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Icarus' Reblogs - Blog Posts
my shayla..
skincare with keigo bc I'm never not soft for him and want to take care of him forever. happy birthday !!!!!!!!
gn!reader, no physical descriptions, lots and lots and lots of fluff. he is my baby. also I don't have a real skincare routine, so I'm apologizing in advance for how lackluster it may seem. this is in the pre-moving in together stage of your relationship, but not too early on either, if it matters to you!
keigo watches you curiously through the doorway that leads to the master bathroom as he sits on your bed cross-legged. he doesn't want to disrupt whatever it is you're doing (you seem very focused), but he's extremely interested in what you're putting on your face.
he thinks you look stunning with the fluffy animal headband on and some shorts paired with one of his old shirts. he thinks he could look at you like this forever, actually.
he watches you smile slightly and lean over the counter to get closer to the mirror. "I can feel you staring at me, you know."
his heart flutters and he tries to ignore how hot his face feels.
you stand up straight again and turn your face towards him, beckoning him over with a wave of your hand. as if he's been waiting for you to do just that, he gets up and saunters into the bathroom.
"so... what exactly is all this?" he asks, settling behind you with his arms around your waist, inspecting the different bottles and containers.
"they're skincare products. see?" you hold up one of the tubes for him to read, going back to spreading the cream over your skin.
"hydrating... morning and night use... huh."
you pick up on the curiosity in his voice and look at him through the mirror. “do you want to try my skincare routine for yourself, keigo?”
he hesitates and you give him a moment to decide, though you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say. eventually keigo does nod and you peck him on the cheek. “I’ll get you a headband, just a second.”
moments later you're sitting on the counter, shoving a white headband with panda ears over his head. he stares at himself in the mirror, watching you adjust it so his hair is pushed back from his forehead.
"you're so cute," you murmur, smiling at him and resisting the urge to press kisses all over his face. "okay, brush your teeth before we start. I've heard doing it after messes things up."
"really?" he sound skeptical.
you shrug. "I dunno if there's any merit to it but I've seen enough people mention it, so I just do it this way now."
he nods and reaches behind you to grab the red toothbrush you keep for him whenever he sleeps over. you sneak a kiss against the corner of his mouth when he's close enough and it makes him grin.
once he's done brushing his teeth, he steps away to spit into the sink and wipe his mouth before returning between your legs. "alright, what's first?"
you grab a tall tube and present it to him the same way he's seen people online do it in those viral review videos. "face wash. it helps get all the dirt and grime out, and it's good for sensitive skin."
you wet your hands in the sink and raise them to his face to dampen it. "this one suggests using it on slightly wet skin for better results."
he lets you pat him until you're satisfied, and he watches as you put some of the gel on your hands. "close your eyes."
you don't need to tell him twice.
keigo happily lets you massage the product into his face and you giggle a bit when he leans into it. "does it feel nice?"
he nods a bit. "so nice."
"alright, it's foamy now, you can wash it off."
he blinks, returning to reality, and does what you say. once all the face wash is gone, you tap a towel against him, careful not to rub. "okay, would you say your skin feels dry, oily or a combination of both most of the time?"
he thinks about how his skin can get a bit itchy and wind burnt from all the flying he does while on patrol. "very dry."
you nod and grab the tin he was looking at earlier. "this helps with that."
you scoop a bit onto your index finger and smooth it over his cheeks, forehead and temples. "there," you smile softly and cup his face in your palms. "now you'll be even softer, which I honestly didn't think was possible, but here we are." he's certain his pupils are heart-shaped at this point. your entire aura is tinted pink and red and there's cartoon hearts bubbling up around you. he wonders if you have a secret second quirk he doesn't know about or if the mind really is as powerful as they say.
he doesn't know how exactly to filter the intense emotions running through him as you continue to dote on him, so they just well up inside of him until he can't stop the quick and sap-filled "I love you so much," from bubbling out of his mouth.
you pause a little at how... thankful he sounds. you know that he isn't used to being pampered- not that he's ever explicitly stated that, you just kind of put two and two together based on his career and what he's told you of his past- but you hadn't realized how much it would affect him.
so you smile at him and tilt his face down to kiss his head, careful not to get any product on your lips. you return the sentiment, happy to be of service to him for once, and ignore the way your insides are turning to goop at his expression.
you'll have to dote on him more often. not only because you want to see him like this more often, but because you want- no, need to make up for all those years he must have felt discarded and used and overworked... he handles it well. he's accepted his duty and thrives in his field. you know he does, otherwise he would have snapped long before he met you, but... it hurts to realize that something as simple as skincare is enough to toss him into unknown territory.
once you're done with the moisturizer, you slip the panda headband off of him and blink away the tears threatening to fall. he's still wearing that appreciative expression, heart eyes and all, so you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders.
