#keigo ficlet

[keigos-wings]

sleepy!keigo has had me by the throat recently so here’s this half assed ficlet because it’s the middle of the night and i’m fucking exhausted

————

sitting on your bed trying to get some work done when there’s a soft rap at your balcony door before it opens and closes again. the familiar winged man ditches his flight jacket on the floor, his glasses and headphones finding their place on the nightstand soon after, and throws himself onto the bed next to you.

“hey kei,” you say, setting your laptop on the beside table. you turn on your side to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow.

keigo mumbles a greeting and turns to look at you. you realize how exhausted he looks. noting the dark circles under his amber eyes and the fact that his normally tamed facial hair is longer than normal.

“you look tired,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“patrols have been kickin’ my ass,” he explains, falling back into the pillow. “i get so sick of being a hero sometimes.”

keigo lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when you pull him to your chest. he practically melts into you when you start running your fingers through his hair. “i worry about you birdie. you need to start sleeping more.”

“‘m trying,” he mumbles. “i promise ‘m trying.”

“shh, i know baby. i’m proud of you. rest now, okay?”

keigo nods into your chest, his arms coming to wrap around your waist as his eyes slip shut.

“love you,” he breathes, slowly being lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

you press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you. rest now birdie.”

#theo.writes #angst? #maybe? idk #boku no hero academia #bnha #keigo takami #mha hawks #takami keigo #winged hero hawks #gn reader #hawks x you #hawks x reader #my hero academia hawks #pro hero hawks #hawks comfort #wing hero hawks #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #ficlet #drabble #bnha fluff #hawks fluff #keigo takami fluff

[alieinthemorning]

Existence [Hawks | Takami Keigo]

Content: Thoughts of Suicide, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Questioning Existence. Please take caution.

Pronouns: None

Header: @/kadeart

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“Hey, Dove—”

You cut him off, “It’s getting worse but also pretty on brand.” then shrugged. 

He paused. “I… what? On brand?”

“Like kinda just questioning my existence and hating being perceived.”

He sat next to you. “Can you explain that for me?”

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “I just don’t like people knowing I exist… kinda don’t like existing but…” You shrugged. 

“What don’t you like about existing?”

“It's hard. There’s too much to worry about.” You frowned, the words souring on your tongue. “I just… I don’t like knowing that people know me and hate me.” 

“Dove, not everyone—”

You held your hand up. “Yes, logically I know not everyone hates me. I can’t help thinking like this, though, so just drop it.” You sighed and stood. “I’m gonna take a nap.” 

“Yeah…” Keigo absentmindedly said as he watched you drag yourself into the bedroom. “That could have gone better…”   

A few hours later, Keigo dared to enter the bedroom, one of your favorite small meals in hand.

Despite what the media believed, he was pretty skillful in the kitchen. 

You were curled up in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow close to your chest.

He sat the food down on the side table before dropping down next to you, placing a hand on your back. 

“How ya feelin’?”

“...Not better, not as bad as before.” You exhaled deeply before sitting up. “Kinda feel like I’m numb again.” 

“Numb to yourself and the world?”

You nodded, “I gotta be. It’s all too much to deal with.” 

He looked away then asked, “You hungry?”

You placed a hand on your stomach, “Yeah, actually.” 

He grinned, “I’ve got something I’m sure you’re craving.” 

You gave him a small smile of your own, “Thank you, Keigo.” 

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: version 2.0 #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #brown eyed reader #brown skinned reader #chubby reader #self indulgent

[hiyuna]

golden! ☀️ keigo takami | hawks x reader

On one end of your apartment’s hall, there is you: a down-on-your-luck photographer with a penchant for bottling everything up. On the other end, there is Keigo Takami: an incredibly chill physical therapist that you once bet your sister wouldn’t look twice in your general direction. You lost the bet the very next day. Thankfully, the friendship that you’ve cultivated with him is worth much more than that.

— rating: t | word count: 5.3k | AO3 link!! — tags: modern!au  / no quirks!au / gn!reader / fluff and humor / slice of life / a lil’ angst but there’s some comfort too / i did a deep dive into photography in japan for this whole thing / this first part is set around thanksgiving so i mention it a few times

one.  ↪ the shared spoon.

"Pretentious artist notes... thirty-sixth edition? Or is it the thirty-fifth edition? Hmm. Let’s say the thirty-sixth edition for shits and giggles. Today is November 21st, 2022. It’s currently—roughly, I should say—ten in the morning. It’s freezing outside, but there’s no snow—thank god or whoever else is responsible for that.”

Your eyes drift from the phone on the round table beside your bed to the ceiling fan just ten feet above you. It lazily circles, set to the lowest speed despite the chill outside just to clear the stuffiness of your room.

“First order of business is the obvious failure from earlier this month. I don’t think I need to go over the whole thing again after the last two recordings. It’s time to move on.”

Biting your lip, you take a minute to go over the beginning of the month for what feels like the millionth time. There’s so much that’s happened in between then and now—a disproportionate amount of it more harm than good for your career, your mental health, and just... you in general. Coming to this realization in the timeframe hurt, but all of a sudden it’s hitting you here and now two days from a holiday while you’re sprawled over your comforter, tears welling easily in the corners of your eyes.

The next thing you say is whispered under the breeze of the fan as if it’s a secret you can’t even trust yourself to keep.

“How the fuck do I move on?”

What a question, a riddle for the ages.

Sniffling hard in a way that your mom would tease you over, you stretch the edge of your sweater over your fist and brutally wipe at your eyes. Your notes are no place for tears, and they sure as shit aren’t any place for wasting time, either. 

“Second order of business is moving on: where do I go from here?” You pause in your questioning to sniff again. “Touko says that all great photographers—really, all great creatives—are molded and made by the breakthroughs they have after a slew of failures, but I don’t agree. Neither does Kamihara... Granted, I’ve only ever seen the guy’s works and read his one single interview over and over so I could be talking out of my ass here, but I would confidently bet he doesn’t agree with that.”

You take a few moments to think, then let your eyes drift to the ceiling again.

“Okay, fuck it, surprise third thing. What’s the deal with ceiling fans? There’s something kinda... I dunno. Nice, I guess, in the way it moves. It’s not like a roll of the tide or the sway of a pendulum, it’s this ever-repeating circle. Which is pretty cool, because it’s only that way because I made it that way. I gave it perpetual motion when I turned it on, and it’ll go until something else stops it. That could be a good metaphor for one of the prints in the next gallery, right?”

You watch the fan above for a few moments more, then slap your hand over your face with a muttered curse. “What the hell am I even talking about? ‘Perpetual motion’ of a ceiling fan. This shit is too out there even for these notes.”

Thankfully, your ringtone begins to blare right then, saving your notes from another rant. You aren’t safe, however, as the sound causes you to violently jerk out of your moment of reflection and pop your neck in a way you weren’t expecting.

From a cursory glance that is accompanied by another curse, you can see that it’s your sister calling, and you immediately know that the call is presumably to accomplish what both of your parents could not. With an exaggerated groan, you tilt your head back between your flexed shoulders and close your eyes. You know what time of year it is and what holiday lurks right around the corner. You know it’s a time for family to gather and fellowship together. You know that it’s worrisome to everyone in your family that you aren’t making the flight halfway across the world to the States after missing Christmas. And New Year’s. And every other holiday that came before now.

Unfortunately... after a myriad of recent events, you really just can’t find it in you to care even an iota more.

Rolling over to your side to grab your phone and stop it from recording your voice notes, you say, “Bear is calling, gotta jet. See you next time, pretentious artist notes.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Putting on a smile that you desperately hope will assist you in getting through another one of these phone calls, you answer your phone and put it on speaker.

“Bear, my darling and beloved little sister,” you chirp, “if this is about what I think it’s about, you can stop before you even start.”

"So your mind’s really made up then? There’s nothing I can do to convince you to come home?”

“Nope! I’m fine staying back here this time. I’ll see you all in a few weeks anyway!”

Your younger sister sighs deeply, the exhale sounding equal parts exasperated at and forgiving of your stubbornness. The thought of her standing in the hall of your parents’ home on her phone with a hip popped out as she rolls her eyes at your answer is enough to make your lips quirk. As predictable as she believes you to be, she should take a good long look in the mirror.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” you playfully scold, “you did the same thing last year.”

“That was different! I was a broke freshman in college!”

“And I’m a broke photographer trying to live off of the money from my last gallery and an almost full-time job at the art museum. Think I’m justified in wanting to hang back for now.”

“Sure, sure. Just know that mom sicced me on you because she wholeheartedly believed that I could convince you. Dad was gonna get the other one, but he demanded not to partake in our quote-unquote ‘unhealthy family politics’.”

“Oh, god,” you chuckle as you press your fingers to the bridge of your nose, “who let frog get a sociology degree, again?”

She snorts along with you, “The real question is who the fuck let mom have him first? He totally fits into the whole ‘pretentious oldest sibling’ stereotype now, always going on and on about social bullshit. I’m so not ready for him to mansplain my relationship with Rina to her face in less than three days.”

“Ha! I’m getting plane tickets as we speak; I have to be there for that.”

“Ha, ha, fuck you.” She doesn’t mean it, of course, especially considering the way she’s clearly holding back laughter as she says it. The two of you let your laughter live its course before settling down, a warm sort of fondness that comes from a family like yours settling in the pit of your stomach. You’d almost like to let yourself pretend that you weren’t avoiding seeing them for a plethora of reasons, let yourself say to your sister that she convinced you to come back home and that you are actually buying a last-minute flight out of Fukuoka and back to the states.

You can’t do that, unfortunately, because a large part of yourself won’t let you.

It’s comfortably quiet for a moment on both of your ends before you hear a snap. “Hey, how was that last gallery of yours, anyway? I saw your post on instagram when you were starting it, but you didn’t post your normal wrap-up pic afterward. How many pieces did you sell? I bet they can’t get enough of you over there, huh?”

How easily that fondness can be ripped away and replaced with a pit of anxiety. You have to remind yourself to breathe again. “Uh, I honestly can’t remember how many pieces I sold, bear. I was really busy leading up to it and I had a shift at the museum like an hour later so...”

“Oh, uh! Sucks that you were busy! But I’m sure it was fun, and I know your pieces sold well. You’re a really great photographer, bug.”

You want to cry again. If only she knew that you only managed to part with two prints for a combined total of a little under a hundred dollars. If only she knew that you had a good crowd, but it seemed like everyone was only interested in moving to the next photo and not analyzing the themes in your works that you saw from behind your lens. If only she knew that your hours at the art museum went up because one of your colleagues moved to Tokyo just two days after the gallery.

You could tell her, but it would just add to the stress of everything everyone around you is going through. Your brother just had a kid. Your sister’s apartment caught fire a few months ago and she’s still trying to recover. Your mom lost her own brother at the beginning of the year, and while your dad has it relatively easy, you know he’s trying to be the strongest he can be for your little family. You don’t want to add to that just because of a few road bumps. And you won’t.

“Bug? Are you there?”

“Y-yeah, I just... Thank you for the compliment. I wish you could’ve been here to see it.”

“Aw, me too! Ooh, you should facetime me when you do! That way I can walk through it with the exclusive artist commentary like a dumbass billionaire with nothing else to do.”

That gets a watery laugh out of you. “You’ll have to text me and remind me, but I’ll try. Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she softly agrees. “Before you go though... You know you can talk to me about whatever, right? I know there are fifteen hours between us and that messes with a lot of scheduling and stuff, but I promise to call whenever you need me. Just thought you should know.”

“I know, I know. And I’ll promise to do that if you can promise me the same, alright?”

“Of course, I promise! Alright, I think frog and company just rang the front door, so I gotta go too. Take care, bug!”

“You too, bear. See you soon.” And with that, the line drops, leaving you to stare at your phone.

One day, you will call your sister and tell her everything that’s been troubling you. You’ll tell her, then your parents, then your brother. And then, you’ll plan to take as long of a vacation as you can just to see them all. One day you will.

Just maybe not today.

The day passes you by after you get off the phone with your sister. You spend most of it curled into a tight ball on your couch with a positively gigantic fleece blanket draped over your shoulders like a wise ruler presiding over their kingdom...only your “kingdom” was your tv playing that one restaurant show that stressed everyone out this past summer. Another man’s treasure, right?

Around six, however, you decide to stretch your legs by taking a walk downstairs to get your mail and maybe see a neighbor or two. You could most likely benefit more from that than watching another episode in the dark of your apartment. So, you press your feet into a pair of canvas shoes, slip into your favorite jacket, offhandedly comb your fingers through your hair, and head out the door with just your keys and phone.

The elevator ride down is uneventful—one of the older kids living on your floor is on his way to get the mail for his parents and thoroughly ignores you by playing with his switch instead. Not like you’d have much to say, anyway. He’s courteous though, because he motions for you to get your mail first when the two of you make it down. You keep your voice to a murmur as you thank him, hastily grab your mail, then apologize as you scoot out of his way.

You don’t have much, thankfully. There’s a letter from the art museum’s director saying that you’re welcome to schedule another gallery for your works a few weeks into the new year that you sigh at, a paper bill that reminds you to sign up for paperless versions, and a thick yellow envelope from your mom. You stop in your tracks to rip the envelope open and find a card in the shape of a goofy cartoon turkey inside.

“Just because you aren’t coming doesn’t mean you can’t eat like we will. I’ll have your brother send you some money from me through those weird money-transfer apps you kids use these days. Treat yourself to some turkey on me!”

Oh, mom. You’ll have to call her the second you get back to your apartment. You don’t need money to buy a turkey—and you’re not even really a fan of turkey to begin with... The thought is very kind and very mom of her, and yet another show of love you needed from your family at this moment in time. With a slight pep in your step, you begin to walk back to the elevator while giving the goofy turkey another fond glance.

The second you do, however, you run into a giant and very solid... thing. 

Luckily, while you do stumble over your feet in order to regain your balance, you don’t fall flat on your ass in front of a lobby of your neighbors. Unluckily, you recognize the person you ran into, and he’s picking up the plastic bags you made him drop with a friendly smirk that makes you want to simultaneously want to hide and roll your eyes at him.

“Ah, Kei—oh, I mean Takami! I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry! You alright?”

Takami Keigo, your neighbor from the opposite end of the hall, laughs with a practiced poise. “It’s fine, I swear! Though I do have to wonder why you continue to call me Takami...”

“How many times—it’s polite to call you by your last name,” you grumble as you hastily squat down and yank the last plastic bag off of the ground before he could attempt to with your free hand. “I’m being polite.”

“You are very polite to me! I can’t say the same about the eggs in that bag, unfortunately.”

You stiffen automatically in shock, immediately (but carefully) peering into the bag to inspect its contents... and this time, you do roll your eyes. No dice. This is a bag full of food from KFC.

Keigo laughs again at the utterly unimpressed look you give him, the bastard. You have half a mind to whack him with the bag in retaliation, but it’s ultimately nothing more than a thought. Not only would that be incredibly rude of you, but it’d also instantly contradict your earlier point about being polite. Instead, you gesture to the elevator with the hand holding the bag, and when he confirms that is his ultimate destination, you go and press the button to go up.

“So, Keigo,” you emphasize just to be a little shit, grinning when he wiggles his eyebrows in response. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How are things on your side of the hall?”

With an amused sigh, he tells you, “Same old, same old. Yuri’s as cranky as ever, Masaki and his baby girl are as adorable as ever, and Michiko is as man-crazy as ever.”

“Oh? What number is she on this month?”

“Three! And you know, she told me just the other day that I should be ashamed of forcing her to keep busy with other men while she waits on me. I was almost going to stop by just to tell you that when it happened.”

“I wish you did! How many times have you told her that you aren’t interested?”

“With that incident added? Six times.”

You grimace, though you know you’re doing a terrible job at keeping the amusement off of your face. “Well, if you ever need to get her off of your back, you can always call me. Can’t say I’ll know exactly what to do, but I’ll do my best to help.”

The elevator arrives then, a couple from a different floor stepping out first before the two of you go in. Since you have a free hand, you push the button for the fourth floor and then take your spot opposite Keigo in one of the back corners.

“Anywho, how’s your side—“

“—Hold the elevator, please!”

Without thinking you shoot your arm out to stop the doors from closing. A cloud of perfume and cologne engulfs you moments later as a small group of people squeeze in with you and Keigo, the highly incompatible scents almost enough to give you an instant headache. You shuffle backward a bit to try and minimize your contact with it, but thanks to the way these people have shoved their way in—and the fact that Keigo is now behind you—you have little room to work with.

“Look who it is!”

Jesus. Speak of the devil—it’s almost as if you and Keigo talking about Michiko somehow summoned her and her posse. You’d laugh if you weren’t dreading getting whatever they drenched themselves in stuck as a taste in your mouth.

Closer behind you than you’re expecting, Keigo mumbles a curse you hope only you hear before raising his voice to say, “hey there, Michiko! Throwin’ a party or something?”

“We’re just having a little get-together! You know you’re always invited to come around, Keigo. It’d be so much fun with you there.” 

“Aw, I’d love to, but we’re having our own dinner party for two tonight!” As he lies explains this, a hand falls onto your left shoulder in a friendly gesture. You try your damned hardest not to freeze at the unfamiliar touch, even as Keigo says your name. “Isn’t that right?”

“Totally—”

“—That’s just too bad,” Michiko cuts you off with a pout. “If it gets cut short for any reason you can always stop by!”

