shinso hitoshi thinking of nothing but you and only you to get through his mission. to survive and succeed so that he can come home to you and tell you that he's so deeply in love with you he'd run into the sun if you told him to.
when you want something from katsuki, you don't go for pet names, or given names. no, you go "boyfriend~" and this man malfunctions and does whatever you want because he's your boyfriend-
i made him a dork, im not sorry. something i've had for a bit of time where he and reader live in the same building. there's mostly swearing and a friendly pervy old woman who runs a bar, but she means well i swear. some suggestive innuendos? made by her towards hawks, prev relationship talk, fluffsies and suggestiveness in general.
“Excuse me.”
Behind you is a man with unruly hair and the most striking eyes you’ve ever seen - your heart lurches when you recognize him. The jerky wave he gives suggests he’s not used to speaking out like this, but you single that out almost as quickly as you had recognized him. It is Hawks, afterall.
“Could I have a minute with you?” he asks. The way his wings flap once out of habit and another time so a breeze hits your face when your eyes flicker up to them suggests he's not a stranger to the type of wonder that's stuck to him as a long time pro hero.
You have to catch yourself before you completely fall into this daze thinking about the hero beside you. If this is about some suspect you might’ve seen, you’re all ready to help, but some part of your brain knows there’s nothing you could possibly offer to the hero.
He's perking in the slightest and his wings tuck tight behind him as he ushers you underneath a restaurant’s canopy.
“So..” he clears his throat. “- you live in my building.”
The thought occurs to you and it’s amazing how easily you forgot and part of you actually considered he might have moved given the lack of fans outside the building. But you must look surprised because he laughs and digs his hand into the collar of his coat to rub his nape. The light airy tone makes your heart leap and you have to remind yourself that this is… well heck, you don’t know what this is and you don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but damn you’re getting caught up in this smile he’s giving you.
“I recognize you. Sometimes I grab my mail and you’re leaving the building.” he supplies the answer to a question you didn’t know you were looking for.
“Right.” is all you can manage. Mostly because you’re surprised he noticed you lived in his building among all the people in the mid-rise you live in.
You’re not sure whether it was your answer or something you did, but he’s fiddling with his gloves and smiling at the concrete like some daisies popped out of the cracks. His eyes lift to you and your breath catches. It’s the way he’s looking at you that makes your nerves buzz.
The gold of his eyes aren’t as lazed as they are in magazines or on newspaper headlines; they’re sincere. Here in front of you they’re alight with wonder and… anticipation, it seems.
“I didn’t want to drop a note in your mailbox because I’m a little afraid of someone trying to break into it. And I don’t want to seem too full of myself since I’m trying to make a good impression.”
You raise your brows in amusement and the smile that spreads across your face makes the apex of his cheeks twinge with color.
“Would you be interested in having drinks with me?” he asks.
Your mouth runs dry and you let out a puff of air. “At a bar or…?”
“You pick somewhere you’re comfortable. My hangouts gather too much attention and I would rather spend time getting to hear more than a few syllables out of you.”
You crack a smile, unable to help it from his flirting. “That sounds nice.” And before Hawks can say more, you’re continuing with a somber beat. “But I’m fresh out of a long-term relationship. I’d rather not rebound.”
The shaggy haired man smiles something warm, something sympathetic that doesn't make you feel needlessly guilty. “I get that.” Hawks makes a point to extend a hand and you take it, “I would like to get together. Two people having drinks because guess what? We get our mail from the same spot.”
You run your middle and ring fingers over the card he subtly slipped in your sleeve. “That’s reason enough to get drinks together.”
He flicks his shades so they fall over his eyes. “You could sneeze in my general direction.”
You give him a smile, “Then we’d have to get drinks.”
“Those are the rules.” That tint returns to the height of his cheeks when he laughs. His wings fluff up a little as he gives you the smallest of salutes. “Think about it.”
He throws you a smile over his shoulder before he’s flying off to who knows where.
— — — — —
This bar that you choose is cozy on a night like this in its neat fold in the city, bound to be overlooked by paparazzi. You wonder if he’ll have trouble finding it, but when a cat comes running down the alley you see he’s found it just fine..
“Have any trouble?” you ask.
He shakes his head with a smile like he didn’t spend two hours after patrol looking for this place. He nudges you with his elbow. “Don’t you look nice.”
