#yandere hawks
—you really got me bad, now i’m gonna get you back!(part 1: wide awake and waiting for the sun)
pairing: villian!hawks/keigo takami x fem!reader
warnings: yandere elements (drugging, kidnapping, all the things that happen in a bad wattpad story lol), violence, killing/death, blood, eventual smut, mention of rutting, possessiveness, slight manga spoilers
a/n: misery by maroon 5 is my current brain rot rn don’t ask. also @innocentnymph plzzz be awake and treat this as a gift
Keigo Tamaki hates it when people wastes his time.
His whole being is built on being fast. His time at the Commission, his hero career, and now his empire— he gained it all quickly without hardly ruffling his feathers. He sinks his talons in and moves on. His morning routine takes him exactly 15 minutes, he can kill with a snap of his fingers, and, hell, he can fucking fly.
So when this slow-talking imbecile, who is clearly sweating through his suit, babbles during his business meeting, Keigo can’t help but be annoyed.
Keigo thrums his neat nails against the table before glancing out the window, sighing under his breath. The weather was chilly— quite cloudy for Musutafu with wcool breeze weaving its way rbetween skyscrapers. Cars slowly push through the busy streets, people bustling on the sidewalks. Though he’s on the highest floor, Keigo can still see the details of each individual person with his hawk-like vision. Mindlessly, with his hand balancing up his head, he follows them as they walk down blocks, open doors for one other, laugh at a joke—
The fuck?
Keigo’s breath catches. He glances up— to make sure that no one has noticed the way his eyes widened like saucers— before he dips his attention back down, back to the girl he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Back to you.
You’re sitting outside a coffee shop, even though it’s seemingly too cold to do so. Your brows are pulled down in concentration, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you read something on your phone. An index finger is busy looping around the rim of your teacup. You put your phone down before lifting the cup, lips pouting slighly to blow over it before taking a hesitant sip. It must be satisfactory, since you give the tiniest sliver of a smile before drinking more.
He’d forgotten about you. But not anymore.
“Hawks?”
Keigo jerks his head back up. “Yeah, yeah. Just have it done.”
He has no idea what he’s agreeing to. But he does know what he’s sinking his talons into next.
Someone is watching you.
You’ve felt a heavy gaze following you since your visit to the coffee shop, even as you headed to the hospital for work. You glance around the halls cautiously, not sure what to expect. A ghost, maybe?
“There you are!”
You jump as a hand slaps your back, but your nerves quickly settle at the sight of a familiar face. “Hey, Natsu.”
Natsuo grins but his face falls as he notices your tense state. “What’s wrong?”
“Nah, it’s…” You wave it off. “What did you need to call me in for?”
His expression becomes grim.
Natsuo Todoroki is inarguably your favorite person in the world. During incredibly long shift of dealing with grumpy and angry patients, Natsuo is the one who makes you smile through it. You’d think he’d have the opposite of a cooling quirk with the way he warms the hospital.
To see him this upset about something that isn’t his father makes you sick to your stomach.
“There’s been this string of patients coming in.” Natsuo says as he leads you down the hall. “And, well, they’re all the same— lowly criminals. Not anything we haven’t seen before.”
You digest his words. “Another gang fight?”
“We aren’t sure yet. The police is working with us, but the markings on them are what’s off.”
“Stab wounds?”
“You’d think.” Natsuo opens the doors to the sectioned-off portion of the ICU— which was already a bad sign that he was bringing you in here— and you immediately freeze at the sight.
5 of the beds have a host wrapped in the heaviest of bandages around their necks, yet blood still seeps through the cloth to give it a pink tint. The wrists of each patient are clinked into handcuffs, but it seems satirical with the unconscious state of the criminals.
The hum of shallow breaths and heart monitors fogs your brain. “What the fuck?”
Natsuo clears his throat before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Every single one of them had their carotid arteries slashed. There were 12 of them. We couldn’t save the other 7 and they were sent for an autopsy.”
You swallow. “And?”
“They thought it was a knife but they couldn’t match the markings to an exact weapon. Maybe it’s some weird knife quirk, I don’t know. I asked Shoto but he hasn’t found anything in the system.”
Your hand inadvertently drifts to your own neck, feeling for the pulsing vein with the tips of your fingers. “How’d the killer manage to nick all of them in the right spot?”
Natsuo narrows his eyes. “That’s what’s freaking me out. There’s only one wound on each patient and it always hit the artery.”
He jerks his head back out the door and you follow, quite anxious to leave the room anyway.
“The police and heroes are trying to keep this under wraps, until they find more information. But I’m telling all the staff anyway for safety reasons. The fact is that there’s a skilled killer on the loose.”
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “What do we do?”
Natsuo pulls together the smallest of a smile. You can tell that he’s faking it to ease away your worry, which does make your heart melt at his graciousness but does nothing to stop you from internally panicking. “All we can do is to stay safe, that’s all.”
You went home soon after, since you had the whole week off before your next shit. Yet, you stayed in your apartment for the next few days, sheltered for the sake of your safety. A few texts from Natsuo revealed that three more people were brought into the ICU with the same wound. You promptly turned off your phone and triple-checked every lock in your apartment.
