♥︎Fluffs♥︎

Hawks casually glided on air during his afternoon patrol. The day had been yawn-worthy with only a couple of criminals that required his attention, so he reserved his energy and let his wings do all the work. Nothing interested him enough otherwise. But, while scanning the streets below, a civilian on the sidewalk caught his eye.

He immediately flew lower to get a better look.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. Very rarely in his line of work did he see someone with a bird-related quirk, and even rarer that they were as beautiful as you. Some had limited features, like his internship student with his bird head, and some had abilities that affected literal birds. The object of his attention today, however, had wings.

He wondered if you could fly, or if you enjoyed the activity like he did; chasing the freedom of the skies. Your wings were massive enough to trail the ground while you walked, so they were surely more than decorative. Preening them would be a pain too, since it was a manual task, while he was lucky enough to not have to deal with such inconveniences. He also wondered if you had any additional abilities like he did.

Hawks swore it was only two seconds of staring. Immediately after looking away from you—he flew right into a pole.

The impact was loud. He slid down the metal before settling into a pile of limbs and feathers on the ground. Pain was the first thing he felt. Something warm coated his aching forehead, and a strange ringing filled his ears. Not a minute later, he opened his eyes; discovering he was in heaven when he saw your blurry image reaching out to him. A halo of light (the sun, unbeknownst to him) crowned your head from behind, and framing your person were six, pristine, fluffy white wings.

“You’re a beautiful angel…” he slurred, suddenly feeling like he was about to throw up. Is that what happens in the presence of divinity?

You kneeled in concern, having witnessed the accident, and brushed feathers off his face before pulling back with blood on your fingers. The hero in front of you looked dazed—almost loopy. He had no idea what just happened to him.

“I guess I really fell for you huh?” he managed, his eyes following a version of you that was moving. Then he giggled, “You my guardian angel or something? I could’ve used you these past… nine—ten years?”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “I think you have a concussion.”

“A crush,” he gushed in mishearing you. Feathers around him stirred to life. “I do in fact—“ He made a weak grin and finger-guns. “—have one of those.”

“We need to get you to a hospital. Can you stand?”

He tried pathetically, then shook his head with a smile. It was up to you.

Bracing yourself, you crouched, slipped your arms beneath him, and picked him up bridal style. Passerby started to take notice of the situation. Hawks didn’t, and elatedly swung his feet. With his arms around your neck, he confessed that he “always wanted to be a bride”.

Much like his feet, the wings beneath him swished erratically, careening you this way and that, so you barely managed a few steps before having to abandon the idea of carrying him to a hospital. He immediately lost his balance on the ground and you lowered him to sit. He promptly looked up at the huge metal pole like he hadn’t just flown into it.

“Oh, a pole!” A lazy hand attempted to surround it and failed. He tried to stand, but ended up leaning on it for support. “You think I’d be able to dance with this one?”

You panicked and reached out. “Hawks, you need to sit—“

“One night only folks!” he said in a drunken manner, using limp wings and a hand to swing around the base and lift himself off the ground. Bystanders watched in shock. On his way back around, he was laughing and found you again—letting go to stumble into your arms. Feathers flew everywhere in a flurry of red and white, suspending you briefly in a moment of time. Your breath hitched. Your heart skipped at the sight of his smile.

More blood streaked down the side of his face; ending your wonder.

“Are you okay?” You knew the question was redundant since someone nearby said they contacted Hawk’s hero agency, but there wasn’t much else you could do.

Wings ruffled and very content, he deepened the embrace. “Of course I am—“ He cut himself off with a soft gasp, pulling away to reveal a tiny white feather on his nose. “I’ve just been given a wonderful gift.” Letting go of you, he gently picked it up to cradle it, cooing, “You’re too kind to me.”

Your ears finally registered the snapping of cameras. Many bystanders were taking photos—not of you and Hawks, but rather the Number Two hero being actively injured and impaired. This wasn’t good, you realized. This could damage his career.

With precision, you unfurled all six of your pillowy wings—taking delight in the people that stepped back—and curled them around Hawks in a shield of feathers. He didn’t even notice the growing paparazzi. His mind was in a trance at the sight of your wings; big and beautiful and soft to the touch. Each caress was gentle, reverent, and made you momentarily forget why you were doing this in the first place.

“You’ve got big wings,” he complimented, feeling his own graze against yours even as he tucked them in for space. You were close enough to share air. To hold him. Instead of focusing on that, you started plucking bloody feathers out of his hair. That way, at least he could look like less of a mess if the media saw him again. When a camera somehow peered over the gap above your heads, you shifted your top wings to close it to a pinhole; casting you in shadows.

Hawks wondered when his intern had shown up.

You wondered how the country’s second-most capable hero managed to put himself in this situation.

He interrupted your thoughts by earnestly grabbing your hands. “Come work at my agency,” he said breathlessly. Warm air brushed your face, and you felt your cheeks go warm.

“I—I already have a job.”

He pouted. Then, his balance decided to give out and he stumbled backwards—out of the protection of your wings. Oblivious to how vulnerable he was, he declared from the ground, “At least give me your number!” right where dozens of people with phones and cameras could hear.

They crashed in like the tide. You leaned over Hawks and shot your wings out to keep them at bay. “Stay back! He’s injured!” Most of them didn’t seem to care, only pushing closer to get more photos.

“Wow,” he chuckled amidst the chaos, feeling flattered. “Didn’t know I had this many fans.”

