#x--- if i had to guess he’s still making a mess worse than any thunderstorm; ABOUT. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ofwhiteknuckles-blog · 4 years

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(BEN BARNES / THIRTY EIGHT / HE/HIS ) – ( lucas felix ) has been spotted in the castle. they said to originally be from ( detroit ) and is often seen to be ( conniving ) but seemingly ( adaptive ). After being in Wolfenstein for ( two years ), they’ve come to ( be hesitant of ) the council in their own way. They work as ( sector patrol ) and are known around these parts as ( the sycophant ). better watch your back with that one around.

A LIST OF (AT LEAST) 6 AESTHETICS FOR THIS CHARACTER: ( abyss-black eyes tracking the motion of a conversational partner as they stalk away, the rhythmic tapping of calloused fingertips over a crossed arm, the rasp of a soft hum under the continuous hush of wind, sweet words clinging to the tip of your tongue, gears of thought grinding continuously and without halt, a smile that never meets the eyes but feels genuine regardless (and isn't) )

THE SONG YOU SEE AS THIS CHARACTERS THEME: ( amarillo sleeps on my pillow - fair to midland ) “ ... no one turned over leaves, no one branches out, no one went out on a limb when he belted out: get gone. some one looked for a clue, someone got the ax, someone yelled in the wake of the great collapse: get gone. minced words from anonymous cowards fell down from kingdom come. the threatened source of this obstacle course had cornered in a guessing game. every attempt turned a kettle of fish -, and loves making it’s waves. if i had to guess, he’s still making a mess worse than any thunderstorm.”

triggers: abuse, neglect, drug references

YOU ARE A CHILD OF POISON, THEY SAID.

one thing was incredibly clear to lucas felix from the moment he could comprehend the hand that life had dealt him: nothing would come easy, and nothing would be worth the time if it was. his mother always had the means of making a decent living for her son and herself, but squandered all of her earnings on selfish means instead. she was certainly a beautiful woman: alluring both physically and with a wit sharp as a blade’s edge, but all of her attention had always been selfish. surely it was habit taught to her from a young age, something she never bothered to break before she involved herself in other human interactions. but it was likely her beauty and charm that had seduced the man who impregnated her, and the likes of his name were never so much as whispered around offspring. lucas has never known the man’s name. babies should be a joyous occasion, and yet alessia felix found a way to make it entirely self-involved. her body had to bear the pain, her child was what made everyone so pleased, her creation. anyone who dared to involve themselves in the mess of his mother’s life was sure to see how narcissistic the beautiful italy born-and-bred woman was, and yes no one pressed a finger onto the issue. but such is the way of the world, so often are children abandoned to their fates.

he was a beautiful baby, but grew to be an awkward toddler, an awkward little boy. alessia made no attempt to hide her disgust at how her creation could be so gangly and ungainly, could stow away for hours with quiet toys that suggested knowledge more than play with other children. but perhaps that was for the better --- she couldn’t very well brag and show up with something like him, her offerings would be meager in comparison to children who were the spitting images of their beautiful parents. simple genetics, the awkward transitional period of a child, were held against a child who knew nothing of the world or such disgust from his mother. lucas was six, and alessia felix was the love of his life. all mothers should be, for little boys. but as he grew older, as his awareness developed, and as the blinders fell from his eyes lucas became aware of his mother’s feelings. while he was utterly devoted to her, drew pictures of her at school or told stories about my mom and me, she was ashamed of his too-long legs and chubby cheeks. his loss of innocence came across the dinner table (boxed macaroni and cheese again, so mom could go out again for the night), when he told her “i love you, mommy” and alessia heaved a sigh and responded with a purfunctory, “yea.”

grades meant nothing. educational achievements meant nothing. unconditional love from a child meant nothing, and lucas began to realize that if he wanted something more than boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner every night (if alessia even bothered to make it) he would have to get it himself. however it wasn’t as simple as taking it --- simply taking things earned him a swift but stern slap across the face and if he hadn’t learned in his younger years, lucas surely understood alessia’s feelings with those. he learned his charm from her, but it wasn’t easy being the odd child he was. still, with a desire to achieve, lucas applied himself to the art of manipulation. he discovered it was simple with the charm of a child: people were more likely to assist if you added a few tears, a little naievety. his teachers began to understand his plight as home as difficult when he spun the yarn of his mother having become deathly ill. his peers found him appealing when he shared goods pilfered or traded from others (without their knowledge for the former), and the reputation he earned himself in his youth formed the personality that perfected at puberty.

while all of these tricks worked outside of the household, lucas never managed to pull the wool over his mother’s eyes. but where unconditional love once stood in tolerance for alessia and her narcissism, now contempt remained. lucas fell out of love with his mother at twelve, and never looked back.

