A glance out the large penthouse-style window shows a familiar small child dropping at an alarming rate, followed by a dark figure. You furrow your brows, sighing as you rise from the couch to examine the scene. Worry stirs in the pit of your stomach.

Your son Yusuke, hardly 5 years old, had recently developed his quirk, a carbon copy of your own. Each day that passes grants a darker shade of gray to his fluffy down feathers, creating an abstract display even Picasso would envy. However, he wasn’t exactly getting the concept of flight, no matter how much intervention you offered. In an attempt to change things up, Keigo’s former intern Fumikage is taking his age-old approach: tossing Yusuke off the roof of your flat.

“He’ll get it soon, honey,” your husband reassures, wandering to stand beside you. “Maybe Fumi’s what he needs to, y’know… spread his wings?”

“I know, you’re right,” you concede, turning away from the window just as Dark Shadow speeds upwards with Yusuke.

The door swings open, revealing your daughter Towa. She drops her school bag by the door, kicking off her shoes. “Oh, you’re home. Hi mom, hi, dad,” she greets.

“Hey, honey,” you reply, turning away from the window. “How was your day?”

She toes on her slippers. “It was good! I got to train my quirk!” That makes you smile, as does Keigo.

“That’s great,” Keigo agrees, ruffling her hair as she walks over.

She stands between yourself and her father, resting her head on his side. “Is Yusuke flying?” She inquires, looking up at the two of you.

You shake your head. “Not yet, hun. Uncle Fumi’s tossing him around right now to try and get wind under his wings. Like we did to you,” you muse, reaching over to tap her nose.

She grins. “Momma, will you take me flying this weekend?” Towa requests bashfully after a moment.

“Of course. I’ll take you to U.A., maybe we’ll see someone we know.”

She chirps with excitement, running off to her room. Your eyes return to the window, watching Yusuke plummet once more. “Kei, can you go grocery shopping on Saturday?”

“Mmh… nah,” he declines, wearing that stupidly attractive smirk. “I’ve got plans.”

“Oh, really? Are you going on a date with your other girlfriend?”

“Mhm. I’m taking her to that nice new place. That one you were talking about,” he baits expertly, but you’ve learned not to bite.

“Right, right. Well, make sure that—after your date, of course—you do some errands,” you play along, bumping his hip. He slings an arm around your shoulder.

“I get off work at noon. I’ll swing by to get Yusuke so you can take Towa to work,” he informs, watching another close call from Dark Shadow and Fumikage. “Y’know, I don’t think he’s getting it today,” he decides finally.

“Yeah, nope. Let’s go.”

-

A very long half-week passes with the speed of a snail and the grace of a bumbling giraffe. Wednesday to Friday has never felt so long. Your hot-headed students were giving you more trouble than usual, absolutely wrecking the soft-spoken heroes-in-training. Recovery Girl, ever the savior, has had her work cut out for her from your class alone. Safe to say, negative progress was made.

Walking through your door Friday evening with Yusuke attached to your side allows you to unclench—both literally and figuratively. “How was school today, Yu?” you inquire, taking off your shoes for a little relief. He plops down, sloppily untying his sneakers.

“It was good! I drew a story!” He bursts, abandoning his task to open his backpack, fishing for a crinkled paper. A cute family portrait drawn in crayon, depicting yourself, Keigo, Towa, and Yusuke, alongside “Unkle Fumi.” He hands it over to you, eagerly awaiting praise. Yusuke fiddles with his thick laces.

You crouch beside your son, placing a kiss on his head. “I love it. I’ll go put this on the fridge.” He grins, watching as you venture towards the kitchen, fixing the picture on the steel refrigerator with a worn Star and Stripe magnet. Yusuke wanders up beside you, holding your hand.

“Honey,” you say gently. He tilts his head. “Finish taking your shoes off.”

Yusuke smiles bashfully, returning to the divot in the doorway to put on slippers.

The door swings open, smacking Yusuke with a hollow sound. “Hi, Mom!” Towa calls, stepping in. “Oops, hi, Yusuke.” He doesn’t respond, seemingly unbothered. “I went to the park after school and played with my friends,” she begins, changing her shoes and walking through the apartment. Towa recounts her day casually, eventually seating herself at the dinner table. She provides an entertaining podcast as you start on dinner.

Towa and Yusuke’s chatter, plus the TV and sizzle of the stove, covered the opening of the door. Keigo’s presence goes unknown until his arms snake around your waist, placing a soft kiss on your jaw.

“Hey, feathers,” he croons.

“Hello, Keigo,” you respond. Your lips tug upwards. “How was work?” You ask, not taking your eyes from the stir-fry.

“Stressful. Busy. Don’t care,” he brushes the question off, tilting to meet your eyes. “I missed you.”

You let out an amused puff, hip checking him to get some space. “I know. Yusuke has something to show you, and Towa has yet to tell you about her day, so why don’t you go attend to the kids?” You suggest, but there’s not really an option.

“Oh, you wound me, peep!” He whines, stepping back. “My wife doesn’t want my affection.”

“That’s exactly right,” you muse, flipping the veggies.

Dinner is a smooth event, thankfully, as is bedtime. With the shower wide open, you take your sweet old time washing off. Keigo wanted to join you, but that request was veto’d for the night. You lounge about on the couch, dealing with your hair and waiting for your husband. He emerges with only a towel around his waist, unruly blond tufts stuck to his forehead and nape. Once he’s in range, he shakes the hanging water dropletsmuch like a dog would.

“Stop that!” you yelp, shielding yourself with your wings.

He plops down beside you. “You’re too hot, I have to cool you down,” Keigo jokes.

“Corny.”

“You love it.”

“… Whatever.” Keigo chuckles. He preens your opening wings, plucking loose feathers as you channel surf. “Is the interview on tonight?” You inquire, fluttering your wings to rid of the odd tickling sensation brought on by his grooming. He’s insisted that you’ll get used to it, but you never have.

“Yeah, it should be on in a few minutes. Are we watching? He asks, lifting his hips to remove his towel, using it to dry his hair.

You nod, letting your eyes drift from the screen to his face, and-

“Keigo! Go put some pants on!” You demand, shielding yourself again despite near a decade and two kids. “Public indecency is illegal!”

“I’m in my own home!” He laughs, rising to fetch a pair of pajama pants.

You can’t help but to laugh to yourself, flipping to the channel of Izuku, Shoto, and Katsuki’s group interview.

The studio is rather sterile. White and empty with the exception of a bizarre red rug, an ivory couch, and a green plant far in the back.

“Ah, how sweet are they?” Keigo coos, reuniting with the couch. “Still messing with each other after all these years. Izuku’s finally got some backbone, though.”

You only hum, attributing that to teaching. He continues to brush through your feathers, occasionally glancing up at the hero trio on your cable.

You fall asleep in that position, on the couch with your favorite person.

-

You got a late start the next morning. Yusuke slept until 9, thank everything. Towa made herself cereal quietly, as not to wake anybody. She’s always been an early bird. Keigo was out early, important business at the Commission; his spot was still warm when you woke, the gentle kiss on his lips a welcome disturbance. Noontime creeps up quickly, though, and it’s time for you to take Towa flying.

-

You wield your badge, stepping into the fortified school walls marked by towering twin buildings. “Alright, Towa,” You start, “We’ll head to Ground Beta. That’s the one with all the buildings.”

“Cool!” She chirps, fiddling with her fluffy locks. A few dorm-dwelling students are spotted out and about, enjoying their weekend. They wave as they pass by, thrilled by the sight of Towa.

-

Meanwhile, Keigo totes his abundantly shy son through the bustling market of Musutafu, not bothering to conceal either’s identity.

“Alright, buddy, we gotta get groceries, cash a check, drop off your library book, and hit the pharmacy. Maybe we’ll get you a snack at the Family Mart, yeah?” He drones, allowing Yusuke to stick to his side.

A squeal sounds from behind the two. A very young lady, only a bit older than Towa, points at Keigo.

“Mom, it’s Hawks!” she shouts, and is promptly dragged away by an embarrassed parent. Before she turns away, he gives a polite wave with his free hand.

“Been a while since I’ve been called that,” he comments, laughing to himself.

Yusuke looks up at his dad. “Daddy, who’s Hawks?” he asks wholeheartedly.

“Who’s Hawks?” Keigo echoes. “I was Hawks back in the day, kid. That was my hero name. Did I not tell you that?”

Your duplicate shakes his head with a mumbled ‘no.’

“Oh. Well, your old man used to be a hero, and a pretty good one if I say so myself. So was your mom, but she was kinda underground,” he explains, making way for the boy in the crowd. Keigo stares down at his phone, attempting to locate his shopping list.

“Alright kiddo, let’s start shopping.”

The pair turns into a grocery store, grabbing a basket.

“Stay close, okay?”

Keigo takes them into the produce aisle, looking for… peppers, he thinks. He kneels down with a voluminous red pepper. “How’s this one look, mini-hawk?”

“Oh, Hawks!” A cheerful voice calls, making both birds turn. There stands Taishiro Toyomitsu, better known as Fat Gum, pushing a cart completely void of greens. “Hey man! Hey, little guy,” he greets. Yusuke waves and flits his wings, but otherwise stays quiet.

