#controlling behavior

you sit down almost nervously in the chair settled across from him, a small table keeping you apart and at a reasonable distance from each other. you weren’t sure why you were here in the first place but you felt like this place was pulling you in, him calling out your name, for you to come visit him even though you know it was just complete bullshit as Kevin doesn’t beg, he never in his life has he begged for anything, the only thing he needed to do to get what he wants was to simply take it against any odds and morals.

your hands sat in your lap on your shaky thighs, fingers fidgeting with each other while you lied back in the chair, glancing up at him from your hands to meet his eyes, them already staring back at you, already analyzing your facial expressions and every single twitch of your face and body

“well.. how are you holdin up in here?”

kevin watched your nervous behavior with a predator’s quiet amusement. he leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking under his shifting weight, his eyes tracing the movement of your fingers intertwining and untangling in your lap. He knew you were uncomfortable, he could practically smell the anxiety radiating off you, and he found it intoxicating. you were here, despite everything. fuck, you came to visit him before his mother could have even thought about it.

he let the silence stretch between you for a long moment, as if he was savoring it. when his lips finally curled into that familiar, mocking smile, his voice came out low and deliberate.

"How am I holding up?" he repeated your question, tilting his head slightly.

“It’s a standard question, just answer it damn it” you softly snap back at him, annoyance flashing behind the slight anxiety inside of your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest to suppress your fidgetyness, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have any feelings left for him, even after all of the horrible stuff he has done to you and how he put your best friend in the hospital, then her dying inside said hospital shortly after, your mourning still remaining inside your heart.

you couldn’t forgive him so easily, you don’t even think it’s possible for you to forgive him, he isn’t the right person for you in any way, and he might never be. but the fact the relationship between you feels forbidden and completely messed up, it seems to keep pulling you back into a self destructive cycle you can’t quite stop from looping.

kevin chuckled darkly, the sound scraping against the quiet air of the visiting room. He enjoyed your annoyance far more than your nervousness, annoyance meant passion, meant you weren't indifferent. his eyes dropped to your crossed arms, noting the defensive posture before locking back onto yours with that terrifyingly calm intensity.

"Standard questions get standard answers, darling,"

"I'm holding up just fine." he said, his voice empty of any emotional reflection to your own. He could have been discussing the weather or commenting on the food in the prison cafeteria. He wasn't going to give you anything real, not just yet.

“well, I’m glad the prison isn’t a hellhole to you..” you start, regaining some of your lost confidence and hatred you tried to tell yourself you felt, gaslighting your brain to believe it, but your feelings towards him were stronger, easily overpowering and taking down the negative feelings, yet this time you managed to gather a few words before it dying down. “but i also hope you rot in there and don’t come out. ever.”

kevin laughed, a soft and chilling sound that lacked any genuine humor but held a terrifying amount of affection. he leaned forward over the small metal table, invading your personal space just enough to make your heart race, his eyes darkening with that twisted satisfaction he always felt when you showed bite.

"You hope I rot?"

your body immediately tenses at his sudden approach, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up as you straighten your posture, crossing your arms over your chest as you nervously gulped, the saliva going deliberately slow down your throat and finally down into your stomach thats started to cramp from all of the anxiety knotting the nerves inside together.

quickly composing yourself and regaining your guard, you put on an emotionless face yet the hints in your eyes and body language still remained, unable to disappear no matter how much you tried to mask them. “matter of fact, yeah i do”

kevin's smile widened, his teeth flashing in the fluorescent light of the room. He sat back slowly while maintaining eye contact, his gaze piercing through your carefully constructed mask. The way you tensed, the nervous swallow, the crossed arms, he saw it all. He knew he still affected you, even if you pretended to hate him.

you hated how your body betrayed you anytime you were around him, the feeling of his presence nearby alone can gauge a reaction out of you, you constantly degraded yourself for bending at his will, for still having feelings even if they are small and completely wrong, god do you wish you could just throw the entire chapter out of your life and forget about him, but the thought of never seeing him again also makes you feel sad and remorseful towards him.

it wasnt his choice to have such a tough upbringing, and live with the constant struggle of his mental health never being properly treated and always remaining misunderstood by the people around him, but it still doesn’t and cant excuse his actions in anyway, no matter how you bend the story the outcome still is the same—with his actions not justified by any one nor anything.

his gaze seemed to strip you bare, reading every thought that flashed across your eyes. kevin saw the conflict—the hatred battling with those remains of twisted affection, the way your morals fought with your trauma response. he knew exactly what you were thinking. you were trying to rationalize him, trying to separate the monster from the broken boy.

he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table, voice lowering so only you could hear. “you know what I love about you?"

His tone was almost gentle, a polar opposite to his usual menace. "even after everything, you still try to find excuses for my behavior."

your posture shot up straight, being surprised by his sudden words while your eyes widened at him, why would he possibly think that? you never did it verbally nor did you defend him in court while he was on trial for the murders he committed, nor when the people around him were against him, as well as his own mother—what actions could have triggered him to assume you would do that for him after everything?

during the whole visitation, your thoughts seem to be at constant war with each other, with no visible end. this train of thoughts should prove to you that you two aren’t made for each other, that he brings out the worse mental state in you, right? but still, some of your thoughts hold onto the good things about him, even if there aren’t many of them and the bad stuff overpowers them by a mile.

