me feel like, ... even if i’m not someone famous or well-known...i’m still special. I want to recreate that sometimes.... ” I say softly, momentarily forgetting my nervousness. 

“She’s done a lot of projects...” 

“I studied one of them. Muses... it came out in 2004. “ I smile brightly. 

“The one with the women from the S and M club?” He smiles faintly, reaching out to take his mask off and it’s a bit like getting a floodlight shoved into my face, the sharp features and the bright gaze.

“uh.. yeah.. That one.. You know it?” i’m surprised. 

“Of course. it’s one of her famous works. I have two copies of it on my bedroom wall.” 

I try not to think of him on his bed , staring up at photos of submissive women in a Sado-Masochism club. 

But i can’t control my face and he laughs. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a conservative woman? “

“I.. no .. of course not. To each their own.” I say swiftly. 

“Hmm... Personally , i think everyone should try BDSM , once .” He shakes his head. 

I struggle to draw in my next breath. 

“I.. uh.. yeah, sure.” 

He must’ve caught the way my voice stuttered. 

“Am i making you uncomfortable?” He looks very unapologetic, almost amused. 

 Very much.

“Not at all. But then, not everyone is like that” I say almost defensively. The very phrase brings out a visceral reaction in me. I’ve seen woman hand over control to men. i’ve seen men take that control, take that power and break that woman down till she stops existing. 

“Like what?” He sais gently.

I bite my lips. 

“Weak and submissive.” i say finally. 

Namjoon laughs out loud

“Weak Submissives? There’s no such thing as a weak submissive, Ae Rin ssi... Submissives are usually very strong people. People who are strong enough to trust their Dom with themselves.” He turned slightly, something challenging in his gaze. 

I swallow. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” I snap. “ I’m not one!” 

He makes a soft , soothing sound that oddly comforts me. 

“I’m sorry if that ruffles your feathers,  aegi , I just made a general observation.”

Aegi? did he just call me aegi? I'm not his baby!! . I should be mad, I thought trying to summon up some irritation at the phrase. But all i can feel is warmth spreading out to my toes. 

“I... I’m sorry too. I just.. I shouldn’t have snapped.” I say feeling oddly scolded. 

“Let’s talk something fun, where would you like to have dinner tonight? I have reservation for a Chinese, A Thai and a Continental Place. You pick.” He smiles brightly. 

We talk a bit about our favorites and decide on the Thai place, by which time we’ve reached the cafe. 

As we pull up to the entrance. i glance at the board set up on front. The place is oddly empty and uncrowded which was surprising because the cafe is usually bustling with people. 

 Private Viewing Scheduled. Visitors Prohibited. 

“What?” I say confused when he comes around and helps me out. 

“I’m sorry...I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.. i hope you’ll enjoy this.” He says almost apologetically and i fellt my heart leap into my throat as I follow him into the loungue. The staff greet Namjoon with familiarity, even hugging him. 

“Is she here?” He says brightly and my heart stops. 

“No.. No!1 Kim Namjoon, No!!” I hiss, stunned. 

“You said you like her! You can tell her that in person. She’s in the last room. “

“You.. You’re not..?”

“coming with? Of course not! This is your present. Enjoy it to the fullest.” He smiles brightly. “ I’ll be right here. You can take as long as you want. Our reservation isn’t till eight. That gives you..” He glances at his watch “ Four hours at least.” 

I stare at him, fighting the overwhelming urge to fling myself into his arms . 

“I .. Thank you...I...”

“You can thank me by buying me ice cream the next time we go out.” He smiles and the casual way he tells me he wants to meet me again isn’t entirely lost on me. 

I try to ignore my pounding , breathless heart and move to the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t take me four hours. I spend an hour and twenty minutes with the lady, a bright middle aged woman with a pleasant smile. She’s very humble and answers my question with a lot of patience. 

“I don’t usually meet fans or attend private schedulings. But Namjoon’s mother is an old friend and he’s never called me in for a favor before.” She smiles, when I finally shake hands with her to bid her farewell. 

“I.. Thank you. I had such a great time.” My find feels like a well soaked sponge with all the information I’ve crammed into it. She had been kind enough to let me record some of her more complicated ideas, the ones I was afraid I would forget once i got home. 

“He told me you’re interested in an internship, now that you’ve finished your Degree. My studio does take interns... You’re welcome to apply with your portfolio.” She smiles then and i know my jaw has hit the floor. 

“I... really? Are you serious? I mean.. i’m not that good!! ” I’m too stunned to respond properly. 

