#his best gift yet is a feather ✨

[wheatcak3]

he's collecting pretty little things to give to the bard! 🥹❤️✨

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

@wish-i-were-heather

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY!!!! 🎉🥳🎂🎁🎈YAYAYAYYAYAYA!! I HOPE U HAVE THE BEST DAY EVER ✨💕💋💍 AND GET EVERYTHING YOU WANT, YOU DESERVE IT 🥰😘����❤️

I LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCHHHHH 🩷🩷🩷

HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOU…

title: eunoia’s birthday

pairing: grayson hawthorne x eunoia

Grayson couldn’t help but stare. She was perfection. Her red hair splayed across the pillow, tumbling gently over their Egyptian cotton sheets. Eyes closed, long lashes delicately brushing her under eye in her sleep. He grinned to himself admiring the splash of freckles across her nose, counting each and every one and memorising them. He took his hand to gently draw soothing spirals across her arms, creating an invisible tattoo that no one would ever know about. Eunoia smiled in her sleep, subconsciously rolling closer to Grayson. He traced the features of her face with his pinky finger, making sure his touch was lighter than a feather so she wouldn’t wake just yet.

He’d been up most of the night to the early hours of the morning preparing for her birthday. Nash, Jameson and Xander had been contacted at 3am with a 911 from him because he was worried the decoration didn’t look good enough. Needless to say, all three brothers were extremely annoyed but added a few touches of their own to satisfy Grayson’s overthinking. When he was finally done and came to bed he couldn’t sleep. He could only think about her. Eunoia. The love and light of his life. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky with her. Nine days prior, when it has been his birthday she’d planned a beautiful day for them full of his favourite things that ended with a massive party with all the people that mattered to him the most. He smiled so much that day his jaw hurt the next day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that.

He leant down and rested his head beside her, pressing his cheek on hers. He wished he didn’t have to wake her, she looked so peaceful, so beautiful. He could stare at her all day and never get bored. She had a face like an angel, soft and captivating. Unfortunately Grayson knew he had an angenda to stick to. A birthday agenda, he hoped she’d love. Softly he kissed the tip of her nose, whispering, “happy birthday sweetheart.”

Eunoia stirred from her sleep, unimpressed, “What? Let me sleep,” she mumbled rolling over.

He chuckled softly, “Eunoia…”

“What? I’m trying to sleep here,” she grumbled, “go away.”

She reached her arm out and flapped it around lazily in an attempt to ward him off. It didn’t work, it only made him laugh.

“It’s your birthday,” he said, in an almost sing-song voice.

She shot up straight, suddenly awakened with her eyes wide open and beamed up at him, “it’s my birthday!”

“Mhmm,” he nodded in agreement. The way her eyes lit up made his heart squeeze.

“Oh my gosh it’s my birthday!” She shouted excitedly

She flung herself onto him enveloping him in what seemed like the world’s biggest hug. Eunoia closed her eyes and inhaled his comforting scent, grateful to wake up with such a man by her side. She considered that the greatest gift of them all, no matter what happened today.

“Woah, what’s this for?” Grayson asked, a hint of a chuckle in his tone.

“Birthday hug,” she explained happily, as they pulled away.

“Aren’t I meant to be the one that gives that to you?” He replied, a Hawthorne eyebrow raised in question.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, before lowering her voice a little, “but you can make it up to me with a birthday kiss.”

His face broke out into her contagious smile, “I love you.”

“I know,” she said, titling her head to the side sweetly.

“Happy birthday baby,” he grinned, pressing a light thumb on her chin and guiding her face closer to his. He leant down, closed his eyes and planed a soft kiss on her lips.

They both broke away at the same time, faces a little flushed, heartbeats a little faster.

“You can do that again, if you like,” Eunoia told him quietly, tracing his jawline with her fingertip.

“Tempting offer,” he murmurs, his nose touching hers, “too tempting to decline.”

He kissed her again, gently. She melted into his lips.

“I love you,” she smiled.

“I know,” he grinned, mirroring her earlier comment.

“Are you quoting me, Hawthorne?” She asked, failing to keep the giggle from escaping.

“Maybe,” he shrugged in reply before taking her hand in his, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“You’ll see,” he winks, tugging at her hand.

“Hang on! I need my glasses,” she cries, grabbing them from the nightstand and positioning them of her face.

Once he was sure they were secure enough on her face, he pulled her forwards towards the door. Eunoia almost fell face first into the mattress but managed to regain her balance, still holding onto Grayson. She stumbled out of bed, wearing a pair of shorts and Grayson’s shirt from the night before. It’s oversized on her, hung down effortlessly, reaching her mid-thigh.

“You okay?” he made sure quickly.

“Just about,” she winked.

Her hair was messed up and her glasses a little wonky, her sapphire eye sparkling beneath them. She was a goddess in Grayson’s eyes, he’d been blessed. She radiated sunshine. The smile of her face read bubbly like one of those books she ordered curling up in a corner with to read. So he grinned even harder as he starts to giddily run down the stairs holding her hand.

“Gray what’s gotten into you, you never get this excited?” she laughed, almost slipping down the staircase, remembering why Grayson is usually constantly telling her not to run down the stairs.

“I do!” he exclaims, offence rippling through his features.

Eunoia shoots him a look.

“I’m excited for you,” he reasoned, as they reached the bottom.

“I’m sceptical,” she replied, pursing her lips slightly.

“Seriously? I can’t just be really exited for my girlfriend on her birthday,”

“I know you Grayson Hawthorne and you don’t get this excited this easily,” she replied, jabbing a playful finger at his chest, “but I’m determined to find out what’s gotten you all jovial today.”

“You’re cute,” he smiled at her, with lovesick puppy eyes.

Eunoia narrowed her eyes at him, putting her hands on her hips, “what are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he laughed. He couldn’t help it, he loved it when she looked mad or over serious. The way her eyebrows angled inwards and eyes flashed with rage was adorable, not that he’d ever tell her that.

