st✭r

naive.

that was what they called you.

it followed you everywhere, settled into your bones before you even understood what it meant, repeated so often that it stopped sounding like an insult and started sounding like a fact.

it came from your mother’s mouth most of all, sharp and certain, like she was reminding you of something you should already know.

you were born into a household that did not want you.

it was a truth you grew up around, something that lived quietly in the walls of your home. it was obvious just by way your name was said, in the way your presence was tolerated rather than welcomed.

you learned early on not to expect too much. it made things easier.

still, when you were younger, there had been a part of you that hoped.

maybe they will, eventually.

it had been a small thought, fragile and hopeful in a way that children tend to be.

your mother made sure to correct that.

“it’s naive of you to think we would care for you,” she told you more than once, her voice cold and steady as if she was stating something obvious. “after everything you did.”

you had not understood that at first. you had not understood how you could have done anything at all. but she always said it with such certainty that you believed her.

your family had been happy once.

you knew that because they never let you forget it. they had been complete when it was just the three of them. your father, your mother, and your older sister.

your sister was everything a first daughter should be. she was smart in a way that drew praise without effort, talented in ways that people noticed immediately, and sweet enough to charm anyone she met. she was the kind of child people pointed at and admired.

your parents had loved her openly.

when your mother became pregnant again a few years later, they had been excited. your mother would tell that story often, though never kindly. she would talk about how happy they had been, how hopeful, how everything felt right.

for some reason, all three of them had wanted a boy.

your father had wanted a son, your mother had wanted to give him one, while your sister had wanted a little brother to dote on.

it had been something they agreed on completely.

your mother’s first pregnancy had been easy. she would say that with a kind of fondness that never extended to you. she had glowed, she said. she had been healthy, beautiful, admired. everything had gone smoothly.

with you, it had been different.

you grew up hearing every complaint.

your mother had been sick constantly. she had been weaker, more tired than she had ever been before. she would press a hand to her stomach when she spoke about it, her expression twisting in remembered irritation.

“you were unbearable,” she would say. “you kicked too much. you made everything harder.”

she said she had no glow that time. she said she looked awful, that her skin dulled, that her body felt like it was failing her. she said people noticed.

she said your father notice and then she would look at you as she recalled the story.

“he didn’t find me attractive anymore,” she told you once, years later, her voice cutting you sharply that it made you go still. “men don’t stay with women they don’t want.”

you remember standing there, small and quiet, trying to understand.

“i-i don’t… i thought—” you started, uncertain, your voice soft.

she didn’t let you finish.

“don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “it’s naive and stupid of you to think a man would want an ugly woman!”

the words settled somewhere deep in your chest.

naive and stupid.

they always seemed to come together when it came to you. one followed the other so naturally that you stopped separating them.

your mother stayed with your father during the pregnancy even though she knew he was cheating. she knew and she stayed, and yet somehow, you were still the one she called naive and stupid.

you never questioned it out loud, you learned not to.

the final disappointment came when you were born.

you were not the boy they had wanted.

you were another girl.

your mother would not say much about that day without bitterness. she would mention the silence in the room, the way expectations had collapsed in an instant. she would talk about how things could have been different if only things had gone the way they were supposed to.

they could have tried again. that was something she said too. but your birth had made that nearly impossible.

her body had struggled with the pregnancy. the delivery had been worse. she would tell you that she almost died bringing you into the world, her tone sharp, like it was something you should feel responsible for.

after that, she could not carry another child.

she could not give your father the son he wanted.

so he left.

it did not happen immediately, but it happened soon enough that the connection was easy to make. at least for her.

“you drove him away!” your mother told you.

it was said so simply.

you were the reason she was no longer attractive enough for him. you were the reason she could not give him more children. you were the reason he was gone.

you accepted it since you did not know what else to do.

your sister accepted it too, though in a different way. she had lost something she valued, and you had been there when it happened. you had been the cause, at least in her eyes.

she had been a daddy’s girl.

she never let you forget that either.

your life, for the most part, was okay.

you had a home, you were fed, you were clothed, even if most of what you wore had belonged to your sister first. her old clothes, her old toys, things that had already served their purpose before they reached you. she always got the new ones.

you went to school, you had an education.

you told yourself that it was enough.

there are people who have it worse.

that thought came easily. it made everything simpler to accept.

aside from the occasional harsh words, aside from the way your presence seemed to irritate more than comfort, everything was manageable.

you believed the only reason your mother kept you was because you looked like him.

you had heard it before, from others who had seen you, from passing comments that were not meant to hurt.

you were your father’s image.

you thought, for a while, that it might make your mother treat you better. she had loved him, even after everything. she had stayed and she had endured.

you thought maybe seeing him in you would soften something in her.

it didn’t.

if anything, it made things worse.

you started to understand that love and hate were closer than you thought. they sat beside each other, easily confused, easily mixed. maybe that was why she looked at you the way she did. maybe she saw him, and everything he had done, and she needed somewhere to put that anger… she needed someone to blame.

you were there… you were always there.

things only got worse when you turned five. that was the age when quirks usually began to show.

you waited for it. you thought maybe, just maybe, something would happen that would change the way they looked at you.

it didn’t.

days passed. then weeks. then months.

nothing.

your mother noticed. “of course,” she said one day, her voice filled with a cruel kind of satisfaction. “the gods are good for punishing you.”

you stood there, small and silent, not fully understanding what punishment she meant, but knowing it was something you had earned in her eyes.

your sister, who had already begun developing her own quirk a few years ago, was less subtle.

your sister had something beautiful, something admired, and something she would go on to brag about often.

she looked at you like you were a disappointment. “it’s naive of you to think someone like you would get a quirk. of course your didn’t!” she said, her tone light, almost amused.

you remember that moment clearly. you remember the certainty in her voice, you remember how it felt like the truth.

you could hear how much she despised you. their words did not feel like guesses or opinions. they felt loud and right.

that was what made them hurt.

your mother did not take you to a doctor. she did not question it your lack of quirk and she did not try to find an answer. she accepted it immediately.

you were useless.

from that point on, they stopped trying with you.

your mother rarely spoke to you unless she had to. your sister treated you like something beneath her attention. you became background, something that existed but did not matter.

you were pulled out of school not long after. your mother said it was easier that way. tutors were brought in instead.

if it had been entirely up to her, you would not have had that either. but she still saw use in you, even if it was not immediate. you needed to be educated enough to serve whatever purpose she had in mind for you later in the future.

so you stayed at home.

always at home.

your world became smaller without you fully realizing it at first. rooms you knew too well, routines that repeated endlessly, days that blended into each other without anything new to mark them.

your mother took you out occasionally, usually when she went somewhere with your sister. she did not like leaving you alone too much. she did not trust you enough for that, though you never gave her a reason not to.

and yet, you followed quietly, never complaining, never asking for more.

over time, it became clear.

the doors of your cage had closed and they had no intention of opening again.

