#disaster will solace

[mediumgayitalian]

Will would like to say, at risk of perjuring himself, that he did not intend to fall asleep.

Like, he wanted to.

And he did.

But it was not his original intent.

His original intent was to stabilize his patients (success), climb out the back window of the infirmary (success), stick the landing (failure is good for growth), meet Nico behind the Big House (success), and shadow travel to his cabin without throwing up (fifty percent is a pass). The secondary intent was to sprawl on his boyfriend’s lap, taking up as much space as possible in his massive, against-camp-regulations bed (how it is possible to be Dionysus’ nepo baby without actually being a child of Dionysus, Will shall never know), turn off his brain, and watch him play video games for a while.

The issue is that Nico is so comfortable.

Yeah, he’s bony. And yeah, sometimes he gets really into the game and forgets that Will is there, elbowing him in the face as he cusses at the screen in what sounds like ancient Latin. And yeah, the sound of a CoD lobby is the opposite of a sleep-conductive environment. However.

However.

While he may spend hours of his week standing on tables, lecturing on healthy eating habits and regular circadian rhythms via sonnet, and enforcing said habits via taser (rip Leo Valdez, you would’ve loved watching Will taser people for stress relief, come back alive soon), Will is what his friends and family call a ‘big fat hypocrite’.

He wouldn’t know healthy habits if they painted themselves bright neon blue (the easiest colour for him to see), stood ten feet tall, dressed in Malvolio’s outfit from Twelfth Night, and roundhouse kicked him in the teeth his mother spent thousands of dollars on (braces suck). He has not slept through the night even once his whole life. Yesterday, his two meals were 1) twizzlers and 2) audacity. He once measured how much liquid he had in his system on any given time and then drank approximately two point seven litres of RedBull to become, by volume, one half percent caffeine. (His heart did indeed stop. But it started back up again when Jason shocked him, so it was fine. Plus, he wrote it all down, so in reality it was science.)

Also, his dumbfuck peers keep getting themselves maimed, and he was informed unfortunately by Chiron that he cannot strike and leave them to suffer. (Accusing him of violating his First Amendment Right To Petition got him nothing but stable duty.) As of ten minutes before Nico picked him up, he was on his thirty-ninth consecutive hour of being awake. Probably. (He’s reasonably certain that climbing a tree on Friday morning and belting himself to the trunk, Katniss Everdeen style, for a quick catnap was not a fever dream, but one can never be too certain.)

Regardless. Point is, Will had cute boys to cuddle and Thoughts to Think. He had no intention of falling asleep.

And, yet.

He wakes up warm — the perfect kind of warm, wherein you feel akin to a soupified caterpillar in a chrysalis — or like a croissant lovingly shaped by the hands of an elderly chef in Paris and baked with care in a regulated oven — or like a wonderfully blubbery elephant seal baking on a slick rock — or like a space rock hurtling through the —

“Morning, Sunshine,” murmurs a very familiar voice. Following the very gentle murmur is a very gentle smooch on the forehead. Will, still mostly asleep, thinks he would sign off his soul without a second thought to ensure it happens again. “Or evening, rather.”

“Has anyone ever offered you their soul?” Will asks, fuzzy and disoriented. He tries and fails to blink the grogginess away, but the world around him stays dark, and the hand in his hair remains where it is, and he is so, so sleepy.

“Not yet,” Nico says. Will can hear the amused smile in his voice. “Why?”

Will yawns. “No reason. Timizzit?”

“Late, tesoro. Past curfew.”

Will groans, knocking his head gently back into Nico’s hold.

Of course his dumb ass slept through the evening. Of course he now has to drag himself awake and walk, in the blistering, nose-numbing frost (it’s sixty degrees, Solace) across camp, dodging feral harpy attacks (Apollo kids have harpy immunity, William), and trudging into his sad, small, lonely bed (gods above you are your father’s son) where he will of course be fully awake by the time he gets there. God really does give his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. (You’re an atheist, William Andrew.)

“Why me,” he laments, refusing to move from his boyfriend’s lap. Perhaps he will simply wither here, warm, satisfied, and more importantly away from little siblings who will not stop squabbling even when their long-suffering older brother looks longingly and pointedly at a bottle of cyanide.

Nico snorts. “Because the gods are punishing you for your crimes.”

“I have committed no crimes! This is unjust! Partisan! I am Hester Prynne and she is me —”

“Your mother is going to hell for teaching you literacy.”

“Defamation and libel!”

“Shut up, Will, gods —”

But he softens the blow of his words by leaning down, hands on either side of Will’s face, and kissing him like he’s trying to breathe him back to life. Or keep him quiet, honestly, but he smells like woodsmoke and citrus and old leather so Will doesn’t really mind. Even if he did, the chapped skin of Nico’s lips serves as a very good distraction, as does the brush of his thumb over Will’s cheekbone and the cool press of his ring against Will’s heated skin.

“Stay over,” he whispers, shifting his lips to Will’s chin, his jaw, his neck. He scratches his teeth lightly against Will’s adam’s apple and his hemoglobin briefly forget how important their job is. “You don’t have a shift tomorrow and everyone at camp owes you, like, twelve favours each.”

“That’s very convincing,” Will mumbles, unsure if he’s referring to Nico’s sound logic or the breath he blows on the shell of Will’s ear, which makes his arrector pili muscles go crazy. (He could make a more convincing case for the logic if all the blood had not abandoned his brain. Alas.)

“I’m a very convincing person.”

He slides a hand under Will’s shirt and his already very weak resolve pulls out a suitcase, packs its things, and abandons its family to pursue a career in competitive shoemaking. Or something. Nico’s hands are very very cold and it feels really really good for some reason and Will is just one man, okay. He may have been named after willpower but that does not mean he possesses any. And Nico is a convincing person. He out-stubborned Death.

“Okay,” he gasps out, arching into the nail Nico scratches over the intensely sensitive skin of his hip, “I’m staying, I’m staying, please take all your wiles and ship them out into the sea in a wine crate ala Danaë and her newborn.”

“…You are such a deeply strange person.”

“And yet you love me so.”

Nico presses his smile to Will’s forehead. “Indeed, I do.”

[rumov]

context, context…missing context…😗:

worst 18th birthday everrrr

[pursuecrazylife]

Daniel’s entire storyline is darkly hilarious because he goes through hundreds of loops trying to make his wife remember him, but he’s too socially awkward to flirt with her, and comes across as slightly creepy. Because he’s wearing his coat in the most intimidating way possible, any time he talks to Maura he is so intense he flies way past small talk  ‘Your name is Irish, but you aren’t’ and stares at her for a full minute...Very normal behaviour. Then he is vaguely threatening when he talks about the weird events on the ship, ’It’s like somebody did that on purpose’ *wink wink* Keeps insulting the captain, glaring daggers at him whenever they’re in the same room. Claims he wanted to check on her room because he heard whimpering from a boy who is known to be mute at that point. Yeets a ship away while staring at the camera like he’s on The Office. Waves a LED flashlight around. Starts a fight with the captain because he is flirting with his wife, then decides the perfect moment to reveal his identity when he yeeted Eyk from the face of the earth with his slide puzzle, and then he’s genuinely surprised Maura locks him in?

Such a human disaster, I love it. What I really want to see in S2 is how Daniel and Maura met, and how socially awkward their first date was with Daniel being the dork that he is

[mvndrvke]

@campxhalfblood ( continued )

Nico huffs softly, gaze dropping to try and give an air of not caring as much as he does. It doesn't work in the slightest; his gaze moves back up to Will's face, hopeful and stupid and wanting.

"I...." Nico looks down at their hands, faltering slightly before he shakes his head. "I, uhm. Y'know. Care about.... if...." Nico grimaces. "I don't want you to die, obviously, I just--" He winces again, mumbling hastily, "y'know like maybe if-- y'know, if--" before he just rests his temple against Will's shoulder. "You get what I mean."

[zeetbl33p]

...damnit. Why did I end up getting attached to Citrus? Lhclhfo

[spinninglightning]

here r my cooking hcs:

percy - loves cooking the most vulgar food, has deepfried instant noodles and cooked a hamburger patty in the dishwasher. good at baking but cant bake cookies at ALL, theres always smth wrong w/ them

annabeth - do NOT trust her in the kitchen, once tried making brownies from a box mix and those shits boiled in the oven. periodically sets microwave on fire bc she gets distracted and leaves her fork in there

jason - good at cooking and baking. specializes in grilling (white dad jason) and baking cookies (to percys ire). prefers to eat raw meat

piper - must stick to a recipe to cook, cant fry an egg for the life of her

reyna - can only cook basic food (think sweets and breakfasts). somehow manages to be almost as bad as annabeth when baking

hazel - she can cook but doesnt really bother to. really good at cooking everyones favorite foods

frank - well rounded. he can cook/bake EVERYTHING. doesnt use any recipes or measurements

leo - similar to frank, specializes in mexican food. loves making menudo from scratch bc of the amt of steps. doesnt use measurements. keeps recipes to himself

nico - can only cook pasta and hes forever pissed abt this (tried to purposefully burn it once and failed). "stop asking me to make pasta you are perpetuating stereotypes." he adds olive oil, basil and oregano to the pot for extra flavor

will - good cook but almost all his food is healthy in some way. prefers not to cook so he can get his junkfood fix lolol

thalia - she can only cook toddler food, like mac n cheese, pizza bites, chicken nuggets

luke - survives on instant noodles and mcdonalds. do not ask him to cook anything beyond that

[c-53]

Its been so long since i played a video game,,, I have THINGS TO DO

[clavicuss-vile]

(Anders ranting about how stupid it is to do blood magic and put your life at risk in the middle of battle and that amell needs to STOP)

Lucas amell: you're hot when you look like you want to kill me

Solace hawke: oh so it's a genetic thing

Carver: what

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ Da Vinci in making — Gojo Satoru

Warnings: establish relationship; you have a kid together idk

Satoru who sits there with his shoulders shaking and lips bitten hard, as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“It’s a very pretty drawing honey,” you add weakly, your help not worth a dime as your son sighed in his dismay.

The both of you, Mr. and Mrs. (Or another Mr. If that’s what you prefer) Gojo lay in your bed, ready to call it a night when your son hopped into the room all so merrily—in his hands, hoisted his proud little drawing.

But that was the scene 5 minutes before the silly little disaster because as of now, Satoru sat their clutching a pillow to his face as he tried to hide his laughter in vain—“It’s ugly,” your child whined again, deflection plastered over his face.

“Oh baby it’s not- It’s, it’s really p-pretty baby,”

“Why’s dad laughing then?” The innocence in the words of the little boy panged nails of guilt at your heart for you too, struggled to manage your own laughter.

“That’s because,” you paused, it was a hideous drawing, “Because…because,” you stared at your husband, glaring at him—you knew he was aware of your annoyed gaze, “Because my son’s Da Vinci in making,” Satoru mumbled against the plush of the pillow.

And you wondered just how he managed Tsumiki and Megumi when he did—but then Megumi wasn’t exactly happy to be with Satoru anyways.

“Daddy’s an idiot and doesn’t understand the beauty of art,”

And just at that, Satoru cackled into the pillow louder— the annoying idiot, you groaned internally, “It’s alright sweetheart, just gotta practice more right? We- we can put it on the fridge if you want,” your suggestion did lighten his mood a slight.

“But daddy’s…” your son’s dismay confused your heart- torn apart you sat, “Daddy will get it framed if that’s what it takes baby,” you grumbled under your breath—pinching Satoru’s side as you did so, a squeal he let out at that.

Your son smiled softly at his father’s squeal—loving the sound, “You like it mommy?”

“Course’ I do honey,” and that was solace to your little son, who wobbled away—shooting his father the ultimate side eye when Satoru asked for a hug from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled as the door closed behind him, huffing at your husband.

“You gotta admit babe,” Satoru grinned, “it was ugly,”

And you had to admit for what it was, a pretty ugly stick man for Satoru that he’d drawn—but surely, it was the thought and effort that counted.

“But alright, I’ll frame it for right above our bed so you can see sexy lil me when I fuck-”

“-Satoru!”

All of this work is entirely original and my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER

Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: NONE

For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on,  fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

[hanasnx]

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩𓆩 ❝ announcement. ❞ 𓆪𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

-ˏˋ꒰ INTERACTIVE READER EXPERIENCE - ! ꒱ MULTIPLE PART SERIES MINORS DNI 18+ SUMMARY: be a part of the story! THE FIC WARNINGS: f!reader | eventual smut | semi-established relationship | romance | suggestive | eventual conflict.

! ── BACKGROUND: During a routine reconnaissance, disaster strikes. Heavily armed, a team of pirates ambush you and ANAKIN SKYWALKER. Despite the pair’s best efforts, the ship is irreparably damaged, and forced to land. The nearest planet offers solace, and escape is narrowly seized. Unfortunately, any useful instruments to calculate your coordinates are dead, and the planet appears to be deserted. It has breathable air, but you’re unsure if it produces necessary supplies. Food and water from the ship’s emergency resources will have to be rationed, but it won’t last long.

! ── ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST: like, comment, inbox message, or reblog to be a part of this series' taglist. you must have your age in your bio or pinned post to be added.

! ── RELEASE DATE & UPDATE SCHEDULE: the first post will be released 02.28 and if god willing, it will be updated every wednesday or when i feel that inspiration strike. you deserve good, well-thought-out posts.

[kechiwrites]

mirror image

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 7/8

synopsis: two weeks into your uneasy truce, simon gets introspective.

wc: 811

cw: afab!reader, angst, banter that becomes arguing, hurt and the tiniest bit of comfort, language, trust issues, simon's pov, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: well, we back at it, the second last installment of this verse. i'll still take requests/thots for it of course, but soon we'll get closure for these two. for now, simon's thoughts on their situation.

new to baby blue? start here.

It’s disarming. 

And Simon Riley doesn’t like being disarmed. He doesn’t like being caught off guard, off kilter, unstable. 

It’s been happening more and more often though.

When you and Tommy look at him in perfect unison, he is struck stupid by your eyes, like you copy and pasted them onto your son. His son. His kid. His perfect, funny kid. Unmuddied by everything bad in the world. His life is pancakes and dinosaurs and that horrible fucking tv show that he’s sure rots his little mind. His life is you. Your smiles, your laugh, your cooking, your hugs. Things Simon cheated himself of when he walked out on you, choked with fear and bleeding misery.

Simon is disarmed, totally fucking helpless, a veritable babe in the woods when you let him hold you. When for the first time, in a long ass time, he gets to watch your lids flutter closed and slip into unconsciousness, in that quick, carefree way he’s always envied. 

He barely sleeps, even less so lately. 

After all, no sleeping meant no nightmares. No cloying, choking smoke-like fears reaching for the frayed edges of his subconscious. No sleeping meant he couldn’t play on your kindness, your goodness, and guilt you into holding him back when he woke up screaming, sweating, no matter how bad he wanted it.

It’s two weeks later. Two weeks after sleeping together but not sleeping together. After breakfast and an uneasy truce. Two weeks after kissing you and touching you and holding you like you both had all the time in the world. 

You’re not in a good mood. And he knows that. But he pushes you anyway, pokes and prods you even as you slam through your kitchen, noisily pulling out a pot and a huge bag of pasta shells.

“Let’s talk.” He approaches, arms crossed, full kit traded in for a skull emblazoned cloth mask, jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, one he’d found in your bedroom days ago, stashed in the back your drawer, crumpled in a wrinkled ball, like you didn’t want to see it, but you didn’t want to trash it either. He’s been doing that lately, staying over for days and rifling through your shit, finding old relics and artifacts from a time neither of you can let go of. An old mask, a hat, t-shirts.

So many goddamn t-shirts.

“Talk?” you snort derisively, filling the pot with water. He watches you test the water with your fingertips and curse under your breath, mumbling something about shit pipes. When the pot is full, you turn to face him, lips curled, sneering. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of that. Thought you just communicated in grunts.”

“You’re funny. That's new.” He jabs, advancing in the conversation much faster than he should have, comforted in familiar territory, finding solace in what used to be commonplace for you, banter, barbs, teasing. The tense set of your shoulders should’ve warned him off it, should’ve told him you’d take it as well as a bullet in the back. But God help him, he’ll take whatever you give.

“Mm.” Your tone is casual but your answering nod is jerky, too fast, “Yeah, I developed a sense of humour when I realized our relationship had been a joke.” You slam the pot onto a burner, giving him your back. 

The air is suddenly devoid of mirth, utterly obliterated where it had been floating between you before. Now the living room and kitchen are a smoking crater, an oil rig on fire, a disaster site. 

He’s never been more grateful for his son’s propensity to nap like he’s dead.

Neither of you say anything. Simon is waiting for you to say something, to dress him down, but when you lower your head and sigh, heavy and deep with pain and exhaustion he planted within you, Simon withers. He slinks back to the living room and drops himself onto your couch. 

You wait, he’s not sure what for. He used to be so good at preempting your actions, your thoughts, your words, now he handles you like you’re a venomous reptile, looking for exposed, vulnerable flesh to strike, to bite.

You set down the glass you’d been drinking from hard. And he’s surprised you didn’t crack it.

“What do you want, Simon?” Question of the goddamn century, it is. And you’ve asked it of him plenty of times. But he never has an answer, can never really deduce just what the fuck he’s doing here, with you. With Tommy. Playing a game? Playing a role? Punishing you? Himself? All of it could be true, but none of it seems right. 

“I want to try.”

All he knows is that before this, four years seemed like a short time, nothing really. But now?

It’s an eternity. Reflected back to him in broken glass, in half full drawers, in his son’s eyes. 

