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refriedweeb · 5 years ago

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AND WHEN YOU’RE GONE I’M GODLESS (HAWKS + READER)

AN: refriedweeb here! this is a continuation of this oneshot that I did (so if you didn’t read the first one go and read it now!), as requested by @roseanddaggerlarry ! I’ve had the idea of this spewing around in my head and wanted to get as close to canon!Hawks as possible! So here you go! If you want a part three/to make this a series, lmk!

Tags: angst, fluff, general feelings

word count: 3,443

A side effect of your quirk was that you dreamt the nightmares of those that you used it on. While your quirk was something that was magnificent in its own right, being known as nightmare often became a literal translation for you. It didn’t matter how short of a period you kept someone trapped in their reality-made nightmare, or how severe it was. You dreamt what they saw. And the worst part was that they didn’t go away after just one dream. You’d see them time and time again, blended into the reel of dreams from every person you’d ever fought or used it on. It was an awful feeling, not being able to dream your own dreams, see visions of happiness that everyone else got to when you closed your eyes. All you ever saw was nightmares. All you ever saw behind sleeping eyes was horror.

The world around you might have been black, in various stages of coming and going consciousness, but there was one thing that stayed the same. It was the nightmare you’d brought out of Keigo Takami’s mind the minute you’d snapped on your promise to never use it against him. It ran through your mind like a child with reckless abandon, a constant loop that you couldn't shake from your mind no matter how much you strained to jump into someone else’s dreams that had taken residence in your mind. It was a violation of Hawks’ trust in you, even if he had been the one to attack you, skewer you with a feather and leave you no other choice. You had known that Hawks’ childhood was anything but normal. The Hero Commission that you both worked for raising him, if it could even be called ‘raising’. Trained as a weapon that was expendable, that served no purpose if it couldn’t deliver results. Wholly different from what you’d had growing up, you hadn't realized how deeply embedded in trauma his entire life was, even when you’d been hooking up.

Trapped in the nightmare, the first thing you saw was Keigo Takami as nothing but a child. Avian eyes still too large for his head, sunrise colored eyes looking around the blank walls with innocence, curiosity, and the hint of fear. A head full of hair that even in youth had an unruly characteristic to it. Red wings that would become his calling card sitting politely, folded against his back. He was a child that had deserved better, so much better, than what he’d been given. There’d been so much that Keigo had suffered through just for the sake of being a hero, that it would have made sense if nightmare solely revolved around what the Hero Commission had robbed him of with his childhood.

What you weren’t expecting to see was your place in it.

You were stood not far off from where Keigo’s tot form was, mirroring that same age yourself. Young, with a skinned knee and gapped smile from the baby teeth you’d lost. Hair in high pigtails and eyes wide with the same emotions sprinting through Keigo’s veins. The tinier version of yourself turned around, and trotted over to him, holding out a sticky hand that had no doubt been dug into a sweet of some kind at one point.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” Came your excitable voice, young and full of life. “Your wings are pretty cool, can I touch them?” Before Keigo’s small, timid voice could even answer, there was a sharp tug on your arm. It caught you by surprise, and Keigo was helpless as a man dressed in a black suit started pulling you away from him. And though you were reliving Keigo’s nightmare, you were experiencing it through both yours and his perspective. “Wait, that’s my friend!” Came your cry, tossing a distressed look over your shoulder as you were both helpless Keigo and the scared child version of yourself.

“Wait...” finally came the small voice, shocking you how sad it sounded for a boy so young. You watched from the omniscient view as the handler that had come for you turned into something vile. With a grin too large and mines of pointed teeth that would have made a shark’s mouth look dainty. “Don’t...” Keigo’s childlike voice was a little louder, but still helpless. “Don’t take her!”

Defiance nestled in Keigo’s throat as he charged forward with his cry, running after you, seeing something only he could see while you were more than content to wander alongside a monster. His hand was outstretched towards you. A smile started to stretch across your features, glad to have this new friend coming with you, and reached a hand out in return. Only to have it sharply slapped away by the handler. You gave a cry of pain as you cradled your hand to your chest, about to cry when you heard Keigo’s boyish yelp of pain. He had been hit in the face, and harder than you judging by the welt of a hand print blooming against his cheek.

“Keigo...” you whispered, though your voice sounded further off, far from where you and your childhood presence were.

Young Keigo looked up at you from the ground, tears running down his cheeks. There was an indescribable pain there, and it ran deeper than anything you could identify with. For such a young child to have felt so much pain... “Kei...go...” you whispered again, extending a hand despite what happened, to cradle his head.

It was then that the scene changed, like the fast forwarding of a movie. The scenery swept past you in an unmarked blur until you settled into a new scene. There you were, a couple of years older and strapped into a chair. What looked like doctors were around you, a large needle filled with a substance of dreamy purple colors in it. They were whispering around you, a background of white noise you couldn’t decipher. Still from that omniscient point of view, you could feel your fear. The unease that gnawed it’s way through your belly running rampant. And there was anger, but you couldn’t detect the source. “Just think...if we can train her to turn her nightmares lethal, the commission would have a trained killer. Trapping someone in their nightmares to the point of heart failure...of fear...” came there trickling sound of one voice. “She could be the best hero the commission has ever produced...a weapon...” was another. “Alright then...inject her.”

Fear rippled our against your skin on goosebumps, and you start to fight the restraints as the syringe draws closer to you. “No!” You screeched, though it comes from the same far off place from before. You’re helpless as you snapped, kicked, and pulled as best as you could. “Don’t do this!” At the very same moment, you heard the overlapping sound of boots hitting the ground in a sprint, replacing the rapid sound of your heartbeat. While being both in that room and not in it at the same time, you saw an older Keigo bursting down the hall, the sound of boots belonging to him. His eyes are narrowed into predator-like focus, his breathing heavy as his wings extended out taking up the rest of the hall. His mouth moved, though he is silent.

“Keigo!” You scream this time, though still too far off for anything to register. His eyebrows narrowed over his eyes and he pushed himself harder. Pain erupted as the needle broke skin, the purple swirl of serum sinking into your skin. It sent a blur of blind pain coursing through your system, but all you could do is scream. Your voice feels raw, but there’s no noise coming out of it. The taste of blood is in the back of your throat, but you don’t feel any. Something collided with the window of the room you were trapped in, and through the overcoming haze you saw that it was Hawks. Anger etched into his face, beating his hands against the glass so hard you swore it shook. You screamed his name again, that same echo off in the distance vibrating through your ears. He screamed yours back, the sound a canon of noise as he continued to beat on the glass. There were tears in his eyes, a righteous fury that took your breath away. He was the source of anger, the need for rejection. You strained against your restraints, doing what you could to fight the wave of darkness that was threatening to overcome you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take Keigo’s hand.

The world around faded once more, the next scene opening up to you like the beginning credits of a movie. Once the camera focused in you see...Keigo dressed in his hero uniform, cradling something...no, someone. Your heart clutched as it zoomed in closer and closer until you recognize the design of your own hero costume. Keigo wasn’t cradling just anyone, he was cradling you. Through your omniscient point of view, you come to stand just in front of the two bodies, Keigo with his head bowed over you and you...limp. Your head is slumped over his forearm, though your expression is one embedded into your mind immediately. Gone are the pupils of your eyes, the entire eye filled with a black and white continuous swirl, like something a hypnotist would use. And from your tear ducts..there’s blood. It ran from your duct to your hairline. The look in your expression is vacant. The sound of Keigo’s sniffles, the soft sobs, it confirmed what you had desperately wanted to ignore. In this nightmare, you’re dead. And it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together.

Keigo Takami’s worst nightmare wasn’t what happened to him growing up in the Hero Commission, though the elements were there and you didn’t doubt that there would be more glimpses of this nightmare for the rest of your life that you hadn’t seen. Keigo’s worst nightmare was someone he loved, you, going through the same thing that he had been put through. Though it won’t do anything, as it’s a dream, you reach out a fragmented hand to touch him. Just as you went to do so, he looks up. He looked directly at you, wet eyes and broken expression. “Wake up.” His words sounded like they were coming from right behind your ear, and you blinked. “(Y/N), wake up.”

You snapped open your eyes and sat up in bed. Immediately, you’re aware of the pain in your stomach, in your arm from where Keigo had impaled you with one of his feathers. The room is spinning, and the air you choked down in order to get some focus on your world isn’t helping. Nightmare. Keigo. Where’s Keigo? Wait, why did that matter? He was a villain, he’d attacked you. The air in the room felt suffocating and you didn’t think you could possibly get enough of it. Your fingers wrapped around the blanket that had been on top of you, only to pause as you looked down at it. This was Keigo’s blanket. As the world stopped rotating at a disastrous pace, you realize that this is Keigo’s bedroom. A place you hadn’t been in for months, if not longer.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“You’re awake.” You looked to the sound of the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. But hearing the somber, tentative tone doesn’t change your reaction as you scampered out of bed. The sheets were wrapped up in your legs, and you’ve tumbled out of bed in an attempt to be graceful. The fall to the ground landed you on your injured arm, crying out in pain as you crawled. You’re still in your hero uniform, which means it couldn’t have been long. Right? Right? Keigo said your name, and you heard the flex of feathers as he moved. “(Y/N), stop, you’re injured. Sto-(Y/N).”

You’d grabbed the nearest thing to you and flung it at him. A pillow that had likely hit the ground when you had. It’s easy enough for Keigo to grab, and he dropped it to the side as he looked at you with a stern look. “You’re a traitor,” you spat. The strained tone from your arm is evident, and Keigo sighs. “You tried to kill me! You attacked me!” By this point you’ve kicked your legs free from the sheets.

“Kid,” Keigo says, his tone one of warning. “Listen to me.”

You’re on your feet, injured arm clutched in your hand. There’s fresh blood, but you don’t pay it any mind. “Why should I? So I let my guard down long enough for you to finish the job? Go off with your best friends in the League?” Keigo took a step forward. You shook your head. “If you take one step closer I’ll do it again.”

The reaction of pain that registered in his eyes before quickly falling away, lets you know that at least for now, the distance between you is on your side. You didn’t care that you were shaking, or that the images of Keigo as a child, wobbly and teary-eyed were burned into your mind. As far as you were concerned in that moment, Keigo Takami was your enemy. “It’s not what you think.”

“You kicked me into a wall and then had the nerve to stab me in the arm.” You grit your teeth. “How else is it supposed to look, Keigo?”

Keigo looked to the side, avoiding your glance. Out of fear of you using your quirk again or because he actually felt shame over what he’d done, you didn’t know. Told yourself you didn’t care. But that image of that broken little boy...it haunted you. Keigo ran his hands through the windswept mess of his hair, and sighs. “I can’t...I can’t tell you.” His mouth hung open and he closed it before talking again. “There are things I can’t...I have to keep private.”

“If you think for one second, I’m not going to tell the Hero Commission that you’ve switched sides-” You started, but Keigo cut you off.

“They know.” It’s your turn to be breathless. Keigo looked back to you, the miserable and lonely look back in his eye. There must have been a question in your eyes, because he repeated himself. “They know. They asked me to do this. To be a double agent.”

“You attacked me like it was real.”

Keigo’s eyes dropped to your arm, and on instinct you tried to hide the fresh spot of blood that had appeared. “I had to.”

“Keigo I almost died because you were trying to kill me.”

“I would have never let yo-” Keigo stopped short, his tone full of anger at the idea that you thought he would ever let anything happen to you like that, taking a draw of breath in. You feel his fear, and your mouth hung open just slightly. “I wasn't expecting you to use your quirk on me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Keigo dropped his eyes. He wanted to know what it was you’d seen, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. You’d told him about the nightmares that replayed after you used it in the past. The last thing he wanted was for you to look at him with pity because you’d seen his nightmares. Keigo never talked about his emotions, too numb to them because of the things he’d done. The lack of love he’d felt throughout his entire life ever since he’d been whisked into the Hero Commission. For so long he’d been seen as a weapon, a tool to use. He hadn’t been seen as a human being in so long, and then there’d been you. Dropping into his life at some silly hero convention with a mischievous look and it’d been a face he hadn’t seen in years.

A face that he hadn't been able to save all those years ago.

He’d been shocked that you hadn't remembered anything, or rather, wouldn’t. But seeing you...not knowing that you didn’t remember...it made Keigo want to get close to you all over again. To protect you a second time around where he’d failed the first. If you had even a notion that his nightmares were more than just nightmares...Keigo didn’t want to be responsible for the meltdown, it was more guilt and weight on his shoulders that he didn’t think he could handle.

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Your voice was raspy from the hands he’d put around your neck, and you don’t doubt it’s bruised. Your mind wandered to a much darker thought than you wanted to acknowledge. If he’d been willing to go toe to toe with you like that, how many other heroes had he fought? Were any hero deaths related to him?

“I could...” Keigo rasped. “I could never do that to you. I tried to warn you, kid. I told you to stay out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you know that. We’re...I’m a hero, Keigo. I can’t let villains escape.”

“It had to be me. Dabi..Shigaraki...Toga...they would have killed you, you wouldn’t have stood...it would have been bad, (Y/N).”

You took a step back, feeling as if you’d been slapped. “You don’t think I could have done my job, is what you’re saying? So you toyed with me instead. To protect your mission when they’re running around reckless and hurting others! Killing us!” He dropped his gaze, his hands clenched. “This is why you cut me out, isn’t it? Because the Hero Commission set you up for this. Because Keigo Takami is the only one who can do any of the complicated jobs and he just can’t ask for help.” You didn’t now when you got so emotional, whether it was from the pain wracked in your body or because of the escalating situation with Keigo.

“I can’t let anyone help me. Someone...” you “Could get hurt.”

“Fuck you, Keigo.” You needed out of his place. There’s too many reminders of everything Keigo Takami in that space. Of nights in that same bed. How he’d told you he wanted nothing more than that right there. And now to hear the fact that he was a double agent, that he couldn’t have even shared that intimate of a detail with you. It was because he didn’t trust you. It was because he didn't think you were capable. “For your information, I can take care of myself. I have always been able to take care of myself.” Your body protested as you moved, energized with the anger from feeling so demented by someone you cared about. Keigo gingerly raised an arm as you made your way towards him, perhaps in an attempt to stop you. To continue the conversation. But as far as you were concerned, it was over. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Your voice shook, not even caring that your vision was blurred from the tears you were doing your best not to let fall. You stomped over to the door, grabbing onto the handle of a place you’d always thought was incredibly lonely.

At least now you understood why.

“You know what, Keigo...I get that you went through some awful things growing up. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I trusted you, I loved you, and I thought there wasn't anything too high for you to reach.” You scoffed, feeling one tear roll down your cheek. “Apparently there isn’t anything too low for you to go after, either.” With that you wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind you. For a moment, you leaned in against that door, the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes as the weight of emotions and pain and the awful reality that was both sank in. You couldn’t stay there for long, you knew that. You wiped the wetness at your eyes and pulled yourself together as best as you could, and left.

On the other side of that door, Keigo stood where your words had rooted him. His hand still raised, he stared down at his palm. There’d been so much he had wanted to try to say, to explain. But your anger had always been enough to plow down a city. Yellow eyes that usually burned so bright, were flattened down to a stormy sunrise. Keigo felt that guilt in his heart. That loneliness that he had only began to feel erased once he had you back in his life. How did he begin to tell you about what the Hero Commission had made him do in becoming a double agent when he couldn’t even tell you the truth about you? He would have denied any chin wobble as he looked down at his open palm, felt the overwhelming emptiness in his place start to settle in on his shoulders as it always did when he came home to it empty. “See you around, kid.” he breathed.

The knot in his stomach told him it wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 5 years ago

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heavenly yours (epilogue) | th x fem!reader

Heavenly Yours – a chaotic series

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | epilogue

Summary: A few years passed and some things changed. What is now happening in the Underworld of Hell?

Pairing: KOH!Tom x Angel!Fem!Reader

Warnings: language, some blood (not much), tones of cute moments, tones of feelings, SMUT including pregnant sex, unprotected sex (use condoms kids), fingering, stimulation and breeding kink (oopsie)

Words count: 10.2k

A/N: first of all: a massive thank you to all the people who supported me and this mini series! you’ve been amazing all along, and i couldn’t have make it without you 🙏🏻✨ also sorry for the delay but i started a new job so i was busy, but then covid-19 happened and here i am now at home 😅 at least i can get some writing done 👀 anyway this mini series is coming to an end with this epilogue, so again a big tysm and i hope you will support my other works like you did with this one 💖💞

masterlist | series masterlist | your support

A few years later.

In the Hell’s Castle.

❞ You piece of crap, you are such a disgrace even for Hell. ❞

The voice echoes in the throne room. It is not a scream, but still loud, rough and impressing. Capable of giving you the chills or killing anyone on the spot. A voice well-known in the Underworld of Hell. A voice feared by any demon down there.

‘M-MY KING, I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO- I AM S-SORRY PLEASE! SPARE ME P-PLEASE-”

❞ SILENCE. ❞

The voice gets a bit deeper this time. The entire room trembles and so do all the people present in there. No one dares to look directly at him, scared of making him lose his temper even more. The demons care for their life and just kneel down, heads bows, silently.

But boy someone sure is going to have a bad time today.

Tom lazily sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other and an elbow on the black wooden armrest with his hand supporting his head. His current sitting spot overhangs the room, getting a clear view on today’s “trash to clean”, as he commonly calls them. The strong fingers of his free hands tap on the armrest, his short nails creating a macabre melody in addition to the fragile pleading of the unfortunate defendant of the day. The King’s facial expression doesn’t let through a single ounce of emotion, but who knows him well senses that the King is upset. Really upset.

❞ How many times did we catch you sneaking out of the 8th circle? Five, or more? Either way, you really pissed me off now. ‘ve got other shits to deal with. ❞

‘P-PLEASE MY KING! I WILL DO WHATEVER Y-YOU WANT! PLE-’

❞ FUCK OFF, YOU MISERABLE ASSHOLE. ❞

*slash*

The pleading abruptly stops, letting a heavy silence to take place. The body of the demon then separates in two perfect and equal parts, before falling into a sloppy sound on the now bloody ground. Still no word spoken. Now the smell of death is strong in the room, and the blood of that disgusting and deceitful demon begins to block Tom’s airways.

❞ Take that shit away from my sight and clean quickly that mess ❞ exhales Tom, scratching his temples and frowning at the displeased view.

The demons’ subjects stand one by one and after bowing their head to their King, they start executing his orders.

❞ Actually, give some pieces to Tessa. She will be happy to have something to chew on. ❞

At the sound of her name the aforesaid Tessa makes her way next to her master, her claws clinking on the marble floor as she passes next to the corpse and other royal subjects. Now sitting next to Tom’s leg, her tongue hanging out, the female staffy raises her face towards Tom who understands what she wants.

❞ I know, darling, I know. Now is break time ❞ slightly chuckles Tom as he bends his upper body to scratch behind his dog’s ears.

Just as his subjects finish cleaning the mess from earlier - not forgetting to bring some “toys” in Tessa’s corner -, Tom catches some stepie steps coming from behind the giant entrance door of the throne room. And he knows these steps. Pretty well actually. He smiles and Tessa seems to ear them too now, her tails batting the ground from excitement.

The devil man finally stands from his throne, extending his black wings on his back. All royal servants are gone, the place shinning like day one. Then a light knock resonates in Tom’s ears, his smile transforming into an amused smirk.

❞ Who dares to disturb the King during his duties? ❞ Tom exclaims in a weird imposing baritone voice, chin up and chest puffed out.

*giggles*

The man beats his wings and keeps his position, quite the opposite of Tessa who excitedly begins running around Tom, knowing who is actually behind the door.

❞ I dare you to enter this room, you little crooks! ❞

The heavy double door cracks as it opens slowly, letting out some creaking noises. Tessa just starts running straight to it as her barks echo in the room. And as the door opens enough, two little bodies appear behind it and are instantly being jumped on by the dog, clearly happy to see them. Then follow lots of laughing and giggles.

‘DADDY!’

Tom finally loosens up his acting at both voices calling him then walks towards them, arms open wide. As Tessa calms down, the two bodies free themselves and run to the King, before jumping right at him. Tom catches them, joining their laughs as he starts spinning around.

❞ How are my beautiful children doing? ❞

Children indeed. Two children. Tom’s treasures and source of happiness. Something he never imagined he could have one day. But he did. On his strong arms are attached his four and a half-year-old daughter Dottie and almost two-year-old son Al, both their little hands wrap around their dad’s waist and torso as they look at him with smiling faces.

Dottie is the clear image of Tom. Same brown wild curls he once had back to his angel’s life, big coffee eyes that are already pro at doing the puppy look, a cheeky smile and very affectionate. A total outgoing daddy’s girl, a bit loud sometimes, but always ready to help and protect the one she loves, mostly her little brother. She is his little warrior, as Tom likes to call her.

Regarding Al, the younger sibling is definitely like (Y/N). The same features from the colour of his hair, eyes and so on that scream he is the reflection of the dear angel who stole Tom’s heart long time ago. But little Al is quieter than his sister, sometimes shy or even diffident, but still kind and radiating gentleness. And a one hundred percent mama’s boy.

To compliment all that, both children display cute growing wings on their back. A mix of white and dark feathers, beautifully arranged and showing the union of their so different parents. But Tom couldn’t stop touching them because each time he does, these feathers prove him everything is now possible, even for him who endure exile and torture alone for so long. The tiny bodies he carries warmly are the fruit of his tenacity to show how much the Kingdom of Heaven was wrong since forever, ruling in the shadow with received ideas which only created sadness in the end.

But not anymore.

❞ Wait, did you two sneak out of your mother’s sight or- ❞

“I’m always close to them even when they don’t know, darling.”

Tom exhales, a smile growing on his face. The lovely and soothing voice of his other half makes his head turn towards it. And there she is. (Y/N). Standing next to his throne as if she was always meant to be there, wings majestically framing her body and the long white lace summer dress he lastly bought her drawing her curves to the perfection. And new perfectly stretching around her growing stomach. The angel brings her left hand up to stroke it, the circular moves drawing attention to the golden accessory on her ring finger which also matchs with his own one.

A wedding ring.

Her longer hair cascades on her back and shoulders, nicely brushed and arranged to welcome a delicate crown on top of her head. Thin and discreet, a few gold stems go around her head, intertwined together, with some clear red spots here and there.

A golden crown of red roses.

(Y/N) is absolutely stunning, she always was, always is and always will be. She manages to take Tom’s breath away each time, even for any little things she does. The angel was the missing puzzle piece since the beginning.

After the night they became one, Tom stake to his words to make the angel woman his queen. As much as Tom wanted a quick and private celebration, his friend and advisor Harrison had to remind him many times that Tom being the King of Hell, he had to mark the occasion at least a little bit to officially present her to the Kingdom of Hell.

And that is what Tom did.

It was a short ceremony but still worthy of the King of Hell. And maybe an occasion to show off a lot little next to his soon to be - and now officially proclaimed - wife, the love of his (after)life. And it would have been logical to give her the title of Queen of Hell, as him being the King of Hell himself.

But no. Tom didn’t want her being associated too much to the Underworld of Hell, title included. So he decided to stick with only “Queen” and that was already enough, and even better. (Y/N) is his Queen, the one he wants to rule his Kingdom next to, the one he wants to be with forever.

‘MAMA!’

The children both squeeze out the grip of their father to rapidly fly right towards their mother, who kindly smile at them as she catches her youngest one in his still wobbly flying. Al and Dottie cuddle into (Y/N)’s body, being careful to avoid her tummy during their embrace.

Tom could look at this scene for hours. Looking at the person he loves the most holding his two other precious ones - soon to be three - all together, radiating of love, happiness and kindness, emotions he craved for so long that he is now proud of being able to have and feel. Unconsciously this put a warm smile on his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining them too.

As Tom engulfs them all into his strong arms, his black wings also surrounding them, (Y/N) slightly nuzzles her face into her husband’s neck while still holding both her children close to her. The devil man rubs his nose against the soft hair on top of her head, avoiding her little crown, to smell the fresh scent of flowers coming from it.

❞ You like to just appear and disappear wherever you want to surprise me, don’t you darling? ❞ jokes Tom kissing her temple, which makes his wife giggle.

“It’s not like you don’t like it, sweetheart” replies (Y/N) as she leaves a soft peck on his neck.

❞ Cheeky you. But touché. ❞

One of Tom’s hands slides around her lower back then her hip to end its course at the side of her growing stomach, slowly stroking it through the fabric of her sundress. He kisses both Dottie and Al’s foreheads before resting his cheek against (Y/N)’s temple.