… or so you thought.

you are older when it finally happens. you had finally graduated in high school with quiet grades and quiet applause because you very much homeschooled, so your graduation consisted of your teacher congratulating you and leaving you alone at home. then, when you found a decent job it feels less like a victory and more like a door cracking open just enough for you to slip through without anyone noticing.

that was the one and only time your cage opened.

you remember the weight of your first paycheck in your hands, the paper thin slip that somehow felt heavier than anything you had ever held before, and you remember staring at it for a long time as if it might disappear if you blinked, because this is yours, and that thought alone feels strange in your chest.

after getting your first pay check you got your own apartment.

it was small and plain and far from anything remarkable, but it was yours, and when you stepped inside for the first time with your key in your hand and no one watching you, no one telling you where to stand or how to breathe, you stood in the middle of the empty room and felt something unfamiliar settle in your chest.

you were shocked your mom even allowed you to move in the first place.

you expected resistance, expected sharp words and tighter chains, but instead she had only looked at you once and said nothing more than a dismissive hum, and later you would realize that it made sense, because she probably wanted to get rid of you for a while now.

finally you were free… until you realized you were not.

naive, you thought.

because after a few weeks after moving, after you had started to get used to the silence of your apartment and the absence of footsteps outside your door, your phone rang, and the name on the screen was one you could never ignore.

your mother called you for dinner and ordered you to be there.

there was no invitation in her tone, no softness, just expectation, and you followed orders easily as if it was written into you somewhere deep, something ingrained so thoroughly that you did not even think to refuse.

you showed up at your childhood home on time, shoes quiet against the familiar floor, and the shock was immediate when you stepped inside and saw a man sitting at the table next to your older sister.

your father.

this was the first time you had ever seen him in person.

you had grown up with pictures, with fragments of a man who existed only in frames and stories that never included you, and now he was here, real and breathing and laughing softly at something your sister said.

your mother was happy.

they were all happy.

you could see it clearly in their faces, in the way their expressions softened and their shoulders relaxed, and there was something else beneath it, something you could not quite name but could feel pressing against your thoughts like a whisper just out of reach.

then they turned to you and the mood went down.

their faces changed quick and obvious, smiles fading just enough, eyes sharpening just slightly, and you stood there at the edge of it all like something that did not belong.

your mother spoke first, her voice flat and cold as if she was reciting something unimportant.

“your sister saved your father during a patrol,” she said, not even looking at you properly, “he was laid off from his job and had nowhere to stay, and he said he misses me and your sister, so he is here to stay.”

naive, you thought. stupid.

you nodded as if that was enough, as if that explanation filled the space that had opened in your chest, and you took your seat quietly while the three of them continued talking like nothing had changed.

you pretty much dissociated through the entire dinner while they caught up.

their voices blurred together into something distant, laughter rising and falling while you picked at your food and stared at nothing, and you could see how everything looked normal between the three of them, how easy it was, how natural, and it was clear they left you out on purpose.

why did they even invite me? you thought.

after a couple of hours, you were free once more.

you stood up when it felt appropriate, said your quiet goodbyes that were barely acknowledged, and stepped out into the night with the door closing behind you like it always had.

you headed home… your home.

mine.

it was dark and cold out. it settles into your skin and lingers. the sun had long since set, leaving the sky stretched out above you in deep shades that felt too wide and too empty.

your head snapped upwards to the sky without thinking, your eyes tracing something unseen, something that tugged at your attention just for a second before it slipped away, and then you started walking again.

it was just your luck that you had to pass an alleyway in the dark to get across to your apartment.

you clutched your jacket closer to your body as you sped up your pace, footsteps quick and quiet against the ground, your eyes fixed ahead as if that alone would get you through faster.

then you heard it, a drunken slur from behind you, voice thick and careless.

“hey… pretty thing…”

your steps faltered and before you could move away, before you could even think, you were surrounded.

three men, all reeking of alcohol and something worse, closing in around you with grins that made your stomach twist.

“where you goin’ all alone, huh?” one of them laughed, stepping too close.

“don’t be shy,” another added, his voice low and mocking, “we just wanna talk.”

one was twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, the touch making your skin crawl, while another leaned too close to your neck, breath hot and disgusting, and the third stood behind you, blocking any escape.

“soft,” the one at your hair murmured, “real soft…”

“bet she sounds real pretty too,” the one near your neck added with a laugh.

your voice came out small, shaking despite your attempt to steady it. “please… stop. just let me go… i’m just heading home.”

they only laughed.

“aw, don’t be like that,” one of them said, his hand brushing your arm, “we’re just getting started.”

you squeezed your eyes shut.

then suddenly, swoosh.

the hands on you vanished.

you opened your eyes slowly, confusion cutting through your fear, and what you saw did not make sense at first.

the three men were no longer around you.

they were across the alley, pinned to the wall opposite you, yelling and grunting as they struggled against something that held them in place.

crimson feathers. multiple of them, sharp and precise, pinning their clothes and limbs to the wall like they were nothing.

then you heard it, a charming drawl from above you, light and almost amused.

“now, now… harassing a lady,” the voice said lazily, “that’s pretty low, even for you guys.”

you gasped as you heard a rush of air, a soft but powerful whoosh before someone landed behind you.

you turned and there he was.

a man with big, beautiful red wings that spread slightly behind him, feathers catching the dim light as they shifted, and your eyes lifted to meet sharp, bird-like golden brown eyes that were already looking at you.

his blonde hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, there was also something effortless about the way he stood there, like the entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

he smiled down at you.

“hey there, little birdie,” he said, voice warm and teasing, “you okay? what are you doing wandering around a place like this? hm?”

you just stared at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, and it took a second before recognition hit you.

you knew him.

number three pro hero hawks.

you did not know much about heroes, not really, but your sister never stopped talking about him ever since he made his debut, and the memories came back all at once.

her voice, excited and loud. “we live in kyushu and i still haven’t him around patrolling, can you believe that? i swear if i see him one day, i might die!”

and then at one point when she graduated u.a. and became a pro.

“can you believe it?! i mean, what do you mean he doesn’t take sidekicks? i didn’t even get to speak to him, his assistant just told me he’s not accepting anyone right now!”

your sister had never taken no for an answer before. you remembered how she threw a tantrum that day.

and now here he was.

and you were the one seeing him first.

your thoughts were cut off when he spoke again, tilting his head slightly as he studied your expression.

“wow,” he hummed lightly, “did i break you, or am i just that attractive?”

your face warmed instantly. “i… um… thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely steady, “for… helping me…”

hawks chuckled at that, the sound light in your ears. “of course,” he replied, his tone softer now, “everything’s fine now. you don’t have to worry, i’ve taken care of everything. you’re safe.”

only then did you notice the police arriving behind you, moving quickly to take the three men from the wall, their voices sharp as they handled the situation, but your attention stayed on him.

his eyes did not leave you.

“so,” he said, gaze steady as he spoke, “where are you headed? i can take you there safely.”

you hesitated for a second before answering.

“i… i’m just going home,” you said, pointing slightly across the street, “that apartment building… over there.”

hawks followed your gesture, then nodded once. “got it,” he said easily, “come on, wrap your arms around my neck.”

you blinked, confused, but you did it anyway.

your arms lifted slowly, settling around his neck as instructed, and before you could question it further, he moved.

he scooped you up effortlessly, holding you close.

“good girl,” he murmured, almost under his breath.

your heart stuttered.

“don’t be scared,” he continued, his voice low and reassuring, “just look at me, you’ll be fine.”

you followed his words without thinking, your gaze lifting to meet his again, and he hummed softly, something pleased in the sound.

then suddenly, air rushed against your face.

you gasped, your grip tightening instinctively as the ground disappeared beneath you, and when you glanced behind you, you saw it.

his wings.

moving, powerful and controlled, feathers shifting with precision as he carried you through the air like it was nothing.

it was unreal.