At last, your own saving grace arrived when a sidekick you vaguely recalled as Hawks’s pushed through the crowd to reach you both. Using your wings as shields again, you made enough space for the two of you to lift him off the ground and you passed him over. Hawks resisted and stretched a hand out to you.

“Waaait I wanna go with herrr…”

“Sir, you’re losing blood.”

“That’s okay, she’s just my type.”

You facepalmed at the reaction of the people around you. You could picture the news articles already. The magazines.

“Wait—“ Hawks resisted again and practically bent over backwards to hand you something. A business card. “Call my agency. Tell them you’re the angel that saved me.” He was still breathless and bloody, but he continued to look effortlessly handsome.

You wanted to reason the business number was for a reward (or something like that) but you knew better. You knew infatuation when you saw it, because you were experiencing it all the same. It was like looking in a mirror. So, with little reservation, the card sat comfortable in your pocket.

“I will.”

The light and elation in his expression filled your heart with an indescribable joy. It made it all worth it, no matter the outcome. He finally walked (stumbled) away with the help of his sidekick, but not before a small red feather flew back and settled on your nose, as if thanking you for the white one hidden in his jacket.

You happily tucked it into your pocket.

Three days later, Hawks lounged in his office, lifting something above his head and wearing a satisfied look on his face. In the background, a video played on repeat. He quickly finished the magazine he was looking at and flipped to the front, taking a moment of admiration. The cover, along with the other magazines on his desk, showcased different pictures detailing the incident that had gone viral in a matter of hours: Number 2 Hero Meets The One For Him?

The one in his hand was his favorite, displaying him being carried bridal style. The others were similar—him being shielded by your beautiful wings, you protectively holding back the paparazzi, the two of you embracing when he swung into you. It caused a media whole storm. Yesterday, he felt an overabundance of glee over the countless questions shouted at him during patrol; ignoring each and every one of them with a cheeky grin. Mystery was much more fun.

Except when it involved you.

Fondly, he touched the top of his head. The dent had been fixed up in no time, but he liked to pretend it was still there from the moment of impact—the moment he fell for you. Little butterflies now danced in his stomach from time to time, anticipating your next meeting.

A soft, white thing brushed his upper lip, tickling the tip of his nose as he mindlessly twirled it back and forth. He slowly dazed off in a daydream of reality and fiction, but it was broken when a call from his assistant buzzed through. He answered it.

“Sir, a Miss ‘Angel’ is on the line?”

Hawks smiled, genuinely, and far away, he could feel one of his feathers being held with great care. It was the same since yesterday and the day before that, giving him the profoundest of hopes. Pushing the button to respond, he leaned in close to make sure his words were communicated clearly, leaving no room for error.

HAWKS X GN!READER;

Keigo leans forward instinctively. Closer.

One of his hands slides upwards leaving your waist and cradling around your jaw, his thumb soothing idly across your cheek, tracing indiscernible shapes. The space in-between fragile and full of want. The kind that tugs at his chest, and catches in-between his ribs, settling there, humming.

Warm and content. 

Nose to nose, breath to breath. 

He can’t help himself, eyes pining at the sight. Darting across your face and taking in your features, committing it to memory. Barefoot, loose-fitted clothing and tired eyes. 

Both curled up next to one another on a well-loved couch in the early hours of Christmas morning, having binge-watched some questionable Hallmark movies. You'd been insistent on inviting him over after Keigo had accidentally let slip about spending the holidays alone - something he was accustomed to - but, he's glad that he did decide to spend it with you. Every room is truly lived in, love apparent in every room. Unapologetically taking up space. He preferred it compared to his own home.

The same ongoing song and dance working alongside each other, years and years of orbiting, pulling into each other. Just teetering on the edge of something more, something else entirely. 

A gentle knocking of hands; pinkie fingers and shoulders brushing up against one another, being passed off as nothing but just a fluke, yet still remaining close. The same said hands, his own, being a guiding pressure along the small of your back - yours a firm reassurance on his shoulders. Hidden smiles, just about curving of lips in response to inside jokes, a blink and miss it as it were. 

There was comfort in that safety, the stillness in pretending. And, it was easier that way, for Keigo - at least it was. Maybe, he could've kept pretending, playing along and years would continue to go by. Wanting, waiting. Saying nothing at all. A matter of whether he even truly deserves domesticity after everything. 

But you look at him like he means something. Looking at him, not through or behind as an asset - just at him alone. And so, he finds himself sitting in your living room, hair tousled and barely awake, with the blanket you’d cloaked around him as he’d fallen asleep. 

Watching you watch him. Eyes soft and fond.

A few crumbs from the gingerbread you’d eaten earlier, still in the corner of your mouth; the dim light from the incandescent LEDS wrapped around the tree (you both know in your heart of hearts has seen much better days) casting across the side of your face, and the awkward tilt of the star ornament that refuses to lean upright. If he could bottle up a moment, something for once, on his own terms to tuck and curl away in that space behind his ribs, this would be it.

Keigo wasn’t sure how to be gentle; he’s a bit too sharp, a mass of scarring and sunny smiles, brittle around the edges, still trying to piece together where he ends and where he begins. What remains of him outside of this, in a life of domesticity. Something so simple as this - he’s damned if he doesn’t want it.

But you make him want to be. You make him believe. (That he deserves to have something like this).

Your own hand curls around his wrist, thumbing on his pulse point. Erratic, jackhammering underneath his skin. 

Gold-brown tracks the movement of your tongue, darting out and swiping at the remainder of crumbs. He then runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, parting them. Slightly chapped from sleep. 

