Keigo Takami | Hawks X Reader
𓅰 𓅬Smoke and Feathers𓅮 𓅯
I offer you angst and disgust and sadness and brainrot
Synopsis: You love him, hes a whole hypocrite though
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 The knock on your door came just as you had started to relax for the night. You glanced at the clock late, even for him. With a sigh, you padded over, unlocking it without much thought. Hawks never really needed an invitation.
Keigo Takami stood in your doorway, grinning like he always did. The kind of grin that put people at ease, but you knew him better than that. His golden eyes flickered across your face, scanning for something maybe exhaustion, maybe suspicion.
“Hey, partner,” he greeted, stepping inside before you could respond. “I was craving chicken, and I figured, why eat alone when I could bother you instead?”
“You could eat at your place,” you shot back, closing the door behind him.
“Nah,” he waved a hand. “Too quiet. Besides, your place is way fancier. Food tastes better after being in rich people’s apartments.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Keigo had been your friend since you debuted at eighteen. Four years of missions, battles, and shared exhaustion had formed a bond neither of you really questioned. But lately, something about him had been…off.
“Fine. I hope to not be super tired after this.”
“Obviously.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the door.
You ended up on top of a bridge after grabbing food, the city sprawled beneath you in glittering lights. It was peaceful up here just the occasional hum of distant traffic and the rustling of Keigo’s feathers when he shifted. You sat side by side, bags of takeout beside you, a breeze lifting your hair.
“You ever think we peaked too early?” Keigo mused, biting into a drumstick.
“Are you having a mid life crisis at twenty two?”
He snorted. “Maybe. I mean, don’t get me wrong I love being a pro hero, but sometimes I think… I dunno. If I weren’t one, maybe my love life wouldn’t suck so bad.”
You smirked. “Yeah, you and your long line of failed flings.”
Keigo sighed dramatically. “Ouch. What about you, huh? Any luck?”
You shook your head, taking a bite of your own food. “No time. Not that you’d know anything about that, right?”
“yeah yeah,” he grinned. Then, after a pause, “You ever think about settling down?”
You raised a brow. “We sound like old people right now.”
Keigo chuckled, but there was something in his expression something calculating.
“Must be nice, though,” he continued, staring down at the city. “Having people to rely on. To trust.”
You frowned. Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. But before you could reply, he kept going.
“Speaking of trust, I heard some interesting things lately,” he said casually, leaning back on his hands. “The League’s been moving differently. Word is, they’ve been pulling back from certain areas, regrouping.”
You tensed slightly, but forced yourself to stay relaxed. “Yeah? Didn’t hear anything about that.”
Keigo hummed, side eyeing you. “Funny. You usually have good ears for things like this.”
You knew what he was doing. He wasn’t outright accusing you wasn’t even asking directly. But he was fishing. He knew you’d been close with Dabi, and now he was prying without making it obvious.
You took another bite of food, playing it cool. “Well, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Keigo smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Appreciate it.”
And just like that, the conversation shifted back to jokes and laughter. But you knew better. Hawks was good at this game at wearing masks, at pretending.
Keigo stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “You know, if we were normal, we’d probably be out right now. Living life, partying, dating.”
You snorted. “You’d probably be someone’s problem boyfriend.”
He gasped, “Wow. No faith in me at all?”
Keigo laughed, but you could hear the strain underneath it. He was doing that thing again acting like everything was fine, like there wasn’t a million things weighing on his mind. You wanted to ask, but you already knew how that would go. He’d brush it off, give you some half truth, then change the subject.
Instead, you reached out, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing his hand. He blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t pull away.
“I mean it, Keigo,” you said, voice steady. “I know relationships are pretty much out of the picture for us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re important to me. No matter how messy things get, I value every second I spend with you.”
For once, Keigo didn’t have a snarky response. His golden eyes softened, the usual playful glint replaced with something quieter, something more vulnerable. He squeezed your hand slightly, as if grounding himself.
“Damn,” he muttered, looking away. “You always gotta go and say stuff like that.”
You smiled. “It’s the truth.”
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I deserve that. Having people who actually care.”
You frowned. “Of course, you do.”