“I’m going to work it out!” she announced, looking him up and down as if there would be some sort of clue on his person.

“Just go into the kitchen okay?” Grayson said, spinning her around and nudging her gently towards the kitchen door.

“Okay,” she giggled, stumbling in after ungracefully hitting her elbow on the door.

Her jaw immediately dropped at the sight. The whole room had been decorated gorgeously. There were personalised banners stuck to the walls and bunches of balloons dotted around the room. Two vases sat comfortably on either end of the table housing fresh baby pink tulips, some budding and some not quite there yet. Matching the theme was a long sage green tablecloth across their table, dotted with pale pink plates and napkins. Fairy lights had been hug from just about every surface. They twinkled brightly making the experience all the more magical. Around the room were strings of paper hearts. As she took a step closer, Eunoia realised each of them had something written on them. In Grayson’s handwriting.

She walked slowly across the first row, reading each and every message. Your smile lights up my day. My heart, my world, my everything. I love you more than you could ever know. I’m so blessed to have you in my life. You’re so beautiful even the gods are envious. I love every single part of you. We were written in the stars. It must’ve taken hours to make. He’d put in so much time and effort. All for her. Grayson watched her face, admiring the way her features softened, then lit up and softened again.

She turned to him, eyes overflowing with gratitude, “you did all of this? For me?”

“Of course,” he said, as if this weee the bare minimum she deserved.

“Gray,” she murmured, his name almost getting caught in her throat.

“Do you like it?” he asked her.

“Like it? That’s an understatement, I love it,” she said, mesmerised in wonder, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiles, planting a kiss on her forehead.

A wave of emotion rolled over Eunoia and she felt tears begin to well up all of a sudden, “I’m not crying,” she said quickly, hoping that might prevent the tears from actually falling.

“Of course not sweetheart,” Grayson said, looking down into her glossy blue eyes.

“There are no tears coming from my eyes right now,” she insisted as they rolled down her cheeks.

“None at all,” Grayson agreed, handing her a tissue, “I should know, I’m a witness.”

“Thank you,” she snivelled, blowing her nose, “oh look there’s even glitter.”

Grayson let out a small chuckle, “I can’t credit, that was Xander’s idea,”

“Of course,” she giggled, as he brushes her happy tears away delicately with his thumb.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling her into his chest.

She gladly fell into him, dissolving comfortably into his arms. She pressed her cheek against his solid chest and breathed out softly. His arms were her safe place, whenever the world got a bit too much, she just crawl into his open arms and immediately feel soothed.

“I didn’t want you to cry on your birthday,” Grayson murmured into her hair, inhaling the smell of her shampoo that he loved.

“I thought we agreed just now that I wasn’t crying,” she reminded him, the sound muffled slightly.

“Sorry,” he said, correcting the sentence, “I didn’t want you to not cry on your birthday.”

“Happy tears, happy tears, I promise,” she sniffed, popping out of his chest to rest her chin on his shoulder.

“Okay I’ll take it then,” he replied, rubbing circles on her back rhythmically.

Suddenly a small gasp escaped from Eunoia’s lips.

“What?” he asked quickly, pulling away to make sure she was okay.

“There’s a cake!” she exclaimed, wide eyed and excited.

Grayson sighed in relief, “of course there’s a cake,”

She broke away from his hold and looked at the cake, it’s a white iced cake reading Eunoia in calligraphy on the top. It looked stunning, like a piece of pure art work.

“Did you bake this?” she asked.

He nodded, “and decorated it.”

She had to stop her jaw from dropping, “have you been taking midnight baking classes?”

“You sleep like the dead,” he explained, confirming her suspicions.

“You’re kidding,” she said, in pure shock. How had she not heard the infamously loud stand-mixer?

“I had this stand mixer on for a full three hours once,” Grayson told her, patting the electrical appliance, “and you were cold out.”

“You actually practiced for this,” she asked, her heart so full it could burst. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him but he had looked so exhausted these past couple of weeks, now it all made sense why.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he shrugged, “perfect cake for my perfect girl.”

Eunoia felt her face flush as blood rushed into her cheeks. This man still managed to make her blush despite the fact they’d been together for nearly three years now.

“Gray, this is incredible, thank you so much,” she grinned like an idiot, kissing him lovingly.

He beamed, tucking a stand of loose hair behind her ear, “do you want some cake?”

“How can I say no to cake for breakfast?” she asked, “it would just be rude!”

“Precisely,” he nodded in agreement, swiftly grabbing a knife from the kitchen drawer.

He made a clean cut down the cake and put a piece onto one of the pink plate situated on the table. Eunoia’s eyes widened to the size of saucepans when she realised the flavour.

“IT’S RED VELVET!” she screamed, excitement taking over. She hadn’t meant to be so loud.

“Yes,” Grayson smiled, her energy infectious.

“How did you know?” she asked, as he handed her the plate.

“Because everytime we go anywhere ever you get something that has relation to red velvet,” he deadpanned in reply.

“When?” she questioned, eyebrows pinching together in confusion, unable to recall a time she’d ever gotten anything ed velvet with Grayson.

“We went to that donut place and you got a red velvet flavoured donut,” he said.

“Oh yeah I remember that!” she replied, recalling how tasty it was.

“Or the time we went to that desert pizza place and your got a red velvet inspired pizza,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Not as good as it sounded,” she sighed, shaking her head, “major disappoint.”

“That Italian gelato shop we went to on a date,” he recalled, “you know the one with the crazy flavours, and you ordered red velvet ice-cream there.”

“Ooo we have to go back there one day,” she said, “that was yum.”

“Red velvet cheesecake, red velvet cookie, red velvet waffle were also tried on three different occasions at dreams bakery down the road,” he sighed, now counting the times with his fingers.