“first time flying?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“uhm, y-yes…” you admitted quietly.

“you’re doing great,” he said, smiling slightly, “not even screaming. i’m impressed.”

you looked back at him, still holding on. “it’s… nice,” you said, your voice soft with wonder.

freeing.

hawks chuckled. “yeah,” he replied, “it has its perks.”

it did not take long before the building you pointed out came into view, and he slowed as he hovered near it.

“what floor?” he asked.

“seventeenth,” you answered.

“alright,” he said, nodding, “go ahead and head up.”

you blinked in confusion as he lowered you to the ground near the entrance, but before you could ask anything, he was already moving.

you watched as he flew upward, wings carrying him effortlessly until he reached the balcony of the seventeenth floor, landing lightly on the railing.

he looked down at you. “well?” he called out, voice carrying easily, “get your pretty little behind up here so i can make sure you get in safely.”

you nodded quickly and headed inside.

when you finally step back into your apartment building, your shoes sound too loud against the polished floor.

you make your way to the elevator, pressing the button with careful fingers, and when the doors slide open you step inside and press the number seventeen. the ride up is slow, and your reflection in the mirrored walls stares back at you with wide eyes that still have not settled from everything that just happened. your chest rises and falls unevenly, and you bring a hand up to it without thinking, as if you can steady your heart by holding it in place.

naive, you think again.

the word comes easily now, almost like a reflex.

when the elevator doors open, you step out into the quiet hallway and walk toward your apartment. the key trembles slightly between your fingers as you unlock the door, and when you finally step inside, the silence wraps around you in a way that feels both comforting and heavy.

you move quickly, your steps light as you cross the apartment and push open the sliding glass door that leads to your balcony. the cool night air greets you, brushing against your skin as you step outside.

and there he is.

hawks is perched casually on the railing as if he belongs there, as if seventeen floors above the ground is nothing more than a comfortable seat. his wings shift slightly behind him, the crimson feathers catching the faint glow of the city lights, and his sharp golden-brown eyes are already on you.

watching.

they move over you slowly, taking you in from head to toe in a way that makes your breath hitch before you even realize it.

you step closer, stopping just in front of him, and your hands come together in front of you as you look up at him.

“thank you. you really didn’t have to wait for me here,” you say softly, your voice gentle as you meet his gaze.

he lets out a quiet chuckle as he tilts his head slightly. “hey, no need to thank me to much,” he replies, his tone light and smooth. “it’s kind of my job, you know.”

you nod quickly, as if that makes sense, even though it still feels like more than that.

“i still want to,” you murmur, your fingers tightening together. “you saved me back there and here you are making sure i get home safe. i don’t think all heroes would do that… take me home, i mean.”

his eyes soften just a fraction, and then that familiar teasing smile returns to his lips as he leans forward slightly. “careful, little birdie,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make your chest tighten. “if you keep looking at me like that, i might start thinking you like me or something.”

you blink at him, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “like… you?” you repeat, your voice uncertain.

hawks pauses for a second, then lets out a quiet laugh, clearly amused. “yeah,” he says, waving a hand lightly as if brushing it off. “don’t worry your pretty little head about it. i’m just messing with you.”

you nod again, accepting that answer easily.

“i’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you back there,” he continues, his tone softer now as his gaze lingers on your face. “you shouldn’t be walking through places like that alone, especially this late.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you reply quietly. “it was just the fastest way home.”

he hums at that, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “still,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “try to avoid dark alleyways from now on, alright?”

“i will,” you say immediately, nodding.

you eyes drift again, almost without thinking, drawn back to his wings. up close, they look even more unreal than you imagined. the feathers catch the light in a way that makes them seem almost too perfect, and you find yourself staring.

hawks notices.

of course he does.

a small hum leaves him, and his smile turns just a little more knowing. “you wanna touch them?” he asks casually, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

your head snaps back up to look at him, your eyes widening slightly. “i can?” you ask, your voice soft but hopeful despite the hesitation.

he chuckles again, clearly entertained by your reaction. “go ahead,” he says, shifting slightly to give you better access. “they won’t bite… i don’t either.”

you step closer, moving between his legs as he remains perched on the railing. his eyes never leave you, watching every small movement you make as if he finds it all interesting.

you hesitate for a moment, your hands hovering just inches away from the feathers as you glance up at him again, almost like you reading his mind and asking for permission one more time.

hawks nods, his voice dropping to something softer, coaxing. “it’s okay,” he murmurs. “you can touch.”

slowly, carefully, your fingers make contact with the red feathers.

the softness surprises you immediately. your breath catches as your fingers sink slightly into the feathers, and you gently run your hand along them, your movements light and curious.

“they’re really soft,” you say quietly, your voice filled with genuine wonder. “and… really beautiful.”

a low sound escapes him, almost like a purr, and you feel the subtle shift of his wings beneath your touch as he shivers slightly.

“yeah?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “you think so?”

your nod, still focused on the feathers. “they’re the prettiest wings i’ve ever seen,” you add, your tone completely sincere.

hawks lets out a soft laugh, clearly pleased. “careful,” he says lightly. “keep talking like that and i might keep you for myself.”

you glance up at him again, confusion flickering across your face. “keep me?” you repeat.

he meets your gaze, his eyes sharp with amusement before he shakes his head slightly. “you’re something else,” he mutters under his breath, though there is no real insult behind it.

you tilt your head again, unsure what he means.

he watches you for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh, though his smile never fades. “i’d stay longer,” he says, his tone shifting slightly as he straightens up. “but I’ve still got work to do.”

you pull your hands back slowly, your fingers lingering in the air for a moment before dropping to your sides.

“oh,” you say softly. “okay.”

there is a small pause, and then you look up at him again.

“will i… see you again?” you ask, your voice hesitant.

hawks’ sharp eyes narrow slightly in a teasing way, and he leans forward just a bit. “oh? what’s this?” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “already getting attached to me?”

your eyes widen immediately, and you shake your head quickly. “no, i just…” you start, your words stumbling over each other. “i mean, i’m just thankful, and… i don’t really talk to people much, so…”

your voice trails off, and you look down slightly.

he watches you closely, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before it softens.

he stands, stepping closer to you, and the space between you disappears easily. “do you want me to visit you again? is that it?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost gentle as he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

you nod without hesitation. “yes, please,” you say softly.

his smile widens just a little. “so polite,” he replies. “alright. anything you want.”

your chest tightens at those words, something warm blooming inside you in a way you do not fully understand. your fingers curl slightly at your sides as you look at him, that feeling settling deep in your chest.

anything you want.

you have never heard that before.

he notices the way your expression shifts, the way you hold onto those words, and something in his gaze sharpens just slightly.

then, without warning, one of his feathers loosens from his wing. it drifts down slowly, swaying gently in the air before landing in your open palm.

you stare at it, your brows furrowing slightly in confusion as you look back up at him.

“that’s for you,” he says, his tone soft but deliberate. “a promise.”

“a promise?” you repeat quietly.

hawks nods. “that i’ll come back,” he explains, his eyes locking onto yours. “so you better keep it safe for me, alright? keep it with you at all times. can you do that for me?”

you nod immediately. “i will,” you say, your voice certain. “i promise.”

he watches you for a moment longer before continuing, his tone still light but carrying something underneath it. “i might not be able to visit as often as i want,” he says. “being a hero keeps me busy. gotta chase bad guys and all that.”

you nod again, listening carefully.

