#solomon's plume

[cherryxblossxms]

Masturbation May - Day 3b: In the Shower (Satan)

A/N: Satan was suggested for day 3 by an anonymous sender! I couldn't quite decide the direction I wanted for this initially but finally just settled on some good ol stress relief via orgasm lol.

Featuring: GN reader || Satan x reader

Warnings: masturbation; some jealous Satan; mentions of marking and breeding (not specific to reader); just some much-needed self-assurance and stress relief in the shower~

Word count: 1411

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Satan just needed some kind of stress relief. He knew it was just his temper, easier and quicker to rile up thanks to his sin. But it seemed like everything was going wrong lately, getting on his nerves and pushing him to the edge of exploding. Lucifer was yelling at him about something or other, his favorite cat café had to close early because of an emergency with the owner, and his brothers were all getting into silly, nonsense arguments with each other.

Normally, these things alone wouldn't be enough to make him snap completely. But to top it all off, you had gone on a trip to the Human Realm with Solomon two weeks ago, supposedly for some training and gathering some items specific to your home. In your absence, the House of Lamentation always fell into chaos, no one to buffer the ridiculousness and provide a voice of reason.

Satan knew he shouldn't blame you, or use you as a means of resolving everyone's problems. But your presence was like a magic balm, easing his spirit and always managing to wrestle the others into compliance. And now all this pent up stress was leaving aches in his muscles and gave him a near constant migraine.

He couldn't even focus on his books, attempting to read through various tomes on his ever-lasting quest for the perfect curse for Lucifer, but realizing halfway through that he wasn't absorbing any of the information. He snapped the heavy book shut in anger, sending out a plume of dust that covered his upper half. Satan coughed and set the book aside.

Great, now he was both dirty and angry.

Trying to keep his boiling rage contained, he quickly gathered clean clothes and made his way to the bathroom, hoping against all odds that no one else was in there, or he'd really snap for good. Thankfully, the room was clear, and he quickly undressed as the water grew hot.

Once he was in the water, he sighed, the heat helping to relieve his aching muscles. Although he wouldn't admit it, he often wondered about taking up an offer from Asmo for a spa treatment. He was sure he needed it, and that it'd probably do wonders for his temperament, at least for a little while. Relaxation of the body is supposed to help relaxation of the mind, he figured.

Sadly, the relief didn't last long as his now unbusied thoughts kept going back to all the annoying things happening lately. He just wanted one day of peace, of not being nagged by Lucifer for sneaking in a stray cat, or not hearing the constant whine of Levi hounding Mammon for his money. And thinking of you, he hated being away from you for so long. It was unfair that you had left him, not to mention traveling with Solomon.

Although he was usually secure in his relationship with you, something still bothered him about you being alone with the Witty Sorcerer for so long. Not that Satan didn't trust you, he knew you would never cheat on him. But he wasn't always sure he trusted Solomon and his flirty, flowery words.

Just thinking of it made his skin itch, picturing Solomon trying to court you, to take you from him. Even though he knew he was completely blowing it out of proportion, the thoughts came unbidden to him. The next time he saw you, Satan resolved he'd have to leave his mark on you, to ensure no one, especially Solomon, could ever mistake who you belong to.

The more he thought of marking you, the faster his blood pumped, something ancient and instinctual waking up in his veins. He wanted to cover you in his scent, make sure all anyone else could smell for miles was him. He wanted to leave his fang marks in your skin, leave dark hickeys across your neck and chest, somewhere highly visible so no one could mistake his intentions.

Even better, he wanted to mark you with his seed, cover you outside but especially inside, as deep as he could manage, make sure it could never leave you. It didn't matter if you could get pregnant or not, the deep animalistic need still roared inside him to do it anyway. That final thought sent a throbbing pulse down to his dick, and Satan didn't even realize he was completely hard until his hand was already subconsciously wrapping around his cock and stroking.

He wanted you there, he needed to show you that he was all you ever needed. He was your mate, your lover, and everything you ever wanted, he would provide to you as long as you'd let him. He would show you, he could pleasure you a thousand times over with the way he knows your body, so that no one, especially Solomon, could ever compare.

Satan cursed. Now he was so hard it hurt, needing you in his arms, and on his cock, immediately. The rest of his body was relaxed but now all the ache sat in his groin, begging to be inside of you. You weren't due to be home for another week, and he knew there was no ignoring his erection at this point, so he settled for relieving himself for now, already formulating a plan of attack (of the pleasurable variety) for once you returned.

He shut the water off and quickly stepped out, thankful that you two kept a spare bottle of lube under the bathroom sink. He poured some on his hand as he re-entered the shower and continued stroking. He felt ridiculous, all pent up over his dumb worries and demonic needs, and wanted nothing more than to drown his worries in the pleasures of your body. Only you seemed to know how to truly relax him, but a fantasy would have to do.

He could just picture it, the moment you came back from your trip, how he'd pull you into his room and make sure you didn't go anywhere until you were thoroughly pleasured and marked by him. He wanted to taste your lips, feel your warm, bare skin against his, hear your affirmations that he was the only one for you. The next time you saw Solomon, Satan wanted it to be obvious that he knew your body inside and out and that Solomon wasn't nearly worthy enough to be your mate.

Now fueled by anger and his lust for you, his thoughts were really letting loose. He wanted you sprawled across his bed, legs tossed over his shoulders as he pounded into you, or maybe he'd have you ride him until you couldn't hold yourself up anymore. Maybe to reassure his worries, you'd take his cock down your throat, knowing how gorgeous you look when you struggle to fit him in your mouth.

He pumped his cock faster, using one hand to hold his base steady and add more pressure, chasing that sweet high. As water droplets dripped from his hair onto his body, Satan imagined pulling you into the shower with him, picking you up to fuck you against the wall, letting your moans and screams of his name echo in the bathroom to ensure everyone in the house knew exactly who was pleasuring you. He'd fuck you as long and as hard as you could stand it, making sure to reach the furthest depths within you, as long as you wanted him.

Satan was now panting as his climax approached, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He used the last of his sense to picture bringing you to climax, eager to cum deep inside you, release all his stress into you, and feel you clench around his cock and milk him dry. Just dreaming of achieving that pushed him into that pleasurable zone, and he groaned deep in his throat as he released the first ropes of cum, moving his hand up to work the head of his cock, drawing out every bit of pleasure and cum he could.

He came a surprising amount, likely from lack of release while you'd been gone, and he felt a little sad about the waste as it washed down the drain. But now that his mind was cleared, and his body was well and truly relaxed, he couldn't wait for your return. He was going to make sure everyone knew that you were his, and relieve all his stress with you the way only you could do.

#satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #satan smut #spicy minx 🔥 #the minx can write ✍️

[orqheuss]

For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Pre!Parenthesis Universe

Summary:

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. “Crucio!” *** The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum.

Word count: 9k

Tags: arguing, violence, cruciatus curse, dark!sebastian (kind of), sexual humor

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Not a sound could be heard in the moonlit, desolate hallways of Hogwarts. The distant star casted a haunting glow over the courtyard and shone through the grand windows of the Great Hall. Figures long lost to time danced through the paintings lining the hazelwood walls, waltzing to an imaginary concerto. The ghosts floating about chatted quietly about their history, telling tales of cadences forever forgotten in old textbooks. Their whispers shivered the leaves in the trees on the campus grounds, leaving them humming at the fall winds cascading from the sky and turning their once vibrant green spires into a burnt orange. Lanterns lined the Grand Staircase at the heart of the castle, a paragon of regality and the wisdom of the great wizarding school. Baroque styled banisters basked in the glow, expelling person-shaped shadows on the enormous walls lining the mystical architecture. Down the stairs laid an ornate stone door, its architrave adorned with a cosmic silver snake. Two freshly lit braziers framed the entrance and swayed in the steely breeze of the dungeons, its smokey ash pirouetting in romantic couplets towards the ceiling. 

A third was sparked to life just down the way. The line of light seemed to lure in anyone who were to walk the halls past curfew; beckoning them with the promise of mischief and pleasure. Standing before the final brazier, basking in its luminescence, were three young students. One leaned against the far wall of the corridor, arms crossed tightly against his chest with a sullen look adorning his features. His eyes seemed to catch the light and shimmer like frosted glass on a winter morning. Another stood in front of the boy, directly under the cold stone of the giant candelabra. He was beaming with elation, his eyes glittering with waywardness and intrigue. His brown irises seemed to reflect the fire back in challenge, almost daring it to blaze brighter than he did. Between the two was the final student. A slight frown quirked the corner of their mouth, glancing back and forth between their two friends in trepidation. They could feel each emotion emitting from their companions like a thick fog, coating the hallway and leaving the braziers the lone match shining through the storm. Each felt something different about their quest— had different motives for the scintillating adventure. They all heard the distinct call to the Scriptorium before them, and felt more than compelled to answer. With a great rumble, the stone wall sloughed away and opened up to a chasm leading downward. A spiral staircase slithered from below and attached to the ledge, hissing out a stream of steam in its wake. 

The three friends stood in awe at the display, amazed at the grandiloquence of the long dead wizard who made this place. They were about to enter Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a feat very few could claim as their own. 

Sebastian Sallow turned on the balls of his feet and beckoned his friends over, a giddy look twinkling in his eyes and stretching his smile. The prospect of finding a cure for the curse that plagued his sister heavily outweighed any unease he may have had at the daunting entryway. He nearly vibrated with excitement— the need for thrill buried itself deep in his bones. He could taste the tombs of secrets hidden in the enigma before him, feel the leather bound books worn with oil from the fingertips of his house founder. The forbidden magic thrummed in his veins and set his blood aflame like the brightest sunlight. Something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes, something dark.

Ominis Gaunt, the heir of Slytherin himself, flicked his wand from his large robe sleeve and sparked it to life. A red light pulsed from its tip, and the hallway came more into focus in his mind. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the imposing archway, closer to his family history simmering below. He looked striking, noble even, with his even, strong steps. Only someone close enough to be in his own skin would notice the slight tremble in his hands, the sweat that beaded at his brow. Anyone else with his condition could hear the steady hammer of his heart against his rib cage, the fast but even beats swimming in his ears and resting behind his eyes. He thought of his dear aunt Noctua, the last of the Gaunt’s to enter the foreboding mausoleum— how she had disappeared soon after finding its entrance. A shiver ran up his spine and something akin to fear lodged itself in his throat. 

You looked on at the two boys. You had no feelings for this moment, nothing to go off of but the words of your two comrades. You peaked down the chilling stairs into the never-ending darkness. It seemed to hiss in contempt at being awoken. This metaphorical pit of serpents had fangs, and each dripped with a deadly poison befitting the strongest men. The blackness crept up your arms and buried itself in your hair— it whispered sweet nothings into your ears, enticing the ancient magic flowing under your skin. You inhaled the titillating aroma of devillment and stored it deep in your lungs. Excitement and worry crashed against your soul and swirled like a hurricane in your stomach, sending ripples of anxiety through your very bones. You truly didn’t know how you felt at that very moment, but you knew, more than anything, that you wanted to protect your friends. Something inside, though, felt familiar. Something was calling out to your magic, and you felt inclined to answer.

You pushed the anxiety aside for now. The two boys, now standing next to you, both had things they needed to learn from the Scriptorium, and you were going to help them find it. The idea of adventure took over your senses at that moment and spread heat through your chest, glowing as bright at the braziers you had just lit. 

Even Ominis, a very stoic and reserved boy to most, seemed to have a gleam about his face that shimmered in eagerness. Not many knew, but he most definitely had a taste for chaos— he had to with the company he kept. There was something so intriguing about the Scriptorium to him. Maybe it was something forged in his very being, him being a Gaunt after all. Either way, the young wizard turned his attention towards his companions in a silent confirmation that he was ready to go. You cleared your throat hesitantly, drawing the attention of Sebastian away from the dark hallway before you. 

“Alright boys,” you gestured towards the entrance with your hand, “shall we?” 

The two nodded in your direction. Sebastian turned to you with a cheeky grin decorating his features. “I haven’t seen a tunnel this big since your mum.” 

Another thing about the Sallow boy: he very rarely took anything seriously. 

At the unimpressed look you gave him, he held his hands up in a placating manner, chortling to himself, “Aw, come on. That was a good one—”

You reached your hand towards his face and promptly thumped him on the forehead with a flick. Sebastian dropped the troublesome smirk and quickly brought his palm up to rub at the affronted spot, hissing through his teeth in pain. 

You looked at Ominis next to you, and as if sensing your disappointment he shook his head while looking up at the ceiling, muttering to himself, “Merlin, help me,” before beginning to walk down the daunting staircase. 

You and Sebastian fell into step behind the young Gaunt, trusting his instincts and sentient wand better than your fleeting eyesight. The tunnel was unequivocally dark, even the lumos dancing in front of your face barely pierced the surface. Your shoes made a distinct squelch sound on the wet cement with each step deeper into the pit. 

