when bro has a phd in microbiology and can’t balance a centrifuge … project hail mary i love u so much here’s a pic of my ipad next to our centrifuge AMAZE AMAZE AMAZE !😋👎🪨
"Grace, what is sound question? In lab, be fast Grace fix spinning astrophage! Vibration cause damage to hull bad bad bad!"
"Oopsie! Looks like I didn't balance it, my bad Rock."
"Grace live in medium size centrifuge ship, how could forget centrifuge function."
"Hey let's not be rude. It's okay Mary, you're just the right size."
"Is Grace stupid, question?"
"Look, at least we've got the mistake out of the way early on. That's always what you want in a lab experiment, so you don't fudge it up for the important part."
"So, no more centrifuge based accidents."
"Absolutely no more accidents that have anything to do with centrifugal force. Promise!"
I dont think anyones as committed to the wonders of Project Hail Mary as my very normal roommate who is currently at the kitchen table doing physics on post-it notes alongside Grace's calculations to check his work in the book
Pro Hero!Hawks x Pro Hero!Reader | Arranged Marriage!Platonic!Pro Hero!Touya x Pro Hero!Reader
warnings/tags | 18+, friends to enemies/rivals to lovers, reader was raised by the commission, fem reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader has a quirk, quirk marriage, arranged marriage, hpsc is evil af, sexism, negative self talk, suggestive content, sexual content, language
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Dim light shone into Keigo’s stark bedroom, the sky outside so grey he had lost all sense of time. Couldn’t tell morning from afternoon from evening as he lay there and stared up at the ceiling. It was time to get up. It had been time to get up for a while. Best Jeanist would throw a fit if he was late to another meeting, but his body felt too heavy to lift.
Everything ached; his wings and muscles from the exertion of yesterday’s long, but ultimately successful raid mission—every other part of him with longing. Someone, some reporter, had asked him in an interview afterwards: ‘What is the hardest part of being a hero?’
He couldn’t even remember the answer he’d given. Something canned, automatic, lines fed to him by the Commission that he knew better than his own name. It didn’t matter much what he said anyway; the public ate him up. Championed his strength, cheered on his wins. Admired his practiced and carefully poised air of nonchalance.
Truthfully, though, what he’d never tell the press, the unpalatable answer from Keigo—not Hawks—was that the hardest part was waking up. Pulling himself out of bed was a task he found himself woefully undercredited for, the grueling first step to every heroic act he’d ever committed. Part of his life that no one would ever see.
No one except for you, who knew it all too well, who yanked on his arm every morning as kids, pulled him out of his cot. ‘Come on, get up, we’re going to get in trouble.’ By the time he had debuted, it was he who was tugging you out of bed, or trying, at least. Usually failing. Drowning in his own way. Speeding to keep up with his rocketing career, too busy to break down the walls you’d built up in his growing absence.
Forced to watch you sink under the weight of your own self-hatred.
It had been 6 days since you had kissed him. Less than 12 hours since he had last seen you, at the weapons raid. You were just as hell-bent on ignoring him as you’d been before, if not even more so. At first, he’d chalked it up to precautionary measures, his unanswered texts, his calls sent to voicemail.
In a stroke of luck, no one had seen the kiss that night. At least not anyone who mattered. Keigo had made sure of that after you’d bolted, doubling back to scout for cameras and onlookers once the shock of your touch had worn off.
The only witness had been an intern leaving Best Jeanist’s Agency late, and Keigo took care of that easily with an autograph and a wad of cash. Not like anyone would believe the kid anyway. There shouldn’t have been any way for the Commission to have gotten wind of your heated exchange.
So why did it still feel like he was being punished?
Naively, he had hoped the two of you would have a chance to talk during yesterday’s mission, even just for a second. You didn’t want to text him, fine, made sense. The HPSC had a nasty habit of monitoring your communications, and not just to one another. But he hadn’t expected you to snub him entirely, glued to Mount Lady’s side to avoid any chance of him catching you alone.