“I get your point,” Eunoia responded with a flat face.

“I can go on,” he teased.

“Not necessary,” she replied, “I can’t believe you take that much notice of my orders.”

“Well when you’re worried the love of your life is going to end up hospitalised from red velvet consumption you note what she eats,” he told her.

“But you hate red velvet,” she said randomly.

“With a passion,” he nodded.

“Ew weirdo,” she joked, “but seriously, then why did you make it? If you hate it so much.”

“Because you love it and I love you,” he said sweetly, pressing a short kiss on her nose.

“Will you try a piece? For me on my birthday?” she asked him, doe-eyed and batting her eyelashes slightly.

“The guilt tripping is insane Eunoia,” he grumbled bluntly, shooting her an evil look.

“You can’t judge it without trying it,” she sang, waving her piece at him.

“Fine. For you, on your birthday, that’s it,” he rolled his eyes, cutting a second slice for himself now.

She clapped her hands together in joy and then took a bite of her cake. Grayson watched her intently, trying to read her expression, hoping he’d gotten the recipe right, hoping she’d like it.

“Oh my gosh,” she say, closing her eyes, “I’m in heaven, literal heaven.”

It was the most perfect red velvet cake she’d ever eaten, light and airy with the right amount of icing, the tiniest slither because she hated the taste of it. Grayson had obviously taken note of that, making her smile.

“You should bake more often,” she said, taking another bite.

Grayson took a small breath of relief and smiled, his cheeks heating up ever so slightly. Eunoia noticed but didn’t mention it.

“Maybe I should,” he shrugged.

“Now it’s your turn to try,” she said, her face bright and impossible to say no to.

“I’m not happy about this,” he muttered.

“Just shut up and shove the cake in your mouth Gray,” she rolled her eyes.

“Okay but-“

Too late. Eunoia was too impatient, so speared some cake on her fork and put it into his mouth. He gave her an annoyed glare and he chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.

“So?”

“You could’ve choked me just then,” Grayson said darkly.

“And you’re still here, oh what a shame,” she teased him, ruffling his hair.

“You’re not funny,” he stated, suppressing his arising smile.

“The corner of your mouth that’s twitching is telling me otherwise,” Eunoia grinned triumphantly.

“The coroner of my mouth is not-“

“You’re changing the subject, what did you think?” she pressed on.

“It wasn’t good,” Grayson told her flatly, but something flickering in the deep gray of his eyes, a silver sparkle that told her the truth,

“You like it,” she said, mouth wide open in shock.

“No I don’t,” he protested, the defensive arc in his tone too prominent to not be hiding something,

“You so do!” she giggled, eating another bite of cake.

“No I don’t,” he shook his head, like a stubborn child.

“It’s your new guilty pleasure,” Eunoia decided, “I can see it in your eyes.”

“No you can’t,” he said quickly, curtly,

“Defensive much?” she quipped, smirking a little.

“You’re annoying “ he replied. She knew that basically meant she was right, he had nothing else left to say.

“And you like red velvet which means it is a good cake flavour,” she smiled, remembering back to a time where Grayson would diss it.

“I don’t like you,” he grumbled with a glare.

“Heyyyy,” she said in an accusing tone, “you can’t say that to me on my birthday!”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I love you.”

“If you loved me you would admit you like red velvet,” she grinned at him playfully.

“That is gaslighting,” Grayson said, distastefully. She surprised a laugh.

“So you don’t love me?” she gasped, putting a hand to her heart and melodramatically throwing her head back.

He sighed, “I think it red velvet is…” there is a long, bring pause, “… okay.”

“I’ll take it,” Eunoia replied with a nod of he head.

“Good,” he said, “do you want your present?”

“You mean that wasn’t it?” she asked gesturing to the cake.

He cracked a mousy smile before reaching over for a small, neatly wrapped box. Actually neat was an understatement. The paper was a sage green and the bow tied perfectly around it a light shade of pink. It was very pretty.

“Open it,” he urged, with a nod.

“I don’t want to,” she pouted, holding it as if it were the most fragile thing on his earth.

“Why?” he furrowed his brows.

“The wrapping is too pretty,” she explained, admitting it.

“I’ll wrap up an empty box so you can stare at my wrapping,” Grayson promised, “just open the present.”

“You’re eager,” she said, eyebrows raised.

“I want to see your face,” he explained.

“If it’s a pair of socks my face might disappoint you,” she pre-warned him.

“Good thing it’s not a pair of socks, though I did debate that,” Grayson said.

“Oh yeah?”

“They’re were some amazing unicorn ones that I thought would really suit you,” he teased.

“Save them for our anniversary,” she winked.

“Got it,” he grinned, “now open it!”

She laughed at his excitement and very slowly undid the bow so it wouldn’t ruin too badly. She then attempted to peel back the paper but it wouldn’t budge.

“How much tape did you put on this thing?” she groaned, frustratedly trying to undo a corner.

“You’re meant to rip it open,” he rolled his eyes.

“But the pretty wrapping paper,” she whispered.

“I have a whole roll under a floorboard upstairs, “ he sighed, “I’ll give it you.”

“Okay,” she grinned., before tearing open the paper, like a ravenous predator to its prey.

Underneath it revealed a decorated cardboard box. It was clear that Grayson had painted the extra detail, she knew that art style anywhere. Painted on in various shades of pale pink, white and flecks of red were blossoms from a cherry tree. Throw sands and thousands of petals had been painted on. She couldn’t imagine how long this would’ve taken him.

All of the blossoms seemed to swirl to one place. Eunoia flipped the box over and found that all the cherry blossoms were swirling towards a Polaroid picture of the two of them at Nash and Libby’s wedding, dancing together. Grayson was laughing at something Eunoia had said, his head thrown back and a real smile on his face. With his dimples. She’d once told him that was one of her favourite pictures of them together.

