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sightoru · 3 years

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—𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 (𝐈𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐞)

➳ pairing: Yandere!Keigo Takami x Fem!Reader

➳ genre: hurt/comfort, dark content, smut.

➳ word count: 10k

➳ tags: Yandere, Stockholm Syndrome, Avain Keigo, Hawks is a little shit, canon-typical violence.

➳ synopsis: You're Keigo Takami's favorite intern, and his obsession with you is only growing. He finds out you've got a date you never told him about, and he makes sure it'll be the last date you have AKA: keigo is obsessed with you and puts you in his penthouse. it's not as bad as you originally thought.

➳ warnings: manipulation, yandere, workplace bullying, avian keigo, stalking, kidnapping, violence (lightly, keigo hits reader to knock her out), stockholm syndrome, praise kink, fingering, body worship, mirror sex, face fucking, fem receiving oral, dacryphilia, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

➳ authors note: shoutout to @jirou-s and @goreist for telling me not to scrap this. another shoutout to christine for beta reading it and to @wuhllow for beta reading it as well!! this is my longest one shot sdesrfghjk and i worked on this for two whole months and poured my heart and soul into it <3. title credit: ghosting by mother mother

➳ excerpt:

He watches you walk around the roof; watches how fresh air seems to revive you. The way the wind bites at your cheeks and how you close your eyes and listen to the birds chirp. You rub your arms contentedly, as if to rub this feeling into your own soul. He stares as your chest rises and falls; the way you tilt your head towards the sun. You look like a painting. Flawless. A flower being revived by the sun's rays. You take your hand and bring it to your eyes, staring at the sunset in the distance; your breath hitching at the shades that splatter the sky. Brilliant shades of sherbert orange mixed with cotton candy pink. The way the clouds move slowly across it all and look like thin and pulled apart strands of cotton.

You look beautiful.

Takami Keigo supposes that all things -before they grow into great, all consuming things that fill oceans and forests and take apart lives- start out incredibly small.

Some things grow slowly. Gently. Saplings that grow into cedar trees. Ponds that turn into lakes over time. Even how evolution works; small single celled organisms that turn into something much different with enough time. The best thing to him though -despite him reminding himself that not everything has to burn bright for it to be worthwhile- his favorite way to compare all things worth growing is fire.

He thinks worthwhile things start out like a small flame. Bright and slightly warm. To grow they take time. Pieces of kindling and proper environment is essential to creating a blaze that’s meant to last a while. Some places have had blazes burn years; fires that have destroyed towns and evicted people from their homes. Blazes that split apart asphalt and deemed cities unlivable.

His relationship with you starts out small enough. You asked him one morning how he likes his coffee. You always come in with that cheap coffee from gas station cappuccino machines. It’s sickly sweet; disgusting to most people but when he tells you he likes it at least as much as you, your eyes light up and you’re bringing him one every morning. You always set it on his desk, a large french vanilla brew. When you think he’s not looking you straighten out the paperwork strewn across his desk; place his pens in the porcelain chicken holder he has.

It builds up slowly; fire that's been added kindling that grows into something more. You ask him if he wants lunch. You tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to eat with you, that you have no problem being alone. That you’re used to it. It makes him sad when he tells you he never has time. That the fastest hero around has to be able to do more than one thing at a time. But you’re ever so chipper about it; handing him a greasy bag of fast food with a smile that warms him down to his bones.

Your laugh is the highlight of his day. You always come in bright eyed and bushy tailed, smiling at him like he hung the moon in the sky -but if you ask him- he'd remind you that the moon only glows with light from the sun's reflection.

Soon enough he finds himself making time for you; letting sidekicks actually do some work so he can take a break. He started with a few minutes, Keigo carelessly throwing fries in his mouth while you jabber about anything and everything. He acts disinterested at first; trying to pretend he’s honoring you with his presence when really he’s the one lucky enough to be in your graces. You’re an angel flying in the heavens and he’s the devil trying to coax you from paradise. He doesn’t even think he deserves you honestly; not your time or your laughter or the sweet smile you’ve reserved for him. Not with how bright and warm you seem. Not with how you shine like the sun. He feels like the snake that slithered into Eden, and all he wants to do is taste you as he slowly corrupts you. He supposes he should feel bad; should feel terrible actually. Should feel like the devil himself for what he’s doing to you but he can’t find it in his sighing soul to care.

Soon a few minutes is turning into half an hour. Then into an hour. And even after his time is all used up your face is running circles in his mind; your laugh is ringing in his ears louder than the screaming of his internal monologue that tells him he should feel awful for what he’s doing to you, and he’s tracing your name in the air with a feather plucked from his wings. He starts looking forward to days at work; looks forward to the one hour a day you get his undivided attention. He’s learning so much about you too. You’re quirkless with a heavy admiration for heroes. You’re right handed. You stutter when you’re excited and snort when you laugh. You read constantly. You love horror movies despite being terrified of them. You tug on your earlobe when you’re embarrassed. Small and tiny things that make you, you.

And it’s just so strange to him, strange how the intern who he wouldn’t give a passing glance to if he passed her on the street, became the single most recurring thing in his thoughts. He thinks if it were anyone besides you, he’d manage to hate them more than he hates himself. But since it’s you -you with your kind smile and sweet laugh and tiny hands full of cheap coffee and greasy take out- he can’t find himself angry about it. Can only find himself grateful that it’s you. He feels like he’s going insane; feels like his mind is a galaxy with you in the center. You’re the true north on his compass, and every time he thinks of home it’s in your arms.

Today is the first day you break his heart, though. He never thought he’d see you cry, never thought the sight would make his chest feel too small for his lion heart. He’s not ever expecting you here, only showing up to the office to grab his keys he happened to forget on his desk. You’re clearly surprised by him, making a show of hastily wiping your eyes.