“what— no, i don’t and wouldn’t do that. why on earth would you assume that?”

his words got you thinking—maybe you do actually justify everyone of his actions because of your stubborn feelings left for him? as if engraved into your skin permanently. “I didnt defend you during your trial, in court, against your mother or others. What you did is inexcusable, even if someone wanted to excuse it, they couldn’t possibly”

kevin listened to your defensive rambling with an air of amusement, his head cocked slightly to the side as if studying a fascinating specimen. he watched the way your eyes flashed, the way your posture stiffened in response. he saw the conflict roiling beneath your surface—the desperate need to distance yourself from his crimes with the lingering attachment that refused to die.

"you didn't defend me with words," he countered smoothly, his voice dropping to a murmur that passed by your ears and went straight to your chest. "but you defend me in your head. you're doing it right now." attention dropped to your hands, noting the way your fingers dug into your arms, the way your body practically vibrated with tension.

his gaze flickered back up to your face, zeroing in on the tiny muscles twitching around your eyes, the slight parting of your lips as you sucked in quick, sharp breaths. kevin knew he was getting to you, pushing those hidden buttons that only he seemed to possess the code for.

“considering you aren’t inside of my head, you don’t know anything thats going on in it and quite frankly, it isnt your business what i’m thinking of” you shot him back a slight glare, well atleast you tried to glare at him as hard as you could but there was no possible venom behind it, even if you wanted to be mad at him, yell and scream about your best friend alongside all the other victims and how much you hate him and want him to never come out of prison, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

your brain cant convince your body to do not feel such things you desperately feel you need to, it seems like a never ending cycle, almost like a ferris wheel that you can’t grasp the control over, no matter how much people scream to stop the ride, you still can’t bring your hands to press the emergency stop button on the console

kevin's smirk deepened, tasting your weak glare like a victory. he didn't need to be inside your head—your body was an open book to him. every twitch, every swallowed breath, the way your jaw tightened just slightly when he leaned back with that infuriating knowing look.

"I don't need to be in your head." his eyes dropped pointedly to your chest, tracking the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat that was visibly thumping against your clothing "your body tells me everything I need to know."

he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his voice dropping to a seductive, dangerous murmur. "you're angry, yes. you hate what I did."

he paused, his gaze flicking up to your face, watching the way your eyes darted away, the slight tremble of your lips. "but you don't hate me." his voice was soft, confident, a deadly combination that seemed to suck the air out of the room.

kevin titled his head, studying you with that predatory look that made you feel like a hunted prey. "you're sitting in the visiting room of a maximum security prison, not a courthouse. not a victim support group. not the cemetery."

his eyes held yours, unblinking. "you came here, didn't you."

“but it doesn’t mean i forgive you, Kev, in anyway—” the words came out your throat like poison, as if they were callousing the inside of your mouth while the taste was bitter. “if you think about it, we shouldn’t have ever been together, we were just.. toxic and never meant for each other, we need to move on from each other”

his expression darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. the nickname "Kev" on your lips felt like a physical blow, a reminder of the past he couldn't escape and the future he couldn't have with you.

“move on?" He repeated, voice low and dangerous.

"you think I don't know that?" his voice cracked slightly, the first sign of genuine emotion breaking through his cold exterior. "i know we were toxic. i know we were never meant to be." he leaned forward, hands clenched into fists on the table.

"but we were meant to be. that's the fucking tragedy of it all." his voice this time came out raw and stripped of its usual venom, revealing something broken underneath. "i killed people. i destroyed lives. and you..." he gestured at you with a small, almost unnoticeable movement. "you still fucking show up." the words weren't an accusation anymore, but a confession.

his jaw tightened and for a moment, you saw the boy beneath the monster—the same one who had cried on your shoulder after another therapy session that failed, the same one who had whispered promises he knew he couldn't keep.

"so tell me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "why do you still come?"

“because..” you can’t seem to get any words past your lips, you can’t possibly tell him that the reason you keep visiting him is because your brain won’t let you stop thinking about him, because you still feel the spark between you even though you don’t want to, because you can’t wait for him to get released so that you could continue your lives together outside of the prison separating you from each other.

just as you have brought up enough courage to speak and actually confess to the truth, the guards have suddenly announced that visitation hours have ended and all remaining visitors are needed to exit the prison.

“Forget it.. I really need to go now, our time is over for today.”

he watched you scramble to gather your things, his eyes tracking your movements with an intensity that made the air feel thick. the guard's announcement of "Time's up" echoed through the room, but kevin didn't move. Instead, he reached out suddenly, grabbing your wrist before you could stand.

his grip was surprisingly gentle, considering the strength he'd used to overpower guards and other inmates. his thumb traced patterns on your pulse point, a habit he'd developed during more peaceful times between you two. "not so fast,"

his fingers tightened slightly, pulling you back down into your seat as if he had every right to keep you there. the guard cleared his throat loudly, reminding you both that visitors needed to leave immediately. but kevin ignored him, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered with madness.

you glanced at the guard, then back at kevin who was still holding your wrist tightly, and you couldn’t to quite get yourself free, no matter the amount of protest coming from your gaze alongside the guards strict rules and policy.

“Kev, I seriously have to go, I don’t want to get you into more trouble by you trying to keep me here—“

his fingers loosened just enough, sliding down to lace through yours, now holding your hand captive rather than your wrist. he knew you wouldn't fight him—you never did.