“This is so beautiful,” she smiled, tracing light fingers over his work.

“Open it,” he told her.

“What?”

“Trust me,“ he said, “open it.”

Slowly she opened it and the contents was revealed. Inside lay two deep purple pieces of card.

“You’re joking, oh gosh, is this even real?” Eunoia gasped

Engraved in each of them was Conan Gray in golden calligraphy. Upon closer inspection in the corner it read, concert 9:00pm.

“Look closer,” Grayson prompted, his eyes flicking to the top left hand corner of each ticket.

Laced in gold were three bold letters VIP. Eunoia nearly fainted.

“You’ll get to go backstage, meet him and talk to him, ask whatever you want, get a photo, and autograph, that sort of thing,” he explained.

“Gray,” she gasps, tears welling up in her eyes, “are you serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” he grinned.

She launched herself into his arm and squeezed him so tightly Grayson wondered if he might spontaneously combust. Not that he’d care, being in Eunoia’s arms spontaneously combusted or not was his equivalent to heaven.

She cups his face in her hands and gently brings it towards her, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. He could feel her burning gratitude.

“Happy birthday Eunoia,” he whispered, gazing at her. This is it. This is his world. He stared at her, momentarily mesmerised by her alluring ocean blue eyes. He feels like he’s drowning but for some reason it feels pleasant.

“Thank you so much Gray,” she murmured, her heart swollen full of love.

AYAYAYYAYA THANK YOUUUU FOR BEING MY LOVELY KIND GORGEOUS MOOT 💕💕 YOU’RE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST!!

I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!! HAVE THE BEST DAYYYYYY MY LOVE 😘😘

p.s I know you’re going to see Conan Gray in 46 days (I think) anyways but we can pretend Gray gave you the tickets 🤭🤭

[renlyslittlerose]

I wrote an obikin fantasy AU a few months back which has, since then, sat neglected in my files. I hope to start posting it soon, but for now here’s a little snippet near the beginning ✨

---

She closed her eyes, and a sudden weariness appeared over her shoulders. Skywalker watched the moment of weakness but refrained from saying anything. She wouldn’t appreciate it - not here, in the gilded halls of her court. Weakness was not a quality she was afforded. But as quick as it had come it went, Amidala rising from her chair, dropping the shackles of uncertainty from her shoulders with the simple movement.

“We must act quickly,” Amidala said, leading Skywalker through the back door of the Great Hall and into her private chambers. Here the rooms were blanketed with soft carpets, made by local artisans and gifted to the Duchess of Naboo upon her ascension to the title at the tender age of fourteen. Their footsteps were quick but muffled, heels pressing into the carpets as Amidala lead Skywalker through the twisted hallways adorned with tapestries and portraits.

Entering her study Amidala rushed to her desk, scrolls and abandoned inkwells strewn about the top. Outside the sun was setting, the room darkening quickly. Skywalker approached the desk and grabbed the tinderbox, lighting the candles quietly while Amidala scribbled a message across a thin piece of parchment, quill quick across the yellow material.

Finishing up, she stamped her family’s crest across the bottom before blowing on the ink, drying it best she could. Rolling it up into a tight scroll, she melted wax - silver with flecks of gold - on to the edges before pressing the seal of Naboo in the centre.

“Take this to Coruscant,” she said, passing the scroll over to Skywalker.

“When?” he asked as he took it it. It sat lightly in his hand, yet it felt weighted all the same.

“You’ll have to leave immediately. I’ll tell the Stable Master you require your steed, and have the kitchen prepare some food for your travels. As soon as you’ve packed and are ready, you must leave. When you get there, you need to insist on a meeting with the King - no lord nor liege will do, it must be with the King. Give him this scroll, and tell him that Naboo requires his aid and protection.”

“From what?” he asked. “We don’t even know what—”

“The letter explains it all,” She reached up and cupped his cheek, her touch soft and dry against his skin. Her eyes were bright with fear, and Skywalker could hear her breath, stuttering and hitching. “Promise me you’ll ride as fast as you can, Ani. I’m trusting in you. Naboo is trusting in you.”

Anakin curled his hand around the letter and nodded. “I won’t fail you, Padmé.”

She kissed his cheek, touch feather soft. “I know you won’t. Now go.”

[saltysaccharin]

Med Student

— [PRE-ELYSIUM] {CANON}

• characters :: hawks / takami keigo, ryouga atsumu + hero public safety commission (briefly), others (briefly)

• content :: narrative, backstory arc™, childhood friends to lovers, fluff and angst so hurt/comfort-esque, bittersweet ending

• warnings :: none but remember the hpsc is horrible

prompt / synopsis :: a quick look at doc apollo before he became doc apollo. at least, from a bird's eye view (metaphorically).

word count :: 4.9k

a/n :: i've been wanting to showcase not-adult atsumu for a while, but i can't put his whole heart and soul out for the world to see just yet because he's supposed to be confusing and unreadable and ✨mysterious✨

so i got the next best thing, via hawks' pov <3

"Hawks,"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"That's enough training for today," The handler cleared her throat, uncrossing her legs before standing up. As she dusted off her pencil skirt, scarlet feathers belonging to thirteen-year-old Hawks paused in midair. He looked up at her curiously, which she acknowledged by raising a hand. "We have another task for you."

The dirty blond wiped sweat from his temple as his feathers gathered around him, then repositioned themselves properly onto his wings. He straightened his posture and patiently awaited the details of this new 'task,' although internally, his mind was racing in anticipation — was it his first official mission, perhaps? He realized that he was probably too young for that. Then again, he was barely a fledgling out of the nest when the Hero Public Safety Commission scouted him out, so  it wasn't impossible—

He was competent, right? Did they finally trust him enough to handle the real world again? Hawks' chest thrummed in excitement and hope, following his handler out of the training room and into the HPSC's dull hallways.

