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peach-pops · 5 years ago

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Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study.

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful.

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?”

Bloody hell.

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead.

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?”

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand.

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?”

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?”

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.”

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you.

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met.

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him.

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.”

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested.

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.”

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.”

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now.

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release.

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself.

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!”

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.”

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly.

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames.

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew.

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.”

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?”

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?”

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.”

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies.

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart.

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed.

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with.

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam.

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.”

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?”

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.”

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day.

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents.

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!”

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated.

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?”

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you.

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.”

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper.

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.”

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong.

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick.

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar.

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?”

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave.

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.”

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?”

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it.

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.”

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it.

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation.

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.”

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?”

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart.

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.”

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual.

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves.

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours.

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-”

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.”

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.”

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.”

taglist: @goopyartiste, @sugas-sweetheart, @kirislut, @estridries, @hannahalanib1, @art0saurus, @shoutamajiki, @yee-harr, @animatedarchives

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu hogwarts au #haikyuu hogwarts #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenario #nekoma x reader #nekoma hogwarts #kuroo headcanon #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro headcanon #kuroo tetsuro scenario #tetsuro kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo scenario #tetsuro kuroo headcanon

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queenmuzz · 4 years ago

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Heat of the Moment

A Dante x Reader Valentine’s Day Special!

Your mom had always told everyone, in a disapproving tone, that you were too impulsive for your own good. You darted into the road to get a runaway ball. You bought that awesome looking jacket, without checking to see if it was on sale. And now, because you were craving pizza, and didn’t want to shell out the four bucks extra for delivery, you were in a mighty fine pickle.

You decided that taking the deserted looking street at near midnight, just to shave a few minutes off your walk to Angelo’s Pizzeria was a perfectly splendid idea. So splendid, you didn’t notice the shadowy figures following you, until you were grabbed from behind, and a cloth covered with some sort of chemical was placed over your screaming mouth.

So now, here you stood, or rather...laid, on cold grey stone, that seemed to leech all warmth away from your flesh. It was still dark, but illuminated by torches, you seemed to be surrounded by columns of stone, like you were in some knock off kid sized version of Stonehenge. You immediately attempted to get up, only to find to your irritation, your wrists and ankles were bound by industrial grade chains.

“The offering has awoken!” called out a woman’s voice, and from the darkness, like the damn Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings, nine cloaked figures came out of the darkness. You tried to make out their faces, but both their pitch black cloaks, and blood red masks hid everything about them.

“Brothers and Sisters, we are gathered here tonight to call forth from the very bones of the earth, a power far greater than any human can imagine. The stars have aligned, the incense has been lit. All now,” she motioned to the cultist beside her, who handed her a leatherbound book, “Is to speak the incantations, and complete the rituals.”

And then, with the help of her assistant, the group began to chant. You had no idea of what was being spoken, but it sounded Latin.

“Really... Latin? Guys, there are a tonne of other languages you could use! What happened to originality?!” you grumbled, but while you could feel their glares, none stopped their inane chants

Upon each pillar, a letter lit up, one at a time. You couldn’t recognize the script, but it looked like a five year old’s attempt to write Hebrew. For some reason, that irked you. This makes no sense. Latin is an Indo-European language, and Hebrew is a totally different family! These idiots are mixing everything up!.

But the incantation seemed to do the trick, and the flames grew, and changed to a sickly green colour. And now, all these cultists raised their arms in exultation

“Lord of the Underworld, we present you this offering, a Virgin Offering, for you to consume!” The lead cultist chanted.

“Wait!” you blurted out, in a desperate attempt to avert your fate, “I’m not a virgin! I’ve had sex before, dozens...no, hundreds of times!”

Her assistant leaned over you, their mask barely concealing his skepticism.

“Name one person you have laid with,” he tested.

“Well…” Your mind was blank, and so you went with the first thing that shot through your brain.

“Your mom, for starters.”

You could have slapped yourself for such a dumb comeback, had your wrists not being tied up, but you needn’t have worried about not getting slapped. The cultist’s lips twisted into a snarl, and you felt white hot pain radiating from your cheek, and the taste of blood filling your mouth. Even though it hurt like hell, one part of you was mentally high fiving at that comeback. His hand raised up one more time, to give another strike, but the leader quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Calm yourself, brother… the offering must remain undamaged. Besides,” and you could swear you heard a smirk in her voice, “It’s not their body that must be virginal, it’s the blood.”

Well shit, you thought, as you placed your burning cheek against the cool stone to relieve the pain.

The ritual continued. “We humble servants provide both the firstfruits of this offering to open the way.” The woman took out a jet black dagger, and approached you with steady steps. Would she cut out your heart, Temple of Doom style? Rip out your entrails? Slit your throat? All you could hope was that it would be quick and painless.

What you hadn’t expected was for her to grab one of your restrained hands and with surprisingly gentleness placed the edge of the obsidian blades against your palm.

As she dragged the razor sharp edge, a line of crimson bloomed, like a trail of bubbles. It almost didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t help but get upset. All this pomp and ceremony, and they were just giving you a cut that would irritate you for weeks...if you lived that long. Whatever happens, you said as the cultist began using your blood to paint the two largest stone pillars, in a perverse parody of the Passover ritual, I hope whatever these bastards are summoning crushes them.

“COME FORTH!” The whole group chanted in unison, “Taste the blood… DEVOUR THE FLESH!”

And without warning, the blood...YOUR blood, burst into flame, racing up the pillars as if gasoline had been pumping through your veins. At the top, the flames connected and formed a gateway...a hellgate. And within it, an orb, an inferno expanded...and a roar that sounded nothing like any earthbound animal emanated.

And then, an explosion of heat and sulfur knocked down the stones, and the cultists, sending the leader flying back several feet. Only you, chained to the granite altar, remained in place.

You squinted as the searing light dissipated. Among the now dying flames stood, or hovered… a demonic sight. You could swear you saw the air distort from the heat that seemed to generate from within his chest. Four leathery wings splayed out, the inner skin swirling designs constantly shifting, almost hypnotising. And the horns! A good foot long that curved and twisted, glowing like charred wood both above and around his face. A face that reminded what was in front of you. A demon. Teeth as long and sharp as paring knives, eyes glowing like the pits of hell. As if Satan himself had come up from the depths. And for all you knew… he probably had.

You heard the sound of crumpled paper. “Oh man,” the demon rumbled, his voice distorted by the sound of the exhaust coming from between his teeth, “I was just getting to the good part…”

“Oh Great and Powerful Lord…” the devil stared at the surrounding area, at the the cultists that had recovered began following their leader’s motions and bowed prostrate on the ground, and you still chained. It was hard to make out his expression, but it seemed like...surprise?

“We are your most humble servants,” the leader continued, “All we ask...is a scrap of your power...a trifle for one such as you, as payment for summoning you..My Lord?”

The demon didn’t even spare a second glance as he strode past her, past the other shrouded forms, and made a beeline towards you. This was it, you thought, time to come up with a witty parting remark. But of course, your impulsive nature wouldn’t cooperate right now. At least the demon seemed to be the ‘fire and fury’ style, he would probably consume you quickly.

He towered over you, and even now, the stone, which had been ice cold the entire time, began to heat up beneath you...sweat, both from terror, and the inferno looming above you, beaded on your forehead.

“My Lord?” the assistant asked, “Is the offering suitable for your arrival? They have a wicked tongue, but they are perfect for summoning.

“I think you got it all wrong buddy,” the demon turned his eyes on the unholy congregation, and strangely, a chill appeared in the air, “You guys didn’t summon me….” A razor claw extended out and pointed at you, “THEY did… and if they summoned me…” the cultists slowly became aware of what he was implying, the quicker ones started making a run for it, “YOU guys must be the offering! Who’s volunteering first?”

The answer was nine sets of panicking feet trying to sprint out of the stone circle. The demon glanced back at you, “You might want to cover your eyes for this, it’s gonna get a little messy,” and with the speed of a racing forest fire, he charged, blades of superheated air swirling around him.

The scream of the lead cultist was enough for you to clench your eyes shut, and then followed by a multiple of cries of terror and death, as the coppery scent of blood, not your own this time, scented the air.

A few minutes later, there was nothing but silence, except the sound of boots on gravel. You couldn’t help it, you took a peek.

Instead of the cultists, or the demon, there was just a guy, shaggy white haired, with a worn t-shirt that clung juuuuust right against his broad chest, and a smile on his face. You looked around, trying to find either a surviving cultist, or the demon, but all you could see in the darkness were void black shapes, lying on the grounds, their robes moving slightly in the breeze.

“That can’t be comfortable, let’s get you out of there,” the man said, and without a hint of effort, he gently grasped your hands, and with the other, he gave a quick yank. Immediately the sound of snapping metal, and to your amazement, your arms were free. And if you had thought he had done a sleight of hand with those chains, the way he effortlessly ripped the chains around your ankles off immediately clued you in that this man was more than he seemed.

You rubbed your wrists as you slowly sat up, staring at him. “Who are...you?”

“Ah, yeah...forgot to introduce myself in the whole hubbub. Cultists always ruining get togethers.” He stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.” And as you shook his hand, with your uninjured one, you noticed that for a brief moment, his eyes momentarily glowed red, like embers. Embers that had once been blazing coals.

He must have seen the flash of panic in your eyes, because he backed away, his hands raised in surrender.

“Don’t worry! I ain’t going to hurt you… yeah, I’m the demon those jackasses called for” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I’m not the ‘MUST RULE THE WORLD’ type, I usually am the one people call to get rid of what was being summoned, not actually BEING the ‘sommonee.’ Wait, is that the correct term?” He paused for a moment to think it over, before he seemed to come back to the present. “Anyways, I was just relaxing in my office, reading a magazine, and then POOF, I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people with horrible sense of fashion. Speaking of my magazine...where did I put it?”

You saw the magazine, its pages fluttering in the wind, and picked it up. A copy of ‘Half Cocked’, and on its cover, a buxom young brunette was getting a bit too friendly with a revolver, alongside a well toned man wearing little more than a bandolier.

“Oh thanks!… that” he quickly snatched it out of your hands, “I read it mainly for the articles…” he explained lamely, before hurriedly shoving it in his back pocket, as he looked you up and down. “Besides...I got a feeling I won’t need it much anymore…” And in the flaming remnants of ritual, you swore you saw him turn a shade of pink...although that could just be the fire.

“Welp,” He stretched, “You ready to blow this popsicle stand? All that work made me famished.”

You had no idea where the hell you were, but you were still ravenously hungry. Which reminded you how you got into this mess in the first place.

