Moon likes to mess with you during your nightshift at the Pizzaplex, this is one of those instances.
Even Gods Kneel (DSMP Superhero AU, OCs)
Bee and Kay only wanted to set their boundaries, their rules, for the clinic that was open to heroes, villains, and vigilantes alike. They discuss their powers and its potential, the catch? No one knows Bee's power... or why she should be viewed as a threat.
The Christmas Episode (FNAF, Sun and Moon x reader)
With Christmas, it's nice to receive presents from the ones you love. But what about giving presents? There's something about seeing the ones you care about react to a gift you specifically chose for them.
To Have a Dream (FNAF, Sun-centric)
Just a harmless question you and your favorite animatronic discuss while making an origami star. What could possibly go wrong?
The Feather Told Me To (Hawks x OC)
She shouldn’t have been here, already putting herself in enough danger as is. It was already foolish to play hero without a license and now following after Hawks like some kind of lost lover was moronic.
You were going to choke the life out of him. Poke poke.
You were going to pluck every stupid feather from his lifeless corpse if he pokes you one more—! Poke poke poke poke.
You swat the little red feather again and give him another glare. While he can't fully see your face, he's well aware that there's a hideous glare hiding beneath it.
"What?" Hawks asks.
You gesture to the feather currently circling around your head, then to yourself, quickly followed by a punching motion directed at the hero.
He shrugs, "Sorry I don't know what you're talking about. Could you say it again?"
Poke.
Your eye twitches as his grin only widens. You knew he was only doing it to piss you off. So far your little patrol together had been rather uneventful. You had stopped a petty robbery before Hawks had found you for the night. Now, the two of you were on a building overlooking a portion of the city.
And that stupid feather just wouldn't stop—!
It makes another jab towards your cheek but you're quick to catch the little bugger, keeping it firmly locked up between your balled up hands. Now it's your turn to grin at Hawks as the rest of his feathers fluff up in surprise.
"Now that's not very nice."
You shrug in response as the feather continues to tickle the inside of your hands. But Hawks could easily make the feather break out from your grip—you're well aware of the strength the little feathers possess—though he chooses not too.
When the thing stops buzzing around, you're cautious, eyeing Hawks who doesn't seem to be paying attention. So you're movements remain slow, calculated, as you open your hands to look at the feather.
It remains motionless, as if it was never alive to begin with, and you can't help but marvel at it. You kept it pinched between your fingertips as you brought it close to your face. The very center was a deep, rich red as the barbs remain a few shades lighter. You can see the slight transition of color the further the barb is from the center. You trace a finger down the center, finding the soft barbs fluff up in surprise.
If you had been looking at Hawks, you'd find a few shades of pink dusted across his face and the wings on his back puff up from your touch. He tries to remain composed and hide the slightest of tremors from wracking down his back but it's you. Most people weren't as gentle with his wings, or feathers—the constant grabbing and pulling had made him almost numb to the touch. But your careful and delicate fingers were surprising to him. Hawks pulls the collar of his jacket to hide his face in case you look.
When you're done examining it, you keep your palms open to allow the feather to leave and join the wings its familiar with. But it doesn't leave. Instead it flies around you gently, nudging at your cheek, before keeping itself in the collar of your neck.
You look at Hawks in confusion as you try to pluck it away but it simply returns to your neck.
He shrugs, "Seems like you've made a new friend."
Your eyes widen as you try to return the feather, the little thing acting on its as it refuses to return to Hawks—finding your neck rather comforting.
"Don't worry about it… you can keep it." The feather zips around excitedly as you give him a weary look.
Hawks rolls his eyes, "If I really need it, it'll come back to me ok?"
You nod but you can't help but worry. Hawks gave the vigilante a feather not the shopkeeper. You'd have to hide it or leave it somewhere as to not set off any alarms towards the hero because… well… you weren't exactly sure how'd you explain yourself.
"youve already written that trope" yesss. i like it a lots. i will be writing it again. 1000 stories of the same trope over and over again for ten million years
I have rewritten the first chapter of The Air Beneath My Wings at least 5 times now. Why is the first chapter so hard and why aren’t the words wording like they have in the shorts I’ve posted on here?
