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sweet-honey-tears · 2 years

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🪶Nice to Meet You☕️

Hawks x GN!Reader - FLUFF

How did you and Hawks meet?

PLEASE READ: Story does talk about how the five sense (touch,taste,sight,smell, hearing) can be over stimulating. I by no means mean to offend or anger anybody if I inaccurately represent this. I’m not to well informed of this subject so I’m always open to learning more if anyone wants to reach out🤍

Sasha is not a actual character FWI- don’t wanna confuse anyone

Readers Quirk: Sensory- Subjects five sense (touch,taste,sight,smell, hearing) are enhanced. One’s sense are always slightly enhanced, but subject can choose which one. In moments of intense stress, all sense could possibly be at peak performance due to the flight or fight response within the human body.

Warning: Swearing, Slightly subjective themes but only in one line.

He met you at one of those 24 coffee shops. This one was a smaller business one though, with only a few people working at a time.

Working at 3 am did wonders for your mind, so you honestly didn’t even think anything of it when a man dressed in a black hoodie(hood up) with a pair of red wings walked in. His fingers made quick work to pull his hood down and comb through blonde hair. A medical mask on.

“Hi welcome to CaffineLine, what can I get for you tonight.” You had smiled sweetly, your voice light. When your iris caught golden ones, you hummed quietly to yourself. You couldn’t deny it, the man was rather handsome. With tan skin and warm honey hair. But this job has taught you a lot about people. Looks be damned, people can be awful and you’re not about to be creepily-flirted with or threatened.

The man chuckled a bit at your sleepy welcome. “Late night, huh?” He questioned.

“You have no idea.” You smiled, palms pressing into the counter. So far so good, seems like another friendly customer. “But hey, I get discounted coffee so it helps.” You smiled, pushing off slightly.

“Oh? Do you have a favorite you’d recommend?” The man smiled, giving you a rather handsome grin. ( he found it funny, you still had not recognized him. I mean the store even had a drink named after him- after a couple of popular heroes)

You hummed lowly, thinking over certain options. “I the Chickadee”

“The Chickadee? What’s in that?”

“Oh, it’s like a spring drink.” You say before continuing after a pause. “Which tells you nothing about it.” You laugh lightly, putting a hand on your forehead.

“No no, it’s fine. It’s late, I'm not blaming you- I can barely remember where I parked right now.” A joke, considering his wings but it seemed to go over your head.

“ So it's kinda like a chocolate, coconut, caramel iced coffee with added whip cream if you want.”

“Sounds good I’ll take that”

“Alrighty! Can I have a name for the cup- ah I don’t need that.” You laughed a bit, realizing it was only him. No one would accidentally grab his drink.

“No, it’s fine, my name is Hawks.”

“Alrighty” you scribbled his name on the cup.

Hawks watched you dance around, getting his drink ready. “If you don’t mind me asking, where’d the name come from?”

“Ah well, I actually came up with the name Chickadee.” You beamed over your shoulder. “I thought it sounded really cute and the drink is popular around little kids since it tastes like a Girl Scout cookie.” He watched you top it with whip cream and caramel. “And because it’s bird related, kids relate it to the pro hero Hawks- and can be persuaded to get this one instead of that one.” You gestured your head to the hero list of drinks. The ‘HAWKS’ one in bright red lettering.

“Why persuade them?”

“It has Red Bull in it, so I try to steer really little kids to our Chickadee. Less trouble on the parents” You joked cheerfully, handing him his drink. In that split transaction, he watched it click. The way your eyes so slightly widened, as you took in his face and wings. Your mouth opens slightly, before turning upwards into that smile you had when he first walked in. “The wings really should have given it away, huh”

“They usually do, but I appreciate the normal interaction.”

“Well, I try.” You smiled, hands back on the counter. “That’ll be 3.46.”

Hawks smiled a real bright one. No special treatment. He handed you a ten and stuffed a twenty in the tip jar.

“See you around Chickadee,” he said, lifting his drink as a goodbye salute before taking a sip. “Wow, that is good.” He whispered leaving.

->-----////-----<-

“Hey there Chickadee”

“Hi, there Big Bird”

Hawks paused for a moment before snorting, “Big Bird?”

You shrugged and smiled at him, “Seems fitting but I don’t think it’ll stick” you teased.

“Hm, maybe not.” He hummed, walking up to the counter. He was in a black leather jacket, his medical mask hanging off his ear.

“How was patrol?” You asked, moving around the small kitchen to warm up a sandwich.

“I mean I talked with the angriest kid alive”

“I saw that.” You gestured to the TV in the corner. “ A little gremlin isn't he?” you joked. It’s caused Hawks to chuckle slight. You Put both a warm sandwich and a steaming drink in front of him.

“New?”

“Yeah, steamed milk with cinnamon and cardamom. The owner's son came up with it. The sweetest little boy I’ve ever met.” You smiled.

Hawk's face flushed slightly at the sweet look on your face.

“Sounds great.”

->-----////-----<-

“Hey Chickadee, are your socks on inside out,” Hawks questioned. He was sitting across from you behind the counter. His feathers moved around, maneuvering to help you pick-up. Since you refused to have him actually help you- but that doesn’t stop his feathers.

You paused, the rag in your hand stilled as you looked down at your feet. Your work shoes were stained with coffee and whatever else.

“Yeah, they are. My quirk is Sensory.” You turn to him, giving a sad smile “It means my five senses are enhanced and it’s sometimes-.” He watches that smile drop slightly, your eyes back on your feet. He can see you wiggle your toes, and the cringe on your face. “-can be overstimulating,” There was a moment of silence, Hawks searching for the right words to say. “But, I mean I can have super smell and sight, so that’s cool. But on days like this, I just go with touch or taste. It’s easier than overwhelming coffee, or ringing from doors.” You rocked back and forth on your heels before you picked the rag back up.

->-----////-----<-

“Ack!” Your ice drink fell on the counter, the bright colors spilling over. The dried fruits and berries made a rather artistic mess over the space. Your hands covered your mouth as you ducked your head, shaking it back a forth. Tears welled in your eyes. Hawks, who had been on the other side of the counter moving the chair back into place, hopped over instantly. Sensing there was no coffee burn- I mean your drink had ice in it. His wing propelled him over, almost wrapping around you.

“Chickadee, are you okay?” His tone was filled with worry, golden iris scanning you.

->-----/After/-----<-

“So you had a sensory overload with your taste?”

“Y-yeah. And it was one of our newer drinks too.” You chuckled lightly. The sour taste and acid feeling still lingered heavily on your tongue. “It can sometimes be a hard to control what sense is getting a little boost.” You smiled slightly, almost soundly. “When I was younger, I even had quirk canceling stuff.” You laughed a bit.

->-----////-----<-

“Breaking news, CaffineLine is currently being held-”

->-----////-----<-

Your heart was in your throat as one of the men laid waste to a table. Your eyes watered from the intense heat coming from the melting metals and wood. These men weren’t known villains, not like the league, but that didn’t stop them from being dangerous.

“Where the fuck is he!” The same man yelled, you watched his bright orange iris glow as his palms started to turn red.

“Well, no one will be able to hear him if you keep destroying shit, Carter!” The other man yelled. You could feel the floor almost move like someone caused a ripple in the water. Your breath caught in your throat, and the vibration shot up your hands and arms, through your bones.

Your lungs contracted as you pushed your body closer to the counter you were behind. They were looking for someone. They didn’t want the money in the register or tip jar. They wanted ‘him’

“Are you even sure he’s even coming?”

“Yeah, he’s been spotted here over the last year.” You stared at your hands, the feeling of the cold tile grounding you. Your chest rose and fell in a quick motion. Too much! Too much was happening! They saw him come here all those times. They saw Hawks here- they want Hawks!

Every sense you had seemed to be shaking, grabbing onto anything it could. Your vision seemed to quake from the intensity of zoning in and out, seeing each line in your fingers and nails. The cold tiles worked through skin and bone, and every piece of clothing you wore made you want to scream at the feeling. The smell of coffee beans became an acidic poison making your eyes water. Then the sound, every scared heartbeat, and breath, every whimper from a child and hush from an adult. Then the light sound of wings.

“Ya know, you’ll have to pay for everything you touch.”

The calm voice caused your shoulders to slump, and your breath to be still. You shuffled to the edge of the counter, the scratch of clothes becoming almost painful but you needed to see him. You peered over to see him. Red wings splayed out and a cocky smile upon his lip. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, almost hearing the sound of tensing muscles. Sunny eyes scanned the room, likely taking in the civilians present. Till they landed on you, they stayed, lingering. Hawks watched the shaky-ness your eyes held. How your pupils dilated. His eyes flickered back to the man in front of him.

“You finally arrived!” The man with orange eyes yelled. His hand trailed another table, and a bit of fire spewed in chaotic lines. “Now we can have real fun!” The sound and smell of burning caused you to cringe back.

“Geeze, I already have one fire gremlin to deal with.” He heard you snort as he used your line, “I swear, it’s like I attract the hot ones.” Hawks quipped. His voice was flirtatious as he winked at the man. The sound of your laughter caused his shoulders to drop, and his muscles to loosen. It causes your sense to dull a bit, the tones of his voice bringing you a bit from your cliff. But it also caused anger. Your happy laugh caught the attention of the other man.

“You think this is funny, huh?” He questioned, walking towards you. His voice was calm. Like he was talking to a scared animal.

“Hey now, let's leave them out of this-“

“Would you shut it!” The fire spread through the tables, trailing to the ground near your fellow civilians. Hawks lunged in the direction, his wings giving a strong flap to put it out. to his surprise the fire did go out.

“I see” the man approaching spoke. “You must be the one he keeps coming to see every night” The ground under you rumbled and growled. Your body almost became limp from the intensity of the vibration. Your eyes caught on to flashing red wings, watching them sling sharp red daggers at the other man. You clawed at the tile floor to try and drag yourself away, but couldn’t.

You felt a tug on your shirt collar, being hoisted up to the man's chest and held there. His hand rested on your chest. “You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear. The sound sent a cry from your lips that caught Hawks's attention, an unconscious man now hung from his hand. His feather shot up, dancing in the air in his head-

“I wouldn’t or I’ll liquidate their organs and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Hawks stilled, his eyes scanning around again before landing on possibly you. His feathers sweep back into his wings. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. They're cute, huh? I can see why you kept coming here.” The man jarred, sending a light vibration through your body. But your quirk, the stress, and the fear caused it to amplify. It was like someone shook you with every ounce of strength they had- trying to pull a sound from a broken maraca. You cried out, gasping for air as tears trailed down your cheeks. The action causes the man holding you to tighten his grip. “Fuck they’re loud. Though-.” You watched his face morph into a smirk through tear-laced eyelashes “is that why you like them?”

Hawk's face tightened at the comment, but his eyes gazed past the man’s shoulder.

“You know, if you want their number, you should just ask.” A woman’s voice spoke from behind. The man gazed back. But you sensed something coming, the feeling of the atmosphere changed ever so slightly. “It’s impolite to just grab.”

At that moment you felt it. You felt every muscle in the man’s body shakes with such intensity you wondered if he used his quirk on himself. You heard his heart start racing. You saw the airy vines of purple loop themselves around your hands and arms, avoiding your skin and clothes with precise care.

“Yeah…what she said.” Hawks quietly spoke as he rather quickly walked to you. He carefully prided you away from the man, pushing you to his side a little too closely to be some random civilian. His Carmen wings wrapped around you, as almost a slight shield.

->-----////-----<-

Your body shook, and ripples of shivers seemed to cascade down your limbs. Your fingers pulled tight on the blanket around your shoulders, your back leaned against the ambulance. The EMTS had already given you the go-ahead to leave if you preferred but didn’t push. Other shaken civilians need to be checked. Some had burns from the intense heat of the melted table.

“How are you, Chickadee?” Hawks stood in front of you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His cherry eyes glided over your hunched form, watching you ever so slightly loosen your grip on the blanket.

“Shaken, but I’m okay. Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay? I saw you fighting the other guy. Are you okay?”

“Heh, I’m an okay kid. Worry about yourself right now, okay?” Hawks spoke with a smile yet his eyes scanned the world around you.

It was a bit chaotic, at least to your standards. Cop cars and ambulances were only a touch away. People were getting interviewed and questioned, some by cops, others by the media. You could see flashes from the cameras in the distance, the photos likely going to reach the news for the pure fact Hawks arrived on the scene. The bright lights seemed too intense, almost unnecessary. Why take photos like this? When people felt vulnerable? It seemed cruel.

“Hey Chickadee,” your eyes shot back to Hawks, his slight movement forward catching you off guard. His voice also seemed different, a little quieter and deeper.

“Yes?” You scooted yourself forward a bit, ensuring the conversation would stay between just the two of you.

“Listen, you can say no and nothing will change, okay?”

“Okay” Your chest seemed to tighten, like a weight laid on it almost. But you hoped, almost praying he would ask you what you hoped.

“Would you like to get lunch sometime? “

“Yes.” Your answer came out faster than you wanted, but your voice was still very soft as an after-effect. In theory, your voice would have come out a lot louder, more chipper. Your cheeks heated up at your eagerness and Hawks laughed. The smile stretched his face at your reaction.

->-----////-----<-

Extra Part of the story: a bit angsty

“You finally ask them?”

“When did you get so interested in my love life?” Keigo joked. He wanted a second for the other hero to catch up.

“When you started looking happier. And acting like a teenage boy.” Keigo glanced at her, taking in Sasha’s appearance. He knew she was being serious, but trying to give him an out in the case.

“Yeah…”

“I won’t tell them, Hawks. I know the commission doesn’t want you dating” Hawks didn’t respond. “But you also know the Wings isn't legal,” She chuckled lightly, causing Hawks to smile a bit.

“How are they by the way?”

“They're good, pains died down a bit.”

“That’s good to hear, I wouldn’t mind flying with them again. If they can keep up that is.” Hawks felt a playful shove to his arm, responding by slapping her with his wings.

Sasha shook her head, smiling before both his and her phones went off. Pictures already appeared of the incident that had just happened.

Hawks Come to The Rescue!

Hawks Appears-

Hawks Saves-

Hawks-

Hero Hawks and Shiver-

A photo of the area showed you in the background. You appeared hunched, the camera lights getting outlines of your face. It was a small thing, something most people wouldn’t even notice. But both Keigo and Sasha did.

“I won’t tell them, Hawks,” Sasha spoke more sternly, her fingers clutching her phone, her thumb swiping up to exit the article. Hawks caught a glimpse of her Home Screen. A younger Sasha and Wings hanging on each other. It was before they broke Wings’ wings. “They don’t deserve it.”

“Neither did Wings.”

“Yeah… neither did Wings.”

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hawkezone · 1 year

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THE SEAT OF POWER

In the wake of Fen'Harel's escape, former Inquisitor Angus Trevelyan handles his transition from being Ostwick's most finicky and least eligible bachelor to being on the arm of Minrathous's finest; while juggling the beginnings of an elven rebellion. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, Part One.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2] [3] [4]

♕

Chapter One: The Sun Shines In Winter

Lord Angus Trevelyan was a man of particular tastes, though he tried rather hard not to let those tastes betray him. His quarters, however, at Skyhold, the bustling castle to which he called home, were a matter entirely different: Here, where he need not worry about bolstering the Inquisition by seeming brave and inapproachable at all times, he had allowed for the most - in his esteem - ludicrous of vices; brandies from Antiva, fine furnishings from Val Royeaux, bespoke window fittings by Orzammar artisans featuring delicate, yet carefully provocative, inscriptions of the Inquisition in charming red and white; the centerpiece of his quarters was a massive, canopied bed with seizable wings in the Orlesian style, atop which sat a golden mask which, in Lord Trevelyan’s opinion, leered at him a little bit too much when he sat down to write his letters.

Next to his respite was a solidly stuffed white nug-leather couch, upon which the object of his affections, the rebellious Tevinter mage Dorian Pavus, sat in a position of agonizing repose, loudly and dramatically flipping through a missive that the spymaster, Leliana, had placed in Lord Trevelyan’s trust earlier that evening.

“‘The amorous tale of a guard-captain and her stalwart love, standing together against crime - with crimes of passion’?” Dorian read aloud, in a sing-song, mocking voice. “Varric’s really outdone himself with this one. The back copy writes itself. Which, evidently, is a testament to how predictable he’s become.”

“Predictable?” laughed Angus, with a bit of a snicker. “Varric’s tales are anything but predictable. Tell me you saw the twist with the Champion of Kirkwall fighting the Arishok in single-handed combat coming in The Tale of the Champion? You couldn’t. You didn’t.”

Dorian pouted. “Yes, but that was technically nonfiction. I’m not sure Varric’s penny dreadful romance serials are based on anything real. Or anyone behaving realistically, I’m afraid.”

Angus, who was stationed at his desk a few feet away sorting through a pile of letters, gave a playful shrug. “People around Varric tend not to behave realistically. Besides, I’m fairly certain there really is a Guard-Captain Aveline in the service of Kirkwall’s city guard. I think Josephine has forced me to address several of these insufferable letters to her, in fact.”

Dorian frowned doubtfully, looking back down at the dog-eared hardcover. “Yes, I’ll give you that, but could you imagine such a woman saying - and I quote - ‘The fire that burned Andraste is second in tempestuousness only to the fire for you that burns in my loins’?”

Angus shuddered. “Knowing Guard-Captain Aveline, I think she might punch me in the face for saying about half those words in her presence.”

Dorian laughed airily, and tossed the book back onto the floor, from whence it came. “Why did the old Nightingale leave this for you, anyway? Has she gone soft? Or is she attempting to get second in line under you after you unceremoniously throw me to the dogs?”

Pausing, Angus set down his letters, turning to face Dorian with a look of small concern.

“You know I don’t feel that way, Dorian,” he said, softly, saying his name with the gentle air of someone who wants to carefully coddle a pigeon without hurting its wings.

For a moment, Dorian’s face looked sad, as if believing that fact would lead to some sort of horrible tragedy, a case which he’d clearly wore over many times in his head before.

Crossing over the room, Angus gently placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, and gave it a little squeeze. “The book is Cassandra’s,” he continued, back to his usual perky banter. “I caught her reading it in the courtyard the other day, and it was one of Varric’s that I hadn’t gotten my hands on yet, so I asked to borrow it once she was done. Leliana had it delivered since one of her scouts had passed by the Seeker earlier in the day.”

Angus gave Dorian’s shoulder another squeeze. “I know you were joking,” he clarified, but he still looked concerned.