In yours.

comments + tags + reblogs are so appreciated

oh simon...what do you want?

series masterlist here

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | WRATH

Wrath: a strong anger and/or hate towards another person.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 21k (oops)

Warnings: PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS AS THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VERY HEAVY THEMES—SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, hate sex, rough sex, fingering (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), touch of voyeurism, choking, praise, degradation, dom/sub, sir kink, choking, touch of impact play, name calling, bratty sub, ANGST, very toxic themes, intentional jealousy, jealousy/possessiveness, very descriptive scenes of anger, gaslighting/manipulative behaviour/phrases, fighting, crying, mentions of physical violence, yelling, belittling oneself and others, self destructive behaviour, self-hatred, mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of cheating, mentions of grief/parent loss, mentions of breakups/breakups, depression, anxiety, mentions of addiction/drug use, mentions of blood/bleeding, swearing, drinking, so sorry if i miss any!

here it is, the long awaited chapter. wrath has been a chapter I’ve been looking forward to since the very beginning, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me get this far. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes (lightly edited) 😘

Heartbreak is such a cruel word, always insinuating that the very thing that breathes life into your body has been shattered and destroyed beyond repair. Heartbreak is violent, it is isolating, and it is gruesome. It is also something you never once believed you would let yourself feel again, and for years, you had done so well adhering to your own rules.

Love in itself is a funny thing; such a powerful emotion that is not only widely felt, but almost always ends in catastrophe. You were not one for love, and you had known that ever since you found yourself sitting in a bleak beige office across from a divorce lawyer at the young age of 22. Before that, when you cried ugly tears over a hospital bed while holding the sick, frail hand of your once mighty father, the notion began to rise in your mind. You could distinctly remember looking across the room, catching sight of your mothers grief-stricken eyes, and even then you could not begin to comprehend falling in love only to lose someone so tragically.

It always seemed like a curse to you, rather than a blessing; you watched too many relationships fail and leave disaster in its wake, too many people never recover from heartbreak greater than this lifetime, and too many people watch their greatest loves succumb to sickness before their very eyes. You could not position yourself in such a powerless situation, nor could you choke down the pain that came after it. The idea of giving yourself completely to another was not something you were keen on, nor ever wanted for yourself, especially after doing it once and receiving nothing but sorrow in return.

A lifetime of loneliness seemed better than decades of pain, because if you were going to suffer, you thought it best to do it on your own accord.

It’s not like you were isolated; perhaps your heart always craved a little more, but never enough for you to throw your morals in the garbage. Company came in all forms, as did fulfillment. You found solace in friends, family and colleagues. Your life was full of love, even if it was not in the way that is most expected of a person. You knew how to feel it, how to appreciate another in a selfless show of emotion, but never in romance. Casual sex was your forte, and it bridged the gap between your fear of committing and the human urge for connection. It was something you did well at, never lingering for too long and cutting things off before becoming too invested. As of recent, you seemed to stray away from that lifestyle, too, as you began to understand that one wrong move left you in a position that was uncomfortable and complicated. You adored your peace, and you loved your personal space, and if that meant keeping everyone else out, you were willing to sacrifice fulfillment on behalf of happiness.

Your friends and family thought you were insane for lacking the desire to settle down and start a family, that you would rather live alone instead of make space for another. They couldn’t understand you, nor could you understand them. You were two sides of the same coin, and it was always best to leave the discussion of love under the table. Your mother had another daughter to give her grandchildren, and even if she did not, you could not take that burden upon yourself just to make her happy. With time, she had grown much more understanding, and you knew that the more the years went on, the more she would be able to comprehend your feelings on the matter.

You were committed to your job, and your lifestyle. You loved drinking at the bar, and you loved to have fun in every aspect of the word. You liked to laugh, to do things that left impactful memories, and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that. You did a good job of keeping life simple, and you were confident in your ability to maintain your integrity in the process.

Five years of that lifestyle had made you a professional of sorts. Then, Jacob fucking Kiszka walked into your life and ruined the whole damn thing.

With his pretty eyes and his devilishly beautiful face, he had charmed his way into your bed. With his witty humor and compelling aura, he’d managed to convince you to be his friend. With his sweet words and gentle smile, he’d easily become your favorite person in the whole world, and not long after that, you realized that you had fallen for him beyond any doubt. You were in love with him in the most sincere and honest way, and you loved him enough that you could not manage distance yourself from him, even if you so badly wanted to.

But, he was a man, and beyond the surface, they were all the same. It took one night for him to shatter the comfortability the two of you created, and it took one night to destroy the heart that he had a helping hand in repairing.

You wished you could say that at the sight of his lips locked with another woman and his tongue down her throat, you vowed to be the bigger person. You wanted to walk away, to forget he ever existed and move on with your life. You intended to stitch your wounds in silence, and flourish in seclusion. When you stepped back out into the real world, maybe he could catch a glimpse of you and realize all that he’d lost by being so immature. You wanted it so badly, and you did not crave to involve yourself in his childish behavior. When you left the bar the night he found himself wrapped around another girl, you promised yourself that you would never see him again, nor would try to hurt him the same way he hurt you. You wanted to move on, to take the loss and be better for it.

You had quickly come to learn that promising something and following through are two very different things.

The first night, you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke the next day, the pain was still abundant and relentless. You drank a bottle of wine while playing the saddest songs you knew on the piano, but not even that seemed to help. After that, you did all you could to ignore the hurt in your heart, hoping that if you did not submit to it, it would leave you alone. Food sickened you, and no matter where you situated yourself in your home to try and lessen the memory, it only seemed to hurt worse. His presence clung to every surface. It lived in the fabric of your couch, and the soft cotton of your bedsheets. It was sitting at your kitchen table, and even in the shower, too.

Even if you notice something in a room is missing, the memory of the loss ensures that it will remain indefinitely.

By the third day, you had become so angry that you could not even recognize yourself in the mirror. All of the hurt you were holding back was unbearable, bubbling to the surface with a vengeance. It was upset about being ignored and begging to be heard, disguising itself as anger to showcase its unhappiness with your unwillingness to acknowledge it. You were irritable, your patience thin and bordering non-existence. You cancelled your upcoming clients with a promise to reschedule, and you went to the gym excessively in hopes that the ache of your muscles would cover the sound of the ever-increasing pain in your heart.

You knew you were too far gone when one day, instead of walking away in frustration when your fork had fallen to the floor while trying to heat up old takeout remaining in your fridge, with little care, you had thrown the plate in its entirety to the ground, too. You watched as the porcelain shattered and the food scattered across the floor, no horror or regret in your body. Instead, you only felt emptiness at the sight of the mess you’d made. You took a step over it, ignoring it until you had the energy to clean it, and crawled into your bed in a mess of tears.

Thats when it finally started; all of the hurt turned your maturity into childish rage. You were angry with everything, and you were so full of sorrow that it made it difficult to breathe.

Wrath was just around the corner, and you were too far gone to stop it before it started.

An idea blossomed in your mind amidst the chaos, and at first, you denounced it as quickly as it appeared. It was immature, irrational, and would only open the door for even more trouble. But, as you raised a whiskey glass to your lips with a shaking hand in the darkness of your living room on a boring Wednesday night, you could not refute the temptation. You wanted to hurt Jake the same way he hurt you. You wanted to make him suffer just like you did, crying in his brothers arms while he occupied himself with the prettier, more convenient option.

It was a shot in the dark, and it would only work if he felt the same for you as you did for him. In the last few days, you had been seriously debating whether or not he did. He seemed to move on so easily, making you wonder if he was just playing a long game with you or if you’d hurt him bad enough that he knew no other way to cope with his own breaking heart. Then, you remembered his hands on her, and his lips on her, and it sickened you to the core. It made you feel like he really did want the cop out option, or that he wanted someone who was easier and much less broken. He wanted less baggage, less commitment, and with you, he could not have that. You had long passed simplicity, and outgrown casual. He didn’t want you, and you needed to choke down the fact if you ever had a chance at recovery.

But, with the slim chance that he did care for you the same and he was just being immature about his hurt, you knew you had to act if you were ever going to get the justice you so desperately craved. Revenge is a dangerous game, but you had already gambled your life when you offered your heart to him.

After losing so many times, the prospect of winning became all the more appealing. You would gamble your last breath to finally have the upper hand on him.

So on a warm Saturday evening, you found yourself holed up in your bathroom with a curling iron running through your hair. Your lips were painted red to match the skimpy dress that hugged your body, and your eyes were dark with eyeshadow and dramatic eyeliner. You had put on your best perfume, which just so happened to be the one Jake had claimed as his favourite. As you finished up your hair, you sprayed a thin layer of hairspray so it would stay in place. Just as you did so, a knock sounded on your front door. You went to greet your company with a fake smile on your lips and less than genuine enthusiasm. As you opened the door, a nervous flutter in your stomach reminded you that your idea could end catastrophically.

Behind the door was a familiar face, handsome and smiling as his eyes landed on you. But, his beauty was nowhere near Jake’s, and his smile was nice, but not even close to the breathtaking nature of his. A few days prior, you had scrolled through your Facebook friends in search of a suitable candidate to take on a date. When your eyes landed upon a name of a friend you had lost contact with after high school, you thought it would be a great opportunity to catch up while also using him for your ugly ulterior motives. You reached out, and he responded instantly, thus making your work so much less tiresome. Within a day he was flirting, and within two, you had plans for dinner at an expensive restaurant nearby Jake’s apartment complex. He had picked the spot, and the location just happened to relate with your plans.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi,” you continued forcing the smile, hoping that by the time you settled down to eat, the false nature you held in your heart would settle into comfortability. “Come in for a second, I’m just finishing up.” You stepped aside, allowing him entry. His eyes scanned your walls, taking in the decoration, but he didn’t study it for too long before his stare landed back on your chest.

‘Classy.’ You held back an eye roll as you made a mental note of his lack of maturity. Then again, who were you to judge him when you were only going on the date to piss someone else off? He followed as you walked to your bedroom to grab your purse. ‘Perfect.’ You smiled to yourself, your eyes catching the large mirror displayed in front of your bed. You grabbed your purse and looked over at him, noticing that his eyes were still glued on your body.

“A picture before we go?” You asked, nodding towards the mirror. “Wouldn’t want to forget how good we look.”

“Of course.” He agreed, smiling as he took a step towards you.

You grabbed your phone from the bed, pulling up the camera as he positioned himself behind you. His hand landed just above your hip, his fingertips resting near your stomach as his palm cupped around your side. His seemingly expensive watch was displayed perfectly in the frame, making you wonder if he was also using you as a showpiece for his own personal gain. You turned your head towards him, looking upwards at his face. He was considerably taller than you were, so he had to look down to meet your gaze. You gave him a smile, which he returned with little hesitation. You rested your hand just below his and you raised your phone to your chest, centring it between you two and pointing it at the mirror. You snapped a few pictures, looking down at the screen to check if they were sufficient enough to post.

“We look good together,” he noted, his hand still lingering on you.

“We do.” You agreed, biting back a smirk.

‘Don’t get used to it.’ You thought, heaving a little sigh.

“Ready?” He asked. You gave him a nod, slipping on a pair of heels you’d placed by your bed. Without any further conversation, the two of you went to the front door and walked out. You locked it behind you while he started towards his car, opening the passenger door for you. You settled into the seat, noticing the overwhelming scent of cologne still lingering in the air. It was nice, but not nearly as delicious as the one Jake wore so often. You had to stop comparing the two; yes, you were intending to piss Jake off, but you did not want to be stuck in a constant state of wanting him anymore. As much as you were using the boy to make Jake angry, you were also hoping that when the night was through, you would no longer be stuck on him the same way you had been for the last week.

“I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me.” He said, backing out of your driveway and pulling you from your thoughts. “I’m really glad you reached out at all, actually:”

“I am too,” you smiled “it’s going to be really nice to catch up. I haven’t seen you since… well, high school.” You chuckled.

“Yeah,” he nodded, starting the short drive to the restaurant he’d made reservations at. “If I’m being completely honest, I always had a crush on you back then. Guess I was always too scared to say anything.” You tried your best to hold back a grimace at his words. After spending so many months with someone who was all but shy about his feelings, cowardice seemed to turn you off. If Jake were the one sitting in the drivers seat, he already would have told you how badly he wanted to take your clothes off (only after praising your beauty, of course). Now faced with someone who was nearly shaking at the thought of calling you pretty, you missed the blunt nature of his words more than anything.

“Well, I was a bit preoccupied, anyway.” You tried to ease the tension, regretting bringing up your ex the moment the words left your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s true. He was a dick, and I’m glad you got away from him.” He said, turning onto the highway without another word. Your stomach churned at the thought of him, and there was a rush of fear that flooded you. It had been so long since you had associated with someone who knew your ex husband, and you had forgotten how peaceful it was to be around people who did not know he existed. “You look stunning, by the way.” He wanted to change the subject, realizing that talking about your ex while on a date may not have been the best idea.

“Thank you.” You gave a soft smile, looking from him to the phone sitting in your lap. It was time for phase two of your devilish plan. “You look good too.” You said as you picked up your phone. You unlocked the screen, scrolling through the pictures you’d taken moments before and carefully choosing the one where you looked the best. You edited the lighting slightly on your camera app to make it look even better before opening Snapchat. You chose the picture from your camera roll, picking a heart sticker and shrinking it down so it just fit over his face. You hit the ‘post to story’ button, biting down on the inside of your lip as anxiety began to plague you.

Within seconds, the picture was uploaded. Before you even looked away from the screen, you could see that someone had viewed the image. You had your doubts that he’d seen it so quickly, but there was an incessant nagging in the back of your mind to check and see, just in case. You loaded the story, swiping up to see the view list, and sure enough, Jake’s contact was the only name on the page.

‘Let the game begin.’ You thought, unable to hold back the smirk as you locked your phone again.

“So what have you been up to, Scott?” You asked, turning your attention back to the boy behind the wheel. You could feel your phone vibrating against your leg, but you did not care enough to check it just yet.

“I went away for school for a while, then decided to come back home when I finished. My parents had a hard time with me living so far away, and I guess I did, too.”

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, trying not to notice the prickle of sadness that filled your heart when he spoke of his parents. “What are you doing for work?”

“I’m an accountant at my dad’s law firm, now.” You almost forgot he came from money, nodding along as he inadvertently told you all about his generational wealth. You had no idea how it slipped your mind as you were sat in this years newest Audi model, and the Rolex on his wrist was blinding you every time the street lights pooled in through the windows. “I don’t think I need to ask you, though. You’re one of the most popular photographers in the city, now.”

“Some would say that.” You chuckled. “Not sure if I would agree.”

“I would.” He cut you off, not willing to take argument on the fact. “Your work is really good.”

“Thank you.” You felt your cheeks redden at the sentiment. For a moment, you let the guilt get the best of you. You almost asked him to turn around and take you home, needing to confess to your sins and repent for the fact you were only using him for your own benefit. Then, the moment passed as soon as it came. You did not need to tell him and risk hurting his feelings more; you just had to sit through the night and make civil conversation, and maybe share a kiss or two. The thought wasn’t terrible, even if you’d rather be kissing someone else. When you parted ways at the end of the night, you would thank him for the fun. In the morning, you could tell him a half-truth and confess that it wouldn’t work, and you weren’t ready for a commitment like you previously thought.

That would solve it all, right?

You hadn’t thought it all through yet, and you could admit to that. But, you were good at thinking on your feet, and you were certain you would be able to get yourself out of the mess you were making.

“I remember in high school, you would always walk around with that big clunky camera from the yearbook committee. You took pictures of everything, all of the time.” He chuckled. You were only slightly embarrassed at the memory, but you chose not to respond. “I thought it was cute, and I think it’s really cool you’re still doing that. You have to do what makes you happy, right?” He glanced over at you, his dark hair offsetting the paleness of his skin.

He was incredibly attractive, and you could not deny that. His skin was soft, smooth and inviting. A small, slutty part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, but you refused to allow yourself the pleasure. His hair was soft, shaved down on the back of his head and faded perfectly into the longer hair on top. It was black, and looked perfectly silky, tempting you to run your fingers through it. His smile lit up his whole face, the upturn of the corners of his lips (which were soft and pink, the sight alone sending a flutter to your stomach) made dimples appear on his slightly blushed skin and crinkles form by his eyes. His arms underneath the suit jacket seemed strong, and the veiny hands that gripped the steering wheel aided the assumption.

The suit he had on was perfectly tailored to his body, probably with the funds lining his wallet from his fathers law firm. For a second, you forgot why you had asked him out, focused only on his blinding beauty.

Maybe he was exactly what you needed to forget about Jake, and you wondered if should use that to your advantage. His hands seemed like a perfect distraction, and his mouth seemed even better. A single night didn’t seem so bad, and the longer you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the ache growing between your legs.

But, your anxiety got the best of you yet again. You feared you would end up in an even messier situation than the one you were in already; in love with someone and in bed with another who seemed overly enamoured with you. A love triangle was not what you needed, but it seemed like you had opened the door for it amidst your struggle to feel better. Then, your mind soured when you realized that Jake had likely fallen into bed with the girl from the bar. For all you knew, she might be with him right now, laying in his bed and giggling at his jokes. The thought sickened you, and you looked back at your company for the night.

Whatever happened was meant to happen, you deducted. You would not encourage anything, but who were you to stop it if the opportunity arose?

“You have to do what makes you happy.” You agreed, shooting him your first genuine smile of the night.

What would make you happy, you had no idea.

Surely not by having meaningless sex with a boy you’d seen for the first time in nearly a decade, especially after having such meaningful sex with Jake for so long. You were confused, and you were hurting. Your internal debate was chipping away at your psyche, but you looked too good and you were too committed to the bit to back out now.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, relief flooded you as you realized you wouldn’t have to continue on the conversation of happiness and how to find it. Before the two of you made your way inside, you felt your phone vibrating intensely on your lap, signalling an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, glancing down at it just long enough to see Jake’s name on your screen.

You sent the call to voicemail, looking quickly over the text messages that had been filtering in non-stop since you had uploaded the incriminating picture.

😈

Who the fuck is that?

😈

?

That text was immediately followed by a phone call, and when that went unanswered, he tried again.

😈

Answer your fucking phone y/n

It seems as though your plan was working fantastically, and against his better judgement, he had broken the radio silence without a second thought. The next step was simple, but probably the most effective one yet; you clicked on the notification bars, bringing yourself into the chat so the read receipt would show under his last texts. Then, you turned your phone on do not disturb and slipped it in your purse.