He watches on as your lips curve slightly, eyes crinkling.

“Kiss me, Keigo?”

A sharp inhale - tight, measured. The corner of his mouth twitches, failing in fighting the urge to smile. He ducks his head forward momentarily, ears tinged a soft pink as he looks up at you from the corner of his periphery. 

Right now, he’s Keigo - it’s just him, and you - where no one’s watching.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. I can do that.” 

He nods again to himself this time, and this time hears you huffing out a soft laugh; eyes offering a slow once-over, unhurried and lazy almost, flitting down from your eyes, then to your lips and back up.

You pause, glancing at him. Eyes still soft, as your thumb continues to ease small circles into his wrist. “It’s just me.”

A beat.

Exactly.

“It’s you.” 

Leaning forward as he pulls you in, he presses a chaste, close-mouthed kiss into the corner of your mouth. A little off-center, but it’s just right. It’s hesitant, tentative, as he tries to find his footing. His fingers twitch against your cheek. A quiet kind of desperation, years in the making. A hum builds, low and deep in his throat as he slots his lips against your own properly. 

You’re so warm. There’s a weight, a hunger to it.

Earnest and pleading. 

Keigo kisses you once, then again, and again and again. Chasing after you with each breathy exhale you let out. 

And everything tilts.

It’s a slow back and forth, as he familiarises himself with the way you taste, the way you feel. Savouring it. Finding a steady rhythm. The sensation of your smile pressing against his mouth, tender and sweet, as you release your hold from around his wrist and instead cup around the nape of his neck. Fingertips ghosting across a large scar, peeking out from beneath his t-shirt. Gently massaging over the thick skin, somehow already aware of the slight tightness building there. 

It’s easy to give, easy to want when it comes to you.

Breath laboured and slightly heavy, he eventually manages to peel himself away from you. A small laugh slips from him, shaky and high in his throat. It’s anything but smooth as he sheepishly runs a hand through his hair, looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. Not laughing at you, angel, I promise. It’s just–” the faint warmth tugging behind his ribs kickstarts up again, stronger now, unaware of his dialect seeping through again. And, maybe if he’d been paying close enough attention, he would’ve noticed how your eyes widened at the sudden endearment. “Yeah. That was, yeah. Okay. Wow.” 

Your own palm gradually slides upwards from his neck and cradles around his jaw, the slight of stubble brushing against your skin - and you guide him, tilting his face. Contentment, he hoped that’s what it was or something akin to it, looked good on you.

He can feel his eyes pining again.

It comes out soft, not quite breaking the silence.

“Kiss me again?”

He stopped dead in the doorway.

Because standing on a stool… in an oversized lab coat hanging off her tiny frame…

Was a child.

A small girl with messy hair, sharp intelligent eyes, and the same deadpan expression as Y/N—but shorter, louder, and with her hands already reaching for tools she shouldn’t touch.

Jun blinked.

“…No way.”

The kid stared back at him.

Both froze.

Then:

“WHO ARE YOU?!” child Y/N yelled, voice much louder and higher than adult Y/N’s emotionless tone.

Jun flinched. “I—what—WAIT—WHERE IS MY BOSS—HOW DID YOU GET IN—”

Child Y/N ignored him.

And immediately ran.

“HEY—HEY—COME BACK—”

But before he grabbed her, she turned around, snatched his tablet right out of his hands, and sprinted away with shockingly fast legs.

“HEY!!! THAT’S A $2,000 TABLET—COME BACK HERE BRAT—CHILD— GREMLIN!!”

Jun ran after her. She laughed loudly.

Adult Y/N had never laughed this loud in the entire time he knew her.

“im doomed,” Jun whispered to himself.

Later Jun checked the Security footage from the lab confirmed it the tiny gremlin was, in fact, Y/N.

Jun looked ready to die.

Later that day

Hawks was doing patrol, gliding lazily across the city sky, when he spotted Jun sprinting through the street like a man being chased by tax collectors.

"Kid-give me back the tablet-PLEASE-my whole life is on that-"

High above, Hawks spotted him mid-patrol and swooped down.

"What's with the cardio? You training for something?"

Jun grabbed his sleeve. "HELP ME. She stole my tablet."

"She? Who?"

Jun pointed dramatically...

At a tiny girl scavenging through a street vending machine like a hungry raccoon.

Hawks blinked.

She blinked back

“Jun?? What are you—”

“HAWKS PLEASE—HELP—SHE STOLE MY TABLET—”

“Who—?”

Then he saw her.

A small, frantic child bolting down the sidewalk, oversized lab coat flapping, holding a tablet above her head in triumph.—clearly stolen from Y/N’s lab for “study purposes.”

Hawks nearly dropped out of the sky.

“...what the...?”

Child Y/N looked up at him mid-run, eyes sparkling with unfiltered curiosity.

“YOU CAN FLY!!!! HOW FAST—HOW HIGH—HOW MANY FEATHERS—CAN I TOUCH—???”

And she just started climbing onto a lamp post trying to grab his wings .

"...Why is she louder than Present Mic?"

Child Y/N didn't wait for permission-she grabbed his visor right off his face and put it on.

It slumped over her entire head.

"Oh," Hawks said slowly, "Okay. This is happening."

Y/N took off running-again.

"WHY IS SHE SO FAST-??"

"BECAUSE SHE'S MY BOSS!! STOP HER!!"

“OKAY NOPE—NOPE—NO TOUCHING THE WING—HEY—COME BACK—”

She ran again.