CLEVER AS THE DEVIL AND TWICE AS PRETTY.

on the summer at the end of his freshman year of high school lucas left an odd-looking boy. in the fall of his sophomore year he returned transformed, as if the summer heat had been a chrysalis and the ugly caterpillar emerged a butterfly. now if you held up a picture of alessia felix beside lucas you could see he was her child, all it took was a shot of growth hormone and the deepening of his voice. abyss-black eyes were the stark difference between the two of them (ignoring the thick black hair that sprouted from his face if he didn’t tame it back to stubble every four or so days), and alessia noted how much she despised the way he stared at her now. it made her skin crawl if only because it seemed as if he was looking through her. and he was. now he saw her for what she was: a selfish woman who had only wanted him to brag about her own achievements. but he hadn’t been worth bragging about when he was small, and now that he towered over her she wanted him to be seen with him. but lucas refused, perhaps a little too politely for her to understand at first, and it was only in a binge of some substance abuse that he took a stern hand with her. only when she struck him first out of a dead sleep --- staring at him for near twenty minutes before lashing out at him. it was the threat of never touch me again that he punctuated so perfectly, threatening to hold back no means to defend himself should she raise another hand at him. alessia mourned for herself the loss of her baby boy. all that was left was a man who was nothing more than a reminder of her failed relationships throughout the years. you’re just like them. you’re just like them. but he was nothing like them. perhaps the only similarity being how much he despised her, as they all did in the end.

over-achieving won him an early high school graduation by one year and excellent grades a near free-ride through college. he was always good with numbers, always good at calculations and the choice to step into the mathematical field was easy. alessia was notably absent when he gained his college diploma, if only because lucas couldn’t be bothered to let her know of the date. any by now he’d escaped the clutches of her den and made his own home somewhere on the other side of the city. he was sure he would never purposely cross paths with her, and if they did meet it was purely accidental. purely venomous. his first steps into the world of banking began the same as any other bland story: a teller whose talent for numbers opened gateways of opportunity. lucas was twenty-two when he was offered the position of personal finance. he was twenty-four when he began taking private, rich clients, and it was only a few months into that position that he met “slick ricky” dimatteo. the meeting wound up more fateful than any singular moment he had with his mother, at least it was opportunistic. silver-tongue and charm allowed for lucas to step into the world of second set of books, illegal numbers ... extra money, now he looked exactly like the son of alessia felix. fine suits, hundred-dollar hair cut, winning smile the smiles never met his eyes --- that died in his childhood, with his innocence, but he when he wagged his tongue people listened and were apt to believe the words that oozed from his lips. honest life turned to opulence ... he was sure he could have had more if he wanted it, but sitting on the outskirts of a life of real crime was comfortable for him. when he stole away in the middle of the night to confirm the collection of illegal debts owed he kept his own two hands clean (so what if his command got people hospitalized, right?) and lucas prided himself on the ability to forget what he had seen. things are so often lost in the black abyss.

a much-needed vacation found lucas in austria when the world ended, on a small trip around europe that had begun in italy. abject horror is the best way to describe lucas’ initial response, and though it took time for him to find wolfenstein he learned the climate of the post apocalypse. survival meant utilizing the one skill he’d been perfecting since his youth: a silver-tongue. people were less likely to trust in this world (and he couldn’t say that be blamed them), but they were also more insipid. it was a new hurdle, a new obstacle to decipher how to overcome, though ultimately lucas is of the impression that he’s doing quite well for himself.

FELL DOWN FROM KINGDOM COME.

it’s been two years since the sycophant stumbled into wolfenstein. at first he was unsure of his position in this small but growing civilization --- there are too many eyes that would be all-too willing to tear him apart for his less-than-honest means of surviving. but even here it’s simple to discover those who are willing to hear a good word. silver tongue found the correct ears to earn him a relatively safe, relatively useful place among these people where he’s already begun to weave his empire of secrets and misconceptions. when he was offered his place on the council he was hesitant, but accepted when adept eyes deciphered the usefulness of being in the know. people were easier to craft when you understood the workings. he’s not fond of the weight of a gun in his hand, but there’s no room to be picky when the large threat-at-hand doesn’t want to listen to his greatest weapon. if the creatures that roamed outside of the castle walls were able to listen to sweet nothings it would be an entirely different story, and so lucas once again has adapted. ultimately he is wary of the council, understanding the corruption that seeps within it but keeping his lips stiff on the matter. depending on who approaches in privacy, they will hear a different story of lucas’ opinion on the matter: sometimes he agrees wholly with them, others he can’t trust them as far as he can throw them, and his own personal truth is the most well-kept secret of them all. in wolfenstein lucas is the most careful of his lies overlapping, ensuring that what he tells one person never directly intersects with another --- it’s been more than thirty years since he learned his art and he isn’t so careless to let it fall apart now. while the creatures that roam the world are certainly a looming threat, in the post-apocalypse humans are the most dangerous monster of all and lucas is all-too aware of that.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

i’m open to anything with lucas, really. he’s been around the castle for two years and i’m certain that he’s built any array of connections in that time. he’s a relatively social creature (which is needed for him to work his art), but he doesn’t really trust anyone. should we venture into any semblance of romance, please be aware that lucas is strictly heterosexual and has never been devoted to one partner, however i am willing to develop something given time and chemistry.