Unconsciously, Dorian brought his hand to Angus’s on his shoulder, as he idly played with Angus’s fingers. He looked a million miles away, as if he was contemplating thoughts as deep and dark and far away as Tevinter itself.

But in a moment, just as suddenly as he disappeared, Dorian perked back into life, giving Angus’s hand an elegant lift and turning to face him, with a glittering, cocked smirk on his face. The kind of smirk that sent Angus into a fiery oblivion where nothing else existed except pulling his paramour’s hair back and asking him his deepest darkest fears.

“I know you know,” Dorian said, rising from the couch with his hand still on Angus’s. “I’d never be worried. I’m willing to share. But I also know I’m twice as valuable as a social option than that washed-up Orlesian tongue-wagger.”

Angus laughed, pulling Dorian close. “Well, I’m not willing to share. But I am absolutely certain you’re a champion tongue-wagger.”

Dorian chuckled, wrapping his hands around Angus’ formal collar. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

The mood around the war table was tense, but not in the least due to Angus’ behavior at Halamshiral the previous evening. It had been a long one, and even though certain members of the Inquisition enjoyed social events and the playing of the Game more than others - Ambassador Josephine coming to mind, who had been beaming and speaking glowing anecdotes about the party at the Winter Palace to anyone within earshot all morning - others, like Commander Cullen, were not only hungover, but sorely tired of all the political machinations and forced how-do-you-dos a visit to Orlesian court entails.

Nursing an actual hangover in addition to, in his unfortunate estimate, a nasty bout of lyrium withdrawal, Cullen groaned as Leliana tapped the table for the hundredth time, arguing with Josephine over how to best navigate the new royal couple next.

“We cannot simply bow to their demands and deliver the Inquisition’s aid on a platter,” Leliana called, emphasizing each point with a jab on the table with her gauntleted finger, causing Cullen’s headache to stab in rhythm.

“Sending a thank-you note is not delivering us on a platter, Lady Nightingale,” Ambassador Josephine retorted, eagling haughtily over her writing tablet. “It is simply a matter of common courtesy.”

“It sends a message, Josie,” Leliana continued, her voice exasperated. “Let them come to us. We helped them, so let them make the first move. I swear, sometimes I wonder how you ever survived playing the Game.”

“And sometimes I wonder how long you made it without someone evicting you from the premises,” Josephine added, sniffing.

At that, the large oaken doors to the War Room creaked open. A formidable figure, dressed in all black with crow’s feathers to match, marched up to the table, dusting herself off as she passed.

“Have I missed anything?” Morrigan asked, eyeing the crew at the table. “Have you been antagonizing your compatriots again, Leliana?” she continued, darting a daring glare and a satisfying smirk at the Nightingale.

Leliana frowned, but it was out of pure habit. She was not going to let Morrigan’s antagonizing get to her today.

“They usually get along much better than this, I swear,” Angus added, a bit helplessly, as Josephine glared, Leliana tapped, and Cullen sank deeper into his attempts to shut out everyone’s blathering.

To his surprise, Morrigan laughed, a breezy one, unlike what he expected from the dour witch he’d only recently become acquainted with.

“I warrant I’ve known Leliana for much longer than you have,” she said, cryptically, to which Leliana sighed.

“You were both traveling companions of the Hero of Ferelden,” Angus said, reaching back into his head on his lessons on Ferelden history. As a resident of Ostwick, in the Free Marches, and as someone who had relatively little interest in court intrigue beyond the fun parts, the parts with hors d'oeuvres and outfits - Angus’s recent imposition into the position of Inquisitor led him to wrangling his every last shattered memory of who’s who, who’s done what, and who’s the Champion of Where in order to continue attempting to steer the ship in some kind of order.

“That’s one word for it,” Leliana said, with a snort, and, for once, Morrigan nodded in agreement.

“We were friends, if you could call it that,” Leliana said, carrying on. “It is difficult, I think, to go through an event as serious as a Blight without forging a connection to those closest to you.”

“What we had all been through, Your Worship, would bond one another for a lifetime. But, of course,” Morrigan continued, leafing a single finger along the edge of the War Table’s map, in a dramatic and inviting gesture calculated specifically, Angus thought, to antagonize Leliana - “our Nightingale here is simply remembering how the Hero left her for Good King Alistair.”

At this, Leliana spluttered, causing Cullen to look up with either interest - or annoyance, in a new unexplored flavor - and Josephine’s eyes to go wide, as they usually did when salacious gossip was on the table.

To her credit, Leliana narrowed her eyes, and buckled down into her old Orlesian self, giving the most astute reply she could muster under Morrigan’s toying, and satisfyingly mean-spirited, gaze.

“We were more than friends, yes. It’s true,” Leliana said, not breaking eye contact with Morrigan, but addressing Angus directly, it seemed. “But her heart was in another place. And I think it’s fine, Morrigan, that things ended the way they did. Don’t you?”

Morrigan sniffed, apparently having failed to get under Leliana’s skin. “I suppose. Not everyone can have a happy ending, like those stories you tell in your life as a bard? Insipid as they were, they seemed to keep our friends happy on those nights where they were too bored to make their own fun.”

Leliana glared, and folded her arms. “You simply do not understand the kind of relationship Antoinette and Alistair and I had prior to her - her betrothal. And Alistair is a friend. Perhaps our feelings were simply too nuanced for someone like you to understand.”

This seemed to set Morrigan off, and her eyes flew from detached cat-and-mouse to a brief, but blinding, rage.

“Do not tempt me with your guesses at how capable I am of feelings, woman,” she spat, a genuine spite in her voice. “Do not presume to know how I feel.”

“Then do not assume how I do,” Leliana said, turning away and facing the window, but still glaring angrily at Morrigan out of the corner of her eyes.

“Ladies,” said Cullen, wearily, raising his arms - and slumped head, which he was cradling - off of the table, standing to full height. “Please. After Halamshiral, the last thing I need is more political bickering about who slept with who and what it meant and whether or not an entire nation will become unhinged due to their collective sexual miscapades,” Cullen groaned, laying his palms on the map and trying to wrest control of the situation.

“Which leads us to the Empress and Marquise Briala,” Josephine added, helpfully, before Cullen could sink into another bout of depression and Leliana could send assassins after Morrigan in the night for another perceived - however legitimate - slight. “We shall send them a letter, then. A simple thank you for having us at their party, as Gaspard, as you know - who invited us originally - awaits his execution at the gallows in Emprise du Lion.”

At this, everyone, including Morrigan, turned to face Angus, who looked drawn. Sheepish, though, for a man who had inadvertently sentenced someone to death.

“Yes,” said Cullen, slowly. “It is unfortunate, Gaspard’s meddling, but the law for treason in Orlais is firmly solid. I recommend,” he added, looking around the table, rather seriously, “that we drop any associations we’ve had with the man. And perhaps, on another date, we can focus on why the Inquisitor’s desire to reconcile the Empress with her lover superseded his ability to tell me his plan to do so in the first place.”

Angus, still looking sheepish, sighed, with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry, Cullen,” he said, brushing his short auburn hair out of his sight. “I should’ve told you. I simply became so wrapped up in the machinations of the Court -”

“And, undoubtedly, we can all agree Lord Trevelyan played the Game quite well,” said Josephine, closing the matter with a flourish of her quill. “Perhaps it would be wise to leave this particular issue for another day. I shall send the letter, then? Thanking the Empress and the Marquise?”

Everyone looked at each other, and, with a heaving sigh, Cullen pushed off the desk, nodding along. “Yes. Thank you, Ambassador. Perhaps it would be best. We’ll adjourn in the evening?”

With a loafing shuffle, everyone began to file out of the War Room, as Lord Trevelyan trailed along at the end. Perhaps Josephine was right - maybe everyone simply needed a break from the events of the night before. It was nothing a stiff break - or a stiff drink - couldn’t solve.

“Two shots of brandy, please,” Lord Trevelyan said, holding up his fingers in the universal “two”, as if that would help Cabot, the bartender, assist his order further.

As two grubby, thumb-smeared shot glasses of aged brandy, sealed and imported from Antiva, appeared in front of Angus’s eyes, a sliver of an elf with a glint of utter mischief on her face sidled down next to him on the empty barstool.

“Lord Fanycpants,” she said, poking him antagonistically with her elbow. “Are you still moping after what happened at Halamshiral?”

Angus - Lord Fancypants - looked at Sera, who had somehow already procured herself an entire flagon of Fereldan whiskey - eyes going wide with the universal sign of “I’m up to something, and I’m not giving up what”.

“I’m not moping,” Angus said, with composure. He shot the first shot of brandy, and winced, as if the silver spoon in his mouth was coming into rancid contact with some sort of melting mercury.

Sera made a face. “I don’t know what you’re on about, all sad, and mopey,” she said, drinking a third of her flagon in one go. “It went good, din’it? You got those two back together, the world is saved, you got to dance with your little sweetheart, everything’s good, innit?”

Angus looked wearily at Sera. “Do you know why I’m drinking this blasted stuff, Sera?” he asked, despairingly.

Sera shrugged. “You hate yourself?”

“Yes,” Angus said, with a small, dramatic sigh - almost a wail. “But not for the reasons you think.”

Sera looked at the glasses. She made another face - a sly one, the “I’ve caught your hand in the cookie jar” one.

“You’re drinking the stuff that reminds you of him,” she said, jabbing Lord Trevelyan with her finger once more. “You big old softie, you.”

Angus sniffed. “I’m not a softie,” he said, reaching for the second glass of brandy, but chickening out at the last minute, as the aftertaste of the first stuff hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“Softie,” said Sera, but she was starting to soften her own edges herself. She looked at Angus, a little sympathetically, a lot firmly.

“I didn’t really get to dance with him, not really,” said Angus, the small wail still in his voice. “I was so enraptured in playing the Game and ensuring the Empress’s safety that I never got the chance to - well, formally invite him to dance. Imagine. I take the hand of someone on the ballroom floor at Halamshiral and it’s not his. It’s - oh, Andraste’s tits, the one formal dance I had was with Duchess Florianne!”

Sera snorted, and a little bit of the whiskey came out her nose. “At least she’s pretty to look at,” she conceded. “And you two cut a bit of a rug out there. The nobles couldn’t get enough of it, apparently,” she said, snorting again.

Angus looked dismal. “I don’t care. I had these plans, Sera. I was going to make a big deal out of it. I was going to formally invite him to take the floor with me, and take him by the hand, and lead him in the most elegant rendition of the two-step those arsehole nobles had ever seen.”

Sera nodded solemnly. “Dorian would have liked that,” she said. “He loves when you make a big deal out of him.”

“I know,” Angus wailed, fully, this time, causing some of the tavern’s patrons to turn and look at him. “I didn’t get the chance. I successfully stopped an assassination attempt and reconciled the most star-crossed lovers the Court had ever seen, but I never got to give him that enchanted evening.”

Sera puckered her face, like she was sucking on a lemon. “That’s important to you noble lot, is it? Can’t you just sweep him away some other how? Offer to duel his old man to the death or something?”

Angus sighed. “It’s important,” he said, resting his arms on the old, mead-soaked bartop, “because I never really thought I’d get to take who I really wanted to the ball. To any ball. At all.”

And at that, he looked directly at Sera, rather sadly, and she knew immediately what he meant.

She patted Angus lightly on the arm, looking a little heartbroken, herself.

“Ah, to the Fade with ‘em, all of ‘em,” she said, rousingly. “You don’t need any ball to make you two feel special.”

“But it would have been important. Don’t you ever want to march back into your home town and do the things you always wanted to do, but with the man - er, woman - you love? Bit of a “fuck you” as well as a bit of a happy ending, isn’t it?”

Sera’s eyes glazed over a little, as she undoubtedly wondered how she could’ve disrupted the ball with a sweetheart of her own. Probably someone with whom she could partner unspeakable pranks.

“Ah, when you put it that way. I hope you get to have your fuck-you dance soon, then.” Sera grinned, and elbowed Angus affectionately.

“Thank you, Sera,” Angus said primly, reaching for the final shot glass and downing it in a solid swoop. He choked a little bit, thumped his chest, coughed, and spluttered a few drops back onto the counter.

“Never change, Inquisitor,” grinned Sera, sliding off the bar stool in search of her next flagon. “And good luck impressing the sparkly one.”

She paused, for just a second, then turned back to Angus.

“‘The one you love’, eh?” she said, grinning again, ear to ear.

Angus, already a redhead, and already flushed with his poor choices of brandy, turned somehow even more red.

He coughed, and spluttered a little again. Sera waggled her fingers and turned on her heel, wandering off into the tavern.

Angus looked back towards the bar. Two more brandies, perhaps, should do it. That should wipe his memory suitably for the rest of the evening.

#dragon age fic #dragon age oc #dorian x trevelyan #dragon age #dorian pavus #angus trevelyan #trevelyan #da:i #the seat of power #fic tag

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ashboy-3 · 2 years

Text

The Truth Will Set You Free

Prompt: Hawks gets his with a truth serum Fandom: BNAH/MHA Words: 3,404 Summary: Hawks was forced to do a team-up with Kamui Woods and he really didn't want to so he finished it as quickly as he possibly could. To be for him that he was hit by a truth quirk while he's also supposed to be going undercover to spy on the league. He does the only thing he can think to do in this situation and cancel his meeting with a certain fire villain. Dabi didn't agree.

Ao3 Link:

“Hawks be careful! The villain still has an unknown quirk,” Kamui Woods said through the comms.”

“Oh calm down ya tree branch. I’m fast enough to catch them and then we can leave. I work better alone anyway,” Hawks said as he flew through the air to search further.

“Hawks, this is serious. Are you always this nonchalant?” Kamui asked.

“Yeah. It just comes naturally to me. Plus I have to be somewhere later so we kinda gotta speed this up,” Hawks mentioned passively and it made Kamui roll his eyes.

“Well you’re in luck I see him now. Now I know stealth isn’t your thing exactly, but please just try to handle this carefully,” Kamui said as he started to walk towards the villain.

“Got him,” Hawks says as Kamui sees a large red feather carrying the villain through the sky, and the said Villain screams in terror as he flies through the air.

The villain was handled with care but it wasn’t until the villain was in cuffs and Hawks landed next to the police before the villain ran after him and touched Hawks on the shoulder before being pulled up.

“Have fun,” The villain said but Hawks didn’t acknowledge him. Just shouted for the police to get him out of here.

“Well Kamui it was fun but I gotta fly!” Hawks said as he waved.

“Man I hate that guy,” Kamui said as he walked away. It was once Hawks got home to rest before he met up with the fire villain known as Dabi that he received a call from Mirko.

“What’s my pretty bird up to,” she said excitedly through the phone.

“Getting ready for my date,” Hawks said automatically. It was after he said it and processed it did he realize what he said. “Wait! Forget I said that,” Hawks said, trying to not out the villain he’s meeting up with that only the hero commission knows about.

“No, you said a date! You’re going on a date and you didn’t tell me! Bitch this is tea and I want it spilled!” Mirko shouted on the other side of the phone.

This time when Hawks opened his mouth he carefully chose his words, ”look I’m meeting up with someone in secret and I can’t tell you everything but I’ll tell you when I can. I have to go now.” With that said, Hawks hung the phone up and sent a quick text to Dabi, not trusting his own mouth.

Can’t make it tonightHave to rescheduled “Shit! This means I can’t go to work tomorrow if this keeps up. Can I not lie! The commission is gonna fucking kill me,” Hawks said as he looked at himself in the mirror trying to figure out what was wrong. A quick flashback happened where Hawks remembers the villain from earlier running from the cops to just give him a brief touch.

“I thought he was crazy, but maybe. . .”

With that Hawks quickly picked up his phone and dialed for the station that handled the villain.

It was after all the formalities that Hawks asked, “What is the villain’s quirk?”

“He seemed to have a truth quirk of some kind. We believe it’s activated by touch but we’re still not fully sure.”

“Alright thank you,” Hawks answered and promptly hung up the phone.

“I’m gonna be in some deep shit soon,” Hawks said, but with no mental energy to do anything else he just changed out of his hero costume into a baggy shirt and boxers and laid in his bed, wrapping himself in not only his wings, but a cocoon of blankets as well, trying to forget about the awful day he is predicting to have tomorrow. XXXXDABIXXXX Can’t make it tonightHave to rescheduled

“He wastes my time by waiting till the last minute to text me. That just won’t do. I’ll go and figure out what he’s up to myself if he won’t tell me,” Dabi grumbled to himself on the roof of the meeting place.

“Hey, Kuroguri can ya warp me. Yeah, I’ll send you the coordinates thanks,” Dabi said calmly on the phone as he quickly hung up and texted the misty villain where he needed to go. The warp villain had no need to know that those coordinates happen to be inside the number two hero’s apartment.

“Ya know for the number two it’s really empty,” Dabi said to himself as he walked around the apartment and turned around just as the hero in question emerged from the bathroom, a pair of sweatpants on and a towel wrapped around his neck as he was lost in thought, but that changed as he exited the doorway and saw Dabi standing in his apartment like a deer in headlights.

“Dabi what the fuck are you doing here,” Hawks whispered as if they weren’t in private and coming to him as if to hide him in his wings.

“Okay first off bird brain personal space,” Dabi said as he pushed the bird hero away from him. “Second you canceled and I wasn’t having that. Not when my time was wasted and here you are just lounging in your apartment,” Dabi seethed.

“I’m not lounging I’m showering, or at least I was,” Hawks said instantly, his mouth moving without consulting his mind because of course it would while the quirk was still in effect.

“Does it look like I care exactly what you were doing? Do you think my time isn’t precious or that you can’t give me a day’s notice before saying you’re not showing up to a meeting?” Dabi asked.

“You look like you really care and your time is precious I’d prefer it if it was wasted cause that means I get to spend time with you and I really need to shut up right now,” Hawks said as he quickly put his gloved his over his mouth and oh my gosh he’s so happy that he has his gloves on right now along with a pair of thick fuzzy socks.

“Uhh, Birdie are you okay?” Dabi asked confused cause he himself have thought about making a move towards the Bird but knew he couldn’t as he was a spy.

“Nope, not at all I mean why would I be alright. I’ve been forced to work for 48 hours without a break or I would be punished and my current diet is killing me as I’ve only been allowed to eat salad and nothing else,” Hawks said as he quickly once again covered his mouth. He was revealing too much to the villain.

“Birdie what’s wrong?” Dabi asked as he carefully walked closer towards the bird to remove his hands from his mouth but the Bird wouldn’t budge. “Please tell me. Last question I ask I swear. I have more but I won’t ask anything else after you tell me what’s wrong,” and the comfort words must have worked because the hero lowered his hands and looked at Dabi with tears in his eyes.