She hummed, likely noticing his silent enthusiasm but choosing not to comment on it further. Instead, she started, "Sometime last month, the Commission found a preteen..." Hawks furrowed his eyebrows, evidently perplexed while she explained, "He's been gifted a powerful Quirk — like you — but unfortunately, it caused the downfall of his ordinary life. We have since decided to take him in and train him.

"However, he has proven to be a very.. difficult child. It seems that even with time, he refuses to cooperate with us. He either refuses to speak a word or simply has an outburst." The handler sighed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of her nose. Clearing her throat, she turned to look down at Hawks, "So, we were thinking that it might be good for him to interact with someone closer to his age. Maybe you could talk some sense into him, given that you're skilled in almost anything else."

The sound of sugar-laced words were familiar to Hawks' ears by now.

"So, are you up for the task, Hawks?" She asked directly.

...But they had yet to lose their effect, by this point.

The young Hero-in-training nodded, a determined flame in his eyes. "I am. I'll convince him, for sure. I'm willing to deal with him, no matter what he might throw my way!" He declared, balling his hands into fists.

His handler only laughed with mirth, "So dramatic. Well, you're in luck; we're here," The woman abruptly stopped on their stroll, turning to face a door. Hawks scrutinized the lack of a nameplate. "Let us know how it goes, and don't be afraid to back out if it's too much to handle."

'It won't be too much to handle,' Hawks wanted to retort, but ultimately kept the attitude to himself in favor of a quiet nod. He reached for the handle and turned, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him in one swift move.

"I told you people to LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Almost instantly, a small tray was sent flying his way. It would have hit him right in the face had he not used his wing to block the attack, the tray falling to the floor with a clatter. Hawks scoffed to himself before lowering his makeshift shield, finally getting a good look at his assailant.

"O-Oh. You're not..." Stammered a boy with one too many white strands tangled in his brown hair for his age. He retracted the arm used to attack rather bashfully, grabbing ahold of his gloved left wrist. He couldn't seem to look at Hawks for very long, bright orange eyes darting around the room anxiously; his lip quivered, the beginning syllables of an apology forming, before he settled for a "...Whatever."

The kid slid down the wall with a frown, bringing his knees up to his chest as he sat on the floor. There was a relatively decent bed right beside him, apparently rejected.

Hawks was at a loss. It had been far too long since he'd genuinely socialized with someone his age, not to mention how.. disturbed this particular person was. He understood very early on that maybe he bit off more than he could chew with this one — but that didn't mean he was willing to give up. The higher-ups were counting on him, relying on him; how could he even think about letting them down when he was finally given a chance to show how good of an asset he was?

Taking a deep breath, Hawks took a tentative step forward, which did not get a reaction from the other. He interpreted this as a good sign, choosing to come even closer, and closer, until he was eventually seated beside the boy on the floor.

When he was met with still no response, Hawks awkwardly took a look around the room before speaking. "So," That was not a good start, he winced internally, but pressed onward, "What's your name?"

"Atsumu."

The immediate reply almost caused Hawks' heart to beat right out of his ribcage. He wasn't expecting a reply at all, much less a quick and cooperative one. Steadying himself, the former cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Well—" An unwanted voice crack made him want to die right then— "It's nice to meet you, Atsumu. My name is Hawks."

"That's a stupid name," Atsumu deadpanned with zero hesitation.

"It— It is not!" Hawks flushed, his wings puffing up defensively.

"Is too," The brunet huffed, looking up from the hiding place that was the space between his arms, "But seriously, what is your name? Don't tell me 'Hawks' is, because I'm not going to believe you."

Hawks glared, his own frown forming on his face. He glanced away and mumbled, "Smartass." Into his palm, only for an exaggerated gasp to come from behind.

"Hey! You're not allowed to say that!"

"Says who? Maybe you're not, but I'm older than you, you know!"

"Do you even know how old I am?"

"...Eleven..?"

"I'M TWELVE—!"

The two boys fell into a rather uncomfortable silence after that. Not so uncomfortable that it'd warrant one wanting the other to leave, but it definitely wasn't as warm and friendly as a normal interaction between children should've been.

Hawks grumbled internally, wrapping his wings around himself in an attempt to calm his nerves. He didn't dislike Atsumu so far, really, it was just.. difficult, like the handler had recounted. Hawks briefly considered that maybe he contributed to the problem. Considering the fact that he didn't have many friends growing up — or at all, for that matter. His way of living before the HPSC took him in was less than ideal...

As he looked back on that time, he sighed aloud. What harm would telling someone his real name be? The people who 'accepted' him with open arms told him to throw it away, but he never truly understood how something so personal could be tossed aside as carelessly as they wanted him to.

He still had it. He didn't use it, but he still had it.

Just when Hawks made up his mind, opening his mouth to speak, he heard a whimper coming from his left.

Hawks quickly moved his wings out of the way to get a better view at the situation. Atsumu's face was buried in his arms again, a gloved hand digging into his hair and gripping the locks deathly tight. His body shook as he inhaled and shakily exhaled between sobs.

Utterly shocked, Hawks stuttered, "Are.. Are you crying?.." His question only seemed to make it worse, however, as a choked sob came from Atsumu's withdrawn form. A panicked apology left Hawks' lips before he could fully register what was happening. "Hey, hey— I'm sorry, okay, I.. I didn't mean to—"

"It's not your fault!" Atsumu yelled, startling the former although the noise was muffled by the position, "It's mine. It's all mine! Everything that happened, I— I couldn't control it, and now—" Hawks worriedly glanced toward Atsumu's hold on his own hair, deciding it might be a good idea to intervene before Atsumu hurt himself.

"Hey, it's going to be okay— I'm sure you didn't mean anything—" Hawks tried, despite truthfully having no clue what Atsumu was rambling about. He reached out to grab Atsumu's hand, carefully prying it away from his poor hair.

