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satanghulu · 2 days

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lucky strike!

satan x f!reader series

✦ SUMMARY: Your luck has always been terrible, you knew that. But getting dumped a month before your wedding was not on your bingo card for the year. It seemed like you only had the shittest luck meeting the worst kind of men until you went on Craigslist. Hm? A cat-loving blond man was willing to accept your listing? ✦ WARNING: Modern AU, fake dating, reader works in the corporate world (not specified), fluff, unresolved emotional tension, mentions of cheating (reader's ex), reader and satan are noted to be in their late 20s, drunk texting ✦ WC: 7.8K

| PART ONE | PART TWO | MASTERLIST

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Luck is a mysterious and unexplainable phenomenon. Unfortunately, the God of Luck has never cared enough to shine down on you. Your unluckiness manifested in all sorts of ways; from birds pooping on you to delayed flights. It was a recurring theme in your life. But seriously? Getting cheated on by your ex, a month before your wedding is a new low, even for you.

You slumped over the table, hair tangled as you rubbed at your eyes. The murmured voices in the background blend together as you refuse to lift your head from where you are currently face down on the table.

“Hey… are you sure you’re alright?” A gentle hand touches your shoulder and you resist the urge to flinch and snarl at the voice to go away so that you could drown yourself in your sorrows – maybe in the sink in the washroom, which was becoming much more tempting by the minute.

Regrettably, you remember that you had called over reinforcements from when your stupid, shitty, rotten, pathetic ex had flaked on you through text so that you don’t try to do something stupid.

And now, you had company, but all you wanted to do was maybe throw yourself off a building so that you wouldn’t wake up in humiliation the next morning. Seriously, you still can’t believe that this manchild had the audacity to break up with you over text, and he even flaunted his new partner hours later on social media.

…He had never posted you on his account, citing that he didn't see the purpose of it. You scoffed, laughing at yourself for your stupidity in believing him. It wasn’t that, you just weren’t important enough for him to want to do it.

You could feel your eyes start to get wet and you vehemently tried to force those tears to go back into your tear duct. You were not going to waste a single tear on a man, especially on one as despicable as him.

In his defense, you couldn’t say that you didn’t see this coming. He’s been acting much more distant lately, unwilling to even hug you when he leaves the house to go to work. Your sex life had also been at an all-time low. You remember just a couple weeks back when you had dolled up in the cutest set of lingerie you had owned and waited for him but you ended up sleeping on the couch when he didn’t make it back throughout the night.

You had just convinced yourself that the stress of the wedding planning got to him and didn’t bother investigating further. But honestly, you weren’t an idiot. You could smell the unfamiliar reek of perfume practically wafting off him whenever he returned from “work”. But you played it off, thinking that you were being an anxious freak.

…At least he had the foresight to break up with you on a Friday night instead of a weekday. You would hate to drag yourself to work in this state.

You groaned again, finally lifting your face from the table when you were sure that you weren’t going to burst into tears. However, as you met the worried glances on your friends’ faces, a sob unilaterally ended up escaping from your throat.

Before you knew it, you were crumbling and breaking down with tears streaming from your eyes. God, now you were being pathetic.

After bawling your eyes out and evaporating whatever sort of water you had left in your body, you were finally ready to pick yourself up and move on. You told your friends as much albeit with your eyes blotched with tear stains and a warbled voice.

“Er babe, not to rain on your parade but what about the photoshoot?” Your friend cautiously asked, hands raised for protection as if afraid that you would throw a bottle at her. Though, that thought did run through your brain for a split second. Your lips parted with surprise as a jolt ran through you. You don’t answer your friend right away as you pause to search through your jumbled memories.

Fuck, she was right. Your scumbag of an ex had wanted to cheap out on the wedding costs and had persuaded you to opt for a more reasonably priced package but it came with conditions – no refunds and no cancellation. This meant that he had fucked you up again.

You could feel the waterworks and stress bubbling up inside of you, as you buried your face into the palms of your hand. The next time you see your stupid whore of an ex again, you swear you were going to fuck him upside down.

After a much-needed sleep, you finally gathered up your courage to call the wedding planner that well, you wouldn’t be needing their services anymore. She had been sympathetic in her response but had immediately still tried to sell you another package – as if you hadn’t just been broken up with or were even ready to dip your toes into the dating pool. You should be angry but it was hard to muster up any emotions when you just felt empty.

It was unfortunate that all of the bookings had been made under your name else, you would have just let that pathetic bastard cancel all of the appointments. You were not looking forward to the next call. In a fit of nervousness, you stood up to pace around the room.