When you finally got called back into work, you distracted yourself with your job. Shrieking patients in pain only dulling down after you place a gentle hand on theirs, your quirk resolving the issue within seconds. Yet, the nagging fear in the back of your mind of the serial killer roaming the streets of Mustafu makes you lose a track of time. One patient turns into forty until you realize just how much you’ve overused your abilities.
“Hey, why don’t you go home?” Natsuo frowns as he seems the way your hands tremble, a tell-tale sign of you working too hard. “I’ll drive you back.”
You nod, relieved. No way could you walk to your apartment now.
“Of course you’d drive a Tesla.” You laugh as Natsuo leads you to his sparkling white car, the T practically winking at you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He pouts, making you giggle even more. He opens the side door for you, the gentleman that he is.
“Itmeans it’s expected. Anyways, Natsu, how do you adjust the seat? This shit is going to kill my back.”
It takes you a moment to realize that Natsuo hadn’t even shut the door for you. He’s not standing next to the car, even though he was right there a moment ago.
“Natsuo?”
Silence. Leaves scrape the ground ominously.
Your legs swing out of the car swiftly, though they feel like jello when you find your placing on the ground. The parking lot has sparse cars, but is vacant of any people.
“Nat—”
A hand slaps over your mouth, cloth against your nose. The smell is immediate, overpoweringly sweet and sticky. It reminds you of your childhood, licking away at cherry-flavored popsicles that dripped down your fingers. It also reminds you of your organic chemistry class in college, the warnings that your professor has drilled into you, the large “DO NOT INHALE” sticker on the side of one of the bottles.
Chloroform.
But that memory took too long to emerge— you’re already slumping in the grip of the stranger, black dots swimming in your vision.
“Please don’t kill me.” You whisper to no one in particular, hoping that some being beyond can save your fate. A hero.
“You’re gonna wish I did.” The stranger chuckles before everything goes dark.
Your brain feels like wisps of cotton candy when you finally gain consciousness. You crack your eyes open, but the immediate light makes you hiss. After a few blinks, you peak down and see that you’re sitting in a metal chair in the middle of an empty warehouse. Your wrists are clasped behind your back in red rope, which dig into your delicate skin.
“Shit.”
Too busy deciding whether dislocating your thumbs is worth the pain in order to break free, you don’t notice that you are not alone.
“She’s awake. Tell the boss.”
A chill crawls its way up your spine. You turn your head as best as you can, catching a glimpse of a handful of men in black suits. Your hands become slick with sweat when you notice how each of them have a holster and gun. Dateline did not prepare you for this.
“C'mon.” One of them— who has way too much gel in his hair— grabs you by your bicep and pulls you out of the chair. Your feet stumble trying to keep up with him.
Your mind swarms with questions, but your inate instincts tell you to keep quiet. As Gel Hair (yes, you’ve nicknamed him and everything) drags you through the hall with the others following close behind, you try your best to take in all the details you can.
The warehouse door leads to a well-furnished hallway— one like that of a 5-star hotel. The cream wallpaper and gold decals are in pristine shape. The crimson patterned carpet has a shade too close to that of blood. The chandeliers swing above you like icicles ready to impale you with every step. The men behind you chatter quietly, but you catch some of the words. Office. Mission. Killed.
“Hey, let’s go.” Gel Hair grunts, tugging your elbow harder. You hadn’t realized that your legs tensed up at that last word.
The group stops at a grand door, two guards with the same suit attire standing side to side. Instead of a gun in their holster, they each hold an assalt rifle— the ones you only see in action movies. You feel faint.
“This her?” One of them asks, and Gel Hair nods. The guard prompty swings the door open. And you stubbornly plant your feet further into the ground, refusing to enter.
A sickening feeling coats your body. It’s the same sensation you get when you peer over the edge of a cliff, when you catch a glimpse of a black cat wandering down an alley, when you get an emergency call from the hospital during your break.
An overwhelmingly powerful force within you knows that something terrible will happen if you set foot through that office.
“The fuck are you doing? Move!” Gel Hair snarls, yanking you forward.
You squirm in his grip, desperately pulling back. “No! Let me go, you fucking asshole! You have the wrong person!”
Filled to the brim with desperation, you do the only thing you can. You shriek at the top of your lungs.
The two guards notibly cringe before lifting their guns in defense. Gel Hair slaps his palm over your mouth. Perfect.
You chomp down on his hand.
The feeling of pride at Gel Hair’s blood-curdling scream and the taste of metal is short-lived. He slaps you hard, but you don't— can’t— register the pain, not when he’d pulled out his gun and pressed the barrel up against your forehead.
“You crazy bitch, I’m gonna blow your fucking brains out. Ha?” He grins as you whimper, heart thrumming so hard that you have to read his lips to understand what he’s saying. “Don’t care that you’re the boss’s girl, I’m gonna kill you. How does—”
There’s a flash of red. That’s it. This is it. You were shot in the head, cause of death: brain hemorrhage. You can picture your graveyard: Here lies a daughter, a healer, a friend. But the red clears and Gel Hair is still and expressionless. Blood spurts from his neck, spraying droplets against your face as if it were an empty canvas. He crumples to the floor, gasping and clawing at his wound.
Again, all you can do is scream.