“Of course. And don’t be so hard on yourself. You got that scholarship didn’t you? The same scholarship, I myself failed to get .” She winks. 

I nod , feeling lost and overwhelmed. 

“I’ll send it in...I will. Thank you so much.” I say softly. 

“Namjoon’s a nice kid. Bit old fashioned , but a nice kid. I hope you treat him well.” She says gently, her eyes warm and soft and it scares me momentarily, the sincerity in her tone. My throat goes try and i quickly shake my head. 

“Oh, no... No! We’re not together. I.. i have a boyfriend!” I say stupidly. She looks surprised.

“Oh.. really? I assumed... When namjoon said... Oh well,” She looks very confused but smiles. “ I’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.” She finishes awkwardly. 

When I leave the room, my mind is still running in circles. I’m not an idiot. I know that Namjoon isn’t one either. What he’s done today... it goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. Far beyond it. 

And it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever felt. Fingers trembling, I make my way to the loungue where I know he’s waiting. He catches sight of me and if i needed anymore proof , it’s there in the way his face lights up when he sees me, twin dimples lighting up on his face. 

i can’t summon up the smile that I ought to give him. In it’s place is liquid terror, spreading through my veins. 

 What are you seeing, when you see me? A pretty young girl with a bright dream? That’s not who i am! There are so many demons inside my skull... they’ll destroy you if you come anywhere near me , Namjoon -ah...

“Hey! Did you have fun....” His smile fades when he sees me and I stop trying to hide it. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He says nervously and i swallow. 

“I.. I’m fine. I was just wondering how Yoongi would have enjoyed the exhibit too ” I lie blatantly and it’s funny, how he wears his heart on his sleeve, how his mile gets wiped off his lips and hie eyes lose that sparkle. 

“Thank you for today. I learned so much from her . She even told me I could apply to be an intern and..” I babble mindlessly . 

Namjoon stares at me for a long moment. 

“I'm happy that you’re happy.”  He says softly and I feel out of my depth. 

Later as we sit down to dinner, he tells me about his family, his dog and his little sister. 

“What about your family?” He says casually reaching across the table to refill my wine glass. 

“Uh.. My parents died when I was six.” I say softly. “ I grew up with my stepfather , till I got the scholarship to study in Seoul univ.”

“Is he still around?”

“Uh...I wish he wasn’t.” I say before I can put a stopper on my thoughts. Namjoon glances up sharply and his dimples peek out.

“Ah... that explains a lot.”

“Sorry?”

“the distrust... the way you always keep glancing at the door ... the way you steer the conversation away from amything personal. I bet you’re one of those rare girls who think that a dinner date is far more intimate that a night of hot and heavy sex...” He smiles thoughtfully. I’m momentarily stunned into silence. 

“That’s not... I’m not like that...” I say sharply. 

“It’s not a flaw. Plenty of girls out there have daddy issues. Most of them, in fact. “ He shrugs. 

i feel suddenly affronted.

“I do not have Daddy issues, what the fuck...” The words are out before I can stop myself and he grins. 

“That’s more like it.” He whispers.

“What?” I snap.

“This is more like you. the swearing, The blazing eyes. The heaving breasts. you look like a goddess when you’re angry. You’ve been wearing a mask this evening and I really wish you’d be yourself with me. ” He leans forward and I resist the urge to toss the wine on his face.

“You’re insufferable...i want to leave.” I almost stand but his hand shoots out and grips my wrist, so tight that I whimper, the sound strangled out of me. 

“Don’t be scared, baby. I'm just being honest He whispers. 

“This isn’t a date. Stop calling me that.” I grit out. He lets my wrist go and I wipe at the skin moodily. 

“I know it isn’t a date. I never said it was. “ He shrugs. And then he looks up and there’s a flash of something in his gaze.

“But I hope the next one will be.” He says softly. 

I stare at him and suddenly it strikes me how foolish I’ve been. Of course he’s going to be just like the rest of them.

“You want to have sex with me?” I say blankly. 

“I want to get to know you. To date you... “ He corrects me, leaning forward. 

“You don’t have to splurge for another date. I could blow you in the rest room if you like.” I say it just to shock him but it angers him instead.

“Shut up. Yell back at me if you want... don’t fucking degrade yourself like that. You’re worth far more than a blowjob in a rest room, you silly fool.” He snarls. The words momentarily frighten me. 