Jake hated being ignored, and you knew if he had such a volatile reaction to the picture itself, this would surely send him straight to insanity.

‘Checkmate.’ You thought to yourself, biting back a cocky smirk.

You did not think your plan through nearly enough, and disaster was looming overhead, just out of sight.

“Ready to head in?” You asked, shaking off the nervous jitters in your hands.

“Yeah,” he nodded, opening his car door. Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had walked to your side of the vehicle and opened your door for you. He extended a hand to you, which you accepted with a smile. He helped you out of the car, and once you were steady on your feet, he slipped an arm around your waist. You tried to ignore the flutter in your belly as he secured his hand to your hip and pulled you closer to him.

The two of you advanced towards the entrance. You stood back while he checked in for the reservation, and within moments, you were being lead to a table on the quieter side of the building. When you sat down, the romance in the room was immediately overwhelming. There was tea light candles lit around the table, and a large centrepiece with flowers and fairy lights sat directly in the middle of the table clothed with a white cloth. Menues were sat in front of you, and the waiter assured you he would be back in a moment to take your drink orders.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked, looking at you over the top of his menu.

“No, actually.” You shook your head, catching his gaze. Your heart leapt to your throat, finding yourself lost in the dark brown of his irises. Then, your eyes trailed downwards, noticing a flash of toned muscle from underneath his collared shirt. He noticed your reaction, smiling at your intrigue. He had a gold chain clasped around his neck, accentuating the columns of his neck that lead down into his collarbones.

He was stunning, and in another world, you thought you might even pursue him further.

“It’s my first time, too. I’ve heard good things, though.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s the best in town.” You gave a nervous laugh, focused on his hand resting comfortably on the table. You thought it would look much better decorating your thigh.

“What do you want from this, y/n?” He asked, genuine intrigue plaguing him. You tried to swallow your anxiety as you formulated an answer. “You can be honest.”

“When I reached out, I definitely wasn’t expecting anything like this.” You said, truthful in your response. You had hoped, but you definitely did not expect it to go to plan so quickly. “I’m a busy woman, and usually I don’t do this. I was hoping to catch up, but I don’t know how committed I can be to anything serious.”

“I respect that.” He nodded, placing his menu down on the table again. “If I’m being honest, I just went through a pretty rough breakup. I may have jumped a little too quickly.” Your sigh of relief was audible, and quite heavy in the room.

“Me too.” You admitted, the confession weighing on your shoulders. It was the first time you had referred to what you and Jake had as a breakup, but it felt right. What you had was much closer to a relationship than anything else, even if it was not what you wanted to call it. You did not need to divulge into the details of the real reason you agreed to go on a date with him. You felt it would be too harsh.

“So we’re here as friends, and we’ll see how the night goes?” He offered, not seeming too upset about the conclusion. You stared at him for a moment longer, a smirk breaking out on your lips.

“You can say you want sex, Scott. We’re adults, we can be honest.” His cheeks heated at your words, but a smile did form on his face. “I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” He seemed to relax in his seat, now comfortable knowing that he need not worry about impressing you as much.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “A friendly dinner with the intent of sex. No promise of anything more after that.”

“I like that better.” You grinned, also feeling the anxious feeling subside at the agreement. The two of you had drawn a line that both of you were happy with. “So your last girlfriend…?” You asked, treading the topic carefully.

“Yeah,” he laughed, nodding as you asked. “We were together for a while. Three years or so. Couple months ago, I came home and she was gone. All of her shit was packed up and when I called to check on her, went straight to voicemail. Never heard from her again.”

“Oh, wow.” You breathed, your eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry, honey. People are the worst.” He shrugged, looking to the side as the waiter approached the table again. He ordered a bottle of wine, waiting until he walked away to speak again.

“Shit happens. Sometimes you just have to take it as it comes.” He explained, not feeling any need to go any further into it. “And I’m assuming your boyfriend was no better?”

“No,” you laughed, looking down at your manicured hands. “But I don’t think you could really call him my boyfriend, anyway. More like a guy who only showed up to make my life more complicated. I thought we were exclusive until we got into a fight, which I’ll admit was my fault. We made up when we ran into each other at the bar, then his date for the night showed up.” You gave a tight-lipped smile, the memory causing a bitterness to rise in your chest.

“People are the worst.” He reiterated your point, sending you sympathetic eyes.

“They are indeed.” You agreed.

“So am I on a revenge date?” He asked, picking up on your nervous stare. “It’s okay if I am. Either way, I’m still the one who gets to spend the evening with you.” He flashed you a breathtaking smile, showing his enthusiasm either way.

“When you put it like that, it makes me sound terrible.” You said, your cheeks burning red and incriminating you even further. You were terrible, and you deserved to be treated as such. Asking him on a date to piss someone else off was a horrible thing to do, and you never should have done it in the first place.

“Not if I support it.” He shrugged, thanking the waiter as he dropped off the bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured two for you both, sliding one in your direction. “Like I said, beautiful. I get to have dinner with you either way.” You reached for the glass, taking a long sip. Your red lipstick decorated the rim, claiming the beverage as your own. “Just friends is okay with me if you’d rather do that. I’m just happy to see you after all these years.”

“I’m happy to see you, too. You were always great company back then.”

“I told a joke or two every now and again.” He laughed, remembering his goofy stature and desire to be the class clown. You wished so badly that you could just get over yourself, to move on and enjoy the time you were spending with an old friend. You wanted to be done with Jake and lean across the table to kiss the incredibly attractive man who was smiling over at you, but you felt frozen in place. As nice as it was to be with Scott, and as much as you wished to purge Jake from your life, you could not seem to do it. The thought of kissing someone else nearly made you sick, which also brought you to the horrendous reality that it was so easy for Jake. He was not caught up on you the way you were with him, and you needed to understand that in order to get better.

“Do you remember when you super glued all of Mr. Barksdale’s stuff to his desk?” You giggled, recalling the memory fondly as you searched for a subject to change the conversation up.

“How could I forget? He turned as red as the dress you’re wearing.” He let out another laugh, this one genuine straight from his belly. You could not help but join, finding the sound incredibly infectious. “He was so mad at me, I thought I was going to get expelled.”

“We all did. He hated you.” You grinned, wiping tears from your eyes that formed while amidst the laughing fit.

“Let’s be honest, most of the teachers did. I was a little shit.” He said, leaning back in his chair to calm himself down. Once he recovered, he took a long sip from his own wine. “One time, I took all of the free condoms from the guidance counsellers office and put one on every door handle in the building.”

“Oh god, that was you?!” You exclaimed, causing him to let out another belly-laugh. The happiness floating in the air was real, and you did not need to fake the joy written all over your face. It was the first time in days you had genuinely smiled, and weeks since you’d laughed like you were in that moment. It was freeing, and it helped you realize that there was life after Jake Kiszka, just the same as there was before.

“It was.” He nodded, wiping away his own tears.

“I had to wash my hands every time I opened a door for like a week!” You blamed him, but you knew it was due to the lack of janitors employed at the public schools. “And they never bothered to replace the free condoms, either.”

“You went looking for those a lot?” He teased, still trying to rid himself of the fit of giggles.

“It was way more convenient than buying them!” You plead your case, not really caring about the joke at your expense.

“Right,” he nodded, exhaling a long sigh after gaining his composure. “You see? I’m always down for a little mischief. Plus, if you’re using me to make someone jealous, I kind of take that as a compliment. Means you think I’m cute.”

“I always thought you were cute,” you rolled your eyes. “Funny and rich? How could I not?”

“So shallow,” he let out a disaproving tsk, but he did not seemed bothered by your comment. “I think that being friends would be nice right now. Who knows, maybe in the future, it’ll work out in our favour?” He offered. “If not, I’ll still be happy to have you as a friend again. If I remember correctly, you were a fierce little sidekick to have, and a pretty good wing-woman.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your voice was shrill, surprised at such a statement.

“Oh, come on!” He rolled his eyes. “You were the first to tell someone off if they deserved it. Remember Alex Kiser, that little asshole on the football team?”

“Of course I do.” You scoffed.

“He seemed pretty intent on making my life hell for years, and then one day when we were in the library, you got up in his face and said everything that you had on your mind. He left crying, and I don’t think he ever bothered me again.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, not realizing that your gall had been so memorable that it stuck with him that long after it happened. “And junior prom! You helped me make the poster to ask Rachel Miller, only after you talked me up for months when you sat with her in History class.” You finished your wine as he spoke, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. When you sat your glass down, he refilled it for you.

“Okay, okay.” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands to save yourself the extra embarrassment. You hated thinking about your antics in high school.

“What I mean is, you were a great friend back then, and I’d be lucky to have you as a friend, now.” He said, reaching over the table and placing a gentle hand on your arm. You peeked at him through the cracks of your fingers, the blush still lingering on your skin. After a few seconds, his hand trailed up to meet one of yours. He locked a finger around your own and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

“Thank you, Scott.” You mumbled, averting your gaze to the white tablecloth. His eyes were too pretty to keep watching, and you feared that with another few sips of wine, you would end up making an even worse decision for yourself. “Friends would be very nice. I haven’t had many as of late. I think when I left Seth, I cut off everyone. Wanted to start over, and I did.”

“We can do friends, y/n. I’d love to be friends, actually.” He promised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “With a little jealousy on the side, of course.”

“Right, how could I forget.” You chuckled.

“Is it the type of revenge that makes him regret everything, or the kind that makes him angry enough to show up here tonight? Cause I can play both parts. I make for a phenomenal actor.”

“Oh yeah? You take up Drama Club in university?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, but I did have to pretend to be interested in Macroeconomics for three whole months, and I promise you it was not easy.”

“You poor thing.” You smirked, your fake sympathy completely apparent.

“So what is it, sunshine? I’ll put on a good show.”

“Both, I think. I’m not sure what I want yet, or if it’ll even do anything.” You shrugged. “He seemed quite uninterested at the bar that night.”

“Have you checked your phone yet?”

“Not since we came in here.” You admitted, not shy of the fact you had been completely immersed in his company. You pulled it from your purse, turning on the screen to see if he had tried to message you again. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the amount of notifications piling on the screen.

“Seems like it’s working.” He smiled. “You think another picture will do him in?”

“I think it might give him a heart attack,” You muttered, letting your eyes wander over the few words you could read from the notifications. He was pissed, and in some strange way, it made you feel good. “Let’s do it.” You said, unlocking the screen and ignoring everything Jake had to say about your night out on the town. You opened your camera again, looking around the table while thinking of the best course of action.

“If you’re looking for a movie-style blowout, I suggest putting the menus in the picture.” He offered.

“You’re a genius.”

“Evil genius,” he corrected, positioning both menus under your hands that were already intertwined. Without moving too much, he moved the wine bottle so it was in clear view of the camera too. “My only stipulation is that we have to go for lunch soon, just so you can tell me how it went.”

“Are you playing wingman, now?” You questioned. He gave a sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was kind of hoping that you might let me have the pictures too, so maybe I could do the same.” He explained. “Not to get her back, but I know me going on a date with an absolute smokeshow would definitely piss her off.”

“Of course.” You laughed at the universe, finding it perfectly comedic that the two of you would be going through such similar things. Hand in hand, you snapped a few pictures of the sight while ensuring the restaurant name was easily recognizable. You fixed up the image, adjusting the brightness and contrast before opening Instagram and uploading it to your story. Once it posted successfully, you shoved your phone back in your purse.

“Now we wait.” He said, almost excited for what was to come next. He’d loved attention, and he was always ready to be the star of the show.

“What if he hits you?” You said, finally realizing how poorly the night could go.

“I can take it,” he promised, no real fear over a fight. “So what’s he like, anyway? He must be something special to have you so enamoured with him.” A sad smile crossed your lips as you thought of a good answer, unsure of exactly how to word it.

“He is.” You muttered. “I gave up on dating and romance, and when I met him, I still felt that way. But after a while of spending every day together and doing things that I’ve never done with anyone else, it started to feel normal. It was more strange when he wasn’t around. I fell without even realizing it, and I was in way too deep before I could even admit it to myself. He turned my world upside down, and he made me feel things I never thought I would feel again, but he took it away too, and I don’t know how to move on from it. I don’t know what to do, or how to act, or anything.” You sighed, suddenly realizing all of the incriminating things you’d said. You looked up, plagued with guilt for talking about another man so intensely while on a date, but he was only smiling at your words.

“You can’t let that go, y/n.” He said, catching your eye to show his sincerity. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve the love you always should have been given.”

“Stop,” you waved him off, overwhelmed with the profound statement.

“Does he make you happy?” He asked.

“Yeah,”

“Do you want to make it work?” You had to think about it, but eventually you gave a nod.

“I think I do, but I don’t know how.”

“If he feels the same, you’ll figure it out.” He promised, taking another sip of wine.

“Do you want me to pay for the wine? I feel terrible about how this turned out.” You laughed.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m having a fantastic time. You can buy lunch when you catch me up on all of the details.”

“Sounds like a deal.” You grinned, happy that he was so understanding. Before you had the chance to speak again, your attention was grabbed by a loud voice booming over the sound of soft classical music and low chatter. It sounded once, and you thought you might be able to ignore it. You couldn’t make out what it was saying, and it did not seem like the disturbance would continue. You took another sip from your wine, finishing off the second glass before you tried to continue the conversation.

As the bottom of the glass touched down on the table, your gaze shifted to the newest excitement in the room. Your stomach dropped and your eyes grew wide. You couldn’t find the words to communicate with Scott, so instead you gave his leg a gentle kick under the table to warn him of the fact that Jake had indeed cracked the code, and was pissed off enough to show up and get the answers he so desperately needed. Before your date could even catch on to what you were trying to tell him, Jake was close enough that his cologne was suffocating you and you could see his chest heaving with anger.

“Get up.” He ordered before he even stopped in front of the table.

“Jake, what the-“

“Get the fuck up, y/n. We’re going home.”

“You can’t just show up and tell me to leave.” You scoffed, still trying to digest the fact that he was in front of you. Part of you thought that the picture might push him too far, but a bigger one believed that he did not care enough about you to let it bother him that much. Now that he was in front of you, clearly dressed to impress you and outshine your date (or, his new-found enemy, rather), you could not seem to grasp the fact that after everything, he still wanted you. He sat up at night thinking about you, wondering if things would ever get better. He tossed and turned, hating that his bed still smelled like your shampoo, and he sat by his phone every minute of the day waiting for you to reach out. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but for some reason, it was too surreal for you to accept it.

“I’m not asking.” He made that point abundantly clear.

“Hey, man, I don’t mean-“

“I’m not fucking talking to you, am I?” Jake’s head turned sharply towards Scott, an abundance of anger pooling in his eyes. If Scott cared for his own safety, you hoped that he would heed the warning.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Although you had poked the bear, you were having a hard time finding any sympathetic feelings for his distress. You knew that he might show up, but it did not change your naturally strong personality. You lived to fight with him on every stance he took, and now seemed no different. His harsh approach and cocky tone were pissing you off more by the minute.

‘Who does he think he is? Showing up after days of no contact, demanding I go with him? What a-‘

“I’m not going to say it again,” Jake spoke, cutting your thoughts short. “Get up, go outside, and get in the car.” His dangerously low voice sent a shiver down your spine. “I promise that you do not want me to have to repeat myself.” He caught your eye, the look familiar and more chilling than it ever was before. It made your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the need for friction on your aching core more dire than anything else you were feeling in that moment. You had no fear that he would hurt you, but you knew that once the two of you were alone, punishment would be due. If you survived the horrific aftermath of the fire that was blazing in both of your hearts, of course.

“Maybe she’d cooperate if you weren’t talking to her like a fucking dog.” Scott cut in, finding Jake’s tone too strong for his liking. He was not battling for your affection, but he did not care for the way he was speaking to you. He stood, ready to get between the two of you, but Jake turned on his heels so fast that it made your head spin. Scott was easily a head taller than Jake, but despite the physical difference, Jake was holding all of the power.

“You don’t get to talk to me about her, ever.” He took a step closer, fuming at the thought of your name on his lips. His finger was pointed at him, pushing into his chest further with each word he spoke. For a moment you feared that he might strangle him, realizing the look in his eye was far more dangerous than you’d ever seen before. You stepped towards Jake, placing a delicate hand on his shaking arm. At your touch, he immediately relaxed and lowered his hand.

“Let’s go.” You said, pushing Jake towards the door. After a moment of a staring contest between the two, Jake allowed you to nudge him in the right direction. As you walked behind him, ensuring he wouldn’t turn around, you turned your head back to look at Scott, sending him an apologetic stare. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if you were okay. You gave a nod alongside a subtle wink, which he returned after he was certain you were okay.

When you managed to get Jake to the front door, the strength in which you were holding his arm increased in an angry fashion. In the parking lot, you felt the need for damage control flee you, and your own pent up rage began to surface. “What the fuck was that about?” You let go of his arm with a little more force than intended, pushing him forward slightly as your hand disconnected from him.

“Who the fuck was that, y/n?” He said, turning around to face you with the same fire burning in his eyes. “And why the hell are you on a date with him?��

“I think you lost all rights to ask me that.” You warned, scowling at his forward questions. “Who I spend time with is none of your business anymore, and neither is my dating life.”

“None of my business?” He hissed, stepping towards you as he spoke. A cloud of wrath was forming around the two of you, locking you in and locking the rest of the world out. There was no escaping it even if you wanted to. “You are my business. If you’re safe, if you’re happy, all of it, whether you like it or not!”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re so concerned whether I’m fucking happy or not!” You exploded, throwing your hands out and landing your palms flat on his chest. In a sudden burst of emotion, you pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble. “It sure meant a whole lot to you when you were practically fucking that ditzy blonde in a booth in my bar!” He was stunned at your words and the strength in which you delivered them. “You don’t get to show up here and ruin my night and then pretend you fucking care, because you don’t and you never have!” You pointed a finger at him, uncaring of the grand show of emotion in the middle of the parking lot. “You apologize and tell me how much I mean to you, you have sex with me in the bathroom because you can’t wait until we get home, and then you make out with someone else in front of me all night!” Your voice cracked with tears, all of the hurt you’d been feeling pouring out at once. “Did you just say all that so you could fuck me? Or so you could leave it on good terms while you left for someone better?”