“We’ll be fine.” Oh, god, sometimes you can even surprise yourself. There are five sets of eyes on you the immediate moment after your curt reply, and you really don’t even want to imagine the look on Keigo’s face right now. Hate, hate, hate.

The rest of the ride to your floor—which is blessedly short—is spent in awkward silence on your and Keigo’s end. Michiko and her group converse about what they’ll do at their “get-together” in a way you presume is to entice Keigo to attend, but he keeps to himself. When the doors open up to your floor, they all step out without bothering to even feign letting the two of you leave first. You roll your eyes at their backs as you wait to follow, idling outside of the doors with Keigo.

“Ugh, they probably smelled good one-on-one but together? I think that could’ve been used as a torture tactic,” you (somewhat) over-dramatically cough the second they’re all in Michiko’s apartment with the door shut.

Keigo snickers at that, eyeing you carefully. “Yeah, that was a lot. Are you okay?”

You raise an eyebrow, following after him when he starts toward his side of the hall. “I mean, I guess; it was just another typical conversation with Michiko. Why do you ask?”

“We kinda summoned her back there. She also tried to walk right over you and it was rude, which I didn’t point out.”

“It’s okay, I promise! It was uncomfortable as hell, but if it weren’t for you it could’ve been way worse. Thankfully we’re out of it now.”

He stops in front of his apartment door to look back and give you a lopsided, yet genuine smile, his normally sharp eyes softening into something almost as sweet as honey. Right then and there you feel like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. 

Fuck, he’s gorgeous, and it is so unfair in so many ways.

“So, are we having dinner together or what?”

You can’t help yourself. “What?”

“Wow. I didn’t think people actually still made that joke.”

“A joke—I’m not making a joke here,” you hastily explain, “I’m genuinely confused. Was that not just a trick to get Michiko off of your back?”

“Sure it was, and I’m making it into a genuine invitation right now! We were catching up and Michiko interrupted, so why not just eat together and finish our conversation?” At this, Keigo turns back to his door and unlocks it, striding in without waiting to hear your answer.

With a slightly exasperated huff at his nonchalance, you follow him inside and close the door behind you while asking, “Did you even get enough food to feed two people?”

“Of course! I always get more just in case I’m feeling extra peckish. And if we run out of this, I guess I could make a salad on the fly. Anyway, welcome to my humble abode!”

The gravity of the situation hits you the second you turn on your heels to face him and his living space—the place he calls his own and has carved out as a natural extension and expression of himself.

You’ve never been in his apartment before, not like this. And on second thought, he’s never been in yours like this either. This is completely uncharted territory. In the eight-ish months you’ve been living in Fukuoka, in this apartment building, Keigo’s been nothing more than a friendly, utterly handsome face from the other side of the hall, one you’d occasionally see when heading out for work around the same time each morning, or checking your mail, or in one of the corner stores nearby. You just barely know that he’s a studying physical therapist with a job at a local gym and that his birthday falls sometime in the winter. His number is saved in your phone, but you can count the number of conversations over text you’ve had on maybe two hands. 

You barely know him, and now you’re waltzing into his apartment like you two have been doing this since you moved in.

Deciding to break the tension you’re suddenly feeling with something easy—maybe a compliment on his decorating—you glance around the space to take it all in. All of his furniture—from the couch and loveseat to the chairs rounding the square glass table—is pristinely spotless, a fact almost comically exaggerated by the fact that they’re all a shade of white that’s startlingly bright under the fluorescent lights above. There’s a plush-looking light gray rug on the floor and a deep red throw blanket on the couch with matching pillows that are seemingly the only splashes of differing colors out in the open. When you look to the kitchen, you see that it matches the color scheme, and your heart drops a little.

There are no pictures decorating the counters in the kitchen, no reminders stuck to the fridge by magnets, no half-burnt candles on the coffee table in the living room or the console with a giant tv. You expected a bit more from him on this front, even with the small number of his eccentricities you’ve witnessed firsthand thus far.

There are, however, two things by the sink: a single succulent with slightly browned leaves rounding its base, and a photo of Keigo beaming widely and waving at the camera with a serious-looking, dark-haired young boy at his side. This makes you smile a bit to yourself. At least he has that.

When you turn back to him, his face mirrors yours as he asks what you think of his place. If you’re being honest with yourself, it disappoints you that he seemingly only uses it as a space to sleep at night, but you’ll keep that to yourself. You could just be assuming—not everyone can fill every corner of their home like you strive to. So you tell him that it’s cool.

“Probably not as cool as yours,” he returns, motioning to the table full of food boxes. “You gonna just stand there or are you gonna leave all this chicken to me?”

Walking over, you ungracefully plop down into the chair across from his and smirk at him. “Since you’re being so generous, I guess I might as well join you for dinner!”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

Keigo takes his seat after grabbing two plates from the kitchen and you both get to work divvying the food. He wasn’t lying when he said he usually gets extra whenever he eats fast food—there’s more than enough left over even when your plates are close to being full. As you dig in, you continue your conversation from the elevator and tell him that you haven’t been up to much other than working and taking time for impromptu mini-shoots when you can. He’s more attentive to you talking about almost nothing than you’re expecting, and it almost makes you choke on a chicken tender. Your recovery by asking how his studying is going is a little clumsy, but it nevertheless works. He’s been busy, he informs you in a neutral tone, and he wishes he could spend more time working at the gym due to the soccer season coming to a close.

His voice is tender and affectionate as he tells you, “There’s a youth league at the gym I work at. I was coaching the fifteen-year-olds before my course load got a bit too wild, and it was a lot of fun watching those boys interact with each other.”

That warmth of his is infectious, as you’re feeling it when you chuckle, “Must remind you of your high school days, huh?”

“...Guess so.”

Oh. Ouch. Wrong thing to say, for sure. Just a swift glance at him slowly pulling away from eating to place his elbow on the table and his head in his palm is enough to confirm it, never mind the faraway look he has as he stares into the kitchen. For the second time in an hour, your inner monologue is kicking you in the metaphorical balls for your slip-up.

“What is that, by the way?” Keigo juts his chin out at the mail you set on the chair beside you, clearly asking about the cartoon turkey at the top of the pile.

You snort, “A Thanksgiving day card from my mom. She’s going to have my brother send me money to get a turkey and thought that a card would be the best way to let me know.”

After you say this, you think for a second. Then, “You know? It’s funny. My younger sister called me earlier asking if I was coming home for Thanksgiving, and now we’re having dinner together.”

Keigo looks back at you with a slightly more lucid expression. “I’m sure they’re looking forward to having you back in the states again.”

“I think so too... it’s been a long time since they’ve seen me in person and not through a phone screen. You know, I’m pretty sure the last time I was in the states was early last summer for my dad’s birthday.”

“That’s not so bad considering the last couple of years. If you don’t mind me asking, why not go back for Thanksgiving?”

Million dollar question, that one.

With a sigh, you explain, “I’m in the middle of a rough time currently. Do you remember the gallery I had earlier this month? Only a couple pieces sold, and as much as I love working at the art museum, I’d love it even more if I could cut my hours back and focus more on photography.”

Keigo studies you for a moment, golden-hued eyes giving you a brief moment to peer deeper beneath the practiced mask he constantly wears. Normally you’d be a bit more bashful at openly staring at him like this, but at this moment he’s less of the neighbor who genuinely invited you to dinner with a lie to someone else and more of someone you’d willingly spend hundreds of hours studying just to come within an iota close to capturing him perfectly on film.

You weren’t wrong when you thought him gorgeous earlier, not even close to it. He might intentionally play himself off as carefree and casual to a fault, but you can see the tension that defines the hard edges of his jaw, the keen vigilance in the glint of his eyes.

Then the moment ends, because Keigo slides his gaze to the window without moving, and says, “That’s not all, though, is it?”

It’s not. And you really don’t feel like rehashing it a second time today.

He must gather this from your silence because it’s in the moment that you start debating whether you want to tell him outright that you’d rather not explain it to him or tell him as much through hints that he stands to clean the table. He takes your plate after confirming that you’re finished, placing both in the sink and washing them. Your conversation lulls in the space and quiet between you. At least until,

“I admire that about you, you know?”

For a brief second, you wonder if his goal tonight is to utterly confuse you. “You admire what?”

“You moving to Fukuoka from Chicago, of course!”

“Keigo...” you draw out the second syllable of his name in slight disbelief as you glance over your shoulder at him. “I packed up all of my life just to move to a city halfway across the world that I’ve only ever fantasized about only to actively be faced with the reality of doing that, and you admire that about me?”

Keigo’s smile is a little bit sad now. “What else? That takes courage, ingenuity, and resilience. You knew nothing about Fukuoka, yet you still sought to live here. You knew there would be a language barrier between you and an overwhelming majority of the population, yet you were working on your Japanese back in college if I remember right. You moved with a plan, you had a job with the art museum by mid-April, and you’ve made friends with a local photographer and that intern at the museum. So what if your first gallery here failed? You’re just getting started. Why rush it?”

That gets you to fall silent as he walks from the kitchen back to the table, a carton of ice cream and two spoons in his hand. He sets the carton—peach and mango is the flavor—down in the center of the table after taking the cap off, and sticks his utensil in it to take a bite. You absorb his words of encouragement in the meantime, pinning his words on a mental corkboard alongside your sister’s call and your mom’s card. When you consider yourself finished in letting all of the sentiments and affection warm you like your blanket from earlier, you find that he’s staring at you with a concerned furrow of his eyebrows.

“Thanks, Keigo,” you sigh, feeling soft-hearted. “Between my sister this morning, my mom’s card, and now this get-together, I think I’m feeling a lot better about everything.”

His once cloudy expression clears, and the bright, kindhearted look he gives you in return is all you need. “No problem, friend. Now, no more worrying! I thought this ice cream might be something you’d like and you haven’t even tried it yet. You’re making me look bad here!”

You scoff as he grabs your spoon and scoops up a hearty chunk of ice cream with it, looking all too pleased with himself as he waves it in front of your face with a smirk. Giving him a stink-eye, you snatch it from him and he guffaws, nearly dropping his own scoop in the process.

Why rush it indeed.

You stick the shared spoon into your mouth with a large grin and not a single worry in the world.

hi!! i’m yuna and this was written by me for me and i really needed to get this out of my system so here we are ✌🏾i don’t know how long this series will be—i have a handful of ideas but who knows what will get turned into a chapter—but i hope to be back soon, and i hope you enjoyed!! 💕

#hawks x reader #hawks x self insert #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #i miss him so much and i want to get back into writing so #also i just wanted to write something soft!! nobody move!! nobody say anything!! i need my soft moment!! #these will be interconnected ficlets in anachronic order btw #ok bye for now!!! i’m gonna watch the new trigun and cry over millie’s disappearance!!!! #AO3 link inbound when it comes back up as well lol!!! OK NOW i'M LEAVING 💕🥹 #yuna.writes

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Fastest heroes in the East au- would Gran Torino be proud of the hero that Hawks became?

short answer? It's complicated, because on the one hand, Hawks was a good kid who grew up to be a good adult, and he's not in the industry for fame or material gain. On the other hand, Hawks is everything that All Might is to the Commission, which is to say: he's the pale, tiny imitation of Toshinori, and Gran Torino will always regret not doing more to pull him out.

on matters of Commission-sanctioned murder: Gran Torino can justify killing to save. not an area to criticize Hawks for.

long answer? wc: 1044, and it's in Hawks pov, post-Kamino Ward (I'll say a few days after Torino forbade Toshinori from chasing after Shigaraki.)

//

Years have passed since Hawks has met with the old man and Yagi. The impromptu lunches and thinly-disguised field trips (training trips, Torino insisted, and Yagi had made such a face that meal, Hawks laughed until his sides hurt) stopped with the conclusion of Torino’s tutelage. If Gran Torino ever made an overture to meet Hawks outside of the HPSC’s contract, Hawks never heard nor saw it.

Honestly speaking, the last Hawks even noticed Gran Torino was a note about his license renewal. There are a few elderly pro-heroes still in the game, but he thinks it’s pretty notable that Gran Torino hasn’t broken a hip or whatever, considering he doesn’t have the security of Yoroi Musha’s armor or the untouchable reputation of Recovery Girl’s career.

Well. Until now.

Hawks doesn’t know how he missed the fact that Yagi was All Might. He doesn’t particularly like that the Commission thought to gloss over Gran Torino’s presence at Kamino Ward either, when they informed him about All for One’s arrest and the multiple hospitalizations.

He smiles his way past the first level of security and ducks past the second, sending his smaller feathers through the hospital’s floorplan to search for Yagi or Torino. His larger feathers still need to grow out after the last mission.

It’s difficult, sifting through the noise of patients and doctors and nurses and technological beeps just to find one person, but Hawks spent long hours as a child playing Torino’s version of hide-and-seek. So the only obstacles in his path are the well-meaning, starry-eyed workers when they catch a glimpse of Hawks wandering their halls.

A finger lifted to his lips and a conspiratorial wink perform wonders in not raising a fuss, at least.

The quiet, even-paced breathing, paired with the familiar low muttering of an old man. As a courtesy, Hawks bumps the feather into the general vicinity of Torino’s face. This earns him a spluttering, “What now?”

Hawks grins. He quickens his approach and finds the door, gives it a brisk rap of his knuckles and lets himself in. And as an afterthought, he starts reeling in the other feathers. (Yagi--All Might--must be somewhere around, but he’s not as talkative as Torino.)

“Torino-sensei, hey,” he says brightly. He shuts the door behind him and leans against the frame.

The room is small and unadorned with any get-well cards or flowers. It’s a lonely cold place, and its only inhabitant is clearly planning an exit. Cane on the bed, already outfitted in a simple button-down and jeans… All the old man needs are his boots, and to unwrap the strips of gauze tied around his head.

“Hawks,” Torino responds in a voice more like gravel than the solid bedrock he remembers. “Been a while.”

“Only a handful of years, really.”

“Long enough. You finally stop wearing Endeavor merch? Todoroki should be lurking around here somewhere; he’s more ready to demand answers from All Might than the Commission.” Torino busies himself with yanking on a pair of beaten-up cowboy boots, the leather scuffed with the years of careless handling, but he manages to give Hawks the side-eye anyway.

“I’m not here for them,” says Hawks, stung.

“Oh. Just to check in on your old teacher?”

“Can you blame me? I saw a clip of you getting punched in the face by All Might.”

Torino scowls. “They got me on video?”

“That’s your concern?” Younger men would have clocked out for the rest of that fight. Though the capture had been pixelated to all hell in addition to being shaky, the size of that yellow blur could have been very few people. Hawks had to double-check the casualty lists before the relief flooded back into him.

“I hate leaving proof for the Commission,” says Torino moodily, and he finishes with the boots and moves on to the bandage. He picks at the clean white edge, trying to loosen it.

“Proof,” Hawks echoes. This earns him another annoying side-eye. “Torino-sensei, why the cold reception of your best student? Or I guess, second-best student. Man, I can’t believe Yagi-nii was actually All Might…”

“The constant pushing of free limited-edition of All Might merch didn’t clue you in?”

“He said he was the secretary!”

The resulting snort barely rebalances the atmosphere between them, but fortunately, it seems like Torino is willing to talk. “Do you want a congratulations? I always knew you were going to make it as a pro-hero. Dealing with your own agency at eighteen though,” he clicks his tongue, “I wouldn’t have advised it.”

“What was Yagi-nii doing at eighteen?”

“Getting his ass kicked.”

Hawks laughs at the succinct deflection. “I believe that. He always looked so horrified when you brought up ‘training.’ You must have gone easy on me.”

“You weren’t even in junior high. I’ve got limits,” says Torino dryly.

“Sure.” The bandages are removed, folded into a neat bundle, and then placed on the thin pillow. Gran Torino levers himself off the bed with a grunt; the cane’s end clacks against the linoleum floor, somehow steady in spite of the lack of a rubber cap. “But you took the job. And don’t tell me it was for the money.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

Clack, clack, clack goes the cane. The distance between them closes, and the difference between their positions widens. His stomach turns over on itself to see Gran Torino shorter, thinner, older. Hawks remembers his teacher’s cape being tall enough to duck under.

When had he crossed that line, the one telling Torino that he was a charge before a student, and a student before an investment of the Commission?

He grins to paper over his discomfort--a Gran Torino lesson more than one of the Commission’s, to smile in spite of everything, not that Gran Torino seemed to practice it. “Are you really gonna give the doctors the slip?”

“Nothing else needs healing.”

“It’ll be easier with an accomplice,” says Hawks, innocent.

Torino eyes him. “Is this for the Commission,” he pronounces deliberately, “or you?”

The grin stays on, but it’s starting to ache. True to his education, Hawks dodges the point-blank question and offers instead, “How long’s it been, Torino-sensei? Can I treat you to some fresh taiyaki?”

“... Alright then, Hawks. Let’s get out of here.”

#bnha #hawks #takami keigo #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #fastest heroes in the east au #asks #anon #are you guys ever like 'bro i asked a yes or no question; #i appreciate the ficlet but would it kill you to clarify' #anyways. hawks is clued into ofa like half a year early #while he is foundationally an endeavor simp #he WAS practically raised in ofa #by which i mean torino carried over nana's smiling thing #and toshinori was doing his level best to indulge this unofficial baby brother

[thesakuragarnet]

Flecks of Gold (A DabiHawks oneshot/drabble for Hawks' Birthday 2023)

Summary: Dabi realizes he is falling in love with Hawks & Hawks realizes Dabi is teaching him to love himself.

