hi hello i am back and i am relieved to know that i can still dump my brainrots about those two idiots because DAMN have i fallen in love with them xD
and yes YEEESSSS the little angst knowing that he REALLY shouldn't be involving himself more into this relationship with the reader but DAAAAMMMNN and THE WORRIES or the fact that she once again is only staying for a short while....
AAAAMNNNYYYYYWAAAAYYY
so let's talk about the morning shall we
couse MA'AM that bird as much as he would LOOOVE to sleep in he has been trained to be an early bird after all ESPECIALLY if it's supposed to be a work day
so wakey wakey our bird opens up his eyes expecting to see his apartment but is greeted with warm light and a cabin? not only that he feels like a whole ass person heavier... maybe because there is a whole ass person lying on top of him
so bird brain is slowly putting two and two together and remembering the events of last night the quite
✨pleasant ✨ events
so he stares at the readers sleeping face... (let's be honest no one looks "good" while sleeping) you can probably still see how their lipstick got a little bit ("little") smeared after their fun times last night, some marks and Hickeys the usual that would happen after our bird brain went on his little exploration trip
meanwhile she is cuddled up on his chest with her check pressed against him giving her a little pouting face while sleeping
and his heart just.... ADORABLE the reader looks wornn out from last night and jet she's so peacefully sleeping and there it was this smal moment were he's just... happy and then he noticed that and the PANIC
his head is just "No, shit,, what SHIT I F- UP"
soooo let the angst and the doubt begin:
1- what if he misjudged the WHOLE situation and this was just a one time thing
2-what if she was also just in jumping in on it in the heat of passion... oh no... wasn't he the one to initiate most of the things from last night.... oh no the doubt
3-SHES ONLY STAYING FOR THREE MORE DAAAYYYSSS SHIIIIIITTTT
4-the hero commission... oh no the hero commission while his privat life is one thing they are sure to not just let this slide... maybe if it really was just a one time thing... but he doesn't want it to be a one time thing
5-he is a pro hero... there is no going around that... especially since she IS NOT.. does she have a quirk... WHY DOESN'T HE KNOW WHETHER OR NOT SHE HAS A QUIRK?! ( tho we can discuss this another time since this isn't really relevant at the moment... i think BIRD BRAIN IS HAVING A PANIC ATTACK RIGHT GOTTA FOCUS ON THAT)
so this Bird brain is going down a spiral getting worried about more and more little things and with that a little fidgety and disturbing the readers sleep aa bit (no waking tho... kr what do you think... i ma go with no waking and you see if you like it or nah xD)
so shes looking a little more pouty because her warm bed just MOVES so maybe and angry pout and a whine will fix that... it sure did so back to sleep land it goes
meanwhile Hawks just forgot all his worries again after seeing your angry pout...so he decided that he just wants to stay a little longer... just a bit more he can stay with you those three days....right?
... NAAAHHH WRONG THE PHONE IS RINGING LIKE HELL so he just curses the universe because he just wanted to snuggle back into you maybe when you wake up more fun times before the both of you take a shower but NOOOOO the someone needs his attention RIGHT NOW
so he's trying to get to the phone without moving you to much... the phone is lying probably somewhere in feathers reach so he just gets it without having to get up and remove you from snuggling into him
so who is it that wants to her a good morning from our lovely pro hero hawks... THE HERO COMMISSION...well its more his agencie that has been trying to reach him all morning since:
1-Our birdie has magically disappeared after the galaast night
2-the hero commission wants to see him discussing the events of last night and other things... Oh no...
so they want to see him RIGHT NOW... oh no...
hangs up and he has to admit defeat
now he has to leave you and the warm cabin and your arms behind and move his ass to the hero commission HOPING that its not about some sudden paparazzi news about a handsome bird full on making out on the balcony with one of the artist of that gala
so he gets up leaves but before he takes flight he makes sure to LEAVE HIS DAMN NUMBER BEHIND one last kiss and off he goes
so the reader wakes up and there is only a number and a red feather left
aaaaannnnndddd this is getting to long again my apologies xD
stay classy my talented author and don't stress yourself to much
yours truly,
-Laurent anon
okayokayokay i tried my best, i hope it's good enough
also, this is only slightly edited so I apologize in advance for errors.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Five
AO3 | Masterlist
Morning came too quickly.
When the hero opened his eyes and found himself staring not at his typical off-white ceiling but dark planks of wood, last night came back in a rush. The fundraiser, Endeavor’s flames, the soft string music as Jeanist led him to the painting. To your painting. The painting he’d gotten. To you. Your lips as the cold air whipped around the two of you on the balcony, your hands as they wrapped around your champagne flute that he couldn’t stop staring at, your body that fit so well with his, and your moans? Those he wouldn’t be able to forget even if he had wanted to. The memory of them drove blood right between his legs. It was surreal. Last night had been nothing but surreal.
