Chapter Text
Zephyrus. One of the most prevalent supervillains in this day and age.
Tommy hates him. It’s only logical, he is a hero after all. Granted he’s too young to go out on any missions, instead he’s stuck inside training and doing paperwork until he’s both old enough and experienced enough to be trusted on the field. But it still counts.
Tommy’s been training since he got into the academy when he was eleven. It’s important to start training young so that they’re flexible and can soak up information like a sponge or some bullshit. That’s what they say anyways.
Tommy’s excited to be a hero, it’s what he’s wanted to do his whole life, and now he finally has the chance. Sure, he’s only been learning for a couple of years, but he’s showing a lot of potential so he’s probably going to do well in the business. That’s what a lot of the higher-ups say at least.
He just has to wait a few more years until he is old enough to go out. Simple.
The thing is, Tommy’s never been very good at waiting.
He stalks quietly behind his mentor as he patrols around the streets of L’Manburg, treading carefully and making as few sounds as possible.
Tommy’s wearing the suit he was given to train in, an accurate representation of what his future suit would be like, fully functional so that they don’t have to adjust to something vastly different later on. He’s never been so thankful for it.
His wings rustle against his back where they’re pressed as close to him as they can go. They’re pretty embarrassing, even if it is cool that he’d be able to fly in the future. They’re still tiny and covered in downy white feathers, no colour having come in yet. His wings had only grown a few weeks ago and they’d been limiting his action because of it, not wanted to damage him before he even got the chance to fight petty criminals, so Tommy had gotten just a bit stir crazy.
So here he was, following his mentor as they patrolled, doing his best not to be caught, lest he provoke any anger.
Monarch was a great mentor, but oh boy was she scary when she wanted to be. Tommy had once accidentally injured another student with his powers in a test fight and Monarch had blown up at him. It came from a place of panic, but it still hadn’t been nice.
They’d apologised after that, bringing him cakes to make up for it. It worked. Tommy was an easily bribed man. Only by food though, not money, so it shouldn’t be an issue. So long as no villain came up to him and left a trail of pizza boxes for him to follow he’d be fine. Probably.
Monarch moved from where they had been stood for the past few minutes, pacing forwards with determination in his step. Tommy had heard a slight crackle from his earpiece, so it was probably a report of something happening in the area. Fuck yes.
Now Tommy wasn’t going to fight, for obvious reasons, but he wanted to watch. There was no better way of learning than to observe someone actually doing.
This was a bad idea though, as he’d soon come to find out.
The first red flag was the visible tremble in Monarch’s fists. Tommy wouldn’t have noticed it had it not been for the excessive reiterating of observing body language in the last term of the academy. It was useful to know what people might be thinking and when they might attack, and in this case, how they are feeling.
It may not always be accurate, but it can be beneficial.
And Monarch seemed nervous. Nervous, worried, scared. Something along those lines, and wasn’t that just fun? A skilled hero, scared of whatever was called in.
Tommy should have turned around.
But he didn’t, and now he was here. Ducked behind a wall with his hands clasped over his mouth and praying to all the gods in the sky that he wouldn’t be found as the battle raged right behind him.
The Syndicate. Fucking of course it was the Syndicate. Nobody else would make Monarch that twitchy.
They were infamous, the most dangerous villains to ever grace the city of L’Manburg, and most certainly not people you wanted to mess with.
Most heroes that got sent after them came back in a box. They weren’t normally dead, that wasn’t the Syndicate’s style, but they’d return with shaking hands and eyes full of terror, clutching a small case, that when opened, would contain a part of the hero holding it. Normally a finger, sometimes just a piece of flesh that had been carved out, a few times it had been tongues, and on one memorable occasion, a hero returned with a very large box and no leg to be seen. At least, not seen until someone had grabbed the boxcutter.
They were fucking terrifying, and Tommy really didn’t want to be anywhere near them. While he probably wouldn’t die if he was caught, that wasn’t a guarantee, and he actually quite liked being in one piece. He’d had many nightmares that ended with a little box in his hand, and he’d rather it not come to life just yet.
And so he sat, wings pressed up against the cold brick of the wall and unable to leave, for if he tried he would undoubtedly be seen.