“I could go for some pizza or-”

You felt a blaze of warmth, and suddenly you felt your legs swept under you, and you looked up at Dante, now back to his demonic form carrying you bridal style. But no longer did it strike fear in you, just a sense of awe...and admiration

“You truly know how to get to this demon’s heart,” he practically purred, and with a slight grunt, he leapt up and started flying towards the nearest collection of lights on the horizon. “Pizza it is, then!”

Despite the remnant of chill from spending God knows how long on that stone, and the brisk breeze of the upper atmosphere blowing past you, you didn’t feel a little bit cold. It was like being held by a flying furnace.

“You know Dante….” you spoke, barely audible above the wind.

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty hot.” Instantly, you realized what you had said, and would have preferred him to just drop you to your death at this very moment.

You heard him chuckle.

“Yeah, this form runs a bit warm….”

And even though he didn’t say it, you were almost certain he knew exactly what you meant.

#Devil May Cry #Dante #dante x reader #dante x you #Valentine's Day Special

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demonbanisher · 4 years ago

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My second entry for @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts fest! Thanks to the amazing @kattlupin for being such a wonderful beta!

This started out as a short little story and quickly devolved into a 6000 word fic but I had so much writing it!

DM Me

Remus sits, lounging on the couch in a bit of a Superbowl daze. He doesn’t like football. In fact, his understanding of it is limited to the flag football unit in gym class years ago, but he is always happy for any excuse for drinks, good food and even better company. In fact, he doesn’t even really know who’s playing, all he knows is that one of the team’s has a racially insensitive name and he has taken to calling the other team ‘the blue ones.’

It’s coming up to the end of the second quarter and the racially insensitive team is in the lead by a landslide. The game is interrupted by what seems to be yet another commercial break. Remus smiles as he listens to Lily and Frank bicker over the latest play and tugs his phone out of his pocket to scroll through Twitter. There are lots of people discussing the game and others who are just waiting for the halftime show to come on. Among these Remus finds a tweet from one of his favourite musicians:

Washington has this in the bag 💪🏼 💪🏼 Might as well give it up now Patriots 🤷♂️

Remus snorts, appreciating the overzealous confidence that could only come from someone with the ability to play on stage in front of millions of people and somehow make you feel like he was playing just for you. He quickly types up a reply and hits send without thinking much about it.

Confident much @padfoot09? When the Patriots win, you better go on a date with me.

He tosses his phone to the side and is surprised to hear it buzz a moment later. He reads the notification off his lock screen.

Game on @moonymoon

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Remus smiles, basking in the specific drug of being recognized by someone famous online. He knows Sirius Black is likely just a regular person like anyone else. But to Remus he’s an amazing musician and an even better lyricist, and to the rest of the world he’s the most eligible bachelor and biggest heartthrob. Remus can’t help but feel a little special to be recognized by him even if it is just for some stupid joke.

Remus cracks open another cider and settles in for the rest of the game. Although, he is starting to learn his friend’s reactions are the best part. It’s entertaining to watch them yell at the screen as if the players can actually hear them or like they know any better than the decisions that the coaches are making.

The rest of the game passes by in a bit of blur. The halftime show went off without a hitch, although Remus guessed some of the underlying political messaging would be all over the news for the next few days because damn it if someone in a position of privilege uses their voice to speak out about human rights concerns. As for the rest of the game, Remus was delightfully surprised to watch the blue ones make a wonderful comeback to beat the racially insensitive team. It made for an interesting game at least. No one really knew who was going to win until those last few seconds on the clock counted down.

As the team runs the field to celebrate and Frank and Lily break out into another argument of who the better team is, Remus slips off to the bathroom. Shaking his head at his friend's antics as he smiles quietly to himself. When he comes back, everyone’s sitting in their positions on the couch. Remus guesses that Alice has managed to reel Frank back in but Lily still looks like she’s ready for another round.

“Your phone’s been going off the whole time you’ve been gone Mr. Popular,” Lily tells him, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Remus goes to pick up his phone, confused, and a little worried as to who might be messaging him, only to find out that his Twitter had practically exploded.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs as he opens the app.

“What?” Lily asks.

Remus shakes his head and holds it out to her so she can read the message herself. It’s from Sirius Black:

@moonymoons DM me 😉

“Oh my god,” Lily repeats.

“What?” Frank asks, all previous rivalry forgotten in the desire to not be left out from something.

“Remus’ got a date with Sirius Black.”

“The singer?” Alice asks wide eyed. “How??”

Remus nods his head slowly in disbelief.

“Bet him on Twitter that the Patriots would win. Here,” Lily says, thrusting Remus’ phone back into his hands. “You have to message him!”

“Alright,” Remus says. “But he probably won’t follow through with it anyways. Besides, he doesn’t live near here and it was a stupid bet.”

Remus opens up his messages and tries to think of something witty to say before finally landing on:

- Told you they’d win

He watches the three dots appear that tell him that Sirius is typing. When the message finally comes in he has to blink twice to make sure he isn’t imagining it.

- So? Where do you want to go on our date?

“Holy shit,” Remus says. “He wants to go through with it.”

Lily, Frank, and Alice quickly crowd around him so that they can read over his shoulder.

“What are you going to tell him?” Alice asks.

“I don’t know!” Remus exclaims. “What do you tell a Grammy award winning multi-millionaire when he asks you where you want to go on your date?”

“Here,” Lily says, snatching the phone from him. They all watch nervously as her fingers fly over the keyboard before she hands it back to Remus. Frank and Alice lean in quickly in order to read over his shoulder.

“What are your thoughts on pancakes?” Remus reads aloud. “Really Lils?! That was the best you could come up with?”

“Shh,” she says as she swats him in the arm, “he’s typing.”

They all watch the screen in silent anticipation until a soft whoop announces the arrival of another message.

- Love them. Where did you have in mind?

“Is now a good time to tell him I don’t live in LA?”

“Probably,” Lily says.

Remus casts a despairing look at Frank and Alice who simply shrug at him sympathetically.

- There’s a diner near here that’s my favourite. But I don’t live anywhere near LA

Remus debates about adding ‘and I don’t have the money to get there either’ but decides against it.

- Where are you?

Remus sends back the name of his small town and braces himself for Sirius to tell him that it’s too much, and this was all over.

- Just googled it. I’ll be in New York in a few weeks for a concert. Maybe I can get you tickets and then we can do pancakes in the morning?

“How far away is New York?” Remus asks Alice, knowing she’d made a trip out there last fall to see a new musical she was excited about.

“I think it took us sixteen hours, but we did get stuck in traffic.”

“Is Sirius Black really going to drive sixteen hours with me to have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds like it, mate,” Frank says and he looks just as astonished as Remus feels. His phone buzzes with another message from Sirius:

- You in?

Remus looks at his friends hoping they know what the right answer is to the question. In some way, he hopes one of them will remember some pressing engagement he has to attend so he can get out of this crazy idea. But they all just look at him with hopeful glances and shrugs. He sighs and turns back to his phone.

- I’m in. Send me the date and time.

Two weeks later, Remus finds himself pacing the entryway of his hotel room waiting for the car that Sirius was sending for him. A car. A private car. He has pinched himself too many times trying to prove that this was real. He checks his phone for the millionth time, not sure what he’s expecting as Sirius is probably deep in pre-concert preparations.

He glances down at his outfit that Frank, Alice, and Lily had helped him pick out. He plays with the threads on the tight black skinny jeans, as he looks over the worn Ramones crop top that Alice had lent him, topped off with his button covered jean jacket that Lily had convinced him was cool and not old looking at all. They’d painted his nails black and silver and given him some pretty killer eyeliner, which had somehow managed to survive the crazy combination of transportation he’d opted for over the sixteen hour drive. First the car ride to the airport, then the short flight in a too small plane, and finally the subway trip to the very fancy hotel Sirius had insisted he pay for, and not a smudge in sight. Still, he’s nervous. He’s sure that Sirius will see him and call this whole thing off.

Everything about the last two weeks has felt surreal. Sirius and him have been messaging back and forth on Twitter to sort out the details until one morning Sirius had asked for his phone number, saying it would be easier to communicate that way, and he felt he could trust Remus to not give it out to people. Lily had practically had to give him the heimlich maneuver to stop him from choking on his frosted flakes.

Honestly, Remus was more than happy to get off Twitter. He’d been bombarded by superfans after the news went public that Sirius was taking him on a date. Some people wanted to let him know how lucky he was. Others were a bit more aggressive in their opinions on Remus going on a date with who they considered to be their man.

More than anything, Remus was surprised to discover how much they had in common. How quickly their conversations had gravitated from necessary details to their favourite morning cartoons and sweatpant brands. Remus has always felt that Sirius Black has a window to his soul. He just hadn’t realized how big that window truly was.

His phone buzzes in his hand and he answers the unknown number to discover that Sirius’ driver is waiting outside. After triple checking his pockets and locking the door, Remus makes his way downstairs and into the waiting black car. The seats are leather and a bottle of champagne sits on ice in front of him. There’s a note tied to it that says ‘See you soon, Moony’ and Remus would be lying if he didn’t admit that it sends his heart aflutter. He tries to reel himself in and remind himself that this will be one incredible, amazing night but it isn’t going to be some grand rom-com where they ended up together forever.

“Everything to your liking, Mr. Lupin?” The driver asks.

“Yes, excellent, thank you,” Remus says, blushing at the formality. He’s just some poor kid who had worked his ass off to get through college. He never thought he’d get to experience this level of decadence.

When they arrive at the venue, Remus finds himself ushered into the backstage door and passed off into the hands of a very exhausted looking manager who introduces herself as Marlene. She sets him up with a backstage pass, tells him where he can and can’t go, and leaves him in a room full of more food and drinks that Remus would probably buy in two months worth of groceries, with the instruction that someone would come and find him before the concert begins.

Remus munches on some chocolate covered strawberries and cracks a can of alcoholic cider open as he tries to settle his nerves in preparation for the concert. It feels like he’s in that room for hours. He sends messages to their friend group chat, updating them on what’s going on, and laughing when Lily warns him to watch out for Sirius trying to lure him into any cults. Apparently, that’s the wild theory the tabloids have come up with this week.

He also receives a picture from Sirius. He’s wearing a black button down, which is completely undone to reveal his tattoos, and he has heavy eyeliner on and is sticking his tongue out with his hand in a punk rock sign. He’s captioned it, ‘See you soon!’ Remus is pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven.

Eventually, another stagehand comes to grab him and take him up to the side of the stage so he can watch the show. Remus chats with some of the other people loitering around but falls silent when the lights finally dim. The crowd roars as a signal spotlight comes on and then into the light strides Sirius and his guitar.