All you had left was the final boss. You swallow thickly as you shakily bring up the contact profile of your photographer. The first time you had met him, he had chewed you out about every single thing possible from your fashion sense to the way you talk. You swear that for some reason, this guy had a vengeance out for you.

For once, you hoped that your photographer could find the compassion buried deep down inside his rotten heart to be nice to you.

“What do you want?” The all-so-familiar satiric voice bleeds through the line and your grip on your phone turns tighter, as if it was trying to escape.

You winced.

It seemed like you had caught him in a bad mood.

“Hi Mephisto, just wanted to ask how you are doing?” In a fake voice, your first course of action was to butter him up.

“How many times have I told you that my name is Mephistopheles? We are not close enough for you to call me by that.”

If words could hurt, you were sure that you would be scalded and burnt by the sheer force of his acidic tone. Somehow, today his words held even more venom than usual.

“Damn okay. What got your panties in a twist today, Mephistopheles? I was just checking in on you,” You tried again, keeping your tone light while you hurriedly punched down the urge to reach out across the virtual world to wrap your hands around his neck.

“Quit it. What do you want? You must be calling for something. I’ve already told you that there are no refunds or cancellations, so if it’s about that, you can go ahead and hang up now.” With that, you could see your imaginary money waving pitifully across the river bank.

With a tight smile, you briefly contemplated the choices laid out for you. Maybe you should just take a bath with your toaster plugged in tonight? Sleeping on the train track is shaping up to sound like a great idea as well.

“Well, no. I just wanted to know if it’s possible to push back the date for the photoshoot?” With an airy laugh, you gritted out your words.

Your petty self would not let your stupid ex have the last laugh, you were going to make sure to live your life happily and take those damn wedding photos.

A few seconds passed before you heard a condescending laugh on the other side of the line. “Did you get dumped?” For some reason, Mephistopheles always had a sixth sense regarding the state of your relationship. The last time you had gotten into a tiff with your ex before a consultation, Mephistopheles had chortled right in your face and told the pathetic bastard to buckle up.

Your silence must have answered his question because you could hear an even louder cackle through the phone to the point where you were sure he must be tearing up or choking on his saliva. Unfortunately, there went all chances of saving any sort of money or dignity.

With a click, you promptly hung up the call. There was no point dealing with him when he was in this state. You chucked your phone on the sofa, letting out a huge groan as it bounced off and hit the floor. Thankfully, the screen didn’t shatter else, it might have been your tipping point.

As you collapsed on the couch, praying for your demise to come, a ding caught your attention. Turning your attention to where your phone had landed, a message flashed brightly across the screen.

[11:05AM] pretentious bitch: I’ll allow you to postpone and change the concept of the photoshoot. Let me know if you find a person who is willing to take pictures with you.

[11:06AM] pretentious bitch: I’ll only wait for two months. Any longer and I will cancel the booking. No refunds.

You went through different variations of mildly concerning threats before settling on an amicable phrase that you could send to him without the police knocking on your door.

[11:06AM] You: thanks. ill lyk soon.

And with that message sent, you swiftly threw your phone (safely this time). You watch it slide, unharmed to the other side of the couch. With a deep breath, you stood up ready to conquer the day. You were not going to let yourself mope around in the house.

“Yukiii,” You pleaded with a hopeful gaze, hands clasped tightly around hers. “Help meee, I don’t know anyone who can do a photoshoot with me,” With as much pitifulness as you could muster, you flashed her the saddest look you could.

Your friend sends you a tight-lipped smile as she purses her lip with furrowed eyebrows. “I would love to but I don’t think I know anyone available for a photo shoot,” With that answer, you immediately slammed your head down on the table with a loud thud – causing the waiter who had been walking over with your order to retrace his steps.

“Urgh…. Why does life hate me,” You mumbled indistinctively from your position even as Yuki pinched the skin on the back of your hand in an attempt to get you to be more socially aware of your surroundings. With a loud sigh, she pried open your entwined hands and twisted the side of your ear hard.

With a loud cry of pain, you finally sat properly in your seat with a sulk. After getting your attention, she cleared her throat while folding her hands primly on the table. “I think you can try your luck on Craigslist. Try listing for a photo shoot partner online, people might just contact you.”

“Why didn’t I think of that? You’re the best, thank you!” You almost want to launch yourself across the table to kiss her for her wit and barely held back. Yuki fixes you with a threatening stare and thus you settle yourself deeper into your seat with a chastised pout.

After all your bravado earlier, you were at an impasse. How on earth do you write a listing without it reeking of desperation? You brooded over a cup of tea, that was now lukewarm due to your fickleness, as you scowled at the screen of your laptop, unable to type another word.

