a/n: i just thought this would be cute, hawks getting all upset- I mean- Keigo. 🙄
“You know for someone who’s always out and about, you always seem to make time for me.” You softly smile upon hearing your front door open and then close.
“How’d you know it was me?” He asked, taking off his coat with a tussle.
You paused your tv show before turning around to look at him.
“Can smell the kfc on you from a mile away” you teased as he scoffed in offense. “Woah, I wear the best cologne.”
“You mean axe body spray?” You added, his lips escaping a laugh. “Not to much on me birdie.” His eyes followed yours as you got up from your spot on the couch to be in his embrace, a smile peering through his lips as he sweetly pecked you.
“Mmm..” you hummed in satisfaction. “How was work sweet boy?”
“The same as always.” He replied, holding you in his arms tiredly. You noticed how he tried to hold himself up. You knew how exhausted he was from working so often, and how bad he wanted to collapse into your arms. Still, he always kept that last bit of energy for you. It didn’t matter how much of it he had left, he’d always be strong for you.
“You need to get sleep baby.” You said, pushing the hair out of his face, “nah im fine, I wanna spend some time with you.”
“You can do that in the bedroom.” You added as a smirk grew on his face.
“Not in that way weirdo!” You gently punch his arm making him laugh. “Oh but I was hoping~”
“and I hope you go to bed, finally~” you cut him off.
He looked into your eyes for a moment before saying “your right love, guess I should start listening to you from now on.”
“Took you how long to realize that?” He hummed as he gently placed his head down to rest on you. “Not that long~”
You sighed out a slight smile, your hand playing with his hair.
“Hey.” You said, making him slightly come up. “Yeah?”
“I love you, hawks.”
His head popped up, a look of disgust on his face.
"Excuse me??" He said, pouting.
You can’t help but start laughing at him. He looks like you just insulted endeavor to his face.
“UHM who is this other man in your life??!!” He says dramatically.
“Ughh, I love you Keigo~”
“Mm..” he settles back down into your comfort, “much better.”
|| pairings: hawks x reader / keigo takami x reader
|| warning: a little suggestive, but it stops, other than that its comfort <3 listen to the song "We'll Never Have Sex" and you'll understand. reverse comfort
|| word count: 0.8k
Hawks. Number two hero in all of Japan. Fastest hero in all the country, youngest too, only age 22 and he was number two. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, woman, man, anyone. It made sense, of course, he was attractive. He acted carefree, always with a boyish grin on his face and everything he did seemed so effortless. Perhaps that was apart of the problem.
No matter what he did, everyone made their assumptions. Made their ideas, believing him to be a playboy or some sex-driven man. He hated it. Keigo was told to just let it happen, it was good publicity. Especially with how much his fans ate it up, he complied. He let it happen.
That all changed when he met you. Who's hands were never quick, never yearning in a way to get his clothes off. Your hands were soft, gentle. Always caring, never forcing. Keigo didn't understand it, why weren't you trying anything? Why weren't you trying to make him apart of a fantasy?
Your soft lips against his as you sat in his laps, but it wasn't quick. Not 'hot and bothered' as some may speculate, no, it was slow and careful. His hands placed on the small of your back as the two of you kissed. It was a comfort, it was wonderful. Something Keigo always yearns after he finishes a hard day of a hero, to come home where you'd swing by. Watch a movie, make some food, just be together. Sweet kisses exchanged, tonight was no different. The only small change was that those small kisses turned to a small make-out.
You, who'd move your hands just a bit down, down Keigo's chest. He didn't want it to stop, but at the same time it felt like too much. Something he wasn't ready for, not yet at least. The vermillion feathers ruffled behind him as he forced himself to let this happen. You, on the other hand? You stopped and pulled away, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a gentle kiss on Keigo's scarred cheek.
"Why'd you stop?" Your boyfriends question was barely above a whisper as he held you close. He didn't understand, was he not kissing you well enough? Not being good enough for you?
"Because you wanted to stop," You ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. One that's been kissed by the winds that he flew through during the day. Before he could try to fight back you continued. "I could tell your hesitation, love."
"Dove, we can keep going-"
"When you're ready."
Keigo stared at you with his golden eyes, staring up at you as you mindlessly brushed through his hair with your fingers. Untangling any mess that had happened from the day, taking out any small pieces of dirt or debris from the day. He didn't understand. No, he wasn't a virgin, why were you acting like he was? He held you tighter as he pushed his face into the plush of your neck.
Taking a deep inhale of your scent as he relaxed under your touch.
"Thank you."
You knew how the media treated him, as some sort of sex symbol. Always putting him on a pedestal as the number two hero, fastest hero in all of Japan. It killed you everytime you'd see an article of some made up scandal Keigo was supposedly apart of. You'd compare that article to your boyfriend. The man who'd come home, dragging his feet against the wooden floor. Eyebags under his eyes once he wiped the make up he used to conceal it. He was exhausted, overworked. Yet all the media saw was some one-dimensional man.
With a small hum, you shook your head and pushed a small kiss to your winged boyfriends forehead. Lingering there for a few moments before pulling away. A small smile on your face as you kept your gaze on him.
"You don't need to thank me, Keigs."
"But I should, you-"
You pushed your finger against his lips, a small smirk danced on your lips as you huffed.
"I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with. We don't have to do anything soon," With a small sigh, not of disappointment, you pressed your forehead against his. Fluttering your eyes closed as you kept speaking softly. "I kiss you just to kiss you, Keigo. If you don't wanna go too far, we don't have to. I'll be as patient as you need."