Down, 

          down, 

                    down you went. 

The stairs seemed to go on forever, descending into the fathomless unknown. Each sound echoed off the tightly packed walls, bouncing back and forth like a well crafted game of wizards chess. The seconds ticked by slowly, cascading around you like the steady stream of drips coming from above. The piping loomed imposingly above your heads and drizzled along the black-stone walls. You must be truly under the castle, you supposed. You felt tightly packed like a tin of sardines— three fish wiggling together towards the unknown fate of the stew pot. Ominis could smell your discomfort behind him, and quite honestly, he was inclined to agree. He couldn’t sense the end landing, if there even was one, in the infernal devilry that was the accursed sepulcher. The scent and taste of mildew and stale air coated his nasal cavity and larynx, making it impossible to determine anything else from the two orifices. He would gripe about his lack of sight in situations like this, at least normally, but he doubted that it would make much difference at the current moment. There was truly nothing around them.

Sebastian could taste the unease in the air from his two companions, and he detested the feeling greatly. It was of the utmost disrespect to the boy to turn down adventure; there was absolutely nothing in this world that he didn’t want to poke and prod, to know how it ticked. If there was one thing that his parents passed down to him before they died, it was that. He understood that it was a daunting task, and a very large ask of his dear friends, to take this journey with him, but for Merlin’s sake, it was Slytherin’s Scriptorium! He had only ever read about this monumental library, hiding deep in the caverns of the Hogwarts underbelly. How could he say no to this journey, this discovery? If it helped Anne along the way, what was the harm of it all? 

Just as you were beginning to think you would never leave the Hadean staircase, it finally puttered off to a smooth path of river-stones and a dimly lit concourse. Ominis stood at the forefront of the group, his wand casting a small bale-fire and illuminating more of the imposing hallway. Sebastian chuckled lowly behind him. Wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning his head towards you, his eyes focusing deep into the darkness before him, he hummed.

“Hmph. Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite!” He cheesed at your bubbling laugh, snickering to himself at the obvious annoyance of the other boy. 

Ominis bemoaned the statement, groaning and throwing his head back minutely. A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No comment.” 

You turned towards your blond haired friend, placing your own hand on his shoulder and leaning in next to his ear, a dangerously coy simper tweaking up the corners of your mouth.

“I certainly love one of Ominis’ corridors.” 

The wiry boy wiggled out from under your arms, making a sound of disgust at the comment as his cheeks turned a bright fuchsia. Sebastian desperately held in giggles behind his hand, watching as the boy made an obscene gesture with his middle finger in your general direction. The taller boy stepped closer to the other, gently grasping his arm by the wrist and redirected the gesticulation to face more fully at you instead of a little to the left where it once was pointed. Both of you paused, looking between each other's eyes and the offending finger with barely contained mirth, before combusting dramatically into boisterous laughter. Sebastian leaned against the wall in support, nearly screaming around the laughs that wracked his body. You still stood across from Ominis, doubled over with your hands on your knees. Gasping breaths left your lungs as you teared up in humorous pain. Ominis’ scowl somehow got deeper, and once again he turned away from the pair of you and began to walk down the hallway himself— screw you two hooligans to the sticking place for all he cared. 

“Yes, yes. Hardy har, laugh at the blind fellow. Incredibly mature, you both are.” 

Sebastian walked up to your hunched form, patting you gently on the back before grasping at your shoulder and helping you stand. You both leaned on the other for support as the last of your giggles tittered into the air around you. Taking a deep, cleansing breath before shakily releasing the air, you began to walk after the tiffed boy. His haunches were raised above his ears, only the tips poked out and were flushed a light pink. You quickly ran to catch up with his quick steps, waving your wand around in front of you to avoid any obstacles in the low lighting. Your arm landed on his shoulders once again, and you sniggered jovially,

“I do apologize. That was terribly coarse of me, my dear Ominis.” 

Sebastian slid up on the other side of the boy, wrapping his arm around his other shoulder and resting his hand at your elbow. He accentuated his accent, adopting an incredibly posh vernacular. “Indubitably. Frightfully uncouth of us. Please forgive us, dear friend.” 

Ominis growled in the back of his throat, mumbling curses under his breath and shrugging off both of your arms. “Go lick a leprechaun taint, the both of you.” 

You both gasped in outrage. 

“How dare you, good sir!” Sebastian cried, a hand fluttering over his heart and a scandalized look decorating his visage. 

You took a similar stance. “We are children of God! Deviant behavior such as that must be saved for one's wedding bed.” 

The two pureblood wizards paused and turned towards you, confusion laced in their eyebrows. The brunette leaned closer to you, arms now crossed in befuddlement, and glanced at you from his peripheral vision like he was about to share a secret. 

“What’s a ‘God’?” Sebastian whispered out of the side of his mouth.

You turned towards the boy, finger raised and mouth open with an explanation at the tip of your tongue. You quickly decided against it, though, as you knew it would just confuse them more. Best not try to explain muggle religion to two boys who have never stepped out of their small towns until it was time to go to school. You sighed, lowering your hand and about facing the end of the hall, ambling along ahead of the pack. The two boys shrugged and continued after you. 

At the far end of the hallway stood two imposing stone walls, an ostentatious doorway slid into the space between. Looking at the entrance, embellished in the texture of scales and decorated with serpent imagery, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.  Each turn in this maze of a catacomb seemed to linger with a foreboding aura, flooding your senses and raising the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned to look at Sebastian, now at your elbow just behind you. He was gazing at the door in pure curiosity, his eyebrows pinched together in contemplation. He ran his hand along the intricate carvings, tracing each snake with delicate precision. 

Ominis slowly entered the room, his head tilted left and then right with a pensive look adorning his face. He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes, seemingly listening to something that only he could hear. Soft hisses slithered through the room from the pipes above, adding to the dreadful vibe. Each hiss caused him to twitch in one direction to the next. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was possessed by a snake itself. 

His eyes suddenly snapped open, startling you with his ferocity. He quickly paced towards the door, running his hand along the carvings with Sebastian. The homing signal at the tip of his wand cast an eerie glow on the wood, mingling with the green fire torches lining the walls. He leaned his ear on the door, listening closely to the whispers in the walls. He tilted his head towards the pair of students, gesturing with his chin at the entryway. 

“It’s speaking to me.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “The wall is talking to you?” 

He nodded, pressing his ear against the wall once again. You walked towards the blond, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead in puzzlement. 

“Are you feeling alright, Ominis? Are you ill? How can the wall be ta—”

“Shush!” He gently grasped your arm and lowered your hand to your side. “No, you numpty. It’s speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes.” 

Sebastian leaned away from the door, snapping his fingers in excitement and pointing at the blind boy. 

“I forgot you could speak parseltongue!” 

Ominis huffed to himself, trepidation coating his tightly spoken words, “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Parseltongue is notoriously associated with dark wizards, something as you know I have tried very hard to disassociate myself with.”  

He leaned away from the door, instead resting his hand on the wall beside it. He looked up, unseeing, at the grand archway decorating the edges of the room and listened carefully once again to the hissed whispers. 

“I think I need to speak to the door for it to open. Please step back, the both of you. I don’t want you hurt if something goes awry.” 

You both took a noisy step back, making sure to alert him since he briefly put away his wand in favor of leaning on the stone wall with both hands. 

Ominis sighed to himself, blowing upwards and dislodging part of his hair from his styled quiff. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” 

From his mouth came a series of lethargic hisses, stringed together as if in a sentence. The sound seemed to fill the entire room, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back at you from all angles. It amplified steadily as the hisses from above answered in turn. 

Three of the decorative serpents came to life within the wood, slithering through the holes of the door and gliding along the edges of its carved trenches. A stream of mist puffed from its outer ridges, silencing the voices floating around you with a defined burst of powerful air. It blew the hairs dangling around your face backwards, tickling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck. Every hair on your body stood on edge and you suppressed a shiver. 

The three of you stood silently for a moment, basking in the sudden quiet. It was like a bubble that had mysteriously appeared around your heads spontaneously popped, sending a rush of startling stillness pulsating directly into your ears. 

Ominis was the first to break the spell, clearing his throat around the tightness that rested there, his cheeks glowing with a soft rosacea, and gestured through the now open doorway.

“After you.” 

Your face broke out into an animated grin. “Ominis, you truly possess a rare ability, indeed!” You gently brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed through the archway. Ominis’ cheeks blushed a darker red, and he reached his hand behind his head, rubbing softly at his neck in embarrassment. 

“Oh, er, it’s nothing.” 

Sebastian stayed in the back of the group, a scowl on his face and his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at the door like it affronted him, cursing it for allowing his friend to show his rare gift. Stalking towards the next room, irritation heavily prevalent in his steps, he muttered to himself the phrase you had just spoken in a mocking tone. He wasn’t sure which of you he should feel jealous of— you complimenting Ominis, or Ominis getting complimented by you.

Both, he decided. He was jealous of both. 

The three students passed under the bend and entered into the next room of the monolith-lined maze. Once fully inside, the imposing door behind you closed with a loud slam. Sebastian ran at it, pulling desperately at the carvings and pushing with all his strength. Ominis joined him, throwing his weight at it with a grunt. The door didn’t budge. 

“Shit!” Hissed the brunette, punching the door one last time before taking in the room behind him. “Guess we’re stuck in here until we find the next room.” 

The blond leaned back against the wood, an annoyed puff of hair leaving his mouth. “Until we find the next room? How do we even know that there’s a next room? We could very well just be stuck here until we inevitably die of thirst or hunger, whichever happens first.” Ominis turned his head towards the sound of the pacing boy. “Sebastian, we’re eating you first.” 

Sebastian stuttered in outrage, “Why me?!” 

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place!” 

“Say that to my face you—”

Tired of listening to the boys argue, you lit the tip of your wand and began to explore the new area you had unlocked. It was a large stone room with a gunmetal gate at one end, a giant lock decorating the middle. Spiderwebs covered every corner, starting from the very far bottom corner and stretching to the upper corner across the room. You shuddered, thinking of the large arachnids you had fought not that long ago. You hated spiders. Making your way closer to the gate, you traced your finger along the lock, noting strange shapes in the metal. It seemed like it wouldn’t take a key like normal, it was a puzzle of some sort. 

Turning towards your friends, you tuned back in their argument. They were face to face, arms crossed, with indignant expressions. 

“It’s your ancestor that seems to like puzzles so much!”

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian.” 

“How dare you!” He stuttered for a moment, wracking his brain for a suitable comeback, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?!”

Ominis scoffed, a sarcastic grin stretching his lips, “Oh, bold of you to assume I was ever held—”

“BOYS!” You shouted for them from the gate. “Can you have your lover’s quarrel later? I found something.” 

Their faces instantly softened a fraction at the sound of your voice. They stepped away from each other, embarrassed by their squabble, straightened their cloaks, and walked over to where you stood. 

Sebastian came up to the gate, running his fingers along the lock like you did, before  grasping at the bars and giving it a good shake. The gate rattled against the ground, scraping at the concrete below, but refused to budge. He took a step closer, craning his head around and looking through the small slits in the metal. His collar dug into his neck uncomfortably. Growling, the boy tugged on the offending cloth.

“This bloody collar—”

The freckled boy stood back, looking at the gate once more for a moment before undoing his robe and tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and vest next, leaving him just in his white button down and tie. He quickly pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, shaking out his arms in the process, and loosened his tie before undoing a few buttons near the top of his shirt. Grasping his wand between his teeth, Sebastian took hold of one of the horizontal metal rungs in the gate and pulled upwards with all his might. Still no movement. 

A blush began to creep up your neck at the display before you, and you averted your eyes from the very attractive boy. You turned towards Ominis, only to find him in a similar state of undress. He was in the process of carefully undoing the buttons around his cuffs and folding the sleeves to his elbow. You noticed he had neatly gathered his jacket, vest, and robe and placed them atop one of the assorted rocks littering the ground. He began to walk towards the other boy, listening to his struggling grunts of effort. Your blush somehow got brighter.

“Let me try.”

Sebastian took a step back and waved his hands in a “have at it” motion. Ominis approached the gate in a similar stance to the other boy, flexing his forearms and pulling upwards once again. You could see his muscles straining under the material; he may have been slim, but he certainly wasn’t unfit. Eyes skipping from one boy to the other, one with his hands on his hips, panting at the effort he had just exuded, and the other now pondering the gate before him, a finger resting on his chin and hand resting on his other elbow across his chest, you suddenly felt like the room had gotten at least ten degrees hotter. 