"I love you more than you will ever know, keigo," you mumble into his neck. "don't ever doubt that, okay?"
his arms find their way around your waist and you feel him nod against your head. you reveal your face to him and press your forehead against his, gently nudging noses.
comfortable silence lingers for a bit before he whispers "you smell good."
you snort and pull back. "it's the moisturizer, it's pear scented. do you want to head to bed now? the counter is cold."
he nods again and picks you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him despite the fact that the distance from the washroom to your bed is only less than twenty steps.
as soon as you're both under the covers and he expels one of his feathers to turn the light off, you beckon him over to lay on your chest.
you tangle your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and tailing down to scratch the nape of his neck. he lets out a content sigh and he presses soft, sleepy kisses to any bare skin he can find without moving too much. you almost laugh at how quickly you're able to get him relaxed.
you know you'll miss his weight on your body by time you wake up- he'll be long gone for an early morning patrol. even so, at least you'll be comforted with the knowledge that he was able to get a good night's sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love him :(
part two. PART TWO. 🫶🫶
lovesick
january hasn’t even hit double digits yet i’m all valentines ready 😭😭
꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹. Keigo wouldn’t be surprised if he just collapsed because of a heart attack with how fast his heart was pounding. He needed to stop being so nervous, or else he was going to start to sweat. If he started to sweat, then he was going to smell, and then — argh!
It was Valentine’s day, D-day, the day of yours and Keigo’s first date.
Normally, Keigo would breeze through a date easily. No problems. He’d smile cheekily, flirt in that way he always does and wouldn’t even think twice about casual touches, hand holding or kisses.
But with you, god, it was so different.
You two were already friends before he asked you out. You guys bonded over the little things: early lectures, stupid films and the bastard that was Touya Todoroki. However, long before he even entertained the idea of liking you romantically, his breath always hitched when you came into the room. As cheesy as it sounded, you were dazzling to him, funny and sweet. He was smitten.
He thought that the hard part was finally over when he successfully asked you out. A movie night in your dorm, with a classic face-to-face, heartfelt confession (which ended with red cheeks and redder lips). He remembered that while you moved to press a firm kiss to his lips, you held his face gently. No one ever did that before. No one ever held him with such softness, with such affection like you did.
Keigo, you muttered quietly with a smile into his ear, finally.
He reached for his jacket. God, he needed to get his act together. His hands fiddled with the zipper before dragging it up to his collarbones. The weather was getting warmer, warm enough to forego the outerwear. But, for some inexplicable reason if it got colder, he figured that he could offer you his jacket. Be the perfect gentlemanly boyfriend you deserve. He didn’t need the jacket anyway, he ran hotter than most.
Keigo looked into the mirror, eyes scrutinising his reflection. He looked like he was going to take a hike up Mount Everest. For a more relaxed look, and to kid himself into looking like some state of calm, he unzipped his jacket. His hawk-like eyes zoned in on a small stain on his shirt. Fuck. Why on god’s green earth did he not see that before?? With furrowed brows, he glanced at the clock, then zipped his jacket halfway to cover the dirt and bolted out the door with a picnic basket in hand.
Thankfully not out of breath, he arrived at the park. It was late afternoon and surprisingly empty. At this point in the day, Keigo was just glad that you were running slightly late too. He had received a text from you just as he reached the meeting place, saying something had come up and that you’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.
Perfect! Just enough time to set up the picnic. The plan was to stay long enough to watch the sun sink into the sky and then, well, Keigo was willing to improvise. The sky was cloudy, he might have to concoct a plan sooner than he thought.
“Keigo,” you gaped, “what the actual hell? This is beautiful!”