“but i’m working on making a world where heroes got more time on their hands,” he adds, a small smile forming. “maybe then i can come see you whenever you want.”

you look down at the feather in your hand, your fingers gently closing around it. “okay,” you say softly. “i understand. thank you.”

“just stay safe,” he tells you, his voice firm again. “and be careful, alright?”

“i will,” you reply. “you be safe too.”

that earns you another quiet chuckle.

“you’re the sweetest little thing i’ve ever met,” he says, his tone warm. “don’t worry about me. i’ll be just fine.”

hawks steps back slightly, his wings shifting as he prepares to leave. “see you around, little birdie,” he adds, his voice dipping back into that teasing tone of his.

“goodbye,” you say, lifting your hand slightly in a small wave.

he winks at you, and then he drops from the balcony, and for a brief second your heart jumps into your throat before you rush forward, gripping the railing as you look down.

you catch sight of him immediately.

his wings spread wide, catching the air as he rises effortlessly into the night sky.

you watch him go, your eyes following his figure as it grows smaller and smaller against the darkness.

your hand tightens around the feather, pressing it gently against your chest as your other hand comes up to stroke along its soft surface without thinking. you do not notice the way your movements are slow and absentminded, your fingers tracing the feather over and over again.

high above, too far for you to see clearly, hawks slows and his wings falter for just a moment. a sharp breath leaves him, and a smirk pulls at his lips as a shiver runs through his entire body at the sensation of your touch.

his eyes half-lid, his expression darkening with quiet satisfaction. “sweet dove,” he murmurs under his breath.

and then he keeps flying.

hawks became a permanent part of your life from then on out… keigo, you mean.

he told you to call him by his real name.

about a week later after your initial first meeting, just like he said, he came back.

you had been sitting on your couch, the quiet of your apartment wrapping around you like it always did, when a soft knock came from your balcony door, and when you turned, he was already there, crouched casually on the railing like he belonged there.

your face lit up before you could stop it. “hawks!”

“miss me?” he asked, grinning.

“…you came back,” you said, your voice soft with something close to relief.

he stepped inside like it was natural, like your space had already become his. “promise you i would, didn’t i?” he replied easily. then he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “and hey,” he added after a moment, his tone shifting just enough to catch your attention, “drop the hawksthing, yeah?”

you blinked. “…what? is that not you name?”

he smiled, something a little more deliberate now. “call me keigo,” he said, his voice low, almost coaxing, “not a lot of people get to do that.”

you hesitated. “is that… okay?” you asked quietly.

his gaze softened and it made your chest feel warm.

“you’re special, birdie,” he said simply, like it was obvious, “so yeah, it’s more than okay.”

special.

the word settled into you too easily.

“…keigo,” you repeated softly, testing it.

his wings shifted behind him, feathers rustling faintly.

“there you go,” he murmured, pleased.

from that moment on, he stopped being just a hero who saved you in an alley, he became your saving grace.

keigo visited often, as often as his schedule allowed, sometimes dropping by late at night with tired eyes and messy hair, sometimes in the middle of the day with that same easy smile, always finding his way back to your balcony like it was second nature. and every time he came, he brought something with him.

he’d bring you food you had never tried before, neatly packed and still warm.

“you don’t eat enough,” he would say, setting it down in front of you, “gotta take care of you, alright?”

you would look at it, then at him. “…you didn’t have to,” you would reply softly.

he would shrug like it was nothing. “wanted to feed you,” he’d say, then glance at you with a small smile, “just eat for me, okay?”

and you always did.

he spoiled you in ways you did not even recognize at first.

new clothes appearing in your closet after you mentioned once that you did not have much.

“saw these and thought of you,” he would say casually, leaning against your wall as you held the fabric in your hands.

“…they look expensive, keigo,” you would murmur.

he would huff a quiet laugh. “don’t worry about that,” he’d reply, his eyes on you, “just wanna see you wear them.”

“…for you?” you would ask, genuinely confused.

his smile would tilt slightly. “yeah,” he’d say softly, “for me.”

you would nod like that made perfect sense.

keigo took care of you in ways that felt natural, slipping into your routine without asking.

he would fix things around your apartment without you noticing until it was done.

“your window was loose,” he’d say, brushing it off, “didn’t like that, so i fixed it for you.”

you would blink. “…i didn’t even notice.”

“i did,” he’d reply simply.

of course he did.

there were moments where his protectiveness showed more clearly.

it was subtle at first.

he would ask about your job, about your coworkers, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

“anyone bothering you there?” he’d ask, leaning back as if it did not matter.

“no, not really,” you would answer honestly.

he would watch you for a second longer than necessary. “good,” he’d say quietly.

then sometimes it would less subtle.

one evening, when you mentioned a coworker who walked you home once, his expression shifted just slightly.

“he what?” keigo asked, his voice still calm but lower now.

“…he just walked me home,” you said, unsure why it mattered, “it was late…”

keigo’s sharp golden brown eyes stayed on you. “you don’t need that,” he said, a little firmer, “i’ll take you.”

“but you’re busy and i don’t want to bother you,” you replied.

he stepped closer. “i’ll make time for you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, “don’t trust just anyone, okay? don’t want you getting in trouble again.”

you nodded, his explanation making your heart flutter. “okay. i’m sorry, kei. i promise not to trust anyone that easily again.”

no one in your entire existence in this world has been worried for you than keigo. no one took care of you like he did. he had your best interest at heart. he always did.

keigo also praised you often, his words soft and warm, wrapping around you in a way that felt unfamiliar but comforting.

“you’re so good for me,” he would murmur when you listened to him without question.

your cheeks would warm. “really? i am?” you would ask.

he would smile. “yeah,” he’d say, his voice gentle, “exactly how i like you.”

you never questioned what that meant.

there were moments where something in him slipped.

small at first.

his eyes lingering too long. his smile stretching just a little too wide when you said something that aligned with what he wanted.

then moments that were harder to ignore.

one night, you heard the key jiggled in the lock, followed by a heavy, weary sigh you’d learned to recognize from down the hall. you were already at the door of your small apartment, a smile on your face, before keigo even pushed it open.

he leaned against the frame, his usually pristine hero costume rumpled, a smudge of soot on his cheek, his wings drooping slightly, a dramatic show of exhaustion he only ever displayed for you. his golden brown eyes, however, were sharp and warm as they landed on you.

“long day?” you asked softly, your heart doing its familiar, happy flip at the sight of him.

“the longest, dove,” he groaned, pushing off the frame and stepping inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. he stretched his arms over his head with a wince, his wings flexing. “chased a speed-type villain across three prefectures. my feathers are screaming. my everything is screaming.”

you clicked your tongue sympathetically, already moving to the kitchen. “i made tea. and there’s that salve for your wing joints you like.”

you’d spent half your allowance on it, wanting to have it ready for him.

before you could take two steps, his arms were around you from behind. he buried his face in the crook of your neck with a contented hum.

“you’re too good to me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “taking such good care of me. no one’s ever looked after me like this.”

your cheeks flushed with pleasure. no one had ever said things like that to you before keigo.

your family had made it clear you were a burden, an afterthought.

but hawks… keigo saw you.

he praised you. he brought you gifts, took you to nice places, told you how special you were, told you how good you were. he’d saved you from that alleyway a few months ago now, and ever since, he’d woven himself into the fabric of your life, becoming your entire world.

