#Soft Hawks

[nightfall-kachiniko]

જ⁀➴ CALLING HIM BY HIS HERO NAME

pro hero!hawks x reader drabble ☁️ ོ

a/n: i just thought this would be cute, hawks getting all upset- I mean- Keigo. 🙄

“You know for someone who’s always out and about, you always seem to make time for me.” You softly smile upon hearing your front door open and then close.

“How’d you know it was me?” He asked, taking off his coat with a tussle.

You paused your tv show before turning around to look at him.

“Can smell the kfc on you from a mile away” you teased as he scoffed in offense. “Woah, I wear the best cologne.”

“You mean axe body spray?” You added, his lips escaping a laugh. “Not to much on me birdie.” His eyes followed yours as you got up from your spot on the couch to be in his embrace, a smile peering through his lips as he sweetly pecked you.

“Mmm..” you hummed in satisfaction. “How was work sweet boy?”

“The same as always.” He replied, holding you in his arms tiredly. You noticed how he tried to hold himself up. You knew how exhausted he was from working so often, and how bad he wanted to collapse into your arms. Still, he always kept that last bit of energy for you. It didn’t matter how much of it he had left, he’d always be strong for you.

“You need to get sleep baby.” You said, pushing the hair out of his face, “nah im fine, I wanna spend some time with you.”

“You can do that in the bedroom.” You added as a smirk grew on his face.

“Not in that way weirdo!” You gently punch his arm making him laugh. “Oh but I was hoping~”

“and I hope you go to bed, finally~” you cut him off.

He looked into your eyes for a moment before saying “your right love, guess I should start listening to you from now on.”

“Took you how long to realize that?” He hummed as he gently placed his head down to rest on you. “Not that long~”

You sighed out a slight smile, your hand playing with his hair.

“Hey.” You said, making him slightly come up. “Yeah?”

“I love you, hawks.”

His head popped up, a look of disgust on his face.

"Excuse me??" He said, pouting.

You can’t help but start laughing at him. He looks like you just insulted endeavor to his face.

“UHM who is this other man in your life??!!” He says dramatically.

“Ughh, I love you Keigo~”

“Mm..” he settles back down into your comfort, “much better.”

[honeybuckin10]

Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].  

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

-

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

-

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.  

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.  

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.  

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

-

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.  

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

 Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression.  Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

[katsukikisses]

birds of a feather: chapter two [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: keigo invites you over for the first time and lets you check out his wing-keeping kit. in the process, you learn a few things about his world.

chapter tags: childhood friends; neighbors trope; alternating povs; taking care of keigo's wings as a love language.

cw: prejudice; socioeconomic differences?

prefer to read on ao3? here!

prev. chapter | table of contents | next chapter

“'Do not enter' is written on the door way, Why can't everyone just go away? Except you, you can stay, — Alex G, Treehouse

The first time Keigo invited you over, you were ecstatic. 

The invite in itself was long overdue: the two of you had been friends for a year and neighbors for nearly two, so the fact that you’d never once stepped foot in his house during that period seemed like an intentional oversight. You didn’t mind always hanging out at yours’ (rather, you quite liked having Keigo inside your house), but you were insatiably curious about how your hybrid friend lived. You wanted to know what color his bedsheets were, what kind of cereal lined his pantry—everything there was to know about a person, really. 

However, your parents always told you that inviting yourself over was very rude, so you never pushed. You figured there was a reason for his hesitance and eventually stopped asking “ Your place or mine? ” on the walk home from school, letting your house become the default hang-out spot. That’s why, when, on a gray, inconspicuous Tuesday, Keigo asked if you’d like to come over, you were completely caught off guard.

“Wha—?” you sputtered, suddenly having lost the ability to form sentences, “Me, over? House?”

Keigo looked pleased at the state you’d been reduced to. “Yes, you-over-house,” he mocked, “We can even us-play-video games.”

“Shut up,” you reddened. “I’m just surprised since we usually go to mine. B-but I don’t mind going to yours at all! Let’s hurry.” 

You shifted your backpack higher up on your shoulders and began speed-walking down the street, leaving Keigo behind you. You didn’t want to give him the time to change his mind. The blonde snorted, but quickened his pace to match yours. 

Soon, the two of you made it to your street. You took a brief moment to dash inside your own house and yell that you were going to Keigo’s—eliciting surprised Okays from your parents—before dashing back across the street to Keigo’s side. Laughing at your eagerness, he unlatched the front door and entered, leaving you to follow. 

Your first impression of the Takami household was that it was similar to yours: staircase left of the foyer, living room connected to the kitchen. The similarities were to be expected, given that your houses were most likely built by the same construction company—but that was where they ended. Unlike your house, which your mother kept fastidiously white and empty, Keigo’s was full of life. The walls were painted a pretty sage green, and lined with pictures of Keigo, his mother, and an older couple you assumed were his grandparents. The windowsills were also filled with all sorts of plants and herbs, adding a welcome splash of color to the room. It was a stark contrast to the sad, blank interior of your own abode—Keigo’s house had character .

“I know it’s not as nice as yours,” Keigo apologized as he watched you take in your surroundings. “My mom insists on keeping all these dumb plants and—”

“Keigo, I love your house!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. “It’s so much prettier compared to mine. I wish Mom would let us paint our walls or keep plants, but apparently Architectural Digest says that’s not Beige Chic , or whatever.”

Keigo smiled. He knew he shouldn’t have doubted your reaction. “Okay, well once you’re done admiring my pretty house, come upstairs so I can beat you at Mario Kart.”

Your eyes flashed excitedly, immediately leaving the picture you were inspecting to follow after Keigo. “Sure you will. Hey, remind me again who’s the reigning champion?”

The blonde gave you an irritated look, but before he could retort, you were pushing past him up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was what you’d been most curious about on your walk back, and you couldn’t wait any longer to see it. Ignoring Keigo’s words of protest, you opened the door.

“Wow,” you blinked at the sight. “It’s very…angry.”

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been… this . Keigo’s bedroom was practically devoid of anything except for Endeavor , his favorite superhero. The walls were plastered with posters of the flame hero, and a row of his figurines lined Keigo’s desk. Atop his twin-sized bed sat a small Endeavor stuffie, which smoldered at you menacingly from across the room. 

You spun around to face your friend. “Keigo, I didn’t you were a fanboy!”

In the doorway of his room, Keigo flushed a red that rivaled his plumage. 

“It’s not—I’m not a fanboy ,” he sputtered, “I just happen to like the show! And they always have a lot of his merch at the thrift and—you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just sit down.”

Laughing, you took a seat on the carpet and faced his XBox. “Whatever you say, fanboy .”

Keigo valiantly ignored your comment and began rifling through a box of controllers. You took this time to take in the rest of his room, which, aside from the Endeavor paraphernalia, was completely unassuming. There wasn’t much furniture other than a bed and desk, and what little else Keigo did possess was painted in dull shades of grey. The only splash of color was the green sweater he’d been wearing yesterday, now stuffed haphazardly into his drawers. Your eyes lazily followed the outline of the cabinet, until they reached the small box resting atop it.  

“What’s that?” you pointed to the box curiously.

Keigo looked up from where he’d been setting up the XBox—an ancient thing he and his mom had scored at Goodwill—and spotted what you were pointing at. “Oh, that’s my wing-keeping kit.”

“Wing-keeping?”

“Yeah,” he shifted his wings, letting them catch rays from the window. The red plumes gleamed like rubies. “You didn’t think they were naturally like this, did you? This kind of exquisiteness requires serious upkeep, YN”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. The sight of Keigo’s feathers fluttering was nothing short of mesmerizing, and, for some reason, you liked that he was showing off to you. “Can I see the tools?”

The words left your mouth before you could think about them. You watched as Keigo’s wings immediately came to a still, and you internally groaned. Here we go. 

Over the course of your year-long friendship with Keigo, you’d come to learn a lot about the blonde. You knew that he liked superhero shows (specifically Endeavor: Legend of the Flame) and that his favorite subject was History. He could run a 7-minute mile—the fastest out of all the fourth-grade boys—and was a fiend for fried chicken. You knew that, despite being relatively popular, he didn’t really like the other kids at school, and you were probably the closest thing to a best friend that he had. And most importantly, you knew to never, ever talk about hybrids around him. 

At first, you figured he was just annoyed by your questions. As the only hybrid in your class, Keigo was constantly being probed by your classmates about his wings or eye markings. He’d never ignore them, of course, always answering their queries good-naturedly—but the tight-lipped smile he wore during those interactions betrayed his agitation. As your friendship progressed and you interacted more frequently with the blonde, though, you realized it wasn’t just questions about himself that irritated Keigo—it was whenever humans talked about hybrids at all. The week your class covered Japan’s history of hybrid discrimination, Keigo had resolutely faced the window and didn’t take a single note; and whenever Endeavor fought a hybrid villain on screen, Keigo huffed and asked to skip the episode. Little incidents like those deterred you from asking any questions related to his bird appendages, and even more from inquiring about the reason behind his anger. 

Thus, you’d gone an entire year avoiding discussing anything hybrid-related with him. You figured that, as with him not inviting you in, he’d eventually get over it—you were sitting in his room right now, weren’t you? Plus, he couldn’t hate humans altogether if he was friends with you. There must be a logical reason behind his behavior, you reasoned.

Except, you’d blown any chance of that happening, now that you opened your big fat mouth and asked about his wings. And the first time he invited me over, too, you bemoaned internally. You’d at least wanted to see the kitchen before you got kicked out!

“Um, sorry,” you backtracked, “I don’t know why I asked that. It’s personal, I know—sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Keigo replied, equally hesitant. He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a daunting task. “Um, if you really want to see, I can show you. The tools, I mean.”

Your jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Really? I can see?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” he said, sounding as though it were absolutely a big deal. He walked over to his cabinet and swiped the kit off the top. You watched, disbelieving, as he made his way back to you and deposited it unceremoniously in your lap. 

The first thing you registered about the kit was that it was heavy—heavier than it looked. It was constructed of smooth wood paneling and about the size of a book, with no indication of what resided within it save for a small feather engraved on the top, and perhaps the faint smell of essential oils emitting from it Your fingers fluttered over the ridges of the box, and, with one final seeking glance at Keigo, you lifted the lid off the top. 

As the smell suggested, the inside of the kit was lined with various vials of oil, each labeled something different. Laying next to the oils, their sharp edges cushioned by the velvet interior, was a collection of tools: shears of various sizes as well as several brushes and clippers. They glinted menacingly in the afternoon light, causing you to reign in a shudder; you couldn’t imagine using tools like that on your own body. 