His head snapped up to meet your eyes. They were clear and sparkling, and slightly squinted due to the huge beam on your face. Keigo thought that he would never see a cuter sight.
You set your bag down, laughing as you joined him on the picnic blanket. The sound, a delight to his ears.
“What’s up sweets?” He huffed, laughing with you, “Miss me?”
Bending forward, you poked his cheek, “Always. Did you know you looked like a meerkat just then?” You quickly added.
He feigned offence, “You wound me! I’m excited to see you and this is what I get?”
“But you love me right?”
“I still didn’t look like a desert rat.”
You leaned back, to imitate the way he looked at you.
“Now, tell me that didn’t look like a meerkat.”
“I’d prefer it if you said I looked like anything else — a hawk perhaps?”
“Meerkats are cute, I’m calling you cute!”
“Mmh…” He reached out his finger to poke your cheek just as you did, “Nope. Not at all. You must be seeing things.”
You rolled your eyes with a light smile, before looking at Keigo’s picnic set up again.
“You did all of this for me?”
There was a fragrant bouquet of yours and Keigo’s favourite flowers sitting in the woven picnic basket, full bloom. You told him that you loved pretty things, what was prettier than flowers? Though, he was very close to printing out a bunch of candid photographs of you both to decorate the picnic — he refrained by a fraction.
A platter of your favourite fruits were placed beside the flowers, meticulously arranged. Keigo was particularly proud of them; he cut the strawberries into heart shapes. However, the star of the show (apart from you, of course) was the cake he baked. It was a small thing, not the best looking. He was never any good with cooking, let alone baking, but he tried. It was slightly squashed on the side from being in the basket, even so, it should taste good.
“Anything for you really,” he replied, your name sweet on his lips, “want to take a bite?”
꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.
part two? yay or nay?
reading this while listening to Burn from Hamilton is UCHSVCDVBSKVKSKVSBCHJCSKJSJABCH
Imagine this...
It all led to this moment. You gave him your everything, and it still wasn't enough. He lied to you for months and kept his intentions from you for so long. You were never to trust him or anyone, again. First, it was your father. He sold you to the heroes for their horrid experiments. You were sure the people behind it were called the "hero committee," but that was an estimated guess, of course. When you were in the program, you were kept in the dark. You were isolated from the others, you had no one, and you were a nobody. Your number had been 62. You only received a sort of name when you were taken into the Liberation front. Or the LoV, as they used to be called.
That's where you met him: Hawks. There was something about him you felt drawn towards. Perhaps it was his golden eyes or his ruby red wings. Maybe it was his personality. He had a way of pinning you to your seat with a look, yet lulling you into a sense of comfort with his smile. You could tell there was more to him than what he was leading on. It didn't take long for you both to talk. Talking turned into something deeper. You didn't know what to call it. You spent so long under the thumb of the heroes that until you were able to escape, your skills in basic interactions were slim to none. Hawks taught you things. He didn't call you a number. He gave you pretty nicknames that made your stomach flip. His soft touches were so different from what you had been conditioned to.
Everyone could see it. The way you both were attached at the hip. Every mission was spent by one anothers side. You trusted him with your life. You had started to.. love him.
But then it all began to crumble and fall. You had been taught to watch behaviors and assess people like they were your prey. It was instilled into you, drilled almost as deep as the robotic body parts the heroes had forced on you. You watched people. Perhaps that's why you got along so great with Hawks; or Keigo, as he revealed during one of your more quiet cuddle sessions. That was the night he made love to you. He taught you what touch could feel like beyond hugs and kisses. He made you feel things that reminded you that you are human. The constant voice in the back of your head telling you, reminding you that you're not a monster. At least, not by choice.
It had been 4 months before you realized his behavior was..off. Maybe it was before that, and you just wanted to ignore it. You didn't want to believe something could be wrong. His behavior, his mood, and the twitch in his eyebrow when he saw other villains hurt heroes. You could see it. Clear as day. Clear as it can be for someone so close to him, like you. At least, you thought you were close. He had been inside of you and explored your emotions and desires. He reached into your soul and pulled on strings you didn't know were there. He helped you find yourself. And you figured out who he truly was a little too late.