You’re not wearing anything spectacular. A comfy baseball jersey and a pair of cropped jeans. He’s wearing something similar - a band tee underneath a denim jacket, but he’s sliding it off and down the length of his wings in a gesture that makes you stare a bit longer than you should. You guess the jacket is mostly for appeal.
“I am getting drinks with a pro hero.” you say breathlessly, it's something you said without thinking and it’s partially true. You can’t help the slight panic you feel when you see Hawks sheepishly rubbing his neck. “I didn’t mean-”
“No. You meant it,” he pockets his hands. You hate that he looks a little more closed off now and you have to keep from kicking yourself.
You groan, dragging your hands down your face as you both dip your heads underneath the smaller than average door. He knuckles your back playfully and you glance behind you to see him offering the smallest of smiles.
“I’m not salty about it.” he says. “I’m not a fan of fronts. A lot of people put them up because heroes are who we are and everyone wants to be liked.”
You stare at him openly. The fact he’s easily breathed that sentiment makes you feel somewhat at ease because he’s given you a small part of him to see and as insignificant as the information might seem- it’s a glimpse at the depth of his personality.
He visibly puffs. Wings puffing twice their size from where they’re consciously tucked against their back and he turns to you, hands thrown up, waving slightly. “N-Not that I’m assuming.”
He begins to ramble. A tint falls on the apex of his cheeks and it darkens, spreading the more he rambles on.
“I- I’m not saying that you want me to like you. O-Or.. or maybe you do. But! But not like that. You just got out of a relationship and we’re- you’re having drinks with me. I’m not seeing this as an opportunity t-to… to creep. This is- shit. I'm- I'm, uh...”
“Hawks.”
His mouth goes clop when he shuts it abruptly and by that time his entire face is a dark shade of pink. His hands close into fists from where they’re out in front of him and he swallows thickly, his adam's apple bobbing and his lips are pressed thin, shaking slightly.
You set a hand over one of his clenched fists and you’re trying not to laugh for his sake. He looks like he might explode into a pile of feathers.
“It’s okay.” you crack a grin and he visibly relaxes, slapping a hand over his eyes and exhales.
“I’m an idiot.” he mutters.
His hand slips down his face and covers his mouth, muffling his voice, and a mortified gaze searches your face.
“You think I’ve lost my mind, right?”
You laugh this time, shaking your head and bracing a hand on his arm to keep yourself from falling over. His face flushes more, whether it’s embarrassment or that he’s overwhelmed, he can’t tell.
The older woman at the bar knows what it is.
By the time your eyes are on him, he’s got this smile on his face that is soft and warm. It makes you feel like he’s saved you. From what? You don’t know. But hell, you’re safe now and damn it all, you love this feeling and this evening hasn’t even begun.
“I think you need a drink.”
He lets out a choppy exhale and the woman behind the bar is smirking at Hawks in a way that makes him want to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of his life. He’s so glad there’s no one else in this bar. The hero leans on the bar and has to keep himself from trying to push his face into the grain of the bar.
“Need a drink?”
Hawks breathes out like he just came up for air and nods. His eyes unconsciously fall to the woman’s shaking hands and for a moment he thinks he should order something easy, but to his surprise, the woman throws a bottle in the air and catches it with ease, sliding it on the counter.
The winged hero meets his elder’s eyes.
“I can’t pour from a bottle, but I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” The woman leans on the counter, leaning towards the hero and winks at him. “It doesn’t mean a thing if you doesn't have a few tricks. Right, sweetheart?”
You think you’ve broken him efficiently. His face pops into a vibrant red and he drops his nose into the collar of his denim jacket with wide eyes.
“Yep.” Is all he manages to choke out and you offer the woman a smile.
Maybe you should’ve warned him. In any case, you pull him to sit in one of the few booths in the bar and he knocks back the shot you order him. His arm rests along the back of the booth, fingers trailing the paneling behind him. Staring up at the ceiling in a daze mostly.
You want to nudge him, but you’re afraid that you might’ve pushed him a bit far.
“Tanji likes messing with her patrons.” Is all you offer him and he lets out this breathless laugh.
“She… she’s exciting.”
Both your eyes go to the counter where Tanji wiggles her eyes at the hero and you both laugh before looking at your drinks.
“Earlier… I didn’t mean to drop that on you.” He shrugs, his thumb plays with the fuzz on his jaw and you’re immediately jealous of it. “I meant to say I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not around me.”