In your flustered state, you took a step back away from your companions. You bumped into something just behind you, a piece of sharp stone slicing through your shoulder. Releasing a hiss in pain, you grasped at the wound and quickly turned around, looking for the offending object. Just over your shoulder stood a large stone statue of a snake poised to strike. It was resting on two circular bases, one atop the other with just enough space between to twist them to different directions. You noticed symbols decorating the rims of each— they were the same shape and style as the two on the gate lock. You quickly crouched down and took hold of the stone, turning it until both bases lined up with the ones on the lock. A loud click sounded through the room and the gate before you opened. 

The three of you quickly turned towards the sound, wands poised in front of you ready to strike. Seeing no danger, you all lowered your weapons and turned back towards the statue. You crouched yet again, running your fingertip along the other symbols.

You spoke to the boys over your shoulder, “It’s a puzzle. You have to match the gate symbols to the ones on the snake.” 

Sebastian barked a laugh, coming up behind you and gazing at the sculpture. “Absolutely brilliant, you are! Bet I could do that just as well, eh?” He patted you on your shoulder with pride, not noticing your new injury. You clenched your teeth, a pained hiss escaping through the gaps. The brunette drew his hand back in alarm, looking at the small streak of blood on his palm. He took your arm gently, eyebrows furrowed at the medium sized cut in concern. 

“Stars, you’re hurt! What happened? Are you alright?” 

You placed your hand over one of his, looking at him over your shoulder and forcing a laugh. “That’s how I found the statue in the first place. I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” 

He looked at you with doubt, but let it go, releasing your arm and taking a step back. “If you say so.” 

You stood, shaking out your arms and shoulders. His hands felt like small fires against the cool air of the mausoleum. 

“Okay, Ominis and I will stay here and look for more of these puzzles. Sebastian, you go look in the other room and see if you find anything. Call out if you need backup.” 

Sebastian saluted two fingers in your direction before running at the open gate, grabbing at the taller ledge of the other room and heaving himself up. You watched him disappear onto the other floor. You and Ominis spread out, each taking a different corner of the room. It was bigger than you originally expected, going on for at least the length of a classroom. There was another gate at the very center of the room, the same as the other. Your eyes scanned each corner of your side for the distinct shape of Salazar’s sculpt, calling to Ominis on the other side of the room.

“So, why does Salazar Slytherin like snakes so much, anyway?”

Ominis shrugged, “Some legends say that he was an animagus— that his form was a basilisk.” 

You whistled lowly, “That’s a big snake.” 

The boy chuckled softly, going back to the original silence directly after. Ominis bit his lip, chewing it over what he should say next. He didn’t like the silence, it made him feel like he was back home. The ambiance of the Scriptorium certainly didn’t help, either. 

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you truly alright?” 

You smiled, moving over to his side where he was feeling along the wall. You rested your hand on his shoulder, a feather light touch that felt like a heavy weight because of his nerves. “I am, I promise. Please don’t worry about me, everything is fine.” 

He turned his face towards your voice. “I always worry. About the both of you.” 

Your face softened at the confession, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing at the contact. Brushing your thumb against his cheekbone, you felt a surge of nerves in your stomach; butterflies bumping around in the inner lining of your gut. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Ominis, I—” 

A short shout cuts through the quiet. You both whip your heads in the direction of the open gate, calling out to the boy on the other side. 

“Sebastian, are you alright?” 

You hear him fumble around for a moment, calling in return, “The statue bit me! Be careful not to get it wrong!” 

Ominis gently grasped your chin, turning it back towards his face. He listened to you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue your thought from before. The blond was incredibly nervous, hoping that you couldn’t tell that his hand was shaking. You hesitantly flick your eyes from his irises to his lips, soft and inviting. You wet your own, taking a shaky breath in. 

“What were you saying?” Ominis whispered, his face a hairs length away. 

Your eyes quickly slid over to the left, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden. A strange shaped rock caught your attention, curved at the base like a worm. There it was, the final puzzle. You gasped, fumbling out of Ominis’ hold on you and quickly scurrying over to it, turning the dial to the shapes on the other gate. Just as yours slotted into place, a second click could be heard from the room over. The second gate opened with a loud, rusted creak, leading into a third, and what you hoped was final, room.  

Sebastian made his way back over to the two of you, an elated grin stretching across his face as he gazed into the next section of the crypt. Ominis had dropped his arm when you de-tangled yourself, now crossing both in front of his chest with an expression similar to someone who smelled something foul. 

The three of you crept into the room, wands poised for any danger that may come forward. The gate slammed shut behind you once more, trapping you there like before. 

“Salazar Slytherin isn’t done with us yet,” Ominis whispered, a grave seriousness adorning his visage. 

You quietly make your way to the other side of the room where a large, disfigured door lay. It was covered in carvings; scratches marred the corners, flowing dangerously into disturbing images of screaming faces. You felt the air around you grow even colder than before, a shiver running down your spine. There was a flutter of paper to your right, and you swung your wand towards the sound. The tip illuminated an old piece of parchment, covered in dust with sections of it nibbled away by rats. You gently pick up the letter, afraid it would fall apart at the slightest movement. On it was a journal entry of sorts, big looping cursive depicting the fate of the last explorer to make it to this room. You carefully scanned the note, each word filling your chest with dread. Gazing down at the ground near your feet, you quietly gasp at the sight of a decaying skeleton. Its bones were a stark alabaster against the gray concrete floor; spiderwebs weaved throughout the skull and down to the rib cage. 

Noctua Gaunt.

You quietly ushered Sebastian over to where you stood, handing him the final journal entry of the woman before you. He scanned it, his eyes growing larger by the second and his face adopting a grim expression. The freckled boy looked at you for confirmation, and you gestured to the skeleton below. He gasped quietly in his throat, looking over his shoulder at the other Slytherin quietly pacing by the gated entrance. 

You quietly spoke, sympathy lacing your tone, “Ominis, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. There’s a note over here, next to a body.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “It’s Noctua.” 

The boy froze his movements, head tilting down towards the ground in sorrow. “What happened to her?” 

“The note says she was stuck in here, and that she could only open the door with an unforgivable curse. She didn’t have anyone else in here with her, so she was unable to escape.”

You walked up to the now shaking boy, his hands grasping at his opposite elbows to ground himself. You gently moved your hand to his shoulder, stroking the joint with your thumb. He roughly shrugged your hand away, returning to his pacing; his face morphed into a look of pain. His hands ran through his hair in anguish, mussying it up into a wild mane. 

“She died stuck in here, and we will suffer the same fate. We will be stuck down here forever— the next person to enter will find our bodies like we found hers.” 

Sebastian bent down to pick up the note you dropped, studying it closely again. He quickly paced towards you both, anxious nervousness rubbing off of him in waves. 

“Don’t give up quite yet. She says that she couldn’t leave because she was alone and had no one to cast the spell on. There’s three of us— we can get out! We just have to cast the unforgivable.” 

Ominis threw his hands down in agitation, spitting at the other boy, “That’s dark magic, Sebastian! Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. You can’t just cast one, you need to mean it, and I don’t particularly want to hurt either of you. Do you?” 

Sebastian’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation, “If it means getting out of here alive and finding a cure for Anne, I’ll do anything I have to.” 

You stepped between the two squabbling boys, holding your hands aloft to keep their distance from the other. This argument was getting heated fast, a darker, more dangerous aura rested under the surface than the argument in the prior room. You spoke to the brunette to your left, “Sebastian, which spell is it? What do we need to do?” 

He scanned the note for a third time, eyes alight in a combination of rage and panic. His expression grew grave, and he felt something lodge itself in his throat. He forced the words out from around it, slightly choked with emotion, “We need to cast the cruciatus curse.” 

Ominis’ wrath was palpable in the air, filling the room like a thick fog. “Absolutely not! There must be another way out. There is no way in Merlin’s name that I’m letting either of you cast that spell!” 

The taller Slytherin growled, throwing the note down on the ground and pacing back to the horrifying door. He ran his hand along the faces, each twisted in pain. He sighed, pushing his anger back down into his chest. It would do them no good to argue with each other. 

“I understand that you’re scared, Ominis, but there isn’t another spell. This is the only way out.” He took a deep, steadying breath, before finishing his thought. “You’re the only one here who knows the spell. It should be you who casts—”

“Are you soft in the head!? I would rather die than cast that spell again. I question our friendship just at the fact that you would ask that of me.” 

Sebastian pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, pinching it in exasperation. He turned on the balls of his feet towards where you were, silently watching the fight with fright in your eyes. He walked towards you, placing both of his palms on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes. 

“It’s up to us, then.” He paused, searching your face for something. His eyebrows creased in concentration and something else that you couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Assurance? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. He quickly spun away from you, beginning to pace the length of the room while muttering to himself, tapping his wand against his leg in a sporadic rhythm. You watched from your spot next to the door. It seemed to glow with evil energy, spreading its wicked tendrils around the room like a well-fed devils snare. You could almost feel it crawling its way into your nose and mouth, wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs. Rapid breaths escaped from your lips, your heart pulsing rapidly in your chest. Your wide eyes, absolutely swimming in terror, refused to leave the daunting door. You open your mouth to speak, before a resolute voice cuts you off from your thoughts. 

“Cast it on me.” 

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing in your veins as your blood ran cold. Surely you didn’t hear him correctly? He wasn’t asking you to—

“Cast it on me, it’s the only way.” 

You slowly turned in his direction, meeting Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes, normally filled with warmth but now cold and hard. He stood directly across from you, the glow of the door casting a striking shadow on his youthful face. His demeanor was all straight lines; tight and unmoving in discernment. There was no changing his mind, he had made his choice— his figurative bed. He would rather take the curse himself than have to cast it on either of his closest friends. You saw the determination in his eyes, in the thin line of his lips and jagged edges of his clenched jaw. He was an immovable force, and who were you to try and bend physics to your will? You closed your eyes, gathering your resolve, before meeting his eyes once again. The fire behind your irises burned brightly, a blazing inferno ready to take the entire world into its flames. 

“Alright, if you’re sure. Do you know the spell?”

He looked at the door again in trepidation before meeting your gaze, something unknown still swirling in his irises. “In theory. I can teach it to you.” 

The both of you moved through the motions of the spell, repeating it a few times to make sure you knew what you were doing. The movements in itself felt dirty— wrong, even. Like you weren’t supposed to be privy to this kind of knowledge. Your wand arm felt numb, like the cold was seeping into your very bones and inducing hypothermia. You swallowed thickly, before raising your wand to Sebastian’s chest. You stared into the other’s eyes, both filled with intense worry and fright. 

“Are you ready?”

The brunette took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind and attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience. 

Your shaking voice spoke, mouth feeling weird around the accursed word.

“Crucio.” 

A slight red spark shot from the tip of your wand, but no pain came to the Sallow boy. His eyes shot open, looking at you across from him. You were shaking like a leaf, staring confused at your wand and then at him. He knitted his brows in angered confusion. 

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

Ominis spoke from the back corner where he had sat himself, head leaning heavily on the wall behind him and his arms resting on the tops of his knees. His face was riddled with resignation. “I told you, you have to mean it. You have to want to inflict pain on the other person.” 

Sebastian growled loudly, his teeth clashing together harshly as he clenched his jaw in anger. “If you’re not going to offer anything helpful, just be quiet.” 

You stood in stunned silence at the boy's ferocity. He quickly rounded back towards you, teeth clenched in a near snarl. He pointed at you accusingly,

“Why aren’t you angry? You need to be furious! Yell at me— tell me this is all my fault! Let me have it!” 

You stuttered at the boy, hands shaking even more forcefully now. You knew what he was doing; he was trying to make you hate him. He wanted you to be so angry at him that you could easily cast the curse. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to have the opposite effect on you. Your heart ached for the boy, listening to each word he said and knowing somewhere in your heart that he thought this of himself. Apologies filled your mouth and spilled out like a waterfall of dismay. They splashed against the ground and the droplets sprayed everywhere, bouncing harshly against the echo chamber walls. 

Sebastian continued yelling, rage pouring from his being, “Stop apologizing! I brought us down here, it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with! I’m the reason you have to cast this spell! You didn’t want to come here at all before I basically forced you and Ominis. Look at him, he’s petrified! I did this, cast it on me!” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, horrified terror coursed through your body because of the boy across from you. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring like a bull. You had never seen him like this before. The anger poured from him and swirled around the air like a dense cloud, permeating every inch of the desolate cavern. Ominis hesitantly stood from the corner, intense worry spreading across his face. He slowly approached the two, steps soft and slow, hands outstretched in front of him like he was dealing with a raging animal. He could smell the tension, feel the red hot heat of fury and agitation.

He hesitantly spoke, his voice shaking with a soft timber, “Sebastian, take a step back. You’re scaring them.” 

The frenzied boy rounded at his friend, snarling and gnashing his teeth, “No, they have to do this!” 