“Y/n-“ he warned, stepping forward again.

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk!” You begged, tears pooling in your eyes. “Was that all I was to you after all? Sex and somewhere to sleep for the night? Were you just keeping me around so you didn’t have to be alone while you looked for something else? Someone with less baggage, someone who’s easier to deal with than I am?” He reached up, grabbing your wrist tightly in his hand while his eyes warned you to back down.

“Get in the car.” He said, his voice as quiet as a whisper, but as impactful as a punch.

“I don’t want to go home with you, Jake! I just want to know the fucking truth, and then I never have to see you again!” His grip only tightened as you spoke.

“Get in the car, and I will answer your ridiculous fucking questions.” He tried again, keeping his cool because he knew that you were hurting much more than he was. The wine was clouding your mind, making your chest ache more than it ever had, and allowing you to make a fool of yourself in the public parking lot. “We will talk about this once I get you home safe. I’m not letting you get in a cab like this, and I need to know that you’re going to be okay.”

“Stop pretending that you care!” You tried to shake out of his grip, but he was much stronger than you. The longer he continued the act, the worse your heart hurt. You were confused, tipsy, and more than anything, heartbroken. You could not allow yourself to believe that he cared this much, and every time you let yourself second guess your doubt, the picture of him kissing the blonde at the bar plagued your mind.

“I’m not pretending!” He finally reached his limit, yelling back at you with just as much force. “I would never lie to you about that. If you know me at all, you’d know how much you fucking mean to me!” His voice cracked too, but he did better than you at covering it up. “Now get in the car, and then you can yell at me, and you can hit me, and you can scream all you want.” He was not willing to negotiate; his eyes were heavy with anger and his expression was stony. With a huff, you pushed past him, but you did as he asked and you climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

You slammed the door behind you, tossing your purse on the floor as you crossed your arms over your chest quite like a child amidst a temper tantrum. He got in the drivers side, closing his door with the same force as he shoved the keys in the ignition. Within seconds, he was pulling out of the parking spot and began driving down the streets to bring you home. You kept your mouth shut despite wanting to fill the stale air with cruel words and harsh insults. As he drove, you tapped your foot against the ground to pass the seconds until you were home.

You had not thought your plan all the way through; you wanted to hurt him, to piss him off and make him feel all the same ways you did at the bar that night. When talking with Scott, the prospect of making Jake angry enough to show up at the restaurant was intriguing, and definitely thrilling. Once the adrenaline wore off and you were left alone with the rotten feeling that had been steadily growing in your heart, you realized you did not want to see Jake at all. Having him in front of you reminded you of all of the feelings you were trying to bury, and seeing his face only made you fall in love with him even further. You were so angry with him that it made your head spin, but you cared about him so deeply that you were sickened at the thought.

Love itself is a funny thing after all, for not even the devil himself could understand it.

Jake's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, unable to hide the intensity of his emotions. When you allowed yourself to peek at him from the passenger side, you could not help but feel enamored with his face, even if wrath was wrapping itself around every feature that he had.

It almost drove you crazy, the seriousness etched into his stature. The downturn of his lips, leaving just the ghost of his earlier scowl would be off putting to some others, but you found beauty even in the midst of his pain. The furrow of his eyebrows was minimal, but you were drawn into the tiny wrinkles it left on his tanned skin. His eyes were black with anger, and he was almost unrecognizable.

To anyone untouched by the devil, the man before you would strike fear. To you, submerged and nearly buried underneath the sin, his wrath was like a drug. You could feel it seeping under your skin, igniting every nerve with flames and striking the match for your own. The devil within you fed off of his wicked heart, and his own evil did the same with yours. Between you was empty space, stale air that did not even hold a whisper of relief from the deafening silence. From nothing grew an unholy feeling. There was no room in the vehicle for anything lesser; the euphemisms and illusions you had previously drawn about his lack of morality no longer fit the narrative. Satan himself sat beside you, horns growing rapidly and his skin blistering red. You could not fear him, because when you turned to look out the window, you noticed your reflection and saw the pitchfork in your own hand as your eyes turned black as night.

The sin had finally caught up, and not even a priest could excise the demons from the two of you. Salvation was no longer an option, and the only thing left to do was face the devil within yourselves. The seventh, and the deadliest capital vice was begging to be heard. It was bleeding you both dry, the wrath so abundant that it was replacing all of the blood coursing through your veins with its own ferocious fury. Wrath was sewn into your skin, tying knots around your lips and blinding you with rage. It was wrapped around your neck, choking you and laughing as you begged for air. The two of you had done so much damage that you had turned yourselves into the personification of evil itself.

Walking away was the safest option, but after a lifetime of running, staying was the only thing the two of you wanted to do.

How pitiful to learn the lesson only after it manifested itself to be lethal.

“You’ve got nothing to say, now? Only want to fight with me if we can cause a scene?” He asked, flipping on the turn signal with nearly enough force to break it clean from the car.

“As if you need any help getting attention.” You rolled your eyes, muttering it to yourself. “As if I’m the one who fucking caused the scene in the first place.” You said the second part louder, stronger so he could hear the disdain in your voice.

“Like you weren’t trying to start something by posting those pictures.” He growled, the memory striking him particularly unpleasantly. The thought of another man’s hands on you was enough to drive him to violence. “Sorry, I forgot that I always have to be the bad guy.” He added, his grip tightening even further on the wheel as he turned off the highway.

“Would you fucking quit with the pity party?” You exploded, finally turning towards him. “Do you really think that you’re innocent? From what I understand, exclusivity doesn’t mean very much to you. If it did, you wouldn’t have been finger-fucking your side piece at the bar while I had to sit and watch!” The obscenity of your words didn’t even phase you, your anger so flaming that you were willing to say anything to get under his skin. “Or is it only okay when you do it, Jacob? You can fuck whoever you want, but I have to sit there and stay loyal to someone who doesn’t fuck about me! I’ve done that once before, but you’re not nearly special enough for me to want to do it again!”

“You didn’t stay and let me explain myself! I was only with her because I didn’t know how else to get your attention! You make me fall in love with you, and then you push me away. Then you tell me you care about me, and you walk away!” He brought his hand back, slamming it back down on the wheel with an intensity that made your head spin. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, maybe we would have went home together instead!”

At the sound of the guilty confession, your world came crashing down around you.

Your worst fear had been spoken into existence, and you weren’t sure if you could survive the grief plaguing you.

“Yeah, it’s all my fault Jake.” You nodded, attempting to blink away the tears that were falling faster than you could comprehend. “It’s my fault that you broke the only promise I ever asked you to keep, and it’s my fault that I didn’t tell you I loved you after I explicitly told you that I don’t do that, and it’s my fucking fault that instead of being an adult about it and talking about your feelings, you buried your dick in another girl!” You slammed your fist against his dashboard, your emotions piling up so high that a physical release was the only way to calm them down. “It’s all my fault, and I’m just the fucking worst! God forbid you take some accountability for your own stupidity!” Your hand slammed down again with every point you made, the ache spreading up the entirety of your arm. For a moment he feared you might set off the airbag with the strength you were using to hit the dash.

As you retracted your hand from the scene of the crime, he pulled into your driveway. You rubbed your knuckles, soothing the ache in your bones until the car rolled to a stop. As soon as it did, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the door. You grabbed your purse as you stepped outside, slamming the door before he could try to stop you. But, he was fast, and he was not willing to let you lock him out. He shut the car off and was hot on your trail before you even made it to the front steps. You fumbled with your keys as you tried to unlock your door, and when you finally saw the inside of your house, relief flooded you. You stepped inside, moving quickly to try and keep him out, but his hand collided with the door as you tried to shut it in his face.

“Take a fucking hint, asshole.” You spat, pushing against him.

“I’m not done talking!” He argued, barely straining as he rivaled your strength.

“I am!” You cried, begging him to understand. “I’m done talking, I’m done fighting, I’m done, Jake! I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

“I’m not letting you go, y/n.” He said, calmer than he was moments before. “I’m not letting you walk away again. I won’t walk away again.”

“Stop it!” You exploded, dropping your arm from the door in a moment of pure weakness. You were too distracted by the moment to remember your vow to keep him locked out. His words were too much, and it made all of the strength flee you and the pain grow larger. More than anything, it made your already poor judgment cloud even more. “Stop doing that, Jake! Stop hurting me and then telling me you care. Stop trying to be what we both know you aren’t!”

“What, y/n?” He scowled, his jaw clenched so tightly you feared he might pop a blood vessel. “Say it! Say the word! Stop being so fucking afraid of it!”

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend!” You yelled, reaching your breaking point. With that, he pushed the door open and stepped towards you. He reached out, landing one hand on your hip while the other one cupped your cheek. He kicked the door shut with a force as he leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss. The change in pace made you weak in the knees, but his advance was not unwelcome. The anger that was so evident in his features had been causing a mess between your legs since you first laid eyes in him.

The kiss was messy, both of you still fighting for control. He continued walking, keeping a firm grip on your hip so you didn’t lose your balance. You stepped in time with him, letting him lead you wherever he pleased. When your ass landed roughly against the lip of your kitchen counter, your stomach began to twist into knots. He pulled back, his chest heaving with the remnants of anger and now, desire.

“You’re right, angel. I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” He said, his expression completely foreign. It was like a stranger was standing before you, but it was not making you fearful; you were aching to know this version of him, and you wanted to know him as intimately as the situation would allow. He seemed like a man gone mad, all humanity gone from his eye and sex being the only thing that held any value to him.

For once, sex was finally the only thing the two of you were concerned about. No love, no respect, and not even any kind of affection. It was purely primal, and comfort was the last thing he had in mind.

But even more so than that, sex was the only way the two of you knew how to communicate, and he was using it to his advantage.

“I’m not even your friend.” He said, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m just sex to you, yeah?” His fingers were burning into your hip, leaving trails of blistering fire on your skin as they wandered to your thigh, settling just under the hem of your dress. “That’s all I’m good for, right sweetheart?” He moved his hips towards you slightly, but with force, causing your ass to press further into the marble countertop. You let out a gasp of pain, the sting radiating deep into the muscle as the solid surface settled in at a bruising angle.

“Y-yes.” You thought you could keep up the act, but his eyes intently focused on your own were sending you into a downward spiral of love for him. He was the whole world, and you were just living in it. You couldn’t lie enough to cover the fact, even if every word you spoke for the rest of your life was laced with dishonesty.

“I’m just something to help you get off,” he continued, his hand slipping under the fabric of your dress. “To fantasize about when your fingers are playing with that tight little cunt?”

“Yep,” you said, more confidently than the last time.

“Good to know,” he growled, pulling at the fabric of your dress until he heard the seams pop. You were so enthralled in his performance that you could not even find the will to care. “Now I can fuck you like a whore, and I don’t have to feel bad about it.” With that, he gave another hard tug and the stitching on one side of your dress came loose completely. It slumped from your body, falling around his hand in a pathetic heap. He let go of it, letting it fall to the floor without ever breaking eye contact. “If sex is all you want, I’ll fuck you just like you deserve.”

You wanted to fight with him; the anger was still bubbling under your skin and begging to be let out, but now that you were naked in front of him and his eyes showed unwavering dominance, you fell back into the roll with ease. He watched your face, not searching for discomfort, but obedience. This was not a debate, and you did not even pretend to hold any of the power. He slid his belt from the loops on his dress pants, folding it over on itself and gripping it tightly in his hand. Slowly, he placed the leather against your bare thigh, looking down as he slowly pulled it across your skin. The light tickle sent a shiver down your spine and you found yourself staring at his face, wondering what was running through his mind.

Had you pushed him too far?

Was he really stopping the whole conversation just to fuck you?

You were confused, and still incredibly hurt, but the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable. There was so much that needed to be discussed, but the longer the minutes dragged on, the less you cared about working it out.

He reached out with both hands, his grip holding on your hips. In one swift motion, he lifted you and placed you on the cold countertop. You jumped at the sudden chill that ran through you, but he did not comment, nor did he even seem to notice. With little warning, he snaked his hand between your legs and roughly pulled one to the side. His eyes were still focused on your cunt, his gaze never faltering. He didn’t want to look at your face; he didn’t want to see the contempt you held for him in your eyes, nor did he want to see the pain he caused any longer. He couldn’t look you in the eyes and face you like a man; he was angry, and hurt, but most of all, he could not forgive himself for how much he’d hurt you.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one, angel. Taking guys out on dates just to piss me off, posting pictures and ignoring me when I call…” he brought his hand to your heat, running his fingers through the wetness and spreading it to your clit. “If you wanted me to come over and fuck you, all you had to do was ask.” He said, his tone eerily calm. His middle finger tracing agonizingly slow circles around the sensitive nub, making your want to buck your hips forward into his hand for more. You needed him the same as the starving need food, but you were unwilling to sacrifice your dignity while showing him. “Or did you want to take him home? Have him between your legs like this, trying to make you feel as good as I can?”

You were faced with two options; tell the truth and fuel his ego, or lie and make him even angrier with you.

You were foolish to think that the devil would ever allow for the truth in your godless relationship.

“I did.” You replied, causing him to look up and finally meet your eye. The animalistic look was enough to drive you crazy, but you stayed put, pretending that the emotion in his eye did not phase you at all. “And I know he would’ve done it better than you can.” At that, his fingers stopped all movement. His grip tightened around the leather belt in his hand, tempted to use it, but knowing that it would not change your attitude. Instead, he gave you a smirk, fake but effective.

“You think he can fuck you like I can?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You held back a frown when he moved his hand away from you, completely cutting off contact. “You think he can make you feel better than I can?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your false confidence was astonishing, and even you believed it yourself for a moment.

“Okay, angel.” He nodded, taking a step back from you. He reached down and grabbed your purse that fell to the floor, opening it and grabbing your phone from inside. He dropped the bag to the ground again and tossed the phone on the counter beside you. Your stomach twisted with anxiety, wondering what he was doing. “If you think he can do a better job, call him. I’ll go home, and he can finish what I started, but I’ll be waiting for you to text me, asking me to come back because he couldn’t fucking do it right.”

You were appalled at the thought, but not because of his cockiness. That was normal now, and not often did it phase you. You were sickened at the thought of having someone else do what you so badly wanted Jake to do. Hours ago, you had convinced yourself that hooking up with another guy would help ease your pain, but now that Jake was in front of you again, you could not stomach the idea of another man touching you the same way.

He watched your face, taking in your shocked expression. He was bluffing; he would not let anyone else touch you like this in a million years, and he definitely would not hand out the invitation himself. His hope was that you realized that he was what you wanted, and not the guy you went to dinner with. He knew you well enough to know that you would never do such a thing, which is why he was confident enough to offer the idea. When you didn’t respond, he let out a low chuckle.

“That’s what I thought.”

Damn him and his ability to see right through you.

“Now shut your fucking mouth and behave yourself.” He said, taking a step back even further. “Since I can’t do it right, you can get yourself off.”

“Jake-“ you protested, unhappy with his decision.

“I don’t want to hear another word. YouI’ll do as you’re told.” He cut you off, giving you a stern warning. His nostrils flared slightly with anger, and the muscles in his jaw were tense. You bit back a snarky comment, clearly upset by his ridiculous request, but you let your hand sink between your legs anyway. He moved back towards the counter opposite of you, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest while he watched you run your own fingers through your folds. He still had his belt clenched tightly in his hand, making sure it didn’t stray too far. You knew he was itching for a chance to use it, and you couldn’t deny your own desire to feel it across your skin. You could see the erection growing in his pants, tenting the zipper and straining the fabric. You wanted him more than you ever wanted anything in your life, and sitting there touching yourself while he was so accessible was equal to torture.

Then again, that was his intent; he did not want to please you like he was often eager to do. He was angry with you, and when you anger the devil, punishment is not only expected, but ensured.

“Like this, sir?” You taunted, slowly trailing your middle finger to your clit, tracing slow circles around it. You wanted praise, but he wasn’t generous enough to give it to you. Even more than that, you wanted to push him enough to make him do the job himself, rather than sit and watch. He did not respond, but his eyes were intently focused on your hand as you touched yourself. Beneath the rage still lingering in his gaze, there was a sense of longing for you. He was torturing you, but he was doing the same to himself by having to hold back.

Since the night at the bar, he hadn’t been able to get the thought of you out of his head. Worse yet, he couldn’t forget the feeling of being inside of you, your cunt clenching around him as you dissolved into a mess below him, desperate for an orgasm. Being near you was like getting a fix of a drug he’d been withdrawing from for weeks, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle watching you get yourself off. There was a small fear inside him that he might come undone at the sight of you in pleasure alone.

You anchored your arm on the counter behind you, holding your weight on the single limb as you leaned backwards, allowing him a better view of the show you were putting on. You added more pressure to your finger, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as a wave of relief washed over you. You kept your eyes on his face, only allowing yourself to look at his cock strained in his pants every so often, knowing that it would only make your neediness worse. His gaze was still locked on your hand, and his chest was deeply rising and falling with every breath he took to calm himself. He was irresistible, and you did not know if you could keep going without as much as his hand on you in support.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped, feeling a pressure begin to build in your belly. It was nothing like how he could make you feel, but it was something, and that’s all that mattered. Progress, even if it was slight, meant that you were a little closer to him taking over for you.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He unraveled his arms from across his chest, reaching down and adjusting himself in his pants to relieve some of the pressure. “Listening isn’t so hard, is it?”

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes, still working your way up to an orgasm.

“Watch it,” he warned, unhappy with your sharp tone. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you get yourself off.”