Jun wheezed, bent over. “Hawks… she’s… too fast…”

Hawks landed beside him. “Why is she like this?! Y/N is not like this—Y/N is dead inside.”

Child Y/N ran in a circle around them.

“IM NOT DEAD INSIDE IM FIVE!!”

She immediately tripped, rolled, stood up, and sprinted again.

Hawks dragged a hand down his face.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Hawks finally caught her mid-dive, lifting her by the back of her lab coat like a kitten.

“Alright, gremlin. Where are your parents?”

She puffed her cheeks. “I AM Y/N.”

He stared.

Jun groaned. “Yeah. Yeah she is.”

Hawks blinked a few times.

“...No. Absolutely not. No way. The real Y/N doesn’t run. She glides. Like a depressed ghost.”

Child Y/N kicked her legs angrily.

“I’M NOT DEPRESSIVE I’M FUN now put me down chicken!!!”

“Yeah, clearly your experiment removed twenty layers of trauma.”

Back at the agency, Hawks checked the security footage.

There it was:

Adult Y/N testing a device—

A flash—

And poof.

Tiny Y/N in a heap of smoke.

Hawks rubbed his temples. “Great. I’m babysitting my crush but smaller and faster and illegally smart.”

Jun grabbed his jacket. “Hawks. Please. Watch her. I’ll try to find a way to reverse the effect or something.”

Hawks looked at child Y/N who was

climbing a shelf

reaching for a fragile drone

chewing on a screwdriver

and somehow hacking Jun’s stolen tablet all at once

“…Jun please hurry.”

Child Y/N waved at Hawks. “HAWKS LOOK!! I MADE A LASER.”

Hawks bolted across the room.

“NO—NO LASERS—NO LASERS—STOP—”

A few hours later, Hawks dragged child Y/N into the hero office, wings drooped in defeat.

Endeavor walked in and froze.

A small child in goggles was standing on his desk, vigorously poking a touch screen.

She looked up, eyes widening.

“FIRE MAN!!!!”

Endeavor blinked. “No.”

She sprinted at him full speed.

“FIRE—MAN—WHOOSH—BIG—FLAME—HOW HOT—CAN I TOUCH—”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

She latched onto his leg.

Endeavor stiffened like a statue.

Hawks wheezed laughing.

“She likes you, boss.”

“I do not like children,” Endeavor deadpanned, trying to pry her off.

Child Y/N gasped dramatically.

“WHY NOT!?”

“Too loud.”

“YOU’RE LOUD!!!”

Endeavor glared at him. “Shut up.”

Hawks eventually gave up and brought child Y/N to his penthouse.

She immediately ran inside like a raccoon entering a convenience store.

In two minutes she already:

stole his keys

climbed on his couch

hid behind a curtain

poked his feathers

opened drawers

turned on the coffee machine

and tried to escape through the balcony

Hawks chased her all night.

she outran him way too easily.

“HOLY—HOW DID Y/N SURVIVE BEING HER OWN CHILD???”

She eventually got tired at 1 AM.

She curled up on his couch with his blanket and the Endeavor plushie she stole earlier.

Hawks sat on the floor, exhausted. “You’re… adorable… but terrifying…”

The next morning, she woke up as…

Adult Y/N.

Full-sized.

Cold.

Emotionless.

Hair messy.

Blanket slipping off her shoulder.

Hawks sat across from her, holding coffee with dark circles under his eyes.

She blinked.

“…Why am I here?”

Hawks stared at her like she was a ghost.

“You climbed a building, stole Endeavor’s pride, hacked Jun’s life savings, and tried to touch my wings fourteen times.”

Jun arrived with the antidote in hand… only to see adult Y/N already back.

“Oh thank god,” he sighed. “Boss, please never be a child again.”

Y/N’s ears turned pink.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh it was,” Hawks said, pointing at her. “You were hyper, loud, and feral.”

Jun nodded. “A gremlin.”

“Do not call me that,” she muttered.

“You hugged Endeavor’s leg.”

Y/N froze.

“…I’m going home.”

And she walked out immediately.

Jun and Hawks burst out laughing.

Weaving your feet through the gifts on the ground, you placed the star on top and were suddenly more grateful than ever. This year was your best year to date when it came to the Hero Rankings. You were a breakout hero, nearly changing your rank almost every few weeks. Your ranking boosted at the Hero Gala back in August after sensing a disturbance outside of the banquet hall. Hearing changes in frequency and feeling vibrational disturbances was your quirk. Certainly not the most flashy or something to brag about, yet giving everyone inside the banquet hall at least 30 seconds warning before the attack, made everyone fawn over you and many lives saved.

Stepping back and taking in the tree and your entire living room in its entirety, you chuckled to yourself, remembering that not only your fans had the capabilities of swooning over you. Pro Hero Hawks was the only hero you knew of that was not too subtle when it came to interactions with you. You’ve been told by other heroes that he was a common flirt, amongst heroes and fans, but with you, it was different. A few heroes like himself had been keeping tabs on you and honestly, who wouldn’t? A young, beautiful hero making her way within the “manly” field and giving them a run for their money?

Containing your mixed thoughts about the winged hero and other men, you began to put away the other decorations. Organizing them well, you whistled gently to match the tune of ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’, taking small sips of your hot chocolate with a little mint liquor dribbled in. It was something to warm the soul on a frosty night since you were alone. You didn’t mind being alone. Your hard work was your love and the pay off, both monetary and the pleasure of helping people any chance you could was something you wouldn’t trade for the world. Although, an occasional kiss here and there wouldn’t be the worst thing you absentmindedly spoke to yourself.

