the sun is starting to go down.
you and solomon start your nightly routine.
you’ve noticed it’s much quieter without the brothers around.
no static of the classical jazz playing from lucifer’s vintage turntable as he drags his pen onto the last stack of paperwork from the day. you’d stop him from pouring his third glass of red wine. “lucifer, you know you have to rest eventually”
no levi lingering by his bedroom door frame to ask for ‘just one more quick game’ before bed, you’d always pick up the controller up once more until lucifer yelled at you both to get to bed or he’d confiscate levi’s consoles.
no asmo to lead you to sit at his vanity as he blow drys your hair from the shower, he would always put his most expensive hair oil that smelled like roses in after. “it just makes your hair so soft and shiny mc!”
no smell of the pages satans slender fingers turn as he reads lines of his newest book of the week. in this one the main character has a cat as a side kick which of course peaked his attention. he’d be too engrossed to notice you nodding off on the library couch next to him.
no beel to follow down the staircase at three am for a “midnight snack”. you’d grab the back of his shirt as he navigates, he’d always forget humans can’t see that well in the dark. once in the kitchen he’d always make sure to grab your favorite cookies to share once back in the twin’s room.
no belphagor begging for ‘just five more minutes’ of laying on the bench outside. he always had to show you all his brother’s stars before bed, and of course your star too. “no mc it’s more to the left, look” he’d grab your hand and help you point in the direction of the star dedicated to you.
but the biggest absence you feel is mammons. he’d already be laying in your bed before you even got into your room. you’d walk in, unsurprised, seeing him sprawled out on your (now wrinkled) bedsheets in his grey sweatpants and white tank top. you said he looked cute in it once and now it’s all he ever wears to bed. “come on mc, i’ve been waitin’ for ages now” he’d whine at you. you’d remind yourself he’s the avatar of greed, of course he’d want all your time. you’d laugh as he’d wrap his arms around your torso bringing you into his embrace. “now ya gotta cuddle me extra to make up for it”
there was never really a night you didn’t sleep next to mammon. even if you happened to fall asleep somewhere around the mansion while hanging out with the other brothers, mammon would always find you. even if he had to haul you on his back, dead asleep, to your own bed. he was always going to make sure you’d wake up to him, no one else. his eyes being the first ones you looked into every morning. his lips being the first to kiss you goodmorning. he wanted it all.
solomon hums unbeknownst to himself as he dries the freshly washed dishes you hand him. he notices you are quiet, your eyes having a far away look as you stare into the sink. he decides to let it be. he knows you must be thinking about the brothers. a part of him, the jealous part, wishes you’d just look at him. it’s just you and him now, the brothers had you then, he has you now. but the other part, the rational part, understands how much pain you must be hiding. your whole world was ripped from you, again. first the human world, now the devildom. he wondered which one you spoke of as home now. finding you in the timeline was difficult for solomon, but nothing is ever too difficult for him if it means saving you. he knew he would get to you, bringing you back to the present was unfortunately another story. he’d never forget the way your face lit up when you noticed he arrived. selfishly, he never wanted to find a way to bring you back. but seeing how deflated you’ve become, he’s been reading through grimoire after grimoire. he wants to be the one deserving of your joy after he reveals he came bring you both back….back to the brothers. solomon shakes his head slightly to rid the thought. living alone with you has brought out his possessive side, he knew he needed to calm himself.
“looks like the dishes are all done, ready for bed mc?” he says softly. you jump slightly, brought back to reality after reminiscing about the brothers. about mammon.
“yea, im just going to make some tea real quick, would you like any sol?” you grab a mug out of the cupboard and look at him.
his eyes soften at the nickname and he smiles “i’d love that, i’ll meet you in bed.” you watch as he makes his way down the hall and into your shared room.
the cottage you two have been staying at since everything happened was small, much much smaller than the brothers living quarters, but not small enough you and solomon needed to share a room. at solomon’s request, originally you both slept separately in your own rooms, his just across the hall from yours. that was until the nightmares. every night he’d run into your room after hearing your scream. when the first occurrence happened he did everything but fall out of bed to get to you, thinking the worst was happening. swinging the door to your bedroom open to see you thrashing on your mattress. he was immediately by your side whispering incantations to wake you up, your eyes opening as you frantically look for something, he wasn’t sure what.