#wolfen:intro #x--- if i had to guess he’s still making a mess worse than any thunderstorm; ABOUT.#abuse cw #neglect cw #drugs cw

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moondustaeil · 4 years

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⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : a thunderstorm-filled night with mark : fluff

⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : mark x reader

⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1.1k

Right when the weather forecast is about to reveal tonight's stormy weather, the television screen goes black. The weather broadcaster is no longer explaining in the monotone voice, neither is he pointing at a card that you don't bother reading. Your fingers blindly reach out to grasp the remote, and as soon as the black zapper is clenched between your fist, you press the first button your finger rests on.

Nothing. Not a pixel of the screen that changes the black shade into a colour. The screen stays black like it's never been something else, and the sound is nonexistent like it doesn't even have a sound function. Thinking Mark is the culprit -because he knows how anxious you get over stormy weather- you turn your body towards him.

"Why did you do that?" You ask. You forget how you are the one possessing of the remote control, neither do you see the confused look written all over his face. You simply blame him because he knows your fear of thunderstorms: he's your biggest saviour in them and now you're accusing him of preventing you from being scared.

Mark turns his attention from the nonfunctional television to you, his eyes appearing slightly softer but still as confused. Your words confuse him even more than the television does, but he knows that he needs to puzzle those together. "I didn't," he protests lightly, his hands moving up in defence.

Your eyelids narrow, revealing less of your intense irises even though you look slightly more intimidating now. "You didn't turn off the television?" You ask him. It's a serious question because who else could have turned the television off, you didn't as your hand wasn't on the remote before, and Mark had been too far away to be able to reach it.

"I swear I didn't. I was sitting here!" This time Mark's defence is more intense, getting annoyed that you accuse him of something he didn't do. It takes him a second to realise why both of you are getting so worked up over it: you are afraid of thunderstorms and he is the one who will always hold you close through the thunder-filled nights. To give a closeup of how those nights are: they are pretty much sleepless.

To give an example of how storm-filled nights pass: the two of you usually collect everything important in a bag and place it in a corner in case you would need to flee from the apartment and the two of you sleep on top of the sheets, cuddled in one another's arms. You see every hour of the clock: one, two, three, four, five o'clock. Not to forget all of the minutes between those hours.

Tonight will be no different to that example, even though you still hope you will be able to sleep a little bit between the rumbles of thunder and the flashes of lightning. The stress from the thunderstorm combined with the exhaustion the day after does you no well.

"Okay, I believe you," you nod. You believe Mark as he says the words but that does take away the explanation you had for the sudden standby of the television. Mark sits up properly and grasps his phone from the coffee table "I'll just check the weather like this, don't worry," he says as he unlocks the device. Though after going to the weather app, he realises that even the app doesn't give him any updates.

"I guess the power went off already," He concludes, seeing that his wifi signal is completely gone. And having no electricity also explains why it's suddenly a hue darker in the room, the table lamp in the corner is turned off too. You stand up and spin around the room: no television, no table lamp, no sound of the washing machine doing the laundry. That the electricity went off could only mean one thing: the thunderstorm was close.

Upon Mark's request, you find yourself in bed earlier than expected. It's been around ten minutes since you were robbed of electricity and the thunderstorm had presented itself half of those minutes ago. Droplets of rain layer over the sound of the thunderstorm, though it's not as calming as ASMR always makes it out to be. They hit the window rapidly, almost in sync with the rapid beat of your heart.

It's Mark who wraps his fingers around your left shoulder and gently pulls you to lie next to him, on top of the sheets that cover the mattress. Sometimes you're a mess tangled in the sheets, but during the thunderstorms, you can be a mess without them. "Let's try to rest a bit before it gets worse. If we manage to fall asleep now, we might sleep through it," Mark reasons softly. His voice soothes you, alluring you into the idea of closing your eyes to sleep.

You hum in thought, pondering about the idea, but your idea is surely not as ideal as his. As ideal as an idea can get in this situation, that is. "Just close your eyes, love," Mark whispers as he notices your tense appearance: your legs tensed like they're ready for a marathon, your eyes widely opened and staring in direction of the window.

Against your will, your body responds to his words. Your eyes are closed before you can force them into staying open, though the rest of your body stays tensed up when a new rumble of thunder erupts from above.

To soothe the fear that fuels the tense muscles, Mark wraps both of his arms around you and pulls you onto his side of the bed carefully. His arms stay around your waist, holding you as close as he can, even though one hand slowly makes its way to your arm. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he brushes over your arm gently, tracing curved lines and meaningful figures.

"It will be over in a few hours. Think of thunderstorms like my heartbeat," Mark whispers in your ear. His forehead is rested against the side of your head, whispering the self-made quote into your ear so that you momentarily forget the rumbling outside the window. "Just like thunderstorms rumble for nature, my heartbeat beats for you."

His words lull you away from the negative thunderstorms, instead, your ears can only imagine the rumbles as the beats of his heart. A sound that you've heard so many times, you can almost imagine it even in a music-filled room. Whenever the thunder doesn't rumble, your mind fills in the blank moments with the beating sound.

Minutes pass and so does the thunderstorm. But your eyes are still closed and so are Mark's, peacefully asleep through the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning. Mark's arms are still wrapped around your body: he feels like he's embracing the sun which is you, and you're embraced by the moon shining from a clear sky.