Birds chirped outside as Hawks shifted and peered down at the mass providing the weight on his chest. He wasn’t sure how you ended up on top, but you were curled up in a ball, face pressed to his chest, a throw blanket half thrown over you. Something bubbled beneath the pressure, and Hawks couldn’t stop the smile the spread on his lips. Your mascara was smudged underneath your eyes and stained your cheeks with dark tears. Hawks closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the tears that slipped down your face as you cried out and clenched around him.
Fucking surreal.
He ran his hand down the length of your back and noted the hickies he had accidentally left as he devoured you. Most covered your chest—which he had to crane his neck to see—and neck, but he was sure he had left some on your thighs. One’s he really wanted to revisit. But he couldn’t stop staring at how your face smooshed against his chest. Your lips were curved into a pout that he wanted to kiss until you woke up and greeted him with your familiar smile.
Fuck. You fit so perfectly against him.
Hawks sighed happily as he closed his arms around you, hugging you as gently as he could to prevent waking you up. He didn’t want this moment to end. Listening to your rhythmic breathing, the faint scent of the expensive perfume you’d donned for the fundraiser, the way your hands tried to grab onto the shirt he wasn’t wearing. To hear the trees rustle in the wind and the sounds of the fauna maneuvering about outside as the sun peeked over the horizon.
He never wanted this to end.
Three days.
A sharp pain appeared in his chest like someone had shoved a freshly forged blade through his sternum. His hold on you tightened, and he slowly felt the air leave his lungs. This, whatever this was, was going to end in three days. Three incredibly short days, and then he’d lose you again.
The room started to spin as he stared down at you and his eyes widened.
Unless this wasn’t what he thought.
Three days was being optimistic. Three days was assuming that you wanted more than just this. More than a one-night stand with a hero, more than a short-lived fantasy that Hawks knew was just that: a fantasy. He had no idea what you wanted. As soon as you opened your eyes, you could kick him out, tell him you never wanted to see him again, thank him for a fun night, and then you’d go your separate ways.
No, that wasn’t what Hawks wanted, not in the slightest. He wanted to keep his hold on you and stay on your couch for as long as he could, to wake up and see your face smooshed against his chest.
But what if?
After all, he had been the one to initiate last night. He brought you out onto the balcony, he listened in on your conversation with the older woman, he whisked you off to the empty office, and he was the one who flew to your place. It didn’t matter that you’d been the one to invite him there; that thought was pushed to the back of his mind as he laid there, the weight of you feeling heavier and heavier on his chest as each second passed.
He whispered your name like it was a secret never meant to be said, his voice falling on deaf ears.
Fucking fuck.
Hawks clenched his jaw and stared up at the ceiling, trying to stop his entire body from trembling. Had he fucked up by following through? If you wanted this to be a one-night stand, then the dance could’ve continued if he had kept his distance. It would’ve been like dancing in shoes filled with glass as the song dragged on until his feet were bleeding and he couldn’t stand any longer. But then at least he wouldn’t lose you, not right away. He’d keep swaying and spinning and counting the beat as long as he could extend what little time he had with you.
He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and glanced around the room. The sun was creeping in through the two magnificent front windows, and his eyes fell on an unfinished painting you must’ve been working on. It was partway covered with a sheet, but the vibrant red of his wings poked out from behind it. From what he could see, he was dressed in his hero uniform as the sun cascaded down over him like the heavens had given him his own personal spotlight. He held a detail-less person as dark smoke floated up from below, red feathers shooting down to—presumably—get others.
The pain in his chest extended down to his stomach, and it felt like Endeavor had slammed a massive fist into him.
He was a hero.
He thought of the Flame Hero as he stared at the painting. All Might and Best Jeanist, too. Being a Pro-Hero meant sacrifices had to be made. Sacrifices that often led to coming home to an empty bed. So it didn’t matter if this ended up being a one-night stand because that’s all it would end up being. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to stay with you curled up on his chest. This—all of this—was all meant to end here. The song had ended, the rest of the dancers had parted, and Hawks was left alone on the dance floor watching you search for a new dance partner.
At the end of the day, he was going to get up, walk out that door, and not look back. He had to be a hero, after all. And he had to do work for the Commission. And even if, all what-ifs aside, he could somehow make this last beyond the morning, there was the Commission. And they would never let their clutches around Hawks go. He was their puppet, their personal little bird that they kept in a cage to pluck out whenever they need something done. Dirty or clean, they called upon him because he was the only one who could do it. He was the only one they had their claws sunk into.
Tears pricked his eyes as he let out a shaky breath.
This wasn’t Hawks. Hawks was all smiles and laughter. He was smug, he was fun, and he was sure as all hell of himself. This? Clutching onto the woman he knew he had to let go as soon as he stopped procrastinating the inevitable? That was Keigo. That was the young boy holding onto his Endeavor plushie just as he was with you now. But he wasn’t Keigo anymore. He hadn’t been Keigo in a lifetime. It didn’t matter how good it felt hearing you say his name.
God. But when he looked down at you, seeing that pouty face, feeling your breath fan out against his chest, he couldn’t will himself to move. You kept him pinned in place, your legs shifting and tangling with his as he placed a tentative kiss on the top of your head.