The wind had always been your friend. It gave you fresh air and made you shiver. There was always something so heartwarming about the shiver that made you feel like a kid again. Movie scenes flashed in your head, movies Keigo had introduced to you. And pictures of autumn leaves and Thanksgiving pop into the images. Keigo mentioned he wanted to take you somewhere for the holiday. Somewhere private and peacful. Maybe travel to a place with beautiful waters and calm forests. He promised to take you. Though now, as you stood on this roof overlooking the city, images of such a blissful dream faded from your mind. The wind had always been your friend. That is what matters right now.
"Please don't do this. I swear to God I was going to tell you. " He didn't matter. His words were a lie. They had to be. There was no way he cared about you, claimed that he loved you, and lied to you for months.
"I was stupid to believe you. I should have listened to the voices in my head. They protected me before you came along.." The words were so soft, you almost didn't want to say them. A part of you wanted to forgive him. Forget the lies and the betrayal and run into his arms. You wanted to comfort him. The scars on his face were so fresh. His wings were still so torn and burnt. But the hurt you felt deep inside blinded you. You couldn't let this go. Not now. You couldn't let another man hurt you and get away with it.
His footsteps were hesitant and desperate. He looked at you with such guilt and regret. It was eating him inside. He could lose his wings. They used to make him who he was. But when he met you, it all changed. You were his everything. You were the reason he kept fighting against the villains. But he was the reason he kept being a spy hidden from you. If you knew he was still on the heroes side, you would have never trusted him in the first place. He didn't know much anymore. Who was right or wrong. But he knew he loved you.
"Baby, I swear to God I was going to tell you. I just didn't want the heroes to find out about us, and I couldn't risk my secret being told to the villains. I love you -" He whispered, his voice cut off as tears formed in his eyes. "I love you so damn much. You made me feel human again! I felt like I could be myself around you. That's something I've never felt before. With no one else." He begged. His voice was desperate and hoarse. And you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms. You wanted to believe him, but you were so hurt. If he loved you, why didn't he trust you with his secret?
"I've been lied to before. I know how this works. And now the Liberation front doesn't want me anymore. They think I was helping you. I've lost everything because of you." You said harshly, tears falling down your face. Keigo shook his head, swallowing his sobs. "No! No, I'm right here. I do love you, dove. Please, believe me. Step away from the edge and come with me. We can leave. We can just go. We'll be together, off in the cabin that you said you wanted. We can finish teaching you how to write cursive a-and I'll help you build that garden you wanted. We can grow as many tomatoes as you want! If you just..step down. I'm begging you." You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your cheeks. Tears scattered the city below, mixing with the light rain of the afternoon skies. You wondered if this is how it was supposed to be.
"I wanted that with you before you broke me. Before you lied and took advantage of my lack of emotions -" You said bitterly. "No! I never once took advantage of you. I am not your father, remember? You told me he abandoned you with the hero committee. I would never do that to you. I would never leave you like that, dove. You're my everything." He said sternly, stepping forward in determination. You could almost hear the truth in his voice. But the wind was so much louder tonight.
You turned to face him, your heel resting on nothing as you stood on deaths door. You could see past the wind. The truth is so evident in Keigos eyes as he pleaded with you. But if he lied to you once, couldn't he just do it again? "How can I believe you? After months of lying to me. To my face. How do I know I can trust you not to lie to me again?" Your voice was so soft, Keigo almost couldn't hear you. Almost. He just shook his head. "I.. I don't know. But I do know I would do it again if I had to. If it meant keeping you safe, I would lie again and again. Because I can not lose you. Not after I've found you." He was telling the truth. You could see it on his scarred face. The same cheek you loved to caress. Now marred in scars because of Dabi.