Keigo watched your expression carefully. “I have to trim and condition my feathers about every two weeks,” he explained, “Or else they’ll get tangled and torn.” 

“I didn’t realize they required so much attention,” you tore your gaze away from the box and faced him. And, for the second time that day, your mouth moved before your brain. “Can you show me? How you do it?”

“…Sure,” he said after a momentary pause, looking faintly bemused. “It’s been a while since I last trimmed them, anyway.” 

He began picking out various tools and oils from the box. You leaned forward, eager to see which ones he chose. When it came to Keigo, it was like you could never know enough. 

He lined the three oils he’d grabbed—labeled “primaries”, “secondaries”, and “contour”, respectively—on the floor. “The different oils are for different parts of my wings,” he said, extending out his left wing as he spoke. “My primary feathers are these long feathers out here, and the inner ones are called secondaries. And these are my contour feathers, which make me more aerodynamic—they help me fly better, basically,” he amended, noticing your blank stare. “But before I do that, I have to trim them.”

As he finished his explanation, he removed a large tablecloth from the bottom of the kit and unfolded it on the floor. He picked up one of the shears he’d taken out earlier and began trimming off the edges of his wings. Red tufts fluttered to the floor, like autumn leaves shaken out of a tree. You stared, enthralled, before his earlier words registered in your mind. 

“Wait, fly? I thought you weren’t…allowed to,” you trailed off, realizing you were approaching dangerous territory. Hybrid Limitations were one of the most contentious topics in Japan, and you figured that Keigo, as an avian hybrid, would have his share of thoughts on it. 

Instead of becoming upset, though, he merely shook his head. “I’m not,” he confirmed. His words were punctuated by the steady snip of shears coming down around another feather. “This kit was passed down to me from my grandfather, and during his time there weren’t restrictions on winged hybrids. So it still contains flight-care stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, “Do you wish you could fly?” 

Keigo peered at you through the folds of his wing. Randomly, you were struck by the memory of the first time he came to your house; cold and wet, focused on drying off his wings while you chattered annoyingly at him. 

“Maybe,” he set down the shears and picked up one of the vials of oil. Surprised, you realized he was already done with trimming. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to, though.”

Keigo gave his wings a firm ruffle, shaking off any lingering feather trimmings. Then, he poured a small bit of oil into his palms and began carding them gently through his longest feathers—the primaries, you recalled. You watched in silence as he worked down his wing, coating each plume in a thin layer of oil. Usually when Keigo was focused on something, he had a look of intense concentration on his face: brows pinched, eyes narrowed. Yet, now, his expression was relaxed and peaceful—this must be calming for him.

As he got closer to his inner feathers, though, he had to strain his neck to oil them properly, and his tranquil expression dissolved into a more concentrated one. “My mom usually helps me with the back,” he explained, sounding slightly frustrated, “It’s harder for me to see back there and—”

“I can help you,” you said. Keigo’s hands stilled in his wings, and you wondered a bit too late if your offer had been inappropriate. But you’d already breached all sorts of boundaries today, so what was one more? 

Keigo cleared his throat. “Um, sure. Come, uh—come closer.” 

“Okay,” you shuffled over to behind him. “Um, what do I…”

“Grab the oil labeled ‘secondaries’.”

“Okay.”

“Pour a little into your hands—yeah, that’s good. And let it heat up a bit in your palms.”

“Okay.”

“Now, you see the feathers at the bottom of my wings? The shorter ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Work the oil into them, from the root to the ends.” 

“Okay,” you gulped. Your hands, covered in a sharp-smelling oil, shook as you reached toward the feathers. I have to do this right , you thought determinedly—you couldn’t bear it if you accidentally hurt Keigo. 

Slowly, you grabbed the outermost feather and began working the oil into it. If your own hands hadn’t been shaking so badly, you might’ve noticed the way Keigo’s wings shuddered, too. 

After you got through the first few feathers without doing any damage—and leaving Keigo content, seemingly—you became more confident in your abilities. Your movements were more fluid, and your shoulders untensed—you could see why your friend found this relaxing. 

Once you finished the secondaries, you moved on to the last section: his contour feathers. You picked up the appropriately labeled oil and found that it was much fuller than the other two. Recalling what he said about not being able to fly, you sadly realized that those feathers probably didn’t get as much use as his other ones, therefore needing less maintenance. With newfound vigor, you uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount into your palms.

“I hope,” you began, “That you get a lot of use out of this oil one day.”

“I hope not,” Keigo replied, “That’s the most expensive one.”

(He knew what you meant, though.)

It was rare for Takami Toomie to see her house during the day. 

Well, it was nearing evening, technically, but sunlight was sunlight. Between her job at the restaurant, the hospital, and…the other one, she’d practically become a vampire—she couldn’t remember the last time she came home before midnight. But today all the stars had aligned perfectly: her coworker had agreed to cover her shift, the hospital hadn’t called her in, and—best of all—the fried chicken ordered from their restaurant never got picked up, leaving it up for grabs. 

Toomie recalled staring at the steaming bucket of chicken for the entire pick-up hour, and then snatching it up as soon as time was up. She’d flushed when her coworkers saw her shove the food into her bag, but their judgment would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing Keigo smile—something that happened too infrequently for Toomie’s liking. Though, it's not exactly like I encourage him to be more carefree... 

Shaking off her guilt, Tookie pushed through the front door of her home. She smiled at the sight of rays filtering in through the window and meandered over to the kitchen, where she set down the bucket. A glance at the clock told her that Keigo was already back at school, and her smile widened. They could eat together! 

She grabbed her phone from her bag and began searching for the LNs contact. She assumed Keigo was with them, considering he slept over practically every day now. It was a development she tried not to be too bothered by, as she knew it was lonely for him here. Still, she couldn’t help but be wary of the situation. YN seemed like a sweet kid, on the few occasions she’d met them, but one could never be sure…

She sighed as finally found the contact. Keigo would be a little upset at being called back early, she figured, but his disappointment would definitely disappear as soon as he saw the chicken. Plus, the two of them hadn’t had dinner together in forever. Reaffirmed in her decision, Toomie made to hit Call on the contact—but just as her finger was about to tap the screen, she heard the faintest sounds of conversation emanating from upstairs. 

Toomie paused. It sounded like two kids...did Keigo have a friend over? Curiously, she made her way to the stairwell and strained to listen, wings shifting nervously behind her. Keigo never told her that he was bringing someone over, and he wasn’t the type to sneak around behind her back, either. Immediately, terrible thoughts filled her head. What if someone had followed Keigo home and they were hurting him upstairs? Or what if someone had broken in and were robbing them? Panicked, she dropped her phone and sprinted up the stairs, wings flapping madly behind her. They ached from disuse, but she didn’t even register the pain. Her only thoughts were Keigo, Keigo, Keigo. 

She threw open his bedroom door, and the sight that greeted her was more horrible than any robbery or bullying. Keigo was sitting on the floor, wings spread out to their maximum length, while you kneeled behind him, gently carding oil through his inner-most feathers. Next to you was Keigo’s wing-keeping kit—a gift from his grandfather, her father —with various tools and vials spilling out of it. Everything was out in the open for you to see.

At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Keigo turned around. “Mom?” his eyes widened. “When did you get back?”

“Just now,” she replied, her eyes flitting between the two of you. “You didn’t tell me you were having guests over, Keigo.”

Hearing this, you sheepishly stood and bowed to her. Your hands, still covered in oil, hung awkwardly in the hair. 

“I’m sorry for coming over uninvited, Takami-san,” you apologized, “I should’ve had my parents call you.” 

At the sight of your nervousness, Toomie’s agitation subsided. “It’s alright, YN-chan,” she said, attempting a kind tone. But her day had been long and she’d worked the night shift beforehand and—she just wanted to have dinner with her son. “I’m just surprised, is all. Plus, it’s Keigo who should’ve said something.”

She turned her attention back to her son. “You need to tell me when you have hu—people over, Kei.”

She barely managed to cover her slip-up. Keigo raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. 

“Well, I didn’t know you were even going to see them, since you don’t usually get back until later. Why are you back this early anyway?”

Toomie groaned internally. Wasn’t he a little young for the rebellious stage? “I got off work early,” she said tightly, “And I thought we could have dinner toge—”

“Is that chicken?” Keigo cut her off, finally registering the mouth-watering smell wafting from the kitchen. His wings, freshly clipped and conditioned, raised excitedly. Toomie couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, well then I should probably go,” you said awkwardly, wiping your oil-covered hands off on your school uniform. Toomie wished she could’ve told you to not do that, as wing-keeping oils were notoriously difficult to get out of clothes—your skirt would permanently have greasy handprints on them now. But before she could say something, you were nimbly sliding past her in the doorway and into the hall. 

“Please enjoy your dinner!” you smiled at the two of them. 

Keigo jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran after you. “Wait, YN,” he said, “Don’t go yet.” 

He glanced briefly at his mother, asking her an unspoken question. But the woman was looking at you, still wringing your hands awkwardly in the hallway.

Toomie exhaled softly through her nose. After all those free dinners they gave Keigo, she thought miserably, Practically every day of the year…how could I even come close to repaying them? 

“Yes, YN-chan, we would love for you stay for dinner,” she lied, “Do you like fried chicken?” 

Your eyes practically sparkled as you thanked her excitedly, assuring her that, yes, you loved fried chicken. As the three of you made your way down the stairs, Keigo pulling you by the wrist, Toomie couldn’t help but mourn her lost dinner. The bucket was a share-size, yet with how much Keigo ate, he could probably put away the entire thing—it had been a stretch for the two of them to share, much less three people. Looks like you and Keigo would be enjoying an adult-free dinner, tonight. Toomie sighed, resigning herself to a trip to the konbini. She’d refrained from snacking on kitchen scraps and sent-back meals as she usually did during her shift, not wanting to spoil her appetite, and this was what she got. Honestly, with her evening plans now canceled, she might just head back to work—clearly, she could use the extra money. 

Toomie watched as Keigo tugged you into the kitchen and began pulling plates and silverware out of the drawers. She wondered how she could gracefully bow out of the dinner—kids didn’t really think too hard about those sorts of interactions, but she also didn’t want you to report back to your parents that Toomie didn’t bother spending any time with you. She was already going to be the mom who brought back a bucket of fried chicken as dinner, for God’s sake.  

Still ruminating over her dilemma, Toomie didn’t notice you seemingly lost in your own thoughts. Even as Keigo set the dinner table—for three people, the little idealist—you remained standing, simply staring at the bucket. 

