JIAO

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’ꜱ ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

mission pending...

STATS: jiao. she/her. 23. multi-fandom. STRENGTHS: f!reader insert, ships, aged up/timeskip, platonic, romantic, sfw, smut WEAKNESSES: underage (romantic), real people, incest, noncon, m!reader insert PRIOR JOBS: open file DO NOT ENGAGE: minors, proship, bigot, zionist, usual dni material

study case file carefully before accepting mission. requests open.

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

The sunset today is beautiful. It paints the sky in hues of orange and pink, with the last of its golden rays reaching out to the inky night that creeps in.

A balmy breeze moves in with the chill of a tepid spring night, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

As the city lights wink to life, you kick your feet against the railing you sit atop, high above the skyline.

His hoodie sits wrapped around your shoulders, worn and beaten down. The zipper broke long ago, the metal teeth fastened and unfastened a few times too many.

And though it’s been months, if you really bury your face into its depths, you can catch his scent still lingering.

It’s part of why his hoodie is still in your closet, why you still reach for it and wear it in your sleep.

Out of habit, the strings sit between your teeth, the aglets long worn with your bite marks.

They fall from your lips as red feathers float into your line of sight. You cast your gaze up, breath catching in your throat.

Keigo floats above you, his big, beautiful wings flapping behind him. His smile is small, so soft it punches you in the gut.

He lands on the railing next to you, voice kept low as he states, “You’re still wearing my hoodie.”

Time seems to halt as your eyes meet his. It’s been months since you woke up and gazed into eyes of molten gold. They shine here with the moonlight, a reflection of his rightful place in the skies.

In this instant, you feel a spark of memories, each one woven through the threads of his hoodie. Of the late nights gazing at the stars, your intertwined hands shoved into his pockets.

Of being young and stupid and rebellious, resulting in the cigarette burns that you still can’t wash out. When police sirens wailed in the distance, their red and blue lights illuminating the thrill and too-wide grins mirrored in your faces.

The slits Keigo had cut himself, big enough to fit his wings through, and just the right size for your barely-smaller pair to slip through as well. The adrenaline coursing through your veins from the theft seconds fresh that landed you two with the hoodie in the first place.

The excitement as Keigo announced his scouting for the professional cloud racing league, the notification sent after a morning of love making, leaving you in nothing but this hoodie.

Each stolen kiss after practice, under bleachers, and tucked into alleyways.

It’s only an instant, but the lifetime shared in this hoodie still hits you all the same. A bitter reminder that after everything you’d given, you hadn’t been able to hold onto his love or kisses. Only this. A frayed, well-worn hoodie.

But maybe his appearance before you now is a sign of otherwise.

You dig your fists deeper into the pockets, casting your gaze aside as the hoodie tugs tighter around you.

“If you want it back, you can take it.”

Keigo sits himself next to you. His wing stretches out and envelops you. “I don’t.”

You ignore the flutter of hope in your chest, a task made harder as he hugs your shoulder, tugging you into his side. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

The heartbroken, angry part of you wants to shove him off. But the larger part of you, the one that missed him with every breath, sighs deeply in relief, allowing yourself to bury in his side. Still, you punch him lightly. “Took you long enough, asshole.”

He chuckles, taking no offense. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You know he will. So you let your eyes slip closed, settling in his warmth. “Tomorrow.”

He secures his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your head. “And every day after, dove.”

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: angst, established relationship, mcd, happy ending

“Would you still love me if I was a rock?”

It’s inconsequential when you ask. A silly question to mess with your boyfriend.

Still, his smile is dazzling as he cocks his head at you, affection warm in his amber eyes. “Of course I would, dove.”

It’s a mild, late spring day. Long blades of grass billow in the soft breeze and birds chirp around you.

Keigo approaches you, his hands sliding out of his pockets. He takes one of yours in his, prompting your attention as he lowers himself to his knees.

Your heart flutters at the sight. Of your lover, golden strands of hair flowing with the wind, a wind that carries him through seas of azure and white fluff when he spreads his magnificent vermillion wings, kneeling before you with all of his gentle adoration bright in his eyes.

He reverently brings your hand to his lips, pressing a devoted kiss to your knuckles. The sharp edges of his eye marks contrast starkly with the softness in his gaze. “I’d carry you in my pocket and always keep you by my side.”

You tilt your wrist, allowing him to nuzzle into the palm of your hand. He does so happily, and warmth spreads through you from your chest. “What if someone else comes along?”

“It’ll always be you.”

“Even as a rock?”

He grins at you, lopsided and silly. “Even as a rock.”

The skies are dark and heavy with rain. Her tears mix with his, the atmosphere weighed with grief.

He kneels on the grass, wings drooping behind him. His cheeks have long become stained with tear streaks, and he isn’t sure when he last felt the playful tug of the wind through his feathers.

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He doubts he’ll ever feel light enough to truly enjoy flying again. Especially not without you to be there with him.

He stares at the tombstone beneath his palm. The surface is cold and unforgiving, a far-cry from the warmth of your skin against his.

His smile is crooked, ironic and void of any joy or humor. “I didn’t think you actually meant that.” Despite how strange and foreign the feeling is, he caresses along the top of the headstone, just as reverent as if he were loving your body instead. “It’s still going to be you.”

He sits for a long time in the rain. He isn’t sure how much time passes. Perhaps hours or mere seconds. If Kaina had not come to pull away, he would’ve stayed until he could finally join you in the world beyond.

It makes his heart ache to know that like this, he will not get to take you with him. He cannot put you in his pocket and show you the world. You are stuck here, and in a similar vein, he is stuck here, in this plane of existence. He is meant to move on, but he isn’t sure he can or will.

As Kaina gently pulls him away, insistent on taking him home to rest, he glances back over a shoulder, softly beseeching you to wait for him.

Many years later, after his life is finally forfeit, you meet Keigo in a field of tall grass and cerulean skies. Your form is translucent and just as ethereal as the day he lost you. Your matching tombstones, erected side-by-side, stand on either side of you, a bridge between the real world and afterlife. You smile at him, and it hits his spectral heart just as physically as when you two were alive and corporeal. Your hand reaches out to his, and with an affection he missed hearing, you ask sweetly, "Forever, then?"

Keigo, with his chest feeling lighter than it has in years, happily intertwines his fingers with yours. "Forever, dove."