“H-Hawks,” you hiccup. You’re clearly embarrassed. You stand quickly, accidentally knocking over a stack of papers you were looking over. It’s obvious you didn’t anticipate seeing him here, and he wasn’t expecting to come into the office and see his favorite intern crying. You bend over and start picking them up and he crouches down to help you. “I-I’m sorry! I was just leaving.” You stand, your face still leaking tears as you straighten your skirt and reach for your bag.

Keigo holds his arms out, hands waving back and forth from the wrist in an attempt to tell you to slow down. “Hey! Hey, hey hey.” he places his hands on your shoulders, gives them a tight squeeze to reassure you and stares down at you with honey colored eyes. They remind you of old and peeling paintings along the wall of museums you used to visit; ancient and all knowing. Paintings that have seen more people than you ever will. “Take a deep breath, chickadee. Yeah? What’s the matter?”

“I-I haven’t told you about this.” you hiccup, twisting your hands together in front of you. “I just didn’t want to be seen as… as if I wasn’t strong enough to handle it. But the way the other interns treat me… they’re not….ah. They’re not kind. I understand that not everyone will like me, but I’ve had things from my locker stolen. They call me awful names and tease me. Talk about me as soon as I leave the room. Say you only like me because I’m a whore.” You laugh bitterly, wiping your eyes with the heels of your hand. “ I can’t help but feel like I deserve this somehow? Is there….” you pause, looking up at him with a shaking sigh. “Is there something wrong with me?” A fresh onslaught of tears falls down your face; tiny crystal reminders of the unfair treatment you’re receiving. Your voice wobbles as you speak again, and your words shoot an arrow through Keigo’s chest. “Am I a bad person?”

“No.” He breathes. His heart shatters a bit every time he hears your shaking breaths. He wants nothing more than to reach out to you, to be the one to put you back together. To be the one to tell you everythings gonna be fine at the end of a long day. It’s all anyone ever needs right? Someone to patch them up at the end of the day? And who else would be more perfect for this job than him? Who else would be more perfect than him to be the one person in the world you could trust? To be the one person in the world you call fall apart on, while he carefully takes your pieces and puts you back together again.

“I have never in my life...,” you say slowly, the words falling out of your mouth and taking up the space between you two. “...been more upset by my constant need to see the best in people. I thought they didn’t mean it. Thought I was making some sort of mistake until I walked in on the other interns talking badly about me.”

“I know how that feels.” he replies quietly, nodding his head along with you. “People can be incredibly disappointing.”

“Don’t you get tired of it?” you ask him, your voice wobbling with frustration. “The disappointment? How stupid you feel afterwards? Putting all your faith and love in the goodness of humanity just for it to be thrown in your face time and time again? I tried so hard to get these people to like me. And even if they don't, there's no reason to be unkind.”

He doesn’t know what to say to you; doesn’t know how to tell you he thinks the sun and moon rises because of you. Doesn’t know how to tell you he thinks the universe revolves around you. So he does the only thing he knows how to do; he takes his jacket off, places it on your shoulders and wraps his arms around you. You fall into him immediately; your hands fisting his shirt and the way your head fits perfectly under his chin. It’s like you were made to be here, perfectly molded to fit into his empty spaces. He knows it’s wrong to feel this way while you’re heartbroken, but he can’t help but feel glad you’re the one in his arms – despite the way you’re shaking like a leaf before a storm.

He supposes he should feel more guilty. He knew the interns weren’t kind to you. Small and quirkless thing you are, he already knew you’d be at a disadvantage. He might’ve made sure you were going to be close by when the other interns were saying nasty things about you and all the things they’ve stolen from your locker. But he can’t help it. He needs to do everything in his power to make sure this moment happens. Had to make sure you’d be falling apart in his arms and he’d be around to take care of you.

Keigo -being kind and generous at the core of who he is- walks you home that night. He tells you he can’t stand the idea of you walking home alone at night, not while you’re this upset. You smile at him in thanks, leading the way out of the building and to your apartment. It’s quite a walk, about a mile and a half there. He finds himself grateful it’s not in a terrible part of town.

When he comments on this you just laugh at him before explaining. “My parents always told me that living in the safest area you can afford is the most important thing.” There’s a far away look in your eye; bright and dreamy. “Ah… They passed away a little after I turned 18, but I think it’s good advice. I can’t go out to eat as much as I’d like, and I have to limit myself to one or two drinks when I go out, but I think it’s worth it, especially because I live alone.”

“You live alone?” He asks you. He tells himself he’s trying to learn more about you, but in reality he’s trying to figure out everything he can. Tries to convince himself his intentions aren’t malicious.

“Yeah,” you respond. “Why? Is...that a bad thing?”

“No, no!” he insists, looking over at you from the corner of his eye. “I’m just glad you’re staying safe.”

You grin at him, stopping suddenly in front of a building. You walk up the steps, keys in hand. “Thanks for walking me home.” you tell him softly, thick lashes covering your half lidded eyes.

He swallows thickly, fighting the urge to follow you inside. Fingers drumming against his thighs with barely constrained lust. “Course,” he chirps. “Anything for my favorite lunch partner.”

“Goodnight, Hawks!” you smile at him.

He tosses his head back at you as he walks down your front steps. “Goodnight!”

------------------------------------------------------

He’s been keeping his feathers all around the office now; hidden above doorways and tucked under seats. His sharp hearing isn’t quite cutting it anymore, and he needs to know everything that’s happening. He’s just looking out for you. He’s the only one around that can take care of you. The only one that knows your secrets and the small things about you that make you a person and your favorite color and favorite season and the exact way you like your coffee and your favorite books. His mark is on you know; it’s not something you can quite see or even know about but he’s bound and determined to be the one to take care of you.