You continued to spew apologies, the words getting swallowed by the thick, maroon fog and evaporating into vapor. Tears cascaded down your frightened face, staring unblinking at your rampaging friend. He was nearly foaming at the mouth in outrage, his eyes wild and hardened. He didn’t look like himself, a complete stranger in his own body. All Sebastian could feel was anger, extremely hot and branding his very soul with a wave of wrath. He could hear your pitiful cries, Ominis’ begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t let you both stand in the way of curing his sister. 

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. 

“Crucio!” 

Your screams filled the small room, ricocheting off the walls and burying inside the duo's ears. Ominis slapped his arms around his head, bending over in pain, his sensitive ears amplifying the violent outburst tenfold. His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of your pain, crushing his soul in its devastating grasp. The sound snapped Sebastian out of his trance, his face morphing into one of absolute horror and revoltion at what he had just done. He dropped his wand in shock, stumbling backwards into the nearest wall and sliding down it. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you writhe on the floor in never-ending pain. He brought his hands up to his mouth, covering it in distress, and whispered curses and pleading apologies against his skin. 

“Oh Merlin, what have I done? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” 

Pain— that’s all you knew. Your blood was boiling under your skin, the veins feeling like they were going to burst out of you in a shower of blood at any moment. You clutched your abdomen in agony, nails biting into your arms in desperation. Blood ran down from your hands, coating your sleeves and staining them red. Each organ felt like it was dying slowly, decay seeping deep into your body and coating every surface. Your heart pounded harder than ever before, threatening to combust right through your ribs and out of your chest. Every nerve ending fired off in rapid succession, blazing through your body like a wild inferno and leaving intense burns in its wake. Your head was the worst. It felt like someone stabbed a freezing ice pick through your eye socket, retracting it and pushing back in with each pound of your heart against your skull. Bile rose into your throat, evaporating around the force of your wails of pain. You were curled on the ground, arms tight against yourself in protection. It felt like you would never be happy, be well, again. The torment went on for what felt like years, centuries even, wracking your body with heaving sobs and otherworldly screams. 

In an instant it was over. Sparks of residual magic shot against your skin, shaking your body to its core. The world around you was dark and silent, your senses absolutely fried. A heavy weight was resting against your back, pressing against you with a relieving, grounding pressure. Your hearing returned first, flooding in like you had just rinsed the water from them. 

“Come back to us! Are you alright? Damn it, please say something!” The panicked voice of Ominis filled your electrified brain, the sound grating against your ears. He pressed his palms against your cheeks and raised your head from its spot on the cold ground, wiping the tears from your face. He rested his forehead against yours, listening closely to your shuddering breaths. “Please, give me a sign that you’re still in there.” 

A groan eased its way out of your tight throat, pushing past the damage your screams had done and croaking through like a toad. Ominis sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gathering you gently in his arms. He stroked your hair, letting the last of the tremors make their way out of your body. Your consciousness faded in and out, lids fluttering open and closed around the blackness resting just behind your eyes. 

“Shush now, don’t push yourself. Everything’s going to be okay.” Ominis gently coaxed your head to rest against his collarbone, his cheek pressing against the roof of your head. He continued his movements along your hair absentmindedly, lulling you into a soft sense of security. 

The blond spoke to the distraught boy behind him, voice devoid of any emotion. “We need to get them to the infirmary.” 

Sebastian broke out of his morose stupor, panic rising in his voice, “We can’t! She’ll know that we’ve used an unforgivable! Not to mention, we’re out past curfew. We’ll likely get expelled, or worse!” 

Ominis sighed inwardly, his head leaning back and smacking against the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He knew that Sebastian was right, no matter how much he wanted to throw the boy to the wolves at that very moment. If they were to bring you to the hospital wing the nurse would ask all three of them questions, and none of them were prepared for that. There wasn’t a single lie in the world that would be that convincing. With a final growl of agitation, he made a decision.

“Fine, the Undercroft, then.” He leveled the taller boy with a harsh glare. “Go get whatever you’re looking for and meet us down there. I hope this trip was worth it, Sallow.” 

The clock tower sounded three times, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. Two students rested against the chaise lounge conjured up out of an old shipping crate. Your shoulder had been dressed, the bandage peeking out from under your ripped blouse. The same was done for the indentations on your arms, half moons lining your biceps in a circle from your sharp nails digging into your skin. Ominis gently stroked your hair from where your head rested on his lap. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your quiet whines of pain tempered out and gave way to startling silence. Anger festered under the boy’s skin, warming him to an uncomfortable degree. It burned in the back of his mind, boiling against the memory of your screams and whimpers of immense pain. He had half a mind to curse Sebastian where he had stood in the Scriptorium. Ominis heard his panicked breaths and whispered apologies after he brought you to your knees, truly realizing the damage that he had done and the dangers of dark magic. Good, he thought. Maybe he’d finally stop moving down the dark path that he was so set on. He deserved to beg for your forgiveness. 

The metal gate of the Undercroft squeaked open, the sound of heavy footfalls following after. Ominis gently picked up your sleeping head, standing from the chaise and lowering you onto one of the many pillows lining the cushions. He quickly paced towards the brunette, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Sebastian paid no mind, flipping through the large tomb he had collected from Salazar’s Scriptorium. He looked up and saw the approaching boy, not noticing the very prevalent anger on his face. 

“Ominis, you’re not going to believe what I found—”

The smaller boy slammed into him, pressing his forearm against his neck and shoving him harshly into the nearest wall. His wand was pressed against his chin, glowing menacingly in the candlelight of the hideaway. The blond’s mouth was twisted into a gruesome snarl, teeth looking like fangs in the dim lighting. Sebastian gulped against the arm pressed against his larynx. He dropped the book in surprise, a cloud of dust puffing up from the ground at its harsh landing. Even though Sebastian knew that Ominis couldn’t truly see him, the boy’s heated glare seemed to set fire to his very soul. 

Ominis growled at the taller boy in a gravely low voice, his teeth gnashing around each word. “If you ever hurt them again, you will be dead where you stand. This is the last I want to hear of dark magic, Sebastian. You’ve gone too far; people have gotten hurt. Promise me that you’ll stop— you’ll find some other way to heal Anne, or this friendship will continue no longer.” 

Sebastian nodded as much as he could around his friend’s arm, squeezing the words out of his crushed throat, “Yes, I understand, I’m sorry!” 

The anger seemed to evaporate from the smaller boy in mere seconds, his arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slumping. He grasped the front of the freckled boy’s shirt, leaning his forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh. 

“I almost lost you both today. I can’t do that, don’t make me live through that again. Please, I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t bear the thought.” 

His shoulders began to shake, tremors rocking his entire body and sending the tears gathering in his eyes down his pale cheeks. He softly cries into the shirt of his friend, grasping harder at the cotton between his fingers and burying his face even deeper. The freckled boy stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden emotional whiplash. He hesitantly raises his arms and circles them around the shoulders of the crying boy, looking over to your sleeping form with guilt swirling in his eyes. 

He had hurt both of his friends today over something he thought was so trivial, so insignificant. He just wanted to find a cure for his sister, not cause undeniable pain to those he loved. He truly was turning into a monster; the dark magic he was so fascinated by had begun to circle around his heart, squeezing it with its thick tentacles. Sebastian buried his head into Ominis’ neck, deeply breathing in his scent. The mildew of the cellar was thick against his skin, but reminisce of his expensive cologne and natural scent, something musky and rich, still lingered there. He focused on it, the familiar smell warming his insides and bringing his heartbeat to a slight increase. 

He hadn’t promised the boy that he’d stop exploring the dark arts, instead twisting his words into something that sounded like agreement. Sebastian knew that he would come to regret that decision, but he couldn’t give up on Anne. She was his flesh and blood, his twin sister. She was everything to him. He knew that he would hurt his two closest friends more than words can express with his decisions, but deep in his heart he believed that he was doing the right thing. 

With a heavy heart, Sebastian basked in the comfort of the Undercroft and the arms wrapped around his waist, praying to anyone who would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time he felt this safe.

AN: Did I make an "Ominis gets pegged" joke? Yes, yes I did.

***

like what you read? here's more!

#tina speaks #masterlist #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x you #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer

[the-nameless-wacky-inventor]

I AM BARTIMAEUS! I AM SAKHR AL-JINNI, N’GORSO THE MIGHTY, AND THE SERPENT OF SILVER PLUMES! I HAVE REBUILT THE WALLS OF URUK, KARNAK, AND PRAUGE. I HAVE SPOKEN WITH SOLOMON. I HAVE RUN WITH THE BUFFALO FATHERS OF THE PLAINS. I HAVE WATCHED OVER OLD ZIMBABWE TILL THE STONES FELL AND THE JACKALS FED ON ITS PEOPLE. I AM BARTIMAEUS! I RECOGNIZE NO MASTER. SO I CHARGE YOU IN YOUR TURN, BOY. WHO ARE YOU TO SUMMON ME?

#back on my bs essentially #god I love him #bartimaeus #the bartimaeus trilogy #the bartimaeus sequence #bartseq

[vandaliatraveler]

The High Rocks Trail along the Highland Scenic Highway offers an easy, 3 mile out-and-back hike featuring one of the best views in the Central Appalachians. Perched on a sandstone outcropping at over 4,000 feet (1,219 m) above sea level, the overlook provides sweeping views toward Virginia to the east and the Greenbrier River Valley to the south. I imagine this would be an ideal spot to do some stargazing, as there is very little light obstruction from the valley below.

From top: views from the High Rocks overlook at the end of the trail; false Solomon's seal (Maianthemum racemosum), whose plume of white flowers gives way to a cluster of waxy, gold and red-speckled berries in late summer; two of the most impressive speckled wood lilies (Clintonia umbellulata) I've ever come across in my travels; American lily-of-the-valley (Convallaria majuscula), a more robust and less densely-colonizing cousin of the more familiar European species, native to the Appalachian mountains from Southwestern Pennsylvania to North Carolina and Tennessee; the gorgeous mountain angelica (Angelica triquinata), also known as filmy angelica, an Appalachian endemic that produces the most impressive compound umbels of greenish-white flowers in late summer; and a gregarious woodland fungi, perhaps sulphur tuft (Hypholoma fasciculare)?

#appalachia #vandalia #wildflowers #spring #west virginia #allegheny mountains #monongahela national forest #flora #highland scenic highway #high rocks trail #false solomon's seal #speckled wood lily #white clintonia #american lily-of-the -valley #mountain angelica #filmy angelica #fungi

[lou-struck]

Little Rain Clouds Part 3

Obey Me! Datables (minus Luke x MC!)

Featuring: Simeon, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Part 1

Part 2

 ~One of my favorite recurring tropes in fantasy is the little personal raincloud that covers a character and pours on them for hours on end, so I thought it would be cute to see how the datables would react to getting cursed with their own little rain cloud.

Simeon~ 

Our favorite Angel has no shortage of admirers in the Devildom, he receives tons of little gifts and tokens from his admirers and he doesn't have it in him to turn them all down.

He has amassed quite the stockpile of gifts, sweets, and trinkets. One of which resides within a peculiar-looking canister.

Cautiously he thumbs the seal not expecting it to break on contact. A plume of smoke flows through the lid and accumulates above his head until there is a little cloud above his head. It gently rains down over him as he lets out a good-natured laugh. “Well, I certainly didn't expect this,”

You try to help him by offering to hold his DDD and call Solomon to help figure out a way to break the curse. The sorcerer said that the cloud only can produce a certain amount of water and it would disappear once it has finished its precipitation. It could be hours or it could be days.

Simeon doesn't mind his cloud at all, it actually has a pleasant temperament, it does not pelt him mercilessly or cause a hailstorm. A little rain is no reason to get upset so he moves on with his day waiting for the spell to wear off.

Wanting to stay outside Simeon walks through the gardens looking for anything that may need a nice little watering. His hair is soaked and stringy, and his clothes are practically sticking to his skin but he looks remarkably handsome walking through his own little rainstorm with a pleasant smile on his face.

Solomon~

Solomon should’ve known better. Just because he can keep jars of non-fatal curses and creatures on the shelves of his dorm room doesn’t mean he should.

All it takes is a careless wave of the arm to knock over a murky glass jar and out pops a little rain cloud spirit.

This one, in particular, is especially angry towards the sorcerer since he was the one who captured it many years ago. It has been patiently waiting, biding its time until it would be free to rain its vengeance down on Solomon’s pretty white hair with half-frozen raindrops the size of golf balls.

You don’t know what you were expecting when Solomon called you up to his room, but it certainly wasn’t him holed up in the bathtub looking worse for wear. The rain is pelting him so hard that the skin is red and irritated all the top of his head is getting pelted so vigorously that it will definitely be leaving a bruise later.

He understands that the rain will stop eventually, but he just doesn’t want to have to suffer through this alone especially after having to endure this for the last two days.

What he doesn’t understand is why the rain seems to subside a little bit when you came into the room to check on him. Curiously he takes a step towards you and the rain gets less aggressive. He keeps moving until your chest to chest and you’re both getting mist underneath his cloud. 