“I was hit with a truth quirk while on a team-up mission between Woods and I.” Hawks said as he laid his head against Dabi in relief that he didn’t have to hold it in anymore. It was surprising to the villain how much it actually hurt the hero to not tell the truth right now.

It only took a minute but soon Hawks was lifted in the air bridle style with Hawks screaming at him wondering what he was doing.

“Dabi! Put me down!” Hawks shouted as he grabbed onto the villain’s neck.

“Not happening Birdie!,” The villain said happily and keeping his word he didn’t ask Hawks a question, even though he really needed to find where the Bird’s room was at, instead he opened two doors before finding the room on the third door and walking into the room and carefully placing the bird on the bed.

“Dabi what are you doing?” the hero asked, truly confused.

“You need to sleep. You just admitted to working forty-eight hours straight. Hawks that’s two days with no sleep so get some sleep and I won’t ask you anything till the morning,” Dabi told him, but when Hawks didn’t fall asleep for five minutes Dabi gave in and slipped into the bed, letting the bird cuddle him, even if he was sitting up playing on his phone. Just having someone next to him where Hawks can feel a steady heartbeat made him fall into sleep dreamland.

When Hawks awoke the next day Dabi was no longer next to him, but the pillows on that side were a mess to indicate that yes the villain did sleep in his bed last night and just that thought bought a smile to the hero’s face. It was when Hawks walked out of his room and a wonderful smell wafted towards his nose.

It was quite a sight to see the villain shirtless, scars covering his body, but he wasn’t bothered as he just added more eggs and milk towards the bowl and soaked bread in it on both sides. It was such a sight that Hawks had to rub his eyes and wack himself on his head to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh hey your awake,” Dabi noticed as he gestured for Hawks to sit at the bar as the villain placed a plate that was made beautifully in front of him.

“I made french toast topped with whip cream and strawberries dusted with a small pinch of powder sugar and topped with syrup,” the villain said happily in his element.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook?” Hawks said as he took a bite of the food and almost moaned in delight at how good it tasted. Hawks had never had a homemade meal like this and it was wonderfully melting in your mouth.

“Well I used to cook a lot for my family when I was younger,” Dabi said calmly as he handed Hawks a cup of coffee, and when Hawks drank the thing black Dabi was sure the hero had an evil side to him.

“Did the quirk wear off or am I still not allowed to ask questions?” Dabi asked as he continued to make himself some breakfast with things Hawks was amazed were in his kitchen and fresh nonetheless.

“Nope!” Hawks said happily and then burst into a smile “I lied I just lied the quirk has worn off!” the bird said and it made Dabi smile seeing his wings flap happily. What Dabi wasn’t expecting was for a small chirp to come out of the bird’s mouth only to quickly cover it up.

“Sorry, you weren’t meant to hear that,” Hawks said with his hands over his mouth.

“Hey Birdie look at me,” Dabi said as he put his hands over Hawks and gently got the blonde male to lower them, “Don’t ever be embarrassed by your bird noises at least not in front of me okay. Their is nothing for you to be ashamed about. You’re mutant you have bird qualities and none of them are for you to be ashamed about. All of them are just perfect okay,” Dabi told him knowing all about the mutant discrimination after all Spinner goes off about it at least once a week.

“I-okay,” Hawks said as he let out a happy chirp and it felt nice to not be reprimanded for a natural instinct.

“Who told you that those sounds were bad? And on that topic why were you working 48 hours in a row? I thought that heroes got to pick their own schedule?” Dabi asked.

And at this moment Hawks weighed out his options and fully decided to fuck it and follow his heart. “My handler. I was raised to not show any bird qualities because they aren’t normal and while normally yes hero’s get to pick their schedules I don’t make mine. Never have. My handler is in charge of that just like she’s in charge of my diet. If I truly want a sudden day off I’ll contact my assistant and she’ll do some magic but unless I let my handler know in advance and why I don’t get the day off,” Hawks explained and he was not expecting the absolute anger to come off in steam of Dabi.

“What the actual fuck Keigo!” Dabi steamed but that opened a whole new conversation for Hawks.

“How the fuck do you know my name!?” Hawks asked shocked as he grabbed one of his bigger feathers and quickly turned it into a sword as he pointed it towards the villain’s throat, after all, only four people use that name and one of them was dead.

“Hold on Birdie one thing at a time,” Dabi said quickly trying to push the weapon away from his neck.

“Kei wait! I’ll explain just please put the feather away,” Dabi said but the feather was only pushed closer towards him, one more push and it would draw blood.

“I’M TOUYA!” Dabi finally shouts as Hawks loosens his grip just a little before tightening it and pushing it close enough towards the villain to draw blood.

“How do you know who that is! Touya is dead you can’t be him!” Keigo said tears streaming down his eyes.

“C’mon ask me something only Touya would know! Better yet how did I know your name Kei! I didn’t mean to drag you on! You were never meant to find out! Your blood type is B, you were born on December 28th, we were going to run away together! If I knew the commission still had you under their thumb I wouldn’t have left you there. Look at my roots they are white! When we were sixteen we snuck out used my dad’s credit card and bought some cheap alcohol and got wasted! It was as we took our first sip of beer that we had our first kiss! We were seventeen in Endevarour’s car that we both said I love you to each other,” Dabi ranted just going through his memory of everything he could remember before he was tossed away.

When Hawks put his feather down Dabi felt relief flood through him and thought he was safe, he wasn’t expecting Hawks to backhand him so hard his staples almost fell off. At first, he was angry but when he got off the ground to speak he saw tears flowing down the bird’s eyes.

The next thing he wasn’t expecting was for Hawks to grab him and pull him towards himself fully locking their lips together.

“I don’t forgive you,” Hawks said harshly unlocking their lips and forcing Dabi to sit down after he was sure he turned off the stove.

“Sit your ass down and explain to me exactly what the hell you thought you were doing,” Hawks said as he glared at the villain.

“Okay a few months after my 17th birthday Enji was training Shoto a lot harder than the kid should’ve been, so I stepped in, but dear old dad was really angry at this point. I think All Might had just been rewarded or something like that so I stepped in and he got angry with me. I don’t fully remember what happened but I remember the pain of being burned alive. I woke up a few months later in a dumpster. Endeavor had killed me and thrown me away. I was helped out by a few other people on the streets and learned that Endevaror had blamed my death on a suicide. I looked at another news feed and saw you were introduced as a hero, but I didn’t see the commission anywhere near you. My mind wasn’t in the right place. Anytime I saw endeavor I saw red. I was doing anything I needed for money so yeah I was doing stuff I wasn’t proud of. Then I was hooked on things that I’m not proud of. Soon I was introduced to Shigaraki and he was a man child who threw a tantrum anytime he didn’t get what he wanted.

You looked happy as if you had moved on so I was just planning to kill my father and then myself so you would’ve never known. Then you appeared saying you wanted to be a double agent and I didn’t buy it for a second. Sure the commission sucked but you had always wanted to be a hero. Then I started to fall for you I was trying to get you far away from them but you just kept getting back in my heart.

I’m so sorry Keigo I never wanted you to find out,” Dabi said sadly with his head down in his hands.

“Touya I want to kill you so badly right now! Did you really think my life was better off without you! Hell, we talked about running away together! We talked about marriage about kids about every damn thing! We found ways to fit your siblings and your mom into our plans! How did you think I felt when Endevaror showed up on my doorstep to tell me that you had killed yourself! How do you think I feel knowing I was crying in his arms and then I was only allowed to stay at your funeral for one hour, after that the commission wouldn’t even let me visit your grave. I buried myself into becoming perfect for them I permanently killed Keigo! Natsuo and Fuyumi found me drowning in Alcohol! I was a functioning alcoholic all while being the perfect pet for the commission! I almost killed myself to be with you!” Hawks screamed at him and Touya was shocked at this revelation.

“Kei I’m so sorry!” Dabi said getting to his knees right next to his bird. “I didn’t know you were going through that! Please forgive me Kei!” Dabi begged not wanting to lose his bird again.

“Of course I’m going to forgive you! I love you! Now that I know your alive screw what the commission wants I’m not spying anymore,” Keigo said with a smile as Dabi gave him a shocked look.

“Your not?” he was confused.

“Of course not. You have a strong heart. If your with the league then they’re not evil. They might be a little misguided but not evil,” Hawks said with such confidence that made Dabi laugh at how unbelievable it was.

“I’ve changed Kei. I’m not Touya anymore I’m Dabi now. Hell half the time I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I’m an asshole,” Dabi tried to explain.

“Toga. She’s in the league she’s seventeen. If someone were to break her arm and have her come back to your base crying what would you do?” Hawks asked as Dabi started to steam once again,

“Whoever hurts her I’m gonna kill em,” Dabi seethed.

“You still have a big brother complex,” Hawks said with a laugh as Dabi glared at him.

“I do not!” he said shocked.

“Do too! You’re protective. Have been since I’ve known you,” Hawks laughed as he cuddled into the villain, sending a quick text to his manager to cancel everything he has to do today.

The two spent all the way till late afternoon just catching up happy to be in one another’s presence, not letting either one know about the shit they’ve been truly been thru without the other just happy to be in the other’s presence.

“So when do I get to meet the league?” Hawks asked and that was a conversation Dabi was not expecting to have.

“You still want to meet them?” Dabi asked his friend? Boyfriend? Partner? They’ll figure it out later.

“Of course. When we had our late-night meetups you always talked about them. I want to meet your new family. I want to get to know Dabi. I still love you but I know that you are not Touya anymore. Oh, pieces of him might be in there but your Dabi now. No more late-night meet-ups that could turn into one-night stands. No more alleyway make-out session. We go at a slow pace and get to know each other, after all, I’m not exactly Keigo anymore. We take things slow so introduce me to this new family that you’ve set yourself up with,” Keigo said with a smile as Dabi shrugged, “Sure why the hell not.”

Part 1 of Hawks and His flock

#hawks centric #hawksbnha #hawks x dabi #my hero academia hawks #dabi my hero academia #dabibnha #bnha dabi #dabihawks #truthserum #spilled truth #more tags on ao3

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seigephoenix · 2 months

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Happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! How about: Aftercare for Hawke/Fenris/Isabela for a prompt? :3

Happy Friday! Thank you! I love this ship, it's a guilty pleasure of mine (just without the guilt). They're so perfect for one another. I used my Marian Hawke for this ship.

Ship: Marian Hawke x Fenris x Isabela Content Warning: Mentions of nudity and rope usage Length: ~500 words

Marian stretched her arms towards the ceiling, rolling out the kinks after having the rope wrapped around them. She smiled as she felt the ever familiar hands that ran over her sore muscles and a set of lips press a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m fine Isabela. Nothing a good bath won’t fix.”

“Are you certain Hawke? I don’t want you hiding anything from me just because you think you can handle it.” Isabela gently cupped her cheek turning into she could peer into those familiar whiskey brown eyes. As if she could see right through Marian’s soul. Both women paused as another familiar arm flopped across their legs.

“Noisy.” Marian laughed as she saw the broad expanse of Fenris’ back on her bed. The crimson sheets bunched around his waist, barely clinging to that as it was. Isabela gave him a lopsided smile as she gently picked his arm up and back on the bed.

“Marian is sore Fenris.” Marian barely hid the laugh as Fenris immediately came up on his elbows. He stared over at her and she met his steady gaze with a warm smile. “She just won’t admit it but I saw the wince when you sat up.”

“Really? I thought I hid it well this time.” Fenris crept over to her and ran a hand over her jaw down to her shoulder. The marks from the rope were a red flush against her skin. His fingers grazed over the marks until they rested just above the curve of her breast.

“You can’t hide anything from us Hawke,” Fenris told her as he gently pushed her towards the edge of the bed. Isabela had already risen from the bed, stretching herself in front of the fire. “Come on.”

“We can’t let the hero of Kirkwall go out with any sore muscles. What would Varric say?” Fenris scoffed.

“He’d just use it in his next book.” Marian and Isabela both laughed and she grasped Isabela’s hands, standing on just slightly wobbly feet. Fenris’ hand cupped against her lower back steadying her without words.

“Come on then.” He pressed his lips against her temple and against Isabela’s forehead before they headed down the hall to the bathing chamber.

“I must say Hawke. This was the best decision you ever made, upgrading your bathing chamber the way you did.” Marian laughed as Isabela made herself at home in the rather large porcelain tub. Fenris eased her into the warm water making sure she was alright before he climbed inside as well. Marian leaned back against Isabela with a contented smile on her face.

“Have some water love.” Isabela handed the cup over to Marian with a look that left no room for argument. “Let us take care of you this time. Like you’re always taking care of us.”

#dadwc #hawke x fenris x isabela #aftercare mentioned

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Deep Sea I. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Mild yandere themes, amnesia (tags will continued to be updated as they apply). >Word count: 4.4k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER I // SHIFTING TIDES

Blue is the loneliest color.

Take the sky, the sea; both are encompassing swaths of nothing, equal parts desolate and alluring. How could they ever hope to rival the fullness of land? Life cannot be sustained in the air above or the ocean below. There’d be nothing but sinking — sinking and returning to the ground where your feet may once again touch solid ground — or sinking further into the salty water’s depths.

Your memory of the past might be hazy, obscured by a thick fog that refuses to let up, but there’s one thing you can never forget; and that is your love for the ocean.

Far off in the distance, okobo clank against the uneven turf of Amakane Island, bells chiming noisily.

Ten more seconds, you think.

You stretch your arms over your head, the sleeves of your kimono succumbing to gravity in the process. Amidst the pattern of flowers stitched into the fabric is a brown smear. It’s slight, so slight that one would require a hawk’s eyes to notice it, but you know what you’re up against. A frown finds its way onto your red painted lips.

Five more seconds.

The bells grow louder and so does your regret. You should’ve been more mindful of where you sat down. In your brooding, you failed to notice the long edges of your sleeves brushing against the ground. You had been so careful not to let it touch the bottom of your kimono too… what other misfortunes lie waiting in your path tonight?

Three.

You hear a telltale rustle from the shrubbery behind you.

Two.

Would trying to wipe it off do any good? Or would that further exacerbate the problem? You’re running out of time to consider your limited options.

One.

“There you are, nee-chan! Geez, I can’t believe you made me run all the way over here to fetch you—”

Misato forgets the rest of the chiding she no doubt had in store for you mid-sentence. Beneath the opaque moonlight, her figure comes into focus, and you note the embarrassment upon her white powdered face. Had her cheeks not already been dusted pink, you’re certain you would’ve seen her natural blush.

“I did it again,” Misato murmurs, momentarily forgetting your presence. She clears her throat and starts over. “I meant to say, there you are… [First].”

She speaks your name as if a blade was pressed to her throat. You cover your mouth to suppress a hearty laugh but you’re unsuccessful. Misato’s shoulders stiffen, then relax, and she eventually gives in to giggling at her mishap alongside you.

“Ishioka-sensei isn’t here, there’s no need for you to speak so formally with me.”

You’re grateful for the opening Misato’s self-perceived mistake granted. It’ll be a brief reprieve from whatever she ran to fetch you for, yet you welcome it with open arms. The dirt smear on your sleeve is going to be the least of your problems tonight. If Misato was sent to retrieve you, then that meant your absence went noticed by a certain shrewd iemoto. After you took such care to sneak out too…

“I know, but—” she stops herself from outright agreeing with you so as not to disrespect Ishioka’s judgment, “—I don’t want others to think I’m childish. Especially not you. I’m grown up now, aren’t I?”

Misato puffs out her cheeks at your amused expression. “Actually, please don’t answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Your face spoke on your behalf.”

For having just boasted of her maturity, Misato’s voice took on an awfully immature lilt. You can’t bring yourself to mind. Closing the gap between you, you reach out to pat her on the head, then stop yourself after remembering how long it took her wareshinobu styled hair to be crafted. So you settle for patting her shoulder instead.

“See? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid,” Misato’s complaints fall on deaf ears. Your lack of blood relation mattered not, in your eyes, Misato is your indisputable younger sister. You fully accepted this role and happily so.

The serenity of the moment evaporates into thin air when she notices the smudge on your sleeve. You were trying to hide it until an instinct to comfort the youth took over, and in that moment, you knew you were in for an earful.

Her hazel eyes widen enough to rival that of a full moon. “Archons, help us all. If Ishioka-sensei sees this… oh, if she sees this…”

For once, there’s no banter ready to roll from your tongue. If you were in boiling hot water before, you’re in the lava of an active Natlan volcano now. Caught sneaking out past curfew and dirtying up a kimono that cost several hundred thousand Mora? You recall the omikuji you drew at the Grand Narukami Shrine at your last visit.

It seems like it will rain today. You may encounter an unpleasant situation.

As always, it vowed bad fortune. You don’t know why you bother visiting the shrine when you already know what the slip of paper will read before unfolding it. Misato once joked that she never realized there were so many different types of bad fortunes and that in a previous life, you must’ve upset the Narukami Ogosho.

“If you help me change when we get back, I can clean it before our next performance,” you urge. Misato heaves a sigh that puts an early end to your optimistic plan.

“That’s the thing. I came here because a patron put in a personal request to see you.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“No, tonight.”

You blink at the clarification. A patron wanted to reserve time with you tonight, after the ochaya was closed? Why would someone as strict as Ishioka agree to this? The woman had an iron will, unbreakable beneath whatever pressures were sent her way. When the Tri-Commission sought to pass a tax that’d hurt the hanamachi district, she personally organized meetings with the leaders to plead her case.

Needless to say, the law never passed.

“I thought it was strange too,” Misato admits. “I’m sure you guessed this by now, but Ishioka-sensei tasked me with finding you since I know you well.”

“A little too well, apparently,” you joke to lighten the atmosphere.

Misato smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you… come here often?”

“I wouldn’t say often, no,” you pivot on your heel and overlook the expansive waters. Lonely, lonely blue. “Sometimes I find myself wandering without any set place to go. And then… by the time I realize it, I’m back here.”

Misato doesn’t follow your gaze but finds interest in the soft soil beneath her feet. Her unnatural silence is made up for by the breeze, which brings with it rustling leaves and the ocean’s scent. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. There’s no telling when you’ll be able to sneak out next, so you swear an oath to cherish the last few moments spent here.

Quieter than the dew sliding down blades of grass in the morning, Misato asks, “Do you wish to stay here?”

Do you?