That’s what he tells himself, at least. He probably didn’t need to hear the nitty gritty details of what people have done over the weekend; didn’t really need to know whose fucking who -even though the information is welcomed, he is nosy afterall- and definitely wasn’t supposed to hear about the date you conveniently didn’t tell him about.

He’s shocked for the rest of the day, his mind preoccupied as he wonders if he did something to upset you. You tell him everything. There’s no secrets between you two, and the thought of any makes him feel…. Strange. Like there’s a monster in his chest; something clawing and mean and full of different shades of green. Makes him feel sick to his stomach at the thought of someone getting in between you two. It makes him angry. That someone could ever come between you two. You’re his afterall.

He supposes he’ll have to make sure nothing could ever come between you.

-----------------------------------------------------

When he shows up to where your date is supposed to be, he knows he’s doing you a favor. He can take you to restaurants way nicer to this; meals that cost the same amount as your monthly rent.

This date is going horribly. His hearing is sharp, sharper than most, but he doesn’t need that to know how badly it’s going. He can see how tense you look; your lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting all over the restaurant. Your laugh doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

He’s thinking this date is boring. He’s thinking you’d probably like flying around the city; that there’s a yakitori place he’d bet you love. Maybe you’d even show him the inside of your apartment. And he can see for himself the way you organize your life; if you keep magazines on the counter or throw them away immediately. Do you bother to fold your laundry or do you live out of the basket instead? He finds himself interested in these things, wanting to know the small and mundane ways you fill up your life.

He wonders why you never bothered to ask him out. Maybe you thought it too unprofessional to date your boss. Maybe you were shy? Gave up before you even had the courage to ask. He tried to make it obvious he likes you, calling you his favorite intern and dedicating his lunch breaks to you.

Maybe you don’t like him at all.

He shakes his head at the thought. Can’t imagine that. You bring him coffee, tell him “I remember you liked this” about the small and insignificant things you bring him. Knitted scarves in his favorite shade of blue and tiny framed art of chickens to decorate his work desk.

He’ll just have to show you. You always want to see the best in people, and all he wants is to be good. It’s a match made in heaven as far as he’s concerned, and he’ll do everything he can to make you see that. Even if it means making a deal with the devil himself.

He perks up when you look at your phone and tell your date that work is calling you in. He knows that’s a lie; that you’re looking for a way to avoid playing out the rest of this date. He’s offering to walk you to the agency, and you’re smiling and telling him you’ll be fine and that it’s only a short walk away.

He’s telling you he really doesn’t mind and you’re gritting your teeth and saying that you really think you’ll be fine. He makes a comment about waiting for you at your place and it takes everything in Keigo not to rush him from across the restaurant. He sees your eyebrows raise and then pull together; watches you wipe your hands on your dress before you fiddle with the hem. You smile again at him, thin lipped and polite and tell him you don’t need it. You think he finally gets the hint, he lets you leave.

You leave the restaurant and Keigo stays behind for a moment, before he watches your date shake his head and stand up, walking like he’s on a mission after you. Keigo’s quick to follow him, settling into a pace behind him. The mans following you, and this is all the confirmation Keigo needed to confirm what he already knows: you’re helpless. And he’s never going to let you out of his sight again.

He grabs the man quietly, wrapping him in a chokehold and covering his mouth with the other. He leaves him in an alley, pinned to the wall of a building by Keigo’s feathers. He makes a quick text to Endeavor, letting him know there’s a present waiting for him before Keigo’s flying high in the air and searching for you again.

He’s always been too fast for his own good, and this fact is cemented when he makes it to your apartment before you do. He finds an awning a couple of stories up and sits there for a moment, scanning the area with sharp eyes. He can’t see you yet, can faintly hear your footsteps approaching. You sound slightly rushed, your keys jangling in your hand and heels making a light tap, tap, tap sound against the concrete. You’re in a good part of town though, you needn’t worry. Besides, he’s here to keep you safe. Always will be.

He’s not strong, he knows this. Knows he’ll only get one chance to make sure you’re out. Better make it count. He can’t risk having you scream.

He drops from the awning he’s sitting on, gets behind you and hits you with enough force to have you crumpling to the ground.

----------------------------------------------------------

Maybe this will work out anyways.

This wasn’t part of his plan. He only showed up to watch. Didn’t really mean to do anything more than that but the look on your face; that desperate god-please-help-me look that was hiding just behind your eyes. He really couldn’t stand it; couldn’t really help it.

He’s a hero. He saw you in trouble. He decided to help. It’s what heroes do, right?

Right.

He’s trying to ignore the more rational voice in his head. He’s trying to ignore the voice in his head that tells him a bad date doesn’t equate danger, that you’re strong -despite being quirkless- and have the ability to turn down men yourself. But you just looked so heartbroken, so distraught. And really, you ought to have someone to look out for you and who better than Keigo?

You’re laying knocked out on his bed and he’s pacing back and forth wondering how on earth is he going to explain himself? He knew the date was going to go bad, knew that your kindhearted and trusting nature would surely land you in trouble. Who tells a guy they’ve never met their address anyways? Absolutely insane and Keigo’s definitely going to let you know as soon as you wake up.

Whenever the hell you wake up.

He’s hoping he didn’t hit you too hard. Hoping you don’t wake up with your head pounding too loudly. You’re rational, frustratingly so. He’s praying to every god he can name that you’ll see he’s good; see that he was just trying to help. He just wants to be good, he just wants you to see that.