You stop to wonder, glancing at him. He's staring at his drink, wings tucked over the booth with feathers spilling into the one behind him, and he’s got the audacity to smile so softly at his drink. You push down the thought about wishing you were the glass.
“No,” you run your fingers over the rim of your glass.
His wings twitch and he makes it a point to look at you and he observes your smiling face before your eyes meet his. The fondness in your eyes pins him and he hopes you’re not seeing through him suddenly. He repeats a mantra in his head to remind himself that there’s no reason for him to put one up. He’s not putting up a front.
“You meant it.”
That teasing tone of yours makes a smile spread from ear to ear on his face and he can’t help laughing, tossing his head back from how easily you have him in the palm of your hand.
He smiles, pulling his wings over the booth so he can sit sideways and face his body towards you.
“I meant it?” he asks.
You’re confident when you nod and he traces a thumb over his chin and you have to force yourself to return your gaze to your glass and not the thumb that’s running over his chin.
Before he opens his mouth, you’re pinning him beneath your gaze and all of his attention falls upon you. You simply looked in his direction and his entire being yielded like you demanded it. He fixes you a smile, mostly because he’s amazed at how easily you make his cognitive function go haywire just by looking in his general direction.
“Can I ask you something?”
Without missing a beat, “Anything.”
He feels stupid. You could ask him for the passwords to his socials and he’d probably tell you without batting an eyelash because he can’t think about anything else except your eyes on him.
“Really?” you smirk and he’s so enthralled by you that he’s got to press his heel into his foot. “I could ask you anything about yourself and you’d just answer?”
“Obviously not,” he laughs. He would type you a resume of all his past life experiences if you keep smirking at him, but it takes everything in him not to make that snide comment.
His eyes gleam with the sweetest lacing of sienna and honey in those irises and you realize that it’s not only the alcohol making you warm. He licks his lips and you’re forced to remember your question.
“What’s with the coat on your hero costume? I mean-”
He bursts into laughter, abandoning his drink to grab his stomach and you’re unable to take your eyes off of the way his brows knit together and his head tilts back to laugh. The sight of him carefree like this makes your cheeks warm a bit.
He leans back against leather, shaking his head, “I thought you were going to ask something more personal.”
Your brows quirk at that. “What do people usually ask?”
Hawks shrugs, “I get a lot of questions about how I spend nights since I’m ‘eligible’, but mostly on how ‘dates with Hawks’ end. But it’s rare that people ask about my hero costume.”
You nudge his knee with yours. “And?”
He meets your eye, raising a brow, “And…?”
“What’s it like?”
He smiles, leaning forward to rest his head on his arms, “Refreshing, I think. Although, I wasn’t expecting that question.”
You’re not sure what he means until he continues.
“I wear my jacket because I’ve been too lazy to go see someone about getting the plumage on my back covered up. It’s sensitive.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “If I catch a breeze, I’ll get cold and, unfortunately, hard.”
You fluster and your gaze darts away from him. “Oh.”
He laughs, nudging you. “It’s not easy to work with when I’m saving lives. It gives off a bad impression, y’know?”
“Sorry if that was too personal.” you mutter, sparing him a glance.
He gets this mischievous look on his face, scooting closer to you, “Can I ask a personal question then?”
You have to keep yourself from groaning. Your thoughts immediately shoot to the merch in your room and you have to bite your tongue to keep from panicking at the how much merch you have that points out your favorite heroes.
“Don't ask me about hero favorites?” you wince as you motion to the All Might poster.
Hawks shakes his head. “I was curious as to who was stupid enough to willingly fall out of a relationship with you.”
Your smile is weak. Arguments replay in your head and each one seems so petty, but the conclusion to your relationship makes them reverberate that much more in your mind.
You finish your drink, shrugging. “... Deku.”
Hawks blinks at you. Thinking for a moment, the guy is definitely built and has the goody-two shoes thing going, and it’s not the reason his nose crinkles.
You find yourself smiling when you see him do just that.
“He’s… nice, I guess.” Hawks notices the smile you have on your face and he waves off the look you’re giving him. “It’s not that I don't like him, but he makes all of us look like lapdogs sometimes, I mean… I don’t know. He just tries too hard for the wrong things.”
“You think so?” you ask mindlessly, finishing your drink.
“You’re sitting here talking to me, aren’t you?”