Your words hit a chord somewhere in Keigo. He always felt so pressured to do.. Well, anything. Hero work, the Commission, friends, enemies. He had so many things he had to do. But with you? He could go his pace for once. Not Hawks'. Not the man he presented to be, not the fastest hero in Japan. Just Keigo. He could go as slow as he needed, and you'd be there to support him.
"I love you," He whispered softly, his voice trembling just the smallest bit as he kept his emotions in check. Trying not to cry.
"I love you too, my darling."
"I love you," He repeated again. And again. And again. He kept whispering it as he kissed your neck softly, not a tease, not to lead up to something else. But because he could, because he wanted to.
"My gentle angel."
|| GUYS. GUYS. IM CHDBSIUBSIBVIDBLDVSAA i love keigo oml. i love how complex he is, he means sm to me OOOMMMLLLLLL :(( TO BE CLEAR!! im not anti-sex or smth, i js find it interesting to see the difference between hawks and keigo. i can make a whole essay on this
Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot
Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].
Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.
a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3
Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.
“Back again so soon?”
You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.
“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”
He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.
“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”
He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.
You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.
Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.
“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”
You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.
“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”
Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.
“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”
He attempted to use his new voice.
“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.
“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.
“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.
“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”
Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.
“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”
Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.
“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.
“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.
“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”
Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.
“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.
You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.
“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”
“You hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m a bad person.”
“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”
What right did you have to comment on such things?
“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.
“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”
“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.
“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”
He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.
-
As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.
You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.
But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.
On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”
He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.
Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.
“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.
“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”
“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.
“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”
“Capricorn. 27. Single –“
“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.
“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”
“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.
-
Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.
“Good morning gentlemen.”
“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.
“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.
“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.
“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”
“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.
“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”
“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.
“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.
“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.
The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.
He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.
“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”
“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”
“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.
“You’re no fun.”
“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.
Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”
He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”
You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.
“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”
“Two or three.”
“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.
“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.
“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.
“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.
“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.
“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.
“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.
“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”
“What if I find a different doc?”
“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.
“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.
“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”
“That’s not a no.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.
“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.
“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”
“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”
Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
-
Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.
You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.
“Where the hell is my patient?”
“I-I’m sorry?”
“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”
“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”
“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.
“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”
“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”
“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.
“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”
“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”
-
By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.
“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.
“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.
“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”
“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”
Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.
“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”
“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.
“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.
“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.
“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.
“And?”
“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.
“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”
“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.
“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.
“Thanks, doc.”
“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.
You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.
The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.
It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.
“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.
But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.
“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.
“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”
“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.
“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”
He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.
Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.
“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.
“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.
“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.
Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression. Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.
“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.
“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”
chapter summary: keigo invites you over for the first time and lets you check out his wing-keeping kit. in the process, you learn a few things about his world.
chapter tags: childhood friends; neighbors trope; alternating povs; taking care of keigo's wings as a love language.
cw: prejudice; socioeconomic differences?
prefer to read on ao3? here!
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“'Do not enter' is written on the door way,
Why can't everyone just go away?
Except you, you can stay,
— Alex G, Treehouse
The first time Keigo invited you over, you were ecstatic.
The invite in itself was long overdue: the two of you had been friends for a year and neighbors for nearly two, so the fact that you’d never once stepped foot in his house during that period seemed like an intentional oversight. You didn’t mind always hanging out at yours’ (rather, you quite liked having Keigo inside your house), but you were insatiably curious about how your hybrid friend lived. You wanted to know what color his bedsheets were, what kind of cereal lined his pantry—everything there was to know about a person, really.
However, your parents always told you that inviting yourself over was very rude, so you never pushed. You figured there was a reason for his hesitance and eventually stopped asking “ Your place or mine? ” on the walk home from school, letting your house become the default hang-out spot. That’s why, when, on a gray, inconspicuous Tuesday, Keigo asked if you’d like to come over, you were completely caught off guard.
“Wha—?” you sputtered, suddenly having lost the ability to form sentences, “Me, over? House?”
Keigo looked pleased at the state you’d been reduced to. “Yes, you-over-house,” he mocked, “We can even us-play-video games.”
“Shut up,” you reddened. “I’m just surprised since we usually go to mine. B-but I don’t mind going to yours at all! Let’s hurry.”
You shifted your backpack higher up on your shoulders and began speed-walking down the street, leaving Keigo behind you. You didn’t want to give him the time to change his mind. The blonde snorted, but quickened his pace to match yours.
Soon, the two of you made it to your street. You took a brief moment to dash inside your own house and yell that you were going to Keigo’s—eliciting surprised Okays from your parents—before dashing back across the street to Keigo’s side. Laughing at your eagerness, he unlatched the front door and entered, leaving you to follow.
Your first impression of the Takami household was that it was similar to yours: staircase left of the foyer, living room connected to the kitchen. The similarities were to be expected, given that your houses were most likely built by the same construction company—but that was where they ended. Unlike your house, which your mother kept fastidiously white and empty, Keigo’s was full of life. The walls were painted a pretty sage green, and lined with pictures of Keigo, his mother, and an older couple you assumed were his grandparents. The windowsills were also filled with all sorts of plants and herbs, adding a welcome splash of color to the room. It was a stark contrast to the sad, blank interior of your own abode—Keigo’s house had character .
“I know it’s not as nice as yours,” Keigo apologized as he watched you take in your surroundings. “My mom insists on keeping all these dumb plants and—”
“Keigo, I love your house!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. “It’s so much prettier compared to mine. I wish Mom would let us paint our walls or keep plants, but apparently Architectural Digest says that’s not Beige Chic , or whatever.”
Keigo smiled. He knew he shouldn’t have doubted your reaction. “Okay, well once you’re done admiring my pretty house, come upstairs so I can beat you at Mario Kart.”