Being able to have his family by his side to love and cherish to his heart’s content is something Tom would never change. His family. These simple words bring so much feelings inside him, warming up his heart each time he says them out loud. With a powerful meaning.

Tom detaches from the little group to take back both his daughter and son in his own arm, freeing (Y/N) from their intense grip. He then walks to his throne and sits on it, putting both his children on one leg on it. (Y/N) soon joins them too and sits on Tom’s free leg, slightly leaning on her husband’s torso.

❞ Alright kids, what did you do with your mother until now? ❞ asks Tom to his children, firmly but tenderly keeping them still on his leg.

As Dottie begins (but mostly tries) to vividly describe all the games they played and Al listening to his big sister, both parents look at them lovingly while cuddling into each other. Tessa soon join them with something in her mouth - definitely a piece of the demon’s body from before -, sitting peacefully at Tom’s feet to chew on her new “toy”.

The macabre room of sentences is now filled with adorable laughers and chitchatting, clearing up the usual bloody and terrific atmosphere for today, at least.

* * * *

(Y/N) lays on the red velvet couch in the living room, her back against tones of fluffy pillows she gathered from everywhere in the castle. Her legs stretched out, she continues reading with the book slightly put on her five-month-tummy. In the background, the angel can hear Dottie and Al playing in the garden with Tessa, their joyful laughers making her smile. Beside her, the fire keeps crackling in the fireplace, warming up the air around her. It is actually the only spot of fire (Y/N) ever saw in Hell, and the only one she is actually happy to light up.

Still immerse in her peaceful reading, she hears steps resonate on the marble of the living room, coming closer to where she is. As the angel raises her head, the silhouette of Harrison makes its way to her. Dressed in his usual black outfit, imposing wings on display, the loyal demon of Hell soon stops at the back of the couch to address to the young woman.

“Good afternoon, Harrison” (Y/N) greets him as she rests the still open book on her stomach, giving her full attention to her friend.

‘ Good afternoon, (Y/N). We just rece- ‘

Harrison gets interrupted by (Y/N) who puts her index finger on her lips, then slowly pointing down to where her book is. Intrigued, the demon leans further over the couch. And to his surprise here sleeps the King of Hell himself, totally squeezed between the back of the couch and (Y/N)’s body, his face slightly on top of her breasts and an arm around her pregnant belly.

(Y/N)’s hand begins to scratch his scalp softly and he seems to snuggle more into her, his breathing calm and at ease. Harrison tries his best to suppress a smirk. Seeing the most powerful demon who terrifies all Hell and beyond in this position, as gentle as a lamb, is for sure destroying the entire myth itself. But at the same time, he never saw his friend this peaceful until he made the impossible to bring his love one back to him.

So in the end, Harrison couldn’t stop the discret crooked grin in the corner of his lips. After silently clearing his voice, he starts again but in a hushed voice.

‘ As I was saying, we just received a letter from Heaven addressed to you. ‘

Harrison holds the aforesaid letter out to the angel woman, who takes it carefully as to not crumple the delicate paper. The letter is rolled up and neatly tied up in a white silk ribbon, (Y/N)’s name calligraphed on it in thin and calligraphed letters.

Looking at her sleepy husband one last time, (Y/N) takes the ribbon between her fingers and slowly undo it, depositing it on her book. Harrison stays at the same place, hands linked on his back as he watches over the woman. (Y/N) rolls the paper out with her two hands and sees a few lines written on it, the handwriting being familiar to her.

“This is from Zendaya” starts (Y/N), now smiling with kind eyes at the letter. “Thank you Harrison.”

‘ You’re welcome, (Y/N). I will be with the kids if you need something. Also... ‘

The demon glances at Tom who has not moved an inch since then, still fast asleep against (Y/N).

‘ ... Make sure he is awake for his afternoon’s duties. Got some important “work” to deal with ‘ Harrison whispers, emphasising the specific word “work” with the intonation of his voice.

“I know I know, don’t worry about it” replies (Y/N) while massaging Tom’s scalp.

As Harrison makes his way outside to keep a close eye on the children - even if in the end, he will totally play with them but never admit it out loud -, (Y/N) feels Tom’s body moving slightly, his legs stretching out but still not waking up fully.

The arm around her stomach tightens a bit, his hand caressing her side almost tickling her thought her dress. He snuggles more against her, a content smile now on his face. Letting her husband enjoy his well deserved nap, (Y/N) can concentrate on the letter she received from Zendaya.

Zendaya. One of the Superior Angels who maintains peace in the Kingdom of Heaven. One with a big heart and a beautiful soul. And the only one who trusted and agreed to help Tom when he was banished and sent to Hell.

Approaching the Superior Angels was, at the time, nearly impossible because they were considered as “the direct messengers of the Holy God”. But Zendaya had always been... Zendaya. Well educated, respected by everyone and also the only Superior Angels close to the other angels. She never feared anyone, even when her fellow Superiors asked her many times to keep her distance with the common angels.

Zendaya always had a mind of her own and that is also why she developed a certain friendship with Tom. Him being himself loved by everyone in Heaven, she knew since the beginning she could trust him. With time they became confidant to one another, and it is also like how Zendaya learnt about his growing feelings towards (Y/N). She knew her too, a bit less but still enough to trust her deeply and admire her from afar. But everything changed when the Superior Angels suspected something was going on. And, in fact, they didn’t hesitate a single second to get complete rid of Tom without another thought. And Zendaya couldn’t do anything but assist to his terrific exile.

As time flies, Zendaya felt nothing was the same in Heaven anymore. Mostly when she kept an eye on (Y/N). So much despair and sadness, but well hidden by the young angel to not draw any attention to her. Zendaya admired (Y/N)’s mental strength but she could not not be afraid of her fellow’s mental health. And even with all her will, Zendaya knew she couldn’t do anything. At least not by herself.

Until one day, totally out of nowhere when she thought she had to finally put what happened behind her. That specific day, everything changed as a tiny piece of paper was found under the bench Zendaya usually sits on in her private garden. A simple message non signed but somehow... recognisable, with a black feather attached to it and simply written:

“I’m alive. We need to talk.”

Zendaya kept her devilish correspondence with Tom to herself, being extremely careful each time a letter was sent by one or received by the other. The Superior Angel was the best help Tom needed to bring back (Y/N) to him, even if Zendaya was not really in favour of that idea, at first. But she was the most sensible angel - with (Y/N) - in Heaven and the determined one wishing for a change.

A true and concrete change had to happen. Now or never.

And that is how Zendaya planned (Y/N)’s “evasion” with Tom’s help, also managing at the same time to not declare a war between both kingdoms and opening the minds of angels and demons. What a job, really. But it was worse it because since then, the impenetrable borders between the two worlds finally fell for good.

...

« « My Dear (Y/N),

I hope you are doing good. How is your pregnancy is going?

Recently, the Superiors Angels and I gathered to discuss about sharing our mutual files about the people arriving at the Purgatory’s Gates, but also about the “doubtful” ones. I broached this topic since a bit of time now, but you know how the Superiors are... Still reluctant about this and that, but we will slowly make it.

And how are Hell Boy and your beautiful kids? Hope they at least give you some rest time. Mostly Tom because this man is a mess by himself. I still wonder sometimes how he manages to do anything while you were not here (yet).

Anyway. Tell little Dottie and little Al I love them a lot, to be good and that I can’t wait to see you all again when your new little member will be here.

Wishing you all the happiness to you and your beautiful family.

P.S.: tell Tom to stop being a dick and to read that damn report I sent him last week because I need an answer fast now, thanks.

Sincerely, Zendaya. » »

(Y/N) tries to stop giggling at the last lines of the letter, but still couldn’t really help it. Her chest vibrates against her will, slightly shaking Tom out from his sleep.

❞ What in this letter is making my beautiful wife laugh? ❞ Tom asks sleepily, his voice hoarse and eyes still close as if waking up is not in his plans yet.

(Y/N) caresses and kiss the crown of his head still resting on her chest, now openly giggling at the sluggish mood of her husband.

“Zendaya is waiting for you to read a report from a week ago” the angel slowly starts, her fingers running along Tom’s neck as her lips don’t leave his forehead. “Also she is planning to come visit when our little one is born.”

Tom finally dares to raise his head and meet his wife’s sparkling eyes, his being drown into them again and a smile now on his face.

❞ I can’t wait for them to be born, I want to hold them in my arms so bad ❞ says Tom, kind of lost in his thoughts as he caresses (Y/N)’s stomach lovingly.

“Me too, I can’t wait” the angel replies, emotions of pure happiness overwhelming her entire body.

The two beings share a passionate kiss, full of love, in this moment of silence. Pure calm and solitude while Tom holds his dear queen softly in his arms and runs his hand over her growing belly. Neither of them have to say much in order to know what the other is thinking. This moment is not different.

The joyful laughers of their children in the background constantly remind them how grateful they both are to the Gods for allowing them such happiness.

* * * *

Finally the end of the day.

Tom feels beyond exhausted. As Harrison likes to stick to his plan as strict and a total pain in the ass as they usually are, his fellow demon friend assisted him during his afternoon’s duty in the throne room. All. Damn. Afternoon. Harrison didn’t let him have more than three-minute breaks because he wanted things to be done for good. And since the third heir is supposed to arrive in a few months, there was no way in Hell Harrison would let Tom increase his workload.

But now the night took place over the day long ago. The Underworld fell asleep little by little like the Castle itself. Tom exists the bathroom, heavy clouds of steam following him after an intense and thorough showering. The hot water helps his sore muscles to relax a bit, as he made a way too much good use of (Y/N)’s shower gel to erase the smell of blood and sweat stuck deeply in the pores of his body.

He lets out a sigh, his cheeks still red from the shower and finishs drying his buzzed head and neck with a towel. His wings moves from time to time to dry themselves from the remaining drops of water in them. Lazing throwing the towel back in the bathroom - hopefully in the laundry basket -, Tom adjusts his sweatpants and gazes at the silent and dark bedroom, guessing (Y/N) is still putting Dottie and Al to bed.

Taking advantage of it, the devil man flops down on the bed on his back. Sighing another time once he feels the fresh silk sheets under his skin, all his muscles even the thinest ones de-stress together. His wingspan unfolded is for sure impressive, covering all the bed in its length but the black feathers matching beautifully with the dark red silk sheets.

Complete silence. Only his slow breathing calming down as he closes his eyes, now taken into total darkness. Sometimes Tom remembers some of this kind of days, like today, when tones of judgements had to be done and then sentences to fall right after. And after he would just be like he is now, trying his best to empty his mind. Alone. And the next day, the same episode would repeat over and over again. Always alone.

But not anymore.

The faint click of the bedroom door opening takes Tom out of this thoughts as he slowly opens one eye to look towards it. Silently, (Y/N) appears and closes the door without a sound as soon as she steps a foot in the room. Then she turns to see her husband lazily laying on the bed, letting a little chuckle at the sight.

Such a pleasant sound. The demon King could hear his wife laugh all day, it is pure music to his ears and so much soothing. Sounding divine as looking heavenly.

Tom stares at (Y/N) from the bed noticing her wearing the bronze-nude coloured silk robe he offered her after Al’s birth, loosely tied up. This soft colour, almost looking gold, perfectly enhance her angelic figure as well as her magnificent white wings. His eyes then rakes over her body starting with her beautiful face to her shoulders then her voluptuous breasts, which now press more against the robe and finally down to the swelling of her stomach, which also stretches the silky fabric around her hips.

Tom bits his lip at this sight as he eyes the bump with a lustful look. In addition to not spending endless days and nights alone, feeling downhearted and helpless, (Y/N) is now blessing him with a third child, extending their happy family even more for both their enjoyment but also for the kingdom. The young man feels powerful like he never was, but mostly happy.

All this thanks to (Y/N) without whom nothing of this would have been possible.

“You’re done showering, darling?” asks the angel with her delicate voice, to which Tom simply nods. “Good. And the children are finally asleep.”

(Y/N) slightly stretches, a hand low on her back as she arches it to relieve some muscles. Recently Tom starts noticing some changes in his wife’s everyday life, such as flying more often when she could instead of walking, taking more naps and baths than usual, tiredness showing in her eyes or constantly stretching her back like right now. This being her third pregnancy it may seem understandable at some point, but Tom couldn’t help but worry about her well-being.

❞ Did you take a bath before lunch, love? ❞ wonders Tom as sitting normally on the bed.

“I did, yes but it only eased my back pain for two hours or so... And now, my stomach feels a bit swollen and heavy” sighs (Y/N), frowning a little.

She leans her head on one side while looking at Tom with an exasperated face. Her arms are crossed under her breasts, unintentionally opening the robe more on her accentuated cleavage. Being the perfect husband he is, Tom knows he has to do something... something that would help both of them, actually. It is like he almost planned in advance what is about to happen, wishing it with all his heart.

❞ Come here, sweetheart ❞ Tom breaths also tilting his head on his shoulder, his now hungry eyes never leaving (Y/N).

After slowly swaying her luscious hips while walking to him, (Y/N) then stops to stand in front of her husband, standing between his legs. She then could see his eyes darken as they trail down her body and stop at the swell of her belly that is now showing more than last month.

Knowing perfectly the effect she has on him, (Y/N) exhales longly which makes the robe slide from her shoulders and expose more skin of her upper body. She then run her left hand over the bump, the wedding ring shining brightly as it reflects naturally even with the lack of light in the room. Tom can’t help his hands to rest on the back of her thighs, fidgeting with the fabric of her robe still in between his caresses. Then the angel smiles when Tom’s mouth falls open to release a groan.

❞ Fuck. Get over here. Now. ❞

Tom pats his thigh and (Y/N) could just oblige, balancing her hands on both his shoulders. He grins up at his wife as she climbs onto his laps, both legs on the outside of his thighs to straddle him.

Immediately his hands find their way to her hips, still caressing a little over the silk material of the robe before he just unties it. And Tom couldn’t suppress the satisfied grin on his face as her matching nightgown appears in front of him. His angel being pregnant makes the fabric tighten around her breast and stomach, as much as its slightly raises to mid-thigh.

Tom then guides her to sit fully down on his thighs and chuckles when she sighs at the feeling. (Y/N) slowly flaps her white wings and takes her robe fully off, even around them, the clothing item cascading along her arms before falling at Tom’s feet.

❞ Comfortable like this? ❞ the demon asks cautiously, eyeing his wife’s face for any indication as to how she is feeling or what she is thinking about.

(Y/N) looks down at him with a small smile on her face, nodding. The chill air in the bedroom gives her goosebumps. She traces her hands over his broad shoulders, not without admiring his naked and muscular torso, before wandering her delicate fingers at the base of his nape. Tom’s eyes close once he feels her start to massage his buzzed scalp, and hums in pleasure.

He always loves to feel her hands on him, in general. It never fails to make his "friend down there” throb from excitement.

❞ (Y/N)… ❞

Tom whispers as he reaches up to grab the angel’s left hand before bringing it to his lips. He places a soft kiss on the golden ring, powerful symbol of their love and union, before brushing his rough but still soft lips over her knuckles. He turns her hand over so he can drag his lips across the gentle skin of her wrists, as his eyes stare deeply at her face.

When his lips continue to brush higher on her arm, he hears a sigh leave (Y/N)’s plush lips and watches as her eyes suddenly drop closed. Tom smiles softly against her skin.

❞ My beautiful wife and queen... ❞ he mumbles, never stopping his trail up the skin of her arm before moving to the other one, doing the same straight away. ❞ The strongest woman I know... So selfless... ❞ Tom pulls away from her skin to thread his fingers through her long hair and cradles the back of her neck in his hands.

❞ ... and all mine. ❞

With such sudden fervour, Tom brings (Y/N)’s mouth to his and kisses her, long and passionate. The angel melt in his arms, following his every lead as he bites her bottom lip. (Y/N) willingly opens your mouth to allow his tongue to battle with hers. She gasps in his mouth when he removes a hand from her hair to cradle her bottom, pulling her closer to him.

“T-Tom” she moans, kissing her husband with such urgency.

In all honesty, they did not have sex in two months - if not more which may be more actually and quite surprising - because taking care of one child is kinda alright, but two... is completely another story. And ever since (Y/N) got pregnant of their third one, Tom also had a lot of work to deal with while Dottie and Al still need a lot of attention. Constantly. So basically both adults were lately busy every day, the intimate time passing after anything else... and being almost forgotten, in then end.

Until now (Y/N) has not noticed how much she actually missed feeling Tom’s hot skin against her bare body. Being intimate with him is something otherworldly because, on top of knowing her body so well, the young woman feels secure in his arms. She always had. And in return, Tom would use that to his advantage whenever he wants to show (Y/N) exactly how he feels about her.

There is never a day that (Y/N) would ever get sick of being with the King of Hell, her husband. Totally unthinkable.

❞ You have no clue what you do to me, doll ❞ he growls, pulling away from her lips to trail his kisses across her jaw. ❞ I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you... How I got so lucky... ❞ Tom whispers against her ear before returning to ravish the skin of her neck with his teeth and tongue.

(Y/N) moans breathlessly when his tongue drags across her sweet spot before he sucks the patch of skin between his teeth.

“I’m the the lucky one, baby” she breathes out, bringing her hands back to his head. “You’ve been through so much all these past years, and yet you still find time for me and our children, even when I may not be in the best mood. There is no luckier person here than me.”

Tom’s eyes begin to burn as he pulls away from her neck and places his forehead against hers to look straight in the eyes.

❞ The shit I’ve put you through is nothing anyone should have to ever go through, and yet you’ve handled it all with such grace. Like the perfect Queen you are. There’s no one I admire and cherish more than you, (Y/N). You mean the world to me, darling. ❞

His hands move to cover the expanse of her swollen belly underneath her nightgown as he starts to caress the skin with his thumbs.

❞ You, Dottie, Al and this baby. ❞

Her lip trembles at his words, vision growing blurry with fresh tears. The love (Y/N) has for this man is indescribable. There were no words ever created to explain everything he means to her. He is everything she has ever needed and so much more. And knowing that he loves his kids just as much is definitely one of the best feelings in the world.

“God, I can’t even describe how much you mean to me, Tom. Truly, words do not compare” (Y/N) whispers to him, lips brushing against his as he smiles.

❞ Oh trust me, I know exactly how you feel ❞ the devil man chuckles, running his hands up and down her sides beneath the fabric.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Pure calm and solitude while Tom hold (Y/N) in his arms and ran his hands over her body. By now the two of them spent enough time together to memorise each other’s conducts during certain times. So, once Tom breathes softly against her neck, she knows the angel has to hear for herself exactly what is going through his head.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” (Y/N) inquires, pulling away to clearly see his face.

His coffee eyes are still dark, his chest heaving against her lush one. He could still feel her clothed heat against his thighs and now that they are so close, he could feel her stomach flat against his, the bump brushing against his naked abs.

He chuckles breathily before running a hand on top of his head, which creates a scratching noice under his palm.

❞ Would it be crude of me to say that your swollen stomach makes me hard? ❞

(Y/N) gasps in shock at his words, not expecting them in the slightest. Tom looks up at his angelic wife with a mischievous glint in his honey brown orbs, and she couldn’t help but then giggle at his typical cheeky attitude.

“It would but then again, you wouldn’t be Tom if you weren’t at least a little crude at times” she teases as she laughs when he feigns offense.

❞ Ooh you are in for it now, angel! ❞

Suddenly Tom chides before grabbing (Y/N) by the thighs and gently roll their bodies onto the bed, him being now on top of her. The angel squeals at the same time, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and arms winding around his neck.

He smiles down at her before moving down to kiss her, his lips gliding effortlessly against her mouth. The demon king loves to take her breath away with just a touch of his lips. Tom smiles against the angel’s lips while still gliding his lips across hers.

❞ Hope you’re ready, I’m about to rock the world of my gorgeous pregnant queen tonight ❞ Tom grins widely when (Y/N) lets out a loud laugh at his words.

“You’re being cheesy tonight, I see?” she giggles, her cheeks stretching widely to accommodate to the large grin on her perfect face.

Tom admires the glint of happiness in her eyes, with an ounce of mischief too, and tries to process the fact that he is the one and only man making this divine creature beneath him so happy.

❞ Yeah but I mean, you love that about me ❞ the man smirks, kissing (Y/N) on the corners of her mouth then cheeks, forehead and lastly her nose. ❞ And you signed up to it all when you married me so, no going back now pretty lady.❞

Her eyes flutter because of all his kisses, then she smiles softly at her husband.

“Oh yes, I did” she chuckles before continuing “And I love you with all my heart. And I always will” (Y/N) whispers, cupping his cheeks in her delicate hands before running her fingers over his defined cheekbones and jawline.

Tom can’t stop his eyes from burning with passion as his wife proclames her love for him once again.

❞ I love you ❞ he mumbles before capturing her lips for a passionate kiss.

Tom navigates his body fully between her legs, swallowing the strangled moan his angel release when he rolls his hips against her sore one. He then begins to push the silk fabric of her nightgown up to finally reveal her stomach, before he proceeds to cradle her soft visage in one hand while he places the other flat against her round and swollen belly.

He just growls when he feels the bump against his warm palm and pulls away from (Y/N)’s lips. He continues by devouring her neck as he pushes the nightdress higher up to reveal your bare breasts. The demon pulls away from her neck and stares down at her tempting curves and groans, his cock twitching at the sight.

❞ So fucking gorgeous ❞ Tom states breathlessly, reaching up to engulf gently her sensitive breasts in his large hands to massage them. His cock hardens and twitches again when (Y/N) moans from his touch, arching her back and rolling her hips against his to create some friction.

Tom grunts as he feels (Y/N) drag her hips against his still clothed hard-on and decides that both of them are wearing too many clothes for his liking.

He removes his hands from her breasts and tugs the nightdress over her head. The angel then leans up in order to let him take it off entirely, her white wings adjusting on her back. At the same time she also enjoys the sight of him, already standing half naked over her, his perfectly sculpted chest and abs making her bite her lip and almost drool.

Her husband is indeed handsome, breathtakingly beautiful, the scars on his back and shoulders only magnifying that beauty. Every time (Y/N) sees the multiple cuts he tried to hide at the beginning, all she wants to do is kiss every single one to remind her king that he should never be ashamed of them. Ever.

(Y/N) unconsciously licks her lips as she admires him. Tom catches it and smirks down at his wife, newfound confidence surging through his veins. She never fails to make him feel good about himself. One simple look needed and he could tell (Y/N) loves him no matter the scars on his body or who he is.

❞ Like what ya see, gorgeous? ❞ Tom rasps as he runs his hands up her sides, smirking when he feels her shiver beneath his touch.

“Always, baby.”

(Y/N) watches as he smiles ardently at her before he reaches up to cup her right cheek in his hand. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone and then drags the pad of his calloused finger across her bottom lip. The angel slightly turns her head into his palm and starts leaving open mouthed kisses onto it, as her hands wrap around his wrist to maintain him in place.

His eyes darken as watches (Y/N) starts lightly biting the skin of his palm, and then giving it little kitten licks. Tom curses softly when he feels his cock twitch painfully in his now too tight sweatpants, and he knows he can’t wait any longer.

Tom wants her so bad. He needs to have her. Right here, right now. Just the thought of feeling her wet insides flutter around his pulsing member takes the demon to some unholy places in his mind. And he loves it.

Almost reluctantly Tom removes his hand from her mouth and bends down to sloppily lick one of your sensitive nipples.

He hears (Y/N) gasp loudly before he sees her back arch, pushing her breast further into his mouth as he wraps his lips around the now hardening bud.

“Aah, Tommy-” she moans, trying her best to grind her hips against his.

When Tom feels her struggling to get some relief, he pulls away from her nipple with a loud ‘pop’. The angel starts letting out little whines at the loss of his hot tongue on her body.

❞ Worry not, my Queen ❞ Tom says huskily as he finally decides to tug her thin lace panties down her impeccable legs, revealing the secret garden that is her dripping heat to his hungry eyes. ❞ I will take good care of you, like I always do. ❞

He doesn’t tear his lustful gaze away from her, in awe as (Y/N) pants loudly underneath him. Tom then removes his sweatpants, not caring to untie them before hand, the fabric falling on the ground to now expose his naked glory because he definitely went commando after his shower.

The young queen gasps at the obscene yet erotic sight of his hard cock staying flat against his stomach, the tip red and swollen, leaking precum. She feels wetness pool between her legs and just moan, eyeing his hand as it wraps around his length and begins to pump slowly.