“your so called ‘trouble’ is the last thing on my mind right now," he whispered, ignoring the approaching footsteps of the guard. "you said we weren't meant for each other—that we need to move on."

his voice lowered even further, becoming a dark murmur that seemed to vibrate through your entire body and existence. “so why do you keep coming back?" his thumb pressed into the center of your palm, a silent demand for an answer. the guard reached the table, his hand hovering over kevin's shoulder.

kevin didn't flinch or pull away, his gaze never leaving yours as the guard hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the intimate scene unfolding before him. the guard cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain some semblance of authority. "sir, the visitor needs to leave now. you know the rules."

kevin’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a warning that promised the guard would regret interrupting this moment. but he didn't fight. instead, he slowly released your hand, his fingers lingering against your skin for a second longer than necessary.

"I'll see you next week." he said it with absolute certainty, leaning back, his smirk returning with a dark edge.

“you know we can’t keep seeing each other, Kev. I won’t be back next time..”

his smile didn't falter—in fact, it widened into something sharp and knowing, a terrifying display of confidence that ignored your reality completely.

"yes, you will." he leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching the guard urge you toward the exit.

"you'll be back next week. and the week after. you always do."

he watched you walk away, his eyes tracking every step you took toward the exit until you disappeared through the heavy metal doors. he didn't look panicked at your final words. he didn't even look defeated. he leaned his head back against the cold wall, a slow, satisfied smirk curling his lips.

because he knew the truth...

✎ᝰ. vera’s notepad ! :: ik the layout is basic but i gotta prepare for a theme change and i just didn’t know what to do lol, i’ve been obsessed with this movie for a week straight now i needed to write somethin for kev cuz i love me a psychopath and lmk if yall want more of him ! . . .

POSEIDON, god of sea

Poseidon’s love would feel like drowning: it’s suffocating and impossible to escape.

He would become obsessed with the idea that you are his calm. The only thing capable of quieting the violent rage inside him. The sea would literally respond to your emotions. If you cry, the tides rise. If you’re calm, the ocean becomes glass-smooth.

Poseidon wouldn’t want you near other people because humans are unpredictable. The ocean, however, is loyal. It obeys him. So he would begin trying to pull you closer and closer to the water. Trips to the coast, walks by the sea, and storms that conveniently trap you near shorelines.

Eventually, you would realize that the sea reacts when you try to leave. Boats break, storms appear suddenly, and urrents drag you back. It seems the ocean refuses to let you go.

Poseidon wouldn’t see this as kidnapping. To him, it’s protection from the cruelty of land. Humans betray. Humans hurt. But the sea? The sea worships you because he does.

And if someone tried to take you away, he wouldn’t even try to hide the destruction. He’d want the world to understand:

If they take you, they drown with you.

HERA, goddess of marriage

Hera’s obsession wouldn’t come from passion, it would come from devotion. Once she decides you’re hers, she treats you like something sacred and pure that the world doesn’t deserve.

Unlike Zeus or Poseidon, she wouldn’t destroy your enemies instantly. She would ruin them with areers collapse, friendships turning toxic, families growing distant… People who get too close to you suddenly become miserable without knowing why.

Hera believes in loyalty above everything else. If you love her back, even just a little, she becomes very gentle. Almost motherly in a dark way.

But if you ever show affection toward someone else?

Hera wouldn’t hurt you. She would hurt the person you loved. She would twist their life into something unbearable until they abandon you on their own.

And the worst part is: she would comfort you afterward. She would hold you gently, whispering that the world always disappoints you, that people are weak, that only she understands you completely. She wouldn’t force you to stay.

She would make you believe leaving her would destroy you.

DEMETER, goddess of agriculture

Demeter would see you as something soft and fragile that the world is constantly trying to steal (as Persephone)l. Every small hardship in your life becomes proof that you cannot survive without her protection.

At first, her love feels warm and comforting. She feeds you, takes care of you, makes sure you’re never lonely. But slowly, that warmth becomes suffocating. She doesn’t want you to grow. Growing means independence, and independence means losing you.

So she starts controlling your life in small ways. Choosing where you go. Who you talk to. What’s “safe” for you. Anyone who encourages you to become stronger becomes her enemy.

If you ever tried to leave her, she wouldn’t scream or rage. The world would simply begin to die.

Plants would wither. Crops would fail. Seasons would stop moving. Winter would stretch endlessly. Not out of cruelty, but because Demeter cannot function without you.

APHRODITE, goddess of love

The moment Aphrodite becomes obsessed, your life changes little by little. People still admire you, they still look at you, but the love never feels real. Relationships crumble for no reason, and the confessions feel hollow. Something is always missing.

That’s because Aphrodite refuses to share what belongs to her.

Every time you try to love someone else, the relationship becomes painful, awkward and empty, like your heart refuses to respond. That’s the work of his loyal Eros.

Meanwhile, she would appear in your life in gentle ways. Dreams, mirrors, reflections… there are some moments where you feel watched, but in a strange comforting way.

Eventually, you would start craving her presence without realizing why.

Aphrodite would want you dependent on her. She wants to be the only one who can make your heart race, the only one who can make you feel desired, the only one who can make you feel loved.

Not because she’s insecure. But because she believes love itself belongs to her, and therefore, so do you.

ATHENA, goddess of wisdom

Athena would study you first. Learn everything. Your fears, your habits, your weaknesses, and the exact type of affection you crave.

Then she would become the perfect person for you.

You would think you fell in love naturally. You would believe it was your choice. But in reality, Athena prepared the entire relationship like a strategy.

