⇢ summary: “it had been three agonizing months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, you had no one to ask; and if anyone knew anything, they certainly weren’t sharing it openly.
also available on ao3
⇢ note: my mh took a dive so i ended up writing this :’)
It had been three agonizing months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, you had no one to ask; if anyone knew anything, they certainly weren’t sharing it openly.
You sat hunched over your laptop, squeezing your eyes shut as you rubbed hard against your temples. You weren't sure the headaches had ever gone away, just ebbed and flowed with intensity over time. Unfortunately for you, it didn't seem to be showing any sign of reprieve tonight.
You braced yourself as you admitted defeat, it was no use. You were spent. You heaved a sigh as you closed your laptop and stared at the colorful light on the lid as it entered a sleep state.
Your heart dropped as you picked up your phone, watching the screen light up; even that hadn’t got any easier, still expecting a notification from him. Tonight was testing you and you weren’t appreciative of it as you heaved your fatigued body up from the desk. You shuddered as the metal legs of the chair came in contact with the cheap wood flooring, a high-pitched screech rang a bell in every tooth.
“Oh Christ, please stop,” you whined, sidestepping as not to antagonize the chair again.
You stretched your arms above your head and this time it was a satisfied groan that left your lips as several deep popping sounds came from your spine. While it may have been a temporary release of tension, you were grateful for it all the same as you lumbered your fatigued body toward the bathroom.
Opening the door, you felt around for the light cord that hung from the ceiling. You heard its heavy weighted end knock against the tile wall when your hand brushed against it; another, unnecessarily loud—and quite frankly horrifying—sound. You felt the slight prickle of tears as the pounding inside your head chipped away at you.
You regretted your decision to pull the cord, the harsh white light of the bathroom wasn’t friendly on the best of days. You set your phone down on the wide sink basin and when you looked up at the mirrored cabinet in front of you, you found it hard to identify with the person staring back at you.
Dark half-circles that looked more akin to bruises sat under your eyes, your cheeks looked gaunt, the bright spark in your eyes had left after that day, and your once radiant, bright skin now closely resembled ash. You watched the reflection, prodding at your own cheek, fingers pressing lightly against the hollow where there once had been rosy flesh.
You were so sure you had cried as much as anyone was humanly possible but didn't bother to fight against your blurring vision, letting the tears flow of their own accord.
Your head hurt, your body hurt, your heart hurt.
Everything hurts.
Bracing your hands on either side of the basin, you exhaled a heavy sigh; you felt your body shrink as you emptied your lungs of air.
The distinct vibration of your phone against ceramic echoed reverberated against the tiled walls; you felt worse when your jaw instinctively clenched tightly against the pain. Glancing briefly at the illumined screen, although your vision might have been blurry, the bold text that read unknown number was unmistakable. No one worth their salt would be bothering you at this time of night, most of all someone whose number you didn’t have logged.
You felt your brittle fingers grip tighter against the basin.
“Shut up,” you snarled under your breath, you liked to think it might make a difference.
When it vibrated again you felt your anger bubbling.
“What?!” you screamed as you picked it up.
You stared blankly for a moment, not entirely sure what you were reading.
╭ ╮
Meet me at our spot.
╰ ╯
╭ ╮
Please, trust me.
╰ ╯
You felt your lips curl in anger as your fingers trembled against the touch-screen, typing out the only reply you could think of.
╭ ╮
Who is this?
╰ ╯
You waited for a brief moment, you felt winded when the next message appeared in the thread.
╭ ╮
Please, Songbird.
╰ ╯
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
The result of your thoughts racing too fast was the overbearing screech of white noise. You felt the bile in your empty stomach start to burn at your esophagus, you whimpered as you lowered your frail body to the bathroom floor while the edges of your vision began to fade to black.
“Nononono,” you repeated the word in one breath as you steadied yourself on your hands and knees. Your heart felt as though it was twisting in your chest while your lungs collapsed on themselves; you sobbed as you gasped for breath.
