— based from this fanart because hawks looks so handsome
THE MOMENT YOU heard a knock on your door on a Friday night, you knew who it was. Sighing and leaning back against your couch, you tightly shut your eyes wishing that if you do that the person on the other side would go away. The knocks continue, sounding more urgent and rushed. The sounds travel to your ears and to your conscience. It fills every space in your body that you groan and push aside the bowl of popcorn you had prepared earlier for your Friday movie night.
“Fine!” You call out, knowing damn well the knocker could hear you. He did have a sharp sense of hearing. “Fine!”
When you open the door, there's a bloody man sitting with his legs folded and crossed over, red wings tattered behind him. He weakly pushes back his crimson-matted golden locks and looks up to grin at you, eyes turning to crescents.
“Don't ‘angel’ me, Hawks. If you keep getting into near-death situations, why don't you just,” you pull him up and drag him inside. “... let me bring you to death, instead?”
Hawks hangs his arm over you and allows himself to gently place his weight on you, “Oh, ho, ho, darling. I’d be honored to die by your hands but, hmm, not now. Soon, though, okay?”
“Just shut up and let me bring you to the table.”
The winged hero twirls a strand of your hair with his finger and you struggle to slap it away. Finally hauling over to your dining table, you place a hand on your hip and look at his beaten up form. “Okay, tell me, what happened?”
“Minor wounds on my arms, I think I broke a a heel, gun shots on my wings and a deep katana cut below my tiddies.”
“Pecs, Hawks. Pecs.” You stifle a giggle. “Also, guns and katana? Aren't we in a Quirk world?”
The blonde boy shrugs, “They probably brought those ‘cause I was too powerful for them. Still defeated them, though.”
“I wasn't asking for an answer. Strip.”
The rest was routine. Hawks slowly stripped his clothes off him, articles of blood soaked materials falling to your kitchen floor. He does all this, moaning over the pain, while you clean yourself up and prepare the kit dedicated to Hawks and his bloody nights. The first time the two of you met was him lying against a grimy wall and beside a heap of trashbags. You had just finished your last shift for the day when you nearly tripped over his leg. Of course, you took him in and found out that he only had minor wounds and had just passed out from exhaustion. You let him sleep on your bed that day. Since then, he would pop by your apartment, usually just to hang out, get himself fixed up or try to flirt with you.
His attempts were always shot down by you. You found him attractive and sweet, but what good would dating a guy whose days are probably numbered? You don't tell him this, though. You just pretend that you think he wasn't serious and him wanting to date you is just bullshit.
“Oh, you've got popcorn on the couch. Were you about to watch something?” Hawks says, peering behind you and at your couch and television. “What were you gonna watch?”
“Oh, like that really old one?”
“No, the Leonardo DiCaprio one. He's really cute.”
“I can't even argue with you on that.”
“You better not, Hawks. Wanna watch it with me?”
“Of course. What? You thought I was actually gonna let you die?”
“No, but dying in front of such a romantic movie beside you sounds nice, angel.”
He really baffles you. Twists your stomach into knots. Makes your cheeks heat up, warmth sometimes rushing to the tip of your ears. Quirk up your lips to an unstoppable and endearing smile.
Hawks makes you happy, you realize. He makes you happy and bubbly and bright. He really is sun-like, like his eyes and hair.
“C’mon, let's fix you up. I don't like movie dates with a bloody guy.”
“So this is a date?” His golden eyes widen jubilantly. “For real? Are we... are we dating now?”
“Woah, not so fast, Mister.” He gazes at your smile, giddy. “You've got to last a month without getting severely injured and instead of barging here to get fixed up, why don't you pick me up for dates then we'll see if we wanna keep this shit up?”
“Okay, I'm fast enough to dodge things. I can do this. I can go one month without getting hurt.”
You pick from his collection of nicknames, “Yeah, you better do that, dove.”
He repeats the nickname under his breath with a smile then looks at you, “Hey, angel?”
jbbartram-illu
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
janainaart
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