Once you’re attached, she becomes possessive. She doesn’t isolate you violently, she just makes everyone else seem unnecessary. No one understands you like she does. No one protects you like she does. No one can predict your needs like she does.

If you ever tried to break away, Athena wouldn’t panic. She would outthink you. Every escape plan would fail before it even begins. Every decision you make would somehow lead you back to her.

Because she predicted you perfectly.

ARTEMIS, goddess of the hunt

Artemis would see you as something she needs to protect from the corruption of the world.

She would become obsessed with the idea that humanity is dangerous, that people will hurt you, betray you, and taint you. So she slowly pulls you away from civilization by forest walks, silent nights, and distance from crowds.

The more time you spend with her, the more peaceful it feels. Until one day you realize you don’t remember the last time you saw another person.

Artemis wouldn’t lock you up physically. She would make the outside world feel threatening. The forest becomes your safe space, and she becomes the only person you trust inside it.

If someone tried to take you away, Artemis would react like a predator protecting its territory.

APOLLO, god of the sun

Apollo would love you the way artists love their greatest masterpiece: obsessively, and selfishly.

He would become fascinated with every detail of you. Your voice, your laugh, your emotions… he would turn you into poetry, music, and art. At first, it feels flattering.

But then you realize something disturbing: Apollo doesn’t want you to change.

He doesn’t want you to grow, mature, or move on. Because the version of you he fell in love with is the version he immortalized. If you change, his “perfect creation” disappears.

So he encourages you to stay the same, to stay dependent and fragile. Because that’s the version of you he worships.

If someone else tries to “improve” you, Apollo sees it as destruction. And he will destroy them in return.

Because to Apollo, you aren’t just someone he loves. You are something he created, and creators don’t share their masterpieces.

ARES, god of war

The moment he becomes attached, you become the one thing that calms his rage. Which means he cannot risk losing you. Ever.

He wouldn’t try to control you, he would control the world around you through violence. Anyone who insults you, touches you, or even looks at you wrong becomes a target.

At first, it feels powerful and safe. Like nothing in the world could hurt you.

But then you realize something horrifying: Ares isn’t protecting you from danger, he’s also creating danger just to defend you from it.

Fights start because he wants an excuse to prove his devotion. Wars feel personal and violence becomes proof of love.

If you tried to leave him, he wouldn’t beg. He would become destructive. Not toward you, but toward everything else. Which of course makes you feel guilty: would you sacrifice so many innocent people only for your sake, mmh?

But the scariest part? He would never apologize.

HEPHAESTUS, god of blacksmithing

Hephaestus wouldn’t chase you aggressively. He would simply… build things for you. Small gifts at first, objects and tools that solve your problems.

Then the gifts start becoming more personal. Things only someone who watches you closely would know you need.

He would never admit he’s obsessed. But you would feel it. The way he looks at you like you’re something delicate that could break at any moment, and the way he hates anyone who hurts you.

If you ever tried to leave, he wouldn’t threaten you. He would simply remind you of everything he built for you. Everything he fixed. Everything he sacrificed.

And slowly, you would start feeling guilty for wanting freedom.

He would trap you by making you feel like leaving him would destroy someone who loves you more than anyone ever could.

HERMES, god of messengers

Hermes would be one of the most unsettling because his obsession would feel playful, until it suddenly isn’t.

He would appear everywhere in your life. Random coincidences, messages arriving at the perfect moment and someone always helping you when you’re lost. You’d think you’re lucky.

But eventually, you realize something: Hermes knows everything you do. Every secret, every thought, every place you go.

He wouldn’t isolate you violently. He would just make sure you can’t escape him. Even if you run, he’ll find you faster. Even if you hide, he’ll know where you are.

The scariest part is that he never looks angry. He just smiles gently and says things like, “You don’t have to run from me.”

It’s inescapable.

DIONYSUS, god of wine

Dionysus’s love would feel intoxicating at first. It would be exciting and freeing.

He would make you feel alive in a way no one else ever has. There are no rules or guilt, just passion.

But slowly, that freedom turns into dependency.

You start needing him to feel happy. Needing him to feel brave. Needing him to feel alive. And Dionysus knows it. He doesn’t force it, he only encourages it, like he’s helping you discover your “true self.”

But your “true self” only exists when he’s there.

If you ever tried to leave, Dionysus wouldn’t stop you. He would let you go, and then the world would feel empty again, grey and lifeless, like joy itself disappeared.

Because it did.

Dionysus doesn’t want to cage you.

He wants you to choose the cage yourself.

HADES, god of the Underworld

Hade’s love would feel eternal.

He wouldn’t rush anything. He would simply wait. And slowly, he would become the only person who truly understands your loneliness.

You would feel safe with him in a way you never have with anyone else. You would feel seen and calm.

And then one day, you realize something horrifying: You don’t want to leave him anymore.

Hades wouldn’t trap you with chains. He would trap you with comfort and understanding. A love that feels deeper than anything on the surface world.

And even if you tried to leave, he would never chase you. He would wait.

Because he knows something you don’t:

Megan knew she was in trouble the first time Dani smiled at her like that.

Not like a normal smile. Not polite. Not friendly. Not even flirty, really.

It was the kind of smile that made you feel like you’d already lost something, even if you didn’t know what yet.

And Megan, unfortunately, was the type to hand things over willingly.

Including herself.

It started small. It always does.

A shared class. A few jokes. Dani leaning over too close, like personal space was just a suggestion she didn’t believe in. Megan laughing too hard at things that weren’t even that funny, just because Dani’s eyes were on her.