Your body shook as you silently sobbed, choking against the rasping at your throat, the air felt thick as you lowered your head. You stopped to rest your forehead against the tile, the cooling relief was only momentary as you felt your temperature rise and your limbs vibrate with adrenaline.
You deliberated with yourself about what you might do. If it was him, maybe things could go back to normal, and if it was some sick joke…
If this is some sick joke, maybe it’ll…
You breathed hard as you gathered the courage to finally pull yourself back up; you held a death grip around your phone as you made your way toward the front door of your apartment. The matter of turning the light off was inconsequential now.
Unhooking your keys from the hook next to your coat, ignoring it at first. You looked back at your screen and read the last message again; with another sigh, you grabbed it and pulled it around your feeble shoulders.
The heavy wood door that stared back at you suddenly felt foreboding, still unable to decipher any rational thoughts over the loud static that bounced around. And what if—
You yelped at the vibration alert. Another text. Your breath shuddered as you opened it.
╭ ╮
I can’t wait here long.
Please, make the right
decision.
╰ ╯
It was the push you needed, shoving your phone away in your pocket and reaching out open the door. You may have had your keys but your feet only carried you toward the stairwell. Not even after the first half-flight did you start to feel the searing heat that tore through your muscles, you cursed at yourself as you pushed against it. As you leveraged yourself against the handrail, you were thankful—for maybe the very first time—that you’d taken a top floor apartment.
You stood in front of the heavy fire escape door, the florescent green-and-white glow of the sign flickered as your hand reached for the bar that opened it. Your heart stopped upon the discovery of a brick that propped the door open; you didn’t truly want to believe someone would play such a cruel trick on you but the evidence was starting to suggest that that might just be the reality.
You were welcomed with a cold slap to the face as you breached the frigid, night air. The silence was eerie as you gently guided the door to rest against the rock, you felt unpleasantly nauseous as you surveyed the rooftop, there were too many shadows that could hide too many things. You decided against taking any steps forward, instead choosing to keep your back to the door with your fingers tightly wrapped around the outside handle.
You wanted to open your mouth, desperate to be able to say his name and for him to answer, but the dread was soul-crushing. There seemed to be nothing in the silence, the only sound you heard was your panicked breathing.
You took a deep breath, your lip trembling as you finally convinced yourself to speak. You just couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, it felt impossible in practice.
“H-hello?” your voice was nothing more than a squeak, fighting against your tight throat.
You scolded yourself for having even just a shred of hope when nothing replied. But maybe, just maybe…
You cleared your throat.
Just one more try. One more try and that’s it.
“Hello?” you called again, a bit louder but still almost as squeaky.
The distinct shuffling of feet could be heard in the shadows to your left, the scared gasp that left your lips was involuntary as your head snapped to find the source. You gripped the handle tighter when your eyes adjusted to the silhouette of someone who was tall, and the outline of a heavy jacket was deceptive; there were no discernible features you could see.
You strained your ears, attempting to hear what the stranger was saying. You noted that the tone was masculine but the words sounded like croaking. They raised their arm, and you squinted to see them press their hand against their throat.
“Look, if this is some kind of sick--“ you were unable to finish your sentence before the figure emerged from the shadows.
You felt dizzy, sick, relieved, and wholly and completely overwhelmed as you attempted to process the sight in front of you. Your body refused to react, so desperately wanting to run at him, throw your arms around him, and yet… You released your grip on the handle to stand unaided on unsteady legs, willing yourself to take just one step.
He took another step toward you, he seemed just as unsure of himself as you when he opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m…. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked with each syllable.
He reached for his throat again, eyebrows drawing to the center as he pressed and strained against the pain that talking seemed to physically cause. You watched, helpless, as his ochre eyes developed a glassy sheen, the first sign of tears.