When you turn around, Inazuma City awaits, with its tall buildings and blindingly bright lights. There’ll be consequences for your disobedience, a customer of unknown origin, and work. Here you were deluding yourself into believing that the night was over when it had only begun.

“No,” you turn around and come face-to-face with Misato. After a moment’s hesitation, she brings herself to look you in the eye, the sheen of which reflects your resolute countenance. “I believe I’ve been here long enough.”

“Then let’s head back.”

Misato prefers to use the main roads when traveling and often scolds you for not doing the same. She tells you that it’s getting more dangerous these days — tensions have steadily been on the rise. The Tenryou Commission’s military presence has increased, fewer people are being blessed with Visions, and even the Fatui don’t bother operating under night’s cover any longer. The strange foreigners donning masks gallivant about the streets in full view. While no issues can be connected directly to them, there are enough rumors floating around to bolster their negative reputation. You’ve been warned to avoid them when possible and took that to heart.

The walk back is quiet, save for your occasional comment and Misato’s futile attempts to clean your sleeve. Street carts have long since closed for the day, though some establishments that serve alcohol are open and thriving with laughter and loud conversation. The doushin patrolling the streets nod in acknowledgment of you both. High members in the government often come to the ochaya you work at for special celebrations or entertaining foreign diplomats.

Within Inazuma City’s hanamachi district, which can be found if one goes to the east section of Tenryou, sits the ochaya Shinju-an. The finest establishment to raise multiple generations of successful maiko and geisha. You’ve spent almost every day of the past three years working and training there, under the guidance of the renowned iemoto Ishioka Shizue.

“Try and keep your hands behind your back,” Misato whispers to you after turning a corner. A few more steps and you’ll be in front of Shinju-an. You spot Ishioka waiting for you outside and gulp.

Her head snaps at the sound of Misato’s bells. Ishioka’s astute hearing never fails to amaze you — there are several other maiko walking the street who wear okobo as well — yet she immediately knew which set belonged to Misato. She does not run to catch up to you despite the supposed dire situation. Firm and unshakeable as a mountain, Ishioka waits with her head held high for you to come closer.

“Thank you for finding our lost maiko, Misato,” Ishioka graces the younger girl with a tight smile. “It is a shame that she got lost while trying to get a head start on her chores, but these things cannot be helped. You’re free to rest for the night.”

Your iemoto has already devised a narrative for any prying eyes over your unconventional disappearance. If avoiding scandal was an art, then Ishioka is the undisputed master of the craft.

Misato bows and wishes you both a goodnight.

Ishioka slides the doors to Shinju-an open and gestures for you to come in.

Away from the public eye, her disposition takes a stern spin. “The matter of your… sneaking off will be discussed at a later time. I’m more relieved that you made it back within a reasonable time. Misato informed you of the situation, correct?”

After you nod, she continues. “Then let’s make haste.”

You raise no complaints as she sets to work on adjusting various aspects of your presentation. The questions that permeate your mind are best left unspoken, especially after she caught you breaking one of the rules. Maiko such as yourself have strict guidelines to follow for both your sake and the okiya you’re under. It’s this strictness that leaves you further perplexed about the unfolding situation. The rest of the geisha and maiko have finished their performances for the night.

To schedule a performance at a revered establishment such as Shinju-an, you must make an appointment up to weeks in advance. How is it that this person not only walked in and asked to meet with you, but also secured time to do so after the ochaya was closed? Were they too impatient to wait until tomorrow?

Ishioka tightens your long obi, which showcases the okiya’s iconic crest of a pearl on the back. This allows anyone who sees it to immediately know which okiya you belong to.

“I know you haven’t finished your training when it comes to conversation,” Ishioka begins, as if remorseful for putting you through this, “But please do your best. Take care to mind your expressions, smile when necessary, and allow him to lead the conversation. In the event of prolonged silence, you may speak of pleasant topics such as the changing season or upcoming events…”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

Shizue slides a kanzashi into your hair and lowers her voice. “Our patron understands how… unconventional of a request this is. He promised not to take more than fifteen minutes of your time.”

Under normal circumstances, it would take upwards of an hour to prepare for an ozashiki performance or appointment, but you never changed from your attire. All you had meant to do was take a brisk walk and return before anyone noticed. Perhaps it was for the best — due to this, Ishioka only needed a few minutes to make you presentable.

“There,” she sighs. “We mustn’t keep him waiting any longer than he already has. Follow me.”

She leads you to a room reserved for guests of great importance in the back. Your heart pounds away in your ribcage, frantic and vulnerable, like a butterfly caught within a child’s net. This would be your first time interacting with a customer alone, not having an older geisha overseeing and assisting you along the way. How could such a vital task be left in the hands of an amatuer? What would happen if you blundered?

You raise your shaky hands to the screen. Whoever sits behind here could determine your fate. Upon realizing this, you hesitate, to which Ishioka catches your hand and gently presses it against the door.

“Remember what you’ve been taught and you’ll do just fine,” Ishioka whispers just loud enough for you to hear. “And I almost forgot… refer to him as ‘my lord’ if you must refer to him at all.”

The door opens.

You’re immediately drawn to his eyes as if the both of you were on opposite sides of a magnet. They pull you in and keep you locked in place. What color could that be staring back at you so intently — purple? No, that must’ve been a trick of the lights. The longer you look, the more indigo they appear. What strange, strange eyes. Sharp, piercing, beautiful. Have you seen anything like this before? This shade, this intensity? That can’t be right. You’re certain you would’ve committed him to memory if your paths had crossed.

This person isn’t the kind who you meet and forget.

He sits in the center of the room, a cup of tea raised to his lips, which are pressed in a thin line. A large, ornate hat boasting transparent veils rests atop his head. From where you’re standing, you can see what resembles a kumadori mask decorating the top of his hat. That mixed with the striking red pigment around his eyes give the impression that he’s either a fan of kabuki theater or an actor within it. You tuck that observation away for future reference.

During your minarai stage of training, the geisha you learned under explained that customers give more away about themselves than they realize.

“It’s our job to notice these details within minutes of meeting our patrons,” she told you. “Everything about a person’s presentation reflects, to some extent, their inner self. Whether it be humility from wearing muted colors that match the rest of their party as not to stick out, to insecurity in grossly overdressing.”

His attire portrays wealth and high status. Black, red, purple; these weren’t colors worn by ordinary folk. The detail that most catches your attention is the golden mitsudomoe insignia upon his chest. That emblem denotes connection to the Raiden Shogun herself — not just anyone is allowed to wear it.

He exudes an aura of self-importance and greatness tangible enough for the air in this room to feel heavy. For a moment, you wonder if Ishioka made a mistake in bringing you here. He must’ve requested someone else and she misheard him. That remains the most plausible explanation in your awestruck mind. Your breath catches in your throat when his eyes flicker over your form from top to bottom. His facial features betray no confusion, so you must be who he asked for.

He lowers his cup onto the tatami. “Do you intend on gawking at me all night? I don’t believe that’s what I paid you to do.”

“I apologize,” you bow your head. You got too caught up in admiring his unique, embellished clothing to properly mind your manners. “May I ask what I should call you?”

“So you have been trained in basic etiquette,” he notes. Your smile threatens to give way. “You can refer to me as Scaramouche.”

Scaramouche. What a peculiar name — it doesn’t sound Inazuman or like anything you’ve heard of before.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Scaramouche.”

“And you? You’ve got a name, don’t you?”

“I believe I do, yes,” you decide to take a risk by being playfully coy. “Suzuko—”

Scaramouche holds up a hand to interrupt you. “Your actual name.”

This man was nothing if not a herald of strange, borderline taboo requests. Upon being accepted to train as a maiko, you took on a professional name for work-related purposes; Suzuko. This was what customers referred to you as traditionally. The golden glint of the mitsudomoe symbol reminds you of your place. If someone with connections to the Raiden Shogun asks for your real name, then what is left for you to do but obey?

“I’m [First], my lord.”

For the first time that night, Scaramouche smiles.

You take the lull in the conversation as a chance to seat yourself next to Scaramouche.

If it weren’t for his discourteous tongue, you wouldn’t have minded entertaining him; he’s rather pleasant on the eyes compared to other customers. The closer you get, the more you’re able to take in his deceptively soft features. His skin is without blemish, his hair well kept and smelling faintly of orange blossom. You find him reminiscent of a porcelain doll, so uncannily perfect that the fact his chest moves when he breathes almost startles you.

“Do you always ogle your customers like this?”

“Only the ones I find handsome, my lord.”

He snaps his head in your direction and scoffs at the victorious smile on your lips. You must admit that it was a bold move — the geisha you shadowed told you to consider light flirtations as your hidden weapon. A way to reel customers in yet never catch them. She emphasized the concept of balance. Act too chaste and you’ll be considered a bore, too lascivious and you’ll taint your reputation.

“And here I thought you were nothing more than a pretty face who can dance better than the average person,” Scaramouche regains his composure and critical nature. “So you’re capable of entertaining conversation as well.”

“I have much to learn, admittedly,” you sigh. “I must not be proficient enough if you’re not taken with me yet.”

“And who says that I’m not?”

It’s your turn to stumble. Scaramouche notices your widened eyes then laughs, the sound dry and condescending. You recenter your focus before you can embarrass yourself further. This is good, though, you’re burning through the time. The fifteen minutes will soon be up and you’ll be released from this peculiar situation.

“Ah, how rude of me,” you glance down at his teacup and he does the same. “I might not be able to complete an entire tea ceremony for you tonight, but I could still refill your cup if you’d like.”

He shakes his head, his mind somewhere else, in a place you don’t wish to know.

“Do you enjoy this lifestyle?”

The question Scaramouche poses isn’t anything new. People are fascinated by geisha, their unique conduct, almost exclusive nature. That’s why bystanders trip over themselves to get a peak over forming crowds when geisha walk down the street. To them, it’s a symbol of a world they could never fully understand or participate in. People have asked you many things about your life and training. Whether you’re here by force, if you’re treated fairly, if it’s true that you can never take a husband should you graduate.

For some nagging reason, you don’t think he’s asking for curiosity’s sake. He’s asking you specifically, almost as if he were judging the value of a good at the market, learning of its history before coming to a decision.

“I’m grateful for the chance I was given. I won’t lie and say that it’s easy work, but the chance to preserve these traditions so they’re never forgotten is an honor.”

“Even if they’re the Raiden Shogun’s traditions?”

He doesn’t bother hiding the distaste in his voice. What little understanding of the situation you held is lost — how is it that he wears Her Eternal Excellency’s emblem yet speaks her name like a curse — should you agree? Would that incense him to anger? Or is this a test, and the moment you speak ill of her you’ll be in harm’s way?

It’s time for another gamble.

“Of course, my lord. Without the Narukami Ogosho, Inazuma wouldn’t be what it is today, and the two of us wouldn’t be sitting here and having this conversation.”

Whatever expression you thought your bold proclamation might earn, amusement was certainly not in the forefront of your mind. His laughter starts gradually, like a crescendo, rising in volume and intensity as if you told him the funniest joke known to man. Indignation simmers beneath the surface of your skin. Who did he think he was, acting so demanding toward you, the person he personally requested to see?

“You really—” he composes himself by placing a hand over his grinning lips, “—You really don’t remember a thing, do you?”

If you were boiling in rage before, now you’ve been doused in a pail of icy water.

Your fingers twitch by your side, and against your better judgment, you mutter,

“How do you know about that?”

The only people aware of your amnesia are Misato and yourself. That’s what you always thought. She swore herself to secrecy and had you do the same — it’d be dangerous for others to know of this glaring vulnerability. They could take advantage of you, claim lies to be fact, weave a narrative that benefits them at your expense. Not even Ishioka knew.

That fateful day, as Misato used a towel to soak up your body drenched in saltwater, she told you: “Some things are better left forgotten.”

“Answer me…!”

He shushes you by pressing a finger to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you?” Scaramouche muses, more to himself than you. There it is again, that otherworldly glow emanating from his eyes, plucking a chord within you thought to be broken.

If blue was loneliness, then what is purple?

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and faintly, you register Ishioka asking if his lordship was finished for the night as it was getting late.

“Another time, then,” Scaramouche stands up and dusts off his black shorts. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time I see you. Consider it a promise, [First].”

When you return to your home that night, your thoughts are occupied by the stranger in opulent clothing who spoke of you with uncomfortable familiarity.

The okiya’s okā-san, a retired geisha by the name of Ishioka Keiko, is the one who helps you out of your elaborate outfit. You see her reflection in the mirror, the warmth in her eyes, and the gray streaks growing more prominent in her hair. She handles you with the same care as one would their own child. She gently removes the kanzashi in your hair without pulling on the roots and hums Inazuman ballads that make your heart twist with nostalgia.

“I sometimes wonder if you’re from the Shuumatsuban clan,” Keiko muses. “I’ve known you to sneak out every now and then, yet I’ve never once heard your footsteps or the window opening. Tell me, what’s your secret?”

Your face feels warm. “You’ve known all along?”

“Call it a sixth sense, if you will. I’d often sneak out during my youth in search of things that I’d never find.”

Is that what you’re doing? Searching endlessly for something you’ll never find? You trudge back up to your shared room after wishing Keiko a goodnight and ponder on the matter. You’ve learned that memories aren’t owed to you. The past can be elusive as it pleases, acting like a mischievous kitsune avoiding capture after provoking nearby mortals. What choice did you have but to try catching it? Time and time again, you throw your arms forward, grasping for what’s gone in the blink of an eye.

Who you are, why you’re here, and whether it’s better to continue and forget rather than risk remembering something you shouldn’t.

Misato is up and waiting for you. A candle burns to her right, the wax low, the wick curled and blackened. She shuts the book in her hands that you recognize as her diary upon your entry. Two futons are laid out upon the floor — the one on the right is yours, the left, hers — just how it’s always been. She blows out the waning flame, submerging the room in darkness alleviated by moonlight’s steady streams.

You crumple onto the bed while she returns her diary to her little vanity. The bottom-most drawer, which she strictly forbade you from ever touching lest you intrude upon her privacy, opens and closes with a creak.

Your eyes are closed, but you know she’s looking at you. So you roll to the side and face her to show that you’re willing to talk should she find the words to ask. And she does, eventually, after the seconds drag on one after the other.

“What was he like?”

Indigo eyes. Skin as fair as snow. Rosy cheeks, rosier lips, always frowning, always scheming.

“Pretty,” you reply without thinking. Then, realizing that isn’t quite right, you add, “And hideous, in a way.”

Misato is silent long enough for you to assume she fell asleep.

“I hope you don’t have to see him again.”

Hope has never done you much good, but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop now. Some things are better left forgotten, you remind yourself. You have your younger sister. You have your work, your training, a purpose to pursue. Is that not more than enough? Whatever knowledge Scaramouche holds, he can hold onto the key, since what good will it do if he’s never able to reach the lock?

“As do I.”

#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere reader insert #deep sea #my stuff

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried.

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec.

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes.

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be.

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s.

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips.

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing.

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back - pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts.

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes.

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?”

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek.

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word.

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded.

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it.

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.”

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy.

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s.

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey.

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store.

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger.

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench.

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack.

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss.

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away.

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice.

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.”

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest.

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

—

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?”

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates.

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there.

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

2K notes · View notes

kkodzvken · 4 years

Text

suit up - hawks x f. reader

the one where keigo marries the girl of his dreams, and then takes her home and shows her just how loved she is. title cred/inspo: suit up by jonghyun

notes/warnings: smut and fluff (your teeth may rot and fall out, you’ve been warned), soft dom!keigo, praise kink, slight size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex + creampie. reader and kei use the traffic light safe word system and they review it beforehand, and he checks in with her at one point but she’s green, so everything is 100% consensual. they flirt + kei says explicit things at the reception but nothing /actually/ happens in public. mentions of alcohol

wc: 5.3k

a/n: this idea’s been bouncing around my head for a while bc i wanna marry this dumbass so bad :’) my first full hawks fic!! im so happy hehe

Beautiful.

You’re so beautiful.

Keigo’s always known, of course. He’s found you beautiful since the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you, all those years ago. He tells you that you’re beautiful every single day, no matter how much you roll your eyes or jokingly tell him to shut up.

You’re beautiful all the time, but there are certain moments that leave him especially breathless. The day that you foolishly challenged Rumi to an arm-wrestling match. The determined look in your eye as you clenched your fist, sweat dripping down your brow and arm muscles straining (you lost, of course – the rabbit hero was ridiculously jacked). The brilliant smile that graces your face whenever he brings you flowers or little souvenirs from his work trips. The very first morning after you moved into his penthouse, when he woke up next to your peaceful sleeping form, and realized that he’d have mornings like this for the rest of his life.

The day that he flew you up to the mountains for a starlit picnic. The smile on your face as you polished off your meal, and the way that your hand flew up to your mouth when he got down on one knee. Your teary-eyed look of pure love as he slipped the ring onto your finger, the diamond gleaming like one of the stars that shone down on you. The way that your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist when he took you home and fucked you for hours.

And right now. Keigo swore that his heart damn near burst at the sight of you. The organist was playing, but he couldn’t hear the notes, couldn’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears. Your hands clasped an elegant flower bouquet, and Keigo was sure that the blossoms were pretty, but he couldn’t spare even a second to glance at them. No, his entire focus was trained on you. You, with your beautiful dress that perfectly accentuated the body that he loved so much. When your eyes raised to meet his, and that perfect smile worked its way across your face… he had to bite his inner cheek to try and hold the tears back.

In a simultaneous eternity and heartbeat, you were handing off your bouquet to a bridesmaid and clasping Keigo’s large hands with your much smaller ones. The officiant was speaking, but Keigo didn’t process any of it. The sight of your eyes shining up at him, more beautiful than any of the stars in the night sky, was the only thing anchoring him to the world. He felt like he was floating through a dreamscape with only you, the happiness in his chest powerful and all-encompassing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re talking to a group of your old friends from high school when a tap against your shoulder grabs your attention, and you turn to see your fiancé – no, your husband – smirking down at you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Excuse me, ladies,” he says to your friends. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?” His amber eyes glint mischievously, and you swear that a whole swarm of butterflies take flight in your stomach.