💌 send me a member (nct/tbz/too) + an au/genre and I'll write you a drabble or some soft hours

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belpheroo · 4 years

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Title: Untitled Genre: Hurt/Comfort, short bit of fluff. Pairing: Mammon x MC Summary: In which Mammon gets in trouble, Lucifer makes a half-hearted declaration Mammon then takes way too seriously and MC is there to make it better. Notes: I just like taking an insecure Mammon and showering him with affirmations until he cries. - MC Includes some of my headcanons about pact bonds aka emotional walkie talkie and pact marks appearing in the same spot on both MC and the bros. There is a passing reference to my other fic Between the Flash and the Thunder in this one, but you don’t need to read it to know what is going on.

In Mammon’s defense, he had done nothing that he hadn’t done before, so why Lucifer was so angry over some missing dusty old statue was truly a mystery. Lucifer turned a blind eye so often to his petty thefts and insurmountable debts to highly shrewd yet beautiful witches, but for some reason today was different.

He could practically feel the heat radiating off Lucifer’s body, a faint scent of sulfur warning that he could, at any moment, transform. Mammon knew better than to talk back in these moments so instead he waited with his arms crossed over his chest, head ducked down as if he could make himself smaller and unnoticable.

“You gave those harpies a relic of immense value.” Lucifer said, voice teetering between even and ragged, “It was one of the components that protects and seals this House from outside intruders… evidently… we have far worse concerns within!”

His voice raised to a near shout at the end, but Lucifer restrained it back, eyes shut tightly as he composed himself. Mammon felt his pulse all the way to his fingertips, clenching the fabric of his sleeves tight in his fists, focusing on the solidness of the floor beneath him rather than the lightness that threatened to swarm through his head.

“… I-I’ll get it back.”

“No. You will not. I will retrieve it. You can not be trusted to any position of responsibility. In fact, I begin to think I made a mistake entrusting the well being of our human guest with such an irresponsible lout.”

Insults were nothing, Mammon felt the blow of words meant in teasing and in earnest all the time… but this was different. His eyes widened, a breath caught in his chest. He wheezed trying to form words of protest, but Lucifer simply threw up his hand, silencing him.

“These thefts will stop. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah…”

“I will think upon your status as protector. Until then, if you so much as step one centimeter out of line—“

“I got it, okay? …I got it. I’m sorry.” Mammon hurried to change his tone and must have appeared sufficiently abashed because Lucifer’s shoulders relaxed and he turned his eyes away from Mammon. That alone hurt worse than anything his brother had said.

“…okay. Good.”

As always, something softened in Lucifer’s features and Mammon could feel the regret mixed into his anger. It wasn’t like Lucifer enjoyed this shit and Mammon knew that… but thievery was a compulsion he wasn’t likely to kick for good anytime soon. Perks of being the Avatar of Greed.

“You can go back to class.” Lucifer said instead of what else was on his mind and Mammon did.

—

It was nearly impossible not to hide the sharpness in his breath as Mammon half gasped and half panted as he strode down the halls of RAD. Being away from the House was good, it got out from under the oppressive aura Lucifer gave off when he was angry… but in the back of his mind he kept hearing those words over and over.

…I made a mistake entrusting the well being of our human guest…

The thought of Lucifer taking her away from him made his stomach churn. He’d still see her, sure, but her concerns? Her needs and her wants? Those would fall to another brother. He’d be sidelined and unimportant, pushed aside. Would she make a pact with that brother? Who would it be? Asmo? Beel? Most likely Satan if Lucifer could stomach granting such a privilege to him. He was reliable, he was smart.

Mammon growled under his breath, pushing a hand roughly through his hair and tugging, trying to distract himself with the pain.

“Stupid, worthless idiot… shut the fuck up, stop thinkin’ bout it.”

It was no use. His thoughts were spiraling and his chest was prickling with tightness. His eyes stung and Mammon knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, he needed to get out of sight. He found an empty classroom just in time, forcing open the door and slamming it closed as he furiously began rubbing at his eyes with the back of his fist.

Why the hell was he so upset?! He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer being mad! Luci would posture and raise his voice and be rough and then by tomorrow he’d be apologetic … even if Mammon did probably deserve this scolding and worse for having stolen from Lucifer yet again.

But… but dammit just the thought of Lucifer giving her to someone else made him want to fuckin’ scream. He didn’t want them near her! She was his to protect! He was the one she should be comin’ to in the middle of the night, when she was scared of thunderstorms. He was the one who should be taking her around Devildom, the one she was glued to and brought her homework to when she needed “help”… even if they just played on Devilgram the whole time instead.

Mammon was so preoccupied with these thoughts he jolted when the classroom door opened and softly someone slipped in.

“… hey um— so. You like, okay?”

Her voice was quiet and strained, but he knew the human exchange student’s voice anymore. In confusion, Mammon turned and saw in the light that her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks blotchy… as if she had been crying. His entire demeanor shifted, brows snapping together as he stood up taller.