“Well, that’s where you’re fucking wrong. I’m not worth ‘ more’. And I’m going to pass on the date. i already have a fuck buddy.” I say softly , leaning back. 

“Yoongi hyung? I know you don’t feel anything for him... You’re using him .You think he’s a safe bet because he’ll never ask for more than what you give. But me...I scare you” He smiles softly and it’s frightening how accurate he is. 

I laugh in disbelief. 

“You think you’re better than him? He took me to the Park Hyatt on our first date..He booked the honeymoon suite for 5000 dollars that night.....i’ve already slept with him a dozen times. i don’t even know you that well.  “ I sound snobbish but the urge to wipe that smirk off his face is overwhelming.

Namjoon smiles.

“Yoongi hyung has a scar on his shoulder. Which one? Left or right?” He smiles.

“What?” I blink. 

“The scar on his shoulder.... which shoulder...?

“I..” I stop drawing a complete blank. did he have a scar? 

“The curtains in your honeymoon suite... do you remember what color they were? “ He smiles , “ the bedsheets.. were they satin or silk...? Do you remeber the conversation you had with him during dinner? Do you remeber what he was wearing that night?” 

It feels a bit like I’ve been sucker punched. i don’t remember any of those stuff. Had never felt the need to ..

“i.. That’s.. Those are physical things.. they don’t mean anything...”

“Oh they would. If Yoongi means anything... those things would mean something too.... But we both know he doesn’t...” 

“Stop.. Namjoon...”

“Give me a chance, Ae Rin.” He says firmly, leaning forward. 

“Take me home.”

“Ae Rin.”

“We’re done. Take me home. Now!!”.

He doesn’t protest. But when he drops me off, his face is somber. 

“I’m not going to back off.” He whispers. 

“Good night Kim namjoon ssi.” 

[webcricket]

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2238 (Act I)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. It was originally going to be three acts, then I got invested because Cas is adorable. Now it’s outlined for five acts. I’m not sorry.

Completed Series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/162181272535/nudge-theory-masterlist

(X)

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

Act I

“Sam? Dean?” Your voice reverberated off the tiled walls of the sprawling bunker, announcing your arrival, tone becoming tinny when they failed to respond, “The door was unlocked. I let myself in.” Feet clanging on the metal staircase, you endeavored to make your presence known - the last thing you wanted to do was catch experienced well-equipped potentially trigger-happy hunters off guard in their own home. You made your way over to the map table, tossing your bag on a chair, eyes roaming the spacious room for any signs of life, “Guys?” Silence greeted your ears. Grumbling a muffled expletive, you dug the phone out of your pocket, scanning for any new messages, scrolling back to confirm that Sam’s text yesterday did indeed ask you to meet them here, in Lebanon, in the bunker, to ride back up on a big case. You owed them more than you generally cared to acknowledge in their presence, and dropped everything to show, no questions asked - and they had the audacity to be somewhere else when you arrived. Breath puffing out your cheeks, you noted with amused annoyance that you’d never been stood up by two men at the same time, let alone brothers. You hastily typed a where-the-hell-are-you-it-better-not-be-buying-beer text to Sam, muttering under your breath, “Freaking Winchesters.” Your finger hesitated over the send button, soft footfalls heralding the approach of someone in the hall. Shoving the phone back into your pocket, trembling adrenaline-fueled fingers instinctively brushed the cool metal of the pistol tucked under your arm. Releasing the safety, you withdrew the weapon, backing up to the stairs, steadying your aim at the doorway, “Who’s there?”

A dark-haired man in a billowing tan trench coat appeared at the threshold, clenching his jaw, pausing only a moment to study you and the gun disinterestedly before taking several steps forward, blue-eyes gleaming intensely as they narrowed their focus on you. His voice intoned a suppressed wrath, “Where are Sam and Dean?”

In affront to the overwhelming base instincts for self-preservation coursing through your veins and urging you to do otherwise, you lowered the gun. Although you’d never met him, you recognized the fallen angel from Dean’s descriptions, right down to the skewed tie. Of course, Dean had failed to mention the angel happened to be disarmingly handsome - a fact that did not go unnoticed by you despite his current intimidating method of inquiry. You held up an open palm, imploring him to back off, making a show of holstering the pistol, “You’re Castiel.”

He froze, a glint of surprise betraying his austere expression, “I am. Who are you?”

“A friend. Dean has told me a lot about you,” you proffered an open hand, “I’m Y/N.”

He glowered at your hand until you awkwardly withdrew it, rumbling thunder still underlying his tone, “Do you know where Sam and Dean are? Dean asked me to meet them here.”