He’s breathtaking, standing in the centre of the stage like it’s where he belongs and from the first strum of his guitar, he has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Remus dances and screams the lyrics to every song. He tries not to faint when in the midst of one of his numbers, Sirius turns and gives him a little wink.

Remus has always loved live music. He’s seen countless underground shows and up and comers in bars whenever he could. But he’s never been to a concert like this before. He’d wanted to but by the time you added up the cost of the ticket, travel, food, and accommodations, it was more than he could bear. But being here now, he realizes this is a whole different beast. A part of him misses the quiet intimacy of those smaller shows, but he can’t help feeling the powerful pull of the electricity that runs through the crowd. There’s something so haunting and surreal in the way that Sirius can stop singing at any point and the audience can carry on from where he left off without missing a beat. It’s beautiful to feel connected to a group of familiar strangers. To know that everyone in this theatre had been touched by the beauty of Sirius’ music somehow, that they felt that same powerful pull that Remus had when he’d heard his voice over the radio for the first time, that they had known that somehow this had been created just for them. They are here as a collective but there’s something so personal about their own experiences.

“How are you all doing out there?” Sirius asks and the crowd roars in response.

“Excellent, excellent. I think we’re going to slow it down a bit for this next one,” Sirius says. And Remus closes his eyes as he hears Sirius’ guitarist pluck out the opening notes to his favourite ballad. When he opens them again, Sirius is standing right in front of him. He beams at him as he mouths a silent “hi” before grabbing his hand. He tilts his head to ask if this is okay as he hands his guitar off to a roadie. Remus nods and finds himself being dragged out onto the stage with him. He lets go of Remus centre stage and turns to face him, there’s so little room between them that Remus could lick the microphone in Sirius’ hand if he wanted to.

You’ve been howling in your sleep Werewolf dreams coming over me I’ve been counting sheep Think I need a hundred more to set me free

Sirius reaches a hand out to place it on Remus’ waist as he croons in his beautiful lilting voice. His grey eyes search Remus’ for an answer and he nods allowing Sirius to rest his strong hand on his hip.

Muddy footprints in the dark Darling, I swear you’ve collared my heart I’ve got butterflies But can you see the darkness in my eyes?

Sirius leans his forehead against Remus’ as the guitar builds up to the chorus. The crowd is losing their mind but Remus can’t hear them. His world has narrowed down to this one point of touch. To the feeling of Sirius’ warm skin pressed against his. The moment seems to last forever before he’s pulling away to sing again.

It’s a full moon baby Demons crawling over me But then I see your star lit eyes Darling, I swear you were sent to set me free Set me free

Remus loses himself in the rest of the song. Even though he knew he could sing the words from heart with headphones on blasting the Sesame Street theme. But he slips away from all of that in the feel of the sensuous way that Sirius is moving against him, in his warm breath against his cheek, in the way his eyes never seem to leave Remus’ body if even for a moment.

But as always, the song must come to an end and the final roar of the crowd breaks the spell and Remus finds himself blushing madly with the realization that tens of thousands of people were witness to this private moment between the two of them. Sirius smiles at him and gives his hand another squeeze before Remus is flanked again by roadies. One handing Sirius’ his guitar tuned for the next song. The other coming to guide him backstage again.

Remus spends the rest of the concert love drunk. His eyes don’t leave Sirius for a single moment.

When it’s over, Remus is led back to the same room he was in before. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do next and he’s about to try and find his way back to the hotel when there’s a knock on the door and Sirius Black himself is standing there.

Away from the darkness of the stage and in the harsh fluorescent light, Remus can fully take him in. The dark black hair that is slicked back with sweat. The taunt muscles of his chest that are covered in black ink of various runes and images. The black flowy pants that Remus swears sit a little too low on his hips.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” Remus says trying to gain his composure and hoping that Sirius doesn’t notice him staring.

“Hope you didn’t mind me dragging you on stage. I did promise you a date after all,” he walks by Remus to the table of food and pops a grape in his mouth, curling his lips around it in a way that should be illegal.

“No, of course not,” Remus says, mentally bashing himself for sounding like an idiot. “Moonlight is my favourite song. I mean of yours… well that’s a lie. It’s my favourite song in general. I think Spotify said I listened to it over four hundred times last year. Oh my god, I need to shut up,” Remus buries his head in his hand as Sirius laughs and of course, the sound is as beautiful as his singing voice.

“I’m flattered,” Sirius says. He considers Remus for a moment and opens his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by someone yelling his name from the hallway. “Shit, my manager,” he says. He drops the rest of the grape vine back on the plate and starts to head to the door. “Still good for pancakes tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, but you do know how long of a drive it is right? Might be night before we get there.”

“Who said anything about driving?”

And with those cryptic words and one last smile, he slips out of the door and away into the night.

Remus goes for a simpler outfit the next morning. Jeans and one of his better sweaters. A loose knit maroon one that is one of the last sweaters he has where the neck isn’t stretched. He packs up his things from the hotel and waits for the knock on his door.

When he answers, he’s surprised to see how different Sirius looks. Last night’s makeup is all washed off, and his hair is tied back in a messy bun. Instead of a bold stylish outfit he’s usually known for he wears loose jeans, an old t-shirt, and a leather jacket. A pair of aviator sunglasses sit perched atop his head.

“Ready?” He says with a smile.

“Of course,” Remus says and goes to grab his bags until Sirius tells him someone else can get them for him. It’s odd to him, this life of being able to count on other people for things. It also feels wrong in some way to have them do what he could so easily handle on his own but he decides to let it go for once.

He and Sirius weave their way through the lobby, his security detail staying close at hand until they are safely in the black car from the night before. Sirius seems to heave a sigh of relief as the door is closed and the jeers of fans are locked out from outside.

“What time do you think we’ll be there?” Remus asks.

“Maybe 11?” Sirius says. “Why?”

“No reason,” Remus tells him but pulls out his phone to send a quick message.

They stay relatively quiet for the rest of the car ride until they arrive at another tall, dark, building. Remus is confused. He had figured that if they weren’t driving they’d be heading back through the small convoluted method he’d taken to get here. Sirius leads him to the elevator and Remus feels a quick flash of fear as he wonders if Lily’s cult theory is true. But then the door bings and Sirius guides him out of the elevator and onto the roof where a black helicopter sits waiting for them.

“You’re shitting me,” Remus says and gets to hear Sirius’ wonderful laugh again.

“Nope, you don’t have a fear of flying do you?”

Remus shakes his head.

“Good,” Sirius says and surprises him by climbing into the pilot’s seat.

“You fly?”

“Not as well as I sing.”

Remus’ face pales and Sirius is quick to assure him he’s just kidding.

He pulls down his sunglasses and settles a headset over his ears before reaching over to help Remus put his on. Sirius’ hands brush gently against Remus’ cheek and he finds himself blushing for the umpteenth time.

Flying in a helicopter is so much different from being in a plane. It’s loud for one thing, but Remus quickly gets used to using the headsets to communicate with Sirius. Being in a helicopter also means they are that much closer to the ground and Remus watches as they get closer and closer to his hometown. From up here, the farmer’s fields separating the suburban sprawl looks almost beautiful. It makes him hate the tiny village that has kept him trapped a little less.

Sirius has to bring the helicopter down about an hour out of the village, since that’s the nearest available helipad. From there it's back into another car and then to the restaurant.

Before they get out at the diner, Remus catches Sirius steeling himself again, he feels grateful that he thought to send the text message ahead of time as they climb out of the car and up to the front doors.

Sirius goes to open the door for him but Remus shakes his head, stepping ahead of him to knock gently. Sirius looks at him confused but Remus doesn't say anything until Dorcas is opening the door for them.

“Hey Dor,” Remus says smiling as she steps aside to let them in. “Thanks again for doing this I promise I’ll pay you back.”

She waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sirius seems surprised that she doesn’t seem to stare or look at him in that awe inspired way people stare at celebrities. Dorcas slips back into the kitchen and Remus guides him over to his favourite booth with a view of the river. He feels slightly self-conscious of the worn floors and duct tape vinyl but has an odd feeling this will be a welcome change for Sirius.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Remus says as he sits down across from him and gestures absent-mindedly at the obvious absence of other guests. “I thought it might be nice for you to not be interrupted by fans for a change.”

He watches as Sirius’ face lights up with understanding. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I honestly don’t know how you’d stand it. All that attention all the time.”

Sirius smiles at him softly, “I don’t know. You did pretty good with it last night.”

Remus blushes and looks back down at the table.

“But, yeah, it can be exhausting sometimes. People don’t look at you like you’re a human being you know? They treat you like some kind of God or something.”

Remus feels a small tinge of guilt, remembering how awe-struck he’d been when he’d been messaging Sirius on Superbowl Sunday.

“So,” Remus says, changing the subject, “you don’t have any allergies do you?”

Sirius shakes his head.

“Good. I’ve asked Dorcas to bring us some banana pancakes, plus waffles and her famous fried chicken. I know we agreed on pancakes but it would be sinful for you to come all the way out here and not get to try it.”

Sirius smiles, “Sounds delicious.”

“Believe me it is.”

Dorcas kicks open the door to the kitchen. “Y’all want something to drink?”

Remus looks at Sirius, “Root beer float?” He nods. “Two,” he tells Dorcas who nods and then slips back into the kitchen.

“So Patriots fan?” Sirius asks as Dorcas sets the floats down in front of them.

“Actually, I don’t know anything about football. I just thought you were being cocky,” he teases as he takes a sip from his straw. “What about you? Washington? Can’t say I’m a fan of the name.”

Sirius flinches, “Yeah, I feel bad for supporting the team. I mean it’s kinda sad that we still have sports teams with that name in our day and age. I just try and call them Washington. I know it doesn’t fix everything but…”

“You do what you can?”

Sirius nods. “No point in having a platform if you don’t use it.”

Remus smiles, thinking of the pictures online of Sirius holding up various pride flags that fans have handed him on stage. He’s gotten himself in hot water more than once for calling out other artists and stars for inappropriate, racist, ableist, and sexist behaviour. If Remus was honest, it only made him like his music more.

“What about you?” Sirius says, “Tell me all about the infamous Remus Lupin.”

“Not much to tell.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a curriculum developer for a school board.”

“I like it,” Sirius says, curling his lips around the straw the same way he did with the grape last night. “Taking the system down from the inside.”

“Trying. Nothing like having a stage of millions at your disposal.”

Sirius' smile falters and Remus immediately regrets saying it. “Doesn’t matter much when you don’t know if half of them are listening to what you’re saying or just staring at your body.”