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: SMUT, 18+, kissing practice, dry humping

⤷ wc: 3.5k

It’s just practice.

That’s the lie you tell yourself, because you aren’t supposed to fantasize about the way your best friend tastes.

It’s just practice, he comforts you, as you sit on the edge of your childhood bed, too big when you were young, but now just barely enough to fit both of you, gazing up at the man who’s seen and chosen every version of you.

It’s what you think as he cradles your chin, gentle at first as he tilts your head to meet his gaze. It’s how you ignore the heart racing in your chest. And how you explain away the heat that rises to your cheeks as his golden, captivating eyes lock onto you. They’re the sharp, focused eyes of a predator that’s just honed onto his next meal.

Your breathing hitches as Keigo’s face inches close to yours, but he is kind enough not to comment. He has already picked up your fluttering pulse, stark beneath the pads of his fingers.

He doesn’t pause, having already promised that he would not unless you asked. Because you’d wanted him to take the lead. To guide you.

His mouth meets yours, and you nearly melt at the contact.

The kiss only lasts a short moment before he pulls away, gauging your reaction.

You barely flutter your lashes open, resisting the whine that lodges in your throat for how short the kiss lasts.

Thankfully, he reads the need in your eyes, and is quick to dive in once more, pushing the kiss deeper.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

The feeling of his lips on yours tingles. There’s a surge of need, a deep desire for more.

You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do, but it’s just too good. Too perfect.

You didn’t know kissing someone could feel so addicting.

He hikes a knee onto the mattress, pushing you onto your back. Your hair spills across the covers, and he’s careful to push it out of the way as he braces a hand next to your head.

His hand cupping your chin squeezes for a second, before trailing down your neck and over your chest. The contact sends a shiver through your body.

The longer the kiss drags on, the hotter a dangerous heat coils in your core. It whispers in your ear, urges you to ask for more.

Your rational side argues back. It’s just kissing practice. You’re not supposed to demand more.

But his tongue slips between your lips and slides across your teeth. And you let him in, greedily sucking.

He makes a pleased noise. If the two of you bothered to open your eyes, you’d witness the sheer desperation in his.

You drag your nails against his scalp, down his nape and along the muscles between his shoulder blades. He shudders at the chills it sends along his skin. And he shakes with the level of control you unwittingly require him to hold. He’s almost afraid of just how badly he wants you. How badly he needs you.

This ridiculous request is perhaps the cruelest thing he’s ever agreed to. But if it’s the only way you’ll let him have you, he’ll damn well take it.

He’s so big, so solid. His muscles are hard beneath your curious hands, which do nothing to help him contain himself. He doesn’t think he can any longer.

He breaks away, murmuring your name softly. “I can’t… if you keep doing that…” he glances to where your hand rests against his forearm, shamelessly teasing him with the light trail of your nails.

And it’s reckless and selfish, but you lock eyes with his. His pupils are blown wide, his golden irises nearly lost to the depthless black that matches the striking angles accenting his eyes.

Maybe you aren’t entirely innocent, and maybe you are sick enough to take advantage of the thinly veiled longing in each look you catch.

“Touch me, Keigo,” you plead softly.

His face crumples. With what, you don’t get to analyze, because his mouth is on yours again, and he moans unabashedly against your lips.

He’s a man just as guilty as you are. He isn’t supposed to want you. But he does, and he goes to bed every night dreaming of you in ways he shouldn’t, and waking up with a painfully hard problem he has to take cold showers to fix.

He lets his desires and instinct take over. The pajama set you wear is simple, but the shorts are scandalously short, betraying the cuteness of the pattern. The conflicting images mess with his head that just drives him even crazier. He shoves the material of your shirt up, bunching above your chest, which he paws at roughly and indulgently.

Keigo moans, blood rushing straight to his dick. He should be ashamed of how much he’s dreamed of this, to feel the warmth and softness of your body in his grasp.

His shameless want sends dopamine rushing through your brain. You arch into his touch, craving more.

With a curse, his mouth strays from yours, kissing down your jaw and along your neck. You curl your fingers into the sheets as he works his way down, making a stop at the tit he’s cupped up. He gives a teasing lick, glancing at your face for your reaction.

Your eyes, half-lidded and curious, betray nothing as you gaze down at him. But your hips buck, hot arousal bundling and seeking more. The ache between your legs grows stronger, and you don’t think it can be ignored for much longer.

But words fail you, and all you can think is how unfair it is that you cannot have him. As Keigo’s mouth encloses around your nipple, you’re consumed with how badly you want it to be him.

It shouldn’t be the mystery man your parents have chosen for you based off of contractual agreements. He isn’t the one you want to go to bed with every night nor the familiar face you want to wake up to every morning.

But that scary, looming future fades from mind as fast as it slips in. Keigo rolls the nub of your breast under his tongue, playing with it until it’s hard and sensitive between his teeth. The sensation between your legs, warm and needy and pulsing, hits a different level of demanding. You whine softly as your legs wrap around his hips, tugging him down. The scrape of his very solid, very large bulge against your cunt satisfies you in a way your fingers cannot, and you instinctively rut against him again, seeking more.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses, and cuts off in a way that tells you he didn’t mean for that to slip.

But it did, and you’re slammed by how much you want to hear him direct that kind of tone with you more. His honeyed timbre accented with a gruffness brought on by the throes of arousal, sets off something primal.

It’s as if the jolt to his dick shocked him back into the reminder of your reality. Of where you are and what you’re supposed to be doing. Because your chest is sadly abandoned, but at least he returns to your mouth. It still tingles from your prior kiss, but you’re both craving more, and more than pleased when your lips meet once again.

Except it’s not enough anymore. There’s conflict warring in your head. Part of you tells yourself to savor this, to commit his taste, fresh with minted toothpaste, to memory. Because you’re not supposed to go further. The temptation of your lust should not be indulged more than it already has. But another part of you has awakened, and there’s a burning need you need satisfied or you think you might die. Especially if you never get the chance to reach there with him at least once.

The ache in your chest only worsens as his fingers slip between yours where they rest next to your head. Perhaps unconsciously, he grinds subtly against you, but it’s too shallow.

You lock your ankles behind him, yanking him down. Your cunt throbs, pleased with the drag and pressure.