“Actually, Keigo-kun, Takami-san,” you started, spinning around to face them, “I have a good idea! My parents are having yakisoba tonight, along with some other vegetables. Fried chicken goes great with yakisoba, doesn’t it? We should take it over to my house and eat together! My mom’s always asking you to come over anyways, Takami-san.”

You finished with a bright grin on your face. Toomie only blinked in response. 

(Perhaps you deserved a little more credit than she gave you.) 

“That’s really nice of you to offer, dear. I think we’ll take you up on that.” Toomie managed. From across the kitchen, Keigo gaped at her—she knew he’d expected her to decline. “You’re too kind, YN-chan.” 

You, too, seemed shocked that Toomie actually accepted—a deserved reaction, considering the amount of times she’d turned down your family’s invitations in the past. But you recovered quickly, your blinding grin overtaking your face once more.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said brightly. You picked up the bucket of chicken and started out the door, suddenly heading the whole operation. “I hope we can eat before the sun sets!” 

Keigo hurriedly shoved the plates back into the drawers and dashed after you, calling for you to wait for him. Toomie smiled at the sight, before sighing again and walking over to the fridge. She began rifling through its contents—some leftovers from work, a pack of expired beer—in hopes of dredging up a side dish. Impromptu as this dinner was, she couldn’t be so pathetic as to only show up with cold fried chicken. 

Yet, even as Toomie peered into her frighteningly empty fridge, she couldn’t help but feel content with the outcome of her evening. Absolutely nothing about it had gone to plan—but Keigo was smiling, wasn’t he?  

Maybe YN would be good for them, Toomie admitted. 

Next Chapter (

author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. This chapter explores more of Keigo's life since the first chapter was very reader-focused, but Toomie's also able to give us an outsider's perspective on YN. I think due to having very present and communicative parents she's become emotionally intelligent at a young age (which I see in a lot of the kids at the private school I work at lol); however, a lot of the practical application still depends on socializing with kids her age and besides Keigo she doesn't have a lot of practice with that…but we'll see more in the coming chapters 🫣🫣

Thanks for reading and I can't wait to see you guys in the next chapter!

[obitohno]

first-time dad! keigo who presses his lips to the swollen curve of your stomach with the promise to give his unborn offspring the childhood that he never had.

first-time dad! keigo who tries—and fails—to be subtle with his pandering, often waking you in the middle of the night when your breath pauses for a second too long, brows knitted with worry.

first-time dad! keigo who accompanies you to hospital appointments, and stares at the monitor, glossy-eyed and enamoured by the tiny thump, thump, thump of his baby’s heartbeat.

first-time dad! keigo who, later that night, burrows beneath the covers with you by his side, and dreams of the future that is to come, the spread of his palm warming your skin as he nuzzles at your pulse.

first-time dad! keigo who frequently litters your changing body with affection, the press of his fingers gentle as he tests the weight of your milk-laden breasts, humming an answering moan when you keen the syllables of his name.

first-time dad! keigo who is determined to show you just how much he adores the marks that stretch along the expanse of your hips and the patch of curls that have taken home between your legs now that you can no longer reach to tame them.

first-time dad! keigo who makes love to you on the nights that sleep evades you, chuckling when the mood is broken when he titters a calming symphony that has your unborn babe responding in kind with a swift kick to your ribs.

first-time dad! keigo who taps the tips of his fingers to your belly, irises gleaming the colour of liquid gold with unabashed excitement that renders him giddy, because, fuck, he can’t wait to meet you.

first-time dad! keigo who, despite his meticulous preparations, finds that, actually, he isn’t at all ready for when the day of your child’s birth finally arrives, horror paling his cheeks a worrying shade of white when your waters break.

first-time dad! keigo who looks a little green, overwhelmed with a flurry of mind-reeling emotions when he smoothes away the sweat-soaked hairs that stick to your forehead as the crooks of your fingers tighten around his own, straining as you finally bless him with the perfect bundle of joy.

first-time dad! keigo who, whilst you slip into the arms of slumber, counts ten tiny fingers and ten minuscule toes before he’s then blinded by his own affections that roll down the apples of his cheeks in rivets, a singular droplet landing on the tip of a perfectly small nose.

first-time dad! keigo who brushes his lips to the wisps of those finely curled hairs that match the colour of his own, greedily inhaling the new scent of life that intermingles with the taste of freshly fed milk. and there, he whispers a promise of an unconditional love that wasn’t gifted to him until the day he met you.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[bea-does-stuff]

You surprise them with a hug (mha x reader)

Warnings: I mean- reader almost dies in one of these (shiggy), but apart from that it’s just fluff

Word count: 454

Characters: Hawks, Aizawa, shigaraki 

₊˚✩彡 HAWKS

Hawks is always able to sense your aura, it’s a wired talent he’s had since he can remember. So if you try to surprise him by giving him a hug from behind, he turns around in the last possible moment, scooping you up from the floor and holding you tight 

“Not so fast my feather~” he smiles, you try to pull away, but he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His nose nuzzles against your neck “Mine~” he growls softly, you scoff “Yea yea birdbrain, i know” You cup his face to make him look at you “But let me go, your cutting my circulation over here” Hawks chuckles at your words, slowly realising you from his grasp and placing you on the ground 

₊˚✩彡 AIZAWA

This man is so done with your bullshit, you’re always doing this kind of stuff, surprising him with random attacks of affection, on one hand, its adorable, but on the other, it’s annoying as fuck. 

Aizawa was just sipping his morning coffee, when suddenly he hears loud footsteps coming towards him, he’s all of a sudden tackled by someone, the force of the attack almost making him drop his coffee, he instantly turns to look at the person, and of course, it’s you. 

You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face in his hair, Aizawa sighs “Kitty, what are you doing?” a cheerful smiles crawls up your face “I want a hug” Aizawa lets out a scoff, but not a genuinely annoyed scoff, one of those dumb scoffs you say but you don’t mean “Y’know, if you want a hug, just tell me instead of assaulting me” He jokes, you giggle in response “yea yea, sorry”

₊˚✩彡 SHIGARAKI

In Shigaraki’s defence, he didn’t mean to almost dust you, it’s just that he wasn’t expecting you to suddenly tackle him and he was close to grabbing your wrist. He was just playing video games in his room when someone knocked on the door behind him 

“It’s me” Shigaraki humming in response, implying that you can come in, the door instantly flew open as you charred for shigaraki, you scared the living shit out of this man, he almost used his 5 fingers on you, luckily he pulled his hand away from you before he could touch you, your arms instantly tangled around his waist, burying your face in his shirt, it’s like you didn’t notice the fact that shigaraki almost killed you 

“THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” he screamed, you laughed “sorry, i just missed you” Shigaraki couldn’t stay mad at you, your voice made his mind go blank “It’s ok, but your making it up to me by playing smash bros with me” You smirked “alright, bet”

[suntoru]

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎.

⤷ feat. hawks & dabi.

synopsis: random headcanons about domestic fluff, doesn’t really have plot

back to flufftober masterlist

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, domesticity, a bit of swearing

hawks.

⤷ lazy morning cuddles

you wake up with the feeling of someone clinging onto you. opening your half lidded eyes, you see keigo with his arms wrapped around your waist, wings gently draped around the both of you. you wish this moment would last forever, but unfortunately, you both had work to do. sighing begrudgingly, you moved to get up, only to feel his grip tighten on you. “stay. please?” he begs, voice still groggy and tired. “kei, i gotta go make breakfast.” you tell him, but he pulls you closer, if that was even possible. “just five more minutes? i promise i’ll help.” his puppy dog eyes melt your resolve, and you reluctantly sink into his arms, even if you knew this would take longer than five minutes.

⤷ cooking breakfast

normally, you two alternate who makes breakfast every day, but sometimes you just do it with each other. you’re cooking food when he comes from behind and envelopes you in a warm hug. “g’morning baby bird, whatchu you cooking? smells good.” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. you smile and press a kiss to his forehead. “lemme help.” he grabs the plates and glasses to the table, then starts to assist you by getting all the ingredients out, and cooking it himself. even though he could easily hire maids to make the food, he likes to spend moments like these with you.

⤷ getting ready together.

helping each other get ready for another day has become a daily occurrence in your household now. washing your faces, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed is something you can’t imagine doing without the other, as silly as it sounds. buttoning his jacket and kissing his nose is now a thing he won’t leave without. giggles erupt from you both when you’re in the bathroom making goofy faces and trying to make the other laugh, usually getting distracted and later panicking in regret. but don’t worry, he’s not called hawks, the fastest pro hero for nothing.

⤷ doing mundane things

there’s never a moment in your life that you find boring, or wishing for something more. even if you’re reading a book and he’s flipping through tv channels, you’re doing it with each other. your head rests on his lap, one of his hands is playing with your hair gently. when it’s a rainy day and you if yourself with nothing to do, he suggests that you go outside with him. dancing in the rain and sharing a sweet kiss, you know you’ll regret it tomorrow when you’re both at home, sick. but right now, in that moment, there isn’t a care in the world. doing the most mundane tasks is peaceful, no burdens trying to bring you down. it’s just you and keigo, nobody else, and you couldn’t ask for more.

dabi.

⤷ three am snack trips

there’ll be times where you will randomly wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. so you’ll try sneaking out by yourself, almost screaming out loud when you feel the presence of another person behind you. “what’re you doing doll? going out by yourself?” he’ll tag along with you, saying it’s dangerous to go outside this late alone. running to the nearest convenience store, you stock up on all kinds of snacks and goodies knowing that with him, walking around on the streets at night is no longer a worry, not when he’s there to protect you.

⤷ unexpected gifts

every once in a while, dabi will find a way to surprise you when you least expect it. whether it’s your favourite candy or a piece of jewelry he lifted, know that he always has you on his mind. there’s so much thought behind his gifts too, even if he’ll never admit it. he once made a flower crown for you that took him seven hours to make because he kept burning the poor little buds, and getting angry with them. he may not be the most gentlest of lovers, but he really does care for you more than he lets on. he’s just a little scared of letting anyone come too close, although with you, he fears it’s too late for that.

⤷ asking him to do your makeup

“you serious doll?” he asks you. it’ll take an assload of convincing, but if you bring out the puppy dog eyes, you know he can’t say no. be warned though, the first time, he’ll make you look like an absolute clown. smearing some purple stuff messily on your lips, making your face as pale as a ghost, all while putting fake eyelashes inside your nose. don’t worry, after he’s had his fun, he’ll try his best to make you look good. it might look a bit wonky in some areas, but overall, not bad for someone who’s had no experience with makeup whatsoever. you can tell that he really tried for you.