Tom eyes (Y/N)’s body hungrily from above her, moving his unoccupied hand to her pussy where he spreads her wet lips to rub her clit with his thumb, not without paying close attention to any sign of discomfort coming from his pregnant wife.

(Y/N) squeals, rolling her hips against his hand as much as her body allows her to, while Tom drags his fingers between her folds and massages her clit. When the angel feels him enter one finger into her clenching hole, she throws her head back and arches even more against his hand.

❞ Fuck baby girl, you are so wet ❞ Tom groans, pumping his hand faster around his cock.

“Tommy- Oh my-!” (Y/N) nearly screams when he adds another finger and pumps them harder and deeper into her warm insides.

Tom’s eyes widen when he looks back at her round stomach, which moves rapidly up and down as she breathes deeply. He feels his cock twitch in his hand and lets out a rough grunt, suddenly taking his fingers out of her core and removing his hand from himself.

❞ That’s it, I can’t fucking take anymore ❞ he growls, positioning himself between (Y/N)’s legs. He then gently grabs the back of her knees to pull her towards him, the angel whining when his hard cock brushes close to her core.

“Please take me, Tommy. I’m all yours, please” (Y/N) moans as she rolls her hips against his cock.

Tom feels like coming straight away but he resists somehow, instead brushing his pulsing member between her wet folds and flicking the head against her clit.

The demon king hovers over his wife’s body, placing his forehead against hers and balancing on his arms on each side of her head as he places the tip of his cock at her entrance. He looks into her bright eyes when he slowly enters the angel, her walls stretching deliciously around him.

Both beings moan in unison before Tom leans down to capture (Y/N)’s lips, swallowing every choked cries and whines as he begins to thrust in and out of her.

“Ooh Tommy, oh, aah-” she gasps breathlessly when he slams his hips into her bloated one.

❞ (Y/N)- ❞ Tom moans in return, pulling away to drop his head on her shoulder. He kisses the soft skin of her shoulder before thrusting faster and groaning into her skin. ❞ You are the best thing that ever happened to me, baby girl. ❞

His words bring tears to her eyes, thanks to the messy pregnant’s hormones, and (Y/N) almost releases a cry as she pushes her hips in hope to meet with his thrusts. She can feel every ridge and thick vein of his cock as he drives it into her and the purely euphoric feeling makes her dizzy. The angel grabs onto Tom, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and running a hand through his entire face, his thrusts intensifying even more.

“You are my world, Tommy. I love your more than anything and I promise to stay by your side until the end of the world” (Y/N) moans in his ear, reassuring him.

Tom grunts at his wife’s words, all kind of emotions mixing up in his head as he makes love to (Y/N). Suddenly, he slows his pace a little so now he is rocking into her deep and hard. She whines desperately at this change, grinding against his skin.

The demon pulls himself up so he can look between their bodies, carefully watching as he thrusts slowly in and out of her wet pussy. Then his brown eyes land on her visible baby bump and Tom feels himself pulse inside of her as his eyes roll into his head. He moans loudly, moving a hand between both their bodies to flatten it against her stomach.

❞ Shit angel, I’m s-so lucky to have you... The four of you” Tom almost whines, rolling his hips harder into hers as his pelvic now brushes against her clit.

“Tommy, I’m so close! Aah-” (Y/N) cries out at the feeling and throw her head back, arching against him more.

She then gasps when he growls violently before speeding up his thrusts again and literally drilling into her. (Y/N) grabs onto him tightly and drags her nails against his scalp, stealing a grunt from his chest.

Tom sloppily links his lips with hers when he feels the angel clench tightly around him, so he thrusts deeper and faster before moving the hand that was on her stomach to her clit.

❞ Come for me, my gorgeous wife. My gorgeous queen. Come for me ❞ Tom growls in her ear, rubbing her clit vigorously.

(Y/N) screams at the never stopping stimulation. Her legs start trembling and body shaking as she clenches around his member, coating his cock in cum as she finally reaches her orgasm. Tom watches closely as she comes undone beneath him and lets out a moan, his hips faltering as he releases his seed inside of her tight insides.

He flattens his hand on her belly, feeling the warm and sweaty skin of her baby bump again and comes harder, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself to be too vocal this late at night. Endless streams of his come splash against her walls, their juices mixing together, and Tom rides out both their orgasms until he just collapses his upper body on top of (Y/N).

“Oh lord, Tom, you’re heavy!” the angel huffs as she then giggles at her husband.

Tom only hums in response, his voice slightly hoarse from their previous activity, while wrapping his strong arms around her body. But not feeling too well in this position - also not to accidentally hurt (Y/N) -, Tom slowly lets himself slide on the sheet to now snuggle up against his wife’s frame, remaining inside of her.

(Y/N) looks up at him through her post-orgasmic vision and is pleased to notice him just cuddling onto her with closed eyes, his chest heaving with exhaustion. As a kind smile makes its way to her face, she leans up to kiss his jaw which makes him sigh gently.

“You are amazing Tom, in every way. An amazing king, husband and father. I am so proud of you” (Y/N) softly whispers to him, brushing delicately her fingers against his cheek.

The angel then proceeds to move her hand higher and massage his head, feeling the short buzzed hair brush her palm and paying extra attention to his nape, a bit sweaty. After enjoying her pleasant caresses, Tom opens one of his eyes to peak at the angel.

❞ I would be nothing without you, baby. Just useless, an empty envelop with no reason to live. ❞

(Y/N) looks absolutely breathtaking to him, and since the day they met. The amazing post-orgasmic glow that suits her so well is something he could look at for years. Her lips swollen and impossibly red like her cheeks, hair a mess and eyes half closed. And not forgetting her naked figure which the demon loves to worship during these intimate times, shining with sweat but still an absolute delicacy that only him can savour as he wants.

(Y/N) can feel him start to get slightly hard again when he brushes his fingers over her pregnant stomach. As his face never leaves its comfy place on her chest, the demon king silently wishes to feel his unborn heir move under his touch. His wife continues to leave kisses on his sweaty forehead, closing her tired eyes, almost falling asleep in the lovely embrace of her husband.

❞ ... I’m guessing your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore? ❞

Intrigued by this question, (Y/N) slowly reopens her eyes to lower her gaze on Tom’s face. As she raises her eyebrows, she has no time to answer before Tom speaks again.

❞ Sex is definitely THE best option to ease pregnancy pains. Not like I’m gonna complain about it. ❞

"You better prepare a warm bubbly bath for us and carry me there, before I get upset” states (Y/N), her cheeks even redder now because of Tom’s stupid comment.

And the devil king can’t suppress his cheeky smirk as his wife avoids his gaze, still being cute.

❞ Your wish is my command, my Queen! ❞

* * * *

The bedroom is still plunged into darkness, but the daylight manages to make its way through an open spot left by the curtains. Humming as she slowly wakes up, (Y/N) blinks a few times before staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Her hands go to her belly by instinct, massaging it as she draws circles on it, before she turns her head towards Tom.

Still fast asleep, the demon king did not move since they both went to sleep - after taking another bath together and dressing up for the night. His build frame stays on the side, an arm under (Y/N)’s head and his free hand resting at the bottom of her now covered stomach.

(Y/N) brushes her plump lips on his chin to then leave a light kiss on his lips, carefully to not wake him up. She links one of her hands with his own that stays on her stomach, intertwining their fingers.

But as the young queen tries to fall back asleep, her mother’s intuition goes on alert and her head turns towards the door of the bedroom. No sound can be heard on the other side of the room, only a deep and calm silence that resonates in the whole castle. When suddenly...

*tap tap tap*

The almost faint noise of footsteps slowly increase in the corridor, now catching the full attention of (Y/N). One corner of her lips raises, perfectly knowing the owners of this sound. Tom still being in the arms of Morpheus, mouth parted enough to let some soft snores at times, the angel prefers to not move until the “special guests” make their final appearance.

And speak of the devil (no pun intended, or not)...

The doorknob starts to slowly turn, creating a quick and discreet ‘click’ which allows the door to finally open. (Y/N) keeps watching closely towards it, trying to see through the half-open door. And as expected, a double pair of eyes can be seen, a bit sleepy, and little by little two very familiar round faces appear.

Dottie and Al immediately find their mother’s eyes as if asking for her permission to enter the matrimonial bedroom. After warmly allowing both her children with a nod and a smile, the two tiny beings make their way inside, Dottie making sure to silently close the door behind her little brother and her, and then fly together towards their parents.

As they kiss their mother on the cheek and tummy - because they already care a lot about their unborn brother or sister -, little Al notices his father still sound asleep between the sheets. Not needing to be asked twice, the little boy careful goes between both his parents’ bodies and tries to make himself some place as he goes under the cover. Tom lightly groans at the movements next to him, but only secures his grip tighter around his wife plus now his young son. (Y/N) then opens the sheets with her free hand, inviting her daughter to join their cuddle. Dottie goes also under the warm sheet, getting close to her mum and snuggling against her. Feeling yet another presence in the bed, Tom’s hand which already maintain (Y/N) and Al close to him now reaches for his daughter.

The silence of the early morning remains still. (Y/N) lets out a pleased sigh, getting even more confortable between the soft warmth of the bed and her loving family. Slowly, sleep overcomes her and her children all over again, soon joining the head of the family for another resting time into dreamland.

Who could have thought about having this delightful type of afterlife?

* * * *

Ten months later.

« « Who’s the most beautifuuuuuul baby of all time? » »

❞ Give me back my daughter, Z... ❞

Happy babbles echo in the living room, animated first by Tom who tries to take back his five-month daughter Mia from Zendaya’s grasp, and on the other hand Dottie and Al playing together next to the group of adults.

(Y/N) sat on the large couch next to her husband, giggling at his attitude as he almost makes grabby hands to Zendaya, hoping she would finally give the newly born child to him. (Y/N) lovingly caresses his back, getting close to him and eyeing her third child in the arms of her trustful friend from Heaven.

“Thank you for visiting us, Zendaya” begins (Y/N), “Mia seems to like you already.”

« « Obviously she loves her godmother a lot, right little one? » » smiles Zendaya as she keeps smiling widely to the baby, tickling her tummy to make little Mia show her toothless smile again.

Tom couldn’t help the grown leaving his mouth, lightly banging his head against (Y/N)’s. The angel queen kisses his temple in hope of appeasing her husband’s pouting face.

On Mia’s back, two tiny wings start growing slowly. The colour of her feathers is still undetermined but it may be a mix of white and black ones, like her eldest sister and brother. Mia’s features will for sure be a beautiful mix of her parents, her eyes already big and kind like her mother’s and deep brown like her father’s.

Harrison enters the living room, bringing a rolling cart with different drinks and delicacies on it. Both Dottie and Al stop playing as they hear it coming their way, their throat dry and little stomach empty after so much playtime. Dottie stands first and waits for Harrison to stop the cart, meanwhile Al goes to his father asking for some attention. The demon king immediately takes his son in his arms, sitting him on his laps.

‘Can I get some apple juice for Al and I, please Haz?’ Dottie politely asks the demon.

‘ Of course, dear. Right away. ‘

Dottie brings the first glass to her brother, carefully passing it in his little hands before asking the others if they want to drink something too.

“Just a glass of water for me, sweetheart. Dad will share his wine with me.”

❞ Hmm, I still need to think about that, beautiful ❞ replies Tom with a cheeky tone, while slowly kissing his wife’s cheek which makes her chuckle.

« « Don’t get all lovey-dovey in front of your kids, dammit. Gross, ew! Al, look at auntie Daya. » »

❞ Don’t swear in front of my children! ❞

Once everyone got served their drink, Dottie flies back to her mother to sit on her laps, enjoying her apple juice as she vividly looks at everyone but mostly at her new little sister. Then Harrison prepares two little plates to fill with some homemade cakes for both his godchildren.

❞ Honestly, Harrison is killin’ it at being a good godfather with the kids. They might start loving him more than you if you- ❞

« « Shut up, Hell Boy » » interrupts Zendaya, upset but still with her usual sass.

“The kids would love to see you more often, Zendaya” softly takes part (Y/N) while sipping into Tom’s wine glass before giving it back to him.

Zendaya deeply sighs and looks at little Mia catching Al’s index finger into her tiny fist. She brushes the baby’s wild growing hair back while caressing the tender rosy skin with her finger, not helping the smile on her face.

« « I know, (Y/N) and I want to but sometimes, I’m just overflowing under work. It’s not easy to be a Superior Angel, trust me. » »

❞ Being the King of Hell AND a father at the same time is not easy either, trust me on that ❞ sighs Tom back, ❞ But I’ve never been happier so I can’t complain at all. ❞

Tom smiles lovingly at (Y/N), making the angel sit closer to him and snuggle her face against his. Dottie also cuddles with Al as the two siblings look at little Mia, who constantly watches around anything that happens.

The scene warms Zendaya’s heart.

« « Also, you are all welcome to come to Heaven, you know that, right? Mostly because of business talk and all that jazz, but the Superiors would be glad to meet little Mia too » » continues Zendaya as she strokes Mia’s cheek.

“We were actually discussing about it with Tom the other day” says (Y/N), sorting out the feather’s mess of her children because of their last playing session. “Dottie and Al want to visit Heaven again too, am I right?”

‘YES PLEASE!’ both Dottie and Al screams together, little Al saying something like that because he is still too young to talk properly.

(Y/N) and Zendaya laugh at so much energy coming from the children. As Tom put his now empty glass away, he nods to Harrison to join them on the couch as he slides an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and kisses her cheek.

Heaven and Hell might be opposite places with different rules and ways of thinking.

But in the end, they both have the same goal: giving the right afterlife to people, and fixing their faults when mistakes were done.

- - - END OF ‘HEAVENLY YOURS’ MINI SERIES - - -

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we-are-fam-ily · 5 years ago

Text

Two Lies and a Truth

Wordcount: 1,600+

Tags: Roceit, Intruality, Secret Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Allusions to Sex, SFW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386231

Deceit pressed Roman up against the nearest wall in the empty mindscape hallway and then hungrily captured Roman’s lips in a possessive kiss.

Roman responded enthusiastically, willingly opening his mouth when Deceit’s forked tongue sought entry against his lips. In the middle of their heated kiss, Deceit slotted his thigh in between Roman’s, drawing a moan from the other Side.

Deciding he liked that noise, Deceit disconnected their lips and pulled Roman’s collar out of the way just enough to start sucking and nibbling at Roman’s neck.

He was rewarded with another delicious moan, and Roman shifting his hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction. Deceit smirked and mouthed at a spot right behind Roman’s ear that caused the other to whine, a high pitched, needy noise.

“I- ah! I want to- mn… Tell the others.”

Deceit pulled back immediately, drawing another whine from Roman.

“Yes, we can absolutely tell the others.”

Roman’s eyes opened and he stared at Deceit.

“Why not? We’re in love, why would they be unhappy for us?”

“We’re not just having sex, Roman.”

That was a lie. Deceit was madly in love with Roman. But, Roman didn’t know that. Roman had just confessed one day and Deceit had kissed him without saying anything.

Their sexual relationship had blossomed from there. Roman kept trying to take Deceit on dates, but he’d made up excuse after excuse, going so far as to insist they keep their trysts secret from all the other sides.

“Is- is that all you think this is?” Roman was looking at him with so much hurt in his eyes that Deceit almost told the truth.

“Obviously”

Roman frowned and turned away. “I guess I was wrong about you. I thought you had more in you than villainy. If you don’t have a good reason why we shouldn’t tell the others, we should call this off.”

“Patton wouldn’t like a Dark Side dating a Light Side.”

That entire sentence was a lie. Deceit didn’t know what Patton would think.

“That’s… Not good enough for me. I guess you really were just in it for the sex. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret. We’re through.”

Deceit didn’t say anything, and Roman began to walk away. His posture was so defeated that Deceit almost reached out, but… What good would that do? He’d just ruined the best thing he’d ever had.

Feeling tears begin to fall down his cheeks, he snapped them away with a lie.

He was fine.

He didn’t notice the green door at the end of the hall click shut.

“Patty! Pit-a-Patton! I need your help!”

Look. Remus didn’t care that Deceit and his brother were fucking. It was none of his beeswax. He did, however, care that they broke up. Loudly. In front of his salad.

Also Roman and Deedee were crying and nobody made them cry but him, not even each other.

So! He had a plan! Deedee was afraid that Patton wouldn’t like their relationship, so he just had to get Patton to pretend to be fucking him and then Roro and Deedee would get back together and be happy! Boom. Awesome plan.

Plus the bonus of flirting with Patton. Talk about daddy.

“Sure, kiddo! What’s up?”

“We need to pretend like we’re fucking.”

Patton’s pretty little mouth dropped open, and he also dropped his half-eaten cookie. Remus caught it before it hit the floor and offered it back to the other Side.

“See, Roro and Deedee are fucking, well, they were, but Deedee thought you wouldn’t like it so I thought if they thought we were together they would get back together and be happy!”

Patton blinked, but didn’t say anything. Remus blinked back. Slowly! Like a cat! And then he remembered.

“Right! Magic words! Please, daddy?”

The other Side gulped, took his cookie back with a trembling hand, and nodded once.

Boom! Remus had the best ideas.

He heard another Side come into the kitchen and grinned. Showtime. He leaned down and pecked the unresponsive Patton on the lips.

“Thanks, daddy!”

“S-sure thing, kiddo.”

Remus winked at Virgil, who was staring at the two of them, walked past Patton just far enough to give a little patpat to his butt, and then sunk out.

He was never washing that hand again. Patton’s butt was a thing of fantasy.

Patton cornered him the next day.

“So. How- how do we do this?”

Remus heard footsteps again, coming closer to the two of them.

“Easy! We just get close,” he backed Patton into the wall, bracing an arm over the other Side’s head. “And stay there.”

Patton made an aborted squeaking noise as Remus leaned down to kiss him. He noticed that Patton tasted like hot cocoa and cookies.

“Patton? Remus?”

Remus pulled away and licked his lips, noting the dark blush on Patton’s face, before turning to Logan.

And Roman. Ha!

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking! Right, daddy?”

“Language,” Patton squawked.

But he didn’t deny it. In fact, a tentative hand came up and clutched at Remus’ sash.

Logan looked out of sorts, and Roman-

Roman looked furious.

Oops.

“Is this some sort of joke, Remus?”

He shook his head, hoping that Patton wouldn’t say anything.

“Hey!”

Crap.

Patton weaseled his way out in front of Remus, hands on his hips.

“Don’t be mean to Remus! We’re not doing anything wrong!”

Oh. Nice. Great work, daddy.

Patton spun and pulled Remus down into a quick, but bruising, kiss.

“My room later, okay baby?”

Holy fucking shit.

“You got it, daddy!” Did Remus sound as breathless as he felt? Probably.

Patton winked, grabbed his butt, and then walked away, swinging his hips a little. Talk about daddy.

“I suddenly know more about Patton than I needed to know.”

“And he’s all mine.” Remus was in love. Patton was sneaky as hell.

Deceit and Remus were in the middle of a game of Cheater’s Chess when Patton came upon them.

“Ha! Pay up, Deedee! My forces just hired Cthulhu!”

“Remus.”

Deceit watched in fascination as Remus flinched and looked up at Patton.

“Yeeeees, daddy?”

What the fuck.

“I told you to meet me in my room, baby. Are you disobeying daddy?”

“No sir!” Remus shot out of his seat and bolted in the direction of Patton’s room.

“What the fuck.”

“We have a date. Have a good night, Deceit!” Patton turned and followed Remus at a more sedate pace, whistling.

Well. Maybe Deceit could repair the thing with Roman… Maybe he could even be honest about his feelings for once.

He had mainly been worried about how the others would react to their relationship, but if Patton and Remus were a thing, maybe…

Maybe it would be okay.

It would not. Roman wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him.

Unbeknownst to Deceit, Patton and Remus studied their every interaction.

“New plan! We gotta set them up on a mushy date!”

“Hmm…” Patton seemed reluctant. Time to pull out the big guns.

“Please, daddy?”

Patton laughed and capitulated.

Remus was in charge of setting up the imagination. So, maybe his trees were a little ominous and the butterflies had skulls on the backs of their wings, but he got a kiss or two out of it anyways.

The other Side was in charge of the picnic, as well as getting Roman to the assigned spot.

Remus had to get Deceit.

“Come on, Deedee! We’re close!”

Deceit climbed the hill behind Remus, grumbling under his breath. He had wanted to spend the day trying to woo Roman back, maybe even take him out on a proper date, but now he was stuck with the wrong half of Creativity.

“Hey look! It’s Roman and daddy!”

Or maybe not. Deceit watched as Remus sprinted down the hill and swept Patton into a kiss, after which they sunk out together, leaving Roman and Deceit staring at each other.

“It seems we weren’t set up.”

Roman looked like he was about to sink out himself, but Deceit rushed down and grabbed his arm.

“Look, there’s not a picnic blanket. Can we… Can we have that date, now?”

“Why? You made your feelings very clear.”

“I- I’m sorry, Roman. I lied to you because I was scared. I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.”

Roman didn’t look at him for a long while, and Deceit started resigning himself to a broken heart.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I shouldn’t, but I love you and I want to make this work. So we can try this again. But!”

Uh-oh.

“Do not lie to me again, and we aren’t having sex until we’ve figured this thing out properly.”

Oh, that wasn’t bad. Deceit nodded so quickly he felt like a bobble-head doll, and led Roman over to where the little picnic was set up.

“Do those butterflies have skulls on them?”

Roman laughed.

Boom! Plan worked. Remus grinned at Patton as they watched the two others reconcile. Patton smiled sadly back at him and then sunk out completely.

Frowning, Remus followed, only to find Patton beginning the preparations of stress-baking.

“Something wrong, Pattycake?”

Patton flinched. “No, Remus. Nothing at all.”

“There is! You’re acting weird. Tell me!”

Patton didn’t respond, only kept pulling out ingredients. Fine. One last time. Hopefully it would work even after their ruse paid off.

“Please tell me, daddy?”

The other side growled and pulled Remus down, almost into a kiss.

“I’m in love with you, baby, and it’s going to kill me if you keep calling me that as a joke.” His words were feather-light and oh so tempting against Remus’ lips.

Remus blinked. It had never been a joke to him. He leaned down the short distance it took to connect their lips gently.

After a long while, Patton pulled away first. Remus winked at him salaciously.

“There’s more where that came from, daddy.”

Patton kissed him again.

#roceit #intruality #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts roman #ts deceit #ts logan #ts remus #ts patton #ts virgil

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notapaladin · 5 years ago

Text

my way out, my way through

oh god i’ve done it again. MORE teocatl for your viewing pleasure, this time with HUGE SPOILERS for book 3, Master of the House of Darts. after the events of that book, Teomitl dreams. Mihmatini helps. Acatl, meanwhile? He’s suffering. Here there be fluff.

Also on AO3

The Revered Speaker’s mat is cold, and Teomitl can barely feel his legs. He wants to move, to sprawl out more comfortably, but he can’t.

There are too many people here. Watching him. The receiving room is packed, a sea of faces he can barely differentiate. All are in their best regalia, feathers and cotton and jade, and they are all bowing to him. Mihmatini is kneeling, her face downcast, her eyes expressionless. The Turquoise-and-Gold Crown is an impossible weight, and he thinks his neck will break from the strain.

He breathes in. Breathes out. His heart thumps steadily in his chest, a reminder that he is alive.

There is someone missing, he realizes after a while. Some gap in the crowd, a knot in the weave. Something is wrong. His gaze sharpens, focuses, and alights at the back of the room.

There is a man standing there, gaze averted. But unlike the rest of the room, who drop their eyes to the floor in respect, his stance is stiff. Teomitl has a confused impression of owl wings—no, a gray cloak—of a skull, grinning and fleshless—no, a mask. He knows, without looking, that this man has not removed his sandals.

“As one man to another…”

The crown tumbles to the floor as he shoots to his feet. The crowd does not move, still as statues and insubstantial as mist as he runs through them. Acatl, he cries, but his voice carries no sound.

Acatl is turning away. Acatl has seen him—he catches the flash of a dark eye—but he is turning away, cold and uninterested, and it makes Teomitl’s heart clench in his throat. If he can just catch up—

His hand closes around Acatl’s wrist for a moment, and then Acatl pulls away.

No!

Before he can call Acatl’s name, the world around him melts and shifts, and then he is standing in that courtyard again, watching from the sidelines like a ghost. As if through fog, he sees Mihmatini and her brothers arrayed against him. They are exhausted and bleeding, and their blood shines like the sun on the water. And he sees himself and his warriors, arrogant and proud and so, so stupid.

