Rolling over in bed, I let out a loud groan. Bottles and cans from last night crash to the floor, no doubt spreading glass everywhere. “Great.” I murmur to myself. Blindly, I pat around on the bed trying to find my phone. No luck. It’s gotta be here somewhere.
I pull myself up, resting my back against the headboard of my bed. Subconsciously, I run a hand through my tangled hair and look around for my phone. Not surprisingly, I find it on the floor next to and half under my bed. Leaning over the edge of my bed, I grab the small device and check the time.
8:19 pm.
Dang. Early morning to me. Harshly, I rub my eyes and check over my notifications. Nothing of interest. Tossing my phone back onto my bed, I debate laying back down in the warm nest of blankets. I close my eyes, willing myself back to sleep, but before I can fall out of our world and into the world of dreams, I am reminded that I have work today. Lovely.
Tossing the rest of my blankets aside, I get up. My feet touch the cold wooden floor and I hoist myself up. Once I'm up, I make my way over to the tiny kitchen in my pathetic one room apartment. I always thought I would live in a lavish mansion, like the one I grew up in, but sadly the world is not that nice.
Everyone wants to play hero, to be the best, but I….I don’t give a **** about any of that. I’m not here to win, to be the best. I’m here to remind my father of the life he hides, the life and family he pretends never existed.
Padding across the floor, I stop in the kitchen. My kitchen is small and takes up the majority of a wall. The counter space is limited and half covered in dirty dishes, the sink sits in the middle of the counters and dishes stack up in it all the way to the cabinets above. I don’t have a stove or real fridge, so I have to settle for a microwave and mini fridge. When I was little I lived the good life, got everything I wanted, had people to cook and clean for me, but that all changed and now there’s no one but me to take care of the messes.
I pour myself a glass of cold water and chug it down, trying to relieve myself of today’s nauseating hangover. If my sister were here, I'm sure she’d have some comment about how I inherited dad’s drinking problem. She loves to start fights and compare me to our father. She also loves to send me texts reminding me how smart she is and how she gets to travel the world. Sometimes she even sends me photos of all the beautiful things she sees on her trips.
Sadly, this behavior doesn’t surprise me coming from her. She’s always been the smart child. The chosen hero. The one with a bright future. The one father wanted to train and help strengthen her quirk. I was merely the other one. Yet here we are now, Lady Death and just the daughter who decided to tour the world, instead of joining hero school.
Grabbing my broom, I walk back over to my bed. My bed is really just a pull out couch mattress in the middle of the room, but I tend to leave it in its sprawled out bed form, rather than turning it into a couch everyday. A gust of wind comes through the window momentarily distracting me from the task at hand, I shiver and turn around, roughly using the broom stick to close the window. It closes with a loud THUMP sound. I let out a small yawn and begin to sweep up the broken glass. A couple beer cans roll out of the way, finding a new home under my bed. It’s probably a good thing I don’t get many guests.
I finish cleaning up the glass and get ready for work. Although being one of Japan’s most renown villains has its perks, money and a comfortable life aren’t normally some of them. That’s why I picked up a night shift bartending at one of the most outrageous bars there is in this town. Westend Bar. One of the flashiest and dirtiest bars around. We get everything from drunk pervs to the top heros on occasions.
After quickly digging through my half dirty half clean pile of clothes, I pick out a black mini dress and red pumps to show off my figure for the night. Some nights I go in a t-shirt and baggy jeans, but this week I really need the extra money for rent. I give the dress a quick smell test to make sure it doesn’t reek, before throwing it on. Once it’s on a douse myself in perfume to cover any bad scent lingering on my body and quickly apply some makeup to cover my dark eyebags and make me look actually alive. “Gosh, I really need to fix my sleep schedule.” I mumble to myself.
I grab myself a quick snack for the trip and shove my feet in my heels. Bam. Ready to go and I don’t look half bad. Slipping my glasses on and grabbing my phone on the way, I head for the door. I let the door slam behind me, not bothering to lock it. Who’s gonna try and rob this dump anyway? And like I would any other work night, I make my way to Westend.
It’s late enough that most people are off of work and home for the night. The breeze has started to pick up and lights everywhere are on, illuminating the streets like little stars. The sun has almost completely set and most of the people out and about still, are shopping or eating a late dinner.
With every step I take, my heels click on the pavement. Most people hear me coming and get out of my way. I’m sure I just look like some cheap hooker to them, but walking to work is way cheaper than getting a cab, even if it does kill my feet. Pursing my lips, I speed walk the rest of the way, taking shortcuts through the back roads and dark alleys. I’m sure most people would be too scared to take some of the allies, but I guess when you’re typically the one people fear in allies, you stop being scared of them. Besides, my glasses--although they do help hide my identity--are mainly used to detect threats. I created them with lenses and connected them to the governments watch list with the help from one of my hacker friends, so now whenever I look at someone if they have a criminal background it shows me their info on my glasses along with how much of a threat they seem to be now. A few other people come up on the lenses too, like heroes, but on a normal day to day, I don’t get many hits and my glasses stay, well, normal for me I guess.
I go in the back exit of Westend Bar and am met with my boss’s grumpy face. Mr. Hanson stares at me with a slight glare, a cigarette wedged between his teeth. He’s the kind of man you can look at and see how he might have been an attractive man at some point in his life, but smoking and age did him in for. Brock is a rather round man, with a body to kill and a bald head to match his bad personality. Personally, I don’t think he likes me very much. I think he only keeps me around, because nobody else wants the job. “Hey.” I greet, putting on my best fake smile.
He only grunts in response and moves out of my way. His greasy palms rest on the counter in front of him, but he doesn’t take his gaze off me. I hurry to clock in and leave the back kitchen. The back kitchen is the kinda place mold likes to grow. It’s grimy and gross. I’m glad we stopped offering food back when a kitchen fire broke out.
I make my way out to the main bar. Tonight’s crowd is a decent size. Plenty of men playing pool and sitting at the bar to rack in some good tips tonight. “Hey!” I walk behind the bar, greeting Midge. Midge is the prettiest of any blonde girl I've ever met and like me she works here, bartending most nights. Unlike me, however, her day time hobbies include a constant string of wealthy men and daddy issues. That being said, she’s probably the closest friend I have.
“Hey girl.” She greets me, absentmindedly running her long pointy nails over the counter. A new guy sits at the bar and she makes quick work of taking up his order.
I grab the spare apron and tie it around my waist. Before I can turn around and face the bar again, I already have Midge nudging my shoulder. “Hey look,” She whispers. I look at her and follow the direction she’s looking. Just entering the bar is a familiar face.
Hawks…
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It's been so long since I've written fanfiction that this just feels wrong. 😂
But I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Like and comment if you enjoyed it. I'm still coming up with an updating schedule, but I'll do my best!
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Tinderella -Hawks (A mha fanfic)
FanfictionLady Death. Even her name screamed danger. Everyone in Japan seemed to know the name, but no one knew the real her. The her under all the chaos and evil. The normal 19 year old girl. So what happens when she finds herself on tinder matching with the...