Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 1]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks - Lemon

A streak of light permeated his eyelids. His crimson wings flapped weakly, beating against a frigid wall. A yawn escaped his mouth, and he made an effort to stand, once he realised that he was on the ground. He couldn't be sure where he was, or how he got there. Dragging his legs, he repositioned himself so that he was on his knees. He hadn't yet attempted to move his arms, so he thought about planting them on his thighs and using them to help him stand. However, when he tried, he heard the familiar clink of metal against brick. His few muscles rippled as he mentally slapped himself; had he seriously managed to get captured? It was probably the League of Villains. After all, Dabi had made it more than clear that he didn't trust the Winged Hero - not even a smidge.

That was the most logical assumption.

His sharp eyes darted around the room, although, admittedly, it was far too dark to see much. He tried to rely on his ears, but there were no sounds; utter silence had long since enveloped the dimly-lit expanse. He craned his neck to the best of his ability, glancing at his shackles with nonchalance. He sent two feathers to unlock the chains. They successfully accomplished their task, setting him free. A cute pout found its way on to his features, as he rubbed his wrists, in an effort to alleviate some of the pain.

"Aww, I knew I should have put you in a cage."

The distinctive sound of something metallic being dragged across the wall wracked his ears. He wouldn't admit to being nervous - he was never overwhelmed by nerves. Instead, he plastered on that smirk he was so well-known for; it was the same one that, he had been told, radiated beauty. He had mastered the confident façade - it was like second nature to him now.

"I'd still get out." He countered.

He heard a giggle. "I'm sure. I was a fool to think those wretched things would ever hold you."

You were cloaked in the darkness, veiled from his eyes. He could tell now, however, that you were female, and he was positive he had never encountered you before. Surely he would have recognised that voice; it was almost supernatural, as though you were a siren singing a painfully melodic tune. You seemed content to converse with him, despite the situation, and obvious tension circling the atmosphere. It swirled like smoke, rising to form invisible stalactites on the ceiling. They dripped with unease. The hero had heard stories about a certain psychotic girl, but she was smaller than you, with a constant, ear-to-ear grin present on her face.

Hawks narrowed his eyes. "Well, sorry dove, but it looks like I've gotta fly."

You sighed. "You'll need to find the windows first. Oh, and there aren't any doors, either."

"Then how did you get in?" He chuckled.

"My quirk." Your response was short and concise, giving you ample time to set up whatever you had planned.

He could tell something was happening, because he heard the shuffling of feet and the click of heels on stone. As much as his feet appeared to want to remain rooted to the spot, he refused to allow them that privilege. He was not safe here. Definitely not. He wasn't sure how much he could stall if you decided to start speaking again, and he didn't know what you were doing. His guard was high. Like - ice wall around the Antarctic high. That was just a ridiculous theory, of course, but the point was there. He was alert, and nothing would get past him.

...Except, something did.

An otherworldly force collided with his stomach, making him double over and stumble backwards. He didn't feel flesh, however, or even clothing, so you couldn't have hit him. Also, it was impossible for your quirk to have anything to do with super-strength, because you had mentioned either altering the room, or getting in without the need for visible points of entry. His back hit the wall once more, and immediately, he felt metal slithering around his wrists, squeezing him tightly like a cobra smothering its prey. He wondered if you were akin to a cobra, since you seemed to love causing him discomfort. Before he really had a chance to think, a calloused hand gripped his chin. It was a forceful hold, and when his eyes snapped open, hungry (e/c) ones stared back. He tugged at the new chains, even tried to send some feathers like last time, but they wouldn't comply. His brows furrowed in concentration, as he attempted to regain control of his feathers. You looked on in amusement.