⤷ late night movie marathons

late night movies with dabi are the best. all snuggled up on a couch, his natural body warmth will make you fall asleep instantly. today, you insist that this time, you won’t doze off, and that you’ll finally finish a whole night’s worth of films. but two movies in, you feel your eyelids droop, and you’re only half conscious. fighting to stay awake, you eventually fail as you somehow have lost the one sided battle. he smirks and takes the popcorn bowl off your lap, throwing the rest of the blanket on you. your mind doesn’t process his words, because it’s something he’d only say to you if he thinks you’re not listening. “fuck, doll, i can’t believe you’re real. you deserve better than me, but i just can’t let you go.”

[aheckinmess]

Elysium [Hawks] (Angst)

(One-shot 22/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Keigo Takami, Tamaki Keigo, Hawks, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Tigress, Angst, Well I Say Angst But it Ended Up Fluffier Than Expected, Protective Hawks, Hawks Saves the Day, Soft Hawks, OC Falls from the Sky, I Know it Sounds Weird, But You'll Understand in Time, Hawks Has to Save Her, Also There's a Coffee Shop Involved, A Bookstore is Mentioned, Hawks Needs a Hug, OC Needs a Jacket, Hawks is a Casual Flirt, And This Surprises No One

Word Count: 1,611 words

Summary: When Ichijiku goes from reading her favorite book to falling off a building, it's obvious her day is a little topsy turvy. After being saved by Hawks, she can't get the winged wonder out of her mind. A chance encounter in a coffee shop tells her that he can't stop thinking about her, either.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

There is no doubt about how the sun felt dripping liquid serenity into my veins. Nor is there any doubt about the way I’d dove into my book to taste the delectable tale on the pages.

So it is only natural that when I open my eyes and see the bustling streets below me that I’m a little confused. Why is my body so heavy? Why am I at the top of a skyscraper? 

The questions send me into a sort of vertigo. When I lift my head from the sights below, my equilibrium swirls out of balance. One moment I’m sitting up on the ledge and the next my body tilts forward, my heart left behind as I fall over the edge.

Time seems to stall as the world whips past my line of sight. Nothing stops the twisted feeling of sludge crawling through my mind as I watch the pavement coming closer and closer, not fully comprehending the gravity of its approach. 

When a familiar red feather whips past me, the first threads of hope ripple through my limbs until Hawks' figure comes into view. This foreign yet familiar man is a sight for sore eyes as the certainty of my death abruptly slaps me in the face. 

My arms already instinctively reach for him as he stretches for me, capturing me into his arms and then smiling with such a sweet smile. A smile that often captivated the hearts of women and journalist cameras alike. His eyes hide behind a visor as I drink him in, likening him to a heavenly protector as he pulls me against his chest and banks a hard right while he redirects my fatal projection.

Whenever it's clear my life will not end - at least not today - I focus on soothing my heart rate.

"I've got you! Just hold on tight and I'll get you to safety!" He promises, the vow sinking deep into my bones and offering me respite. "Focus on breathing for me, alright? You're going to be okay!" 

His voice somehow still holds its honey-like quality even as he fights to be heard over the wind. My eyes fight against the desire to be closed again, rolling around in my head as a pair of gloved hands keeps my head steady when it’s obvious I can’t. 

We’re on the ground for a minute-long eternity before I realize it.

“Hey, come back to me, cutie pie. Focus here.” His voice and those golden-brown eyes keep my attention, and it’s obvious he clocks the moment I’m responsive again. “Good. There you are. Talk to me; does anything hurt? What’s your name?”

A soft whimper makes it past my lips. My limbs still fight to move through their slimy slumber, and dammit, I just want him to keep talking to me.

“Keep…talk…” I plead, head flopping back until he readjusts me and his other question registers. “Ichijiku.”

He chuckles and it feels like we’re in the air again, his laughter elevating me right up into the clouds. 

“I can keep talking, but you try loosening this death grip you’ve got on me in the meantime, okay?” He teases, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

I blink and look at his chest, where a pair of hands clutch his aviator jacket. No, not just hands, my hands. While he calls the paramedics and coaxes me with soothing words, I work on regaining control of my fingers and extracting them from my hero’s jacket.

“Sorry.” I finally mutter, interrupting his reassurances. “I don’t know what’s wrong. My…my head.” 

“What’s wrong with your head, honey?”

“Everything feels fuzzy.” I start, opening and closing my hands agonizingly slowly. “My body is moving through sludge, it feels like.”

“Sounds like she might have been drugged.” A new voice enters the fray, and it’s not nearly as pleasant.

A tall woman approaches in a EMT uniform and shines a light in my eyes, making me wince. Electricity crackles through my skull until I’m leaning closer to Hawks again.

“I found her falling off of the Honshii building. She was barely able to hold her head up by herself when we landed.” Hawks reports, before giving a little smile and a wave to me. “I’ll leave you in these fine peoples’ capable hands, cutie. Got more people to rescue. See you on the flip side!”

“Don’t go…”

But he’s gone before the words finish leaving my mouth.

. . . . .

My physical recovery doesn’t take long, but sleeping becomes nearly impossible. I’m reassured that it’ll pass, but that seems a little silly considering the circumstances. One moment I’m reading and falling asleep, the next I’m falling off a 20-story building. 

So, the next morning I head to the coffee shop down the street.

The blast of warmth as I step inside helps soothe my tired bones. Bustling bodies clamber together in a line as order after order is placed at the counter.

When I accidentally step back into a familiar, golden-haired angel, I think I’m dreaming.

“Fancy running into you here, honey. Glad to see you’re not falling out of the sky again.” Hawks winks at my bewildered expression before his gaze softens. “How have you been?”

I’d thought that my delirious state might have accounted for the amount of comfort I felt from his voice, but even now his dulcet tones warm me more than any cup of coffee could.

“It’s been hard to sleep, but I’m alive and well.” I chuckle, stepping forward and looking up at the menu. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable that day.”

“Uncomfortable? I had a cute girl clinging to me the whole time. Can’t be more comfortable than that.” He smiles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “If anything, I should be making sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Casual flirting isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a habit of mine.”

“Oh, haha, no. If anything it helps my self-esteem coming from someone resembling an actual angel.” I rub the back of my neck and step forward to order my drink. “Can I get a large caramel frappuccino?”

“Sure thing!” The cashier replies, eyes locked on Hawks as she waves me down. “We’ll let you know when it’s ready. Hi, Hawks!”

“Hey, hey! How’s it going?” Hawks grins at the fangirling barista.

I smile and head down to the end to wait for my drink, wondering how it must feel to be recognized everywhere you go. I wonder if he ever gets tired or feels like taking a break from it all. He seems fine, but it has to be draining. 

“So, do you have any plans for the day?” He asks as he waits for his order with me.

“I’m not sure. It’s been hard to focus on much since I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m lucky my job is so fulfilling to me or I’d never get through the day.” I admit, chewing on my lip.

“I see. Where do you work?”

“I work at a local bookstore in town.”

“Ah, bookworm, I presume?”

“Guilty as charged.” I grab my drink as the barista hands it over. “I love reading and writing.”

“Think you’d like going to the pond with me? It’s the perfect reading nook.” Hawks leans against the counter on his elbow, eyes captivating behind his sunglasses.

“With…with you?” My eyes widen. “I’m not sure I’m worth the time, especially on your day off.”

“On the contrary, you’re a breath of fresh air.” He takes a sip of his coffee once it’s handed to him and tilts his head. “So, what do you say?”

“I could use some company.”

. . . . .

We’re both quiet as we crunch the autumn leaves on our way to the pond. Ducks greet us with noisy quacks as their companions loop around the pond with them. 

Between the windy breeze and my cold drink, goosebumps raise on my arms and I shiver. A moment later, the soft lining of Hawks’ aviator jacket envelops my shoulders.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I insist.” Hawks says, guiding us to the edge of the dock spanning the circumference of the pond. “You seemed rather intent on stealing it when I saved you, anyway.”

I laugh at that.

“Okay, but to be fair, I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”

“That only proves to me that you must have really wanted it. Without your inhibitions you were so eager to have me close.” He continues his taunting before he pauses at the wooden railing overlooking the lily pads. He glances at me and then over the water. “I can’t stop thinking about you, ya know? I’ve saved hundreds of people, but I’ve never had such a hard time getting someone off my mind as you.”

Blood rushes up my neck and into my cheeks, now burning from his attention.

“I, um, I’m flattered. I don’t know why you’d be so interested, but it feels good.” I manage to say, wringing my hands together as I try not to freak out. Am I still not sure I’m hallucinating because of sleep deprivation? “I’m sure you’re not surprised to know that I’ve been thinking about you, too. But honestly, it’s been more so because I cringe every time I think about how I must have looked at you when you saved me.”

“Ha! Why would you cringe about that?”

“Because when I saw you, I thought you were sent straight from heaven.” I shake my head, taking another slurp of my drink. “I must have looked so dumb.”

“No. You looked like you’d reached Elysium. And honestly?” Hawks tilts my face towards him. “I thought I had, too.”

Want More Hawks? Try: Hide & Seek Pt. 1

[cuspidgoddess]

As I finish up arc 2 of HBN, it's time to send Fumi and Dark back into the field to do their work study with Hawks! Throw a vote in the poll for what sort of shenanigans you'd be most interested in seeing! Have a different idea? drop it for me and I'll think on it :)

If you haven't had time to catch up on Fumikage's story, find it here ~

[cozzzynook]

Barefoot pregnant Dabi shuffling around inside the cottage waiting for Hawks to get back.

The man went out to do who knows what leaving Dabi in their home; sore, bored, restless and tired.

It’s been a few weeks since Dabi was put on early bedrest. His health was never the greatest and pregnancy did wonders on making it worse.

He was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 thrilled to be on bedrest at four months.

“Stupid Hawks.”

It was Hawks who got them in this situation in the first place.

A blindfold, hot oil, emotional vulnerability and a broken condom was all it took to undo Dabi’s careful planning.

Initially he was angry.

So many things could go wrong and he was trying to cover all the fears he held. Hawks had been understanding.

Heck, he was more scared than Dabi initially.

But after a lot of talking and a lot of crying, 𝘰𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘣𝘪’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, the two reached an agreement.

“𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴,” the former villain sighs as he rubs the protruding baby bump.

Talking to the little one inside him became a daily routine now. His own little secret. It was something he did while Hawks was away, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸, it brought him a comfort he didn’t think capable.

“When your dad, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥, comes back take all of his attention for me, kay?”

Gazing at the bump with a shaky tenderness that pulls the former villain’s heart, he caresses the side of his baby bump.

“I don’t need him pestering me while I work on our little secret kay?”