I have rewritten the first chapter of The Air Beneath My Wings at least 5 times now. Why is the first chapter so hard and why aren’t the words wording like they have in the shorts I’ve posted on here?
With a quirk like yours, you really ought to be a hero. But it never really crossed your mind. The family shop had always been part of your life so to suddenly steer away from that and have a completely different career just… never occurred.
Your childhood was always revolving around the little supermarket. Memories of you running up and down the tiny aisles as your father restocked the shelves while your mother worked the checkout counter. They held a special place in your heart unlike the admiration heroes have—like most kids.
You were bullied in school for it, when asked who your favorite hero was, to which you proudly said your parents. It earned a roar of laughter from your classmates while the teacher had hushed them and said it was a perfectly reasonable answer.
Maybe that's when you started to spite heroes, unbeknownst to you.
As you grew up, your focus still remained on the family business. While those around you spoke about working as a hero, you were already operating a store. And it seemed a little ridiculous that the heroes were ranked—both their ability to be a hero and their public reputation.
So you never applied for the hero courses or tried out for the top-rated schools in the country. You were merely content with your life, your adaptive quirk, and the work you were just now doing in the shadows.
Except now you felt torn between two separate lives. The one you were currently living and the other you secretly wished for, beneath the mask.
A gloved hand waved over your face and you blinked, eyes refocused on the hero standing before you.
"You still with me, Angel?" His gaze is searching your face with a hint of worry.
You nod and give him a smile to ease his worry. "Of course."
Sometimes being a hero was a lot of work. Luckily, Hawks knows where you live.
Masterlist
If there was one think Hawks enjoyed more than feeling the wind lift him into the open skies would be the comfort of your disheveled bed.
It was rare to find your bed made and your pillows actually resting alongside the headboard. Instead he usually found blankets and pillows rumpled together in what he might call a nest. And it was completely and entirely yours.
He still did his usual route, patrolling the city and stopping a few minor threats here and there. Some he left for his sidekicks to take care of while he searched for the vigilante. Hawks would never admit it aloud but he'd grown fond of the quiet not-hero, finding her captivating when a single word hadn't been spoken.
But she was nowhere to be found.
Hawks had flown around her usual spots three times and found no trace of the vigilante. He even sent a few feathers to check spots he wasn't able to squeeze through because of his wings. Yet nothing. When he finally deemed that she was in for the night, he went off to your home.
You wouldn't call it a routine.
Given your vigilante work and Hawks' lack of consistency, it was hardly a routine. Sometimes you'd run into him under the mask, clearly pleased he found you or you found him. Other times he'd come knocking at your balcony window and invite himself inside.
You were currently sitting in your bed, tucked underneath your sheets with a metal bowl of freshly popped popcorn sitting in your lap. A cheesy horror movie was currently playing on the TV—a recommendation from the internet, raving on how this was "the most terrifying horror film" to date. It wasn't. You found it more corny than scary which, in of itself, still made the film enjoyable. And since it was, what you deemed your day off, you decided to watch it.
Until you heard tapping coming from your balcony and couldn't help but groan. You were cozy in bed and absolutely content with your solitude. You really didn't want to get out of bed just to unlock the door for Hawks. But the tapping wouldn't stop and enjoying your movie in peace wouldn't be an option until you unlocked the door.
You pause the movie and place the popcorn bowl on your nightstand, throwing the bedsheets off yourself just to get out of bed. You pull the blinds back to find Hawks cheekily smiling at your frown. Yet he found it adorable watching you grumble underneath your breathe as you unlock the door and throw it open.
"Catch you at a bad time?" He asks as you flop back onto your bed, slipping his boots off next to the door. His wings remained firmly tucked in as he closes the door and shuts the blinds.
You bury yourself underneath the covers and place the bowl of popcorn on your lap. You don't answer him as you take a handful of popcorn and shove it all into your mouth, your frown only deepens.