“Whose responsible for this, huh? Who messed with ya?”

“Uh? What? Dude. I’m not crying because I want to. It’s you!” She waved back and forth between them, indicating to something invisible.

“Ha…w-what? Me? The Great Mammon? Absolutely not, I would never be all weepy and pitiful and junk.”

She gave him a skeptical look, one well-groomed brow lifting and a smirk on her lips. She reached into the pocket of her RAD uniform and produced a handkerchief.

“Your nose is running.”

He swiped it with a scowl, balling it up and roughly scrubbing his face.

“It’s the pact. I can feel what you feel when you are close.”

Mammon grumbled some reply, but it was indecipherable behind the handkerchief.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No… man, this sucks. Just stupid really, but it’s gonna mess everything up.”

She nodded, not pointing out he had said “no” and then proceeded to begin talking about it. That was pretty typical Mammon behavior.

“I got in trouble.” He mumbled, looking away from her sheepishly, “…Lucifer said I ain’t responsible enough to be lookin’ after ya anymore. So… guess ya will have to get used to Satan or someone.”

The silence after he stopped speaking was deafening, but he felt something in his chest… a tiny twinge of anxiety similar to what he had felt before but… faded. Like someone speaking through a tin can on a string into his heart. Mammon risked a short sideways glance over to her and found she was standing rigid, fists clenched at her sides. Her glossy lips were pressed tight together, redness spreading from her cheeks down her throat like a lit fuse before she exploded.

“Lucifer can shove it, I’m not taking anyone else! He can’t make me.”

“W-well… I dunno, it might be better cause I ain’t exactly the most reliable kinda guy. Ya probably would be better off if you had someone else watchin’ out—“

“What? What? What are you saying? Like, I can’t hear you over Lucifer talking out your mouth!”

Not what he had expected, he’d give her that.

“Say sike like right now!!!” she demanded.

“Wha- wait?! Why are you mad at me!”

“Because I don’t hear you saying you told him no!” She said, crossing her arms tightly against her chest and huffing, “Because you are standing there talking bad about my best friend… I don’t want someone ‘more’ reliable or whatever. I rely on you just fine. You are…I…”

She struggled to get the words out, the redness in her face having little to do with anger now.

“Mammon, I want you. No one else. I don’t care whether they are better at the job or not, they will suck at it because they aren’t you!”

Relief was immediate, followed closely by sheer embarrassment as Mammon hid his face with her handkerchief, covering his nose and mouth and hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush creeping down his own neck now.

She took in a shaky breath, eyes going wide as her chest rose and fell a bit faster.

“Wow… wow, I can like totally feel that.” She said, voice hushed, “You’re so—“

“Shuddup!” Mammon groaned, tossing aside her handkerchief and dragging her close. With her face pressed into his chest, she couldn’t see his face anymore and honestly… Mammon couldn’t bare to let her see him, pact or no pact.

His embrace was crushing and no doubt not very comfortable, but she softened under his touch and gently her hands came up to soothe over his back.

It was too much. It was just too fuckin’ much.

“…you’re just so happy.” She murmured into his shirt and Mammon swore he could feel her smiling.

“What if I am?! W-what’s it to ya, huh? Human?”

She giggled, arms wrapping around him fully as she squeezed back as tightly as she could.

“You’re so weak… puny human arms. Nuthin’ compared to the Mammon.”

“Ohhh, can you pick me up!? That’d be fun!”

“N-no!”

“Oh, so you can’t? Got puny demon arms?”

Mammon wasn’t one to take a challenge laying down. Her feet lifted off the floor as he hoisted her up, wiggling and giggling with delight. She got her arms up between them so she could wrap them around his neck, hooking her legs behind his own.

“Whee! Much better.” She hummed, looking down at his very unamused face with a smile. She had succeeded in her goal of distracting him and Mammon knew it.

“...I ain’t got puny arms.”

“I know, Mammon.”

“You’re bein’ extra needy, human.”

It wasn’t true. He was the one who needed and needed and needed. Her affirmation, her affection… don’t look at anyone else. Don’t be with anyone else. Mammon was suddenly struck with the knowledge he’d give up every penny in his bank accounts if it meant no one else ever got to have her.

And he didn’t know what that meant, but he knew what she wanted it to mean right now.

“…I’ll tell Lucifer no.”

“Hmm? What was that?” She cooed, voice teasing and light.

“I said I’ll tell um no! I ain’t given ya up!”

She weighed next to nothing with his strength, but still he settled her unto the instructor’s desk, palms flat on either side of it’s smooth surface as he leaned in, caging her.

She kept her legs locked around him, but now she could put them around his waist. Her hands slid from his neck down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms where she kneaded and rubbed at the bare skin where his sleeves were rolled up.

Normally, this kind of position would have Mammon a stuttering mess, but there was something determined and direct in his eyes, as if he couldn’t focus on anything right now but making sure she knew he was in earnest when he said what he said.

“I’m not giving you up either.”

Simple words, and yet she could feel where they pierced into his heart, leaving him half joy and half agony. Why did it hurt him so much when she spoke kindly to him? Mammon craved the words, but something held him back.