You took a step, closing the gap to only one short stride. You felt your own tears start to well as you examined him more closely; the majority of his visible skin pocked and tight with an almost glossy quality; the harrowing aftermath of extensive burns.
“I didn’t--” he coughed, wincing.
“No, please…” you interrupted, your hand instinctively reaching out for the arm that hung at his side.
It broke your heart when he flinched away, and as you looked into each other’s eyes, that is when you both shed the first of you shared silent tears. He seemed ashamed to look at you, now casting his gaze to the floor. His sandy unkempt hair fell to frame his face, casting shadows on the hollows of his cheeks; it was longer now, to his shoulders.
He continued to hang his head as he tentatively reached his hand out to yours, gently brushing his fingers against your own. You softly entwined your fingers with his, careful not to hurt him as you felt his damaged skin.
“Keigo,” you finally allowed yourself to say his name, choking back a sob that threatened to blurt out.
“Songbird,” he responded, barely a whisper.
You could have stood there, regardless of the cold, forever; to feel even just this small part of him against you again was enough for you. You weren’t sure how long you stood in a peaceful silence when he cleared his throat, readying himself to speak again.
“They’re gone,” he croaked, you felt his fingers tighten around yours.
“Who’s gone?” you asked, looking up at him confused. He shook his head.
When he finally looked at you, you saw the anguish in his eyes.
“No, my… my wings,” his voice was so quiet, “they’re gone.”
You had been so taken aback at the sight of him that it hadn’t even occurred to you; you felt so horrible, selfish. You watched as his face twisted as the uncontrollable sobs escaped his weak body, you welcomed his grasp as he pulled you tightly against himself.
“Let’s get you inside,” you offered, muffled against his chest.
--- --- ---
Keigo gently closed the door behind him while you busied yourself with your coat, carelessly laying it over the back of your small sofa. He turned to see you standing there, heart sinking when his eyes examined you closer; your lanky arms hung lifelessly at your side, your shirt—a few sizes too big—exposed the deep recesses above your clavicles.
His face twisted in discomfort as he struggled to shrug his own coat off, you stopped yourself from helping when, upon shedding his bulky outer layer, you saw just how well it had concealed his own frailty. You brought your hands to your face, stifling a gasp with a firm palm as the tears prickled painfully behind your eyes. He hung his head, holding his coat in front of him with both hands.
You were both such a mess.
Swallowing hard against your tightening throat, you reached for the coat in his hand. Despite still flinching, he allowed you to take it from him to place it next to yours.
“I just…” you shook your head, still unable to find any words.
“It’s okay,” he told you, a gentle, sigh of relief left your lungs as his warm palm cupped your cheek.
You felt his thumb gently brush away the stray tear that fell as you looked up at his soft, sad smile.
“I thought you were—“ you choked back your sobs, desperately trying to spit the words out, “I thought you were dead!”
Your efforts were futile, your knees buckled beneath your weight and your feeble shoulders shook with your overwhelming sobs. Head spinning, Keigo held your upper arms, hoping to keep you steady.
“I know it’s selfish,” you cried, “and I—“
You stumbled forward into his narrow chest, gripping his shirt for dear life as you wailed. The veil of shock had finally cracked.
You keened, thumping the bottom of your balled-up fist against his chest, pulling against his shirt with the other. You felt his hold tighten, he was shaking with his own sobs, quiet and subdued.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked as he brought a hand to rest on the back of your head.
He gave you little room to hit him in the chest again.
“No!” you bawled, hitting his chest with your forehead instead. “I just want…” you whimpered, breathing sharply against your sobs, “It’s not…”
Keigo felt the tension leave your body as you buried your face into his chest, no longer soft and muscular. It didn’t matter as you breathed in deeply; you smiled ever so delicately, his scent the same as you remembered.
“Can we just lay down?” you asked him meekly.
Keigo tightened his arms around you ever so slightly, resting his chin gently on the top of his head. You felt him nod.