He’d been there for far too long, his arms trembling and breathing uneven. His limbs were starting to go numb, and he was putting all his energy into not making any weird bird sounds. He’d be discovered if he made any sort of noise, and if he had to be found he would really prefer it to be for any other reason that him crying out for help in the language that only his species spoke.
He wouldn’t even be able to hide what it meant, the Syndicate was compromised of many villains, and three of the most notorious were right here with him, one of which was Zephyrus.
Tommy reiterates again, he hates Zephyrus, not only because he’s a villain, but because every time Tommy sees him on the television, or in news articles, or on the board in class, he finds himself longing.
Zephyrus’ wings would stretch out behind him in an impressive show of power and Tommy would have to bite down the yearning feeling that would crawl up. The want for family, for a flock, something that he does not have.
The heroes academy is great, but they can’t fix the lack of a family for him. They can’t magic up avians out of the blue so Tommy could have someone to cling on to, that’s just not how it worked.
So Tommy just had to deal with the raging feeling of desire to be wrapped up in Zephyrus’ wings and kept safe in the nest. To be loved and doted on like a child to be cared for.
But logically he knows he doesn’t need that. He’s a big man, he’s thirteen, he can fight and he can win, and he knows how to save and protect people. He doesn’t need to be protected himself, he’s the one that will do that for others.
Tommy pushes down another chirp that threatens to spill from his throat, pressing his hands even further onto his mouth, his teeth beginning to cut the insides of his cheeks from the sheer force. It’s born from a foolish hope that if he does make a sound, he can muffle it. Muffle it enough to ensure he isn’t found.
He doesn’t know how long he stays there, crouched behind a wall, but eventually the scuffle dies down. There’s no more yelling, no more demented laughter, no more sounds of hard-hitting weapons and bodies being flung around.
That being said, it’s not quiet. He can hear the crackly voices of the Syndicate, their tones altered by the voice changers positioned neatly in their masks. Tommy doesn’t have one of those, he doesn’t need one yet, he’s supposed to be receiving one at the end of the current year, all those months away. They wait until their voices finish dropping before they provide any.
“They ran off, again,” a voice snarled. Hopefully they were talking about Monarch, he would really like for them to be safe.
“Don’t worry mate, we can get them next time. Besides, we got what we came for anyways.”
There was a rustle of fabric that sounded like a bag. Probably placing whatever they grabbed somewhere safer than the rushed position it would have fell into while they made their escape.
“Can we go home now? I’m bored and Orpheus is being whiny again.”
“I am not being whiny!”
“Don’t call him whiny mate, I really can’t deal with this argument again.”
Were they- bantering? It sounded affectionate, despite the jabs of each sentence. Tommy didn’t even know the Syndicate could be affectionate. In hindsight it was obvious that they could. They were people after all, but it was still weird, hearing them act caring. He’d seen the effect they had on the people they held, it was hard to imagine the monsters that did that being so loving.
The bird in his brain sang at the rustle of feathers coming from behind him, Zephyrus ruffling his wings.
Tommy clenched his eyes shut and willed himself to be sensible. Not a good bird man, big bad supervillain man. Stop it bird brain, get yourself together. If he goes with him he’ll end up tortured and mutilated, not cared for. Prime, why was that such a hard thing for his brain to grasp?
He was drawn from his thoughts by a hum from one of the villains, sounding far too close.
“Zephyrus, Orpheus, what’s this?”
There was only the sound of footsteps and fabric for a few moments, before a sharp inhale cut through the air like it was butter.
“Fucking hell mate, where did you find that?”
“It was on the floor, just there.”
They sounded too close for comfort, just next to the wall separating them. It wasn’t even a long wall, just long enough for it to hide him, though it was a normal height, blocking all the wreckage that had been probably flying everywhere during the fight.
“You found it here? On the ground?”
“Yeah.”
The footsteps started again, hurried this time.
Tommy felt a tear drop down his cheek, not for the first time since he started hiding, and he squeezed his eyes shut again - for barely a second this time - prying them open once more so he could still see his surroundings.
He almost wished he didn’t.