“The aura of goodness he radiates, mixed with the aloof charisma he keeps on the surface, it just captivates.”
Goodness. Hawks tried to slow his racing heart. He wasn’t good. Not the way you wanted to think he was. Even if you’d called it—how closed off he kept himself—he wasn’t as good as you thought he was. Not even close. But he’d be damned if he didn’t find himself clinging to those three days you’d be here, in the cabin, just a short detour away from him. Yeah, he had to let you go; that was the only option, but those three damn days. He could have you for another three days and then call it, couldn’t he?
He could have three more days of waking up with you on his chest.
They would hurt, they would ache, but he’d get to have you for just a little bit longer.
And-
A loud ringing cut through his thoughts, and he shot more feathers than he needed towards his discarded pants. You stirred on top of him, and he kept an arm around you, holding you still in a tender embrace, as he answered the phone, not even bothering to look at the caller ID. A familiar voice chirped through the receiver.
“Hey, boss.” It was one of his sidekicks.
“Mornin’,” Hawks muttered just loud enough for the phone to pick it up.
“I got to the office a little early this morning.” Hawks could read between the lines, considering he was always the first at his agency, and sighed. He was out of time. “And I was just curious about what you wanted to do with the paintings from the fundraiser last night. Didja want to hang them up around the office or bring them home or?”
“Office,” he responded, thinking very specifically of the Endeavor painting he had purchased. He was going to put that one up on the bottom floor, so if Endeavor ever stopped by, it’d be the first thing he’d see.
And then he remembered your painting.
What would be worse? Having to see a physical reminder of you every day when he was at work or whenever he was at home? He knew the latter would be. How often was he even at his agency anyway? He spent most of his time out flying amongst the clouds and responding to hero alerts. Yet, still, as he peered down at you, he couldn’t stop himself.
“But make sure the portrait of me is set aside; I want to bring that one home.”
Hawks heard a bit of movement on the other end of the phone, and he held his breath as his sidekick spoke.
“The one by (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Hawks already knew where he wanted to hang it up. He had a bare spot right above his dresser where a mirror once hung. But Hawks couldn’t handle waking up every morning or in the middle of the night and unexpectedly seeing his reflection. It didn’t matter that he knew the mirror was there; it still made him jump out of his skin each time. Your painting would look perfect there, but he knew as much as he knew the ache in his stomach wasn’t from bad shrimp puffs that it wouldn’t last there. A week or two, maybe, before he put it in his closet along with the other one.
Maybe he shouldn’t have purchased the painting.
“Oh, and I caught a phone call from your office phone. The Safety Commission wants to see you ASAP about last night’s function. They didn’t anything else on the matter, just to pass along that message.” Hawks’ heart stopped. “So I can hold down the fort here if you want to stop by on your way in.”
“Yeah,” Hawks croaked out. “Thanks.”
He felt the mixture of alcohol and finger foods churning in his stomach as he hung up.
He was out of time, and he was out of luck.
He had to face the Safety Commission and whatever they wanted to discuss with him. There was a lot they could discuss with him about last night, right? They could just be inquiring how the event went—asking how the PR he did at the end with the rest of the heroes went. Or maybe try and see if they could have any of the paintings he had purchased. Right? It didn’t necessarily have to be about the artist he kept circulating, kept running off with. He’d been discreet; he had made sure he’d been discreet. He’s Hawks; he was known for his aloof charisma. Aloof charisma that oftentimes extended to being flirtatious. Him keeping close with a beautiful woman? That wouldn’t gather any eyes.
Still. The Commission knew. The Commission always knew.
His head was swimming as he loosened his hold on you and oh-so-gently slipped out from underneath you. Cold air whipped around him like a harsh reminder of how this was the end. Whatever it could’ve been, as soon as he walked out the front door, it was over. Wasn’t it?
He dressed slowly, ignoring how badly he wanted to climb back onto the couch with you. He didn’t have time to spare; he had to stop by his place to change to at least attempt the appearance that he had gone home last night. Still, as soon as he was dressed, he pulled the throw blanket up over your shoulders to make sure you were tucked in. He bent over and cupped your cheek, wishing that, deep down, you’d wake up because if he saw you peer up at him, he’d stay. But you didn’t wake up, and he gave you one final fleeting kiss on your forehead before he dropped his hand onto the frozen doorknob.
“See yah, (Y/N),” Hawks muttered as he shut the door behind him.
He took off as soon as the door closed, knowing that if he waited any longer, he’d risk going back inside.
Hawks wiped his eyes as he flew.
He didn’t have his goggles, that’s all.
Thirty minutes later, you woke up alone. Your heart sunk as you peered around your empty cabin, looking everywhere for the hero as you wished he was still beneath you. But all the lights were off, and his clothes were gone. As your stomach flipped, you sat up and wrapped the blanket around you, loneliness setting in until your eyes fell upon your dining room table.
A number was scribbled out on a slip of paper next to a single red feather.