“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he kept his voice at a whisper, the less agitation on his throat, the less likely it was to send him into a coughing fit.
“It’s fine, I…“ you began to interrupt, but the shake of his chin on your head cut you off.
“I just want to finish by saying this,” he coughed, you felt his body spasm against yours, “I’m just happy to be with you again.”
Keigo felt you gently pull against him and let his hold drop, you looked at him.
“Keigo?” you asked, holding out your hand.
There was no hesitation as he enthusiastically placed his palm in yours. You didn’t say a thing as you turn around, heading toward a door at the far end of your apartment. You felt his hand tighten around yours when you entered.
You released his hand as you made your way across to the bed, all you wanted was warmth and comfort; the streetlights beyond the window cast alternating orange and shadow stripes across the wall and bed through open blinds.
Keigo watched from the door as you moved clambered on top of the bed, curling into a ball. He accepted your invitation when you patted the space next to you. The mattress barely shifted when he sat down on the edge of the bed; he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together.
Feeling him shudder, you tilted your head to look up at him; bolting upright when he began to wince. Instinctively, you put your arm around his shoulder; you yelped and threw yourself back when he howled at your touch. He bought his hands to cover his face, shaking his head, trying to silence himself.
“I’m sorry, I—“ you whimpered, tentatively inching back to his side. “What’s wrong?”
When he eventually turned to face you, bringing his legs up onto the bed, his eyes were red and puffy; much like your own, you supposed. You watched the way the light and shadow settled across his face; orange stripes illuminated his golden eyes and his lips, his nose concealed in shadow. You watched his lips twitch while he searched for his words.
“I can still, um,” he tried to compose himself against his ragged breathing and looming coughing fit, “I can still feel them and, um—”
His mouth drew to a thin line, trying his hardest not to have another outburst. He struggled as his eyebrows pulled to the center of his brow and his lip began to quiver, despite being under so much tension.
You rose up on your knees, shuffling the closing divide between you, and pulled him into your bosom; he clawed at your back gently, desperate for your comfort as he nestled against you. You brought one hand to rest gingerly above his shoulder blades, cautious not to trigger a response, and lay your other hand on his head.
“Hold on,” you told him faintly, slowly releasing your hold; Keigo was reluctant to let go. “This is uncomfortable,” you told him truthfully, shifting your knees; he let go.
He studied you as you lowered yourself down, shuffling back on the bed. His approach was slow and awkward on his weakened limbs, crawling into the space next to you. You interlocked with each other without hesitation, Keigo was quick to pull you close to him.
“I’ve missed this,” you told him, adamant you weren’t going to cry again as you felt another prickle at your nose and eyes, “I’ve missed you.”
Keigo brought a hand under your chin, lifting your head to meet his. His palm was warm as he brought it up to cup your cheek, he smiled softly as he watched close your eyes and nuzzle against his hand; you placed your own hand against his, holding it there.
“Let’s just stay here forever,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your forehead, his thumb rubbed gently against your cheek.
“I’d like that,” you replied with a distracted whisper, enjoying the sensation of his warmth next to you, touching you—at last.
A soft sigh escaped your lips as he planted another gentle kiss against your temple, another high on your cheek. He leaned his forehead against yours, your noses touching.
“Forever, Songbird,” he promised you before pressing his lips to yours.
I’ve just realised that if Hawks wings are gone baby gone, we could well see the return of those inventions Mei showcased during her fight with Iida way back during the sports day.
It’s possible.
Support items are really underused in the BNHA universe despite how important they would be for heroes and I would love to see them used more.
(In fact, that was why I was so disappointed about Re-Destro. He implied he was going to go into the hero support item business so when the time comes for his ‘revolution’ he could pull the rug from under their feet and wouldn’t that have been interesting to see?! Instead he turned into a boring Shigaraki simp :/)
Hawks Fanfic Idea (Unfinished One-shot): Clipped Wings
Summary: It’s been a few years since the war with the League of Villians. Keigo Takami is going on with his life but with one major difference, he doesn’t have his wings anymore.