At the end of the wall, he could see the shadow of a man, a man with wings, who was walking closer and closer and was going to see him any second now.
He held his breath, shaking with the effort of keeping his sobs quiet through the mask, salty water staining the inside and sticking the material to his face with an uncomfortable dampness. He prayed that he wouldn’t be found, but it seemed that Lady Luck wasn’t on his side today.
A small exclamation came from the man as Tommy was noticed. Zephyrus stared, his gaze boring into him despite being hidden behind the beady eyes of his mask.
Fuck. Fuck.
Oh Prime, he’d been found, he’d been found by the head of the Syndicate. He heard their conversation and had hidden while they fought, and now they knew.
What would they take from him? A finger, a tongue, would he loose his leg like that one guy did? Or would it be an arm, a hand. Tommy could feel himself spiralling but lacked the energy to stop. He was screwed either way, it hardly mattered.
The villain stepped towards him with a casual pace and Tommy saw something, a flash of white in his hand. A wispy feather, held in the fist of Zephyrus. His feather.
Another tear fell and he jolted with the force of the accompanying sob, his hands moving from his mouth to his knees, clutching them up to his chest in a mockery of comfort, his cries filling the air around them as they weren’t suppressed anymore.
The feather fell to the floor; Zephyrus didn’t seem to have figured out it was his yet. It was dark, and his wings were pressed up behind him. He probably couldn’t see them, despite the white standing out in comparison to the dingy area they were in.
“Hello little hero,” the villain croons at Tommy, stalking along the cracked concrete of the floor, “I’ve not seen you before. Are you training? Where’s your mentor?”
His voice was mocking, speaking down on Tommy in an infuriating way, the sort of tone that would have Tommy snarling and yelling if the man was anyone else.
“Are they not here? Have you been left alone?” Zephyrus continued to get closer, “Don’t worry, we can get you back, you’ll just have to come with us first.”
Oh Prime no. No no no, he knows what happens when people go with them, he can’t let that happen to him, he can’t.
He shook his head furiously, choked sobs forcing their way out of his mouth as he shuffled backwards, hands scrabbling on the gravel and cutting into his palms. He didn’t notice the pain, too hopped up on adrenaline and fear to recognise it.
Without his permission, a chirp managed to escape, almost masked by his cries and incomprehensible pleading.
Almost masked.
Zephyrus paused in his approach, tensing at the sound and staring at Tommy, straightening up to his full height.
Tommy’s breathing became more frantic with the realisation that the man had heard. He knew now. That wasn’t good, that wasn’t safe. They were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him, Tommy didn’t want to die.
A coo reached his ears, the sound dancing on the wind. Safe-calm-protected.
Tommy started to breathe easier, his sobs diminishing until the only reminder of them was the stains on his cheeks. Zephyrus continued to make small, comforting noises.
Tommy opened his eyes, he hadn’t even realised he shut them in the first place. It took a second for them to adjust, and when they did he startled, leaning back further into the wall with a small shriek.
Zephyrus was right in front of him, less than an arm’s reach away.
He cooed again and Tommy’s panic reduced once more. He felt calm now, though something in the back of his mind was yelling at him that he was in danger, but how could he be in danger when this man was here, this man with the dark wings that look so soft and safe.
Zephyrus backed up just slightly into the light and beckoned Tommy with a curl of his hand, prompting him forward.
He shifted on shaky limbs, collapsing into the man’s arms as soon as he was close enough as to spare himself from having to move anymore.
Zephyrus chuckled and shifted Tommy in his arms, letting out a small gasp at the sight of his wings. They shuffled with Tommy’s embarrassment at them. What would this man think? His wings were huge and impressive, each feather a glossy black, and Tommy hadn’t even gotten colours on his yet, still a boring, blank canvas waiting impatiently to be filled.
A steady hand touched Tommy’s wing, a gentle brush of fingers but nothing more. He was treating him like he was made of glass, too scared to be anything but gentle in fear of bringing back the Tommy that was hyperventilating and sobbing. But that wouldn’t happen, Tommy was safe now. Why was he even crying before?
His brain wasn’t giving him any straight answers, slowly growing muddier. It was like someone was filling his head with water, the sound of his thoughts getting more and more muffled with the liquid.