THIS WORK HAS SOME (But not a lot) 18+ THEMES!

Non-Spicy Tags: DabiHawks, pining, fluff, soulmates (perhaps??), making out, first kiss, domestic fantasization, light angst, HPSC is the root of all evil, this might feel like two separate stories but anyway that's okay, swearing

Word Count: 1,433 words

Spicy Tags: enemies with benefits, mentions of/allusions to s3ggsual activity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something was happening to Touya Todoroki...but he didn't know what. He didn't know why his mind was swimming and something that was long forgotten was thumping against his ribcage, almost like it was demanding to beat right out of his chest. He didn't know why he felt empty when a new presence slipped away into the night. He didn't know why the moment he saw this..."new presence" he felt as if his entire center of gravity had shifted.

The so-called "new presence" was none other than the Number Two Pro Hero of Japan...Hawks. Hawks was the League's mole. The one who was supposed to be infiltrating the heroes and providing insider information...though Dabi had his suspicions and wasn't supposed to get...attached. He was more than attached at this point.

Dabi found himself overanalyzing every aspect of Hawks down to the most minute of details...and he found that...he...he loved him. Truly, that's what this new feeling was. He loved the way he laughed after making the stupidest of jokes; the sound was full and hearty and titillating, kissing his ears. He loved the way that light reflected off of his crimson feathers, streams shining brightly through vanes. He loved the way that Hawks held himself with such confidence that it was borderline intimidating; he never wavered his posture, never backed down from a challenge, no matter if his foe was three times his size. He loved the way that the sun highlighted the flecks of gold in Hawks' honey-colored eyes, pools of glistening amber practically glowing. But most of all, he loved the way Hawks caressed him...made him feel...cherished unlike any other. He hadn't expected to feel anything...given his condition. Yet, somehow, Hawks made him feel so much...inside and out. He made stars dance across his vision. He made everything...make sense.

Dabi felt as if their souls were tied together in an inexplicable bond. It was impenetrable...inseverable...it was wrong...but oh so right. He knew it was different the moment their relationship moved...beyond professional.

...

...

"Well, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

The words rang around like alarm bells in Dabi's head as the Pro Hero wagged an eyebrow flirtatiously, egging him on. Dabi gulped, sweat beading on his brow as he found himself in quite a precarious situation. Here he was, trying to intimidate the Pro Hero, and now, he was speechless. He had Hawks pinned against the wall of the warehouse after a spat, black painted fingernails digging into the soft flight jacket, bunching it up on the Pro's shoulders; their faces were mere inches apart.

"Am I gonna have to make the first move? Really?" Hawks huffs, eyelids heavy and taunting, almost like he's unimpressed. Dabi's mouth is dry, and he starts stuttering, words falling from his lips before they can stop them.

"I-I'm sorry?" He blurts, unsure exactly what he's apologizing for or if he's just not sure what the Pro said. Hawks' gaze softens before slow realization spreads across his face.

"Oh...never kissed anyone before, have you?" Hawks muses, and Dabi's eyes stare at the floor, suddenly significantly more flustered. His breath catches in his throat, his heart stuttering when he feels a feather touch the tip of his nose, bringing him back to reality. Cerulean pools melt into flecks of gold.

"I'll lead then, firefly," Hawks whispers, the pet name sending shivers down Dabi's spine as the leather-gloved hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Dabi lets his eyes flutter shut, and he almost swoons when he feels Hawks kissing him, soft lips brushing against the unburned skin on his top lip where he hasn't lost all sensation.

The villain groans into the hero's mouth, completely succumbing to the throbbing sensation in his gut; he feels it boiling in his blood and pumping through his veins. He wants this fleeting feeling to last an eternity. He wants his sworn enemy to wrap him up in those strong arms and vast wings and hold him forever. Dabi melts into Hawks' grip, stoic facade crumbling into smoldering ash as he kisses him back. He sees white behind his closed eyelids, his heart pounding and his vision blurring as his mind fills with distorted illusions. Illusions of him being happy. Delusions of sharing a life with the Pro Hero. They all come slamming into him at once without warning, almost as if it's meant to be. Hawks coming home from his Pro Hero day-job to Dabi, who would've burned dinner twice already and had been in the middle of ordering take-out. Dabi wouldn't be such a hardened villain. It was such a silly concept...to think that with one kiss it was like his soul had been bonded forever. Maybe he'd drank more whiskey this morning than he thought.

Suddenly, the spell is broken as Hawks' lips slowly move away, but Dabi feels like the breath is being stolen from his lungs. He lurches forward, scarred palms caressing the side of the Pro's face, fingers brushing against stubble as he pulls him back in and kisses him passionately. Dabi doesn't want this moment to end. He wants to lose himself in this twisted heavenly game that he's found himself playing. Hawks smiles into the kiss, chuckling softly as the sounds muffle in his throat, and he slips his tongue into the villain's mouth. Dabi freezes, but allows it, pleasure building deep inside when he feels Hawks' tongue gliding against his own.

Dabi feels like he's drowning in the sweetest way possible. He craves more. He craves it forever. He craves Hawks forever.

After an eternity, the kiss ends, and Dabi finds himself staring into those gorgeous golden eyes once again. The eyes that captivated him. The eyes that ensnared him in this precarious situation in the first place. Dabi is speechless, staring open-mouthed as a shit-eating grin forms on the hero's lips.

"Am I that good of a kisser?" Hawks teases with a wink. Touya Todoroki watches the thick eyelashes flutter, almost in slow motion. He could swear even those had flecks of gold within them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The words scroll across Hawks' brain, unable to find hold anywhere within the curves and folds. He simply didn't know how to respond. Suddenly, the suave, cunning persona the HPSC had been hammering into him was at a loss...and all because Dabi had asked a sarcastic question.

"What's your favorite color?"

Hawks racked his brain. Surely the Commission had an answer for such a juvenile question. Surely they would've given him an answer to say to such a basic quality. Surely they-

"Hawks?"

The hero blinks back to reality, sitting up straighter on the League's couch as Dabi idly lounges on the other end, his legs draping across the Pro's lap, boots idly hanging off the arm of the couch.

"Do you not have one?" Dabi snorts, only partially caring as he puts his arms behind his head.

"Don't know," Hawks mutters, and Dabi raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean you don't know?" The villain blurts, a little surprised. The hero clears his throat, feathers ruffling a little bit. He remains silent. The words sound wrong.

"I don't know," Hawks repeats, louder.

"Like you can't decide?" Dabi mumbles, and Hawks remains stock still.

"Does the Commission really control you that much, birdie?" Dabi snorts, half-joking, but the dark look that crosses Hawks' eyes gives confirmation.

"Well, is there a color that you like looking at?"

Hawks makes the connection much faster than he anticipated the moment his eyes find Dabi's. Those ocean-blue pools of cerulean seem to stare into his very soul. They stare right through him, stripping him bare, naked and exposed, mentally, emotionally, and physically. The eyes that shone in the moonlight...that incomparable cobalt that reflected the waters in the harbor by the warehouse. The way his azure flames flickered in those eyes. It was exhilarating. Truly, that was Hawks' favorite color. Nonetheless, all those explanations seem too convoluted in Hawks' mind for Dabi to understand, so he merely answers:

"Blue."

Dabi's suspicious gaze seems to melt, and Hawks feels that warmth blooming in his chest once again that he fought so hard to ignore. The indescribable feelings that the HPSC had fought so hard to stifle over the years. Hawks wasn't allowed to love...and yet...here he was. Opening himself up. In the beginning, he had just been seducing Dabi for information, but...now...it's different. This exchange seems so meaningless...but...to Hawks...it means everything. Someone is trying to get to know Keigo Takami...not Hawks.

Dabi breathes a whisper as he stares deeply into his lover's eyes:

"Mine is gold."

#ao3 writer #my hero academia fanfiction #dabi #ao3 #dabi x hawks #dabihawks #toukei #hotwings #keigo takami #fanfic #dabi fanfic #dabihawks fanfic #hawks fanfic #hawks mha #my hero academia #toya todoroki #soulmates au #ficlet #fluff #dabihawks fluff #dabi fluff #hawks fluff

[keigh0e]

Neighbourly ♥ Keigo Takumi

Word Count: 14k

Triggers: The usual bad language you can always expect from me, and some spicy spice towards the end

Description: You meet your neighbour Hawks under some special circumstances and he decides you need to become more than neighbours

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Thank you so much for treating my first post with so much love. As a gift, I give you this monster. Let me know if you’d like a part two! It’s not been checked so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

Requests are still open, here is a prompt list and what fandoms I write for

Your day had finally ended and you were exhausted, you couldn’t wait to get home to your bed, you couldn’t wait to get out of your work clothes, you couldn’t wait to sleep yourself into a coma.

But first you needed to make it to your door and it looked like your neighbour wasn’t going to let you do that so easily.

After reaching your floor, you immediately spotted the figure laid up against the wall beside your door. There wasn’t really any way to ignore him because sprouting from his back was a large set of blood-red wings. Fallen angel was the first thing that came to your head.

At the time, you had no idea this man was your neighbour. As far as you were aware, he was just a (Very pretty) stranger and you lived alone, you weren’t taking any risks.

You stayed at the top of the stairs so you had a quick exit and your pepper spray was poised at the ready. “Hey,” you called out, trying to be gentle whilst also being loud enough to stir awake the guy sleeping near your door. It looked to work as he moved his head from side to side and started to grumble. “You okay?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a shocking yellow which seemed brighter than the humming lights above you. Again, you found yourself wondering if you’d discovered an Angel at your door. Surely that was a good sign, right?

“Who’re ya?” He asked, eyes glaring. Your theory about him being some sort of angel went straight out the window as soon as you heard the slur coating his words.

You pointed over to the door he was next to, “I live in number twenty-four.”

His eyes moved to the door next to him before looking back at you, “no you don’t, Mrs Cheesepuffs lives there.”

“Mrs Chesney-Wolfe moved out last week, think she wanted to be closer to her family or something, so I moved in on Tuesday.” You explained.

The ethereal looking drunkard in front of you threw his head back, slamming it harshly against the wall. If he felt it, he didn’t give any sign. “Mrs Cheesepuffs left without even saying goodbye to me? I know she wasn’t my number one fan, but that’s brutal.” The slurring in his words only added to the sad tone that curled his syllables in, melting into a sob as he finished speaking. 

You weren’t sure what to do as he moved his head into his hands and began to cry. From what you’d learnt from the neighbour next to you, Mrs Chesney-Wolfe was your stereotypical old lady who chose to complain about everything possible, no one was sad to see her go. Except for this guy apparently. 

“Are you- were you a friend of hers or something?” You asked, trying to figure out who the hell he was in the hopes it would help you get rid of him. The last thing you wanted to do right now was deal with some drunk fool who’d chosen your doorstep to nap on. It was your turn to have a nap dammit.

“No, we were arch-nemesis, but she was the best enemy I’ve ever had.” He continued to cry, his dramatics making you more uncomfortable. “There wasn’t a week that didn’t go by where she didn’t try to get me kicked out of this building.”

“You live here?” You perked up a bit. Okay, he lived here, that meant you could just direct him to the right floor and then be on your merry way to your bed.

“Yeah, I live upstairs.” He waved his hands towards the stairway that led to the next floor before flopping his hand back on the floor, as though it suddenly weighed a hundred kilograms. “I wanted to tell Mrs Cheesepuffs… I don’t remember, but it was really important. And now I’ll never get to tell her!” He began bellowing and sobbing again.

“Guess there’s nothing else to do but go to bed then,” you responded, not really able to sympathise for a man who was clearly letting the alcohol he’d had do all the talking.

“No, I can’t leave yet without telling her the thing,” he pushed, looking at you with pouty lips and watering eyes. He should have looked pathetic. Why did his eyes remind you of that Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel? Clearly you were as sleep deprived as this man was drunk. 

In truth, you’d spent most of the week moving in and that day was your first time back at the cafe, it shouldn’t have been all that busy but there was some sort of convention happening down the road which meant the place you worked was stock full all day.

“You don’t even know the thing,” you argued with a huff, wanting this exchange to be over and done with.

“But it was important!” He cried out.

“Dude, how many drinks did you have?”

He stopped crying instantaneously, and started giving you a death stare. It seemed he was embracing his inner Mrs Cheesepuffs as he eyed you up and down with disgruntlement. “That’s a rude question, what are you implying?”

“You think that's rude?” You chuckled lowly. “We don’t even know each other but you’re stood in front of my door, blocking me from getting home, crying about some woman who, in the nicest way, seemed like a bitch.”

He took a brief moment to take in your words, staring at you with that same hatred glare, before making it disappear as quickly and as easily as he had done with his earlier tears. He rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. “Hm, I guess you’re right, that’s not very ‘No.2 Hero’ of me is it?”

“You’re a hero?” Of course he was. You were an idiot. You hadn’t been in this area long but you’d seen posters of him everywhere, he was a big deal. And he was on your doorstep, crying over an apparent cheese puff of a human being.

“Yes, number two hero, Hawks,” he repeated. “You don’t recognise me?”

You shrugged, choosing what you figured was the easier option. “I’ve just moved into the area, and I’ve never been into the superhero thing, no offence.” If he thought you didn’t care for him, then maybe he’d stop bothering you. Plus, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Whilst you knew of super heroes (it was hard to avoid them), you weren’t as obsessed as some people tended to get. 

“None taken, that probably works in my favour because this would really ruin my reputation if anyone found out.” His tone was much more relaxed now, there was still a slur but his emotions seemed to be calming down. He also seemed to be getting very sleepy. “I’m sorry for blocking your door.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry Mrs Cheespuffs abandoned you.”

He smiled ever-so-slightly, it was just a brief lift of his lips but it had your heart skipping a beat. “I’ll get over it, she’s not the first girl to break my heart and she won’t be the last.” Your brain immediately started to wonder if that meant he was single, though you tried to slap away those thoughts, because it shouldn’t matter to you if your neighbour was single or not. 

Hawks reached out a hand, making a grabby motion with his fingers. “Can you help me get up? The room is spinning a lot.”

You debated it for a minute before concluding that this was probably the fastest way for you to get to your bed. “Sure.” You wandered over and helped him stand up as best you could. He wasn’t light, you couldn’t tell if that was because of the muscle he was clearly packing or the gigantic wings on his back though.

“Ooft.”He grunted as his chest slammed against yours, you taking the brunt of his weight as you balanced him back on his feet. His eyes scanned over your face, seemingly becoming enraptured whilst all your attention was fixed on making sure neither of you fell to the ground. “Oh, hey, you’re cute up close.”

“Dude, can you even stand?” You gritted out, not even hearing what he said as you pushed against him.

“Am I not standing right now?” He looked down at his feet, chuckling a little bit when he noticed how much smaller your feet seemed next to his. He started giggling. “I bet you have little piggies.”

“I’m standing you up right now, this is more me than you,” you complained, once again ignoring what he said. You’d actually heard his comment about having little piggies, but seeing as they made zero sense to you, you figured the night would go a lot easier if you just ignored him. Oh, how wrong you were. Nothing about that night was easy for you.

“You’re such a good Samaritan, have you thought about becoming a hero?” He queried.

“Not my scene,” you replied, working to wrap one of his arms around your shoulder so you could take his weight a bit easier. “You live upstairs right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, once again staring rather intensely at your face. He couldn’t help himself, now that he was up close and personal, and your features weren’t blurring in and out of focus, he could finally make out your facial features and they were all so cute. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to squeeze your cheeks or kiss your lips.

“Come on then.” It was the only way you were going to get to bed. You couldn’t just leave him laying in the hallway, especially seen as he was meant to be some big hero. If anyone found out you’d abandoned the number two hero in a hallway, you were sure you’d get more shit for it than he would for being a public menace. 

When you reached the stares Hawks did actually help out, taking back most of his weight and using the rail to pull himself upstairs, rather than relying on you entirely. You made it up in no time, then you came to your next hurdle. His locked door. “Where are your keys?”

“Pocket, I think.” He made no move to take them out of his coat pocket and so with a sigh you reached in yourself, making him jump slightly. “Whoa, hey, if you want to cop a feel you need to buy me a drink first.”

“Noted.” You said the word as blandly as possible, all you planned on doing was getting him to bed, then you’d avoid him as much as possible and hope he doesn’t end up on your doorstep again anytime soon.

You found the key in his left pocket and used it to unlock the door.

His apartment was impressive, way bigger than yours, but he was the number two hero so he probably got all the big bucks whilst your barista job got you just enough. Trying not to get too bitter over the very different world you knew the pro-hero in your arms must live in, you walked further into his living room that connected to a humongous kitchen. It looked like had had the whole floor to himself.

“Which way?” You questioned, wanting to get this visit over and done with, standing in an apartment this big and shiny was making you feel very small.

He directed you towards a door which once opened revealed another massive room with a mammoth bed in the centre. It looked more like a nest, covered in a multitude of different pillows. One of them looked so fluffy, you’d probably feel like you were sleeping on a cloud.

Before putting him down on the bed you turned him around and began to push on the thick coat he was wearing. “Let’s get your jacket off,”

As your arms worked on pushing the jacket down your arms, he leaned his head forward, resting it in the crook of your neck. Then he felt him take in a deep breath. “Mm, you smell really good,” he mumbled, nose skimming up your neck, and when he moved back down, he did so with his lips. “Fuck, really good.” Once his jacket was completely off, his hands moved up, gripping your waist as he burrowed his head deeper, his teeth grazing your skin all of a sudden, pulling a gasp from your lips whilst shivers moved through your bones. It wasn’t an awful feeling, just wholly unexpected.