Your knees buckle as you fall to the ground as pure and utter shock chills you to your bone.
"What did I tell you all? She’s precious cargo!” A voice chirps disappointedly, like a parent scolding their child. The sound crashes over you like a wave, roaring and echoing in familiarity.
You slowly lift your head. It can’t be.
“Well. At least he wasn’t one of our better members.”
A tight black-and-gold shirt is paired with baggy khakis. The belt around the waist glints golden Hs across the band. And behind him, large vermillion plumes drape behind his back like a deranged version of a cape.
No fucking way.
His golden eyes squint as he smiles, the black markings at the corners of his eyes sharpening his glare on you. “Hey, sweetheart.”
The “rope” holding your wrists together unfurls, looping around your face to flaunt itself as a feather, before it finds it’s place back to Keigo’s wings.
“Didn’t want to meet this way but, y’know.”
“What the fuck?” The venom coating your words surprises you, but it’s understandably. “You kidnapped me? You… you’e the one who killed all those people, didn’t you? Keigo, you’re on Japan’s Most Wanted—“
“Memorized my wiki page, huh?“
He’s laughing. Your blood simmers beneath your skin. He’s killing people for fun and he’s laughing.
Even though the Commission capitalized on your healing quick, they did teach you basic self-defense and fighting techniques.
You aim for his legs. An easy sweep, so long as you pounce quickly and hit right above the knees.
Of course, you’d forgotten just how strong he is.
As you lunge in his direction, two feathers circle around each of your wrists and tug you back. Unshed tears from the stress, the fear, the anger spill over your waterline.
“What do you want from me?” You scowl, teeth bared and ready to lash out.
“Your compliance.” Keigo takes a few steps forward, bending down to your height. You can’t pull away as he brings a calloused hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek. “We can’t have you biting away at my men, can we?”
You can feel bile rising up. “And why the hell should I listen to anything you say?”
“Hmm…” Keigo hums, the edge of his grin stretching even wider, Joker-esque. “We do have your Todoroki boy with us, don’t we?”
You blink, heart sinking. “No.”
“If you comply, then there’s no need to worry.” Keigo gives your cheek a pat before rising back up to his full height. His shadow paints over you, sealing your fate.
“Take her back to the bedroom. And someone, clean this shit up. I don’t need the scent of blood in my hallway.”
“That went well, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up, Jin.”
Keigo clenches and unclenches his fists, snarling as he makes his way back into his office. He didn’t want to scare you away, but the fear and fury in your eyes confirmed it all.
But, you’re tough. You can handle a little blood, right?
Besides, spring is creeping in quickly. He’s already showing signs of his impending rut— nails growing sharp, eyes becoming more slanted and predatory. Hell, he’s surprised that he didn’t rip that Todoroki boy to shreds when Keigo caught his scent on you. His business partner, Dabi, wouldn’t be too pleased if Keigo tore into his beloved brother.
Nevertheless, Keigo needs you to comply soon. Because he’s about to lose every ounce of his self-control once spring begins.
4.6k words
Yandere!Hawks x F!Reader
[Part 0] [Part 1]
Summary:
It makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.
Tags:
I am mentally ill, hawks lost wings blah blah blah, scientist reader!!!, codepency i cant really tag it with anything else because not a lot happens here, a date, relationship issues, very very desperate keigo (even if he does Not show it)
(A/N) ha. hrrrgg. ahha!!
———
You’d stared at the email for such a long time. It was easy to forget that Keigo still had your work one. But he wasn’t asking you about research, or your experiments, or the cure to his missing wings. Instead, it was a plan, a place and a time and five words at the very end that struck through your soul.
“I want to see you.”
With shaking fingers, you left him with a one word response that stood out against the rest of the glaringly white screen.
“Okay.”
———
“I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t like you,” You tell him, looking right into his eyes. He seems to wither under your gaze, shrinking into his seat. “I broke up with you because I didn’t like what you were doing.”
“I just-“ He begins, stopping to swallow his mouthful of chicken. For a man that seemed to thrive on exciting experiences when he was out on the field, Keigo sure seems to like predictability, especially in what he ate. You’ve known that for a while, though. Nothing about the mask he put on to be a pro-hero was quite as it seemed. “I just think we should give it another chance.”
You grimace, not willing to hide it whatsoever. “Another chance.”
There’s a clatter of plates in the background. The buzz of the restaurant is far too lively for the nausea in the pit of your stomach.
“Yeah,” He replies, standing his ground. “It was my job that caused those problems in me. Now that I don’t have one…”
He trails off, laughing shakily. More fragile than you’ve ever seen him. You try to slow your empathy from flooding your body, resisting reaching across to touch him, to soothe him. It’s hard. It seems that you’ve never quite managed to abandon that habit.
“You have a job,” You reply, keeping your voice low. “Aren’t you an ambassador? Still working for the commission in a way?”
“Yes and no,” He sighs. “They can’t just discard me now. But they will.”
“Don’t use that word. Didn’t we talk about this?”
You wish you could take the words back the moment you hear them fly out your mouth, because all of a sudden this elated smile spreads across Keigo’s face. The reassurance that you’re still willing to dote on him, keep him stable. You’re not meant to be babysitting a man who needs a real therapist, though. You vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t give your energy away so easily anymore. Yet, here you are.
