Work Text:
When Mammon violently opened the door with a "The Great Mammon has arrived!" as usual, MC was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty and dull and all lights were turned off. It looked almost abandoned. The only sign that MC had been here was the schoolbag on the messy bed, textbooks all over the place, like they had been in a rush. Mammon's eyes wandered around the room, bewildered and slightly uneasy, until his eyes fell on a strange book that was on the writing table.
The book was covered in various types of stickers and doodles. Its covers were wrapped in a strong black cloth-like material and a written message in white stood clear as day: "MC'S. DO NOT TOUCH!"
So, naturally, Mammon touched.
The first few pages were simple drawings and sketches of various places and people. Some locations Mammon didn't recognise, were they of the Human Realm? Many of the sketches were messy and could count as a "failure", with small notes slandering the failed piece.
Oh, and more stickers. The human seems to have a thing for stickers, he thought, flipping through the pages.
Occasionally, Mammon found pages not filled with drawings like the previous ones, but filled with writings and quotes. They were about MC's everyday life and thoughts, kind of like a diary, before and after being dragged into Devildom. They talked about their experiences, expressing the absolute chaos of suddenly being thrown in an unknown world with unknown creatures, something that Mammon could sympathise with. The fear, anxiety, helplessness and overwhelming loneliness. His fingers lightly brushed over what looked like a tear stain.
Mixed feelings ran wild in Mammon's mind. On the other hand he felt kind of scummy going through MC's private book without permission. But he was also so damn curious about that stupid human, not like he would ever admit it out loud.
After all, he didn't cling to them like glue for no reason.
The moment the human dropped to Devildom, Mammon's life turned upside down. If you had told him that he would fall for a human, he would laugh at you and make you his next scam target. Come on, a great demon like him falling for a stupid and dumb human? Are you trying to be funny? But the more time he spent with them... The fact that they shared a room... The fact that they complimented him so often... The fact that they were so kind and thoughtful and adorable and—
He stopped.
He stared.
He forgot to breathe.
He remembered to breathe but failed.
The lack of oxygen awakened him from his trance.
He looked at the sketchbook and forgot how to breathe again.
There had been no doubt, that was him. In MC's sketchbook. MC had drawn him. Him. A wide deep red blush spread across Mammon's face as he stared at the various anatomy sketches of him. Sketches of his arms, hands, torso, profile, eyes and wings? Although they were quick and lacked details, it was clear it was Mammon. But how? Never had MC asked for him to stay still so that he could model for him. Did they draw him without his knowledge? When? Mammon hardly ever sat still, always moving around yet the graphite sketches told a different tale.
Continuing to flip through the book, more and more sketches of The Great Mammon revealed themselves until almost halfway before the drawings stopped.
He closed the book and slowly put it back on the table, looking down at the floor with widened eyes. Somehow, his already deep red blush deepened.
His heart in his chest fluttered. And something funny was happening in his stomach.
Well shit.
-
After The Sketchbook Incident, Mammon began to act strangely.
Instead of moving and fidgeting around as he usually did, he stood still for long periods of time. Laying still on his bed while scrolling through D.D.D, whistling some tune, sometimes glancing at MC. In class, he looked like a marble statue. During movie nights, he made sure not to move a finger (even during horror movies. Now that's an accomplishment!). Even during casual moment he was striking some sort of uncomfortable pose, making sure he looked good and drawable.
"Hey Mammon, did you know you have the right and freedom to, y'know, move?" asked MC one day whilst the two were hanging out in MC's room.
"Pfft, f'course I know that!" said Mammon, rolling his eyes. "I just wanna... Uh... Y'know maybe someones secretly takin' a picture and I gotta look good! Can't let a bad picture of me that somebody secretly—"
"Did a witch curse you?"
"No! It's just... It's nothing, okay?! Don't worry yer pretty little head, ya humans are fragile as glass and all this unnecessary worryin' will make yer head explode!" The demon glared at MC, trying to look menacing.
MC hummed, slightly smiling. "I guess you're right."
As MC was about to go back to their business, Mammon suddenly jumped off their bed and declared in a loud voice: "Oh and by the way, when ya ever get the need for a model, ya can always call The Great Mammon himself! I have lots of experience modelling! And I'll give ya a friend discount, too! Be grateful!"
He winked and opened the bedroom door and hurriedly went his way to God knows where, whilst tripping over the hallway carpet and cursing under his breath.
MC stood sat behind their writing table and sighed. "I was already using you as free labour but alright, thank you."
Motherfucker could've at least closed the door.