With a little sigh of relief, you sit on the little bench in his shower as he leans up against you finally able to catch his breath. You stay like this long after the rain has stopped and The gentle sound of his sleeping breaths fills the room.

Diavolo~

No one in their right mind would ever curse the demon king with a rain cloud spell. And Diavolo knows this, But it definitely bums him out that he doesn’t get to have that kind of fun with everybody else.

He decided to be innovative one day and accidentally knock over a vase containing a harmless little raincloud spell. As the rain hits him he breaks out in to jovial laughter.

"This is wonderful, I feel like everyone else." He looks at you and extends a hand out to you. "Mc, I believe there is a romantic human custom in which pairs dance together in the rain, would you care to join me."

"I would," you say taking his large hand and allowing yourself to be pulled underneath the raincloud. It socks your skin as he twirls you around so graciously for someone of his size.

By the time the rain has stopped, droplets cling to his tunic and run through his hair as his golden eyes never leave of rainsoaked form.

"I enjoyed that very much MC." he says kissing your hand. “I hope we can do this again sometime.

Barbatos~

Barbatos takes his duties rather seriously and almost never makes clumsy mistakes. But today as he was dusting some ancient relics his mind was drifting to a certain pretty little exchange student who he can't stop thinking about.

Through the veil of daydreamed fog, he worked diligently not noticing just how close a glass urn shaped like a tear drop was to the mantle of the grand fireplace.

The lightest touch of the duster sends it tumbling to the floor faster than he can react. It shatters on the ground and little wisps of cloud rise from the fragments. They join together and form a massive cloud above his head.

Barbatos's eyes widen in panic at the recognition of the magic. He rushes toward the door, but it's too late. The cloud begins to pour rain down over him and the Demon Kings new carpet.

The rainfall stunts his progress cleaning and proves to be too difficult of an obstacle for him to attend to his duties the way he normally does.

Upon hearing of the incident Diavolo excuses Barbatos from his duties until the spell wears off but now the Demon sulks on a stone bench wondering what he can do with himself to be useful. It's not common he finds himself in a helpless situation so he hasn't a clue what to do.

Until you come along. With eyes full of care and understanding you sit down next to him on the bench not minding hw the rain messes up your hair and uniform and chat with him.

He is so happy to finally have your undivided attention that the harsh droplets feel like tiny kisses as he tells you whatever it is your heart desires.

You are both so enraptured by the conversation that neither of you notice that the rain has stopped falling hours ago.

#obey me! #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #obey me smut #obey me x reader #diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #barbatos #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #simeon #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #solomon #obey me solomon #solomon x reader

[devildom-moss]

Hi! Can i request mc seeking comfort in Sol and Simeon? I’m SO overwhelmed by the brothers, i really just want the purgatory boys to free me from them for FIVE minutes 😭

I get that! They are A LOT. I got you with an option for Simeon, Solomon, and both (well, all of Purgatory Hall, technically). I went for a SFW, very little angst approach.

Simeon

Simeon can usually tell when you’re having a rough time, but he always struggles with how to go about asking you and trying to help. You’ll be doing him a favor by just coming to him. It was another busy morning, and the House of Lamentation had seemed worse than ever. You knew it was most likely the accumulation of all the stress they had caused you over the past few weeks. Even Lucifer’s attempts to discipline his brothers weren’t helping. They were overwhelming – the arguments, the fights, the neediness – all of it. You needed to outsource, and that’s what led you to Simeon.

After escaping the brothers at school, you asked Simeon to meet you in an unused RAD common room. The moment he arrived, you pulled him into a hug. “Please save me.”

“What? Why? Are you hurt? Is someone after you?” He began to freak out.

“No, nothing like that. I just need some peace. Please? Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Is that all?” he chuckled, “of course I’ll hold you.”

He walked you to the nearby couch and sat you down on his lap. He knew the cause of your trouble must have been the brothers if you were in need of peace, so he saw no need to ask. Simeon just wanted to be there for you. His long slender fingers gently caressed the back of your head, scratching softly. His thumb smoothed over the skin right behind your ear. Every movement was so careful and loving. Time began to slip away as you focused on his touch and light breathing. You could have fallen asleep like that, securely in his arms.

“Feeling better,” he asked, smiling at you.

“A little,” you lied. You actually felt much better, but you feared he would let go if he knew.

“Just a little? Let me see if I can make you more comfortable.” Simeon wrapped part of his cape around you and placed a kiss on the top of your head. The warmth – his warmth – enveloped you. “We can stay like this as long as you need.”

“Even if that means ditching classes?”

“Well, I –” he hummed in consideration “– I suppose we could, if you need it.”

Solomon

Beelzebub eating critical nullifying ingredients, Belphegor’s lack of focus, and Asmo’s lack of concern for any class that wasn’t Seductive Speechcraft combined catastrophically and resulted in the entire classroom exploding with a heavy plume of smoke that filed into every nearby hall and room. As soon as it was confirmed that the smoke wasn’t toxic, Diavolo cancelled classes for the rest of the day and sent the student body home. Solomon had found you in the chaos of students being rushed out of RAD. He insisted upon walking you home.

“They really messed up that one today,” Solomon laughed. You stopped walking and covered your eyes with the palms of your hands. Solomon stopped and reached out towards you before pulling his hand back, “are you okay? Did you get smoke in your eyes.”

“They’re like this every day, Solomon.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t let up. They’ve been like this for weeks.” You shook your head. “I just want one day – even just half a day – without them causing such a mess.”

“They’re really a handful, huh?” Solomon sighed.

You dropped your hands from your eyes to hold his hands. “Can I go home with you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Solomon’s gaze softened as he took pity on you.

He offered to cook for you, but you refused. So instead, he offered you the sandwich that Luke had packed for him that he hadn’t had a chance to eat. You agreed and dug in, grateful to both Solomon and Luke. While you ate, Solomon left to “tidy up his room.” When you finished eating and went to check on him, you were surprised to see that his bed had been rearranged into a nest of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. His laptop was sitting at the foot of the bed and bottles of juice and bags of snacks were sitting on Solomon’s nightstand.

“Oh, hey,” Solomon greeted you. He jumped into his nest and pat the space next to him, “care to join me?”

You crawled into bed with him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. He queued up one of your favorite comfort shows. You were free to stay there as long as you needed – especially if that meant you stayed the night with him.

Both

A loud crash, followed by the distinctive “MAMMON” that roared throughout the house, was the last straw. You packed up a bag and snuck out of the House of Lamentation. One short, cold walk later, you were standing outside of Purgatory Hall. Simeon was the one to answer the knock at the door.

“Can I stay the night?” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course, come in, come in.” Simeon led you inside. He rubbed your arms.

“Oh, MC, what are you doing here?” Solomon asked.

“I just need to get out of the house tonight. Can I stay here?”

“Oh,” Solomon sighed, “the brothers?”

“The brothers,” you affirmed. Solomon took your bag and set it on a nearby table. He pulled you towards the couch and sat you down softly, rubbing circles into the tops of your hands with his thumbs.

“Well, I’m in the middle of making dinner,” Simeon mentioned. He headed towards the kitchen. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll set an extra plate at the table.” Simeon smiled and ducked into the kitchen.

Hearing the commotion, Luke and Raphael came out of their rooms. They entertained you with idle chit-chat, and after an amazing dinner, Luke brought out a puzzle for everyone to work on. When it had gotten late and Luke and Raphael had been asleep for over an hour, you began to feel anxious, expecting some kind of debate about who you would room with. You were pleasantly surprised when Solomon dragged a heap of blankets into the living room. Simeon carried in a stack of pillows, and, together, they set up a nest large enough for all three of you. They both sat down with a space for you between them and stared up at you, expectingly.

“Well?” Simeon asked.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Solomon added.

#ask #anon #requests #simeon #solomon #gn!mc #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 6: Reach

WIP: Misfortunate Sol Pairing: Cal x Sol Timeline: an alternate universe version of events. this in no way spoils the real plot. CW: Fire, death, blood, gun violence. it's not that bad but it's better to err on the side of caution Rating: T Words: 2,150

***

Detective Calvin Logan entered the precinct at an unusually early time in the midst of utter chaos. He was so bereft of his first cup of coffee, however, that he didn't even notice the state of the place until he attempted to rectify his delayed caffeine situation.

He grumbled under his breath as he poured already-aging coffee into the first mug he got his hands on—a stout metal cup the police captain had brought in from his time in the war.

Cal looked up and squinted at the cops running around, papers flying, telephone operators being yelled at. He almost didn't catch himself in time before he overflowed the cup and coffee splashed onto the floor at his feet.

"What's goin' on?" he asked Officer Melvin Funkwhistle on his way past at nearly the speed of a barreling train. For a brief instant Cal mused to himself that perhaps the officer was running away from his unfortunate name, and he found he had trouble tamping down the distracted grin that formed on his face in response.

"There's something happening at the Majesty Hotel," Funkwhistle said over his shoulder. "Captain's sending out cars to handle it."

Cal frowned alongside his first sip of coffee and couldn't even enjoy it. "The Majesty? What's happening at the Majesty?"

Funkwhistle was already gone, but Captain O'Reilly stepped into his line of vision as a decent substitute. He tugged at his Sam Browne belt and addressed Cal with seriousness bordering unpleasant at such an early time of day.

"We got a call about an hour ago regarding a possible hostage situation," O'Reilly said, his thick mustache twitching. "We believe the guests and staff are being kept prisoner by an unknown assailant. There's been a fire allegedly set—"

Where the news of a strange person holding the hotel hostage previously did not jar Cal fully out of his bleariness, the news of a possible fire rattled him enough to send a drop of coffee into the wrong pipe.

He hacked around the offending liquid and pounded a fist into his chest. "A fire—Captain?!" He stared with wild eyes at his boss, disposing of his coffee and the cup into the trash can beside him. "I gotta...you gotta let me—"

"No," O'Reilly barked immediately, all but diving into the trash to retrieve the cup. "We have enough cars headed that way now. You'll get a chance when the situation is dealt with—"

All Cal could think about was Solomon Maxwell Iron. If the guests and the staff were being held hostage, that meant Sol, too. The strangeness of having had a heated argument with him the previous night about something trivial—about how Cal couldn't seem to leave the poor man alone regarding the deaths that followed him everywhere—and now he was likely in grievous danger...

"You got this call an hour ago?!" Cal roared suddenly. He felt the color leaving his face as surely as he felt disbelief boiling into rage in the pit of his chest. "And you're just now controlling the situation?!"

"The legitimacy—"

Cal did not think the captain was incompetent. He always respected him, held him in high regard in the day-to-day, which is why this display of suspicion surprised him.

All he could recall of the following sequence of events was grunting something about his acceptance toward being fired later, then tearing down the somewhat busy street in a screaming squad car, his arms burning from the urgency of cranking the siren and avoiding a collision all at once.

His heart leapt into his throat as soon as he careened around the final corner leading to the Majesty Hotel, and it had little to do with nearly flattening the officer directing traffic at that particular intersection.

A plume of thick, black smoke curled up from somewhere on the building, pouring into the sky not unlike Cal's unhelpful coffee into the frazzled captain's war cup.

"C'mon," Cal muttered partially to Sol, who definitively was not anywhere around, and partially to the living obstacles standing between him and the hotel. "C'mon, kid, please make a damn fool outta me."

By some miracle he managed to put the car in park somewhere he wouldn't remember later before sprinting into the gaggle of police gathered across the road from the hotel.

"Get me in there," he demanded, utterly disinterested in having a chance to catch his breath. "If that fire spreads—"

Sergeant Pickering swung around to aim a bullhorn in Cal's face. "The fire brigade is on the way," he said into the device, slowly and with force as if scolding a child for the tenth time in as many minutes, "do not even breathe at that hotel until I have given the all-clear, Logan."

"The fire brigade's on the way, meanwhile a possible mass murderer has a buffet of choice at their fingertips while we stand around waiting," Cal snapped.

"Which is precisely why we are not to rush in without a plan," Pickering retorted, waving some of his subordinate officers away. "This calamity is dangerous and sensitive. We can't risk anything going wrong, here."

Cal dropped steely eyes onto Pickering from his outside assessment of the hotel. He'd never felt this riled up, this feral with fear and determination before in his life. "Where's the assailant?"

"We've determined they're possibly based on the top floor, where the fire is located—"

"Are the elevators operational?"

"No, and furthermore—"

"If I fail, shoot me," Cal said before breaking into another sprint away from the assaulting bullhorn.

Instead of going through the front doors, he veered off to the left, keeping an eye out for the side entrance Sol had thrown him through in his attempts to get the investigations off his back. All of his effort to stop Cal from doing his job.

As he slipped through the unassuming door, the first thing he noticed was that the smell of smoke wasn't very strong in that portion of the hotel yet. The emptiness of the hallways proved eerie, sending a sprout of goosebumps over his arms.