“Toyomitsu! What’s up?” Keigo grins, rising to his feet. “You look good, man, super muscular. Where are the fat reserves?” He comments casually.

“Building them back up right now,” Toyomitsu replies, gesturing to the carbohydrates and candies in his trolley. “Well, seems you’re very busy. Catch you later.”

A little smile stays on his face, long after the hero is gone. “My old friend,” he informs Yusuke.

-

The city provides a perfect backdrop as you cut through the sky with Towa. She giggles, feeling the wind ruffle through her hair.

“Dive between the buildings!” You instruct, shadowing her for safety.

She tucks her wings, practicing plummet before extending again, riding low. A falter has her rolling like a car tire, and you’re right beside her.

“You okay?” You inquire, inspecting for injury, but she’s alright. You check the time, seeing that it’s creeping up on 5. “Oh, we gotta get going,” You say, tapping her shoulder and helping her up. Thanks to the walkability of Musutafu, your journey home is relatively short. On the way, you pass by a 7-11, and Towa lights up. “Mom, can we get snacks? Please?”

You sigh. “Your father is getting groceries, and we’re gonna eat when we get home.”

She doesn’t take no for an answer.

Here you are, walking towards the corner store despite your pushback. A large crowd surrounds the entrance, seemingly filling the small shop.

“What in the world..?” You murmur. The sea of people chatters excitingly, the shudder of cameras accompanying the buzz. Towa pulls ahead, ever curious (and nosy). In front of all the citizens is-

Keigo?!

A gaggle of familiar heroes surrounds young Yusuke, leading to many people snapping flicks.

“Awh, he got so big!” One hero, unmistakably Ochaco, says.

“Yeah, he looks just like his mom,” Keigo comments, holding the child against his chest. Your still-not-subtle-husband announces your presence as soon as he spots you(or senses you, rather). “Speaking of! Hello, mother of my children, love of my life,” he fans, pulling you into a kiss for the cameras. He hasn’t been so dazzling to the masses in… well, as long as you’ve been married.

“Uh, hi,” you murmur after pulling away, clearly dazed, What’s going on?” You question.

He picks up the grocery backs he had accumulated, putting on a shocked face. You’re confused, to say the least.

“Oh, we gotta go?” He pretends to echo. “Alright then. Sorry guys, see you later,” he bids goodbye and weaves through the throng, expecting you to follow.

“What? Mom, I wanted a snack-“

“Let’s go, Towa.”

-

“So, what was that?” You interrogate your husband as the four of you walk home.

“Lots of people out today. I didn’t think that, seeing as I’m not a pro anymore, I’d still get such a crowd reaction,” he sighs. “Had to get out of there.”

You hum, understanding his plight.

“Also, Yusuke really didn’t like the pros. Did’ja, bud?” He looks down at the kid in his arms. Yusuke shakes his head, keeping his face buried in his father’s jacket.

“Awh. Well, at least you know you’ve still got it, Kei,” you tease.

“What am I, 50? Easy on that lingo,” he knits his thick brows. You allow yourself to laugh, and peck his cheek. Towa makes a noise of discontent. “Hush, Towa,” he chides, gently pushing her face.

A moment of comfortable silence passes.

“On a separate note, I didn’t get to cash that check. Or go to the pharmacy. Oh, and I didn’t get everything on the shopping list,” he admits.

“Keigo, are you kidding!”

a/n

hello hello! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i’m starting to love hawks as a character. he wasn’t nearly my favorite back in the day. imagine what would happen if i wrote a character i knew well…

A modest platinum band glistens on your left finger under the warm glow of your family room. Colorful toys are scattered over the carpeted floor; blocks, dolls, cars, anything and everything for your little girl. Delighted giggles emanate from Keigo’s blonde, bird-eyed miniature as she’s tossed around.

“You’re flying!” Keigo coos, throwing the toddler up again. A matching wedding ring catches the light, outlining the engraving of wings. “Soar, birdie, soar!”

Towa squeals, extending her arms. Behind him, Keigo’s metal wings unfold into a grand display. “Yay!” She squawks.

“Be careful, Keigo,” you warn gently, but you’re aware he knows what he’s doing. “Don’t want her to take flight.”

He chuckles. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Imagine her flying, just like her old man.” Keigo lowers his daughter, pressing their cheeks together. Her tiny, fiery feathers beat expeditiously, but she does not lift from her father’s arms. Her arms hang over Keigo’s chest, sticking her tongue out at you and playfully blowing a raspberry.

“Oh, really, Towa?” You chuckle, kneeling beside the two and catching her little tongue between your thumb and forefinger.

“Eeh!” She bleats, trying to pull it back into her mouth. “Mama! S’mine!” Towa’s chest vibrates with cheerful laughter. You let go, placing a kiss on her hand.

“I made that tongue!” You tease, tapping her nose.

“Can I get a kiss, too?” your oh-so-subtle husband requests, batting his gorgeous amber eyes at you. Keigo sits up, placing Towa on his lap. She squirms away, occupying herself with the ruins of her block kingdom. He pulls you down to sit with him. Keigo pleads, “Please?”

You concede easily, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “If that’s what will make you happy, I suppose so.” A grin splits his face at your quip. He leans back on his hands, observing his daughter. You take the opportunity to extend your own avianity, wrapping him in your grey, striped feathers.

“Awe, are you getting soft on me?” Keigo pokes, nudging your shoulder with his. You’d always been fiercely independent, even in your own hero days.

Between (albeit impressive) civilian saves, the Winged Hero would make a point to flirt and charm, to get under your skin and bypass your aloof wall. Persistent as he is, you knew he wouldn’t give up until you recognized his helping you, even though you didn’t need it. His ideal “thanks” took the form of drinks and dinner, much to your chagrin. In hindsight, it was not such a bad thing, all things considered.

You huff, shaking your head. “Of course I’m not getting soft,” you deny vehemently, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmh, well, I dunno. I think you’re getting soft,” Keigo needles. He takes your hand, saving you a response to his jibes.

The quiet domesticity warms your heart; seeing Keigo so benign, so mild… it tickles you, really. After everything he’s been through, you reckon he deserves this. A halcyon era after a turbulent past.

You allow yourself to examine Keigo. Same blond tufts. Cropped compared to his hero days, but still unruly. He never could be put in a box. An everlasting intense honey stare, still so full of life.

After the war, Keigo was never able to touch the sky again. Never again to help a civilian with his quirk, seeing as he no longer had one.

Realistically, both of you were expecting a child of your own kin—wings of an Eurasian goshawk—since the crimson flash of Fierce Wings was now a title of the past. Towa, ever the anomaly, developed to be just like her dad.

You wonder what goes on inside his head sometimes. Does he think about the past often? The future? Does he stay in the pres-

“Towa, put that down,” Keigo orders, watching a flurry of red feathers pick up a framed painting from Kyoka. “Where did you learn that?”

She titters mischievously, setting the portrait down and recalling her feathers. “I dunno,” she replies, giving no hints as to how she learned to control her feathers. Towa stands, toddling over to lay across your laps. Keigo shifts, setting your hand free and letting his fingers leaf through her wings.

“You’re getting so big, baby girl,” he comments softly. “You very well may be ready to fly soon.”

You hum in agreement, letting a small smile pull on your lips. “Keigo,” you murmur, “maybe tomorrow?” Towa lights up at the idea.

“Yes!” She interrupts excitedly. “I wanna- wanna fly like mama!”

You pinch her cheek, exchanging a look with your husband. He nods. “Alright, alright. Daddy and I will take you flying tomorrow! Now, go get in bed so you’ll have all the energy you need.”

She gets up quickly, squishing your limb quite a bit in her effort to dash. You bite your tongue.

One bedtime story and hug later, your lovely daughter is asleep. Keigo’s finishing up some papers from work while you watch the news.

“During a disastrous attack on the city, Number 2 hero: Shoto collaborated with Number 36: Cellophane, Number 28: Pinky, and Number 17: Tsukoyomi in rescue and containment efforts. A stellar performance, as well as a heartwarming U.A. reunion for the four saviors.”

A picture of Ashido excitedly conversing with her former classmates with an apprehended villain near their feet flashes across the screen as the anchor speaks.

Keigo chuckles, glancing up at the television. “Cute.”

“It’s great to see they’re doing well,” you murmur, wrapping yourself in your feathers. “When is Fumikage coming around for dinner?” You inquire. Keigo only shrugs.

“Not sure. That kid’s hard to get a hold of these days. I’ll reach out tomorrow.” He bites the end of his pen, flipping through a packet.

You turn down the T.V., turning towards Keigo. “Speaking of, are you ready for tomorrow?”

He pauses his ministration. Keigo places his pen on the cushion beside him, running a hand through his hair.

“Sure,” he responds dryly, obviously unsure. You raise your brows, giving him a “really?” look.

“Are you sure?”

His eyes meet yours before returning to his papers, but it’s obvious he’s not reading. “Yes, honey.”

“Keigo,” you nudge, moving to sit beside him. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

He finally maintains eye contact for more than two seconds. “Towa’s just growing up so fast, that’s all.” You don’t believe that’s the extend of his woes, but you don’t push.

