ONESHOTS | Hawks x Reader | ホープフロー

Hero Gala | Villain Reader

Hawks stood at the entrance of the grand ballroom, a barely concealed sigh escaping his lips. 

The Hero Gala, a glamorous annual event where heroes of all ranks gathered to show their faces, network, and celebrate their victories over villainy. 

For most, it was a night of indulgence and prestige—yet to Hawks, it felt like a cage made of flashing lights, superficial smiles, and far too much attention.

Dressed in a sleek, tailored black suit, with his crimson wings resting majestically at his back, he knew he looked good. His sharp jawline, tousled blond hair, and those hawk-like amber eyes had already drawn plenty of stares. 

Admirers, fellow heroes, approached him one by one, their attempts at flirtation subtle but obvious. Yet, he politely turned them all away, wearing his usual relaxed smile.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the attention. But as the Number 2 Hero, he had a reputation to maintain. And it weighed heavier than his wings ever could.

Taking a sip of champagne, his eyes lazily scanned the grand room. He wasn't here for fun; these events weren't his style.

The glitz and glamour felt distant from his real passion—being out in the field, working at his own pace. Being the Number 2 hero came with expectations that constantly pulled him into the spotlight. 

Deep down, he wished he was ranked a little lower, where he could still do what he loved, quietly, without the constant pressure of being perfect.

His gaze swept across familiar faces: Endeavor with his commanding presence, Mirko's fierce energy, and a cluster of lesser-known heroes, laughing over drinks. As he absentmindedly scanned the crowd, his eyes suddenly stopped.

And his breath caught in his throat.

There, on the other side of the room, stood a woman he had never seen before. She was captivating, the kind of beauty that made time slow down. 

Her hair, the colour of h/c, shimmered under the soft lights of the ballroom, cascading gracefully over her shoulders. But it was her eyes—those striking e/c eyes—that made his heart skip a beat. They gleamed with a quiet confidence, with a spark of mystery he couldn't quite place.

She wore a deep red dress, bold and elegant, that hugged her figure in all the right places. A high slit revealed her legs in a way that was both graceful and alluring, and Hawks felt the unfamiliar sensation of his palms growing sweaty. He blinked a few times, but his gaze kept returning to her.

"She is so beautiful..." he muttered under his breath, barely aware of the words slipping out.

He didn't recognize her. And that bothered him.

 A woman like that—there was no way she could have gone unnoticed in the hero community. He was sure he would've remembered someone that stunning. 

Maybe she was a new hero, who recently arrived in town? Or perhaps someone from a lower rank, whose work hadn't yet drawn the media's attention?

He couldn't tear his eyes away, watching as she stood there, casually talking to another female hero, completely unaware of his captivated gaze.

"Oi, what are you staring at?" came a familiar voice beside him, breaking his reverie. 

Hawks blinked, pulling his attention away from her to face Best Jeanist, his sharp-eyed friend and fellow hero. Hawks cleared his throat and turned back to his drink, suddenly feeling exposed.

"Nothing," he replied, a little too quickly. "Just... thinking about something."

Best Jeanist raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. His eyes followed Hawks' previous line of sight, landing on the group of women standing across the room. Jeanist, ever the observant one, narrowed his gaze slightly.