Not as unexpected as when he suddenly pulled you backwards onto the bed and took you with him, pulling you down on top of him. “Whoa,” you squealed. You knew you should have done more, should have pulled away and stepped back, but the man was a puppet master, pulling on your strings with every graze on your skin. He’d started kissing you. They were gentle pecks, but he kept hinting he wanted to do more every time his teeth caressed your neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he thrust his hips up into yours, letting you feel all of him. Every glorious inch. 

Unfortunately, that rut of his hips into yours was exactly what you needed to wake you up from his spell

“Shit, let go of me.” You pushed with your arms and pulled away with your body, shuffling out from under the wings that had at some point wrapped around you without you even noticing. Once a safe distance away, you pointed at the hazy-eyed man posed laid-back on his bed. “Nothing is happening tonight, you’re way too drunk and I’m way too sober.”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes half-closed and a goofy, yet charming, smile bending his lips upward. “You’re cute.”

“You’re frustrating,” you retorted, trying your best to stay on the offensive. You weren’t sure how much more you could take, you just knew if he kissed you again you’d probably let him just have his way with you. Just from that thrust alone, you could tell he packed enough to not even need to be good at sex, his size would be enough pleasure just by itself. Still, Hawks gave the aura of someone who knew exactly what they were doing in the bedroom, and that was even more dangerous.

“What will it take for me to get something to happen?”

He was going to remember this conversation in the morning, not with how drunk he was, so you decided to play along, at least he wasn’t trying to pull you back into bed. “Ten dates.”

“Ten?!” He guffawed.

You shrugged. “I’d normally say three but after tonight I’ll need you to prove you’re a gentleman.”

With that, you left his bedroom, thinking it would be safer to put some distance between the two of you.

“Where are you going?” He called out.

“To get you water and some painkillers!” You heard him grumble, but couldn’t make out his words. The kitchen was a big distance from the bedroom, his place was just that big. You wondered if he ever felt lonely, because of the place's size, you couldn’t help but also notice how empty it felt. You wondered if maybe that was the reason why he’d gotten really drunk tonight and gone to Mrs Cheesepuffs in the hopes of some late night company, even if that company involved him getting yelled at and berated.

By the time you got back to his room, you found him sound asleep on his bed. You left the water and painkillers on his bedside table, then you finished with removing his shoes and his jeans. You’d spent about five minutes debating whether or not you should take the jeans off, but then figured he’d wake up very uncomfortable if you did leave them on, and he’d already have a hangover from hell. You’d made a point to not look at his crotch whilst doing it as well.

♥♥♥

The next morning you thought about Hawks, wondering if he was okay and handling his hangover okay. You thought about maybe making him a little care package and taking it upstairs, it would have been the neighbourly thing to do after all. In the end, you decided against it.

Hawks was charming, even whilst being as drunk as a skunk, but he was a big time hero and you were just a barista. There wasn’t enough in common between you, other than the fact that you lived in the same building. You figured you’d just carry on living your life with the odd moment where you bumped into him in the hallway, maybe dealt with him after a bad night again.

Of course, much like the night before, your neighbour had other ideas.

At ten in the morning there was a knock at your door, you’d dressed for the day already, getting ready for your shift which started at lunch time. When you opened the door you were greeted by the person you least expected.

“Howdy, neighbour!” Hawks greeted you with a smile he probably gave all his fans, the kind of smile that had you smiling back.

“Hawks?”

“Oh good, you remember me,” he replied.

You couldn’t stop staring at him, not because he was even more beautiful in daylight (which he really was) but because he wasn’t showing any signs of a hangover which he definitely should have been suffering with considering how drunk he’d been acting the previous night. “Yeah, I’m more surprised you remember me, you were pretty drunk last night.”

“Right, that’s why I’m here, I’m bringing you an apology in the form of fatty foods and caffeine.” He held up a carrier bag in one hand and a tray that had two cups on it. He nodded to the room behind you. “Can I come in?”

So much for your plan of keeping your distance from him, you guessed. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let him say sorry for your hospitality, especially when whatever was in that bag of his smelled so good. “Um, sure.” You stepped aside and opened the door wider so he could walk in.

He did so with a skip in his step, once again making you wonder if he had really been that drunk last night when he seemed to be recovering so well. 

You watched as he immediately set off to the kitchen, clearly already knowing the layout inside, which wasn’t all that surprising now that you knew he had been close with the previous tenant. He walked over to the breakfast bar and plopped everything down before sitting in one of the stools, allowing his eyes to scan around your living room. 

There wasn’t much decoration to it, but you had only moved in.

“You’ve made this place look a lot nicer than Mrs Cheesepuff’s ever did,” Hawks complimented, eyes moving back to you and fixing you under their attention. He really did have a way of making you feel like you’re the most important thing to him in that room, and it was doing some wonderful (and terrifying) things to your stomach.

“Thanks.” You followed in his footsteps, sitting down in the stool next to him, choosing to face him so you could speak to him directly. “Can I ask something?”

“I have a question first.” When you nodded your head in allowance, he gestured over to the boxes he’d laid out with all the food. “I got a sausage and egg muffin, a bacon sandwich and some pancakes with maple syrup. Pick whatever you want and I’ll eat whatever's left.”

“Pancakes,” you said immediately with zero hesitation, grabbing at the box he’d pointed to.

“You have a sweet tooth, noted.” He commented, continuing on before you could think too much into what he meant by that. “I also brought coffee, I didn’t put anything in it. If you need any sugar, just let me know, neighbour, I have some in my apartment.”

You smiled at him and laughed slightly, getting up and opening a cupboard where you pulled out a bag of unopened sugar, you then went to the fridge and fetched some milk, setting them out on the breakfast bar. “I also came prepared.”

You two busied yourself with readying your drinks, you noted that he kept his coffee black, but added quite a bit of sugar. Seemed you weren’t the only one with a sweet tooth. As you watched him take a bite from his greasy bacon sandwich (a look of pleasure passing over his expression as he did so, that had your thoughts veering in a certain direction) he waved his hand at you, telling you to continue with what you’d been saying before. “What was your question?”

“Right,” you chimed, grateful for the distraction, “Mrs Chesney-Wolfe, who you like to call Mrs Cheesepuff-”

“Because she always smelt like cheesepuffs,” he explained.

“Of course she did,” you said with a roll of your eyes, this woman started to seem more like a cartoon character than a real person. “My question wasn’t about the cheesepuffs though, I just wanted to know what your deal was with her, you seem to like her but everyone else in this apartment hates her.”

“She was just a load of hot air,” he explained with a shrug, a quiet look of adoration settling on his face. “I was like everyone else in the building at first, thought she was a real bitch, but then one day I saved her on her walk home, she still continued to yell at me and complain to the landlord any time I made any noise upstairs, but she also started leaving me treats at my door. That’s what I wanted to tell her last night, by the way, that I loved the blueberry muffin she’d made me.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, because the story was the first nice thing you’d heard about your neighbour, and the explanation also made Hawks’ actions from the previous night seem more cute than annoying.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to live up to that, I can’t bake at all,” you advised, cutting into your pancakes.

“That’s okay,” he reassured, hitting your knee with his. You then realised that at some point he’d turned his body around so he was facing you and he’d boxed your knees inside of his. “I kind of have a theory she was slowly poisoning me with them anyway.”

“And you still ate them?”

“I have very little willpower,” he chuckled.

“Don’t you need willpower to be a hero?”

He waved his fork dismissively in the air. “What I lack in willpower, I make up for with my charm and sunny disposition.”

“Uh huh,” you hummed in disbelief.

“So tell me about yourself, neighbour.”

You cringed a little at his question, there wasn’t a lot you could say about yourself that would interest a hero who rescued grumpy old ladies in his spare time. You were just a barista making ends meet who spent her spare time watching whatever was good on the telly.

“Well, first of all my name is Y/N,” you chose to start with that, mainly because you wanted to hear him say your name and stop calling you neighbours all the time.

“Y/N,” he tested it on his tongue, smiling as it rolled off. He hadn’t disappointed you, the way he’d said your name, with an edge of huskiness, had filled you up with a warmth that was starting to become familiar whenever you were around Hawks. “I like it, as beautiful as its owner.”

“There’s that hero charm,” you pointed out, trying to not take his compliments too seriously.

He winked over at you. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it.”

And just like that, the warmth was rising up in your stomach like magma. 

The morning continued with him asking questions and conversations steering off from those. You talked about TV shows you liked, how you weren’t really big on heroes but you knew about them from some of the other things you did, like how you knew Best Jeanist because of his side hustle as a fashion designer. You talked about your job, and when you’d tried to belittle it by saying it was nowhere nearly as interesting as being a hero, he’d made a point to reassure you that he was interested, not letting you continue the conversation until you stated that you understood that.

♥♥♥

Your work day had started a lot better than it had when the hero convention was happening, that was over a week ago. The cafe had just started getting busy with the lunch time rush and your brain was back in your apartment, sharing that breakfast with Hawks where you discussed Mrs Cheesepuffs and a whole myriad of trivial things. 

It was the most fun you’d had in a very long time, and despite how much you tried to convince yourself it was just a one time thing - your neighbour simply thanking you for taking care of him in his drunken stupor - that didn’t stop the flare of hope you kept feeling whenever you thought about bumping into him again in the hallway.

You were always quick to dismiss that little bit of hope. You and Hawks weren’t ever going to happen, so there was no point in thinking too much about it.

You were cleaning up a previous customer's meal, cleaning up the counter when you felt someone gently tap on your shoulder. “Hey, little bird.”

Looking up, you found yourself staring at your winged neighbour. “H-Hawks?”

“Oh my god, that’s Hawks!” Your co-worker Becky practically screeched as she tried to handle the cup of coffee she was pouring for a customer whilst taking in the pro-hero that had magically appeared.

It wasn’t so magical for you, in fact you were getting a little concerned, it felt almost like your neighbour was stalking you. You were sure he’d never visited this cafe before, you’d have recognised his beautiful wings if he had. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m doing a patrol in this area today, now it's my lunch so I figured I’d stop in here and check out the goods.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes moved up and down your body when he said ‘goods’. 

“You know Hawks?!” Becky (who had somehow finished the coffee and served her customer in record time) moved to stand beside you.

Choosing to ignore your fangirling friend, you directed your words to your neighbour. “I’m working so I can’t sit and chat with you or anything.”

“That’s fine,” he shrugged, voice remaining easy and laidback. You preferred this Hawks over the cry baby that had been outside your door the other night. “Like I said, I’m just here for lunch, if you happen to also be here in my line of sight then that’s just a bonus I’ll happily accept.”

“Oh my god, Hawks is really here,” Becky continued to squeak from beside you.

You rolled your eyes at your co-worker, normally she was a lot more quiet than this. “Becky, go breathe in a paper or something, you’re worrying me.”

“What?” Your coworker started laughing a tad too loudly as she waved her hand frantically in the air. “No, I’m fine!” Despite her pushing, you didn’t believe it when she looked to the number two hero and started hyperventilating again. “It’s Hawks!”

“Nice to meet you too, Becky.” Hawks finally acknowledged her, giving her his best celebrity smile. You’d be lying if the confident look on his already far-too-good-looking face didn’t have your knees getting a little weak as well. What had them shaking was how his eyes only moved to her for a single second before they moved, almost naturally, back to you. As though he struggled to keep his eyes away from you.

Becky immediately started giggling and then she harshly grabbed on to your arm, digging her nails in slightly. “He just said my name!”

“Yes Becky, so did I, multiple times, never seen you hyperventilate over it” You hissed at your friend whilst trying to pry her off of you.

You probably weren’t being the nicest person in that moment but you were still recovering the shock from seeing Hawks again (in the place you worked, which was information you’d definitely not given him when you had breakfast together) whilst dealing with an excitable fangirl and a cafe that was quickly beginning to fill up with a lot of people who didn’t mind staring as the three of you had been conversing. 

She eventually dropped her hand and then started glowering at you. “You’re not Hawks.”

And you never would be, so this whole exchange was ridiculous and a waste of time. You and Hawks clearly lived in very different worlds, and you were sure he’d get bored of you soon.

“You have no idea how happy I am about that,” you chimed back, your sunshine tone juxtaposing the frown on your face as you petted the sore spot on your arm.

Far too casually, Hawks reached out and took a hold of your wrist after noticing the way you were holding it, his eyes dragged over the red marks. He frowned, but only for a second, then he was back to being his smiley self as he looked back over to you whilst letting his thumb smooth over where it hurt, comforting you. “Ouch little bird, be careful or you’ll break my heart,” he reprimanded mirthfully.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, wanting to change the subject and distract yourself from just how comforting his touch was to you, and how warm it was making you feel.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Little bird, what happened to neighbour?”

“Neighbour!?” You realised your mistake too late. There was no doubt your co-worker would badger you with questions about your neighbour every time you shared a shift now.

“Little bird fits you better,” he offered as fact.

“No it doesn’t, I don’t have wings like you,” you argued.

“No, but your laugh is as pretty as a bird's whistle, plus you’re tiny compared to me,” Hawks explained, his tone implying that all of that should have been obvious to you.

You didn’t understand what game he was trying to play, whether it was a game of pretend or competition, but you refused to play either way. “Is that a positive?”

“Just take the compliment, Y/N,” Becky reprimanded.

“I’d do what Becky says if I were you little bird,” Hawks warned, a chuckle ruining the seriousness of his statement and you found yourself smiling along with him. Becky was certainly acting terrifying.

“Excuse me?” A customer practically snared from behind Hawks, who politely stepped aside to reveal the suited man who was standing behind him. “Can you start doing your job so we can get to ours?”

And just like that, your good mood was wiped away. You didn’t blame the customer for getting annoyed, both you and Becky had ignored him for Hawks so he had every right to be frustrated. 

“Right away, sir, I’m sorry for the delay.” You pulled away from Hawks, creating some much needed space so you could concentrate on your reality rather than whatever fantasy Hawks was inviting you to spend some time in. “What can I get for you today?”

He didn’t stop glaring at you the entire time you took his order and though it was unnerving, you were used to it. 

As you went and got the customers drink, you couldn’t help but muse that it was a little bit funny that despite both you and Hawks being in customer service roles (his was a bit more extreme than yours, but it was serving people just like you did), he got a much nicer reception than you ever did. There was the odd person that would thank you, but most of the time you were treated to customers like the one you were serving then, who thought they were better than you simply because you were the one giving them the goods they purchased.

His order was simple at least, just a boring black coffee that suited the boring grey suit he was wearing perfectly. As you went to hand it over to him though, he’d been too busy looking down at his phone so rather than grabbing the cup he just knocked it over, spilling hot coffee all over your hand.

It wasn’t hot enough to cause some third degree burns, but it was hot enough to have you cursing and quickly pulling your hand away, dropping the cup completely which caused splashes to fall on the man's pants. 

Tears had pricked the corner of your eyes as you held your hand which was quickly turning an unhealthy shade of red, almost as red as Hawks’ feathers. Speaking of your feathered friend, he’d reacted immediately despite being in a conversation with Becky. Though you hadn’t been aware of it, his eyes had been following you the entire time you helped the grumpy customer whilst whispering to Becky, trying to get her to spill whatever secrets she had about you so he could get to know you even better.

In a matter of minutes Hawks was holding your wrist again, being sure not to touch the burns as he analysed the wound to see how bad they were. You noticed his shoulders seemed to relax when he diagnosed that the burns weren’t too bad, they’d just blister and hurt for a while.

“What the fuck!” The unhappy customer yelled out, doing his best impression of a child as he stamped his foot in the ground. “Look what you’ve done to my suit! I have a meeting in a hour! Are you really that fucking useless of your job you can’t even hold things?!” 

You blinked over at him, struggling to think of what to say next as you were still in shock over the pain in your hand. 

Hawks moved to stand in front of you, putting himself between you and the raging customer. He bent his head lower, his free hand moving to cup your chin so he could pull your gaze up to meet his in the middle. “You okay?” He whispered, keeping the conversation private, just between the two of you. Everybody in the cafe was currently staring at you but with how Hawks was holding you, and with the gentleness carved into his gaze, it felt more intimate than it really was.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “not the first time I’ve been burned, probably won’t be the last.” You aimed for a joke to lighten the mood but Hawks’ expression didn’t change, he was solely focused on making sure you were okay. 

“Becky,” he suddenly called out, and for a second you wondered if he’d forgotten your name.

“Yes Hawks,” Becky squeaked, not having expected the number one hero in her heart to suddenly ask for her.

“You got a first aid kit around here?” He asked her, though his eyes still remained solely focused on you.

“Yep, I’ll go get it,” she rushed off then into the back office, quickly coming back and presenting it to Hawks like she’d found buried treasure. 

He nodded his thanks and finally looked away, “you okay putting our little bird back together?”

She giggled again and began to nod. You wished your friend got that elated whenever you told her to do something, most of the time she responded with sighs.

“Perfect.” Very gently, he pressed a kiss to your reddened hand, just on the edge of where there was a burn. “That kiss should help heal you right up,” he joked, sending you a wink that had you rolling your eyes. It also had your heart skipping multiple beats, almost putting you in cardiac arrest, but you did your best not to show that.