He hears a small cry from your lips; watches your eyes flutter open, watches you take in the swirling designs on his ceiling and your hands twist into the sheets under you. He smiles down at you, excited. Feeling drunk and clumsy with joy as he watches recognition come across your face like a cloud. “H-hawks?”

“Hey, birdie.” He smiles at you. He crouches next to the bed, his elbows resting on the mattress and creating dips there. “How ya feelin?”

You grimace, tiny hand moving to shield your eyes; a groan escaping your perfectly parted lips. “Like I got bashed in the head…” you frown, realization settling onto your features. “Wait… I did get bashed in the head.” You sit up quickly, crying out grabbing your head. You look around. “This...this isn’t my apartment. This isn’t my bedroom. Why….? Where?”

“Shh…” he coos. “S’okay you’re at my place.”

“You…” you look confused for a moment, then betrayed; scrambling backwards on your hands away from him. “You hit me. You made me pass out.”

“It’s not like that.” His heart is in his throat. He feels like this is all falling apart.

“You bash my skull in and you’re telling me it’s not like that?” You laugh without humor. The sound is bitter; it’s not like the usual laugh you give him. It’s not ringing and musical and genuine. It’s full of glass edges and teeth. “You really have some nerve.” He backs away from you. He doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing; doesn’t want to believe that you’d do this to him. That you’d throw rocks at the house he’s made for you. That you’d burn it all down with kerosene hands. “Let me go, Hawks.” You spit. Your tone is even. Dangerous.

“I-I can’t do that, dove.” He sighs, running a hand through honey colored locks.

“Are you shitting me?” You wail, tears welling up in your eyes. “You fuckin knocked me out and kidnapped me you fuckin’ freak!” You watch him turn away; watch him leave the room and lock it behind him.

He walks into the hall, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. He sits on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his wings tight around his body. He doesn’t have the stomach to listen to you anymore.

He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. That’s all he wants to hear.

-----------------------------------------------------

He thought time was what you needed. Maybe some space as well. You’re always asleep when he leaves for work. The plates of food he makes you before he goes to work are barely eaten. Mostly food just pushed around to make it look like you attempted to eat. He’s getting worried about you. He’s wondering if he’s made the right choice. He’s wondering if you’ll ever open up to him.

But he’s also kicking himself. He’s starting to regret this. He can’t just let you go at this point; can’t risk having his place as number 2 hero taken if you reveal what he’s done to you. He has orchestrated this from the beginning. You were always meant to be here. You just don’t understand that yet. He’s gonna do everything in his power to make you understand. He’s gonna do everything in his power to make you love him.

He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. He just has to show you that.

When he comes home from patrol at night -stepping into the bedroom to check in on you- there’s a subtle difference in your attitude. You don’t kick at him when he sits next to you, don’t threaten to claw his eyes out with those manicured nails of yours, don’t spit or hiss or cry when you see him. In fact, you look slightly defeated when your eyes meet his. You look away after a moment, instead resting your head in on your knees and looking out the window. He feels his heart break in his chest at the sight. He never intended to make you unhappy.

He looks over at you, twiddles his fingers in his hands for a moment before finally deciding to speak. “You know how we’re at the top floor?” He asks quietly.

You snort and roll your eyes, but your tone doesn’t have the same usual bitterness in it. “Yes, Hawks. I know.”

“Well,” he sighs. “There’s a garden up here.” He’s trying to sound nonchalant. He’s trying to make you interested.

“A garden?” You say the words slowly, scepticism lacing through your tone. Your eyes meet his; head tilting in interest; your knees falling from your chest. He can see you slowly opening up to him, like a flower in the spring. “Where?”

He shakes his head with a grin. “On the roof, silly.”

You lean forward slightly, a familiar light finding a home back in your eyes. “Can I see it?”

And how can he say no to you? Not when you’re looking at him like this. Not when you’re looking at him like he’s handing you the world on a silver platter. Like he’s the stars that stretch across the sky. “Of course.” He stands, listening to you patter behind him.

He walks down to the end of the hall, opens the skylight window and places a ladder underneath it. He turns to you. You’re at the end of the hall, looking around the corner into the living room. It sets him on edge for a moment; his feathers bristling and getting ready to run after you. But your form and the way you carry yourself is similar to a timid cat. Curious. Searching. He knows you’re smart. Knows that you know that there's no way you’d be able to outrun him. He clears his throat after a moment, watches your head snap towards him before you make your way back to him.

He gestures grandly at the ladder. “Ladies first.'' he chirps. He holds it steady for you as you climb up, averts his eyes away from your ass. He told himself long ago that you were never going to be his pet. Hence why you have your own room and he’s never touched you without consent. And you’ve never given it.

You look beautiful.

You turn towards him when you hear Keigo clear his throat. Watch him wipe sweaty palms on his pants before shoving his hands into his pockets and taking leisurely strides towards you. He nods towards a collection of raised beds tucked into the corner of the roof. They’re wooden, nothing too fancy about them. You walk over to them immediately. Crouching down and inspecting them. “There’s a lot of dead plants in here.” You state plainly. “I’ll need somewhere to throw them away.”

He nods. “I can do that for ya.”

You purse your lips in thought. “Probably more potting soil too.”

He sucks in a breath, shakes his head lightly and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Gonna burn a hole in my wallet.”

“Oh no,” you tell him sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “You might have to forego take out a couple of times a week. Whatever will you do.”

“I’m kidding.” He responds quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“Hawks,” you ask slowly, rocking back and forth on your heels, hands twisting in front of you. “Do you think you can bring home some flowers after patrol tomorrow too? Please?”

He feels his heart soar; like he’s got wings on more than one place on his body. He likes that way you say the word home. Like you’ve accepted that it's your place to be too. Like it’s not a cage to you anymore. Home was an open wound for him, until you came here to patch it all up. He smiles at you. “Anything for you, birdie.”