Your friends giggle and nod, and then Keigo’s spinning you around so that you’re face-to-face. He’s stunning, in his black suit and red dress shirt, the shade of crimson matching his wings perfectly. “Dance with me, dove,” he says, before leaning down to press a quick kiss against your lips. You nod, and he leads you towards the center of the venue, where most of your guests are dancing to some cheesy pop song. Keigo nods at the DJ, who nods back and switches to the music. Soft synth notes travel through the speakers, before the singer’s dreamy voice floods your ears.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders. His wings move to wrap around you protectively. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it – it’s such a normal thing, now, for him to shield you, to create a little cocoon for the two of you. You frown as you feel his muscles moving underneath your fingers. “You’re too tense,” you say, fingers gently kneading at the parts of his back that you can reach. “Let me give you a massage once we get home.”

He chuckles, one of his own hands coming up to capture yours. He laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. The look he gives you is so tender, the love radiating off his body so palpable, that it makes your knees feel week. “Sweet, but I’m the one who’s going to be taking care of you tonight.” You open your mouth to protest, but he tuts, and a feather flies up to shush at your lips. “No, listen. You’re driving me crazy. Every time I turn my head, I see you looking so damn beautiful that my heart stops. Makes me wanna just pull you away and rip that pretty dress off.”

You gasp at his words, a pretty blush dusting your cheeks. “Kei! People are gonna hear you!”

He shrugs, pulling you even closer and swaying your bodies lightly to the music. “Let them,” he says nonchalantly, but the glint in his eye is pure sin. He leans down so that his lips brush against the shell of your ear. You can’t help the shudder that wracks through your body as his warm breath hits your skin. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing like that. Did I make you flustered, baby?” His fingers release yours, instead gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Answer me, love.”

You nod, feeling small. Only Keigo can affect you like this, can reduce you to a trembling mess with just a few words.

You love it.

He smirks at your confession, pressing a kiss against your cheek before leaning his forehead against yours. “What do you say we jump ship, babe?” Your confusion must show on your face, because he continues. “I think I might die if I have to wait much longer to get my hands on you. And judging by the way you’re acting… I’d bet good money that you’re already dripping for me.”

“Kei!” You swat at his chest before burying your face in it. He laughs, one of his real, genuine laughs that makes your heart soar, before kissing the crown of your head.

“I don’t see you denying it.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, is my cute little wife flustered?”

Wife. The word sounds so pretty rolling off his lips that you can’t resist retreating from the safety of his chest to press your lips against his. He cups your face with one of his large, rough hands and kisses you back. His wings shift to cover you up before the hand on your waist moves down to pinch at your ass – or, at least, it tries. The layers of your dress obstruct him, and he growls in frustration.

You can’t help but whine as well. You want him all the time, of course. Years of being together haven’t changed how fucking badly you want him all the time. You’d used up all your willpower behaving for the ceremony and the reception so far. You’d been good, had kept your hands to yourself throughout dinner and the toasts. But now, the mix of his body against yours, the dirty words that he’d whispered into your ear, and the cocktails running through your bloodstream were making it very hard for you to ignore the pooling heat between your legs.

You wanted him. You wanted your husband.

“Please,” you whisper. Under normal circumstances, you’d hate how whiny and pathetic you sound, but you’re too far gone to care. “Please, let’s go, Kei. Need you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few whispered words to Rumi, and a knowing smirk from her, and you were gone. It was surprisingly easy to slip out the venue. You’d expected to be stopped by some nosy family member, but it seemed that everyone was too tipsy and having too much fun to care. Nevertheless, you had to be careful once you stepped out into the fresh night air. The number two hero’s wedding was perfect paparazzi bait. You didn’t even want to think about the feeding frenzy that the media would go into if they caught sight of you now.

The night sky was like a shield, though, and it protected you from prying eyes. You’d been discreet when picking the wedding and reception venues, and even more discreet in choosing your honeymoon destination. Tomorrow morning, you and Keigo would fly up to the mountains, where he’d rented a little cabin for the two of you. By some miracle, he’d managed to get a whole week off work – a whole week where you’d have him, entirely to yourself.

But right now, you aren’t thinking about tomorrow morning, or the lovely, peaceful honeymoon that you were about to embark on. Right now, the only thing you can think about is Keigo. Keigo, with his beautifully messy hair that moved like ocean waves as you soared through the air. There’s nothing in this world that you love more than flying with him, pressed against his sturdy body with his strong arms wrapped around you. Light pollution makes it hard to see the sky from the ground, but up here, the moon and stars are breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as your husband, who’s eyes are prettier than any stars could ever hope to be.

He looks down and catches you staring, taking him in with your wide, wondrous eyes. You can barely hear anything through the noise-cancelling headphones that he makes you wear whenever you fly, but his words reach you, clear as day – “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Your voice comes out small, stolen away by the rushing wind. You try again, louder this time. “I love you!”

He chuckles, chest shaking as he tries to keep his laughs contained. “You trying to one-up me? I can be loud too.” He takes a deep breath, before tipping his head back and shouting an I love you up into the heavens.

His lips are soft and sweet as candy when they dip down to meet yours. “I’m just so happy,” he whispers against you. “You make me so happy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The moment that you set foot into the penthouse, you gasp.

“Oh, Kei,” you breathe, hand flying over your mouth.

He bounces nervously as he locks up the balcony door, not meeting your eye. “Do…do you not like it?”

You march up to him and grab his face in your hands, before standing up onto your tip-toes and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I love it, baby. Really, you’ve outdone yourself.”

He perks up at the praise, kissing your lips once before his hands move down and he picks you up, clean off the ground. You can’t hold your shrieking laugh back as he spins you around, a smile lighting up his face like a god damn Christmas tree.

The house is beautiful. Really, he did outdo himself. Back when you’d first started dating, he’d had to call off your six-month-anniversary date because of a mission. You’d assured him that it was fine, that you understood, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t upset. He promised that he would be back in a week at the latest. You’d spent the night with your friends, eating ice cream and watching shitty movies, and left for work the next morning. You weren’t expecting him back for a few days at least, but when you opened your door after an exhausting day at work, he was there, waiting for you. Scratches on his face and bandages on his arms, but he was there. And he’d decorated your apartment with flowers and fairy lights, centered around a haphazardly made blanket fort in the center of the living room. Little candles were placed across the room, each with a red feather standing guard, making sure that the flames didn’t accidentally get knocked over and grow. After you’d gotten over your initial shock – how the hell did you get in here, Kei – you ran into his arms and squeezed him, tight. He didn’t let go of you for the entire night – his body always pressed against yours, fingers constantly entwined, even as he made you cum so many times that you forgot your own name.

It was one of your fondest memories, one that always brought a smile to your face. You’d mentioned it offhandedly last week, while you were in the weeds with wedding planning. Honestly, you didn’t think that he’d even heard what you said, with how stressed and busy the two of you were. He was picking up extra patrols to make up for his honeymoon vacation time, and you were working your ass off to get your overbearing boss off your back.

But he had heard. He heard, and he listened, because that’s just the kind of lover – the kind of husband – that Keigo is. Attentive, sweet, and intuitive. You swear, he spoils you beyond belief. You don’t even know when he got the time to decorate the apartment today, but it’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than the decorations from your six-month-anniversary, because this time, the sight is sweetened by the knowledge that this is your shared home. This isn’t just your apartment, that your friends helped sneak him into so he could fancy it up. This is your shared space, where you’ll spend the rest of your lives together. Where you’ll wake up in his arms every morning, his wings wrapped around you protectively, fragmenting the morning light into shards of red. Where you’ll make meals together and laugh at his bad cooking, where you’ll take sanctuary from the harshness of the world. This place is your home. Keigo is your home.

He finally stops spinning, but refuses to set you down. Instead, he readjusts you so that he’s carrying you bridal style. You almost laugh at how cliché it is. It feels like something out of a cheesy rom-com, but you’re so happy that you feel like you’re in one of those rom-coms.

You do laugh out loud when you see the trail of petals leading to your bedroom. Keigo feigns disappointment, dramatically sighing. “Don’t laugh, princess, you wound me.” That just makes you laugh even more, and soon, he’s joining in, burying his face in your hair as he walks the two of you towards the bed. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic! Quit making me laugh!”

“I can’t help it,” you giggle as he gently places you onto the bed. Thankfully, he had the common sense to not put any petals on the actual bed, but the floor is absolutely covered. Blossoms line the walls as well, along with candles that bathe the room in their gentle glow. You take a second to admire how beautiful your husband looks in the soft light. The shadows make his wings seem that much bigger as they unfurl to their full size. He looms over you, looking like the most delicious mix of devil and angel that you’ve ever seen. There’s still a playful smile on his face, but something mischievous simmers beneath it.

“Hope you didn’t forget what you said at the reception hall, baby,” he says, eyes glinting. “What was it? Hmm, something like, need you, Kei, need you to take me home and fuck me, I’m already so wet for you.”

You groan and try to bury your face in your hands, but he’s too fast. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, easily wrapping them with just one of his large hands. “You’re making shit up,” you pout. “I only said the first part.”

“So you admit you said it? That you need me?”

“Shut up.”

“Mm, no thanks.”

You groan again, trying to suppress your smile. There are plenty of times that you and Keigo have had “serious” sex, but you mostly find yourself like this, devolving into giggles and teasing. There’s something about him that makes you feel so safe and at ease, and you can’t help yourself from giggling at his stupid remarks. He laughs, and releases your wrists to cradle your face with both his hands. He shifts so that he’s properly on top of you, his thighs on either side of your hips, and bends down to press kisses all over your face.

“My wife,” he breathes, in between kisses. “My sweet, beautiful, amazing wife. This dress is so pretty, but let’s take it off, my love. You don’t need it anymore.”

It takes a few minutes of awkward wriggling and tugging to finally remove the lace monstrosity, but at long last, the dress ends up on the floor. Keigo’s hands are on your body in an instant, fingers trailing over the curve of your waist and snapping the waistband of your panties. “God, you’ve got such pretty little lingerie on.”

“Wanted to dress up for you,” you say, pawing at his tie and trying to loosen the knot. It makes you feel small, to be so exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Normally you love to savor in that feeling, but right now, you need to feel his bare skin against yours. “Now take your clothes off, please.”

You finally manage to loosen his tie enough to pull it over his head. After stopping for another deep kiss, your hands continue their path over his body. His suit jacket comes off next, although he has to help you gently maneuver it off his wings. His cuff links clatter to the ground as you almost viciously rip off his dress shirt, and you moan when you finally feel his warm muscles.

You’re practically grinding into each other by now. Little whines leave your lips as you shamelessly roll your hips, seeking any friction you can get. You can feel his hardness, even through his thick pants, and you chase it with vigor. He’s not much better, a light blush dusting his face as he meets your rolls with shallow thrusts of his own. “Off, off, Kei, need to feel you,” you babble, fingers desperately trying to undo this belt buckle. Breathlessly, he pushes your fingers aside and pulls his belt off, unceremoniously throwing it across the room. You half expect it to collide with a candle and set the entire building on fire, but a few feathers fly out to catch it and gently set it down.

You don’t waste a second in pulling his pants down and throwing them as well, trusting that a feather will keep it from crashing into anything. Your fingers try to pull down the waistband of his boxers, but he tuts and grabs your hand.

You look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please,” you whine.

The smile on his face is gentle beyond belief as he answers. “I told you that I was going to take care of you tonight, baby. Let me make you feel good, okay? Can I make you feel good?”

You want to protest, want to beg him to stuff your face or your cunt and fuck into you until you’re lightheaded, but Keigo’s insistent about making you cum at least twice before even thinking about his own pleasure. And you can’t deny that you’re aching for him. You’re certain that you’ve soaked through your flimsy panties by now, and your mind is hazy with want.

You nod. Keigo takes your face in his hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Can you give me your colors too?”

You force your mind to push through the fog, force your heavy lips to move and form words. “G-green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“Good girl.” The praise goes straight to your core, and you whine. “Oh, baby, I know I just vowed to give you everything you could ever want, but you’re so damn needy. Be patient for me, okay? Let me touch you.”

You nod obediently, but you can’t fight the urge roll your hips and feel him again. With a soft, scolding noise, he presses one of his hands into your hipbone, effectively pinning you to the mattress. Try as you might, you can’t squirm away. He’s so ridiculously strong, his muscles toned from years of training and hero work, that you’re no match for him. But it’s not so bad. You love the dominance that oozes off his body as he moves down, his hands and tongue exploring every inch of skin that they can find. His teeth nip at the sensitive spot on your neck, the spot that always makes you melt for him. You shamelessly sigh and tilt your head to give him more access.

His right hand, the one that isn’t currently pinning you to the mattress, plays with the lacy edges of your bra. He palms you through the thin fabric, making you groan and arch your back into his touch. It’s not enough, you need more, need to feel more of him before you lose your mind. He seems to read your mind, because he doesn’t even bother to unclasp the bra, electing instead to rip it clean off your body. The snap of the straps breaking makes you gasp, but you revel in the sting of the elastic bouncing back against your skin.

“Couldn’t wait,” he says, not a hint of shame on his face. “You know how much I love to tease, but fuck, I need you now.”

He’s a bit more ceremonious when he removes your panties, choosing to use a hardened feather to slice through the fabric instead of just ripping with brute force. He fucking moans at the sight of you, wet and needy for him. It sounds like absolute heaven, but you don’t have even a second to revel in it before he’s diving into you. The sudden rush of pleasure is electrifying, and you go to instinctively slam your legs shut, but Keigo’s hand is too fast again. His tongue doesn’t falter for even a second as his fingers dig into your thighs and push you open. His lips wrap around your clit and suck, and he’s outrageously loud as he moans into your sex. It’s all so much – he’s licking at you like a man on death row, coaxing little whines and gasps from your lips.

His beautiful eyes are trained on yours, pupils blow out with love and lust. He memorizes every little expression that flits across your beautiful face as he eases a finger into you, eyes only leaving your face to admire the way that your little cunt sucks him in. But he can’t tear his gaze away from you, and the way your mouth falls open, or the way that your eyes flutter and roll back. The way that your hands ball up into fists, alternating between grabbing the bedsheets and lacing through his hair. Fuck, he loves how you pull at his hair when his fingers curl up against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Loves the little curses and gasps of his name that spill past your lips as he scissors and thrusts his digits deeper and deeper into your perfect pussy.

“Cum for me, princess,” he groans. “Please, cum for me, need you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

And, well, you did just vow to give him everything that he could ever want.

You throw your head back and almost sob as you gush all over his face and fingers. He’s insatiable, licking and fingering you all through it, desperately trying to lap up every single drop of your juices. Your body is shaking, and you whimper, the overstimulation building until it’s too much, until you’re crying out too much, Kei, ‘s too much!

“Give me your color, baby,” he says, slowing his assault against your body.

“G-green,” you stutter out, the words as shaky as your legs. “Green, don’t stop, it’s just – ah! Kei!”

Your verbal confirmation was all he needed to dive back in, sucking at you with even more vigor than before. His fingers twist and curl against your spot, and his tongue lashes at your clit. He doesn’t stop for even a second, burying himself in your heat. It’s all you can do to maintain your grip on his hair, tugging at it just the way that he loves. You’re thrust headfirst into your second orgasm of the night, crying out his name and positively sobbing at the onslaught of sensations.

When he finally pulls away, the lower part of his face is soaked with your cum. He makes a show of licking his lips clean, not breaking eye contact with you, no matter how much you blush and squirm. He saves his fingers for you, though. A gentle tap at your lips is all it takes for you to obediently open your mouth and take in his digits. You swirl your tongue around, eyes lidded with the afterglow of your pleasure.

But you’re not finished, are nowhere near finished. You suppose that you are being needy, but how could you not, when your husband looks like an absolute fucking god? The candlelight makes your cum on his face glisten beautifully. You whine and pull him in for a kiss, mashing your lips against his and greedily swiping your tongues together. It’s sinful. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you shudder, makes you need him that much more.

“Please, please fuck me,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his slim waist and trying to pull him closer, closer, closer. “Please, Kei, need you inside me, need my husband inside me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, so quietly that you would’ve missed it if you didn’t feel the word formed against your lips. “Fuck, baby, okay.” His hand slides between your bodies and quickly pushes his boxers down. He uses a feather to pull them all the way off, because he can’t be bothered to focus on that, not when you’re practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

Your fingers twitch, and you aren’t able to hold back any longer. Your hand finds his cock, marveling at how heavy and perfect he feels as you wrap your fingers around him and guide him towards your sopping cunt. You pause before you slide him in, though, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Can I ride you? Please?”

He curses again under his breath, practically shivering at your words. His strong hands reposition the both of you, until you’re sitting on his thigh and he’s leaning back against the headboard. He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Well, then? Get to work, princess.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his antics. “What happened to Mr. Let-Me-Take-Care-Of-You?”

“He’ll come out later. If my pretty wife wants to ride me, she gets to ride me.”

You laugh for real this time, but it quickly turns into a moan as you sink yourself down on his length. No matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms your senses, always stretches you so deliciously. You lean your forehead against his and give yourself a second to adjust, and then you’re rolling your hips, little whines leaving your lips.

“Feels so good, Kei.” You throw your head back, your fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back to anchor yourself. “You always feel so good.”

His eyes are half-lidded and dark as he takes you in. He’s memorizing every inch of your body, every detail and movement that he absolutely fucking adores. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world,” he whispers, seemingly more to himself than you. “So beautiful. I’m so lucky.”

Your thighs burn, but you force yourself to ignore the pain. You’d rather die than stop right now. His strong arms encircle your waist, and his wings surround your bodies, ruffling with every one of your movements.

You want to ignore your exhaustion, but your husband is perceptive as ever. His hips raise up to meet you, and it sends a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. You’re shaky, though, and you’re getting sloppy.

Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re being spun over and pinned to the mattress. A gasp leaves your lips, and you whine as his cock slips out of you. Your hand reaches out and paws around wildly, searching for him through your haze. Keigo’s quick to kiss you and shush your protests, entwining his rough fingers in your searching hand and stroking his thumb against your palm.

“Relax, angel. Let me take care of it.”

He slides into you again, making you both moan. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, clenching and fluttering around him. He pauses once he bottoms out. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and he presses sweet kisses all over your skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze, trying desperately to make him move. “Keigo, baby, please,” you whine, fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back.

He coos, cupping your face and kissing you before he readjusts himself. “Of course, pretty girl.”

His thrusts are deep and hard, so hard that they make the entire bed shake. Your eyes flutter shut, but he grips your jaw and begs you to keep them open – please, baby, look at me, need to see my pretty wife fall apart.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he moans, teeth nipping at your lips. “So perfect, and all mine.”

“All yours,” you agree. You’re practically babbling by this point, unable to stop the noises slipping past your lips. You’re floating on a cloud, soaring through the sky, anchored only by his body against yours. “You’re so deep in me, Kei, can feel you so deep in me. Please, ‘m so close, just a lil’ bit more, Kei.”

