The soft knock on his agency door was a welcome interruption to the usual mountain of paperwork. "Come in," Hawks called out, not looking up from the incident report he was sifting through.
The door creaked open, and a familiar scent, not of stale coffee or heroics, but of something sweet and earthy, drifted into his office. He finally glanced up, and his eyes widened.
There you stood, a small, shy smile on your face, holding out a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers. They were bright, unpretentious, and utterly unlike the opulent arrangements he usually received from his fans or from an event.
"Hey, Keigo," you said softly, extending the flowers further. "These are for you."
His usual flippant reply caught in his throat. He just stared at the blossoms, then at your expectant face, and back at the sunflowers again. He took them from you, his fingers brushing yours, a jolt of warmth shooting through him. They felt… real. Substantial. Not like the flimsy, mass-produced offerings that usually ended up wilting in the agency's common area.
"Sunflowers, huh?" he managed, trying for his usual breezy tone, but it came out a little rougher than intended.
You nodded. "They just… reminded me of you. Bright and strong, but with a softness underneath. I'm sorry about the sloppy way I wrapped it. I did my best to wrap it as neatly at I could.*
"Oh it's still beautiful, (Name)." That did it. The carefully constructed facade, the one he wore for interviews and public appearances, the one that deflected criticism and adoration alike, began to crack. He received thousands upon thousands of flowers in his career – from grateful citizens, from adoring fans, from official dignitaries. But they were always for "Hawks," the Number Two Hero, the symbol of freedom. Never for Keigo Takami. Never from someone who saw past the feathers and the smile to the guy who sometimes felt bone-tired and genuinely cared about the state of his ramen.
His grip on the sunflower stems tightened, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the summer sun outside. He felt a prickle behind his eyes, an unfamiliar sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. He cleared his throat, turning away slightly to pluck at a loose feather on his wing, anything to regain his composure.
"This is… uh… thanks," he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically thick.
You chuckled, stepping closer. "Are you getting emotional, Keigo?"
He scoffed, forcing a laugh that sounded a bit watery even to his own ears. "Me? Nah. Just… pollen. Yeah, a lot of pollen in these, you know?" He gestured vaguely at the sunflowers.
But he couldn't hide the slight tremor in his hand, or the way his gaze kept returning to the bright petals. He knew, and you knew, that this wasn't about pollen. This was about finally, truly, receiving something for himself. From someone who knew the real him, the vulnerable parts, the quiet moments. Someone who he had chosen to let in, and who had chosen to see him, not just the hero but as a person like any other.
He finally turned back to you, a genuine, unguarded smile replacing his usual practiced grin. His eyes were a little brighter than usual, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of moisture shimmering there.
"No one's ever given me flowers before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "not like this."
You simply reached out, cupping his cheek softly and in that small gesture, he felt more seen, more cherished, than any public accolade had ever made him feel. The sunflowers, a simple gift, had unexpectedly become the most precious thing he owned and he's gonna take it home then take good care of it.
The news reached you like a cold spike to the gut. Fumikage, his voice uncharacteristically strained, had called. "It's… it's Hawks, (Name). There was a villain. An age quirk and He's… he's a child again."
Your mind reeled. Hawks. Keigo. A child? The confident, witty, slightly chaotic hero, reduced to his younger self? You knew snippets of his past, the cold, analytical way the HPSC had shaped him from a very young age. 'This couldn't be good.' You thought.
"Where is he, Fumikage?" you asked, your voice trembling and panicky.
"They've got him at a secure HPSC building facility. Other heroes are there, trying to… well, trying to help. But he's… very different." Tokoyami's voice trailed off. You didn't need him to elaborate. You knew. You knew the quiet, almost terrified boy Keigo used to be before his personality became a carefully constructed facade to appease the public eye.
Without another word, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted out the door, Tokoyami right behind you.