He winces, "In my defense, I did text you."
"Does it look like I checked?" You ask through a mouthful of popcorn. Hawks can't help but chuckle.
The hero naturally assumed you had yet your lack of response should've been a warning that no, you hadn't read his text. If you had read his text, you also wouldn't be dressed like a teenage boy.
You were currently wearing a baggy shirt that might as well be called a dress, a shirt you stole from your dad years ago. Whatever dad joke was written on the front in blocky letters was too faded for Hawks to read but he's certain it must've been awful. But he couldn't be sure given his lack of relationship with his own criminal father. Pairing the shirt with a pair of shorts that weren't even noticeable and yeah… you looked like a teenager.
Hawks' feathers begin falling at his feet, making it easier to shrug off his jacket. "Scoot over."
You burrow yourself deeper in the sheets as if to challenge him. This was your bed, you'd be damned to move over for him.
"Scoot. Over." His tone is less friendly and more threatening though you know it holds no bite. His jacket falls atop his boots as he quirks an eyebrow up, awaiting some kind of reaction from you.
"Why should I?"
He leans on the bed and nods to your bowl of popcorn, "because I'll take that from you if you don't."
You cling to the bow harder and narrow your eyes. While you really wanted to call his bluff, a few feathers were already rising from the floor and floating behind him. You huff in annoyance but scoot over, allowing Hawks to lay next to you.
The bowl remains in your iron like grip as you start munching on your snack once more. "I'm not going to be sharing this and you're stuck watching a shitty horror movie with me."
Hawks doesn't protest as he makes himself comfortable in your bed, tucking one arm behind the pillow he's borrowing. He lets out a sigh of contempt as you resume the movie—enjoying the relaxation of it all. You keep your eyes focused on the movie as the hero next to you simply relaxes. His feathers were now scattered around the floor of your room but you can't help but glance at him every now and again.
You can't help but find it strange that, a hero like himself, would want to spend time hiding away in your bedroom. He could do whatever he wanted with his spare time—go out drinking with other heroes, sleep around with whomever he deserved, or even spend some peace and quiet alone exactly what you had deemed for the night. Instead, he's here and he's sleeping in your bed.
His eyes remained closed and his chest gently rose and fell in a soft tempo. They were all indicators that he was asleep and you couldn't help but find it endearing.
"You're starring you know," he finally says. Hawks cracks an eye open as a small smile forms. Your face turns instantly red as you begin to word vomit apologies to him, clearly embarrassed.
But he can only laugh as he closes his eyes again and settles back down. The bastard knew how to tease and he was damn good at it. But now you knew he was awake and your thoughts couldn't help but get a bit louder.
You look over towards the floor by balcony door, finding his jacket tossed aside and his boots almost perfectly standing next to it. His feathers somehow take up the entire room and while most were, in fact, on the floor some of them now found themselves resting on your bedsheets. His visors and headphones were settled on the nightstand on his side of the bed, like they belonged there and had always been. It was like the space that you had made your own was now being filled with Hawks.
Your cheeks grow hot again as you discard the bowl on your nightstand once more. The movie continues to play though you lay no mind to it.
"Can I ask you something?"
He cracks an eye open, "If it's about the coffee I still owe you, I said I'd pay you back."
You chuckle, "I'm not worried about a can of coffee." You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, "It's uh… actually about you."
Both of his eyes are now open as he tilts his head in your direction, curious as to what you might ask him.
You're aware that not much is known about Hawks' personal life. Nothing about his name, his childhood, or where he even came from. And you were more than aware to steer clear of those kinds of questions because of what you had with him now.
You had a genuine friend and… you were afraid to jeopardize that.
"It's not about your personal life!" Your quick to add.
"I never accused," he responds. You roll your eyes.
"So why are you here?"
"Because I told you I'd be?"
"No I mean why are you here as in why are you here in my house instead of, like, at a bar or something?"
Hawks turns to lay on his side, scrunching the pillow to lift his head a bit as he quirks an eyebrow up at you. Clearly your question was a bit confusing so you try to elaborate further.
