The Mortal Babysitter: A Dark Deception Fanfiction (Agatha x Reader)

Extra: The Power of Tsun Tsun

She shoved the heart-shaped box towards my arm.

"D-Don't think I'm doing this because I l-like you or anything! Hmph!"

The little demon girl puffed up her cheek.

I raised an eyebrow, ignoring the essay I typed away at to lend this potential nonsense some of my attention.

"Come again?"

Agatha shook the box a little.

"I-It's not like you're special or anything!" she hissed. A flick of the head. "Hmph!"

I eyed the container no bigger than a bag of potato chips.

"What is that?"

"Chocolates, dummy! But they're just obligation! Don't go riding a high horse!"

Again with the "Hmph!"

Chocolates? I wondered.

The realization soon dawned on me.

Oh, right. It's that day.

"Valentine's, huh," I said. "I didn't know you guys did stuff like this."

Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about what the hell's in that box.

"You're just that special, I guess," Agatha said. "Er, not that special! Not special at all!"

Despite her harsh shell, her knees wobbled like jello.

Why is she acting like this?

My mind stumbled upon the possibility?

"Agatha," I said, "have you been hanging out with Banda lately?"

"Huh?" The monster girl's aura returned to normal. "A little bit."

That's what I figured.

Banda must've been sharing that manga I let her borrow.

Agatha snatched back her tsun tsun mode.

"O-Of course you'd be thinking of other girls," she chided. "You lecher! Hmph!"

"Who taught you that word?" I asked.

Soon enough, a sigh slipped past my lips.

In anime alone, tsunderes are a pain in the rear. You mean to tell me you're gonna bop the protagonist just because he was talking to another girl? Straight nonsense.

Now, normally, said protagonist would let the insults and literal physical abuse slide. Not me. We're gonna nip this in the bud right now, before Agatha becomes full fledged.

"I guess I'm not special." I turned to face my laptop. "Looks like I won't need your gift, then."

Agatha gaped at me. "Huh?"

"Well, if you don't think I'm special, then I'd rather not have your gift. It doesn't have actual meaning, right?" I stroked my chin. "I'll probably just wait for someone else to hand me some chocolate, since they'll actually be sincere about it."

The Devil in me smirked.

Alrighty. Now comes the part where Agatha kills the act altogether and quits with the insults.

Any second now.

"Snff!"

Snff?

I turned my head to find the little demon girl wiping her eyes on her arm, her heartache glimmering on her sleeve.

"But . . ." she said. "But I made these just for you. Do you—snff!—do you really not want them?"

My own heart crumbled beneath the weight of the guilt.

Now I see why the protagonist lets it go.

I shined a warm smile, petting Agatha on the head.

"I'm sorry," I offered. "I was just teasing. I'm sure there's lots of love in these."

"You mean it?"

"I do. I do."

I accepted the gift, giving my favorite monster girl a tender hug.

"Thanks, Agatha."

She returned the gesture.

"You actually are special," Agatha admitted. "I was lying earlier."

"Why, thank you." I kissed the top of her head. "You're special too."

My companion giggled.

"Well?" she asked. "Aren't you gonna open it?"

So, I did, and when I say I nearly passed out from the stench, I mean it. Imagine an egg that's been sitting in the sun for a month; now, multiply that smell by a hundred and you'll come close to smelling what violated my nostrils.

The chocolate pieces, themselves, looked perfectly normal.

"A-Agatha," I choked, "what's in these?"

She looked off into the air. "Hmm . . . whatever we put in the marrow stew, I guess?"

I gagged.

You know what?

F*ck this holiday.