Waddling into the nursery, Dabi opens a drawer pulling out the mess of yarn and needles. Two pairs of baby mittens and baby booties laying on the dresser.

Half finished just like the two outfits he pulls out next.

Two baby onesies.

One baby blue and the other a soft red like Hawks feathers. The baby booties and mittens being laid beside their matching outfit.

“I don’t want him snooping where he doesn’t belong until I’m done, okay flutters?”

With nimble fingers does Dabi lift the two outfits to see the wing shapes he finally managed to learn just last week.

“I need this to be a surprise. Your dad doesn’t know about this yet and I think he’d like it.”

“He likes you too ya know?”

Setting the outfits down, Dabi cradles both sides of his bump, gaze distant yet soft.

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘥𝘰.”

Keys jiggling in the door makes Dabi look up.

Putting away the two outfits, he wipes away a tear before shuffling from the nursery once Hawks sends a feather his way.

“Yeah, yeah birdie. I know I know. I’m getting back in bed.”

One last look at the dresser and Dabi unconsciously rubs his baby bump.

‘𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩. 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦.’

-

I’ll try & be more active on tumblr but if you want more I’m mostly active on Twitter 🥰. If you’d like you can support me on ko-fi as well 🧸

Thanx for reading 🥰

[nightfall-kachiniko]

Headcanon that you tease Keigo by acting like a fan, like you’ll walk in the door and be like

You: “OH MY GOD IS THAT #2 WINGED HERO HAWKS?!?! ”

Keigo: “Oh my gosh not this again.”

You: “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HAWKS IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN HAVE MY BABIES YOUR SO HOT!!”

And u do it so randomly too he loves it, since he gets a ton of hugs and kisses ofc 🫶

[silvfyre-writings]

What is Love? (MHA Fanfic)

A fic for the DabiHawks masquerade event! I hope you all enjoy!

Hawks had never experienced love.

He knew what it was of course, for he’d seen plenty of it over his years as a hero. He saw it in young couples freshly dating. He saw it in the elderly couples shuffling along to their favorite park bench. And he saw it in the many, many proposals that happened on the beaches of where he worked. Love was sweet, but it also came with pain. Break-ups that brought everyone to tears; the pain sometimes quick, sometimes not. It also brought with it, fights when a loved one did something their partner didn’t agree with, or when chores were left unattended for too long. The worst pain of all that love could bring with it though, was death. Hawks had seen a lot of death over the years; it was just part of being a hero, but the worst deaths were when one half of a relationship died. It was hard to watch as someone’s lover realized that the love of their life would never stand beside them again, and it was nearly impossible to watch as they broke down into terrible sobs that had his feathers shudder every time. But despite the pain, people still fell in love, and continued to love and push past the pain of it.

Hawks didn’t understand it.

He’d never experienced love.

He wasn’t allowed to.

His boss’ back at the Commission had always told him that love was a waste of time, that once he became Japan’s top hero, there wouldn’t be time to spend on loving someone. None of the people at the Commission had families; at least, none that Hawks knew. The workers that he did know went from home to work; work to home. They didn’t go out after they finished their shift, they didn’t talk about people they’d met, and they certainly didn’t talk about love. Hawks had asked them about it once, when he was younger; a teenager starting to go through puberty and dealing with a wide variety of new emotions. And he’d just watched two people his age kiss underneath a tree at the local park on his patrol route. So he was curious as to what emotion that was.

“It’s love, Hawks.” His trainer had said, as patient as they always were when he was curious. “It’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about.”

“Why not? Is love bad?” Hawks had asked.

The trainer had hesitated. “Sometimes. It can hurt, but it can be kind, but most of all, it needs time. And time is not something you’ll have much of once you debut.”

“So… I shouldn’t fall in love?”

“No, Hawks, you can’t fall in love.”

Despite his trainer’s words, Hawks found himself enamoured with the emotion, and as he entered his twenties, he wanted nothing more than to love someone. He didn’t care if it ended in tragedy or heartbreak. He didn’t care if it was the worst time of his life; he just wanted to know what it felt like to love someone. To wake up in the morning with someone else beside him. To have someone to come home to every night. To have someone to talk to that actually cared how his day had gone.

Hawks wanted to experience love.

But he didn’t think he ever would.

Dabi didn’t know what love was.

He’d heard of it, of course, but he didn’t believe in it. He couldn’t. Love to him was a false emotion used to manipulate others into doing what you wanted; used to hurt a person until they no longer knew what was love and what was pain. That was the kind of love that Dabi had grown up with. After all, his mother and his father had supposedly loved each other once, but by the time he was old enough to form memories of his own, their love had warped into something he didn’t recognize. All he remembered hearing was his mother and father arguing. All he remembered seeing was his fathers’ flames, and his mothers’ ice clashing together. All he remembered feeling was pain as he desperately tried to prove to his father that he was enough; that he was worthy of being loved; worthy of becoming a hero. But most of all, he remembered his heart breaking when his own mother, who should’ve supported him, turned her back on him as well.

Dabi didn’t understand it.

He didn’t know what love was.

Because he’d never been given it in the first place.

By the time Dabi had become a villain, he’d thrown away any form of love, rejecting it entirely. Anyone that tried to approach him with that stupid emotion found themselves burnt to a crisp; there was no room for love amongst his plans for revenge and destruction. Even once he’d joined the League, he rejected their attempts at getting closer to him, especially the attempts of Toga and Twice. It was easier to keep the likes of Shigaraki and Spinner at arm’s length; they weren’t overly interested in making friends either. But the rest of them? They tried and tried, and Dabi was reluctant to admit that they’d managed to weasel themselves into his tiny, shattered heart.

But he didn’t love them.

Love didn’t exist after all.

When the Number Two hero had approached him, telling him some bullshit story about how he wanted to join the League because of the way hero society was going, Dabi took the story with a grain of salt. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew exactly what it was that Hawks was hoping to achieve, and every instinct within him was screaming at him that letting Hawks even attempt to join would result in the destruction of everything they’d worked so hard for. Yet… there was something about the way that Hawks spoke; a strange look in the hero’s eyes that had Dabi hesitate.

It was hope.

It was so faint, that only years of observation allowed Dabi to notice it. It was the only part of Hawks that didn’t seem fake, the only part of him that was truthful as he continued to try and convince Dabi to let him into the League. Dabi was only half paying attention at that point, all too focused on those golden eyes that were telling him a different story to what was coming out of the hero’s mouth. Those eyes were telling him a story of pain and a desire to be free, yet Hawks’ body language was telling him the exact opposite. That was how he knew that Hawks was a liar.

He should’ve incinerated Hawks where he stood. He should’ve. No one would’ve questioned him, and it was the perfect opportunity to get rid of a high-ranking hero, someone that would certainly interfere with the League’s plans. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached out, one finger burning blue, and scorched a series of numbers into the arm of Hawks’ jacket. Was it necessary for him to have done that? No. But was it worth seeing the look on Hawks’ face as he did it? Yes.

“I’ll be in contact, hero.” Dabi said, turning on his heel and melding into the darkness from which he’d emerged from. The further he walked, the more he couldn’t forget those golden eyes, and the secrets they hid. Dabi couldn’t help but grin.

Hawks was a puzzle that he was going to enjoy unravelling.

The first few messages with Hawks were rather basic and sporadic; the hero far too busy with his work to actually respond much at all to Dabi’s attempts at conversation. It was annoying, but Dabi could accept it, for now. He wasn’t a smooth talker for nothing after all; he was almost certain that he’d manage to win Hawks over and discover the truth to his complexity. But for now, he’d settle with watching Hawks while he worked, finding a decently high rooftop that he could hide upon, and follow the hero, as weird as it was. Shigaraki had dared to call him a stalker when the man had seen just what it was that Dabi was doing, and it took everything in Dabi’s power to not incinerate the man. What he did with his spare time wasn’t anyone else’s business but his own.

In this time of observation, Dabi learnt a few things about Hawks; mainly that the hero was an absolute workaholic. Dabi had honestly never seen a hero that worked as much as Hawks did, and it had him questioning if the hero even slept. Considering he’d just watched Hawks down an entire can of coffee in one go, Dabi seriously doubted it. Maybe the hero had a secret secondary quirk that allowed him to not need sleep to function—although it seemed more likely that Hawks simply worked until he dropped, and took great care to make it appear that he wasn’t constantly sleep deprived.

Another thing that Dabi learnt, was that Hawks absolutely loved—literally—chicken. The few times Dabi had witnessed Hawks take a break; the hero had always managed to pull chicken seemingly out of thin air. Dabi honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if Hawks was the reason for the chicken shortage a few years back. Now that, had been an interesting year.

Eventually though, Hawks finally seemed to remember that Dabi actually existed, and began responding to the villain’s messages, meaning that Dabi could stop watching the hero while he worked. The messages between the both of them were still basic; more tentative attempts to discover more about the other without outright asking for the answers than an actual conversation. It was a technique that Dabi used on everyone that he communicated with, so to see Hawks using it right back at him was quite the surprise.

It was also frustrating to deal with. Anytime Dabi tried to get something out of Hawks, the hero managed to dodge it and throw some bullshit response his way. All Dabi wanted to know was what was actually going through Hawks’ mind, what could’ve possibly made the hero try and attempt to join the League. But without actually meeting with Hawks, there was no way that Dabi was going to learn anything.

So he arranged the first of many meetings.

It was tense; neither Hawks nor Dabi willing to give each other anything to work with. Not that they really spoke in the first place; they just watched each other, unmoving, until it was time for Dabi to leave with the promise of contacting Hawks in the future.

Hero and villain.

Pawn and gamemaster.

Dabi couldn’t help but grin as he walked away. This was just the start of the game; a game he was certain he’d win in the end. Why? Because Dabi wasn’t the type to take part in something he wasn’t going to win.

Months passed, and Dabi continued to talk and meet up with Hawks. Most of the time, the conversations they had were about heroes and villains, but recently, their talks had drifted onto other things; what they liked, what they disliked; mundane stuff that wasn’t really necessary for either of them to know in the first place. It was strange to talk about such things with the one person that was naturally Dabi’s enemy, yet he couldn’t help but do so. It was refreshing, to talk with someone that wasn’t a part of the League, because there was only so much of his fellow villains that Dabi could handle. Of course, living with a bunch of wanted villains came with its own eccentricities, but sometimes a villain just needed to talk to someone, or something, that wasn’t, well… a villain. But considering who Dabi was, his options were kind of limited.

“Why stay with the League if you can’t stand them?” Hawks had asked one time. It had been at one of their late-night meetings down at the docks, one of the meetings where he and the hero would just talk; the only light being the blue flame that Dabi let dance across his hand. A cold breeze had the hero fluffing his feathers, his wings being used as windbreakers, hands buried in his pockets. But despite the cold, Hawks’ eyes were bright and focused, focused on Dabi’s own eyes.