"You're a hero."
"Correct."
"Japan's number 2."
"Right."
"So why is one of the most popular hero's, the most eligible bachelor, currently sleeping in my bed as an awful horror movie plays instead of wooing a hot model at a bar or something?"
He almost looks offended by your question. You're not sure if it's because your question was actually offensive to him or because the answer seemed so obvious.
"Would you… prefer if I was at a bar wooing a "hot model" like you suggest?" Hawks asks, raising a hand to air quote what you said. His tone was a bit snippy and you worry that you actually offended him with your question. You need to backtrack and fast.
"Of course I don't, I enjoy your company from time to time," You grin, hoping you can quickly recover.
He returns the grin, "From time to time?"
"Given the state of my room, yes."
"They're just feathers!"
"Yes well your feathers are making a mess in my very clean room." He laughs and you can't help but join in.
You're fully turned towards him now, the bedsheets kicked off as you sit crisscrossed. Your hands rest in your lap as you continue to have the hero's undivided attention. He seems to be relaxed again so you try to explain yourself once more. You continue to fiddle with your hands to ease your worries over such an accusation.
"I'm just trying to understand why you'd want to be here. You can pretty much go anywhere you want and do whatever want and hangout with some of the most popular people in Japan." He nods along in agreement because, yes, he could do all those things. "But you decide to come here… why?"
He flops onto his stomach, hiding a part of his face. You see the little nubs of his wings lightly twitch as Hawks settles. It was odd to see his wings, his trademark, reduced to little stubs on his back. But you could actually see his back, finding what little red feathers remain slowly transform into his actual back. How many people saw Hawks reduced to this?
He closes the one eye you can see. "God if I knew you'd be drilling me with questions, I would've stayed outside."
It's a light jab and you poke at his side, Hawks doesn't flinch or squirm from the touch from the years of training to be a hero. But he does smile at the frown on your face as you completely flop back, lying down.
It could be infuriating, at times, talking to Hawks. The man was beyond secretive and kept his cards rather close to his chest. Whenever he revealed something personal, big or small, you always made a note of it. Your phone was a tiny gold mine of treasure of ridiculous notes about the hero—like his favorite color (red) or favorite place to fly (anywhere as long as he wasn't working).
So you gave up. You weren't going to ask again and you weren't going to push him. Maybe you'd learn one day th—
"I like your company." His voice quiet and low, gaze fixed on you.
Your heart thunders in your chest as warmth spreads through your face. You shoot up from bed to look at him, really look. But whatever lie or trick you're trying to find is not visible. Because it was genuine.
A tiny smile pulls at your lips, "I like your company too."
Notes: I wanted something cute and intimate between the reader and Hawks for this story and something about the two of them simply relaxing in bed and just talking really hit the spot. Hope you enjoyed!
Also if you’d like to be tagged, please let me know so I can add you to the list. :)
You mess around with your quirk after hours and Hawks can't help but wonder what your quirk is.
Tags: Tooth rotting fluff, Hawks x vigilante!reader
Masterlist
You enjoyed the solace of having the rooftop to yourself. You closed up shop over an hour ago and wandered up to the roof of your small building. Your family home sitting just atop the store, allowing you complete access to the roof whenever you liked. It was a small building, being a convenient store on the first floor and an apartment on the second. But it was home and that was more than enough.
Your body was grateful for the break, having been thrown against a brick wall repeatedly and bruising your entire backside. The villain you had been fighting was anything but kind as you stopped them from breaking and entering a car. Though your body had paid the price, it felt good knowing the perp was now behind bars. But your quirk was begging for mercy—a break.
Yet you were having fun simply messing around with your quirk. Creating gentle breezes, lifting leafs that were scattered about float, and now trying to make a step for you to walk on.
It was a bit bold of you to think that creating steps made of air was doable, you had never done something like that before. Yet you couldn’t resist the challenge. But by attempt number 54, you were becoming frustrated though. And maybe a tad envious of the empty sky.
“You can do this,” you mumble to yourself. “You can do this.”