“You aren’t stupid.” She whispered, gently lifting her hand and resting it on his neck, watching as the pact mark began to appear exactly on him where it was on her. Her thumb found it, pressing and rubbing in firm circles until she pulled a groan from Mammon’s throat and he tipped his head forward to bury his face against her neck.

She felt his lips brush her mark, a touch more than a kiss, but a kiss all the same.

“You’re my first guy… you’re my favorite guy. I like you best.”

She knew if she kept it up, she was going to make him fall apart… and part of her wanted to. Part of her thought it was exactly what he needed. Instead, she gently kissed the side of his head with a loud and pronounced “mu-wah”.

“C’mon! Let’s cut class.” She said, gently wiping Mammon’s cheeks with the back of her hand when he untangled himself from her. He sniffed once, refusing to meet her eyes and nodding vigorously as he got himself composed.

“Eh… Lucifer did say somethin’ bout not breakin’ anymore rules today.”

“I’ll tell him I was sick and needed company.”

“You ain’t sick!”

“I’ll tell him it was ‘girl troubles’. That one gets him so quiet you’d think I was the Avatar of Awkward Silences.”

Mammon laughed, rolling his eyes which were starting to look a bit less red and a bit more mischievous as he considered the possibilities of ditching. Taking the opportunity, she slid off the desk with a tiny flourish, spinning to fluff out her skirt before brushing it down resolutely.

“It’s decided! Two hellfire boba teas and chocolate newts are what the doctor ordered!”

She took his hand and he resisted only for a moment so he could relish the feel of her tugging him towards her and the sight of her pouting before she stamped her little booted foot on the floor.

“C’mooooon!”

“Alright, human. You’re buying."

#i am a two trick pony #i see obey me bro #i write hurt comfort #i write smut #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #more like a ficlet #anyway it isnt very polished but someone might like it!#this was more of a writing exercise for me to play around with MC's speech mannerisms #and write some Mammon feels #im explorin' the boys psyche about being SHAT ON all the time #but lucifer isnt meant to be a bad guy here he is arguable got GOOD REASON to be mad #that mammon STEALS FROM HIS BROTHERS is a big yikes to me #but Lucifer will forgive him because it's Mammon

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sinister-loving · 4 years

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Ethereal (Monster! Yandere! OC X Hunter! Reader)

Never enter the forest alone

That was the latest piece of superstition being spread around your village, mostly by old widows and young children, but you never believed it. For one, you'd been in the forest dozens of times by yourself and nothing happened. No giant snarling monster, no secret portal to the other worlds, no secret murderer waiting to slice you into a million pieces. The only odd thing you saw there was the baker's wife kissing the blacksmith, but after a bribery of fresh bread, you chose to delete that memory.

The forest had long provided your family with food and shelter, and you saw no reason to fear it, unlike the more urban citizens of your village. You were raised in that forest, you knew every branch from every tree like the back of your hand, and it made you a bit upset that people would start spreading such an awful rumor about the place you loved so dearly.

Jumping over a puddle that had formed from the thunderstorm last night, you walked up the main street of the village, your adventure pack resting somewhat heavily on your shoulders. You'd packed to be in the forest for quite a while since it was prime hunting time, but as the rough fabric of the pack suddenly shifted and brushed against your already sore shoulder, you began internally scolding yourself for overcompensating the trip. You glaced up at the giant arch that marked the boundary between the village and the forest, took a deep breath, and entered.

Desperately trying to avoid getting caught in the sticky mud of the main trail, you paid close attention to the ground, stepping on places that you presumed were solid. Your intuition only failed once or twice, and thankfully the mud didn't go any higher up than your heel. It wasn't long before you found yourself at your spot.

You glanced around the small base camp. There were probably dozens scattered around the forest, each belonging to a different brave soul that dared to traverse into the woods, but a quick glance at the trees forming a barrier around the camp was proof enough that this was yours. Each adventurer was given a symbol, and yours was a star, and unsurprisingly, messy stars had been carved into the trees. Hey, you were a hunter, not an artist.

You quickly tossed your survival pack down, taking a break on one of the nearby stumps as you looked for a granola bar. You hadn't eaten breakfast, a choice you quickly began to regret, but the problem was solved as you pulled the snack out of the bag, quickly unwrapping it and shoving the wrapper into the front pocket of the pack, knowing better than to litter in such a sacred place.

Once you finished your small snack that would probably hold you over until you made your first kill, you took a small roll of fabric from the inside of the pack. It was clear that it took up most of the room inside, as the minute it was removed, the dark forest green bag began to withered and sunk in on itself. You placed the fabric on the ground and rolled it out, revealing all manner of parts for a crossbow. Having done this countless times before, it was no problem assembling the weapon, and before long, you found yourself getting ready to leave to hunt.

Throwing your bag inside the small tent you were provided, you grabbed the bright orange scarf from a branch you'd hung it on last time, and wrapped it tightly around your neck. It was a wonder it was still there. Sure, it was taboo for hunters to mess with other's camps, but you would've guessed an animal would've snatched it down or the storm last night would've blown it away, but miraculously, it was as dry as a desert, and hey, you weren't complaining.