Your eyes flashed excitedly, immediately leaving the picture you were inspecting to follow after Keigo. “Sure you will. Hey, remind me again who’s the reigning champion?”
The blonde gave you an irritated look, but before he could retort, you were pushing past him up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was what you’d been most curious about on your walk back, and you couldn’t wait any longer to see it. Ignoring Keigo’s words of protest, you opened the door.
“Wow,” you blinked at the sight. “It’s very…angry.”
You didn’t know what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been… this . Keigo’s bedroom was practically devoid of anything except for Endeavor , his favorite superhero. The walls were plastered with posters of the flame hero, and a row of his figurines lined Keigo’s desk. Atop his twin-sized bed sat a small Endeavor stuffie, which smoldered at you menacingly from across the room.
You spun around to face your friend. “Keigo, I didn’t you were a fanboy!”
In the doorway of his room, Keigo flushed a red that rivaled his plumage.
“It’s not—I’m not a fanboy ,” he sputtered, “I just happen to like the show! And they always have a lot of his merch at the thrift and—you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just sit down.”
Laughing, you took a seat on the carpet and faced his XBox. “Whatever you say, fanboy .”
Keigo valiantly ignored your comment and began rifling through a box of controllers. You took this time to take in the rest of his room, which, aside from the Endeavor paraphernalia, was completely unassuming. There wasn’t much furniture other than a bed and desk, and what little else Keigo did possess was painted in dull shades of grey. The only splash of color was the green sweater he’d been wearing yesterday, now stuffed haphazardly into his drawers. Your eyes lazily followed the outline of the cabinet, until they reached the small box resting atop it.
“What’s that?” you pointed to the box curiously.
Keigo looked up from where he’d been setting up the XBox—an ancient thing he and his mom had scored at Goodwill—and spotted what you were pointing at. “Oh, that’s my wing-keeping kit.”
“Wing-keeping?”
“Yeah,” he shifted his wings, letting them catch rays from the window. The red plumes gleamed like rubies. “You didn’t think they were naturally like this, did you? This kind of exquisiteness requires serious upkeep, YN”
“Oh,” you said dumbly. The sight of Keigo’s feathers fluttering was nothing short of mesmerizing, and, for some reason, you liked that he was showing off to you. “Can I see the tools?”
The words left your mouth before you could think about them. You watched as Keigo’s wings immediately came to a still, and you internally groaned. Here we go.
Over the course of your year-long friendship with Keigo, you’d come to learn a lot about the blonde. You knew that he liked superhero shows (specifically Endeavor: Legend of the Flame) and that his favorite subject was History. He could run a 7-minute mile—the fastest out of all the fourth-grade boys—and was a fiend for fried chicken. You knew that, despite being relatively popular, he didn’t really like the other kids at school, and you were probably the closest thing to a best friend that he had. And most importantly, you knew to never, ever talk about hybrids around him.
At first, you figured he was just annoyed by your questions. As the only hybrid in your class, Keigo was constantly being probed by your classmates about his wings or eye markings. He’d never ignore them, of course, always answering their queries good-naturedly—but the tight-lipped smile he wore during those interactions betrayed his agitation. As your friendship progressed and you interacted more frequently with the blonde, though, you realized it wasn’t just questions about himself that irritated Keigo—it was whenever humans talked about hybrids at all. The week your class covered Japan’s history of hybrid discrimination, Keigo had resolutely faced the window and didn’t take a single note; and whenever Endeavor fought a hybrid villain on screen, Keigo huffed and asked to skip the episode. Little incidents like those deterred you from asking any questions related to his bird appendages, and even more from inquiring about the reason behind his anger.
Thus, you’d gone an entire year avoiding discussing anything hybrid-related with him. You figured that, as with him not inviting you in, he’d eventually get over it—you were sitting in his room right now, weren’t you? Plus, he couldn’t hate humans altogether if he was friends with you. There must be a logical reason behind his behavior, you reasoned.
Except, you’d blown any chance of that happening, now that you opened your big fat mouth and asked about his wings. And the first time he invited me over, too, you bemoaned internally. You’d at least wanted to see the kitchen before you got kicked out!
“Um, sorry,” you backtracked, “I don’t know why I asked that. It’s personal, I know—sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Keigo replied, equally hesitant. He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a daunting task. “Um, if you really want to see, I can show you. The tools, I mean.”
Your jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Really? I can see?”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” he said, sounding as though it were absolutely a big deal. He walked over to his cabinet and swiped the kit off the top. You watched, disbelieving, as he made his way back to you and deposited it unceremoniously in your lap.
The first thing you registered about the kit was that it was heavy—heavier than it looked. It was constructed of smooth wood paneling and about the size of a book, with no indication of what resided within it save for a small feather engraved on the top, and perhaps the faint smell of essential oils emitting from it Your fingers fluttered over the ridges of the box, and, with one final seeking glance at Keigo, you lifted the lid off the top.
As the smell suggested, the inside of the kit was lined with various vials of oil, each labeled something different. Laying next to the oils, their sharp edges cushioned by the velvet interior, was a collection of tools: shears of various sizes as well as several brushes and clippers. They glinted menacingly in the afternoon light, causing you to reign in a shudder; you couldn’t imagine using tools like that on your own body.
Keigo watched your expression carefully. “I have to trim and condition my feathers about every two weeks,” he explained, “Or else they’ll get tangled and torn.”
“I didn’t realize they required so much attention,” you tore your gaze away from the box and faced him. And, for the second time that day, your mouth moved before your brain. “Can you show me? How you do it?”
“…Sure,” he said after a momentary pause, looking faintly bemused. “It’s been a while since I last trimmed them, anyway.”
