#thiiiis close to a 666

[otome-on-the-side]

hey slip ;3c can i request from the writing prompts number 66, “look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you." with satan?

Pairing: Satan/GN!reader 

Genre: Fluff 

TWs and tropes: familial kidnapping, domesticity, AU (though I dont know what kind tbh)  

Domestic Life with Satan was... idyllic, if a bit harried at times.

You wanted for nothing, and he was more than amicable when you divvied up household chores; some days you or Satan were too occupied with day to day tasks and chores piled up- you with your apprenticeship to Solomon, Satan with his archival work and personal studies- but those days when you both settled down and worked in the kitchen and did laundry as you caught up with each other and snacked on leftover takeout. They were days you neither of you wanted to give up.

You knew he was used to having an even more hectic lifestyle, with a total of 6 additional siblings, and you knew them from the stories he told when he had to deal with what he called "family business"; It would almost be funny hearing him vent about getting thrown over

Beelzebub's shoulder and shoved into a car if your boyfriend wasn't getting manhandled and stolen from his life with next to no warning.

Sometimes, he could call you the evening of, other times, he simply wouldn't come home. All you could do was wait, those days. The worst was when he'd disappeared for a month, only to stagger in the door and collapse into your arms- never worse for wear, but utterly exhausted.

At one point, you were certain that if you ever met Lucifer, you'd punch him squarely in the throat.

A call came one winter night; a snow storm was raging outside and you were utterly glad Satan had made it back home before the worst of it hit. You were putting away the last of the hand wash dishes Satan had dried as he picked up the phone. You didn't hear what was said on the other end of the phone conversation, but it made the blood drain from his face.

"I need to go." He said, hanging up the phone.

"Wh, what? Now?" You asked, but you were already moving to your shared bedroom to grab fresh wool socks for him.

"Unfortunately, family emergencies only happen at the most inconvenient times possible," He responded from the coat closet, voice tight.

"Wait, wait," You hurried over with an additional sweater and aforementioned wool socks in your grasp. "Put these on, it's nasty out there."

He paused, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as removed his half worn coat and slipped the additional sweater over his torso. "Did you get me wool socks?" He asked.

"Satan, just because your family doesn't give a damn about your personal life doesn't mean I'm going to send you to them with the possibility of getting frost bite. Now, where are your gloves?"

He holds them up for your inspection before returning to getting ready; stripping off his cotton socks and swapping them for wool, shrugging on an undercoat to wear under his trench coat.

"Can you tell me what it is this time?" you ask. You don't expect details, not when he hasn't given you many after all this time; but you don't want him gone without a word this time either.

"Something's wrong with Lucifer." His eldest brother; the one person that pissed Satan off like no other. "Don't worry, they're sending a car for me."

"With this weather, they better be sending a damn plow." You don't bother to hide you annoyance. Much. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" You'd offer to walk him to this car his family sent if it wasn't such an obvious and clear emergency.

“Look, I don’t have much time," gently, Satan cradles your face, pausing before he dashes out the door. He presses a kiss against your mouth before he leans back, just enough to whisper, "but I wanted to say I love you.”

He told you that often, but every time he said it, you could see he how much he softened, and that he always, always meant it.

And suddenly, you realized how much hated leaving you behind; he hated leaving you on the doorstep of your shared home, and running off to go check on his mess of an older brother in the middle of a damn blizzard,-

"...Do you think you can tell me what happened after you get back?" You ask haltingly. He's still close enough that you could lean forward an inch and kiss him again, but you hold back as you speak. "You don't owe me details, especially right now, but it would be nice to know if there's something I could do rather than keep the house warm when there's obviously something wrong happening."

Satan's the one that closes the gap, giving himself a moment to kiss you properly. When he pulls back, there's an awed expression on his face. "I can do that. I should have done that ages ago actually."

A very pointed honk rings down the street.

"I-"

"Go. I love you too. Stay safe."