Maybe someday you’ll know he means every word.

-------------------------------------------

Takami Keigo is disgusting when he gets home.

He’s surprised when you run up to greet him, eyes bright and shining. The expression on your face reminds him of when you would come up to him at the agency; gas station coffee in hand. Your nose crinkles as soon as you get close to him, turning your face away and covering your mouth with your hand. “You stink.”

He laughs, taking his boots off. “Yeah,” he nods. “Got knocked out of the sky and thrown into the mud.” He stretches his arms out, fanning the smell at you. “I’d like to see how good you’d smell if that happened to you.”

“That's so gross, Hawks.” You laugh, plugging your nose. “Why didn’t you shower at the agency?”

He shrugs, plucking an apple out of the bowl that sits on the kitchen island and taking a bite out of it. “Water pressure here is better.” he tells you. Not a lie, but not the reason he’s here. He just doesn’t like being away from you longer than he has to be.

You hum. It’s true to an extent, you realize. The shower here is massive; it has to be to accommodate Keigo’s wings. Multiple showerheads on all sides of it. It’s easily the best shower in the world. You can spend hours there. “How long will you be?” You don’t know what possesses you to ask the question. Maybe the constant solitude is starting to cloud your mind; making you think Keigo’s company is better than nothing.

He pauses for a moment, looks at you curiously. “N-not long.” He responds, tilting his head at you with a smile.

“Okay.” you grin, kicking your feet slightly. “I’ll wait for you.”

You’re sitting on the couch when he comes back out; a towel wrapped around his neck and sweatpants hanging loosely off his form. He sits next to you on the couch and you watch him take the towel around his neck and gently dry his feathers. You stare at him out of the corner of your eye; gaze flickering between the late night television show and the way Keigo’s hands move through his feathers nimbly. His eyes catch yours after a moment. He gives you a wink and a smirk.

“See something you like, dove?” You watch him wiggle his eyebrows at you. You kick him playfully. He gives you a mock wounded look. “Didn’t have to be so mean, damn.”

You laugh at him, tossing your head back and snorting. You look over at him again, titling your head slightly. “Do you want help?”

He makes a choking sound before sputtering at you, red creeping across his face. “What?”

You sigh at him, rolling your eyes. “Turn around.” You order gently, using your hand placed on his shoulder to gently force him to move. He does without much fight. He rests his legs over the armrest of the couch, as you start to work through his feathers. Taking your time to dry each one individually. You hear him make a small noise in his throat, watch his shoulder hunch as you get closer to his spine.

You tug one slightly too harsh. “Fuck!” He cries out, slapping his hand over his mouth.

You pull your hands away immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” He sighs as you resume your work. “They’re just sensitive, be careful.”

You make an affirmative noise in your throat, nodding at you understand - despite that he can’t see you - as your hands move to the other wing. “Do you think we can move to the floor?” You ask softly. “I can’t reach this other wing well.”

“You don’t really have to do this at all.” He states simply.

You pause, for a moment. Feeling strangely sad at the thought of Keigo not letting you take care of him. “I know.” You say. “I want to.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” you hum. “I just want to.”

You hear him breathe out quietly, “Oh.” He stands and goes to the bedroom, coming back with a small pillow and a silk towel. “Come on,” he sighs, laying on the living room floor. “straddle my back.”

You hesitate. “What if I crush you?”

He snorts. “Dove, I promise you’re not gonna crush me. I’m the number two pro-hero and I throw around villains all day. What do you take me for?”

You settle on top of him, sitting low on his back, just before the curve of his ass starts. “If you insist.” He doesn’t even make a sound when you press your full weight onto him. You run your fingers through his feathers again; taking time to brush your fingers through them. You’re gentle as you rub the towel through each individual feather. You hum as you work, feeling Keigo vibrate underneath you. You suppose this is a good sign.

“How are the flowers doing?” he asks after some time. He’s quiet when he speaks, his voice barely louder than the tv.

He brought you flowers the other day. Just like you asked. Bright petunias in stunning shades of yellow and purple. Begonias in the rosiest shade of pink. The most gorgeous dahlias you’ve ever seen. He hasn’t gone up to see them since he brought them to you. You think it's his way of giving you space. “They’re doing well.” you respond, focusing intently on a mangled feather close to the root of his wings. “You should come up and see them.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. You can’t see his face, but it's bright in your mind. Eyebrows slightly cocked, corners of his lips upturned into a lazy half grin. “Hmmm...maybe I will.”

You smile at him, brushing your fingers through his feathers and admiring your handiwork. They’re a much brighter shade of crimson now that they’re dry; the shade of red you’re used to seeing. You like it. Makes him look normal. Makes him look the way you remembered him looking. He’s always been good at taking care of himself until you came around. You suppose you don’t mind picking up his slack.

“Hey, dove.” he says quietly, just as you start to stand up.

“Hm?”

“Ah…” he starts. You can hear the nervousness in his voice; feel the way it radiates off of him. “My name… my name is Keigo.” He says it like it’s a secret, likes he’s not sure if it’s something he should tell you.

“Keigo.” you say slowly. You watch the way it makes his feathers bristle. See the goosebumps that pebble across his skin. “Okay, Keigo.”

He sits on his hind legs and looks at you. Ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He likes the way you say his name. He thinks he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life. “Okay.”

“Keigo.” You sound hesitant when you speak; like a child asking their parents for something and worried they’re going to say no. “Can…” you twist your hands in your lap, refusing to look at him. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He feels his heart pounding in his chest at your question. He almost wants to say no. He doesn’t think he could handle it, handle you so close to him. The vulnerability that comes with sharing a bed with someone. But he still finds himself nodding his head, not trusting his own voice to speak.