He began picking out various tools and oils from the box. You leaned forward, eager to see which ones he chose. When it came to Keigo, it was like you could never know enough.
He lined the three oils he’d grabbed—labeled “primaries”, “secondaries”, and “contour”, respectively—on the floor. “The different oils are for different parts of my wings,” he said, extending out his left wing as he spoke. “My primary feathers are these long feathers out here, and the inner ones are called secondaries. And these are my contour feathers, which make me more aerodynamic—they help me fly better, basically,” he amended, noticing your blank stare. “But before I do that, I have to trim them.”
As he finished his explanation, he removed a large tablecloth from the bottom of the kit and unfolded it on the floor. He picked up one of the shears he’d taken out earlier and began trimming off the edges of his wings. Red tufts fluttered to the floor, like autumn leaves shaken out of a tree. You stared, enthralled, before his earlier words registered in your mind.
“Wait, fly? I thought you weren’t…allowed to,” you trailed off, realizing you were approaching dangerous territory. Hybrid Limitations were one of the most contentious topics in Japan, and you figured that Keigo, as an avian hybrid, would have his share of thoughts on it.
Instead of becoming upset, though, he merely shook his head. “I’m not,” he confirmed. His words were punctuated by the steady snip of shears coming down around another feather. “This kit was passed down to me from my grandfather, and during his time there weren’t restrictions on winged hybrids. So it still contains flight-care stuff.”
“Oh,” you said, “Do you wish you could fly?”
Keigo peered at you through the folds of his wing. Randomly, you were struck by the memory of the first time he came to your house; cold and wet, focused on drying off his wings while you chattered annoyingly at him.
“Maybe,” he set down the shears and picked up one of the vials of oil. Surprised, you realized he was already done with trimming. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to, though.”
Keigo gave his wings a firm ruffle, shaking off any lingering feather trimmings. Then, he poured a small bit of oil into his palms and began carding them gently through his longest feathers—the primaries, you recalled. You watched in silence as he worked down his wing, coating each plume in a thin layer of oil. Usually when Keigo was focused on something, he had a look of intense concentration on his face: brows pinched, eyes narrowed. Yet, now, his expression was relaxed and peaceful—this must be calming for him.
As he got closer to his inner feathers, though, he had to strain his neck to oil them properly, and his tranquil expression dissolved into a more concentrated one. “My mom usually helps me with the back,” he explained, sounding slightly frustrated, “It’s harder for me to see back there and—”
“I can help you,” you said. Keigo’s hands stilled in his wings, and you wondered a bit too late if your offer had been inappropriate. But you’d already breached all sorts of boundaries today, so what was one more?
Keigo cleared his throat. “Um, sure. Come, uh—come closer.”
“Okay,” you shuffled over to behind him. “Um, what do I…”
“Grab the oil labeled ‘secondaries’.”
“Okay.”
“Pour a little into your hands—yeah, that’s good. And let it heat up a bit in your palms.”
“Okay.”
“Now, you see the feathers at the bottom of my wings? The shorter ones.”
“Yeah.”
“Work the oil into them, from the root to the ends.”
“Okay,” you gulped. Your hands, covered in a sharp-smelling oil, shook as you reached toward the feathers. I have to do this right , you thought determinedly—you couldn’t bear it if you accidentally hurt Keigo.
Slowly, you grabbed the outermost feather and began working the oil into it. If your own hands hadn’t been shaking so badly, you might’ve noticed the way Keigo’s wings shuddered, too.
After you got through the first few feathers without doing any damage—and leaving Keigo content, seemingly—you became more confident in your abilities. Your movements were more fluid, and your shoulders untensed—you could see why your friend found this relaxing.
Once you finished the secondaries, you moved on to the last section: his contour feathers. You picked up the appropriately labeled oil and found that it was much fuller than the other two. Recalling what he said about not being able to fly, you sadly realized that those feathers probably didn’t get as much use as his other ones, therefore needing less maintenance. With newfound vigor, you uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount into your palms.
“I hope,” you began, “That you get a lot of use out of this oil one day.”
“I hope not,” Keigo replied, “That’s the most expensive one.”
(He knew what you meant, though.)
It was rare for Takami Toomie to see her house during the day.
Well, it was nearing evening, technically, but sunlight was sunlight. Between her job at the restaurant, the hospital, and…the other one, she’d practically become a vampire—she couldn’t remember the last time she came home before midnight. But today all the stars had aligned perfectly: her coworker had agreed to cover her shift, the hospital hadn’t called her in, and—best of all—the fried chicken ordered from their restaurant never got picked up, leaving it up for grabs.
Toomie recalled staring at the steaming bucket of chicken for the entire pick-up hour, and then snatching it up as soon as time was up. She’d flushed when her coworkers saw her shove the food into her bag, but their judgment would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing Keigo smile—something that happened too infrequently for Toomie’s liking. Though, it's not exactly like I encourage him to be more carefree...
Shaking off her guilt, Tookie pushed through the front door of her home. She smiled at the sight of rays filtering in through the window and meandered over to the kitchen, where she set down the bucket. A glance at the clock told her that Keigo was already back at school, and her smile widened. They could eat together!
She grabbed her phone from her bag and began searching for the LNs contact. She assumed Keigo was with them, considering he slept over practically every day now. It was a development she tried not to be too bothered by, as she knew it was lonely for him here. Still, she couldn’t help but be wary of the situation. YN seemed like a sweet kid, on the few occasions she’d met them, but one could never be sure…
She sighed as finally found the contact. Keigo would be a little upset at being called back early, she figured, but his disappointment would definitely disappear as soon as he saw the chicken. Plus, the two of them hadn’t had dinner together in forever. Reaffirmed in her decision, Toomie made to hit Call on the contact—but just as her finger was about to tap the screen, she heard the faintest sounds of conversation emanating from upstairs.
