A Wilted Red Rose (Hawks x Reader)

A Dying Rose Still Has Thorns

Not even a cricket stirred the foreboding silence of the shoddy, run down street on the far side of the city of Fukuoka. The sound of despondent feet shuffling against broken concrete as well as the faint buzzing from a nearby flickering streetlight was the only other noise willing to accompany you on your late-night trek alone.

Going out was an inevitable necessity in life. Though if possible, you would stay in and seclude yourself away from the world for the rest of your life. Nobody would even know you existed.

That'd be a dream come true, you thought.

Unfortunately the technology wasn't here yet for you to be able to pull that off, and you still had to eat, so you found yourself taking the long path to the store to pick up heaps of supplies to stockpile so you wouldn't have to leave the comfort of your home for the next 100 years or so. Taking the long route was rather inconvenient, but you preferred it. The shorter path was more suitable for criminal activity anyway. Not to mention, you wanted to kill some time since your neighbors, who had just graduated from U.A. High, were outside your home all day and night, being loud and obnoxious by practicing their upcoming hero work and perfecting their Quirks. Bleugh. Lucky them.

You would never admit it, but you were secretly envious of those who had the privilege to study at U.A. to obtain their hero license. Just like any kid, becoming a hero was a dream you embraced during the throes of youth as well.

At least... until the accident.

Whatever. Some are naturally cut out for hero work. Others, like yourself, not so much.

The shop was within your sight a short distance away – you always made sure to head over mere moments before locking their doors for the night, to avoid the most amount of people possible. You didn't want them to know of your existence. It was for the best that way.

"Ah! Stop!" A petite voice called out from the nearby alleyway as you passed by it.

Your steps ceased immediately at the scene.

Of course, you mused in contempt. A lady getting mugged.

In this part of the city late at night? It was bound to happen, you knew. Though with your stupid tendency to disregard your own safety and travel at night, you were honestly surprised that it wasn't you in her place.

The villain was a run-of-the-mill thug with scaly-blue skin. He had one craggy hand plastered against the wall behind the woman, with sharp claws raised to her neck.

Uh, at least I hope she's just getting mugged.

The situation may have been more serious than you thought, and your heart began racing over the different opportunities you had to choose from at this very moment. Conflict overtook your mind over what your next move should be.

She needs help... maybe I should step in-

No. A hero will pop in and save the day like they always do.

...

But what if they don't this time?

Enough, (y/n). It's illegal for me to step in and help without a hero license anyway.

You began to walk away, pretending to be blind to the situation.

"HELP!!!"

At that, your feet froze again, completely immobile and unwilling to cooperate. The pounding in your head from your heart racing at an unusually fast pace blocked all other sensations. Your mind screamed at you to do one thing.

Save her.

The woman trembled while desperately handing the villain her purse.

"Got any more?" he hissed while a grotesquely pointed tongue lapped once at her cheek.