"Please just come to me. Let me take you away from all this." You wanted to step away from the edge. You wanted to accept his words and rush into his arms. But the wind has always been your friend. And it was a jealous thing, it was. It pulled and pulled until you were falling into its arms again. It was so loud, your eyes were tearing up. Keigos' face was the last you would ever see, but the wind would stay until the very end.
sorry chat gonna cry now
free falling is a taste of freedom
feat: keigo takami / hawks
warnings: language, heaviness, implications of reader and keigo being groomed by the commission, violence (if u squint), bittersweet
cache notes: i crashed out during this so many times omfg. but anyways heavily inspired by circles by pierce the veil and monsters by all time low (once we figure out why spotify links aren't working i'll link the songs heh)
m.list
the first day you met hawks, he was in the training gym working on some stupid trick of his– something about flipping forward and bringing his blades out at the same time and landing some stupid comic book hero– and you had to hide a laugh when he tripped over his own feet. he challenged you to a sparring match later that day, after the weekly commission meeting where you were properly introduced to one another; where he promptly kicked your ass with his fast reflexes and sharp wit.
the two of you became fast friends after that.
the first day you met keigo, he had found you on the roof, crying to yourself. that mask of indifference cracked almost instantly the second he saw you turn towards him with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. he doesn’t remember why you were crying, only the fact that the sight made his heart clench in a way that foreign and uncomfortable and he needed to do something about it.
more times than not here recently, you receive hawks more than keigo. it hurts in a way that’s more nostalgic than anything, like remembering an old childhood friend that drifted away or a home-cooked meal whose recipe you can’t remember because the originator died years ago.
a lot of people say that young heroes are very mature for their age. you don’t know if that’s just true for the females, or if it qualifies for any of the kids raised in the commission. in yours and hawks’ case; maturity was something learned far too young and quickly. death was a subject brought up before you even got to think about how the summer would feel spent on the side of the lake with a bottle of booze and grilled food.
the two of you take turns every thursday at each other’s agencies to visit and spend some time with each other. you usually bring paperwork to thumb through, hawks brings coffee and distractions. this thursday, hawks is at yours. he’s got his wings spread so they cover a small portion of your office floor– which scatters feathers everywhere, but you’d scold and make him clean them up later– laying upside down on the small couch to the side of the room.
he kicks his feet lazily as they hang over the back of the couch, humming as he scrolls through his phone. when he speaks, the sentence is so casual it causes you to choke on your own tongue. “we should run away one of these days.”
when you’ve managed to compose yourself, hawks is not looking at you. his eyes are still locked on the screen, the same look of relaxed concentration that you’ve seen all through childhood on his expression.
your eyes narrow. “don’t be stupid,” you’re careful about how tight your voice sounds. your fingers pause their actions from typing on your keyboard, your gaze split from the document on your computer to his figure draped over your office sofa. “they’d never let both of us go at the same time.”
hawks barks out a laugh, though the corners of his mouth never fully lift to his natural smile. your tongue is pressed between your lips, biting back a snarky remark. it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious, or just yanking your chain.
“you’re always so serious, [y/n],” he’s chuckling, still looking at the screen in front of his face. “just indulge me for once?”
your back meets the arch of your office chair as a sigh racks through your body. the blinking cursor stares back at you, taunting you to just continue working instead of diving into the silly hypothetical he’s proposed. but part of you wants to dabble in it– to hear him out. see just how far he’s actually thought into it, if he’s actually planned anything out or just talking casual shit just to have something to talk about like usual when he’s over visiting you.
“say we did run. where would we go?”
you can see him pause for a moment in his scrolling. “leave the country, obviously. south america maybe?”
a snort leaves your lips, your grin is purely sarcastic. “south america?”
“hypothetical,” he replies, his eyes finally leave his phone and meet yours, flashing that signature grin of his. in the back of your mind you’re wondering if all the blood has rushed to his head yet. he’s been sitting upside-down for a while now, his face is still a normal color.
“so we’re flying, i suppose?”
hawks shrugs. he pulls his phone away from his face and lets his arms fall gently to the floor beside his head. “we can,” he starts, his bottom lip juts to the side like it always does when he says something he doesn’t exactly agree with. “or take another mode of transportation.”
a single eyebrow raises to that, and you let out a chuckle. “yeah, i can see you on a public bus very vividly.”
you don’t miss how his eyes narrow, his eyebrows knitting together as he glares at you for that response. he knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, he’s painfully aware of that. at eighteen he should be worrying about going to college or something, getting his driving license or other normal things teenagers worry about.