Looking for a partner to shoot an HK-style photoshoot with! Free of charge and I can provide you with free entertainment and pictures of cats. I will provide more details once you message me! Also attached is a photo of me so that you know that I’m not a scammer.

You stared at the words blankly, before emphatically deciding, to hell with it, and posted it.

You wake up in the middle of the night, throat parched and the light on your phone blinking obnoxiously in the darkness. Who on earth is blowing up your phone -- you checked the time on the screen, eyes half-closed -- at 4 in the fucking morning?

After grabbing a cup of water and planting yourself in front of your screen. You looked in dismay at the hundreds of notifications that flooded your inbox and instantly regretted putting a picture of yourself up on the listing. The amount of unwanted pictures you got was abysmal and you hurriedly deleted all emails with attachments. As you were about to delete the last email in the thread, you accidentally misclicked and the page popped up.

[12:25AM]

[email protected]: Dear Miss, could you please provide more information about the photoshoot? I am interested to hear more and if all goes well, I have some terms of my own to provide too. You can contact me at the number attached: XXX XXX XXX

Thank you and I wish for your timely response.

Yours sincerely,

Satan

What was up with this guy? You squinted at your phone screen, rubbing your eyes to get a better look. You marveled at how awkward and formal he managed to sound over an email for a listing that you took at most five minutes to write.

But he was your best bet considering the rest of your emails are filled with unwanted appendages that you certainly weren’t in the mood to look at. And at least, you were confident that he wasn’t going to send you unsolicited messages for now. Regardless, a new contact profile was created, and you threw yourself back in bed while mulling over a message to craft.

[05:15AM] You: hi, thanks for reaching out! i got ur number off the email u sent to me abt the craigslist thing. can i ask what conditions u have? ill also send the mood board here. dw i also hv the outfit prepared tho u may need to alter it if it doesnt fit u or u can also get ur own fit.

[05:20AM] You: Attachment sent - 1 File

[05:21AM] You: oh sorry abt the late msg, i didnt notice the time haha

In your efforts to keep yourself awake for a little while longer, you thought that it would be a good idea to scroll through articles on stranger danger. Quickly, the memory of your plastered picture on the internet haunts you and from the articles, it appeared that you had already failed the first step in keeping yourself safe.

With a grimace on your face, you quickly took down the listing on the website and prayed that whoever this Satan guy was, he would come through so you wouldn’t need to put yourself back up on the Internet.

Birds chirped distantly in the background as you groggily reached for your phone. It seemed that sleep had claimed you while you were surfing the net for cute animal videos. Somehow, you had woken up much more tired than you had been when you went back to sleep.

With one arm raised to shield your eyes from the sunlight peeking through the blinds, you checked your notifications and almost dropped your phone in your state of sleep.

[08:10AM] Satan: Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have run through the mood board and it seems good. Also, no worries about the outfit. I will be able to provide one. For my condition, I would prefer that we meet up in person to discuss it. Would that be alright with you? Do let me know what time would work best for you.

You almost puked in your mouth. Would it be wrong to say that he seems a lot more suspicious now? Also, what was up with his concept? You barely resist the urge to throw your phone across the room and inhaled a much-needed breath of fresh air and instantly choked on it -- screw it, what was wrong with this guy?

Suddenly, you very much regret placing your personal information up on the internet for the whole world to see. The articles on stranger danger flitted through your brain and you grimaced at the thought of the possibility of being trafficked.

You have watched enough true crime podcasts to know that this was sufficient for sirens to be blaring and your guard to be up. In your head, an imaginary true crime commentator deduced that he could either be trying to get into your pants or perhaps, searching for his next victim. With your hackles up, you quietly tried to swipe away from his profile when you noticed something.

With a peer at the saved contact profile, you realised that Satan must have saved your number seeing as there were now multiple display photos for you to scroll through.

You gaped at what you saw.

A pretty blonde man with a cat. He was cute, in that classic pretty boy style that was unfortunately exactly your type. With an excited hum, you scroll through the stranger’s photos. It was a visual treat. Your eyes trailed over the sharp angles of his face before belatedly noticing that he had on a pair of glasses. You might just about faint.

After catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you swiftly straightened up and frowned. You were not going to go against your morals and fawn over a random stranger you had met over the Internet. For all you knew, he could be catfishing you.

(He wasn’t. You had reverse image-searched his photo on the net so that you could further stalk look him up but you couldn’t find much additional information on him.)

[10:12AM] You: sure! we can meet at this location tomorrow at 1pm?

[10:12AM] You: Location sent

Admittedly, it didn’t take you much time to, well, go against your morals but you didn’t have any other choices to fall back at the moment. Either way, it was only a meeting in a public place so if the situation went awry, you would still be relatively safe.