Keigo didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to your intertwined hands, then back to the city. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to say it.
“Thanks,” he finally murmured.
The word felt heavier than it should have, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. And maybe he never would. But for now, this was enough.
You stayed like that for a while, sitting together on the bridge, hands still linked. For once, neither of you needed to fill the silence.
Keigo shifted beside you, the weight of his gaze pressing into your side. You could feel it before he even spoke the tension rolling off of him in waves, the way his body stiffened slightly.
“I just… I worry about you, you know?” His voice was light, casual, but you weren’t stupid. You could hear the edge to it. “The League isn’t exactly the safest crowd.”
Your stomach twisted. You knew where this was going.
“I don’t know anything, Keigo.”
He gave a breathy chuckle, but it lacked humor. “Come on, I know you’re smart. You’re always in the middle of things. You’re telling me you haven’t heard anything?”
You turned to him fully now, frowning. “I said I don’t know anything.”
Something in his expression wavered, just for a second. He rubbed a hand down his face, like he was trying to steady himself, but when he spoke again, there was something sharper underneath.
“I just” He exhaled harshly. “I don’t get it. Why won’t you tell me?”
That set something off in you. You pulled your hand away from his, frustration boiling over.
“Because there’s nothing to tell, Keigo! What, do you think I’m hiding things from you? That I’m playing some kind of double agent?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to think that.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his feathers ruffling behind him. “You’re close with Dabi. You’re” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply before continuing. “I’ve seen what the League is capable of. And you” He gestured at you, eyes burning. “You’re getting wrapped up in it whether you realize it or not.”
You scoffed, standing up abruptly. “So that’s what this is, huh? You don’t trust me.”
Keigo stood too, stepping closer. “It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t about that. You’re trying to get answers out of me. Like I’m some suspect.”
Keigo’s usual mask was gone now no charming smiles, no lazy grins. His wings twitched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“The Commission” He stopped himself again, shutting his eyes for a moment before reopening them. “I have to do this.”
You felt something crack in your chest. “So that’s what I am to you? A job?”
“Of course not!” His voice was sharper than before, his usual control slipping. “But if they think you know something, they’re gonna keep pushing! And if you do know something and don’t tell me, then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I already told you I don’t know anything! But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because you already made up your mind.”
His wings flared out, feathers rustling with tension. “You think I want to do this? You think I like treating you like this?”
You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sure seems like it.”
Keigo let out a harsh breath, and suddenly, his frustration snapped into something else something desperate.
The words hit like a shockwave, knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes widened, but he didn’t stop.
“I love you, okay?” His voice was rough, strained. “That’s why this is so fucking hard. That’s why I can’t just sit back and let you ” He exhaled shakily, shaking his head. “I can’t lose you.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. He was breathing hard, his golden eyes wild with emotion. You had never seen him like this never seen him so raw.
The tension between you was thick, the city buzzing below, but up here, it was just the two of you. And you had no idea what to say.
Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but the weight of it was enough to make him flinch. His wings, usually so steady, twitched behind him, like he was fighting the urge to fly away.
You didn’t know what to say. Lord knows you loved him you would do anything for him. But this? This hurt. The way he was looking at you, the way he was questioning you like you were some kind of liability instead of his friend. Instead of someone who had been by his side for years.
Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to cup his face. He stiffened at first, but then melted into your touch, his breath uneven.
You searched his face, desperate to find the trust that should have been there. But all you could see was hurt.
Hurt because he knew this was wrong. Hurt because he had to do it anyway.
And longing. Longing for something he had convinced himself he couldn’t have. Longing because, despite everything, despite the lines being blurred and the masks slipping, he wanted you.
You swallowed hard, your thumbs tracing along his jaw. “You don’t have to do this,” you murmured.
Keigo let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before meeting yours again. “I do.” His voice cracked slightly. “You don’t get it. If I don’t… they will.”
Your grip on him tightened. “I don’t know anything, Keigo.”
His brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face before it faded into something more vulnerable. “Then why do they think you do?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Dabi and I, fuck Keigo we just talk. After fights, after missions. That’s it.”
His eyes searched yours, and for the first time tonight, it felt like he was actually listening. Like he was really seeing you.