He coos again, hand slipping down to toy with your clit. You wail, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the coil in your stomach snaps and you gush uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but cry out for him, can’t do anything but cling onto him and shake and twitch. The feeling of you clenching around him is too much, and with a broken fuck and a cry of your name, he spills inside of you. He fucks you through it, the obscene sounds of your combined release making you feel lightheaded and weak.

He holds you for a few minutes, just like that, bodies entwined. You both pant and try to catch your breath. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, so you protest when he finally pulls out and sits back to admire the way that his seed drips out of you.

“Come back,” you complain. “What kind of husband doesn’t give cuddles to his wife?”

“The kind of husband who needs to clean her up,” he says with a chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go take a bath.

Your body feels boneless with exhaustion and the hazy afterglow of your three orgasms, so you’re grateful when he scoops you into his arms. You tuck your face into his neck and hum contentedly, unable to stop the giddy smile that blooms across your face.

“I love you, Kei,” you say, planting little kisses over his neck and jaw.

“I love you too, princess,” he says, grinning and poking your nose. He laughs when you scrunch it up and scowl at him. But, with how cute he looks, you just can’t hold the scowl for long. Soon, you’re giggling too.

You look up at him with so much love that it makes his heart ache. His eyes grow a bit more serious, and he dips his head to kiss at your swollen lips. “I mean it, baby. I’m so happy to spend the rest of my life with you.”

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miraculouscontent · 4 years

Text

A Change of Heart (post-”Miraculous New York”)

"Kaalki, divide!"

Ladybug felt Kaalki's light wash over her, the kwami emerging and flying a small distance away. They were up on one of the rooftops in New York, overlooking an interview that was happening on the street.

Kaalki hummed in interest, taking the time to see the tall buildings. "What a grand city." Then, her gaze dropped down and she squinted, adding with distaste, "Quite crowded though."

"There's an interview going on right now. That's why. One of their supervillains was just taken down," Ladybug explained, placing her foot up on the edge of the building and peering down to look at the crowd.

"And, what precisely are we here for?" Kaalki asked, hovering near Ladybug's face to follow her gaze.

"Not what, but who. We’re here to see Eagle," Ladybug answered, pointing at the eagle-themed superheroine being interviewed. The crowd was enthusiastically cheering at just about every answer Eagle was giving, and Ladybug couldn't help smiling at the fact that the person she gave the miraculous to was still doing well.

As the interview came to an end, Eagle's eyes shifted from the interviewer to Ladybug, who had made sure to be where the red-and-black of her suit would stand out; she wasn't exactly the definition of "stealthy," and it worked to her advantage in this case.

Eagle jumped up to the nearest rooftop, then waited for the crowd to disperse before leaping over to where Ladybug was. "Hey, Ladybug! What are you doing here?" Her brows creased in seriousness, and she held her fists up like she was raring for a fight. "Did Hawk Moth come back to New York?"

Ladybug waved dismissively. "No, no, it's nothing like—"

"Pardon me," Kaalki said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard. She puffed her chest out haughtily and gestured to herself with a hoof. "I'm Kaalki, the kwami of migration. Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone forced as to imply that she didn't appreciate being ignored.

"Uh... hi," Eagle greeted flatly, then looked to Ladybug for an explanation.

"Sorry about her. She was my ride." Grabbing Eagle's wrist and leading her to the center of the rooftop, where they were less likely to be seen from the streets, she explained, "Anyway, I came here because I was hoping that I could get your help."

Eagle leaned to the side, curious. "My help? What for?"

"Well..." Ladybug hesitated. "This is going to sound like a weird request, but..."

—————

Eagle crossed her arms in thought, still seemingly absorbing the explanation. "You want me to use Liberation on you? To get rid of your—"

"—romantic attachments," Ladybug cut in stiffly, the word 'crush' and 'love' sounding extremely un-Ladybug-like. She blushed in embarrassment and looked away, bringing a hand up to partly hide her face. "Listen, I know you probably don't get this sort of thing. It's already awkward to talk about it while I'm Ladybug, but—"

"No, I get it," Eagle assured, though her expression was neutral.

Ladybug looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

With a slight roll of her eyes, Eagle replied, "Okay, so I don't get all the love stuff exactly, but Uncanny Valley has her own thing for me to deal with. She always wants to help people; she can't help it. Besides, Liiri says that there's always something stopping people from reaching their full potential. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good, and it's my job to figure out what it is." She glanced Ladybug up and down, as if to gauge something. "You really think it's that bad?"

Ladybug responded with a wince, bad memories already starting to surface.

"Alright, wow," Eagle said, hands raised as she took a step back, the reaction having already convinced her while she herself clearly wanted no details about it. "Are you ready then? You know this is only going to last five minutes, right?"

"Wait—" Ladybug blinked in surprise. "You're really going to help me?"

"Yeah?" Eagle replied. Half-offended, she asked, "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"No! Sorry!" Ladybug rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "You'd be... surprised, by how bad this stuff usually goes for me."

For a moment, Eagle looked tempted to ask, but shook off the thought just as quickly. Placing her fists to her chest, her gaze went firm, showing that she was ready.

Ladybug stood in place, almost nervous at the prospect of doing this. She was essentially taking out a piece of herself, but it was the only way to test it; the only way to know for sure.

"Liberation!" Eagle called out, spreading her arms as a single light burst out of her.

Ladybug flinched, her fighting instinct kicking in, but she held firm and let the light touch her. For a moment, she was frozen, able to sense Eagle's presence in her mind and even hear her voice. Eagle's voice was calm, but tempting, offering the freedom so desperately desired.

"Ladybug, your love has taken over your life. I release you from it!"

—————

Marinette quickly stashed the glasses in her purse as she checked her phone's timer. She had four minutes and forty-five seconds to do this, and she took a steady breath before stepping out of the alley she'd been hiding in.

As she raced across the street, the fencing students were just filing out out of Françoise Dupont. The moment she saw Kagami and Adrien leaving, she raised a hand, raising her voice so she'd be heard. "Hey, Adrien!"

Adrien and Kagami stopped and glanced her way. Adrien turned to Kagami, saying something and briefly tilting his head in Marinette's direction. Kagami nodded at him in response, and they separated, Kagami heading in one direction and Adrien heading in Marinette's.

At first, Marinette was nervous, her worst case scenario being that Liberation had truly failed or worn off when she de-transformed, or that her feelings were somehow so strong or messed up that even Liberation somehow couldn't help her.

Yet, as Adrien approached, she found that she wasn't shaky at all. Her heart wasn't pounding either. She didn't even feel the slightest bit of awe from his presence.

She was normal. She was okay.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien greeted with a smile. "Did you need something?"

It took her a moment to answer, still stunned that it'd worked and she'd truly been freed of her crush, even if it was for five minutes. "Oh. No, actually, just..." She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the time, then kept it at her side as she asked genuinely, "How was fencing?"

Adrien looked briefly caught off guard, though whether he was surprised at her acting differently or just the question was anyone's guess. He then brightened, replying excitedly, "It was great! I got paired up with Kagami again, and you know how Mr. D'Argencourt is with fencing, so he..."

The conversation continued as nothing but casual from there, and Marinette almost felt silly at how amazed she was by such a simple thing. It was actually like she was Adrien's friend; like they were on the same page and she could actually hold a conversation with him. He looked and talked the same way he always did, yet she was perfectly fine. Students passed by and maybe tossed them a brief glance, but completely ignored them otherwise because she wasn't acting "weird."

At worst, she was grinning just a little wider out of the pleasant surprise of the whole thing.

When she'd first thought to "liberate" herself of her feelings for Adrien, she was certain she'd be disappointed by it. She honestly thought that she would see Adrien and miss the heart fluttering, the weak knees, and the sheer dreaminess he used to radiate.

But she was wrong. With her crush gone, she could see herself from an outside perspective and reflect without fretting over the things she would've otherwise. Where she thought there'd be disappointment, there was relief that she could actually breathe and not turn into a mess around him. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts, and her eyes could drift wherever she wanted without some brainless thought intruding and warning her that she might miss Adrien blinking if she looked away.

She'd needed this. It was nice; more than nice even. Is this how it could be all the time if she truly moved on from him? No more mocking, no more jealousy, no more "crazy Marinette"? It'd be like a celebrity crush that she grew out of; an embarrassing memory of the past and nothing more.

More importantly, she would remember this. She would remember this feeling; the sanity of not being in love with Adrien, or not feeling whatever that emotion was actually called. To say the word "love" seemed so... wrong.

Still mid-discussion with Adrien, Marinette's phone suddenly beeped with a warning message. She turned it in her hand, seeing that she'd properly set the timer earlier to warn her when there was a minute and half left of Liberation.

Adrien leaned over to look at the screen, but jumped when a loud honking noise abruptly sounded off from behind him. Marinette tried not to snicker, but it was difficult; seeing someone else be the jumpy one was quite the experience, and she'd have to remember that too.

Adrien looked over his shoulder at his limo waiting for him, then glanced back at her apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta go. Can we talk later?"

"Oh, sure! Definitely!" Marinette stashed her phone back in her purse, then waved to him. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, waving as he rushed off. "It was fun talking to you!"

"You too!"

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to contain herself as she watched Adrien get into the limo and ride off down the street. She waited until it was out of earshot, then let herself start squealing, even hopping around and doing a twirl for effect.

"M-marinette?!" Tikki called, concerned. "Did it wear off? There's still time—"

"I'm gonna delete all my Adrien pictures!" Marinette exclaimed. "And take down that disaster of a wallpaper!"

"W-wHA—!!" Tikki gaped. "Marinette, when your feelings come back—"

"That's future Marinette's problem! This feels great!" Marinette cheered, having to suppress her excitement just so she could talk. Raising one hand dramatically, she placed the other to her chest, saying to no one in particular, "Oh, what's that? Me, crushing on Adrien? Ew, no way! We're just friends!"

She laughed triumphantly, a bounce in her step that made it seem almost like she were jogging. She crossed the street, reaching for the bakery door's handle and practically singing to herself, "Just friends~ We're just friends~ Me and Ad~ri~en are just good—"

She paused as she opened the door, seeing a familiar mix of blue and black standing at the counter and talking to her parents. At the chime of the bell, all three looked over at her, Luka's smile welcoming and his lips partially coated in white from what seemed to be a powdered donut.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," Sabine cooed. "He came all the way here just to see you."

Luka blushed a light shade of pink at the obvious teasing, Tom jumping in to exclaim, "And he really thought he had to pay us for sweets! I told him, you're friends with our daughter, you better not put a single coin on that counter, young man!"

The three had a laugh together; clearly, they'd been getting along before she came in.

Yet, Marinette's smile fell from her face, a mental 'oh' echoing in her mind.

She hadn't even considered Luka when she'd thought of taking away her crush on Adrien, but it made sense; Eagle had said love, and Marinette wasn't foolish enough to think that she hadn't felt anything romantic for Luka. It only made sense that her crush on him would go too.

But it wasn't the same. The relief didn't follow the lack of feeling. With Luka, there'd always be a little leap in her heart, then a wave of calm washing over her, but neither were there and she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Luka's smile disappeared as he noticed her expression. He approached, concern written all over his features. "Marinette?"

They were friends at that very moment; that was all the feeling she had on the matter, but she wanted what she'd had before. She remembered his confession at the TV station and yearned for the warmth in her cheeks when he stared at her and told her how much he loved her with words that were entirely his own; words that told her that he loved her as herself and filled her with a confidence she seldom had outside of being Ladybug.

Everything clicked. Her crush on Adrien represented stress, anxiety, and losing herself, but her crush on Luka represented peace, happiness, and being herself.

She missed how she felt about Luka. She didn't miss how she felt about Adrien.

That was all the answer she needed.

Almost on cue, her phone beeped again, this time to signal that Liberation was over. Marinette took in a shaky breath as she felt pleasantly familiar emotions rush through her again, and she welcomed them back like she would an old friend.

Luka's blue eyes gained vibrance and allure, his lips being coated in powdered sugar suddenly became incredibly cute, and she could think of him as no less than the most handsome boy in the world.

"...Sorry," she said breathlessly, waving a hand to assure him that she was alright. "Let's just say I went through a lot of emotions today. I'm happy to see you, really!"

Luka's smile came back, filling her with its warmth. "I'm glad," he said in relief. Then, taking a glance at her purse, which was still letting out a muffled, melodic beeping noise, he asked, "Sorry, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not really." She took out her phone to shut off the timer, then flashed him the screen before closing the app and storing the phone back in her purse. That done, she paused to consider things, then dared a glance back at him. "Hey... can we walk for a while?"

He blinked, mildly surprised, but nodded. "Sure. Did—" He froze, apparently only now realizing that he had powdered sugar on his lips. He swished his tongue around to lick it off, then started over with, "Did you want to talk about something?"

Smiling almost smugly in response, she felt confident enough to offer him her arm, as if he were a damsel she was leading around. She'd never seen his eyes widen quite so much before, but he also didn't protest, happily taking hold of her arm.

Knowing that her parents would just be giving their looks of approval if she glanced back, she stepped out of the bakery and led Luka towards the park.

"So, it took a little longer than I hoped, but... do you remember when you were talking about me getting clarity?"

#MC's Writing #writing: story #special: Miraculous New York #Lukanette Endgame #((the New York special: *creates power that would give Marinette the clarity she was looking for*))#((also the New York special: *does nothing with it*))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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girls4keigo · 3 years

Text

A Bird Whisperer’s Guide to Fighting Villains and Falling in Love | Hawks x Hero!Reader

Summary: Hawks needs help to defeat an upcoming hero attack in Tokyo. What better hero to ask than the one he’s been crushing on for months

Warnings: F!Reader, Hero!Reader, Fluff, Cursing

Reader plays hard to get. Reader has a nature quirk and can control natural elements and talk to animals. Reader is a popular hero

a/n: hi! this is my first post i hope you all enjoy! :)

————

You sighed, trying to keep your composure while talking to a bunch of big name heroes. The fundraiser events that your agency made you go to were unbearable. Standing around for hours listening to the most mundane heroes try to impress you with their line of work. But hey, if it helps boost approval ratings I guess it’s not that bad.

For the past year you’ve slowly been climbing the ranks of the hero world. With a powerful quirk and unique fighting styles it was hard to go unnoticed. By now you were familiar with how the industry treated female heroes. It seemed as if the general public cared about anything but your hero duties.

It was all love, relationships, “Who are you dating?”, “What’s your skincare routine?”

You honestly didn’t expect any different but geez, it sure did piss you off. And now that you were in the top 3, you weren’t expecting any of it to die down. Might as well just get used to it.

You continued to chat when suddenly your ear twitched as you sensed a certain birdie approaching.

Oh God.

“Hey. Mind if I steal ya away for a little?” Hawks’ signature smirk appeared on his face as he approached you.

Hawks seemed to really be latching onto you for quite some time, well since the new hero rankings were announced. You were on your way to surpassing the number 2 hero and had gained a lot of notoriety in the past couple of months.

He was clingy for sure, always play flirting, inviting you to lunch, showing up at your agency unannounced. It was obvious that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You’d be surprised if he admitted to actually having feelings for you. Well, not that you cared anyways. Your job was to save civilians, defeat villains, and do things that any other normal hero would. Love was simply not on your agenda.

Holding back a heavy sigh, you complied and stepped off to the side with Hawks.

He seemed delighted by your decision, using his feathers to fetch you a glass of champagne off of one of the caterer’s trays as you two walked over to the bar area.

“So your agency makes you come to these lame things too, huh?”

You didn’t answer, not very interested in the direction that the conversation was going in.

“You look nice.” He bit his lower lip, dragging his eyes vertically across your figure.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking a sip of your champagne.

After you both had made your way over to the bar he instructed his order to the bartender, asking you if you wanted anything and keeping the same dumb smirk on his face when you denied.

“Rarely ever see you in a color other than green. I mean, I guess it’s your entire thing but I really dig this red look you’ve got goin’ on” He mused, as he watched the bartender carefully make his drink.

He wasn’t lying. He’s been eyeing you since you walked in, you look good.

“What do you want, Hawks?” You asked, visibly annoyed.

“Damn.” He chuckled, “Small talk isn’t your thing, noted.”

You side-eyed him, getting impatient with his overly relaxed demeanor.

Catching the hint, he got straight to the point. “There’s some trouble going on in Tokyo.”

Now you were intrigued. You took another sip of your champagne, “Petty villain attacks like always, isn’t it?”

You turned towards him, he got a good look at your face before he answered.

Fucking pretty, he thought to himself.

“That’s what I thought at first but it’s getting harder to believe that as I do more digging.” He looks around before inching closer to you, trying to keep his volume to a minimum. “The League is planning something big next week. The ‘Rain of Terror’, they’re callin’ it. They’re trying to ease the amount of big attacks in the city to let our gaurds down. And frankly, I think it’s working.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve got connections,” Was all he said, with a shrug.

Ok, whatever. You’ll confront him about that later. “And this ‘Rain of Terror…’ what does it entail?”

“Bombs.”

“Shit,” You muttered.

“Big ones. Huge ones, actually. I don’t know how the fuckers did it but they found a way to make these huge, bioengineered clouds that ‘rain’ bombs.”

You grew uneasy. Raining bombs? Over the entirety of Tokyo? The amount of destruction it would do to the earth, to civilians, made you panic. Hawks sensed your uneasiness but continued anyways, “I want us to team up. Your quirk would be useful with the entire controlling nature n’ weather thing.”

He loosened up from his serious expression, talking a bit louder and showing a teethy smile, “Plus I think we’d make a pretty good team. I’ve already got a plan so we’ll meet up at yours tomorrow.”

“As in my house? Why not anywhere else?” You questioned.

“Well,” He grabbed his drink and used his free hand to rub the back of his heck, “This isn’t really the typa thing we can talk about in public. Mass hysteria, panic, that type of thing. And my living situation is pretty…complicated right now.”

You felt a small tap on your shoulder, followed by the voice of your high school aged sidekick. You turned to the younger hero. “Uh..Y/N? It’s time to go. I gotta be back by 11.”

You sighed before turning back to Hawks.

“Kids and their curfews, right?” He commented.

“Fine. I’ll have my agency send you my address. Don’t come during the day.” That was the last thing you said before finishing your drink all in one quick sip and making your way to the exit. You could feel his eyes on your backside until you left the venue. And the singular scarlet feather rushing in front of you to open the car door for you was really the cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes.