Plus… it would be a shame to not see that handsome face in person at least once.

It’s about fifteen minutes from your scheduled meet-up with this stranger at the cafe you selected. Oddly enough, you haven’t started to feel the nerves set in which was uncharacteristic of you, considering the old you would have already been in the washroom trying to drown yourself in the sink.

But you do feel terribly out of place sitting alone. Wherever your sight falls on, there was always a couple being lovey-dovey and almost distastefully happy, rubbing salt in your wound. Thankfully, before you can start burning holes into your cup, a low voice abruptly cuts through your thoughts to call out your name.

“Hello. Are you the one who made the Craigslist post?”

Alarmed, you quickly raise your gaze from the table to meet bright green eyes. Silently, you brought a hand to your nose to check if your nose has started bleeding. The photos you had seen earlier did not do this angel man any justice. You could almost see a halo of light behind his head.

Satan was much more handsome in person.

“Did I get the wrong person?”

You could see the man’s eyebrow furrow as he glanced at his phone before examining at your face. You were too caught up in staring at him to realise that you had forgotten to give a reply. Hurriedly, you scrambled to tug on his sweater as he turned to leave.

“Oh sorry. Yes. That’s me.” Your voice came out stilted, as your back aligned as straight as a ruler. Thankfully, it seemed that Satan was too busy looking around the interior of the cafe to notice your mini-mental breakdown.

“Satan right? It’s good to meet you,” Without forgetting your manners, you offered a hand. Satan regarded your outreached palm with a passive expression before accepting it courteously. A few seconds passed as your eyes took in the view before you appreciatively.

An awkward cough cut your daydreaming short.

“Could you please let go of my hand now?” Satan said politely.

You mumbled an apology, shuffling back in your seat with a red face resembling a tomato. Belatedly, you hadn’t noticed that you were still grasping onto his hand, tightly. How did you already make an embarrassment of yourself on the very first meeting?

“Right. We’re here to talk about the conditions, correct?” You started, leaning back into your seat to get into a more comfortable position. Satan pulls out the chair opposite you and sets his briefcase on the floor. At a glance, you notice the various luxury brand logos on his person; taking a double look at the sweater which was easily more than what you make in a month.

Satan nodded, leaning down to rummage through his briefcase before pulling out a stack of paper to place on the table. You dumbly stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

You reckon that if your jaw wasn’t already unhinged during your leering session earlier, it would have made a comically loud sound.

“A contract?” You said lost, rubbing the back of your neck when he slid the document over for you to read. Maybe, he really was a serial killer and he was about to make you sign your life away in an unfair contract.

COMMERCIAL CONTRACT

THIS AGREEMENT is made and entered into this XXX…

You barely get through the first sentence before the peculiarity of the situation dawns on you. Somewhere, in the depths of your subconscious, a metaphorical Yuki was screaming right in your ears, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” while shaking you by the shoulders. Alas, she wasn’t here so you opened your mouth instead.

“What is the contract for?” You inquired hesitantly, scanning through the pile of paper, and wondered whether it was possible to rewind time.

Satan looks up from his phone, (when had he even taken out his device?), before replying matter-of-factedly, “An exchange for services. You require my help for the photoshoot and I require your attendance for a schedule. This arrangement works out perfectly for us, I would say.”

That was certainly an unconventional way of thinking. You were impressed by his …uniqueness. You were almost moved by his little spiel to sign the contract.

You blinked. “Do we really require a contract? I can just help, you know? I mean, you’re doing me a service by helping out with the shoot.”

Satan turns to face you again, evidently bored. “Do you need time to read through the contract? We can do the signing at a later date.”

What a jerk. He just ignored your question.

“Could you please tell me more about your conditions first?” You tried again, keeping your voice even with fists clenched under the table.

He looked at you, with an edge of displeasure in the set of his mouth. “I may need your attendance for an event where you will need to act as my romantic partner.”

“That doesn’t tell me much-- Wait-- Are you asking me to pretend to date you?” You spluttered, thrown off by the derail in the conversation.

He went quiet, wearing the most uncomfortable expression you have seen so far.

“No. Just your attendance for an event to give off the impression that we are in romantic relations.” Satan said sharply, as you nodded along to his words.

“Uh. Right. So fake dating.” You were still befuddled by his sudden proposition, leaning closer. “So, what does this entail? And what event is this for?”

“Everything is in the contract. Please refer to it instead of asking me.” Satan looks pointedly at the stack of paper arranged in front of you.