A disgruntled noise gets caught in the back of Keigo’s throat, and he pulls away, just far enough to say your name in a soft warning.

But you’ve decided what you want, and you unapologetically rut right up into him. “Please, Keigo.”

And he looks at you. Takes in your big, pleading eyes, the lovely, aroused flush to your cheeks, and just how overall beautiful you look beneath him, vulnerable and needy, and decides he has and will never be able to deny you what you want.

The muscles in his jaw feather as he makes up his mind. The sight is incredibly attractive, and just further cements how devastatingly handsome your best friend is.

He flips you over, a fine balance of gentle yet domineering, and it pushes you further into the heaty mood that was always inevitable when you made your request.

As he does, he gives your ass a light smack, unable to resist. It sends a sharp sort of pleasure through your veins, and you ask him to do it again. Harder, this time.

Both amused and surprised, he slaps your butt again. You sigh happily. Yeah, you really liked that.

He drapes himself over you, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “It’s just practice,” he reassures, and it makes you melt all over even more.

Of course he knows. He knows your inner turmoil, and just the right words to reassure you, even if they are an arbitrary territory between lie and truth.

Your shorts and underwear strain as he slips a hand inside of them. There’s a simultaneous moan and curse from both of you as his fingers slip over your cunt.

He soaks his fingers in your slick, moaning at how absolutely wet you are. He teases your clit by sliding it between his forefinger and middle finger, the two forming a V around the bud, then pressing directly onto it on their path back.

Your fingers curl into the sheets, your cunt squeezing at the sensation. You moan out, falling into the haze of pleasure permeating your brain. It’s tingly and warm, and all the better because you know it’s Keigo behind it.

He lines his hips up, allowing the bulge in his sweats to rub against your ass as you rock into his fingers.

Once again, his free hand finds yours, prying the sheets from your fist and curling his fingers between yours instead. You know your bond will never be the same. The lines that you have crossed, the trust and vulnerability you’ve shared, and the intimacy you can’t undo.

It feels pathetically close to love making, and if you were drowning a little less in your pleasure, you might’ve sobbed at what you can’t have.

But instead, you focus on how he hoists your hips up, and moan as he slips a finger inside of you. You still, sucking in a deep breath. He pauses, kisses that same spot behind your ear. “I’ve got you.”

It’s so soft and sweet that it makes you hot all over again for him.

Once your body relaxes and he feels the muscles loosen around his finger, he slides in another, and another. He pumps them once, twice, before you’re once again rocking against him.

His fingers curl, and white explodes in your vision. You cry out, hips jerking.

He flexes his arm muscles, and suddenly you’re held up tight against him.

Since you can’t go forward, you squirm what little you can in his grasp, gasping and pleading as he pumps his fingers inside of you.

His moans mix with yours, the strain in his pants painful. He can’t believe he has you like this, squirming against him, crying out from the way he’s touching you.

Gods, he wishes he could be inside you. He wants nothing more than to cum inside you and mark his territory.

But he’s coherent enough to know that isn’t his blessing to take, and he curses the bastard that does get to have you like that.

It’s a bitter thought, one he quickly shoves aside to focus on his task at hand.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, a show of something far beyond what the two of you are supposed to have, but he also thinks that line was crossed long ago.

He glances down, taking in the sight of you. Your body is magnificent. It’s so fucking hot and gorgeous, he wants to spend a life time worshipping it.

He tugs at your shirt, freeing your boobs from its confines. He enjoys the show of your nipples hardening, stimulated with every brush against the covers as he thrusts and knocks your body forward.

He’s so honed into the view and the sensation of your body beneath his, that he instantly catches the moment your squirming becomes erratic, the whines in your throat pitching with desperation.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, focused on the pleasure he’s giving you. The full intensity of your orgasm hits you so fast you don’t even have time to warn him. But Keigo knows, and he finger fucks you through it until your tensed muscles settle once more.

You don’t have a clue, but the initial wave had you clenching so tight around his fingers that he nearly went dizzy at the thought of his dick in place of his fingers.

He’s still reeling from the fantasy as you settle below him. He untangles your intertwined fingers, insistently tugging at your shorts. He pulls them to your knees, moaning at the sight of your soaked panties. The material is thin and absolutely wrecked. He doubts if they’re even salvageable. But he doesn’t care about that and tugs those down too, mouth salivating at the true prize of your sopping cunt, shining from your juices.

He grabs both of your hips, pressing his groin right into your post-orgasm mess. His grip tightens as he grinds into you, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His sweatpants quickly darken in the front, and a filthy, disgusting part of him notes that these have be his favorite pair moving forward.

"Keigo."

Your voice is soft, worn out by what you just experienced. But he's so tuned into you that he hears it, and stops immediately.

"What's up, dove?"

The smile you give him at the nickname makes his heart flutter. It's a soft, affectionate smile that you've only ever given him, and he wonders if you have any idea of it or what it does to him.

You're sprawled all over the covers, and he also wonders if you know how damn attractive you are. You glance down at his situation before looking back up at his face.

The bulge in his pants is impressive, enough to make you salivate and your toes curl. You need to see it. You need to see what he looks like, even just once. You'll commit the sight of him to memory, so you'll have something to fantasize, even if you can't ever have this ever again.

You roll over, beckoning him forward. Like a sailor trapped by a siren's song, he follows, curious about your motives.

"Sit against the pillows," you tell him. He obeys, fixing them into a small pile before settling against them. You kick off your shorts and pry off your ruined panties, before sliding the shorts back on. The cold, soaked material of the crotch clashes with your own wet, but you ignore it as you settle on top of his thighs.

You glance down at his lap, at the giant wet spot stark against his grey sweats. You cast your gaze back up, just to check, and find him waiting with bated breath.

A sudden wave a shyness hits you and you have to look away. Still, you're determined to finish, and while you stare at a fascinating spot on the wall, you tug both his pants and boxers down.

He reaches out, snagging your wrist. Your snap your gaze back and find his wide and imploring, his face tight with the self-control he just barely manages to cling onto. "Are you sure?" And the softer, underlying message, you don't have to; we shouldn't.

You merely smile knowingly at him. "It's just practice, right?"

His eyelids shutter. The truth of the sentiment withers the further you go. But he wants this just as badly as you do, so he acquiesces, settling once more.

Finally, you look down at him, at the part of him you’ve always wondered about when you shouldn’t.