He jogged through the kitchen and eventually the lobby, vigilant for any sign of life, his gun drawn and ready. He ascended the stairs, pausing beside a body laid out face-down on the landing floor.

He peered down at the body and his frown deepened. He didn't recognize him, but he wore a luxurious smoking jacket stained with a massive patch of blood on the back, and his hair was unruly, sticking up and out at odd angles. A guest, it seemed.

Cal's shoulders tensed and he felt a prickle at the back of his neck. Carefully, he turned toward the doors leading to the second floor.

A person wearing a Hallowe'en mask, a piece of leather with holes cut out for the eyes, nose, and mouth, stood at the door with an arm hooked tightly around Sol's neck, the muzzle of a pistol pressed against the side of his head. The masked person was taller than Sol, taller than Cal, and they breathed through their mouth as if the nose hole wasn't sufficient.

Sol coughed hard and regarded Cal with surprise, fingers gripping onto his captor's arm hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "D-Detective?" he said meekly.

Cal ignored him. Had to. If he thought too hard about the dark, angry bruises around Sol's eyes, the officers outside would have to shoot his corpse.

He shifted his attention to the masked person, hoping the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead would go unnoticed. "...Is this what you wanted? To set fire to innocent civilians?"

"Innocent in what capacity?" they said. "Sapping society of a living? Marring the economy and deepening the Depression? You consider that innocent?"

The question confused Cal for a moment before he realized what was happening. "What part do the hotel staff have to play in that? They're just trying to make a living like anyone else."

"These people are a cancer," the masked person spat, jerking the gun in the direction of the guest's body on the floor. "And the ones working for them are even worse for providing their services. Why don't you understand?" Something dawned over what little could be seen of their face. "...I wish you'd understand."

"Don't," Cal growled in warning as the masked person cocked the hammer back on their pistol and pressed the muzzle once again into Sol's skull.

Cal lifted his gun and fired. The shot downed the person instantly, catching them between the eyes. Sol stumbled, nearly taking a header down the stairs before Cal lunged at him and pressed him backward, away from the bodies.

"Police are waiting outside," Cal said hoarsely. "Where are the hostages?"

"Top...top floor," Sol stammered. He looked at Cal as if seeing him for the first time. "There's a fire up there."

"Get outside," Cal ordered, taking Sol's hand in a firm grip and carefully turning him toward the front doors. "Stay with the cops. Stay safe."

"I won't leave you." Sol's eyes, not as swollen as they could've been, welled. He swallowed thickly. "I...don't want to leave you."

Cal's chest filled with something he couldn't decipher. A feeling of dread, something strong and intense, rotten and sour and warm and wonderful. His brow furrowed and he found his brain wouldn't form recognizable thoughts at first. All he could see when he looked at Sol was the anger and desperation in his face the last time they spoke. Despite their previous lighthearted interactions, Cal suspected Sol truly hated him in that moment, and he couldn't fathom ever seeing the expression of terror and worry on his face that he saw right now.

"I'm sorry," Cal whispered, squeezing Sol's hand. "For everything."

Sol stepped forward and drew Cal into a gentle, tentative, yet irrecoverable kiss. Then another one. But it was all quick, too quick, and Cal used the hand holding his weapon to swipe at his mouth when he stepped away.

"Get out of here before I have to let the cops shoot me," Cal said gruffly. "Will you go if I promise to make it out of here in one piece?"

Sol, fat tears streaming down his contused face and wrenching Cal's heart into a painful twist, nodded. "Go. Be careful."

Cal sniffed and swept through the doors leading onto the second floor, running through the hotel until he reached the blazing inferno on the second to last floor. To his surprise and relief, the guests were already there, hurrying down the stairs and obeying every direction Cal gave them. The group going down ran into the fire brigade going up.

"About damn time," Cal muttered on their way past.

"Wanna deal with the dead people or you want us to do that, too?" the fire captain retorted.

Cal let loose a surprised laugh painted with mild hysteria, ushering the guests and staff the rest of the way down the stairs.

The cops piled in to pull the civilians out of harm's way, ambulance attendants wrapping blankets around them and hurrying them to safety.

Cal pivoted to look back at the hotel, which, from that angle, looked unremarkable and untouched. Only when he backed up could he see the smoke rising from the top.

In doing so, he nearly bowled over Sol, who took his wrist and ran with him across the street, through the park, and under a bridge. The place was empty due to the crowd that had formed at the hotel, and Sol shivered violently under his blanket as he peered up at Cal with big, injured eyes.

"I figured they'd be angry at you," Sol said. "And I'm entitled to be angry at you, too, not just for what you did today, but after this..." He shook his head, gaze lingering on Cal's face. "It all feels so silly now."

"It's not silly." Cal realized he'd been holding the gun up to that point and he hastily opened his trench coat to holster it under his arm. "I needled you for quite a while. I wouldn't blame you for hating my guts by now."

"If something happened to you in that hotel, I wouldn't have been able to withstand the pain." Sol tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "...How could I hate someone who made me want to kiss them goodbye?"

Cal stared down at him, surprised once again. "Would you want to...kiss me hello?"

Sol looked as if he wanted to laugh and burst into tears simultaneously. He reached up to grasp Cal's face and brought him down, locking their lips together in a genuine, tender kiss that jellified Cal's knees and stole his breath from his lungs. Cal reciprocated, holding him close and gingerly as if Sol were fragile, and Cal decided he was very glad he didn't have to be shot by his colleagues after all.

#ockiss24 #Misfortunate Sol #surely not me forgetting the name of the hotel and if I even had one for it yet lmao #it will likely change in any case #I'm in a hurry so while I'm proud of this piece it's not the best it could've been had I been able to sit down and really write this out

[tragedytells-tales]

A Souls Resentment

Notes - GN!MC, heavy angst, spin off from the masked event, MC turns evil lol, Solomon actually living up to his title as shady, inspired by 'left behind' ( DA games + CG5 ), 'Good for you' from Dear Evan Hansen, feat. The brothers, The royals, Solomon, Simeon, and Luke

Summary - Halloween goes haywire when two humans become cursed and a soul unearths its pain.

Warnings - major obey me season one spoilers, lessons 6-6 spoilers, not proofread

Tw - major injuries, blood mention, violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of dead people

MC panted when they finally reached the student council room. Solomon picked up the list and began checking off boxes.

"Well, that should be everything done. Good job MC!"

MC took a sip of water and showed Solomon a thumbs up. "We did good! You should see the town! Everyone put their all into this."

Solomon chuckled and set the list down. He looked up to see a strange box sitting on the table.

"Hey MC?" The person in question let out a light hum in acknowledgement. "Was this box always here?"

MC walked over to the table to see what Solomon was talking about. They quietly shrugged their shoulders while humming a quite no, the box hadn't been there before.

MC took out their D.D.D and shot daivolo a text about it before looking at the time- "Come on, they're probably from lord Daivolo anyway. We have to get dressed or we'll be late!" -it was nearly time for the festival to start.

They grabbed a mask and rushed out the door before Solomon could disagree. He picked up a mask and gave it a wary look before rushing after MC.

Both of them met up at the beginning on the town. Solomon was adorned with a spirit kitsune mask while MC had on a phantom of the opera mask that was adorned with holographic patterns.

"Alright, one more round before the festival starts?" Solomon nodded before handing MC a decorated vial filled with a glowing liquid.

"What's this?"

Solomon hooked it onto their costume and nodded "Protection spell, just in case."

MC grabbed Solomons hand before he could pull away. They raised a questioning eyebrow at him while waring their worry on their sleeve, "Hey, is something wrong? You're being more protective than normal."

Solomon just shook his head and smiled, "It's nothing, just a precaution!"

MC crossed their arms while stareing skeptically. Once it was clear that he wasn't going to elaborate they decided to back off. "Alright, so, what does it do then?"

Solomon rested his hand on his chin, "It's a potion that's able to void all curses someone may be placed under." MC nodded in response and ran off.

When they came back they handed Solomon a similar vial to stick onto his costume "Just in case." Solomon simply chuckled.

They waved eachother a quick goodbye and headed off to their posts. MC took out their D.D.D to let the others know about their last rounds.

"Finally, it's our turn."

It wasn't long until a thundering headache hit, and a thick black plume of smoke choked both the of humans. Solomon went to grab his vial but his vision had darkened before he could even detach it from his person.

MC was taken aback by the cloud that seemed to block their vision. They desperately rushed to text, call, or summon someone, but they only heard the sound of their phone dropping before they felt the impact of the fall.

[ Daivolo : MC, answer me as soon as you can. Those masks are not from me or the brothers. ] Sent : 5:15

Lucifer was the first to arrive at the student council room with Daivolo being the last. As each person filtered in each one noticed the absence of the two humans.

"Aye' what's up with this weird box?" Mammon said as he reached out to touch it. When he retracted he quickly wiped it on his pants as he hissed at the burning sensation and stared at his now yellow fingers with shock, "what in the fuck?!"

Lucifer was next to step forward as Satan took to tending to mammons hand. He was only able to get within three or so feet from the box before getting overcome by an overwhelming sense of dread. He stepped back with a disgusted expression and turned to everyone else in the room, "Does anyone know where MC and Solomon are?"

Daivolo looked down at his D.D.D in worry, "No, they still haven't replied to my message either." Luke began pacing the floor in worry while the brothers worked to not erupt.

Belphegor was the first, slamming his hand down on the table while wide awake. "Well, what are we all sitting around for?! MC is miss-" the creaking of the door cut him off.

"MC is just fine. In fact, maybe you lot should come see for yourselves since our rounds are done."

All eyes were soon on Solomon as his dead tone brought an unsettling air into the room.

Barbatos watched Solomon with a careful eye while Asmo stepped forward with confidence,

"Solomon, hon, you wouldn't mind telling us where MC is, would you?"

Lucifer watched as Solomons eyes flashed with animus that slowly formed an eerie but serene smile. "Naturally, they should be at their station. we'll take you there!"

Solomon stopped midway out the door and glanced behind him, "Simeon, luke, you two should stay here." All the footsteps in the room came to a sudden halt.

"Huh, why can't we come?" Luke asked in naive curiosity. Simeon however, was more attentive.

"Solomon." The angel held Solomons gray eyes with a piercing glare, only to be met with an abrasive smile.

"Simeon, surely you wouldn't want MC to wander about alone should they come back here, right?"

Asmo shook slightly as a chill sweep over him.

Solomons serene facade melted into a foreboding glare, as if threatening Simeon to make a move.

Simeon silently backed off and huddled Luke to his side.

Solomon nodded as a smile graced his face again. He turned on his heel and lead the group out the door, leaving a disturbed and knowing Simeon behind.

The door slammed shut and the only sound that could be heard was the light tapping as feet hit the floor. No one bothered to speak, although, they all too aware that something was off. Both with Solomon and with MC.

The cold chill of the night air wafted over the group.

"Ah, there you are!"

MC? Walked over to the group to meet them halfway. They flashed their boys an elated smile and stopped a few feet away.

"Solomon! Be a dear and have Barbatos lock the door would you?"

Solomon nodded and let out a monotone 'order' for barbatos to lock the doors to RAD.

Daivolo went to tell off the sorcerer but was stopped when he felt Lucifer go ridged by his side.

One by one each of the brothers stood ramrod straight.

And one by one, each of them dropped to the floor as their eyes rolled to the back of their heads.

Daivolo turned to look into MCs now multi-colored, resentful, eyes.

Any shouts of confusion or concerns fell on deaf ears as both humans stood and watched as his crown fell.

"Revenge is best served with love."

LUCIFER

- He struggled to open his eyes for a moment. Everytime he was lulled back to sleep by the dull rhythm of tapping. His attention was stolen when the dull taping was replaced by melodic humming. Humming a song that- "only Lilith knows?"

- He shot up and stood on guard, ready to take down the threat. And yet, he was only met with MC. MC who can't see out of their right eye because there was to much blood in the way. MC who had black covering their entire upper midriff, from their neck to their arms. MC who's only working eye thrummed with purple and red.

- MC who looked dead.

- Lucifer rushed over to MC only to phase straight through them. He stopped where he stood and slowly turned to look back, and met with a gaze in a state of enmity.

- "MC, what happed? Who did this to you?"

- "You did, Lucifer."

- No, that can't be right. He just saw MC alive. MC is safe at RAD. MC only got knocked out that day. Lucifer stared down the MC before him, he knows he would never hurt MC.

- "But you have tried. In fact, you did."

- Lucifer leveled MC with a disbelieving glare. He settled on an impassive expression, one that MC naturally saw straight through.

- The two stood in a bit of a standstill before Lucifer spoke up. "Who are you."

- "I already told you. I am MC."

- The scene around him began to shift, the abyss that once surrounded him surrendered to the shadows around the underground tomb. His own voice mixed with the suffocating fear that covered everyone in the room.