“Well, if it helps at least one fan is,” Remus says, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Sirius smiles but Remus can tell it’s half-hearted. He’s rescued by Dorcas arriving with steaming plates of food that she puts down on the table in front of them.

“Oh my god,” Sirius says. “My trainer is gonna hate me for this.”

Remus laughs but thinks about how difficult it must be to have every element of your life prescribed and controlled. To be put under a harsh spotlight and scrutinized every second of every day.

Remus pours syrup on the pancakes and Sirius is quick to cut into the stack and stuff an ungodly amount of food into his mouth at once. Sirius lets out a moan that would have made Remus self-conscious if there had been anyone else around.

“Not gonna lie. I thought pancakes were a creative but weird date idea but honestly these are worth it.”

“Guess you’ll have to make bets with strangers on Twitter more often.”

“That means I’d have to go on dates with other people instead of you,” Sirius teases reaching for a piece of a chicken.

And Remus hates how he can do that to him. How with a few words he can have him melting into a puddle. He tries to act normal as he layers chicken and waffle together before taking a bite.

“Very funny,” Remus says.

“Why do you do that?” Sirius asks.

“Do what?”

“Make yourself smaller when other people come in the room. You did it last night too in the dressing room and this morning on our way out to the car.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just think I’m not worth drawing attention to. Might as well leave the spotlight for someone else.”

“But you didn’t do it on stage yesterday,” Sirius says as he pops another piece of chicken in his mouth, pausing to lick the grease off his fingers. Honestly, Remus swears he could make picking up dog poop look sexy.

“Your music makes me feel like I’m worth something,” Remus says without thinking. “Sorry, that’s weird.”

“No,” Sirius says, laying a hand on top of Remus’. “It’s not. I like that you’re honest with me. Some people I don’t know if they really listen to what I’m saying. But you, last night, I could tell you were really hearing me. That you were there with me in the moment. You play the same songs a million times you start to forget what that feels like.”

“Well,” Remus says realizing that this may be the only chance he gets to tell Sirius how much his music has meant to him, “it makes me feel invincible. It makes me believe that there’s beautiful things in pain. That I’m not alone in this world. That even through darkness I can find love. That even through darkness I can find myself again.”

Sirius stares at him, the same way he was looking at him in the dressing room last night before they got interrupted.

“What?” Remus asks, worried he has food on his face.

“Nothing,” Sirius says. “It’s just you show your face to the world. You might try to hide it but last night I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was really seeing who you were and you were seeing me too.”

Remus' jaw hangs slightly ajar. He doesn’t quite know what to say to such a monumental statement, to such a declaration.

The double doors to the kitchen open and Dorcas walks out to see if they need anything. Remus can’t decide if he’s happy or mad for her interruption. Sirius tells her how amazing the food is and she beams in response before slipping away again. Remus doesn’t say anything but he knows the diner is struggling. An endorsement from Sirius would put her back on the map. Hell, it might put this whole town back on the map.

Sirius is quiet for a moment after Dorcas’ disappears. He seems embarrassed about what he said earlier.

“Mind if we take a picture for Instagram? My PR agent thinks this will be good press.”

“Of course not,” Remus says, trying not to feel deflated at the change in conversation. But when Sirius pulls out his phone to take a picture of the two of them, he doesn’t take his hand off Remus’. In fact, he keeps it there for the rest of the meal.

They spend the rest of their time talking about their lives. Remus learns Sirius started playing music as an escape from his family who he doesn’t have the best relationship with. He tries hard to keep it all from going public to protect his little brother who still lives at home. Sirius learns that Remus was attacked by a rabid dog as a kid and kept doing his schoolwork in his bed at home because he couldn’t bear to fall a grade behind the other kids, despite the fact that most of them didn’t like him much.

They talk about everything. Remus talks about his friends and Sirius talks about life on the road. They share embarrassing childhood memories and awful drunken mistakes. They laugh and smile with each other and before either of them knows it the food is gone and it's getting much too late. Remus promised Dorcas she’d have the restaurant back for the dinner rush and Sirius has to be getting back to New York for a late-night talk show he’s supposed to be on.

Sirius gives Dorcas a hug and promises to plug her restaurant every chance he gets as long as she guarantees there will always be a table for him whenever he’s in town. He leaves her a very generous tip as a thank you for shutting the restaurant down for him. Remus’ could swear he sees Dorcas whisper something to Sirius that makes him smile but he can’t say for sure. She gives Remus a hug too and he reminds her to drop by for game night this weekend.

They step back outside into the warm glow of the late afternoon and both of them pause on the front steps, unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

They both go to speak at once and then pull back blushing as they both try and tell the other to go first. After some laughter, Remus finally convinces Sirius to go ahead.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Sirius says. “I haven’t felt this way in a really long time. It feels good to just be a person again for a little while.”

“And thank you for giving me my thirty seconds of fame,” Remus says. “For showing me that I deserve to be in the spotlight sometimes.”

Sirius blushes as he looks down at his feet and Remus’ stomach backflips with the idea that he can make him feel this nervous.

“Can I kiss you?” Sirius asks and suddenly his nerves become contagious.

Remus nods and Sirius steps forward to meet him. He places his hand on his hip just as he did last night, and he leans in slowly. The kiss is soft and sweet and full of meaning. If Remus were a songwriter, he could write a million ballads about this moment. About the way that it feels like Sirius was trying to translate everything he ever wanted to tell Remus’ into the movement of his lips.

When they part they’re both a little flushed and smiling, Sirius slips his aviators on as two black cars pull up. One to take Sirius back to his helicopter. The other to take Remus home, back to his ordinary life.

“Goodbye, Remus,” Sirius says as he heads to the first car.

“Bye, Sirius,” Remus tells him and he stands and watches until all that’s left of Sirius is a cloud of dust.

At home, Remus collapses on the couch. He tries to pick up a new policy he needs to read over for work but his mind can’t focus. All he can see is Sirius’ gentle smile. All he can feel is Sirius’ lips on his. All he can hear is the sound of Sirius’ voice as they stood chest to chest.

His phone buzzes beside him and Remus’ is sure it’s Lily looking for more details. He’s had to disable pretty much all his social media apps. That smiling picture of the two of them in the diner has gone viral and Remus is a little too interested to see what crazy stories the tabloids come up with about the identity of Sirius’ mystery date.

When he picks up his phone, however, he’s surprised to see it’s a message from Sirius. He’s in a hotel room somewhere and Remus’ luggage is in the background.

- Someone forgot to get this to the car that took you home. Guess we’ll have to see each other again.

Remus smiles as he types up his response.

- It’s a date

He watches nervously, waiting for Sirius’ reply hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t a simple mix up and Sirius truly does want to see him again. He doesn’t have to wait long before his phone is buzzing again in his hand.

- I can’t wait

That night Remus watches Sirius’ interview on tv, smiling as he alludes questions about his new mystery man with ease and grace. Afterwards, he goes to brush his teeth and get ready for bed when his phone buzzes again.

- Syrupy kisses in dusk’s early light I can’t shake the feeling I’ve known you all my life Dear god, please don’t let this feeling pass me by

He falls asleep that night smiling like an idiot with Moonlight playing on loop in the background.

#RSCandyHearts #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #fanfic #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius

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vanaera · 5 years ago

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The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing your PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

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Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

“Y/N?”

Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

“R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

“Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

So far, this morning is really good.

Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.

When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face: Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of. He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

“Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.�� Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

“Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–”

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

“So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –”

“You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

“And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

Nancy quirks her brow.

Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

“So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

“Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.”

“‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

“Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

“Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

“If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

“What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

“Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

“Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

“If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

“Yoongi, please!”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

“Just help me out!”

Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

“Sure, fine, anything!”

“Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.

What the fuck. All this time-!

“Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

“Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

“You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

“Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

“Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

“Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

“Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

“Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

“Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

“Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

“Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

“Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

“You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

“It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room. Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

“Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

“Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

“Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

“First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

“The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

“Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

“Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

“Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

“Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

“I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

“Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

“But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

“Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday. Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

“When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

“Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

“Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

“Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

“Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

“…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

“Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

“Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

“It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

“Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

“Well, I don’t like how they work!”

“You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

“It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

“Well, that’s because you’re old.”

Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder. “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

“Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

“Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

“What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

“You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

“Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

“Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

“Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

“So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

“Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

“Okay, what about Dahyun?”

“Already married.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

“Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

“Momo?”

“Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

“Sam?”

“Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

“Jongdae?”

“Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

“Hana?”

“Engaged.”

“Changmin?”

“Engaged.”

“Jaebum?

“Engaaaaaged.”

Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

“Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

“Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

“Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR. All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

“Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out? Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

“Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

“Min, Yoongi.”

Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job. Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.

Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up. He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care. He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself. But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game. She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

“What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

“The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

“What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

“Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

“You’re single right?”

Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

“Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

“So?”

Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

“I’m in.”

Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi! A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners. The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think! ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94 @ditttiii @chogiyeol-utopia

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ohbeaby · 5 years ago

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Part 1

The man had made him and taken everything from him. This is how he saw Lucifer, he was everything he loathed about himself, wholly created from wrath and anger that Lucifer simply discarded, a pressure that finally burst forth into a being that had no meaning. A person with no personality.

“He’s so much like you.” People would say to Lucifer when Satan was younger.

“Well that is to be expected, he was part of me.” Lucifer would explain with such pride.

“How stubborn, just like you Lucifer.” People would complain when he was frustrated as an adolescent.

“It’s quite annoying if I’m being honest.” Lucifer would mutter with such arrogance.

“So intelligent! He must get it from his father.” People would whisper behind his back.

These little comments built over time. No matter how many things he tried, how much he learned in any subject, how mastered he would become in spells and potions, everything he did would be attributed to a man who didn’t even want him. A man that would constantly hold his position above him over his head in any form he could.

It was painful, a constant rage towards a man he could never even touch let alone kill. He wanted to be free, to finally just be a person, he didn’t even think of his personality as his own, just some fragmented part of Lucifers that he had broken off and thrown away.

Just let him go.

He’d tried begging in the beginning, in his own way.

“Who am I?” He’d question when he first started speaking.

“You are Satan.” The brothers would reply, thinking his small mind couldn’t comprehend the horrid truth of his existence.

“What am I?”

That question was always met with an awkward silence before someone would just reply: “A demon.”

Even as a child he knew he was the odd one out of the brothers, they told stories of the celestial realm and a woman named Lillith. While he was treated as a brother by most of them, Lucifer always seemed to find a way to treat him perpetually as a child.

When he first started getting introduced into Devildoms society he could never get out from the long shadow Lucifer cast. He had little reason to hope that a student from the exchange program would treat him any differently than the demons of Devildom.

“Hello, how are you today?”

“I had the highest grade in my potions class for the last test, I’m pretty happy about that.”

“You’ve always been good at potions haven’t you? Wish I had that much talent!” They’d laugh.