“mc, it’s me, solomon. what’s wrong? what’s happened?” he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand moving the hair messed up from sleep out of ur face. you look so terrified, it’s beautiful in a way to him. solomon being the only one allowed to comfort you in this vulnerable moment.
“…solomon? oh. i’m..not sure. just a bad dream.” you swallow. “i can’t sleep anymore, i just can’t…i want to go home” your voice is a whisper in the dark. he can hear you choking on your words. you can’t meet his eyes. he worries what your nightmare could’ve been about as he watched your fingers pick at the lint of the mattress.
“i’ll get you some water, just stay rig-“ your hand grabs the front of his shirt before he even has the chance to move.
“please don’t leave me”
your voice is so pitiful you could’ve asked him to grab the moon from the sky and he would find a way to make it happen. your eyes meet his and he can make out the shininess of tears on your cheek. his hand gently glides to your face and wipes the evidence of your nightmare away.
“i wouldn’t dream of it” he’d never leave you. even if you asked. he’d always be around, he swore it to himself when he took you on as his apprentice.
you asked solomon to start sleeping in the bed with you after a week of reoccurring nightmares. you still haven’t told him about the haunting images of the brothers that plague your mind when trying to sleep. you’d wake up screaming for them sometimes, especially for mammon, solomon pretends not to hear you calling out for the men that aren’t him, but still comforts you nonetheless. holding you in his arms until the shaking and tears subside. he’s never seen his brave apprentice so timid. the nightmares have gone down since solomon has started sharing your bed, but your body still feels like it’s unconsciously searching for something, or someone, in your sleep.
the teapot starts whistling and you pour the tea into two mugs, steam and an aroma of lavender filling the air. solomon came back with an assortment of herbs the day after your first nightmare. “it’ll help you sleep better” was all he said, you’ve been drinking it every night since. he wasn’t wrong, he hardly is. you wish you could get yourself together, for him. you hate the worried looks he gives you, always speaking softly as if the noise itself would shatter you. you’ve never seen the sly sorcerer this gentle with anyone before, his cards usually held close to his chest, he’s let you in. you are grateful for him, not knowing if you’d even be here without him. you want to show him how much he means to him, but the thought of mammon always crosses your mind before you have the chance.
solomon is nose deep in his grimore when you walk into the room with the two mugs in your hand. he’s muttering under his breath as his eyes scan over the text, you can feel the aura of some type of magic radiating from his body. you know what he’s researching, everyday you hope he finds the answers he’s searching for. he finally looks up and smiles at you as you set the tea down on the desk in front of him. it’s littered with scribbles of notes and spells. one notes stand out, neatly placed on the corner of the desk, the note you wrote to him when you went to get breakfast before he woke one morning. you wanted to show him how much you appreciated his trouble of finding you. you didn’t know he even kept it. “thank you mc, you are very sweet to make me some nightly tea”.
“anything for my favorite mentor” you smirk back at him
“wait, you have other mentors? i thought i was your only one!” he jokingly grabs his chest in fake heartbreak, making you giggle. his heart beating a little harder, proud of the fact he can still make you laugh in times like these.
“nah, you know you’re my one and only” you say as you get under the covers of the bed. solomon blushes slightly and takes a sip of his tea. it’s warm and flavorful, the powerful herbs starting to take effect as he joins you under the blankets. he flick his hand using magic to turn the lamp on the desk off. he relishes in these moments. your soft skin brushing against his, your soft breaths as you start to drift off. he wishes he could just freeze time, stay in these sweet moments forever.
“goodnight mc, sweet dreams” he extends his arm out so you can cuddle up to him. you lay your head on his chest and he uses his free hand to play with your hair. you pull the blankets up to your chin for warmth, solomon’s skin always feeling icy to the touch. you’re used to a different, warm body but you try not to think about that now. you listen to his heart beat as you close your eyes. this has become routine for you two, even though for you something about the arrangement feels out of place.
“goodnight solomon” you breathe out
he kisses the top of your head as lightly as he can as you drift off. “i love you, mc” he whispers quietly enough for only him to hear.
he doesn’t want to take advantage of the situation or your fragile state of mind, but oh he so does.