“it’s nothing,” you whispered, leaning back into his solid warmth.

“it’s everything to me,” he corrected, his voice soft but firm. then, in one smooth motion, he turned you in his arms and lifted you.

you let out a small squeak of surprise, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. he carried you effortlessly into the living area, not towards the couch, but just holding you, swaying slightly.

keigo’s hands began to roam, caressing your back through your thin sweater, sliding down to squeeze your thighs where they hugged him.

it was more intimate than usual, but everything with keigo felt intense.

he nuzzled your cheek, then placed a soft kiss there. then another on your jaw. then his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear, and instead of a kiss, you felt the gentle scrape of his teeth, followed by the warm, wet suction of his mouth.

a jolt, strange and electric, shot down your spine. “k-keigo?” you stammered, confusion lacing your voice.

“hmm?” he hummed against your skin, not stopping. his kisses trailed down your neck, each one punctuated by a soft bite or a lingering suck.

a heat was pooling low in your belly, unfamiliar and confusing.

“s-should we— is… is this okay?” you asked, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his hero suit at his shoulders.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his sharp eyes glowing with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “of course it’s okay, dove,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “friends do this. close friends who care about each other. don’t yours?”

the question, asked so innocently, felt like a punch to the gut.

you looked down, shame heating your face. “y-you know that i… i don’t have any other friends,” you admitted in a small voice.

keigo’s expression softened into something heartbreakingly sympathetic. he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. “that’s okay,” he whispered, his voice a velvet-coated promise. “you don’t need anyone else. you have me. i’ll always be here for you. i’ll take care of you.”

the words sank into you, warm in your chest.

of course, he was teaching you. showing you how friends acted. how could you doubt him?

reassured, you relaxed in his hold and he took that as permission to continue.

keigo carried you towards your bedroom, your legs still locked around him. he didn’t put you down on the bed. instead, he sat on the edge, keeping you straddling his lap.

you could feel the hard planes body through his hero suit against your core, a persistent and strange pressure.

“tell me about your day, birdie. what did you do today?” he prompted, his hands sliding under your sweater to splay against the bare skin of your back.

“o-oh, it was fine,” you said, trying to focus as he began to kiss along your collarbone, his lips leaving faint, stinging marks. “i finished that book you gave me. the one about the stars.”

“yeah? did you like it?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. his hips shifted subtly beneath you, creating a slow, grinding friction that made you gasp.

“y-yes,” you breathed, the word ending in a sigh as he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucked hard.

the pressure between your legs was building, a weird, tight, tingly feeling. “it was… beautiful. k-kei… i feel… weird.”

“how do you feel, little bird?” he coaxed, one hand leaving your back to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. his other arm held you firmly against him, controlling the slow, rocking motion of your bodies.

“tingly and hot,” you confessed, squirming slightly in his lap, which only intensified the maddening friction.

a dark, pleased smile touched his lips. “that’s a good thing,” he assured you, his voice a low purr right by your ear. “it means you feel safe with me. it means your body trusts me. just relax for me and let me take care of you. friends help each other feel good, don’t they?”

you nodded, dazed by the sensation and his hypnotic voice. “they do?”

“of course they do,” he said, his rhythm becoming more deliberate now. the hard length of him, confined by his pants, rubbed insistently against the seam of your own, stoking the confusing fire inside you. “you make me feel so good, taking care of me. let me make you feel good too. just do what feels natural. move with me.”

you obeyed without question, trusting him completely. you let your head fall back as he kissed and bit his way across your throat, leaving a trail of blooming marks. you tentatively rocked your hips against his, following his lead.

“that’s it,” he praised, his breath coming faster. “you’re so perfect. so good for me. my sweet, perfect little bird.”

keigo's words fed the strange, coiling tension in your core. the tingles became sparks, the heat a low burn. you whined, a high, confused sound. “kei… it’s… i don’t understand…”

“shhh,” he soothed, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss that stole the rest of your words. his tongue swept into your mouth, and you moaned into him, the sensation overwhelming. “don’t think too much, just feel. let go for me, dove.”

the combination of his commanding praise, the relentless friction, and the dizzying intimacy was too much. the coil snapped and a wave of pure, shocking pleasure crashed through you, stealing your breath and your vision. you cried out against his mouth, your body seizing, trembling violently in his arms as unfamiliar convulsions of ecstasy rippled through you.

he held you through it, his own movements slowing to gentle rocks, coaxing you through every last pulse. he kissed your temple, your closed eyelids, whispering praises. “good girl, so perfect. see? i told you it was okay. you did so well for me.”

as the aftershocks subsided, you lay boneless against him, utterly spent and extremely confused. you felt spent, wrung out, and yet… wonderful.

keigo had made you feel good. he was right.

you felt him shift beneath you, a low, groan escaping him. you blinked open heavy-lidded eyes. “are… are you okay?” you asked softly, concerned. “did i… help you feel better too?”

his smile was bright and full of fond warmth. he brushed your sweaty hair from your forehead. “more than you know, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. “you help me more than anyone ever has.” he said.

yet after all of that, you still feel the tingly feeling, and a flush crept up your neck at the feeling. you shifted slightly on his lap, and the ghost of that feeling sparked again, making you gasp softly.

keigo's eyes sharpened, missing nothing. his hand, which had been stroking your arm, stilled. “what is it?” he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

“i-it's nothing,” you sighed as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

he tutted before he gently pulled your head from it's hiding space in his neck. “look at me when i speak to you, dove. you can tell me anything, you know that. no secrets between us, remember?”

you bit your lip, looking away from him.

it felt silly, childish what you are feeling.

he’d said it was normal, that friends did that and took care of each other. but it didn’t feel like just friendship. It felt… huge, like it's a bigger deal. and it hadn’t really gone away.

“i… i still feel… funny, kei,” you admitted in a small voice, unable to meet his gaze. “hot and tingly. down here.” you gestured vaguely toward your lower stomach.

instead of laughing or dismissing you, keigo's expression softened into one of profound understanding. he cupped your cheek, turning your face back to his. “oh, my poor dovey,” he said, his thumb stroking your skin. “that’s okay. that just means your body liked it. it means you trust me. and like i said, best friends help each other with everything. even things that feel confusing. do you want me to help you with it? hm?”

the offer was wrapped in such tenderness, such unwavering support and understanding that it didn't help your case as you squirmed even more on his lap.

this was hawks. your keigo. your hero. your savior. the only person who had ever looked at you and seen something worth cherishing. how could you doubt his help?

you nodded, a hesitant, tiny movement. “yes, please.”

his smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. “such a sweet girl” he praised, and the words sent a fresh shiver through you. “just relax, okay? let me take care of you. you don’t have to do anything. you’re so good for me just by being here.”

he scooped you up and properly sat you on his lap so you were nestled in the circle of his arms. he began with soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your temples, the bridge of your nose. each one was a promise. his hands roamed over your sweater, not demanding, but re-mapping the territory he’d already claimed earlier.

“can I take this off?” he asked against your lips, his fingers toying with the hem of your sweater. “i want to see you... all of you. is that okay? can you that for me?”

you nodded again, wordless. the trust was a physical thing, a lump in your throat.

keigo lifted the soft fabric over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare chest and you instinctively crossed your arms, a lifetime of being told you were nothing special growing up.