“Oh you’re so generous.” You scoffed, your hand still working at yourself. The angry banter seemed to be helping your search for a climax. “Jake the hero! He’s just so fantastic and everyone should bow down and kiss his feet! I’m so happy to do all the hard work for you, thank you so much.” You grumbled, trying to keep your words as nice as you could despite wanting to tear a strip off of him. You were still angry, even underneath all of the sexual tension, and you were a bomb waiting to explode. You feared that if he pushed you just a little too far, the night would come to an end without any sexual gratification at all.

“You’re going to start with me again?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped towards you.

“Can’t take it?” You asked, a bit breathless from the pleasure pulsing through you. Your cheeks were tinged red from the feeling, and from the anger still simmering from earlier. Your skin was sticky with sweat and you were growing more desperate by the second. The sight of your struggle made him smile, knowing how badly you wanted him to reach out and touch you.

Once he was within an arm's reach, he settled himself between your legs again as your fingers remained in a steady pace on your clit. Before you could speak again, he drew his arm back and brought the belt down on your thigh. You let out a hiss of pain, instinctively trying to shy away from him, but his hand shot to your hip to hold you in place. Once you calmed down from the initial shock, you relaxed into his hold, surprised that he hit you as hard as he did.

“One chance, Angel.”

“W-what?” You asked, distracted from the rapidly changing environment.

“Tell me what the fuck your problem is.” He said, looking down his nose at you. In that moment, you could see his humanity return to him again. He cared so much, but he was sick of scaring you away by loving you. This was his only way to get you to tell him what was wrong without you running away. He’d been waiting for the opportunity to come all night, and he wasn’t letting it pass him by. “Get it all out now, ‘cause once you cum, I get my turn.” You were dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond to his request.

“You want me to berate you while I get myself off?” You questioned. “That’s a little fucked up, even for you, no?” Your tone was airy even after you tried to maintain your composure. The pressure in your belly was unbearable, but you slowed your movements to allow yourself some time.

“I want you to get rid of that fucking attitude.” He corrected, grabbing your cheeks between his forefinger and his thumb. “Look at me and tell me what’s wrong. I want to hear all of it, and don’t you dare stop touching yourself.”

“All of it?” You clarified, hoping he was being serious and you weren’t trapping yourself. He gave one curt nod, showing you he meant what he said. You withdrew a long breath, gathering your thoughts before you began. “You’re a selfish, ignorant prick, Jake. You promised me that you wouldn’t fall in love and fuck this up, and then you did it anyway.” You huffed, finding your temper hard to keep up while looking into his eyes. “And when I told you I wasn’t ready, you played the victim and told me I was only good for sex. Why do you think I was scared of dating you, hmm?” You pressed, waiting for him to answer before you continued. When you were met with nothing but a harsh stare, you continued on, anyway. “Because I was fucking terrified of you lying, or believing you when you say all of that stuff just for you to change your fucking mind, and you proved me right!”

“Mhm,” he hummed, allowing you to continue.

“A-and… oh, fuck.” You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as an intense wave of pleasure ran through you. “And I went to that bar that night to forget about you, but you showed up, and I cared about you enough to be the bigger person and apologize. I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction, and I was finally able to move past all of that fucking trauma and fear. I felt good, I was happy, and when we left that bathroom I was ready to take the next step.” You confessed, the words weighing heavily on the both of you. Your mind was hazy, and you weren’t sure if you would have said it all if you were in a proper state of mind. “Then I got to meet your date for the night, and it got me thinking that all men really are just the same. I wondered if it was me, if I was too much, or if there was too much baggage, or if I was too complicated for you to handle. I cried to your brother about you while you sat in that booth and made my worst fucking nightmare come true.”

“Keep going.” He encouraged, placing his belt on the counter and moving your hand out of way. It broke your focus, the sudden loss of contact devestating for you. Then, he moved his hand in place of your own, slowly pumping two fingers into you and letting his thumb drift over your clit. A moan broke from your chest, filling the air with desperation amidst the despair.

“S-so I left, and I promised I was done, but I can never just be done with you, can I?” You hissed, squeezing your eyes shut as the feeling in your belly grew stronger. “I decided to get back at you, so I took Scott on a date to try and forget about you. I taunted you with those pictures to make you feel the same way I did, but I worried it wouldn’t work because you don’t care about me the same way I care about you.” He let out a quiet noise, almost sounding astonished that you could believe such a thing, even while he was trying to make you feel good while you berated him. “Then you showed up, and for a second I believed I had it all wrong. You cared enough to be there, to come and find me and try to win me over, but then I was just mad. I’m not your property Jake, and I’m not your problem.” You had to stop, feeling yourself teetering on the edge as you spoke. You waited for a moment, focusing on not cumming so you could say all you needed to feel better.

“You don’t get to pick and choose when you love me, and you don’t get to decide when I’m ready for something. You don’t get to choose when I’m someone you love, or when I’m just good for sex. You don’t get to make me fall for you and then take another girl home with you!” You could feel tears rising in your eyes despite the pull of pleasure from his hand. You were surprised that you could speak so much emotion so clearly while he was working so intently at your cunt, but the emotional turmoil was much more pressing than the sexual tension. “You don’t get to tell me I mean something to you and throw it in the garbage. You don’t get to mean this much to me and also have the power to take it away.” He heard the quiver in your voice, and it nearly shattered his psyche.

“It’s okay, Angel.” He muttered. “You’re okay.” He promised, moving his fingers at a more precise angle. “Cum for me, beautiful.”

“Don’t do that, Jake.” You stopped him, hating how badly you loved hearing the sweet words. It was too much. He was too much. It was all too much for you, and you feared that you were crossing a line you would never be able to come back from.

“Get used to it.” He snapped, leaning forward so his forehead was resting on yours. He couldn’t handle your denial any longer; both of you felt the same way, even if you refused to admit to it. Love was surrounding you completely, and you knew it long before he took your clothes off. The only reason it hurt so bad was because you loved him so much, and if you did not care it would never have mattered. “I’m not going anywhere.” He said, a little softer but still harsh enough to offset the sweetness.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, stuttering over your own profanity. It was exactly what you wanted to hear from someone your entire life, that they were there for good and they wouldn’t leave your side, but somehow when it came from his lips in the way you’d always longed to hear, you could not allow yourself to believe it. The orgasm was right there, and you could no longer hold it back. You were slipping over the edge, and he wasn’t helping. His hold on your face softened, but his fingers were still burning into your skin, leaving a mark for the rest of eternity.

“That’s it,” he crooned, rocking his hips forward into nothing. He was so desperate for relief himself, but he wouldn’t allow it until he was sure you were satisfied. Your hand reached out for his arm, your fingers locking around your bicep as your other arm snaked around his neck, pulling him closer and holding him tightly, ensuring he could not slip away. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

Your muscles tensed and your legs shook with the intensity of the euphoria. No pain existed within your mind anymore; it was filled with thoughts of Jake, and the sweetness of his face and the warmth of his eyes. For once, the thoughts invading your mind had little to do with the sexual desire between you both, and everything to do with the yearning of your heart. The pleasure came from him being close, and the prospect of spending the rest of your life doing the same thing with him and only him.

You were too far gone, and there was no way you could surface from the experience the same as you were before you descended into it.

Love had blossomed, infiltrating every second of your day and every fibre of your being. It was so plentiful that it altered your DNA and changed your entire outlook on life. You were nothing but in love, and the moment was so beautiful that it almost sickened you.

When you came down, your mind was foggy and your eyes were begging to stay closed. You were exhausted, but he was only just getting started. As soon as you relaxed against him, you felt him remove his hand from your cheeks. He unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers just enough to free himself. He grabbed your hips with both hands, pulling you to the edge of the counter with a strength that made your head spin. He hiked your legs around his waist and let the tip of his cock rest on your entrance before going any further.

“I didn’t plan to fuck anything up, y/n.” He said, making sure you were listening. The softness he held seconds before was gone, now. It was his turn to air out his feelings, and he wasn’t going to miss the chance. “Falling for you was the last thing I wanted to do, because I knew it would leave us here. You don’t get to sit here and call me names, because you’re not a fucking saint, either.” With that, he slammed his hips forward, catching you completely off guard. You let out a yelp, his cock hitting your cervix and sending an addictive type of pain through your entire body. “You’re the most stubborn, self-assured, snarky woman I have ever met in my entire life.” He listed, clearly showcasing that your time to talk was over. “I hate it, but it’s so fucking addicting that I can’t stay away.” He growled, pulling your hips forward as he thrusted into you, making the impact all the more intense. “You don’t get to be angry with me for caring about you, because you’ve been doing all of the same things.”

“I get to be mad about whatever I want!” You argued, but he pulled you down on him again, cutting your thoughts off completely. The sound of skin on skin was too much to bear, and suddenly, you felt like he was wearing too much clothing. You reached your hand between the two of you, grabbing a handful of his shirt where the last few buttons were joined together. You gave a hard tug, and the buttons popped free from the threads holding them together. It didn’t even phase him for a second, and all he did was pull back for long enough to shake it from his arms.

“It’s my turn to talk.” He said, bringing his hand to your throat, his fingers locking around your neck like a gruesome decoration. He did not apply any pressure, but kept his grip there as a looming threat. “You broke my fucking heart, too.” At his words, your chest ached with a fervor you had never felt before. Hurting Jake was the last thing you wanted to do, and hearing him say it out loud broke you beyond recognition. “Do you really think that I took her home that night?” He asked, his hips still moving at a brutal pace. “That I even wanted to entertain that any further? That I even wanted to kiss her that night? You really think I would ever touch anyone else like this?”

“I… I don’t know.” You whined, your stomach twisting into knots at the pleasure he was granting you.

“You are the only thing that has ever mattered,” he huffed, looking down at your face, admiring the way your expression was telling him how good he was making you feel. “The only reason I invited her was to get your fucking attention, and I forgot she was even coming after I went to the bathroom with you.” You couldn’t respond, too immersed in the euphoria of being so close to him again. You did not realize how much you missed the feeling of him on your skin until he was touching you. “Then you walked away, like you always do, and I thought that was it. I thought I’d never see you again.” He was struggling to get the words out, but he continued on anyway.

“Then you post those pictures, posing like a fucking whore with some other guy to get under my skin?” He spat, his anger clear in his tone. You had hurt him perhaps even beyond how much he hurt you, and you could finally see it. You weren’t so blinded by your own pain that you could ignore his. You were both so blinded by pain that you had convinced yourselves that you hated each other. “You thought you were going to bring him back here and let him see you like this? That I would let you get away with it, let someone else put their hands on you?” He was growing more intense the longer he spoke, but it was so intoxicating that you did not realize how dangerous it was. “This is all for me, sweetheart. Don’t you ever think otherwise.” The possessive claim made you weak, and could not even voice how blissful the thought of being his forever was. His fingers tightened around your neck, finally beginning to cut off the blood flow to your head. “Did you think that he could even come close to me?”

“No, sir.” You rasped, his hand stopping most of the words, but you still managed to speak them so he knew the truth.

“He could never make you feel this good.” He spat. “Nobody could, Angel. You can lie and say that you don’t love me, but you can’t fucking lie to me about that.” His fingers constricted around your neck again, making your vision go blurry and your head feel light. Your entire body felt like it was floating, but you had no fear.

Just the same as it was the beginning, you knew that death at his hands would be the most pleasant experience of your entire existence.

Without warning, you descended into pleasure once more. You tried to withdraw a breath, but you could not get any air in. Your legs were locked around him, trembling with the intensity of the climax. You tried to reach an arm out to tap him, but you were so strung out in euphoria that you couldn’t summon the strength to do it. When you thought you might slip away into unconsciousness, his fingers loosened around your neck, never willing to push you too far. Even as angry as he was, your safety was the most important thing to him. Instead of the harsh grip he previously held, his fingers massaged against the sensitive skin as you filled your lungs with air. You coughed for a moment, sputtering on the oxygen that you’d been deprived of, and eventually your body relaxed from the stimulation. His hips were still moving, but you were nearly too fucked out to care.

Without any warning, he pulled out of you and slid you from the counter and onto your feet. You were completely at his disposal, but you had no fear that he would mistreat you. You trusted Jake completely, even if you didn’t want to. He spun you around, bending your top half over the counter and grabbing a fistful of your hair. Within seconds, his cock was back inside you and his hips were continuing their earlier page, this time with much more freedom.

“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.” He ordered. You felt a slight stutter in his movements, realizing that he wasn’t far behind you. He was holding on by a thread, and he was desperate to hear your praise, even if he would never admit it.

“Only you can make me feel this good, Jake.” You groaned, so exhausted that the words barely made it past your lips. “Nobody else could ever come close to you.”

“That’s it, baby.” He sighed, reaching around to the front of you and moving his hand between your legs. His fingers settled on your clit, now adding more stimulation to your already tired body. You tensed against him in response, your walls clenching around him and pulling him even further. “God, you’re so fucking tight. Take my cock so well.” Your knees went weak at the sound of his filthy words. “Give me one more, sweet girl. I know you can do it.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head against his hold on your hair. “I can’t do it.” You pleaded with him to see reason, but Jake had never been one to take no for an answer. You knew you could come again, but you feared that your body would not be able to handle it. Even as you doubted it, the pleasure was steadily rising again, begging you to let go and give in to the temptation.

“You can, and you will.” He barked, still feeling some residual anger coursing through him. The movements of his fingers sped, and if possible, became even more precise. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and he did not let up for a second to give you a break. He was pushing you to the brink of insanity, and he didn’t have a single regret about it.

“Fuck, Jake.” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut as an even more intense pleasure took over. You had surpassed any level of care, and you were practically screaming as obscenities fell from your lips, mixed delicately with his name. He coaxed you through the orgasm, muttering praise as he held you steady on your feet.

“That’s my girl.” He groaned, the sinful noises driving him even closer to the edge. Before you came down from the high, you could feel his hips stutter, his previous pace failing him as he descended into his own euphoria. His cock twitched inside of you, and he let out a slur of curses as he spilled his release into you. If it was even possible, the feeling of him filling you sent you into a whole other world of bliss. You tried to catch your breath as your body shook with the last few seconds of your orgasm, but your chest burned and your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

You had never felt like this in your entire life, and although it was fantastic, it was incredibly dangerous. You had finally sold your soul to the devil, and your repentance had only just begun. You feared that a lifetime of suffering would not be enough punishment for the nefarious acts the two of you committed.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He breathed, slowly releasing his hold on your hair. You let your cheek gently fall against the countertop, the cool surface calming your burning skin almost immediately.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your eyes closed in hopes of regaining some energy again. He pulled out of you, but neither of you rushed to the bathroom to clean up. You could worry about the mess later; there were things more pressing than that, and dealing with the aftermath of your wrath was at the top of the list. When you felt strong enough to open your eyes, you pushed yourself up off the counter, feeling his hands softly running over the marks he’d left on your skin, destined to turn purple as a reminder of your sinful indulgences. You turned to look at him, leaning against the counter to keep yourself upright. He took a long look over your face, seeing the exhaustion written deep in your features. Underneath that, the pain was still lingering.

The two of you hoped that when you faced each other again, the burden of your mistakes would disappear and a new found peace would emerge from the rubble. Now, when you looked at him, it seemed like the pain was permanent and if anything, the suffering only grew stronger. He reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand, but not even the gentleness of his touch could satiate the raging hurt in your heart.

The damage was too plentiful, and you were certain that your relationship would never recover from the evil the two of you had turned to. The sin had caught up to you, and it was breaking you down further the longer you stood before him.

Again, the question remained unanswered; how much sin could you engage in until salvation is no longer an option?

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You wished that the feeling would take away all of the bad like it so often did before, but it only made your heart break even further. The longer his lips lingered on your skin, the more it made you want to cry. It wasn’t right, and it never would be. The two of you were disastrous together, and although the connection was undeniable, it was also lethal.

“I am, too.” You said, the quiver in your voice louder than any of the words you spoke. He pulled back, looking down at your face.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He pleaded, unsure if he could handle the sight of you in tears again. “Let’s go get cleaned up, then we can talk.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that the longer you waited to tell him the truth, the worse it would hurt for you both. Still, you let him guide you to the bathroom where the two of you tried (and failed) to wash away the sinful memories of the night.

You stood in front of the mirror, looking at the smudged mess of your makeup and the trails of mascara littlering your cheeks from the crying you had done. You did not recognize the person staring back at you, nor did you want to get to know her. She was empty, chilling when you looked into her eyes for too long. She was not the person you had worked so hard to become, and as you looked over your shoulder at Jake, you knew why.

His love was euphoric, but it was not good for you. It had changed your entire world, but it was not in any way positive. You were a stranger to yourself, and you saw the devil in your eyes, laughing at your own foolish ignorance. The things you had done for his love did not give you what you so badly wanted. Instead, it turned you cruel and vile, your motives twisted and hurting everyone in the crossfire. You wanted him so badly, but you knew you could not have him and maintain your peace at the same time. The two of you cared about each other so much that it was dangerous, and you could not risk everything you had worked so hard to attain.

Even as you came to your senses, you could not help but gaze at his face with a type of longing only felt in fiction. Your heart ached to be his, and your body craved to be in his arms. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, but sometimes the most precious things can hurt you the most. Worse than that, the most beautiful things turn out to be rotten at the core. What you felt for him was so much stronger than anything you’d ever experienced, and in some ways, it was fantastic. What wasn’t fantastic was the things you were willing to do to keep him all to yourself. It was cruel and wicked, and you did not want the evil to take over your entire soul.

Even as you fought the idea, a small part of you knew that you were too far gone to be saved.

His arms reached out for you, landing on your arms as his fingers trailed over the smooth skin. He stepped towards you, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he reached for the pack of makeup wipes on beside the sink. He grabbed two from the package, and turned you to face him. Wordlessly, he wiped away the makeup staining your skin, but he could not work fast enough to rid you of the tears that did not want to stop falling.

You were already grieving him, and he wasn’t even out of sight yet.

You had always been fantastic at ruining a good thing before it ever happened.