And gods, he does not disappoint.

You remember back in high school, when he started wearing baggier pants because tighter pairs couldn’t always contain how big he was, even when he wasn’t hard.

His length is considerable, and the girth of him just barely allows your fingertips to touch. Shivers ghost down your spine as you imagine what it might be like if you just ignored reality and you allowed him to put that thing inside of you.

It curves towards his stomach, the head shining with his precum.

You bite your lip as you lower yourself on top of him, grinding your hips experimentally.

His head buries back into the pillows as he groans to the heavens.

You test your hip movement, struggling for a moment to find a good rhythm.

But then his hands clamp onto your waist, guiding you along.

Though you’re the one on top, the weight of him against you is delicious, and you tip your head back as you let him use you.

He lets go momentarily to unbutton your pajama shirt, whistling in admiration as he watches the bounce of your tits.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he compliments. He pulls you down harder on top of him, and as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, you can’t help but wish you weren’t wearing your shorts after all, so that maybe he could “accidentally” slip inside of you and fuck you already.

“I wish it was you,” you whimper. “I need it—“

“Don’t say things like that.” He cuts you off, and there’s a strain in his voice that contrasts the bliss swimming in his gaze. “It’ll just make things harder.”

“But I mean it,” you protest. You lean into him, bare chest hitting against his shirt. The shirt that smells like his wind-kissed, sweet musk. A familiar, comforting scent you aren’t ready to let go of. Your fingers curl into that shirt, the one he’s let you borrow at impromptu sleepovers. “I want it to be you.”

“Fuck, dove.”

His touch is gentle as he guides your chin up. Tears prickle in your eyes as you look at him. It’s him. It’s always been him. And you know it’s always been you for him, too.

He doesn’t say any more, simply claiming your mouth with his. And you cling onto that, cupping his face between both hands as he continues to chase his climax. His moans pour into your mouth, uninhibited. You feel it in the way he clings to you, so hard you know you’ll have marks of his hands on your hips tomorrow. He wants it, too. With every fiber of his being, he wants to be the one who gets to have and hold you, to cherish you until the earth reclaims you, and maybe even beyond.

You whimper against his mouth. You want to say fuck all to the values you’ve been raised on. You want him to have you right now.

But you know he won’t. He respects you enough to not allow you to throw away your values like that. But maybe he would, if you asked, and that’s exactly why he won’t let you pull away from him.

So his mouth melts desperately into yours, savoring the taste of you while he can have it.

You don’t know how to tell when he’s cumming, so when he does, it takes you by surprise. It’s a sudden, harsh thrust of his cock into your shorts and a tightened grip on your body. It’s his head falling back, a string of saliva chasing his lips, as he lets out the loudest, most wanton moan he’s released yet.

You watch in fascination as pleasure washes over him, his handsome face screwed up tight in concentration.

When he’s finished, your shorts are soaked all over again, this time with his cum. But something about it satisfies you, and the feeling curls nicely in your gut.

He pulls you in again, dragging you into another kiss.

It’s short-lived and leaves you craving more. But he merely tucks you against him, arms wrapping around you. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Softly, you confess, “I love you, Keigo.” It’s a little sad and pathetic, but you need him to know.

He hesitates. Debating if he should dive into this territory. He draws you closer.

“I love you, too. Have for a long time.”

He admits it, deciding that the looming fight for you is worth it. This was never just practice, anyway.

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: fluff, established relationship, internet trend

You step lightly into your bedroom, careful not to rouse the sleeping form inside.

Keigo looks cute like this. He's finally at peace, snuggled deep in your blankets. His bushy brows, knotted tighter together with each day, finally relax above his closed eyelids. It's the first time in weeks you've seen his face without a deep wrinkle in the middle of his forehead.

His wild, windswept hair pools over your pillowcase, and a small, content smile graces his lips.

This has probably been the longest your poor lover has been able to sleep. His job is keeping his schedule packed.

You almost feel guilty for the prank you're about to pull.

Ensuring your phone is recording, you tiptoe up close. Then, with a frantic hand on his shoulder, you jostle Keigo awake. "Babe, babe wake up."

He stirs, only to swat you off. He mumbles something that you think is supposed to be "five more minutes".

You shake him a little harder. "Come on, Kei. My boyfriend's coming."

He props himself up, just barely. The covers slide down. "Huh?" He rubs at his eyes, trying to pull himself from the undoubtedly deep sleep you'd just interrupted.

"You gotta hide. My boyfriend's coming."

You change tactics, tugging on his arm with urgency. He stares at you for a moment, eyes narrowing.

"...Right."

He plops back down on the mattress, tugging the covers back over himself. He falls so heavily that it jerks you forward, and you're forced to let go.

You pause. This is the exact opposite of his typically alert, quick reflexes.

"Where's your hustle? Do you want to get caught--"

You yelp as he suddenly reaches out, yanking you into the bed. He wraps you in his arms before rolling over, pinning you to the mattress. In the tussle, your phone slips from your grip, lost to the sheets. His big, crimson wings fan out behind him, framing his back as he hovers above you. When your eyes meet his, they're heavy-lidded, but you catch his mix of exasperation and amusement.

"Caught by who, exactly?" He leans down, stealing a kiss from your lips. "I'm your fiancé." His fingers pointedly trace over the elegant ring he'd slipped on just a few weeks ago. His touch lingers, long enough for heat to rise to your cheeks.

Then he plops right on top of you, burying you under his weight.

"Oof. What if you're just my side piece, huh?" Your fingers slide into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He snorts at the absurdity of your statement, arms wrapping around your middle. He kisses at your neck before his head settles on your chest. His eyes flutter close. "I can take 'em."

You laugh. You suppose your silly prank never had a chance.

a/n: ngl guys my lest semester of uni is kicking my ass but i'm finally near the end yay! thought this trend would be fun and silly to share. the first thing i've written that's not academic related in months </3

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: established relationship, street racer au

Keigo leans against a streetlamp as he observes the feed from multiple angles playing through holograms floating in the sky. Cars going far over the legal limit zip through the streets, cameras just barely able to keep up.

He has his eyes on one in particular, the one currently in first place.

The crowd around him cheers with your every sharp turn and impressive maneuvering. Not even the obstacles pushed into your path by the operators, as the race is built by design, is able to stop you.