His hands came up, hesitating for only a second before resting over yours, keeping them against his face. His touch was warm, calloused from years of battle, but there was a softness there too. A silent plea.
“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered.
Your chest ached. “Then don’t.”
Keigo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple.”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to shake him and make him see that it was that simple. That he didn’t have to follow the Commission’s orders like a puppet, that he didn’t have to do this to you to himself.
But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked. that was the worst part of all. The first tear slipped out before you could stop it.
You didn’t even realize you were crying at first, too consumed by the frustration bubbling in your chest, the betrayal clawing at your throat. Your hands were still on his face, trembling now, and Keigo’s eyes widened as he felt the wetness of your tears bleed into his heart.
You sucked in a sharp breath, but it didn’t help. The weight of everything crashed over you all at once.
You had spent years fighting, bleeding, sacrificing to protect people to make the world safer, to do the right thing. And this was your reward? Being questioned like a criminal? Being treated like someone who couldn’t be trusted by the one person who should have known better?
You let out a broken, bitter laugh, your grip on Keigo tightening. “I’ve killed for this job,” you choked out. “I’ve bled for it. I’ve given everything to make sure people are safe. And the thanks I get is my best friend accusing me like I’m some kind of traitor?” Your voice cracked at the end, and you let your forehead drop against his. “The Commission making you accuse me?”
Keigo inhaled sharply, like your words physically hurt him.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and before you could say anything else, his arms were around you.
He pulled you into him, crushing you against his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you like a shield. His grip was almost desperate, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear entirely.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, his voice raw. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”
But it didn’t fix anything.
It didn’t take away the ache in your chest, the sting of his accusations, the knowledge that if the Commission had its way, he’d be forced to keep pushing.
Still, you clung to him, your fists curling into his jacket. Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the betrayal. You still loved him. that was the worst part of all.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But the weight in your chest, the sting in your throat it wasn’t going away.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breath, but it came out shaky and uneven. And as much as you wanted to stay in his arms, to pretend like none of this was happening, you couldn’t.
You pulled back, slipping from his hold, and immediately, his arms twitched like he wanted to reach for you again. But he didn’t.
You took a step back. Then another. His wings twitched, his golden eyes wide and desperate.
“I don’t…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed, shaking your head. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Keigo stiffened, the color draining from his face. “What?”
You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to catch your breath. “This us it’s just gonna keep getting worse. The Commission’s already pushing you to treat me like a suspect, and I can’t I won’t keep going through this.”
His expression twisted, panic flickering behind his eyes. “If we stop seeing each other, they’ll just use that as another excuse to build a case against you.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “They’ll say you’re cutting ties because you have something to hide.”
His brows furrowed, frustration creeping into his features. “Of course it fucking matters.”
You let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Keigo, how am I supposed to be around you if I know every conversation we have is controlled?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “If I can’t even tell if you’re talking to me or to the Commission?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
You took another step back. He took a step forward.
You held up a hand to stop him, your breath shaky. “I love you, Keigo.”
His whole body froze, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. His wings twitched again, his feathers rustling in the cool night air.
“I love you,” you repeated, your voice softer this time. “And I meant what I said I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. But I can’t trust you anymore.”
The words shattered something in him. You saw it happen in real time. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to grab you and shake you and beg you to take it back.
“Wait,” he said, and his voice almost sounded broken. “Just wait.”
“I can’t do this,” you whispered.
Keigo’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you had met him, you saw something you never thought you’d see in him.
Not fear of the Commission. Not fear of the League. Fear of losing you.
And as you turned away, his hands curled into fists, his mind racing with the realization that the Commission had just done the one thing he never thought possible.
They had pitted you against each other.
The moment you disappeared from sight, the weight of it all crashed down on him.
Keigo staggered back, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His wings drooped, feathers trembling as if they could barely hold themselves up anymore.
His hands came up to his face, fingers curling into his hair as he let out a harsh, broken breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see was you. The way your voice cracked when you told him you loved him. The way your eyes shined with betrayal. The way you walked away.
His chest felt tight too tight.
