Whoag Woeowoow

whoag woeowoow

Game of Flirts

Part 1

A/N: GUYYYYYS, I am GAGGED. I loved writing this so much, I'll be releasing all parts this week! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I have! I am a sucker for this man.

Hawks was always a smooth talker, he knew how to ruffle feathers and get reactions from people with his outlandish comments. He thought you would be no different, oh was he wrong. You were about to turn the tables on him.

Pro Hero Hawks x Pro Hero Reader

Keigo Takami—better known as Hawks, Japan’s Number Two Pro Hero—wasn’t used to losing.

He was fast, he was smart, and he was devastatingly charming.

At least, that’s what he thought—until he met you.

You, who had the audacity to turn his own game against him.

You, who lived to see him squirm.

You, who had him completely, utterly, hopelessly flustered.

And what was worse?

You knew it.

It had all started as a simple game.

Hawks was a natural flirt—it was effortless, second nature. And when you first started working together, he had assumed you’d be just like everyone else—blushing at his winks, stammering at his smooth lines, melting under his unmatched charisma.

Easy.

Or so he thought.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to flirt back.

And not just flirt back—but do it so much better than him.

It had started with small things—little counters to his usual routine.

Like the first time he had leaned against your desk with a cocky grin, wings flaring just slightly, and purred, “So, what’s a gorgeous hero like you doing in a stuffy old office like this?”

You hadn’t even blinked.

Instead, you had tilted your head, dragged your gaze slowly down his frame, and smirked.

“I dunno, Hawks,” you mused, voice smooth and dangerous. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing getting all up in my space?”

He had choked.

Actually choked.

And the worst part?

You had just laughed, patted his shoulder, and walked away like it was nothing.

And just like that, the game was on.

The next few weeks had been absolute hell.

Keigo had spent his entire life being smooth, being in control—but you had thrown him so off balance that he could barely function.

You turned every single one of his flirty comments into something ten times worse—flipping the script, making him the blushing mess instead of you.

Like the time he had purred in your ear during a mission briefing, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on you out there.”

And without missing a beat, you had turned to him, smirked, and purred right back, “I’d rather you keep your hands on me, handsome.”

He had malfunctioned completely, wings flaring wildly behind him as his brain short-circuited.

You had winked.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you had walked away, swaying your hips just to taunt him.

Keigo had actually had to take a lap around the building to cool off.

It was infuriating.

It was exhilarating.

It was driving him insane.

The worst part?

He knew exactly where this was headed.

Because this wasn’t just flirting anymore.

It was so much more than that.

It was the way you smiled at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

It was the way he watched you work, completely captivated by your focus.

It was the way his heart skipped a beat every single time you touched his arm, his shoulder—anywhere.

It was the way he ached for more.

And you knew.

Oh, you knew.

Because every time his breath hitched, every time his cheeks flushed, every time his wings twitched with pent-up frustration, you would just smirk—as if to say:

I got you again, bird boy.

And goddammit, you did.

Every.

Single.

Time.

One night, after a long day of flustering him to the brink of insanity, you were sitting on the agency rooftop together, enjoying the cool breeze.

Keigo let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his face. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You grinned, That usual grin that made his heart soar,leaning back on your hands. “That a promise?”

He groaned, tilting his head back. “Oh my god.”

You laughed, and god help him, he loved that sound.

After a beat, you nudged his knee with yours. “We both know where this is going, Hawks.”

Keigo inhaled sharply, wings tensing.

Because yeah.

Yeah, he knew.

He knew that you were meant to be his. That was inevitable.

But this—this flirty, teasing, ridiculous phase—was so much fun.

So instead of agreeing, instead of finally giving in, he just smirked, rolling his shoulders.

“Eh,” he said breezily. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

You laughed again, and this time, you leaned in, your face dangerously close to his, your lips just shy of touching his own. Finger placed under his chin.

He stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hawks,” you murmured, voice low and syrupy sweet. “We both know I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

His entire body erupted in flames.

And then, with a wink, you pulled back, stretched, and stood up.

“See ya tomorrow, bird boy,” you called over your shoulder.

And Keigo Takami, Number Two Pro Hero, untouchable flirt, smooth talker extraordinaire, sat there speechless, his wings flared behind him, his body on fire with frustration, his entire soul screaming for you.

He groaned, falling back against the rooftop with a dramatic sigh.He was so, so screwed.