Even as you come up on a railroad with an approaching train, one of the old school ones that don't run as fast, you easily spin your car, slipping under the lowering gates and clearing them just as the train speeds by.

Behind you, the other racers are left to wait.

He whistles at your skill, a proud smirk sitting on his face.

Not long after, you come in hot through the finish line, skidding theatrically into the victor's circle.

The crowd rushes in, cheering and cashing in the winning bets placed on you.

Keigo hovers near the back, waiting patiently for his turn to congratulate the victor.

The car door opens, and you step out. You toss your hair into place as you remove your helmet.

Keigo's heart flips in his chest. As your eyes meet his, he flashes back to the first time he saw you.

He thinks of ribbons and silk and flowing limbs. Of biwas and flutes and drums. Of painted faces and and a coy smile hidden behind a fan.

The first time his eyes met yours, he'd brushed the moment off. He isn't the type to familiarize himself with the revolving entertainment the emperor occupies himself with.

But then he kept finding you. An anomaly, considering the fickleness of his majesty's whims. And each time, he became more captivated by the secrets swirling behind the docile mask.

And then, one lucky night, he managed to catch you alone, strolling through the palace. The rest after that is history.

The other racers start to pull up, one after the other. The distance between each of them is considerably smaller than the one left between you and the rest of them.

The crowd shifts to greet the other racers. Keigo takes his chance, going against the flow to approach you.

The smirk on your face is dangerous. It lures him in, captivating him in a way he can't describe. And the way your arms wrap around his neck, yanking him to your body, oh he is a weak, weak man.

"What did our esteemed Spymaster think of the race?"

He chuckles, low and deep. His hands find your hips, and he puts no effort into resisting the need to brush his mouth against yours. The sinister thing haunts his thoughts every second he isn't with you. "Really fucking hot." He unfurls his wings, letting them splay out behind him. There's a sparkle in your eyes, something he always notices aimed at his wings. He preens with the attention. "I didn't know you could drive like that."

Your eyes dip dangerously before rising back to meet his. You wipe invisible lint off his shoulder. Everything about you is so hot, he needs you against this car right now. "Something about me needs to be interesting."

He's pretty sure being the emperor's favorite dancer and a main leader of the rebellion rising against the throne you both serve is fairly interesting on their own, but sure.

The heat inside him gutters at the reminder. It's part of the reason he came tonight. "I have information."

You tug him by his belt loops as you lean against the car door, and his head goes dizzy. "Go ahead, birdie."

The nickname makes his smile, and perhaps too carelessly, he hands over the information he's gleaned this week. The position of the emperor's army, where the generals are gathering, what towns are being searched.

A hum comes from the depths of that pretty throat of yours. You caress along his chin. "Good little spy," you praise. It pleases him to a pathetic degree.

"Takami."

Keigo freezes at the voice that calls out to him. You've cut your attention over his shoulder, your expression all hard lines.

Slowly, reluctantly, he turns his head, finding none other than Iguchi, the right hand to the emperor, glaring at him. His hard eyes glance from Keigo to you and back. He doesn’t have to ask to know the overgrown gecko has heard everything.

“I did not think…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He runs off, stealing a car from an unsuspecting racer who shouts after him.

“Shit.” He is so fucked. And so are you.

“Get in, Bird Man.” You’ve already thrown yourself back in the car, even wheeling it around in the time since Iguchi taking off by foot.

Keigo hesitates, glancing from the car racing off to the interior of yours. “I can fl—“

“You want to catch that guy or not?”

You switch your car into gear, hitting a button that has the interior lighting up. You rev the engine and he gets the hint. You’re about to take off, with or without him.

Pushed by the immediacy of the situation, Keigo sighs, throwing himself into your car and slamming the door behind him.

He’s just barely adjusted his wings and buckled his seat belt when you hit the gas.

“Woah—!”

“So what exactly was your plan?” You question him, and he tries not to get distracted by how hot your condescension sounds. He catches your eyes darting around the streets, taking in street signs and lights and pedestrians. Your irises glow as you activate your quirk, and in a world he cannot see, lines and grids expand in your mind’s eye, a blueprint of the city mapping out. “You’ve got the speed, then what?”

“My feathers—“

“Yeah you take out his windshield or tire at best. Then his car goes careening into some building and you’re in even deeper shit.”

“Like your car is better equipped to catch him?”

“She is.”

Without taking your eyes off the road, your fingers fly across a screen. After hitting a few buttons and entering a passcode, and an entirely different menu appears. “Take a look.”

Keigo swipes through the various weapons and equipment attached to your car. “Where does— hey!” He hits the side of your car on a particular sharp turn. One glance over at your poorly hidden grin reveals you feel zero remorse.

In front of you, a light turns red, and you promptly stop. Keigo lurches forward, mouth agape as he glances between you and the car getting away.

“All that just to follow traffic laws?!”

You point at an oblivious man typing away on his phone as he crosses the crosswalk. “You want murder on your case too? Besides.” You nod to where the runaway is stopped at a light ahead. “He is too.”

He doesn’t see your point, because you don’t even have your eyes on Iguchi. You’ve got your eyes on the lights perpendicular to you and the pedestrian cross countdown. He feels a thrill at your forming smirk as the perpendicular lights turn red. He’s a little skeptical and stressed right now, but damn is he happy to witness your skill. The exact second your lights turn green, you veer left.

“Where are you—?!”

“Don’t get your feathers all ruffled,” you dismiss him. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

It’s a tall glass you order of him, because what follows is a succession of sharp turns and jerks as you weave through traffic, following the shortcut provided by your quirk. He feels like a rag-doll manhandled around the playground, and it makes him feel a little sick.

Which is ironic, considering he can fly. Still, it doesn’t stop his stomach contents from shaking up inside of him, and he has to cover his mouth to help keep it back. He otherwise grips the handle above him, clinging to it like a lifeline. “I think I’m gonna be car sick.”

You just laugh, zooming further into traffic.

The city speeds by through the windows, and not long after, you’re launching onto the highway. There’s less cars here, allowing you to pick up speed.

A second later, the target car zips past you without even realizing.

“Bingo.”

You step on the gas, taking off after the car.

Keigo curses as you veer off the road into a secondary one, undoubtedly chasing a new path lit by your quirk. His wings involuntary flay out.

“Takami—”

“Sorry.” He snaps them shut again.