He had spent his whole life playing this game, moving pieces around the board, following orders, doing what needed to be done. He had done it all without hesitation, without attachment, without caring.
Because caring got people killed. Caring made you weak.
At least, that’s what he had always believed.
And he hadn’t even realized how much you meant to him until he was watching you slip through his fingers.
A sharp, choked noise tore from his throat as he staggered forward, his hands gripping at his hair. His chest hurt. He had never felt this before not even as a kid, not even when he was forced into a life that wasn’t his own.
Because back then, it hadn’t mattered.
You had trusted him. You had let him in, had told him how much he meant to you. And in return?
His knees hit the metal of the bridge, and he barely even registered it. His wings curled around him, shielding him from the rest of the world, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Because for the first time in his life He had let someone in. And he had ruined it.
The television flickered in the dimly lit room, its glow casting soft shadows against the walls. Keigo Takami otherwise known as Hawks leaned back in his seat, golden eyes trained on the screen as a familiar figure appeared.
Keigo’s eyes followed every headline, every news segment, every article that mentioned you.
Y/n Soars to New Heights: A Pro Hero On the Rise
Hero Y/n’s Daring Rescue Saves Dozens in Quirk Incident
Top 10 Pro Hero Y/n: The Future of Japan’s Hero Society
Each headline was another stab to his chest. He saw the numbers, the statistics, the articles that spoke of your bravery, your skill, your rise to the top. The world had watched you climb, and you had done it with grace, with skill, with everything he knew you were capable of.
“Once again, Japan’s rising star, Y/n, has taken down another villain with efficiency and grace!”
The anchor’s voice carried an air of excitement, painting you as a beacon of hope for the country. Footage played of you in action your movements sharp and calculated, your quirk flowing seamlessly between offense and defense. The crowd erupted in cheers, reporters clamoring for your attention, yet you only offered them a polite nod before moving on, as if there was always more work to be done.
Keigo exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it between his fingers.
He wasn’t surprised. You had always been relentless in your pursuit of justice. He had seen it firsthand, the way you carried the weight of expectations without complaint. But now, watching you through the cold lens of a camera, he could see what no one else seemed to notice.
You were drowning yourself in work.
News articles flooded his phone.
“Japan’s Heroine Y/n Soars Higher Than Ever!”
“Y/n: The New Symbol of Hope?”
“Nonstop Victories, But At What Cost?”
The last one caught his attention. Clicking on the article, he scanned through the words. Some journalist had picked up on it too the dark circles beneath your eyes, the way your posture stiffened ever so slightly after every battle. But the world only saw the hero. They saw the unwavering smile, the power, the perfection.
You were running yourself ragged, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
His hands clenched into fists. He had never felt so useless before. In the past, he would have sent a teasing message, a check in disguised as banter, just to make sure you were okay. But now, his wings were clipped metaphorically and literally. The mission he was on kept him far from the public eye, and any contact with you would compromise everything.
Night after night, he kept up with your hero work through screens and articles, seeing the light in your eyes dim just a little more each time. The world was blind to it, too enamored by your victories to notice the toll they took on you.
Keigo sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
He wanted to tell you to slow down. That you didn’t have to carry everything alone. But he knew you you wouldn’t listen, not when you thought the weight was yours to bear.
But as he watched from afar, he saw something else something he knew he couldn’t ignore.
It wasn’t hard to see, not if you looked closely enough. There were the faint bags under your eyes, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes in the photos. He could see it in the way you moved quick, efficient, but with a certain rigidity, like you were trying to keep the pieces of yourself together.
The interviews, the press events, the rescue missions. You were out there always out there. Never stopping. Always moving.
Keigo had seen this before. It was the kind of thing that had broken him.
The thing he was now witnessing in you.
You were using your work as a shield. You were burying yourself in it, pretending that the mess of the world, the constant need to be the best, would somehow fill the hollow space where everything else had fallen apart. You were drowning in your responsibilities, in the expectations of others. And he hated himself for not being able to stop it.
He couldn’t be the person you needed.
The Commission had made it clear the moment you walked away they had made sure that there would be no contact, no easy path to you. They had pushed him away, forced him to see you as an obstacle, a potential threat.