“none of that,” he chided softly, gently prying your arms away. “you’re breathtaking. perfect.” He leaned down and took one peaked bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

you cried out, arching into the shocking, wet heat. the tingles intensified, focusing into a sharp point of desperate need.

he focused his attention on your breasts, kissing, sucking, nipping gently until you were writhing and whining, your fingers tangled in his hair. “kei… please…”

“please what, little bird?” he murmured, switching to the other breast, his hand cupping and kneading the damp flesh he’d just abandoned. “tell me what you need. i’ll give you everything.”

“i don’t… i don’t know,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the sensations. “ngh... it’s too much…”

“it’s not enough,” he corrected, his voice a low thrum of desire. he kissed his way down your trembling stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties. “not nearly enough. let me show you, dove.”

without asking, he stripped the last of your clothing away, leaving you completely bare and exposed on the bed.

you expected to feel shame. instead, under his worshipful gaze, you felt… precious, cared for, and admired.

keigo shed his own clothes with efficient grace, and then he was there, gloriously naked, kneeling between your spread legs. he was beautiful, all lean muscle, golden skin, beautiful bright red wings behind him, and the sight of his arousal, thick and heavy, made that needy heat between your legs clench with something deeper than confusion.

he didn’t move to enter you, instead, he lowered his head.

his mouth on your core was an earth-shattering feeling. where the feeling you had earlier when he was rocking you on his lap had been friction and confusing pressure, this was heavenly... mothing like you've ever felt before.

his tongue was a wicked, clever thing, licking broad, slow stripes through your folds before zeroing in on the bundle of nerves that was the source of all the aching tension.

you screamed, your hands flying back to grip the sheets. “oh! ngh— wh-what are you— fuck?!”

keigo pulled back, his chin glistening accompanied by the grin on his face. “i'm helping you, baby,” he said simply, his eyes burning into yours. “this is how close friends make each other feel really good. do you want me to stop?”

stop?

the thought was incomprehensible.

“n-no! please don't stop,” you shook your head wildly, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea.

he gave you a smile that was both tender and predatory, and dove back in. this time, he was relentless. he licked and sucked at your clit, then speared his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in a shallow, maddening rhythm.

“shit... ngh! keigo. feels s-so good!” you raked your fingers through his messy blonde hair, your hips grinding up his face on its own making you throw your head back in bliss.

he then started using his fingers too. one, then two, curling them upwards inside you, searching until he found a spot that made you see stars.

“kei! yes, right there!”

“i’ve got you,” he groaned against your flesh, the vibration pushing you higher. “come on, little bird, let go for me. cum on my tongue. show me how good i make you feel.”

his words, the filthy, wet sounds, the impossible skill of his mouth—it shattered you.

your second orgasm with him was infinitely more powerful than the first. it ripped through you like a typhoon, a tidal wave of pure, screaming pleasure that left you convulsing, your voice raw from crying out his name.

you were sobbing with the intensity of it when he finally moved up your body, covering you with his own. he was heavy, anchoring you back to earth. he kissed the tears from your cheeks. “so beautiful, so good for me,” he whispered, over and over. “my perfect girl. all mine.”

you were still pulsing with aftershocks when you felt the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance.

a flicker of fear, of sheer size, cut through the haze.

he saw it. he always saw everything. “look at me, dovey,” he commanded softly.

you dragged your eyes open to meet his.

“this is the last part... the best part even,” he explained, his voice a hypnotic murmur. “the closest two friends can be. i’ll be inside you. we’ll be one. and i will take care of you forever. you’ll never be alone, never be unloved, never be unwanted again. you want that, right? you just have to trust me. do you trust me, baby?”

“i do trust you, kei.” you said, fiddling with your fingers.

“i know it's hard for you to trust people after what those terrible did to you. i know, baby. but, it's me. i will never hurt you the way they did. i will never leave you like your father. i will never criticize you like your mother did, and i will never make you feel lesser like you sister did.” keigo hummed as kissed all over your face, his praise making you shiver in pleasure as you closed your eyes. “i'll take such good care of my pretty little bird, i always do.”

he words were like honey, woven into promises that spoke directly to the hollow places in your soul—the daddy who left you, the mother who ignored you, and the sister who despised you. the family that made you feel like a ghost in your own home.

keigo offered belonging and wholeness. he was the only one. he was the only one who saved you, the only one who made you laugh and smile, the only one who comforted and reassured you when you were sad, the only one who gave you anything and everything you wanted. he was the only one who took care of you. keigo takami was the only person you trusted.

“yes,” you breathed, the word a vow. “i trust you. only you, keigo. please take me, make me feel good again.”

“such a good girl. i'll give you everything you want,” he praised, kissing you deeply.

as his tongue swept into your mouth, he pressed forward, slowly entering you. there was a sharp sting, a burn of intrusion, and you whimpered into the kiss.

keigo broke it, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged puffs. “shhh, i know, i know,” he soothed, not moving, letting your body adjust to the incredible, stretching fullness. “it’s okay, just a little strech. just breathe with me. you’re taking me so well. so perfect for me, biride.”

soon the pain slowly subsided, replaced by that overwhelming sense of fullness, of being claimed. he began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp.

“keigo!”

“you feel…” he choked out, his composure cracking for the first time. “god, you feel like heaven. tight and hot and mine. all mine.”

he built the pace with agonizing patience, each stroke going deeper than the last. the initial discomfort melted away, replaced by a building friction that sparked the embers of pleasure back into flame.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more. “oh god, yes!” you cried out, your nails digging into keigo's back. “harder... ngh! please, kei! harder!”

keigo chuckled as he happily obliged, thrusting up into you with force.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his thrusts getting harder each time. “hold onto me. you’re mine now. every part of you. your smiles are mine. your tears are mine. this perfect, tight pussy is mine. say it for me, dovey.”

“fuck... y-yours!” you cried out, the possession in his words fueling your own need. “all yours, keigo!”

the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“fuck. you feel so fucking good f’me, dove,” keigo's hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and leaving bruises in their wake.

you moaned into keigo's mouth, the praise only spurring you on. you threw your head against your pillow, your back arching as you fuck up into him harder.

“fuck, your pussy is so tight,” keigo groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. “i can feel you squeezing me. you gonna cum on my cock again, huh, baby?”

“mhm— f-fuck, yes,” you nodded breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

he groaned, a sound of pure triumph, and captured your lips again. his rhythm became relentless, powerful, the bedframe knocking a steady beat against the wall. the sounds were obscene—skin slapping, your combined moans, his guttural praises.

“you don’t need anyone else anymore,” he panted into your ear, his wings flaring out around you both like a crimson cage. “not your family. not anyone. just me. i’ll spoil you, love you, fuck you… take care of you forever. you’re my little bird. my everything.”

his words intertwined with the sensations, weaving a cage of bliss and dependency around your heart.

you were so close again, the coil winding impossibly tight. “i’m… keigo, i feel… i’m gonna…”

“come for me,” he ordered, his voice raw with his own impending release. “come on my cock and let me feel you. show me you’re mine.”

it was the final permission you needed.

your third orgasm exploded through you, a cataclysm that locked your body around his, milking him violently. with a shout of your name that was both prayer and victory cry, he followed you over, his own release flooding into you, hot and claiming.

keigo collapsed atop you, shuddering, and for a few minutes, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the distant city hum. slowly, he rolled, taking you with him so you lay on his chest, still intimately joined. his wings were folded around you snugly as his hand traced idle patterns on your back.

you felt… different.

changed.

claimed in a way that went deeper than skin.

keigo kissed the top of your head. “see?” he whispered, his voice saturated with a love that felt terrifying in its intensity. “you're mine now, dovey. always and forever. no one will hurt you anymore now that you're mine. no one will make you cry anymore. no one will take you from me, okay? because i want you to be taken care off and only i can do that. you understand?”