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The HPSC facility was sterile and hushed, a stark contrast to the usual boisterous energy that followed Hawks wherever he went. You were led to a large, brightly lit room that had clearly been set up to resemble a play area. All Might was attempting to build a precarious tower of blocks, while Endeavor- probably was forced to go here, surprisingly and uncharacteristically, was making clumsy attempts at drawing with crayons with a grumpy face. Mirko was bouncing a brightly colored ball, her usual fierce grin softened into something almost gentle. A few other heroes were scattered around, trying various methods to engage the tiny figure in the center of it all.
And there he was. The child form of Keigo Takami.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by toys he wasn't touching. His small wings were drawn in tight against his back, almost as if he was trying to disappear. His usually vibrant golden eyes were downcast, shadowed by long, dark lashes. He looked utterly lost, a fragile echo of the boy he'd once been, before the world demanded a hero. This was the quiet, almost haunted child, stripped bare of the swagger and the wit.
Your heart aches seeing him like that.
"Keigo?" you whispered, your voice soft but clear in the surprisingly quiet room.
His head snapped up. His eyes, so wide and vulnerable, found yours. For a split second, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, a child's hesitation. Then, as if a dam had broken, he scrambled to his feet and ran to you at full speed.
"(Name)!" he cried, a tiny, reedy voice that tore at your soul. He launched himself at you, burying his face in your leg, his small arms wrapping around your thigh in a surprisingly strong grip. He clung to you as if you were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly gone wobbly.
The other heroes exchanged relieved glances. All Might offered a thumbs-up, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.
You nod your head at him before you knelt down, carefully pulling him into a hug. He was so small, so light. You could feel his heart thrumming against your chest. His little hands gripped the back of your shirt, holding on for dear life, as if you could disappear the moment he even lets a single hand go. He didn't say anything, just burrowed deeper into your embrace, in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.
"Hey, little bird," you murmured, stroking his soft hair. "It's okay. I'm here."
From that moment on, he was glued to you. If you moved, he moved. If you sat down, he was in your lap or pressed against your side. He was very clingy. He didn't want to play with the toys, didn't respond to the heroes' attempts at engaging him. He only wanted you.
"Can you read to me, (Name)?" he'd ask, his voice barely above a whisper while clutching your hand.
You read him stories, your voice a soothing balm. He’d trace patterns on your arm with his tiny fingers, his head resting against your shoulder. When you suggested getting something to eat, he insisted on holding your hand the entire way to the cafeteria. He only ate when you fed him small bites, and even then, he kept looking up at you, as if to make sure you hadn't vanished.
Mirko, watching from a distance, commented, "Kid's got a serious attachment to you, carrot. Never seen him like this before."
You simply smiled sadly. "He remembers the warmth, I think. Something he didn't have much of when he was a kid."
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You spent hours like this, just being present for him. You talked to him about mundane things, told him about your day, hummed quiet tunes. He didn't speak much, but he would occasionally let out a soft sigh of contentment, his small body relaxing against yours. You could feel the deep, ingrained fear in him, the need for a stable, comforting presence.
Then, as the afternoon wore on, a strange flicker happened. You were reading him a story about a brave knight, and he was nestled in your lap, almost asleep. Suddenly, he twitched. His small body seemed to ripple, to stretch. His wings, which had been so small and tucked in, seemed to unfurl, growing in size.
His eyes snapped open, no longer the wide, innocent eyes of a child, but the sharp, intelligent gaze of Hawks. He blinked, a flicker of confusion, then recognition. He was no longer a child. He was back to his usual age, his strong arms now fully encompassing you in a surprisingly tight hug.
"(Name)?" His voice was deep, familiar, but laced with a hint of bewilderment. He pulled back slightly, his golden eyes searching your face. "What… what happened?"
You smiled, a little tear pricking your eye. "You got hit with an age quirk, Keigo. You were… a kid again."
He blinked again, slowly. "A kid, huh?" He looked around the room, taking in the scattered toys, the lingering scent of crayons. His gaze landed on Endeavor, who was now just sitting awkwardly with a half-finished drawing.
"Do you… do you remember anything?" you asked, hesitantly.