He was perpetually waiting for the day they’d compare him and Lucifer, it was bound to happen eventually.

“Gah! You’re so stubborn sometimes!” They’d playfully whine at him when he teased that he wouldn’t study with them without a promise or a deal.

“What can I say, I see a chance to make a deal and I’ll take it.”

“Okay what if I help you out on cooking duty? I’ve been wanting to learn some of your recipes anyways.”

Maybe they didn’t know? Could they possibly be so oblivious to those around them that they couldn’t see the similarities between him and Lucifer? Everyone else could see them.

“Woah! What is that?”

“Just an old alchemy machine. Built it a few decades ago.” He said in passing, he was focused on his book, not the strange antics of the human in his room.

“You built this? You’re ridiculously smart, you know that right?” They looked right at him, fully focused on him. On only him.

“So I’ve been told.” He laughed a bit sadly.

Maybe they were just too stupid to understand who they were around. Their ignorance was solely because of their obliviousness, not an actual recognition of differences.

“Satan was one apart of Lucifer. He burst forth as Lucifers bottled up wrath towards God. I guess you could say that Lucifer is Satan's dad, though it’s not surprising since they act so similar.” Satan overheard in the halls one day.

This was it, the moment the human would finally just join in with everyone else and treat him like a mini Lucifer.

“Really? I wouldn’t have ever guessed. They’re so different, I can’t see them being the same person.”

Stop being ignorant human, stop giving him hope, stop being oblivious.

“You live with them don’t you, surely you’ve noticed how closely they act.”

Just agree.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucifer pull a prank or build a machine for the hell of it so I have to disagree.”

Lucifer had come into his bedroom at one point. He’d missed a few days of classes and the eldest was wondering just what the blond was up to.

The room he was greeted with took him by surprise. He was used to the disastrous state of the room but it seemed particularly bad. The typical flying books were whipping about with exceeding frenzy while the piles seemed to have doubled in size, teetering and threatening to fall over on any unfortunate guest.

“What are you doing?”

“Leave. I don’t want to see you.”

“You’re just going to bury yourself in all this mess?”

“It’ll be more bearable than what the alternatives are at the moment. Leave.”

It was a few hours later that a soft knocking was heard at the door. None of his brothers would be stupid enough to try and talk to him, certainly Lucifer had informed them of his currently state, over exaggerating how dangerous he was like he always does. Like they all do.

“Satan? Can I come in please?”

It was you. Why were you here?

“No. Stay out.”

Please don’t leave him. Don’t leave him. It hurts to think you’re comparing him to Lucifer. What does he even want from you?

“Okay. Can I just sit here at the door? I just don’t like the thought of you being alone like this.”

Why do you even care? Why don’t you just go running to Lucifer or any of his other brothers, they’re more a person than the thing he is.

“I don’t care. Just stay out.”

Does he really want that though? Of course he does but does he? He doesn’t even make sense to himself. He hates this human.

“I will!”

There was a small laugh in your voice, did you really find this so funny?

“Just know I’ll listen if you need me to.”

“Why?”

“Because I can tell you need the company? I don’t know what has caused you to be so upset but I do know that you don’t deserve to be alone through whatever it is.”

What’s caused him to be so upset? It was the humans fault he was like this. This dumb human couldn’t just comform and see him like how everyone else saw him. This dumb oblivious human couldn’t just see that he wasn’t a person like the rest of them.

“You. You’ve upset me as you put it.”

“Huh? Can I ask what I did? Maybe it’s just a case of miscommunication?”

“No. I heard you loud and clear. You’re just a dumbass.”

“Well that’s a bit harsh. I may not be the brightest bulb but I certainly don’t think I’m a dumbass!”

There was that dumb laugh again. He hated it so much. He hated how open and friendly they were acting. He hated them.

“Are you just blind then? Willfully ignorant? I knew humans were oblivious but you seem to be holding the first place spot.”

“I still have no idea what I said though.”

“It’s more a matter of what you refuse to do.”

“And what’s that? I’ll do it if I’m okay with it.”

No...no he didn’t want them to compare him to Lucifer. If they start thinking about it they’ll see just how similar they are. How much better Lucifer is. They’ll leave.

“Just shut up.”

“Uh-uh. You said I need to do something. Tell me what it is.”

“No shut up.”

“I can be just as stubborn Satan. I’m not leaving until you spill what I need to do.”

Why wouldn’t they just drop this? Just stop...please...don’t make him have hope.

“Just...you can’t laugh, got it? It’s pissing me off.”

“Full serious mode engaged.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I, now tell me what I need to do.”

This is stupid. This stupid human wouldn’t just leave him be. Why did he have to get stuck in a house with such a nosey pest.

“Tell me, how do you see Lucifer and I?”

“Eh? Lucifer and you?”

“Yes. Just...how would you describe each of us?”

“Well that’s a tough one! Give me a second to think.”

Tough? Why would it be tough? It’s easy, just describe Lucifer and you’ve described a better him. He’s the chaotic wrathful being who doesn’t even have a damn personality.

“Well starting with Lucifer I’d say he’s pretty arrogant. I get that he has a lot on his plate but he’s letting himself just walk around with a stick up his butt for no reason. I wouldn’t say he’s a bad person but he definitely needs a break. He’s pretty organized though so I’ll give him that. Wish he’d crack a joke for once in his life.”

“And me?”

“Funny and witty. You’re always cracking me up with your clever comebacks and wisecracks. I can always count on you to make me laugh when something gets too serious. You’re also really playful? Like you love teasing your brothers. Also I’d describe you as a prodigy who is aware he is a prodigy and wants to show it off.”

Funny. This stupid human just found him funny. How pathetic. At least they called Lucifer arrogant.

“I guess I would also say Lucifer needs more hobbies. You have what looks like a million but I really don’t know what Lucifer does in his free time. Have you ever tried teaching him anything?”

“Teaching him something? Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, just to teach him? I like helping people learn so maybe I’m just weird.”

“You’re very weird.”

“Agreement has been achieved.”

“You sound like Leviathan.”

“I’ve been getting that a lot. I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing though. He’s pretty cool.”

“Leviathan. Cool? I really can’t see how.”

“Ever seen him code? It’s weirdly mesmerizing.”

This was weird. What was this human trying to achieve?

“Oof!”

They came spilling through the door that had been opened by a stray strand of magic. Maybe his subconscious had opened the door?

“Uh, little bit of warning next time?”

“Get out, I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t think Diavolo would like that too much. Man, your room is a wreck, where even are you?”

“I said leave.”

“I can’t leave you in here like this. These books look like they could fall at any second, you could get hurt.”

His tail whipped around beside him as he stared in the direction the human was. They were just sitting prey. He could just kill them or throw them out.

Why couldn’t he bring himself to?

“You’re being stupid.”

“That makes two of us. You’re trying to just stay in here. At least let me sit next to you or something.”

“And why would I agree to that?”

“I don’t know, maybe for the company. I don’t think you’d be entertaining this conversation if you didn’t want some kind of company.”

Leave. Leave leave leave. He was going to kill you. He was upset and always ended up hurting the people around him.

He didn’t want you to be scared of him.

“Ah there you are! Woah, I love the tail.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I seem very much alive right now so I think in the long run I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll eat you.”

“Beel threatened me with that earlier too, do you guys just have a preference for humans or something? What do we even taste like? Chicken?”

“Why do you even want to know that information?”

“You say strange threats and I ask strange questions. Balances out the strangeness.”

The human was so close now, sitting next to him on the bed. They didn’t seem scared of him at all, if anything they kept looking at his horns and tail before settling on his face. Just analysing him, as if they were only curious about him.

“Do you want a hug?”

“A...why would I want that?”

“Well you’re crying but I don’t want to make you more upset by touching you without asking. Some people don’t really like hugs.”

Crying? When did he start crying? Why was he crying?

“Hey, do you want to vent? I get it, sometimes you just need to yell about your problems and stuff yeah? I usually write everything down and then burn the paper, but if you just need to yell at me I can take it!”

Yell? No he didn’t want that. Why couldn’t he get the tears to stop? His vision was so blurry now.

“Satan?” They slowly reached out and put a hand on top of his, just gently rubbing the back of it. “Please, tell me what I can do?”

“I...I…” He took a deep breath. “Just...why?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you see him in me?”

There. There he said it. Now they couldn’t avoid saying that he and Lucifer were the same person.

“You mean Lucifer right?”

He could only nod.

“Well you aren’t anything like him so it’s a bit hard for me to say I see him in you.”

“We were once the same person. That doesn’t just go away.”

“Well I guess not but I honestly don’t see you and him as the same person. You two are much too different to be the same.”

Satan didn’t know what to do with himself. He was internally fighting a bunch of urges he’d never dealt with before. What was happening to him. What was this human doing to him?

Did he like it?

“Why? Why are you here? Why do you care? Do you find this funny? My pain a simple amusement to your mortal eyes?”

The questions were spilling out of him faster than he could think to stop them. He hadn’t been this confused on anything in a long while. Every answer he’d wanted in the past had an answer, why weren’t you giving him an answer?

“Well I care because you’re clearly hurting. Lucifer said not to disturb you because you were having some sort of episode but I just didn’t think that was a good idea. I don’t like seeing you upset.”

They brought his hand up to their chest and held it tight.

“I don’t want you to be alone if you're in pain, you don’t deserve that.”

“I’m a demon. Your kind would consider me a monster, a beast. Why don’t you just run?”

“To be honest I am a bit scared but it’s not really of you. It’s more just a constant fear of this place in general.”

There was that dumb laugh again.

“But when I’m with y’all I can’t help but feel a bit more at ease.”

“Even now?”

“Yes, even now. You’re not some savage blindly killing people Satan. To me you’re not just a demon.”

The books that were flying around the room fell to the ground and the teetering towers collapsed around them but neither were in the way of any of them. The human looked started and let out a small squeak of surprise, jumping a bit closer to Satan who hadn’t taken his eyes off them. His expression was unreadable but the human could tell it wasn’t threatening, just curious maybe.

“Satan?’

“What am I?”

“What?”

“What am I?”

He’d asked this question so many times when he was younger. A curious question that was really a plea for an explanation for his existence, a meaning besides just a wrathful being.

“You’re a person Satan, a very strong and powerful person, but a person nonetheless.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well I think it means you get to be whoever you want.”

“Whoever I want…”

Satans eyes shifted to a spot somewhere above the humans head, concentrating on something. Suddenly they pulled the human close and wrapped his arms around them.

“Wanted that hug after all?”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t take you for such a cuddler.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Not the worst thing to be.”