Toomie paused. It sounded like two kids...did Keigo have a friend over? Curiously, she made her way to the stairwell and strained to listen, wings shifting nervously behind her. Keigo never told her that he was bringing someone over, and he wasn’t the type to sneak around behind her back, either. Immediately, terrible thoughts filled her head. What if someone had followed Keigo home and they were hurting him upstairs? Or what if someone had broken in and were robbing them? Panicked, she dropped her phone and sprinted up the stairs, wings flapping madly behind her. They ached from disuse, but she didn’t even register the pain. Her only thoughts were Keigo, Keigo, Keigo.
She threw open his bedroom door, and the sight that greeted her was more horrible than any robbery or bullying. Keigo was sitting on the floor, wings spread out to their maximum length, while you kneeled behind him, gently carding oil through his inner-most feathers. Next to you was Keigo’s wing-keeping kit—a gift from his grandfather, her father —with various tools and vials spilling out of it. Everything was out in the open for you to see.
At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Keigo turned around. “Mom?” his eyes widened. “When did you get back?”
“Just now,” she replied, her eyes flitting between the two of you. “You didn’t tell me you were having guests over, Keigo.”
Hearing this, you sheepishly stood and bowed to her. Your hands, still covered in oil, hung awkwardly in the hair.
“I’m sorry for coming over uninvited, Takami-san,” you apologized, “I should’ve had my parents call you.”
At the sight of your nervousness, Toomie’s agitation subsided. “It’s alright, YN-chan,” she said, attempting a kind tone. But her day had been long and she’d worked the night shift beforehand and—she just wanted to have dinner with her son. “I’m just surprised, is all. Plus, it’s Keigo who should’ve said something.”
She turned her attention back to her son. “You need to tell me when you have hu—people over, Kei.”
She barely managed to cover her slip-up. Keigo raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
“Well, I didn’t know you were even going to see them, since you don’t usually get back until later. Why are you back this early anyway?”
Toomie groaned internally. Wasn’t he a little young for the rebellious stage? “I got off work early,” she said tightly, “And I thought we could have dinner toge—”
“Is that chicken?” Keigo cut her off, finally registering the mouth-watering smell wafting from the kitchen. His wings, freshly clipped and conditioned, raised excitedly. Toomie couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“Oh, well then I should probably go,” you said awkwardly, wiping your oil-covered hands off on your school uniform. Toomie wished she could’ve told you to not do that, as wing-keeping oils were notoriously difficult to get out of clothes—your skirt would permanently have greasy handprints on them now. But before she could say something, you were nimbly sliding past her in the doorway and into the hall.
“Please enjoy your dinner!” you smiled at the two of them.
Keigo jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran after you. “Wait, YN,” he said, “Don’t go yet.”
He glanced briefly at his mother, asking her an unspoken question. But the woman was looking at you, still wringing your hands awkwardly in the hallway.
Toomie exhaled softly through her nose. After all those free dinners they gave Keigo, she thought miserably, Practically every day of the year…how could I even come close to repaying them?
“Yes, YN-chan, we would love for you stay for dinner,” she lied, “Do you like fried chicken?”
Your eyes practically sparkled as you thanked her excitedly, assuring her that, yes, you loved fried chicken. As the three of you made your way down the stairs, Keigo pulling you by the wrist, Toomie couldn’t help but mourn her lost dinner. The bucket was a share-size, yet with how much Keigo ate, he could probably put away the entire thing—it had been a stretch for the two of them to share, much less three people. Looks like you and Keigo would be enjoying an adult-free dinner, tonight. Toomie sighed, resigning herself to a trip to the konbini. She’d refrained from snacking on kitchen scraps and sent-back meals as she usually did during her shift, not wanting to spoil her appetite, and this was what she got. Honestly, with her evening plans now canceled, she might just head back to work—clearly, she could use the extra money.
Toomie watched as Keigo tugged you into the kitchen and began pulling plates and silverware out of the drawers. She wondered how she could gracefully bow out of the dinner—kids didn’t really think too hard about those sorts of interactions, but she also didn’t want you to report back to your parents that Toomie didn’t bother spending any time with you. She was already going to be the mom who brought back a bucket of fried chicken as dinner, for God’s sake.
Still ruminating over her dilemma, Toomie didn’t notice you seemingly lost in your own thoughts. Even as Keigo set the dinner table—for three people, the little idealist—you remained standing, simply staring at the bucket.
“Actually, Keigo-kun, Takami-san,” you started, spinning around to face them, “I have a good idea! My parents are having yakisoba tonight, along with some other vegetables. Fried chicken goes great with yakisoba, doesn’t it? We should take it over to my house and eat together! My mom’s always asking you to come over anyways, Takami-san.”
You finished with a bright grin on your face. Toomie only blinked in response.
(Perhaps you deserved a little more credit than she gave you.)
“That’s really nice of you to offer, dear. I think we’ll take you up on that.” Toomie managed. From across the kitchen, Keigo gaped at her—she knew he’d expected her to decline. “You’re too kind, YN-chan.”
You, too, seemed shocked that Toomie actually accepted—a deserved reaction, considering the amount of times she’d turned down your family’s invitations in the past. But you recovered quickly, your blinding grin overtaking your face once more.
“It’s my pleasure,” you said brightly. You picked up the bucket of chicken and started out the door, suddenly heading the whole operation. “I hope we can eat before the sun sets!”