You let out a weary exhale. In the five minutes that you have known this man, he has proven himself time and time again to be a douche. You didn’t want to argue with someone that you had just met but it was vexing trying to communicate with him who was refusing to cooperate while you tried to pry information from the clutches of his grip. Before you could stop yourself, you pushed the documents to the other side of the table.

“Satan. I’m not going to sign the contract. It’s fairly unreasonable to spring this onto someone who you just met for the first time. Just let me know what are your conditions so we can discuss further.”

For the first time since you met him, Satan stares at you as if he is searching for something within you. You paused for a second, fumbling for words that didn’t sound remotely stupid before adding, “There must be an issue. Are you afraid about something?”

You must have hit the jackpot as Satan remained silent, leaving your question hanging in the air.

“Is a contract really necessary?” You pressed.

You watched as Satan seemed to battle his inner thoughts, face scrunching up adorably. “I will… retract the contract as you wish. You’re right. I was hasty in presuming a contract was needed. I apologise for my mistake.”

The quick apology on his part was a pleasant surprise. You never had anyone admit their mistake so quickly before and he didn’t even try to shift the blame to you! You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back before letting out an amused chuckle.

You waved a hand, dismissing his apology. “Thank you. Anyways, if you want to go forward with this fake dating thing, won’t we need to know each other better too?” Satan stares at you strangely as you blow gently on your iced coffee.

There’s a pause.

“Correct. I was hoping that we could correspond on a cover story and I would also like to get the chance to know you better as well.” You nod along in agreement this time sensing that this would turn out to be a long talk.

It was only after the meeting that you realised Satan never answered your question.

You scratched your head as you turned around looking for the egg that you had set down on the counter as you reflected on the meeting today. Honestly, the meeting went better than you had expected. Both of you had left the cafe pretty late. Thankfully, Satan turned out to be much nicer and a better conversational partner than you had guessed from his first impression.

After locating your egg on the table, you proceeded to whisk your mixture together when a loud bzzt caught your attention from where your phone was lying on the counter. Holding the mixing bowl under one arm, you took a cursory glance at the screen.

[07:32PM] Satan: Hello, this is a refresher on the meeting we had earlier. I have compiled the notes in the PDF below. Please take a look and let me know if I have missed out on anything.

[07:32PM] Satan: Attachment Sent - 1 File

…This guy was so uptight. Does he have a stick up his ass?

Continuing to stir the batter, you squint at the message again. Had all of the joy in his life been sucked out? You decide to take it upon yourself to educate him about having some fun.

[07:35PM] You: looks great! also, i think u need to relax :< if anyone sees ur phone, they wld think that im ur business partner instead of ur gf lol

Satan is typing…

You waited by your phone for a minute, leaning against the kitchen island. When no reply comes, you decided to start buttering up your frying pan to get started.

[07:40PM] Satan: Right, sorry. I’ll try my best.

The message flashes on the screen, and you let out a small chuckle. It was rather endearing to see him take such a long time to type such a short message.

[07:40PM] You: shld we hv nicknames for each other? or nah, ik some couples dont do petnames

[07:41PM] Satan: Yeah, nicknames will make it more believable. Are you alright with honey?

[07:42PM] You: works with me. what do i call u? tantan??

[07:43PM] Satan: I’m 29. Please do not call me that.

[07:49PM] You: bringing ur age into this? okay old man. ill js call u babe then. also brb let me cook

[07:50PM] Satan: Go ahead. Also, isn’t this a case of a kettle calling the pot black?

You let out a scandalised gasp even as you bite back a laugh over the loud sizzling from your pan. Your kitchen timer beeps distantly in the background, signaling you to check on the stew bubbling in the back.

[08:30PM] You: never tell a lady shes old!!! thats the first rule in How to Woo A Lady 101 (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

[09:10PM] Satan: Alright then, my apologies to the lady.

[09:10PM] Satan: Also, I’ll be heading to bed soon. Sleep well.

[09:15PM] You: ???? its 9??

[09:16PM] You: r u fr?? ure actually sleeping already??

[09:16PM] You: n u deny the claim that ure old…….. ok pops, lets get u to bed.

[09:17PM] You: goodnight ig. and also thks for helping out w the shoot! i rlly appreciate it.

Your messages were indeed left on delivered till the morning.

The commute to work was tough even though you do this every week. The lights in the building were grating and you were already sweating, having to squeeze into this tiny elevator with everyone else. God, it wasn’t like your company was lacking in money. Why couldn’t they upgrade the damn elevator? After elbowing someone in the chest, you finally made your way out of the elevator to your desk.

“Good morning!” A voice called out as you placed your bag on the table. The cheery voice was too loud in the early morning and you turned around to snap at the person. It was Simeon, holding a mug of coffee in his hand. The retort immediately dies on your tongue.