Even worse, 36 minutes ago, the Todoroki Family had announced a wedding date. The article was still open on his phone, abandoned beside him, along with his already shaky will to face the day. You would be married on April 12th. Less than four months from now. That’s what the press release said, along with some fucking quote from Touya about how the cherry blossoms would be in full bloom, how they were your favorite.
It was true, too; they were your favorite. You’d loved the cherry blossoms ever since Keigo had known you. He felt oddly protective of the fact now, his empty stomach churning at the way the Commission had turned something real, genuine, about you into a line for Touya to read to the press. He couldn’t even think about the possibility that you had told Touya that yourself.
He could remember the first spring the two of you had spent together. He couldn’t have been more than 9, already jaded beyond belief, unable to understand the way your face lit up with pure joy watching them fall from the trees. Unable to register the ways your eyes remained wide with wonder, excitement, even after everything you’d been through.
He could remember tucking one behind your ear years later as a teen, something bright stirring in his own heart at the way you still smiled at the flowers, and at the way you smiled at him. He should have kissed you then. Should have told you how he felt before you stopped looking at him like that. Before you’d decided it would be easier to hate him. Keigo still felt like he might just blurt it out every time he found himself face-to-face with you—that before you lost your joy, you had given some to him.
That, second to dragging himself out of bed every day, watching you collapse in on yourself was the next hardest part of it all.
His alarm rang out yet another time, piercing through the staleness of the room, the film that had settled over his brain while lying in bed all day. The sound was the same as it had been the first dozen times he’d snoozed it, but this time something about it seemed to carry a sense of urgency. Seriously, it’s time to get up.
With a groan, Keigo rolled over to turn it off for good this time before courageously swinging his legs out of the warm blankets and over the side of the bed. His feet touched the floor, flinching upward for just a moment at the feeling of the cold wood. He grabbed his phone. The article was still open—a photo of you and Touya at the top, entwined. He grimaced before glancing at the time.
“Oh, shit.” He sprang out of bed with a renewed vigor, if for no other reason than to avoid another 30-minute lecture from Best Jeanist about professionalism. He flit around his penthouse, frantically throwing on his hero uniform one scattered piece at a time. Pawing through his closet for a missing glove, peeking under chairs to find where he’d left his boots. He caught his reflection in the mirror on the way out, taking a second to run his fingers through his unruly hair.
Keigo shot himself an over-the-top grin, flashing a thumbs up the way he did every day. His own little ritual: Good job getting out of bed, hero. His smile looked sad, he thought, but not in a way that anyone else would be able to notice. The Commission had made sure of that. Drilled it into him early. Never let it show. He licked his lips, dry from the colder weather, and for a moment thought he could still taste you there before he headed out the door.
When he stepped out into the open, he was met with rain, coming down so hard in sheets that he could hardly see in front of him. Of course. Keigo hated flying in the rain. Hated the way the droplets stung against his face. Hated the way his feathers stayed wet for hours afterwards. But he didn’t have much of a choice; he was running so behind that even at flying speed, he would be so late it was almost pointless to show up at all.
A grueling 15 minutes later, Keigo stumbled into the lobby of Best Jeanist’s agency, soaking wet. Despite his best efforts, his wings ruffled like they had a displeased mind of their own. His feathers shook off the rain much like a dog, water flying everywhere, earning glares from the front desk staff.
“Sorry….” He began to mutter an embarrassed apology to the scowling young woman at the reception desk, but trailed off when he caught a flash of your hair in the corner of his eye. Your figure, walking into an elevator down the hall—miraculously, uncharacteristically tardy.
Not this again. He froze. His eyes darted from the receptionist to you, before he shot her a remorseful look and sprinted down the hall to chase you into an elevator for the second time this week, water-logged footsteps smacking against the tile.
