More Experimentation With Clip Studio

I'm caught up on dunmeshi!!

'' LONGING ,,

|| pairing: hawks x gn!reader / keigo takami x gn!reader

|| warnings: hurt/comfort, this is so self indulgent

|| word count: 0.8k

It had been around 2 weeks since Keigo left for his mission. He had told you that he was coming back in a week and a half. You were worried sick for him, pacing around your shared living room as you constantly checked your phone. Though, you knew Keigo wasn't allowed to use his phone on these missions, it'd be too much of a risk. Undercover missions, y'know?

It didn't make it easier, of course it didn't. When the two of you got married, you knew what you were signing up for. You knew that he'd be gone for weeks on end. That his hero work wouldn't be sympathetic towards your relationship.

He'd come home at late hours of the day, leave when daylight barely breaks. It was heart wrenching. And you didn't know what to do but worry. Ah, well, let's hope he'll be home by tomorrow. It was already 2 AM, if he was home he'd probably kill you if he knew you were up at that time. That damn hypocrite.

You changed into your pajama's, it was the matching set that Keigo INSISTED on getting. It was the stupid, childish pj's that had llama prints on the bottoms while the top had some cheesey llama pun. God, it was so stupid.

You climbed into bed, hiding underneath the fluffy comforter that Keigo had hated, yet you absolutely loved it. He claimed his wings were warm enough, which was true. But now that he was out, you needed the comforter. Yet all you could think of was the fact you wanted that stupid fucking bird man to wrap his arms and wings around you.

You closed your eyes, hugging your fluffy pillow, nuzzling your face into it. Pretending as if it was Keigo. God, what did that man do to you?

.

.

.

You had drifted to sleep, your dreams filled of nothing but a dark void as a small creak came from your balcony. Heavy boots against the smooth tile as Keigo made his way through the living room. He hadn't received terrible injuries, thankfully, only a few cuts and bruises, allowing him to fly home, quick and easy. He threw off his jacket on the couch and kicked his boots. He'll deal with your lecturing tomorrow.

Silently, Keigo made his way through the hall up to your shared bedroom. As much as he hated being in his hero costume, he desperately needed to cuddle with you in bed. He'll change in the morning. He needed his spouse.

He climbed into bed, pushing the comforter away and pushing your back flush against his chest. His wing over the both of you, acting as a blanket. Keigo let out a small sigh as he pushed his face into your hair, memorizing your smell. Oh, how he missed this.

"Kei?" Your voice felt like a whisper in the wind. Something that couldn't be heard even by the sharpest of ears.

"Shit, I'm sorry for waking you, baby" You turned to face him. A small smile on your face as you put your forehead against his own. Your hand reaching up to feel his scratchy stubble.

"Don't apologize for waking me up.."

"I'm sorry, love"

He placed a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips. A small smile spreading on his face when he did. How sweet you were, your lips as sweet as honey and as soft as a cloud that Keigo would fly in. Oh, how he would trade the skies to kiss you a million times over. He'd trade everything just to stay with you everyday.

"How was-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Keigo pushed his face into your hand, placing gentle kisses on your hands. "just wanna be with you.. Don't wanna think about-"

You placed another kiss on his lips, your eyes filled with love and affection as he looked over at you. What was he even talking about?

"It's okay, love," You reached over and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling him close, as if you were trying to meld yourself to him. "I'm glad you're home, I've missed you."

With a shakey breath, Keigo wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling into you as his grip on your shirt tightened. The days he would come home were always the best, yet also the worst. He could have prevented the hurt, the longing, if he had stayed home. If he had stayed with you.

"I missed you so much, my love, God.. All I thought about was you.." His voice was barely above a whisper as you hugged him. At these times, he acted as if you were a precious treasure that he desperately did not want to let go of. Well, you were a precious treasure. To him, at least. "I'll stay home tomorrow. I promise, my songbird, I promise, I-"

You pushed his face away from you, his face cupped between your hands as you gave a soft smile. "It's okay, Keigo.. I promise, I'm okay."

"I love you."

You let out a small chuckle.

"I love you too, Keigo"

|| chat idk wtf came over me but i was feeling sad and i wanted keigo SIGH!

Steampunk shigaraki has me twirling my hair and kicking my feet because who told him to look so mafia boss.

More sketchbook

The life series winners go on a super fun crazy awesome road trip in The Car

🙁🙁🙁 chaatttt i love dadzawa.

First post kinda nervous

Summary:

A reckless mistake. A sharp argument. “Stop acting like you’re my father!”—“I’m not your father.” But the words cut deep, and regret lingers.

At 3 AM, you slip an apology under Aizawa’s door, only to find him waiting. An invitation, a conversation, a long-buried fear laid bare. And when exhaustion takes over, you find yourself asleep in the arms of the one person who never left.

A Flower in the Dark

Before Aizawa, before U.A., before anything even close to a home, there was only survival.

You learned quickly that in this world, there were two kinds of people: those who had someone to catch them when they fell, and those who didn’t. You belonged to the second category.

Your parents were a hazy memory, faces blurred by time and neglect. Maybe they had cared once—maybe. But in the end, they had left, and that was all that mattered. The streets became your home. Hunger became your companion. And when a villain group took you in, offered you shelter, food, purpose—you took it without question.

Because what else was there?