“You’re just a baby,” Zephyrus whispered, sounding reverent. The hands returned to his wings, carding through his feathers with a bit more force this time, the touch grounding rather than light and fleeting.
“Dad?” A hushed voice called from further away.
Tommy was tucked neatly into Zephyrus’ lap, pushing his head into the man’s chest and resting on his collarbone, grabbing a fistful of his robes and shutting his eyes. He was comfortable, so comfortable in fact, that he could feel himself start to drift away.
“Yeah?”
“What exactly are you doing?”
The voice sounded judgemental but was still hushed, respectful of Tommy’s tiredness.
Zephyrus didn’t quite answer the question but still spoke, a frown apparent in his tone and something dark slipping in amongst the pity.
“He’s an avian mate, he’s just a little nestling. Something’s wrong if he’s clinging to me like this. It’s like he’s never met another one before.”
Another voice spoke, this one deeper, asking a question that seemed honest.
“What are we doing with him then?”
“We could take him.”
“Take him?”
“Yeah. Why not?” Zephyrus sounded flippant, as though he wasn’t suggesting something that seemed a bit odd. Tommy wasn’t quite thinking straight enough to focus on it too much, but taking people was looked down upon, right?
“Dad, that would get the whole hero organisation on our asses. You’re suggesting literally stealing a kid.”
“They’re already on our asses. Besides, it’s not stealing. It’s adopting.”
“It’s kidnapping.”
“Tomato, tomato.”
Zephyrus stood, clutching Tommy tightly to himself and rocking him with soft sways side to side, like he was holding a baby instead of a teenager.
“Okay boys, let’s head off yeah?”
But before anything could happen, they were interrupted by another person.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The voice sounded exhausted, slightly slurred but still writhing with ferocity, the words laced with promises of danger.
Tommy recognised that voice. Was that Monarch? Monarch was here! Oh, that’s good! Tommy likes her. Maybe she’ll come over and hug him too! That would be nice. Why does she sound mad though? Something is wrong. Something is really wrong, what’s happening?
“Back off Monarch.”
“No, give the kid back.”
The air grew tense, stifling even to Tommy’s fuzzy mind.
“He’s my mentee, give him back.”
Zephyrus tutted, “And you let him come here? Really now, he shouldn’t be anywhere close to us, he’s still young. How old is he? Thirteen, fourteen? That’s when wings normally come in.”
“Give. Him. Back.”
“No.”
The rejection sounded final, the word full of venom at even the suggestion of letting Tommy go. Should that be worrying him? It was quite nice to be so furiously protected, but something is definitely off, he can tell.
“Why the hell do you even want him?! Have you just decided he’s yours or something?! You can’t just do that, he is a person!”
“He is a child that doesn’t have a family. He needs one, and we are prepared to step into that roll.”
The silence sat around them, so thick it could be sliced through.
“And how you possibly know he doesn’t have a family?”
Zephyrus laughed, the sound echoing around them and his chest vibrating beneath Tommy. It was a wretched thing, making Tommy shiver and tuck himself even closer, wishing away the feelings of fear that began to creep back up.
“No avian child would be this clingy and easy to push into their instincts unless they needed it. Unless they were alone. It isn’t healthy.”
Monarch scoffed, voice trembling despite the attempt to show courage, “You are villains. Killers. You would be the furthest thing from healthy for him. He is a caring child, he’d refuse to just sit down and let you hurt people, it would kill him to do that! You take him and trick him into being your family, you’re going to make him miserable.”
Monarch’s voice permeated the air, full of so much hatred that it sent Tommy’s head reeling.
He managed to get himself together, and with that recovery came the realisation of what was happening.
He was being held by Zephyrus. Zephyrus, the murderer, the villain, the torturer and always one that people feared, and he was being cradled to his chest like he was something precious.
It had taken no more than thirty seconds to send him sinking headfirst into his instincts to such a level that even his greatest fears didn’t affect him anymore. That was too much control for anyone to have over him, much less this man in particular. Tommy’s stomach swirled with a mixture of panic and disgust, at both himself and the man holding him.