“Mmh, sure…” you permiss, but mild distrust decorates your tone. He leans over, pecking your temple.

“I’ll be done soon,” he shares.

You rise from the couch, meandering towards your room. You halt in the doorway, looking back at Keigo. He blows a flirty kiss, making you roll your eyes amusedly.

“Hurry,” you drawl, flapping your wings before disappearing around the corner.

-

The moon kisses the sun goodbye in passing at the break of dawn, much like yourself and your husband. A blaring alarm wakes the two of you, unfortunately signaling to start your morning routines. Leaving each others’ arms is always the worst part of the day.

You get ready together, and Keigo prepare’s Towa for daycare while you make her lunch. He slings her Lemillion backpack over his shoulder, leaving a trail of glitter on his suit. She grabs his free hand.

He gives you a kiss goodbye, and Towa waves as they walk out the door.

You sigh, a smile left on your face.

-

Your students were unexpectedly well-behaved today, but you’re not complaining. During your lunch break, you find yourself at a table with Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and the ever-impressive Izuku Midoriya.

“Hey, Avian hero,” Hizashi booms, grabbing you from your thoughts. “We were thinking about hitting a bar tonight, ya dig? Are you in?” He grins. Shouta only grumbles at his volume.

You give him a look. “Haven’t I told you not to call me that? I’m not a pro anymore, Yamada,” you huff. “I’m busy tonight, anyways.”

Izuku looks up from his lunch. “What are you up to this evening, Mrs. Takami?” he inquires, taking a bite of his lunch. After all these years, he’s still calling you that.

“Izuku, call me- nevermind. Keigo and I are teaching Towa to fly,” you inform.

Hizashi and Izuku burst into excited chatter, gushing over your daughter, reminiscing like she’s their own. Hizashi plants his leather-gloved hands on the table. “Well, tell us how it goes, will you?” You relent, wanting to eat your lunch in peace.

-

Towa is bouncing with excitement once she spots you. The daycare is boisterous, per the usual; full of life, marked by loud laughter and sprawled toys. “Mama! Let’s go!” She exclaims, reaching for you over the gate.

“Hold on,” you direct. You’re hardly able to discuss Towa’s day with her teacher. She tugs on your jacket, eager to learn to fly. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

Keigo’s already there when you get home. He dons a grey t-shirt and loose sweats. “Hey, ladies,” he greets, meeting you at the door. He crouches to Towa’s level. “You ready to fly?” He asks excitedly, making her chirp. “Alright, c’mon!”

Your little family stands on the roof of the tall apartment building, overlooking Musutafu. Keigo scoops up the girl, walking towards the wall.

“Okay, she’ll learn to fly the way I did,” he states. “I saw it in an old movie one time, and I figured it out!” He grins, putting you at ease. He looks down at Towa, inspecting her elated expression. “Ready, birdie?” She nods so hard you believe her head may fall off. “Just extend your wings, and flap!”

Without any further warning, he tosses her off the roof.

Your heart jumps out of your chest, as you race to the side. Keigo extends an arm, watching her plummet. “Wait, she’s got it.”

“Keigo!” You shout, ready to dive.

“Wait, wait, wait! I promise she’ll get it,” he soothes, putting an arm around your waist.

She only get’s further down, little red wings flapping frantically.

“She’s not getting it, Keigo! What movie did you learn to fly from?!” You panic.

He shrugs, “I think the movie was called Hotel Transylvania. Doesn’t matter, babe, she’s got this.” You grip him, watching as she inches closer and closer to the ground. He sighs. “Okay, she’s not getting it.

You’re off in an instant, nosediving to grab Towa and rocket upwards. She’s all smiles, despite her near-death experience.

“That was fun!” She cheers, not sensing your terror. “Again!”

You veto that request, promising another attempt tomorrow.

-

Long after Towa went down for the night, you and Keigo occupy the couch once again. You grade papers quietly, wielding your red pen like a sword. You disappointedly shake your head with each mark.

Your husband is stretched out over the cushions, staring at the ceiling. Completely silent. That’s very unlike him. You look away from your homework, placing a hand on his cheek.

“You’re quiet this evening,” you offer a branch, waiting for him to open up. He places a palm over yours. “Talk to me.”

He tilts his head up, hesitant to speak at first. “I just don’t want to mess this up,” he starts. “Towa deserves a good father, and I don’t… I don’t think I know how to do that,” he speaks, “My wings are gone. I know that. I didn’t expect her to inherit my quirk, obviously…” He pauses. You wait for him to find the words. “I see her wings, and it’s a reminder of myself, and my parents. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful, and I love her, but I didn’t… I don’t know,” he rubs his face, fiddling with his stubble.

“You’re a great father,” you assure him gently, placing your work on the coffee table. “She’ll learn to fly.” Comfort has been a struggle for you, but it’s evident to Keigo that you’re trying. Your shoddy attempt amuses him enough to lift his spirits.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he jokes, covering up his troubles.

“Come on, Keigo,” you murmur, tapping his cheek. “Keep talking. I’m listening.” Keigo simply smiles, kissing your palm to charm you. “I’m serious,” you insist, “you can talk to me.”

His gaze flits downwards, slowly letting down his defenses.

He confides in you about his doubt in himself, and slowly unravels his thoughts. You didn’t get much grading done that evening, but you wouldn’t have rather spent your time any other way.

-

As promised, the next afternoon was spend instructing Towa. Standing on the rooftop once again, you flap your voluminous ailerons in an oblong motion. “Move your wings like I do, hun,” you tell her. Keigo examines her form.

“That’s right, good job,” he praises her. “Extend them all the way.”

Towa’s arms go out as her wings do. Her thick brows draw together in concentration, making you laugh. “Flap really hard in that pattern,” You encourage.

Wind catches under her, pushing outwards. Towa’s feet lift off the ground.

“You’re doing it!” You hail, clasping your hands together.

She grins widely. Your cheers of excitement break her attention; her flight pattern falters, and gravity claims her. Towa giggles, landing unsteadily on her feet. Together, you and Keigo lift her into your hold.

“I flewed!” She bursts.

Keigo kisses her head. “Yeah, you did it,” He commends. He checks his watch, shifting her to be solidly in his grasp. “It’s getting to be dinnertime, let’s get some food in you.”

She babbles pridefully, eager to show off her new ability.

-

Each passing day added another feather to her wingspan, allowing her to soar faster, further. Supervised flights after a day of work became the norm to build her stamina

One evening at the dinner table, the girl plays with her food, lost in thought.

“Eat, Towa,” you quip, taking a bite of your own meal. She occupies herself instead with staring intently at her father. He glimpses up at her, stopping like a deer in headlights.

“Can I help you, kid?” He questions, setting down his spoon. Keigo’s typical smirk settles on his lips.

She ponders for a moment, contorting to look at her own wings. “Daddy, why are my wings red?” She inquires at last.

You turn towards Keigo, unable to offer any support.

He shrugs nonchalantly at you, brushing off the statement. “Well, birdie, these aren’t my real wings,” he informs. “I used to have a quirk, the one you do now, when I was a pro hero.”

Her expression fills with excitement. “You did?” He nods in conformation.

“Yep. I helped lots of people. So did your mom,” he continues, looking towards you.

She nearly explodes at the idea. “I wanna be a hero too!” Towa declares. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

“You can be whatever you want,” you supplement, “as long as you eat your food.”

Never before have you seen her scarf down soup with such speed.

a/n

starting off strong!

jason treats you extremely gently, perhaps almost too much so

he’ll go out of his way to protect you from something you can absolutely handle on your own

most because he’s aware of how destructive he could potentially be

sometimes he feels rather lost. what if he isn’t who he thought he was? who is jason grace?

during those times, you’re the greatest help

even if you’re not the most… eloquent, per say, your presence allows him to calm his racing mind and try to figure himself out rather than spiral

when you two are cuddling, he snores

specifically when he sleeps with you beside him; not a single other time

greek!reader

when he first laid eyes upon you, he was sure his heart stopped

how could such an unruly, out of line creature be so… beautiful?

he was never critical of your camp, which you appreciated

meeting the romans was a culture shock, though

butttt jason was there the whole time!

he wouldn’t let go of your hand during your first trip to camp jupiter

partially because of excitement, partially fear of losing you in the big crowds (though that wouldn’t happen since you stick out like a sore thumb)

but, mostly he wanted to provide you comfort

this time, you let him treat you excessively gently

“Isn’t it cool?” Jason inquires, giving your hand a squeeze.

You respond with a nod. Despite being such an adventurous demi-god, this new place makes you rather nervous. You’ve been nervous before, but this is different.

You can handle terrifying monsters and near-death experiences, but… evidently not this. “Yeah. It’s cool.”

He examines your face, trying to figure out exactly what you’re thinking so he knows just what to say. “Hey, do you wanna see New Rome? It’s really gorgeous.” Diversion. Perfect.

Glancing around your environment, seeing the barracks in which teenage soldiers (just like you, but worlds apart) sleep, you’d much rather be in the protected heart of the community.