He sees his own mouth move; he can’t make out the words, but he knows it’s something he should never have said. He sees Acatl respond, pleading at first—and then angry. And then straightening up, blood wisping like smoke around him, and taking a step forward.

He watches, unable to move, as he draws his sword and cuts Acatl down.

When Mihmatini rushes him, face stretched in a silent scream, he closes his eyes and lifts his chin for the knife.

- -

He woke shaking, with tears in his eyes, and hastily sat up to scrub at them with the back of a hand. No, it was just a nightmare. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t…

“Teomitl?”

Oh. He’d woken Mihmatini, who was pushing her hair out of her face and sitting up for a better look at him. He immediately felt worse. “Go back to sleep.”

Even in the darkness of their bedroom, he could see the unimpressed look she gave him. “I’m awake. Bad dream?”

She didn’t bring up the tears, and he was grateful for that. “...Mm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Your brother,” he blurted out. He didn’t want to talk about it, but once the dam broke all his words flooded out, a gout of blood from the heart of a sacrifice. “Acatl-tzin. He—I was Revered Speaker, and he was there in full regalia but he wouldn’t even look at me. I’d—he didn’t care to know me anymore.” I’d disappointed him. He would be my High Priest, but never again my Acatl. He sucked in a breath. “...And then I was in...that courtyard. With my sister. And I said something—I don’t know what I said, but he was going to fight me, and I—I killed him.” When he blinked, he could see the spray of blood on the inside of his eyelids. He glanced at Mihmatini out of the corner of his eye, and added, “And then you killed me.”

“I would.” It was a simple statement of fact, and he exhaled. It was perversely reassuring to know that. Her voice was quiet. “But...about the rest of it…”

She wanted an answer. He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to fight him. I don’t want him to be a—a stranger to me.”

Mihmatini was silent for a long moment, and he was terrified he’d given too much away, but then her hand came up to rub his shoulder in a soothing little circle and he could breathe again. It was breath that was entirely stolen when she informed him, “I’ve spent two years watching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. I think even if you pulled another stupid stunt like you did with your sister, he would never treat you like that.”

The world was reeling around him. He was only vaguely conscious of his extremities, and he wouldn’t be able to swear in a court of law that his heart was still beating. “I.” He wondered if swooning like a maiden was an actual possibility. “The way Acatl-tzin looks—?! How does he—?” Priests take vows of chastity, he thought stupidly, and then I never thought there was a chance—

The part of his brain not currently screaming in panic mused that Mihmatini didn’t sound angry or jealous, both emotions he’d have expected in her place. She mostly just sounded as though she was explaining the facts to a particularly slow student. “Like you put the sun in the sky. Like how I looked at you, back when I thought I was in love with you.”

The revelations really needed to slow down, he thought dizzily. It was too early in the morning for this. “You’re not in love with me? Oh, thank the gods.”

“I will forgive you for that since clearly you’re overwrought, but…” She shook her head. “I like you. I will always love you as a friend, even when I want to strangle you, and this…” she gestured between them at their naked bodies “Is fantastic, but once I realized you can’t keep your eyes off my brother…”

Grandmother Earth, open up and swallow him right now. It would be kinder than this. “Ah.” Of course he’d known Acatl was as off-limits as it was possible to be—even if the man wasn’t a priest, Teomitl had been trying to court his sister, and certainly wanted marriage and children of his own—but from the moment he’d seen him on the temple steps, serious and tired and in desperate need of someone to take care of him, he’d been unable to look away. It had only gotten worse the longer they’d known each other; each smile, each clasp of hands or brush of fabric, each turn of a slender wrist or curve of a shoulder sent a knife through his heart. He’d done his best not to let it show on his face, for all their sakes. He thought he’d been successful.

He swallowed hard. “Mihmatini, I’m…”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You can apologize to me by talking to Acatl. There’s a limit to how much pining I can take.”

There was a noise like a startled parrot. It took him a second to realize it had came from his throat. “You what. I—how should I—he doesn’t even—“

“He does.” Her voice was firm. “Priests aren’t allowed to marry, but you know almost everyone experiments in the calmecac and that doesn’t count—“

“I didn’t.” He’d had an embarrassingly deep crush on one of his teachers, true, but nothing else. There had always seemed to be more important things to do. Belatedly his mind conjured up the image of a younger Acatl with shorter hair, wrapped up with another boy, and he grit his teeth against a jolt of jealousy.

“—And believe me, Teomitl, I have caught his eyes on you like a jaguar on a deer.” She paused. “...A pitiful, embarrassed jaguar. But a jaguar.”

He thought of the way Acatl’s gaze normally rested on him, a sort of fondly exasperated tenderness. He imagined that gaze growing heated, the casual glances turning into something focused and lingering. He’d thought he’d seen it once, when he’d shed his regalia, but he’d convinced himself he was mistaken. With Mihmatini’s words, it didn’t seem such an obvious conclusion anymore.

He’d almost lost everything once by not talking to the people he cared about. He wouldn’t do it again.

He turned to look Mihmatini in the face. “What do you think I should do?”

The expression on her face shifted to undisguised relief. “Well...”

- -

Acatl had not been expecting visitors. When he stepped into his own courtyard to meet the gaze of a waiting Teomitl, he froze. The afternoon sunlight turned the world gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin like honey and setting the jewels in his ears and at his wrists aflame. He barely registered the fine cotton cloak edged with colorful embroidery, too distracted by his hesitant smile. It had been months since they’d spent any great deal of time together, since that day on the temple steps when Teomitl had apologized to him. Acatl hadn’t realized how much it was possible to miss someone who was still present. He’d almost—almost—started wishing for a case they could solve together.

And now he was here, looking nervous but hopeful, with—Acatl turned his eyes away from that smile before he did something stupid—a basket of fruit by his feet. Alright. He could handle this.

“Teomitl.” I missed you. “It’s been a while.”

Teomitl couldn’t quite turn crimson, but he looked like he wanted to. It made something in Acatl’s chest twinge. “It has been. I...the fruit is for you.”

He’d known that, but hearing it confirmed was touching all the same. He risked meeting Teomitl’s eyes and saw in them a tenderness that made him smile back. “I do eat, you know.”

“Not enough,” Teomitl huffed, before flashing him a sweet smile. “And you like these.”

“Now you sound like my sister.”

“...Your sister is very wise.”

The entrance curtain jingled as they went inside. Aside from their breathing, it was the only sound for a long moment as Acatl tried to think what in the Fifth World could have brought Teomitl there today. As happy as he was to see him bright and regal and alive, lounging on the mat as though it was his house and not Acatl’s—a thought that made his face heat up, as his treacherous mind conjured an image of coming home to find Teomitl sprawled out on his sleeping mat waiting for him—not knowing why Teomitl had decided to show up with an extravagant fruit basket and a warm look itched at him.

Teomitl started cutting up a pineapple, and Acatl found his thoughts scattering as his gaze drifted to Teomitl’s hands on the knife. He really did have wonderful hands, he mused. Strong and long-fingered, touched here and there by faint scars and bearing the calluses that only came from wielding a macuahuitl—and yet, for all that, they’d always been gentle when they touched his skin. He wondered how those hands would feel—no. No. With an effort, he wrenched his mind away from that line of thought. He’s not for me to want.

“Here.” Pineapple juice glistened on Teomitl’s dark skin as he held out a slice, and Acatl swallowed unconsciously at the look on his face—open, encouraging, guileless.

He took the fruit and ate it just to have something to do that wasn’t staring. It was just-ripe and so sweet it almost hurt his teeth, but it was better than sitting there fantasizing about his former student. His brother-in-law, gods, he didn’t even want to think about how Mihmatini would feel if she knew. He had to break the silence between them. “You...came here just to bring me food? Or did something happen?” Duality, he thought, don’t tell me… “Is Mihmatini alright? I haven’t seen her very much lately.”

Teomitl fidgeted with the edge of his cloak, which—now that Acatl was looking—he saw was embroidered with jaguars chasing deer. The sun gilded the thread, glinted fire off the rings on his fingers. “She’s fine—just busy, still dealing with the plague. She sends her love. I came to tell you that I...about that incident after the coronation war…”

He couldn’t help but sigh. “If you’re about to apologize again—“

Teomitl was silent. Acatl saw by his face that he had been about to say something along those lines, and shook his head decisively. If you’re going to be like that, then I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago. Something, in fact, he’d wanted to do since realizing Teomitl’s hair was growing out, thick and black and fluffy.

He reached out and ruffled it. Hard.

Teomitl froze for a moment, eyes wide, and then jerked his head back; for a split second he looked deeply offended, and then he caught Acatl’s eye and burst out laughing. “Acatl-tzin, you—really—“

Acatl unsuccessfully fought the urge to grin at him. “You’ve already told me you’re sorry. Unless you’ve done something else?” He might have, a paranoid part of his mind whispered. He gave it a firm mental kick.

He stalled for time with a slice of pineapple, but Acatl knew by the look on his face that, whatever he had come for, it wasn’t politics or a danger to the Fifth World. “Last night,” he began hesitantly, “I dreamt that I was Revered Speaker, and everyone bowed to me. Everyone except you.”

A chill slid down his spine. “Teomitl—“

Teomitl kept talking over him. “You were in the back, in all your regalia—you looked incredible, you always do—and you wouldn’t move, or take off your sandals, and you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t even look at me. Whatever I’d done, you didn’t even want to associate with me. That was bad enough, but then…” His voice lowered, until Acatl had to strain to hear him. “We were in that courtyard, and I watched myself kill you. And I could do nothing.” The smile that twisted his lips had nothing in common with joy. “Mihmatini took care of avenging you, though.”

He breathed in. It was all he could do. His chest ached with it.

“I...I don’t ever want any of that to happen, Acatl. You mean too much to me.”

“I…” Words seemed to have failed him. Where he’d been cold before, now his skin felt like it was on fire, his heart racing. He wiped his hands on his thighs, which didn’t help. I mean too much to him. He thinks I look incredible. “Teomitl, what are you saying?”

“...I said, once, that you weren’t mine.” Teomitl met his eyes, fierce as an eagle, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat. “I won’t apologize for that.”

He dug his nails into his skin. The pain grounded him. “Alright…?” Just tell me, damn you. Tell me so I know whether to die or not.

“But.” Teomitl swallowed visibly, dropping his gaze to the floor—but his hand came to rest on the table, an open invitation. A shaft of sunlight fell across it. “I want to be yours.”

Oh. Oh. For a small eternity, Acatl’s mind went blank. He wants—he wants me. Me. The thought was dizzying; all the times Teomitl had bandaged his wounds, guarded him while he slept, stood jade-carved and terrible between him and destruction were engraved in his memories. And too, there were the times Teomitl had stretched like a young jaguar, or smiled so sweetly at him, or had let a touch linger a bit too long, and he’d felt desire simmer so close to the surface that he’d had to withdraw for his own sanity. And now Teomitl had come to him, and he…

The sweetness of the fruit he’d just eaten almost made him gag, now. “Teomitl. Does Mihmatini know?”

Teomitl made a noise of pure embarrassment, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told her. She was the one that encouraged—she told me that she wasn’t in love with me, and that you...might…as one man to another...”

For the second time that afternoon, Acatl felt like he’d been plunged into icy waters. Duality curse me. “I never meant to.” For a whole host of reasons, all of which had seemed vitally important—Teomitl was so much younger than him, he was so clearly interested in Mihmatini, he was the brother of the Revered Speaker, there were customs even if the vow of celibacy only strictly applied to men with women.

None of those reasons seemed particularly important now, with Teomitl staring at him with dawning hope in his eyes. “You mean you—“

“Mihmatini is right.”

There. It was out in the open, and the gods hadn’t felt moved to strike him down. But Teomitl seemed to have frozen, so he finally curled his fingers around his offered hand and added, “I love you,” just in case.

Teomitl came perilously close to knocking the table over as he moved; Acatl had a moment to think oh, yes before strong arms hauled him into an enthusiastic, slightly messy kiss. He couldn’t stop the noise that escaped him; before Teomitl could think it was a displeased one, he grabbed his waist with one hand to keep him close and buried the other in his hair. Teomitl’s hands wound up in his hair as though they’d been made for it; when Acatl parted his lips, Teomitl’s fingers tightened as he deepened their kiss and oh, that was his tongue, gods…

By the time they broke apart, they were both breathing hard. Acatl could feel Teomitl’s heartbeat thundering in his chest, and the way his eyes shone as he looked down at him—he’d wound up more or less in Acatl’s lap, which was a new and thrilling sensation—sent sparks up his spine. His voice was rough. “You really are incredible.”

His face felt hot, and he availed himself of the opportunity to tuck it into Teomitl’s throat. Judging by the little sound Teomitl made, he liked that; Acatl filed that away for later as he asked, “What...what do you want to do now?” What are we? What should I do now?

“Whatever you want.”

Fingers carded gently through Acatl’s hair, and he felt like he could breathe again. Despite himself, he smiled; just like Teomitl, to cut straight to the heart of the matter. He lifted his head to look at him, really look at him—lips swollen from kisses, eyes heated and adoring, golden light limning his hair and earrings. You don’t need the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown yet. Just like this, you’re already perfect. He only hesitated a breath before voicing his desires.

“I want to kiss you again.”

They got around to eating the rest of the fruit, eventually.

Coda:

The sun was setting, and Acatl had never been so happy. He was laying out on the temple platform, stone warm from the sun, with a belly full of delicious food and his head in Teomitl's lap. I love you, he thought drowsily.

One of Teomitl's hands was still busy in his hair--he'd decided that he simply had to play with it soon after it had been freshly washed, confessing to him that it had been his most striking feature the first time they'd met, and Acatl had never been so glad he combed his hair regularly--but the other pressed gently against his lips, bearing a cube of fresh fruit. "Eat."

"I don't need to be hand-fed," he breathed against Teomitl's fingers, but took it anyway and was deeply gratified to feel him tremble. The discovery that Teomitl was deeply fond of spoiling him had been...interesting.

Soon--too soon for his liking, really--Teomitl had him sit up, and showed him the fruits of his handwork.

Hidden under his hair, there was now a single thin braid. "Do you like it?"

Acatl gazed at him—golden, warm, regal. Adoring and adored. "I love it."

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #mihmatini #teocatl #paladin writes stuff

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jemwolf · 5 years ago

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Guardian

Soooo here’s a little Devil’s Nest!Sev oneshot that would not leave my brain! (Devil’s Nest Sev is the one with little wings and an automail leg who was taken in by Greed’s crew just in case ya' forgot!)

Will I continue this?? Idk maybe? Will I draw more scenes from this?? It's very likely.

tw for child abuse

The uneven sound of someone with automail walking around could be heard in Dublith one night. One of the chimeras from The Devil’s Nest was taking advantage of the darkness to take a stroll outside. This chimera wasn’t quite like the rest, however, this one walked comfortably on all fours and had a much more animal appearance than human.

It was Sev herself, happy to finally be given some time to herself. It was late enough at night that she could comfortably walk where she pleased without worry of anyone being awake to see her... or so she thought.

She padded around, humming softly to herself. Other than her own voice, the only other sound was the quiet tap, tap, tap, clank of her footsteps on the stone roads.

The little chimera had been thinking that perhaps she’d been out long enough and started to turn back towards the bar when she heard something unusual. Her ears twitched up and she stopped to listen better.

Voices. A man and a woman, from the sounds of it... they didn’t sound happy. Sev made to slink into an alley and head back to The Devil’s Nest when her sensitive ears picked up another sound. Crying. A child’s crying. Pleading, apologizing.

Her hackles raised as logic and instinct started arguing with each other in her head. Whatever the agreement they came to, Sev found herself running towards the voices.

With her speed, she got there in no time at all, just in time to see a woman raise her hand to strike a child, curses and insults on her and the accompanying man’s lips.

That simply would not stand.

With a noise akin to a barking laugh, the chimera made her presence known, launching herself towards the couple and the kid.

Startled, the humans looked over. In the dark, with only a few dim street lamps, the adults panicked at the sight of some creature laughing and making a break for them.

Sev threw herself between the adults and the child with a growl, long tail lashing and hackles raised as far as they would go, wings raised and feathers fluffed, eyes reflecting bright red in the small amount of light they caught.

The couple hesitated for only a moment, glancing at the child before apparently deciding they weren’t worth it and running.

Sev stood her ground until she was certain they weren’t coming back. Only then did she relax her stance and allow her fur to lie flat again. She turned to look over her shoulder at the kid.

He was still crying, and looked terrified, but he was sitting on the ground, clutching his leg with one hand and trying to wipe away tears with the other.

She backed away a couple of steps and sat down, curling her tail around her paws and lowering her head to appear non-threatening. Her nose twitched. She smelled blood. Sev had to bite back another angry growl at that realization.

“A-are you g-gonna hurt me t-too?” The kid whimpered.

Sev blinked almost comically shocked, and layed down to appear even less threatening.

“No,” she said, “Protect.”

“P-Protect...?” the kid echoed; he was still young enough that an animal talking seemed a perfectly reasonable thing.

Sev nodded, “I protect.”

The kid sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, “Are y-you an angel?”

Sev’s ears twitched in surprise and her small wings fluttered as she chuckled softly, “Don’t think so... You have name?”

The boy sniffled again and nodded, “I’m Walter...”

“Walter,” the chimera repeated, and she lifted a forepaw to her chest to gesture to herself, “Sev.”

“It’s n-nice to m-meet you, Sev,” Walter said.

Sev nodded a little at the greeting and scooted closer to the kid, “You hurt. Walk?”

He shook his head and his lip trembled, “My l-leg...”

Sev whined sympathetically and inched closer again to sniff at his leg. There was a big gash in it and Sev’s ears went back a bit before she softly licked the wound to clean it as best she knew how. Once it was as clean as she could get it, she licked the salty tears from Walter’s cheeks, making him giggle ever so slightly despite how much he hurt.

“We’ll stay. Friends will find me,” Sev told him before curling herself protectively around him.

He sniffled once again and nodded as he gently stroked her head, “Ok...”

Sev sighed and purred ever-so-slightly. Now they would wait.

“Hey, has Sev come back yet?”

Martel looked up at Dolcetto from the card game she was playing with a couple other chimeras, “I haven’t seen her. I’m sure she’s fine though.”

Dolcetto frowned, “She’s been gone a few hours now; I wouldn’t usually be concerned, but it’s almost time for sunrise and she knows better than to stay out in the daytime.”

Martel set down her cards and sat up slightly, “You think she’s in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m starting to get concerned.”

The snake chimera sighed and nodded, scooting her chair back and standing up, “Alright. Let’s go find her then.”

“Thanks Martel.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she pointed at the chimeras she’d been playing with, “I don’t trust you guys not to cheat while I’m gone, so I want you to know I was going to win anyways.”

She flipped over the cards she’d set on the table, revealing a royal flush. Martel and Dolcetto left the bar at the sound of their complaints.

Dolcetto followed Sev’s scent through the streets, quietly aware of the slowly lightening sky.

Martel had started to look worried as well, “What do you think happened?” she asked after it had been silent for a while.

“I don’t know,” Dolcetto replied, “but she wouldn’t stay out without good reason.”

They continued to follow the trail through Dublith.

“Scent’s getting stronger,” Dolcetto paused and took a couple hard sniffs, “...I smell blood.”

He and Martel looked at each other in worry before hurrying up in their search.

Despite how she looked and what she’d been through, Sev was still very much a kid. If she’d gotten hurt, there were going to be dire consequences for whatever caused it.

They turned another corner and they saw Sev. She was curled up around something, but she didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“Sev?” Dolcetto called softly.

Sev’s ears perked up and she lifted her head, “’Cetto! Martel!”

Though she’d greeted them, she didn’t get up. Dolcetto and Martel glanced at each other again before making their way over to her. Upon seeing a kid leaning on her shoulder, they both blinked in surprise.

“What uh... What’cha got there, Sev?” Martel asked.

“Walter,” she responded, “They hurt him. Help?”

They looked at the shivering kid. He didn’t look too good. Walter couldn’t have been older than six or seven, and he was covered in bruises and scrapes, not to mention that gash in his leg…

“Was sleepy,” Sev continued, “Won’t wake up.”

Martel frowned and crouched down beside her, “Sev... I don’t think-“

“We can try, can’t we?” Dolcetto interrupted, “I mean... he’s still breathing...”

The snake chimera gave him a Look, but at the sight of Sev’s hopeful gaze, she sighed and relented.

“Alright, we can try,” she gave a serious look to both Sev and Dolcetto, “but understand that there might not be anything we can do, okay?”

Sev whimpered, but nodded and carefully uncurled herself from around Walter.

Dolcetto stooped down to pick up the kid, and then the four of them made their way back to the bar.

#Devil's Nest #fma #martel #dolcetto #Fullmetal Alchemist #fanfic #oneshot #chimera #sev the chimera #humanity fanfic #sorta #//abuse #//child abuse #oc #jemwolf's art

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witchymarvelspacecase · 6 years ago

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Spread Your Wings: Pt. 10: Turbulence Ahead

Summary: Reader is a HYDRA experiment (like the Maximoffs, but not voluntary) who grows wings (like Angel from X-Men). She escapes, and is now trying to rescue and prevent further kidnappings and experiments.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Mostly, nothing. Some fluff, discovery of feelings, and a little bit of a cliffhanger at the end

A/N: Send all the love to the bestest best person ever: @writingwithadinosaur

Spread Your Wings Masterlist

You woke early the next morning. You didn’t tend to sleep well after a nightmare, usually giving up on sleep entirely. Having not been around the compound much in the few days you’d stayed, you weren’t sure about the team’s schedules, but you wanted to try and do something for them. Breakfast seemed like a good idea. Assuming they did that sort of thing. No matter how many times Bucky told you that you weren’t bothering the team, you really had a hard time believing it was true. As such, you figured the least you could do was attempt to make breakfast. Nothing fancy, you weren’t all that skilled or anything, but you were good at a few things.

The kitchen was a little daunting; all the shiny appliances, and tools were way beyond what you were used to using. At least the space was large, since your wings were going to be out for the duration. You carefully maneuvered through the space, pulling out the ingredients and supplies you would need. After a few minutes of trying, you caved and asked FRIDAY for help with the oven and stove. She and HERMES helped you use the appliances and time all your cooking properly. You were fairly certain it was the smell of bacon and coffee that had the entire team out of their rooms, but when they all piled their pates full of food and were making happy noises while they ate, you just smiled.

The breakfast casserole you made wasn’t difficult to throw together, nor were the biscuits and bacon, but every team member seemed shocked when they realized you’d been the cook.

“So, who woke up early and cooked?” Sam asked

“And why?” Natasha added. “Anyone feeling guilty for something?”

Feeling embarrassed, you said, “I cooked.” When everyone turned to you, with shock on their faces, you looked down. “I just-- I was already awake, and I figured I could do something to make up for the trouble I’ve caused so-“

“You haven’t caused any trouble,” Bucky said, sounding a little exasperated, but before he could continue, Tony interrupted.

“But, if this is how you apologize for making trouble, please feel free to make all the trouble you like.”

“I’d be careful making a statement like that, Stark,” Clint said with a grin. “Y/N and I haven’t had a lot of time together yet, but I think she and I could cause more trouble than you could handle.”

That had everyone laughing, you smiled, not totally sure whether or not you should be laughing; breakfast went by in a happy blur after that.

When you started to head back into the kitchen, Wanda and Vision cut you off. They insisted that since you had cooked, they would clean. Though you were confused, you allowed yourself to be ushered out of the kitchen. Then you were left wondering what to do with yourself, but that only lasted a few moments.

Natasha appeared at your shoulder and pulled you with her to the gym. You wouldn’t be able to do anything strenuous since your wings were still healing, but Natasha insisted that yoga would do you some good. You’d done very little yoga before, since it wasn’t exactly on HYDRA’s training priority list. It mostly looked like fancy stretches, but once you were doing it, you were sweating and your muscles were aching.

“This is a hell of a lot harder than it looks,” you panted, trying to hold a tree pose that had gone wobbly.

Natasha chuckled, “It takes practice, and even then some people just aren’t built for it. But I think, after a while, your body is gonna protest not being used. This is the most low impact thing I could think of, short of swimming. I figured that would be problematic with your wings.”

“Actually, I can swim with them. It’s not pretty, but I can do it.” HYDRA couldn’t have their Angel stymied by a lake or river after all. “The wings are mostly buoyant, and the feathers are pretty waterproof, so they don’t drag me down. I like swimming without them, but I can make do with them as well.”

Natasha nodded her head approvingly and lead you through several more poses, until you felt like your body would give out. You didn’t stop, and you didn’t say anything, but you were in pain. You controlled your breathing and fought through, but tears were prickling the corners of your eyes. Natasha was still moving, so you would move.