Somewhere outside in the distant air, Keigo was soaring gently and keeping patrol in the quiet city. He wasn’t the only hero that was out tonight, yet somehow, he still felt lonely. Keigo didn’t mind patrolling on a holiday eve. He enjoyed that his work would protect family’s bonding and holiday cheer. It was just difficult to enjoy his work knowing that any other day, Keigo had no one to come home to.

Keigo had stopped a few petty thieves in the night and he was close to finishing his patrol, noting only an hour left until midnight. Swooping and swerving higher in the air, Keigo had noticed you in front of your balcony window. He snickered to himself, joking how people really don’t fully understand when it’s nighttime, an open window reveals all sorts of things that you don’t want anyone else to see. He took his time bringing himself closer to the window, bringing his jacket collar closer to his face due to some wind chill.

He made eye contact with the top of your tree first. Keigo studied its unorthodox look. A white tree with silver garland, multicolored Christmas lights and if one more decoration was added to your tree, there was no doubt it would have collapsed on itself.

“Needs a little work, but still beautiful..” Keigo smiled and muttered to himself. Flying closer, you had just finished packing your leftover decorations. Hoisting the box up, you walked in front of the tree, blocking Keigo’s view. But really, more like adding to it. Keigo’s eyes became soft within his goggles and his heart provided more heat than it had all night. “No. It’s perf-”

As Keigo began to talk louder, you stopped walking. You heard something change in the air. It was different from the easy screams of the wind in the night. It was familiar yet unwarranted. Keigo’s mind was stunned, pushing through his adoration and remembering what your quirk was. He was sure he outed himself as being somewhat of a peeping tom. Whether he stayed in place mid flight or rushed away, he knew he was done for. So Keigo did what came most naturally in a situation of infatuation. He forced himself up and over your balcony to hide away and perch.

Before your eyes lifted to your balcony door, nothing was there. It was just the deep night, soft trickles of snow and you questioning your own thoughts. But as the newest number four hero, you knew better than to ignore your instincts. Setting the box of decorations down, you shimmied up a blanket from the couch, draping it over your shoulders as you face the glass door. Your breath could be seen on the door as you scanned the outside. Nothing out of the ordinary stuck out to you, until you began to turn away.

A smirk was laid on your face, sliding the door open to step outside. The cold outside honestly felt good, taking a break from the oven that was your home. Closing the door and sealing yourself outside, you edged your way forward. Keigo could see you from down below, noting how serious your face was with scanning the area. He mentally applauded you. Even wrapped in a cozy blanket with slippers on, you were ready to fight and protect in a blink of an eye. It wasn’t until Keigo’s eyes fell upon one of his feathers, just before your right foot, that he gulped and wondered what he got himself into.

“The night is so calm..” You spoke to yourself, letting your hands rest on the railings, enjoying the silence within the night. The flurries were beginning to pick up, dressing the buildings in a soft coat of white, crystal fluff. You tried your best to contain your tiny smile, knowing that your secret admirer was still watching you, probably holding his breath to not make a sound. “Maybe Santa will come this year..” You spoke again, this time, in a playful tone to edge Keigo on from up above.

Your words did make Keigo smile but he knew he had stayed for long enough. The thoughts and imagery he had about you on this night was something he was willing to overlook. Keigo gently lifted his wings up to take flight, but he made the mistake of using his instincts to bring his feather on the ground to return back to him. A devious chuckle slipped from your lips as your right hand caught the feather mid flight, feeling it squirm before it relaxed. All you could hear was a defeated curse coming from Keigo’s mouth.

“Didn’t expect a little birdie like you to stay here during the winter..” You cooed, turning around and leaning up against the railing. You fondled the feather as you stared up at Keigo. He was perched in an almost defensive manner but the moment your eyes connected, he became gentle again, although his heart could have easily stopped within that moment.

“I have many urges as a bird but..” Keigo replied, facing his fate. He hoisted himself up only to lower himself gently on your balcony porch, letting some of the flurries that had accumulated rush up as he settled down on the ground. Keigo pulled up his goggles but still kept the lower part of his face buried under the collar of his jacket. “..migrating isn’t my thing. I like to stay in place here..”

“I’m not one to take in strays, especially those of the stalking variety..” You teased, holding out Keigo’s loose feather for him to take back.

Even through Keigo’s jacket, you could see his harsh blush. And it wasn’t just from the wind chill between you two. A man like him was always filled with words but being caught was something he had never experienced before. He was careful in all of his endeavors but with this, he really had set himself up.

“Me? A stray?” Keigo tried to let his cocky nature return to normal, despite his deep feelings. Bringing up his gloved hands, he simultaneously unzipped his jacket to reveal his full face and collect back his hostage feather. “All the names I’ve been called a hero, hearing the number four hero call me a stray was something I wasn’t expecting..”

“Well..” You brought your limb back to your body, wrapping yourself back up in your blanket. You held an easy smile but it was still filled with intent. You wanted to toy with Keigo. Why you wanted to toy with him was even unknown to you. Maybe due to the lonely nature of the holiday, being overwhelmed so much during this month and wanting a relaxing conversation, maybe out of Keigo getting a taste of his own medicine. “I didn’t expect the number two hero watching me while I was all alone. I could have you arrested, you know..”