“Yeah, of course. Lead the way,” you reply coolly, squeezing his hand back.

he greatly enjoys swimming in the lake with you for some reason

you think you look disgusting when you’re wet, but jason thinks otherwise

roman!reader

before jason disappeared, you had a big fat crush on him

you don’t know what exactly it was about him

but BOY, did you fall hard

without as much as speaking a word to him, mind you!

the silence and lack of relation didn’t stop you from admiring him

you held no prominent rank, and you weren’t remarkable

despite this, jason noticed you

he saw you

one evening during dinner, he wandered over to your table

what could he say? you looked down in the dumps!

“Hey!” Jason greeted cheerily. Maybe too cheerily. He should reel it in, he thought to himself.

His presence was a welcome surprise. You looked up to him with a smile. “Hello. What brings you here?”

He shrugged, “Just seemed like you could use someone to talk to. I’m Jason.” He offers his hand. It’s really bizarre, seeing as he’s possibly the most well-known person there.

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckled, shaking his hand. The contact made you rather jittery. “Nice to meet you formally, I suppose.”

“Same to you!” He beamed. Why was he smiling so brightly? Jason felt so odd in the moment.

after his disappearance, you were crushed, more or less

meeting percy, you could only think of jason

but that’s so depressing, let’s get jolly!

while jason was praetor, he had loads of work, as i’m sure we know

any slivers of time he could get were spent with you (aww so cute!)

a/n

your darling husband fumikage, despite being on the reserved side, was not closed off

he wasn’t the most affectionate bird in the flock, but he’d be damned of he didn’t try to show his love for you!

fumi knows that you’re not… pda, per say

by “not pda” i mean it’d take a miracle for you to even hold his hand if you’re outside the house!

Grocery shopping was admittedly a menial task, but Fumi didn’t mind it if you were around. Walking side by side was great and all, but honestly he’d rather be walking hand-in-hand. Not that he doesn’t respect your space, of course!

With that being said, Fumikage stops beside you while you examine a vegetable for ripeness. He attempts—very slowly—to link your pinkies. Should be a small enough act. Hardly even a display! You were not having it.

You gently bat his hand away; his feathers puff up like they always do when he’s surprised. “Boy, stop that.”

“Yes, of course. I apologize, darling.” 

he also knows that’s just how you are

however! when you’re alone, out of the public eye, it’s a totally different story

the walls of your home together provides a blanket of security

being somewhere undeniably yours allows you to let loose

safe to say, you’re much more lenient when it comes to a little bit of loving behind closed doors!

6 A.M. That’s when Fumikage shoved the key in your lock, bone tired after a surprisingly active night. You’re already up, getting ready for your shift at the office.

“Mm, welcome home,” you greet, placing a cup of jasmine tea in his hands and a kiss on his feathered cheek. “How was work?”

Fumi smiles, staring down at the warm beverage. “Busy. I’ll let you get ready, my love,” he says.

You examine his slouched form, eventually chalking it up to simple tiredness. “Alright. I love you.”

Your eyes feel gritty with the memory of another late night. Stiff muscles greet you—courtesy of your aged couch—alongside a terrible crick of the neck. You groan groggily, rolling over.

Slam!

“Ugh-! God…”

The short fall wakes you right up. A look around your mussed room reveals Hitoshi’s absence. Blankets are strewn about your living room, showing anything but a tidy character inhabiting this apartment. The kitchen light is on, but nobody stands in it. Through your haze, you spot an open wine bottle you’ll have to close and shove in your fridge before it spoils. Two wine glasses—one full, one close to empty— catch your eye beside it. Your phone sits on the coffee table, nearly dead. The charger is nowhere to be found. Lead fills your arms, making the sightless grab infinitely more difficult. Thankfully, your fingers finally brush the case, allowing you to pull it in.

One voicemail from Hitoshi.

A little smile touches your face. He must have left early to grab coffee or something of the sort.

You tap the screen, playing the voicemail.

“Are you there?” He asks, following your name. Not very technologically proficient, huh? The thought makes you chuckle. Though, maybe it’s your own fault for not having a voicemail recording. You sit up to watch the time bar move. There’s a few moments of silence, as if he’s gathering his bearings. “Is there any good way to say goodbye?”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Goodbye? The feeling resolves itself before he speaks again. Must be feeling hungover or something.. always brings out the sentimental in him. You try to forget that his glass was untouched.

“I want you to know that our years together were the best of my life.” Years. With him. Said years together stretch back to high school; your mind recalls sneaking into one’s dorms in the dead of night to hold the other after a long day playing hero. Your throat feels a bit tight. What’s bringing him to say such things? “So much better than I deserve.”

You calm your mind once more. Vulnerability never was Hitoshi’s strong suit. The essence of his words is sweet, if you don’t existentialise. And if you don’t think about how he never leaves voicemails. Especially if you don’t think about how using even remotely flowery language isn’t his style.

“That’s why… I need to let you go, no matter how much it hurts me.” An audible gasp escapes you. It resembles a wheeze. Why? What happened? What has gone so wrong that he left you alone in bed, at first light, with nothing but a lousy voicemail? 

God damnit. God, damn it all. Your hand cups your cheek, in total disbelief. Is he dumping you? Just like that? No.. that couldn’t be it. Companionship of that depth and longevity couldn’t possibly end with only a message. Was there anything but goodwill between yourself and Hitoshi? You never seemed to think so.

“Well… I suppose this is goodbye. I love you, more than words.”

Silence. 

“Hitoshi..” you whisper. It comes out scratchy and pathetic, but honestly, what else is there to say? The love of your life is gone, just like that. You don’t believe it. You can’t believe it. You won’t.

You replay the message. The second time only hurts more. The third time is worse.

Your palms press into your eyes, allowing tears to spread rather than to prevent them.

After an appropriate amount of time mourning, your hands drop back to your cell. Swiping down, you look for any other notifications; the time is omitted from your mental registry.

It’s not until your PR manager, Futo Nagashira, calls that you’re snapped out of your haze.

“Oh, good, you answered this time. Where are you?” He asks, a hint of sass in his tone. You can picture him shaking his head, subsequently jostling his obscenely tall blond beehive.

“What..?” You respond, rubbing your face.

A trademark grunt is heard on the other side of the phone. “Photoshoot. Commercial. You’re late. Are you even out the door yet?”

“What! Oh, god… what time is it?” Hurriedly, you’re throwing together an outfit. They’ll dress you there, anyway. You try to remember where exactly your hero suit is. Whatever, you’re too late to pay any further mind.

You hardly get your shoes on before getting out the door and hailing a cab.

-

“Look who finally made it! You look terrible. Let’s get to work.” Futo comments.

Once arriving on set, a whirlwind of artists pluck, pull, brush, and shove you around. Minimal makeup is placed on your face despite the nature of this venture. Your talent agent, Ronaudo Keage, stands behind your chair. He’s visible in the mirror behind you.

“Less change, the better. Showing off your natural features will make you more unique in the eyes of the public,” he explains. “Natural contour and highlights… maybe trim the stache, hm? All in all, less is-“

You interrupt him, ignoring the comment about your facial hair. “Is Hitoshi here?”

Ronaudo runs his fingers through his dark, geometric, purplish hair. By the narrowing of his brows, you can tell nothing he says will relieve you. The pink spirals on his cheeks swirl clockwise. “Eh.. no. Just missed him, actually. Shinsō already did his shots. You’re late, don’t you remember?”

“Right. Of course. I-..” You what? There’s nothing to say. You trail off. “I just needed to talk to him, is all.”

He raises both brows. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He seems hesitant to let you stew in your thoughts, but takes his hands off it. “Mm… ‘kay. Just let me know, I guess. Or, maybe let Fu know. Relationship stuff is kind of his thing.”

“Great. I’ll keep that in mind,” you relent.

-

The photoshoot goes well. As well as it can, all things considered. Commercial filming, though, is rough. Hearing Hitoshi’s voice over and over, take after take… it’ll drive you insane. And to think that after that, you have to go to work, with night patrol?

Once you finally make it to the agency and locate your hero costume, you’re cornered by Pinky. Or, should you say, your best friend Mina Ashido.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks! Have you been avoiding me, girl?” She spouts. “Wh- hm..” Mina suddenly relaxes, taking a good look at you. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you shrink a little. “What’s wrong? Is it Shinō? Did he break up with you!” Scarily accurate. Also entirely too loud.

“Hush,” you grumble. “Let the whole world know, why don’t you?”

“But he was just here!” She exclaims.

Your heart jumps in your chest. “He was?”

“Yeah. Like, 15 minutes ago. Fumikage was with him. Weird for him to be out during the day…” She comments.

“God.” You grunt, burying your head in your hands.

“So,” she starts, quieter this time, “he broke up with you?”

You shake your head. “No, he’s not…” you don’t want to keep her in the dark. “Yeah. Hitoshi’s leaving me. And here I thought we were gonna get married.”

She frowns. “I know, babe. That’s rough. Do you know why?”

“No!” You burst. “I woke up to an empty apartment and a voicemail. He didn’t tell me why, and I haven’t run into him a single time today.” 

“Well have you, I dunno, called him? Talked to someone he knows?” Mina suggests. The idea makes you feel stupid. Of course. Why didn’t you think of that?

“Uhm, no? But I will. Thanks, Mina.”

She smiles sympathetically in return.