“Morning.” You greeted back, miserably.

Simeon just laughs at you before handing you a packet of coffee from his pocket. “Take it. I brought this for you to chase away the Monday blues.”

“Simeon, this is why you’re my favourite.” Eagerly, you grabbed the sachet and stared at the label for a second. “That’s the brand I always get! Seriously, you’re the best.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you were at work, you would have jumped to hug him. Simeon reaches past you to grab your mug and raises an eyebrow.

“Pantry?” He questions.

You follow Simeon to the pantry, making small talk along the way. He places your cup in front of the coffee machine, motioning for you to take over the process. As you work on making your coffee, he leans back on the fridge to study your expression.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of the coffee machine whirring to life thrums in the silence enveloping the both of you. “My wedding is off.” You finally admit when Simeon continues to wait as he inches closer, practically crowding you against the wall.

“He called it off.” You diligently kept your gaze on the appliance, not wanting to risk seeing pity in Simeon’s expression. You had thought that you had done a good job keeping yourself together but Simeon had seen through your facade at one glance.

Simeon opens his mouth to reply but the tell-tale sound of footsteps grows louder and sure enough, the pantry suddenly swarms with black-suited employees. He pins you with an expression that screams “We’ll talk more about this later”. Finally, the soft ping of the coffee machine announces the completion of your drink. Quickly, you swoop up your mug and brush past Simeon to head back to your table.

“See you at lunch!” He calls out from behind you.

That’s fair. Although Simeon works in another department, he has always been your closest friend in this forsaken company. The difference in departments had rather helped both of you blossom a camaraderie and you would like to presume that he thinks of you as a dear friend as well.

It doesn’t mean that you still want to talk about that though.

Finally, you slink back to your desk before anyone else can stop you.

The clock read half past eleven. You stand up from your desk to head for lunch – earlier than your usual break at twelve but it was a necessary sacrifice to avoid seeing Simeon. However, as you round the corner to the elevator, you spot Simeon coming out from his office.

Urgently, you dashed into the lift and smashed the ‘close’ button. Please, please, please. The doors were closing at a snail’s pace and you could see the delayed realisation on Simeon’s face as he dashed over. However, you were faster than him.

“Thank you.”

Or so you thought.

Unfortunately, a passing colleague had noticed the situation and held the door open for Simeon who thanked him with a smile. You quickly wipe off the dismay on your face, “Oh Simeon! I didn’t think you take your lunch this early haha…”

He only looks at you in disapproval.

The lift door closed gently behind him as a silence filled the air. “I’m sorry.” You say, head down. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”

Simeon only sighs.

“You could have told me. We could just grab lunch and not talk about it, you know.” Thoroughly reprimanded, you kept your head down, suddenly finding his loafers very interesting.

Your knee-jerk reaction was to accept his suggestion and disregard this entire conversation. But you know that it wouldn’t do you any good, especially in the long run. Simeon only had your best interests at heart and it's a clear fact that he cares about you. Yet, you still feel dread at the idea of opening up and talking about Feelings™.

But you have to try, at least to reciprocate his efforts. Taking in a deep breath, you started. “I saw this coming--“

The lift lets out a cheerful ding, cutting you off as it arrives at the lobby. For a moment, both of you don’t move but as people start trickling in, you grab Simeon by the arm to drag him out.

Inside the restaurant that Simeon picked out, you bemoaned and bitched about your ex and the tumultuous entirety of your relationship. At some point, Simeon had even ordered more sides and drinks as you continued ranting.

“I’m just upset that I wasn’t the one who broke it off.” You end, somewhat petulantly. It’s the same mantra you repeated to yourself the past weekend; deluding yourself that it was the only reason why you were upset.

Simeon just looks at you with a somewhat tired glance before adding, “He was honestly a bastard. It’s a blessing in disguise that you guys broke up.” You whipped your head up to look at him with surprise, dropping your chopsticks with a clatter.

Nice, friendly, kind Simeon was cursing? For whatever reason, that made you burst out into a peal of laughter – you covered your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle the sound when a vibration caught your attention.

[12:11PM] yuki <3333: club on fri. not takin no as an ans

[12:11PM] yuki <3333: the rest r comin too

[12:11PM] You: 🙁

[12:12PM] yuki <3333: dress hot. see u

[12:15PM] You: k…

Simeon looks at you curiously as you tap away on your phone. You pursed your lips as you turned your phone in his direction for him to read.

“Yuki asked me to go clubbing on Friday. I haven’t clubbed in years!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, almost flipping your bowl by accident. You quietly collect yourself when you notice the glares from the neighbouring table.