The swirling feeling suddenly became stronger and a lot more real. Tommy leant to the side, startling the villains and hero surrounding him, and vomited onto the concrete with a wet splatter, all the meals he had eaten that day painting the floor in rather unflattering colours.
“Oh, fuck mate,” Zephyrus sounded shocked, taking one hand from Tommy’s back and moving to his head, an action that seemed to be from muscle memory, holding back hair from someone’s face. Of course, all of Tommy’s hair was in his mask, it was too identifiable to allow people to see as it had so many features that it could narrow down a suspect pool exponentially, so the hand just ended up hovering near his forehead.
It took a minute for Tommy’s stomach to decide he was done, and by that point he was very much awake and out of his instincts, adrenaline once again swirling through his veins with a powerful thrum.
With the taste of sick still in his mouth, Tommy scowled and attempted to spit out a sentence, though it came out a bit too weak for the intimidation he had been intending.
“Let me go you fucking prick.”
Zephyrus once again, seemed surprised by the declaration, like he was expecting Tommy to just sit down and accept the fate of being taken by them. Maybe he was expecting him to stay in his instincts for much longer. Tommy was tempted, it had been so nice to float there, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and he really did not want to be kidnapped by the Syndicate, adoption or not.
He pried his eyes fully open and glanced around, trying to gauge his surroundings.
Monarch was stood in front of Zephyrus, Orpheus and Protesilaus stood right behind her and guarding the exit of the area.
“Oh, c’mon kid, don’t be like that. I can look after you.”
Zephyrus sounded so soft, his voice quiet and aimed at Tommy with affection tracing his tone. That was fucking weird, he’d only known him for five minutes, why was he acting like he was Tommy’s dad?
“Let me go!”
He pushed at Zephyrus’ chest as hard as he could with the last word, Zephyrus’ arms loosening in surprise and allowing Tommy to drop to the ground with a painful crack, pain shooting up his leg in waves of agony.
Zephyrus made a grab for him, but Tommy darted back, unsure of where to go.
He ended up gravitating towards Monarch, despite the fact he was right next to the other two villains, who were tensing but not moving, still blocking the exit.
Monarch seemed worse for wear, hunched over slightly and blood visible on their suit, the sticky red plastered on various points. Hopefully they could still make it out of this intact.
Zephyrus still seemed to be playing the kinder route, stepping slowly forwards with his arms outstretched, “Come on little hero, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tommy let out a raspy laugh, his throat destroyed from the crying, vomiting and the panic of the day.
“I can’t tell if you’re genuinely trying to be comforting there because that was single-handedly the creepiest fucking thing you could have said, and it really does sound like you’re going to hurt me.”
Those words seemed to end the peaceful streak they had been on, and Zephyrus lunged forwards, Tommy escaping from his grasp by a hairs breadth, saved only by the tug at his suit from the hero behind him.
“Run!” Monarch yelled, desperation oozing from the word.
And Tommy really doesn’t want to leave them, but even if he stays he can’t help much, and he’ll get captured either way. He has to go.
But fuck he couldn’t just leave Monarch.
But he has to.
“I said run!”
And those words kicked Tommy into gear.
He turned on his heel and sprinted, diving beneath Protesilaus and fleeing as fast as he could, pumping his legs harder than ever before.
He could hear them fighting, though it hardly seemed like a fight considering the only sound reaching his ears was his mentor crying out in pain.
Tears rolled down his cheeks and he cried as he ran, the wind whipping at him as he continued on. He didn’t stop until he reached the gates of the Academy, which he could distantly recall was at least a mile away from where he had started.
His legs burned and he gasped for air, his feet feeling painfully sore as he stood on them and whacked against the door with anguished cries.
The door swung open almost instantly, and had Tommy not already been crying he may well have started from the relief of seeing a familiar face. His best friend Tubbo had been on door duty that night, that’s how he was able to sneak out. And look where that gotten him.
Tubbo gaped at him, yanking him inside and slamming the door shut.
Tommy clutched onto the arms of his friend, turning to the other person on duty, Ranboo, and screaming, “Press the panic button, press the fucking panic button!”