Dani noticed everything.

That was the first red flag.

The way Megan tucked her hair behind her ear when she got nervous. The way her voice got quieter when she felt like she was being annoying. The way she apologized for literally existing.

Dani clocked all of it within, like, a week.

And instead of being normal about it, she just… used it.

“Why do you say sorry so much?” Dani asked one afternoon, chin propped on her hand, staring at Megan like she was a puzzle.

Megan blinked. “I—sorry, I just—”

Dani laughed, soft and sharp at the same time. “See? You just did it again.”

Megan felt her cheeks burn. “It’s just a habit.”

“Cute,” Dani said, tilting her head. “A little pathetic, but cute.”

That should’ve stung.

It did sting.

But Dani said it while looking at her like she was something special, like she was worth paying attention to, and Megan… melted.

That was the problem.

Dani could say something objectively mean, but the way she said it made Megan feel chosen.

They started texting after that. It was casual at first. Or at least, Megan told herself it was. Then it wasn’t.

Dani: u awake

Megan: yeah

Dani: call me

Megan: rn?

Dani: obviously

Megan didn’t even question it. Just hit call.

“Hi,” she said softly when Dani picked up.

“Why do you sound like that?” Dani murmured.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re scared of me.”

Megan swallowed. “I’m not.”

“Mm,” Dani hummed, clearly not believing her. “You should be.”

There was a pause.

Megan’s heart did something weird.

“…Are you joking?” she asked carefully.

Dani laughed again. “Relax. God, you’re sensitive.”

And there it was.

The push.

Followed immediately by the pull.

“I like that, though,” Dani added, voice dropping softer. “Don’t change it.”

Megan didn’t realize it yet, but that sentence would become a leash.

They became girlfriends in a way that didn’t feel official until it suddenly was.

No big confession. No dramatic moment.

Just Dani grabbing Megan’s hand one day and not letting go.

And Megan never asked what that meant.

She just held on.

Dani was… a lot.

That was the nicest way to put it.

She was the kind of person who needed attention like oxygen but acted like she didn’t care if she got it. Who would ignore Megan for hours, then suddenly show up like nothing happened and expect everything to be the same.

And Megan always let it be.

Because when Dani was good, she was unreal.

“You’re so pretty,” Megan whispered one night, half-asleep on a call.

Dani scoffed. “I know.”

But she didn’t sound annoyed.

“Like, actually,” Megan continued, voice soft and honest in that way she got when she was tired. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

There was silence for a second.

Then Dani said, quieter than usual, “You’re so dramatic.”

But she didn’t hang up.

Didn’t change the subject.

Just stayed.

And Megan didn’t know it, but that mattered.

Dani liked the way Megan looked at her.

Like she was everything.

Like she was untouchable.

It fed something in her.

Something she didn’t really question.

Why would she?

Megan wasn’t going anywhere.

The thing about Dani was that she didn’t see herself as toxic.

She just thought she knew what she wanted.

And what she wanted was Megan.

Always available. Always soft. Always there.

And Megan… tried.

God, she tried.

Dani: why didn’t you reply?

Megan blinked at her phone, confused.

Megan: i was in class

Dani: for 2 hours??

Megan: yeah we had a test

Dani: you could’ve said something

Megan’s chest tightened.

Megan: i didn’t think to

Dani: exactly

Exactly.

Megan stared at that word for way too long.

“Are you mad at me?” Megan asked later, voice small over the phone.

“I’m not mad,” Dani said flatly.

That was worse.

“I just don’t like being ignored.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Megan said quickly. “I just had a test, I told you—”

“Yeah, after.”

Megan’s throat closed up a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Dani snapped.

Megan flinched, even though Dani couldn’t see her.

“Sorry,” she said again, quieter.

Dani exhaled sharply. “You’re doing it on purpose now.”

“I’m not, I just—”

“Whatever,” Dani cut her off. “I’m tired.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted.

Because when Dani was tired, everything changed.

“Stay on the phone,” Dani mumbled.

“I will,” Megan said immediately.

Dani’s voice got softer, almost slurring a little. “Don’t hang up.”

“I won’t, pretty girl.”

That nickname.

Dani went quiet for a second.

“…Say it again.”

Megan smiled a little, even though her eyes still stung. “Pretty girl.”

Dani huffed, like she was trying to act unbothered. “You’re so cringe.”

“Mm,” Megan hummed. “But you like it.”

A pause.

“…Yeah,” Dani admitted, barely audible.

And just like that, everything was okay again.

At least for now.

That was the cycle.

Dani would push until Megan bent, then pull her close like nothing ever happened.

And Megan let her.

Because she loved her.

Or at least, she thought she did.

It got worse slowly.

So slowly Megan didn’t notice at first.

“Why do you still talk to her?” Dani asked one day, scrolling through Megan’s phone like it was hers.

Megan hesitated. “She’s just my friend.”

Dani raised an eyebrow. “She’s annoying.”

“She’s not—”

“She is,” Dani interrupted. “I don’t like her.”

Megan shifted. “Okay…”

“Okay?” Dani repeated. “That’s it?”

Megan’s heart started racing a little. “What do you want me to say?”

Dani looked at her, eyes sharp. “I want you to care that I don’t like her.”

“I do care,” Megan said quickly. “I just—she hasn’t done anything—”

“Yeah, she has,” Dani cut in. “She talks to you.”

Megan blinked.

“…What?”

