inquisitioned asked: Oops, more. Demon!AU, Sebas and Martín, feathers.

gringoheartthrob:

So Martín hangs around that bastard Sebastián’s place and he’s entitled to, you know, being the King of Hell and doing whatever you want comes with the territory; it also means he can eat what he wants in Sebastián’s house, wreck what he wants, and sleep where he wants. Today he’s commandeered the bed, though his victory is ruined by the fact that Sebastián is still in it and sleeping as though entirely sure of his safety and that Martín wouldn’t…strangle him in his sleep or something. With a roll of his unnaturally bright eyes and an impatient huff, Martín flops backwards and digs his fingers into the sheets, relishing the coolness of them and the…completely…wrong texture. Beneath his hands is a sensation like the one he has when he runs his hands over his own dark wings. 

Feathers. As if he was lying in a pile of feathers.

They don’t seem to be attached to anything, so he tears a handful away and holds his fist in front of his hands, astonished by how he seems to be holding nothing. But he can still feel them in his hand, brushing against even though he can’t see anything.

Even as the thought occurs to him, he can feel the invisible feathers crumbling away into transparent dust in his fist, his own wings hackling over his head as he hears and feels the feathers littering the sheets doing the same.

YES PERFECT 

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