“could always split it up though,” he offers, his eyes rolling the slightest bit as he adjusts himself. he slides a bit further– his shoulders now meet the floor. instead of looking at you, he traces imaginary shapes on the ceiling. “i could fly us part of the way and we hitchhike some of the way.”
“not hitchhiking,” you disagree almost instantaneously. your fingers find miscellaneous paper, fiddling with the corner as you swing back and forth in your office chair. “i’ve heard too many horror stories about that kind of shit.”
there’s a noise from the other side of the room. hawks slides the rest of the way off the couch, now moving onto his knees before righting himself– stopping once his eyes meet yours. “you act like i wouldn’t be there to protect you,” there’s a flash– almost as quick as his skills in the sky, he tries to cover it; but you see it. for just a moment, hawks lets keigo out, evident in his tone and vague possessiveness in his words.
the corner of your mouth lifts, but it’s to alleviate tension. the small smile is not genuine and hawks can’t tell if it hurts more than it pisses him off.
the next time running away is brought up, it’s not by his mouth. it’s by yours.
you’re agitated. pissed off, pacing back and forth and walking with purpose towards his office like your life depends on it. you know he’s not on patrol at the moment– he’s been online posting so you know he’s in his office with his feet propped on his desk like he has nothing better to do.
it’s not a thursday. he’s surprised to see you storm into his office, but he doesn’t comment on how hard you slam his door shut or how you look like you’re practically steaming. his feet merely drop from his desk to the floor and his eyebrow raises. he knows better than to open his mouth– something stupid would come out anyways.
“let’s run away.”
keigo reels back like he’s been slapped. he takes a good look at you– frazzled, eyes bloodshot from either stress crying or strained from overuse, hair mussed and not in the attractive way he’s come to find extremely endearing– he can’t tell if you’re of sound mind at the moment. but your voice– your tone– how you sound so sure of yourself, so firm and demanding–
it’s been years since he brought up the idea. the two of you were eighteen and fresh into the hero scene, keigo was a popular favorite and immediately in the top ten and since then he’s been steadily climbing through the ranks. you’ve been pushing the burning feeling of being left behind and stuck in his shadow to the back of your mind for a while now.
“are you okay?” his tone is gentle, but it’s artificially sincere. you know this subject is a sore spot. there’s a reason it hasn’t been brought up since that day. it’s clear in the way his shoulders are tense, the muscles in his jaw taut and teetering over the edge of pulling the fight or flight card.
there’s a distraught sigh that leaves your lips. “no, i’m not okay,” your tone is tight. your hands are clenched so hard that they ache and your knuckles are white. you’re pacing in short strides– back and forth, back and forth– your eyes wild as they pick out small objects on shelves. small objects. throwable objects.
“we could hit the gym if you want–”
“i can’t fucking do this anymore, keigo!”
you can feel the tears trailing down the apples of your cheeks and your tear ducts burn. the last thing your tear clouded vision sees is keigo surging towards you before your hands clap over your face, shielding your actively crumbling expression.
“i’m stressed, there’s so much pressure,” you feel the sob rack through your body. “they want me on back to back patrols and then this mission in another city and then training the new hires at the agency–”
suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again. the way his hands cradle your jaw– bare fingertips because he knows how much you hate the fabric of his gloves against your skin– you didn’t even see him remove his gloves. the touch clearly rattles you, causing you to stiffen against his palms.
keigo doesn’t allow you to move away. even as your hands slide down and off of your face, even as your forehead meets his own in such a tender form of comfort. suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again, out on the rooftop of the HPSC, comforting each other in the only way the two of you can when you’ve been abandoned by the people who had gifted you life.
keigo’s nose bumps against your own, an intimate gesture that you’ve seen only reserved for yourself. the two of you had never talked about dating, or love or anything romantic revolving whatever kind of relationship you shared– you never had the time, nor the privilege to– but you knew what was there. he held you as if you were priceless, a treasure that he would fight tooth and nail before handing over.
his lips part to speak, breath warm as it ghosted over your own; but the abruptness of his office door swinging open causes both of you to flinch and separate. it’s not like the two of you were doing anything lewd– but the wide eyed intern in the doorway couldn’t tell that. all she saw was the two of pull apart, a look of embarrassment and a flush on each of your faces before keigo clears his throat and addresses her.