“On such a holiday?” That familiar smile of Keigo’s began to slide through. It was him becoming his elemental. The light banter of connecting to a person. Keigo had only been in this type of situation with you a couple times through work, but alone and together like this? It had only bounced through his mind countless times. “I was just doing my job. And frankly, on a night like this..” Turning his head towards your door, he nodded to the littered tree, cheesing. “I say fire hazard trumps performing hero duties..”

Going to open your mouth to retort, you knew he was right. From a farther perspective, your tree was a hot mess. You tightened the blanket around yourself harder and sighed, letting loose your mental game with him and thinking back to your supporters.

“Well I..” You began. “I just didn’t want to leave anything left out. All the decorations were gifts and..”

Keigo turned his head back around to you. You didn’t mean to have such a somber face but he took it in. With your small explanation, he knew your care and admiration of your fans and supporters was serious. It only added more swelling to Keigo’s heart but less thoughts within his head.

Taking a step forward, Keigo replied, “That’s.. really sweet of you. Not every hero manages to put others first outside of duty.. really puts them first..”

“I take my job seriously.” You returned. In your head, it sounded really snappy but you meant it more than anything. Catering to citizens for praise or attention was never your goal of becoming a hero. It was to ensure they were loved, protected and heard. Looking into Keigo’s eyes, that simple sentence was worth a billion words.

Keigo found himself speechless again. He nearly ached. He questioned why he hadn’t met you sooner within training. Keigo wondered if you two had met in the past but if he was too caught up in his own matters to pay attention. The lines between lovesick and lust were dangerous but having never felt anything like this before, risking it all was an understatement for him.

A wicked wind chill shook both of you up, making you clutch your arms tighter and Keigo pulling his wings in to steady himself.

“I-I don’t usually let in strangers.. let alone stalkers b-but..” You joked to clear the chilly air, sensing that no other distractions would be out in the night besides him. And if anything were to happen, two heroes could easily hold their own. “Would you care for some hot chocolate? I usually add a little extra.. to keep warm..”

Keigo grinned, knowing what you were hinting to. He didn’t stress too much about leaving his shift early, holding the same logic as you. Two heroes were better than one, even if some liquid spirits were involved. “I wouldn’t mind..” He replies softly, almost washed away from another swoosh in the air.

Keeping your eyes on him just a little too long, you eventually step to the side and creep your way back to the door. Opening it, the rush of heat flushes your face instantly, sucking you back into your home. As Keigo enters and closes the door, his wings rustle and he shivers. Although he wouldn’t admit it, the cold really did bother him but it was a risk he was willing to take to keep the job of his dreams.

Letting go of your toasty blanket, you drape it over the couch and head to the kitchen. You eyed Keigo as you picked up a glass from the drying rack, there was something innocent about him. The way he took off his jacket and shoes, scanning your home with a coy look, smiling ever so gently as he noted all the decorations. You wanted to question everything at this moment but alas, a simple bite of your lip as you scooped some hot chocolate from the pot was all you could manage to do.

“Do you like the holidays?” You asked, breaking the tension as you turned to the cabinet, fishing out your mint liquor.

“The holidays are just like any other time of the year to me..” His response was timid but it was out of honesty.

Turning back around, you hesitated taking the cap off of the bottle. Keigo was close to the tree, grazing his fingers among a sparkly ball ornament a young fan had made you in art class. Your breath hitched, taking in all the colors that flooded his shirt and skin. The multicolored lights danced along his white fitted shirt and made his arms and face bright with glee, yet somehow, his expression was flat.

Pouring some liquor in, you decided to be a little generous and added a few drops more. A man like him on a night like this probably needed anything just to escape for a little while. Finishing up his cup, you walked along beside him and held it out.

“Holidays aren’t for everyone..” You shrugged, deep down understanding what he meant, but decided your opinion on them wasn’t worth the light banter.

Facing you, he mustered up a genuine smile and retrieved the glass from your hand. “Holiday food and drink though, different story..” Keigo joked and hummed, taking a sip. The curve of his smile grew more, enjoying the minty flavor. So much so, it had left him a chocolate mustache. “Those are the good parts of the year..” He chuckled, licking his lips.

Blushing lightly, you agreed as you walked over to your couch. Slipping back into the blanket, you grabbed your own glass from earlier and sat gently on the cushions. You were happy, taking in the sights of your home but also afraid to admit the addition of a fond hero did look rather good.

Keigo took another curious look around your living room before meeting you on the couch. He became consumed on the plushness, almost sinking in and letting go a deep sigh of comfort. His smile was gone now, but that didn’t stray away from his relaxation. You thought to yourself what he had been through all night.

“Tell me about work..”

Keigo releases a snort as he turns his face. “You’re asking me about work? You are a hero, you know..”

“I may be a hero, but I’m not the number two. I’m curious about what goes on about being a bird in the city..” Hiding your sly smile, you take a cautious sip, letting the heated drink soothe you.

Yet another simple sentence makes Keigo swoon inside. It isn’t every day someone asks about his work and it isn’t every person who does his job but wants to know his perspective. Inside, he questions again why now was the time you two are able to be alone, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He embraces the time and makes it his.

“As a certified on looker of the people..” He teased, keeping along with your persistent view of him. “I think people are interesting when you look long enough. The tiny mannerisms, seeing the gears turn in their head when they’re problem solving, the almost aloof way they decide to pay with a bunch of change for a coffee..” Keigo giggled to himself. “That’s just the good stuff. Seeing someone’s mood change or their stance when faced with another person..”

“It must be overwhelming. Analyzing all of that before swooping in, you know..” You engage.