The action slightly moved the glove's hem, exposing some of Atsumu's skin which seemed to cause him to violently jerk away in a frenzy. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He pulled away, nothing but terror in his eyes, "I'm— I'm a sickness, I don't do anything but make trouble for other people even though I— even though all I wanted to do was..." He cried, sniffling.

Oh god. How was Hawks supposed to deal with..?

"I'm sorry—" Atsumu unexpectedly managed between the bawling, "I shouldn't have... Sorry, you didn't do anything..." He forcefully gulped down the lump in his throat, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'm a mess. It shouldn't be your problem, just 'cause you're a kid too. I'm sor—"

Hawks couldn't stop himself from cutting Atsumu off. Before either of them knew it, Hawks had wrapped his arms around Atsumu, somehow simultaneously tight and gentle.

"Stop apologizing."

Atsumu sucked in a sharp breath before the waterworks started up again, unsteady hands gripping the back of Hawks' shirt as the shorter boy wept. The former kept mumbling apologies in spite of Hawks' wishes, but he let him get it out of his system. The handler said nothing about the rookie being so.. sad.

Hawks wondered, had Atsumu just been holding this all in for a month? Because he didn't trust any of the grown-ups to deal with his problems? Regardless...

Atsumu definitely needed that hug.

Hawks didn't know it at the time; but he did, too.

🪶

About a year after their mess of an introduction, the people running the HPSC had deemed it a good idea to allow those particular two to spend time together. Atsumu didn't really understand it (and made the fact very clear with his restless theorizing), but Hawks' feathers had managed to pick up some staticky noise about how they 'developed more efficiently when they were together.'

Or something like that.

He just guessed that it meant he and Atsumu were just easier to deal with as long as they weren't separated. Maybe they were similar to how two negative numbers multiplied made the product positive.

While not appreciating how that analogy meant he was a negative number, Hawks admitted that it was partially true. So well played, Commission heads, well played.

Still, it wasn't like every waking moment was some strange playdate orchestrated by the handlers — Atsumu spent a big chunk of his time in a different building, training both his Quirk and studying medicine; and Hawks had his own training to worry about, albeit he was much more advanced than the other considering how long it'd been since he was 'recruited.'

...Admittedly, even if the Commission hadn't constantly put them in the same room, the two would have probably found a way to use up their free time with each other.

Fifteen-year-old Hawks knitted his eyebrows together in concern as he watched Atsumu. The latter flexed his fingers and curiously observed the slow spread of.. whatever it was — it went from the tips of his fingers to his wrists now; it had stopped at the base of his digits when they first met.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" Hawks inquired, understandably wary of this new development, "No stinging or itching or any of that?"

Atsumu took one look at him and chuckled for some reason. Squinting, Hawks scrunched up his face in confusion, his silent way of asking 'What's so funny?' The brunet shook his head in amusement, his voice still carrying a bit of laughter, "You're not very good at putting your feelings on your face."

What was that supposed to mean?

Atsumu shrugged, noticing the other's growing bewilderment. "I mean, you're not that expressive." He pursed his lips, "Like, at all." Of course he had to add that last part just to drive his point home.

Evidently, Atsumu had the exact opposite problem that Hawks (allegedly) did.

"I don't believe you," Hawks argued, internally reflecting on all the times he'd actively felt the muscles in his face move just to express a certain feeling. It was absurd to think that all that had been for naught, right?

"But you should," The brunet stuck his tongue out defiantly, having no regard for his technically-upperclassman, "It's not like any of the handlers'll tell you. They don't care about that type of stuff as long as you do a good job and be a Hero and blah blah—"

"Yeah, so then why does it matter to you, Atsu?" Hawks huffed, raising an eyebrow. He chose not to comment on Atsumu's disrespectful remark towards the Heroes, but it was fine; he knew and understood that his friend never really felt the desire to become one.

Atsumu only hummed in response, apparently taking some time to truly contemplate the reason. After some time, he finally came to the following conclusion: "Well, Heroes are supposed to be liked by the public, right? I think you have to be, like, human for that to happen."

"But I am human."

"You don't act like it!" Came the younger teen's retort, "I can tell how you feel since I know you, but if you told a stranger that you were worried about them being hurt while having the straightest of faces," Atsumu's shoulders slumped dramatically, "I don't know if they'd believe you—

"Which is bad! Because you're a good person and stuff. You just don't show it a lot past the actual.. y'know, Hero thing," The orange-eyed boy gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, doing his best to get his point across. "You just look so serious all the time."

Pouting slightly, Hawks blew a stray hair away from his face, "Well, that's probably because I have to be — I'm always training, and..."

"Not always," Atsumu interjected, holding up a finger, "Not when you're with me."

Hawks lowered his head in thought, a few loose feathers idly floating around him. He supposed that was true; it was easier to unwind around someone his age, especially someone who shared the same.. abnormal childhood training experience he had.

"How do you manage to do it, then?" Hawks asked directly, "You have so much to juggle all the time, more than I do. But you're so..."

"So what?"

"...Cheerful? I guess?"

"Ha. That's funny. Anyway, to answer your question... I have zero advice. Sorry."

Hawks shook his head. "Then we'll have to work on that some other time," Gently taking hold of one of the other's hands without much resistance, Hawks brought it closer for inspection, "What's all this though? You avoided the question earlier." The blond huffed stubbornly.

Atsumu only shrugged with his free shoulder, making an uncommitted noise, "I honestly don't know either. My handler thinks it's a drawback, but I haven't felt anything."

"Hm. That's odd."

"Obviously, Kei."

🪶

"...Huh? Atsumu— Atsu, are you alrig—"

"Hawks, get your partner under control."

The sixteen-year-old trainee shot the handler a subtle yet absolutely outraged look as he took his friend's shaking form away from them. Hawks shushed Atsumu and rubbed circles on his back, saying nothing about how tightly the latter had clutched onto the back of his shirt.

