𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆
just a lil something i tortured @divine-misfortune with last night after he shared this post with me and said "Now hear me out Zeph/aeth and or omega bc they won’t slow down fr a damn second "
and thus i started a doc lovingly called "zephyr/omega go to sleep ya old man"
1263 words of omega misusing quintessence in order to (lovingly i swear) force zephyr to get some rest. yes zephyr will be mad at him later. yes omega is being a lil bit of a bastard. yes i am indulging in my (our) hypnokink, just go with it.
“You’re a stubborn old thing, you know that?”
Zephyr rolls their eyes before side-eyeing the quintessence ghoul, making a face. “Care to elaborate?”
“Been spending a lot of time with those new ghoulettes. When was the last time you slept?” Omega puts a hand on the back of the leather armchair Zephyr is currently seated in, where they were, up until now, engrossed in a text about ancient languages.
They bite their tongue against the urge to correct him on Cirrus and Cumulus’ names. “I slept last night, there’s no need for your concern.”
“Oh, last night, hm? So that wasn’t the organ I was hearing in the wee hours of the morning?”
“You are as old as this building, Omega, surely you’re aware of the noises that aged pipes make when all else is silent.”
He tuts. “Far too melodic for old plumbing, Zeph.”
Zephyr grumbles and makes to return back to their book without replying. Omega chuckles, and suddenly his hands are resting on their shoulders, thumbs heavy over the strained tendons on the back of their neck.
“Why don’t you let me help?”
The air ghoul grumbles again. Slots their small stack of notes along the book’s binding as a makeshift bookmark and snaps the thing shut. They place it onto the table and stare at the fire in the hearth.
“And why should I let you?” they say to the fading embers.
Omega hums. “Because you need your rest, you cranky ghoul.”
“I am plenty rested.”
“These knots in your shoulders say otherwise.”
Zephyr closes their eyes and sighs like an exasperated teacher. “And you claim that I am the stubborn one?”
“Come on,” Omega goads them. Telltale magick crackling to life beneath his fingertips. “Doesn’t have to be much.”
Before Zephyr can so much as think about scurrying away with their book, warm quintessence seeps into their bones, the tension held there unraveling from the inside out. Their eyelids flutter, shoulders slumping. Some undignified noise bubbles up from their throat, and they can barely catch their chin from hitting their chest as their head lolls forward.
“You . . .” They try to protest, tongue too heavy in their mouth to form its usual elegant timbre. Their hands can’t even grip the arms of the chair anymore, cementing them into place and thwarting any chance they had of escaping Omega’s nagging.
Said quintessence ghoul shushes him, self-satisfied and certainly not even close to genuinely comforting. “There you go. See? Knew you were tired.”
“Hn . . .’m not—”
“You are, look at that sleepy face.” Omega brushes a few strands of hair back behind their horns, their head leaning into his touch without their permission. Zephyr’s eyes are drooping, rolling with the effort of trying to keep them open. Maybe they are more tired than they thought, he didn’t give them that much magick, did he?
Omega coos at them, running his thumb along the base of their horn. “Just close your eyes,” he whispers.
Zephyr just groans, something close to uh uh, but it doesn’t sound very disagreeing. They’re falling asleep sitting up, and his warm hand against the side of their face does nothing but drag them closer to unconsciousness. Suddenly, they don’t want to get away from him. Magick swirls all syrupy in their veins, and, really, it’s getting harder and harder to have any opinions on the situation.
Behind them, Omega shakes his head and loops around to the front of the chair, still cradling their head as he kneels between their parted legs. The hands at their sides, having slid off the arms of the chair, twitch towards him. Zephyr watches Omega’s other hand as it comes to hold the other side of their face, eyes slow and delayed as they track its movement.
“You’d do well to listen to me, you tired old hen,” Omega chides them. He wiggles their head a little, not unlike a chiropractor looking for sore spots. Ensuring they’re close to limp and loose.
Zephyr just lets him. Has no choice, really. They’d call him a plethora of names later—bastard, unwelcome imp, meddling hypnotist spawn—but the thought of remembering to do so slides away like rain on glass.
He must sense the fleeting thought behind Zephyr’s glassy eyes, because he adjusts their head again, tightening his grip almost imperceptibly.
“None of that; you’re being so good, aren’t you? I’m only helping, aren’t I? Little bit of magick to get rid of all those pesky cobwebs between your ears. I know, you’re so tired underneath all those stubborn thoughts. Just takes a nice, kind ghoul like me to help you relax, doesn’t it?” On and on he drones, the words going in one ear and out the other, washing away their own internal monologue and replacing it with his own. They are tired, and an afternoon nap isn’t so terrible, they aren’t really busy. And Omega’s helping them.
Definitely not using his magick in some smug, actually selfish way, rendering the normally uptight ghoul completely powerless in less than a second. No, it’s completely selfless—a show of his care and concern for Zephyr’s wellbeing. Absolutely not a vehicle to win any kind of argument, not at all.
Their breathing is slowing now, neck nearly limp in Omega’s hands. Sinking deeper into the fuzzy embrace of sleep.
“That’s it,” he lilts. “You’re gonna feel so much better, and I won’t even say ‘I told you so.’ How does that sound?”
Zephyr responds with a long exhale through parted lips, left thigh twitching randomly as the pleasant numbness settles in.
Omega smirks. “Good.” With one last push of quintessence, he tilts their head just so and watches as their eyes unfocus and fall shut, jaw dropping open with the softest noise as they drift asleep in his hands. The quiet snores follow just seconds later, Omega’s hands the only thing keeping them upright.
He waits until he’s sure they’re asleep, warming his back against the dying flames while Zephyr slumps in their chair. Only then does he pull back the tendrils of his magick, letting it seep down towards the floorboards as slow as molasses so as not to accidentally rouse them. Thankfully, the library is empty this time of day. Nothing to interrupt the air ghoul’s much needed sleep.
They’re lax and peaceful now, but Omega’s sure he’ll hear about it when they wake. He laughs to himself at the plethora of elegant insults that come to mind. For now, he takes satisfaction in the way Zephyr’s head lolls back against the chair with the gentlest press of his pointer finger, drool making its way out of the corner of their mouth already.
“Cute,” the quintessence ghoul comments, smoothing out the wrinkles in his button-down. And then, as a wicked afterthought, he presses the pad of his finger to the middle of their forehead again, sneaking in a cheeky suggestion of a dream wrapped in plumes of balsam and petrichor. Snickering to himself when Zephyr whines quietly and their tail kinks up at the end. “Enjoy,” he whispers, making his exit.
Omega knows he won’t get any thanks for that—a pity, really, considering it was quite a nice little fantasy—nor will he get any thanks for helping (forcing) Zephyr to get some rest. At the very least, he’ll get a very disgruntled and haughty air ghoul glaring at him for the remainder of the day.
Omega’s fine with being berated for misuse of magick if it means the poor thing won’t be sleep deprived. Until then, he files away Zephyr’s reaction to it for later.
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