Dani rolled her eyes. “You’re mine. Why is she acting like she has access to you?”

Something in Megan’s chest twisted.

“That’s not—Dani, she’s just my friend—”

“Then stop talking to her.”

The room went very, very quiet.

Megan’s throat felt tight. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Megan stared at her, searching for something—anything—that said this wasn’t real.

Dani just stared back.

Unblinking.

Certain.

Megan felt her eyes start to sting.

“You’re being mean,” she said softly.

Dani’s expression flickered for a second.

Then hardened.

“You’re being dramatic.”

That did it.

Megan’s vision blurred.

“I’m not trying to fight,” she said, voice shaking. “I just don’t understand why you’re—”

“Oh my god,” Dani groaned. “Are you seriously about to cry?”

Megan pressed her lips together, but it was too late. A tear slipped down anyway.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Dani said, almost laughing. “You always do this.”

“That’s not fair,” Megan whispered.

“Neither is you choosing other people over me.”

“I’m not choosing—”

“Then prove it.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Megan wiped her face quickly, embarrassed.

“…Okay,” she said quietly.

Dani blinked. “Okay what?”

“I won’t talk to her anymore.”

And there it was.

Dani felt it settle in her chest like something warm.

Victory.

She didn’t smile.

But she wanted to.

That night, Dani texted her.

Dani: u mad at me

Megan: no

Dani: liar

Megan: i’m not

Dani: you cried

Megan: i cry a lot

Dani: yeah i noticed

Megan stared at that message, her chest aching.

Dani: come here

Megan didn’t even ask what that meant.

She just went.

Dani was different when she was tired.

Softer.

Needier.

Like all the sharp edges got sanded down just enough.

“You took forever,” Dani mumbled when Megan walked in.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Megan said gently.

“Too long.”

Megan smiled a little, despite everything. “You’re clingy.”

“Shut up,” Dani muttered, already pulling her closer.

Megan let herself be pulled.

Always.

Dani buried her face in Megan’s shoulder, arms wrapped tight around her like she was scared Megan might disappear.

“You smell nice,” Dani murmured.

Megan’s heart did that thing again.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t move.”

“I won’t, angel.”

Dani exhaled, relaxing into her.

“…You’re not allowed to leave me,” she said, voice quiet and heavy with sleep.

Megan’s chest tightened.

“I won’t,” she said automatically.

She meant it.

That was the problem.

Days blurred together like that.

Good moments. Bad moments. Moments where Megan felt like the most important person in the world. Moments where she felt like nothing at all.

And Dani controlled all of it.

Without even trying that hard.

“Why do you stay?” Dani asked randomly one night.

Megan blinked. “What?”

“With me,” Dani clarified. “I’m not exactly nice to you.”

Megan hesitated.

Then, softly, “You are sometimes.”

Dani snorted. “That’s a low bar.”

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s concerning.”

Megan smiled a little. “I just… I see you.”

Dani went quiet.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Megan said carefully, “I know you’re not as mean as you act.”

Dani laughed, but it sounded forced. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.”

“…You are.”

“Okay.”

Dani frowned. “Stop agreeing with me.”

Megan laughed softly. “You just said I was delusional.”

“You are, but you’re supposed to argue.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dani said, frustrated, “it’s annoying when you just—accept everything I say.”

Megan tilted her head. “But I don’t mind.”

Dani stared at her.

Longer than usual.

“…You’re weird,” she said finally.

Megan smiled. “You like that.”

Dani rolled her eyes.

But she didn’t deny it.

The thing was, Dani did like Megan.

In her own way.

A way that wasn’t soft or easy or healthy.

But real.

She liked how Megan never left.

How she always came back.

How she looked at Dani like she was something worth loving, even when Dani gave her every reason not to.

It made Dani feel powerful.

And also… something else.

Something she didn’t really have a name for.

One night, it all kind of… cracked.

“Why are you like this?” Megan asked, voice shaking again.

Dani groaned. “Not this again.”

“I’m serious,” Megan said. “You say you like me, but then you—”

“What? Treat you like shit?” Dani snapped.

Megan flinched.

“…Yeah.”

Silence.

Dani ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “I don’t know, okay? I just do.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

Megan’s eyes filled again. “You make me feel like I’m not enough.”

Dani’s chest tightened.

“Then leave,” she said, too quickly.

The words hung in the air.

Sharp.

Final.

Megan froze.

“…What?”

“I said leave,” Dani repeated, but her voice wavered slightly this time. “If I’m so bad, just go.”

Megan stared at her.

Like she’d just been hit.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t,” Megan insisted, stepping closer. “You always say stuff like that when you’re upset, but you don’t actually want me to go.”

Dani’s jaw clenched.

“Stop acting like you know me.”

“I do know you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Megan said, tears slipping down again. “You push people away before they can leave you.”

Dani went very still.

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I’m not, I just—”

“Stop.”

The room went quiet.

Megan wiped her face, trying to steady her breathing.

“…I don’t want to leave,” she said softly.

Dani didn’t respond.

“I just want you to be nicer to me.”

Still nothing.

Megan’s voice broke. “Please.”

That word.

It did something to Dani.

Something uncomfortable.

Something she didn’t like.

“Come here,” Dani muttered finally.

Megan hesitated for half a second.

Then went.

Of course she did.

Dani pulled her in, holding her tighter than usual.

Not gentle.

But not rough either.

Just… desperate.

“You cry too much,” Dani mumbled into her hair.