“Is that better?” He asked, dabbing away the last bit of mascara on your cheeks. The coolness of the cloth soothed your skin, but it did not make you feel better at all. You weren’t sure that anything would.

“Yeah.” You lied, giving a weak nod against him. He discarded the used wipes in the trash, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the bathroom. He nudged you towards your bedroom, and you followed his guidance without complaint. Once you were in the safety of your room, he grabbed two of his shirts from the drawer of your dresser you had given him for his clothes.

The thought alone pained you, knowing that soon enough, it would go back to an empty compartment that served as a reminder of your own failures. You were not ready for Jake to become a stranger again after knowing him so well.

He tossed a shirt in your direction, which you caught and threw over your head. You would worry about returning his clothes to him another day, knowing that the pain was plentiful enough tonight. He changed into his own, comfier clothes and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He held his hand out to you, beckoning you to come and join him.

“I’m sorry I said all of that stuff.” You said, trying your best to sit away from him on the mattress, but gravity seemed to be pulling you towards him. “You’re not my boyfriend, but you are worth way more than sex. And you’re not selfish, either. If anything, I think that I am.” He was not your boyfriend, but you both desperately wished he was.

“It’s okay, angel.” He assured you, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too. You are worth the whole world, and you’ve always meant more to me than sex. I never should have said that, either.” He confessed, wishing that he never said such harsh things about you.

“I’m also sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I was doing was making things worse. Scott didn’t mean anything, either. He was an old friend from high school, and I only took him on a date to piss you off.” You muttered, looking down at your hand in his.

“She didn’t mean anything, either. I did the same, and I shouldn’t have taken it that far. I was hurt and stupid, and I didn’t know how else to deal with it. I felt like you didn’t want me, so I just wanted to feel like someone did.” His transparency was haunting, especially considering you were going to hurt him all over again. You were prolonging the inevitable, and you were terrible for doing such a thing to him.

“These last few months have been… everything to me.” You confessed, feeling more tears stain your cheeks. “More than I ever thought I would have again. I’ve been so mad at you for breaking your promise, but I think I broke it first. It’s not fair, and I wish that I could deal with my feelings better.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He turned towards you so he could see you better. “We can figure it out together.” He promised, but the look in your eye made him regret the sentiment immediately. He knew what was coming just as well as you did, but he so desperately hoped that he was wrong.

“No, we can’t, Jake.” You whispered, holding back a sob begging to break free. “All we know how to do is hurt each other.”

“That’s not true, angel. Come on.” He pleaded, hoping that you would at least be willing to hear him out.

“Look at us,” you replied, begging him to see reason “we’ve been avoiding falling in love so much that we’ve gotten comfortable with hurting each other instead. I thought that after we talked it out, or after sex we might feel closer and all of that pain would start to go away, but it’s not. It’s still here, and it’s telling me that you and I need more than what we can give each other. The games and the avoidance and the fear… It’s not getting us anywhere.” You bit down on your lip, stopping it from quivering from the strength of your emotion.

“We can make it work. If we try, we can do anything, y/n. I would do anything for you.” He said, pained at the thought of leaving you again.

“When I said I don’t fall in love, I said it for a reason. It’s not because of you, and if I’m being honest, you are the easiest person in the world to fall in love with. It’s because I’m not good at it Jake, and I’m not good for you. I’m going to hurt you more than I can ever give you anything good. I’ve got too much history, too many problems… you don’t deserve that. You deserve the world, and I can’t give that to you. I can’t be selfish anymore. I can’t do that to you.” He reached up, wiping your tears away while he tried to process your words.

“Y/n, you are the world. I don’t want to try with anyone else, because a million bad days with you are worth way more than one good one with someone else.” The sweetness was killing you, and you had to stop him before he took it any further. You were always weak to his power, and this time, you were even more susceptible to it.

“I want that too, Jake, but I can’t.” You stressed the same point. He sat for a moment, drowning in the sorrow but unwilling to push you any further.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, voice so quiet it barely broke through the air.

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t want it, but it’s for the best.” You closed your eyes, wishing you could feel differently about it. You wanted him so badly, and you wanted to make space in your home for him to be there, too, but you couldn’t. You were too afraid, and your fear had always paralyzed you. It was your biggest weakness, only second to Jake, now.

“Okay.” He said, holding back his own tears. It was killing him, but even if he did not agree, your comfort came first.

“I don’t want to lose you.” You said, making sure he knew that you still wanted him around. A selfish being could not fully rid themselves of the burden, and selfishness was all you knew when it came to him. “We’re just getting good at being friends, and I would really like to keep it that way.” You were lying; friends was equal to torture when all you wanted was to love him.

“I can do friends, angel.” He promised, but it was empty. He did not know if he could do it, but he was willing to try. Having you as a friend was better than not having you at all. “Can we just… Can we wait? I’m willing to try, but not yet. I just want to be with you right now.”

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding in agreement. You didn’t want him to leave yet, either, and you were willing to take as much as you could get, even if you were loving him on borrowed time.

The two of you fell back into the mattress, and he wasted little time pulling you into his arms. What normally would be a joyous moment now seemed bleak, drenched in despair. He didn’t want to leave, and you did not want him to have to repair damage that someone else had done. You were too hurt to be loved, and he loved you too much to see your hurt. The sin was plentiful, and this time, it had destroyed the two of you down to the core. You had done so much damage and repair was not an option, and you hated the fact that the universe did not want to allow the two of you to be together. In another life, the two of you would love each other more intensely than the world had ever seen.

Wrath had shattered the last bit of humanity the two of you held within your hearts. It was in his jealousy, and your revenge. It lived in your hurtful words and harsh truths, but most of all, it was plentiful in your own self-reflection. You had never hated yourself more than you did in that moment. You were angry with yourself for being so broken, and angry that you could not put your fear aside and let yourself love him. Most of all, you were angry that you were letting him walk away when all you wanted was to be held by him for the rest of your life. At the same time, he was furious with himself for ever hurting you at all and making you think that he would not do all he could to show you what you meant to him. He was angry for allowing you to let him leave, and angry that he was not strong enough to force you to let him stay.

Fury was the most abundant emotion in the room, followed closely by sadness. Above your heads, the seven deadly sins conjoined to force the two of you away from each other indefinitely. You had sinned too much to ever reap any rewards, and your wicked warpaths led you straight to your own demise.

Lust had driven you too him, and gluttonous you had become. Greed was not far behind it, but sloth ensured that you would never see the truth your hearts were trying to speak. Pride had stopped you from seeing him as he was, and pride had forced his hand in cruelty. Envy left you broken, and wrath had lead you to revenge. Now, you were cradled in the devils arms and awaiting your fate; god could no longer look at you and lead you down the right path, and your own salvation was out of your hands.

You prayed that the devil might see mercy and go easy on you as you tried to rebuild yourself from the evil mess you had become.

The hours passed and you stayed tangled in his limbs, with his hands in your hair and soft kisses placed on your skin. You felt better than you ever had, and you knew that nobody else in the world would ever love you the same as Jake would. You fought exhaustion, forcing your eyes to stay open so you did not miss a single second of his company. You laughed at each others jokes and shared sweet sentiments, recounting the months of happiness you had brought to each others lives. It was a dream come true, but dreams must always come to an end. When the sun began to peek through the darkness, you knew your time together had come to pass.

When he stood, your bed felt emptier than it ever had. There was a divot in the mattress from where he laid moments before, reminding you of all you were losing as he walked out the door. You stood with him, holding on to every last second that you could.

“So this is it?” He asked, wondering if you would change your mind.

“I guess so.” You replied, feeling your voice begin to shake with sadness again. If it was the right thing to do, why did it hurt so bad to do it?

“Friends?” He asked, clenching his jaw in hopes of holding back his own emotions.

“Wait,” you shook your head, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. He wasted no time doing the same, holding you with all of the love he could muster in his heart. Your head settled in the crook of his neck and his chin rested on the top of your head. The two of you sat for a moment, immersed in the comfort of each other's company. Before you let go, you leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips. It was sweet, drawn out, and telling of everything you did not have the strength to say. When you pulled away, you could see tears shining in his eyes from the early light of the sun. “Okay.” You breathed, in trance as his eyes burned into yours. “Friends.” His lips upturned into a smile, but it appeared more like a grimace.

“You were right from the beginning, angel. I never should have doubted you.” He said, his voice weak as he blinked away tears. If he had listened, he would have spared you both the pain.

“I’m so glad you did.” You said, making sure he knew you didn’t regret it. If he had listened, you never would have had the chance to know him at all. He placed a small kiss on your forehead, and with one last look over your face, took a step back.

“I’ll see you soon?” He asked, hopeful that you really did want to remain friends. He could not imagine how sorrowful life would be if he never saw you again.

“You know where to find me.” You left the invitation open, hoping that he would come back. You couldn’t understand the feelings flooding your chest. They were so powerful and abundant that it made it difficult to breathe.

“I do.” He nodded, stepping out of your bedroom to retrieve his shirt from the kitchen. “I’ll uh... I’ll buy you a new dress.” He chuckled, looking to the torn fabric on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. It was worth it.” You gave him a weak smile.

“Alright.” He nodded, grabbing his shirt. “Goodbye, beautiful.” You wanted to say something back, but you were frozen. Dread filled you, leaving no room for anything else.

Why did you want him to stay?

Why did you want him to try and change your mind?

Why, if this was the best for both of you, did it feel like the world was ending?

The idea of him walking through the door was killing you, but you did not have enough courage to tell him to come back to bed despite wanting it more than anything else. You needed him to stay, to love you until you forgot about all the hurt that was plaguing you. You needed him, but you could not allow yourself to have it. Instead, you took in a shaky breath and nodded your head.

“Goodbye, baby.” You struggled to speak, your throat feeling like it was closing around the word and forcing it back down. You watched in horror as he walked to the door, opening it as he slipped his shoes on. He blew you a kiss, lingering for a moment too long. When you didn’t speak again, he stepped outside and the door gently fell shut behind him.

The grief hit you with such a force that you feared you would fall to your knees in anguish. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you were wrong and the only thing you wanted to be good at was loving him, but you were frozen. You heard his car back out of your driveway, and you knew that it was over; you had to suffer the consequences of your own sinful desires and learn how to move forward despite them. It was the right thing to do, and you had to persevere through the pain to understand that you had done the best thing for the two of you.

But still, upon telling yourself that over and over again, you still did not believe it. Now that your house screamed with emptiness upon his departure, you felt like you had made the worst mistake of your life.

Perhaps the devil was not punishing you for your sinful endeavours, but rather the sin was standing in the way of seeing the truth once again.

With your head in your hands and your heart lying broken in the pit of your stomach, the heaviest realization thus far washed over you. You were wrong about him, and you were wrong about leaving him. Jake was not the enemy, nor was he the thing making your life harder; you were your own worst enemy, and all you had done since falling in love was stand in the way of your own happiness. You wondered if the Lord would ever forgive you and bring him back, or if you would have to suffer the punishment and spend every lifetime searching for him in everyone you met.

Hope was and had always been a feeble idea, and you had little desire to believe that life would work itself out again after making so many deals with the devil. Instead of running after him, you turned to your bedroom to hide away under the covers and begin your repentance that would take a lifetime to complete.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

[quack-quack-snacks]

Cat Mug (A Reason to Live)

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x GN!Reader Summary: When Hyun-su first arrived at Green Home, the only plan he had for life was to end his. He never would have thought his plan to end his life caused by the lack of any reason to continue living would lead to him finding one. Warnings: Slight season 1 spoilers, self-harm (both the reader and Hyun-su), suicide ideation, smoking (weed), illegal smuggling of contraband (weed), and comfort. Word Count: 2,728 Extra Notes: Cannabis is highly illegal in Korea. This is set in an AU with no apocalypse/monsterization.

When Hyun-su first arrived at Green Home, the only plan he had for life was to end his. 

It was a few weeks into living there that he came to the terrifying realization when the blade of the weed chopper flew inches from his face. He didn’t actually want to die, he had just lost all of his reasons to live. 

Most of his days were spent inside his apartment, testing different video games for companies until his eyes dried up to the point of tears and his head throbbed in pain. The pain was a welcome distraction that helped keep his thoughts averted away from the disaster that was his life. He didn’t even have a cover or bed stand for his twin-sized mattress. It lay on the floor of his small living space, placed directly under the windows so he could watch the stars right before he fell asleep.

The stars were his only solace in this wretched world that took everything from him. Everything was gone because he offered a few quarters to a boy in high school that he tried to make friends with. At first, he blamed all the unfair treatment that he was subjected to on anything and everything around him, but after a while, he started to think it was his fault.

Maybe he was being cocky when he offered Do-hun those coins.

Maybe he was worthy of the bullying he put him through.

Maybe he deserved the way his parents blamed him for being bullied.

Maybe he earned the way his sister was embarrassed to be related to him. 

The more those thoughts circled in his mind, the more he started to actually believe them. The more he started to believe them, the more he started to hate himself for everything.

His life was on a steep slope leading to a pit of despair until he met you. 

It was around 6 p.m. on Friday, August 21 of 2020.

For you, that meant you were heading back from the grocery store after stacking up on your food for the next week.

For Hyun-su, at least on this specific Friday, it meant he was heading back from testing a game for the video game production company Syx Arus. He wasn’t in the best mood. The game was a total bust; glitches around every corner, the gun wouldn’t shoot for the majority of the time he tested it, and he ended up getting paid half of what he was promised because of his feedback being ‘too blunt and disrespectful.’

He was walking through the hallway toward his apartment with his earbuds in and his head down. His hands were stuck in his pockets as he tried to focus on how the loud music hurt his ears and not the frustration building inside him. Because his attention was directed elsewhere, he completely missed seeing you as you stood in front of your apartment door. You had been shifting the grocery bags in your hands around so you could have a free hand to unlock and open the door but let out a gasp as you felt a tall figure bump into you, sending the bag full of a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread onto the floor. You let out a wince as you heard a crunch, positive that at least a few eggs were broken. 

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” You heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy. He was tall, and his hair was a dark brown, almost black, unkempt mess on his head. He yanked the earbuds once residing in his ears out and you could hear the loud music blasting out of them before he paused it on his phone. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured him before your lips curved into a slightly teasing smirk. “You just cleared a hand up for me. I should be thanking you,” you let out a little laugh as you finally had a free hand to slip your key into the lock of your apartment door before turning it until you heard that familiar, satisfying click, signaling the door being unlocked. 

 Just as you pushed the door open, he spoke again. “Do you need any help?”

You smiled at him over your shoulder. “Sure, could you just grab that bag?” You gestured with your head to the bag on the floor holding your broken eggs and dented bread and he gave an enthusiastic and adorably determined nod as he used one hand to hold the door open for you and the other to pick up the bag. You walked in, quickly setting your groceries down on the small dining table you had just outside of your cramped kitchen. You turned to the boy and took the bag from his hand, walking to the sink as you took the carton apart to inspect the damage. To your surprise, there wasn’t much. Only a few eggs were broken, and although you would need to put them into a different carton because the broken eggs had spilled onto this one, you still wouldn’t need to make a second trip to get more eggs. 

You turned to peek over your shoulder and saw the boy standing awkwardly outside the door to your kitchen, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked at the miscellaneous decorations you had hanging on the walls. You breathed out a small laugh before walking to your pantry. Without turning back to look at him, you asked, “Do you like tea?”

“What?” He asked, not expecting the change from silence to a soft-spoken conversation.

“Do you like tea?” You repeated, finally turning back to look at him, two boxes of different tea flavors in your hands. “Or are you more of a coffee drinker?”

“Oh,” he replied, looking kind of stunned by your question. “Tea is fine.”

You gave him a smile at his soft-spoken words. Although this was the first time you had ever seen, let alone spoken to, the boy, you could tell he was not much of a talker or an expressive person. Setting the boxes of tea on the counter, you took out your kettle and started filling it with water before setting it on the stove with the fire turned on high. As it started to boil, you took out two mugs and placed them down on your kitchen’s bar counter where two bar stools were stationed on the other side. You gestured to one of them after setting the mugs down in their respective places and he hesitantly sat down. 

“So,” you asked as you walked back over to where you set down the tea boxes, picking them up and bringing them back over to him, hiding them behind your back for dramatic effect. “Lemon and ginger,” you pulled one box out from behind your back before quickly realizing it was the wrong box and frantically trying to switch the boxes before he could see the other flavor, an action that caused his lips to twitch in a slight smile for a moment before disappearing again. “Or spiced chai?”

“I’ll do the chai,” he decided and you nodded with a smile. 

“Good choice.”

You placed a spicy chai tea bag into his cup - a mug with a cheesy meme of a cat wearing a ski mask sitting on top of a burger on the front saying “cat burger-lar” - and placed your choice of tea in your mug - a plain white mug that said “World’s Best Grandpa” on the front. 

Waiting for the water to boil, you reached your hand across the counter to him in greeting. After introducing yourself, you asked, “I haven’t seen you around before, are you the kid who just moved into 1410?”

He nodded his head as he took your hand. “Yeah, I moved in a few weeks ago. I’m Cha Hyun-su.”

“Well I apologize for not bringing some cookies over sooner, Hyun-su,” you told him with a teasing lilt in your voice. Your eyes fluttered down to where his hand sat in yours and you did an almost imperceptible double take when you saw the scars littering his forearm beneath his black hoodie sleeve. When he noticed you saw them, he gently took his hand out of yours and tugged his sleeve down before standing up. 

“Thank you for the tea, but I should be going now,” he told you abruptly but politely and turned towards your door, intending on leaving as fast as he could, not wanting your pity or anything of the like. 

“Wait!” You called out after him and he turned just to see you quickly pouring some of the, now boiling, water into what was going to be his cup, running over to him, and giving it to him. When he looked shocked and confused, you gave him a lopsided smile. “You thanked me for the tea but you never even got to drink any.”

He looked back and forth between the mug in his hand, warming his palm through the ceramic wall, and your eyes, warming his heart with your soft gaze. He didn’t see any pity, just understanding. It was strange and he couldn’t possibly understand how you could feel his pain. 