Keigo hurriedly shoved the plates back into the drawers and dashed after you, calling for you to wait for him. Toomie smiled at the sight, before sighing again and walking over to the fridge. She began rifling through its contents—some leftovers from work, a pack of expired beer—in hopes of dredging up a side dish. Impromptu as this dinner was, she couldn’t be so pathetic as to only show up with cold fried chicken.
Yet, even as Toomie peered into her frighteningly empty fridge, she couldn’t help but feel content with the outcome of her evening. Absolutely nothing about it had gone to plan—but Keigo was smiling, wasn’t he?
Maybe YN would be good for them, Toomie admitted.
Next Chapter (
author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. This chapter explores more of Keigo's life since the first chapter was very reader-focused, but Toomie's also able to give us an outsider's perspective on YN. I think due to having very present and communicative parents she's become emotionally intelligent at a young age (which I see in a lot of the kids at the private school I work at lol); however, a lot of the practical application still depends on socializing with kids her age and besides Keigo she doesn't have a lot of practice with that…but we'll see more in the coming chapters 🫣🫣
Thanks for reading and I can't wait to see you guys in the next chapter!
Warnings: I mean- reader almost dies in one of these (shiggy), but apart from that it’s just fluff
Word count: 454
Characters: Hawks, Aizawa, shigaraki
₊˚✩彡 HAWKS
Hawks is always able to sense your aura, it’s a wired talent he’s had since he can remember. So if you try to surprise him by giving him a hug from behind, he turns around in the last possible moment, scooping you up from the floor and holding you tight
“Not so fast my feather~” he smiles, you try to pull away, but he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His nose nuzzles against your neck “Mine~” he growls softly, you scoff “Yea yea birdbrain, i know” You cup his face to make him look at you “But let me go, your cutting my circulation over here” Hawks chuckles at your words, slowly realising you from his grasp and placing you on the ground
₊˚✩彡 AIZAWA
This man is so done with your bullshit, you’re always doing this kind of stuff, surprising him with random attacks of affection, on one hand, its adorable, but on the other, it’s annoying as fuck.
Aizawa was just sipping his morning coffee, when suddenly he hears loud footsteps coming towards him, he’s all of a sudden tackled by someone, the force of the attack almost making him drop his coffee, he instantly turns to look at the person, and of course, it’s you.
You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face in his hair, Aizawa sighs “Kitty, what are you doing?” a cheerful smiles crawls up your face “I want a hug” Aizawa lets out a scoff, but not a genuinely annoyed scoff, one of those dumb scoffs you say but you don’t mean “Y’know, if you want a hug, just tell me instead of assaulting me” He jokes, you giggle in response “yea yea, sorry”
₊˚✩彡 SHIGARAKI
In Shigaraki’s defence, he didn’t mean to almost dust you, it’s just that he wasn’t expecting you to suddenly tackle him and he was close to grabbing your wrist. He was just playing video games in his room when someone knocked on the door behind him
“It’s me” Shigaraki humming in response, implying that you can come in, the door instantly flew open as you charred for shigaraki, you scared the living shit out of this man, he almost used his 5 fingers on you, luckily he pulled his hand away from you before he could touch you, your arms instantly tangled around his waist, burying your face in his shirt, it’s like you didn’t notice the fact that shigaraki almost killed you
“THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” he screamed, you laughed “sorry, i just missed you” Shigaraki couldn’t stay mad at you, your voice made his mind go blank “It’s ok, but your making it up to me by playing smash bros with me” You smirked “alright, bet”
mercenary! Hawks x holymage! Reader | Hawks x Y/n (gender neutral/gn reader)
Summary: A temple-born mage and the winged mercenary who betrayed his king to protect them. Set against the backdrop of Yuzuya’s Fantasy Series, after/outside of the events of the main plot.
WC: ~13k
AN: I hope you enjoy this, but also go check out & appreciate the series that inspired me on Patreon (note: 18+ space) or Youtube (open to all/most ages to my knowledge)
CW: fantasy violence (referenced), religious imagery (vague), slow burn, soft intimacy (sfw), protective Hawks
That night was colder than usual. Y/n found themself savoring the heat of the small shared campfire, sitting closer than they typically dared.
“Heyo,” Hawks crooned, softly so as not to startle them, and leaned over their shoulder. “You doing alright? You’ve been… quieter than usual tonight.”
“Of course,” Y/n answered, a beat too late. The mage rubbed their chilled hands together and wished that better words, the right words would come.
For a moment, the crackling fire was the only sound between the two.
Y/n had never left Aurenhelm city before this. Never needed to, not until that damned artifact surfaced, called to them, and set everything in motion to wreck their lifelong dream of becoming a lumen hierophant one day. But for all their years of dedication, of literal blood, sweat and tears, they’d never even made it to the first formal trial.
“Just new to, you know…” they gestured vaguely at the densely forested surroundings “...traveling, and… all that.”
That Hawks had heard about King Todoroki having put out the order to have them brought before him was nothing short of a miracle, Y/n felt sure. And yet the mage couldn’t shake the sheer feeling of gut-deep displacement. Whenever their thoughts lingered too long on the relic that had run them out of the only place where things felt like they made sense, the only home Y/n had ever known, it was hard to suppress the molten, simmering resentment that bubbled up.
“Well,” the former mercenary answered as he settled down to sit cross-legged beside them. “Good thing you’ve got the best guide in all of Sulterra for this kind of journey. I’ll getcha where you need to go, no need to worry.”
Y/n pressed their lips together slightly and nodded. Staring at the fire so intently made their eyes feel unpleasantly dry but they felt suddenly, inexplicably reluctant to meet their companion’s tawny eyes.
“It reminds me a little of home,” they blurted.
“Huh?”