- He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't run no matter how much his body begged him too. It was almost as if the trembling fear of an angel and the need to protect kept him chained in place. But it wasn't him. It couldn't be him, because he was screaming at the top of his lungs about choices while hindering one from MC.

- "I did the one thing you never could." He heard MC yell, something about Beelzebub protecting Luke. The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of his lungs as he felt his own magic pulse beneath MCs skin. A Thunderclap like headache struck as the magic burned.

- Daivolos outrage, Mammons grief, Beelzebubs remorse, and Lukes lamination all melted into one as he felt MC smile softly. "I died protecting those I love, and I'll be damned before I let you hurt them again."

- The shadows swarmed back in as Lucifer was dropped back onto a bottomless floor. He barely had a chance to reach his feet before he was knocked back. Chains clamped around his wrists and neck as they bound him into place. MC stepped forward before stopping a few feet away, they pinned him down with a mencing glare. Lucifer choked around the tightening chains, "I would never harm MC-"

- MC crossed their arms with a stern expression and shook their head. "Is it truly that incomprehensible that someone like you would kill the person he describes as weak and lowly? Ironic."

- Lucifer struggled against the chains while baring his teeth. "I've already been forgiven-" He said around the chain "-If it's vengeance you want, then it's not against me."

- MC simply chuckled and raised an eyebrow, "Vengeance? Is that what you think i want?.-" they raised their hand and lowered Lucifer to meet their eyes "-I don't want vengeance, I want you to admit that everything you did to me was for nothing."

- Silence fell over the two, and MC stood to wave away Lucifers grief and anguish at the sight- the thought of MC never forgiving him.

- "I protected my family in a way you never could."

AN: Happy Halloween, have big time angst that I wrote last year as an excuse to hurt the old man

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #omswd #om lucifer #angst #happy halloweeeeeeen

[mintjamsblog]

Hi ! 👋🏾 Been binge reading through all your works on ao3 (livening them all by the way, it’s something new I’ve never read before so thanks for the introduction into it 😅🤩) anyways I was wondering if you still do prompts or asks ?? If so I’ve added one below but if not then no worries !!

I’ve read fics of Alfie saying “Thomas Michael Shelby” but what about Tommy finding out (if he does) Alfie’s middle name, or knowing it and finally leaving Alfie silent (but turned on 😉) by using it ?!

Ahhh, thank you for binge reading!! I'm honoured. (And very very late to this ask)

Inspired by your ask at least ...

Alfie's nicely relaxed. Satisfied for once. It happens, occasionally, with a certain someone in his bed.

“If you’re so bloody Jewish, why were you named after a Saxon king?”

Alfie sighs deeply as he ponders the interruption. Peace never lasts long does it? He shifts heavily onto his side, propping his head on one hand to peer down at Tommy who's flat out on his back. A serious question deserves a serious answer.

“Kings, Thomas. Plural. I'm named after not one king, but three.” 

“That so?” Tommy says, reaching over to the bedside table for his cigarettes and a light. Never can wait more than three minutes after a fuck, can he?

“Alfred the Great was a learned man. A merciful man. A polyglot, like my very good self, and a man of letters and laws—"

"—unlike yourself," Tommy says, clouding his smirk with an exhaled plume of smoke.

"If it weren't for him, my friend, we would right now be speaking Danish.”

Tommy quirks an eyebrow. “As opposed to bullshit?"

"It was Alfred what defended this cesspit island against the Vikings. He translated tomes, mate, and he fortified towns and he built the first English navy—"

"And yet all anyone remembers is that he burnt some poor woman's cakes."

"Hmmm," Alfie grumbles, flopping back onto the pillows, one hand behind his head. No need to grant Tommy's impertinence the dignity of his gaze. "Let that be a lesson to us all, mate. No one said history was fair. Time has a habit of twisting the truth: weeding out the relevant and replacing it with the ridiculous."

He can hear the cogs in Tommy's head preparing the next snide remark, so he carries on before he has to suffer it.

“Truth is, my poor late mother went through a period of delusion after I was born. Named me for my father, in the misguided belief he’d stick around for a snot-nosed bastard namesake.”

“And he fucked off anyway," Tommy says. It ain't judgement or question, just a statement of fact and a reminder that he knows everything there is to know about Alfred Solomons. Just as Alfie knows everything in return.

"My middle name is David. King of all Israel and Judah.”

“And the third king?”

“Solomon. David’s son. Who was, like me, fabulously wise and wealthy.”

“And the bastard son of an adulterer. Also like you.”

“Do not mock me, Thomas. You who was born on a boat."

“Within the sacred bonds of marriage.”

“I'll have to take your word for that, won't I?" Alfie swings himself onto his knees, slinging a leg over Tommy's middle with, frankly, impressive speed. They're both still damp with sweat from their earlier endeavours. "'Cause a hundred to one, there's no bloody paper to prove it."

Alfie plucks the cigarette from the corner of Tommy's mouth and stabs it out in the ashtray. Tommy watches through heavily hooded eyes, making no attempt to stop him. "My grandfather was a king," he says.

"Is that right?" Alfie says, lacing his fingers through Tommy's, pulling their entwined hands up to rest either side of the pillow. "So what does that make you?"

"A gypsy prince," Tommy says, voice low and lazy.

Alfie wants to kiss him and, from the way Tommy's gazing back at him, he'd guess that goes both ways. But it never pays to give Tommy what he wants so easily. He brings the tip of his nose down to meet the tip of Tommy's, circling slowly before tracing a curve from cheekbone to ear. "I heard you were a didicoy whore," he whispers.

Tommy's fingers clench in Alfie's hands and his hips snap sharply upwards.

Alfie chuckles. "Oh yeah. You want more? S'that it?"

"More than you've got to give, old man."

Alfie tuts. Shakes his head. "Now that sounds like a challenge. Thomas. Michael. Shelby. How very fitting, hmm? The world's most famous doubter and the brother of Lucifer."

"Arthur's not so bad these days," Tommy says, and Alfie can't help but laugh, any attempt at gravitas undone by Tommy's tongue. And lips. And the slow crest of his pelvis.

"And you're no bloody Archangel."

[For which Alfie is eternally grateful. He does manage to go again. Eventually. There's nothing quite like a verbal battle to stir his loins into action, middle-age be damned.]

#this is ridiculous #sorry #and answered so late that the askee may well have moved on with their life #grown old #forgotten they'd ever asked #tommy x alfie

[midnightsunnyday]

Flufftober Prompt 3: Thick as Thieves (Diavolo x MC)

A/N: somehow, someway we're still on a role! My (late) entry for day 3 of Flufftober. I hope you all enjoy it!

No warnings I can think of for this story, other than some slight cursing.

*************

It’d been eons since he allowed himself this feeling.

No doubt Barbatos and Lucifer would reprimand him, but that only aided to his excitement. As soon as the clock struck twelve, Diavolo was ready. From the window of his bedroom, his wings burst from behind him in a plume of dark magic. Stepping forward off the still, he plunged then glided off into the night.

On a quiet street beyond the castle walls was where they both agreed to meet. Bathed in the light of a street lamp stood his angel dressed in black, wearing all leather and boots as high as their knees.

Diavolo landed beside them, his wings fluttering. "Good evening."

"Evenin', dollface." Jingling a pair of keys, they smirked. “Your chariot awaits.” The chariot in question being a shiny red motorcycle.

“Lead me to glory, uh, hot stuff,” Diavolo said. He still wasn't quite sure on the lingo. Though not dressed as "bikerly" as his companion, Diavolo tried his best to fit the “biker babe” theme for tonight. He’d torn the sleeves off his dress shirt as well as made a few holes through an (admittedly expensive) cocktail vest. A tutorial on Deviltube showing how to distress a pair of dress slacks helped tremendously, and though he didn’t own any boots, he supposed a scuffed-up pair of dress shoes would suffice.

“I think we look like a fine pair of bikers if I do say so myself,” they said, puffing out their chest. “Also, don’t get mad but…I stole the bike.”

“Goodness.” When they said, “I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget,” he didn’t think they'd go through such extremes to do so.

“Don’t worry, the demon I took it from won’t even know it’s gone.”

Diavolo hummed. “I suppose it doesn’t quite count as stealing as long as we bring it back. So no harm done.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the rebel spirit.”

“Hell yes, indeed!” Honestly, he loved humans and their various expressions for his realm. “But I must ask, do you actually know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Not a clue.”

“Oh.” Diavolo frowned. “Surely this can’t be safe.”

“Not even a little. Buuut,” they wiggled their fingers over the bike. “I figured you could use a bit of your magic to help move things along.”

“That technically is within the realm of my capabilities.” Diavolo gave the bike a look over. In theory, a motorcycle was just a faster, albeit more dangerous peddle bike. Surely using such a thing couldn’t be that complicated. “Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

“First things first,” they handed him a matching red helmet adorably adorned with little horns. “There’s nothing more outlaw than safety.”

“Is that right?”

“Sure it is. Only losers don’t wear helmets. You think it’s cool to die from brain injury? No thanks.”

“Indeed.” Diavolo was immortal. Though he could, however, sympathize with the sentiment.

Using one leg to plant themselves, they swung the other over the side of the bike. “Hop on, darlin’.”

“How exciting.” Diavolo plopped right down behind them, only to realize…

”Oh. It seems we’re…rather close.”

“That’s um, normal,” they said. “Also, you kinda have to grab my waist. Wouldn’t want you careening down the road.”

Diavolo gulped. Very well, he'd just wrap his arms around--

“Not that tight! Not that tight!”

“Oh, pardon.” Ok, so maybe he was a bit too excited to hold them. Steadily, he loosened his grip, allowing his arms to relax despite his shoulders, which were heavy as a pair of rocks. “Motorcycles…are incredibly exotic.”

“They’re the vehicles of love, baby.”

“Now then. I’ll just need a moment to focus. Also, to do this, I��m going to need to borrow just a tiny portion of your soul.”

They shrugged. "Eh. That’s fine. I gave a bit of it last week to Solomon anyway.”

“We’ll…need to talk about that later. Otherwise, stay still. Also, you may feel a slight pinch.”

Diavolo closed his eyes, focusing his energy. Streams of gold and black swirled around them, gaining force and rising into the air as the motorcycle revved itself to life, spewing exhaust and flashing its lights.  

“I think it’s working,” they yelled over the motor.

“Now remember that it's technically sentient,” Diavolo yelled back. “So let’s try to be careful with our new friend.”

“You got it. Ok, buddy, let’s hit the road.”

Charlie—yes, that’s his name—did not appreciate being awaken in the middle of the night and stolen from his owner. However, Charlie was honored to have the chance to drive the future king of the Devildom wherever they preferred. He'd be the talk of the town! The human not so much.  

“Thank you, Charlie,” Diavolo said. “I am also honored in having the privilege to ride you.”  

“Yeah. Thanks,” said the human.

Charlie inched forward, then with a jerk sped off down the road. Diavolo roared with laughter. The wind was sweet with mirth and mischief, the castle falling further and further behind.

"Go, Charlie, go," the human cheered.

Charlie honked his horn. Such a loud mortal. Though he supposed he'd allow them their fun just this once.

As Diavolo and his "ride or die" drove further into the city, he couldn’t help but wonder if such happiness could last forever?

“Huh? Did you say something?” they screamed.

“Huh?” Diavolo screamed back. Did he say that out loud?

“I said, did you say something?”

“What?”

“Nevermind!”

Oh well. Only time would tell. Until then, Diavolo held tight (but not too tight) and promised to never let go.

**********

Something…was not right.

Such alarm became instinctual. By this point, Lucifer was no longer man nor demon, but a literal walking bag of stress, coffee, and anxiety. He sighed and looked over at the clock that sat atop his dresser. 1:35 AM, it read. He rose from his bed, convinced that eternal damnation wasn't his true punishment, but the lack of a normal sleep schedule. Dawning his warmest robe, he head from his bedroom towards each of his brother’s rooms. Beelzebub and Belphegor were accounted for, as well as Asmodeus and Satan. Leviathan was awake, yet quietly playing his game. Mammon was also still asleep. So where did this feeling of dread come from?  

Just then, his D.D.D beeped with a notification.

[Barbatos]: You wouldn’t happen to know where the Young Master ran off to, now would you?

[Lucifer]: You must be joking?

[Barbatos]: My apologies. I did not mean to make light of the situation.

[Lucifer]: That’s not what I meant.

[Lucifer]: And no, I’m not aware of where he ran off to, though I may have an idea.

[Barbatos]: Is that right?

Lucifer stormed towards the room of the biggest pain in his neck besides Mammon. Surely they weren’t…they couldn’t be…they definitely wouldn’t. Oh hell, of course they would!