“Ah.” Simeon laughs as he glides the phone back to you.

“You should go though? I think it would be good for you to take your mind off…recent events.”

You frowned deeply, gesturing vaguely in exasperation before flopping into your seat. You didn’t want to go down without a fight but you couldn’t refute his sentiment.

“You’re right.” You grumbled. “Urgh. I hate you. Why are you always giving me such good advice?” You sniffed, as you wriggled a finger at him accusingly.

“It comes with the job. Come on, let’s head back to work.”

After leaving your office, you finally have the time to check the notifications on your phone. You were terribly busy after coming back from lunch with Simeon. Some asshole in your team had messed up and the boss had called for all hands on deck – leading you to be overworked on the first day of the week.

With a sigh, you swiped to open the notification from Satan.

[03:10PM] Satan: Good afternoon. I would like to make a proposition that we start a daily chat so that we can get to know each other better.

[05:40PM] You: sure! how was ur day, satan?

[05:50PM] Satan: It was good. I had a late start to the day so I spent the time with my cat. How was yours?

[06:10PM] You: U HV A CAT???? omg. send pics now.

[06:11PM] You: my day was great, thanks for asking. i had lunch w a co-worker

[06:16PM] Satan: Album - Video

[06:16PM] Satan: His name is Mr Bubbles.

You opened the video and immediately let out a squeal. This had already made your day a hundred times better. You couldn’t believe that Mr. Stick Up His Ass had such an adorable cat.

[06:18PM] Satan: That’s nice. What did you eat for lunch?

[06:18PM] You: OMG! hes so cute!

[06:19PM] You: wait lol is that why ur email is mrbubbleslover

[06:20PM] Satan: Smart. I use his name for my personal email.

[06:22PM] You: thats so cute lol

With a smile creeping on your face, the conversation between Satan and you continues throughout your commute home. Without even realising it, you had already arrived at your apartment.

Friday evening finally rolled around. The week had passed in a blur and the only thing that kept you sane was the daily reprieve when Satan texted you. It was on a fast track to becoming your favourite part of the day. Feeling generous, you decided to stop by Simeon’s office on your way out to bless him with your presence.

“Simeon!” You flung the door open with a dramatic gasp, “Wanna come with me tonight?”

The office was as pristine as ever. The colour-coded filing cabinet was pulled open as Simeon rummaged through it to search for a document. His office always reminds you of a hospital, with the bitter hint of antiseptic lingering in the air. You had previously complained about the smell but he was adamant in disinfecting his office every few hours to not bring any germs home.

Without looking up, Simeon answers. “I can’t, I have to take care of Luke.”

Simeon doesn’t even need to check. As always, the only possible person who would disturb him at this hour was you.

“You’re giving up a chance to go out with me for a puppy?” You say, pouting from your position in the doorway. The answer was expected, Simeon was the kind of person who would rather spend time indoors with his pet than out at a bar.

“Boringg.” You droned, still intent on teasing him.

“Unfortunately, Luke is still young and I would hate to leave him alone on a Friday night,” Simeon quipped back, sliding an unimpressed look your way. You heaved your bag higher up on your shoulder as you sighed, realising it was a lost cause.

“Fine, I’ll leave first then. See you.” Simeon just waves you off, as he continues in his work.

With his dismissal, you quickly exit the office – thankfully not bumping into anyone you know. The employees at this company were talkative. Once, you had spent a whole hour stuck in a conversation with your superior in the lift lobby. Simeon had just given you a pitiful look as he walked past you to leave.

On the commute home, you spent time doing your daily catch-up with Satan. You had learned much about the once-elusive man. You could rattle off a whole list – he had six brothers and a half-sister, he likes green, he’s an acclaimed professor with multiple degrees, the list just goes on. It’s a given that he knows as much about you too.

Briefly, you wonder if this little transactional relationship was spiraling into something bigger.

[06:13PM] Satan: Stay safe while clubbing.

[06:22PM] You: aye, aye sir

For the next hour or so, you spent your time getting ready as you waited for Yuki to arrive at your apartment to pick you up. You couldn’t tell if you were nervous. The clubbing scene has long ceased to be familiar to you – it was also the first time since the start of your previous relationship.

A chime sounds throughout the room and you struggle to put on your pair of heels. The incessant chiming of the doorbell alerts you to the urgency of the person on the other side of the door.

“Stop trying to break my doorbell.” You huffed.

“Sorry.” The amusement on Yuki’s face says otherwise.

You wait for her to lead the way but she pauses to glance down at you approvingly. “You look insane.” She remarks before tugging you by the hand, uncaring even as you stumble shakily down the hallway.

