A Wilted Red Rose (Hawks x Reader)

With Time

"Hawks, what's the meaning of this surprise appearance?" Mr. Compress posed as sharp, intimidating feathers sieged him in bundles, closing in on him after each passing moment.

"It wasn't your job to go after her." Hawks' tone was grave, as if the villain before him just made the biggest mistake of his life. "Who told you to make the move? Was it Dabi?" he demanded.

"Now, now. It was a collective decision, I assure you." Unfazed, the villain attempted to step forward a fraction of an inch, setting off the pro's hero instincts and triggered a defensive but hostile reaction out of caution. Angry red feathers pierced through his showman garment – as thin as pinpricks – before slamming him against the wall of the dimly lit dungeon-like corridor.

"What do you think you're doing-!"

"I was this close to earning her trust, Compress. And you almost blew it." Hawks wasted no time in his threatening interrogation as his piercing golden eyes dilated at the villain. The sturdy feather blade in his grip warned that he wasn't fooling around anymore. "What do you know about her, and what makes you think she'd listen to you? What are we even planning to do with her?"

"We?" The elegant criminal chuckled, his scornful expression concealed behind his mask. "I must remind you to remember your place – you are not officially in the League yet. You were tasked with something so simple as to fetch us an unsuspecting civilian, but you couldn't even do that. Not even at your 'trademark top speed,' hm? Unfortunately, we had no choice but to carry on with the show on your behalf."

In response, crimson feathers, as red as blood, darted to clutch Mr. Compress' necktie to draw him closer threateningly but without directly touching him as Hawks approached him with sheer intimidation in each step. "Clearly you weren't paying attention, so I'll gladly run it by you again – she is off limits. I'm the one recruiting her to the League."

"Is that so?" The villain made a show to scan around the room in an exaggerated manner. "I don't see her."

Hawks remained silent, choosing to glare at Mr. Compress with an unamused frown and furrowed, agitated brows.

"I want this alliance of ours to work, truthfully I do," the villain said with a hint of warmth behind his words. "We wouldn't want any more actions we may regret here. I beseech you – cease now, and we can forget about this brazen display of needless aggression, and move forward with our plans."

Hawks allowed a brief moment of respite to back off and inhale covertly, and to formulate how to transition back into his happy-go-lucky persona. "Sorry, man. I'll agree to that, but just one thing - do not approach her again – you'll ruin what I've been working on. Just let me handle this for the League, and stay away from her," he cautioned to the elegant villain, fooling him into believing he was going above and beyond for the League to make a good impression; though concealed deep within him was his true intention of his intrinsic need to protect you.

"Oh, cut the hero act." Another familiar voice permeated the mildew-laden corridor as a figure with tarnished skin and staples on their face paced behind the pair. "If you really plan on pledging to the League and meet the 'boss,' then you should be leaping on the opportunity to let them help out with the plan."

While positioned sideways, Hawks released the elongated blade as it hovered in place to allow both hands to slip into his jacket pockets, feigning a lowered guard. "Do you think this is a joke?" The stationary sword shifted in Mr. Compress's direction to point at him from a distance, all while still trapped against the hero's feathery confines. "Involving others was not part of the plan," Hawks' seething voice commanded with startling authority while his sharp eyes dug into Dabi's unfeeling ones.