Then he turned around and walked over to the customer, and you got to see Hawks’ charm at work. He pulled the grumpy customer close and apologised for causing the distraction, putting all the blame on himself, he then offered to pay for not only that customer's replacement coffee and laundry, but then he bought everyone else in the room a drink. 

It meant you and Becky had to get back to work pretty quickly, but she did most of the coffee making and you grabbed whatever snacks people wanted which only required one hand at least. By the time you were done, Hawks was gone again, his lunch break over and done with.

You didn’t notice he’d left you a note on a napkin until you’d gone to clean up where he’d been sitting, almost missing the neatly folded napkin that had ‘Little Bird’ scrawled across the front of it.

Little Bird. 

Take it easy on your hand, you know if I ask Becky will tell me if you haven’t been. 

Below is my phone number, I’m trusting that you won’t give it out. That includes Becky, but don’t tell her I told you that, if I’m being honest she scares me a little.

Send me a text and let me know when you’re free, lets hang out neighbour 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Beneath there was a drawing at the bottom that you really struggled to figure out. It was some sort of hieroglyphic. One looked to be exploding at the top while the other was… melting?

♥♥♥

You were laid on your couch with one bandaged hand over your head. It had been a long day, even before Hawks had shown up at your job.

When you’d gotten home, you hadn’t even been able to make it to your bed. At least tonight no one had been outside your door crying, too drunk to stand. Though, you were a little bit disappointed not to see Hawks.

You couldn’t bring yourself to text him. You’d gone to the effort of adding his number to your phone but then you’d lost all of your confidence when it came to you instigating the conversation with him. It was annoying, but you couldn’t help this nagging feeling that you shouldn’t get attached to him. He was way out of your league and the only thing bringing you together was that he was your neighbour. The differences between you and Hawks had blinded you the second you stepped into his penthouse apartment.

But you liked the attention he gave you, and the way he looked at you, and the things he said to you, and the way he stood a little too close but not close enough at the same time. 

You were falling for him, that was also becoming pretty evident to you. But you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without a fight. 

“Neighbour!” The man that harassed your inner thoughts suddenly yelled out from outside your door. “I can’t knock on the door, I hope you’re in there and can hear me, please let me in!”

“What the fuck, Hawks?” You questioned, rushing to get up off your couch considering how loud he’d just yelled and how panicked he sounded.

“Oh thank god you’re here, please hurry!” You did as he demanded and opened the door before he could finish the sentence, finding him leaning against your door frame, completely fine with his phone in his hand. “Damn, that was quick, you must really care about me, little bird.”

He’d changed out of his hero outfit which was all you’d ever seen him in, now he was just in a casual black t-shirt with grey joggers on and it took every power of womanly willpower you had to not immediately let your eyes drift to the crotch. You can do this, you told yourself, reminding yourself that there were bigger issues at hand, like the fact that your neighbour had given you a damn heart attack.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Hawks?” You hissed at him, thinking about maybe hitting him but deciding he wasn’t worth hurting your already injured hand (plus, you weren’t really the violent type anyway).

“Forcing you to spend time with me seen as you’re playing hard to get,” he responded easily as he pushed his way past you (you didn’t put up that much of a fight, to be fair). “What do you want from the takeaway?”

You watched him walk further into your apartment before he draped himself down onto your couch, pushing his wings so they hung off the back. “Excuse me?”

“I can eat pretty much anything,” he said in a way of explanation.

“I can’t afford takeaway,” you responded dully, not really knowing what else to say. He’d said you were playing hard to get, so he obviously saw that you didn’t want to push him to hang out with you, but he was still there, sitting on your couch, making it look better than it had in a while.

“My treat,” he responded, “I owe you anyway after causing you problems at work, which I’m really sorry about, that hadn’t been my intention, I just wanted to see you.”

You rounded to the other side of the couch, perching yourself at the edge, as far away from Hawks as you could possibly get. “It’s okay, it’s not even your fault, that guy was being careless.”

“That guy was being a dickhead,” he snorted.

You looked over at him with wide eyes, shocked that those words had even left his mouth. “As a hero, aren’t you meant to be all nice and understanding?”

He smiled at your words with the kind of look that read ‘wow, you’re adorable’ as he started shaking his head, refuting what you’d said. “I’ll have you know, I was very nice; I nicely removed him out of the situation whilst understanding he was being a dickhead.”

“Touché,” you responded with a light chuckle, enjoying this side of Hawks. That good feeling was quickly followed by a bad feeling as you reminded yourself once more that you shouldn’t get attached to him. He either felt bad for you or was intrigued by you, he’d eventually grow bored either way and move on so there was no reason to get attached. You realised it might just be the best to cut ties there and then before you got too attached to the winged hero. “Why are you here, Hawks?”

“Already told you, if you don’t want to text me and sort out hanging out, then I’ll come to you and force you to accept my company,” he said, putting his phone down momentarily so he could look you in the eyes as he spoke to you. He’d heard the drop in your voice when you’d spoken and could tell something was up. 

You shook your head at him, moving to stare in front of you so that you didn’t have to look him in the eyes anymore. “That’s not what I meant, why are you forcing your company on me when I’m clearly not meeting you in the middle? Why are you even bothering with someone like me?”

“Someone like you? What does that mean?”

“I-” He was really going to make you point out the obvious? “We may live in the same building, but I can barely afford my rent, this was just the closest place I could get to my job.”

“I don’t care about your money,” he said, gaze sharpening on you.

“It’s not just that, you go out there and you save people every day, I make coffee and then collapse on my couch at the end of every night, that’s as exciting as my life gets.” You threw your hands up in the air, in a ‘this is me’ sort of gesture. Because it was you. Basic, simple, boring, you.

“Yeah, you also take care of your annoying neighbours who drink far too much and get stuck in front of your door,” he quarrelled, not backing down as easily as you wanted him to. In fact, he seemed to be getting quite annoyed with you, as though he didn’t like the way the way you were talking about yourself. 

“I only did that cause you were in front of my door,” you easily bounced back.

He shook his head, not believing you for a single second, which was fair, you hadn’t believed yourself when you said it either. “If that were the case then you wouldn’t have carried me all the way upstairs, got me into bed and made sure I was comfy, and made sure I had water and pain killers for the morning after.” He shuffled further onto the couch, and seemed to reach out to you before second-guessing himself and pulling his arm back. “Stop selling yourself short little bird, you’re a good person, you’re sweet, and I like that about you, enough to want to get to know you in every possible way.”

You stared at him, taking in his words and the tone he used, trying to gauge if he really meant it. Maybe he did. Maybe your charming, attractive, neighbour really did feel interested towards you. And maybe that was just about the craziest thing you’ve heard in a long time. “I’m not all that fun after a day shift, I’m probably going to go to bed soon.”

It was your last defence, but it barely had any foundation, the way you’d said the words had been so weak, almost as though your heart and body were fighting two different battles. Your mind is trying to convince you that spending any more time with your neighbour would just lead you to an unnecessary heartache, while your heart told you to take that leap of faith, to let him in.

“Have you eaten tea yet?” He asked, eyeing you up. The war was still going on, so you couldn’t decide on what the best thing would be to say. No you didn’t, but if you told him you had then he’d leave. Nothing came out of your mouth. “Did you even have lunch?” He continued, and still, you said nothing, cementing the decision in Hawks mind. He picked his phone back up, unlocking it and getting to work. “Right, well if you don’t tell me what you want I’m just gonna order every different kind of food I can find.”

You quickly reached out, not wanting him to waste all of his money and truly believing that the mad man would be willing to do something like that. “I like pizza,” you offered, your heart doing a little happy dance in your chest as you finally took that leap and opened yourself to whatever kind of relationship Hawks wanted to pursue with you.

“Me too,” he was grinning back at you, that look of happiness on his face more of a reward than the pizza would be. 

As he ordered the pizza, the two of you also worked on deciding what TV show to watch. He understood that you were tired and wouldn’t be up for much conversation, in fact he continued to reassure you that he was just happy to be there with you.

Eventually you decided on a comedy TV show that you’d both been wanting to watch, it was a big commitment, ten whole seasons. But still, you’d started it with Hawks, knowing full well that you wouldn’t be able to watch any more episodes without him.

As the night started out, you ate your pizza on different ends of the couch. Then, after eating, Hawks took your plates into the kitchen and when he returned he sat a bit closer. 

Two episodes later, he let out a yawn and laid his head on your lap.

“Comfy?” You’d joked, swallowing down your nerves at how close he now was to a certain body part which had been tingling ever since his arrival.

“Enough to fall asleep,” he mumbled as he grabbed a hold of your hand, moving it over to his hair. It was obvious what he wanted to do, and you couldn’t help yourself, the hair beneath your fingers was surprisingly soft. It was clearly windswept from all the flying he did, but he managed to keep it as fluffy as the clouds he flew through.

Hawks had trapped you with this. You grew too comfortable and then you fell asleep. Right there on the couch with your hand in his hair and his head on your lap. 

He’d looked up after you stopped petting him, ready to make some sort of banter, but when he saw you asleep he just smiled gently. He grabbed a hold of the remote to turn the TV off, then as gently as he possibly could, he lifted you up and carried you to bed. He accidentally walked into your bathroom at first, but he found your bedroom on his second go.

He laid you tenderly on to your bed, allowing his hand to sweep across the curve of your body as he dropped you down onto your pillows. You’d already been in your pj’s so he didn’t have as much a hard time as you did when you’d taken him to bed.

Your bed may not have been as large as his, but Hawks still had a hard time resisting getting into bed and cuddling up with you. 

He won (or lost, depending on your point of view) in the end and left you be. When you woke up a few hours later, it took you walking out to the kitchen before you realised that you must have fallen asleep on your neighbour. You were only reminded of your night together when you saw the small pile of dishes that Hawks had washed up and set to dry.

♥♥♥

“This doesn’t count,” Hawks said as he walked up towards you at the counter where you worked.

“What?” You asked, confused at his sudden appearance and the words he’d thrown at you. What happened to ‘hello’?

“I just need to ask you something really quickly,” he explained, though it didn’t really answer any of your questions. “I’ve been invited to a birthday party tonight, will you come with me?”

“Whose birthday?”

“You don’t know him, just a friend.” He waved his hand in the air. It was clear he was in a rush, his hands were tapping on the counter and his eyes kept looking back at the doorway. “Come on,” he whined, “you don’t want to make me go all alone do you, that wouldn’t be very neighbourly of you.”

You’d hung out twice since he first ambushed you in your own home and force fed you pizza, mostly you were just chilling out and watching your TV show but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t already very attached to Hawks. He knew exactly what to say to make you laugh, and even when he was being annoying, he was looking out for your best interest. He made sure you ate and drank plenty of water, and he had no issue with you passing out in the middle of a TV show, he just carried you to bed and then cleaned up any mess you guys had made.

And he’d never complained about being the one to clean up either. You guess you owed him for that.

“Fine, but you at least need to tell me the dress code,” you bargained before he could rush off and leave you panicking for the rest of the night.

“Fancy schmancy,” he responded.

“I’m a barista, I don’t own ‘fancy schmancy’,” you deadpanned back to him. 

“I can sort that out, maybe you can borrow one of my suits,” he replied, leaning down on the counter, head in hand as he looked at you with a dopey smile on his face. He’d started relaxing, despite the rush he’d felt earlier, it was just his body's natural response to you. When you didn’t respond back with a smile he just chuckled lowly. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get you an outfit sorted.”

“Why does that feel like it could end worse than if I just turned up in a potato sack?” You said, a sudden feeling of foreboding swooping over you.

He reached out, booping your nose, “because you worry too much.”

Mocking him, you reached out and booped his nose back, though he scrunched his face up and looked so adorable you lost your breath for your second. “You don’t worry enough.”

“I’ve just learned the right things to worry about,” he shrugged, straightening back up, obviously getting ready to leave. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, it doesn't matter what you wear. But seriously, let me take care of your outfit, it’s the least I could do after throwing this on you out of nowhere, and I promise to not put you in something gross.”

“Or something tiny,” you quickly inputted. What else could you say? He’d just said you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. You wanted to call him certifiably insane.

He put his hand on his chest, as though he was making a solemn promise. “I will try my best.”

You took a second to actually agree with him. You hated that he’d bought every meal so far and that he was offering to even buy you outfits, sure, he had money but you had pride too. You think he knew how uncomfortable you were with it, because he always tried to change things around so it seemed like he was paying you back, rather than just giving you something for free.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

Whatever guilt you felt over accepting his charity quickly disappeared when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your check. “‘Atta girl,” he whispered in your ear before jumping away from the counter and speed walking to the door. “See you tonight!”

♥♥♥

Hawks was going to be at yours soon, you knew that, you were very aware, but you were sitting on the edge of your bed staring at the dress you’d found on your doorstep. You’d finished readying your hair and was about to get the dress put on when you opened up the lid of the box and saw the gown contained in it.

It was beautiful, the exact same colour as Hawks’ wings. You knew that was probably purposeful but you didn’t care, it just made you that much giddier.

“Y/N?” Your charitable neighbour was right on time in fact, one glance at the clock on your wall told you he was actually ten minutes early. What you didn’t know was that he’d been ready an hour ago and spent his time pacing upstairs, resisting the urge to just go hang out with you earlier than planned. He didn’t want to seem too eager, and he figured being ten minutes earlier showed he was just good at being punctual rather than just being desperate to see you.

“Two seconds, I need to finish getting the dress on.” You called out, shaking your head and deciding to just get in it. Sure, you felt like your skin was tainting it despite having showered thoroughly beforehand. Even the material was softer than anything you’d ever felt before. You were far too poor to be wearing a dress like that.

“Do you like it?” He asked, remaining outside the door.

“It’s gorgeous,” you replied, doing little hops around your bedroom as you pulled it up. Once the shoulder straps were in place, you let your hands trail down the poofy skirt, noticing the embroidered feather pattern that had been sewn in. Another beautiful reminder of the beautiful man who had gotten you this dress. “Don’t know about the colour though.”

“Really? The colour is my favourite part.” Hawks responded.

“I could have guessed that,” you chuckled. Taking one last look in the mirror you decided you’d do. You weren’t a model, you’d never be stunning. Despite what Hawks had said earlier when he’d asked you to go to the party, you weren’t the most beautiful girl in the world, you weren’t even second, or hundredth. But that was okay, because your dress was the most beautiful dress in the world.

You opened up the front door for Hawks, spinning around and pointing at your back. “Zip me up?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he chanted, hands moving to grip your waist so he could turn your back to face him, smiling at your confused expression. “You can’t just reveal all this goodness and not give me a chance to stare.” After his eyes roamed over the front of you, he pushed at your hips again, making you spin around. A giggle escaped you despite your best efforts to try to stay calm and cool. “I was wrong earlier,” he continued, “you’re something more than beautiful, I don’t think a word exists for you yet.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you responded, shaking your head at him. Even if you wanted to deny him, his words still tore through your skin and nestled into your heart. You knew they’d stay there through the next few weeks or so, thriving. 

“You’re still cute,” he retorted with a cut wrinkle of his nose.

“Thought I was ‘more than beautiful’,” you argued, finding it easier to joke than take the conversation as seriously as Hawks seemed to be.

“You’re both,” he shrugged with ease, squeezing your hips in a way that you guessed was meant to be reassuring. 

“Noted,” you said, because that’s all you really could say. Until you looked at him, truly taking in the all black suit he wore. It was clearly tailor made, hugging his body in all the right places. “You look really handsome.”

“Thanks.” He grinned down at you. “See, that’s how you take a compliment.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before turning away. “Thank you for the lesson, now, my zip?”

“Of course.” He stepped close, maybe a little too close considering all he needed to do was zip up the back of your dress. But you weren't about to push him away, not when the heat of his body was warming up yours so deliciously, making you feel so safe. His head, which was bent downward so he could look down at the zip, bumped against yours. “You smell good too.” Shamelessly, Hawks let his nose drift down to your neck. 

You were starting to think he had some sort of obsession with that spot on your body, it was where he’d first touched you at the start of your friendship, and he always seemed to go back there like a moth to a flame.

“Hawks…” You weren’t sure if you were about to ask him something or maybe beg him, the words got lost as his hands gripped tighter at your waist the moment you whispered his name in that husky tone. 

He hummed as he let his nose stroke the curve of your neck one more time before pulling away, “we better get to the car before I drag you up to my place and lock you inside my bedroom.”

“Yeah, of course.” The words came out as a squeak, unable to read from Hawks’ expression if he was joking or not because he moved too quickly, pulling you out of your apartment and taking you down the stairs, not letting you see his face at all.

“We can do that later,” he continued on, sounding quite cheerful over the prospect. 

You didn’t respond. You would have agreed quite eagerly, but you still weren’t sure if he was joking or not, and your pride wouldn’t let you come across as too eager. 

When you got downstairs, he moved over to a large fancy black car and opened up the door for you. Once you slipped inside, he moved in close to you, doing his best to not let his wings get in the way. You could understand why he normally chose to fly over getting stuffed in a car.

As the car set off, things started to become a bit more real for you. You were on your way to the kind of effort where you needed to dress as nicely as you and Hawks were. You were used to just going to bars whenever it was one of your friends birthdays, nothing like this.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” he said, noticing how rigid you became as soon as the car started moving.

“Yes I do.” You chose to be honest, trusting Hawks enough with that. “This is all normal for you so you don’t get it.”

Proving why he was chosen to be number two hero, he paused to take in your words, nodding as they sunk in. “You’re not wrong, maybe I am numb to it, but I’m still here for you and I’m still going to do everything I can to make sure you have a good night.” He reached out, taking your hand into his and you found yourself grateful for the contact. 