“don't want you to ever leave me, kei. i want only you.” you said as nuzzled into him, the last of your resistance melting away in the afterglow of pleasure and profound belonging.

he was right after all.

you had him and you didn’t need anyone else.

and he would never, ever let you go.

everything was loud in your head.

it had always been loud, but when you look back, you realize it truly began when you were five, when the world around you stopped being just what you could see and became something you could hear without anyone opening their mouths, something that pressed into your skull from all directions until you thought your head might split from the noise.

at first, it was confusing, overwhelming in a way that a child could not name, because the voices did not come with faces, and they did not wait for permission, they simply existed, overlapping and crowding, spilling into you whether you wanted them or not.

she’s useless…

why does she even exist…

if only she wasn’t born…

those were the first ones you recognized, not because you understood what they meant, but because you knew the rhythm of them, the familiarity of your mother’s tone even when her lips were not moving, the sharpness of your sister’s voice even when she was not in the room.

you remember standing in the hallway, small hands gripping the edge of the wall as your ears rang, your eyes darting around as if you could find where it was coming from, as if there was someone whispering behind you, in front of you, somewhere you could point to and say stop.

but there was no one.

only your mother in the kitchen, humming softly.

only your sister in the living room, flipping through a book.

and yet—

she’s so pathetic.

quirkless… how embarrassing.

you did not understand it then, not fully, but you understood enough to know that it was not supposed to happen, that voices were not supposed to exist without sound, that thoughts were not supposed to reach you like that, pressing against you from inside your own head.

that night, you buried yourself under your blanket, your hands pressed tightly over your ears as if that would help, as if blocking out the world physically would silence what was already inside you, your small body trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut.

it did not stop.

it never stopped.

the voices slipped through everything, through walls, through distance, through the thin barrier of your own understanding.

did he burn the rice again?

that girl looks familiar…

we should move soon. maybe somewhere tropical!

neighbors, strangers, passing thoughts that had nothing to do with you, all of them spilling in, all of them layering over each other until it became a constant hum that you could not escape.

so you learned.

you learned slowly, quietly, because you had no choice, because no one was going to explain it to you, because you understood very early that telling anyone would only make things worse.

you learned how to push it back, how to let it fade into the background, how to focus on one voice at a time or none at all, how to exist with it instead of against it.

you learned control.

and as you grew older, the noise became manageable, not gone, never gone, but something you could live with, something you could pretend was normal.

by the time you moved out of that house, by the time you finally stepped into a space that belonged to you, the first thing that crossed your mind was finding someone who could tell you what you were, what this was, whether it had a name.

a quirk doctor.

the thought lingered for days, sitting quietly at the back of your mind as you went through the motions of your new life, as you arranged your small apartment, as you adjusted to the silence that came with distance from your mother and your sister.

but you never went.

because the moment you imagined sitting in front of someone, explaining what you could do, you also imagined the way people would look at you, the way they would question you, the way your life would no longer be yours…. especially if your mother found out.

people were better off believing you were quirkless.

it was easier that way.

safer.

so you kept quiet, you always did.

and then that night happened.

the night your mother called you back, the night you saw your father for the first time, the night everything shifted in a way you could not ignore.

it was dark and cold out. the kind of cold that settles into your skin and stays there, that makes your breath visible in the air as you walk, that makes the world feel quieter than it actually is.

the sky stretched above you, wide and empty, painted in deep shades that felt endless, like something you could get lost in if you stared too long.

and for a moment, you did.

because that was when you heard it.

pretty… what a precious little birdie…

your head snapped up before you could stop yourself, your eyes searching the sky as if you could find the source, as if there was something there, someone there, watching.

but there was nothing. only the vast dark above you.

the feeling lingered though, a pull you could not explain, something that brushed against your awareness before slipping away just as quickly, leaving you standing there for a second longer than necessary before you forced yourself to keep walking.

you did not think much of it then.

not until later. not until the alley. not until him. not until keigo.

because when he saved you, when those crimson feathers pinned those men against the wall, when you turned and saw him standing there with those wings spread behind him, you already knew who he was.

your sister had made sure of that. you had heard enough of her thoughts, enough of her endless admiration, enough of her obsession to recognize him instantly.

and you could not blame her.

because standing there, face to face with him, you understood.

he looked unreal, like something carefully crafted, every detail placed with intention, from the sharp line of his gaze to the effortless curve of his smile, from the way his wings moved behind him to the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in front of him.

and then there were his thoughts.

she’s even prettier up close…

soft… easy… mine, if i play this right…

heat rushed to your face before you could stop it, your heart stuttering in your chest as you stared at him, because his words were gentle, his tone light and teasing, but what you heard underneath it all was something else entirely.

something deeper and something darker.

and as you got closer to him, as he became a part of your life, as keigo slipped into your days and your nights so easily that it felt natural, you started to understand just how different those two sides of him were.

because what he said and what he thought never quite matched.

“you’re safe with me, little bird,” he would murmur, his voice soft, reassuring, his smile warm as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

no one gets close to you unless i allow it…

“you don’t have to worry about anything when i’m around,” he would add, his wings shifting slightly as if to shield you.

i’ll make sure of that. i’ll make sure you never leave me…

when someone stood too close to you, when a stranger’s attention lingered for even a second too long, his thoughts sharpened in a way his expression never did.

look at him… disgusting…

one move and i’ll break his arm.

she’s mine.

it was not the kind of thoughts a hero should have. it was not the kind of thoughts someone like him should even entertain. and yet, they were there, constant and clear, slipping into your mind every time he looked at you, every time he touched you, every time he smiled.

you understood him in a way no one else did.

you saw the cracks beneath the surface, the control he craved, the way he viewed the world in terms of what he could hold and what he could keep, the way he looked at you as something delicate, something worth protecting, something worth possessing.

and you did not fight it, you did not pull away. instead, you leaned into it. because playing the part came naturally to you.

being soft, being quiet, being someone who needed him, someone who depended on him, someone who looked at him with wide eyes and trust that never wavered.

it was easy.

it was what you had been doing your entire life and this time, it gave you something in return.

you liked the way keigo took care of you. you liked the way he watched over you. you liked the way his attention never left you, the way his presence filled every empty space you had grown used to.

it filled something inside you, something that had been empty for so long that you had stopped noticing it.

a quiet hunger.

a need to be chosen, to be wanted, to be kept. and keigo gave you that. completely.

she listens so well, such a good girl for me.

perfect.

you wanted him to succeed. you wanted him to rise to the top and spoil you even more.

you let him believe it was his doing. that he was the one guiding things, shaping things, pulling you closer without resistance.