He leads you to his bedroom -it’s just across from yours- and you both change facing opposite directions from each other. His bed is high and large -much larger than any other you’ve seen. Plush and comfortable. Covered in layers and layers of blankets. Quilts and comforters all in different patterns and more pillows than one person could ever need.

“It’s like a nest.” You comment with a chuckle. He says nothing, just shrugs his shoulders and watches you climb in.

He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous when he lays next to you in his own bed. He lets his wings hang off the side of it, making sure you have plenty of room to stretch out. You’re so close to him, never been this close to him before. He can almost feel your breath fanning his face. It would be so easy to reach out and kiss you; so easy to bring his hand to your face and feel how soft your cheek would be against his calloused hand. It takes everything in him not to. He can see how you're shifting slightly, hears your legs rustle between the sheets and watches you bite your lip. He thinks you might break first. That you’ll lean in and close the gap between you both. But just as he thinks you’re going to break, you don't.

“Goodnight.” You whisper.

“Goodnight.”

----------------------------------------------------

There’s something different today.

You woke up feeling strange. Feeling off centered and slightly off balance. There’s an odd sense of foreboding that's made a home in your bones. You can’t put your finger on it. It can’t be that you haven’t eaten because Keigo always makes sure you’re well fed before he leaves for patrol. It can’t be that the penthouse is too cold or that your socks don’t match or the fact that you forgot to turn the tv off before you went to sleep.

You stew all day. Sit in these sensations and feel like you’re being marinated in them until all you can think of is the peculiar feeling of bitterness. You don’t go onto the rooftop garden. You don’t make an extra cup of coffee. And you certainly don’t step foot out of the bedroom until you hear the sound of Keigo’s key pushing into the door; the musical sound of his boots clattering on the floor and leather gloves slapping onto the island countertop.

Usually, on normal days you go out to him. Greet him immediately at the door, rocking back and forth on your heels and watch the sun that filters through the blinds reflect on his wheat colored hair. The rays of light hitting his eyes so perfectly they resemble two pots of glowing honey. The light dusting of red across his cheeks from the cold wind biting at his cheeks. The lazy smile that he gives you when he sees you running towards him. Something soft and private that’s been reserved for you since lunch break rendezvous.

But today, there’s something that keeps you grounded to your bed. Today you feel like you’ve rotted here, like you’ve sprouted roots and have been forced to stay where you are. You hear Keigo walk towards the bedroom; hear a heavy sigh escape his lips and can almost feel the dark cloud hanging over him. Thick and rolling and looming; something that suffocates the air around you before you even see him.

You look up and he’s leaning on the doorframe, staring at you with eyes full of sadness and pain. You smile at him, bright and genuine and kind. You pat a spot on the bed next to you; beckoning him to come forward. A silent way of saying hey I missed you, come talk to me, and I’m glad you’re here. He comes forward as soon as you invite him. Sitting next to you on the bed with elbows propped on his knees. It seems like he’s aged since he left this morning. He looks years older. You can’t help but worry if it’s you. Can’t help but wonder if you’re the reason he’s aging like fruit on the kitchen island; if you’ll be the reason his hair goes grey before he hits 30.

“They….asked me to do something I don’t want to do today.” He tells you after some time. He’s quiet when he speaks; barely louder than the wind that rustles through the leaves of trees.

You don’t have to ask who the they he’s speaking about is. You know who they are. You tuck your knees to your chest, inspecting him. “What are you going to do?”

“What they tell me to do.” He answers simply. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“We could run away.” You offer. You know it's naive as soon as the words fall from your lips. Know it’s a dream that’ll never find its way to your greedy hands, but you couldn’t help yourself from uttering it.

You watch Keigo smile at you. It’s not the usual ones he gives you. Not the ones with soft edges and bright eyes; or the ones that stretch across his face when he sees you’ve eaten all of your breakfast. It’s not the smile he gives you when you’ve cracked a joke that managed to make him laugh, or the one he gives you when he watches you jump at horror movies. This is a smile full of water; a smile he’s giving to someone who simply doesn’t know any better. You’re not naive, both of you know this. Keigo doesn’t have it in his heart to pretend you are today. “S’not that easy, love.”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Just fumble with a loose string on your comforter. You watch him lay back on the bed, his wings hanging off the side of it; stretching before they fold closer to him. A metaphorical shield around his hummingbird heart. You lay down next to him, so close your noses almost touch. You reach out hesitantly, bring your index finger to trace down the bridge of his nose. You hear his breath catch in his throat; hear coos come from somewhere deep in his chest and watch his wings relax. You bring your hand to his brow bone, running your thumbs over it before settling your hands over the apples of his cheeks. He sighs softly, nuzzles his nose gently into your touch. He brings his hand over yours, stroking your knuckles with a featherlight touch.

His hand is so soft. You supposed the gloves he always wears helps with that. His fingers are long, nimble. Fingernails are perfectly trimmed. You meet his eyes; stunning honey color almost swallowed whole by his dilated pupils until all that’s left is a thin ring of amber.

There’s something strange that happens in your chest when you see the first crystal-like tear fall from his eye. It makes your heart feel too big for your ribcage; makes you feel like the world is collapsing around you. It’s so odd to feel such heartbreak for someone like this, an overwhelming feeling overtaking you. Like a thief in the night you swore had claws and teeth, but now you see it it’s really it was never a beast but a tender heart that was looking for a hand to hold.

You love him. When did you start to love him so much?