-

A long day passes, and an even longer night. It’s easily past midnight when you return to your apartment. It’s in the same state of disarray it was this morning, making your chest ache. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, alerting you to a notification that doesn’t matter to you. It reminds: you have to make a call.

Hitoshi’s contact photo stares back at you. Just get it over with, your brain screams. You need to know why.

It rings once. Twice. Three times. Four times. The ringing ends, and you’re hopeful.

“This is Shinsō Hitoshi. I can’t be at the phone right-“

You hang up. Of course. The couch welcomes you. You plop down, just wanting to get out of your suit and sleep for a long time. Maybe you should try once more.

So, you do.

Grief is heavier when you hear nothing on the other side for a second time. You finally decide that counting failures will do you no good. Counting sheep at least allows you to fall asleep.

-

The gratitude of citizens you’ve saved from petty criminals does nothing to ease the growing hole in your chest. Sensing your downcast, Mina begs you to go to the bar with her and your high school group.

“I dunno, Mina, I’m kinda busy tonight,” you lie. The only plans you could conjure up this evening are admittedly sad, even in theory.

“No you aren’t! You can’t be serious! Please, just show up to the bar, this was so hard to organize! So what if that bastard dumped you! Get back on your feet, babe!” She grips your forearms, a pout painting her face. “Just… think about it, ‘kay? I’ll send you the info.”

Her worry makes you feel guilty. For her sake, you primp, pluck, and hit the town.

-

“Oh my god, hello!” Mina chirps as you meander towards the infamous “Bakusquad”. Being at a bar without someone on your arm makes you feel naked, per se. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Mina takes you in a crushing embrace. She flattens you like a tube of toothpaste, but it’s all out of love.

“Hey, chica,” Sero greets with a much more casual hug of his own. “How’s it goin’?”

You only shake your head. “It’s been going.” Perfectly vague enough to placate the curiosities of Hanta, Denki, and Eijirō. Katsuki’s not convinced, but stays qui-

“What’s with the look on your face?” he demands, “did you boyfriend dump you or something?”

Are you kidding? How do they always know? He’s dead serious, if the suffocating hold he has on his virgin Daiquiri has anything to say about it.

“Keep your voice down…” you sigh.

“That purple-haired bastard!”

“What’re you yelling about, Bakubro?” inquires Eiji with a painfully cheery expression.

“Hitoshi dumped ‘em,” Hanta informs languidly. He takes a sip of whatever he’s drinking

God, it’s gonna be a long night. 

-

Once you’re adequately buzzed, the choking collar of your mauve-headed inhibitions loosens.

A pair of eyes stare at you from across the room. You’re laughing. His absence holds no weight. It would be selfish of him to wish he had an impact on you.

Hitoshi drops his gaze to his watered down whatever-the-hell, looking for his reflection.

“Shinsō,” a smooth voice prompts. Tokoyami’s already staring when he looks up. “What’s been going on, my friend? You’re not a subtle as you seem to believe.”

He draws in a deep breath. “I’m just tired. Don’t worry.” Hitoshi traces the rim of his glass.

The blatant fib doesn’t fly under the radar, but Tokoyami isn’t one to push. He fixes Hitoshi with another suspicious look before rolling over. “Only racked with concern.”

He finds himself staring at you again, unable to detangle the hairball of emotions bound tightly in his head. Hitoshi can still feel the uncomfortable tingle of a hawk’s eye; seems like he won’t give up.

“… I dumped them,” he admits after simmering in the tense silence for too long. “In a pretty shitty way, now that I’m thinking about it.”

Tokoyami chews on that information. Every response from him is pondered beforehand. Honestly, Hitoshi wishes the avian hero wasn’t so filtered sometimes; raw commentary would be helpful in moments such as the present.

“Ah, hindsight. A double-edged sword,” he drawls with a slow nod.

“I don’t see how hindsight could be positive,” Hitoshi nips. He takes a swig of his drink, loathing the burning sensation it leaves. ‘Why am I even drinking this?’ he wonders. It’s unlike him to be so unsure.

“Regardless of your ability to think critically,” Tokoyami continues with an unintentional slight, “perhaps this is a good thing. What led you to breaking it off?”

He fidgets with a purple lock, no longer appreciating the raw commentary he wanted seconds ago. “I just needed a fresh start. I felt suffocated, I guess.”

“So you no longer love her?” Tokoyami pokes. He watches Hitoshi’s brain chug.

“I- When did I say that? Jumping to conclusions..”

“Then you do?”

Hitoshi grumbles, frustrated. This is a total headache. He pinches the inner corners of his eyes, buying some time to just think.

Tokoyami chuckles amusedly. He rises from his seat, placing his water on the counter. Regardless of the bar’s clamor, it feels dead silent. Finally, he speaks. “I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Tokoyami chuckles, at the nonchalant answer. He checks the time on his cell, watching the clock inch closer to his shift. He rises from his seat, placing his water on the counter with a bill. “You’re a smart man, Shinsō. Don’t waste too much time figuring how you feel. If you’re willing to heed my unsolicited advice, I’d simply talk to her,” he instructs, “Well, I have to be in soon. See you next time, companion.”

He exits with a casual nod. Hitoshi gives a two-finger salute, but it’s lethargic. Now along, Hitoshi find your face again, unable to do anything but stare.

Your eyes meet his, and his heart stops. It takes a moment for you to recognize him—or realize that you’re not hallucinating, rather—but said recognition brings a sheen of tears. You must be drinking heavier than usual. Well, that makes two of you.

Hitoshi closes his tab and slinks out the door before you could approach.

-

This game he’s playing with you is immature, and he knows it deep down. Watching you become visibly distraught doesn’t feel good. Tokoyami’s words lingered in his head. 

“Don’t waste too much time figuring out how you feel.”

Hitoshi tries not to dwell on it. What’s done is done. He’s moving on now. Yep. Definitely doesn’t care.

He supposes he should collect his stuff. Wandering the streets late at night is no longer appealing, but going back to his barren apartment without any personal belongings… depressing. It’s immoral and likely illegal for him to waltz directly into what used to be your shared home without warning, despite having a key. As much as he dreads it, Hitoshi knows the only answer is to call you. He ignores the shaking of his hands as he dials.

It only rings once.

“Hitoshi?” It’s you! Of course it’s you, who else would it be? “Why- ‘Toshi, were you ignoring me?”

“Hi. I’m gonna come get my things,” he states. The icy tone in his words makes him cringe. “Can you do me a favor and set them outside so I can get ‘em?”

Silence.

“Wh- No! C- You-… come face me like an adult!” You sound intoxicated and tired over the phone. Hitoshi sighs.

“Please, just… set it outside. I’ll be there in 10.”

“Hito-!” he hangs up promptly. In and out. No dilly-dallying. He can handle this.

-

You weren’t entirely sure you believed in the seven stages of grief. Not that you didn’t trust doctors, modern medicine, and all that good stuff, but especially after the war, you didn’t think it would ever hit you so noticeably again. 

But, here we are; you’re deep in the anger stage. You stuff his clothes into a suitcase he left in your closet to long ago. That must have been after graduation, when the two of you went to Brazil. A picture of the two of you basking in the sun stares at you from in front of the TV. Hitoshi was so burnt, he thought his skin was going to shed like a snake.

The fond memory only feeds your rage, tainted by his actions.

“Stupid picture,” you grumble, snatching the frame off the storage stand and shoving it under a soft grey sweater you had stolen. 

A gift Hitoshi had got for your birthday catches your eye. “Who gets someone a duck statue?” You cradle the little duck in your hands with care before dropping it in the case. “Only you.”

Out the open window, muted cursing is hardly audible.

Hitoshi hesitantly grabs the chilled steel handle and heads for the stairs. As little as he wants to face your wrath for his cowardly decision, he does need his stuff; it’s evident you’re not setting it out. So, up he goes. The dim hallway makes his heartbeat quicken. It’s all to real as he roves; he makes note of every familiar door sign, welcome mat, and trinket just to slow his way. Finally, he stands at the end of the hall in front of your door. Hitoshi raises his hand to knock, bracing for impact.

The door flies open, revealing you on the other side with a flurry of obscenities. A large suitcase sits at your feet. It looks so familiar to Hitoshi, but he just can’t place it. The water-logged tags have washed the name—his name—to nothing.

“Oh,” he hums, holding your gaze. It’s awkwardly quiet. You don’t offer what’s obviously his things, and he doesn’t ask. Caught in a stalemate. “… Can I come in?” he asks at last. He expects an explosive response but,

nothing.

You step aside wordlessly. Hitoshi can’t figure out what you’re thinking, how you feel about him being back here after basically ghosting you two days ago.

He feels the need to watch his 6:00.

You’re not entirely sure how you feel either. Suddenly, you feel hopeful again. Why would he ask himself in if..! You shake your head. Wishful thinking is what got you here in the first place.

Two bodies stand still in the foyer, dancing around what should have been cut-and-dry. Hitoshi has one hand on the back of his neck as he looks around.

“So, uh,” he starts awkwardly, “how’ve you been?”

You narrow your eyes, remembering why you were so angry a few moments ago.

“Get out of my house. Take your shit and leave,” you growl, sliding the suitcase closer to the door. “Please.”

But Hitoshi doesn’t move. “Can we talk?”