“Woah.” Your sidekick mused, “He seems to really like you. You should give him a chance, he’s hot.”

You giggled at her comment, “He doesn’t really like me, y’know? He flirts with every female hero.”

—

You heard a slight tap on the window leading up to your balcony. You already sensed him flying towards you when he was about a mile away, but your bedroom? Reluctantly you walked over and opened the sliding door.

“Never heard of a front door?”

“Well that’s no fun, is it?” He said, displaying his signature smirk. You looked cute out of your hero clothes. Hair tied up and messy, and in big comfy clothes.

Adorable, he thought to himself. He walked in as if it was his own befroom, slipping off his shoes, gloves and jacket and placing them in the corner of your room.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You deadpanned at him, “And we’re still going downstairs anyways.” He shrugged.

He couldn’t help but be taken aback by the layout of your room. There were plants in almost every corner, on every shelf. Vines growing on your walls, half read books strewn across your bedside table and dresser, your pet birds of all different shaped and sizes flew freely around your room, chirping every once in a while. “So you’re a bird whisperer, huh?” He said, looking around.

“I’m an animal whisperer.” You said, “That’s kind of like my entire thing.”

He let out a hearty laugh before making his way out of your room.

“Tea?” You asked, heading towards the kitchen as the winged hero made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Sure.” He picked up your remote with one his feathers, flicking through the channels.

He turned his attention to you a couple moments later as you took a seat across from him at your coffee table, setting down two mugs of green tea.

He explained his plan carefully, paying close attention to all details and pausing for any questions you might have. You had to admit, as much as an annoying asshole this guy could be, he knew what he was doing. You could tell he plans his strategies very carefully, as much as he likes to come off as lazy and laid back to the general public. He was a damn good hero. And you hated admitting it but he was right, utlizing his speed and your ability to control weather, it wouldn’t be all that hard to stop villain attacks.

Hawks also couldn’t help but admire you. You seemed attentive, always paying close attention to detail and asking a lot of questions. I mean he already knew you were good at your job, watching some of the viral videos of your fights with villains.

—

When the day finally came, it went as smoothly as planned, of course with a little bumps along the way. Still, the few civilians that were hurt only had minor injuries, and you and hawks made it so only a couple bombs hit the ground.

You, Hawks, and some other minor heroes who had joined mid-battle regrouped to talk about how to resolve the collateral damage.

“It’s not too much to be honest, I’ll have it all repaired by midni-“

“Wow! What an incredible display of courage from Hawks and Mother Nature, currently sitting at number 2 and number 3 of Japan’s Hero BillBoard Chart!” A loud reporter exclaimed, accompanied by a camera crew.

Of course.

You tried your best to ignore and keep talking to fellow heroes until a microphone was shoved in your face. The face of the reporter gleamed as she talked to you. “Tell me Mother Nature, how does it feel working with number 2 hero Hawks?” You winced at the question, but answered nevertheless.

“Hawks is a diligent hero with a lot of experience under his belt despite being so young. It was great working with him.” You answered, forcing a smile on your face.

“There’s speculation that you two planned this together..is this true? How were you able to predict this attack? More importantly, are you two dating?” Those questions hit you like a truck.

“Um..no comment.” Was all you could answer with.

Nevertheless, the reporter persisted, “Well there has to be something going on. It’s just my opinion but you two seem perfect for each other.” She giggled at the camera, “Please! The public is dying to know!”

Before you could even muster up an answer to the reporter’s overwhelming question, a giant scarlet wing came between you and the reporter, blinding both her and the camera from your view.

“Hey. She said she doesn’t wanna talk about it. Let’s respect personal boundaries, yeah?” Hawks said in a nice but slightly defensive tone.

You blushed, looking up at him. As nice we he was trying to sound, he looked angry. And damn right he was. How dare they talk to you like you’re no more than just some D-list celebrity? You’re a fucking hero, who cares about dating speculation when you just saved Japan’s largest city? And how dare they ask questions about him when you were the one doing most of the work. He was enraged, and it was his natural instinct to protect the thing he cared for.

Before you knew it, he latched his arms around your waist, pushing you into his chest.

You were flustered. “What are you-“

“Let’s go.” Was all he said before flapping his wings, sending you guys soaring through the air.

You held on to him for dear life, damn was he fast.

Hawks smirked to himself, feeling your rapid heartbeat against his chest. You were trying your best to hide your blushing by burying your face in his neck, granted that probably made it worse because he could already tell by how hot your face was.

God, she’s adorable

As soon as you two landed on top of a building, you pushed him away as quickly as possible.

He chuckled, putting both of his hands up in defense, “You’re the one making this awkward y’know? Plus you owe me for saving your ass.”

You were angry. Was it because of the downright rude questions that the reporter asked you not too long ago, was it because you knew tabloids would be posting all about you and Hawks for the next couple of days, was it because you were..warming up to that damned bird?

And then you started. “Just so you know, this..us..is not a thing. It will never be a thing. I wish you’d just stop flirting with me all the damn time. Just move on to the next female hero. I actually don’t care what you do. Just leave me alone. I don’t understand why you have to be so clingy, it’s annoying.”

Hawks did nothing but smile, listening to you ramble.

“You know…I-“ He interjected, only to be interrupted by you.

“And geez, you’re so goddamn entitled. I owe you? I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t even need your help. You’re no different from any other guy, you’re fucking insuffer-“

Hawks shut you up with a gentle kiss on your lips.

Oh.

“You talk too much.” He said in a low whisper, before pulling on your chin to kiss you again. You kissed him back, resting your hands on his chest, completely indulging in the moment.

Fuck. Your knees were weak. As much as you wanted to keep going you pulled away, blushing furiously and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Oh? So now you’re shy?” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. He tried to catch your gaze but you just moved your head away from him each time.

“Someone might see us. This is bad,” You were able to muster out.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He said, making you blush even more. He continued, “I don’t flirt with you for no reason, y’know? Sure, sometimes it’s just to tease..but I think you’re amazing.”

You felt like you were melting in his arms. Unable to find the right words, you panicked. You were gone in seconds, manipulating the wind so it could carry you back home, the same stupid blush unable to leave your face.

“Call me!” He yelled.

That damn bird.

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apricotgojo · 3 years

Note

hello love! I got bored and thought of this. So it’s the readers bday and they like Adrien. Adrien like the reader and marinette hates that he does. So like reader is planning on throwing a party bc it’s their birthday so marinette decided to throw a party on the same day at the same time. And since reader is kinda new, everyone decided to go to Mari’s party. So that happens, but when Adrien gets to readers party, they’ve done gone batshit crazy, like screaming, crying, smashing things, idk just losing their shit. Not like in anger, they’re just really hurt by it. No hawk moth tho😩 hawkdaddy go on vacay or sum🤺🤺 Mk sorry this is long and it’s late and I’m kiiinndaaa drunk and in da feels anyway bye bye

HELLO ANON! SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT HERE IT IS! I never thought that i would have to write about mean marinette but here i am LMAO. i hope you like it bb <33

Pairing: Adrien Agreste X Reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: angst, Marinette is a bitch in this oops, alexa play pity party by melaine martinez.

“Love, Adrien.”

“Wow, that’s really cringey Adrien.”

“Shut up plagg, I need to confess to her some way or another.”

Adrien Agreste is sprawled out on his bed and he just finished writing a birthday card for you. Yes, it was quite cheesy but he decided that today was going to be the day he confesses his feelings towards you. He’s had his eye on you ever since your first day of school and you’ve both gotten closer to each other, flirting constantly but never making a move. Needless to say, he was head over heels for you and was too much of a pussy to ever admit it. But tonight was the night.

You invited him over to your house for your birthday party along with your other classmates and he didn’t even think twice to agree – especially since his dad is at a fashion expo in Spain. All he wanted was for you to have the best birthday party you could possibly have. You really meant a lot to him.

his thoughts disappear when all of a sudden his phone beeps.

‘Y/N’S PARTY WILL BE HELD AT MY PLACE SO WE CAN SURPRISE HER, DON’T MENTION ANYTHING TO HER. 7PM ! DON’T BE LATE! ~Marinette’

‘Sorry, can’t come tonight.’ You frowned as you stared at your phone, seeing a text from Marinette. You and her weren’t really that close to be honest but you still wished for her to come and have a good time. You sighed and plopped down on your bed. It’s your sweet 16th and you wanted it to be perfect. You hoped that enough people would show up. It was your first birthday here in Paris and although you haven’t been here for a while, you thought that you already made close connections with your classmates, especially a certain blond.

All you wanted was for him to show up mostly, maybe tonight you could make a move. Maybe tonight you could possibly hold his hand, maybe dance with him, maybe give him a kiss on his soft cheek or a small peck on the lips-

Your face heated up at that thought and a grin appeared on your face. You hugged your pillow and quietly squealed. Tonight was the night and nothing could possibly ruin it.

Or so you hoped.

Everywhere was decorated with fairy lights, balloons and glitter. Music was already playing and there were drinks and snacks for everyone to enjoy. You were wearing the outfit you’ve been planning for ages and you were sitting down, leg bouncing as you wait for people to arrive.

Did you get the time incorrect? you did mention to everyone that you’re meeting up at 7pm. It was 7:15.

Maybe they were running late? But how could it be that all of them were running late?

You furrow your eyebrows and grab your phone. You go on Instagram to see if anyone posted anything about their whereabouts.

Kim was live.

You click on it and see him walking through a crowd of people.

“Marinette, this party is amazing!” you hear him shout.

“Thanks Kim.” You hear her say.

Your jaw drops Anger starts bubbling inside of you.

Kim turns the phone up and shows Nino on the dj stand. He waves to the camera.

“Adrien! say hi to my live.” Adrien appears next to Kim. He was caught off guard. He smiles sheepishly and waves at the camera awkwardly.

Your phone drops out of your grasp and tears start rolling down your cheeks furiously.

Adrien was looking everywhere for you. it was already 8pm and he was wondering when you’d show up. He held your gift and note close to his chest, he wanted to personally give them to you.

“H-hey Adrien..” The voice of Marinette makes him turn around to face her.

“Marinette! Where’s the birthday girl?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Marinette stares at him for a moment and nervously chuckles. “oh- well- she uh- she can’t make it!” He shrugs and laughs again. “did you get something to drink? We have pomegranate juice, peach lemonade, spr-“

“what do you mean she can’t make it? Why the hell is the party still going?” Adrien questions, looking around in disbelief.

“Adrien i-“

“Marinette, your plan is totally working, can’t believe everyone fell for- “ Alya stops speaking when she notices that Adrien is in front of her and purses her lips.

Adrien stares at Marinette for a moment, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “On her own birthday? Marinette, this is so not like you.” He was disgusted by her actions.

“Adrien wait!” She calls out. “I can explain.”

“I don’t know why you did this, or what the hell is wrong with you but this was really low. I’m out of here.” He glares at her before walking away from her.

You were out of control. You cried, you screamed, you threw everything you saw in front of your eyes until you fell on your knees, sobbing.

You couldn’t believe Marinette would do this, you couldn’t believe everyone would do this to you, especially Adrien.

You thought you’ve grown close to the people in your class but you were wrong. They didn’t show up to your birthday party, they lied to you. Your heart was broken.

You held your knees close to your chest as the music lowly played behind you. It was mostly drawn out by your sobs and sniffles.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you look up, with red puffy eyes and see a familiar blond through your blurry vision.

It was Adrien. You look away and sob even harder at the thought of him seeing you like this, with everything destroyed around you. Why did he come here? Did he want to taunt you further?

He kneels down next to you and rubs your shoulder, moving you to his chest and causing you to nuzzle your face there.

“I hate this. I hate today, I hate Marinette.” You mumble. Maybe hate was a strong word, but you didn’t care at that moment.

You look up at him. “Why did you come here Adrien? Do you want to make me feel even more embarrassed than I already am?” You croak out.

He shakes his head. “Please, I swear to you Marinette told me that your birthday party was moved to her place, she told everyone that.” He sighs and shows you his phone so you could see the message Marinette sent him.

“Fucking bitch!” You exclaim and hide your face in your hands again.

“Hey, hey. I got here as soon as I found out she was lying. All I wanted was to celebrate your birthday and make you happy” He says quietly. “I’m so fucking sorry that this happened.” He says and rests his head against yours in a comforting manner.

You look up at him and wipe your eyes, sniffling. “Well, there’s nothing I can do now. It’s ruined.” You mumble and sigh. “I thought Marinette was my friend you know?” You mutter.

“I know.” Adrien nods and looks down. He stares at the card in his hand and bites his lip, his heart racing at the thought of giving this to you. “Maybe this will make you feel better.” He says, a small smile twitching on his lips as he hands you the envelope.

You widen your eyes and look up at him as if hesitant to open it. You open it though and you begin to read it.

Ever since the first time I saw you, you absolutely took my breath away. Ever since the day I first saw you, I thought to myself that I have to get to know you better. I did. And that may have been one of the best decisions of my life. You have a beautiful mind, a beautiful soul and a beautiful heart. To be honest, I think I keep falling for you every day. Happy birthday Ma belle, i hope you have the best one yet.

Love, Adrien.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks again, but this time it was because of his sweet words. Your heart finally felt whole.

You look up at him with glistening eyes and give him a wobbly smile.

He smiles sheepishly at you. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asks.

You didn’t even answer, you just leaned in and placed your lips on his.

It was small, but you felt fireworks burst inside of you.

You pull away and watch him flutter his eyes at you, his cheeks glowing red.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask.

He chuckles and kisses you again.

Maybe your birthday wasn’t so bad after all.

#adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #chat noir #chat noir x reader #mlb #miraculous ladybug

921 notes · View notes

miyagihawk · 3 years

Note

for hawk

lover of mine - 5sos

it's a selfship anthem, bby!

the lyrics make so much sense

i love 5sos!!!! ty for the request :)

lover of mine | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: cursing, i think that’s it?

summary: based on lover of mine by 5sos <3

Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Your relationship with Hawk was more complicated than most.

You had to be patient with him. His mind was like a kaleidoscope; his thoughts were in intricate patterns that you could never comprehend. It amazed you, but it also frustrated you when you couldn’t understand him.

And when it seemed like you finally did understand, he would shift into new colors and you’d have to start all over again.

“I just- I don’t get you, Hawk! Why are you always lying to me?” you said loudly, already feeling exhausted from the argument.

“I’m not! You just never believe me!” he turned it on you. Like always.

You looked at him with a hard stare and crossed your arms. “Did you or did you not break Demetri’s arm?” you asked in a calmer, but still threatening tone.

You already knew the answer; everyone was talking about what happened in the laser tag room. But here Hawk was, denying it. You just couldn’t grasp why he hid so much from you.

When he stayed silent with his gaze not meeting yours, you sat on your bed with an exasperated sigh.“We should take a break,” you interrupted the quiet atmosphere, looking up at where your boyfriend stood in front of you.

“What?” Hawk finally met your eyes with a hurt expression.

You patted the spot on the bed next to you, and he sat reluctantly. “I’m just tired. We need a break Hawk.”

“We don’t need a break,” he protested quietly, and the subtle sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart pang with hurt.

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

He was scared. Even through all the countless arguments and lies, you never left. Now you were suggesting a break, and Hawk knows from seeing other relationships that they always just end in an actual break up.

In a weird way, you did want to scare him. Because he would never change if you didn’t. You hated the idea of a break, but maybe Hawk would finally stop lying to you if you showed him you were serious.

“It’s not a breakup,” you assured, because you knew what he was thinking. For once. “We just need time apart for a little bit. To think.”

“About what?” he asked defensively, starting to raise his voice again.

“You and I. We’re quite toxic, you know?” you contrasted his volume in a lighter tone, making his face relax and his lips turn up a bit.

His small smile dropped suddenly, replaced by an anxious expression. “Don’t leave me Y/N.”

Your heart dropped at his words, and you wanted to wrap your arms around him. To tell him you’d never leave and that it was all okay. But it wasn’t all okay.

You grabbed his hand instead, “You’re my best friend. I love you. But I need this, okay? We both do. Just some time to figure out how we can fix... us.”

“I can fix it now, we don’t need to take a break. Please. I’ll never lie to you again. I just- I hate disappointing you,” he pleaded, tightening his hand around yours, and you wanted to give in.

But you knew that letting this go on, this never ending cycle, would only end with the both of you in a huge crash and burn.

“You said that last time,” you gave him a sad smile. “Let’s just figure our shit out, and then come back better for each other. We need this Hawk.”

6 months later

Things didn’t end so well after your break with Hawk. After spending some time apart, you two were just never close again.

None of you planned for it to happen; you just drifted away from each other. And neither of you exactly established when the “break” would be over.

So for the next few months, you passed each other in the halls without any acknowledgment of the other’s existence. Of course you missed him, but not being with him just became the new normal. And you accepted it and pushed your feelings aside.

“So you’ll meet us there? You sure you don’t want the limo to pick you up?” your friend Cara asked from across the lunch table.

“Yeah don’t worry about me, Jesse’s picking me up,” you replied, making the rest of your friends wiggle their eyebrows teasingly.

“What happened to prom with the girls, Y/N? I thought we established no boyfriends during prom season,” Cara pouted playfully, and you elbowed her in the ribs.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He just asked me to prom and that’s it,” you corrected.

Your other friend jumped in, “And why not? Jesse is so cute.”

As she asked, your eyes trailed away from your friends and towards a certain someone with loud red hair, sitting across the room with his karate posse.

Your group noticed your lack of attention and turned to see what you were looking at. They sighed in unison, making you bring your focus back to them.

“He’s why, isn’t he?” Cara gave you an understanding smile and rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay. Just have fun tonight.”

You only nodded, giving your kind friends a soft smile of appreciation.

As much as you tried to convince yourself that you’ve moved on fully, the boy with a kaleidoscope mind would always have a place in your heart.

Where is he?

You paced around your living room anxiously, checking your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour.

You scrolled through the numerous texts you’ve sent, contemplating if you should send another one. Calling him wasn’t even an option; it went straight to voicemail everytime.

After an hour and a half, you gave up waiting and hoping that your prom date would show up. You flopped down onto the couch despairingly, replying to worried texts from your friends.

‘I’m not going to make it, just don’t worry about me. Have fun my loves.’ you typed, throwing your phone onto the floor right after.

You didn’t want to ask them to pick you up and ruin their night, and you were honestly too drained from being stood up to call an Uber.

So prom night ended up with you spread out on the couch with your outfit that you’ve planned out months ago, eating out of a carton of rocky road ice cream.