What an impatient woman.

“You could just say I look good.” You retort.

Yuki just laughs in response. The conversation between both of you flows easily from there and before you know it, you have arrived at the place.

Sensing your apprehension, Yuki slows down while approaching the table, giving you a chance to gather your composure together. You slide your palm up and down your thighs, to try and fend off the tension building up within you, in a sort of comforting motion.

A chortle of greetings rings throughout the table. There was a flurry of motion and suddenly, you were no longer standing but sitting by an acquaintance’s side. Both of you exchanged pleasantries, and time seemed to pass quickly.

At some point, drinks started coming out. With a couple of drinks in your system, you began to open up, your past inhibitions forgotten. For the most part, you bitch about your superiors, your stupid ex, and then for some reason, you brought up Satan.

Another couple of drinks blurs your judgment and suddenly, you get an intense urge to check in on him. With enough liquid courage and cheering from your friends, you whipped out your phone to draft a text.

[11:50PM] You: hi

[11:50PM] You: imisyyou

[11:52PM] You: hAHHA u knowwwww

[11:55PM] You: urrrrrrrrrr xtee

[11:56PM] You: cue

[12:01AM] You: cute**********

Satan is never awake at this time so you don’t expect to receive a reply. Instead, you shove your phone back into your pocket and return to the conversation at hand, enjoying the company of your friends and the thrill of the weekend.

You shouldn’t have drank so much. The raging headache that greets you when you wake up the next day felt almost like an assassination attempt. It was supposed to be a nice, chill, relaxing Saturday morning for you to sleep in. Yet, the saliva pooling in your mouth tells you otherwise.

“Yuki…I’m going to kill you…” You garble into your pillow, forcing yourself to sit up while you fight back the urge to vomit. The conscious realisation that it must be afternoon dawns late on you when you notice the sun high up in the sky through the open curtains.

You rubbed your eyes with one hand as you reached out a hand to blindly feel around the bed for your phone. The brightness of your phone temporarily stole your vision as you let out a grunt, waiting for your eyes to adjust.

[08:10AM] Satan: ?

[08:10AM] Satan: Are you drunk?

[08:11AM] Satan: Did you get back safely?

[08:40AM] You have one missed call from Satan

[08:45AM] Satan: I presume you must still be sleeping or hungover. Let me know if you’re safe once you see this message.

Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe the rollercoaster of emotions that you are feeling. Was it possible for you to move abroad to a place where nobody would find you? You searched up the cost of moving abroad to a distant village and were sorely disappointed by the sheer amount.

[03:01PM] You: hi

[03:03PM] You: i was drunk, im so sorry

[03:04PM] You: i didnt mean to send all that

[03:04PM] You: pls accept my apologies and if possible, erase this from ur memory pls

Satan comes online almost immediately.

Satan is typing…

[03:05PM] Satan: I’m glad to hear you’re safe.

[03:05PM] Satan: It’s nice to know that you think I’m cute though :)

You drop your phone.

[03:05PM] Satan: Have you eaten or drank any water? Hydration is very important after a whole night of drinking.

You scramble to grab your phone, looking back at the message again. The dull thudding in your head becomes distant as you stare at the text.

[03:10PM] You: ah yes, thank u for reminding me to drink water haha

Your fingers are still trembling as the next message comes in with a ding.

[03:12PM] Satan: Do you have time tomorrow? I discovered this new cafe known for their bubble tea and sandwiches. Are you free to accompany me?

[03:12PM] Satan: Location sent

You screenshot the message with bated breath and send it to Yuki.

[03:13PM] yuki <3333: GIRL WTF

[03:13PM] yuki <3333: IS HE ASKING U ON A DATE

[03:13PM] You: thats what i wanted to ask u…

[03:14PM] yuki <3333: I THINK SO?? JUST ACCEPT AND GO

You swiped back on the chat with Satan, unsure fingers hovering over the keyboard.

If it was a date, you honestly weren’t sure if you were ready for it. The heartbreak from your previous relationship was still fresh. It’s only been about a week since you got dumped.

[03:20PM] You: maybe not tomorrow :<

[03:21PM] You: i already have plans w my friends :’)

[03:21PM] You: maybe another time?

You shoved your phone in the pile of blankets watching as the screen lit up, probably from a reply from Satan. The dull thudding in your head had come back in full force as you gazed up at the ceiling.

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| PART ONE | PART TWO | MASTERLIST

#reader is an overthinker (unfortunate)#satangwrites #satangwrites: lucky strike!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me satan x you #satan x reader #obey me satan #satan #obey me x reader #obey me x you

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