and as quickly as the moment is interrupted, it is forgotten.
in the next years that follow, keigo rises to number two, you stay locked in the upper twenties of the rankings. the threat of a war sends your agency into a frenzy, more employees being sent out, more sidekicks on missions and more patrols passed around and shared. every hero is on high alert, not just yourself.
you still catch glimpses of him, but its scarce. thursdays are practically empty now without the once welcomed noisy distractions in your office. your thursdays are now spent on patrol well into the night, stationed just on the outskirts of town where the league was spotted before.
they never show up, you never get any action; but you don’t complain. it’s nice to have silence to yourself.
this particular thursday, you catch a familiar flash of red and tan slip past your peripheral. whether he wanted you to catch him or not, you’ll never know. the surprise on his expression was hard to decipher once you finally did catch up to him.
although you were elated to see him after so long, the first words out of your mouth were not praise nor sweet. “the fuck happened to your wings, keigo?”
you watch as his form pauses, stiffening at his given name before he turns– wide eyed and guilty– like you caught him doing something shady. and you hated how immediately your walls shot up, your muscles on guard and tense. this was keigo. he was not a threat. why was your body reacting the way it was?
“they’re fine, they just need some time to heal,” his voice is low– sheepish. the corner of his mouth lifts to create that boy-ish grin that wins screeches and squeals from crowds of women– but to you, it’s only manufactured.
his hair, once long and shaggy with those few stupid curls that you always found annoyingly endearing; was now trimmed short and cropped closer to his head. it’s a jarring look, compared to how you’ve always known him– but you can’t help but think it looks better on him.
the scar is also new. and granted, you’ve seen him on the news and during his press conference; you’ve seen his appearance change.
but it’s earth-shattering, to say the least, to see it in the flesh. you want to reach out to the small appendages hanging from his back. to touch and feel them– see if they still react how they’ve always done to your touch and presence.
keigo steps back from you, seeing your outstretched hand. the motion causes your hand to drop slowly, a ringing can be heard in the outer part of your ears. “what are you doing out here?”
he knows what you mean. and yet he deflects it, “patrolling. our routes overlap, y’know?”
they don’t, and he knows that. you take a step towards him once again. “keigo.”
he takes another step back, forcing you into some kind of twisted dance. “[y/n].”
you hate being held at arms length. you can clearly tell he’s lying, hiding something from you. and granted, the two of you haven’t really been around each other the past couple years, but you grew up with him. this is your best friend, your first ally– the person you trust the most with the darkest parts of yourself. in some ways, you know you love him. of course you love him. you’re just not sure in what ways.
“why are you being so weird?” the dance continues. you don’t miss how his jaw clenches when he realizes he’s got four more steps until you have him backed against the wall. he chews on the inside of his cheek– one of his tells you’ve been able to pick up over the many years of training and being around him– before he sidesteps and turns the tables. the edge of his blade rests carefully against your jaw for mere seconds before you take a shaky step backwards.
with your back now facing the wall, keigo advances. his fingers flex around the handle of the blade and his steps are firm as they chase your own unsettled and rattled movements. “i’m not being weird,” he sounds like he’s forcing the words out. “stop itching for a fight, [y/n].”
your brows furrow with undiluted confusion. your body feels tense and rigid, uneasy with emotions that don’t connect coherently to thoughts. the complete flip of his mood and tone have you spiraling. you aren’t face to face with keigo anymore– this is a new side of hawks, one you haven’t had the ‘joy’ of meeting yet.
“i’m not itching for a fight!” you hate how your voice trembles. like you’re scared.
your back hits the wall and the tip of the crimson blade in his hand knicks your chin. there’s a dull stinging, but you can barely feel it over the roar in your eardrums.
keigo is not normally an intimidating guy. yes, he can be, but you’ve rarely seen it or experienced it. and his little hawks persona is just the same as well— you’ve been on patrol with him before. you’ve seen him take down villains, you’ve seen him in training; you’ve seen every side of him.
except this one. this intimidating, intense— frightening aura before you, you’re at a loss for words.