Ranboo did so without question, a red light flashing on the desk to signify it had activated. Any moment now some of the top heroes would come down to here and he could get help, he just had to stay alert and up until then, he couldn’t let Monarch be hurt, not after they sacrificed themselves so he could get away.
Tubbo held onto him equally as hard, spluttering out questions that went over Tommy’s head, he was too busy staring down the corridor waiting, his heart pounding violently.
It didn’t take long, and after only a minute, figures appeared, sprinting towards them as fast as they could. The Academy not only trained new heroes, but also housed older ones. It wasn’t where they worked, that was the tower, but it was where they lived.
The government thought it best to separate the two, so if one was attacked they still had somewhere. A sensible plan, and something that could be quite useful, especially in situations like these.
The Warden screeched to a halt in front of Tommy and Tubbo, taking in Tommy’s appearance and probably filing away the fact he went out without permission for later.
“What happened?”
Tommy let go of Tubbo, scrabbling for the Warden instead and holding onto his hands, a grounding point so he didn’t drift off in his panic.
“Monarch, the Syndicate. They’ve got him, they’re fighting them. Please she’s in danger, she fought them so I could get away. Please you have to go help.”
The Warden’s eyes widened, “The Syndicate?”
Tommy nodded, “Protesilaus, Orpheus and- Zephyrus.”
He stumbled over the last name, the memories still fresh and horrific in his mind, of being held and comforted by that monster of a person.
The Warden nodded, taking it in stride, “Okay, I’ll send a team out now, where did it happen?”
“It was on Wither Road.”
The Warden detangled himself from Tommy’s grasp to start yelling orders, instantly focusing on saving the hero that had put themselves in danger.
As soon as Tommy was released, Tubbo grabbed onto him again, Tommy flinching from the action before relaxing as he saw who it was.
Tubbo took him to behind the receptionists desk, next to where Ranboo was sat.
“Boo, go grab some blankets please, and get Henry.”
Ranboo nodded, disappearing in a swirl of purple particles. He was headed to their room, one they all shared, to grab what Tubbo had told him to. He returned in a few moments, with everything bundled up in his arms.
Tommy was stood, unable to do anything without prompting and feeling such a mess of emotions, all tangled together in a way that was incomprehensible. He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t do anything unless told otherwise, watching blankly as Tubbo arranged the blankets underneath the desk, placing a stuffed cow, Henry, on one side of it.
His leg started to pound. Huh, he had landed on it funny while he had escaped, hadn’t he?
“Go on, get in there,” Tubbo tugged at Tommy’s sleeve, pulling him down into the nest of blankets Tubbo had crafted, years of experience meaning he was pretty good at it, despite not being an avian himself. Side effects of being Tommy’s best friend for so long, since before even the Academy.
Ranboo shuffled, looking unsure of what to do. He wouldn’t fit beneath the desk with Tommy and Tubbo tucked under there already.
“Can you keep track of what’s happening and update us please? Someone still has to do door duty.”
Ranboo nodded at Tubbo and sat back down, spinning his chair around before going as close as they could to the desk without crushing the two young teenagers, providing even more reassurance by being near enough for Tommy to touch.
Tubbo peeled the mask off of Tommy’s face and tossed it away, letting it land crumpled up in a corner to be sorted later.
Tommy curled up, holding Henry close to himself and burying his face into the toy, breathing in deeply and revelling in the comforting reminder of home.
Being under the desk was a good idea. It meant Tommy felt safe, with all the heroes running around and an immediate warning of danger if something was to occur. The sounds of people bustling easily sent him to sleep, the combination of noise, exhaustion from the events that had just played out, and the ability to tuck himself as close to Tubbo as possible in a nest being overwhelmingly relaxing.
He fell asleep quickly, hardly noticing he was even drifting off before he did, fingers loosely holding onto Henry and Tubbo as sound washed over him.
He was comfortable but couldn’t help but wish that it was different. A bigger nest, one in a room designed for it. More people, winged people, sat and combing through feathers with chirps echoing from the walls and the sweet embrace of family. Black wings encircling him and taloned hands carding through his hair.
A pretty standard wish for him, though he was too tired to question that last thought, brushing it and it’s familiarity off as he floated into his dreams.