This time, you didn’t react when he landed clumsily in the elevator car beside you. Your gaze was resolved, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Eyes straight ahead to watch the elevator doors slide closed, unblinking. The only sound between the two of you was the drips of water from his soaked wings pitter-pattering onto the elevator tile.
“Looks like you’re running just as late as I am for once,” Keigo huffed, catching his breath as the elevator shuddered, beginning to lift. He didn’t expect you to respond, but it still made him scowl when his remark was only met with a quick side-eye from you. Your gaze traveled down to the puddle of rainwater forming below him, eyebrow raised just slightly in amusement, maybe, or distaste, before you snapped your eyes back to center.
“So, I guess we’re pretending it didn’t happen?” This time, you didn’t even grace him with a glare before responding.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your tone was clipped, overly professional. His face fell, and he could have sworn he saw your steely expression cave for just a second into something smug. As if you were enjoying this, enjoying watching him squirm.
Shocked into silence by your blatant denial, Keigo felt something burning up inside him with every floor the elevator rose. He had endured years of this shit, years of you icing him out, years of you acting like you were the only one who had ever felt hurt by this world. Running. Hiding. Pretending you hadn’t once needed to hold his hand to fall asleep.
He took one last look at your face, wanting so desperately to recognize you again, the way he had right before you’d kissed him, before he slammed his hand down onto the emergency stop button. You were going to talk to him whether you liked it or not.
That got your attention, he thought bitterly as you easily broke your vow of silence to protest, lunging towards him too late to stop it.
“Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing-” The emergency alarm booted up, blaring over your words as the elevator jolted to a stop, making you both stumble.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Keigo shouted at you over the noise, fists clenching so hard that he could feel his fingernails digging crescent-shaped dents into his palm.
“My problem?” You yelled back, gesturing wildly at the stopped elevator, mouth gaped open in an incredulous expression.
“You. kissed. me.” His voice was thick with emotion and insistence. Things were quickly spiraling out of control, Keigo could feel it. He needed you to acknowledge it, to acknowledge him.
“First of all, you kissed me-”
He laughed bitterly at your words, shaking his head in disbelief. You had always been stubborn, but this was something else. “No, [y/n]. You don’t get to do this-”
You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Oh my god, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does! You don’t get to blame me for this, too.” You were both growing louder, screaming at one another to be heard over the alarm.
“Jesus, fine! I kissed you, okay? And it was a mistake, obviously-”
“It wasn’t a mistake to me.” Keigo blurted it out without thinking, choking on the confession, voice cracking.
“That’s not my problem!” Even you looked surprised at your words, the way they left your mouth in a screech. Grimacing at the way he flinched.
Both of you paused, panting, measuring each other up before you muttered, quieter now but still biting, “I mean, fuck, Keigo, what did you think was going to happen?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! That you would start treating me like a person again? That you would, god-”
“That I would what? What is it that you want to say to me so bad? Huh?” You jabbed a finger into his chest, anger renewed and teeth bared. Your breath ragged, almost like a chant. This is your fault, your fault, it’s your fault.
Keigo could have said anything, I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you, but somehow what he settled on was “Touch me,” in a voice so desperate he barely recognized it. Whiny and sad. Your harsh expression dropped, stunned, eyes darting feverishly along Keigo’s features.
He opened his mouth again to speak, but nothing came out. The shrill emergency alarm was still ringing in his ears along with the sound of his own heartbeat. The world froze for a moment and then you reached a trembling hand up towards his face, torturously slow, unsure.
He leaned into you, his cheek so close to your palm that bolts of electricity ran up and down his spine. Both of you drew in shaky breaths of anticipation before you slapped him, hard, across the face.
The sound reverberated off the claustrophobic walls of the elevator, echoing like a mocking punctuation.
“Are you stupid?” You just barely had the time to say it, to scoff in his face before Keigo moved. He was on you so quickly that you hardly registered it, slamming you against the elevator doors so hard it knocked the air out of you.