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One-shot:
It’s been a few years since the war with the League of Villains. Keigo Takami is going on with his life but with one major difference, he doesn’t have his wings anymore. He’s not going to lie, he misses the days when he could feel the high-speed winds hitting his face, his wind tasseled hair, but in some ways, he doesn’t.
His wings were the catalyst of why the Hero’s Commission wanted him. That is why they raised him, trained him, groomed him into the idealistic picture perfect hero. But without those scarlet wings on his back, the Hero’s Commission had no use for him. What goals would he be if he didn’t have a quirk?
There were days when Keigo couldn’t look at the scarred and bubbled skin on his back and face. They were all shapes of reds and pinks.
He suspected that people would think he’d be more bummed out that he lost his quirk in the most brutal way possible, but if Keigo was being honest, he was almost happy that his wings were so severely burned that they would never grow back.
He could just remember how the Hero’s Commission took him away from his childhood of poverty and gave him something to live for, but he was also robbed of a real childhood. He can still remember how strict and harsh the lessons were at the Commission’s training facility. How he was forced to change his accent, his mannerisms, his personality, his name, everything he was to be who they wanted him to be.
It’s not all that shocking that he harbored a small glint of resentment towards them, who wouldn’t. The sad truth was, it wasn’t until Keigo’s mission to infiltrate the League of Villains. Keigo knew he was the best candidate for the job, with his hypersensitive wings good for espionage and his likable personality and high rank as a pro hero, he was the perfect subject. But then he began to sympathize with the League. Hearing them tell him their stories and philosophies and beliefs, Keigo was growing too comfortable. Too understanding. He was beginning to feel like they were right.
When Keigo told Endeavor his dream of heroes having more free time, he truly meant those words. Not because he was lazy or arrogant, but because then he would be able to feel like he had a choice and some control over his life to do whatever he wanted with no high-risk disaster waiting to happen.
Some things never change, especially when instincts had been drilled into his very being. Keigo still gets the surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins and his spine goes straight whenever he sees a crime happening in his vicinity.
so if aizawa’s been drawn twice in promo art with an eyepatch.... meaning that he’s very likely lost an eye in canon...... but hawks still has his wings in the exact same images...... hawks hasnt lost his wings permanently
one of the main reasons that i’m really worried about hawks losing his wings permanently is because i think it’ll be a “punishment” for killing twice, but hawks did nothing wrong. i will argue to the death that he did the best he could in a beyond awful situation, where he was pitted against two highly powerful villains. he didn’t want to kill twice; he repeatedly reached out to him and tried to get him to turn himself in. hawks’s choice was his absolute last resort, and you can see the pain (1)
on his face as he makes the choice. he doesn’t deserve to lose the only semblance of freedom he’s ever known because he chose to prioritize the greater good over twice’s life. dont get me wrong, twice was my favorite villain and by no means did he deserve to die, but hawks decided that leaving him alive in the state he was in would harm civilization in the future. sorry for rambling in your asks, but i’m just really upset at the people who think he deserved to be “humbled” and “punished” (2/2)
yeah that rhetoric gets to me too. i guarantee you that burning someone alive and mutilating them will not “teach a lesson”, it’s just cruelty for the sake of it. it leaves a really bitter taste in my mouth when anyone says he deserved it or that it’ll benefit him.
i can see where both “sides” are coming from with the hawks was right/wrong argument (in fact i used to be very much on the “he was wrong” side, can u imagine), but tbh he was in a tough as hell situation and did what he could to save twice. he tried so hard and twice didn’t deserve to die but what bugs me is ppl who insist hawks was heartless about it or that he didn’t see twice as a person. hawks’ heart is so fucking big man, you can hate him for what he did but don’t twist his character to do it, yknow?