Dabi had pondered over Hawks’ words, breathing a puff of smoke into the winter air. Why did he hang around the League? He knew why of course; they were a means to an end, and that was that. Yet, somewhere along the way, they’d become some sort of messed up family to him. It was ironic to him; he’d run from one messed up family straight into another. Oh, how his mother would cry if she could see him now. “And where else would I go exactly, hero? Half the country wants me dead after all. Going it alone isn’t worth it now.”

Hawks had hummed, stepping over to where Dabi had stood at the waters edge, and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to his lips and exhaling. It would’ve been hot had the hero not immediately choked.

“There’s an art to that, birdbrain.” Dabi cackled, stealing back the cigarette to simply inhale and then exhale into Hawks’ face. To the hero’s credit, he didn’t flinch or cough; instead, he leaned in close, so close that their faces were only a few centimetres apart.

“Then why don’t you teach me?”

Somewhere along the way, Dabi realized that his relationship with Hawks had changed. No longer were they hero and villain, no longer were they simply acquaintances, but… whatever they were, Dabi didn’t have the words to describe it. Not only had Hawks made himself at the League headquarters—something that had only happened in the last month—but Dabi had also made himself at the hero’s apartment, which had also been a recent development—one that had only come to pass because of Dabi’s own shortcomings.

Seeing Hawks’ panicked expression as he tried desperately to not die from an infection had actually managed to make him feel the tiniest bit of guilt, even though he hadn’t really been able to control getting sick in the first place.

The fact that he and Hawks may have started to become friends, was enough for Dabi to keep his distance. Friendship wasn’t something he did, nor was it something he wanted. He had one goal, and he didn’t know if he was going to live or die once he’d accomplished that goal. And, well, the last thing he wanted to do was make the people closest to him sad; he’d done enough of that in his life already. It was simply best to keep everyone at arm’s length—even if he was failing at it—and pretend he saw them all as nothing more than a means to an end—another thing he was failing at. And he should’ve known that Hawks didn’t know what distance was, for any attempt that Dabi made at trying to keep his distance, Hawks just flew across that gap and dragged him back.

Not that Dabi minded. But he’d pretend he did.

Dabi liked to see the annoyance on Hawks’ face every time the hero had to track him down, the angry glint in his golden eyes that was softened by worry and concern that the hero couldn’t keep hidden from him. He liked to see the messy feathers and hair—and clothing—that came from the hero searching nearly the entirety of Japan for him. But most of all, he liked that Hawks had actually dropped everything to come looking for him in the first place. No one had ever done that for him before, and Dabi honestly didn’t know how he felt about it. It was strange, unfamiliar, yet nice all at the same time.

He could see the change in Hawks as well, the more their friendship bloomed. Hawks was no longer thinking about every word he said, instead speaking his mind as the words came to him, regardless of what they were. It had been amusing the first time he’d told Shigaraki to go fuck himself, although Hawks had been horrified at the time, and apologized profusely. But now? He didn’t hesitate to do so if someone from the League said something he didn’t like. Another thing that Dabi had noticed, was that Hawks actually looked less exhausted now; he looked like someone that was getting decent rest, and it pleased Dabi to know that that was the League’s doing, that Hawks could use them as an excuse to stop by and rest.

Look at them go, they were villains, and yet here they were, helping someone.

That was another thing too, that had changed. One that had taken many, many, months to accomplish. And that was getting Hawks to trust them enough to tell them why he was actually there. Well, tell Dabi at least. Because there was no way that he was letting Hawks tell the rest of the League, nor was he about to do the same either. Was it wrong? Maybe, but if Hawks did tell them, then there was no saving the hero. He’d be killed where he stood. Because knowing that Hawks’ endgame was to betray the League, even though the hero no longer wanted to, was the worst secret to have. Dabi had wanted to kill Hawks then and there after Hawks had told him. He’d wanted to protect this found family of his that he’d somehow gained, and the only way to do that was to kill the man threatening to undo everything they’d been working towards.

Yet he couldn’t.

Dabi had held a flaming hand inches away from Hawks’ throat, yet he’d been unable to follow through on the threat. Instead, he’d dropped his hand, and collapsed against Hawks.

“Why?” He’d asked. Hawks clearly didn’t want to complete his mission, he clearly held no love for the people shackling themselves to him, yet he still planned to do it anyway?

“I don’t know.” Hawks had whispered. The hero’s voice sounded the most broken that Dabi had ever heard it before, and he vaguely remembered Hawks crying over his sickly body.

But that had been the end of it.

Dabi simply went on pretending that Hawks had never told him anything in the first place. Because try as he might, Hawks meant a lot to him—so much so, that he was willing to jeopardize the League’s safety to keep the hero by his side.

And Hawks began to pretend as if he wasn’t being torn apart on the inside, as if the mere thought of betraying the League didn’t make him want to turn his sword on himself. Because he remembered that conversation long ago with his trainer about the one emotion, he couldn’t fall victim to.

Love.

“Dabi. Dabi.”

“What, Hawks?” Dabi refused to open his eyes, in a vain hope that the hero would take notice of his attempt to keep sleeping and leave him be. Just because Hawks could fall asleep before Dabi could even blink, did not mean he needed to be woken up at the crack of dawn.

“Wake up, I’m wasting away.” Apparently, Hawks had the awareness of a rock this morning, because the man dared to poke him.

Dabi’s eyes flew open and he growled. “And I’m trying to sleep, birdbrain. If the sun is not touching me, it’s not time to wake up.”

Hawks blinked, tilting his head in that adorable way he did when he didn’t quite get something. “But the curtains are shut?”

“Exactly.” Dabi rolled over in the bed and closed his eyes again. “You aren’t working today, birdbrain, you are allowed to rest.”

“I know…” He felt the bed shift around, until Hawks’ warm body was pressed against his back, a large wing draping over the two of them. “It’s just hard to—”

“Relax, I know. Just close your eyes, and let some time pass. Maybe you’ll sleep, maybe you won’t. But I will, so just get up when I wake up again.” Dabi pressed his back to Hawks’ chest as a way to tell the hero he wasn’t going anywhere. Whenever Hawks had a rare day off, like this one, the morning was the best part of it; getting to lay in bed and forget about the fact that Hawks was a hero and he was a villain, and that they were actually enemies. Dabi would never admit it, but he enjoyed these days, and he could tell that Hawks did as well, if the way that the hero’s body became heavy against him as Hawks slipped back into sleep.

Dabi grinned at the singular snore that came from the hero.

Today was going to be a good day.

When Dabi woke up a couple of hours later, Hawks was still asleep. Perfect. Just how he wanted it. Carefully, Dabi extricated himself from the grip that Hawks had on him, taking a great amount of care to avoid jostling the hero. The last thing he wanted was Hawks waking up and finding out what he was planning.

The plan being breakfast.

It wasn’t often that Dabi cooked, since being a wanted person living in abandoned houses and warehouses didn’t leave much time to spend on cooking decent food. So, whenever he got the opportunity to stay with Hawks, he always made an effort to cook, especially since the last time he did so, Hawks had tried cooking and given them both food poisoning. The rest of the League hadn’t let him live that down for weeks, and Dabi hadn’t let Hawks set foot in the kitchen again since. It wasn’t Hawks’ fault anyway that he couldn’t cook; it wasn’t like the HPSC had made the time to teach their perfect hero how to cook. Apparently, cooking wasn’t a necessary skill to being a hero.

Breakfast wasn’t going to be anything fancy, on account for Dabi’s own poor appetite on the best of days, and Hawks not really eating breakfast in general, but there was nothing wrong with a simple meal to start the day. Dabi tiptoed towards the kitchen slowly, grabbing out the ingredients he needed as silently as possible. It reminded him of his childhood briefly, sneaking out to the kitchen once everyone else was asleep to sneak food out of the kitchen, and after years of doing it, he’d never been caught.

“Oh, so that’s why you wanted me to go back to sleep.” Hawks sleepy voice drifted into the kitchen, the hero appearing a moment later, feathers ruffled and out of place, and hair sticking up like Hawks had been shot with a spark of electricity. It was nothing a good preening wouldn’t fix, and it was adorable, so Dabi wasn’t going to say anything. Savour the moment and all.

Dabi pointed the spatula he was holding at Hawks. “You sit and wait. No kitchen for you.”

“Are you serious? That was one time, Dabi!” Hawks huffed, but still obeyed him and sat in one of the chairs at the island.

“One time I don’t care to repeat, bird brain. But no, I’m almost done. So, sit.”

“I am sitting.”

“Shut up.” Dabi turned back to the bacon and eggs he was cooking. Could he cook something a little fancier? Certainly. Did he want to? Absolutely not. And from the tired look on Hawks’ face, he didn’t seem to care whether he was served the Taj Mahal of breakfasts, or just a few pieces of meat and some eggs.

A comfortable silence fell upon the room, the only sound the sizzling of bacon, and the clinking of dishes as Dabi moved about the kitchen. He chanced a glance towards Hawks, grinning a little when he noticed the hero’s head pillowed on his arms, and his eyes closed. Whether the hero was actually sleeping or not, he didn’t know, but if Dabi made sure to move around a little quieter, then who was going to know?

“Hawks.” Dabi whispered, placing a plate of food in front of the hero once he’d finished cooking. When the hero didn’t move, Dabi nudged him with the plate.

Hawks shot up, eyes flicking from side to side before they focused on the plate in front of him. Pink dusted the hero’s cheeks as he seemed to realize he’d been asleep. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Guess so.” Dabi moved to sit beside Hawks with his own plate of food. “It’s tiring work, saving the world after all.”

“No hero talk at the table.” Hawks scolded. “But yes, that would be why I’m tired.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have the day off today. Plenty of time to sleep, and you have your own personal heater to keep you warm.”

“Wow, my own personal heater, how lucky am I?” Hawks grinned.

The two of them engaged in quiet chatter as they ate, simply talking about meaningless things; the latest fashion trends, a new restaurant opening up in the city, or Hawks crashing into a window like the dumb bird he was, and Dabi throwing the League out of their latest hideout to give it a good cleaning. It was things like that, that allowed them to enjoy each other’s company, to forget about the world outside that continued to turn around them.

“Is this the plan for the day? Laze about on the couch and watch movies?” Dabi questioned when Hawks dragged him into the living room after breakfast and practically shoved him into the couch.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Hawks raised an eyebrow at him before going to sit at Dabi’s feet on the floor. A subtle hint for what he truly wanted without actually asking for it.