Satan laughed softly before squeezing the human a bit closer to him. He didn’t notice how his tail had also begun weaving its way around them until they started poking at it.

“Is the tip poisonous? Like scorpions?”

“Well you’ll know if you die in about 30 minutes wont you?”

“Oh ha ha. Wise ass.”

“Seems to be one of my defining characteristics.”

The two chatted back and forth like that for a bit. It was easy. This was nice. It was peaceful.

Satan was...happy.

“Human. I thought I told you to stay away from here.”

In the door staring down with barely hidden concern was Lucifer.

Of course. How could Satan forget. Lucifer was here to take away what little he had, couldn’t even get a whole hour of peace.

“Yeah but I felt like the company might serve him well.”

“You need to not be so nosey human.”

“Well so far it seems to be helping more than hurting.”

“Just come with me. Satan let them go.”

Part 2

#obey me satan #obey me Lucifer #obey me stories #obey me headcanons

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changingourdestiny · 5 years ago

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Beyond Light Epilogue: Crossing the Line

Summary:

Fireteam Paralight have returned to the Tower safely. However, there are still a few loose ends to tie up.

Previous Part: Here

It had been a few days since Fireteam Paralight defeated Eramis on Europa. While Zavala wasn’t too amused with the methods used, he couldn’t deny the results. He had organised to give Variks temporary immunity while Europa was secured, and Drifter and Marcia returned to the Tower the day after Paralight did with Eris returning to the moon. Paralight received word from Tif that the Fallen that defected from Eramis had safely made it to Earth and have joined House Light. Thankfully, Zavala gave Paralight a few days of reprieve to recover from their mission. However, Rae knew they’d have to address the elephant in the room.

“What do you think the meeting’s about?” Cayde and Rae stepped onto the elevator that lead down to Zavala’s office. “My guess? Stasis.” Rae replied, “More Guardians have begun to master it ever since Eramis fell.” “Well, Shaxx seems to be happy about it.” Cayde chuckled, “I could hear his cheers about the new grenades from the Hanger, and Marcia could hear him from the Annex.” “You kidding? You can hear Shaxx from the Annex on a normal day. I bet Shaw could hear him from the Cosmodrome!” The two laughed as they stepped off the elevator and entered Zavala’s office where he was sat at his desk with Ikora standing in front of it. “You called for us, Zavala?” Rae spoke up as she and Cayde approached the desk. “Yes. Sorry for calling you in during your time off, Raegalia.” Zavala apologised. “I still think I should’ve gotten time off too. Y’know, for helping?” Cayde suggested. “You mean your unsanctioned trip to the Cosmodrome and then to Europa which neither of us gave permission for?” Ikora raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “I- well- actually no, fair point.” Rae couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before clearing her throat, “So what did you need to talk about, Commander?” Zavala exhaled before looking at his fellow Vanguards, “As you all know, the use of stasis has increased since the House of Salvation was defeated. And it’s…concerning, to say the least. The Darkness is on our doorstep, and Guardians are not immune to corruption. The pursuit of power has divided us before. We must remain in the Light. If we bend, we will only break. Any compromise regarding the Darkness will only end in disaster. Now that Eramis and her council are defeated, Guardians have no reason to wield stasis. Therefore I propose that stasis be outlawed among Guardians from this point forward.” The room was silent as everyone processed Zavala’s words. “No.” Cayde and Ikora looked at Rae with surprised expressions as Rae spoke up, a serious expression on her face. “I respect you, Zavala. As a leader, fellow Guardian, and friend. But I can’t agree with this. I know that there is a risk in using this power, but do you really think that our enemies will respect that? If both us Guardians and Eramis was able to get her hands on this power so easily, what’s to say the Hive, Vex, Cabal or Scorn could? And if, or even when, they get a hold of this power, they will not exercise restraint just because we will. May times our Light has been put in jeopardy, The Red War being the closest to losing we've ever come. Stasis has become a commodity among us and our enemies. This genie is never going back in its bottle and I have no doubt the more you try to restrict it the more Guardians will succumb to its corruption. I’m not suggesting Guardians give in completely to Darkness. Elsie has seen the result of that. It doesn’t end well. But I’m not suggesting we remain in the Light. I remember hearing of a vision the Nine’s emissary gave Drifter. She showed him a world of Darkness where he couldn’t see, and everything was dead. Then she showed him a world of Light where it burned his eyes, and people begged to die.” Rae held out her left arm, removing her glove and making the markings on her arm glow gold, “Instead of sticking to one of them, we need to use them side by side.” She then held out her other arm and a few stasis crystals grew from her hand before dismissing both and putting her glove back on, “Naturally, Guardians will need to be taught how to use this power as to not be corrupted by it. If you don’t trust Drifter, Eris, Marcia or Elsie to teach them…then let me.” “You want to teach Stasis?” Ikora seemed surprised. “I’ve been practising with it for the past few days.” Rae replied, holding out her hand as stasis crystals appeared in her hand before switching to solar energy and back and forth a few more times, “I’ve gotten to the point where I can switch between both Light and Dark with relative ease.” Rae turned back to face Zavala as she dismissed the energy, “Power alone is rigid, Zavala. A blade that is inflexible will always break.” Zavala had his hands folded and eyes closed as he seemed to take in and process Rae’s words. After a moment, he spoke, “It’s true I don’t fully trust the Drifter or Marcia. I trust Eris but since she is without Light, it would be difficult for her to teach Guardians how to use both. And we don’t have enough information about Elisabeth Bray to fully trust her.” He looked up at Rae, “If you fully believe that you can teach Guardians how to use stasis properly, then I trust you. But be aware that any negative repercussions might fall on your hands.” Rae nodded, “I understand and willing to take responsibility for whatever happens.” “Very well. From this point forward, Raegalia Drakyx is to be in charge of teaching and monitoring stasis among the Guardians. Meeting adjourned.”

As they left the office, Rae noticed Cayde and Ikora looking very impressed at her. “W-what’s with the looks?” Rae asked, a light blush on her cheeks. “That was very impressive.” Ikora smiled slightly, “Usually, I’d expect you to just go along with any order Zavala would give. But that didn’t seem to be the case this time.” “I understand Zavala’s concerns about the Darkness. I don’t trust it either.” Rae began, “But we can’t defeat something we don’t understand. I know there’s a chance this could go pear-shaped, but it’s high risk, high reward. If we can figure out how the Darkness works, we can figure out its weaknesses.” “Now you’re talkin’ like a Hunter!” Cayde gave Rae a playful nudge, “I’m liking this side of you!” “And like a Warlock too.” Ikora added, “When did you get so wise?” “Learned from a strong and wise Warlock.” Rae smiled. “Osiris?” Ikora joked. “I said ‘strong and wise’ not ‘old and grouchy.” Ikora stifled a laugh, “Now you’re starting to sound like Sagira.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Y’know, I think you’re the closest any Guardian has come to making Ikora laugh.” Cayde interjected, “Any joke I make is just met with a witty comeback.” “It’s not my fault the jokes you set up can be knocked down by a simple breeze.” Ikora smirked. Rae laughed as Cayde and Ikora ended up going back and forth dealing out witty remarks, trying to outdo each other.

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

That night, Blaze sat on her bed while looking out the window. She was deep in thought while fiddling with the flame-coloured feather on her bow. “Ok, what’s up?” Firefly popped up beside Blaze, startling her, “You’ve barely got any sleep since we got back, and you’ve been thinking a LOT. Something you rarely ever do, might I add.” Blaze sighed as she ran her hand through the bangs covering her face, “I’ve been having visions again…” “Bad ones?” “Confusing, more like. Rae, Adam and I are in Spider’s lair. Rae and Spider are talking about something, but I can’t hear what’s being said. But I remember feeling…angry. I don’t know why.” “Maybe Spider’s gonna do something annoying?” “This wasn’t a mild angry, Fly. This was ‘seriously trying to hold back from becoming a fireball’ angry. I was, or rather I’m going to be, furious with Spider and I’ve no idea why.” “I guess we better be ready for anything then.” Firefly sighed, “Just when I thought we’d be done with crazy for a while.” “We’re Guardians. It’s when things AREN’T crazy you know something’s wrong.” Blaze smirked. “Very true!” Firefly giggled, “Well, get some sleep! You won’t be able to deal with the crazy if you’re too sleepy!” “Ok, ok.” Blaze chuckled, “I will in a sec.” As Firefly disappeared, Blaze glanced back down at her bow. Rae’s words from a few days ago came back to her. “It doesn’t matter who he was, it’s who he is now.” Blaze sighed as she set the bow on her bedside table and lay down to go to sleep.

‘I miss you…’

End of Beyond Light.

#Changing our Destiny #rae drakyx #blaze kiria #cayde-6 #destiny cayde #ikora rey #destiny ikora #Zavala #destiny zavala #the vanguard #ghost #destiny ghost #destiny 2

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seagreen-meets-grey · 5 years ago

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Hooked On A Feeling Ch. 2

When Hiccup and Astrid realize they’ve never hung out alone before, they decide to change that. And how do you better spend time with your Good Friend than by playing Mario Kart all night?

[Chapter 1: Come A Little Bit Closer] [Chapter 2: Fooled Around And Fell In Love] [Chapter 3: Go All The Way]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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Hiccup needed to pee so badly.

Ever since he’d dozed off earlier, he’d become more uncomfortable by the minute. He really didn’t want to leave his position now. It had taken him so long to shuffle ever closer to Astrid again and his whole slow process of inch by inch would be lost. But another painful pinch from his bladder later, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Pausing the game mid-race, he put his controller to the side, moved to sit up, and did the next without thinking. He leaned over, kissed Astrid on the cheek as if it were the most natural thing in the world and left to the bathroom.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind him, he froze, eyes wide as saucers. What had just happened? Why the hell had he done that?!

Only his bladder was able to get him to move again and after he’d relieved himself, he began pacing through the bathroom.

He couldn’t just go back now; it would be so awkward. He’d just ruined the night. Maybe he should just stay in here forever or sneak out the window and never come back. But his Switch was still here and he couldn’t just jump from the second floor.

It shouldn’t even be that big of a deal. They were good friends – best friends, even. And it was just a kiss on the cheek. But for some reason, it suddenly felt like so much more.

Too afraid to go back and face her reaction, he continued pacing back and forth, then in circles, then he lay face down on the floor with a loud muffled groan. He didn’t know how long he’d been in here by now. She must be thinking he was either taking a very huge dump or that he’d fallen asleep on the bowl.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he chastised himself, accentuating every word by banging his forehead on the fluffy carpet.

The knock on the door made him wince. “Hiccup?” Fuck. “Everything okay?”