Luckily, they don’t cause too much of a distraction, and you’re able to stay your course.

Ahead, the road curves. Keigo glances from you to the path you aren’t correcting to follow.

“Hey— uh, the road—“

“What did I tell you?”

You fly off the side of the cliff, and with quick fingers, you activate the hover function of your car.

Keigo’s jaw drops open. How the hell does your cover fly?!

You press a few more buttons, and Keigo yelps as a heavy thunk hits the bottom of your car.

You take both cars higher, high enough that if the other driver tries to jump, he’d certainly fall to his death.

When you turn to look at him, he’s embarrassed by the severe lack of blood to his face. “Alright bird man, it’s your time to shine.”

“Huh?”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Spymaster and you can’t think when to use those hulking things attached to your back?”

Oh. Right. Forgive him for trying to reorient his soul, which might be halfway to the afterlife.

After flying down to his car, Keigo throws Iguchi into your backseat. When the lizard won't stop cursing about how the two of you won't get away with this, Keigo gags him with one of his feathers. And then you fly him out to the country, where your people do an excellent job of staging a freak accident, but they're really keeping him to question him.

Keigo leans against your car, feeling all sorts of hot all over for this new side of you he's gotten to see tonight. He slips his hands into his pockets, grinning at you. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You lean against the car next to him, and he pulls you closer with his wings. He's internally thankful you let him. "I suppose we do."

a/n: idk guys i just wanted a whole super skilled driver reader who's the fastest on the ground x keigo fastest in the air type power couple

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: friends to lovers, college au, fluff

This party absolutely sucks.

The house is too small, the music is terrible, and no one is even playing any drinking games.

And yet, you stay. You stay even when Rumi decides she’s ready to dip, yet you only came so she wouldn’t be alone.

You stay, because just as the two of you are about to leave, you hear his name.

“Actually, maybe I’ll give it a chance,” you tell her, pausing at the doorway.

She smirks, her perceptive ears no doubt catching what changed your mind. “Be safe. Call me if you need anything.”

And then she’s out, quick as a rabbit.

You head back for the kitchen, because even if there aren’t games, at least there are still drinks.

You’re going to need it if you’re going to survive this party.

After snagging a cup of something radioactive, you make your way back into the living room. You set up station in the corner, taking a sip of your mystery concontion.

Its color is volatile, but it doesn't assault your palate with alcoholic bitter, which is about as best as you can ask for from a party like this.

"Thought you and Rumi left a while ago."

A warm presence slides up to you, making your small corner more crowded. You glance up at Keigo, hiding a pleased smile into the rim of your plastic cup.

"You knew I was here the whole time?"

Keigo leans against the wall, his hands resting casually in his pockets. His amber eyes take you in over his nose bridge, that lazy smirk on his face. "Of course I did. I saw you the second you walked in."

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, your cheeks warming. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or something gushy and pink.

Suddenly, the party isn't as bad as you thought.

"Even through all these people?"

You and Rumi came late, as is the cardinal rule for skipping the boring parts of a house party. As you intended, the place had been packed by the time you arrived, even a bit too packed.

His head is cocked, reminding you very much of a bird of prey. Except instead of being poised to strike, his shoulders are set easy, his entire demeanor relaxed. He's content right where he is. Oddly enough, it makes you feel all the more like his next target. "Yeah."

Maybe because you know you are.

The misconception about Keigo is that he's a playboy. It's a rumor that started because he happens to be attractive, charming, and polite enough to entertain the people who work up the nerve to approach him, even if they've never met.

But he doesn't play with hearts. He rejects each offer and confession with grace, polite enough that he's built an empire of connections because if they can't have him romantically, then his rejectees at least want to be friends.

At first you questioned it. There were plenty of beautiful, brilliant, and equally as charming contenders.

And then you started noticing how he acts around you. All the one-on-one study sessions that he doesn't ask anyone else for. How he lingers at the back of the group if you do, too. Your go-to order, already waiting for you by the time you arrive.

His fingers brushing against yours in what could totally be an accident, except it happens to often. How he crowds into your space, closer than he needs to be, at any given opportunity. And his eyes, gleaming and perceptive, somehow always already on you, waiting to meet yours.

Rumi even teased you for it, asking when you were going to stop torturing him and give him a chance. You told her when he grew the balls to ask you out directly.

She didn't quite get it, because she's the type to go get what she wants when she wants it. She doesn't wait.

You thought Keigo was like that, too. And it seems like in every other instance he is.

But these past few months have been a buildup. Something easy and exciting. A familiar squeeze in your chest, growing with each shared class and late hour spent texting instead of sleeping.

Even now, he hovers a touch closer than he needs. The heat of his body radiates off of him, seeping into your sweat-coated skin. But you don't mind sharing it, not if it's him. You like that he's this close. You like the sharp scent of his cologne wafting into your nostrils. It's something refreshing against all the body odor of everyone else, mixing with his own natural scent of something cozy and warm that you catch a whiff of each time you're huddled close at ungodly hours in the library.

"This party kind of blows, doesn't it?"

Your eyebrows raise, a smile tugging at your lips. "Isn't this your friend's party?"

He waves a dismissive hand. "He's good at being edgy. Not at having fun."

You laugh, and even in the dim light, you see his eyes brighten at the sound. It makes you feel all giddy.

"How about we bail?"

You turn to face him fully. The thing between you simmers, just waiting to boil over. "Oh? Where do you suggest we go instead?"

He shrugs. His feigned indifference is piss poor, his eagerness to have you to himself practically oozing out of him. "We could get drinks." His eyes slide down pointedly to yours, which you've barely drank even a quarter of. "Or we could get coffee."

Most of the cafes are closed at this hour. But a few hours more, and the earliest ones will open soon.

You step a little closer, cutting the difference between you just a little more. His eyes track your movement, smile growing. Still, his hands don't leave his pockets, but you see the material of his pants shift. You think you want him to be a little less respectful. "What are you saying, Takami-san?"

Your own hands clasp behind your back, a clear sign you won't be initiating anything. You crowd just a touch closer, fluttering your lashes.

It might be the lighting. It might be alcohol in his system. But his cheeks flush a pretty pink. If you were just a little closer, you'd be touching, and you might've even heard the staccato beat in his chest. His eyes dip down, just for a moment.