“Yeah, it.. really is..” Keigo took a hearty sip before making eye contact with you once more. “But I’d imagine your quirk must be difficult as well, if not more. All those subtle changes. How do you distinguish between a flower pot accidently dropping and someone getting thrown up against a wall?”

“Honestly? Context clues and.. gut feeling..” Saying those words to the number two hero was nothing short of embarrassing. Gut feeling? Context clues? What’s next? Just having a functional brain? But it was really the truth. “You remember that event right? The first night we met?”

Keigo nodded, afraid to answer knowing that night all too well. “The Hero Gala..” His voice low with stone eyes. In his mind, the Hero Gala wasn’t something he wanted to attend. Sure, it was to honor all the heroes and those who have fallen. To give the heroes their accomplishments a spotlight and official recognition but to Keigo, it was another place to accept compliments he didn’t want to hear. But at the end of the day, he was grateful to have met you.

Looking down at your glass, your thumb swirled the top of the rim. “I could hear and feel so many things. The traffic, the other convention in the building next door, hell even the elevators hum all throughout the building..” Admitting that your day always consists of overstimulation was not something you expected to do today, especially to one of your idols, but it was the truth. Your quirk has saved many lives, yet at the cost of your mental battery.

“So, you essentially have all these wavelengths of noise constantly around and whichever one is off or suddenly becomes apparent, that’s when you know it’s something bad?” Keigo asked in a genuine matter, his head slightly cocked to the side. It was honestly refreshing. Most of the time when you explain to people your quirk, they more or less ask if you ever become crazy due to all the noise.

“Yeah.. exactly that..” You reply softly, your eyes locking onto his. Your heart fluttered, to have someone understand it instantly. For someone to get you.

“I can’t imagine having to deal with that all the time..” Keigo replies. He’s sincere about your struggles. There’s a moment of pause between you both, almost as if the both of you want to say more than you should. Instead, Keigo turns his head back to your very decorated tree. “But I can imagine what it’s like to have many fans who truly appreciate your work. The work you manage to do.. it really deserves more than being number four..”

Turning your head to your tree as well, your eyes begin to shimmer with the tiniest hint of tears. It took you a long time to be comfortable with your quirk, to embrace it and become what you always wanted. On top of that, to have your idol acknowledge it. This moment was indeed the best present you could get this holiday season.

“Oh, well would you look at that..” Keigo breaks from looking at the tree.

Following his voice, you glance over at him. “What?”

His eyes are down at his watch. Keigo sets down his empty glass and presses a button on his watch. “I am officially off of my shift. And it is also officially.. Christmas..” He looks up and smiles.

Returning the smile, you raise your glass. “Merry Christmas..”

Keigo looks around your apartment again. His eyes bounce from the tree, to your balcony door and over to the kitchen.

Raising an eyebrow, you question him. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have a mistletoe..”

Eyes wide, you shake your head. “Why have a mistletoe? I live alone..”

Keigo grins and stands up. He stretches out his wings for a moment, summoning three feathers in the air before letting his wings down again. The three feathers twirl in the air before coming together to resemble a mistletoe. It hovers above and slightly in from of Keigo’s head. “Well, you may live alone but you have someone to enjoy this silent night with..”

His hand stretches out in your direction, asking you to stand up. Face heated, chuckles come from you. This must have been a silly dream. Someone lonely holiday dream you were experiencing. Surely after you decorated your tree, you were fast asleep on the couch and this was a serious case of lucid dreaming. Yet, the moment you grabbed Keigo’s hand and felt his inviting warmth of sweetness and intention, it was a more than clear, this was reality.

His hands slid down to your waist as he pulled you closer to him, both of your chests touching. Your eyes flickered up, the feather mistletoe he created still swirling in the air, almost in a teasing matter. Your smile continue on as your eyes fell back onto his. From the lights of your tree, you were both decorated in multicolor lights. Skin changing from red, to a soft yellow, all the way to an inviting purple.

“Well, number two. Kiss me..” You spoke softly.

“Of course, number one..”

Inside her lab, time didn’t move the same.

Blue light pulsed from holographic schematics that floated above her desk, dancing across her tired eyes. The hum of energy from her half-finished devices filled the silence like white noise. She was precise, deliberate, every movement sharp and efficient — like she was trying to keep up with something that always moved faster than her thoughts.

Her quirk — Technological Advancement — wasn’t flashy. She couldn’t fly or blast or heal like other people.But she could enhance.

By channeling her quirk through machinery, she could temporarily amplify another person’s quirk, strengthen its stability, increase its range, even synchronize their energy output with custom-made gear.

She was the reason half the heroes in the Commission were still standing after a tough mission.

And yet, despite that, Y/n never stepped into the spotlight.

She didn’t want to.

Her work was her shadow — vital, invisible, and never thanked out loud.

That was fine. She preferred it that way.

Because watching heroes parade their power around while she patched up the wreckage they left behind only reminded her why she hated them in the first place.

"I don't like people born with power ask for more "

When she was younger, she’d dreamed of being one of them — a hero. She’d even applied to U.A.’s Hero Course. But her quirk didn’t make her strong. It made others strong.

At fifteen, she’d stood in front of the U.A. gates with trembling hands and wild hope. She’d trained for years, thinking her quirk — the ability to power up others — would make her the perfect team hero. The perfect partner. The one who could lift others up.

But the entrance committee didn’t see potential.

They saw limitation...

“Your quirk can’t stand alone,” one examiner said, flipping through her file.