You sigh, tapping the rim of your glass with the faintest trace of a smile. It catches the attention of your company and you respond with a wave of your hand.
“It’s funny how someone I’ve known since I’ve graduated said the opposite. I was half expecting you to say the same thing.”
“He must’ve been some workaholic,” Hawks grins, getting up to take your glasses back to the bar. His phone rings and he stops short, staring at his phone screen for a split second. “It can wait.”
He leaves his phone at the table and it stops ringing, but it rings before he can get another word out when he returns. He groans low and looks at the screen again, looking at you.
“I promise I’m not a workaholic, but could you give me a few minutes?”
“Go for it. It’s getting late anyway.”
The hero shakes his head. “If you think you’re walking home alone, then you’d better think again. Give me a second, I’ll walk you back to the building.”
You’re smiling and it’s all from this hero who is willing to let an important call go to voicemail so he can get permission to walk you back to your building. A small part of you dubs this as his hero instincts or his assumption that you have a little too much alcohol in your system. “I can walk myself home.”
He shrugs, “I know you can, but I’m walking you home.”
Your laugh comes breathily because he cannot be serious. “Hawks-”
"Keigo." he corrects.
His phone rings a last time before it goes silent and you're staring at him with wide eyes. He leans on the booth and his shoulders fall as his eyes flick over your face. A warmth raises pink in his cheeks and he sighs,
"You showed me to this bar so the least I can do is show you to your apartment, alright?" he takes his drink and opens a palm for yours that you give over easily. You don't answer immediately and he stops, tilting his head to make sure your attention is still on him. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah," you try and fail to keep the disbelief out of your tone, but he grins all the same. He slips a few notes to Tanji despite your protest on halving the bill.
The twenty or so minutes spent walking along lamplit streets doesn't seem like enough when you're walking with Hawks. Today doesn't feel real nor does the day you met him on the street, everything feels like a blur of a dream even as you watch him talk beside you about a typical gruelling hero day. It still doesn't when you're both standing outside your building's glass lobby doors.
"Let's do this again," he says and there's a spark in your chest and a sense of dread in your stomach. He notices in how your gaze falters. "Unless you don't want to?"
"I do want to." he lets you have a moment to yourself and your eyes flit up to the mid-rise you've stopped in front of. "I'm surprised, I think. That we hit it off."
He hums and kicks at the pavement, "Is it my image or...?"
"No." you laugh and the mirth in your eyes relieves him some, "It's not every day you hear about Hawks have a drink with someone after work."
"It's not every day I find good drinking company."
"That can't be true." you huff, knowing for certain that there are plenty of interesting people with different Quirks and personalities alike that would do anything to entertain Hawks for an evening.
"Okay," he smiles as if he's been caught and pretty brown eyes glint from the street lamps when he gazes at you. "It's not often I have fun and I had plenty of that when I got to drink with you."
You find yourself smiling and choose to look inside the lobby's glass doors to see the doorman not so subtly watching the interaction. "I had fun, too."
There's a silence between you two and distantly there's a car passing and you chance a look over to Keigo to find him doing the same before you're both abruptly looking away, both your faces burning in embarassment, but he laughs.
"Let's do this again." he pats himself down, blinking distantly until he finds his phone and smiles. "Can I have your number?"
As you add your number into his contacts you shake your head with a smile and hand it back to him when his phone lights up again. He's grinning down at his brightly lit screen and all too casually pressing the red button when Sir Nighteye pops up on his phone. He laughs when you gape at him and tell him to answer his calls.
"I'm offduty." he says, "But uh... can I call you tomorrow? Or something. I-" he pauses and he wringing his hands together for a moment. "I know you're not looking for anything, but I really enjoy this."
"Sure." he's smiling, but groans when his phone buzzes incessantly. "Go ahead, that seems important."
"Okay," is his breathy response before he answers Sir Nighteye then proceeds to put him on hold. "Stay safe?"
You nod as you watch his cheeks flush and he puts on his denim jacket with a wobbly smile, ir's awkward and earns a giggle from you before he bids one last goodbye and flies off.
He wasn't what you were expecting, but you figure a guy who's excited enough to ask for your number twice is worth seeing again.
jirou "no, i'm not the goddamn witch, he's across the fucking street" kyoka the bard ft. kaminari "i can't sing to save my life but i can do magic to save your life" denki