He had followed the orders. He had stayed away.
But every day, every night, when he saw the photos, heard the reports of your latest success, it felt like another punch to the gut. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. And worse he was the reason you had shut him out.
You deserve better than this, he thought, each time he saw a picture of you smiling, though it never quite reached your eyes. You deserve better than me.
The most recent headline:
Y/n’s Heroic Feat: A Mission Gone Wrong Injuries and Recovering, But Will She Stay at the Top?
The article detailed how you had barely made it out of a dangerous mission, sustained injuries, and had pushed through it, despite the odds. The photos showed you at the hospital, a bruise on your cheek, your expression cold and distant as you posed for the cameras. Your usual confidence was there, but it was muted like a shell of yourself.
Keigo’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup in his hand, his gaze locked on the screen.
There it was again you were hurting.
But he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. The Commission had made sure of that.
Every day, it ate at him. The guilt. The fear. The constant ache in his chest. And all he could do was watch.
Because that’s all he was allowed to do.
He turned away from the screen and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He couldn’t keep doing this.
But as much as he wanted to move on, as much as he wanted to focus on his own missions and do what the Commission had trained him for, he knew he couldn’t.
You were out there, giving everything for a world that barely understood you.
And he was here, stuck in a cage of his own making.
“Fuck,” Keigo whispered to himself. “I miss you.”
But you were gone. And he was the one who had pushed you away.
That was the price he paid for trying to be the hero everyone needed. The cost of being a tool of the Commission.
He couldn’t even hate them for it. Not when it was his own failure that had led to this.
Keigo sat in the Commission’s office, his expression neutral as he listened to the orders being laid out before him. The air was stale, the weight of the conversation pressing down on his shoulders. He knew what was coming before they even said it.
“Your next mission is infiltration.”
The head of the Commission, a woman with sharp eyes and a voice that left no room for argument, slid a file across the table. Keigo barely glanced at it. He already knew whose name was inside.
“The League of Villains is growing stronger. We need someone on the inside. Someone they’ll trust. You have the skills to make this work, Hawks.”
His fingers tightened around the edge of the folder.
“You’ve already shown your ability to keep a close eye on potential threats before.”
The words weren’t just words. They were deliberate. A reminder.
A reminder that they had once given him a different mission to keep tabs on you.
And what had they accused you of?
“Suspicious relationships with certain individuals.”
“Questionable morals due to prolonged conversations with known villains.”
“Potential compromise to the hero system.”
All because you had spoken to someone deemed dangerous. All because you hadn’t followed their rigid, black and white definition of justice.
And now, they were telling him to do the same thing.
A bitter laugh curled at the edges of his thoughts, though he kept his face unreadable. So it was fine when it was for them? When it was for the mission?
Keigo wanted to tell them to go to hell. That he saw through their bullshit. That if they thought he hadn’t noticed how they twisted things to suit their needs, they were dead wrong.
Because despite the anger curling in his gut, despite the guilt gnawing at his ribs, he still cared.
He cared about the future. About a world where kids didn’t have to grow up training to fight for their lives. A world where people had too much time on their hands instead of living in constant fear.
A world where you were safe.
“Understood,” he said instead, voice smooth and unwavering.
The Commission nodded, satisfied.
As the meeting wrapped up, Keigo tucked the folder under his arm and left the room. His steps were light, easy, just like always. But inside, his thoughts swirled like a storm.
Later that night, he sat on the rooftop of a tall building, the city stretching out beneath him. The folder lay open beside him, the moonlight illuminating the pages.
He had never spoken to the guy. Only knew what the files told him. Ruthless. Unpredictable. Dangerous. The League’s arsonist. The only reason Dabi hadn’t been fully exposed was because he covered his tracks well.
And yet, there was one thing in these files that stood out more than anything else.
You talked to him sometimes. That alone had been enough for the Commission to put you under watch. Enough for them to wonder if you could be turned into a threat.
Keigo exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
It felt wrong. All of it.
But he had already made his choice.
If playing the villain meant securing a world where you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder every day, then he would do it.
Even if it meant stepping into the same shadows they once accused you of standing in.
It wasn’t like you had planned for things to turn out this way.
