The convention floor buzzed with excitement, but nothing compared to the way people turned when you and Judas walked in. You were Hawks—scarlet wings spread wide you and him hand made together, tinted shades perched on your nose. Beside you, Judas was Dabi in all his glory, stitched makeup perfectly blending with the dark clothes that clung to him like a second skin.

“Looks like we’re causing a scene,” you murmured, leaning closer so only he could hear.

Judas smirked, adjusting the fake staples along his jaw. “Good. That’s what villains do.”

Cameras clicked as fans rushed to ask for pictures. He slipped into character effortlessly, sneering at the crowd while you played Hawks to perfection, flashing cocky grins and throwing mock peace signs. Between shots, though, his hand found yours—hidden behind his coat sleeve, grounding you both in the chaos.

At one point, a group asked for a staged fight photo. You extended your wings dramatically, pointing at him with a teasing grin. Judas tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, rasping in Dabi’s low drawl: “You’re dead, feather-brain.” The crowd went wild