You shouldn’t have agreed to this.
“Thanks,” He says, voice weak. All throughout the conversation, he’s been breaking and putting himself back together. Spontaneously. More than he’d ever been before. “Sometimes I forget that I’m a person.”
You stare into your plate, distinguishing one grain of rice from the next. You can’t bear to look at him.
“Mm.”
You’re not trash, Keigo. They never deserved you, Keigo. You’re more than what they say you are, Keigo.
“But,” He begins, quickly refocusing. “Would you be willing to give me another chance? You never answered.”
Your head is heavy to lift, but you manage. His golden eyes are sparkling yet analytical, watching your every movement with intense curiosity. If he still had his wings, they’d be fluffed up behind him, perhaps tilting slightly towards you or giving a nervous flap. They were so big, weren’t they? Massive. Seeing him without them is like seeing a different person. Hell, even when he came home from work when you were still with him, seeing him without his full set of feathers could be a shock.
It’s probably worse for him.
“I… I’m not sure.”
You don’t want to make him cry. It’s always awful seeing Keigo cry. He does it rarely, but you know him, and he’s been looking close to it this whole time.
“To be honest,” You begin, pushing the rice around the plate with your chopsticks. “I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship. I think you need friends and a support network.”
He’s going to hate that. And he does. His eyebrows furrow and his body deflates slightly.
An idea. Eyes sparkling again. Perking up.
“Can you be a friend, then?”
You grit your teeth.
“I like talking to you, that’s all,” He continues. “No big commitments. Free dinner, too- I’ll pay for our meet-ups.”
He gestures to the table. You suck in a breath.
“Friends..? I think… I think so.”
Your thoughts are going at a million miles per minute as you try to come up with a plan. Friends- that’s such a flexible term. No big commitments. You could leave anytime. You could get away with texting him once a week- provide any level of friendship you wanted.
You’d missed him. That slight sense of optimism in you grabbed onto anything it could get and absolutely refused to focus on any negativity within your old relationship with Keigo. You’d remembered sun-soaked mornings in his embrace. You had pushed the fighting and his paranoia to the back of your mind.
Which there was a lot of. And all because of his job, he claimed.
“If,” You say quickly, before he can get a word in edgeways. “You see a therapist. And I’m not your only friend in all of this.”
“I’m already seeing a therapist,” He says, practically vibrating with excitement. Already, you can tell that this was a horrible idea. “And I’ve got Rumi and Todoroki.”
Work friends, right.
You didn’t want to correct him on anything or interrogate him on if those people were actually his friends, or merely colleagues that he had a good relationship with. There was no doubting that he’d been out with Todoroki and Rumi a few times but you’d always assumed it was for work related purposes. When he came back and you’d asked him how those meetings had went, he’d always reply with some vague answer- the ones he reserved for when you asked him about work. It seemed painfully obvious to you. Perhaps not to him, though. You’d always gotten the impression that- despite his charisma- Keigo never really knew what constituted a bond.
Still, it would insensitive to comment on that right now. Despite your regrets, you weren’t willing to soil his happiness. It would be cruel.
“Alright then. In that case, we can be friends.”
“What evenings are you free?” He asks. You pull out your phone. “And can you unblock my number? Please?”
You sigh, flicking to the contacts page and telling him that you’d actually gotten a new phone, to which he allowed you to tap in his number once again.
Keigo. He’s saved as Keigo. Nothing special, not the witty little nicknames you had for him at the start of your relationship, not the more endearing ones you had at the end. You text him to make sure it works, and your stomach sinks a little more when you hear his phone buzz in his hand.
———
When you finally find yourself at home, you’re still staring at your phone. He hasn’t texted yet- of course not, he appeared to be handling the situation with extreme caution, lest you think he’d returned to his old ways. Which would be unpleasant. You couldn’t bear anymore of that, and had tried your hardest to eliminate any form of clinginess or excessive protection from your life, even if it didn’t come from him. Your boundaries were clearer now, walls higher. You wouldn’t be wasting emotional energy on someone who didn’t have your best intentions at heart.
That’s where you sympathised with Keigo, though. His intentions may have not been the best to you, but he didn’t admit to being in the wrong until the end of the relationship when he was trying to save it. All throughout, you could tell that he didn’t feel like he was doing anything wrong.
He’d admitted it again before he left today. That he was incorrect in keeping you so unnecessarily close to him. That he wouldn’t do it again.
You’re not sure if you can trust that.
Not that Keigo had a track record of breaking promises. Rather, he’d carefully word things to ensure that he wasn’t lying to you. And you’d always assume things about what he actually meant. Those assumptions were never correct.
Taking your shoes off, you’re still glancing up at your phone sitting idly on the coffee table. On. You must’ve forgotten to turn it off out of anticipation for a message from him.
There’s nothing yet. You pick it up and take a good look at your planner, grimacing as you jot down the dates that you’d agreed to meet him at. Twice per week. Free dinner. He’d pick you up- it wasn’t even much effort and you’d be saving money. Silver lining, you guessed.