They taught you how to fight, how to steal, how to survive. They shaped you into something sharp, something useful. And for a long time, you believed that was all you were meant to be. Until Aizawa caught you.

Until he saved you.

He pulled you from that life, dragging you kicking and screaming into U.A., into discipline, into care. But even now, even with a bed of your own, even with a future dangling just within reach, the past never truly left.

And tonight was proof of that. You messed up. Again.

It had started as something small—just slipping out of the dorms, just a quick little excursion, just testing the limits because you could. Because you hated the feeling of being caged.

Then things spiraled. A confrontation. A fight. A sharp piece of metal you hadn’t noticed until it was too late, leaving a gash across your arm. Blood, not much, but enough to make your head light.

And then—Aizawa.

He caught you, dragged you back, and now here you were, sitting on the edge of a desk in his office, watching his hands as they worked to clean your wound. His fingers were steady, careful, but his jaw was clenched.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer.

Aizawa let out a slow breath through his nose, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

He shot you a sharp look. “That’s not the point.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, wincing slightly at the sting in your injured one. “I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t.” His voice was clipped, frayed at the edges. “You act like you’re invincible, like no one else matters. Like you don’t matter.”

You scoffed. “Since when do I matter?”

Aizawa’s hands stilled.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He put down the bandages and met your eyes, his gaze unreadable. “Since the moment I took you in.”

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to breathe.

“You’re my student,” he continued, voice firm. “And whether you like it or not, I care about what happens to you.”

Your fists clenched. It was too much. Too close. The past whispered in your ears, ghosts of all the times someone pretended to care before disappearing.

“Stop acting like you’re my father!” The words ripped from your throat before you could stop them.

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not your father.”

“I know!” Your voice cracked, something raw bleeding through. “But do you know that?”

Aizawa didn’t say anything. And that silence—that unbearable, suffocating silence—was enough to make you bolt. You rushed out of the room.

You cried. Not loud, not dramatically, just silent, shuddering breaths curled up in your dorm room.

You didn’t know why it hurt so much. You knew Aizawa wasn’t your father. You knew that letting people in was dangerous. That caring meant giving them the power to leave.

But despite everything, despite every wall you built, you had started to care about him. And now, you had thrown that in his face. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeve, sniffing hard. This wasn’t enough. Just sitting here, wallowing, wasn’t enough.

You hesitated before grabbing your sketchbook. Your hands shook as you sketched, the lines uneven, a single flower blooming from the page. Beneath it, you scrawled the only words you could manage.

I’m sorry.

It was past 3 AM when you crept through the halls. The school was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that made your own footsteps sound too loud. The teachers’ dorms were further back, tucked away from the student housing. Aizawa’s door stood at the end of the hall, the nameplate barely visible in the dim light.

Your pulse was in your throat as you crouched, sliding the paper under the door. You turned to leave.

“(Y/N).”

You stopped dead.

Slowly, you turned back. The door was open, and Aizawa stood there, watching you with those tired, unreadable eyes.

“You’re awake?” Your voice was hoarse.

“I figured you’d come.”

You swallowed hard, throat thick. You weren’t sure what to say.

Aizawa stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t fight it.

You sat stiffly on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself. Aizawa sat across from you, silent as always, waiting.

You stared at the floor. “I don’t know why I said that.” Aizawa hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. You inhaled shakily. “I just… I don’t want to need anyone.”

“That’s not how it works.”

You clenched your jaw. “It has to be.”

“Why?”

Your nails dug into your arms. “Because people leave.” Aizawa was quiet for a long time. Then, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m still here.”

Your throat tightened. “For now.”, "No, for as long as you let me be." His voice was softer this time.

You blinked hard, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to figure it out alone.” The room was so quiet you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Slowly, cautiously, Aizawa reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. And for once, you didn’t pull away. Something in your chest cracked open, a slow, aching thing. And when exhaustion finally won over, your head dipped against his arm. Aizawa let you stay there, his hand still resting lightly on your shoulder. He was still awake long after you fell asleep.

And for the first time in years, you weren’t alone.

Hope you enjoyed reading this! ^•^

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STOP I LOOOOVEE DISTORTED REFLECTIONS GOLLLYYY

Ohh, Hawks x Hero Reader?

Distorted Reflections Hawks

haha. Oh you two are fucked up together. Not abusive or anything, but it's not very often Hawks can even get close enough with another hero to consider them his friend. Let alone his partner. And oh, finally, he found someone who knew just how messed up being a hero is.

It's not every day he can find someone that can actually keep up with him, running or flying at his side, keeping pace. It's not every day where he can flop down in the old rickety motel the Commission is forcing the two of you to stay at and tug you into him, giggling morbidly about all of the shit you two had to do.

Blood covered both of your hands, splattered over your bodies. But in Hawks' opinion? Red really suited you.

It's not a traditional relationship, filled with soft and sweet moments of romance and swooning. Yes, he's absolutely whipped. Yes, you're absolutely whipped. But it's much more... playful than anything.

Either of you could die at any moment. So it's fast-paced and passionate, playfully throwing taunts at each other on the battlefield only to patch each other up lately. Rivalry at its finest but still love. So much love.

Maybe one day the two of you will finally be able to slow down.

When the world's quieter, Hawks murmured to you once, staring off into the distance, his body still trembling from the memories he'd relived, when the world's quieter.

I see no difference

DESERT DUO MET UP PHOTO IM CRYING SO MUCH

THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO MEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