"Aren't we past those formalities?" His hands finally slip out of his pockets, fingers twitching.

"Are we?" Yes, yes you are. The two of you have come a long way since your first year in the aeronautical engineering program.

Keigo doesn't reply. His focus is unabashedly trained wholly on your mouth, so close that all he has to do is lean in slightly to catch it.

The music's pulse mixes with your own. It's something physical and live, threatening to pop out of your chest. Somewhere between flashes of cheap party lights, the distance between you disappears completely.

It feels like an electrical zap when your lips meet. He makes a small noise, like he can't believe this is actually happening. But his shock subsides, and in the next moment, he's honing in on his catch. His arm wraps around the small of your back, pulling you closer to his oh so inviting body. The drink in your hand is carefully taken away, set haphazardly on a nearby table.

You sigh, pulling back, lashes fluttering as you meet his eyes.

He searches your gaze for only a second, confirming you want this as much as he does, before he swoops in for more.

The second kiss lingers. He tilts his head like he's practiced, though whether it's with other people or his pillow, you're not sure.

You think with the way his tongue slides against your lips, however, it's the former.

Your knees go a little weak with the way he kisses you. It's languid and deep, a method for savoring the taste of you. You push back just as heavy, something in you bursting with the bubble no longer keeping you separated.

His stubble tickles your chin, but you like the burn.

His fingers card deeper into your hair, tugging at the back of your head for a better angle.

You choke down the moan it elicits, your own hands clenching into his shirt. His necklace clinks against your chest, the metal cold against your skin.

The kiss turns into something hotter as you press your body closer against his, the rest of the party fading away as his hand slides up your shirt. Your skin prickles where he makes contact, and you want him to touch you lower. An ache begins to pulse between your legs, and you shamelessly swing one over his hip, allowing you space to grind down on the bulge growing in his pants.

He grabs at your ass then, moaning unabashedly as he gropes and drags you over his hardness. He nips at your lips, tugging with his teeth.

Somewhere in the distance, someone cheers you on, and it reminds you that the two of you aren’t alone.

A string of saliva pulls between you as you back your faces up, but your bodies are still pressed tight together. You slide your arms over his shoulders, both of your chests rising and falling heavily as you catch your breath. “I think we could do both,” you tell him, with a pretty smile that has him wholly captivated. He watches you with heavy lids, his own pupils blown wide, making him look all dopey. “Let’s get drinks tonight.” You glance up to make sure he’s paying attention. He nods. “Go back to my place.” A sharp inhale of breath. “And finish with a little cafe date tomorrow. Whenever in the morning we get to it.”

Keigo grins, all boyish charm. He leans in, stealing a quick smooch off your lips. “I’d like that.”

After a night of drinks that leave you both pleasantly tipsy, the two of you stumble back into your apartment. And after a couple rounds that leave you with a gratified glow, the two of you make it into a cafe at morning so late it's practically midday. He asks you out for real and you giddily talk about your feelings.

"You didn't find me even a little cute?"

"Of course I did." You take a sip of your espresso drink, something sweet and paid for by Keigo, just like all of your drinks last night. "But we became friends, so you kind of became off limits."

Keigo scoffs, dramatically leaning back in his chair. You think he might fall over if he tilts too far. "Why does us being friends make me off limits?"

"Because I'm trying to foster a real, genuine connection," you tease. “Without ulterior motives.”

"That real, genuine connection is how I fell for you, you know."

You do a terrible job of hiding your smile in your drink, cheeks warming. "I know," you answer softly.

Keigo’s smile is all smitten and gooey. He leans forward, swiping at some whipped cream left on your lips. "If we weren't in public, I'd just kiss that right off you."

Flustered, you shove his face back. Your heart flutters as he laughs. "You would start doing more than just kissing."

Keigo's grin turns shameless. "That I would. Aren't I such a well-behaved boyfriend?"

"I suppose..."

"Well if you're going to be like that..."

You squeal as Keigo gets up from his seat, coming over to your side of the table and trying to catch you in a kiss. He doesn't actually push, but his arms are warm around you, trapping you in place. Even as you try to hold him off, you're both laughing, and you think you could get used to this.

── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ tags: fluff, established relationship, internet trend

“Can I get tempura? Is that okay?”

Keigo stares at you, brows drawing together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

You cast your eyes down, hands wringing together. “I just wanted to make sure it’s allowed.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the thoughts flashing through Keigo’s eyes. Suspicion, because this demure act is nothing like you. Realization that this is a prank. Then panicked self-preservation, because the waitress is staring at him like he's just slapped you across the face.

“You don’t have to ask for permission on what you eat, dove.” It’s sweet, how much affection he’s able to coat his tone in when you’re putting his reputation on the line. He smiles brightly at the waitress. “In fact, add on an order of each dessert! And more, if that’s what she wants!”

The waitress, still with some preservations, nods and writes down the order before leaving your table.

Your shoulders shake from the effort of tamping down your laugh, but the giggles escape as soon as she’s gone.

Keigo sighs in exasperation, cheek resting against his open palm. “Why are you trying to get me canceled?”

You smile and shrug, taking a sip of your water. “I saw it trending on social media. Wanted to try it out.”

Keigo just shakes his head, fondness making his expression all soft. It makes your heart stutter in your chest, and you wonder if he’ll ever stop making you feel so adored without even trying.

His face turns serious before you can respond. “You know that I never want to dictate anything about you, right? Your choices are yours to make.”

You know. It’s something he made clear in far less words at the beginning of his courting you. It’s one of the things you love about him. The reassurance makes you melt, and you reach across the table, hand reaching for his. He easily intertwines his fingers with yours, two puzzle pieces slotting together. “I know. You pass with flying colors, but the way.”

It’s a stupid, silly prank. One that you never doubted him an instant for, but he cutely puffs his feathers and sticks his tongue out. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t be able to call myself your boyfriend otherwise.”

˚₊‧꒰ა✦𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ✦໒꒱ ‧₊˚

☆ BNHA

⤷Takami Keigo/Hawks

baby, we're perfect (3 parts): preview to fic on ao3, celebrity, fake dating, canon compliant moth to a flame: exes, pining!keigo is that okay?: established relationship, fluff, "am i allowed to get this" trend drinks or coffee: college au, friends to lovers, fluff baby, you got the keys: established relationship, street racer au babe, my boyfriend's coming!: established relationship, internet trend, fluff "it's just practice": SMUT, kissing practice, dry humping would you still love me if i was a rock?: angst, est. relationship, mcd, happy ending still rockin' your hoodie: exes, reconciliation, reminiscing

☆ VISIT THE ARCHIVE!