The only inescapable factor that you couldn’t make look good was Keigo himself. You’d only agreed to the previous meeting out of a strange concoction of anxiety and hope, his sudden demand to meet up simultaneously scared you and made you foolishly giddy to see how he was doing. To catch up. His presence may have been gone from your life for the longest time and the opportunity to fulfil your curiosity was seized with little to no thought. A silly move, in retrospect. It had been a long time, though. Wouldn’t you be better off letting go of your feelings so that you can get the most out of a friendship with him?
You’re not holding a grudge, you tell yourself as you close over the planner.
You’re remembering how you were treated and you’re trying to avoid that happening again.
Things had ended abruptly, too. You felt like there was going to be more of a gradual descent into dysfunction but one day you simply decided that you’d put up with enough and escaped his grip before Keigo could try and lock you in anymore than he already had.
With a shudder, you remember his ramblings about a baby.
(In some weird, bird-like fashion, Keigo’s top priority wasn’t to get married. It was to impregnate you, and only then would he consider your partnership firm.)
Something lingers in your thoughts as you shower that night.
The fact that in all of the time you’d been separated, you don’t think Keigo’s dated a single person.
And the drifting noise of a joke he made about mating for life.
———
Tuesday swings by quicker than expected, making you feel like you’re racing through the days. You’d hardly acknowledged that the dates Keigo were suggesting for your little meet-ups would one day transform into real events. It had shocked you to check the calendar on your phone and immediately be confronted with the notification that you had “Dinner with Keigo” at 5:30pm.
You’ve been dreading it all day. Seeing him is going to be hard. You’re not even sure what you’ll talk about. You’re probably going to be emotionally exhausted after dealing with him and unable to do anything once you return home.
When he shows up he’s wearing a fairly casual outfit and a warm smile. It’s his normal clothes, reassuring you that you didn’t need to put on anything fancy.
It’s like he’s trying desperately to reassure you that everything is fine. He does everything except talking to you about it, choosing to focus on the weather instead whilst you both drive to the restaurant.
You look off into the gloomy horizon and immediately feel horribly like you’re in an unforeseen situation. Keigo talks like he’s never even met you before, as if trying to lay down the groundwork for a fresh start.
Your old version of small talk was more energised. Better. Keigo doesn’t like talking about things like the weather, how your family’s doing, what you’ve been up to recently. He enjoys the back-and-forth of a slightly argumentative conversation about things like… historical events. Or religion. Things like that.
And hearing him say, “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. I was hoping to go on a walk. Been doing that more recently, for obvious reasons.”- is a foreign sound to your ears.
You hum along to his chatter, offering the bare minimum of conversation to prevent the atmosphere in the car from becoming too tense. Your head is logically thinking through the situation, encouraging you to give him a chance seeing as he hasn’t done anything yet. And he’s definitely changed from the last time you saw him. Well, you hope so. If losing his wings didn’t change Keigo, then nothing would.
Your fingers toy with the leathery strap of your handbag. He taps on the steering wheel. You peer out the window to look at the restaurant, taking in its details. European, it seems, with a focus on Italian. You hadn’t actually known there was a restaurant like that in this area.
“Something different.” He says, turning off the engine. All you can do is bite your lip and nod and follow him through to the glass doors of the restaurant.
It’s quieter inside than you would’ve expected. There wasn’t many cars outside, but…
It would be rude to tell him that you wanted somewhere busier. Somewhere that people could see you if you started getting too uncomfortable. Witnesses, in a sense.
Not the kind of restaurant that would make you feel isolated across the table from him.
But he’s beaming at you, and he’s leading the way, following the waiter. You’re walking behind him gently, as if the clack of your heels is going to disturb the atmosphere of the restaurant. He’s still smiling when you sit down. And he never smiled that much before, not like that- smirking, maybe. A grin could flash every now and then.
It takes a few minutes for you to become fully aware of the situation in front of you. You’ve been aimlessly rummaging through your bag, not talking, and when you look up at him you’re met again with his blank smile.
You don’t know what’s going on. His eyes tell a different story from his mouth and you desperately try to cycle through the list of possible conversation topics you’d thought up previously.
Thankfully, Keigo takes the lead.
“How’s work?” He asks, sitting oddly upright.
“It’s going fine, I’ve been trying different things recently, different quirks.”
And his entire body relaxes whilst an unwelcome sense of control washes over you. It’s the power of shaping Keigo however you want with your responses.. He’s completely handed the reigns over to you and unfortunately, you don’t want them. You miss when he’d be more joking and free with you, you miss the conversations that went deeper than just work. His strangely philosophical viewpoints on certain topics that you were all too eager to entertain, to the witty comments he’d make in response to changes in the environment.
A plate drops in the background. You hear it shatter against the floor. Your eyes drift in that direction, then back to Keigo, who’s also looking at it. Your mouth is ready to curve into a smile, expecting a remark, but he-
“What quirks have you been working on, then?” He asks, looking at you again.
Disappointment.
“It’s mostly animal ones, to be honest. We’re trying to discover a link between the animal and the person, take in environmental factors and things like that.”
Come on. That should at least spark a comment. An animal pun.
Maybe that was a bad idea. You don’t want him to feel the loss of his wings anymore than he already has.
“Anything in particular?”
