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ooooo THIS IS YUMMY 😋

9/10 bc he’d definitely be suuuuuper embarrassed about it, and totally unable to hide it, + even more flustered bc hes stumbling around in heels unable to walk straight

he’d be so mad that you made him do this but he can’t even do anything if he can’t walk 💀

+ "are you afraid of dying?"

You ask him one day while you’re both lying down right on the outskirts of the courtyard. There’s a spot between two grand cypress trees that provides the best shade, and for you two, the best hide out.

You don’t move your head from its position, eyes boring straight up into the sky above you. You ask such a terrible question, so easily. Like it was nothing, like you weren’t human.

“Are you afraid to die?”

Mammon shoots his head to the side to stare at you in shock. He startles, moving his hands from his resting position behind his head to turn his body and look at you. As he does, his glasses fall from their position atop his head, where they pushed back his snowy white bangs, and clatter to the ground behind him. He pays them no mind, too focused on the words that just slipped so recklessly out of your mouth.

“What kinda question is that? Did ya forget I’m a demon already?”

You laugh, almost to yourself, as you continue watching the clouds float by.

“How could I forget? But you’re a demon, not immortal. So, you know, someday…”

He puffs out his chest in a feign of bravery, but inside he’s shaking. What the hell brought on this form of questioning from you?

“The Great Mammon will never die! Not if I have anythin’ to say about it, that is.”

The second sentence is said significantly quieter than the first, you note.

“Mm”, a small noise finds it’s way out of your mouth.

It’s still for a moment, the two of you returning to comfortable silence. You reach out a hand towards the sky, opening and closing your fingers as if trying to grasp the clouds.

He watches you now, so fascinated. How could such a fragile, innocent creature like yourself seem so nonchalant about an idea like that. His chest continues to buzz.

“Whadda ya thinkin’ askin’ a dumb question like that? It’ll be a long time comin’ before I gotta think about that kind of stuff, unlike-”

He cuts himself off, not wanting to go there. Not for a second did he want to think about the inevitable. About the life span of humans. About you.

He doesn’t even need to state the question back to you, as you begin to answer yourself. All words he didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t think I am.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he waits for you to continue.

“I mean I kinda already did right?”, you give a breathy chuckle. It steals the air out of his lungs, but also lights a fierce anxiety in his heart.

He says the only thing he can think to say, because it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he thinks about that day.

“I’m sorry. I shoulda been there. I shoulda never let ya go off by yourself, I should been able to-”

“Shh.”

You quiet him before the tears can begin to fall from his eyes, as they do often do at the mention of that situation; at the mention of Belphegor; at the mention of losing you.

You turn to face him now, a the outstretched hand now claiming a spot in his cheek, wiping at the corners of his eyes.

“You know it isn’t your fault,” you say with a gentle smile of your face. And he wonders how? How are you able to talk about it so freely? How are you able to comfort him when this fear bubbles up? How could a demon like him end up with someone like you?

He can’t stop his arms as they move faster than his mind can keep up, bringing you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your hair, kissing the crown of your forehead.

“I don’t think I’m afraid to die”, you repeat. He wishes you’d stop. But he doesn’t expect the next words out of your mouth. “I don’t think I’m afraid of much of anything anymore, because I have you, Mams.”

He pulls his head back to look at your beautiful face, his eyes wide is astonishment. You simply stare back with the same soft gaze you’ve carried the whole time.

“Thank you.”

The words leaving your mouth sound so genuine, so pure, that he almost struggles to comprehend them. He’s positive his blush is giving way to his emotions, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care, he can’t seem to bring himself to deflect. All he can do is stare at you in amazement.

And now he’s holding you tighter than ever, like if he lets go he’ll lose you for real this time. Like if he lets go, you’ll have never even existed at all.

It’s hushed, almost so low you don’t hear it. Whispered with so much emotion behind it, emotion that you know is hard for him to express properly.

“I love ya.”

You give a small hum, nestling yourself even further into his grip, like if you don’t get close enough, this will all just have been a dream. Like you never would have met the man in front of you.