Confession — The Office inspired
Pairing - Satan x gn!reader
Summary - Satan has made his peace about his unrequited love, or has he?
Warnings - Mild angst, otherwise none.
A/N - Hey, it's been a while. This is just something that has been sitting in my docs since years. I am not sure that I will return to writing on Tumblr like before now. So I have decided to just empty everything and post all the little pieces that have been waiting for me to come around.
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Satan had made his peace with it a long time ago.
You were in love with his brother and you were happy. That’s all that mattered to him.
Did it hurt? It really did. It was worse to bear than the constant slow simmer of wrath beneath his skin, than the countless hurts and wrongs of his life.
Why? He'd lived a long life, he'd seen demons break, half of 'em he'd broken himself. But there's something humorously ironic about getting his heart broken by a tiny little mortal. Unintentionally.
When he'd volunteered to accompany you on your trip to the human world, he'd had no intentions.
Mammon, the lazy sucker, attended only half the classes at the uni, and spent half of those asleep or on his phone. Lucifer had finally lost his patience and assigned him a month of backup classes and projects to make up the missing credits.
The streetlights were spaced widely, more lively at night than Devildom. The roads were empty. Pollution blanketed the skies: there was no moon or stars in sight. Your clothes were rumpled and worn. There was a bit of chocolate on the corner of your mouth from the ice cream. The vanilla underneath that layer of chocolate dripping onto your fingers.
He didn't mean to say it. But...he doubted he'd feel that moment again, that little realization of passing time and the coldness of the cone in his hands. “I’m in love with you,” he said, pausing there by the tiled footpath.
“I…I have been for a long time now," Satan had tried to explain, but it'd been too... He'd read about love, obsessed over it, written about it, he'd wished for it, but no book had prepared him for the roil of knowing unrequited love. "I just—I just wanted you to know. I’m sorry if that’s weird for you to hear.”
You stared at him, ice cream forgotten and left to melt. “I don’t know what to say, Satan.”
“Yeah.” His throat felt wrapped in barbed wire. He tossed the cone aside. A bite of irritation flared in him at the stickiness coating his fingers. He fished out his handkerchief with numb fingers, feeling his eyes start to burn. "It's... Forget it. Forget I said anything."
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