“This is your mug,” he stated bluntly and held the mug back out to you but you just gently pushed it back towards him.

“Take it. You can give it to me next time,” you promised.

Next time.

Your words bounced around in his mind, banging off the walls of his brain until they settled and he gave you a slight nod. You walked him out the door, waving him off as he walked down the hall towards his door. 

Next time.

It was now Tuesday, August 25 of 2020, and you hadn’t seen Hyun-su since your first meeting. You were a little worried you had scared him off with your possibly too forward advances and how you’d seen his scars but decided to focus on the positive and just thought that he probably had a life of his own so he wouldn’t be roaming through the halls every day, waiting to bump into you and break your eggs again just to talk to you. 

Although you kind of wish he would.

It was 7:06 p.m. when you walked up the stairs of Green Home, sunset. You intended on heading to the roof and smoking for a bit so you would have less of a chance of being caught by anyone. As you used your shoulder to push open the doors leading to the roof, you saw the boy you’d been waiting to see for the past week standing on the edge. You let out a sigh and leaned against the wall.

“Kind of a lame way to die, is it not?” You called out to him and he flinched at your voice. Your eyes widened as he leaned farther toward the edge for a moment before regaining his balance and looking back at you. You sighed once again before giving him a sad smile. Popping yourself off the wall, you gestured for him to follow you as you walked around the entrance of the door to the stack of boxes leading to the roof of it. Hopping up, you turned around to hold a hand out for Hyun-su to grab as he followed you up. You turned back around to settle yourself down on the edge of the small box housing the exit to the stairs and dug around in your bag as Hyun-su settled down next to you. Letting out a little cry of success as you found what you were looking for, you pulled out the small mint box you used for storing your blunts. It was relatively safe and if anyone ever asked for a mint you could always just pretend to be really protective over them. That way you were just an asshole, not a criminal. 

As you pulled out your lighter and held the blunt up to your lips, you noticed Hyun-su staring at you. You tilted your head to look at him and held the blunt out for him to take. “Want some?” 

He shook his head, looking down at his lap. “I don’t smoke cigarettes.”

You gave a small laugh at his ignorance as you lifted it back to your lips. “It’s weed actually.”

His head snapped towards you comically and you laughed more, interrupting yourself again as you tried to light the spliff. “Wait, but… isn’t that illegal?”

You gave a small shrug as you finally lit the edge of the blunt and took a hit before replying. “It is. Why, are you gonna tell on me?” You leaned over slightly to bump him with your shoulder as you teased him and he vehemently shook his head no. 

“No, I just… I never would’ve thought you’d be the type of person to smoke marijuana. Kind of surprised me.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment. “Well, I wasn’t originally from Korea, I lived in the States for most of my life until I moved here when I first turned 18. This is the last I have of the stuff I bought with me. Took a hell of a lot of work to sneak it past border control.”

He looked at you in a type of awe that made your lips tilt up in amusement. You would’ve never thought someone would look at you like that after you told them about how you illegally smuggled marijuana into a country that made it highly illegal. The slight movement of him tugging his hoodie sleeves over his hands caused you to release a breath of air before you directed your attention to where you were given a beautiful view of the sunset right from your spot on top of the building. 

He watched you as you took a hit from the blunt and released the smoke from between your lips. At that moment, he couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than how you looked with the sun reflecting its last golden rays on your face. And to think, he would’ve missed this if he had taken that step forward just a second before you arrived behind him. “I was in a plane crash when I was 12,” you told him and his eyes widened in surprise. “It was… bad. There was a lot of fire and chaos just everywhere,” you glanced at him nervously and looked away when you saw him watching you intensely. You focused your attention on stubbing out your blunt on the rough concrete you sat on, no longer in the mood for a quick high. “Both my parents were on the flight with me, and yet - by some miracle doctors still haven’t found an explanation for,” you rolled your eyes in frustration at the thought. “I was the only one to live out of us. Most people on the plane ended up passing away with only a few coming out alive.”

Hyun-su wanted so desperately to grab your hand and comfort you but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his hand off his thigh. 

“For the longest time,” you said as you fiddled with your sleeve, rolling it up for him to see. “I hated myself for being alive when they weren’t.”

When you finally had your sleeve rolled up, he could clearly see the physical evidence of your guilt and pain. When he looked back up at you, he was met with your eyes looking back at him with that same look of understanding hiding within the lines of your pupils. 

Maybe you did understand.

“I know what it’s like to hate yourself and to want to take the pain away, but I promise you,” you reached out to grab his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, doing what he couldn’t all those moments ago. “It does get better.”

When you smiled at him, he couldn’t help but give a smile back, his lips tilting up to show his appreciation for you and your words. “Thank you.”

You shook your head, not letting go as you returned your gaze to the setting sun, the stars taking its place in the palace of the deep abyss in the sky. “Don’t thank me, just live.”

Maybe he did have a reason to live after all.

[retromoments]

but you tolerate it,

featuring sakusa kiyoomi

warnings angst w/ happy ending, just general negative self talk, mention of cigarettes

tonight had been a disaster.

You and Kiyoomi had been dating for a year at this point after meeting after you were introduced as the new publicist for the Black Jackals. The two of you hit it off instantly after realizing that civilized company within the team was lacking and found solace in each other and quickly developed a romantic relationship soon after.

It was only after your one-year anniversary that you realized that you barely knew any of Kiyoomis's friends other than his teammates, this eventually lead you to tonight. After pestering your boyfriend about it for weeks, he finally caved and arranged a dinner for you to meet all of his old school friends. You were only 20 minutes into the dinner before you realized how great of a mistake you had made. 

Conversation topics that went completely over your head seemed to be in favor of the night. The worst part was that you had never seen Kiyoomi so happy in a social situation. It quickly led to a festering insecurity that was making itself comfortable in the low pit of your stomach. As the night progressed things just seemed to get worse and worse as your boyfriend slowly pulled away from you the whole night.

The jokes you made didn’t land. The wine you had picked out for the occasion had been ridiculed ruthlessly by these strangers that had played such an important role in your boyfriend's life. The white knit sweater and brown corduroy pants you had picked out were quickly making you feel more and more underdressed as Kiyoomi introduced you to more and more of his friends, all of which were dressed as if they were attending a 5-star restaurant. 

What started as him just shaking off your hand when you attempted to grab it at the dinner table had now matured into him sitting on the complete opposite side of the room as you. The final straw was when one of Kiyoomis friends, a girl named Mika, noticed the bright piece of art hung above the tv in the living room. It was one of the first things you and Kiyoomi had picked out for the apartment.

“Kiyoomi don’t tell me that you picked that atrocious thing out?” Mika remarked as she pointed a manicured nail at the painting full of bright blues and pinks

“No, no that one was all her,” Kiyoomi muttered as he took a sip from his glass of wine 

“I can tell.” Mika giggled, and to your dismay, Kiyoomi began chuckling right alone with her.

 After muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air (you aren’t quite sure anyone even heard it), you grabbed the carton of cigarettes you kept “only for emergencies” and bolted for the balcony of you and Kiyoomis's shared apartment which is where you’ve been camped out for the last half hour blowing smoke out into the dark abyss that surrounded your home as you waited for the tears to stop streaming down your face.

This whole night had just caused you to reflect on your relationship with Kiyoomi and just wonder if he was truly happy. Did he feel as if you were simply too immature for him? Was he unhappy being with someone who didn’t come from as much money as he did? Are you good enough for him? These questions lingered in your head and plagued your thoughts the longer you sat in the silence of the night. Your worsening thoughts were interrupted by the balcony door sliding open.

“Mind if I join you?” You quickly used the sleeve of your sweater to brush away your stray tears as Kiyoomi made his way onto the balcony.

A smile was lingering on his face, an expression that you had only been privileged enough to see a few times throughout your relationship. You took a long drag from your cigarette as he made himself comfy on the spot right next to you. 

“why’d you leave?” 

“didn’t seem like anyone wanted me there.” you shrugged at your boyfriend as you stood and blew more smoke off the balcony.

“i want you there.” with this you turned and looked at your boyfriend

“do you actually? cause you have a hell of a way showing it,” you stubbed out your cigarette on the wood of the balcony railing “you’ve barely talked to me all night, and all you guys talk about is stuff I don’t know the first thing about,” more tears began to fall as you continued “all tonight has made me think is that I’m obviously not good enough for you, and every single person in that apartment knows it including you.”

“I’ve never once believed that for a second, my love,” Kiyoomi was standing now and wiping the tears from your face “I never wanted you to feel like that, and I’m sorry I’ve upset you so much”

“I don’t know how to relate to people like them, I feel so silly when I try,” you confessed 

“Want me to kick them all out so we can have a movie night?” The offer was tempting but you shook your head at it

“These are your friends Kiyo, It’s not your fault I don’t know how to be civilized.” the humor in your voice was dry

“They were my friends,” he agrees “but honestly I haven’t talked to them in months, and if it weren’t for you wanting to meet them so badly I probably would go several more before I even reached out,” He takes a moment to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ears “Simply put they aren’t apart of my life anymore, and I hardly think that’s a bad thing.”

“But they make you so happy Kiyo, I’ve never seen you so engaged in conversations.”

“Remembering High School memories will make anyone happy, but trust me the conversation gets boring after you run out of memories to romanticize, which is why I had to come searching for my favorite girl to come save me from them.” A smile graced Kiyoomis face once again, not the one that he had been wearing all night, or the one that reporters love getting photos of after he wins a game. A smile reserved just for you, for the nights where you two shove all the furniture into a corner so you can dance around the living room, for the lunch date that had ended in him asking you to live with him, for the day down the road where he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him.

So you brave the storm. You take Kiyoomis's hand and let him guide you back into the apartment. You get through the night with Kiyoomis's arm around your shoulder, reminding you that even if he may have more history with the people surrounding him, you are the one he wants to spend his future with. With the night coming to a close and the last guest out the front door, an invisible weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You and Kiyoomi finish the dishes quickly and plop down on the sofa.

“Do you seriously not like the painting?” You murmur, exhaustion weighing on you heavily

“I think it’s a crime against humanity but you lit up so much when you first saw it,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head “It’s my favorite thing in this entire apartment.”

[sheriffaxolotl]

Fallen: A Path to Redemption (Chapter 2) Alastor x Reader

"Solace, you say? Well, my dear fallen friend, in Hell, solace comes with a price."

“What kind?”

“How about... your soul, my dear.”

Word count: 5,403 ✿ Friends to Lovers ✿ Slow Burn ✿ Eventual Romance ✿ Drabble | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 |

♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿

Well, this certainly wasn't how you envisioned spending your day.

Taking in your surroundings, you find yourself standing in the grand foyer of a hotel. Normally, a hotel lobby would be alive with the hustle and bustle of guests and staff, but here, it resembles more of a ghost town - nothing but a hollow shell.

Despite its dilapidated appearance, there was an undeniable charm to the Hotel. Its faded grandeur spoke of a bygone era, a time when it had been a beacon of luxury and opulence. But now, it seemed destined to fade into obscurity, a relic of a forgotten past. Maybe that’s why you liked it.

With a wry smile, you couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. It's a disaster in every sense of the word. This place would need a desperate touch-up. As you scan the room, you notice a few other individuals, their curious gazes fixed upon you. Some faces are familiar, adding a touch of familiarity to this otherwise surreal moment.

Charlie Morningstar. The name echoes in your mind, stirring up a knot of conflict over what you heard her discussing on the news this morning. Her vision for the hotel clashed and aligned with your own beliefs, leaving you torn between admiration for her ambition and concern for the consequences of her actions.

Husk. The feline demon's presence brings a wave of familiarity, and you share a silent acknowledgment with him. There's no need for introductions between the two of you; you were witness to the deal he struck with Alastor to retain his powers. You remember the mix of pity and sympathy you felt for him at the time, though you tried to convince yourself it was for the best.

Niffty. Your absence during the deal-making process for her doesn't go unnoticed. You had been on annual leave at the time, a rare break from the chaos of Hell. The irony isn't lost on you as you inwardly chuckle at the thought. Who would have thought the Radio Demon would grant you such a luxury? In some twisted way, the perks and benefits he offered over the years almost rival those of Heaven.

Alastor, the enigmatic Radio Demon, his presence here still puzzles you. What could have possibly prompted him to bring you to this strange place? You mull over the possibilities, the puzzle of his actions spins through your mind, each potential answer more confounding than the last.

The angry-looking moth lady and the arachnid demon are two figures you're unfamiliar with, though there's a nagging sense of recognition with the latter. You rack your brain, trying to recall if you've crossed paths with the arachnid before, but nothing concrete comes to mind.

Sensing that they're waiting for you to break the ice, you take the initiative and step forward, offering a polite introduction. "Hello, I'm (Y/N). It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," you say, placing a hand over your chest and executing a graceful curtsy.

The princess's eyes light up with excitement as she eagerly returns the gesture, albeit with a hint of haste and clumsiness. It's endearing, and a small smile tugs at your lips. She seems harmless enough – at least, that's the impression you get. But in Hell, appearances can be deceiving.

"Oh my gosh!" Charlie practically leaps towards you, her enthusiasm palpable as she seizes your hand and shakes it vigorously. The boisterous energy of her greeting threatens to jostle the rest of your body as she welcomes you to the Hotel with unbridled excitement. "Welcome to the Happy Hotel! I'm positive you are going to love it here!" she gushes, her words bubbling with genuine warmth.

You offer a forced polite smile as you reluctantly withdraw your hand. "Ah, well, we'll see," you reply, unable to shake off the uncertainty lingering within you. "I still don't know the exact reason I'm here for…" Your voice trails off as you cast a sidelong glance at Alastor, who looms over the scene with an intimidating presence. You can't help but feel dwarfed by his stature, a sense of insignificance washing over you in his grand shadow.

"Well, what else if not to help me and keep track of paperwork!" Alastor interjects with his signature taunting grin, gesturing mockingly to a stack of paperwork piled high on the reception desk. You suppress a grimace at the sight, inwardly bracing yourself for the daunting task ahead. That's a lot of paperwork to tackle …. It's going to be a long day.

"Wow. That's definitely a lovely stack if I don't say so—" You begin, making your way over to inspect the paperwork, but before you can even lay a finger on it, the poor pile collapses, sending papers cascading across the lobby in a flurry of chaos. "Oh! Oh no!" you exclaim, scrambling to gather the scattered documents before they disappear into the chaos of the hotel.

"I'm so sorry!" Charlie rushes over to lend a hand, her expression mirroring your panic as she apologizes profusely. "I really haven't had time to organize it, and Vaggie has been so busy—" Her words tumble out in a jumble of apologies and explanations, but before you can reassure her that it's okay, Alastor intervenes.

"No harm done, dear!" Alastor's voice cuts through the commotion, his wide grin betraying a hint of amusement as he surveys the scene before him. "Accidents happen, after all. No need to make such a fuss, dear!" Alastor interjects smoothly, his voice oozing with confidence as he effortlessly lifts the princess off the floor. " (Y/N) has an innate ability with paperwork! She'll get it sorted in no time! No time at all!" With a smug grin, he gestures grandly with his arm, the epitome of self-assuredness. "So, what do ya think?"

Charlie's eyes light up with unbridled excitement as she gazes around the lobby, taking in the flurry of activity Alastor has set into motion. "This is amazing!" she gushes, her cheeks flushed with amazement. She can hardly believe her luck right now. Before her was a real group of staff for the hotel. That Alastor had pulled out of thin air.

"It's... okay," Vaggie huffs, her demeanor a stark contrast to Charlie's bubbling enthusiasm. She stands by her girlfriend's side, arms crossed tightly over her chest, radiating skepticism. It's clear that she doesn't share Charlie's excitement about the new staff, her distrust evident in the furrow of her brow.

Vaggie's reservations stem from her deep-seated mistrust of the newcomers, all handpicked by one of the most dangerous and powerful overlords you can come across in Hell. While she loves Charlie dearly, she can't help but feel a sense of frustration and apprehension. She knows her girlfriend's heart is in the right place, but she also recognizes her naivety. Not all demons deserve a second chance, and Vaggie fears that Charlie's unwavering optimism might blind her to the true intentions of their new recruits.

Despite her reservations, Vaggie remains committed to supporting Charlie's vision of redemption. She wants to believe that there are demons out there genuinely seeking redemption, eager to turn their lives around. She's determined to protect Charlie and the hotel from becoming another pawn in the Radio Demon's twisted games. ‘At least one of the sinners Alastor brought looked half decent..’ Vaggie thought as she glanced over at you, watching as you had been glancing curiously through the paperwork. You don’t seem half bad.

Alastor's laughter fills the air as he pulls both girls close, his arms enveloping them in a deceptively warm embrace. "This is going to be very entertaining!" he declares with a mischievous glint in his eyes. With a swift motion, he distracts Charlie by extending his hand, inviting her to dance, while simultaneously maneuvering to push Vaggie out of the way. The room is suddenly filled with the faint strains of music, drifting in from some unseen source.

"Ugh," you groan softly to yourself as you gather up the last of the scattered paperwork, carefully restacking it onto the reception desk. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but be reminded of Alastor's flair for theatrics. It's almost impressive how seamlessly he manages to orchestrate chaos and entertainment in equal measure.

"You have a dream, you wish to tell," Alastor croons as he spins Charlie around the room, his magic weaving through the air to transform their outfits into something far more dapper, as if they were out dancing of an old fashioned movie. The sudden change catches Charlie off guard, but she adapts quickly, twirling gracefully in his arms. "And it's just laughable, but hey, kid, what the hell?"

As the impromptu song and dance unfold before you, you find yourself tuning it out, focusing instead on the task at hand. With a determined air, you break down the pile of paperwork into smaller, more manageable piles. Inventory. Bills. Subscriptions... You pause, a furrow forming between your brows as you come across a particularly peculiar document. What subscriptions could possibly be of interest in Hell? With a shake of your head, you push aside the thought, deciding it's best not to dwell on the mysteries of paperwork in Hell.