His eyes fixed on yours, serious and intense. "Every detail," he said, his voice quiet. "I remember being scared. I remember the cold. And I remember you." He reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "I remember you coming in. I remember you holding me. Reading to me. Taking care of me like I'm your very own child. I remember how… safe I felt with you."
A faint blush dusted his cheeks, a rare sight. "I was… pretty clingy, wasn't I?"
You laughed, a genuine, heartfelt laugh. "Oh, you were the clingiest little baby bird I've ever met. You wouldn't let me out of your sight. Not even a single second." You said as you gently booped his nose.
He let out a soft chuckle, a warmth returning to his eyes that had been absent for hours. "Can't blame a guy. You were the only one who didn't try to make me play with building blocks." He squeezed your hand. "Seriously though, (Name)… thank you. For being there. For taking good care of me even though you were busy."
"Always, Keigo," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder.
The front door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of Alexei's footsteps entering the house. It had been a long day for him, filled with the demands of his duties and the endless parade of high-society obligations. You sensed his weariness even before you saw him.
You were lying on your bed, reading a book to pass the time, when you heard his footsteps approaching. The door to your bedroom swung open, and there he was—Alexei, your beloved. His blond curls were slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes looked heavy with fatigue. The sight tugged at your heart.
Without a word, he started to shed his formal attire. His jacket was the first to go, followed by his cravat and waistcoat. He left on just his shirt and trousers as he made his way to you, his movements slow and tired. You closed your book, setting it aside, and opened your arms to him.
Alexei didn't hesitate. He climbed onto the bed, lying down and resting his head on your chest. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing as he settled against you, his breath warm against your skin. He let out a deep, contented sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.
You gently wrapped your arms around him, feeling the solid weight of his body pressing against yours. His proximity, the warmth of him, was a comfort you had come to cherish.
He looked up at you, his tired blue eyes meeting yours. "Please." he murmured, his voice soft and pleading. He gently grabbed your hand and placed it on top of his head.
Your heart melted at his silent request. You began to run your fingers through his blond curls, feeling the soft strands slide between your fingers. Alexei closed his eyes again, a small, contented smile forming on his lips.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I needed this."
You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He nestled closer, his head rising and falling with each breath you took. The day's exhaustion seemed to melt away from him, replaced by a serene calm.
"I'm always here for you, Alexei," you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You can always find rest in my arms."
He sighed again, this time a sound of utter contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "You are my anchor, my solace."
Your heart swelled with love for him. Your fingers never stopping their soothing motion through his hair.
As he lay there, resting his head on your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. The world outside might be chaotic and demanding, but in this moment, in each other's arms, everything was perfect. Alexei's breathing grew steady and slow, and you knew he was drifting into a much-needed sleep.
You continued to card your fingers through his hair, a gentle smile on your lips. You watched over him, your love for him deeper than words could ever express. And as he slept, you knew that this was where he belonged—safe, loved, and cherished in your embrace.
➳ Author's Note: I just did this while I'm half asleep, just a short cute scenario that happened in my head and wanted to remember that memory by making it into a fic. Enjoy! ♥︎
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Imagine Alexei's face when you decide to wipe his kiss off. His handsome face would look so confused and hurt at the same time and he would say, "Why did you wipe my kiss off? Did I do something that had upset you, my dear?" As he holds your cheek into his warm hand. You giggled, "No, Alexei, I just want to see how you would react when I wipe it off." You grinned when you saw him smile as well. "Oh really?" You hear a hint of playfulness in his voice. Before you can escape, he already has one of his hands to hold you firmly by the waist and the other holding your face in place. He started attacking you with soft kisses all over your face as you laughed. He kissed your forehead, your temple, nose, cheeks, lips, jaw, everywhere on your face till your shoulders. After his kiss attack you buried your face on his shoulder, panting from how hard you laughed. You heard him chuckle deeply as he placed a gentle but firm kiss on top of your head, both his hands now placed on both sides of your waist. "Wasn't expecting that from you, Alexei." You said after a while, looking up at him. "I'm full of surprises, darling, so expect the unexpected."
