On the Record (Hawks x Reader x Dabi)

Panic

Darkness enveloped your vision. Your body felt peaceful and relaxed, in your dreamless state. You could feel your even breathing. The plushness of the pillows and the soft blanket you were underneath. Unpleasant thoughts were pushed away. All there was peace.

Until someone hit you with a pillow. Your eyes snap open in irritation. You looked up to see your laptop screen dark and open. You must've fallen asleep while writing. You then turn your body to see Hawks. Hawks was sporting a black tank top, exposing his lean muscular arms and some grey sweatpants. You could see some bags under his amber eyes. You stretched out before slapping your hands on your knees dramatically.

"That's a rude way to wake someone up," you muttered. Hawks held another pillow next to him, giving you a slight threat that he was willing to do it again. His thin pink lips formed into a line, clearly unamused at your figure.

"Time to go," he stated. Your eyes widen as your eyebrows furrow. You understood that he did give you protection by sheltering you in his own home. You look down at your almost dead phone to see it was 6:00 a.m. You suppressed a whine seeing the time. You had only gotten two hours of sleep. You got up, letting the blankets slide down your figure.

"Chop. Chop. I got work to do," Hawks announced, gathering your belongings. You glared at him and tried to snatch his hand away from your things. He was too quick though. You cursed under your breath. Hawks was probably forcing you out in fear of the media. The last thing he or you needed was rumors of an affair. It would probably ruin your reputation as a journalist. You try to tame your wild hair, even though this wasn't a 'walk of shame' you didn't want implications of one.

Hawks handed you your satchel. He placed a hand on your back and started to gently push you forward. Another fake closed-eye smile was on his face. You noticed he'd do that a lot. Your leather satchel did feel a lot lighter though. You turned your head to see your laptop on the coffee table.

"Hey wait i forgot my laptop!" you shouted. Hawks ignored you and opened the door, revealing a long hallway. At the end of it, was an elevator. You tried to push your way back in, but Hawks guarded the door. He crossed his arms, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Bye-bye kid. Get home safe. I'll be in contact with you soon," he said. He began to close the door. You quickly put your shoe to stop the door from closing. Hawks narrowed his own eyes at you in irritation. That laptop was your lifeline. You needed it for your job. All your information, interview minutes, background research, documents, and stories were on there. Leaving without it would be a disaster, especially if Hawks does something to it.

"I need my laptop back," you announced. Hawks sighed. A single vermilion feather flew between the cracks and suddenly pushed your head away. In shock, you backed up. You weren't expecting the feather to be so heavy. With one more smirk, Hawks waved and closed the door. You stood there in shock before letting out a frustrated scream. The last thing you wanted to do was tell your boss the Number 2 Hero stole your laptop. No one would believe you. In anger, you kicked his door, causing some marks to appear. That was going to be your revenge for now. You needed to get home, take a shower, and relax. You had work in a couple of days, but still needed to recover from anything.

Bitterly, you left Hawks' penthouse.

The trip back to your small house was calm. The trains were still bustling with people. The walk was also relatively calm. You took out your keys and entered it into the lock. With a small twist, you opened the door.

Your house was dark, you didn't open the blinds last night. Your hands graze the light switch, and light enveloped the room—making your heart drop. Your house was in shambles. Your living room had been ransacked. Your small television was broken, shards of glass covered the broken coffee table and the burned sofa. Your kitchen was no better. All the cabinets were open, including the fridge. The spoiled food let off a rotted aroma around the area. Glass was also everywhere on the floor from broken cups, and mugs. You leaned you back against the wall in shock.

If you had gone home last night, you might've appeared as broken as your home. You felt your temperature rise. Your breath was increasing by the second. You were panicking. Tears pricked at your eyes.

"I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I'm okay," you repeated to yourself over and over again. You place a hand on your pounding heart. You needed to calm down. Maybe afterward you could head to the police station. You needed a safe place to stay though. Your home was out of the question. Somehow, the figure Hawks clearly knew easily found your address.

You didn't want to see what else he was capable of.

You grabbed your phone to try and document the state of your home but saw you were at 1 percent. A curse escaped your lips. Your phone needed to be charged and you still needed to stay in contact with everyone. A part of you wished Hawks had given you his number.

"Shit, my chargers in my bedroom..." you muttered. You grab a piece of glass to arm yourself and cautiously went towards your bedroom. Although no one seemed to be in your home, you could always be wrong. You had to be cautious or you risked losing your life. Tears cascaded down your face. You could hear yourself breathing.

"Calm down. Calm down," you kept telling yourself. You walked into your room, to find it also a mess. Your bed was charred and drawers were open. Clothes were scattered throughout the room. Your eyes focused on the charger in its socket. You quickly went over to it, crouched down, and unplugged it. Charging your phone here is too risky, you just needed to get out of here.

"Aw, doll why are you crying when the fun's about to start," a deep-voice teasingly asked from behind you. Your eyes widen. Fear and adrenaline caused your body to shake. You shouldn't have left Hawks' place. You should have begged him. You're an idiot. You're an idiot.

You slowly turn your head to see the owner of the voice. He had raven hair. Parts of his skin were burned, scarred, and a purple-ish hue. That skin was attached to his seemingly healthy pale skin by surgical stables. His turquoise orbs reminded you of the cruel sea. His lips lifted up forming a murderous smirk.

"I got a few questions to ask you, Miss Journalist."