But after everything with Hawks after the accusations, the betrayal, the months of silence you had found yourself somewhere you never expected.
It hadn’t happened overnight. At first, he was just another thorn in your side, another ghost you kept running into when the night was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. But for whatever reason, the two of you had fallen into an odd sort of rhythm.
Dabi didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. He didn’t look at you with pity or expectation. He was just there, in the same way you were floating, untethered, existing in the spaces where heroes and villains blurred.
And maybe that’s why you were here now.
The scent of burnt concrete and gunpowder still clung to the air, mixing with the sharp, acrid smell of Dabi’s scorched skin. The battle had ended not long ago, and now, the two of you sat in the dimly lit hideout, the flickering light casting long shadows across the worn out walls.
“You looked like shit out there,” you teased, stretching your legs out in front of you as you leaned back against the couch.
Dabi scoffed, rolling his shoulder with a slight wince. “Yeah? And you looked like a damn try hard. What, gunning for some hero points?”
You snorted. “Please, like I need to impress anyone.”
Dabi grinned, a lazy, knowing smirk as he tapped ash from his cigarette onto the floor. “Right, right. Forgot you’re already Miss Popular out there. Japan’s sweetheart.”
“You’re just mad I had you on your knees.”
“You were about to eat pavement, dude.”
He flicked the cigarette away, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. “Tch. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes, tossing a nearby rag at him. Dabi caught it effortlessly, shaking his head. “Annoying.”
Before you could respond, the door creaked open.
For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It had been months months since you’d seen him.
He looked the same as always messy blond hair, sharp golden eyes, wings tucked neatly behind him. But there was something off about seeing him now, here, in this space. Like an image that didn’t belong in the same frame.
Your reaction must have been obvious, because Dabi’s gaze flicked between the two of you, a slow, amused smirk creeping onto his face.
“Well, well,” Dabi mused, leaning back. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing a celebrity tonight.”
Hawks smiled easy, smooth, like he was slipping into a familiar rhythm. “What can I say? Thought I’d drop by, see what all the hype’s about.”
His eyes flickered to you, just for a second.
You were still staring. You hated that you were still staring.
Months. Months. And now he was just… here?
“Guess you finally wanted to be cool,” Dabi said, standing up slowly. “Took you long enough, bird boy.”
Hawks let out a laugh, loose and effortless. “Hey, better late than never, right?”
Dabi tilted his head, watching him. Sizing him up. “So, what? You lookin’ to make friends?”
“Something like that,” Hawks said, slipping his hands into his pockets. His tone was light, playful, but you knew him well enough to catch the calculation behind his words.
Dabi must’ve caught it, too, because his smirk widened slightly, like he was deciding just how much he wanted to play with his new toy.
“Sweetheart,” Dabi suddenly drawled, shifting toward you, “you didn’t tell me you and our new guest had history.”
You felt your stomach drop.
Dabi, of course, wasn’t done. He took a step closer, slinging an arm around your shoulder in an almost lazy manner, fingers drumming lightly against your arm.
Hawks’ gaze flicked to the movement quick, calculated. But he didn’t break.
Not even a hint of irritation, no change in posture. He just smiled, golden eyes still half lidded with that same effortless charm.
“Guess she didn’t think it was important,” Hawks mused, voice smooth as ever. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Dabi’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your shoulder, and you felt the heat of his skin even through the fabric. He was testing. Poking at the edges.
“Mm. Maybe,” Dabi mused. “Or maybe she just didn’t want you to know.”
“Now, why would she do that?” Hawks asked, tilting his head, his voice still perfectly even.
You could feel the tension between them, even if it was all wrapped in easy smiles and playful words.
You exhaled, finally moving.
“Alright, enough,” you muttered, shoving Dabi’s arm off you. “I’ve had enough for the night.”
Your tone was casual, but you knew you knew that your hands were trembling just a little.
Dabi let his arm fall away easily, watching you with amusement. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. We were just getting started.”
You shook your head, already walking past them, needing space. “Not in the mood for whatever weird macho thing you two are doing. Try not to kill each other.”
Didn’t want to see the way Hawks was watching you.