Hawks turned back to the adult and questioned, "What did you do to him?" He barely held back a glower, "What happened? It's been five days."

Atsumu's handler sighed, looking down both literally and figuratively at Hawks. "What, can't stand being apart from the only colleague you'll know before graduating?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself, "Tsk, we knew there were risks of codependency, with your.. animalistic Quirk, but no one thought it'd affect your ability to know your place. Ah... Is this going to be a problem for us, Hawks?" His question only had one answer.

Hawks knew that.

He stole one more glance at Atsumu on the verge of hyperventilating into his shoulder, then lowered his head in the face of authority.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, get him stabilized, however you manage to do that. You two should be ready for dinner when I come back."

After waiting with bated breath for the door to finally click shut, Hawks pulled away from Atsumu and placed his hands onto the other's shoulders. He worriedly moved to cup Atsumu's face in order to get a better look at him, and vice versa.

"Atsu," Hawks tried, "What happened?"

"...Kei..." The brunet sniffled in response, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes before rolling down his birthmarks, "...So, so many things... They... They made me—"

Hawks shushed, engulfing Atsumu in another hug before he had the chance to burst into sobs. Atsumu had always been a crybaby since they met. His lows were truly low. He wasn't as young as Hawks was when the HPSC decided to.. mold him into another 'perfect' soldier, and so the difficulty he had adjusting to the whole living situation — it was hard. He knew that.

Judging from how Atsumu's body practically convulsed, clearly sore in some way, Hawks guessed whatever they made him do involved something that hurt.

...Whether Atsumu was the one who got hurt or if he hurt someone else was unclear.

"I hate my Quirk," Atsumu suddenly spoke up, although his voice was muffled by Hawks' shoulder, "I wish I was just Quirkless. This stupid thing hasn't done anything except hurt me and other people..." His grievances devolved into a silent cry as Hawks held him, the older boy unsure how to comfort his friend properly yet figured that doing his best would suffice for the moment.

Several "I'm sorry"s were sprinkled across the lull, Atsumu's habit of apologizing for seemingly nothing and to seemingly no one arising again. It always confused Hawks, but he never wanted to pry...

"Don't say that," Hawks eventually disagreed with Atsumu's first notion, "Your Quirk is incredible. It's capable of saving lives, and reaches places that most healer Quirks can't," He sighed, patting the other's back, "So many people will owe you their lives in the future. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To save people?"

Atsumu did not nod, but he didn't deny it either. Instead, he choked out, "But it hurts."

"...I know."

Hawks didn't know what else to say after that. He could tell Atsumu didn't, either, given the complete silence that overtook them, save for a few sobs from the latter.

Right when he thought Atsumu had dozed off, the boy took a deep breath and sighed shakily. "...I wanna help people," He mumbled, "No matter what anyone else says. I wanna give everyone a chance, 'cause it's not fair that I...

"That I did everything I did, but.. I get to call myself a 'Hero' in like three years," He sniffed, then finally pulled back from clinging to the only friend he had in there. "So I'll do that — help people. Even with the endless classes, the.. training. I can do it. It's fine, I'm—"

"It's okay," Hawks sighed, putting a hand on Atsumu's shoulder. "There's nothing that says doctors have to be 'fine' especially with all the crap they have to deal with on a daily basis."

Atsumu sniffed again, this time bringing up an arm to wipe his eyes. "Whatever, smart guy,"

If it weren't for the situation, Hawks would have laughed at the ridiculous familiarity that Atsumu's antics gave; trying to play everything off as if it were nothing without giving either of them any sort of break to process their feelings.

He'd grow out of it someday, though, so Hawks wasn't too worried about that.

"So how are you feeling?" Atsumu asked, looking at Hawks with his full attention, "I don't ask that as much as I should, even though you're going through.. basically the same stuff as me."

Hawks only shrugged. An unsatisfactory answer, he realized, as Atsumu frowned and hit him with a stray pillow on the floor.

"I'm pretty okay, really," He managed, tone uncertain still. Scratching the back of his neck, he drawled out, "Well. Less okay and more.. used to it all, y'know?"

"...That's fucking sad."

"Shut up."

🪶

"Oh, Hawks-senpaiiiii," A sing-songy voice called out, coated in nothing but malice. At least, in the target's perspective.

"Here we go." The eighteen-year-old Hero in question rolled his eyes playfully as he swiftly stepped to the side, successfully dodging an attack from behind courtesy of his significant other.

Atsumu yelped as he missed, well on his way toward the ground had Hawks not grabbed his hand in time. It was absolutely unnecessary to, but Hawks couldn't stop himself from smoothly twirling Atsumu around before pulling him close — all with a smirk plastered across his face.

Atsumu made a very unconvincing angry face.

"You're so cute," Hawks grinned, taking note of how Atsumu's expression was contradicting his comfortable body language. He loved him, but Atsumu was not a good liar.

Not to him, anyway.

"Stop being condescending!" Atsumu cried out dramatically, lightly punching — tapping, more like — Hawks on the chest.

"You're the one who was calling me by my Hero name instead of your beloved Keigo," He argued, cheekily leaning his face closer to Atsumu's. The latter flushed and immediately looked away, grumbling a series of profanities. Hawks could only chuckle fondly.

The brunet turned up his nose, "It's your fault for being older than me. I still have, what, eight more months of training to go through before I can finally see the outside world once more." He hummed.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, "You're being dramatic. I literally just took you out on a date a few months ago."

"It's not the sameee, Keiii," Atsumu whined, "I should be allowed outside already, even as a doctor! I already have forty-two doctorates!" He crossed his arms, then a heavy sigh came after, "That amount isn't remotely possible for normal people. This is so unfair. I have to study all this and try to keep up with my Hero training, which is just glorified torture at this point, and still—"

Unfortunately for Atsumu and his little tangent, Hawks had developed a habit of kissing him in the middle of various rants. In turn, Atsumu seemingly settled into his own routine of releasing a muffled squeal followed by (eventually) kissing back.