The waiter comes. You order drinks, and you finally realise that this whole time you haven’t had the menu in front of you. Keigo’s got his open. A twinge of embarrassment washes over you. You hastily grab one from the stand on the table, flipping it open and searching through the words to find something that you might like.
“You were saying?” He asks, not even bothering to mention your lack of menu for the last few minutes.
“Oh- ah, animal quirks, yeah- we’ve been looking into reptile ones, mostly. Once we figure out what affects the appearance of one, we might be able to look at links between different families, and even reptilian quirks that are mythical ones- you know, like Ryukyu.”
You take a long sip of your water, waiting for a response.
This is such a horrid conversation for dinner. You’re afraid to look at him in case you’ve accidentally upset him. Keigo’s strong, internally, but he’s not invincible. If you’re truly saying things that make him sad, you know that he’s going to keep it in. Repress it. Not tell you on the spot that you’re making him uncomfortable. It’s the practised facade he uses for talk shows, after all.
But perhaps if you do make him uncomfortable enough, he’d decide that the whole friendship thing wasn’t going to work out and leave you alone. No. You’d feel horrible if you tried that.
“That’s interesting,” He says, drumming his fingers on the table. Keigo looks like he’s mentally unavailable. Far away. Then he refocuses. “I’ve always wondered how some quirks just seem to come out of nowhere. Like you get ones where the person has the exact same quirk as an old book character, or something. Or they’ve got a unicorn quirk, when those don’t even exist in the first place.”
Finally. Something with depth. You might be able to milk this subject until the waiter comes around again.
“That’s really fascinating to me, it’s like… what I want to solve in my work. I used to think that it could be affected by childhood factors, like if the mother was obsessed with something before a certain age, then her kid might actually develop a quirk related to that.”
He hums, finally looking engaged with the conversation and like he genuinely wants to speak. That’s a relief. Beforehand, he was forcing the words out.
Even after the waiter does come, and you both order, you’re still talking about it and you’re delighted to not have to think of any conversation starters again. Which is good, seeing as you were close to blurting out a question to do with how his recovery was going, and he looks like he’s vehemently avoiding the topic. He wants to talk about you- all about you- and dodges any of your responses that would cause him to reveal parts of his own life.
You don’t mind. It makes you curious, but as long as he’s not miserable then you’re okay with the replies he provides.
However, it does raise questions. If he’s not talking about his feelings with you, then who-
Ah. The therapist. Well, at least you hope so.
The fact that he’s talking more freely doesn’t completely vanquish the atmosphere of discomfort. You still feel as if you’re monitoring your own responses, avoiding talking about any of the bird quirks that you’ve been researching in order to not bring up anything painful.
Once the food comes, things certainly quiet down. There’s less pressure to talk but the desire for a third person at the table seeps into your mind. Someone to clear the awkwardness, that’d be helpful.
You’re forking through your pasta and he’s eating his pizza in a strange fashion, tearing off the crusts so that he can eat them separately. It’s nice to see that even if he’s lost his wings, he hasn’t lost his birdlike habits. The act of dissecting his food is one that confused you- sometimes bothered you, especially when he went straight in with his bare hands- but seeing him do it now makes you feel better about the situation.
This must be a hard adjustment for him.
He’s finished eventually and so are you. There’s a pause before you start talking again in a real conversation.
“And the best part,” He announces. “For you, at least-“
Keigo produces his credit card, setting it on the table as a waiter moves over to your booth.
“-free dinner.” He finishes, once the waiter’s left the vicinity. You look at him and he nods at you, getting up. You follow.
“It’s not an issue,” You tell him. “I liked talking to you. I couldn’t continue doing this if it was just for a free meal, I’m not exactly homeless or anything.”
Keigo directs his body to you, pausing before opening the door to outside.
“Ah, really? That’s good to know.”
Keigo’s expression is frozen. Once he shakes himself out of the moment, he finally pushes open the door and you feel the cold night air on your skin.
It’s much darker outside than it was before you entered the restaurant. You appear to have missed the sunset, and now only the stars and moon are watching.
This time, he turns on the radio once you’re in the car, diffusing some of the tension as quickly as possible.
You don’t speak as the song comes on. It fades into an echo in the back of your head, chorus blending into the verses and Keigo’s fingers tapping the steering wheel as he drives.
“I didn’t really care for driving before any of this,” He begins, a tone of apathy in his voice. “But it’s nice, you know? I can go fast without the effort I put in up in the air.”
Hawks was rumoured to be faster than any car, any plane, any manmade invention that humanity had conceived before his existence. Deep down, you know that this can’t compare to what he felt when he was soaring in the air.
It’s a convertible, at least. Maybe he can take the roof off and feel what it was like to fly again. Maybe you can close your eyes and imagine the cold, leathery car seat on your back is his warm chest, the seatbelt; his arms wrapped around your body.
That was how it used to be. That was everything.
His eyes are on you.
“I- I like driving as well,” You respond clumsily. “It gives you a lot of freedom for not much at all in return.”
He hums and he’s smiling again, that blank smile that he puts on to reassure you even when the only thing it seems to do is make you feel worse.
You’re approaching your home, anyway. There’s no need to reply.
“Thanks for that, Keigo.” You say, undoing your seatbelt.
He whispers a goodbye, likely less audible than he intended it to be, and all it does is get caught in the sound of you closing the car door.