Caught off guard by the snap of fingers, you're swept up in a whirlwind of theatrics as a strange sensation washes over you. Before you can even comprehend what's happening, your clothes morph into an elegant V-neck black 1920s flapper dress, complete with fringes that sway with every movement. But as the music fills the air with its lively melody, you feel yourself being pulled into the rhythm of the dance by a mysterious force. It's as if invisible hands guide your movements, coaxing you to join the lively spectacle unfolding before you. But amid the musical chaos, your gaze catches a familiar sight—– the silhouette of a shadow whisking in front of you, unmistakably one of Alastor's shadows. The shadow pulls you further into the song and dance, its presence both eerie and mesmerizing. Despite the uncertainty of the moment, you can't help but surrender to the magic of the music, allowing yourself to be carried away by the rhythm.

"Inside of every demon is a lost cause," Alastor sings, his voice carrying through the room as he grabs Angel and Husk close, manipulating their movements as if they were mere puppets on a string. In the blink of an eye, hats appear atop their heads, completing their transformation into characters straight out of a vintage cabaret. Husk seems torn between irritation and resignation, his fist raised threateningly before ultimately settling for a defiant flip-off directed at the Radio Demon. Angel, on the other hand, merely smirks and responds with finger guns, already embracing Alastor's proclamation with a devil-may-care attitude. "But we'll dress them up for now with just a smile!"

Before you could even register what was happening, Alastor materialized in front of you, his presence commanding and unmistakable. A fox fur draped around his shoulders added a touch of elegance to his attire as he deftly wrapped it around your neck, the soft fur caressing your skin with a delicate touch.

With surprising dexterity, he spun you around, the fur trailing behind you like a playful companion. The sudden movement left you momentarily stunned, your senses reeling from the unexpected whirlwind of events. As you tried to regain your composure, your eyes widened in shock at the audacity of his actions.

A teasing grin played on Alastor's lips as his hand landed firmly on your backside, the gesture bold and brazen. A wink accompanied his playful demeanor, adding to the mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. The sheer audacity of his behavior left you speechless, your hand instinctively flying to cover your open-mouthed gasp.

Caught off guard by his unexpected antics, you found yourself at a loss for words, your mind struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

Alastor seems satisfied with his handiwork, his grin widening as he dances away with a flourish while he continues his song and dance. But on his way, he shoves Vaggie out of the way, a move that doesn't go unnoticed by the fiery moth demon who angrily shakes her fist at him. Anger burns in Vaggie's eyes as she glares daggers at Alastor, her frustration palpable even from across the room.

As I try to collect myself after the unexpected encounter, you didn’t how to interpret Alastor's bold actions. While he's always been comfortable enough to nudge me or place a guiding hand on my back, his recent actions were something he had never done before – even in jest.

Lost in your thoughts, you're suddenly jolted back to reality by a deafening explosion from the other end of the room. The doors to the hotel are sent flying, taking little Niffty along with them in a whirlwind of chaos and confusion.

As the chaos settles and the others rush to inspect the hole in the wall, you can't help but grimace at the impact the tiny demon took, already anticipating the soreness that will undoubtedly plague Niffty tomorrow. While the rest of the group shares a look of surprise, you divert to get the door off of Niffty, who miraculously bounces back up the moment the door is lifted off her.

"Again!" Niffty exclaims with a gleeful grin, her enthusiasm undiminished by the unexpected collision. Before you can offer any protest, she darts off, joining the others who have ventured outside to investigate the cause of the explosion.

It's only a few moments later that you emerge from the hotel, your gaze drawn upwards to the sight of a looming aircraft hovering ominously above. The sound of voices reaches your ears, and you strain to make out the words amidst the chaos.

"...harboring the striped freak!" The declaration draws your attention, and you look up to see a familiar figure—a snake-like demon you recognize from encounters with Alastor in the past. Memories flood back to you of the times when he would orchestrate ridiculous attacks on the Radio Demon, his antics once a source of amusement. But now, faced with the reality of the situation, amusement is the furthest thing from your mind as you brace yourself for what comes next.

As the snake-like demon addresses Alastor with a less-than-menacing expression, you quickly make your way to join the others, glancing up just in time to catch Alastor's contemplative expression.

"Do I know you?" Alastor's question is met with a wicked grin from the demon, his malicious intent clear despite the seemingly genuine tone of his voice.

"Oh yes you do!" The demon's reply is accompanied by a retreat into his aircraft, his actions accompanied by the aggressive clanking of levers and buttons being pushed. The tension in the air is palpable as everyone braces themselves for whatever comes next.

"And this time I have the element of... Surprise!" With those ominous words, a giant weapon emerges from the aircraft, positioned directly in front of you all at eye level. The air crackles with energy as the weapon charges, threatening to unleash destruction upon everyone in its path.

"Hahahaha, I'm so evil!" The snake-like demon's cackle echoes through the air, sending a shiver down your spine as you prepare for the inevitable confrontation that lies ahead.

As the menacing aircraft and its looming weapon are ensnared by fiery rings and engulfed in smoke, monstrous black tentacles emerge, gripping the ship tightly. The cacophony of sirens blares through the air, mingling with the snake demon's horrified screams as it struggles against its inevitable demise. Amidst the chaos, Alastor remains unperturbed, his signature grin etched upon his face.

Static crackles and arcane symbols materialize around Alastor, his figure shrouded in an aura of otherworldly power. His shadowy minions swirl around him, a silent testament to his mastery over the dark arts. The tension in the air is thick as the inevitable unfolds before your eyes.

With a deafening explosion, the aircraft erupts into flames, scattering debris in every direction. The group stands frozen, a mixture of dazed and terrified expressions etched upon their faces. However, you can't help but shoot Alastor a knowing look, silently questioning the necessity of such a dramatic display. After all, you've seen worse from him before – unfortunately.

Despite the destruction wrought by his actions, Alastor remains unfazed, his grin widening as he revels in the chaos he has caused. It's a chilling reminder of the darkness that lies within him, a darkness that you know all too well.

With a sudden shift in demeanor, Alastor's cheerful and oddly friendly persona returns in full force, his arms outstretched in a display of excitement.

"Who's hungry for some grub?" he exclaims, his voice exuding enthusiasm. "I'm in the mood for some jambalaya! My mother once shared with me her wonderful recipe for jambalaya. In fact, it nearly killed her! Ha ha ha!"

As he makes his way back toward the hotel, Niffty skips along beside you, her boundless energy infectious. You fall into step behind Alastor and the others, observing the dynamics between them. Angel Dust blows a playful kiss to Husk, who looks on with a mix of confusion and irritation. Charlie offers Vaggie a reassuring smile, but the worry still lingers in her girlfriend's expression.

When you lock eyes with Vaggie, you offer her a small, reassuring smile of your own, hoping to alleviate some of her concerns. However, your attempt at comfort is short-lived as you hasten your pace to catch up with the group. The events of the day whirl through your mind, leaving you with a sense of unease about what lies ahead.

You didn’t notice the sign on the hotel changing from ‘Happy Hotel’ to ‘Hazbin Hotel’.

You followed the group through the makeshift entrance, the remnants of the door scattered around. Your steps quickened as you headed toward what you assumed to be the direction of the kitchen, but your focus was abruptly diverted by the sight of the paperwork once again strewn across the reception desk floor.

"Oh boy," you muttered under your breath, a tinge of frustration evident in your voice. With determined strides, you hurried over to the mess, bending down to gather the papers. As you sorted through them, a sense of order began to emerge as you stack them into piles. Bills, reminders, a letter from... oh, coupons, and yet another bill—

"It’s not very polite to sneak up on people. One of these days something is surely going to happen," you remarked, your tone laced with a hint of mock warning as you sensed a familiar presence behind you. Turning slightly, you were met with the sight of Alastor, his grin as unsettling as ever. His presence always seemed to catch you off guard, his sudden appearance feeling like a twisted game of cat and mouse.

"Now, now! That's never going to happen, my dear!" Alastor dismissed your concern with a wave of his hand, stepping closer to inspect the stacks of papers you had organized on the desk. His jovial demeanor didn't waver as he continued, "Come on! This can be dealt with later, we have-"

"Am I not here to work?" you interjected, cutting him off abruptly. Alastor paused, his gaze shifting down to meet yours, towering over you with his imposing presence.

"Well, yes! But only charity work that I have volunteered you for!" His tone was almost gleeful as he spoke, seemingly reveling in the idea of assigning tasks to you. Despite the lightheartedness of his words, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping into the back of your mind.

As you glanced up at Alastor, you noticed a strange mixture of pride and something else in his expression, something you couldn't quite place. It left you feeling grateful for the opportunity to contribute to something greater than yourself, even if it was labeled as "charity work." You had been working alone in that radio station for seven years. A change of pace would be nice. Yet beneath that gratitude lingered a sense of suspicion – it was unlike Alastor to offer assistance without some ulterior motive.

Lost in thought, you hadn't noticed his lean a little closer to you until you felt a stray strand of your crown braid being twirled gently. Startled, you glanced up to find his piercing gaze fixed on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"You still wear your hair like you have a halo," he remarked, his fingers delicately toying with the loose piece of hair. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a strange mix of confusion and familiarity within.

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks at his words and actions, the subtle intimacy of his actions stirring something deep within you. Despite your efforts to maintain composure, you couldn't deny the blush that heated your cheeks. You chalked it up to his absence, convinced it had impacted you more than you realized. Surely, it was just the result of your lack of social interaction or contact with others for the past seven years.

Your heart skipped a beat as he twirled that loose strand of hair and you found yourself holding your breath as you met his gaze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, leaving only the silent exchange passing between your locked eyes. Was it judgment you detected in Alastor's gaze, or was there something else lurking beneath the surface?

The fleeting moment of connection sent a shiver down your spine again, but you quickly pushed aside the unbidden thoughts, refocusing on the task at hand. There were too many questions swirling in your mind, too many uncertainties to dwell on in that fleeting moment of intimacy. You forced yourself to maintain composure, burying the stirring emotions deep within as you turned your attention back to the paperwork, determined to remain professional despite the unsettling encounter.

With a small, nervous smile, you nodded in response to Alastor's comment, feeling your cheeks still flush slightly under his scrutinizing gaze. "Old habits die hard, I suppose," You replied, attempting to brush off the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

Alastor's grin widened, a knowing glint flickering in his eyes. "Indeed they do," he murmured cryptically, his tone laden with unspoken meaning. He lingered for a moment longer, his presence casting a shadow over your thoughts before finally stepping away with a flourish.

He simply grinned at the state you were in before turning away, his demeanor shifting seamlessly as he made his way back to the kitchen. You followed in his wake, your mind still reeling from the brief encounter. As you both navigated the bustling corridors of the hotel, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

Despite your efforts to quell your doubts, you couldn't shake the lingering questions about your friendship with Alastor. Was his warmth genuine, or was there a darker motive lurking beneath his charming facade? He had been gone for seven years – maybe you were just overthinking a little bit. You had spent too much time apart, and now that he was back, you were struggling to readjust to his presence. Memories of your past interactions flashed through your mind, moments of camaraderie and laughter mixed with shared experiences and moments of your odd friendship. You found yourself torn between the familiarity of your friendship and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. 'Mistaking a friendly gesture for something more… Come on, (Y/N)…'

In typical Alastor fashion, he moved on as if nothing had happened, his attention already focused on the task at hand in the kitchen. You hurried to join him, eager to lend a hand and put the unsettling encounter behind you.

As you worked side by side, the familiar rhythm of their collaboration brought a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty. The clatter of pots and pans, the little calling of ingredients being pulled out —it was a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. It reminded you of old memories of similar moments like this – some with Rosie at your side as well. It causes you to smile to yourself a little.

You watched him move with effortless grace through the bustling kitchen, you couldn't help but wonder what he had been doing for seven years.

Before you could dwell on it further, Alastor snapped his fingers with a flourish, and in an instant, both he and you were adorned in matching aprons. The sudden change brought a startled laugh to your lips, momentarily breaking the tension that had been building within you.

"Ah, much better, don't you think?" Alastor chimed in, his grin widening as he gestured to their new attire. "Now we can tackle these culinary delights in style!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his remark, feeling the tension easing between you. "Absolutely," you replied, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Nothing like a bit of flair to spice up the cooking process."

As you worked together, the playful banter between you and Alastor flowed effortlessly, each teasing remark and shared laugh easing the tension that had lingered in the air. It was moments like these that reminded you why you had missed him during his absence, why his sudden return had stirred up such conflicting emotions within you.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was an undeniable undercurrent of something more—a subtle shift in the dynamic between you that left you feeling both exhilarated and apprehensive.

As you continued to work alongside Alastor, your attention occasionally drifted to the tender moments shared between Charlie and Vaggie. Their love for each other was palpable, evident in every glance and touch.

And of course, there was Niffty, flitting about the kitchen with boundless energy and enthusiasm, a ball of energy. Her antics never failed to bring a smile to your face, even if she was a bit odd at times.

You couldn't help but notice the way Angel Dust flirted shamelessly with Husk, his usual charm turned up to eleven as he attempted to win over the grumpy bartender. It was a sight that never failed to amuse you, the sheer audacity of Angel's advances paired with Husk's deadpan responses never failing to bring a smile to your face. You chuckled to yourself as you watched their interaction unfold, grateful for the lighthearted distraction.

During all this you got a moment to introduce yourself to Vaggie and Angel Dust, even if it was just quickly. The latter seems to really look you over with a raised brow. But you tried to not read into it.

Once everything had been finished and everyone did their own little jobs to get the table set – even with a bit of complaints from certain individuals -, it was a nice moment considering everything that happened that day.

At the head of the table sat Charlie, her vibrant energy filling the room as she presided over the idea that her vision for the hotel was coming to life, with a wide smile and infectious enthusiasm. To her left, Vaggie sat with a stoic expression, keeping a watchful eye on the newcomers, while to her right, Alastor lounged in his seat, his signature grin never leaving his face.

You found yourself seated between Alastor and Niffty, the energetic maid chattering animatedly as she passed around platters of food with lightning speed. Despite the chaos of the moment, there was a sense of warmth and camaraderie that permeated the air, a feeling of belonging that you had rarely experienced in the past few years.

As plates clinked and glasses clattered, conversation flowed freely around the table, a cacophony of voices and laughter that filled the room with life. The sound of Husk getting annoyed at Angel Dust flirting or Niffty popping off for a moment to chase something on the ground added to the lively atmosphere. It was moments like these that made you feel like maybe you had been missing out on something.

Despite the cheerful ambiance of the dinner table, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that lurked beneath the surface. As the conversation flowed around you, laughter ringing in your ears, you couldn't help but feel like an outsider looking in at that moment.

Charlie's infectious enthusiasm and Vaggie's watchful gaze created a sense of warmth and inclusion, yet you couldn't shake the feeling of being disconnected from the group. Memories of past betrayals and broken trust danced at the edges of your mind, casting a shadow over the otherwise joyous occasion.

You found yourself retreating into the safety of silence, unable to muster the courage to contribute to the lively banter. Despite the genuine smiles and friendly gestures directed your way, you couldn't help but question the sincerity of it all.

Was it all just a facade, masking hidden agendas and ulterior motives? Or were you simply allowing your past experiences to cloud your judgment, projecting your own insecurities onto those around you?

You tried to push aside the nagging doubts and insecurities that plagued your mind, but they stubbornly persisted, whispering cruel reminders of past betrayals and disappointments. The laughter and conversation continued to swirl around you, but you felt like a stranger in your own skin, unable to fully immerse yourself in the moment. You couldn't help but feel like you are a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. It was a familiar feeling, one that had haunted you since your fall from grace —a constant reminder of your inability to trust others completely.

As you sat there, feeling disconnected from the lively atmosphere around you, a subtle shift in the air caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Alastor's gaze lingering on you, his keen observation picking up on the subtle signs of your discomfort.

With a knowing smile, he turned slightly in his seat to face you better. "My dear, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but you seem a bit... unsettled tonight," Alastor remarked, his voice low.

You glanced up at him, surprised by his perceptiveness. "It's nothing, Alastor," you replied, trying to mask your unease with a casual shrug. "Just... feeling a bit out of place, I suppose."

Alastor's smile faltered slightly at the edges, a flash of something flashed in his eyes before it was gone. "Is there something troubling you, (Y/N)?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But with Alastor's gaze fixed on you, you found yourself opening up despite your reservations. "I suppose... I haven't been the best socially since your disappearance," you admitted, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "It's always been hard to trust others completely, especially after everything that's happened."

Alastor's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, his lips curling into a playful grin. "Well, well, well," he teased, his tone light but tinged with amusement. "You mean to tell me that my absence has left you socially inept, (Y/N)? I must say, I'm quite flattered."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but chuckle at his jest. "Oh, please," you retorted, playfully swatting at his arm. "Don't let it go to your head, Alastor. I'm sure I'll manage just fine without your charming presence."

Alastor feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he replied, his grin widening. "Why, you'd be denying yourself the pleasure of my company, my dear."

"Perhaps you're right," you conceded with a smirk, enjoying the banter despite your lingering worries. "After all, who else would I have to keep me on my toes with their ridiculous antics?"

Alastor's grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, but my dear (Y/N), you know you wouldn't have it any other way."

"But fear not, my dear (Y/N), for I promise to make your suffering as enjoyable as possible."

You couldn't help but laugh at his audacity, the tension in your shoulders easing as you shared this moment of camaraderie with him. Despite the uncertainties lurking beneath the surface, you found solace in Alastor's familiar presence, grateful for the brief respite from your worries.

Little did you know, however, that the calm before the storm was merely a fleeting illusion, and that soon, your world would be turned upside down once again.

♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿

My AO3 account!

Before I sign off, I wanted to extend a heartfelt thank you to each and every one of you for your comments and kudos/likes. Your support and engagement mean the world to me, and I'm genuinely surprised and grateful for the response the Drabble and the first chapter has received. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to share more with you soon. Until next time! - Ivory