Hawks pulled away with a calm expression, but his eyes practically gleamed with adoration. "You done?"

Atsumu glared, pushing the other's face away with a scoff. "I hate it when you do that..." The almost aggressive reddening of his face betrayed his statement.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Why are you saying that like you don't believe me?"

The former only shrugged, his wings fluttering slightly, "No reason. Hey, I have some paperwork to do for my agency, do you wanna just," He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, pulling a complete one-eighty from his earlier confident persona.

What could he say? For all his teasing, it was rather.. daunting, for a heart as closed-off as his to suddenly waltz into unfamiliar territory. Though, he supposed his heart wasn't as reserved anymore.

Hawks glanced away, the tips of his ears gradually starting to match the color of his wings, "I don't know, really. Just.. do nothing. Together?" His question floated in the air for a bit.

Atsumu thought about it for a bit, his eyes narrowing as he replied, "So you just want me in the same room for no reason?" A shit-eating grin plastered itself onto his pretty face while he did a horrible job at concealing his snicker. "What, do you enjoy my company or something?"

"No shit," Hawks grumbled, putting his hands on his hips. The blush on his face was obscured by the new visor, but his uncharacteristic, shy behavior seemed to tell Atsumu more than Hawks would have liked. "It's a yes-no question, Atsu."

A drawn-out hum from the med student only furthered Hawks' defensive attitude, but the joyful laugh that followed relieved most of the tension in his shoulders.

The brunet hooked his arm around Hawks', giving him a contented smile. "Well, if my beloved Kei doesn't mind me reading up on the different ways to perform mutant Quirk-related surgery..."

"Not at all."

"Then I think we're good to go!" Atsumu declared, "Need a pen? I can lend you one of mine—"

🪶

Nineteen-year-old Hawks chuckled quietly to himself as he watched his newly-established partner mingling with the public from a distance.

"The name is Doc Apollo and I'm looking forward to working with you all!" Atsumu cheerfully introduced himself to the crowd of civilians that had gathered to watch the now-resolved incident. He practically glowed in the daylight, soaking up the praise he got.

Hawks shook his head and sighed affectionately, his focus being pulled back to the police officer he had been discussing the details of the situation with. He reported things clearly and worded his thoughts in a way that would ensure this would be a quick and clean interaction, but he remained ever so patient on the outside. The ruckus from the group fawning over Atsumu rang in his ears, and the proud comments from the former did the same.

After wrapping up his conversation with the authorities, Hawks politely bid farewell and left them to deal with the technicalities of the affair. He swiftly made his way to Atsumu's side with but a single flap of his strong wings, the noise from their audience growing louder.

"Oh, it's Hawks! Look this way, look this way!"

"Hey hey, isn't it such an amazing opportunity to see him in real life?!"

"Thank you for your service, Heroes!"

With a year of official Hero business experience under his belt, it wasn't fresh information that Hawks was very well-received by the public. He was an efficient worker, as well as admired for reasons involving something he'd worked on: Charisma, one could say. The way he carried himself made him shine in the eyes of supporters, causing a spike in his popularity despite how 'new' he was as a Hero.

His hard work paid off; in addition to his good Hero work, no longer was he inexpressive or aloof, like someone had said all those years ago. Yet, it was only a mask — an act he put on for the fans.

At first glance, that didn't seem to be the case for Atsumu.

But Hawks knew better.

He had no doubt in his mind that the outgoing, confident Doctor Apollo would gain positive attention once he debuted. Now that the day finally came, it was almost surreal how intentional Atsumu's innocent, 'youthful Hero' demeanor was.

Yes, he was truly happy to be here — Hawks could tell that much — but the cynical boy he'd grown up with never really changed.

"You two work so well together! And Doc Apollo says he just started?" A journalist pushed their way into the front of the crowd, an audio recording device in hand, "What's up with that?"

"Ah, well," Hawks began, silently taking note of how Atsumu quickly adapted to the speaker and lowering his voice, "Apollo is actually my new partner! We'll be working together a lot from now on, isn't that right?" He hummed, looking toward the aforementioned Hero.

"That is correct, yes," Atsumu confirmed with a nod and a smile too big to be insincere, "It's a great honor! Hawks is such an awesome Hero, after all, don't you guys think?"

Hawks narrowed his eyes at Atsumu in playful accusation as the group of civilians enthusiastically agreed, only getting a cheeky smirk from his boyfriend in return.

How sly of him.

Later, once the ordeal was over and done with, the two Heroes continued their work throughout the day. A tiring, rewarding job, was how Hawks would put it. Atsumu didn't add anything onto the matter.

Eventually, their shift ended, and they stopped by Atsumu's apartment to rest a bit before heading to HQ.

"So, how was it?" Hawks eagerly awaited a response as he carefully took off his visor, examining it for damage before putting it away. "Your debut — it went well, didn't it?"

Atsumu huffed, moving his bangs out of his face, "You could say that," He trailed off, pausing until his next point. He fell down onto the couch, groaning, "But I really don't like dealing with all those people... They're so pushy and excited and loud, and I can't deal with noisy guys very well—"

A hand on his shoulder was all Hawks managed, along with a sympathetic look. "I know. It's okay. Though, you'll have to get used to it; they love you." Atsumu sighed and put his own hand over Hawks' nodding slightly.

The former didn't comment on that claim, however. He grew silent, appearing as if he'd withdrawn back into his thoughts. After a moment or two, Atsumu spoke softly, "Thank you for being there. It made things.. a lot easier for me."

"You did well," Hawks leaned down to press a kiss on Atsumu's temple, getting a defiant murmur in response. He chuckled.

They weren't going to talk about any of the other issues that went on inside either of their heads that day. And that was fine.

This was enough. For now.