You turned around, holding your crossbow close to your chest as you loaded it with a fresh arrow, the snap of the arrow falling into place filling you with a new adrenaline rush which fueled your journey deeper into the forest. You were careful to watch for the sudden sparkle of silver, an indication of a snare, as you proceeded, your attention darting from the slightest noise to the slightest tremor in the leaves. It wasn't your first time hunting, you knew what to look for, but today, you were oddly on edge.

Had the rumors gotten to you? No, no way. You weren't that dumb, it was just a silly kid's tale and besides, it wasn't even a scary rumor. It was just a provision to not go into the forest alone, it wasn't like some giant monster was going to crawl out of the undergrowth and devour you if you take the wrong step. These woods were practically your second home, and no silly rumors were gonna keep you away from them, nor make you fear them.

Attempting to get out of your head and focus on your objective at hand, you took another step forward, completely forgetting to check for snares.

Within seconds, you were upside-down, at the complete mercy of the metal wire that was now digging into your skin like an arrow into a deer's soft flesh. You let out a hiss of pain, and attempted to grab your dropped crossbow. If you could just get the arrow, then it would be no problem for you to slash the wire, but your fingers just barely grazed the smooth wood of the bow. With each swing, a new wave of pain shook your body, the initial adrenaline of fight-or-flight wearing off.

You tried to reach the tree beside you, just to provide some relief from the blood rushing to your head, but as your fingers brushed over the bark, you could feel yourself becoming tired. It wasn't normal, it usually took a few hours upside-down for you to faint, which caused the singular panic alarm in your body to ring at full volume. If you were left here, you would die.

Your survival instincts kicked in, and you desperately thrashed, attempting to grab at anything within your reach, which only resulted in more blood sliding down your leg and dripping onto your face. If you kept going like this, you would have your foot sliced clean off by the wire, and just the thought of that made you feel even more lightheaded. Before you knew what was happening, black fuzz swarmed the outside of your vision and finally filled it to the brim, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up next, you thought it would be in the afterlife.

You wished it were the afterlife.

Forcing yourself to open you eyes, another rush of adrenaline proved that you weren't dead, but you certainly felt like it. Every muscle in your body screamed, scolding you for the lack of blood and oxygen you provided. You didn't ... feel any different, until you looked down at yourself.

You were dressed from head to toe in a robe similar to that of the priestesses that roamed the prayer tower. The fabric was an almost blinding white, with a light pink trim around the middle, provided a bit of contrast and color. Your hands, legs, and neck had been wrapped in bandages. Odd, because you only remembered your ankle being injured. Beneath the bandages, you could feel some sort of paste, and from the ones on your arms, you could see it was a thick plant mixture of some sort. Your crossbow was nowhere to be found, and neither was your scarf, which you really needed as the freezing cold air of the room soon became apparent to you.

You glanced down at your surroundings. A tall cave-like room that was eerily similar to a burial tomb you'd seen in a history book. Sliding your feet off of the cold rock and onto the ground, you winced and let out another hiss of pain as you mistakingly put pressure on your injured ankle. However, the only thing you wanted to do was get out of this chamber, it reminded you of death, something you'd so narrowly avoided, and you didn't want to be here anymore.

You hobbled to the door, putting as little pressure on your ankle as possible and peering outside of the chamber. The opening lead to a small hallway, and at the end was a warm yellow light that reminded you of the lanterns at your house. Forcing yourself to move, you went to investigate the light, hoping that whatever was causing it would be the way out of here.

You hopped into the hallway and watched as the almost suffocating walls opened up into a much larger cave, with a large opening to the forest directly infront of you. The sun had set, and the forest looked more terrifying than usual, or at least what you could see from beneath the thick vine covering layering the opening.

"What are you doing up, little rabbit?"

A cheery voice from behind you sent chills down your spine, and your instincts kicked in, causing you to spin on your good foot to face the disembodied voice, swinging your arm to attack.

However, your attack was quickly dismissed as the figure wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around your wrist, stopping it about a few inches from contact. You glared at the figure, taking this moment of weakness to try and analyze what you could.

The figure was actually a male, who had a sickeningly sweet grin on his face as he simply stared at you. Odd pastel pink hair flew everywhere and remained a mess on top of his head, with stands sticking out in random places. His slightly darker rose-colored eyes were locked with your own, and the spiral pattern inside only made you more uncomfortable as you ripped your hand back in one last act of defiance.

"Oh, I'm so glad you have a little spunk left in you, darling." His voice was laced with an affection so sickly sweet it almost made you recoil, but you'd been through worse, you could handle this.

"Don't call me that. I don't even know who the hell you are." You snapped, before your eyes flicked upwards to something you hadn't noticed before.

Horns.

Resting on top of the stranger's head were two sets of horns. The primary ones were the largest and were directly on top of his head, and curved inward at the tip. Directly beneath those were smaller horns that grew slightly sideways and curved upwards. To confirm your suspicion, you glanced down at the ground. A long, thin, whip-like tail with a fluffy tip was swishing back and forth with an unknown emotion, and kicked up a small cloud of dust around the ground.