Megan let out a shaky laugh. “Maybe you’re just mean too much.”

Dani huffed.

“…Maybe.”

Megan’s heart skipped.

That was the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get.

“Daniela,” Megan whispered after a moment.

Dani tightened her grip.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Dani swallowed.

“…You better not.”

And that was the thing.

Megan stayed.

Dani kept her.

And somewhere in between the toxicity and the softness and the late-night calls and the tears and the quiet “pretty girl”s…

They built something.

Not healthy.

Not stable.

But real enough to feel like everything.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part.

Because as long as it felt like everything…

It had started as a harmless hobby—recording short videos where you dressed as different characters around Hell, performing little skits or dramatic monologues for fans who requested them. At first it had been mostly for fun, something silly and anonymous that no one in the hotel knew about, but over time it had grown into something bigger. People subscribed, paid for commissions, and sent requests for specific characters. The extra money was nice, but more than that, you enjoyed the creativity of it all. Becoming someone else for a few minutes, putting on a costume and performing—it was strangely freeing. Most of the time, the requests were harmless. Cosplay a demon singer, recreate a scene, flirt a little in character. But the message currently sitting at the top of your inbox made your stomach twist the moment you read it.

The request itself was short, almost casual, as if the sender had no idea the kind of chaos it would cause. They wanted a cosplay video of the Radio Demon. Specifically, they wanted you to portray him. Attached to the request was a payment that made your eyes widen immediately, the number far larger than anything you had been offered before. You stared at it for a long moment, blinking as if the digits might suddenly change if you looked again. Your heart fluttered somewhere between excitement and dread. Cosplaying random demons from Hell was one thing, but the Radio Demon wasn’t just some distant legend. He lived in the same building as you. You saw him in the halls, in the lobby, sometimes in the kitchen humming to himself like an old-fashioned radio show host. And the idea of asking him for permission to imitate him for strangers online was mortifying enough that your face heated instantly just imagining it.

You groaned softly and flopped backward onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your brain argued with itself. On one hand, the request paid incredibly well, and declining it would feel like throwing away a small fortune. On the other hand, you could practically hear the teasing that would come from someone like Angel Dust if he ever found out what you were doing online, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine the reaction you’d get from the Radio Demon himself. Alastor was charming, sure, but he was also unpredictable in a way that made your instincts uneasy. Lately he had been… strange around you. Not hostile, not exactly threatening, but attentive in a way that made the back of your neck prickle. You had caught him watching you more than once across a room, his wide smile unwavering while his red eyes studied you like you were some particularly interesting curiosity. The thought of walking up to him and asking to borrow his clothes for a cosplay video was so embarrassing you nearly buried your face in your pillow.

Still… there might be another option.

Your eyes slowly drifted toward the door of your room, your thoughts creeping toward a dangerous idea you weren’t sure you should entertain. You knew Alastor owned multiple coats. You had seen them before when he walked through the hotel looking immaculate as always, never a wrinkle in sight. If he had more than one, then borrowing one briefly wouldn’t necessarily be noticeable. You could slip into his room while he was out, grab a coat, record the video quickly, and return it before he ever realized it had gone missing. It wasn’t like you were planning to keep it or damage it. It was just… borrowing. Temporarily. The longer you thought about it, the more reasonable it started to sound, even though a quiet voice in the back of your mind insisted that sneaking into the Radio Demon’s personal space was possibly the worst idea you had ever come up with.

Unfortunately, temptation had already won.

The hallway outside your room was eerily quiet as you crept toward Alastor’s door, your footsteps light against the carpet as if that would somehow prevent you from being caught. You paused once you reached the door, your hand hovering over the knob while your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears. This was ridiculous. You could still turn around and forget the entire idea. But the thought of that payment—and the curiosity of whether you could actually pull off the cosplay—pushed you forward. The door creaked softly as you opened it and slipped inside, the atmosphere of the room immediately sending a shiver down your spine. Everything inside looked exactly like something out of another era: antique furniture, warm red lighting, and several old-fashioned radios placed throughout the room like silent observers. A faint hum of static buzzed in the air, subtle but constant, as though the room itself was listening.

You tried not to think about that as you hurried to the wardrobe.

Opening it revealed exactly what you expected—several identical red coats hanging neatly in a row, each perfectly pressed and pristine. Of course he had multiples. You reached out and grabbed one quickly, the fabric heavier than you expected as it slipped into your hands. It smelled faintly like something warm and nostalgic, like old radio equipment and polished wood. Your eyes drifted briefly toward a nearby dresser where a neatly folded bowtie rested beside a pair of gloves. You hesitated for a moment before grabbing the bowtie as well, telling yourself that if you were already this deep into the plan, you might as well make the cosplay convincing. After all, it would only be for a short video.

With your borrowed items clutched in your arms, you hurried back down the hallway to your own room, closing the door behind you with a relieved sigh. The moment the latch clicked into place, your nerves slowly began to fade, replaced with the thrill of preparation. You set up your phone on its small recording stand and adjusted the lighting around the room so the camera would capture the outfit clearly. Slipping the coat on over your clothes made you laugh quietly to yourself because it was noticeably too large, the sleeves extending past your wrists and the shoulders slightly oversized. Still, once you tied the bowtie and added the small antler headband you had quickly fashioned earlier, the resemblance became unmistakable. Standing in front of the mirror, you tilted your head and examined the final look with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

You looked like a female version of Alastor.