GENERAL EXPECTATIONS:

᯽ smut + sfw

᯽ romantic + platonic dynamics

᯽ will NOT write underaged nsfw or self-ship

᯽ platonic dynamics or high school (ship) fluff OK!

᯽ poly (ship or self-insert) OK!

᯽ self-inserts are always f!reader because i write for myself first. i am open to nb! reader. do not ask for m!reader.

᯽ all writing is original; use of work is not permitted, especially for training of AI.

᯽ fandoms:

ships/characters listed are ones i have written for/enjoy. this list is not extensive and i am open to any characters/ships that are not in the off-limits section! i am also a switch enthusiast, so while i do have preferences, i am open to either dynamics!

ᴋɪᴍᴇᴛꜱᴜ ɴᴏ ʏᴀɪʙᴀ ⤷ sanemi, giyuu, giyusane ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ!! ⤷ oiiwa, bokuaka, sakuatsu, atsuhina ⤷ iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, atsumu, osamu, suna, kuroo ʙᴏᴋᴜ ɴᴏ ʜᴇʀᴏ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴀ ⤷ takami keigo/hawks ꜰᴜʟʟᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ᴀʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛ: ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ⤷ royai, edwin ⤷ olivier mira armstrong

᯽ off limits (will not write)

list is not extensive. any minor characters are off limits romantically, but i am happy to write platonically!

ᴋɴʏ: entire cast of minor characters lol, any demons besides Muzan (hakuji ok!) ʜQ: tsukishima kei (character and any ships), ushioi ʙɴʜᴀ: aoyama, dabi (touya aus ok!), endeavor, grape rat, iida, shigaraki, spinner

─── hawks x reader ໒꒱

⤷ baby, we're perfect (3/3)

PART 1: baby, we're perfect

PART 2: but i can be the one, you love from time to time

He calls out to you, and this time, he forgoes the usual playful starling for your actual name.

It’s soft, hesitant, beseeching.

You close your eyes, unsure you want to face what sits on his tongue.

“Will you lend us your strength?”

You hear the apology in his tone. He doesn’t want to ask this of you.

But there’s a desperation, too. A plea for help.

Because he’s just unloaded the truth of the heros’ peril. Of a quirk that can steal, evolved into one of mass destruction. Of a quirk made with the sole purpose to defeat it. Of an inevitable, final battle between heroes and villains approaching.

Your heart seizes in your chest. With fear. With conflict. With anger and hurt and... a small kernel of hope.

Your quirk has never been used for anything but to hurt. You hate your quirk. And he knows it.

But you hate the fretting even more. You hate sitting on your ass, twiddling your thumbs, wondering if he’ll come back okay. You hate that after every major battle up until now, he’s come back more broken each time.

The first time, it was a Nomu that left his face scarred. This last time, his wings had burned, and he hadn’t been able to even talk unless it came through a voice emulator.

You squeeze yourself tightly, fingers digging into your arms, conflict tearing at your insides.

You don’t want to hurt anymore. Even if it’s villains. Because you know there’s always more to the person behind a villain label. And you don’t want to hurt anymore people.

He says your name again, and you hate the way you hesitate. You hate that you look at him, the one thing that will weaken your resolve and crack the iron wall of your fear.

His eyes are all soft and there are apologies lining the openness in his body language. A hand reaches for you, hesitating.

You don’t step toward him. But you take in his haggard appearance. His charred hair and his big, beautiful wings that are missing too many feathers.

You don’t want to hurt anyone. But you don’t want to see him hurt anymore.

“You don’t have to mist them,” he says, in that gentle, comforting tone one uses on a frightened animal.

“Just, even if you came and solidified their blood. It would make a huge difference. You don’t have to hurt anyone. A physical stop is enough.”

“My quirk has only ever been used for misting. For killing.”

Your voice comes out strained, holding back the sob that threatens to come out. “I don’t know how to anything else.”

His face pinches with all the sorrow and regret he feels for asking you this. But he pushes on, because your involvement in this battle could change the tides completely.

“You do,” he reminds you softly. “You do. And we can train so you can remember and master it by the time of the battle.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you spit, turning away from him. You hate him. You hate him for asking you to choose. Because if you truly, resolutely refused, he wouldn’t push.

But he knows there’s a chance, so he does.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“I know.”

“But... I don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

“...I know.”

“You’re so fucking mean for making me pick.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, because it’s all he can say.

You hear his rustling movement, and when you turn, you’re shocked to see him down on one knee, head lowered.

“I know you don’t want to hurt. I know you’re scared. But I ask you because I know you want to help, and I know that you can. Without killing anyone. So please, (Name), lend us your strength.”

“Please, join this fight. If not for me, then for a better future.”

Gods, you fucking hate him. You hate the way he makes your heart race. Hate that he sees all of you and understands. Hate that he has the damn gall to ask you, even after everything he knows.

You hate that he has absolute complete faith in you. You hate that he doesn’t fear your quirk nearly as much as you do.

A tear rolls hot down your cheek. You look at the ground because you can’t look at him.

“Do you really think... I can fight, without someone else dying?”

“I think that if you fight, you’ll save a lot of lives.” His answer is sincere, even though it's not the affirmation you needed to your question. You suppose that affirmation is not one he can truthfully promise.

A few more tears fall. Your chest is so tight it hurts. Your head hurts. Everything hurts.

He remains kneeling before you, sending a couple of stray feathers to gently wipe your tears. He doesn’t hide how much it pains him, nor how desperately he needs this. He wouldn’t disservice you by hiding this vulnerability. His hope.

Gods, your heart aches.

You are absolutely terrified of your quirk. But Keigo is bowed before you, pleading with his honesty and a belief in you that you don’t understand how he could have.

You really, really want to believe, too. And you want to help achieve this better world that he promises. You want to live in it. With him.

You still haven’t talked about your feelings. Maybe after all this is over, you will.

“Okay. I’ll help.”

He doesn’t celebrate. He just offers a small, relieved smile. “Thank you… my starling.”

────────── ʚɞ ──────────