"You- you're a-" Your throat felt dry, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

"A what? A god in human clothing? An incredibly kind and nice person? Aw, thank you, sweetheart. You're always so nice to me." The boy grinned, revealing a set of long pointed fangs, only confirming your suspicion more.

This boy was a demon.

You didn't think they were real, they couldn't be real. Demons were things in storybooks, not living and breathing creatures. Only a figment of some twisted person's mind, nothing you ever worried about. Yet, as the boy reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, your blood turned cold once again.

This was no joke.

You were dealing with a real life demon.

"Don't touch me." You quickly slapped his hand away, remaining eye contact to prove you weren't afraid when deep down, you were terrified. You liked to picture yourself as somebody who had a plan for everything, but you never once had a plan for something like this.

"That's not nice, little rabbit. You wouldn't like it if I did that to you." The boy's expression turned from happy to cold within seconds. He took your temporary petrification as an opportunity to finish what he started, gently pushing a strand of your hair out of your face. Your eyes shot from the hand withdrawing from your face to the one he kept by his side, the one you hadn't seen move yet.

The one tightly wrapped around the handle of a knife.

Another wave of adrenaline and you backed up, and he seemed almost remorseful that you'd do such a thing.

"Little rabbit? Why do you look so scared? It's okay, you're safe now, you have me." The boy took another step closer, becoming more visible in the bright lantern light.

He was thin, and pale, but he was still taller than you by a few inches, a fact only proved when he took another step closer. He was dressed almost as oddly as he acted, with a puffy pastel purple long sleeve shirt adorned with upside-down crosses and a short black and lavender miniskirt. White knee high socks with bright pink bows contrasted from his outfit, but they were covered up mostly by the knee high combat boots that made a very prominent thud when he stepped forwards once more.

Another step closer.

What disturbed you the most, however, was the pale pink choker wrapped tightly around his neck, with a heart charm directly in the middle. In the center of the heart was only one thing, and it made your blood turn cold again.

Y/N

He had your name carved into his choker.

"-won't ever have to worry about going back to that dangerous place ever again, I promise."

You zoned back in to find him practically on top of you, and you felt terrified. You felt helpless.

You felt like a prey animal.

"Get away from me!" In an act of self preservation, you used almost all of your force to shove him away. He landed against the wall with a thud, and you backed up, the pain in your ankle bringing tears to your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away to focus on the task at hand: getting away from this lunatic.

"Ow. You sure are feisty, aren't you? But I get it, it's gonna take a while for you to adjust to your new life."

"Shut up! You're speaking nonsense!"

"You should've thought about that before you started courting me."

You fell silent, appalled by what this creature was suggesting. You, a human, court a demon? The very thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

"Leaving out all those teeth, bones and feathers just for me. You're so precious, you know that? It's a wonder another demon didn't answer your call." Before you knew it, the boy was back on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with that same sickeningly sweet grin of his.

"That was trash, I never meant to court any demon!"

"Silly, silly, silly little (Y/N), your innocent facade is so cute! That's one of the reasons I fell for you so hard. And you fell for me too! You wouldn't have left that 'trash' out if you didn't love me right back." The boy purred, getting closer to you once again. You thought about running, but you would never make it. And plus, you didn't have the upper hand here, you didn't have a knife.

"Oh dear! I get it now! You must be so embarrassed that I answered your call! It's not every day your crush returns your feelings. Well, darling, you couldn't just be my secret admirer forever, I had to admit my feelings for you too one day. But, I am a demon after all. I can't just waltz into your civilization."

"So, I waited. I attacked any adventurers who weren't you. I know how attracted to danger you are, my little rabbit. It just happened to be my luck that you fell into my trap! Had it been anybody else, they would've died instantly from the curse I put on the wire, but imagine my delight when I see my cute little darling waiting for me!" The boy finished his monologue, and once you recovered from the initial shock, you couldn't stop yourself from crying. All because you left out some hunt remains, you'd almost gotten your ankle ripped off and now some demon was instant that you were now in a relationship with them. All over some trash. Not to mention, the adrenaline was wearing off and your ankle hurt like a bitch. Everything hit you at once and you felt the tears streaming out of your eyes.

"Oh, come now, little rabbit, don't cry. I hate seeing that pretty face like that. Besides, there's nothing to cry over! I love you back! I love you so much! And now we can live without any disturbances, because I'll take care of you for eternity." You felt yourself being pulled into an unwanted hug and no matter how much that voice inside your head told you that this was wrong, that you needed to get away, you finally ended up melting into an emotional puddle while your captor silently whispered reassuring words, a little comfort in a time like this, especially from the one it was coming from.

"It's okay now, (Y/N), you've got me here now, like it was always meant to be."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see faint lettering on the collar. You already knew that your name was engraved on the heart in the front, but the faded letterering on the leather made you curious. Between sobs, you were able to focus your eyes enough to read the name on the side of the choker.

Lunaris.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc x you #tw: kidnapping #tw: mental manipulation #let me know if i need to tag anything else #admin bug

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