You imagine a clear platform forming in front of you, a few inches above the ground, that will take your entire weight. It will remain stable and clear and very very real. So with a deep breath, you take a step forward with your eyes screwed shut and…
Holy shit.
You crack an eye open and find yourself standing on air. It looked like you were levitating a few inches from the ground as you stare through a box that is not there. Yet the laugh that suddenly bursts from within your chest as you realize you’ve walked on air is quite comical. So you dare to take another step.
Except you had a little too much faith in your ability because your foot passes through nothing. Your laughter turns into a surprised shriek as you brace for impact. But a pair of arms catch you instead.
Hawks keeps a firm grip on your upper arms and blinks down at you in surprise, and perhaps a bit of amusement. You stare right back, noticing just how close you are to one another. Heat begins to crawl up your neck and dust your cheeks red as you quickly compose yourself and let him go.
Odd, you were usually good at sensing his presence now. Had the invisible step really took that much focus from you?
“What’re you doing?” He asks, pushing his visors into his hair.
“Walking?” It sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself than the bird standing before you. His smile seems to grow in amusement.
He nods, “is it hard?” Your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion to which he clarifies. “Walking. Is it hard?”
“Oh! Well uh…” you glance down at yourself and realize how much dirt is clinging to your clothes from the countless face plants prior. “A little.”
His wings seem to flex and relax ever so slightly, a few feathers fluffing up—as if they were now greeting you too. Yet the heroes gaze travels down your body as he starts to circle you. To an onlooker, they’d assume that he was admiring but you knew better. Hawks held that hero gaze that was searching for any injuries or signs of discomfort.
“How long have you been up here?”
“Enough to enjoy the impact of the ground.” Hawks nods at your response, folding his arms across his chest.
He tilts his head, “I thought your quirk only allowed you to move objects?”
“If I was telekinetic, sure.” A grin forms on your face as you step into Hawks space, “but I’m not a telekinetic… am I?”
It was an ongoing discussion between you and Hawks, who had convinced himself that you really were telekinetic. It was the only reasonable explanation he could muster that explained how you were able to push and pull objects around the store. Yet you made it abundantly clear that your quirk wasn’t telekinesis—otherwise you’d be a hero like him. He was certain of it.
“Will you ever tell me what your quirk is?” You raise an eyebrow because you have explained your quirk, to the best of your ability. Hawks continues, “I mean tell me the name of it.”
You shrug, “It… doesn’t have a name. Besides,” you step around him to try conjuring your invisible box. “It’s not as cool as your “Fierce Wings.””
“Are you capable of flying?”
“Not… that I’m aware of?”
Hawks is quick to step in front of you, with wide eyes and a cheeky smile on his face. You can see the gears turning in his head at the news and some kind of plan forming in that brain of his.
“You’re not sure if you can fly?”
“Hawks I haven’t exactly had the luxury to see what my quirk can and cannot do.” You say it rather snippy—even if you don’t mean it. But the hero doesn’t seem wavered or hurt by your attitude. He only seems to be intrigued.
“Plus it’s not exactly legal to use my quirk without a heroes license or like a pardon from the Commission or something.”
He nods at your words and takes a step towards you. You take a step back.
“And I don’t exactly have wings coming out from my back that I can even use to fly.”
Another step forward from him and another step back from you.
“Would you stop doing that?" You say as a bubble of laughter escapes you. Hawks cheeks hold a faint tint of pink as his own laughter joins yours.
"Sorry! Sorry! I'm just… trying to figure out your quirk." He's still eyeing you with that watchful gaze of his. As if his stare may reveal what your quirk could be even though it's all around him. If anything, You could make him fly faster.
You blink at the realization. Could you… could you actually throw him off the roof if his wings weren't tucked in right now?
"Hawks?"
"Hmm?"
"Could you— can I just try something? It's related to my quirk."
His eyes narrow at you as he puts out his lips. "Well that depends…" Hawks' gloved hand rubs his chin in thought, "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Isn't that… a crime?"
"Harming a hero? Yup." He pops the "p" at the end and you frown.