-

You’re too easy. What is there to talk about? What could he possibly say to rectify ignoring you for two whole moons after leaving?!

“I know what I did was kind of terrible,” he states as he wanders towards the kitchen.

Irritation gnaws at you. “Nope, yeah. Just make yourself right at home. Go into my kitchen after dumping me, why not?”

He kneels in front of a charmingly crooked cabinet, digging around. You plop down on your couch, hugging a decorative pillow. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s one of the pillows you got together during an IKEA trip. You toss it away, hugging yourself instead.

“I have to be honest, I don’t have anything to say that’d make you forgive me.”

Well, you don’t say. You roll your eyes, but the beginnings of guilt touch your psyche. Seriously? Why are these stages progressing so fast?

You monitor Hitoshi carefully. Don’t want him stealing anything. He makes a sound of recognition, pulling out your kettle. He rises, sticking the lid under the sink.

“Why are you here? Are you apologizing, or just freeloading?” You challenge, feeling the liquid courage.

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, focusing on whatever he’s brewing. The orange label, generic Naranja Té.

“I need to know something,” he murmurs, turning the dial on the stove. Hitoshi wanders toward the cushions, sitting beside you. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees. “Do you still love me, even after what I did to you?”

What?!

You didn’t prepare for that question. Even with all the time you spent thinking, that prompt didn’t cross your mind. What do you even say to something like that?”

“Does it matter?” you besiege, only growing more agitated. “That’s a ridiculous question to ask, Hitoshi. Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” he responds, almost automatically. He nervously laces his fingers, looking up into your eyes. “I do. Why wouldn’t I? Feelings don’t dissipate so quickly. You know that.”

Wow. You can’t seem to formulate a response. Your mind runs a million miles an hour trying to find the words, but your vocab runs faster.

“You love me, yet you ghosted me,” you say finally, crossing your arms and leaning back. “I don’t believe you.”

A loud whistle rings in your ears. The kettle rattles on the stovetop. Hitoshi rises, moving it off the hot burner and grabbing two mugs. In one cup: sugar, and golden honey. The other has hardly three grains of sugar. Hitoshi sets the dressed cup in your hands, returning to his spot.

“I didn’t think you would believe me. I…” He stews over his words, looking fixedly at his lap. “I’m sorry. I do love you, I just felt like my life was getting away from me. It’s been so long since high school, and I’ve been stuck. I don’t want you to get stuck with me. I wanted to feel young again.”

You stare at the tea, unsure what to think. Sympathy isn’t something you’re willing to give at the moment, but you’re very inclined. “So you dumped me? Because you were overwhelmed? Unbelievable. And we’re 25, we’re still young, asshole.”

“I guess so. But… I think I need you.”

You can feel his eyes on you again, and lift your chin. “You need me?” you reply incredulously. “Mmh, how’d you come to that conclusion?” The warm tea is very enticing. Taking only one sip seems to sober you.

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “I was talking to Tokoyami at the bar earlier. He made me think a little harder. Dig a little deeper.”  Hitoshi mimics your motion, taking a sip of the bitter herbal. His lips downturn, displeased with the taste. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff,” he comments casually. 

“You love me?” you inquire, ignoring his diss.

He nods, carefully setting his mug on your coffee table. Dim yellow light from the kitchen catches in purple hair. It’s distracting. “I do love you. I need you. And I need you to lie to me right now,” he requests. You quirk a brow, admittedly curious. “Tell me you still love me. I just need, I dunno, five minutes. Five minutes of thinking I didn’t mess up so bad that I killed anything you felt for me.” You’ve never see Hitoshi so desperate for your words, your voice.

“… Is this real?” You murmur, not believing your ears. How could this be happening? He just abandoned ship, and is begging to be let aboard. “I’m not naïve. This is cruel, even for you,” you scoff, rising from your couch and returning to the front door. You nudge his stuffed suitcase with your toe. “I should have known you weren’t gonna commit, considering we don’t even live together. Only 8 years together. Not serious or anything.”

“Wait, please,” he pleads. “I’m being serious.” His voice is soft as a feather-down pillow. He crosses to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. The little touch is intoxicating, like an elixir. You must be more buzzed than you thought. “I was being stupid. I don’t wish to say goodbye.”

Oh. He’s really apologizing. It’s not just for show.

The way he’s looking at you… like he’s hanging off your every word. God, how long has it been since he’s seen you that? You recall him staring one rainy night at his flat. He had called you distracting. Huh.

“Please. Forgive me. Hate me. Just take me back.”

You’re way too easy. Just like that, you forgive him. You can’t bring yourself to throw him out when he’s groveling.

Time stands still as you sit together on the couch. There’s an awkward amount of space between you two, an awkward silence. Everything about this is so foreign to you. Hitoshi’s acting quite strange, but you suppose it’s nice to know he did like you after all; you had your doubts recently.

The cooling tea is your respite. Held in one hand, you use it to avoid discussion. You don’t notice as Hitoshi begins tracing your palm.

He slips his hand in yours, looking away. You would laugh at his gauche demeanor, had this situation not been so odd.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, filling the silence to balm your grief (or maybe his own).

“I forgive you, I suppose. If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you. Just talk to me, Hitoshi.”

He chuckles warmly, cracking a smile. You bite back a grin of your own, hiding it behind the mug. Hitoshi squeezes your hand.

“I’ll talk to you next time, yeah. Did you want me to move in?”

Funny how things tend to work in your favor.

a/n

hey folks! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did. i’ve been so active this week, i’m proud af of myself. keep requesting, i appreciate all the love you give!

tokoyami:

fumikage finds that having someone around with an animal mutation, as he has, comforts him

your presence reminds him that he’s not alone!

first thing’s first, you’re a BEAST. think shishida. since you’re a boar, you’re kinda hairy. and you’re buff.

safe to say fumi loves the muscle. he doesn’t mind being tossed around. he does, however, mind when you accidentally pull out a feather with your teeth

Fumikage’s head rests on his pillow, as yours is firmly planted beside him. In the dead of night, enjoying your presence which is no longer foreign to his dorm. A sigh escapes him, content with the privacy these four walls grant. Concepts of poetry linger in his mind, wrapping around his cerebral like smoke.

Your long tail rhythmically taps his thigh. His eyes begin to clo-

“Augh!” He bolts upright, holding the spot on hos head where the feather was stolen.

You pluck the black plume from your teeth. “My bad.”

sero:

you’re his favorite diva, you can do no wrong!

however, there are some times you can do some morally gray things…

don’t worry, he always manages to calm you down! hanta adores you, so he’ll do anything to keep you from ruining yourself. he’s one of the only ones that can (literally) wrangle you

a secret hobby of his? rollerblading

he LOVES sharing that with you

“C’mon, mi sol- you’re cutting off circulation to my fingers,” Sero chuckles lightly. Currently, the two of you are slow-rolling at a rink; Hanta is determined to teach you to skate! How sweet. If only it were that simple

“Hanta, I’m not built for this!” You cling to his—well, everything—, unable to comprehend how he’s so effortlessly gliding backwards. Again, you stumble. Sero is there to catch you. A gentle hand rests on your back.

“Chill, man! You’re making it too complicated. Just look at me.”

So, you do. His easygoing smile melts your nerves, despite your fighting. You relax as Hanta tugs you along.

And then you fall.

midoriya:

when you first met, he was shy and honestly a bit scared of you

but that fear turned into simple nerves

his nerves went away, replaced with a comfortable feeling

midoriya breeched your walls without meaning to, between tough spars, sweet “anonymous” gestures scrawled out in shaky handwriting

since you’re built like a tank, you don’t hesitate to spar with izuku often. he worries about hurting you, though

“H-Hold on!” Izuku yelps, projecting himself upwards with a flick of his middle finger. But, you don’t slow down. The moment he’s close enough, you grab his gym shorts and slam him down. “Oof!”

“Keep up, ‘Zuku,” You grunt, gaining momentum and sliding on your feet.

“I thought we were just warming up!” He calls out, narrowly dodging a charge. This game pf cat and mouse fires you up. Meanwhile, to Izuku this practice is reminiscent of when Bakugo was using him as target practice in the early days of hero training.

“I’m already warmed up,” you reply with a chuckle, rolling away from a shot. “You’re supposed to be trying to master Blackwhip right now!” you remind him.

“I can’t control it, I don’t wanna hurt you!” Izuku admits between attacks.

You huff, “You won’t. Come on!” Your feet drag against the ground, preparing for another charge. A tendril wraps around your midsection, absorbing your momentum. A squeal is forced from your body as you’re rocketed down, as is all the air in your lungs.

“Oh- Jeez, are you okay?” Midoriya rushes over, kneeling beside you. A hand helps you up. You nod, coughing.

“M’fine. Seems like you’ve got a handle on that,” you comment lightly. He smiles, but worry prevents it from reaching his eyes. Once you stand, you place a kiss on his cheek. “Nothing’s broken, if that’s what you’re wondering.