so when you spoke about your family, when you mentioned things in passing, when you let certain details slip in a way that sounded careless, harmless, almost meaningless, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“i think the only reason my family ask me to come over every other week is so that they can brag about how happy they are together,” you had said one evening, your voice soft as you traced the rim of your cup, your gaze unfocused as if you were not paying much attention. “last week my mom wont stop bragging about busy my sister sister is. she talks about her work a lot… something about a group she agrees with… liberation front or whatever. she says they’re misunderstood and that people should sympathize with them more.”

keigo had stilled for a fraction of a second.

yet you heard it.

paranormal liberation front…?

you tilted your head slightly, as if trying to recall the time you read your sisters mind. “i don’t really understand it,” you added with a small, uncertain smile. “but she gets so passionate about it… my parents too, sometimes. they sound the same when they talk about it. they always leave me out of it though, said i was ‘too stupid to understand.’”

you did not need to say more. you did not need to spell it out.

keigo understood. of course he did.

it was not a coincidence.

none of it was.

and when the raid happened, when your family was taken, when everything collapsed around them in a way that seemed sudden to everyone else, you knew.

you had always known because you had heard it first.

we need to be careful.

the commission and those heroes are watching!

it will be worth it…

it had never been a secret to you, just something you chose to keep.

and later after the war, standing in that visiting room, the cold barrier of glass separating you from them, keigo’s arm wrapped securely around your waist, you listened again.

look at her… dressed like that.

fucking disgusting…

she thinks she’s better than us now!

your mother’s thoughts dripped with disdain, your father’s with anger, your sister’s with something sharper, something that twisted when her gaze landed on the ring on your finger.

that should be me! why her?!

you lowered your head slightly, your shoulders trembling as you let out a soft, broken sound, your voice shaking as you spoke.

“why would you do that?” you asked, your words fragile, cracking at the edges as tears filled your eyes. “why would you join a group that would hurt innocent people?”

your mother’s lips curled as she leaned forward. “don’t act like you care, brat!” she snapped, her voice cold. “you’ve always been fake.”

your sister scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “of course she is,” she added bitterly. “she’s always been pathetic… look at her now, acting like she’s some kind of saint. stop with the fucking act!”

you flinched, your breath hitching as you shook your head, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your dress. “i just… i didn’t think you would go this far,” you whispered, your voice small. “you’ve always been hard on me, and i thought maybe i deserved that, but this… i can’t understand this…”

keigo’s hand moved against your back, slow and steady, his touch grounding, his presence solid behind you.

they don’t deserve to even look at you. say the word and i’ll make them regret it, little birdie.

mine.

it sent a quiet thrill through you, something warm and sharp settling deep in your chest as you took a shaky breath.

“maybe this is my reward,” you murmured softly, your voice trembling as you lifted your gaze, tears clinging to your lashes. “for everything, for all the cruelty i’ve endured… maybe this is why things turned out like this… because now i have everything i could ever want.”

your fingers brushed against the ring unconsciously. “keigo got us a house after he became president of the hpsc,” you continued, your tone almost dazed, like you could not quite believe it yourself. “it’s beautiful… and we’re getting married soon.”

your sister’s face twisted. “you! y-you don’t deserve that! none of it!” she spat, her voice sharp with fury. “you don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve anything you have! nothing! you’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit! scum!”

you pressed your lips together, your shoulders shaking as you turned slightly, burying your face against keigo’s chest.

keigo moved instantly. his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, his presence shifting in a way that was no longer soft, no longer gentle.

it was sharp and dangerous.

“that’s enough,” he said, his voice low, firm, carrying a weight that silenced the room for a moment. his gaze locked onto them, cold and unyielding. “you should be thanking her,” he continued, his tone even, but there was something underneath it, something that pressed down like a warning. “because of her, you’re here and not somewhere much worse.”

his fingers pressed lightly against your side, a silent reassurance that contrasted sharply with the look in his eyes.

“you were supposed to be in tartarus,” he added calmly. “consider this a kindness.”

the air shifted.

your family fell quiet, their anger simmering beneath the surface, their eyes burning with resentment, but they said nothing more.

and you stayed there, tucked against keigo, your tears soft and quiet, your expression hidden from view. because they could not hear what you heard.

no one touches what’s mine. no one hurts what’s mine. no one can take her from me.

and deep down, where no one could see, where no one could hear, you smiled.

after a beat of silence, keigo decided he has had enough. his hand never left you as he finally guided you away from the glass, his touch firm against your back as if he was already pulling you out of their reach long before you fully turned your body away from them, his presence surrounding you in a way that felt entirely his.

you let him lead.

of course you did.

your steps were slow at first, almost reluctant, as if the weight of the moment was still clinging to you, as if your body had not yet caught up to the fact that it was over, that the conversation had ended, that there was nothing more to say to the people behind that glass.

their voices still rang faintly in your ears, not the words they spoke out loud, but the ones that never left their minds.

that bitch faking it! i raised her for years. she’s faking it!

look at her crying. pathetic child.

why does she get everything?

your grip on keigo’s sleeve tightened just slightly, subtle enough that anyone watching would assume it was nothing more than lingering emotion, nothing more than a fragile girl seeking comfort from the man beside her.

he noticed and his arm shifted, pulling you closer into his side, his thumb brushing lightly against your arm in a slow, soothing motion that looked gentle to anyone else.

don’t listen to them. they don’t matter. only i matter. you’re mine, dove.

you leaned into him just enough to make it convincing, your head dipping slightly as if you were trying to hide your face, as if you were still holding yourself together.

the guard by the door opened it for you, the heavy sound of it echoing softly in the quiet hallway outside, and keigo guided you through without hesitation, his presence commanding even in silence.

but just before you fully crossed the threshold, just before the door could close behind you and seal them away again, you stopped.

a fraction of a second where your body resisted just enough.

keigo’s hand stilled on your back. “you okay, my heart?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now, meant only for you.

you nodded faintly, your fingers loosening slightly against his sleeve. “i just…” your voice trembled, soft and fragile, just enough to sound real, just enough to make him lean closer. “i want to look at them one more time.”

he hesitated for a second. you felt it in the way his hand tightened ever so slightly.

they don’t deserve it. they don’t deserve you looking at them like that…

but then—

“alright,” he said, his tone gentler now, indulgent in a way that always came so easily when it came to you. “just for a second, baby.”

you turned, your gaze lifted, settling on them through the glass once more, taking them in as they stood there, your mother stiff with barely contained resentment, your father’s jaw tight with anger, your sister’s eyes burning with something ugly and sharp.

you could hear them again.

she thinks she won.

disgusting.

he’ll leave her too… just like her father once did.

your eyes moved over each of them, lingering just long enough to take it all in, to let the noise settle and then quiet again, to let their thoughts pass through you without sticking.

your face still held that soft, shaken look, your eyes still slightly glassy, your lips parted just enough to seem like you were holding back words you would never say.

you turned back to keigo after that, your hand slipping into his as if you needed the contact, as if you needed the reassurance, and he responded instantly, his fingers curling around yours, firm and warm.

“let’s go,” he murmured, his voice low, guiding you forward again without another glance back.

you followed.

of course you did.

the door closed behind you with a final, heavy sound, sealing them away from you completely this time, cutting off their voices, their thoughts, their presence.

and as you walked down the hallway with keigo at your side, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles, his wings shifting slightly behind him, you let your head rest gently against his shoulder.

your eyes softened as your lips curved, just barely. small enough that no one would notice and soft enough that it could be mistaken for relief.

but it was not relief, it was satisfaction.

how naive, you thought.

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