When did his touch become the thing that made the world feel real? If you think about it, your definition of beautiful has become the sight of Keigo handing you scrambled eggs in the morning; the way his mouth quirks into a lopsided smile when he hears you talk about whatever you learned today. When did love become as simple as his hand finding yours after a nightmare; your body gravitating towards him, your shoes next to his boots. The sound the pads of your feet make when you rush towards him and the beam he gives you in exchange. The sound of his key clumsily unlocking the door to the penthouse becoming your favorite song.

You grab him tightly, feel his arms instinctively wrap around your middle as his body shakes with sobs. You feel his hands grip onto you with a bruising force, the way he buries his head into your core impossibly deeper. As if he’s trying to build a nest in your ribcage. Build a house and live in your heart forever.

Through the glass of his shattered heart he manages to speak. A quiet and broken sound full of desperate pleas. “Do you think I’m good?”

You don’t quite register the question at first. Your heart is still too full of the realization that you love him, you love him, you love him. Nothing else matters, and nothing ever did until this moment. Keigo is the stardust that is breathed into your lungs; the center of your universe. He sits in a red room deep in your heart and lives there. You run your fingers through his hair; feel the softness of it between your fingers. “Kei,” you whisper. “Kei, you’re so, so good.” You feel his body shake with sobs; feel his hands wrap around you impossibly tighter.

You hear him speak up; slightly muffled from being buried into your core. The heat of his breath makes your shirt slightly damp and stick to your stomach. “You do?” he asks. Like he can’t believe it. Like he wasn’t ever expecting you to say he is good.

He’s good, he’s good, he’s good.

And you love him for it.

You nod, making an affirmative noise in your throat. “Of course, Keigo. You take such good care of me.” you take a deep breath, feeling the words you want to say rise in your throat. You add on quietly, half hoping he doesn’t hear you but knowing he will. “And I love you.”

He pulls away from you, looks at you with eyes narrow and skeptical. He can’t hear this. Can’t hear you admit that you love a broken man. “What did you say?”

You swallow thickly. “I said I love you, Kei.”

You kiss him then, long and slow. Dragging it out like a Sunday afternoon. You can taste his chapstick; sweet and watermelon. You think, somewhere deep inside you, that he’s probably always putting it on. The wind probably chafes his lips. He places his hand on your neck; thumb reaching up and brushing against your chin. He deepens the kiss, his tongue finding a way into the cavern of your mouth. Tentative and exploring. His body hovers over you; both of his arms caging you in, his wings hanging off either side of you and shielding you. It’s like they’ve made their own little world where only you two exist. Somewhere cozy. Somewhere where neither one of you can get hurt. Where the Hero Commission doesn’t exist and paperwork disappears and no one cares if you have a quirk or not.

He breaks away after a moment; his eyes dark with lust as he looks at you through thick blonde lashes. He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, before taking it between his teeth and sucking on it; you can feel his sharp canines prick at your skin. His hand moves down your sides; featherlight and tracing your figure before he grabs your waist in a bruising grip. He pulls away from your lips, placing nips and kisses along your jaw. Moving down your neck and rewarding your gasps and whimpers with more.

“Did you mean it?” He whines into your ear; breath hot on your cheek. “When…. When you said you loved me?” His eyes search yours, looking for any sign of betrayal in your eyes. He looks scared. Desperate and hungry. Like you’re a dream he’s trying to hold on to.

You bring his hand up to his cheek, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Of course.”

You love him. You think he’s good. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

He pins you underneath him, his hands touching you everywhere he can. He’s needy, grasping and grabbing at anywhere he can reach; the fat of your thighs, the skin of your elbows, the space where your spine meets your pelvis. He’s exploring you. Taking time to memorize everything he can about you as if you’ll disappear. You gasp at his touch, never remembering a time where anyone’s ever touched you so softly.

He grabs you suddenly, bringing you to his lap with your back against his chest, sitting at the edge of the bed. You’re face to face with the mirror that’s on his closet door. It's big, one of the first things you noticed when you came in here all those weeks ago; it spans the entire closet and gives you a view of the entire room.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your cheek. You watch him lift your skirt up, take a large hand and push your panties to the side. “D’ya know that?” He hooks his arm underneath your leg, spreading your pussy apart so you’re on full display in the mirror. You gasp when you watch him dip a finger in; toes curling at the sensation. You try to look away but he slaps your pinches your clit. “Don’t you dare look away.” He moans, dark and menacing. There’s a threat he won’t voice hanging off the end of his sentence. You make eye contact with him in the mirror, watch his eyes grow darker with lust and feel the growing hardness between his legs. You whine when he places another finger inside, dragging his thumb across your clit. “Does it feel good?” he asks quietly. All you can do is nod. He stops moving immediately, breathing against your ear again. “I asked you a question, dove. Use your words.”

You manage to speak; to say the pretty words sitting so thickly in your throat. “Y-yes.” you gasp as he brushes against your g-spot. “So good, Kei.”

He hums from somewhere deep in his chest. “Good girl, and who's making you feel this good?”

“You, Keigo.” you whine.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, nipping at your earlobe. “You’re making such a mess all over my pants. Gonna cum for me, baby?” He knows you’re going to, can hear your wetness ringing so loudly in his ears and feel your cunt clenching around his fingers. He’s getting desperate for it; rutting his hips slightly and grinding into your ass. The moans and sighs you’re making make his cock grow heavier and heavier against his thigh.

“Ngh- Kei!” you whine. “M’gonna cum please can I cum?”

“Are you asking permission?” he asks breathlessly. “Good fuckin girl. Yeah baby cum for me.” You gush around his fingers immediately, soaking him down to the wrist as you come undone for him. He watches your leg kick out slightly, toes curling around nothing as you throw your head back to the ceiling and cry out. He rides your orgasm out perfectly, pace never faltering until you stop clamping and squeezing around his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out of you when you’re done, gently prodding them into your mouth. He feels your tongue wrap around them, dutifully cleaning them off. The sight of it makes him hiss, muttering under his breath how good you are for him, how perfect. That he can’t wait to give you his cock. He presses down on your tongue, listening to you gag around them until you’re gasping and sputtering.