Show no weakness. Weakness gets you killed. Weakness gets you tortured. Lessons that you’d learned the hard way in the halls of HYDRA were still loud in your mind. So loud in fact that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. You didn’t notice that Natasha had moved until your felt her push you, knocking you out of your pose and onto your ass.

“What are you doing? Do you want to hurt yourself?” she shouted. You were disoriented and breathing heavily. You couldn’t figure out why she was yelling.

“What are you-”

“You were going to pull a muscle holding a pose too long!”

“But, you were-”

“Yes, I was. However, I am used to doing this. My body is used to this. Yours is not. You’re already injured, why would you keep-” She paused. Shaking her head a little she spoke again. “You don’t need to push through things if they’re hurting you. This isn’t HYDRA.”

“I wasn’t- I mean, I don’t think you are. I guess I just don’t know…”

“When to stop,” Natasha supplied, moving to sit next to you on the floor. “It’ll take adjusting to; being in a place where we you aren’t tortured.” She spoke with the voice of experience. You didn’t know her whole story, you doubted anyone did, maybe not even her, but she did understand.

That was the moment when Bucky, Steve, and Sam entered the gym. You could feel questions in their gazes, but none of them said a word. Simple nods of acknowledgement were exchanged, and then light conversation began. Individual routines were started and finished, and then sparring began.

You were not allowed to join, even though you asked. You promised to keep your movements slow, but Natasha shot you down regardless of your reasons. Which left you sitting on the sidelines watching as she and Steve faced off. It was amazing to watch. The two of them were so athletic, their movements so fast. They had no fear of hurting one another, knowing each other to such a degree that they were attuned to the other’s movements. You were almost in awe of them as Bucky sat next to you.

“Every time he does this, all I can think of is how he used to get into all those ridiculous fights when we were younger. He was so small, and sick all the time, but he would fight anyone. It was like he was looking for excuses to fight,” he said with a smile.

“He’s not very small now, and I don’t think he can get sick,” you replied.

“New look, same attitude,” Bucky grumbled, causing you to laugh. It startled Bucky. He was fairly certain he hadn’t heard you laugh before.

He’d only known you for about a week, but he’d never heard you laugh before that moment. It immediately became his favorite sound. One that he wanted to draw from you again and again.

That was a new feeling. Even since he’d been with the Avengers, since breaking the HYDRA conditioning, Bucky hadn’t really had feelings, beyond the team. He cared for his teammates, he cared for Steve on a deeper level than most, but this wasn’t the same. Something that Steve, Sam, Clint, and Tony had been sure to point out just a little while ago.

As soon as Y/N and Natasha were out of ear shot, all remaining members of the team fell on Bucky.

“What?” Bucky had asked, uncomfortable with everyone in his personal space all of a sudden.

“Don’t give me that, Tin Man,” Sam said, “You know ‘what’.”

“No, I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked, Bird Boy.”

“Wilson is referring to the tension between you and our new feathered friend,” Tony said as he moved to sit across from Bucky at the table. When Bucky scowled, he continued, “I know you’re old, and have probably still got some ice crystals in your brain, but I refuse to believe you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I don’t.” Bucky was feeling defensive. “Tension” implied that something was wrong, that he and Y/N weren’t getting along. He’d thought they were doing well, or he’d hoped they had been. Now he was worried. “What tension? Is she mad at me?”

“Not that kind of tension, Barnes,” Clint supplied, patting Bucky’s shoulder as he passed him, moving to sit a few chairs down.

Bucky was still confused when Sam spoke up.

“Let’s try comin’ at this a different way. How do you feel about her”

“What’d’ya mean? I like spending time with her. She’s honest, and kind. She’s been through some similar shit, so we understand each other.”

“Didn’t answer my question though,” Sam said, meeting Bucky’s gaze directly. “How do you feel when she’s around?”

“I feel… calm. Relaxed. Like I can take a deep breath, and my mind is clear.”

“You feel comfortable around her?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, warily.

“What about when she’s not around?” Steve asked.

“I worry about her, I guess. Same as any of you idiots. If I can’t see you, who knows what kind of shit you’ll get up to.”

“But you’ve only known her a week, Barnes,” Clint said. “It took you months to give even half a shit about most of the team.”

“True, true. In a week, you care a lot more about Y/N than you did about any of us,” Tony nodded.

Bucky wanted to argue, but found that he couldn’t. They weren’t wrong; it had taken him a lot more time to develop any kind of relationship with the Avengers than it had with Y/N.

“The situations were pretty different, but I have to agree,” Wanda entered the room, and stood beside Clint’s chair. “The question is ‘why’. Why would you become attached to Y/N so quickly?”

At this point, Bucky knew where the questions were aiming, but he would be damned if he were going to say what they wanted him to.

“Cause she’s like me. We understand each other. No one else here has the same background as me, but her’s is the closest, so it makes sense we would be close.” Bucky’s reasoning was sound. He’d spoken in a calm, rational tone. It was a pretty reasonable statement, even if it was complete bullshit.

He cared about Y/N. More so than most of his teammates. Yes, some of that was due to their shared experiences. He hadn’t been lying when he said they shared an understanding that no one else did, but his feelings weren’t limited to that.

She defended children she’d never met, people she didn’t know. She protected people to whom she owed nothing. She stood in front of bullets for them. She’d risked incredibly painful seizures to help Tony with his suit. She taken countless knives and blows to protect the compound and Clint and Bruce when she’d know them only a few days.

She’d wrapped Bucky in her wings to protect him on the roof. She had willingly exposed her weakest point, to protect a man who she barely knew. Who, up until a day before, she had only known as the Winter Soldier.

Yes, he cared for her. He liked her. He wouldn’t say he loved her, he couldn’t know that yet, but a part of him wanted to say it. It certainly felt like love.

Bucky had been zoned out for a moment, in his head. When he came back, all eyes were on him again. And everyone had an odd expression on their faces.

Clint’s expression was especially ridiculous. Bucky was pretty sure this was what Shuri had called “heart eyes”. He sorta wanted to slap him, but chose not to.

Then he was sitting there, on the gym floor, watching Steve and Natasha spar, and listening to you laugh. A smile crossed his face. He didn’t say anything aloud, but in his head the team’s words from earlier circled around. Maybe he could say he loved you already…

“Hey,” Sam called from the door, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

...

With everyone gathered in the conference room, Tony pulled up a display of several files, and began explaining what was on them.

“Wait,” you said, slightly confused. “I thought you said the mission was a fake.”

“It was, but you didn’t think I went into a HYDRA facility and came out empty handed, did you?” Natasha grinned. You smiled back. You had actually assumed that, silly of you.

As Tony talked, you looked at the files displayed in front of you. Several flipped by before you stopped him.

“I know that code.”

“What code?” Steve asked coming to stand behind where you were seated at the table.

“That sting of numbers up at the top left,” you said, pointing to the numbers.

“I assumed that was a case number or something,” Tony said, enlarging the file.

“Kinda, the last 4 are an agent number, the first 2 are a location, the 6 in the middle are a date.”

“Okay, so which agent, went on what mission for HYDRA in Russia, in April, two years ago,” Natasha asked

“I did. I was sent on a recon mission, and it went badly. Really badly.”

Avengers Perma Tags (Open): @ldyhawkeye , @gonnadiereading

Bucky/Sebastian Tags (Open): @waywardpumpkin, @smileybear17, @not-sebastian-stan

Perma Tags (Open): @buckyappreciationsociety , @17marvelousfreak , @melconnor2007 , @writingwithadinosaur , @whenallsaidanddone , @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt , @umwhatandrea , @pineapplebooboo , @thefridgeismybestie , @xlemon-limex , @sammysgirl1997 , @4theluvofall , @geeksareunique @madcheshire89 , @shakzer00 , @ajimagines , @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun , @mummy-woves-you , @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for , @strangersstranger , @dreams-of-feysand

SYW tags (Open): @captainalinjastars, @purplekitten30, @afternoondeelites, @laurapigen1, @ipaintmelodies, @ultrawholockedunicorn, @yukatono1, @buckybear97, @katykyll, @queendarkmuffin, @ioannalantzou, @salamander-falls, @supernatural-girl97, @221bshrlocked, @mypandabuddy311, @littlepartofheaven, @originalpottervengerlock, @elaacreditava, @marveloussupernatural, @ainsleyflyingflynn, @imsunnysu, @littlewriter55 , @klanceiscannon14 @castiels-sunflowers, @lilmissperfectlyimperfect, @sorenmarie87, @nickyquinnwrites, @hellzzzbelle, @book-of-blue004, @shirukitsune, @roxytheimmortal, @doewhisper-of-windclan, @klanceiscannon14, @marshmallow-world, @goth-pigeon, @eminem-owns-my-asshole, @unknownuserhasjoined @kaleenjackson , @fairislesheets , @mscoloneldanvers , @rootcrop , @jasura

#syw #Spread Your Wings #Bucky Barnes #bucky x mutant!reader

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grimmseye · 7 years ago

Text

and he sees eight

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Relationships: Angus McDonald & Taako

Characters: Angus McDonald, Taako

Other Tags: Tattoos, Found Family, Taako is Sentimental

(Read on Ao3)

— — — —

Taako has a tattoo of six birds on his hip.

They survived the end of the world just over one month prior. Taako is wearing a baby blue crop-top, even though it's cold outside. It's long-sleeved and hangs above his belly-button, and that's when Angus sees them.

The truth is that he's seen it before, but before his eyes always slid away before it could register, the memory always blurring over in his brain as the voidfish's influence will do. Now he sees six birds in flight, their wings outstretched, soaring across the plane of Taako's skin and triumphant in their splendor.

It feels like they mean something — but this is Taako, so he can only begin to imagine what.

They’re seated on the couch when he sees this, in the common room shared between him and Magnus and Merle. Their wands are on the table, Taako's feet propper up there as well. Angus is content to curl up on the couch, close to Taako but not quite touching.

It's a familiar scene. The artificial moon will not be home forever, but it was the first he’s had in a long time, and for now he’s happy with that.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo, sir,” Is what Angus says, both an observation and an inquiry. Taako glances down to where he’s pointing, looks confused for a moment and then — something. Something he’s seen before but cannot name, a softening of the features, a dim light in his eyes.

“You thinking of getting one?” He asks, phrased seriously but with a teasing crook to his mouth. “Cause I’m not your legal guardian but I’m sure they won’t say no if I sign off for you.”

And Angus huffs a small laugh. “No, not for me. I'm still just a kid." He's never thought about it before. Getting a permanent mark on the body, something that couldn't just be erased. He's certain Taako could find a way, but he's also certain Taako wouldn't need to. This isn't the sort of thing he would do so carelessly. "Does it mean something?”

He’s not really expecting a straight answer. It’s not Taako’s way to be sincere; everything is roundabouts and diversions with him. In a way, Angus likes it. He likes that he’s had to work to figure him out, that everything he knows is an achievement to take pride in. In another way, he hates it, because Angus loves to know and more than that he loves to be certain and the thing about Taako is that almost nothing about him is ever certain at all.

But Taako considers his answer, and then he says, “Yeah. It’s, uh. Pretty important to me.”

“Oh,” Angus says. Then, “Okay. Will you tell me what it means?”

“Nope!” He pops the ‘p’ and smirks. Predictable, again: it’s equal parts familiar and disappointing.

" But…” And here Taako pauses. He bites his lip, drums fingers on his knee. Then he grins, and he says, “But, I bet you can figure it out, boychik. Why don’t you tell me?”

And that's something that piques his interest. “Like a puzzle, sir?” Angus’s voice comes out eager.

“I guess so.” Taako puffs out a breath, smiles, and drops a hand into his hair to make Angus’s head bob under its weight.

And. Well. There's not much Angus loves more than solving a good puzzle.

Six birds.

The albatross heads their flight with valiant glory.

A dove twirls with a jay in a skybound embrace.

The eagle has his wings outstretched, a shield for them all.

Below soars the owl, wide and watchful eyes.

The finch takes the tail, small but mighty, unassuming in her grace.

“Oh,” Angus says, and his voice is soft. “Well, two of them are easy.”

His fingers trace the birds that frame the image, the one above and the one below. The eagle and the owl.

Magnus is a fighter, and even before that he is their shield. Loss did not make him brave, but love did. The eagle has its wings outstretched to guard them in its shadow, a willing target if it meant protecting those in its wake.

He smiles as he looks to the owl. “You know that owls aren’t actually very intelligent,” he said, a laugh in his voice.

“Yeah, I know,” Taako lilts back.

Angus snorts. “Merle doesn’t, though.”

“Doubt it.”

Owls are symbols, though. And perhaps, in the end, it's still fitting. Merle does not often dish out advice — at least, not any worth following. There are moments of sobriety, though, that make him pause. Beneath a gruff exterior was someone who felt love deep in his heart.

The others take him a moment. “The jay is Barry, right?” He ventures. “Because it’s… blue?” He tips his head, considering. He thinks that Taako probably would be the type to use such shallow symbolism. It doesn't fit, though. The others are thoughtful, and Taako is always a stickler for matching sets.

Taako makes a buzzing noise. “Incorrect-o-mundo,” he declares, shaking his head. “Well, about the second bit. You're right about it being Barry."

Angus doesn’t know enough about birds to form a proper theory.For now, he has to move on to the next, the dove.

“This one is Lup,” he says, and he’s certain of that. “Peace and love, right? That, uh. That doesn’t…”

“Sound like my sister?” Taako finishes the thought for him. “Yeah, you’re right. I probably should have gone with a phoenix or some shit.”

Angus ponders it for a moment. Lup is fire incarnate. He met her in a blaze of glory, scarlet robes wound about the manifestation of her soul as her passion and fury seared their foes to less than ash. She radiated power and inspired awe, but in that moment, taking in the powers of a lich, a soul infused with wrath and magic, Angus had never seen Taako appear so complete.

“No,” Angus muses, “I actually think it fits.”

The albatross only takes a second. The bird that carries voyagers to safety, to shoot it down spells a curse. Captain Davenport had lead his family for one hundred years and then further, to the end of the world and through it. He doesn't know the man well, but they all know his story.

Angus knows, objectively, that the finch must be the Director. Lucretia, he reminds himself, she insists he calls her that now. Her bird lags faintly behind the flock, its wings bent down in a powerful stroke to keep pace with the others. Small, but strong. Plain, but fierce. Taako is quiet as Angus explains, a distant shadow in his eyes.

Theirs was the damaged bond. The birds had been inked here before he forgot, and Angus wonders what it might have looked like after, instead.

“You got them all,” Taako tells him, maybe even sounding proud. “But you’re still missing a piece. Come back when it’s complete, boyo.”

So Angus takes up a book on jays. Gorgeous birds, with plumage that shines. Resilient, and determined. They mate for life, he learns, and that tidbit makes him smile as he remembers the dove.

In a year’s time, Angus looks to the birds on Taako’s hip, and he sees eight instead of six.

Before that, he sees that the dove’s feathers have been tinted red, embers falling from the tips of her wings. Stars have joined them, now, so that they are gliding between glittering diamonds.

Two have joined the flock. They are not in flight, do not appear to soar with the rest. The crow’s wings are angled down, beak in a peaceful tilt. It's inked differently: while the first designs were crafted with solid lines, this one appears to be painted on. Strokes of blue shine against the black, which bleeds across his skin into an ebony sky.

“Mister Kravitz must have been happy,” he notes, and Taako only hums. “I’m not sure who this one is for, though?”

He pokes the last one. A hummingbird, emerald and sapphire, it’s the smallest of the bunch. The wings become a watercolor blur that meld into the black trailing from the feathers of the crow, like ink mixing in a pool.

“You really can't figure it out?” Taako prompts. “How much do you know about hummingbirds?”

“Not much,” Angus admits. “I’m surprised you do.”

That earns him a snort and a flick on the forehead. “Okay, well, listen up, kiddo." He straightens, gives his pot a stir. "These little fuckers are a pain. They’re tiny but they’re not afraid to go after something big. Can do some wild stuff, too — pretty sure there aren’t any other birds that can fly backwards.”

“Hovering, too,” Angus adds, and Taako is quick to agree. It’s strange, though, because he doesn’t look quite so mischievous now. There had been a glint in his eyes when Angus named the rest, but here he’s avoiding his gaze. His ears are twitching, something Angus has learned to recognize as a sign of nerves, the way he himself might fiddle with his glasses or Magnus would wring his hands.

“It sounds like whoever it is must be pretty impressive,” Angus finally says.

And Taako gives a huff. “Don’t get a big head, kid.”

He’s still not looking at him.

Angus waits a beat, gauging his reaction. “I’m… not sure what you mean, sir?” He cocks his head. “As far as I know, that’s everyone you’re close to. Maybe Miss Ren, but it doesn’t seem to fit her.” He sorts through the names and the faces he knows, how he’s seen Taako smile around them — the smirk or the sneer or the grin that’s too wide and too perfect. Only a handful get the real thing, the crinkling eyes and the soft, slow, delighted draw of his lips around affection.

It’s the smile Taako is wearing right now, his eyes flickering to Angus and then away again. He swears there’s fondness in there.

“Oh,” Angus says.

“You really deduced the shit out of that one,” Taako smirks, ruffling his hair. And Angus is a little bit embarrassed because letting emotional bias get in the way of objective fact is a rookie mistake for a detective of his caliber. His eyes burn a little bit and he draws in a breath that’s too sharp as he smiles and bobs his head.

“Okay,” he says, voice high and raspy. “I believe I've solved your puzzle, sir.”

“You sure did, hummingbird,” Taako says. He turns back to the pot on the stove to adjust the flame, and Angus takes that moment to remove his glasses and wipe his eyes.

Taako is more sentimental than he would ever admit. He’s the one that gave Angus this puzzle, though. He’s the one that gave him the key.

#angus mcdonald #taako #the adventure zone #taz #my writing #magic boys

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adelmortescryche · 7 years ago

Text

Like the Whisper of Wings (Sparking a Deluge)

Author: Adel Mortescryche

Rating: T

Pairing: Hibari Kyouya/Yamamoto Takeshi, Hibari Kyoya & Sawada Tsunayoshi & Yamamoto Takeshi, Giotto & Sawada Tsunayoshi

Prompt: Mythology

Tags/Warnings: None

Summary:

When Takeshi is approached by Gokudera Hayato with a dragon cub, he definitely doesn't expect how complicated his life is going to get.

(Or: That one in which Takeshi helps raise a dragon!Tsuna, collides with the Tengu living higher up in the mountains, proceeds to fall for their heir, and needs to deal with his cub deciding that humans make for good company, going against anything Takeshi thought was a good idea.)

AO3 Link: Here.

My Masterlist: Here.

AN: Written for @khrrarepairweek 2018 - Rain Day (Day Five).

This can be read as a Standalone Entry, but it is also a prequel to my Sky Day (Day Two) entry. You can find the tumblr link to that in the entries list below and the AO3 Link Here.

Entries: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

The rustle of wings settling above him, right where the roof changes shape to accommodate the engawa appropriately, is not a surprise.

“Your dragon-cub,” murmured the voice of the man above him, tone silken and lethal, “is befriending gaijin.”

Takeshi laughed, even when he wanted to sigh. It earned him a foot aimed at his head, which he dodged, and he held up the pot he’d prepared beforehand for perusal.

The tengu1 paused in his attack, feathers bristling. But the smell of the tea was apparently adequately cultured enough that Kyoya was willing to let the matter go, for now. As Takeshi knew he would. For all that the Hibari was notoriously temperamental and just as liable to eviscerate you as he was to meditate over the beauty of a full moon at night, there were some things that Kyoya was very predictable in. One of those was cute animals. The other, without fail, tended to be good quality tea.

Kyoya didn’t speak again until Takeshi had them both settled and had served tea for them both, politely drinking it as was expected. Takeshi waited for the verdict, but Kyoya gave a deep sigh, gently setting his cup down instead.

“By this reaction of yours, I suppose you already knew?”

“Haha, I’ve been hearing stories, about a man with gold hair and his child of mixed blood, with orange eyes and brown hair.”

Kyoya’s claws tightened on the edge of the table, scoring the wood slightly. Takeshi cleared his throat, pointed in the sound, and Kyoya subsided with a barely discernible wince.

When Kyoya didn’t immediately speak, Takeshi carefully poured himself another cup of tea, turning away from the table so he could sit with his legs dangling over the edge of the engawa, comfortable in his own space. After a long moment, the tengu drew away from the table as well, sidling closer so he could sit beside Takeshi, his wings folded politely behind him. Takeshi smiled into his cup, but he didn’t immediately say anything, knowing for a fact over their many years of acquaintance as neighbors on the same mountain that Kyoya preferred the silence to noise, especially at night.

“If he’s picked a human form, that means he’s chosen to add this human to his hoard, is it not?” Kyoya asked quietly, and Takeshi shrugged lightly, not looking over at him.

“It’s possible. It could be that it’s because he was too young when Gokudera first found him and brought him to us; Tsuna has always had a tendency to wander, it could be that he was searching for something in particular-” Takeshi broke off when Kyoya’s wings rustled again, the tengu clearly ill at ease.

“Don’t play the fool, herbivore. He belongs away from the humans; that cub was always too curious for his own good. You should have kept him under firmer lock and key-” Kyoya paused when a low, throbbing growl erupted from Takeshi’s lips

Takeshi cleared his throat uncomfortably when Kyoya shot him a cool look. It was probably for the best that the Hibari had shown up with a specific topic to discuss, else that growl would have had a tonfa at Takeshi’s throat before he’d been able to complete it.

“He’s just a pup, I’d rather not think of him needing to be locked up, haha!” he said instead, smiling placidly when Kyoya’s shoulders tightened.

“And what if he brings his human to the mountain, sheep. What then.” Kyoya whispered, his claws digging into the wood of the engawa on either side of him. Takeshi glanced down at the scores being made into his home, and glanced back out towards the open ground before them.

“Well, we’ll handle it then, if we need to. From the rumors I’ve heard, for all that he’s a foreigner, the gold haired man means to stay. I don’t see why he can’t stay here.”

Kyoya abruptly stood up, his summer yukata rustling about him along with his wings. Takeshi just looked up at him, still smiling, and Kyoya hissed, before taking flight without another word.

In the lingering silence after, Takeshi rubbed the back of his head with a sigh, finally letting go of his smile. Well. That could have gone worse, but he’s relieved it didn’t. He pushed himself back to his feet, and quietly began clearing the tea pot and cups that had been left behind. Kyoya would be back when he was ready, as would the cub. Takeshi would wait, in the meanwhile, as he always did, patient as the land he was born of.

When Hayato first brought the cub to Takeshi’s home, the nukekubi2 had seemed absolutely enchanted with him. That by itself had endeared the cub to Takeshi, who had long grown tired of Hayato’s bad nature. The other youkai had his reasons, not the least of which was his human foreigner father and an ill mother who’d died under mysterious circumstances, but the attitude grew tiring to deal with over time.

Hayato’s cheer when caring for the cub was a delight, and Takeshi found that his laughter around the cub wasn’t even remotely forced.

“It’s because the dragon-cub is happy,” Hayato had remarked, smiling softly and untangling the cub’s still soft claws from the long tassels of his scarf. “Even without his parents, and no company that looks like him, he’s happy to have company at all. It’s an innocent joy, idiot-dog3 Maybe you should try that out some time.”

Takeshi had only laughed some more at that, because hearing Hayato lecturing him on the importance of innocent joy had been a riot.

It had been easy welcoming the cub into his home. Even when it was a child, it was easily to tell that the dragon-cub would one day grow very large in size. Takeshi’s father had the expertize to be able to tell, with how much he’d traveled. But their ancestral property had the space to spare, without being as higher up on the mountain as the tengu lands – the air was easier to breathe, for a child.

The Hibari family had not been happy, when they’d heard of the new addition to their mountain, but Takeshi and his father had always maintained good relations with their tengu neighbors, so the Head of the family was willing to let it pass, so long as the cub never strayed into their lands.

Then the cub grew strong enough to venture out on his own, and the next thing they knew, the cub had disappeared into tengu lands, curious about the upper edges of the woods that Takeshi and his dad never let him explore. And Takeshi had rushed right after him, too attached to the cub to see it killed at the hands of a vengeful tengu, of all things.

Which would be how he’d met Hibari Kyoya in real life, outside of the stories.