Didn’t want to think about why he was here. And definitely didn’t want to acknowledge the way your heart was still racing.
Smoke curled into the air, thick and suffocating, a mix of fire, blood, and the crumbling remains of the Meta Liberation Army’s last stand. The battlefield was a mess of clashing wills heroes and villains tearing through each other in a violent symphony of destruction.
And at the center of it all, Hawks stood with blood on his hands.
Twice lay lifeless at his feet.
His chest rose and fell heavily, his wings twitching with adrenaline, but there was no time to breathe, no time to process.
Because standing just a few meters away, fire licking at his fingertips, was Dabi.
The villain’s usual smirk was absent. His blue eyes burned hotter than his flames, sharp with something Hawks couldn’t quite place anger, satisfaction, something in between.
“You heroes are all the same,” Dabi muttered, taking a slow step forward. “Always so high and mighty. Always so convinced you’re better than us.”
Hawks tightened his grip on his remaining feathers. “You think Twice would’ve been better off if I let him go?”
Dabi’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Oh, don’t give me that crap. This wasn’t about saving people. You’re just another pawn doing whatever the Commission tells you, right? Good little lapdog.”
Hawks didn’t flinch, but the words dug in.
Dabi’s flames flickered to life, casting shadows across the ruined battlefield. “Tell me, Hawks. Did it feel good? Taking down a guy who just wanted to protect his friends?”
Hawks exhaled, steadying himself. “I’m not getting into this with you.”
But Dabi wasn’t finished.
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, and Hawks didn’t like it.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dabi mused. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that righteous hero image of yours, huh?”
Hawks knew what this was. Psychological warfare. Dabi was trying to dig into his head, to make him hesitate. But Hawks couldn’t afford to he needed to finish this quickly.
A red feather shot toward Dabi in a blur of speed.
But Dabi was already moving.
Flames roared to life, meeting the attack head on, burning the feather into nothing. He closed the distance between them fast, forcing Hawks back with a wall of searing heat.
“You really don’t like talking about yourself, do you?” Dabi taunted, voice dripping with amusement. “Always gotta focus on the mission. But let’s talk about something more interesting.”
Hawks didn’t respond he couldn’t afford to. His feathers moved like blades, slicing through the air, but Dabi dodged, relentless in his approach.
And then Dabi said something that made Hawks’ blood freeze.
“She’s been treating me real nice, you know.”
Hawks’ entire body tensed.
Dabi grinned, sensing the shift. “Ah, so you do care.”
Hawks’ feathers shot forward in a flurry, faster, sharper, but Dabi dodged with ease, the flames around him growing wilder.
“You should see her, Hawks,” Dabi continued, voice smooth, taunting. “The way she looks at me. The way she lets me touch her.”
Something inside Hawks snapped.
He moved without thinking, faster than before, closing the distance between them with a brutal efficiency. His feathers struck harder, aiming for vital points.
“She never mentioned it?” Dabi dodged, twisting out of the way at the last second. “How we spend our special time together?”
Hawks’ next attack wasn’t clean. It wasn’t precise. It was pure anger.
His feathers slashed out with no restraint.
Dabi barely managed to throw up a wall of fire in time, skidding back as the force of the attack cut through his jacket, slicing against his skin.
“Ohh,” Dabi let out a low whistle, shaking out his arms. “Touched a nerve, huh?”
Hawks didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His heart was pounding.
Dabi laughed, slow and deliberate, eyes flickering with something dangerous.
But Hawks didn’t let him say anything else. Because in the next second, he was on him.
The hospital room was dimly lit, the only source of light spilling in from the window. It was quiet too quiet. The kind of silence that followed catastrophe, where the air was too still, too heavy, as if the world itself was still trying to understand the weight of what had happened.
Your body ached with every breath. The bandages wrapped around your torso were tight, holding together wounds that had nearly been fatal. Every movement reminded you of how close you had been to not making it out.
And yet, all of that the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of the war it all faded away the moment the door opened.
You had spent weeks expecting to see him, waiting, hoping but he never came.
Not when you needed him. Not when everything fell apart.
And yet, something in you recognized him before you even looked.
When you finally did, you felt your breath hitch.