The absurdity of it made you laugh again, shaking your head before turning toward your phone. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the record button and straightened your posture instinctively, mimicking the confident theatrical stance you had seen Alastor use countless times around the hotel. You lifted your hand in a dramatic greeting, allowing a mischievous smile to spread across your face as you attempted your best impression of his voice.

“Why hello there, dear listeners,” you began, your tone playful and exaggerated. “Welcome to tonight’s broadcast—”

The sudden crackle of radio static made your words catch in your throat.

The sound was sharp and unmistakable, filling the room with a brief burst of noise that didn’t belong there. Confused, you turned around slowly, expecting maybe a glitch in your phone or some interference from the building’s wiring. Instead, your heart lurched violently when your eyes landed on the figure leaning casually against the far wall.

Alastor stood there as though he had always been present, one hand resting lightly on his cane while his familiar, impossibly wide smile stretched across his face. His red eyes gleamed with amusement as they traveled slowly over your appearance, taking in the oversized coat, the bowtie, the antlers perched on your head, and the unmistakable attempt to replicate his persona. For a moment you were too stunned to speak, your brain scrambling to catch up with the reality that the person you had been imitating had somehow appeared in your room mid-performance.

“Well now,” he said pleasantly, his voice layered with its usual radio-like distortion. “What a fascinating little broadcast we have here.”

Panic surged through you as you rushed to stop the recording, fumbling slightly with the phone in your haste. “Alastor—I can explain—this isn’t—”

He chuckled softly and stepped away from the wall, approaching with slow, measured steps that somehow made the room feel smaller with each one. His gaze never left your outfit as he circled slightly, examining the coat draped over your shoulders with clear interest. “My attire, my colors, my mannerisms,” he mused thoughtfully, reaching out to brush his gloved fingers lightly against the sleeve of the coat you were wearing. “And here I thought imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.”

Your face burned with embarrassment. “It’s just a cosplay request! Someone online paid for a video!”

“Oh, I gathered as much,” he replied smoothly.

Before you could react, he reached over and picked up your phone from its stand, his long fingers scrolling through the screen with casual curiosity. The video was still live, the viewer count steadily climbing as comments continued to appear beneath it. Alastor’s eyes flicked across the messages, reading them silently while his smile remained fixed in place. Compliments about the performance, requests for more content, playful flirtation directed at your on-screen persona. At first he simply hummed in quiet amusement, clearly entertained by the situation.

“My, my,” he said softly. “Such enthusiasm from your audience.”

But as he continued scrolling, something subtle shifted in the atmosphere. The amusement in his voice remained, but it sharpened into something colder, something far more deliberate. “You recreated my voice,” he observed calmly. Another swipe of the screen. “My mannerisms.” Another. “My persona.” Finally his gaze lifted from the phone, meeting your eyes with an intensity that made your stomach drop. “And then you broadcast it… to an audience of strangers.”

Your heart pounded nervously as you tried to explain. “It’s just entertainment. People request characters all the time. They pay for it.”

“Pay,” Alastor repeated thoughtfully, the word rolling slowly off his tongue.

His eyes returned briefly to the phone screen as another comment appeared, praising your performance and asking for another video soon. The radio static in the room seemed to grow slightly louder, though you weren’t sure if that was your imagination or not. “They seem quite fond of you,” he said after a moment.

“They’re just fans,” you replied quickly.

“Fans,” he echoed quietly.

Then the screen flickered.

Red static crawled across the display.

Your breath caught in your throat as the interface suddenly began to change, the videos on your profile disappearing one by one as if someone were erasing them in real time. Upload after upload vanished until the page was empty, your entire account wiped clean in seconds.

“Alastor!” you gasped.

He calmly placed the phone back into your hands, his smile unchanged.

“There we are,” he said pleasantly.

“That was my account!” you cried, staring at the blank screen in horror. “You deleted everything!”

He tilted his head slightly, regarding you with mild curiosity as if he didn’t quite understand why you were upset. “You won’t require such things,” he replied calmly.

Stepping closer, he reached out and adjusted the bowtie at your collar with slow, careful precision, straightening it as though the detail genuinely mattered to him. His voice softened slightly as he spoke again, though the possessive undertone in his words sent a chill down your spine.

“The issue was never the clothing, my dear.”

Your pulse pounded loudly in your ears.

“It was the audience.”

The shadows in the room seemed to stretch along the walls as the faint hum of radio static filled the silence between you. Alastor’s smile widened further, his glowing eyes fixed on yours with unsettling intensity.

“A performance such as that should never be shared with the masses,” he murmured.

His fingers briefly brushed the sleeve of the oversized coat still resting on your shoulders.

“After all… I am rather fond of exclusive programming.”

Your breath caught as realization slowly settled over you.

“And from now on,” he continued softly, his voice lowering into something unmistakably possessive, “your broadcasts belong solely to me.”

The truth sank in slowly and terribly. Your account was gone. Your audience was gone. The people who had watched your performances, who had paid to see your characters, who had followed your work—all of them were erased with a flicker of red static. The only person left who would ever see those performances again was standing right in front of you, smiling like he had just claimed something that had always belonged to him.

And the coat you had borrowed from him—the coat you had been planning to return once the video was finished—remained draped comfortably around your shoulders.

He never asked for it back.

Because exactly where you stood now…

was precisely where he intended to keep you.

Under his broadcast.

Forever. 📻

This is the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Remember! you can always feel free to ask to be on the tag list or you can always ask for story request! love you all!

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