Dabi grinned, immediately running heated hands through Hawks’ wings, smoothing out the ruffled feathers, enjoying the way they felt beneath his hands. “No, of course not. As long as it’s not some lame hero movie, I’m down.”

“What if it’s one of my movies?” Hawks looked over at Dabi, a grin on his face.

“You don’t have a movie.”

“No, but I could’ve.”

Dabi huffed, and pushed Hawks’ head back to the front. “Shut up and pick a movie, will you?”

In the end, Hawks picked a movie that neither of them had seen—a romcom from the looks of it. Dabi couldn’t help but cringe, although he kept his mouth shut. It may not be a genre he liked in particular, but it was what Hawks wanted to watch, so he’d make the sacrifice. It just meant that he could spend more time focusing on the wings in front of him; make sure that all the feathers were neat and back in their rightful places.

It also gave him the time to think about everything.

Dabi knew that what was going on between him and Hawks couldn’t last forever—he couldn’t deviate from his mission, and Hawks couldn’t deviate from his own. It was something that had coursed arguments between them in the past before they’d realized that it was simply easier to just move past it and take advantage of the time they did have. Did it hurt? Regrettably, yes, but there was nothing that either of them could do about it. It was why, on days like today, that Dabi took the time to pamper Hawks, because he knew that when he was gone—dead or imprisoned, he didn’t know—that there would be no one to do so.

“What’s wrong?” Dabi was dragged from his mind as Hawks tilted his head to look up at him, concern on his face.

Dabi frowned, and poked Hawks between his eyes. “Nothings wrong, go back to your movie.”

“Nah, that’s your thinking face, and I thought we both agreed no thinking on these days.”

“I’ll think if I want to. Not that I was.” Dabi leant back against the back of the couch, pulling his hands away from Hawks’ wings, the hero whining at the lack of warmth.

Hawks stared at him for a moment—ignoring the movie as it continued to play in the background—before clamouring onto the couch and wriggling himself into Dabi’s arms. Dabi gave the hero a weak glare, but didn’t try to stop Hawks, just allowing Hawks to jostle him around until they were both comfortable. Dabi was now leaning against the side of the couch with Hawks spread out on top of him, arms wrapped around his waist, and blonde hair tickling his chin. Dabi couldn’t help but relax at the familiar position, for it was one that they usually ended up in at least once whenever the two of them hung out at Hawks’ home.

Hawks liked it for the warmth that came from Dabi.

Dabi liked it for the touch that came from Hawks.

No more words were said between them, yet Dabi could tell that Hawks knew exactly what it was that he’d been thinking about—if the tight grip was anything to go by—and he dropped a hand to rest on the blonde locks beneath him, running his fingers through them every now and then. Dabi shifted so that he wasn’t sitting up so much, and focused all of his attention on the movie playing, cracking jokes and making snide remarks at the characters until he felt Hawks relax against him.

Just as it should be.

For today was a day to forget the world.

[katsukikisses]

birds of a feather: chapter three [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: sixth grade is a year of changes. you and keigo learn a few things about yourselves as you prepare to enter junior high.

also, by popular demand (aka 6 people), i have made a playlist for birds of a feather. it's a wip so if you guys have any songs you think would suit this fic then please leave a comment or send in an ask with the song name, and i will add it!

chapter tags: childhood friends trope; alternating povs; feelings realizations; discussion of japanese honorific speech. this is a helpful article on the intricacies of honorifics if you are interested.

cw: obligatory mean girl steal-ur-man character; socioeconomic differences?; toomie not showing up for keigo's graduation

prefer to read on ao3? here!

prev. chapter | table of contents | next chapter

“When we were younger, We didn't know how it would be, We were the dumb, the wild, the free." — Conan Gray, Little League

“Hey, Keigo-kun, what are you wearing to the graduation ceremony?”

“I bet he’ll be wearing a hakama, since he’s traditional like that. Aren’t you, Keigo-kun?”

“At least tell us what color, Keigo-kun! Maybe we’ll match.” 

That last comment was enough to stir you from your nap. With immense effort, you lifted your head from its comfortable position on your desk and sat up straight. A bleary glance at the clock told you that there were only a few minutes left before class started, causing you to sigh—no point in going back to sleep, now. 

Vengefully, you turned towards the commotion that had awoken you, and, unsurprisingly, found your best friend at the center of it. Keigo sat at his desk at the far end of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. They leaned against the windowsills and surrounding desks, getting as close as possible without overstepping boundaries. The boldest of the group, a girl named Miyake Aito, was perched on Keigo’s desk, legs swinging beneath her. When you heard her giggle at the other girls’ teasing, you realized that she’d been the one to inquire about matching outfits. Unbidden, a frown spread across your face. 

“I’m not sure yet, Miyake-san” Keigo was saying, smiling amiably. “I don’t want to be the only one in traditional wear.”

The girls were quick to assure him that No, there will definitely be others, and began to complain about how guys didn’t want to wear hakamas anymore. Keigo listened to them politely, nodding at the appropriate times, but subtly attempted to peer around their bodies. You realized, belatedly, that he was searching for you. How did he even know I’d woken up? Sometimes, it was like he had a sixth sense for all things YN-related. 

Keigo's golden eyes finally found yours and narrowed at your sleep-addled appearance. You stuck your tongue out at him in return. For a moment, the two of you remained in your little bubble, silently communicating across the room. 

Aito quickly picked up on the blonde's distraction, though, and followed his line of sight. When she realized he was looking at you, she began waving at you excitedly. 

“LN-chan!” she grinned at you. “You’re finally up! Come join us.”

The other girls agreed, enthusiastically beckoning you over. Face heating up at the attention (and at the mention of your mid-morning nap), you rose from your seat and made your way over. You stopped at the edge of the group, but Aito reached out and pulled you to her side. Her long, wavy hair, which she wore over her shoulder, tickled your bare arm. 

“Um, what’s up?” you asked, attempting to sound casual. You’d never really spoken to Aito or her friends, so the sudden proximity was a little startling. 

“We’re trying to get Keigo to wear a hakama for the graduation ceremony,” Aito pouted, as if his refusal aggrieved her personally. “Help us convince him, LN-chan!”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any help,” you said, looking down at the boy in question. Keigo still had that demure smile on his face, but the subtle twitches of his lips betrayed his amusement. “He’s a real free spirit.”

Aito laughed, tightening her hold around you. “But YN-chan, a hakama would totally suit him, right? Given his whole traditional thing.” 

A few of the girls around you hummed in agreement. You looked questioningly at her. 

“His traditional thing?”

“You know, the way he uses san for everyone, and how he never calls anyone by their first name. Like, I’m Miyake-san,” Aito gestured to herself, and then to the other girls. “And she’s Nonaka-san, and she’s Kudo-san…”

And then she faced you, tilting her head curiously. “And even though you guys are close, he still calls you LN-san, doesn’t he?”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, meeting Keigo’s eye once more. Aito didn’t need to know that, outside of school, you were just YN and Keigo to each other. You’d dubbed him “Keigo-kun” practically the first time you spoke, and shortly thereafter dropped the honorific entirely. The blonde, on the other hand, took much longer to disregard formalities, and for the first six months of your friendship he exclusively addressed you as LN-san. The only exception was when your parents were around, in which case you became LN-chan and they were the sans. It took the three of you a year of insisting that he call you YN, and they oba-san and oji-san, for him to finally do so.

At school, though, Keigo still referred to you as LN-san. You didn't quite understand why until his mom overheard him call you by your given name a few months ago. Her expression had twisted into one of deep displeasure—not quite disappointment, or any other emotion one might show when their child didn’t behave. It was more like…fear. 

She’d yelled at Keigo, then, and made him apologize to you. You know better than that, she’d admonished him, We don’t talk to others like that. You remember frantically insisting he get up from his bow, alarmed and close to tears yourself. Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel that the whole thing was all your fault.

(Many months later, you worked up the courage to ask Keigo about it—why he was so proper all the time and why his mom yelled at him. Why it was okay for you to call him Keigo but not okay for him to call you YN.

He’d simply replied, “Because I’m a hybrid.”)

Shaking the memory from your mind, you realized you’d zoned out while Aito continued talking. She didn’t look happy with your noncommittal answer, and had let go of your arm in favor of turning back towards Keigo. 

“Well, if you won’t wear a hakama to be traditional,” she sighed, twirling a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Then you should at least do it for LN-chan. She’d love to see you in traditional wear.”

At this, the other girls snickered. Your face heated—you were sure you were being laughed at, but you just didn’t know for what. 

Keigo raised his eyebrows impassively. “I don’t know what you mean, Miyake-san.”

Aito leaned towards him. From her position on his desk, she could look directly down at him. “I think,” she giggled, “we all know what I mean.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then,” he returned coolly. 

A conspiratorial grin spread across Aito’s face. She had really nice teeth, you noticed offhandedly. While other kids’ mouths were still shackled in metal and rubber bands, her’s was already blindingly white and straight. 

“I mean,” Aito began, “We all know that LN-chan—”

She was cut off by the ring of the school bell, signaling the end of the period. Students immediately began taking their seats, and the teacher walked in, frowning when she saw your group gathered by the window. 

“Miyake-san, it’s quite rude to sit on someone else’s desk,” she chided, “Everyone, please return your seats. Goodness, you all are about to enter junior high, and you still can’t be ready for class on time.” 

Aito slid off the desk, mumbling an apology to your teacher and Keigo. The other girls hurriedly returned to their desks, and you began heading back to your side of the classroom. You were stopped, however, by a hand wrapping around your wrist. You looked back to see Aito at your arm, that same smile on her face. She tugged on you lightly, learning over to whisper in your ear. 

“We all know,” she giggled, “that you like Keigo-kun.”

“What about this one, YN? The blue is very pretty.” 

“No, I already wear blue on my uniform everyday.”

“Okay, then how about this one? You can’t go wrong with black.”

“No, it’s too somber. What am I, going to a funeral?”

“Alright, then, what about a two piece—”

“No!” you jumped up, shoving away the skirt your mom was dangling in front of your face. “Two pieces are for little kids—I’m literally entering junior high!”

“Right,” your mom said, “So…you’re a little kid.”

Groaning, you sank back into the plush changing room chair. Across from you, your mother exasperatedly flopped down in her own chair. The mall was blessedly empty today; otherwise, shoppers would’ve gotten a front-row seat to LN Akemi having a breakdown over formalwear.  

“Why are you making this so difficult,” your mother wailed, half-heartedly flinging a blouse at you. It landed a few feet short of your chair, on a different shirt you’d rejected. “You usually love shopping with me.”