“you’re pushing for information that doesn’t concern you,” keigo growls, his head dipping to meet your eyes. he holds a palm out—either to subtly pin you against the wall or grab at you if you choose to attack— you’re not sure. he adjusts his hold on the handle and fixes the tension in his jaw with a click.
the both of you are close enough to share breaths, but far enough apart to know that there is something different between the two of you. you are no longer fourteen, eighteen, or fresh in your twenties. when you breathe in, keigo breathes out.
your hand lifts, reaching forward— towards him— all the tension melts. instead of leaning into your touch like he would back then, his head surges forward and seizes your lips with his own.
keigo had told you before that the freest he’s ever felt is in the skies. you’ve been flying with him before, you know exactly the type of exhilarating, adrenaline inducing emotion he’s talking about. with the lack of ground beneath you and the limitless sky above, keigo was exactly right. it was the closest thing to freedom he had.
with his lips on yours, you feel like you are free falling, hurling towards the earth at untamable speeds and the impact into the dirt is the sensation of his mouth pulling away from yours.
keigo might get a taste of freedom everyday, but it was nothing compared to the taste of freedom he had just given you.
“i’m just scared,” he mumbles, his voice is small. he sounds so young, so impossibly childlike that you have to open your eyes a blink to make sure it was still him that was brushing against your lips with each breath and syllable. “i… i almost died. i got reckless and screwed everything up and—“
your hand moves to the back of his head— a twinge shoots through you when you remember the curls aren’t as long so you can’t hook your fingers through them— and your hand steadies at the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to rest against yours. “why didn’t you come find me?”
it’s selfish of you to say that. it really is. but the two of you have been each other’s support systems since you were adolescents.
keigo winces slightly at your statement. “i couldn’t face you like that, [y/n].”
his blade is still against your jaw, cold and a firm reminder that you were supposed to be elsewhere. your eyes meet his, a silent exchange between the two of you.
i’ve seen you look worse.
you always have, haven’t you?
the silence holds more words, but neither of you put the weight down. whether it be the risk and danger of speaking on it, or the action being a spur of the moment between two childhood friends trying to fit pieces in where they don’t quite fit yet.
that night you get home from patrol and dream of the feeling of keigo’s lips. you wake up crying.
you haven’t seen hawks face to face in years. when you finally do run into him at the office, both of you are visibly different from those early years at the commission. you’ve grown your hair out, he’s lost the plumage of red that used to hang behind him. you’re only passing through, grabbing paperwork for your own agency when the two of you stop dead in your tracks in front of each other.
he’s only grown a couple inches, and he’s kept his hair short. the scar from the war has healed and faded into his skin, but the outline still shows. it makes him look more rugged, more defined. he had always argued with you that the facial hair he tried so desperately to grow did most of the work— the scar did it perfectly on its own.
hawks is the first to speak. his eyes are shining in a way that’s hard to tell if he’s seconds away from bursting into tears or just looking at something brighter than the sun. “it’s been a while.”
the inhale you take in is shorter than the exhale you push out. your smile is shaky, and your grip around the files in your hand tightens. “it’s been a while, yeah…”
there’s a lot to be said. the two of you can’t continue to stare at each other with so much longing, so much emotion.
there’s a stretch of silence, hawks shifts awkwardly. the katanas against his back slap against muscle and he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. he can tell time is running out, with the way that you shift the files against your waist and the impending footsteps of employees and commission workers down the hall.
“you ever wish that we did it?”
your tongue feels dry. “did what?”
“run away,” hawks whispers. he chews on the inside of his cheek and it forces you to pause. “we should’ve done it.”
your vision feels sluggish, dragging up from his lips, to his cheek where his tongue pokes at the inside; up to his eyes.
you don’t know if you’ll get that taste of freedom only he could give you ever again.
“we’re still here,” you murmur. your tongue presses in between your lips and you watch hawks physically hold himself back. i’m still here. you’re still here.
by now, the group from down the hall has caught up. your words are rushed as you force them off of your tongue; “do you want to—“
he’s swept up by the commission workers before he can hear the latter part of your statement. he reaches for you as he brushes past, bare fingertips against your wrist that send static throughout your skin. you squeeze him back in the half of a second he gives you and you can see the corner of his mouth lift as he’s ushered down the hall.
freedom was always so close to you, you realize. in your case, it wasn’t a feeling or an action— but a person.
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