When Takeshi finally tracked the cub down, he was whining pathetically in a high pitched tone that had Takeshi’s ears pricking and a hand on his sheath because nothing that made his cub wail like that should be allowed to live. A split second’s pause before he came upon the cub and the Hibari menacing it managed to give Takeshi the time to remember not to draw his shapeshifting blade. Not when he and the cub were technically in the wrong.

Surprisingly enough, when he reached the tree where the cub was wailing from, climbing up revealed a tengu in his partially shifted form, clad in heavier robes for the summer and wings neatly folded behind him. One hand loosely gripped the handle of a tonfa, but the other was gently petting the soft fur that grew along the dragon-cub’s neck and back, and the tufts on the top of his head.

Now that Takeshi was close enough, he could tell that the cub wasn’t whining in distress. He all but sagged in place on the branch he was perched in, heaving for breath and in relief.

The next thing he knew, there was metal against his throat, shoving him up back against the tree trunk. Takeshi didn’t hesitate to move with it, knowing that one wrong step could having him either falling out of the tree or with a broken neck because of the tonfa. When he got a clear view of the Hibari clan member facing him, the first thing he noticed was the hard gray eyes, watching him coldly.

The cub was happily curled up in Hibari’s other arm, pressed against his chest, the traitor.

“I come in peace?” Takeshi offered with an awkward grin, lifting his hands up defensively. “I’m not trespassing on purpose, honest, I was just worried about the cub.”

“The cub,” Hibari murmured, voice cool, “made less of a menace of himself, simply playing in the shrubbery. You, on the other hand, dared to venture into our trees.”

Takeshi laughed wryly, tilting his head back a little. No go, the body of the tonfa simply followed him, the metal chilly against his throat.

“Does it help if I say that I was worried someone from your clan was punishing him for trespassing?” Takeshi asked, gaze not leaving Hibari’s own.

Evidently that had made the tengu’s hand pause in petting the cub’s fur, because he made a squeaky, whining noise of protest. Takeshi’s lips tilted up in a grin, in spite of himself, even when it made the tonfa dig harder into his throat.

“You. You’re one of the escorting dogs that took a dragonet in.”

“Takeshi of Clan Yamamoto,” Takeshi replied, agreeably enough, seeing as he was trespassing. Steely gray eyes narrowed at him, then glanced down at the cub, staring up at both of them innocently.

“This… is a dragonet?” Hibari asked incredulously, though his voice remained soft. Measured.

Takeshi laughed again, ignoring the way it made the tonfa dig into his throat.

“Yeah. We think he’s got mixed blood of some sort. The nukekubi that brought him to us for safekeeping said he stole the dragon from foreigners who planned to make a pet of it.”

“Feathered wings and these hindquarters remind me of a cat, though its skin is still mostly hide…” Hibari said lowly. “What manner of breeding made this child.”

“Beats me,” Takeshi cut in, smiling. “All I know is that he’s adorable, and loves beef, and playing in the sunlight. And he loves the sky at dawn.”

Hibari stared at him steadily for a long moment, through which Takeshi continued to smile winningly, before finally dropping his arm with an aggrieved sigh, making Takeshi sag against the truck, trying not to laugh in relief. The next thing he knew, he had an armful of dragon cub, squeaking plaintively and trying to get back to Hibari. Takeshi petted him comfortingly, transferring him to his shoulder, and directing a cautious look Hibari’s way.

“You sure this is okay? We are trespassing, like you said. You’d be well within your rights to punish us.”

Hibari rolled his eyes and glanced away, apparently already bored of them.

“Possibly. But the only trouble I see here is a pair of herbivores making noise, which I will have corrected when you leave. I am Kyoya of Clan Hibari; watch the cub. I will return to look in on it.” And with that, Hibari disappeared with a beat of his wings, moving almost too fast for Takeshi to see.

“We dodged an arrow there, pup,” Takeshi murmured to the cub, tucking it safely close to him while rushing for the ground and then away from these lands high up on the mountain. Even the trees could tell that he was unwelcome in the lands of the Hibari; the very air felt threatening if he waited in one place for too long.

The cub simply snuffled in his robes, looking for a place to duck its little head. Takeshi laughed, and pressed a hand to its nape comfortingly, making sure to watch where he was going all the while.

The day the cub finally draws his human up the mountain to Takeshi’s home, it’s more anticlimactic than he expected it to be. For one thing, the human has wide eyes and an excited smile that remind him almost sickeningly of the cub. For another, the cub is clinging to the human’s hakama and looks just as human as he does, if it weren’t for the wide orange eyes he was sporting.

“We,” Takeshi told him mildly, “Have a lot to talk about. Later.”

The cub made a crooning noise at him, smiling artlessly, and Takeshi’s heart filled with about as much dumb love as the cub usually engendered in him. It was in no way lessened by the way the gaijin spun around to stare up at him with eyes that were surprisingly just as orange as the cub’s.

“Ah! Sorry for intruding, Tsuna led me up here, I didn’t realize that this was his home!” he explained hurriedly in rough-spoken Japanese, still clearly new to the language. The fact that he was explaining himself at all meant he could actually see Takeshi. In his shifted form, not the dog or wolf he usually appeared as to humans.

The cub’s human had to be interesting, didn’t he.

“Tsuna?” Takeshi asked, curious in spite of himself. And not taking a single step down the stairs, instead standing and watching carefully to see if the human would walk any closer.

“Ah, he told me he didn’t have a name other than ‘cub’, so I named him Tsunayoshi, Tsuna for short. I hope that isn’t too much of an inconvenience?”

The man did take a step closer, but he paused immediately when Tsuna tugged on his hakama. Takeshi’s lip curled up slightly over his canines; the cub wasn’t watching the human, he was watching Takeshi.

“Giotto’s a good man,” the cub said suddenly. “He just wants a place to rest. He wants peace.”

“Does he now,” Takeshi responded, smiling sharply, a little stung in spite of himself over the mistrust. Not that it was misplaced – Takeshi might have found himself attacking an unwary human whether or not he wanted to, after all. Some instincts ran deep.

“I told him Takeshi was a good person to talk to,” Tsuna said, peering up at him beseechingly. “Takeshi has good ideas, and always smiles! I didn’t know whom else to bring Giotto to. He has people searching for him and he doesn’t want to go back.”

Takeshi blinked slowly, and glanced back at the golden haired man – Giotto. Giotto just smiled up at him awkwardly, but Takeshi could read a man’s character simply from the set of his shoulders and the unbending nature of his spine. Takeshi knew humans in a way humans simply couldn’t understand each other, and this specific human was of a rare breed.

He laughed out loud, abruptly amused.

“Haha, my cub has brought home a king. I thought it was normal for children to bring home dead animals and insects at trophies to begin with, I’m not sure what to do with you, human.”

Giotto went still, hands suddenly flaring orange as if in shock or warning, but he subsided when Tsuna growled up at him chidingly. The sound was adorable enough that Takeshi was tempted to end the impasse just so he could walk down the stairs and sweep the cub into a hug.

“I ask for shelter, for a couple nights at best, maybe a few more at worst,” Giotto asked him, serious, and Takeshi smiled, settling his weight back on his heels.

“Now we’re talking. You’re welcome in my home, human, if only because you walk beneath my roof as a friend of my ward. But I make no promises about the rest of the mountain; the cub and I have territorial neighbors, after all.”

“Thank you,” Giotto breathed, relieved, and made it a point to stay in place until the cub led him up the stairs.

“I,” hissed Kyoya later in the night, looming over Takeshi’s window sill more like a vulture than a crow, “have no idea what you think you’re doing, dog, but you will teach the dragon-cub to come to heel or I will.”

“Haha, the human’s just looking for a bit of shelter, Kyoya, no harm or foul,” Takeshi responded, pausing for a moment by his door before stepping the rest of the way in, sliding it shut. The cub and Giotto had both retired for the night, after all. And Takeshi was free to entertain other guests without having to think about them.

“And what if more humans come? Is this mountain to become a sanctuary to their kind now?” Kyoya demanded, and Takeshi paused in the process of unrolling his futon.

“No. Never. I would never do that, Hibari, of course not. My clan guards this mountain, same as yours, I wouldn’t shirk that duty just because the cub’s distracted by pretty things.” Takeshi protested, and the tengu made a clicking noise from deep in his throat.

“Pretty, is he?” Kyoya breathed, stepping all the way into the room, and Takeshi felt his throat go dry.

“In the way most transient things are, yes,” he husked, dropping the futon and turning to meet the Hibari fully when Kyoya reached out to press a hand to his neck, right where it met his shoulder.

“Pretty enough to distract you as well?” Kyoya asked him, head tilted to the side curiously, his eyes as blank and hungry as the void, as always, and Takeshi barked out a laugh.

“Definitely not.” Not anywhere as pretty and distracting as you, anyway, he thought, and didn’t dare to complete the words out loud. Not when Kyoya’s claws were close enough to rip his throat and face open.

“Hm,” Kyoya murmured thoughtfully. “Clearly distracting enough for the dragon-cub. Perhaps it’s something in the blood. Dragons do tend to hoard strange things, and the child is at the age.”

“Mmn,” Takeshi murmured back, and turned his face into the open palm at his neck, pressing his lips to it leadingly without taking his eyes off of the tengu.

Kyoya smiled slowly, clearly charmed against his will.

“Stay the night?” Takeshi offered quietly. “You could take the human to task come morning. I did warn him that he had other neighbors to contend with.”

Kyoya turned the thought over slowly in his head, clearly considering it, before tilting his head forward in the slightest of nods.

“The thought amuses me. Yes.” He said, and Takeshi grinned hungrily against his hand.

It was odd, how easy it was to fall into something of a routine. Takeshi’s dad shook his head and laughed over it, saying Takeshi had gone bird crazy, but Takeshi swore it wasn’t anything of the sort.

It was just that the higher mountains were wilder, more untamed, and therefore better ground to train the dragon-cub in. The cub grew more each day; Takeshi had caught it rubbing its head and skin against trees to ease the itching that its newly growing horns and spines were causing it. The cub was even beginning to make sounds that almost reminded Takeshi of words, and he suspected the day the cub would become fully sapient in all the ways that mattered weren’t far. It clearly thought and acted for itself, now all that was left for it to speak its mind, and Takeshi would no longer have just a cub on his hands, no, he would have a cub shaped person.

It was only fair, then, that he had aid in tending to the newly forming cub shaped person. And Kyoya of the Hibari Clan was proving to be the best sort of company possible, almost moreso than poor Hayato.

Kyoya, after all, wasn’t swayed by the cub’s wide orange eyes and coy smiles. Hayato gave in every damn time, unable to help himself when the cub truly wished for anything. He’d been flooding Takeshi’s home with junk over the cub’s whims and Takeshi couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry, not when it was so funny. Hayato, a particularly murderous nukekubi, terror of the human settlement at the base of the mountain turned mother hen over a dragon cub.

“Fitting,” muttered Kyoya, gently running his fingers through the cub’s hair, claws grooming almost absentmindedly, “that that outlier is brought to heel because of a cub.”

“Haha, Hayato’s hardly an outlier. He’d been living here for more than a human generation at this point, cut him some slack, will you,” Takeshi laughed, and tilted himself out of the way of the tonfa that was aimed at his face.

“As if human generations are something to judge by,” Kyoya scoffed. “that boy will be an outlier until he learns better manners. Preying on humans without any reason because of malice and hunger tempt me to take him down, if only to preserve some decorum on the mountain.”

“He can’t help what he is,” Takeshi countered mildly. “His mother contracted the sickness in her village and passed it on. He’s better now.”

Kyoya rolled his eyes, and shot Takeshi a narrow eyed look. Coupled with the cub on his lap, the image Kyoya made was adorable enough that Takeshi was hard pressed not to laugh.

“You need to learn better manners too, dog,” Kyoyo said snidely, and Takeshi did laugh this time unable to help himself.

“Is it wolf, or sheep or dog, crow, you never seem to be able to make up your mind.” Takeshi asked, grinning widely, his mouth full of sharp teeth, and Kyoya stared back at him, eyes hungry and wide, going still on the branch beside Takeshi for a whole second before resuming grooming the cub’s fur.

The cub made a questioning purr, ruffling it’s still small golden wings softly, and Takeshi reached out to brush a finger across the feathers gently. Kyoya’s fingers paused when Takeshi’s grew close to his, but Takeshi paid him no mind, leaning down to smile at the cub, who was wriggling his nose cutely up at Takeshi.

“I must be some mix of all three, hm, cub?” Takeshi asked the cub teasingly. “At least the sheep would make me a herbivore by design.”

When he glanced up, Kyoya was staring at him again, eyes as pale as the half-light of dawn, and Takeshi couldn’t help himself. He reached right across to touch, leaned in to press his lips and tongue to the tengu’s because, really, Kyoya looked good enough to eat.

He got a tonfa to the face for his troubles, and this time it actually hit.

“Be direct with me, cub, you want this man to stay for longer than a few days, don’t you.” Takeshi asked Tsuna quietly.

The name, for all that it was relatively new, stuck to the cub like a burr. Takeshi might have called it unwanted, but Tsuna seemed rather clear that he treasured the gift that Giotto had bestowed on him. Tsuna, for his part, simply looked up at him seriously, demeanor shy for all that his gaze was steady.

“I want to stay with him,” Tsuna said, soft. “You and Kyoya and Hayato are my hoard, too, but Giotto is small and weak and could die so much easier than all of you.”

“It’s in the nature of humans to be transient,” Takeshi replied, instead of pointing out that the cub was much smaller and weaker than Giotto in the now. It wouldn’t be true for much longer, after all. And some day, Tsuna would be larger and mightier than even Takeshi and Kyoya, possibly more dangerous than Hayato too. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get attached to him.”

“But he’s small, and weak, and mine,” Tsuna said plaintively. “I don’t have any others like him, and I would like to keep him, even if it’s only for a while.”

Takeshi ended up laughing, if a little helplessly. There wasn’t much he could say in the face of that. Kyoya had been right all along, after all, there was no telling a dragon to change its mind about its hoard. Even a sapient dragon. You could sooner convince the wind to turn and blow in the opposite direction from which they willed.

“Okay. Okay, Tsuna, if you’re sure.”

They were interrupted by the sound of explosions going off in the inner gardens of the house, and Takeshi sighed, smiling in spite of himself.

“We’d best go rescue your small and weak human from Kyoya first, haha! Coming?”

“Un!” Tsuna declared smiling sweetly up at him, and pressing a small clawed hand into his own.

They walked together back into the house, leaving the doors open behind them.

They only paused to laugh when Giotto ran past them looking thoroughly frazzled with his head on fire, hands filled with dancing orange flames, while Kyoya followed close behind, his tonfa wreathed in purple flames.

1: http://yokai.com/daitengu/

2: http://yokai.com/nukekubi/

3: I couldn’t exactly go with ‘yakyu-baka/baseball-idiot’ when this is a period fic. So, I’m sticking to idiot-dog, because Takeshi’s a yama inu or okuri-okami4. The other options had been yama-baka or wolf-idiot

4: http://yokai.com/okuriinu/

#fanfiction #khr #khrrarepairweek2018 #hibari kyoya/yamamoto takeshi #8018 #mythology au #rain day #hibari kyoya & sawada tsunayoshi & yamamoto takeshi #giotto & sawada tsunayoshi #yamamoto takeshi #hibari kyoya #sawada tsunayoshi #gokudera hayato #giotto #adel writes

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crownvetch92 · 4 years ago

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Light Eternal Chapter 4

Caeweth awoke to the sound of her sister Ingle babbling. Bright golden eyes staring directly into hers. Caeweth groaned, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“What’s the matter little sister,” Caeweth whispered, “Can’t sleep?”

“S-s-sis,” Ingle stammered clumsily.

Ingle proceeded to nuzzle little Caeweth, sniffing at one particular spot on her chest, curiosity leading her to poke at it with her sharp claw.

“Ow, Hey!” Caeweth loudly whispered, “That… actually hurt.”

Caeweth looked down to see a section of skin on her chest, no bigger than her palm, was glowing blue. The lump was hard, like a stone, and sat firmly against her sternum.

Before long her other two sisters awoke, babbling curiously. Caeweth grabbed a blanket, trying to keep the glow a secret as she quietly snuck to the natural spring, Ingle, Frasil, and Levin in tow. The glow became brighter and a dull pain began to throb in her chest. With a bright flash of blue light, the object emerged, much to the amazement of her dragon sisters. It was a stone, a round, smooth, dark blue colored stone embedded in her chest.

Taloned feet clicked on the cave floor behind the children.

“Vell I’ll be,” Estelle’s voice echoed in the cave chamber, “I never thought I vould ever see an emergence, let alone von so spectacular.”

Caeweth gulped and turned around, fully expecting to be in trouble.

“Don’t vorry, you are not in trouble,” Estelle cooed, “Now let me see.”

Estelle closely inspected the round stone.

“What is it?” Caeweth asked nervously.

“Your heart stone. All night fae possess one, and it looks like yours is a blue moonstone. See how it flashes?”

Caeweth looked at her reflection in the calm waters of the spring. It did indeed flash brighter shades of blue when she moved. Her sisters cooed in amazement. Caeweth felt a surge of excitement.

“Does that mean I will get my powers soon?”

“Sveety, I don’t really know… Maybe?” Estelle answered, “All ze Night fae I have met are so secretive about their childhood, it is hard for me to say.”

“So these other Night Fae, what are they like?” Caeweth asked as Estelle ushered her and her sisters back to the nest, “Do they all have moonstones as their heart stones?”

“Zey are quiet folk,” Estelle answered, “I have not spoken to very many. Now back to sleep, growing children need their rest.”

Caeweth’s mind was buzzing with thoughts about what just happened. It was all so sudden, that ‘emergence’ Estelle mentioned. What did it mean? What is a heart stone? How many other Night Fae are there?

She tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, until her eyes felt heavy, and the veil of sleep descended once again.

Meanwhile, in the deepest part of the Forest of Eternal Night, a disturbingly handsome Night Fae gazed deeply into a crystal ball. His midnight hair hung in a blue colored braid over his shoulder. He wore an ornate blue and gold spider silk tunic with a deep V neck, revealing his shining green moonstone, and blue silk breeches.

“Whither art thou?” He muttered, orange eyes intensely gazing into the crystals smooth surface, “Emergling fairy…”

He tried to locate where the epicenter of the magic surge was. He sat in a small room lined to the brim with books. He waved his pale hand over the clear crystal’s surface. He muttered to himself, deep in thought, flicking his translucent, lacy, white wings.

“Darling,” came a sweet sultry voice from the doorway, causing him to lose focus, “Castor, you’ve been at this for hours, Surely you can take a break and have a little fun.”

“Ariadne please,” Castor replied, “This is important.”

“What’s so important that you spend all day locked in a musty old room without little me?” Ariadne pouted, flicking her sunset colored hair.

She wore an especially revealing pink silk dress that emphasized her ample chest, while the peach moonstone on her sternum glimmered pleasingly in the candle light.

“A Night Fae emergence was felt outside the Child Garden,” He replied flatly, “We need to find them before anything else does. Their chances of survival sink lower every minute they remain outside our village walls.”

“Well they survived this long, they can wait a little longer. Why don’t you take a little break with me?” she purred, her voice dripping with desire as she flicked her pink and yellow wings.

“With all due respects, my Queen, this emergling fae might not survive another hour, we really should…” his voice trailed off as Ariadne’s lips met with his.

Oh how he loved Ariadne’s sweet kisses, so soft and warm. Yet, he often felt torn between serving his beautiful queen’s desires, and his loyalty to his own kind. He adored her, he truly did, but her self centered demands became overwhelmingly oppressive, and all of her requests for lovemaking became too much for him to bear. Not one night fae in the village, or even the kingdom, seemed happy at all with her constant demands.

“Well now,” Ariadne purred, “How do you feel?”

The crystal ball glowed brightly, revealing a second, weaker surge of power.

Thank the All Mother, He thought to himself.

“My lady,” Castor said quietly, “I really must find this night fae…”

The disappointment in Ariadne’s deep blue eyes was palpable.

“We will make love once I return, I promise.” He said before shapeshifting into a small, fluffy Scops owl before flying out the window.

“You better keep that promise!” She shouted angrily, stomping her fine pink slippers on the floor before crossing her arms and pouting, “What could be more important than serving your queen?!”

“Serving my people, keeping them safe…” He muttered under his breath.

He flew through the forest, happy to take some time for himself. He barely had a moment alone with her constant need for attention. He sighed, happy to be free… at least for the moment. He soared past patches of brightly glowing flowers, giant translucent glowing mushrooms, and patches of pale yellow glow moss. Before long, he arrived at the mouth of a cave. located at the end of shallow ravine. Glowing white flowers hung down from their vines along the sides of the cave entrance. He perched on a nearby branch, well hidden from anybody exiting the cave. He did not have to wait long before a 6 foot tall brown bat walked out, furiously rubbing her eyes with her spindly clawed hands, a small night fae child trailing close behind her.

“Vell zat vas… interesting,” Estelle said, “Ve really need to verk on your magic. Zat spell nearly blinded everyvon in ze cave.”

“I said I was sorry,” Caeweth said, rubbing her own eyes, “I didn’t think those orbs of light would explode like that.”

“Do not be sorry my little Caeveth,” Estelle reassured her, “I remember my first shape shift did not go vell at all.”

“What happened?”

“Sink of a lump of pitch black slime vith a mouth full of jagged sharp teeth… and too many eyes.”

“Oh…”

“Vas not a pretty sight, I assure you.”

Caeweth laughed merrily, a sound Castor had not heard years, at least not from anybody besides Ariadne. He peeked around the tree trunk as three little whelping dragons bounded out of the cave. Frasil happy tackled little Caeweth to the ground, causing Caeweth to yelp in surprise. The two tumbled around, roughhousing and wrestling playfully under Estelle’s watchful gaze. They all looked… happy… genuinely happy.

He felt torn: Yes the forest was dangerous for a small Night Fae child, but she looked completely happy and healthy, playing around with the whelping dragons. It was clear she was well taken care of by someone, and would be devastated if she was ripped from their caring arms.

On the other hand, the village would provide better protection against the beasts that prowled the forest floor. He could also find a mentor to help with her emerging magic. Controlling magic was often difficult for young Night Fae, and she could get a proper education. He sighed, unsure of how to proceed. He unknowingly clacked his beak in frustration, drawing Estelle’s attention.

Estelle’s ears twitched. She sniffed the air, there was somebody, or something beyond her sight. It didn’t smell of decay and dirt like a grave dog would, or of rancid blood like a skin walker, or of icy winds like a wendigo. She heard the clacking again. She followed the direction of the noise to find an owl.

“Who are you?” She snarled, spooking castor, “Vy are you here?”

Castor gulped. Although shapeshifting mega bats were generally peaceful, they were very protective of their family units.

“A-Apologies ma’am,” Castor stammered, “I was just…”

“Leaving,” Estelle hissed, baring her sharp teeth.

“N-no,” Castor gulped, “Not until I know this little night fae is safe.”

“She is, now leave.”

“Estelle?” Caeweth surprised both Estelle and Castor, “What are you doing?”

“Adult talk my little sveety,” Estelle cooed, “Now go back to your sisters.”

“They are already here.”

The three little dragon whelps had followed Caeweth, peeking over her shoulder. Caeweth looked at the fluffy scops owl. Something looked vaguely familiar. There was a slight green glow from beneath his feathers, barely noticeable to anybody else. She approached Castor, at the behest of Estelle, and parted the feathers on the bird’s chest. Castor recoiled, nearly falling off the low branch.

“A moonstone?” Caeweth asked, “Estelle, I thought you said only night fae had them.”

“Vat are you?” Estelle growled, “Vy are you so interested in Caeveth?”

Castor tried to fly away, only to be hit with a cloud of smoke belched by Ingle, forcing him to land. He sputtered and coughed, reverting to his Night Fae form.

“You are a Night Fae!” Caeweth exclaimed, “Just like me!”

“Clearly,” Estelle grumbled, pinning Castor to the ground with her clawed hand, “Vat is the meaning of this? Vy are you here?”

“I told you before,” Castor replied, “I was here to check on the little Night Fae… Caeweth was it? I just needed to know she was safe!”

“You ver here to take my little Caeveth away, vern’t you?”

“No!” Castor exclaimed, “I saw how happy she was, I believe she belongs here…”

“Vat…”

“I said she belongs here…”

Estelle removed her hand from Castor’s chest, much to his relief.

“You better not be lying,” Estelle snarled.

“No,” Castor said, “I won’t take her away, I swear.”