Wiping your rejected palm sheepishly across your jeans for lack of anything better to do with it, you chewed the inside of your cheek, “All that motor mouth Dean does is talk and talk and he’s never even mentioned me, right? Y/N, awesome hunter, upper Michigan peninsula, great ass, nothing?” You arched an eyebrow, finally determining a use for your wayward hand, planting it on your hip for emphasis.

“I do not listen to everything Dean says,” the angel’s scowl deepened, impervious to your subtle attempt at flirtation. He wagged his chin in frustration, whirling away with an exaggerated shrug, “It is often necessary to, what’s the phrase?” He blinked pointedly, pivoting back toward you, “Tune him out.”

“Yeah, well I can relate, Dean does say a lot of things,” you fidgeted under his fierce regard, nervously laughing in an attempt to lighten the mood, “especially if there’s cheap whisky around. And being hunters, there’s always cheap whisky around. Kind of goes with the territory.”

The angel’s stolid features marginally relaxed, blue eyes drifting back to meet yours, eddying with a shared sympathy, “I have noticed he often uses a lot of words to convey very little information.”

There it was, the tenseness fled the room – you’d managed to break through the icy front the angel had constructed. The thought that Dean also hadn’t mentioned the angel was funny crossed your mind - a self-satisfied smirk blossoming across your lips.

“That’s not what you meant,” he frowned at you, forehead knitting in consternation.

“No Cas, that’s exactly what I meant,” stepping closer, motioning to place a hand commiseratively on his arm, you wavered, instead electing to hook your thumbs in your pockets, rolling onto your heels, “well look at that, not even five minutes and we’ve already bonded over that flap-mouthed Winchester.”

Staring wordlessly into your eyes, the angel’s expression regressed to a state akin to mild perturbation.

Right, you remembered with a blink, missing brothers, priorities. Clearing your throat in a compulsion to fill the silence, you spun around, walking toward the table, retreating from his disquiet eyes, “Alright then, what do you know about this case they are working?”

“Nothing,” he swept along beside you, seeming to have zero regard for the conventional boundaries of personal space, “only that Dean asked for my assistance.”

You didn’t mind the intrusion – the angel smelled wonderful, and distracting. You weren’t entirely sure the scent of distraction was even a thing until now – the soft sigh slipping past your lips confirming without a doubt that it most definitely was a thing - a thing that was very distracting indeed. Winchesters, some part of you not yet intoxicated by the angel’s proximity prodded. Reining in your wandering imagination, you angled your neck to peer into his face, praying he didn’t sense how flustered you felt in his presence, “Same. Sam’s text said they needed backup, to meet here, that’s all. No details.” You idiot, your brain scolded itself, quit praying, he’s an angel, he can probably hear you.

Cas returned your gaze - the prolonged eye contact being something that should disconcert you, but didn’t coming from those brilliant blues. He squinted at you curiously, nostrils subtly flaring. Then, as if shaking off a sudden chill, he twitched, taking an uneasy step back, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. He peeled those reflective blue pools away from you, electing instead to study the ceiling, “It’s been five hours and twenty-four minutes since I arrived to find the bunker empty. Their car is missing from the garage and neither of them is answering my calls.”

“Okay,” you pressed your lips thin, the reality of actual worry setting in, “well, there has to be something around here to give us some idea of where they are…”

“Perhaps Dean’s computer will help,” Cas interrupted, “he left it in the library.” He fled to the far door, you trailing not far behind. Cas approached the unassuming piece of technology with trepidation, glancing sidelong between you and the table.

“No computers in Heaven?” You quipped, sitting in the chair and scooting closer to the table.

The angel gave you an almost reprimanding glare, “I find them to be needlessly complicated machines.”

“Uh huh, well, I’m sure you’re good at a lot of other things,” raising your hands apologetically, you rubbed your palms together before flipping open the laptop. The visual of a well-endowed scantily clad Asian bombshell folded into an impossibly bendy position greeted your eyes. Biting your lower lip, bodily wincing in empathy for her plight, you pondered aloud, voice cracking, “I mean, is that even possible?”

Cas’ hand gripped the chair back as he leaned over your shoulder to study the screen in a genuine attempt to answer your question.

Salacious moans and groans began to emanate unsolicited from the speakers. Cheeks flushing red hot, you quickly bashed the escape key several more times than was actually necessary to close the window. You gulped hard in a failed attempt to squelch your riled nerves.