When you head up to your apartment, you’re left with the echoes of the conversation running in your head. It’s all a little too much and you can’t get to sleep fast enough.
———
You flick through your planner sometime during the following day. The dates had already been established, and the next one was Friday. Keigo could text you anytime he wanted to, apparently (he seemed to be refraining from doing so) and all you had to do was show up and talk to him.
An urge to reflect the entire situation washes over you as you sit on the couch, just about to grab your laptop for work purposes.
Your hands withdraw as you find yourself momentarily trapped in your own head, staring at the floor. Ethics, you’d had to handle a lot of those at work during studies, where you had to work with many different people in order to investigate their quirks. Informed consent. Right to withdraw at anytime. Keigo had granted you both of those, no doubt about that. The other one- that subjects and their data had to remain anonymous and confidential… well, you sure hoped so. Perhaps there was a reason that he took you to quieter places. Keigo was always good at keeping you from the press, he’d managed to do a fairly good job of it last time.
Yet, there was a different set of ethics that you hadn’t yet considered. And that was the ethics of effectively being paid to be a friend. It raised too many questions. Was he completely unable to make them? Surely not with his charisma and endless wealth.
You think back to when you first met him, though, and things fall into place a little better.
Keigo had avoided you when you were asked to do research on his quirk. He was your assigned task for the month, voluntarily subjecting himself to being experimented on in order to grasp a better understanding of his quirk. You’d later found out that the hero commission had pressured him into it, but he still had the final say. Despite all that, he still refused to talk to you outside of work hours. The man was impossible to make conversation with, rushing off to here and there at the end of every session, leaving you with all the data you could ever want on his wings and nothing on him as a person.
You’d tried to convince yourself that it was fine, that you weren’t a little hurt by his constant avoidance. It was a good thing anyway, you’d convinced yourself. It’s not like you enjoyed the presence of others that much, and you certainly weren’t going to get hung up on the fact that one of the busiest men in the country didn’t want to talk to you.
And suddenly, he’d started staying late. Maybe he picked up on your hurting. Maybe it was for personal gain- in retrospect, it was definitely for his own benefit, even if some part of likes you to believe that he was so completely enamoured with you that he couldn’t help but spend more time in your lab.
He didn’t want to finish his work. Especially when it was late in the evening and he could apparently squeeze in another patrol of the city. So instead, he’d lie on the couch inside your office and talk to you about anything his mind came to. A bond began to form and it got to the point where he would nap on the couch whilst you tapped words into your computer, listening to his soft snores. You didn’t mind it at all and empathised with his cause- you’d also be irritated if you were in his position, forced to do an extra hour of work after being experimented on and researched. Sometimes if you finished early he’d grab a book from the shelf and read it until it bored him enough to sleep anyway. You’d slipped a few of your favourite novels in there one morning, and pretended to be surprised a few days later when he started chatting about them.
“I like you,” He’d said one evening, picking at one of his nails. You’d turned around in your chair suddenly, oblivious to the fact that he’d woken up. “You don’t judge me.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” You replied, confused. “Why would I?”
And he clicked his tongue and smiled down at the ground, eyes darting up to you for a brief glimpse.
“Thought you’d think I’m lazy. Well, I am. By nature. But I don’t like telling people that.”
He smirked at you, and even with one month and a half of these evening conversations, you finally felt like you were beginning to see what Hawks was like as a person, without the mask he put on for work.
“I’m lazy too. I wouldn’t want to go outside and patrol right now if I were you, either.”
It was an unconventional friendship. You didn’t go anywhere except your lab, not like now, you’d simply had two months of getting to know him until the research had to wrap up, and Keigo could no longer use the excuse of being experimented on to dodge his extra hours.
What were the ethics of that? Keeping him behind, from potentially saving lives, and being so selfish with his time? You’d felt guilt for it then. You thought you’d gotten over it with his reassurances that he would’ve stayed even if you didn’t agree with it.
Laziness wasn’t a good attribute for a hero to have.
And you think, for a moment, sitting back on the couch. His sad chuckle rings in the back of his ears. The talk show from a week ago, the interview that felt glaringly too soon, the one that forced Keigo to talk about his trauma in front of all of Japan. You’d clenched your fists whilst watching it, the entire atmosphere not sitting right with you but being unable to tear your eyes away.
“I guess sometimes I think that I was never meant to be a hero in the first place.”
That was his forced optimism, you could tell it at the time. His clear discomfort. You’d bit your lip and silently prayed that the host would wrap it all up soon.
When she began to open her mouth again, though, you’d grabbed the television remote and turned it off, finding it unbearable.
It’s similar now. You shake your head and grab your laptop, opening it and trying to lose yourself in the grating process of report-writing.
You would have time to think about Keigo later. Friday to be exact. Free dinner.
But, you remind yourself, nothing’s free.
-> [Part 2 Soon]
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Reader: Gender Neutral
Character:Keigo Takami/Hawks
Rating: G
Summary:You can’t run, you can’t hide, you can’t escape Keigo.
Warning:Yandere, Minor Character Death, Short Fic
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Keigo licked his fingers of the blood of your dead partner. And got up from his crouch and looked at you with those golden eyes.
