Feathers and Flame // Dabi x Reader x Hawks

53: To The End, Whatever It May Be

"My wings might never grow back."

Hawks' fingers had stilled from tracing languid circles on your bare hip.

Streams of morning sunlight bled through gaps in the curtains to cast his skin in a golden glow, illuminating the slight furrow in his brow as he watched you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, tucking yourself a little closer into his side.

"The prosthetics," he explained, "they might stunt further growth—but I need them if I want to be able to fly when we face this."

This. That inevitable battle that could destroy everything you so dearly cherished. It terrified you. Though you'd faced foes and uncertain ends before, you had never been so scared of it. Maybe this was the first time you had something to lose. And yet, you wouldn't run; it brought fear to your bones, but also fire to your heart.

Still, you entertained the thoughts of just staying right there, wrapped in Hawks' arms and beneath a heavy blanket. The world seemed so inconsequential when you were with him. If you buried yourself deeper into the nest of pillows and duvets, you could pretend it didn't exist at all.

You could, but you wouldn't.

"What will you do?" you asked as you reached out to brush a stray wave of hair from his forehead. He softened beneath your touch.

"Whatever I have to do."

You frowned. "Even if it means you'll lose your wings?"

Hawks smiled, gently squeezing your hip as he pulled you closer. "These wings have been a gift, but also a burden. When this is over, I'll have given enough." His smile turned roguish. "Besides, I have everything I could want right here."

A blush stained your cheeks. You would never get used to it. Not really. "Shameless flirt."

Hawks smirked as he leaned in to kiss you. His wicked tongue slipped past your lips when you gasped in response to his fingers skating over your thighs. He was electrifying.

He pulled back, still smirking. "That's why you love me, isn't it?"

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "One reason."

Hawks pulled himself from the bed, ignoring how you whined and protested every movement. He threw on his grey sweatpants and tossed you one of his t-shirts. "Come on," he said. "I know you're hungry."

You pouted as you tugged on his shirt. It was black in colour and smelled just like him. You flopped back into the blankets almost immediately.

"For someone who spent her life in training, you are surprisingly lazy," Hawks said, kneeling on the bed to scoop you up and into his arms. You let yourself go limp and boneless.

"I'm full of contradictions."

Hawks laughed as he started towards the kitchen. "I know."

"And why would I bother to stand on my own when you can just carry me?" you asked, gazing up at him. "This is far more enjoyable."

The rumble of his amusement skittered through you. "Valid point." Hawks deposited you on the kitchen island. "Now, are you ready for this?"

You watched as he dug through various cupboards and drawers. "And what is this exactly?"

"I make a mean waffle."

You couldn't quite stifle your laugh. "Oh, I bet it's absolutely wicked."

He shot you a look over his shoulder as he continued to dig, placing various ingredients on the counter beside you, one by one. The final element to make it next to you was the waffle maker itself.