“So help me if you aren’t in this room.” Lucifer flung open the exchange student's bedroom door. It was dark. Quiet. What looked to be the silhouette of a body was tucked underneath several sheets, yet upon closer inspection…

Lucifer scoffed. Really? The old “stuffing pillows under your sheets to make it seem like you’re still there” trick? Even his brother’s had come up with better diversions than this. Groaning, he began to tap against his D.D.D.

[Lucifer]: I fear our precious human is gone as well.

[Barbatos]: Oh dear. Did they also stuff their sheets with pillows?

[Lucifer]: Honestly, who do they think they’re attempting to fool?

[Barbatos]: There also seems to be news of a freak motorcycle accident. Apparently several buildings were destroyed while the demon who owns said vehicle is the prime suspect. You don’t suppose…

[Lucifer]: Something tells me this is going to be a long morning.

[Barbatos]: Something tells me you might be right.  

#flufftober2022 #day 3 #obey me shall we date #diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me #obey me swd #obey me fic #obey me fluff #midnightsunnyday writes

[thevoiceofdog]

Today we present “Agricola & Avarice,” a poem by Michel-Vincent Corbeaux, who has perfected his craft of poetry for over a decade, and may be commissioned for his poetry via notes on his FurAffinity account, or via email at [email protected]. His goal is to self-publish his first collection of poetry, From the Plume, soon.

Read by Solomon Harries, the Cuddly Badger Dad. Broadsheet illustration by Astra Planetshine.

#the voice of dog #furry #writing #podcast #poetry #furry writing #poetry month

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

An Underwater Plume From Kavachi

Kavachi is one of the most active submarine volcanoes in the Pacific. This conical seamount, located in the Solomon Islands and named after a sea god of the Gatokae and Vangunu people, rises some 1,200 meters (3,900 feet) from the seafloor. But its summit remains just 20 meters (65 feet) below sea level, which makes it easier for satellites to detect discolorations of the water due to volcanic activity than at deeper undersea volcanoes.

Kavachi has erupted at least 39 times since 1939, with the latest eruptive period beginning in 2021, according to the Smithsonian Institution’s Global Volcanism Program. In 2024, the volcano continued to stir—and satellites continued to capture images of discolored plumes of water.

The image above, acquired on March 8 by the OLI (Operational Land Imager) on Landsat 8, shows a plume of discolored water near the undersea volcano. The plume drifted north-northeast toward Nggatokae Island. Vangunu Island, also pictured, lies about 24 kilometers (15 miles) north of Kavachi, and Papua New Guinea is about 800 kilometers (500 miles) to the west.

The MODIS (Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer) on NASA’s Terra and Aqua captured images of similar underwater plumes near Kavachi on several other occasions in recent weeks, including February 3, 15, and 23.

Previous research has shown such plumes of superheated, acidic water can contain particulate matter, volcanic rock fragments, and sulfur, as well as precipitates of silicon, iron, and aluminum oxides. The color of plumes can offer clues about the composition of the particles within them. Yellow and brown plumes tend to have a higher proportion of iron, while white plumes tend to have a higher proportion of silicon or aluminum.

Though Kavachi is challenging for scientists to access, a lull in activity allowed a team to explore it in 2015. The researchers observed marine life within the crater, including orange and white bacterial mats, silky and hammerhead sharks, bluefin trevally, and snapper.

The authors of a report about the expedition noted that other active submarine volcanos—Vailulu’u Seamount in American Samoa and Kolumbo in Greece—are known to have highly acidic water and “kill zones” that contain carcasses of larger animals. “It is likely that the high crater walls at these sites cause physical entrainment and concentration of vent fluids, while Kavachi’s crater is relatively shallow and subjected to high surface currents that allow rapid mixing to occur,” they wrote in the report.Kavachi formed in a tectonically active area just 30 kilometers (18 miles) northeast of a subduction zone. The volcano produces lavas that range from basaltic, which is rich in magnesium and iron, to andesitic, which contains more silica. It is known for having phreatomagmatic eruptions in which the interaction of magma and water eject steam, ash, volcanic rock fragments, and incandescent bombs out of the water and into the air.  

NASA Earth Observatory images by Lauren Dauphin, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Story by Adam Voiland and Sara Pratt.

#science #space #news #nasa #earth observatory

[persephonaae]

And some familiar faces today, hillside woodland star, checker lily, western Solomon’s plume, pacific sanicle, and California buttercup :)

#native plants #wild flower #wildflower #wild flowers #wildflowers #wild flower plants #take a walk with me

[fuckyeahfluiddynamics]

#eruption #fluid dynamics #physics #plumes #satellite image #science #volcano

[projectbluearcadia]

Everything's Fine, But That's Somehow Wrong

Lucifer: What? 

Solomon: Are you a succubus queen too? 

Lucifer: What? 

Satan: More like a drama queen. 

Solomon: Well, that's the only thing that explains it... You're the only one that activated magic. 

Annelie: Wouldn't the politically correct term be "incubus king?" 

Solomon pauses.

Solomon: Oh, you're right. That's a huge issue right now, isn't it? 

Annelie: Last time I talked to an incubus, yes. Pretty nice guy too once we got past that. 

Lucifer: When was this? 

Ah... I have a feeling I’m going to pay for that. 

Annelie: ...a while ago, don't worry about it. But anyway, doesn't this mean they're... Slaves to Lucifer now? 

Satan: HAAH!?

Solomon: Well, one way to find out. Lucifer, why don't you give them an order?

Lucifer: Around. 

Lucifer makes a gesture with his finger. 

Beel: ...isn't that the same command he uses when he's giving Cerberus treats? 

Levi: Couldn't you have given a cooler command?

Satan: I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him.

Asmo: Satan, calm down, he doesn’t mean it! 

Mammon: For the last time, I ain't your dog!

Lucifer: Seems like your theory is wrong, Solomon. 

Solomon presses his knuckle to his chin. 

Solomon: Well, for the time being let's talk about this somewhere more comfortable. 

Annelie, Lucifer and Solomon head out first, and each of the boys gets out of the bath, drying themselves off. 

Mammon: Hey, Lord Diavolo... you have what we have, don’tcha? So... why were ya the only calm one when Annie came in? The second I smelled her, I was losing it. 

Diavolo pauses in the middle of drying his neck and turns his eyes towards the doorway. 

Diavolo: I wasn’t calm.

Levi: But it’s not like you lost control and... 

Levi’s face plumes beet red. 

Levi: How am I supposed to even talk to her now?! I’m such cringe!

Satan: I would have gone much more graphic than you if it had gone any further. Don’t worry about it. 

Satan pats Levi’s shoulder. 

Beel: You really weren’t calm, Lord Diavolo?

Diavolo: No, and I imagine that was the real reason Lucifer snapped. 

The brothers shift nervously. 

Diavolo: Still it seems as if we’re cured, so let’s not linger on that. Anne is an alarmingly forgiving person, so I don’t imagine she’ll hold it against you. 

They look at each other before they eventually change into dry clothing. 

[ meanwhile, in the common room ]

Solomon: Now then... this is incredibly fascinating. 

Annelie: What, me on Lucifer’s lap? Trust me, I’m here a lot. 

Lucifer squeezes her closer. 

Solomon: Not that; Asmo loves talking my ear off about you two. Although it is fascinating that he’s still clearly very wound up. 

Lucifer: I’m not wound up. 

Annelie: Lucifer, I said I’m usually in your lap, but you usually don’t do that in front of people. You’re being really jealous. 

Lucifer: You like it when I’m a little jealous. 

Lucifer glares at Solomon. 

Annelie: Well, maybe a little, but Sol is a friend? Sort of?

Solomon: Sort of? Hurtful. 

Annelie: Hey, I’m trying to keep Lucifer off your back. 

Lucifer: Why do you call him by a nickname and not me?

Annelie: Um... because you hate nicknames? Remember the last time I called you Luci?

Admittedly... I never did try “Luce”... maybe I could sprinkle that one in with his coffee tomorrow. 

Solomon: Interesting... 

Annelie: Sol, I swear to g—

Annelie bites her tongue as Lucifer’s grip tightens on her waist. 

Annelie: —oodness gracious if you’re trying to piss him off, I’m going to hurt you. 

Solomon: Ahaha I wouldn’t do that. No, seriously, I think he’d actually kill me. 

Solomon presses his palms together. 

Solomon: But back to the topic at hand, it’s fascinating that Lucifer forced the illness into dormancy. I know that it’s not Lucifer’s blood either, since I took some while he was lashing out at his brothers, and I looked at it on the way here. 

Annelie: Um... consent?

Lucifer: ...

Solomon: Don’t get so angry. It was just a little needle prick. But for Lucifer to essentially cure them without them being subject to his will... it would be a miracle solution. 

Annelie: But Lucifer’s clearly still out of it. 

Lucifer: I’m acting perfectly normally. 

Solomon: Actually... what happens if you give him an order, Anne? 

Annelie: Uh... Lucifer, would you... no, pose for a... an embarrassing picture by yourself, like one that Mammon would love to get his hands on. Right now.

Have to make up for that one he made me get rid of... god, I miss having that as my wallpaper.

Lucifer makes an annoyed sound and takes Annelie off his lap before he stands in front of her and makes two victory signs and points them at his face as he struggles to smile. 

Solomon: Tell him to turn towards m—

Annelie’s shutter clicks as her shoulders shake. 

Annelie: Sorry, this sight’s just for me.

Another shutter clicks from the side. 

Satan: Not anymore. Heh.

Annelie: ...

Lucifer: ...

#awkward #poor luci #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #shameless self indulgence #obey me! #LuciAnne

[csmelody]

best creature

This one I struggled with. A lot. But since the point of this challenge is for me to fight my perfectionist instincts, I present to you my attempt at making up for yesterday's hurt.

Read on AO3.

fandom: Bartimaeus Trilogy

rating: teen

pairing: light bartnat

day 1 - day 3 - day 4 - day 5 - day 6 - day 7

Day 2 — best creature

A column of smoke. A pyramid of slime.

A prowling lioness. A dying frog.

Nathaniel never knew what today would entail with Bartimaeus. Their first meeting he’d donned a volcanic eruption as though it were a king’s cloak, two golden coins glinting wildly in impenetrable smoke. Fitting that Bartimaeus had grown more solid in the guises to come. A blue-beaked crow, for there always must be a distinguishing feature. A gargoyle built like a tank, withstanding bullets like they were made of cotton. Never a lion, he’d insult and discount manes on the daily if left unchecked—especially Nathaniel’s, at fourteen.

Bartimaeus, who couldn’t go near silver without melting, bearing silver plumes in a serpent’s body. Bartimaeus, who’d claimed to know the secrets of the woman mind, exaggerating Kitty Jones’s features to fluster John Mandrake. Bartimaeus, who assiduously spoke of human fragility, speaking of his conversations with Solomon and Gilgamesh.

Bartimaeus, the Egyptian boy, the love of a sculptor.

And yet to smoke he returned. Although his true form could not be classified as neither liquid nor gas, it was essence that Mandrake last saw of him on that day. Essence that consumed his mind with a rush of memories, random asides, a world of quips and, in the end, a blatant lie.

But Nathaniel saw a lot more of Bartimaeus after that. After all, he could never stay away—Bartimaeus had told him as much. And he had a bone to pick with said djinni.

Being an overachiever, Nathaniel didn’t simply prod at the matter at hand. No, he applied himself. He prodded and pushed—positively excavated a deeper hole than the one Bartimaeus had dug for himself and promptly jumped in, leaving them no way out. There was the famed stubbornness that had saved him from the brink of death, and sustained his very healthy memory, despite what Bartimaeus thought, because he had “absolutely not said I’ve grown to love you, thank you very much”.

This was said with a mix of fake amusement and incredulity. Buzzing and restless as always. Form flickering at the edges of his human guise—strange, for a djinni who’d claimed to abhor every second living in one. But Nathaniel could relate. It seemed wrong to face him now after the intimacy of what they’d shared—of what they’d presumed would be a point of no return. It seemed as wrong being without Bartimaeus in his ear—in his mind—as having him there upending the organized shelves of his brain.

Yet here they were in their never-ending circles, and there was no line Nathaniel wasn’t ready to cross. This, he knew, wasn’t like him, but skirting death had a way of altering one’s psyche. There were no more peers left to impress, no pressing duties forced on him, only the earnest Nathaniel his best djinni had first met.

“I said you weren’t a total oaf.”

“Inspired.” Nathaniel took another step, not missing the way Bartimaeus’s guise first blurred and then seemed to grow a few millimetres. Like a trapped lion cub. “Thought you could confess and run, did you? Arsehole.”

And from the arsenal of Bartimaeus’s famed quips, he retrieved, “Shut up.”

Nathaniel smiled his first genuine smile. “Make me.”

#bartprompts23 #bartimaeus trilogy #bartimaeus sequence #bartimaeus #nathaniel underwood #fanfiction #drabble #i tried okay #tomorrow is another day full of caffeine