The eyes that held so much love and affection, now plagued with ravenous, unfulfilled love for you.
He was a monster
“I don’t think you understand, dove. I’ll kill for you.” He said as he turned two of his feathers into weapons, he brought one of the blades to your throat, “I mean it, I’ll kill for you.”
“You wouldn’t Keigo, you’re a hero.” You stammered.
He brought the blade closer to your throat, the sharpness of it almost cutting your throat, “I would because I love you.”
“You don’t love me, Keigo. You’re a monster.” You said as you tried to back away.
Keigo pulled the blade away from your throat and pressed a kiss against your lips, rough and passionately. His lips were chapped yet warm. It was almost loving if it weren’t with the blade he just held to your throat.
“Don’t leave me.” He said.
“Keigo.” You said.
“Don’t leave me.” He repeated, “I will kill anyone who gets in my way, including you if I have to.” He threatened.
You felt tears well up in you eyes as you stepped further back. You tried to turn the situation around by walking around him so you were closer to the door of your apartment. You felt fear at your core.
How was Keigo like this? He was so funny and loving? But now that you weren’t together, he broke into your apartment and threatened you. He was going to kill you if you tried to break apart this relationship.
“You know why I call you dove.’ He said as he stepped closer to you, his chest against yours.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because doves mate for life, and I want to mate you for life. A promise that you’re mine forever.” He warned, “Nothing will keep up apart.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Love makes your crazy, dove.” He said with a smile. The shadows casted him in a dark light as you stepped back, “And I’m in love with you.”
“I said it was over.” You barked as you stepped back further.
“Aw, dove. I thought that was all just a game between us. You and I playing the little games we play. You run and I catch you. You better not run now, because I will catch you.” He promised.
All you could do was run.
“Dove!” He cries, “Don’t run!”
But there was nowhere to run.
Keigo would always find you.
Eyes bright and eager, Hawks tapped at your office window. He waited one second, then another, and when you didn’t look up from your desk, he knocked again, even more insistently. Getting more impatient by the millisecond, Hawks began practically pounding on the glass, far too excited to wait any longer. You jumped in your seat, finally dragged out of your work-induced fugue, and turned to the window, grinning when you saw him flying there.
Opening up the window, you stood back to let him in, only for him to promptly trap you in his arms. His scarlet wings wrapping around your waist, Hawks sighed in relief, finally able to relax now that he was with you.
“Hey, babe,” he purred in your ear. “You happy to see me?”
“Of course I am,” you said. “Just a little surprised, that’s all. I thought you had to work. What’re you doing here?”
“I blew it off. How could I not when my other option was to see you?”
“You might be the number two hero, but you’re the number one charmer.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Hawks chuckled. “Come on then, let’s head to lunch.”
Rather than nod eagerly or squeal with glee like you ought to though, you inched away from him slightly. Biting your lip in that way he could usually never resist, Hawks watched as your eyes grew guilty.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t today. Something came up that I have to work on,” you explained sadly.
Rolling his golden eyes, Hawks smiled fondly at your strange sense of humor. He didn’t always get it when you made jokes like that, but you still never failed to make him smile. If only he could have you every second of the day, he thought to himself. That way you could make him smile like that all day long.
“Very funny, babe. Now let’s get going.” As he pulled at your hand though, you stayed planted firmly where you stood.
“I’m not joking, I really can’t go to lunch with you today. I could do tomorrow though.”
At those words, Hawks froze, staring at you intently with a slight frown on his face. You couldn’t seriously be choosing some stupid job over him, could you? You weren’t supposed to choose anything over him. He would never do anything like that to you! Did he do something wrong?
No, he couldn’t have. You were just confused, that was all. You had been misled, had been told that there were things in your life that were somehow more important than spending time with him. Hawks would just have to remind you that that wasn’t the case. That he was the only thing in your life that really mattered, just like how you were the only thing truly that mattered in his.
“Well, I guess I don’t have any other options then.”
“Thanks for understanding, babe.”
“Of course. Let’s just hope that your boss accepts kidnapping as a valid reason to miss work.”
“What are you—”
But before you could even hope to finish your question, Hawks promptly scooped you up into his arms, holding you too tightly for you to even be able to do so much as squirm. And once he leapt out of your still-open office window, you weren’t about to try to get out of his hold. Instead you just gripped onto him in turn, barely even able to take in the sight of the buildings rushing by you. Or, rather, you rushing past the buildings. Even when you glanced down towards the ground, all you could see was a blur of green as Hawks picked up his speed. He flew faster than he ever had before, faster than he had when fighting against any villain or disaster. His wings ached with the effort, but it would all be worth it if he got to spend even just a few extra seconds with you.
So when he finally found the rooftop he had been searching for, it was with no small relief that he landed, making sure to be as gentle as possible with you in his arms. With the world standing still around you once more, you took in the scene before you. Rather than being greeted with a bare rooftop, there was a whole picnic waiting for you. A blanket set up on the middle of the roof, you saw all of your favorite foods just waiting for you. A nearby speaker was playing music softly, and all around you were countless bouquets of gorgeous flowers. Struck speechless, you didn’t protest as Hawks’ lips brushed your ear.
“Aren’t you glad I never take no for an answer?”
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