He scrambled to get up, mussing up his hair in an attempt to smooth it, and opened the door, leaning as casually as possible against the frame. “’M fine.”

“Right,” she frowned and pushed her bangs out of her face. “Do you want to go outside for a bit? Take a walk, clear our head of… the tiredness?”

“Yes,” he said maybe a little too immediately. Some fresh air while walking through the dark where they couldn’t see each other’s face very well sounded so much better than sitting next to each other in a stuffy room after such a terribly awkward situation.

They donned their coats and left the house. The cold air hit their faces, cooling the blood that was still rushing through their veins.

Astrid was glad that she’d taken the time to go back to her room to get her warm hat and mittens while Hiccup had been waiting for her outside. In the soft light of the moon reflecting off the snow beneath their feet, her breath condensed in front of her face. Wiggling her toes inside her boots to warm them up for the walk, she switched on her flashlight and tested the range of the light cone. The batteries should hold for a while.

They walked down the quiet street, only the flashlight and a few lamps here and there illuminating their path. It had stopped snowing for the most part, a handful of stars blinking in the sky in-between thick clouds. Her light reflected off the sign that informed them they were leaving Berk, right over the smaller sign pointing in the direction of Raven Point Lake.

For a while, neither of them talked. Astrid was rather glad about the silence that was only interrupted by the snow scrunching under their every step, still a little flustered by this new tension between herself and her friend. She was wondering if her heart was beating that fast because of Hiccup or because she’d had way too much sugar and caffeine. It was probably both.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, taking note of the thoughtful lines on his face. Was he having similar thoughts, maybe overthinking everything in true Hiccup fashion, or was she the one attributing too much importance to every interaction?

“Look, I’m vaping,” Hiccup broke the silence and exhaled a large cloud of breath.

Astrid snorted. “Wow, I’m amazed. I thought you were contemplating the meaning of the universe just now, but turns out there is a hamster inside your brain running backwards on its wheel.”

“His name is Sharpshot, because he’s such a sharp shot,” Hiccup said. “He’s a hamster that knows how to run backwards, that must count for something.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Astrid, I can see you grin.”

She switched off her flashlight. “No, you can’t.”

Naturally, he tripped only the blink of an eye later. But instead of faceplanting into the snow, which would have been pretty hilarious, he got hold of her arm and saved himself. “I don’t want to walk straight into the lake,” he declared and held onto her.

“I can still push you or lead you right into the water.”

“Nope, I’m smarter than you,” he claimed and let go of her arm to fish his phone out of his pocket and turned on its flash. She cursed the drop of her stomach at the loss of his touch.

“Cheater,” she huffed and switched her own light back on. When Hiccup put his phone back into his pocket, there was a tiny victorious smirk on his face which she deliberately chose to ignore.

They turned one more corner and reached the lake. The water was black and smooth as glass, the reflection of the moon nearly undistorted, only a few snowflakes softly creating miniature ripples on the surface. They trudged down the path along the shore, leisurely passing the ghosts of people jogging during the day, families on their Sunday stroll, sniffing dogs and their shivering owners, and the occasional old couple watching the commotion from one of the benches now covered in ice and snow.

There was that look on his face again, the one that creased his forehead, paled the many freckles on his skin and drenched his eyes in a darker color. She didn’t like it, had always felt like there was something wrong with the world when a spirit such as Hiccup’s could be pulled out of the sky by something stronger than gravity.

She’d seen a variation of that look before, albeit a much heavier, soul-crushing one, not quite two years ago. And now she couldn’t bear it either.

“How’s your mom doing?” she tentatively asked.

He looked up as if surprised she was still there, in the world outside his own head. “Mom’s doing fine.” The creases were gone and he playfully kicked at a frozen clump of grass, and Astrid wondered if he had even realized he’d drifted off into his own galaxy there for a moment.

She bit her lip and, for the first time since it had invaded her head, voiced the thought that had been sitting in a corner of her mind for months and had only come out again recently. “I’m sorry. I feel like I haven’t been there for you enough.”

He stopped walking. “Where is this suddenly coming from?”

“Well…” she shrugged, searching the lake for words. “We realized we’d never hung out alone before. That makes me think that I probably also wasn’t there for you enough when your mom was, you know…” Almost dying of cancer. Even she wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud, for she hated what it did to the life in Hiccup’s eyes.

He regarded her for a minute, then gave her a reassuring smile and continued down the path again. “Don’t worry. You were actually the most helpful, you know.”

“Really?” She caught up to him and frowned, remembering several incidents where she probably could have been more tactful, blurting out bold words before her sensitivity could join the party. “How so?”

“You didn’t pamper me or act like I was a bomb ready to go off any second. You were real with me when everyone else pretended that everything was fine. I don’t think I ever said thank you, so… Thanks.”

The sincerity in his voice warmed her from the inside, untwisting the knot there, and she punched him lightly on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

He pretended to be hurt but the twitching corners of his mouth betrayed him, so he quit the dramatics and draped an arm over her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

When she glanced over, she was caught in his smile. It was so genuine and soft and so close that she couldn’t think of a witty comeback on the fly, so she just nodded. “Me too.”

They had slowed to a stop, standing there in a halfway hug. As if it had waited for the invitation, the weird sexual tension from before snuck back up on them, dashing down the path and enveloping them with a thousand volts that gave Astrid goosebumps all over her arms and back.

Hiccup was the first to clear his throat and step away, rubbing at his neck. She brought the light up to his face, illuminating his skin, and she wondered if it was red from the cold or something else.

Her own runny nose and numb cheeks reminded her of the cold as well, inciting a longing for her fluffy socks and warm, cozy bed. “Let’s head back.”

“Good idea, my toes are freezing off.”

“Rather your toes than your fingers,” she said before shaking her head, competitive grin back on her face. “Scratch that, I can beat you faster if you lose your fingers.”

“Milady!” Hiccup mock-gasped. “That’s so cruel. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He shrugged and nodded. “Okay, yes, I did.” When he bumped her shoulder with his own, she retaliated by shoving him, making him stagger precariously. He caught himself and used his momentum to come after her, chasing her down the path. Laughing, she ran ahead of him, back to the street, and scooped up a handful of snow that she hurled at him the moment he turned the corner. He’d anticipated the attack, though, and ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the face. When he came back up, his hands were already forming a snowball, and the game was officially on.

They reached her house completely covered in white. Hiccup’s hair was wet from the snow she’d showered him with after he had stuck a handful down the back of her shirt, and her mittens were soaked.

After she put their boots next to the heater and hung her jacket, she still felt the adrenaline from their battle coursing through her. When Hiccup was tugging at his clammy socks, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Just letting you know that I’m going to the bathroom.” She even winked for good measure before she left the room, his eyes burning through her all the way down the hall.

Not much later, they were lounging on her bed again, warm and dry and competitive, drinking their energy drinks and handling their controllers as if it was second nature at this point.

“How’d it go at Doctor Mala’s?” Hiccup broke the silence after a while of concentrated racing, only to backtrack right after. “Um, sorry. You don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal.”

A quick glance reassured him she was smiling, not glaring at him ready to strike. Asking the friend you’ve prior to now never spent time alone with how their visit at the dermatologist went probably overstepped some kind of line.

“First of all, why wouldn’t I tell you? You’re one of my closest friends.” Upon him opening his mouth to object, she added, “Even though we never hung out alone before now. I don’t define my closest friends by that kind of bullshit argument. Second, she said all my moles look fine. Nothing to worry about.”

He hadn’t even noticed the tension in his shoulders before they relaxed at her words. With her family history of skin cancer, nothing to worry about was music to his ears. “That’s great. Both of what you said.” He bumped her elbow with his and earned her immediate complain.

“Hey, jackass! Are you trying to force me off the road?!”

“That’s the plan, Baby Peach.”

All she did in response was grumble and he was sure the name Waluigi was mentioned in the same breath as a few of her favorite swear words. The smile on his face was wiped clean, though, the second he took a look at the current positions of the characters and cursed. “We fucked up, Astrid. Look who’s up front!”

“What?!” She leaned forward and smacked her hands complete with controller on her crossed legs, exasperated. “Not him! He’s the most boring one!”

“Well, step on it, milady! We can’t let him win!”

For the next few races, they actually worked together to bring Mario down a few positions, burying their rivalry until he was defeated. After that, their truce was dropped immediately.

During a break in-between races, Astrid stretched her arms over her head and Hiccup had to avert his eyes when her shirt rode up a few inches and revealed a patch of skin right above the waistline of her sweatpants. The cute noises she made while stretching and yawning at the same time didn’t help at all and he felt his face go very warm.

“I don’t know about you,” she yawned, “but I could kill for some hot cacao right now. You want some?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Sweet.” In one motion, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood up and bounced on her toes. It took him a bit longer to get out of his comfortable position, tired as he was, so he accepted her outstretched hand gladly. He blamed it on his lack of sleep that he didn’t let go right away, allowing her to pull him out of the room before dropping her hand.

The kitchen still smelled of pizza, even though one window was slightly ajar. The underfloor-heating warmed his feet and for a minute he considered warming up a piece of the pizza. But he decided that would require too much effort. Instead, he was content with watching Astrid grab two mugs from her cupboard, fill them with milk and cacao powder and put them in the microwave.

She, too, had briefly considered eating more pizza. But her mind had gotten sidetracked when she’d looked over at Hiccup and found him staring bleary-eyed at the food. Her inner voice screamed cute so loudly, it drowned out every other thought.

She had to force herself back to her task at hand, which was to prepare the hot cacao, not to drool over the sight of her suddenly hard to resist friend. Sure, he’d always been adorable, but right now, when she looked at him in her kitchen in the middle of the night, wearing pajamas and leaning against the fridge like he belonged here, her heart began racing in her chest like it was a Mario Kart player and her stomach felt like it was zooming over Rainbow Road.

Where was all this coming from all of a sudden? She tried figuring out if she’d always felt this way or if it was just now developing at rapid speed, but she wasn’t capable of thinking clearly at the moment; she was way too distracted – and tired. Her fingers started twitching against the mugs as she put them in the microwave and set the timer.

For a minute, she watched the porcelain spin slowly as the invisible heat waves did their thing. When she turned around, she found Hiccup regarding her through sleepy eyes, and a sudden urge, spurred on by her raving heart, set her muscles into motion.

Before she could think about it, she crossed the space between them, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked his lips down to hers. The muffled sound of surprise got stuck in his throat as he completely froze against her. When several moments had passed and he was still imitating a statue, the rational part of her brain caught up with her. This had been a very bad idea.

The ping of the microwave suddenly brought life back into Hiccup. He pulled back from her and awkwardly shuffled out of her grasp that left his shirt crumpled where her fist had held onto it like the tattered end of a rope dangling over a bottomless abyss.

