Work Header

Stroke of the Feather (Hawks x Reader)

Work Text:


Just as he was about to check his six, a large piece of concrete debris crashed into the hero, disrupting his flight and sending him spiraling out of the sky. Crimson feathers corkscrewed around him, painting a jarring image for the civilians below as their favored No. 2 fell from the skies, his feathers falling behind like a trail of blood. He wasn’t moving of his own accord anymore- he wasn’t even conscious- and the world was black, silent, and numb to him. It was as if it all ceased to exist in a single heartbeat. 

Hawks, look out! 

The words began to echo in his head, distorted and far off at first, but gradually solidifying into a sensical command. Look out!

“Ugh..” The Wing Hero groaned as his head rolled to the side. His awareness began to sync up with his body; slowly he could tell he was breathing, taking long, shallow drags of air. Inhales filled his lungs, and he could feel the weight and resistance of his chest again. Sensations and feeling returned, accompanied with a dull ache that heated his back and spiked up his neck. But it didn’t hurt as much as he would have expected from an impact like that. The memory of the stark white sun glaring down at him just before his vision failed replayed, and then again but farther back in time, filling in the blanks as he tried to piece together what happened. A building was destroyed. He was quickly evacuating the people in the highest levels at his trademark speed. Somehow, he must have miscalculated- and then that was it. He was out. 

Slowly his eyes opened. Hospital equipment met his view, the beeps and background static finally registering with him. Then, they quickly snapped opened, the hero trying to sit up- only to crumple back into the bed, his back searing with pain. There was the level of agony he expected. 

“Hawks!” you gasped, jolting up, your hand slipping and creating an imperfect line in the process. You quickly jumped out of the chair, hastily putting your art pad and materials on the seat as you bent over him. Immediately your hand caressed his cheek, a worried smile on your lips that you tried to pass as reassuring. His brown eyes looked panicked for a second, but they quickly softened as they stared into yours, and soon he was smiling despite his injuries. That smile drove you crazy- it could save lives and cure sorrows- and here he was, using it to treat your worries.

“(Y/N), whatcha lookin’ so worked up for?” he asked with a chuckle. “You know it’ll take way more than that to take me out of the game, babe.” 

You had to resist the urge to playfully smack him for teasing you at a time like this, and settled on the idea of kissing him instead. Your lips gently pressed to his- surprising him at first, but then he closed his eyes and lifted his hand to hold the back of your head, pulling you closer as he thirstily kissed you deeper. When you parted to breathe, you leaned back so you stood properly and gazed down at him with a soft, somewhat reassured smile. You took his hand and gave it a small squeeze, shaking your head with a light giggle. 

“You’re just the worst, y’know that?” you teased him back, your voice soft, sweet, and everything he needed to hear right now. “I was so worried about you, and the first thing you do is make a joke!” 

He laughed with you, laying his head back into the pillow with closed eyes and trying not to strain his body. “It’s not a joke! I’ll be back up and ready to go before the end of the day!” 

“Uh-huh. Damn right you will, and you know it’s because I’m gonna get you out of here as soon as possible.” 

Hawks opened his eyes, gazing up at your smiling, confident face. There was a spark in you that made his heart ache for your lips all over again. 

“Is that so? Then I’m gonna have to repay you reeaaaall good, aren’t I?”

You blushed at his words, giving his hand another squeeze. “Stop distracting me,” you murmured under your breath, clearly a little flustered as you returned to your seat next to him, picking everything up and placing the pad of paper on your lap. He watched you with a satisfied smirk, your reaction exactly what he hoped for. His eyes followed the curves of your face to your neck, your collar, and continued traveling until they met your hands.

“Hey… is that one of my feathers?” 

You had fashioned one of his feathers into a quill and were using an x-ray as a template to draw off of. The more he stared, the more confusing it became. Was that his x-ray? Why were you drawing his vertebrae? With his feather?

“Mmhmmm..” you answered, your eyes glued to the paper, deft hands drawing lines with india ink. Somehow you managed to mask that rigid, accidental line, making it part of the illustration.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you draw something like this before. You normally draw portraits and happy things- smiles and sunshine- all things that make me think of you. Spines though? That’s a new one.”

“What, are you saying you think I’m spineless?” you teased. The smile on your face reassured him that you weren’t insulted in the slightest. He chuckled again, watching you draw. It was captivating. You plotted lines that fabricated whatever you envisioned out of pure nothingness. Each stroke of ink- permanent from the moment it stained the paper- was precise and confident. You were such a soft, gentle, sweet and darling person that right now, as you worked zealously on a particularly weird project, you had a beguiling boldness to you that just made you so much more irresistible. He couldn’t wait to pick you up and kiss you again. 


You paused, looking up from the x-ray and drawing, your eyes meeting his. The little triangles at his inner eyelines looked extra handsome suddenly. His eyes were soft, and that smile on his lips even softer. Without meaning to, you swooned over him a bit. 

“Thanks for always letting me watch you draw.” A surprised expression crossed your face, and he laughed a little. “Sorry, I hate being so serious, but… “ His eyes left your face and returned to your hands. “..I just really love watching the way your hands move when you’re making art.” You blushed a bit, smiling to yourself at his words as you began to draw again, still listening to him. “Being able to see you create something from nothing is the most intoxicating thing sometimes. It’s enchanting and magical- which is something often lost in our world of quirks now. Who needs magic, when we have quirks, right? But still... being able to see a blank sheet of paper become a scene, a portrait, a… I don’t know- a study, I guess?- if that’s what I could call what you’re working on right now. Seeing that transformation is the coolest thing.” 

His words hung in the air. You didn’t know what to say, smiling blissfully still. 

“I never told you why I went to art school, did I, Hawks?” you asked him gently as you added finishing touches to his vertebrae. They were meticulously detailed- every fracture and break documented in the x-ray was documented on your sheet of paper.

“Hm? No, you never did. Are you going to enlighten me now?” he probed with pleasant curiosity. 

“Sorta. Watch this.” You scooted your chair so that you could hold up the finished picture of his spine. It’s accuracy was impressive. He noted each crack and break which explained the agony he felt when he tried to sit up. But it was a still picture. There wasn’t anything to really watch. He arched his brow, looking at you skeptically. 

“O… kay. I’m watching.” 


You signed your name on the illustration- and no sooner than when your quill lifted from the paper again, his burning pain completely disappeared. He sat straight up in an instant, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“No way- (Y/N)- you-” he stumbled on his words for a second, the shock evident. Until now, you just let him assume you didn’t have a quirk. A brilliant smile spread across Hawks’ lips as he stood up. His hands came to your elbows before sliding down your arms to your hands, guiding you to place everything down so you could stand with him. “You… are so cool,” he praised, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, leaning back so he picked you up. You giggled and squealed happily before he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. “Alright, let’s get out of here before I get carried away. I’m dying to taste more of you.” He placed you down with a grin, kissing your blushing cheek. You gathered your supplies, keeping the quill you made from his perfect feather. The two of you initiated the discharge process, the Wing Hero getting promptly released before the end of the day- thanks to you, just like you said.