A glimpse of the brilliant crimson of Hawks’ wings shifting behind him caught the mage’s eye as he turned to face them more fully.
“The fire,” Y/n added quickly, then softer, “the light. When I was little, I used to help tend the eternal flame in the sanctuary.”
He seemed to drink in their answer for a few moments. They took the opportunity to glance his way and felt their face flush with surprise at the sight of him regarding them carefully.
“Glad my humble fire starting skills could help cure a little of your homesickness.” He grinned a little, though his expression quickly sobered. Again, those vibrant wings rustled while he turned slightly away, as if to give them space. “It’s not a bad thing, y’know -- thinking about home, I mean. I think it says a lot about you that you still have so much, well, *faith* in something that seems to have, forgive me for saying, sort of screwed you over several ways.”
His voice lowered a bit, gentler, laced with something more serious beneath the teasing.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.” A pause. “Dove, you left your whole world behind. That kinda thing… it doesn’t shake off easy.”
Y/n’s eyes flicked back to the campfire, uncertain.
“Why did you.. why did you choose to accompany me? Actually, why come to warn me at all?”
Hawks blinked. Not surprised by the question, exactly, but more intrigued than anything if Y/n had to guess.
“You could’ve kept your distance,” they pressed, eyes drifting down to where their hands rested, clasped in their lap. “Let the others find me. I mean, we’d never even met -- you have no obligation to me.”
They weren’t sure what answer they expected. A shrug, maybe a joke or other smooth deflection, a swift change of subject.
Instead, Hawks placed a gentle hand on their knee. Even next to the fire, the heat of his palm was noticeable enough to make their pulse pick up.
“Technically, I had no real obligation to intervene last time, either.” The gentleness in his voice was arresting. He continued, as if the words were falling out of him, “I couldn’t sit back anymore, after that Traveller. And when I did meet you, I knew trusting my gut again was the right thing -- I mean, you’re not exactly the type to pursue grand and destructive power, let alone wield it with any kind of ill intent. Or at all, given how clear your opinion of it is.”
“W-Well…” Y/n opened their mouth to protest, but shut it just as quickly. Hawks was, as they’d quickly learned, too keen-eyed for his own good at times.
Hawks chuckled, squeezing their knee lightly. The sound was warm and rich and made Y/n’s cheeks heat along with something they couldn’t identify deep in their chest.
“You don’t exactly make a secret of it,” he pointed out, though there was no bite to it. “It’s a good thing, if you ask me. You’re like an open tome -- or, maybe an open holy text, in your case.”
The mage couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across their face at that.
“Har har,” they huffed, fidgeting with their hands in their lap, and didn’t correct him.
Hawks gave their knee a final squeeze before releasing them and sitting back.
“Anyway, I’m gonna put together some rations for dinner, if that sounds good to you,” he continued casually, as if nothing significant had passed between them with that touch.
But Y/n could still feel it, lingering in the space that separated the pair as it widened with his easy strides across their camp.
“Dinner definitely sounds good,” the mage agreed readily, glad for the change in subject at least.
As Hawks rummaged through the pack that carried all of the supplies they shared, Y/n’s attention turned back to warming their chilled hands.
Now that the smoke had lessened, it was easier to gaze at the fire than before. The flames licked at the sky, casting the flickering shadows of trees across the curve of Y/n’s cloak that entranced them so thoroughly, they didn’t register their companion’s return until he was already sitting down.
The firelight caught in his golden hair, making it shine. His usually sharp gaze was trained on Y/n’s face, thick brows scrunched lightly.
“Hello, dove? You in there?” Hawks chuckled as they reached out to accept the portion of bread and dried meat he offered them.
“Ah, sorry…” Y/n nodded, able to meet his warm eyes only briefly.
Their pulse picked up a touch as they registered the mere inches remaining between their body and his when the mercenary settled in to eat. It wasn’t until Y/n was halfway through their second slice of bread that the feel of something soft brush against their back almost made them jump out of their seat.
“Woah, hey,” Hawks soothed, pressing a gentle palm to their mid back as if to steady them. “Just relax, dove. You still look kind of cold, so let me warm you up some, won’tcha?”
Y/n’s shy nod only made his face light up further as from his place by their side, he pulled them gently closer, right wing unfurling in a graceful arc before draping over their shoulders like a mantle, impossibly soft and that distracting crimson.
Hawks returned to his meal as if this was something he’d done for them a thousand times before. Gradually, the tension drained from their posture.
And there was no need for words between the two just then. Just a quiet understanding of what it was to belong to something greater than oneself. And how different it felt to try choosing what to belong to, now that both, for the first time, had the choice.
first-time dad! keigo who presses his lips to the swollen curve of your stomach with the promise to give his unborn offspring the childhood that he never had.
first-time dad! keigo who tries—and fails—to be subtle with his pandering, often waking you in the middle of the night when your breath pauses for a second too long, brows knitted with worry.
first-time dad! keigo who accompanies you to hospital appointments, and stares at the monitor, glossy-eyed and enamoured by the tiny thump, thump, thump of his baby’s heartbeat.
first-time dad! keigo who, later that night, burrows beneath the covers with you by his side, and dreams of the future that is to come, the spread of his palm warming your skin as he nuzzles at your pulse.
first-time dad! keigo who frequently litters your changing body with affection, the press of his fingers gentle as he tests the weight of your milk-laden breasts, humming an answering moan when you keen the syllables of his name.
first-time dad! keigo who is determined to show you just how much he adores the marks that stretch along the expanse of your hips and the patch of curls that have taken home between your legs now that you can no longer reach to tame them.
first-time dad! keigo who makes love to you on the nights that sleep evades you, chuckling when the mood is broken when he titters a calming symphony that has your unborn babe responding in kind with a swift kick to your ribs.