“Oh, look at that,” he exclaimed, voice a little too loud, and dedicated his entire focus to the microwave and its content. “The hot cacao is done. Ow, and it’s hot!” An awkward chuckle escaped him while he fumbled with the mugs, avoiding looking at her at any cost. “Who would have thought, right? That hot cacao is hot? Not me, certainly.” He made a face as if he’d just bitten into a big lemon and regretted it deeply.

Astrid didn’t regret anything – but she had to admit, certain decisions of hers hadn’t played out very favorable. For once in her life, she should have thought before taking action. Her knack for impulse decisions had finally come to bite her in the butt. She knew Hiccup, and she knew he was going to avoid the whole topic for a while until he felt like the awkwardness of the situation had cooled down, and then he was going to avoid ever talking about it again.

But she wanted to talk about it. Because her impulses didn’t just happen, they were based on instinct. And her instincts had given her the impression that there was something between them tonight, a tension that certainly couldn’t have been only one-sided. Or was that just wishful thinking?

Her thoughts racing, she quietly followed Hiccup back to her room. Neither of them said a word as they settled back on the bed, quite some space between them. They sipped at their chocolate drinks and stared at the TV for a while until Astrid couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence anymore and exchanged her mug for her controller. Hiccup followed her lead and soon enough they were back at insulting each other over the game.

Astrid almost let out a sigh of relief when the awkward tension from earlier dissolved and made way for their usual playful banter. At some point, they would have to talk about what happened there in the kitchen, but for now, she was content with kicking his ass at a video game that he was way better at than she would have liked. He was serious competition and somehow, that sent a shiver down her spine as her lips tingled pleasantly.

After every race, the amount of liquid in their mugs became lesser and the final races came closer. They were head to head at the top of the ranking list, too far ahead of the rest of the characters to be outrun by anyone anymore. It was just her and Hiccup fighting for the ultimate victory, for the pride and bragging rights that came with it, and the privilege of receiving an extra Christmas present.

She tipped her head back to chug down the last of her chocolate, put her mug away and reached for her controller to start the next race, when Hiccup suddenly leaned towards her.

“Hold on,” he mumbled and lifted his hand to her face. “You got some foam right there.” His brows furrowed in concentration as his finger gingerly stroked over the skin at the edge of her lips. She didn’t dare to move when he hesitated to pull his hand back.

His fingers wandered further, every micromotion leaving fiery tingles in its wake. Her breath hitched when his skin touched her lips and lightly traced over every line and curve, with undivided attention to first her lower, then her upper lip. Transfixed, she didn’t realize she was leaning forward until he moved his hand to her neck and brought his face closer to hers, equally mesmerized.

This time, he didn’t freeze. The first brush of lips was chaste and hesitant, like he was testing the waters, as if her blatantly kissing him earlier hadn’t been obvious enough. When she leaned more firmly into him, signaling him that she wouldn’t reject him, he grew more confident, burying his other hand in her hair, pulling her closer. She sat on her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He tasted like liquid chocolate, and when she slid her tongue along his lower lip, there was something else sugary, something more artificial – energy drink. Her heart was pounding, pumping blood through her veins that she was sure was made of sheer viscous caffeine.

Her chest felt like it was flooded with molten caramel, powered by the rush of soft lips meeting hers over and over again, of teeth colliding, followed by a breathy chuckle and a new approach to get it right. She tilted her head a little further and goosebumps broke out over her neck when the hand in her hair wandered lower to join the other.

Trivial concepts like time and space became irrelevant. If sleep hadn’t been pressing against the insides of her temple, she’d have embraced the idea of staying like this forever.

But, as bubblegum had been teaching humanity for ages, every bubble had to burst at some point. This particular one was maliciously speared by the razor-sharp tip of the pike that was her alarm clock.

She almost bit her tongue – or Hiccup’s, because who was to say at this point – in an effort to scramble up and get to her phone. She knew it was somewhere on her desk, discarded underneath various folders and clothes she’d thrown there while half-heartedly cleaning her room earlier that day. And there it was, blaring her latest favorite metalcore song, buried underneath a t-shirt and an old bra. After a few hectic swipes of her thumb, she shut the alarm off and shoved the bra back underneath the pile of chaos.

“Sorry, forgot to turn it off.” Blasted mood killer at seven in the morning!

When she turned around, though, she doubted Hiccup had heard a word of what she’d just said. He was sitting there staring in her general direction through foggy eyes, dreamy smile on his face. She settled back next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and experimentally said, “I really think Baby Peach is the best character of them all, seriously. And Waluigi? I’d do him, if you know what I mean.”

His elaborate answer consisted of an absentminded hum as his eyes never left her profile. Very nice, she could work with that.

Without further ado, she took her controller, leaned more comfortably against Hiccup and started the next race. She didn’t say a word, just concentrated on the game, a shrewd smile on her face. It wasn’t as if she was hiding anything from him. He just didn’t pay attention, and she wasn’t going to let that opportunity go in favor of her victory looming on the horizon.

It took him an embarrassing time of two laps around the race course to notice.

“Hey!” he complained, finally returning to planet Earth and grabbing his controller. “Now who’s the cheater?!”

Her grin only grew wider. “What am I supposed to do when you’re too busy staring at me?”

“How about ‘not cheat’?!” Waluigi slowly joined the race, his cart jerkily moving across the bumpy grass where he’d been catapulted by the other racers passing him on their war to victory.

“I wasn’t cheating,” she said with as much sweet innocence as she could muster, fully aware he wasn’t buying any of it. “I thought you would notice that the game was back on.”

He huffed and feigned being offended. “You did that on purpose. Is everything you do just a trick to make sure you win?”

“Of course. I thought you knew that by now, slowpoke.” And with that, she crossed the finish line. Despite his best efforts, Hiccup came in last, unable to make up for the distance even the slowest character had on him at this point.

With the advance Astrid had just gained, it was impossible for him to beat her now, and two races later, she threw her hands in the air with a cry of victory.

“YES! Eat my dust, losers! See that, Waluigi? I won!”

“Why do you have to say Waluigi’s name like it’s an insult? He would have destroyed you if you hadn’t cheated.” Hiccup pretended to sulk, but her cheery demeanor was contagious.

“Because Waluigi is…” she put her chin on his shoulder, “a big…” the hand holding her controller poked his cheek, “ugly…” it poked his forehead, “loooser!”

Hiccup pouted but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch. “You’re really proud of this, aren’t you? Winning in a family-friendly video game that children could play?”

“Don’t even try and play my victory down, loser. You know it’s an achievement.”

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You saying winning against me is an achievement? Because you’re right, it is. Not in your case, however, ‘cause you cheated, Baby Peach.”

In retort, she poked him in the side and watched with satisfaction as he winced. She repeated the motion and he continuously flinched away from her, until he grabbed her hands and pushed them away from him. “Stop tickling me, you’re defiling your already spoiled victory!”

“You said yourself that it’s not possible to cheat on Mario Kart.” Despite his efforts to keep her fingers at bay, she didn’t even think about giving up and pushed against his defense. “Hence, I won fair and square.”

“Can’t cheat in the game but can manipulate the other players. Fair and square my ass!”

“Are you trying to make me your enemy, loser?” She threw herself against him, successfully breaching his defense and tackling him to her bed for the second time that night. Once again, she felt the warmth of his body radiate through his clothes, could count the freckles on his face and admire the green of his eyes. This time, however, she didn’t get overwhelmed and push him off the mattress. And neither did he.

His arms enveloped her and pulled her closer until she was pressed down on his chest and her face was buried in his shoulder.

“Hmm,” he mused, “somehow, I feel like I won something, too.”

“You’re more cheesy than our pizza,” she told his shoulder, voice muffled against his shirt. Struggling against his hold on her, she tried to sit up, but he just tightened his arms around her.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not getting away! Ow!”

Kicking her knees into his bony legs seemed effective so she continued until he retaliated by jabbing his fingers into her sides. Now she was the one twitching from his attack, trying to escape while uncontrollable laughter filled her lungs and took her breath away.

After more than 24 hours of living on zero sleep and the adrenaline level built up by the caffeine crashing down, it wasn’t long until they both ran out of energy. Sitting up took a lot of joined effort, but it was worth it when she was leaning back against him in his loose embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder.

Outside her window, trees and roofs stood out as silhouettes against the dark gray sky. With every passing minute, a new detail appeared in the growing light. Soon enough, the first beam of golden fire glistened on the white mantle, illuminating the few silent snowflakes coming down from heady heights.

It was so comfortable, the picture so quiet and peaceful, the human blanket enveloping her so warm and cozy. The weight of her eyelids became heavier, the urge to succumb to sleep ever stronger. The land of dreams was calling for her like a siren singing for a poor sailor on his ship.

“You still awake?” the voice of her blanket mumbled.

“Hmm.”

The blanket stifled a yawn. “Do you think we would have ended up here sooner if we had hung out together much earlier?”

Astrid needed a minute to make sense of the words, her brain as foggy as the wafts of mist traveling through the fields outside her window. “Dunno, maybe. But for what it’s worth,” she opened her mouth wide for a yawn so long she almost forgot what she wanted to say, “but for what it’s worth, I always thought you were cute.”

The blanket chuckled and she could feel the low vibrations against her back. “I think I prefer sleep-deprived Astrid over regular Astrid. She says nice things to me.”

“Shut up.” For more she wasn’t capable. The talking blanket helped her lie under a different blanket and removed the socks from her feet before it settled back next to her.

“Sleep tight,” a voice she somehow associated with love songs, caramel and snowball fights whispered in her ear, and it was the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.

The first time she woke up, she had trouble making sense of her surroundings. She was wearing her sweatpants and comfiest bra to sleep and there was someone sawing logs inside her room. Blinking her eyes open just a crack, she immediately closed them again against the light shining through her window like it was trying to blind her.

After a minute of orientation, she traced the lumberjack back to the extra body in her bed. With a groan, she half-heartedly shook it and complained, picking up an equally half-hearted sleep-filled apology before she felt the body change position, and the lumberjack was gone.

The second time she woke was when a heat wave broke out over her body. Her legs were cooking in her sweatpants and her bra was sticking to her skin. With closed eyes so they wouldn’t get burned by the light, she wiggled out of her pants and sat up to remove her bra, then teetered over to the window like a drunk person to open it a small crack.

When she settled back on her pillow, heat finally under control, a long arm sneaked over her waist and pulled her closer. Somehow, that new heat wasn’t that bad, and sleep pulled her back in.

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #ff #fanfiction #modern au #fluff #maja writes #mario kart

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