“Shut the hell up.” He growled, teeth against your neck, nipping up to your jaw, pleased at the way your legs automatically wrapped around his hips. One of your hands tugged at the base of his damp wings, and Keigo wasn’t sure if you were trying to pull him off or spur him on.
Your expression had softened, just a bit, and a sound not unlike a mewl escaped your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat; he could feel it, against the open-mouthed kisses he was leaving there. There was a blush on your usually unreadable face, and to Keigo it felt like a victory. Mercy, proof that under all of the anger, you were still human, still feeling. Still felt something towards him.
“Where’s your attitude now, huh?”
“You-you’re getting me wet,” you sputtered, voice coming out strained against the weight of him pressing against you. Keigo didn’t have a chance to finish his teasing retort, interrupted by a sudden and oppressive silence. The emergency alarm had shut off.
“[Y/n]? Hawks?” Best Jeanist’s voice crackled through the speakers, and the two of you sprang apart in an instant, retreating to stand stiffly in opposite corners of the elevator car. Neither of you dared to respond, faces flushed deep shades of red.
“So that’s where they went,” You could hear Mount Lady and Kamui Woods in the background, voices carrying faintly through the elevator shaft over the sounds of rustling static.
“Are you two okay? What happened?” Best Jeanist asked. You stared pleadingly at Keigo; panicked, wordlessly begging him to do something. If it weren’t for the circumstances, he would have savored it, this admission that you needed him, needed his help. His eyes slid upwards, fixing on the security camera situated just above your head.
Shit.
He tore his gaze away and cleared his throat, trying not to wonder how long the others had been watching.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re in here. I think my wing accidentally hit the emergency stop button.” There was a sigh, and Keigo could practically feel Best Jeanist’s peeved-off stare emanating through the speaker.
“Alright. We’re going to get you both out of there. I’m sending Kamui downstairs to reset the elevator system now; it should bring you upstairs in just a moment.” So that we can finally start our debrief, asshole. Best Jeanist didn’t have to say that last part for Keigo to hear it. It was implied in the curt way he punctuated his sentences.
“Heh, sorry…” Keigo mumbled, only answered by the click of Best Jeanist hanging up the intercom. The two of you stared at each other in horrified silence until the elevator began to move again. The doors slid open to reveal Best Jeanist, Mount Lady, and Kamui Woods, all waiting for you right outside. A welcoming committee to make sure neither of you would screw up getting off the elevator, too.
“Shall we?” Best Jeanist gestured towards the conference room, lecture visibly brewing in his brain as he escorted you and Keigo out of the elevator car. Disembarking, Keigo fell behind you and Mount Lady, who had ambushed you almost immediately. He would do anything to know what you were thinking, the same suffocating, panicky feeling he had been shoving down all week returning with a vengeance.
After that, he had no idea when he’d get the chance to try and talk to you again—if you would ever choose to talk to him again. He’d made it worse, that much was certain.
“I’m so glad you’re okay! None of us would want to face Touya if you got hurt on the job!” Mount Lady laughed loudly, oblivious to the mortified expression on your face.
“We at least need you to survive until April,” She grabbed your arm, shaking you back and forth excitedly, not letting you get a word in, “I’ll get an invite to the wedding, right? The Todorokis have always known how to throw a party. I can’t wait!”
“That’s right, the 12th, isn’t it?” Kamui joined in, calling behind his shoulder as he went to open the conference room door, holding it open for the rest of the group.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming up fast. Super exciting, huh?” You nodded, with a smile, voice soft in a dreamy way that Keigo knew had been practiced for hours. No one else there could have noticed the way your brow had knit ever so slightly at their words. The way you had caught your lip in between your teeth for just a second in thought before replying.
But he did. He had gotten the same media training you had; he had drilled interview skills for hundreds of hours alongside you. Keigo knew your tells, knew you were lying. And not about how excited you were about the wedding. No, not lying at all, he realized with a sick jolt in his stomach, replaying the conversation in his head; confused.
You hadn’t known. The Commission hadn’t told you your own wedding date.