Castor got up to his feet, dusting himself off. He looked at Caeweth, who was hiding behind Estelle’s leg. An idea had formed in his mind: With Caeweth’s magic emerging, she would have quite a bit of trouble learning to control it without proper instruction. He could teach her about her own abilities, and let her stay with her little family. It would be difficult splitting his duties even further, but this little Night Fae needed his help.

“How about this?” He said to Estelle, “I could teach little Caeweth about Night Fae magic, and she can stay here. How about that?”

Estelle looked from Castor to Caeweth, and back again. She thought about what she had said to Caeweth earlier, about not knowing how Night Fae magic worked. She snorted in frustration, while watching the little dragons try to play with this stranger.

“Maybe it could work?” Caeweth said, breaking the silence, “I want to learn more about my own kind, and he said I don’t have to leave.”

“Alvight,” Estelle relented, “I agree.”

“Then it is settled,” Castor nodded before kneeling down before little Caeweth, “I will teach you all you need to know about your own kind, and your special powers. My name is Castor.”

He patted little Caeweth’s head, “I will see you soon.”

Castor shifted to his owl form quickly, and flew off into the stygian darkness. He mulled over his idea several times… What if Ariadne found out? What if his lessons failed? What if Caeweth advanced too quickly? He landed in the same room from before, morphed back to his Night Fae self, and closed the window. He winced as he heard Ariadne’s unstable footsteps approaching the door.

“What took you so looong,” she drunkenly whined as she slammed the door open, “I got sooooo lonely without you.”

Ariadne smelled of alcohol, and appeared visibly inebriated.

“It wasn’t that long,” Castor sighed, “Come, you must be exhausted.”

“I’m not tired,” she slurred, “You still owe *hic* me that promise.”

Castor escorted his drunken queen to her lavishly decorated bed chambers, where she clumsily stumbled and subsequently tripped, landing face first into her own plush bed. She had passed out as soon as her face landed in the spider silk blankets, snoring loudly.

“Looks like that promise will have to wait,” He chuckled as he slipped into bed next to her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “Good night, my queen.”

#fairy #dark fairytale #fairytale #owl #bat #dragon #moonstone #blue #blue moonstone #night #night fae #fairy child #shapeshifter

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lumosinlove · 8 years ago

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The Kitchens

Part xii

Remus woke in the early morning darkness out of habit, but he had no intention of going to work today. He peaked over his shoulder, drawing the sheets closer to his bare skin, and saw the very beginnings of the sun behind the mountains. The light from it was still cool, but in a way that suggested the day’s heat. He looked back to where he had been previously gazing, at Sirius’ face, and saw the light reflected there as well. He let himself fall deeper into the warm mattress and willed the sun to slow down, just for this moment. The morning was like blue water, falling over Sirius’ features with an almost glow. Remus settled into stare at it, mind reeling faster and faster as his body woke up. He stretched his fingers, his ribs, and questions started punching themselves through his mind, different details that needed to be attended to— details that he had no means to attend to with. Money, transport, cover. Not to mention speed. People would only be oblivious to Sirius’ absence for so long. Security, was another thing. Remus picked at a stray thread on the sheets. He had a feeling they’d be missing that one for quite a while.

Sirius mumbled in his sleep, pink tongue coming to wet his lips. His eyebrows twitched downwards, frowning, and he let out a soft, troubled sound, like he was reading Remus’ thoughts. Remus reached forward almost automatically, pushing his fingers through Sirius’ dark strands, thumb coming to rest over the high of his cheekbones. Sirius’ brow smoothed, and he turned his head in his sleep, lips brushing Remus’ palm momentarily before he let out another deep, sleep-filled sigh.

All the questions faded a little at that, that little unconscious gesture. A gesture that let him know there was at least one thing they would never be missing. Happiness. They’d never lack being happy, not when they had each other.

He looked for a few moments more, and then decided it would be quite okay if time were to speed up now, possibly to tomorrow. Sirius’ room, nice as it was, suddenly felt much too close to all that it stood for: power, royalty, and, most prominently in Remus’ mind, separation. Heart break. The stones of these walls, stones that had felt like their only sanctuary for a time, were more like a prison. Then again, anything is a prison of you have something else to look forward to. A room, a conversation, an hour. Time might have been Remus’ most pressing prison of all. How much of it was left, how much of it was wasted, how much would there be to come.

When he was with Sirius, time felt all it could be at once: frozen, too fast. It felt worthwhile and so un-prison like that the thought of a lifetime spent that way made waiting so completely restricting that he thought his lungs might collapse.

He leaned forward, wanting to ease the feeling, wanting to taste that freedom from thought again, and pressed his lips to Sirius’ sleeping ones. They took only a moment and a slightly startled noise before they responded.

Sirius hummed into the kiss, and only got through half of a muffled “good morning” before Remus was kissing him harder, throwing a leg over his hips and settling against them. Sirius’ fingertips pressed into the muscles of his back, splaying widely to avoid the prominent wing-bones there. He pulled the parts of the blanket that had gotten caught between their bodies away, laughing a little when Remus didn’t bother to lift his hips to assist.

Remus breathed deeply in his nose and pressed their lips together with almost a bruising pressure, surrounding himself in Sirius. His fingers held Sirius’ cheeks and temples, keeping him steady and dominating the kiss, ending with a soft nip against Sirius’ bottom lip, keeping it locked between his own before letting go and blinking down at him.

Sirius’ eyes were still closed, lips parted and slowly forming into a smile. When he opened them they were shining brightly, but still slightly sleepy. It made for an endearing combination. He hooked his ankles atop of Remus’, cementing them together, and brought his hand up to cup Remus’ neck. His thumb brushed the point just below Remus’ ear and Remus’ brows knit in confusion when the gesture made him wince.

Sirius hummed, grin spreading, “Sorry. Might have gotten a bit carried away last night.” He arched his head up to press a kiss to the sore love bite. Remus shivered when he felt him nip gently at his ear next, lips brushing his skin and voice low, “But purple is a good color on you-“

“Shh.” Remus laughed, turning his face down to shut Sirius up properly. Sirius was almost laughing too hard to kiss back, but they settled into it again anyway, less harshly this time.

“I like you like this.” Remus said against Sirius’ mouth, “In this light.”

Sirius just kissed him again, hands roaming down his spine, letting the blankets slip away from his back.

“I’m going to wake you up every morning,” His mouth dropped to Sirius’ jaw, “at this exact time,” He kissed the spot just below Sirius’ ear, “just so I can see you in it.” Sirius’ pulse quickened against his lips as he sucked and kissed the sensitive skin, drawing a soft sound from Sirius.

“I think I might just let you.” Sirius’ breath hitched at the end of his sentence, fingers curling into Remus’ hair.

Remus grinned, allowing himself to be pulled back into a kiss. There lips had only brushed before they were drawn apart by loud muffled talking from directly behind Sirius’ doors, making them both whip towards the sound. Remus only caught a few words here and there, but the shrill voice they came in was enough to send his heart pounding.

He looked back to Sirius, eyes wide, “Sirius-“

“I need to see my son, this moment!” The Queen’s voice was muffled by the carefully carved wood but close, directly outside, right there.

He should hide. He should leave. He needed to move. Sirius was sitting up suddenly, hand looped around Remus’ waist, keeping him close to him. Remus pressed his palms to Sirius’ chest, steadying himself. He could feel Sirius’ heart’s quick beats, but it felt like that was about the only thing moving fast. Everything was happening in slow motion. He saw Sirius glance towards the bathroom, but then there was a click on the door, the guards undoing the lock.

Sirius didn’t even have time to look at him before his hands were on his shoulders, pressing him down and the heavy quilt was thrown atop both of them, Remus covered completely. The doors opened. Remus had never gone so still in his life.

“Good, you’re awake.”

Sirius’ mother’s voice was muffled by the thick feathered quilt, mingled with the sound of Remus’ labored breathing, made more so by the fact that he was trying not to breathe.

Sirius’ hands were still under the quilt and one was tightly wrapped around Remus’ wrist, almost like a warning in itself: don’t move.

“I’m awake.” Sirius’ voice was closer, and had the edge to it that always appeared when he was talking with or about someone in his family. Remus thanked god for Sirius’ ability to sound so remarkably calm in any situation. He hated when that false calm was directed at him, but he didn’t think they’d survive this without it.

“There has been a theft.” The Queen growled, “From the kingdom, from me! The crown.”

Sirius’ fingers tightened around his wrist, “Wh… The crown?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” The Queen snapped, “Never mind. Get up! All members of the castle are to report to the main hall for questioning.”

“Why the-“ Remus swore he could hear Sirius take a deep breath through his nose, “Why would I steal the crown? Why would-“

“Do as your told!”

“You know it’s them, don’t you? The Lestranges. Your sister-“

“Don’t you dare,” Remus heard the sharp sound of shoes on stone as she came closer, “start on this again-“

Stop, Sirius. Stop. Let her leave. Remus begged him silently. He twisted his wrist, until he could grab Sirius’. A warning. A plea. He didn��t seem to get the message.

“It’s right in front of your face! They’re cruel. You’re blind-“

Sirius’ words choked off in a horrible way. A strangled gasp and a weak cough. Sirius’ hand yanked itself out of his and disappeared for a moment, before flattening down on the bed again, in the open air, just in front of Remus’ face. It was all he could see from his place beneath the quilt. The hand gripped the mattress, then the fingers splayed. The choking sound continued. Remus felt as if he were choking himself. His didn’t move. His fingertips were just out of the light, dying to reach out.

“Do.” Remus almost jumped. She was right there, almost above him. His heart hammered and he knew what the sound was, “As you’re told.”

Don’t move don’t move don’t move. His entire body trembled with the effort.

With the last word the sound stopped and Remus heard Sirius gasp, coughing. There were fast heels on the floor again, and Remus’ muscles ached with relief at the fact that they were receding this time.

“Oh,” He heard the door open, “And do get whatever whore is in your bed out.”

The door slammed. Remus heard the muffled sound of a guard slipping the lock in place.

He threw the covers away, dismissing a soft tearing sound and a few stray feathers flying out where his fingers had been gripping it, and was on Sirius’ in seconds.

“Sirius. God-“ Sirius leaned forward, sounding like the air was going through his throat raggedly as he tried to steady his breathing. He coughed, hard and dry, gagging with it. Remus pressed a hand to his chest, “No, no, lean back. Lean back, love. You need to keep your lungs open.” Sirius did as he was told, but kept a firm hold on Remus’ shoulder, dragging him forward with him, “Sirius, you don’t want me against your chest right now, you need to- okay, okay.” Remus allowed himself to be pulled back onto Sirius’ lap, half selfishly. He needed the closeness too. He glanced backwards at the door, just to make sure it was still closed before pressing his hands to Sirius’ neck gently, inspecting.

His heart ached as he regarded Sirius. His eyes were open but looking at the ceiling as he drew in long, shuttering breaths, coughing here and there. His face looked paler than usual except for his cheeks which were bright with the blood that had sprung all at once back to the surface. And his neck… Remus pressed his thumb gently over the small love bite below his ear, heart aching at how similar but different it looked compared to the quickly forming rings of purple that lined his windpipe and adam’s apple.

“God… God, why did she…” Remus shook his head, carding his hands through Sirius’ hair, “Can you breathe alright? Can you talk to me?” Please Remus thought.

Sirius just nodded for a moment, slowly, but then he closed his eyes and wetness streaked down his cheek, betraying the nod.

Remus shushed him softly, fingers soft on his cheeks, pressing light kisses to his mouth, restricting no air, and to his cheeks, “You’re okay now. You’re okay now.”

“No, I know.” They both winced at Sirius’ voice. It was a rasp, breaking, made worse by the tears, “I know. Fuck, sorry, I’m just- it-“ his breath hitched, “It just startled me.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pressed another kiss to his skin, this time directly over a strip of bruise, “Don’t apologize for this, okay? Never… None of this is ever your fault.”

“But it is.” Sirius’ eyes were sad, pleading, “She does this because…because I- I do something and- God, and she almost found you. If something had happened to you… If something had- it would have been my-“

“No.” Remus’ hands were shaking again, “No, Sirius, get that out of your head. Look at me.” Remus dropped his voice as it wavered, “Look at me-“

But suddenly Sirius’ eyes were widening and he was sitting up, “You have to go.”

Remus blinked taken aback, “What… What?”

“The crown- The crown was stollen.” Sirius put his hands on Remus’ shoulders, guiding him off the bed, “Jesus, you-“ He coughed as he stood, “You have to go, Remus-“

“Why? Why do I have to go?” His voice was momentarily muffled as Sirius all but yanked a shirt over his head. He shoved his hands through the sleeves and grabbed onto Sirius’ newly put on shirt, “I have to take care of you, you’re mother just fucking-“ Remus caught the pants Sirius threw at him.

“No. No.” Sirius straightened from fastening his own pants, grabbing Remus’ hand and guiding him towards the bookshelf, “Didn’t you hear what she said?”

Remus stopped them in front of the bookshelf, putting his hands on Sirius chest, “Sirius-“

Sirius turned, palms cupping Remus’ cheeks. His eyes were wide and nervous, the grey dark, “They’re rounding up everyone in the castle. For questioning.” Remus’ lips parted as he started to understand. Sirius’ thumbs stroked softly over his cheeks, not matching his frantic tone, “That means the servants too, Re, if they don’t find you in your room when they come-“

“Okay.” Remus felt like he was only breathing half the air that he had been before, “Okay.”

“Go.” Sirius pressed a long kiss to his mouth before yanking the bookshelf open, “ I’ll find you. Wherever you are, I’ll find you. We’ll leave and never look back, okay?” Remus nods, desperately holding onto him. Sirius looked pained but took Remus’ hands away from his shirt, kisses his knuckles, and releases them, “Go.”

Remus leaned on his toes for one more kiss, and disappeared into the dark tunnel.

The passage had never felt so long or so small as it did right then. He didn’t have enough room to run without banging his head painfully on the ceiling with every shift of weight. So he half walked, half ran, quickly, tripping over his feet until he burst into the hallway that the passage connected to.

He halted momentarily, fear-stricken. He hadn’t even bothered to listen for footsteps. But he was alone, the halls were quiet and deserted. The only sound he could hear in this part of the castle was the pounding of his own heart.

The downstairs was a different scene. He saw his friends, servants of both high and low status, being herded like sheep down the stairs of the sleeping quarters. He looked for James, but didn’t see him. Maybe he had already been lead out. He made eye contact with Lily, a gaze she returned only with a fearful look.

He tried to walk calmly to his room, heart beating too hard for normal breaths, so much so that it almost hurt to try. Each creak of the old staircase caused his heart to jumpstart all over again. He rounded the corner at the top of the staircase and his stomach kept to his throat. His door was ajar. He was too late.

He pushed it open, hoping in vain to find it empty still, but froze at the sight within.

“Ah. Lupin.” His name was said like it was dirt, a curse, “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Remus unconsciously backed up, only to feel the slight wind of his door being slammed shut behind him. It rattled the frail room. He imagined the splinters in the walls peeling off further.

There were four guards in his room. One, threateningly behind him, slamming the door, trapping him inside. He didn’t know his name. Two more, standing on either side of Remus’ trunk which had been moved from the end of his bed. He didn’t know them either. And a fourth. This one he knew. Serverus Snape was sprawled on his bed, muddy boots dripping on the bare mattress.

He smirked at Remus, black, greasy hair falling in his eyes, “Now what on earth would you be doing at such an early hour as this? Out for a walk,” his eyes blazed, “around the castle?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond but Snape was already standing. He made his small room look even tinier. The bed and floorboards groaned beneath him, “Or, no. No, perhaps you fancied yourself something better?” His eyes hardened as he stepped forward, only just looming over Remus, “A crown, for instance?”

“No.” Remus could physically feel blood forcing itself through his veins despite his lack of breath, “No-“

“Don’t lie.” Snape snarled, “It obviously isn’t the first time you fancied yourself a little…treasure.”

Remus shook his head. He didn’t understand what that could mean. Until recently he’d barely even been upstairs, much less had motive to take anything.

Snape flicked his fingers at the guard behind him and suddenly Remus was restrained, his arms held firmly to his sides, “Maybe we need to refresh your memory.”

He walked over to the trunk, kicking it open, and bent down to retrieve an object.

“These,” He turned, “look rather expensive for a someone like yourself.” Snape sneered, “And this… Well, unless your name is Sirius Black…” Remus thought he was going to be sick, “I don’t know what you could want with this. Unless it was practice for something bigger. Something better.”

Remus could do nothing but stare. In Snape’s hands were his two most prized possessions. The two things that kept him going, that reminded him that his happiness was real when he was alone.

Dangling from Snape’s right hand was Sirius’ slippers. And held softly in his left, was Sirius’ ring.

Remus wanted to scream. No sound would come. His limbs wouldn't move. Blood roared in his ears.

Through the fog he heard Snape’s voice.

“Take him upstairs. To the Queen.”

Sirius finds the castle halls unsurprisingly deserted. He knows everyone is in the main hall, waiting to be questioned. Or maybe it has already started. He yanked at the ties of his shirt that won’t seem to stay put, and knots them haphazardly. He could feel his heart pulsing in his neck, drawn, black and blue, to the surface of his skin by both his mother’s fingers and the panic in his chest. He couldn’t remember how long the passageway was, and only hoped Remus had made it there on time. If he wasn’t in his room when the guards arrived… Sirius didn’t even want to think about how that would look, especially this early.

He quickened his pace down the hallway that had never seemed so long. His hearing felt muted, but his own footsteps, his own breathing, was much too loud, like the entire world knew where he was going and where he had come from.

Remus would make it. He had to tell himself this. They would both make it. They would both make it. Through tonight, out of this place, in the world.

The doors that lead to the staircase came into view looking strange without guards flanking them. He was footsteps away, heart already in his throat at what he might find on the other side-  When a body suddenly slid in front of them, pressed back against the polished wood and grinning. Sirius choked on the air, halting just in time to keep from slamming into her. He straightens quickly, working to straighten his face into one of nothingness. The struggle only increases the pounding in his chest.

“Bellatrix.”

His cousin’s grin shifted into a pout. Her dark, ringleted hair curled tightly around her narrow face. She would have been beautiful, he thinks, but the temperament of her mind, wild and cruel, seemed to ooze through her skin like poisoned honey.

“Oh, don’t try so hard, cousin. We both know you despise me.” She took a step forward, a challenge, “Why don’t you just let it show?”

Sirius didn’t move backwards, a challenge matched, “Shouldn’t you be in the hall for questioning, with the others?”

She pressed a hand to her chest, mocking surprise, hurt. Her full lips formed an ‘o’, but her lipstick was smudged around the corners, just a little, making the shape look torn and used, “Me? But why would I steal the crown?” She hooked her fingers through Sirius’ knotted shirt, pulling him down and forward, their faces so close that he could see the flecks of dried makeup on her skin, “I’m about to marry into it.”

Sirius said nothing, too busy holding his breath. Everything in him was screaming at him to push her away, to find Remus, to run with him out of the hall if that’s what it took. Something in her tone, something, made his veins feel icy with dread. His lack of response only seemed to anger her more, and she let out a sound, deep in her throat, almost animalistic. When she spoke, however, her voice was light, a dangerous calm,

“You hate that, don’t you? You hate me.”

Sirius gridded his teeth, “I’ll do what I have to do for my country.” Words have never tasted so bitter.

Bellatrix stared at him, eyes focusing and un-focusing in an eerie way. The gaze made it felt like she was only partially seeing him, and that the other half of her vision was elsewhere, seeing something entirely different. Then she smiled, all teeth, “Your country.” The smile melted. The teeth stayed but the corners of her lips, smeared lipstick and all, turned down. She shoved him away and Sirius was forced to take a step back, “It’s never been your country. It never will be your country! You don’t even want it.”

“I’ll be king.” Sirius dug his nails into his palms, “That’s all there is.”

“No you won’t.” His cousin sneered, “Not now.”

Suddenly—and Sirius hadn’t even seen her move—but, suddenly, Bellatrix was holding a knife. It was a small, short blade. Bone glinted at the handle, white and polished. But it a knife all the same. Sirius felt his hands raise on their own, like a barrier. He opened his mouth but Bellatrix beat him too it,

“You were never going to be king, don’t you see that? You, with your—your morals. Your ideals about equality and-“ She growled, “We aren’t meant to be equal to them. No, we are our own race. Pure, and high, and royal. You’re just in the way-“

“How can you stand there and call yourself pure? Saying things like that?” Sirius bit back. He looked into his cousin’s black eyes, and the words came pouring out, “You’re right. I don’t want to be king. You disgust me. Marrying you is the worst news I’ve received in this lifetime.” He straightened his back, nails digging in harder to his palms, “But you’re clever, aren’t you? Or at least your mother is-“ Bellatrix sneered at him and he pushed on, “That’s what this theft is, isn’t it? A distraction. Get the servants out of the way, get my mother out of the way, get my guards out of the way… all so you can what? Kill me? Is that what you’re really going to do?”

Bellatrix grinned, “Oh, so now he’s smart. Glad you’re catching on.”

She made a swooping jab with the knife and Sirius leapt easily aside, his back towards the door now, and Bellatrix where he had been standing. Blood pumped in his ears. He knew that if he wanted to live, he had to keep her talking, buy himself time.

“How do you expect to explain away the crown, then? Bits of royal metal don’t just walk away, you know.”

Bellatrix laughed, “Oh, that’s already taken care of. They’ve already caught the theft, or didn’t you hear?”

Sirius’ blood ran cold, but he refused to let the ice show on his face. He raised an eyebrow, “Did they?”

His mind swam to James first, then, painfully, to Remus. He saw him in chains in his mind and blinked desperately at the images, willing them away.

“Yes, a servant. One of the kitchen boys I think. It doesn’t matter, I can’t tell them apart. Filthy and foul as they are.”

No. Sirius gasped as he barely dodged another blow from the knife. The tip grazed his side, tearing a small hole in his shirt.

“Hm, getting slower, I see.”

Sirius could barely breathe. He had to get down there, had to make sure Remus was okay. He inhaled sharply through his nose, chest heaving, “And then what?” He gasped, “Then what? After I’m dead. The power doesn’t go to you, it goes to-“

Bellatrix laughed, “I don’t need the power to go to me.” She twirled the knife in her hands, as if testing her next strike pattern, “You aren’t as close to your little brother as you once were, are you, Sirius? You forget—he’s on our side now.”

And there it was. All Sirius needed.

He’s on our side now.

He thought to the lake, Regulus at his side. Had that really been such a short time ago? He saw himself so clearly sitting next to his brother, and his words,

Do you know you’re the only person I care about?

He straightened his back, hands dropping their defensive posture, shoulders dropping, “Your side…” He could have laughed.

Bellatrix laughed, “That’s right. Amazing, isn’t it? The power you gain when you have someone on the other side to trust.”

Then the laugh turned into a snarl, and she lunged. But Sirius was ready, expecting it. He had newly found hope. He grabbed her wrist and twisted, letting her let out one shriek before he slid his hand into hers, around the dagger, and brought it sharply against her temple. She fell silent and to the ground in one motion.

He spun the dagger in his hand, sticking it in the back of his belt, out of view.

“Yes,” he grinned down at her unmoving form, “Quite amazing.”

“Finally.” His mother snarled, “Didn’t I tell you to come immediately? Or did I not give you enough incentive.”

Sirius had never been aware of so many eyes on him as he entered the hall, but he stared his mother straight on. He didn’t have time for an argument, he needed to get her attention off of him so he could find Remus. He walked obediently to her side, “My apologies.”

His mother seemed to be aware of the staring eyes too, because she brought a hand around his neck, and her voice feigned softness, “Quite alright, son.” The words sounded more than strange coming out of her mouth. None of the servants could see the nails digging in and re-opening the old, crescent shaped scars on his neck. Sirius didn’t dare wince.

“After all,” his mother continued, “it seems that you are in debt of some sympathy as well. The kingdom was not the only one who was stollen from.”

Sirius stopped his subtle search of the crowd in favor of looking at his mother, “No?”

“Of course, the crown is the priority. But you seemed to be the frequented practice target. Bring the thief forward!”

His heart was like a drumroll in his ears as Sirius’ eyes shifted to the moving forward guards. Two of them parted for two more. Two more that each had a tight grip on the arms of an achingly familiar thin frame, jerking it forward: Remus. Sirius felt his throat close up.

Remus raised his eyes from the ground to his. They were wide, and pleading, and Sirius thought that he would die right on the spot from just that look alone. He very nearly stepped forward, to reach for Remus, but he stopped himself. The hand still digging into his neck stopped him.

He didn’t even feel it when his mothers nails pulled out of his skin. He only felt Remus’ gaze, and the unyielding need to take him away from this place.