He sighs, holding you close enough to check your condition himself. “Are you sure? Maybe we should se Recovery Gir-“

You cut him off with your lips, minding your teeth. Izuku’s feet lift off the ground.

bakugo:

when you and bakugo met, it was explosive

you kept the blond on his toes. obviously not by balancing him out, but fighting fire with fire

it took forever for him to acknowledge that you were even a friend, let alone a romantic interest

you’re still not there yet, but there’s tension!

as we all know, bakugo’s basically a sous chef

okay maybe not, but he’s proficient when it comes to cullinary

rather than doing normal date things like going on a trip to the mall or taking a walk around the park, he “teaches” you to cook!

An aroma of spices floats through the common room, sourced from the small kitchen in the dorms. The entirety of 1-A is gathered on the couches (or on the floor, in denki’s case) waiting for a taste of Bakugo’s meal. Rather than twiddling your thumbs, you finally convinced the fiery boy to let in the room where it happens.

You’re delegated a task that in essence is very simple, chopping leeks. Only, it seems you’re awful at cutting. Not only are you pretty slow, but you’re certainly at risk to knick yourself with the blade.

“Oi! What the hell are you doing?!” Katsuki shouts, abandoning the pot on the stove. It simmers freely without his sharp gaze keeping it in line.

“I’m doing what you told me to?” You huff. He storms over as if your bad form is a personal attack on him.

“No, you’re mutilating these vegetables. What kind of idiot cuts like that!” He admonishes without an ounce of kindness, but you’re used to that. Bakugo takes over, quickly slicing the remnants of leek into small, even parts. He slides a portion of the leeks into the bubbling stew, then places a scallion on your chopping board. “Try again,” he scoffs.

With a roll of the eyes, you try again. Your usually stagnant tail flicks behind you. You feel like you’re getting it!

“C’mon, are you this bad on purpose?!” You groan.

“Obviously not. What am I doing so wrong? I’m getting no instructions during this cooking lesson,” you sass Katsuki. His eye twitches.

Rather than another bout of shouting, two hands are placed over yours. How cliché. Spikes make themselves known in your peripherals. He leaves a bit of space between your bodies, not wanting to touch.

He cups your fingers over the scallions, lining the greens up. “Stupid. Roll the knife from the top down when you cut. And don’t have your fingers so close,” he scolds you again, but it lacks the usual volcano-mad tone. Katsuki moves your hands slowly in an attempt to instill the motion.

“Oh,” you hum. “I see.”

“Do that. Not whatever the hell you were doing.” He pulls away to wash his hands again (ouch).

todoroki:

at the beginning of yours and shoto’s friendship, you were more of a nuisance

he only concerned himself with his studies and his quirk, not making much time for his classmates

but, as time went on he warmed up to all of the class, and subsequently you!

he loves very gently and always makes sure that you know he likes you, despite the strength in your quirk

just because you’ve got some extra parts doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful

sometimes you have to file down your tusks because they get very long, and he sits with you as you saw

Shoto sits criss-cross by your side as you stare into the mirror, carefully trimming your tusks. They had gotten very long over the past year, and it was time. You wouldn’t want them boring into your cranium, would you?

You mindlessly babble about something or another. The boy with two tones lining his scalp listens intently, responding occasionally with a nod or a short comment. Your arms get tired from the saw wire after while.

“Goodness… I don’t remember them being this thick,” you sigh.

“They have always been this thickness,” shares Shoto.

“Well, I wish they weren’t. Do you know how hard it is for my arms to get tired?” He simply nods, of course he knows. He was there when you decided to bench until failure. “Well… hush.”

Todoroki simply smiles. “You’re almost through,” he encourages dryly.

kirishima:

kiri is such a loving fellow that it was hard to keep him out of your heart!

it’s an odd affair, but often the two of you brush your teeth together before bed. dental hygiene is immensely important when your teeth are so sharp!

your spars are rather even, often ending up in a tie when you’re both too tired to go on

if you thought chivalry was dead before dating kiri, you’ll find it wasn’t, it was just all living in his heart

though your schedules are packed as students at u.a., you find time for each other in the form of walks around campus

during these, kiri regularly practices chivalry

Eijiro extends his elbow to you, which you take graciously. Sensing a chill in the air, he had advised you ahead of time to dress warm. Obviously, you didn’t listen to him.

“I’m happy to see you,” he starts off conversation, smiling widely at your likeness. His strides are slow, yearning for more time to take in the sight of you.

“I bet you are,” you deflect. The comment still warms you.

Even though no cars drive through campus, Eijiro always makes sure you’re on the inside. He can take it, after all.

A cold zephyr tickles your skin, forcing a shiver up your spine. You comment stubbornly, “Has it always been this chilly out?”

Without a single word, Eijiro peels off his top layer and drapes it over your shoulders to reveal a second sweater. “Yeah, it has, man! Don’t worry, though. I knew you wouldn’t bring a jacket, and it would be very unmanly of me to know that and not do anything about it.”

kaminari:

another exuberant person that broke through whatever walls you may have built!

as i’m sure we all remember, he’s great at guitar

even though you’re not the most delicate person, he loves sharing that passion with you!

(please forgive me for this one in advance… my guitar has been broken for 3 years so this is probably inaccurate)

After another long week of training, the weekend has finally arrived to grant respite to the students of U.A. Possibly, most excited about this fact is Denki, due to the fact you finally gave in to his need to tutor [read: torture] you with a string instrument.

Despite your disgruntled feelings, you’re pleased to be spending time with him. You pad into the common room where your boyfriend sits, tuning his beloved electric guitar. The large black amp is placed at the corner of the sofa, wires strewn about the carpet. Rather than using himself as an electric source as you (and Iida) have advised against, he plugs his equipment into the walls. He grins when he sees you.

“Hey! You ready to shred?” Kaminari inquires. Very corny, but endearing, you note.

“I suppose so. Instruments have never really been my thing,” You remind him with a furrowed brow, sitting down beside Denki. He brushes the factoid off.

“Doesn’t matter! Guitar will be your thing soon.” He seems so excited for this, you don’t wanna mess it up. You already have the callouses one would gain from playing a string instrument, so that’s one hurdle done. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to hold it.”

The bright lemon guitar is placed in your lap, the strap slung over you for extra protection. Each step is explained with as much detail Denki can provide, his own hands moving yours over the fretboard.

By the end of your first rehearsal, you had a simple five-chord progression to show for it. Not that you would show anyone. Thankfully the living room was empty that weekend.

After rehearsal two, you were able to name some of the notes on the fretboard. That same afternoon, Denki had short-circuited, insisting that he could use his left- and right-brain simultaneously, all the while being an electrical charge. Spoiler: He could not. Accidentally putting out too much energy also fried his amp.

ojiro:

i’ll be as straight as the bounds of queerdome can allow, this guy’s my fav

oftentimes when you get extremely bored, there are attempts made to braid your own tail

unfortunately, you don’t have that much fur so it’s all in vain

thankfully, though, your boyfriend has a larger tuft on the end of his tail!

it took some coercing, but one night after classes, ojiro was wiped enough to finally give in while he took a powernap

Mashirao’s tail is curled around your midsection, gently flicking in your lap.

“Mashirao,” you whisper, “stop moving. I’m gonna mess up the braid.”

He smiles in response, leaning his head against the back of the sofa in an attempt to rest. “You know I can’t help it.” The gentle wagging becomes more prominent. It wouldn’t be a problem for you to hold it down, in all honesty.

He knows it, you know it. You simply can’t be bothered. It’s a good challenge, anyways.

iida:

nerd alert 🤓

tenya frequently researches facts about board in the wild so you can better improve your natural powers!

every friday morning before class marks a new fact dump because he loves you

“Good morning, esteemed peer,” Tenya greeted you stiffly. He’s still awkward interacting with you around your classmates.

You giggle, “Tenya, I’ve told you before- whatever. Good morning.”

“I’ve compiled a list of facts that may be useful in developing your quirk. In heroics, it is important to support one another-“

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon.”

“The muscles in your head and neck may be more developed than myself and our other classmates, as a majority of wild boars’ muscles are concentrated in the head area,” he begins. Your tail sways gently. “That may account for your unusual resistance to neck injuries.”

You nod along.

“Additionally, in the wintertime it may be wise for you to have a lighter suit. Your hair will get much thicker and insulate you, if you haven’t already noticed.”

post-timeskip you get married obvi, and your household is an absolute monarchy

he’d do anything for you, and you’d do anything for him

tenya has never met a stronger woman than your mother. he associated this with boars living in matriarchal groups

aoyama:

this was an unexpected pairing for everyone to wrap their heads around

you’re like the snl skit “the couple you can’t believe are together”

and you’re just as healthy as they are!

when he’s tired, he may slip into casual french conversation

he often forgets you don’t have a full understanding of his french mumblings

pls forgive MY french mumblings here

Yuga trudges into your dorm where you lay sprawled out on your bed, not saying anything before laying down on your chest.

“Tu me manque… ma journée a été terrible,” he whines. (I missed you… my day was dreadful)

“Mmh, what, Yuga?” You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Mon. Aizawa m’a fait utilizer mon laser abdominal trop longtemp.. Se faire mal,” he continues. (Mr. Aizawa made me use my belly laser for a long time… I’m hurting)

You place a hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through his blond hair. “Yuga, amor, je ne parle pas français,” you manage, very slowly. That’s about the only sentence you know. Though you’d like to just let him speak, when he inevitably brings this up later you’ll be more than lost.