“I appreciate that, Hawks.” What did you do so right? To have a man like Hawks, a number two hero full of charm and good looks and the kindest of hearts, want to be around you, supporting you, letting you thrive? In your past life you must have been a saint.

“What do you give a sick bird?”

“Excuse me?” You questioned, unsure where the words came from and what they had to do with what you’d just been talking about.

“A tweet-ment.” Hawks laughed harder than you did at his own joke, though a few chuckles did escape you, mostly at the ridiculousness of him throwing out a bird joke.

“That was awful,” you cringed, nose wrinkling in a way that immediately had Hawks leaning over and booping you. That seemed to be another one of Hawks’ favourite things to do.

No matter how much you protested, he continued to tell you more bird jokes. You wanted to say you were surprised by how many jokes he made, but you weren’t all that surprised. This was Hawks. Of course there was a special part of his brain saved exclusively for bird jokes.

You were laughing so hard you barely noticed when you reached the house where the party was held- wait, no, it wasn’t a house at all. Your eyes bulged as you took in the mansion you’d parked in front of. Outside there were multiple banners which all had an image of the one hero you’d always be a minute to recognise.

Your hand that was cradling Hawks turned into a vice-like grip. “Hold on a minute, this is Best Jeanist’s birthday party?”

“Oh great, you do know him,” Hawks said, as though it were just some lucky coincidence.

You glowered over at him. “You know I know him, we spoke about him the first time we met.”

A single look of ‘oops, I got caught’ flashed across his face before he covered it in a cheesy smile. “Aw, you remembered,” he feigned adoration as he pressed his free hand against his heart.

“Hawks.” It was a single word, just his name, but you’d pushed enough seriousness into it that it broke through his charade. 

“I knew if I told you, you’d freak out and talk yourself out of coming,” he admitted, giving your hand a squeeze, though it was more to comfort himself. He then gave you another determined love, recovering from the moment of insecurity quickly and easily, a trait of his you wished you could share in. “It’s not a big deal, everyone here are friends, not heroes.”

“But they are heroes, Hawks, big time heroes, I’m a nobody.” 

You knew you’d made a mistake when you finished your sentence and Hawks was glaring straight at you. He shuffled closer until he was crowding into your space. It wasn’t yours anymore, it was his. 

“You’re my girl,” he asserted, hand tipping up your jaw so you could look into his eyes and see just how much he meant that. The look of seriousness softened as he continued, “please, just give it an hour and if you hate it then I promise we’ll leave.”

Who were you to argue with that? The number two hero had claimed you, and promised you safety. That claiming was all you could really think about so you let him drag you out of the car and into the building, his arm soon wrapping around your waist as you walked together.

“Jeanist!” Your neighbour called out, making you jump a little as he pulled you from your stupor, changing the directory that you were walking in. The only reason you didn’t fall over was because of Hawks grip around you.

“Hello, Hawks,” the famous fashion-designer-slash-superhero greeted, his eyes soon moving over to you, “ah, you must be the girl who’s got our number two hero acting like a love drunk puppy.”

“That’s her,” Hawks admitted unabashedly.

“Uh, hi, happy birthday.” You were nervous and despite your best attempts, the shakiness showed in your voice. Jeanist was stylish and intense, even when he was in a relaxed setting he seemed to uphold that.

“Thank you, do you like the dress?” He asked, waving his hand graciously, “It’s not my best work but Hawks limited me on what I could do, still, you make it look lovely.”

“Y-your dress? You made this dress.” You blinked up at him. Head empty, just thoughts about the fact that you were in a custom Best Jeanist dress. “You made this dress.” You couldn’t stop repeating it, you looked over to Hawks and said it one more time, just for good measure. “Best Jeanist made this dress.”

You realised you were starting to act like Becky had and tried to pull your fragmented mind back together but ohmygodyouwerewearingafreakingbestjeanistdress.

“He did, but you look so good in that dress, you make it your own,” Best Jeanist replied, unbothered by your fangirl antics, he was profusely used to it by that point in his career.

“He’s not wrong,” Hawks agreed, squeezing you slightly, a proud look on his face.

“Thank you,” you responded, “thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded coolly, “if you don’t mind I need to finish making the rounds.”

“No worries, have a nice night,” Hawks said and you were glad he was able to speak civilly to the hero, you were still too awestruck to carry a normal conversation.

“You too, don’t try to have another drinking competition with Endeavour, please.” Those were Best Jeanist’s last words to Hawks as he strolled away to a group that was standing in the corner. You recognised one of them as Mt. Lady, a hero who had caught everyone's eyes (she was too big to miss sometimes) because of the way she dominated a battlefield and how good she looked as she did it.

You looked over at HAwks, wondering if he’d become entranced by any of the other beautiful heroes that surrounded you but he was still just looking at you, a content smile on his lips, the exact same smile he’d wear when he rested with his head on your lap.

That smile meant a lot to you. You didn’t realise until that moment, but the fact that he gifted you that smile was continuous proof that he not only wanted to be around you, but he enjoyed it.

Together with Hawks you make your own way around the gala, saying hello to everyone whilst you did your best not to get star struck.

Eventually you did bump into Endeavour and it took everything in you not to ask the man for an autograph. He was curt and polite, keeping the conversation short. Once he left, you revealed to Hawks that Endeavour was always your favourite as a kid. What you weren’t expecting was how excited that made Hawks become as he revealed Endeavour was also his favourite, this led to the two of you finding a spot in the hall and swapping stories of your favourite Endeavour rescues or fights.

“He’s so cool,” Hawks said with a dreamy sigh.

“Yeah,” you agreed, leaning back in your chair, “but, I don’t know, another hero has caught my eye lately, I might have a new favourite.”

He kisses your hand, but it’s obvious from the heated look that he wants to do more. You wanted him to do more. You weren’t sure when that move from neighbours to more had occurred, but you weren’t hating it either.

You liked the way Hawks made you feel, and you liked him. Not just his looks, but his personality, his charm, his cuddliness and even his bird jokes. 

“Want to dance?” He eventually asked.

“Sure.” You both left your drinks on the table, taking to the dance floor where an upbeat, but slow, melody was being played by a band. Falling into Hawks’ arms, letting him wrap his arms around you, was easy. He’d spent so much time with you, touching your body in little ways, that being this close didn’t feel intimidating at all, it was natural.

Together, you swayed, your chin resting on his shoulder while he leaned his head back against yours.

Pushing a bit closer, he nuzzled your neck before whispering in your ear. “So, we’re up to date five now, how would you say I am doing?”

“Date five?” You queried, eyebrows coming together as a look of confusion passed your expression. Was this a date? When did date one, two, three and four, happen?

“Yeah,” He leaned back, removing one hand from around your waist so he could hold it up and begin counting on his fingers, “breakfast after we met, lunch date at the cafe, takeaway and TV shows yesterday and two nights ago, think that's five.”

“Those were dates?”

He gave a firm nod. “You said I needed to take you out ten times if I hoped to have a chance with you.”

It took you a moment to recognise what he was talking about. Then it clicked, that was what you’d said to him in a moment of angry passion after you’d stopped him from trying to kiss you whilst being far too inebriated. It had been a joke though, just a throw away statement to get him to stop pestering you. Yet, in the end, it had only gotten him to pester you more, not that you weren’t grateful for that. 

“You remembered that?” You asked, feeling a lot of emotions. Shock, awe, adoration.

“Can’t forget it, you were being all bossy and cute,” he chuckled lowly. Hiding behind all that jokiness was nerves though, you saw it in the way his eyes seemed to roam over your expression, trying to read your emotions. You felt it in the fingers that were digging into your hips, stopping you from making a run from it, not that you wanted to.

“And you… you’d be willing to do five more? You’d want to hang out that much, knowing there’s no reward for you?” It seemed like such a silly question, but you felt the need to ask it anyway. All this time you’d been nervous, thinking that he was wasting both of your time, that he didn’t want anything to do with you later, but how could you say that when he was putting so much effort into getting to know you? So much effort into getting to be with you?

“I’m very much hoping for a reward, but yeah, I would, I do actually like hanging out with you.”

That was it, there was no stopping you as you pulled him down to you and slammed your lips against his. There was so much neediness coming from you as your hands dug into his hair, normally your pride would have stopped you from doing this but you couldn’t help yourself. This man wanted to know you, he wanted to hang out with you, he wanted to be with you.

Even if it was just for ten stupid dates, it was the most effort anyone has put into getting to know you, and you were honoured to even be in this angel’s presence. 

Once you pulled away, you were gasping for air. Hawks was exactly the same, which made that fire in you become even more consuming. You wanted him. No, you needed him.

“I don’t think I can make it to our tenth date, Hawks.”

He leaned forward, nipping at your lip. “Is that so?” For the first time since you entered the party, he wasn’t smiling at you, he was entranced by your mouth.

“Please.” That was the magic word, as Hawks moved his hands from your waist, taking your hands and beginning to guide you out of the building.

Once outside, he surrounded you. “Do you trust me?” Without hesitation you nodded, he smiled at that, letting his fingers trace your jawline. He was touching you so much now. You imagined this was what he’d really been wanting to do every time you hung out. “Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, I trust you,” you confirmed, feeling breathless.

But you didn’t really know the meaning of breathless until he began to fly up into the sky with you in his arms, you wrapped your limbs tightly around him, feeling the wind push against your hair.

This was what Hawks got to feel every day, and he was sharing that part of it with you. You let out a little scream, but it was obviously filled with more joy than terror. Though you couldn’t hear him because of the wind whipping past your ears, you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest which he’d pinned you tightly against.

You made it to Hawks' apartment building in record time, almost as though flying was quicker than dealing with the city traffic. He didn’t drop you from his arms, still holding you tightly, unwilling to let you leave his side. You landed on his patio and he led the both of you into his large kitchen/living room before guiding you into his bedroom, where it all started between the two of you.

Much like the first time you’d been in there, his lips fell down to your neck, teeth immediately grazing your skin. “Want to mark you up, make you mine,” he mumbled, voice trembling with the same lust that vibrated through your body and on your skin.

“Do it,” you responded with zero hesitation, this was the first time you’d been sure of him and what you both wanted. “Need you, Hawks.”

“Keigo,” he mumbled, and at first it sounded like a bunch of noise.

“Huh?” You pulled on his hair, pulling him away from your neck and earning a whine from the eager biter.

“Keigo,” he repeated, “it’s my real name, if you’re going to moan anything, let it be that.”

“Keigo,” you repeated, liking the way it felt in your mouth. You knew there would be other parts of Keigo that felt just as nice in your mouth as well. But you would get to that, tonight you were desperate for all of him and you’d feast on him soon, but you wanted to feel him inside you. Needed it. Needed that connection with him. “Screw five more dates, fuck me, Keigo.” You weren’t used to being so bold but you managed to get the words out, even whilst a blush covered your cheeks.

He didn’t respond at first, laying you down with a gentleness he was not offering to your neck. He continued working his way around your neck, then down to your breast. Sucking, biting, licking. He was giving you every glorious sensation that he could with his mouth and it had your hips rising into the air, desperate to feel the same friction he’d started treating your breast with. 

You aimed your hips up, managing to rub against his crotch, feeling his hardness pressed up against his pants. You moaned unabashedly. “Please, need you.”

He growled, pushing your dress down so he could bite down on one of your nipples, earning another noise of pleasure from you. He continued nibbling as he pushed his hard dick against your crotch, your clothes messily piled up in your centre. If you weren’t so desperate, you would have taken the time to take them off but there simply wasn’t any time for that.

Then, Keigo pulled away entirely. You reached out, managing only to grab onto his biceps. 

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he explained, “I’m sticking to my word, I’ll prove to you I’m a gentlemen worthy of your cunt.”

“I don’t care about that anymore, please,” you whined out, beginning to claw at him, trying to pull him closer. You saw the smirk on his face, saw how much he was enjoying it, but you simply didn’t care. You were so desperate, already on the edge, already soaked, just from the way he’d claimed you as his with those love bites.

He leaned forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. “It’ll be okay baby, you never said anything about kisses, so I just need to kiss you in the right place.”

His words didn’t click in your head until he began to lower himself down your body. Down where no man had gone before. “Hawks, wait-”

He snapped back up so his face was in front of yours, hand cupping your jaw as a growl slipped past his teeth, “Keigo.” He reminded you of his name and then kissed you hard, imprinting the name in your mind in the same way he kissed you so hard, you’d always feel the phantom pain of him against you. 

When he pulled away, he took all of your thoughts with him. You let him take his pants off, earning a ‘good girl’ when you didn’t put up any more fight. You watched him go down, bunching up your dress so he could take in all of your perfection. 

Tonight was not the night for gentleness, it was all about feeding a hunger that had been growing over the past five dates.

His tongue immediately lashed at your clit, his mouth following and sucking you up. Your hips rocked up automatically, the new sensation almost bringing you to orgasm. He placed one arm across your waist, holding you down onto the bed so you couldn’t get away from him, so he could properly feast on you.

“Keigo!” His tongue trailed up and down from your hole to your clit then back down, stretching inside of you, filling you up. 

“You taste so good baby,” he whined out, mouth never leaving you.

He was going all in, holding nothing back, eating out your cunt and tasting your sweet nectar like it was his next meal. 

You weren’t afforded any time to be shy about how animalistic he was being, you were just a meal after all, all you needed to do was lay there and look pretty and take the lashings from his tongue.

It was a punishment and the greatest gift you’ve ever been given. 

You rolled off the edge as dramatically as an avalanche fell from a mountain, your whole body quaking as fireworks went off inside of you, all centering at your core where he didn’t bother slowing. He rode you just as hard as you did your orgasm, his tongue never ceasing its movements. You weren’t sure when his fingers joined but they were piercing in and out of you at a speed that only the fastest superhero alive could manage to give you.

You wished you could see his face, see the way your mess covered his face, but that was the price you paid for not taking the time out to remove your dress. Next time, you told yourself.

And there would be a next time.

Soon enough the fireworks were becoming too much and you couldn’t help the full body twitches. “Keigo, please, too much.”

You managed to move up to your elbows so you could see a bit more of him, you couldn’t see his face still, but you could see his hips and how they were rutting into the bed, trying to get as much friction as they could. 

He needed to cum, and who were you to take that away from him?

You decided you wanted to be the girl who gave it to him instead.

Reaching out you tugged at his hair, earning another groan before he nuzzled deeper into your cunt, causing you to let out a groan of your own.

“Keigo, please, I want kisses,” you tried to keep your tone sweet, but it was hard with how torn your throat had become from all the whining you’d done previously.

Still, your words had their desired effect and he finally released your oversensitive clit from his lips. Wasting no time, he raised up and crawled over you, pinning you back down on the bed and pressing his lips on yours.

You tasted yourself on him and you didn’t care, it just made you wetter, knowing that it was your taste on his tongue. Knowing it was your nectar he’d gotten drunk on.

Moving your hips slowly so you didn’t surprise him, you raised them up and stroked yourself against the crotch of his pants. He was even harder than before, which you thought was impossible. Beneath his clothes, his cock was stuck against his right leg, and when you rubbed against it, on instinct he met your thrusts.

You moved your head to the side, letting your lips trail up his jaw as you rubbed against him again, purposefully going slow, teasing him, unravelling his mind the same way he had done yours.

“Use me, Keigo.”

The whine that followed your words was absolutely pathetic, but he did as you asked, beginning to thrust harder, rubbing against your leg, using you to get the release he so desperately needed.

His head fell back into the crook of your neck, his favourite place. “Fuck,” he whimpered, moving faster and faster, unable to get enough. He never would, not until he felt your cunt wrapped around his cock.

“That’s it, good boy,” you praised, feeling him begin to press harder. “Cum for me.”

He seemed to get what you were doing and he quickly tried to take charge, his hand taking its place around your neck, the perfect collar. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, little bird?”

“You want my cum so badly don’t you? Want me to paint your insides?” Every word was interrupted by a harsh breath as he worked himself against you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head despite how hard he was trying to stay in control.

“Yeah, yes, I want it Keigo, please.” You weren’t even sure what you were saying, you just knew you needed him to cum and would say whatever you had to, to get him there.

He couldn’t last much longer, your heat against him tugging him over that edge. His hips continued to rut against you as he came again and again, filthying his pants for you.

All for you.

The two of you laid in the glow of what you’d just done for several moments. You were filthy, sweaty, out of breath, but vibrant with orgasmic bliss. 

His full weight was on top of you and it still wasn’t enough, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer and he began to leave sweet kisses on the bruises he’d covered you in. Once he’d given tender love to each individual one, he finally rose up. 

When he stood, you took in just how much of a perfect mess you’d made him into. His suit was crumpled and there was an obvious stain on his pants. His hair looked as messy as it usually did though.

He moved over to the drawers across from his bed, wordlessly opening it and beginning to dig through what was inside.

You began to realise it was over, and you had no idea what to do with yourself. Did you just go downstairs to your room? Was that it, just wait until the next date. Awkwardness began to mix in with your sweat, the smile on your face melting into a frown as you tried to figure out what was the best next set of actions.

Suddenly, your vision was covered by a fabric. Pulling it off your face, you realised it was one of Keigo’s shirts, and a pair of underwear followed, landing in your lap. 

“You can go use the en suite to get cleaned up, I’ll use the bathroom down the hall,” Keigo said, turning to face you with a change of clothes for himself in his hands. “Then, we cuddle.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, as though the decision was already made, and you had no issue with that.

#hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks ficlet #hawks fanfiction #hawks imagine #hawks headcanon #keigo takami #keigo takami headcanons #keigo takami ficlet #keigo takami fanfiction #keigo takami imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia headcanon #my hero academia ficlet #my hero academia fanfictions #boku no hero academia ficlet #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia headcanons #boku no hero academia imagines #golden retriever hawks #hawks smut #hawks scenarios #keigo takami smut #bnha smut #mha smut #My hero academia smut #Boku no hero academia smut #keigo tamaki

[writersmorgue]

Day 17 - (alt.) found footage

read on Ao3

word count: 1102

TWs in tags

note: i like this one :3

When Toga pranced into the bar, still wearing the skin of some recently-deceased Commision lackey, Dabi didn’t think much about it. 

When she waved a file in his face, the accordion binder practically bursting at the seams, several flash drives dangling out of it- well, consider him intrigued. 

“I’ll grab Shiggy’s computer if you wanna grab Hawwwwks!” She sings, winking at him. 

Dabi rolls his eyes but goes to fetch the bird anyway. He’s probably in the basement, contacting his hero besties and relaying false information.

Look, they’re not that stupid, alright?

“Oi, birdbrain.” He shouts, kicking the stairwell door. 

There’s a short yelp, and then fluttering. 

Hawks yanks open the door, hair ruffled and blinking like an owl. 

Cute.

On second thought, he was probably just taking a nap. He said something about not being able to rest peacefully at home, though Dabi’s not sure how a villain base could be any better. 

“Someone’s always watching,” He had said. Dabi’s not sure how the disembodied voice of Shiggy’s sugar daddy is any more reassuring, but he gets to see Hawks half-naked in a towel sometimes so he’s not going to complain. 

He grew up with Endeavor, okay? His inner prude is going to have a long and fruitful life. 

“Got commission shit Birdy, figured you’d wanna see.” He nods toward the main room. 

Hawks ruffles slightly, “Oh, cool. Be there in a sec.”

He shuts the door in Dabi’s face. 

He growls, arm raised to shout at this hero’s audacity- but he doesn’t. Having this file is probably a massive setback for the traitor, so he’ll let it slide. Watching him react to whatever they’ve got on those tapes will be payback enough. 

Tinny screams greet him when he re-enters the living area. Toga, Shigaraki, and Spinner are huddled around the laptop. Even Kurogiri looks interested from where he stands behind the bar. 

“Oh shit,” Dabi snorts, “Is it an interrogation file?”

Toga looks up at him, her knees pulled to her chest, “Dabi, it’s Hawks.”

Shigaraki looks paler than usual, and he’s scratching his neck, “They’re more corrupt than I thought if this is how they treat number two.”

“What do you mean?” Dabi rounds the couch they’re all piled on, leaning over the back to see the screen more closely.

There’s a man strapped onto a chair, a red mass shoved snugly behind him, making his back arch uncomfortably in his restraints. His head is bleeding, eyes foggy as they dart around, looking at someone behind the camera. 

“I finished the mission- I,” He gags, some sort of foam dribbling out of his mouth, “I was good.”

“You scared a child, Hawks. You don’t count that as a success, do you?” 

Hawks shivers, shaking his head robotically, “No, but I apologized, she said I just startled her. She was traumatized!” 

The mystery man steps forward quickly into the frame, his body covering Hawks’s completely. His arm swings out, colliding with the hero’s face with a loud slap.

“DON’T talk back to me, Hawks. Or do you require a lesson one refresher?” He shakes his hand out, retreating behind the camera. 

Hawks’s cheek is a bright crimson, slowly deepening. Blood slowly drips from a fresh cut, probably from the man’s wedding ring. 

Dabi shakes himself out of his daze, “Um, Toga.” He pauses, listening to Hawks scream as the video cuts to his talons being pulled out, “Did you mean to grab Birdy’s tape?”

She shakes her head, loose bun bouncing with the movement, “No, I swear. I wouldn’t have if I knew, it was just there-”

“Pretty pathetic, right?”

Dabi does not almost shit his pants. 

He whips around, eyes as wide as his stitches will allow.

Hawks stands there, hands in his pockets, looking so fucking casual it makes Dabi incomprehensibly angry. 

“Pathetic?!” He shouts, “Birdbrain what the fuck?”

Hawks shrugs, jerking his shoulder towards the laptop, “I mean, the footage is old. I was loud as fuck.”

Spinner is gawking, “Dude, they’re pulling your nails out.”

The silence stretches, almost awkward, broken by another scream from younger Hawks. 

The hero winces, “Gods, no wonder they’re punishing me, that’s gotta be annoying. It took them a while to train it out of me but at first I would screech, like a bird.”

“Hawks,” Toga whispers, “Your quirk gives you bird things, it’s okay to just do what comes naturally to you.”

Hawks frowns, “No, it was pestilence. I’m better now.”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow, “That’s a big word, bud, who taught you that one?” 

“Ha ha ha.” He deadpans, “I’ve been with them since I was like nine, I’m not that dumb.”

“Did they, um, do this stuff when you were little?” Spinner gestures to the computer, now playing a passed-out Hawks being beaten with a police-grade baton. Quite a helpful reminder that it’s the government doing this to one of their own.

For the betterment of society, or whatever. 

The hero nods, “Well, I mean, my Dad was like that too, so I was pretty used to it at that point. Tough love, y’know?”

The problem is that Dabi does know; he also knows that physical abuse doesn’t come from a place of love no matter how you spin it. 

“Birdy, Is this why you don’t like staying at home? They watch you there, don’t they.” Dabi asks. 

Hawks shrugs, “What can I say, living with a house full of bugs isn’t the most… comfortable. I prefer to sleep knowing I’m not being recorded at all times.” 

Dabi doesn’t mention that he’s also being monitored here, but he figures it’s not nearly in the same way. Sure AFO is always… present in a way, but he’s not pulling them aside every afternoon to waterboard them- holy shit. 

“Hey, you know, I can hold my breath for a long time now, it’s pretty cool.” Hawks gestures to the gargling yelps coming from the recording, “Useful for hero work.”

Shigaraki finally breaks skin, beads of red forming under his ear.

He stands, shutting his laptop and making a quick escape, tossing the USB back at Toga, who fumbles it like it’s burning her. 

“Well,” Hawks hums, pulling his pager out of his pocket, “I gotta go. See y’all for dinner!”

He struts out of the room, not bothering to mess with his file or attempt to take it with him. 

Once he’s gone, Spinner leans forward, cradling his head in his hands. 

“All in favor of destroying the commission and giving everyone involved with this a slow and painful death?” Toga breaks the silence, raising her hand. 

“Yep.”

“Mhm.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday17 #ficlet #drabble #my fic #llyn writes shit #cross posted on ao3 #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha #mha #found footage #abuse #child abuse #torture #blood #league of villains #takami keigo #pre dabihawks #whump #hero commission

[spookysshadow]

Tomura breathes in the cold air the moment he opens the roof door.

Whoever thought that Jin or Iguchi needed more alcohol was insane. Then again, they really should have expected that Toga would spike the punch.

And as entertaining as it was to watch Sako judge their Dabi impressions, the leader just needed a moment.

Next year was minutes away and everything the league and himself have been working towards would be that much closer.

He sighs.

What a pain. He doesn’t understand where all this pressure was coming from. He shouldn't care.

Whether they win or lose the battle, there'll be nothing left for the heroes to salvage anyway.

Still.

He keeps seeing his teammates' faces every time he closes his eyes. Toga and Jin's bouncy demeanor, Dabi’s eye roll, Iguchi's victory shouts, Compress's musical laugh.

And, of course, he couldn't forget-

"Whatcha doing out here, boss?"

Tomura opens his eyes, coming face to face with the number 2 hero.

"Isn't this a busy night for you heroes?"

Hawks shrugs. "Sure. But I'm confident in the others. Plus," the blond tilts his head, "It's almost midnight."

"And?"

The hero smirks. "You know what I want."

Tomura rolls his eyes, but he can't stop the smile growing on his face.

"You think you've earned it hero?"

"I've been very good this year, no?" Hawks laughs, wings fluttering. "Even when I've been bad."

The villain hums.

10

The sound of his teammates counting down startles him a bit and Tomura looks away from the hero, distracted.

9

"Tomura." The other calls to him, voice playful and gentle.

8

The villain turns back to face him and suddenly Hawks is all he sees. Beautiful amber eyes staring at him sp fondly, he surprised his cheeks haven't erupted in flames.

7

"Tomura," the blond asks, "do you want to be my new year's kiss?"

6

"Can't tell if you're brave or stupid," he teases.

5

Hawks smiles. "Little bit of both actually. But that doesn't answer my question."

4

"It sure doesn't, huh. Maybe you should do something about that, hero?"

3

Warm hands cup his face, slightly tilting his head down until he can feel the blond's breath caress his cold lips.

"Tomura, will you be my new year's kiss?"

2

"Yeah," he murmurs, leaning closer, "yeah I will."

1

Fireworks shoot into the sky as a cacophony of celebratory screams ring out around them, but all Tomura can think about is how soft the hero's lips feel against his own.

He shivers as Hawks pressed his body against the cold brick wall.

Tomura opens up under the other, letting the hero explore his mouth until they're both pulling back and panting.

The blond is the first to react with a soft, but self satisfied chuckle.

"Happy New Year, Tomura."

The villain gentle brushes back a stray blond lock behind Hawks' ear. "Happy New Year, Keigo."

#shigahawks #shigaraki tomura #keigo takami #bnha hawks #nye ficlet #a small nye drabble brought to you by coquito #happy new year folks #my all your creative ideas flourish with ease and you inner critic stay silent #😘🥳🎉

[ellorypurebloodculture]

Ficlet Friday: Echizen Ryoma/Atobe Keigo

Oh, wow. It's been a hot minute. Fingers crossed this won't suck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Atobe Keigo flips his hair elegantly out of his face and smirks at Echizen Ryoma who, at sixteen, is still as arrogant and talented of a brat as he was when they first met; "The winner will be me," Atobe insists before spinning his racket.

"Rough," Echizen calls, smirking cockily from beneath the brim of his signature white hat as the racket falls and he wins the right to serve first. "You're off to a bad start, Monkey King; you've already lost once to me today and you're about to lose again."

Atobe huffs and walks to the receiving line of the court, his pulse racing with excitement--of all his opponents these days, none is as challenging as Echizen--and says, "When I beat you, I will magnanimously take you to lunch as a consolation for losing to my superior skills, brat."

Ryoma bounces the tennis ball, assumes the form of his signature Twist Spin Serve and declares, "When you lose, Monkey King, I expect you to buy me all the burgers I can eat," and slams his racket into the ball, starting their weekly game.

#ellory answers #ellory writes #five sentence ficlet friday #atobe keigo/echizen ryoma #atoryo #tenipuri

[person-behind-books]

(inspired by this and crossposted on ao3)

Hawks is burning alive.

His wings, and with them everything that made him useful, are burning away.

Excruciating pain, worse than the rare occasions on which his feathers are destroyed, is racking through his whole body.

He succeeded. Twice is dead. The triumph of accomplishment and guilt for the betrayal are warring in his brain.

He failed. Without his wings, he can't be a hero and a valuable asset to the commission will be lost. The shame is slowly setting in.

Dabi is laughing. He looks manic. He looks ecstatic.

Hawks can't help but find him beautiful, even while he lets his insanity spill out and burns away the reason for Hawks to be alive.

People always compared Hawks to Icarus. He supposes he should be glad his sun is as pretty as the one Icarus had seen.

*

Hawks hasn't been a real person since Keigo lost his name.

The commission took in an abused child that wanted to save people like his own savior did and forged Hawks.

The public sees Hawks as honest, lazy, handsome, aloof, charming, goofy, capable, and rebellious.

They call him things like Angel, too fast for his own good, Icarus, and Faker.

His office sees the same although they also see him as the workaholic he was raised to be.

Hawks wouldn't say those things the people think of him are wrong. He is all those things because the commission manufactured his personality to be appealing to the masses, during a time a normal child would have developed their own, and crafted him in their image.

But Hawks is also cold, calculating, an assassin, a traitor, a spy, always collecting information of all kinds, a lier, and most importantly a tool.

*

The first time he meets Dabi he is almost burnt for startling the villain.

It's only his reflexes that save him from reaching the sun too soon.

Still, he is charming and hateful and suspicious with the needed amount of truths added to his lies, and it is of no matter that Dabi doesn't believe a word of him because he makes Hawks give him his number and that is enough for now.

*

Throughout their meetings Dabi tests him and unlike Hawks never lies. He omits details but he tells the truth or he doesn't speak at all.

They are standing on a scale trying to tip it in their favor with each secret Hawks feeds him and each information Dabi lets slip in return.

It's exhilarating.

He knows that what he has with Dabi will be the end of his Hero career but it is for that reason that for the first time Hawks can be more than he has ever been.

Dabi burns him with everything that he is: his touches, his too-blue eyes, his words, and his flames.

And hawks relishes in the pain.

*

The Nomu attacks a day early and Dabi laughs at Endeavor's scar and relishes in the chaos he caused, eyes knowing and insane, until Hawks presses him to a wall and shuts him up.

He thinks that it is at that moment that Icarus has truly left the labyrinth and for that reason that he recklessly becomes a person again.

*

Dabi knows he's a spy but lets him meet the league anyways. Whether it's because he doesn't care for them or because he is so sure Hawks is too late now that they have an army, is yet to be determined.

It doesn't matter to Hawks because he kisses Dabi with the same mouth, as the one that just hours before spilled the secret of an army spilled straight into the ears of the commission.

*

When Dabi reveals himself to be the abused son of his savior something in Hawks shatters.

He had known hero society was corrupt, worked for that corruption, but he had always thought it to be so people would be safe. Not so children could be beaten by their powerful parents.

Still, endeavor safes Hundreds of people weekly. And right now society was crumbling.

If the cost of stopping that is letting crimes long past be forgotten Hawks will do so. But he won't ever see Endeavor as his hero again.

Not if he's just like the monster he rescued him from.

*

In the end, Hawks isn't convicted for the murder of Twice but loses his hero license just as he lost his wings.

The public, knowing now who Hawks is, abandons him. Without the public and without his wings is he even still Hawks?

No.

And so, a month after Icarus reached the sun Keigo lands safely on the ground.

Maybe he isn't as much as Icarus as he thought.

Icarus died free. Hawks died so Keigo could be free.

#dabihawks #takami keigo #hawks #dabi #bnha #mha #drabble #ficlet #oneshot

[doumadono]

Hawks and Q! 🙏 I love your writings❤️

A/N: I thoroughly enjoyed the prompt you selected for Hawks. I trust this short, heartwarming story meets your expectations. Wishing you a wonderful day ♥ The inspiration for this ficlet came from the following post

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

You found yourself entwined in the chaotic dance of everyday life, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that came with your relationship with the charismatic hero, Hawks. Being the freelance journalist that you were, you often found solace in the quiet moments, where your thoughts flowed freely onto the pages of your notebook.

One chilly evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat by the window in your cozy apartment, the city lights casting a warm glow on the pages before you. Immersed in the task at hand, you had your headphones on, delving into the intricacies of crafting an article about climate changes in Japan. The world around you faded into the background as your focus narrowed on the keyboard beneath your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, your phone, tucked away on the desk, buzzed intermittently, the ringtone silenced to prevent any disruptions to your writing flow.

Hours passed in the cocoon of concentration until, finally feeling the need for a break, you decided to peel yourself away from the keyboard. As you removed your headphones, the ambient sounds of the room rushed back in, and it was then that you noticed the diode in your phone pulsating, informing of a new notifications. Picking it up, you were greeted by the missed call notification, and your curiosity piqued as you saw it was from your boyfriend, Keigo. A momentary pang of guilt crept in as you realized the silence in your writing sanctuary had inadvertently caused you to overlook his attempt to reach out.

Your heart skipped a beat, anxiety prickling at the edges of your mind. Hawks rarely called, and the uncertainty of the situation fueled your imagination with all sorts of scenarios. Was there trouble on the horizon? Did he need your help in some perilous mission? The possibilities played out like a suspenseful movie in your mind.

Hesitantly, you returned the call, your voice carrying a subtle tremor. "Hey, Hawks. I saw your missed call. Is everything okay? I've been busy, I'm sorry."

There was a brief pause before Hawks' voice, laced with amusement, echoed through the phone. "Oh, sweetheart, everything's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice."

Confusion and relief mingled within you as Hawks continued, his tone light and teasing. "Got caught up in a little skirmish, you know how it goes. But I thought, why not take a break and check in on my favorite person?"

A playful grin formed on your face, realizing you had been caught in the web of Hawks' mischievous nature. "You scared me there for a moment. A call in the middle of hero duties, huh? Shouldn't you be saving the day or something?"

Hawks chuckled, the sound like a melody that eased the tension in your chest. "Well, I've got my priorities straight, and you're at the top of the list. Speaking of which, how about dinner tomorrow? My treat. We'll celebrate surviving another day in this crazy world, and maybe not only that."

As the conversation shifted from angst to warmth, you agreed, the prospect of spending quality time with Hawks brightening your evening.

The next day, Hawks whisked you away to a charming little restaurant, the city lights providing a picturesque backdrop. The evening was filled with light-hearted banter, with Hawks effortlessly blending his hero persona with the charming, carefree man you had come to adore.