The angel’s warm breath puffed across your ear as he spoke, affect flat, “No, I do not believe that position is physically possible for a typical human form to attain. She appears to be modified.”

“Yeah, uh, thought so,” you stammered, mouth dry, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, paralyzed at the thought of what Dean’s browser history might reveal next. Realizing you’d really prefer not to have an angel literally over your shoulder for the distinct possibility of discovering more porn, you twisted in the chair to address him, winding up closer than expected, nose-to-scruffy chin, “Hey, uh, maybe you should check their rooms? Could be some clue there we could use.”

He rigidly straightened up, a wave of relief whooshing across his features. Nodding agreeably, he disappeared into the hall.

You exhaled a heavy sigh, diving unhindered into the task at hand. You quickly discovered that before Dean embarked on a colorful journey into the world of online adult entertainment, he had spent a significant amount of time researching a town in New York called Clifton Springs. There seemed to be a historically repetitive spate of unusual deaths in the town occurring every 13 years, and due to begin once more in a few days. It immediately struck you as something the brothers would be compelled to investigate, and certainly something for which they’d want back up in the form of another kick-ass hunter and a powered-up soldier of the Lord. It did not, however, give you any idea as to why they were missing days before the mysterious deaths were slated to begin. Maybe they got a head start? Forgot to leave a note? Forgot to charge their cell phones? You began to absent-mindedly chew your fingernails, lost in thought.

“These were on Sam’s desk,” the organic plop of leather on wood shocked you from your reverie.

Your eyes roamed over the collection of news clippings and leather bound journal Cas spread out before you on the table. The journal was open to a page of particular interest, chronicling John Winchester’s hunt at Clifton Springs Sanatorium, precisely 13 years prior. “That’s it,” you pointed at the journal, “Clifton Springs, it’s all over Dean’s history too. It must be where they are headed.”

“Then we should depart immediately,” he began to gather the papers into the journal.

You slid away from the table, standing, closing the laptop and sticking it under your arm, “Great, I’ll just grab my stuff. Who knows, we might even beat them there. I can hardly wait to see the looks on their faces. You know, after I tear them each a new one for leaving us in the dust.” You stepped toward the map room, pausing to spin on your heel, inquiring, “Um, what should I know about this whole flying business anyway? I mean, I’m sure Dean was exaggerating when he described the experience.”

The angel’s shoulders dropped. He ceased collecting the papers and shifted his gaze up slowly to focus on you, sad resignation churning in his eyes, “We must travel by car. My wings, I-I can’t…not anymore.” He pressed his eyes shut, chin dropping to his chest.

“Right, of course,” your stomach sank, the deep pain caused by your assumption clearly evident by his reaction, “I’m sorry, for whatever happened. It must be hard for you.”

His eyes opened again, shining wetly as they sought out yours, “Thank you. It’s been an,” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “an adjustment.” He glanced away, closing the journal, placing it carefully inside his coat pocket.

“I’m parked out front, unless you want to take your car,” you started back toward the map room to get your bag.

The angel remained silent in answer.

You looked over your shoulder to find him studying the floor between his feet, arms swaying loosely at his sides.

Sensing your observation of him, he confessed, “I took the bus. I’m between vehicles.” His chin lifted, tone hopeful, “But since I do not require sleep, I can drive through the night. That is if you don’t mind me driving your car.”

“Yeah Cas, that’d be great,” you smiled warmly. Your heart went out to the angel - he served as proof first impressions can be entirely incorrect. He wasn’t some fierce all-powerful soldier unaffected by the injustices of the world. He experienced hurt just like the rest of humanity, and the only thing keeping you from running across the room and hugging the wounded angel tight was the thought that it might make the subsequent lengthy car ride a bit awkward considering you’d only just met. Fishing the keys from your pocket, you tossed them his way.

He caught them without looking, a small smile erasing the sadness from his aspect as he made his way to your side, “Dean sometimes allows Sam to drive his car. Even a demon, Meg, once, but never me.”

“Yeah, well Dean doesn’t drive a car, he drives a surrogate child,” you grinned, scooping up your duffle and making for the stairs.

Marching close behind you, he mused, “I always wondered why he refers to it as a baby.”

You halted at the landing to peer once again into the depths of the angel’s expressive ocean blue eyes, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Eyes sparkling, Cas nodded assent to keeping your comment secret, allowing a charming half-smile to quirk his lip sideways.

Continue Reading Act II:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/156992581745/nudge-theory