“You depend on others to make use of it,” another added.

The Commission told her she was “better suited for support.”

In the end, she didn’t get into the Hero Course.

She was offered a place in the Support Department instead — the side branch that made tools for the people who actually mattered.

She accepted out of pride. Out of necessity.

And maybe out of spite.

.

But her reputation reached farther than her walls.

They said if your gear failed mid-battle, if your quirk was unstable, if you needed something fixed yesterday — you went to Y/n L/n.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t talk.

She just worked. And it was perfect.

Heroes born with incredible quirks strutted around like gods, while people like her spent sleepless nights cleaning up their chaos. She’d seen too many with raw power who never learned control — too many who smiled on TV while others rebuilt what they’d destroyed.

So now, she stayed behind her glass walls, helping them because it paid well — not because they deserved it.

Inside, the air hummed with precision.

Rows of high-tech equipment lined the walls — exo-suits, utility gauntlets, armor regulators, prototype drones. Assistants moved briskly between workstations, and blue holographic screens floated in the air, alive with schematics and energy readings.

At the heart of it all sat Y/n L/n, her eyes fixed on the mechanical core spinning slowly in front of her.

She wasn’t like the other engineers — all chatter and caffeine highs.

Her movements were quiet. Exact. Deliberate.

Every flick of her hand was a calculation, every blink of her eyes scanning data faster than most could process.

Years later, that same quiet spite became her fuel.

She built her own agency — independent of the Commission, independent of any hero network. Well at least that's what others say...She didn’t answer to anyone.

Now heroes lined up at her door for repairs, upgrades, and enhancements — the same kind of people who once told her she wasn’t strong enough.

But she wasn’t bitter anymore.

She was careful. Controlled. Detached.

Her heart still tightened when she saw the billboards of smiling heroes flying above the city, wings and fire and lightning cutting across the sky — but she’d learned to swallow that feeling whole.

Because heroes like them would never understand people like her.

They were born with power.

She built hers with her hands.

A knock on her glass office door pulled her out of her thoughts.

One of her assistants peeked in, tablet in hand.

“Miss L/n, we’ve got a high-priority client,” they said. “Commission clearance, top hero.”

Y/n didn’t look up from the blueprint she was adjusting. “Schedule’s full.”

“They insisted.”

“Then tell them to wait.”

The door hissed open before her assistant could even step aside.

A feather drifted in first, glinting red in the fluorescent light — followed by an easy voice and a grin that didn’t belong in a lab full of exhausted engineers.

“Front desk said I should skip the line.”

The man who stepped in was almost too bright for the sterile room — golden eyes, red wings that shimmered faintly even at rest, and a presence that carried warmth and arrogance in equal measure.

The Number Two Pro Hero.

He gave a lazy wave. “Hope I’m not interrupting, Miss L/n. Heard this place is the best for quick fixes. Thought I’d see for myself.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked up from her work — brief, unreadable — before turning back to the glowing schematic.

“If you’re here for repairs, leave your equipment on the counter. Someone will handle it.”

“Someone?” He smiled. “I was hoping for the famous Y/n L/n herself.”

“You don’t need me.”

“Maybe not. But I was curious,” he said, walking further in, his wings brushing the air like a whisper. “Everyone’s been talking about your work. You’ve got half the top heroes in Tokyo using your upgrades. I figured, if I’m gonna fly with the best, I should meet the one building the engines.”

She didn’t even look up. “Compliments don’t make me work faster.”

He chuckled. “Noted. But I heard you’re picky about who you help.”

“I am.”

“So what’s your criteria?”

“People who don’t waste my time.”

Hawks grinned — that effortless, teasing kind of grin that disarmed most people. “You really don’t like heroes, huh?”

Y/n’s hands paused mid-motion. For a moment, she said nothing. The only sound was the faint hum of energy from her desk.

Then, quietly, “I don’t like people who think being born powerful makes them special.”

He blinked — not offended, just… curious.

“Guess that includes me.”

“It does,” she said plainly, then resumed her work.

Hawks studied her for a long moment.

There was no hatred in her tone — just an old, quiet exhaustion. The kind that didn’t come from jealousy, but from knowing too much.

She didn’t flinch under his gaze, didn’t bow to his rank or charm. She treated him like any other client — maybe even less than that.

And somehow, that drew him in more than praise ever did.

“Y’know,” he said finally, breaking the silence, “most people try to get on my good side.”

“You don’t have a good side,” she said.

He laughed under his breath. “You’re sharp. I like that.”

“Don’t.”

He smirked. “Feisty too.”

“I can increase the power output of your wing stabilizers by thirty percent,” she said flatly, ignoring his teasing. “But if you keep talking, I’ll make it twenty.”

He held up his hands, still smiling. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet.”

Y/n adjusted the final schematic and called to her assistant. “Take his regulator. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow morning.”

Her tone made it clear: the conversation was over.

But Hawks lingered a second longer, wings twitching faintly as he took one last look around her lab — her world of light, metal, and silence.

“Y’know, I think I get why everyone respects you,” he said softly. “You don’t need to stand on a stage to look powerful.”

Y/n didn’t look up. “And yet, you still can’t help talking.”

He chuckled, backing toward the door. “Fair enough. See you tomorrow, Miss L/n.”

When he left, one feather drifted down onto her desk. It glowed faintly, reflecting off the polished metal surface before fading into stillness.

She stared at it for a long while, expression unreadable. Then, quietly:

“Show-off.”

And she went back to work.

End of Part 1-