That was true—shopping with your mother was one of the rare times where the two of you weren’t bickering and actually got along. No, for a few peaceful hours every weekend, you were united by gossip, cute clothes, and her credit card. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I guess I’m just nervous about graduation.”

Your mother pushed herself up one her elbows and peered at you. “I thought you said it was just a ‘lame event’ that you ‘didn’t care about.”

You winced at your harsh words being thrown back at you. “Well, that was before…”

“Before what?”

“Umm,” you said intelligently, “Before I realized how important this milestone actually is?”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. You averted your gaze. 

Truth be told, it was still just a lame event that you didn’t care about. An elementary school graduation was not a great cause for celebration, in your opinion, especially since everyone would be heading to the same junior high. Still, considering recent developments, you wanted to put some effort into your outfit…

At the thought of the incident, you groaned again and shoved your face into your hands. It’d been the source of all your agony this past week, rendering you incapable of enjoying a simple shopping trip with your mom. Ever since Aiko had put that stupid thought into your head—

We all know that you like Keigo-kun. 

Well, of course you liked Keigo, you huffed internally—he was your best friend! Ever since that fateful stormy afternoon in the second grade, the two of you had been inseparable. You hung out everyday, either watching lame superhero shows at your place or playing video games based on said lame superhero shows at his. You shared every thought with him (even the stupid ones, like when you thought Algeria was in South America) and he was the first person you turned to when you needed support. You enjoyed his company better than anyone else in the universe, and when you thought of your future you couldn’t imagine it without him. So yes, you did like Keigo, because all best friends liked each other. 

But, you knew that wasn’t what Aito meant. She meant that you like-liked him, in the way that many of the kids in your class had begun to: holding hands at recess, bumping shoulders on the walk home. Calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Like-liked, in the way that best friends totally shouldn’t like each other. 

So did you?

You dragged your hands down your face, choosing to ignore your own question. Peeking through your fingers, you saw that your mom had left her chair to go back to shopping. She was shifting through the racks of dresses, her wedding ring glinting noticeably as she moved. The sight of it made you think about your parents’ own marriage. They liked—no, loved—each other, didn’t they? 

You tried to think if they did any of the things the couples in your class did, but came up empty. Your father didn’t like to hold your mother’s hand because he claimed it was always “unbearably sweaty”, and you think your mother would push your father into the street if he tried to bump shoulders with her. You couldn’t even remember the last time they called each other by “husband” and “wife”, preferring more intimate nicknames like “the old ball and chain” and “my trophy husband”. 

But…they showed that they liked each other in other ways. Your dad always fixed your mom a cup of coffee in the morning, no matter how late he was for his own job, because she claimed he was the only one who could make it right; and your mother never complained when she had to pick your father up from the bar, merely laughing about how he couldn’t hold his liquor. They always made time to watch “their” show together, and seemed to be in a constant competition of who could complete more of the others’ chores. So maybe it wasn’t the type of like you were used to seeing among your classmates—but it was undeniably there. 

And what about Keigo, a small, insistent voice in your head brought up, Do you see yourself “liking” him? 

You furrowed your brow, imagining the two of you in your parents’ positions. Him making you a cup of coffee, you wrangling his tipsy form into the car. Watching old Endeavor re-runs and doing chores together in a sage-colored house. And, in the way that you parents often did, leaning over to press your lips to his— 

“Okay, you cannot find anything wrong with this one,” your mother dropped a dress on your lap, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hoped she didn’t notice the way you flushed. “It’s not blue, or black, or a two-piece, or anything else you might possibly have an issue with. At least try it on.” 

Not wanting to get into another argument, you reluctantly agreed, figuring it would be no different than the others. But once you had the dress on, you couldn’t help but agree with your mother—there was nothing you could find wrong with it. It was cut from a soft, ruby-red fabric, billowing elegantly at your waist and stopping just below the knees. It struck the perfect balance between the elementary-school-innocence you were leaving behind and the mature junior high student you were about to become. 

Akemi watched you scrutinize the dress in the changing room mirror, flinging the folds this way and that—but she knew you were already sold. She’d known it the moment she spotted the dress, because it was the exact same shade of red as a certain hybrid’s feathers. 

Stifling a smirk, she opened her wallet. You could be so predictable sometimes. 

“Psst, Keigo.”

The blonde ignored the whisper, valiantly focusing on the principal’s speech. When he didn’t respond, he felt your finger begin to prod him in the back. 

“Keigo! I know you can hear me.” 

The prodding intensified. After a few moments, Keigo couldn’t take it anymore. Subtly angling his head to look behind him, he flashed you an annoyed look. 

“What?” he hissed. The two of you, alongside all the other sixth graders, were currently gathered in the school auditorium for the graduation ceremony. The students were lined up in neat rows across the stage while the principal gave a speech at the podium. With her back to the students, she remained unaware of any impropriety, but the teachers and parents in the audience had a perfect view of their actions. Plus, with Keigo standing in the front row and you in the back, it was much harder for him to get away with talking. 

“Isn’t this so boring?” you grinned at him. Keigo could feel his eye twitching—you risked getting in trouble to tell him that? He ignored you, turning back to the principal, but a hand in his suit jacket yanked him back. 

“I said I’m bored!” you whispered indignantly. “Entertain me!”

Keigo sighed. A glance at the audience told him that no teachers were watching him, and the principal was still droning on with her speech. Subtly, he shuffled backward until he dropped out of his row and squeezed into yours. The boy who'd previously been standing by you looked peeved by the intrusion, but Keigo couldn’t be bothered with apologizing. 

“What can I do to cure your boredom, m’lady,” Keigo deadpanned. 

You clapped your hands gleefully. “Well, first, let’s decide on where we want to eat after this. My parents want to go to that seafood restaurant—you know, the one on Main Street? But it’s been so popular recently, I feel like we’ll definitely see classmates who are also celebrating…”

Keigo zoned out as you described the horror of running into someone you’d just bid goodbye to. He typically loved listening to you ramble, but right now he was finding it immensely difficult to focus. Every word you spoke was enunciated with a dramatic fling of your hands, causing your dress to flutter mesmerizingly. His eyes tracked the fabric’s movements obsessively; for some reason, seeing you in red made Keigo feel all warm and gooey inside. 

“…so that’s what I’m thinking. Does that sound good?”

He blinked as he realized you’d concluded your story, dinner plans interjected somewhere in there. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he didn’t just accidentally commit to a Michelin-star restaurant. He knew your family liked to dine at the finer places in Fukuoka, having been invited to many such outings before, but his mom would kill him if he ever accepted. It’s bad enough that I let them feed you every day, she bemoaned often, The least we could do is let them think we have inexpensive taste. With today being his graduation, though, and the fact that she couldn't be there to celebrate him herself, she had made an exception. 

Reminded of his mom's absence, Keigo wistfully turned towards the audience. He knew, logically, that she couldn’t dictate her work schedule; yet, selfishly, he wished she was here to see him graduate. 

“I’m sorry that your mom couldn’t come to this,” you said softly, noticing his sullen gaze. Keigo merely hummed in response—he’d long stopped being shocked by your mind-reading capabilities. Sometimes, he thought you were a hybrid in disguise; there was no other explanation for how you could pick up the smallest shifts in his mood and know the perfect thing to say each time. 

The principal was nearing the end of her speech now, if the generic verses about changing the world and shooting for the stars were any indication. Keigo grew restless as she droned on, eager to shed his formal wear; his suit jacket was uncomfortably small and scratchy, and the wing-slits darned into the back were constricting painfully around his feathers. He always thought the worst part about having wings was the fact that he couldn’t loan clothes—holes had to be put in anything he wore. As a result, his mom usually sprung for thinner shirts and sweaters, made from materials that were easy to sew through. His only option this time, it appeared, was a kids-size tuxedo.

Keigo stifled a laugh as he remembered Miyake's reaction to his cheap, ill-fitting suit. The girl had been chatting excitedly with her friends when she spotted him, her expression immediately twisting into one of deep distaste. She’d quickly exchanged it for a cute pout, though. 

“Keigo-kun,” she admonished, “I thought we agreed you’d wear a hakama!”

We did nothing of that sort, he wanted to say, but merely smiled placatingly at her instead. “What, do I look that bad in this suit?”

An eager chorus of Nos and Of course nots! rang back at him from Miyake’s friends. The girl herself still looked miffed, tugging unhappily on the sleeves of her red kimono. Keigo could tell that it was expensive from the detailed embroidery and silk skirts, and he wondered what it would be like to wear something that well-made. 

“I wanted to match with you, though…” Miyake looked up shyly at him through her eyelashes. He held back a snort, and was thankfully saved from answering by the arrival of their teacher. He didn’t even know how he could get out of that one… 

Cheering from the audience drew Keigo out of his memories, and he belatedly realized that the principal had concluded her speech. His classmates were laughing excitedly, and you were shaking his arm like a madwoman. 

“We did it!” you screamed, “We graduated!”

Keigo laughed—where was the girl who insisted graduation was lame just last week? Still, your enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn’t help but smile as you jumped up and down in joy. 

For the second time that day, Keigo could feel his heart beating erratically. He really should get that checked out.

Next Chapter (coming soon!)

author's note: i told y'all that things were heating up 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter-- please feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments :) i can't wait to see our beloved YN and keigo in junior high!

in case y'all missed it: fic playlist!

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬 (𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘟𝘋 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘺/𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘯 ��𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 241

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢, 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘶

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

He was confused at first, he didn’t know how to react when you buried your soft face on the crook of his neck, but now…he loves it

What he finds most adorable is the embarrassed little noises you make, it’s makes him crack a smile every single time

He allows you to bury your head as long as you need to, he knows it makes you comfortable, and your comfort matter most to him

𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

He knows how shy you can be, so when you bury your head in his neck, he takes as a sign of trust from you

We would wrap his arms around you and give you a soft pep talk. He knows you struggle from this, and he will never let you struggle alone

𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈

He damn near died of cuteness the first time you did it, your cute embarrassed face mixed with your slightly shaky body made him squeal with cuteness 

He wraps you in his wings, almost in a protective way, grabbing you by the chin with his hand

“Hey, it’s ok love! Your ok” he smiles

𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐔

He was so confused he almost thought it was a prank

He kind of understands, despite not showing it, he does get nervous around people, but being with you calms his nerves

He tries to take you to a more empty area to calm you down, rubbing your back in hopes to make you more relaxed

[redmyeyes]

Best of: Happy Skippy

Jonathan Bailey as Tim Laughlin, FELLOW TRAVELERS

[mielplante]

a lil highschool au dabihawks comic <3 🧋

[skrs-cats]

twoigbranch