“Ah, zut. Je suis désolé. Je suis trés fatigué,” he responds, looking up at your face.

“It’s alright,” you smile gently. “What’s terrible?”

In the coming years, you pick up on French more than you’d expect.

koda:

yet another unlikely couple!

your extroversion brings him out of his shell

he balances you out as well

in the common bout of extreme stubbornness, a whisper of sense from him makes you melt

Another loud feud. A common event between you and your more hard-headed classmates, especially Monoma. The two of you were debatinf, which is never a good idea since he gets a bit… over the top with his trash talk.

You’re fuming in your dorm. A gentle knock on the open door catches your attention. Koji’s face appears. As if he can sense the rift between you two, he’s there.

“What’s going on?” He implores in his typical soft tone. You sigh, knowing the worry below his skin.

“He was just- it doesn’t matter,” you huff. Koji hurts a bit. You and Monoma are friends, something large must have happened.

A thoughtful stare gets you talking.

“He said he was better than me. It was probably a joke, and I know I’m being stupid, but…” you admit. Koda sits down beside you, on the edge of your bed. His palm faces up in case you’d like to hold it.

You take his hand. “I’m not gonna apologize,” you decide.

He shakes his head, “You don’t have to. Just try to be calm, okay?”

shoji:

a gentle giant and honestly another one of my 1-a favs

because of you’re quirk giving you extra muscle in odd places, you feel like you’re too strong to be held, per say

of course, shoji has the optimal build for quelling this feeling

after a particularly overwhelming week, the two of you will sit together and he’ll wrap his extra ligaments around you

seeing you love his arms and such so much does a lot for him, too

reminds him on the hard days that he’s deserving.

Shoji’s shadow stretches into your room, light from the hall outlining his figure. A tiny smile pulls at your lips despite your awful mood. “Hey,” you greet, moving to sit criss-cross atop your mattress.

“Hello,” he responds, closing the door behind him. Words have never been necessary in these moments. Mezo takes a seat beside you, opening his arms for you to crawl into.

A hug from Mezo is warm as a thousand Suns. Tight like a bear, but gentle as a hummingbird. A large sigh is drawn out of you. He doesn’t comment, simply rubbing the back of your head. You squeeze him; he can take it. Mezo only smiles. You two stay like that for a while before finally scurrying under the covers and laying your heads on the pillows littering your bed.

He lets you talk about your day without interjection beside the occasional nod or low hum, and it makes you feel heard. Your chatter gives him a positive feeling as well.

Eventually, he says something rather silly and makes you snort. Mezo knows he’s doing something right when the tuft at the end of your tail tickles his arms.

sato:

i’m gonna apologize in advance for this one

i promise you idk this guy

anyways, you two often playfight and spar together because of your similar strength

symbiotic relationship over here!

get it

…

bc you’re mutually benefiting

ok whatev

you often taste test rikido’s treats and aid him in the baking progress by handing him ingredients

however, this wasn’t enough for him! he’s slowly been getting you more involved

first indirect lesson: crack an egg

A fragile brown egg sits in your cupped hands, waiting for Rikido to take it from you. He stands at the stove wearing a laugh-worthy “HOT STUFF COMING THROUGH” apron.

“Can you crack that for me, babe?” He requests, busying himself with not burning his sugar base. You hesitate.

“Uh… I feel like that’s not a good idea…” You start, but he begs rather loudly. To save yourself from further embarrassment, you relent and begin the process. “Alright… can’t be that hard,” you reassure yourself.

Crack!

A large fracture spreads up the shell, the membrane dam breaking and making way for the whites to ooze out. You hit it against the bowl again and the egg shatters.

“Shit.”

Somehow, none of the shell dropped into the mixture.

“S’alright, I’ll clean it up later,” Rikido tells you through slow stirring. “Crack another.”

And so you do. This time, you’re much more successful. Sato celebrates, and determines you’re ready for a series of hands-on baking quests (with him guiding you, of course.)

a/n

jfc, this took so long. i’m so sorry this took actual months, i got back to tumblr and them deciding to add every 1-a boy i could think of to this request. the last few were the hardest, both because i was losing steam and i just didn’t know what to do for them ;v; also can you tell i learned how to color text? hope you mildly enjoy it, though! keep requesting <3

you and tatta met during tag, 5♤!

he was freaking out, crouched behind a wall as he was being shot at, and you were rolling with arisu’s gang

arisu scooped him up, and stuck him with you

after your visa was issued, you hung with him for no reason other than “he makes me laugh.”

together, you two were somehow recruited to the beach! how romantic

bustling days were spent in eachother’s company, you occasionally helping tatta repair cars

he loves to teach you about car parts and repairs! he thinks its cute when you ask questions about what makes a car work and how to fix it

plus working together on something that matters to him makes his heart flutter

he also likes to feel useful!

tatta himself, though he’s cautious, can be rather curious

if you mention a hobby of your from before the borderlands he’ll ask you questions until he knows everything about it

like a sport? tell him every position, every great player!

like an instrument? tell him each fingering and your favorite song to play!

soon enough, he asked you to be his partner (to which you agreed <3)

when other people check you out on the beach, he gets rather envious, but knows he can’t do anything about it

sometimes he wonders if he’s good enough to be with you

being with you, he’s gotten pretty good at communicating how he feels

one night, after a game, he opened up to you about his emotions and it was so worth it!

you peppered his face with kisses—which he has grown to adore)—and assured him that he was absolutely 100% good enough

he likes to braid your hair

no reason, he simply likes the motion

very rarely, kuina will teach him a new type of braid, and he’ll keep trying until he gets it right

after the 10♡ game, he decided that he would take a bullet for you any day

a/n

ok guys… saying a fic would be out soon was a lie. that was 5 months ago. since then i’ve entered many many new fandoms, so there’ll be headcannons and drabbles for them as well! i hope so, anyways.

Your body clatters to the ground as you lose yet another spar. A grunt rocks your chest. Dirt coats your face, coupled with a stinging sensation, courtesy of a sharp pebble.  You suck air through your teeth.

“Damn..” you mutter, rolling onto your back. Your boyfriend Hitoshi stands over you, blocking the bright sun with his head.

“You done?” he asks, crouching. “You seem tired.”

Sitting up makes your core burn. “Ow, ow, ow.. Yeah. We’re done. I’m exhausted today,” you sigh, leaning back on your palms.

He nods. “I can tell. You weren’t very coordinated.” Hitoshi stands and offers you a hand. You gladly take it. “We should head back to the dorms. It’s starting to get dark.

No complaints from you.

-

Game night happens to be scheduled for that evening, but it had slipped your mind. You’re completely beat. Last night consisted of tossing and turning for hours, letting this weary feeling settle deep in your bones come morning.

After a well-deserved shower, you flop onto the inviting bed and close your eyes. What a year this day has been. The idea of waking up tomorrow and doing it all again is beyond daunting: a Herculean task.

The sliver of golden glow from the hall widens as your door—slightly ajar due to your forgetfulness—opens. A lengthy figure stands in the arch, casting a shadow over your already dark room.

“If you’re gonna sleep, you should put your bonnet on,” suggests Hitoshi. He pushes the door back and he crosses the room to sit on your bed. He takes a curl between his fingers before discarding it.

You yawn, rolling onto your back to look up at him. “Mmh, I know..” Loose shorts hang off his hips, and an obviously Mina-customized shirt reveal pale collarbone. A silky material is plopped on your face. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he smiles.

You sit up, fighting with your hair. Damn you, volume! A tight bow sits at the base of your head, curtesy of your own dexterity.

While you were brawling with your scalp, the violet-haired boy had made himself at home under your covers. He examines a threadbare stuffed animal that was supposed to be hidden.

“Don’t look at that!” you huff, snatching the stuffy from him. 

He’s amused—it’s painted all over his face—but stays quiet about the childish object. Hitoshi flips the blankets over for you to wiggle into. “Alright, come here,” he requests quietly.

You comply without a second word, resting your head on his offered bicep. A sigh of contentment this time. Hitoshi’s propped up against your pillows, observing your calm face.

“Sorry I’m no fun tonight… I’m so tired,” you yawn again, wiping your face. His waist practically begs you to wrap an arm around it.

“You’re fine,” he assures dryly, but you don’t need any more than that.

The warmth surrounding you coupled with the gentle hand rubbing up and down your back lulls you into a dreamless sleep. Hitoshi dozes off somewhere along the way, too.

-

Mina peeks her head through your door, squinting in the darkness.

“Is she sleeping?” She murmurs, stepping inside. Her eyes adjust too slowly for her liking, but when they do, she sees two familiar figures cuddled up under a pile of blankets.

“Is she?” inquires Torū.

Mina shakes her head, beaming at the adorable sight. “So freaking cute!” The pink lady fumbles for her phone, desperate for a picture. A bright light comes from her camera, making Kyoka cringe behind her.

Hitoshi raises his free hand to his face, shielding his sleeping eyes from the flash. “Ugh.. get out of here,” he grumbles, rubbing the grit out of his optic.

She giggles, escaping and closing the door behind her.

Hitoshi shifts closer to you, returning to sleep. That picture will haunt him tomorrow, not today.

a/n