He cleared his throat, needing, praying for his voice to come out strong, “He- He doesn’t look like a thief.”

His mother scoffed, “All the more reason to steal! Perhaps that was why he needed you.”

Sirius blinked, still unable to tear his eyes from Remus. He hoped his face was blank, “Me…”

His mother waved at the guards from the corner of his eyes, her long, black sleeves swishing, “Show him.”

Only then did he register Snape, head of the watch, stepping forward, “Your majesty.” He bowed deeply to Sirius, then raised his hands, one object in each, “The crown has yet to be located but we found these in the thief's room. I believe at least one belongs to you.”

Remus’ eyes changed a little, a change he caught before he looked away. His head shook almost minutely, and his eyes calmed. And Sirius looked at the objects. Bile rose in his throat. And he understood Remus’ look.

This isn’t your fault.

His shoes. His ring. He had provided the very proof that was needed-

This isn’t your fault.

Snape’s voice broke through his thoughts, “We believe that he used these smaller thefts-“

Sirius held up his hand, “I understand.” His voice rang clear. He didn’t know how. His lungs burned from lack of breath.

For a moment the hall was quiet. He knew they were waiting for him to speak, for him to get angry. He felt none of that. Only the same urge to grab Remus and run.

He felt his mother’s hand on his neck again, “Well? Take him away! He’ll spend the night in the dungeons. Take him to be hung at dawn.”

Sirius’ knees threatened to buckle and he shook his mother’s hand off. His breathing was ragged, muscles tensed in an effort to keep himself standing.

“Please, no-“

Sirius’ head whipped up. For a moment, he thought he had said it, but then he saw Remus’ mouth parted in surprise, a sob ripping up his throat. And then Sirius did want to yell.

No. Don’t say anything. You know I’ll get you out of here. You know I’d never let this happen to you.

He tried to catch Remus’ eye and say it that way instead. but Remus was already looking down, lips clamped tight.

“How-“ Sirius’ mother was gone from his side in a flash, looming over Remus who had never looked so small, “How dare you speak. You filthy, greedy thing-“

Her words cut off with a slap and a sharp cry from Remus. And Sirius couldn’t help it. He had already taken four steps forward before something stopped him. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, but not painful. He looked to his side, barely able to breathe. Regulus’ dark, somber eyes stared back at him. Their message was clear.

Don’t.

“Take him away.” His mother’s voice was shrill and she spun away from Remus.

Their eyes met. Gray against hazel. Sirius’ breath caught. Regulus’ hand tightened on his shoulder.

Remus’ cheek was sliced across his cheekbone, face wet with blood. It dripped from his jaw. The guards half dragged him out of the hall, doors slamming with a sound of finality behind them.

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lucius-ii · 7 years ago

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a collection of firsts

i. wand

The family wand (18” elm wood with a dragonheartstring core) would be his only once he left Hogwarts and assumed his role as the head of their House. So, one sunny day in August, Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy made their way to Diagon Alley. Despite his halfbood status, Ollivander was the greatest wandmaker in the magical world and Abraxas was always insistent that Malfoys only deserve the best. His father held their family wand, tucked away in the walking stick that had been passed down alongside it for generations. Lucius wondered how close the wand that chose him would be to that ancient thing. Would his father be terribly disappointed if the core was unicorn hair or the wood was rowan or chestnut? His palms began to sweat in his pockets as his father waved the shop door open with a lazy flick of his wrist. What if no wand chose him? He could feel the magic in his veins, feel it push out of his body when his moods became extreme. Just the day before, his mother’s Augury had startled him as he left his room, his magic had sent the poor bird flying across their foyer. But what if that magic wasn’t enough for a wand to choose him? What if he was the first squib in the Malfoy family? Endless, baseless worries flew through the boy’s mind as his father spoke to the old man behind the counter – was that really Ollivander? He looked so infirm beside his father. Abraxas was an imposing presence. A tall man dressed finely in all black with emeralds clasping his summer-wool cloak, his silver-blond hair tied back in a low tail that pulled his already severe features into an expression of disinterest, disdain, and pure arrogance. Lucius straightened his back, taking his hands from his pockets. He was his father’s son. This was his world. A smirk grew on his lips as he approached the counter, a hand lazily raised to receive the first wand – holly, 10 ¼”, unicorn core – a shower of red sparks followed, setting a discarded quill to smolder. The second wand flew out of his hand practically as soon as the old man had placed it there. Abraxas sneered, “We don’t have all day, Garrick, it shouldn’t be so difficult to find my boy a wand.” The wandmaker nodded and slipped to the back of the shop. He returned a few moments later holding a 12 ¾” hawthorn wand with dragon heartstring core. Lucius took the wand and the magic in his body reached into it, his blood singing in his veins. A spray of gold erupted from the tip, straightening the wands on the shelves and putting right to the mess of papers on the other side of the counter. Even Ollivander’s clothes were freed of the dust that had fallen on him as he had searched to find this wand. A true smile grew on young Lucius’s face and he could have sworn he saw the same swell of happiness in his father’s pale eyes. A small pouch of galleons was tossed from his father’s pocket onto the counter – “Keep the change, Garrick, and perhaps invest in the purchase of a house-elf to keep your shop in better shape.” – and the Malfoys swept out of the shop. Lucius could barely keep the smile off his face as they walked down the crowded streets to continue their errands. The ghost of a smile was mirrored on his father’s lips, “Let’s stop here, Lucius,” they were standing near the entrance of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, “Such a day deserves some celebration.”

ii. fear

Ophelia Yaxley married Abraxas Malfoy for duty. He was chosen for her by her father – or perhaps she was chosen for him by his father. They had known each other peripherally at school, they had been the same year but she had found herself in Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin. She was the best wife she could be to a man like Abraxas. He wielded political power with as much confidence as he wielded magic and expected nothing less than perfection from his family. Ophelia was nothing if not an expert at feigning perfection. A carefully crafted mask painted onto her face every day, her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a chignon, jewels dripping from her ears and throat. Publicly, she exuded the old power of the Sacred Twenty-Eight through every look and gesture. But behind the closed doors of their extravagant home, she was a soft woman. She loved magical creatures, caring in particular for those who took to the skies. An Augurey called Wugsworth was her favorite pet. The sad bird moaned miserably, echoes of his cries filling the halls eerily. Lucius had been afraid of the Irish Phoenix at first. He was a shy creature, more often heard than seen, his vocalizations finding their way into Lucius’s dreams. The young wizard had cried to his mother at age 5, begging for her to make the beast stop crying, to take him away, anything. Ophelia smiled and simply took her son’s hand, leading him up to the tower where Wugsworth was housed. The boy stiffened his lip, not wanting to cry if his mother was unconcerned, but the worry in his belly grew the closer they drew to the sad song. He had never been to this tower in their home, it was his mother’s space alone, and the unfamiliar twists and turns of the passageway only lent to his dread. Finally they arrived to the aviary, the grand door swinging open at their approach. The windows that paneled the room were tall and thin with no glass to keep the wind and weather from this room. The great blue-grey bird sat on his perch at the center of the room, cooing sadly to himself. At the sight of his mistress, Wugsworth took wing, a triumphant cry springing from his sharp beak. His quick approach caused Lucius to jump back, hiding himself behind his mother’s form. The witch smiled serenely, her arm extended for her beloved pet to settle himself on. He did, trilling softly as he stretched his neck to groom Ophelia’s hair. A laugh bubbled from her lips, a rare sound in their home, and she drew Lucius further into the room. Lowering herself and the bird to his eye level, she held her arm towards her son. “There is nothing to fear, my sweet, poor Wugsworth has a sad disposition. He doesn’t wish to make you scared or unhappy, he was simply born sounding so mournful. His cries tell us only that it will rain tomorrow,” a wail from Wugsworth caused them both to start, “Or perhaps tonight, with the way he’s going on!” Her smile made the boy more confident and he reached a hand to touch the silken feathers on the top of the Augurey’s head. The bird closed his eyes and cooed in a way that could almost be described as happy. Emboldened by this, a smile grew on his face to match his mother’s. For a time they stayed like that, Ophelia crouched before Lucius, holding the bird on her arm for her son to pet. Wugsworth soon stretched his wings, shaking his feathers. They caught they light so beautifully, Lucius was distracted by their glamour and did not realize what the beast was about to do. He jumped from Ophelia’s arm as if to take flight, but chose instead to settle himself on the young boy’s head. Lucius froze for a moment, unsure what to do under the weight of Wugsworth. The bird’s long tail feathers blocked his vision and a small keening noise escaped his mouth without thought. Wugsworth began to harmonize with the boy’s whining cry, causing Ophelia to erupt into true laughter, “Oh my boys, what a pair you make!”

iii. kiss

They were 14. Hidden away on the grounds of her family’s estate, the pair had procured both firewhiskey and a clumsily-rolled joint. It was a lazy summer afternoon; the House of Black was throwing their annual midsummer ball the next night so the household had more important concerns than the whereabouts of two children. Bellatrix had lead him into the pendulous branches of an ancient willow tree, her wild dark hair catching some of the leaves on the way in. Lucius couldn’t help but smile, taking care that his own hair remained intact and without leaves. Bella rolled her eyes, “No need to be so concerned, Lady Malfoy, it’s only us,” she quipped merrily at his primping, already settling herself comfortably in the roots of the great tree. Lucius sat near her, their knees knocking together, “I’m carrying precious cargo here,” he replied, pulling the small joint from behind his ear, “Of course, I’m referring to this gorgeous head of hair,” he teased, flipping said hair over one shoulder while he took his wand from his pocket. Bella pulled the flask they had snuck from the kitchens from her own robes, taking a great swig before passing it to Lucius. The amber liquid scorched his throat and filled his chest with burning bravado. He offered the joint to Bellatrix – this little excursion had been her idea after all, as most of their adventures were – she took it with a smile, placing it between her lips. She reached for her own wand but Lucius stopped her, “Ah, ah! Haven’t you heard? Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes -er-joints?” a quiet incendio produced a small flame from the tip of his wand which he held to the tip of the joint. The glow of his wand was reflected in the depths of her dark eyes, her whole face was made warm by the spell. He couldn’t help but stare at the purse of her lips as she sucked in the smoke, her own eyes on his face. Her confident inhale was followed by a cacophony of coughing, the smoke puffing into a cloud between them. She giggled at her own inexperience, passing the joint to Lucius’s waiting hand. His own inhale was followed by his own cough, “Merlin, that’s harsh!” he managed to choke out, earning him a laugh from Bellatrix, “Come now, Lucy, you can’t be giving up on me!” her second draw was smoother, no coughing accompanied her exhale and Lucius was determined to keep pace with her. That’s all he could ever do, keep up with the pace she set. She was his closest friend – besides Augustus, but girl friends were so different than boy friends – and he had spent their childhood desperate to find something he excelled in over her. So far partying was the only contender and that was not necessarily a skill that befit a wizard of his status, but even now it seemed like Bellatrix was better at smoking than him, so perhaps all he had was drinking. He took another long swig of firewhiskey before taking the joint again. They sat like that awhile, passing the substances between them, teasing each other as they always did. His eyes began to grow heavy and his whole body tingled with the intermixing of alcohol and weed. He was so aware of his leg against hers, the warmth of her body beside his, an airy feeling growing in his chest. Bellatrix took a final puff, the joint down to practically nothing. As she did, the ember caught her finger tips, “Fuck!” she exclaimed, dropping the last bit to the ground and bringing her fingers to her lips to wet them with her tongue. Lucius could not stop himself from taking her hand from her mouth and bringing it to his own. So close, they were so close, the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin flooding his mind. He could not stop himself, could never want to stop himself, from leaning forward and pushing a clumsy kiss to her lips. It only took a moment for her to kiss him back, their hands clasped together. He had forgotten to breath and their kiss was broken only a moment later so he could gasp for breath. He grinned sheepishly at Bellatrix who could only give him another eye roll despite the smile on her own lips, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty or I’d never have let you get away with that.”

#.inspo #.inspomalfoys #.inspobellatrix #morsmordre points

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luvmesumbuckster · 8 years ago

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"Lucky Number Eight:" (Clint Barton, Bucky x OC) Chapter 2

Word Count : 2,705 - is that too long? should they be shorter? I don’t know!

**This chapter and the next chapter are going to be a bit violent - you’ve been warned!**

Chapter 3

The Wakandan Royal Air Force didn’t look like a typical American fleet of planes, filled with F-18s and C-130 carrier planes. They were all incredibly modern, streamlined, and built for stealth. It was shocking to Clint that such an advanced country had stayed out of the limelight for so many years, but over the last few months he was happy that they had. If Wakanda had more open relations with the large governments of the world, He, Wanda, Sam and Scott would have still been on the run from the world. That’s not to say that they were free citizens, but behind the borders of Wakanda, no government could touch them. As soon as they left Wakandan air space they were fair game for anyone who wanted to try, which was another reason that missions were more dangerous in the Post-Sokovia Accords world.

Despite the team falling apart over who signed and who didn’t, each member knew that they’d still protect the others. Clint knew about Cap’s letter to Tony and his offer to help, which is why Clint decided to stay around Wakanda. If there was something Tony needed Avenging help with, he knew it would have to be bad & he didn’t trust his teammates to include him if he went back to the farm house with his family. They’d leave him out, trying to protect the archer and his family, but getting left behind wasn’t an option. At least, by staying with Cap and company, he’d be included in any future global apocalyptic events and hopefully be given the chance to protect his family and friends again.

He strolled up to the open jet, stopping at an ammunition table and stocking up his person with arrows, grenades and guns. The scientists here had made great strides in various types of arrows - exploding, stunning, gas releasing, tracking. He could name almost any kind of arrow and they had a version of it, but way more streamlined than anything SHIELD had ever come up with.

“What’s up my bird brother!” Sam said, coming up behind Clint and starting to stock up his own suit. The Wakandans had added some fun bits to his wings, helping with their reflexes and dexterity. He spent days flying around the Royal Compound when he got them, diving and banking.

Clint shakes his head at the nickname, still high fiving the newer Avenger. “Come on, Sam…it’s not…”

“Birds of a feather, stick together” Sam continues, his smile bright and sunny.

He rakes his palm down his face at the eager man’s terrible joke, one Sam had already tried to make a thing on multiple occasions. “Where does your energy come from man?” he asks, rhetorically.

“Hah Hah!” Sam laughs loudly, drawing the attention of Cap and Wanda toward the munitions table. He grabs his last few supplies before walking toward the open jet.

They each take their seat, allowing the Wakandan pilot to start his preflight checks. On other missions, T'Challa had flown the plane himself, but since this was supposed to be an easy information extraction, they didn’t require the Prince’s assistance. Clint rested his against the back of his seat, letting his mind run over his technique for shooting, mentally preparing himself for sniper duty. Wanda was speaking quietly with Cap about Sgt. Barnes, telling him about what she’d seen this morning when she looked into the frozen Super Soldier’s mind. Sam had somehow managed to fall asleep within minutes of the plane taking off.

As they approached the end of the flight, the 4 Avengers got out of their seats to look at the large strategy table in loading bay. The digital display showed a real time layout of the building, marking all of the heat signatures within 100 yards. They were expecting a handful of guards inside of the building, but when the screen lit up it showed a different story. Clint’s eyebrows creased in worry, seeing a large number of signatures at the center of the building, with a handful of others fleeing the scene.

“Something is wrong, Cap…” he murmurs, taking in scene before them.

The pilot alerted them that they are hovering over the drop zone and Clint watched Wanda’s eyes close in concentration. “They are shutting down the base…there’s an emergency alert…Containment Breach…” she says, opening her eyes and looking at the 3 men across from her.

“How much information did T'Challa have on this building?” Sam asks gruffly, looking at the digital read out. “Are we walking into more Winter Soldiers down there, cause -I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t feel like fighting Winter Soldiers today…I just got these wings” he grumbles, looking down at his new pack.

“The intel said it was storage facility, cold storage for files and documents in climate controlled rooms…” Cap recites, having memorized the brief. “There must be something they missed…”

Clin looks at the building again, his eyes looking at his safe perch across the way, understanding that with these new developments he was going to have to go into the fray with his teammates. “Well, we better get down there before they destroy the evidence….” he says, attaching a hook to his belt and dropping down the open door of the jet.

He takes a deep calming breath as he descends from the plane, feeling the cool night air of Russia biting at his cheeks. He lands easily on the room in a crouch, using his bow to take out 3 guards on the roof silently, their bodies barely making noise as they crumble. “Roof is clear” he says into his comms, looking for the rooftop entrypoint he saw on the read out.

As he approaches the door, he hears Cap and Wanda land silently on the roof behind him, the quiet whirring of Sam’s wings meaning he had glided down as well. The small team begins clearing the levels of the building, meeting little resistance on the top floors. Cap and Wanda hang back on the second level, going through a few rooms that held file boxes and cabinets. Wanda was working on copying all of the hard drives onto a special-made Wakandan Drive that had enough space for all the encrypted material.

Sam and Clint continued down into the center of the building, into the basement where many of the heat signatures had been congregated. Clint paused outside of a heavy, iron blast door, peeking into the small window but seeing nothing. “D'Basa…” he says into his comm, waiting for the pilot to respond.

“Go for D'Basa…”

“I need an up-to-date heat map of the building…” Clint says, looking at his wrist where the image should appear.

“Coming to you, Hawkeye” D'Basa says, transmitting the updated imagery to his team.

A digital building appears, Sam and Clint both looking at it. They stare for a second, trying to take in what they are seeing. “There’s only 4…maybe 5 heat signatures left in building, Cap,” he reports into his comm.

Cap crackles back immediately, “Go again, Hawkeye? Did you say there’s no one left but us?”

Sam answers instead of Clint , “We’re looking at the map, Cap - there are faint signatures left behind the blast door, but so far it looks like it’s just us.”

“Copy that, still check it out. I don’t want to leave anything to chance,” Cap instructs.

Clint takes 3 charges from his belt, stepping up to the heavy iron door with laser precision. He places the 3 pods along the exposed hinges, walking back down the hall and around the corner. Sam follows, extending his wings as the 3 charges explode, the door falling to the cement floor with a loung thunk.

The two men approach the opening cautiously, Sam with his guns raised and Clint staring down the shaft of an arrow at the ready. They step over some rubble, taking in the scene of the room before them.

Along the wall, there are 10 cryo pods, very similar to the ones in Siberia. They only knew what they looked like from the files that were collected after the disaster of the Accords. Sam took the right flank, walking closer to the pods. As he went, he had to step over 6 Hydra guards, all bleeding out on the floor. He looks up at the pod closest to him, noting the small hole in the glass where cool gas was billowing out like steam. He brushed his hand over the glass, feeling the frost slide away, causing him to gasp and step back, almost tripping over another guard.

“Sam?! You okay?!” Clint shouts, turning to face his partner who just crashed into the console at the center of the room. He looked like he’d been burned by what he saw in the pod. Clint started to round the curve of the room, noticing that the pod closest to him was open. “Sam - what’s going on?”

“It’s kids, man…” Sam says over his comms, stepping back up toward the pod. Inside, he can see the serene face of what looks like a boy in his late teens. If it weren’t for the ugly red hole between his eyes, Sam would have thought he was sleeping. The Falcon shivered, moving to the pod next to it, wiping away the frost of the glass. In the next one, a girl with a similar bullet wound in her forehead. He clicked his teeth, “Looks like Hydra was getting creative with their experiments. They eliminated all of the ones down here” he says sadly, looking over at Clint.

Instead of focusing on his partner, Clint’s eyes are fixated on the open pod in front of him. “Looks like one got out….” he alerts, his hackles rising as he moves his bow back into position. He scans the room looking for anything out of place. He clocks about 15 bodies strewn about the lab, all men in Hydra uniforms or lab coats. He sees Sam starting to patrol back through the lab, minding his footsteps through the bodies.

“Copy - we’re on our way” Cap’s voice crackles into their ear pieces again.

Clint steps over another lab coat, turning to check behind a desk at the far side of the room, a desk that had a large swipe of blood leading around it. He stands on the side, taking a deep breath to brace himself as he turns the corner of the desk pointing his bow. He freezes…

“Clint…Clint, you okay?” he can hear Sam asking him, but his eyes are focused as his bow lowers and he puts the arrow back into his quiver. He hears Sam come up next to him, looking down at the figure huddled behind the desk.

They are both looking at a young woman, no older than 20 laying against the wall. Her fit body is shivering, her chest rising and falling erratically. She’s caucasian from what they can tell, though most of her is covered in blood. Clint kneels down, feeling her neck gently to make sure she’s got a pulse. He can feel the steady beats, but gets worried when he takes in a particularly deep gash on her forehead.

“Jeeze, Sam -she’s freezing…” he says, reaching down to tug the girl out of her confined hiding space. He reaches for a rough wool blanket on a shelf nearby, wrapping it around her shoulders as her head lolls to the side, resting on Clint’s shoulder. His eyes look down her body, taking in the rest of her appearance. She’s wearing a black sports bra and small black shorts, the uniform matching the trainees in their pods. She’s so covered in blood that he has trouble figuring out what is hers and what isn’t.

Sam kneels behind him, as Clint palpates the young woman as best he can. The Falcon lowered his weapons when he saw Cap and Wanda stumble into the room, both taken aback by the bloody scene they find. Sam walks up to Cap, giving him a brief report from what he can tell. “It looks like they tried to eliminate them,” he states, “Best we can guess is, somehow, one got out.”

Wanda rushes through the massacre, sliding down next to Clint, helping him apply pressure to a bullet wound in her thigh. “This girl did all this?” she asks no one in particular, her hand brushing the light brown hair from the girl’s forehead.

“Cap, she’s losing a lot of blood” Clint says, his voice tight with worry. “I can’t tell underneath it all where it’s coming from….we have to get her back to the jet.”

“No - we don’t have to get her back to the jet. Come on, Man - that kid is a baby Hydra Operative who took out 15 guards on her own…” Sam starts, having flashbacks to when Bucky had been under Hydra’s control and had torn his wings and thrown him off of a helicarrier in D.C.

“She could have been Bucky” Cap tells him and Sam immediately shuts up, seeing the error of his ways. The kid could be a lethal assassin, but until they could talk to her, they had no idea if she was with Hydra of her own free will or if she’d been taken. Sam had the good conscious to look ashamed for a moment, watching Cap stalk over to his teammates huddled around the girl.

He goes down onto one knee, harnessing his shield on his back as he scoops up the young woman. She barely feels like she weighs 100 lbs as he carries her out of the room and away from the bloodshed. He can feel what Clint meant, her blood seeping into his suit from somewhere on her person. Wanda quickly downloaded the files from the open pod and the control console at the center of the room before she left Clint and Sam to place various charges throughout the room.

Clint didn’t leave before he placed his hand on each of the closed pods, saying a silent prayer for the young lives thrown away by Hydra. They may have been made to do terrible things, but no one deserved to die in their sleep. He looked back at the room once more before disappearing up the stairs behind his comrades. They loaded into the jet silently, Wanda depositing their intelligence findings before moving to help with the girl.

D'Basa set the plane on a course for home and they were off. They were easily 10 miles away before they heard radio chatter of a warehouse fire in the storage district of St. Petersburg. Clint knelt next to the bench they laid the girl on, watching Cap wrap her thigh in a tight bandage.

“Sit her up, Clint” he orders.

Clint lifts her torso up, his hands coming away bright red, his eyes focusing on her back, “Damnit Cap, her back is a mess….” he curses.

Steve looks at her back, seeing a series of deep cuts across her shoulders and sides, “Language, Clint….” he scolds before taking gauze from Wanda and pressing it against the wounds. “That’s the best we can do for now…we have to hope she makes it back to Wakanda…”

Clint sits down next to her on the floor, “I’ve got her Cap” he says, letting the Star Spangled man know he can go sit for the duration of the flight. He takes an extra alcohol wipe, choosing to start brushing the blood away from her skin. He thinks for a moment, What if this was Lila? He flinches at the thought, feeling Wanda’s red magic pushing at his mind. He looks over at her, her eyes filled with worry.

“Don’t think like that…” she tells him, “That would never happen.”

He gives her a terse smile as he focuses on the girl again. He lifts her right wrist to wipe at her bruised and bloody knuckles, reading a hospital style bracelet wrapped there. He recognizes a few of the Cyrillic letters, unable to get much past the Russian word for the number 8.

“Vosem…” he whispers, remembering the word from Natasha’s early days with SHIELD. She had tried to teach him Russian, but he found the language harsh in his mouth. “We’ve got ya now Kid…”

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