first-time dad! keigo who taps the tips of his fingers to your belly, irises gleaming the colour of liquid gold with unabashed excitement that renders him giddy, because, fuck, he can’t wait to meet you.
first-time dad! keigo who, despite his meticulous preparations, finds that, actually, he isn’t at all ready for when the day of your child’s birth finally arrives, horror paling his cheeks a worrying shade of white when your waters break.
first-time dad! keigo who looks a little green, overwhelmed with a flurry of mind-reeling emotions when he smoothes away the sweat-soaked hairs that stick to your forehead as the crooks of your fingers tighten around his own, straining as you finally bless him with the perfect bundle of joy.
first-time dad! keigo who, whilst you slip into the arms of slumber, counts ten tiny fingers and ten minuscule toes before he’s then blinded by his own affections that roll down the apples of his cheeks in rivets, a singular droplet landing on the tip of a perfectly small nose.
first-time dad! keigo who brushes his lips to the wisps of those finely curled hairs that match the colour of his own, greedily inhaling the new scent of life that intermingles with the taste of freshly fed milk. and there, he whispers a promise of an unconditional love that wasn’t gifted to him until the day he met you.
synopsis: random headcanons about domestic fluff, doesn’t really have plot
back to flufftober masterlist
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, domesticity, a bit of swearing
hawks.
⤷ lazy morning cuddles
you wake up with the feeling of someone clinging onto you. opening your half lidded eyes, you see keigo with his arms wrapped around your waist, wings gently draped around the both of you. you wish this moment would last forever, but unfortunately, you both had work to do. sighing begrudgingly, you moved to get up, only to feel his grip tighten on you. “stay. please?” he begs, voice still groggy and tired. “kei, i gotta go make breakfast.” you tell him, but he pulls you closer, if that was even possible. “just five more minutes? i promise i’ll help.” his puppy dog eyes melt your resolve, and you reluctantly sink into his arms, even if you knew this would take longer than five minutes.
⤷ cooking breakfast
normally, you two alternate who makes breakfast every day, but sometimes you just do it with each other. you’re cooking food when he comes from behind and envelopes you in a warm hug. “g’morning baby bird, whatchu you cooking? smells good.” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. you smile and press a kiss to his forehead. “lemme help.” he grabs the plates and glasses to the table, then starts to assist you by getting all the ingredients out, and cooking it himself. even though he could easily hire maids to make the food, he likes to spend moments like these with you.
⤷ getting ready together.
helping each other get ready for another day has become a daily occurrence in your household now. washing your faces, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed is something you can’t imagine doing without the other, as silly as it sounds. buttoning his jacket and kissing his nose is now a thing he won’t leave without. giggles erupt from you both when you’re in the bathroom making goofy faces and trying to make the other laugh, usually getting distracted and later panicking in regret. but don’t worry, he’s not called hawks, the fastest pro hero for nothing.
⤷ doing mundane things
there’s never a moment in your life that you find boring, or wishing for something more. even if you’re reading a book and he’s flipping through tv channels, you’re doing it with each other. your head rests on his lap, one of his hands is playing with your hair gently. when it’s a rainy day and you if yourself with nothing to do, he suggests that you go outside with him. dancing in the rain and sharing a sweet kiss, you know you’ll regret it tomorrow when you’re both at home, sick. but right now, in that moment, there isn’t a care in the world. doing the most mundane tasks is peaceful, no burdens trying to bring you down. it’s just you and keigo, nobody else, and you couldn’t ask for more.
dabi.
⤷ three am snack trips
there’ll be times where you will randomly wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. so you’ll try sneaking out by yourself, almost screaming out loud when you feel the presence of another person behind you. “what’re you doing doll? going out by yourself?” he’ll tag along with you, saying it’s dangerous to go outside this late alone. running to the nearest convenience store, you stock up on all kinds of snacks and goodies knowing that with him, walking around on the streets at night is no longer a worry, not when he’s there to protect you.
⤷ unexpected gifts
every once in a while, dabi will find a way to surprise you when you least expect it. whether it’s your favourite candy or a piece of jewelry he lifted, know that he always has you on his mind. there’s so much thought behind his gifts too, even if he’ll never admit it. he once made a flower crown for you that took him seven hours to make because he kept burning the poor little buds, and getting angry with them. he may not be the most gentlest of lovers, but he really does care for you more than he lets on. he’s just a little scared of letting anyone come too close, although with you, he fears it’s too late for that.
⤷ asking him to do your makeup
“you serious doll?” he asks you. it’ll take an assload of convincing, but if you bring out the puppy dog eyes, you know he can’t say no. be warned though, the first time, he’ll make you look like an absolute clown. smearing some purple stuff messily on your lips, making your face as pale as a ghost, all while putting fake eyelashes inside your nose. don’t worry, after he’s had his fun, he’ll try his best to make you look good. it might look a bit wonky in some areas, but overall, not bad for someone who’s had no experience with makeup whatsoever. you can tell that he really tried for you.
⤷ late night movie marathons
late night movies with dabi are the best. all snuggled up on a couch, his natural body warmth will make you fall asleep instantly. today, you insist that this time, you won’t doze off, and that you’ll finally finish a whole night’s worth of films. but two movies in, you feel your eyelids droop, and you’re only half conscious. fighting to stay awake, you eventually fail as you somehow have lost the one sided battle. he smirks and takes the popcorn bowl off your lap, throwing the rest of the blanket on you. your mind doesn’t process his words, because it’s something he’d only say to you if he thinks you’re not listening. “fuck, doll, i can’t believe you’re real. you deserve better than me, but i just can’t let you go.”