~
you dream of mammon. you rarely dream of anything else.
sometimes its something simple and sweet, walking hand and hand around RAD, mammon trying to convince you to skip with him because “i just know of this ice cream place you’d love, plus it’s right next to the casino so it’s, ya know, a win win!” you’d slap his arm playfully and laugh, reminding him of how just last week lucifer caught you both ditching class to watch a movie in his car. mammons punishment was way worse than yours as usual, but to him it was worth it. anything was worth it to be alone with you.
sometimes the dreams were closer to nightmares, like tonight’s was. you were back in the devildom, your devildom. the was only one demon you wanted to see. you race through the streets that you’ve walked with all the brothers countless times. passing shops and restaurants you’ve shared memorable moments in. you make you ways to the doors of the house of lamentation, you don’t even knock as you burst through the door. why would you? this is your home too, all the brothers adamantly told you plenty of times, always doing everything in their power to stop you from ever leaving. you waste no time as you only have one destination in mind, making your way down the hallway and turning the corner near the kitchen to where your room was. you fling open the door waiting to see the familiar scene of mammon occupying some sort of space in your room. your eyes searching for his mischievous smirk, only to find nothing but piles of boxes and dusty cobwebs. your heart drops. there’s no way they got rid of your stuff, right? no…they must’ve moved it. they would never just act like you never existed, the brothers loved you too much.
you decide the best option next to was to go to mammons room. he was in your room so much satan once joked he might as well move in and let him have mammons room as an extra library. mammon made you sleep in his room every few nights after that comment. mammon must’ve boxed up all your favorite things and brought it to his room. that had to be it. your thoughts running around you mind.
you make your way up the stairs and down the hallway where most of the brothers rooms reside. the other brothers don’t even cross your mind in the moment, you are only looking for your first man. you pass satans door and stop in your tracks at the door directly to the right. you don’t know why you hesitate. you’ve walked through this doorway more times than you can count, you’ve never been nervous before now. all you want in the world is mammon. you slowly turn the gold in-crested handle and push open the door. it creaks open as the scent of car tires and mammons favorite cologne (that you picked out) fills your nose. the pool table sits in its regular spot with a brown leather jacket thrown on top. you almost cry at the sight of it all. but time feels like it freezes when you step more into the room and catch glimpse of golden blue eyes.
“mammon.” you say as more of an exhale, feeling like all the oxygen in your lungs has been sucked out.
he just stands there, a shocked but almost confused look on his face. you figure you must look the same way to him, but you can’t bare another second of it and start walking towards him.
he takes a step back.
what?
you trip over your feet as you notice him backing away. “mammon, what’s wrong. it’s me…mc…i’m back.” he must be in denial, but you can’t say his reaction doesn’t make your insides twist. the silence from him is deafening. “please, just say something mammon.” your voice breaking as something feels terribly wrong.
“i’m sorry, but, who the hell are ya?” he finally gets the words out, absolute perplexity taking over his face. “are ya lost or somethin’? ya know it’s not safe for your kind around here.”
you feel the ground start the spin. not again. not again. not again. he doesn’t remember you. all you want is mammon. your mammon. and once again you’ve been forgotten. your legs buckle as you hit the floor and you start to feel nauseous. the world starts to darken until you can’t see anything, you start to scream for mammon. you just want mammon to save you. just mammon.
“mc? mc wake up!” you feel yourself gaining consciousness slowly. the world feeling real once again. your room is dark as you look up to the figure above you cradling your face. your eyes squint, trying to make out his face but then you notice the moonlight from the window shining a glinting light on his white hair.
“mammon” you mutter quietly with a smile and reach to touch his face. it must’ve all been a bad dream. mammon was always here all along.
you feel the figure about you tense up and as your eyes start to adjust you realize you are looking into dark grey eyes.
solomon’s eyes.
your heart sinks as you remember where you are. not in the house of lamentation. not in your room. not with the brothers. you are in the cottage. in the past. with solomon. only solomon.
solomon silently backs up from leaning over you and gets out of the bed. he feels your disappointment that he’s not the one you thought he was. he knows no matter what he does, you’ll always crave mammon more. the invisible tension fills the room.
“solomon, im sor-“
“don’t worry about it. i’m going to get some water” he cuts you off and is out the room before you can rebuttal. you know it hurt him, but it tries to play it off, sparing your feelings.
solomon walks into the kitchen where he pours himself a glass of whiskey instead of the water he spoke of. might as well try and forget being called the wrong name by the person he loves. he always dreamed of getting mc away from the brothers and having them just to himself. he never guessed it would feel this brutal, the constant reminder he’s not the one they want. his heart aching. why can’t they just be happy with him.
“maybe i should dye my hair” he jokes to himself as he finishes off the glass of whiskey.