The evening at the restaurant continued to unfold with a delightful rhythm. The ambiance was warm, the soft glow of the lights creating an intimate atmosphere that wrapped around you and Hawks like a comforting embrace. The laughter and easy banter flowed freely, weaving a tapestry of shared moments that deepened the connection between you two.

As the night progressed, Hawks, with his ever-charming demeanor, guided the conversation towards the future. The air was charged with a subtle energy, and you couldn't help but sense a shift in the atmosphere. Suddenly, he looked at you with a glint of sincerity in his eyes, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he began, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone, "you know, life is full of surprises, right?"

You met his gaze, curiosity mingling with a touch of excitement. "I'm all ears. What surprise do you have up your sleeve, Hawks?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling a small box that gleamed in the candlelight.

The guests around you, previously engrossed in their own conversations, began to take notice as Hawks opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled in the soft glow. A hush fell over the restaurant, and all eyes turned towards the unfolding scene.

Hawks, maintaining his characteristic cool, yet playful demeanor, spoke words that echoed with sincerity. "I've been doing some thinking, and, well, how about we make this adventure called life a bit more official?"

The realization hit you like a gentle wave, and your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and joy. You covered your mouth wth a curled palm. "Keigo, do you…?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as Hawks continued, "Will you make me the happiest bird in the sky and be my forever partner in crime?" With a smirk, Hawks added, "Come on, it's not every day you get proposed to by the fastest bird in the sky. Don't keep a hero waiting."

Overwhelmed with emotion, tears of happiness welled up in your eyes. In a voice barely above a whisper, you managed to say, "Yes, Hawks. A thousand times, yes."

As Keigo slipped the ring onto your finger, the guests erupted into a mix of applause and cheers.

Hawks, couldn't resist a triumphant grin as he pulled you into a tender embrace.

The world around you blurred as the reality of the proposal sank in, and you couldn't help but cry tears of joy, feeling the warmth of love enveloping you like a soft, comforting blanket.

As the night unfolded, and as you walked hand in hand with Keigo through the city streets, returning to your shared flat, the lights flickering like stars overhead, you couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that unfolded from that one missed call.

#hawks x you #hawks fluff #keigo takami x you #mha hcs #takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x y/n #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks hcs #bnha fluff #mha fluff #hawks fanfiction #keigo takami fluff #mha hawks #bnha hawks

[cupidcreates]

Little Box of Bells

Yandere MHA Ficlet

Ft: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou, Rody Soul, Eijirou Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinsou, Denki Kaminari, Tamaki Amajiki, Keigo Takami, Neito Monoma, Tomura Shigaraki, Touya Todoroki, Shirakumo Oboro, Shota Aizawa

✨💖🌸🌟Adult Content / Minors DNI🌟🌸💖✨

On your way home from work you stumble across a damp cardboard box with the label FOR PICKUP, DESTROY written in big red letters on the front. Overcome with curiosity you open it to find it full of handbells of various shapes, sizes, and metal compositions. You can’t figure out why someone would want these destroyed, but whoever was meant to do so will undoubtedly be here soon. It’d be a shame to see them all go to waste, surely they won’t miss just one bell…

TW: Yandere, Stalking, Kidnapping, Noncon/Dubcon, Violence, Blood, Gore, *More to be Added*

Chapter One: An Interesting Find

    Work had killed the optimistic spirit you’d started the day with, as it so often did. Your hopes of getting off early were dashed almost as soon as you walked in the door and caught sight of everything you needed to get done that day. You knew you’d be stuck walking home at night, too exhausted to do anything but heat up some leftovers and crash for the night.

    ‘Must be a day that ends in y,’ You thought bitterly to yourself.

    As predicted you ended up missing the last bus and had to walk home, construction on your regular route forcing you to take the long way around. You were confident in the safety of your neighborhood so you weren’t too worried about being jumped, whether or not your body would hold up long enough for you to even get home was your main concern.

    The silver lining to the late night walk was that the rain had finally let up. It’d been storming nearly all day, rain lashing the windows your small cubicle was pressed up against. More than once you found your concentration slipping from your tasks and latching onto the storm outside. If you focused hard enough you thought you could make out shapes dancing through the violent downpour. Sometimes the shapes even made sense.

    It was a relief to nearly be home, and as you rounded the corner onto your street something small caught your attention out of the side of your eye. A small cardboard box, dampened and misshapen by the rain. Drawing closer to it you were able to make out the words scrawled in big red messy marker on the side:

    FOR PICKUP, DESTROY.

    Curiosity overcame you and against your better judgment you bent down to examine the parcel. It was surprisingly sturdy for having been out in the rain for what you assumed was awhile. It smelt musty, like wet dog and old paper mache and was just as damp to the touch as you would have expected. You pulled the four flaps of the box away and peered inside.

    You weren’t sure what you were expecting the box to contain, but a cluster of handbells of various shapes and sizes was certainly not it. Baffled you reached down and lifted a bell to your face, examining it closely before picking up another and doing the same. Not only were they different shapes and sizes, they all had different patterns engraved on them and seemed to be made of different metals.

    You pulled the bells out of the box one by one and set them down on the sidewalk in front of you, examining them in reference to one another. There were fourteen bells in total, each with a differently colored ribbon attached where the bell met the handle. In addition to this, each bell had a small paper identification card attached to its base as well. Curiously, none of the cards seemed to be wet.

    You picked up a bell at random and looked it over. It was a heavy iron handbell, with jagged pink lines engraved deep into the rough metal. It seemed to glow slightly, and was not the only one to do so. It pulsed with an inexplicable bright green energy whose temperature you could not discern. The bow was dark green and the label attached read: The Stalker.

    The second was a brass handbell with large black X's scorched into the metal. The bell itself was slightly hot to the touch and adorned at the bottom with a small orange zig zag pattern. The bow was similarly orange and the label read: The Tyrannical.

    You caught on to the naming convention as you moved on to the third bell. It was made of a beautiful and solid silver but had been crudely splashed with paint, white on the left side and bright red on the right. Strangely, each side was different in temperature but the bell didn’t seem to have any way to make the metal react this way. There were no engravings on this bell. The bow was similar in color, half red and half white and the label read: The Voyeur.

    The fourth bell was heaviest of all, a rough and jagged hunk of bronze that could hardly even be categorized as an instrument anymore. It jutted out and divided at odd, random angles, almost as if it were trying to mimic a mound of harsh weather-worn boulders. Though battered it didn’t seem any weaker for it, in fact the metal of this bell was the thickest out of all of them. The bow was bright red, save for the ends that ombre-ed to black. The label attached read: The Enduring.

    The fifth bell was bright and made of aluminum, it was engraved with a shock of bright yellow electricity that arched across the entire surface of the instrument. It vibrated with energy in your hand and you could hear a low buzzing and crackling noise when you brought it close to your ear. The bow was yellow with a black lightning bolt sewn into it, and the label read: The Volatile.

    You picked up the five handbells and placed them gently back into the box before moving on to the sixth bell. It was a metal of the deepest blue you’d ever seen, and a cursory google search told you the closest metal to this description was Niobium. It was smooth to the touch and lacked any adornments. It held a type of regal energy, as though carving anything into it was a crime too great to even consider. The deep purple bow was similarly soft and the label attached read: The Compelling.

    The seventh bell was a deep gray color, you mistook it for silver at first but checking google again told you it was more than likely a metal called tantalum. It was the most normal looking of the lot, save for a small pink bird engraved near the handle. The bow itself was gray and the label read: The Sly.

    The eighth was another aluminum bell, similarly light but with nothing engraved in it. You went to place it down when you noticed something strange. Where before its surface was smooth and featureless, the metal began to warp as soon as you touched another bell, the image of the second instrument appearing seemingly from nowhere. It did this with each bell you lifted in turn and even changed to mimic the pattern on your phone case when you went to record a video. The bow was black with sky blue dots and the label, appropriately, read: The Mimic.

    The ninth was a titanium bell, a fact you could tell immediately upon seeing the light reflected off its metal surface. Its deep blue bounced vibrant shades of red, purple, yellow, and green off it, colors dancing and mixing on its face as you gently rolled it in the palm of your hand. The deep indigo bow was situated nicely over its small label, which read: The Metamorphosing.

    The tenth bell was the second bronze one of the bunch, where the first had been heavy and jagged, this one was light and smooth. Its metal was polished and it looked surprisingly well maintained. It had bright red feathers engraved in a pattern at the bottom that looked as though they’d recently received a new coat of paint. The bow was an equally bright shade of red and the label just beneath it read: The Swift.

    Picking up the second five handbells you gingerly placed them back into the box before moving on to the eleventh bell. It was the second silver one, or at least you assumed it was. It was burnt nearly beyond recognition and you weren’t positive it could even ring anymore. This one seemed to have words engraved on it, a proper cleaning might make them legible. The bow was bright blue and the label attached read: The Vengeful.

    The twelfth bell was again, iron. It was equally as heavy as the first but not nearly as smooth, in fact its surface was gritty and as you lifted it up a chunk broke off the bottom. It was dust before it reached the ground. This bell was obviously on its last legs and there was no way it was functional anymore. You read the label anyway, placed neatly underneath the snow-white bow it read: The Decaying.

    The second to last bell was the beautiful blue metal niobium, again with no engravings. It was nearly identical to the first, save for the bow. Interestingly, this was the only bell that didn’t come with a carefully tied ribbon, instead it had a thin piece of white cloth haphazardly wrapped around the base of the handle. Bunched up and dirty it covered the small label that read: The Hunter.

    The last bell you mistook to be the third silver instrument of the bunch. You were partly right, but in addition to the small label underneath the pale blue bow reading The Vaporous there was a second smaller label which read: Nickel-Silver. You assumed this to be its composition as it was a slightly darker gray color than the previous two. The lines dancing up and down its surface seemed meaningless at first, but upon closer inspection you could see they were trying to imitate thick cumulus clouds.

    You placed the last four bells back into the box but paused just before you closed the parcel. It was such a strange thing you stumbled upon here today, not significant in a life-changing way but just interesting enough to recount to a friend or ponder over at night. Life was so monotonous these days, it was nice to have something to shake up the repetitive cycle of work and sleep. 

You gazed back down into the box, where each bell sat unassuming and inconsequential. Whoever was meant to pick these up would surely not miss a single bell, would they? It would mean so much more to you as a souvenir of this strange little encounter you found yourself in, wouldn’t it? Surely it couldn’t hurt to just take one…

Who’s bell will you take home with you?

The Stalker

The Tyrant

The Voyeur

The Enduring

The Volatile

The Compelling

The Sly

The Mimic

The Metamorphosing

The Swift

The Vengeful

The Decaying

The Hunter

The Vaporous

Don’t Take a Bell

Tags!

@smileybokuto @furfoxsake22 @iambashfulperson @sailorcorgis @barnesparkers @fucktheworlddude @andrastesbeard @chaosatmidnight @thepuckishrogue @black-rose-29 @loveinhaikyuu @katsumi-sumi @rvgrsbrns @andrastesbeard @fantasyismyreality @kara062284-blog @ofinkandpaper @askingdaniella-blog  @sunnywonki @clipclop42 @mysterywrjterr @demigirl2007​ @madmabari  @punningpasta

Only Aizawa

@eraser-punk

#mha creature au #bnha creature au #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha demon au #bnha demon au #mha yandere #bnha yandere #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere shoto todoroki #yandere rody soul #yandere eijirou kirishima #yandere denki kaminari #yandere hitoshi shinsou #yandere neito monoma #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere keigo takami #yandere touya todoroki #yandere dabi #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shirakumo oboro

[alieinthemorning]

Out Loud [Hawks | Takami Keigo]

Content: Thoughts of Suicide and Self-Deprecating Thoughts. Please take caution.

Pronouns: None

Header: @/kadeart

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“I wanna die.” 

Keigo spun on his heel, immediately ready to comfort you, but— 

There you were, slumped on the couch and mindlessly scrolling on social media. 

He eyed you for a moment before hesitantly asking, “What was that, chickadee?” 

You looked up, eyes glazed over with something that was frighteningly familiar. “Hm? What was what?” 

“Pretty sure you just said something.” 

You blinked, “I did?” He nodded. “Oh… well, I’m sure it was nothing.” 

Then you went back to your phone

Like it was nothing 

But Keigo knew otherwise. 

It wasn’t just nothing. 

From that moment on, he kept a closer eye on you. 

He noticed that you furrowed your brows a lot. 

You let out a random string of curses, then shake your head. 

And very occasionally would you say, 

“I wanna die.” 

But just like before, you didn’t seem to notice. 

However, it was really beginning to concern Keigo.

“Dove, we need to talk.” 

A look of dread crossed your features, and he quickly assured you it had nothing to do with your relationship. “Okay…. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “Why do you keep saying that you want to die?” 

You blinked twice, then your brows shot downward. 

You were overthinking. 

He tapped your forehead with a finger, “Don’t keep it all up there— let me in.” 

You blinked a few more times then said, “I don’t really know…”

“People don’t just say something like that and don’t know why.” 

“But I don’t!” You sighed. “I mean, yeah— I’ve noticed I’ve been a lot meaner to myself lately. Like, to the point where I’m saying stuff out loud.” 

He raised a brow. “Like when you say random curse words?” 

You slapped a hand over your face and curled in on yourself. “Ugh— you heard that?” Yeah, when I say stuff like ‘You stupid fucking dumbass’, I’m usually talking about myself.” 

He wanted to ask why, but he knew he’d be met with a wall, so instead he asked, “And now it’s turned into you saying that you want to die?”

You nodded. 

“Do you actually want to die?”

You stayed still. 

He called you by your name. 

And that was all it took for your body to convulse, racked with sobs.

He pulled you into his lap, where he embraced you with his arms and wings. 

He wanted to do more for you

But where would he even start… 

Because protecting you like this, body and wings shielding you from the world wasn’t enough. 

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: version 2.0 #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #tw sui ideation #tw self deprecation #brown eyed reader #brown skinned reader #chubby reader

[andypantsx3]

TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS) : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

hawks writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

lay low (take it slow) (23K) : complete

What even was the right google search for this situation? How do I sew someone back together without passing out? How do I not barf on the pro hero I’m stitching up? Or, Hawks’ game of double agent lands him in the shaky hands of one (1) very unequipped English major.

ONE SHOTS

TBA

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

honest (1.2K)

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

#character: takami keigo #andie's writing

[yourlocalcorviddad]

I just had a writing sprint thing, it's not all that fancy but it's a mha dabi/hawks one, and I just, this one thing I did at the end is just stuck in my mind.

The hand gently rubbing under his chin down to his collarbones, the old, habitual gesture calming the panic still drawing ragged breaths from his heaving chest. The touch drew a hesitant chirp from the bloodied hero’s throat, drawing a half smirk up on Dabi’s scarred face as he cups his other hand to the side of Keigo’s head.

“Ready to rethink that offer now?”

and just, in the ficlet Hawks goes from thinking about himself as Hawks, a tool, a weapon wielded by the commission but never for murder only because he'd refused to do so and managed to avoid it by others help until then

Only for the first time he does so not to be for his own benefit, but to protect Dabi

Touya, who he knew as a teen and bonded with.

He became a weapon of his own design, but not for others use, all because of him

#mha #dabihawks #touya todoroki and takami keigo are childhood friends/lovers

[flfverse]

I’m suuuuuch a stan for transgender!hawks, especially in flfverse where he’s got so much going on, I can totally see the commission ingraining some kind of internalized transphobia in him. Im all for t4t but there’s also just something so special to me about cis!dabi making the effort to relate to a trans partner and I’m SO soft for him helping hawks cultivate self confidence in all forms… idk maybe I’m just projecting but I love the idea 🩵

-V

trans!hawks is literally best i love him so much AND YOURE SO RIGHT ABOUT CIS DABI?? maybe its cliche of me but i love a clueless boyfriend moment like "you cant do/have x, you're a guy" [slow realization]. or like, with periods, "wtf you're bleeding where are you hurt" "uhhh"

i'd have to decide about hawks's transition tho, i tend towards making characters pre-everything/not medically transitioning just bc It Me, but for hawks...i'm not sure. i guess it would depend on what the commission allowed/what he was able/willing to try getting to away with under them.

internalized transphobia via the commission is so tastey tho,,,,,i can see them getting frustrated and giving in a little bit, but also getting around she vs he by just completely dehumanizing him instead, especially as a kid. i've pointed it out before (many moons ago) but i'll say again that there is a deliberate gap in flf!hawks's backstory from him getting taken in by the commission at 6 until he begins proper training at 9. and i'll fill that in eventually but it is a convenient space to shove some early trans issues as well. hooray!

the only issue i come up to is hawks's actual name. google says keigo is a masculine name so that implies a) he knew he was trans before the commission picked him up and b) his parents supported that on some level. which is kind of funny.

or i could have him choose keigo for himself later, but that kinda messes up my mental idea for dabi learning his name.....but that doesn't mean i can't change it (and possibly release the og idea as a little ficlet here so you all can still appreciate it) (tbf i have been wrestling with that idea for a bit bc the circumstances in which dabi learns it are Bad so it wouldnt make sense for him to bring it up/try using keigo for hawks....hm)

i got extremely off track lol but yeah! i can also see the appeal of t4t dabihawks for sure...something about trans dabi, something something remaking yourself....who knows.

#wren.txt #takami keigo #hawks bnha #trans hawks #trans dabi #dabi bhna #asked and answered #anon v