He stood in the doorway, alive but barely.
His wings were a shadow of what they once were. The red feathers that had once been so vibrant were scorched, burnt at the edges, some missing entirely. His body was wrapped in bandages, his movements slower, weaker. But what hit you the hardest was the mask strapped over his mouth.
A speaker had been attached to it, taking over for the voice he had nearly lost in the fire.
Dabi’s flames had nearly ruined him.
You sat there, frozen, staring.
Your heart clenched so painfully it felt like another wound had opened up inside you.
The blanket was thrown off, the pain screaming through your body as you forced yourself to stand. Your legs were unsteady, but you didn’t care. You needed to reach him.
Your hands curled into fists before you could stop yourself, and the moment you were close enough you hit him.
Your fist landed against his chest, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to feel it.
“You!” Your voice cracked, emotion clogging your throat, burning behind your eyes.
“You accused me” Another hit, weaker than the last. “You said I was playing both sides that I wasn’t loyal!”
Your breath was coming in ragged gasps now, your vision blurring as you kept hitting him, kept pushing him, as if forcing him to feel just a fraction of the hurt you had been carrying.
“Then you” Your fists trembled as they pressed against him. Your knees felt weak. Your voice cracked.
“You did the exact same thing.”
The words barely made it past your lips before they were swallowed by a sob.
You had tried so hard to stay angry. To hold onto the rage, the betrayal because anger was easier than hurt.
But seeing him now, standing in front of you alive but barely holding on It was too much.
Your fists loosened, curling into his shirt instead, gripping him as if he would disappear if you let go.
“I thought you were dead.”
Your voice broke entirely, and the dam inside you cracked, the emotions you had been holding in for months finally spilling over.
The nights spent staring at the news, searching for any sign that he was still alive.
The silence stretching on for too long.
The fear that you had lost him forever.
Your body trembled as you pressed your forehead against his chest, the sobs wracking through you with the force of everything you had been desperately trying to bury.
And then finally he moved.
His hands rose, hesitating for only a second before they touched you.
One cradled the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. The other wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his touch impossibly gentle despite the roughness of his gloves.
And then he did something he shouldn’t have.
He shouldn’t have. You knew it. He knew it.
But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse and broken, ruined by the burns, by the damage that had permanently scarred him but the words hit harder than anything else.
His thumb traced the tear streaked path down your cheek, his touch trembling, but steady.
“I never” His voice faltered, the pain clear in the way his throat choked on the words, but he forced them out anyway. “I never stopped regretting it.”
Your fingers tightened in his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.
“Letting them control me,” he rasped. “Letting them ruin this. Ruin us.”
His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, shaky.
You swallowed, your tears still slipping down your cheeks, your emotions still raw, still aching.
But you could see it now the weight he carried. The exhaustion in his eyes. The guilt that had been eating him alive from the inside out.
Even if he had a hundred lifetimes, even if he was reborn again and again, you knew.
He would regret this every single time.
Your fingers uncurled from his shirt, moving up to cup his face, your thumbs tracing along his cheekbones. His skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than you remembered. Maybe from the burns. Maybe from the way he was looking at you.
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“You should’ve come back sooner.”
His eyes softened, his hands still cradling your face, thumbs still brushing over your skin as if trying to memorize the shape of you, to convince himself that you were real.
“I know.” His voice was so hoarse, so wrecked, but still so him.
Your chest ached at the sound of it.
“You scared me,” you whispered, fingers curling into his skin. “I thought ” You swallowed, voice trembling. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You think I didn’t feel the same?” His forehead pressed more firmly against yours. “Every day, I thought about you.”
“I don’t want to do this again,” you whispered. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
His grip tightened. “You won’t.”
There was so much promise in those two words, so much desperation, as if he was trying to will them into being true.
You weren’t sure if you could believe it. Not yet. Not with the war still raging, not with everything still uncertain. But you wanted to.
Dabi : “Man, your girl’s been treating me real nice lately. We’ve had some… special time together.”
Hawks: “Shut up.”
Dabi: “What? You don’t like hearing about how sweet she is to me? How she—”
Hawks: “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST WON A FREE ASS WHOOPING!”