"If you help me I'll tell you what my quirk is? Officially." You bat your eyelashes at him and give him a very wide smile.
You're hoping that you can charm him into just… opening up his wings. It wasn't exactly an unusual request Hawks has heard before. Most of his fans would gaze and admire his wings, asking to touch them or have him open them just a little wider for photos or videos. It was part of his signature look, after all.
He thinks it over and you're beginning to doubt birdbrain will actually give in. His golden eyes look up to the sky as he taps a finger to his chin, weighing the stakes. But then he rolls his shoulders and his wings expand. Not enough for a breeze to be caught in them, but enough to get your attention. Something the hero was banking on.
"Deal, on two conditions though."
"Name the price."
You cross your arms, of course he was going to negotiate this.
He holds up a finger, "first is you telling me your quirk." You nod along and he holds up a second finger, "second is we go for a flight."
You can feel the color begin to drain from your face at the actual idea of flying. While it was something you envied, being friends with Hawks, you weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity to go up in the sky. Your quirk wasn't dependable enough for you to sprint off the building and hope to god a platform would form beneath your feet.
"It doesn't have to be tonight!" Hawks quickly adds, noticing the color drain. "But if my guess is right… you'll be in the sky sooner than later."
Was blowing Hawks off the roof of your family's home and shop really worth revealing your quirk and flying with him in the city?
You hold out your hand as a grin forms on your face, "deal." Hawks grin mirrors your own and he shakes your hand in return.
"Okay now I need you to take a few steps back," you order. "Oh and maybe put your visors down."
Hawks doesn't question your instructions and does exactly what you say. He flicks the visor down over his eyes and takes several steps back. While his feet weren't planted on the ledge of the building, you're certain that if you can create a strong enough breeze it would blow him off the roof.
His vibrant wings spread out wide and you notice the current gust of wind gently blowing against his feathers. Hawks wouldn't budge against the breeze now but in a minute, he was going to regret his very relaxing demeanor.
"Is this good?" He asks you. You nod and take a deep breath.
Usually waving your hands around helped guide the air in the direction you wanted while also controlling the power behind it. But that was in the confined quarters of your bedroom or the shop where very little movement within the air was happening. Now you were outside where a slight breeze already existed and creating a gust of wind to blow big bird off seemed a bit of a stretch.
You take a another breath in and a deep breath out. And an idea forms.
You don't give Hawks a warning as you take a deep breath in, moving your hands up into your chest. With an exhale, pushing your arms out, the air is channeled almost perfectly into Hawks. The gust catches his wings and… yup there he goes.
Hawks yelps in surprise as he's blown off the roof and sent tumbling to the ground. A laugh stutters from your chest as you quickly rush to the ledge, hoping you hadn't accidentally just killed Japan's number 2.
You lean over the ledge and search for those beautiful feathers of his but find nothing. There's no body, no feathers, or even a trace of his presence. As if the hero himself had never stopped on your rooftop to begin with. Certainly you hadn't… right?
"H-hawks?" You call out, a trace of worry in your tone.
"Boo," A deep voice says behind you. A scream rattles through you as you slip on the ledge, feeling your foot slip through air.
A hand lurches out to grab you and pull you back up. You don't exactly get your footing as you crash right into Hawks' chest, your hands pressed against his pecs. He has his arms wrapped around your waist—keeping you close. Keeping you safe.
When your nerves settle, you shove him off. "You asshole! I could've died!" There isn't an ounce of anger in your voice as you shout at him, giving Hawks your unspoken blessing to start laughing.
"You threw me off the roof!" He counters.
"Because you agreed to it!"
The two of you are in a fit of giggles at the absurdity of it all. Unable to catch your breath, you wipe the tears from your eyes. Your lungs burn from how hard you're laughing but welcome the pain.
Hawks is the first one to catch his breath. "So, air?"
You nod and blow a breeze in his face with a smile, "Yeah. Bummed it's not telekinesis?"
"Not bummed at all." There's a glint in his eye, something exciting… something foreign. "Not bummed at all."