You move your head away from him, turning towards him as well as you can. “Please, Kei.” you mumble shyly, not daring to look at him. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“That so, dove?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. He moves you so you’re straddling him, gently using his hand to hold your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Use your words.”

“Wanna…” you feel shy as he looks at you, so small. The words sit thickly in your throat before you finally get the courage to speak. “Wanna make you feel good. Wanna suck your cock, Keigo. Can I, please?”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head. He watches you sink onto your knees, tiny hands trembling as you slowly coax his hero costume off of him. His cock springs out of his pants freely, rock hard and slapping against his stomach. You admire it for a moment, noticing how pretty it is. Long and thin with veins running down the sides; pretty pink tip with a pearl of pre sitting just on it. You give the tip a kitten lick before your lips are placed around it. He hisses in pleasure at the feeling; loving how warm and wet your mouth feels around him and involuntarily bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. He whines when he feels your throat close around him, gasping at how well you’re taking him despite the tears streaking down your face.

His hand finds its way to your head, letting you adjust before he’s roughly pushing and pulling you up and down his length; loving the crystal tears that fall from your eyes and the soft, muffled gags coming from your mouth. Throwing his head back in pleasure. He’s been reduced to a mess by you, the only words coming from his mouth are praises of how good you are. How perfect your mouth feels around him. How much he loves you.

He pulls you off of him suddenly, grabbing you effortlessly and throwing you on the bed so that you’re laying on your back.

“Wanna taste you too,” he whispers into your ear. “Wanna make you cum again f’me.”

He’s ruthless when he tears your clothing off, tossing your dress and panties away like they’re useless scraps. He dives into your pussy like a man starved, not caring about your cries of overstimulation or the way you kick your feet slightly and try to wiggle out from underneath him. His hands find purchase on the meat of your thighs, pinning you against the sheets while your fingers tangle into his golden locks.

“S’too much, Kei.” You cry, tears falling down your face, toes curling into the sheets and breaths coming in short pants.

“You can do it,” he coos into your cunt, going back to tracing circles around your clit and filling the room with wet noises. He runs his tongue through your folds, groaning at the feeling of your thighs tightening and trembling around his head. “I know you can, love. You can do it for me.” You keen when he dips into your entrance teasingly, back arching off the bed. You feel a familiar heat wash over you; the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to wash over you. You cum again for him, thinking it was impossible and finding yourself shocked at the feeling. Whining from overstimulation before he finally pulls off of you.

He lines his cock up with your entrance and you watch him ease himself into you; brows furrowed in concentration, listening to him whine at the feeling of your pussy clamping around his dick; crashing into you over and over again as you bask in the glow of his love for you. The way his hand instinctively grips onto yours as if you’re a lifeline for him; like if he lets go he’ll drift off into a sea of emptiness and you’ll both drown together. It’s beautiful to you for a moment; the galaxies forming with your breaths and the stardust collecting in your eyes; a desperate and palpable neediness forming between you both.

He is the void that stretches on and on and you are the stars that decorate it.

There is an entire universe behind your pupils and God does he wish to be the one to discover all the stars that live there. When you come undone for him again it’s like the angels are singing; sweet moans escaping your lips that sound more beautiful than anything he’s ever heard. He wishes he could always have this.

You deserve the entire world, and Keigo will do everything in his power to give it to you. You were a lamb sent to be slaughtered by him, but you can’t find it in your heart to be mad at the sight of your blood on his hands. It’s a strange sensation; knowing everything about this relationship started out so wrong but now it feels like it’s the piece you’ve always been missing. You’re a stained glass window looking at the world, and it was Keigo’s hands that have put you together. Placed you in a temple and became your most loyal worshipper.

He hooks his arms underneath your legs and shoves them up to your ears, muttering under his breath how he wants to fill you up; how he wants to make you a mommy. Give you something to do and someone to take care of when he’s away from you on long missions. You don’t say anything, tongue lolling and heavier than lead in your mouth, too fucked out and dumb from the feeling of his cock dragging against your velvet walls.

“I love you,” he gasps as his hips stutter and lose rhythm. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you.”

You’re safe and warm in Keigo’s arms and he can’t help but feel his chest tighten at the feeling. Can’t help the way his heart feels too big for his ribcage. Taking up all his space and barely leaving room for you.

“I’ll have to go away on a mission soon.” He tells you quietly, muttering the words into your hair. “What am I gonna do without you?”

You sigh, unburying your face from his chest and looking at him. He looks scared. Helpless. The world has not been kind to Keigo. You decide you will always be kind to him. “I dunno.” you tell him honestly. “We have here and now, though. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

When did you become the one that comforts him, he wonders. When did you become the sole reason he can get up everyday; the source of the smile on his face. When did your laugh become the sweetest thing he’s ever heard? He’s trying to remember the exact moment. He’s known he’s loved you since he first saw you walk into his agency; but now he’s wondering about the complexities of it. The nitty gritty details of it all. When did the tiny flame of his feelings become so blinding?

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He will love you tomorrow, just like he loved you yesterday and just like how he loves you today. He’ll love you next week, and next year. Just like he loves you in the mornings before you rub the sleep out of your eyes, and just like he loves you in the evenings when you can barely keep them open. He loves you when the sun is grazing against your skin and he loves you when the moon is cascading a pale blue light over your features. Everything about you brings him back to life.

He supposes for now that it’s enough.

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