Honestly, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve been spending the night with an absolute jerk named Jesse. (a/n: so sorry if ur name is jesse lmao)

In the middle of your rom com movie marathon, an abrupt knock at the front door made you sit up from your pathetic, ice cream eating position on the sofa.

Immediately, you turned off the TV and tiptoed towards the door. You silently grabbed the baseball bat next to it, while squinting to see through the peephole.

Your stomach immediately dropped when you saw him.

Clad in a black suit, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Shifting on his feet and chewing on his lip nervously, as he waited for you to open the door.

The boy you didn’t know you needed to see until now.

What is he doing here?

You covered your mouth in shock as you ran to the mirror to check if you had chocolate stains around your mouth. You smoothed down your hair and straightened out your dress in a frenzy, before unlocking the door with a deep breath in.

“Hawk?” you tried to act surprised, which wasn’t hard because your heart was racing.

He took a second to look at you in your wasted prom attire, and he was locked in a trance for a second before he snapped out of it. “Oh... uh, these are for you,” he held out the flowers to you and you took them with a smile.

“Wow, I love them. Thank you,” you brought them up to your nose for a whiff of your favorite floral scent. “So, what are you doing here?” you asked awkwardly.

“Oh crap, sorry, do you want to come in?” you said before he would answer, and you opened the door wider so he could step inside.

Hawk looked around the room where he’s been countless times, and he frowned at the sight of 13 Going On 30 paused on the screen with half melted ice cream on the coffee table. That movie plus the sweet dessert was your absolute comfort pairing, and it made him sad that you needed it.

“Cara texted me, and I was worried,” he finally spoke, answering your earlier question. You suddenly felt embarrassed as you placed the bouquet in a vase. You didn’t want to be pitied. Especially by your ex-boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” you said bluntly, busying yourself with the flowers so that you wouldn’t have to face him. You hadn’t talked to him since the night you suggested the break, and you already felt too exhausted from tonight’s events to even talk about it with him. “It’s better that I didn’t go to prom with that dick.”

Hawk chuckled at your remark, and you felt more at ease. The tension between you was thicker than an iceberg, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

“So did you leave? Or are you just dressed up like that for me?” you smiled, sitting down on the couch where he followed.

He laughed again, lightening the mood even more. “I was there, but you know, Cara told me about what happened and... I just felt like I needed to come. It was lame though. The whole thing is just dancing. And I don’t dance,” Hawk explained, and you found yourself smiling at the thought of him caring about you. “But I know how excited you were about prom, so I thought I’d bring it to you. Some romantic shit like that.”

Your eyebrows raised at “romantic shit”, but you decided not to say anything about it. Although, it did make your cheeks heat up and you hoped he didn’t notice. “That’s really sweet Hawk. Thank you. Really,” you placed your hand on top of his, but you recoiled awkwardly because it felt too intimate, given the circumstances.

You cleared your throat, “So... since you’re bringing prom to me, does that mean I get a dance?” you got up and stood in front of him with your arms playfully crossed.

Hawk squinted his blue eyes at you, crossing his arms as well, “I don’t dance, remember?”

“For me you will, right? Or I could just, you know, dance by myself. It’s already been such a great night for me,” you teased, walking away from him towards a clear space in the living room.

He groaned from behind you and got up to follow, making you cheer happily. “For you I will,” he stated under his breath, releasing dozens of butterflies in your stomach.

Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

You turned on your Dad’s old record player, where a slow, jazzy, 60s vinyl was spinning. You almost wanted to change it because it felt too romantic, but Hawk was already waiting behind you and you were scared he would change his mind.

The rush his presence gave you made you boldly put your hands on his shoulders, and he stiffly placed his own on the curve of your waist. Your hands were locked at the nape of his neck; his hold on you was light as if you were fragile china.

You forgot how intoxicating it felt to be this close to him, and you wondered how you went so long without that feeling.

The both of you swayed to the smooth melodies of Nina Simone with interlocked eyes, and with every second his hands on your hips became more relaxed. You rested your head on his chest, pulling him closer.

For a song or two, none of you said anything; there was just an unspoken appreciation of each other’s presence. After 6 months without him, you needed this.

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

“I should’ve never let you go,” Hawk whispered close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I was the one who wanted the break. It’s my fault,” you opposed, lifting your head up from his chest to look up at him.

He raised one of his hands to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and it brought a warm smile to your face. “But I didn’t chase after you,” his lips turned down into a frown.

You put your hands on the sides of his face while you two continued to sway to the staticky vinyl. “Maybe it’s both of our faults,” you laughed lightly, touching his soft skin.

“It’s me Y/N. I’m the one who lied to you throughout the whole relationship. I’m so sorry,” Hawk looked down at you with glossy eyes. “I’ve done so much fucked up shit. But you’re the only thing I got right. I hate myself for ruining it too.”

Your felt yourself melt at his confession. “It’s not ruined,” you disputed. “You aren’t perfect and I’m not either. I shouldn’t have given up on us. I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes in peace as your hands ran through his bright hair. It was down from its usual style, giving him a softer look.

“Maybe we both messed up. But I’m never giving you away again Y/N. I won’t make that mistake. I love you,” the boy you’ve missed for months admitted, saying everything you wanted to hear.

You kissed him in reply.

a/n: ah idk if i like this but i hope u do, i feel like my writings are getting repetitive im having bad writers block (as u can tell by how slow im doing requests)

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why... ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well.

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh.

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it.

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..."

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

567 notes · View notes

sunder-soul · 4 years

Text

The Last of Your Rules

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Part 1 ★ Part 2 ★ Part 3 ☆ Part 4

Summary: Reader figures out a set of rules to survive navigating their FWB relationship with Tom Riddle, which goes great until he starts breaking them one by one. Wordcount: 3.2k Content warning: explicit sex, language.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You resolve to avoid him for a bit and let whatever he’s clearly going through blow over – but your plan is immediately compromised the following Monday.

“We will be brewing our next project in pairs!” Slughorn says loudly, clapping his hands with a wide grin. “Your partners will be assigned randomly, so please take your seats!”

Everyone falls silent at once, the excitement palpable. You wink at Opal next to you, hoping that she’ll be your partner as Slughorn waves his wand and sends tiny little slips of parchment whizzing across the room onto your desks. You seize yours at once, unrolling it only to see –

Tom Riddle.

You blink. The memory of the kiss immediately comes back to you, and excitement stirs in your chest at the chance to talk to him outside of your meetings, at the hours you’d need to spend together in class for the potion –

You catch your train of thought and horror dawns on you at its implication.

No… have I… did I…

The class is moving around and chattering excitedly to their partners as you quietly slip up to the front of the room.

“Everything alright?” Slughorn asked jovially.

“Yes, sir,” you say quickly, “only – I was wondering if I might change partners, sir.”

“Oh?” Slughorn’s brows raise. “Who are you paired with?”

You hold out the parchment, and Slughorn unrolls it. He looks even more surprised when he sees the name. “You… wish to change partners?” he asks slowly.

You nod.

“Tom’s a capable lad,” Slughorn says seriously, frowning, “a very capable lad. In fact, I couldn’t have picked a better partner for you myself.”

“Please, sir,” you press, trying not to sound desperate. “Is it possible to change?”

Slughorn pauses for a moment longer, and then leans back against his desk. “Yes of course,” he says, waving a hand and nodding. “If you really want.”

“I do,” you say immediately.

“Langley!” Slughorn calls, beckoning the boy forward.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the red-haired boy leaps from his seat and hurries forward. Langley is an idiot, but at that moment he’s a hell of a lot better than Riddle.

“Who’s your partner, Langley?” Slughorn asks him.

“Chester, sir,” Langley replies quickly.

“Tell Chester that he’s with Riddle,” Slughorn says busily, “you’re being reassigned.”

Langley glances at you curiously but with unmistakeable glee. “Yes, sir,” he says with a barely concealed smile.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and turn back to your seat – only to find Riddle’s piercing gaze fixed on you from the back of the room. You hesitate automatically, and have to physically wrench your eyes off of him as you hurry away, trying to ignore the feeling of his lingering gaze for the rest of the class.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

That evening in the library whilst you’re bent over your Potions notes, Riddle suddenly yanks back the seat opposite you and sits down. “Did you ask Slughorn to change partners?” he demands colourlessly.

You try to hide your surprise – he never sits with you in public. “Yes, of course I did,” you say calmly.

“Why?” he asks sharply.

You quirk a brow. “Are you joking?”

“No, I am not,” he says mechanically, lacing his fingers together and giving you a very cool look.

“Riddle,” you say dryly, leaning towards him. “That assignment would require that we spend hours together working on that potion, I didn’t think that would be a particularly good idea.”

“Why not?” he asks at once, eyes not leaving yours.

You scoff and lean back. “Don’t be obtuse.”

His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. “Because of our arrangement?”

“Exactly,” you mutter.

Riddle’s expression is unmoved. “What exactly did you expect would happen?” he asks flatly.

You sigh, frustrated. “Listen, I’m not trying to imply that we’d bloody fall in love or anything,” you mutter, seizing your quill again, “but it’s still just a stupid idea.”

Riddle is silent, and after a long moment you glance at him. He’s just as composed as before, but there’s a strange tension to his posture. “Riddle,” you say carefully, “are you… alright?”

It’s as if you had snapped your fingers in front of his face; Riddle stands at once. “Yes,” he says coldly. “See you in class.”

He’s gone before you can even say goodbye. You stare after him, utterly bemused. He’s such a nutcase sometimes…

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tonight, 9pm.

You stare at the note in shock, your head telling you, screaming at you that the smart thing to do is to crumple it in your hand and ignore him.

But…

You refold the note and nod as you pick up your quill again, knowing without checking that his eyes are on you.

He’s already there when you arrive. Riddle’s fingers curl around the strap of your bag and pull it off your shoulder the second you get the door shut, tugging up your jumper and dropping it carelessly to the ground. His fingers dance across your blouse and the buttons spontaneously spring apart one after the next as he walks you back against the wall, and seconds later he’s unclasping your bra with deft fingers. Riddle’s expression is hungry. It makes you nervous in a very good way.

Riddle picks you up again and you wrap your legs around his hips at once. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing downwards and leaving burning electricity behind, and then his lips gently close around your nipple and you gasp. Riddle’s eyes flash up to yours at the sound, and you watch, hypnotised, as his lips tease you there, staring mesmerised at the dark waves of his hair above his burning eyes, at the fine angles of his brows, his lips, his eyes, his mouth on your skin –

Riddle lifts his head and you pull him into a kiss, hungry for him, too. The intensity is almost comforting, far away from that dangerous slowness.

When you’re done, Riddle doesn’t even hesitate once his uniform is back to its usual immaculate tidiness. “Goodnight,” he nods politely, leaving at once.

Back to normal, then, you think as you wander back to the common room. That’s a relief.

But that night in your bed, the memory of the way he’d kissed you comes back again, that slowness, that softness, that hot, gentle pressure…

Warmth spreads through your chest and you frown deeply, rolling over and punching your pillow into place.

That needs to stop. There’s no way you can catch feelings for Tom Riddle.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Today, 12:15.

You slide the note into your pocket, thoughts whirring. It’s hardly the first time he’s suggested you meet during the day, but with the past week you’d had, things were decidedly getting weirder.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You bite Riddle’s shoulder hard as pleasure overcomes you, listening to it overcoming him too, your body slick with sweat and your mind blank with nothing but the sound of his breath, tense and sharp through his nose. His hands are against your face, turning you to him and kissing you again, and you’re delirious, kissing him back without even thinking, your arms tightening around his neck and pulling him closer. You’re still hungry for him like your appetite can never be sated, your legs wrapped around his hips where he still has you pinned against the wall. His hands hold you to him firmly, his lips moving against yours in that slow, dangerous way –

You realise what you’re doing very suddenly, pulling back at once. You stare at each other, and you feel a surreal exhilaration like you’re teetering at the edge of a cliff.

“I should go,” you whisper, not moving.

Riddle nods slightly, not looking away. He doesn’t move either.

You can’t stop yourself. Your eyes drop to his lips again and then back up as quickly as you can – but not fast enough to escape his notice. Riddle’s eyes flicker and he slowly leans in again, stopping right before your lips, watching you like a hawk.

It’s a bad idea.

It’s a very bad idea.

Breaking the rules is already making some very confusing things stir in your chest, but... Riddle’s lips are kiss-swollen and slick, his hair tousled from where you’d been carding your fingers through it, his dark eyes hooded and burning. You’ve never wanted him more.

Fuck it...

You close the final inch and kiss him hungrily, and his hand comes up to your jaw and pulls you closer, slow and hot in that way that made heat curl in you stomach. You sigh, your arms tightening around his neck as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper.

“Riddle,” you murmur after what felt like an eternity, pulling back, “I… really do have to go.”

Riddle’s eyes dart between yours, and then he nods curtly and lets you down.

He leaves without a word and you’re still nearly late to Herbology.

So that’s Rule One and Two just completely in shambles, you think, shaking your head as you speed towards the Greenhouses. What in Merlin’s name is going on?

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The confusion only triples in Potions that very afternoon.

Tonight, 8pm.

You gape at the note.

Riddle wants to meet twice in the same day? This is getting ridiculous. The weird behaviour, the frequent meetings, the dangerous feelings growing tenaciously in your chest… It makes you all the more certain that something very weird is going on, and there is absolutely no way you’re going to meet him.

“Have you been listening?”

You jump, hastily looking around at Langley. “Huh?”

“Are you going to…” he gestures at the ingredients in front of you that you’re supposed to be preparing.

“Oh right,” you mutter, slipping the note into your pocket and seizing your silver knife, slicing the Deadlyius mushrooms into thin slivers at lightning speed.

“Langley,” you say through gritted teeth, “if you add moonstone powder to the potion at this stage, you’ll make the entire cauldron melt.”

“Oh,” he frowns, putting down the moonstone. “But… the instructions say –”

“To mix it fourteen times counter-clockwise, and then add the moonstone.”

“Oh,’ he says again, reaching for the ladle.

You seize his wrist. “Counter-clockwise, Langley.”

“Oh.”

You manage to stop Langley from utterly ruining your potion before the bell rings, and you leave it simmering in the backroom for you to resume on Monday.

“Good God,” you mutter to Opal as you leave, dragging your hands down your face, “Langley is absolutely hopeless.”

“No sympathy,” she scoffs, “you could have been with Tom Riddle, and you chose to give that up.”

You don’t reply, glaring stonily at the floor. She can’t know that being with Riddle would be a hundred times worse for an entirely different reason.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Saturday morning breaks over the Castle with a light snowfall and an icy chill in the air that puts a spring in your step, but your good mood is threatened half-way through lunch.

“Excuse my interruption.”

You look around from your conversation with Felicia and Opal to find Riddle with an intimidatingly composed expression on his face, his hands clasped tidily behind him. Your friends start giggling again, whispering to each other behind their hands – which both you and Riddle ignore.

“Yes?” you say slowly.

“Could I speak with you a moment, please?” he asks politely, stepping to the side and gesturing to the door. Felicia and Opal erupt into even louder giggles as your brows shoot up.

“Er… sure,” you say slowly, standing and follow him from the Hall, viscerally aware of the many pairs of curious eyes watching you go.

Out in the Entrance Hall, Riddle steps swiftly towards the dungeons and down the stairs, and you follow him down to the broom closet where you usually meet. He wrenches the door open and stands aside, glancing down the corridor with a tense expression.

“Riddle, what –”

“After you,” he interrupts coolly, indicating through the door.

You hesitate, suddenly rather intimidated. Slowly you step past him, and Riddle shuts the door smartly behind him.

“What’s going –” you begin.

“Where were you last night?” Riddle interrupts again, tone sharp.

You stare. “…What?”

“Last night, I asked you to meet me,” he snaps.

“I didn’t want to,” you frown.

Riddle glares at you intensely. “You didn’t want to,” he repeats contemptuously.

“Is there a problem?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why didn’t you want to?” he demands, stepping closer.

“Geez Riddle, I’m not obligated to have sex with you whenever you want,” you snap.

Riddle falters, his brow furrowing at once. “That’s not –”

“I know you rather famously have very little interest in my life, but I do actually have one you know, I can’t be on your goddamn beck and call whenever you want to let off steam,” you continue angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Riddle looks extraordinarily taken aback. “I didn’t mean –”

“You’ve been acting weird for ages, what the hell is going on?” you interrupt, glaring at him.

Riddle blinks, and then his expression becomes impossibly composed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says coolly, standing up straighter.

“Oh? Don’t you?” you narrow your eyes, stepping closer.

He doesn’t crack, his eyes impervious as they flick between yours.

“I’m going to go back to lunch,” you breathe, “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait,” he says sharply, catching your arm as you try to pass him.

“What?” you snap, turning to him.

Riddle hesitates. Suddenly you realise exactly how close you are, feeling the tension shift, seeing his eyes drop to your lips –

You both lean in at the same time, your hands immediately tangling into his hair as you kiss him hard and he pulls you close. He’s ravenous again, insatiable, the most demanding you’d ever seen him, and all too soon he has you on the brink, pushed up against the wall of the closet with hard thrusts making you dizzy with pleasure, his lips covering yours as you finish like he’s consuming the moans he’s drawing from you – but when the waves of pleasure fade, the kiss does not.

Riddle’s hands slide up your hips, kissing you slowly as you breathe hard, as your eyes finally open and you draw away. Riddle stares at you, and you at him.

Suddenly, it clicks.

“This… isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?” you say quietly.

Riddle freezes. A long, tense silence passes. “What do you mean?” he asks coolly.

“Is that why you’ve been asking me to meet you so much?” you ask carefully, watching him. “Is this not filling your appetite like it used to?”

His expression is taut, his hands unmoving on your body and his eyes slightly wide. After a very long pause, he finally speaks. “No,” he breathes. “It’s not.”

“Maybe this isn’t what you need, then,” you say quietly.

His brow furrows again.

“We should stop this,” you say carefully.

“No,” Riddle repeats sharply, very quickly.

You don’t bother trying to hide your surprise at the intensity of his response. Riddle’s jaw tenses and he leans in again, his lips pressing hard against yours, but you push him away by his shoulders. He exhales in frustration, glaring at you.

“What we’re doing won’t make you feel better, Riddle,” you say slowly. “It’ll always leave you hungry.”

“Why?” he snaps, looking irritated. “It didn’t used to.”

“Maybe it used to be enough.”

“Why do I still want it, then?” he breathes, leaning in aggressively. “Why do I want…” he trails off, something working in his jaw in the way that usually means something’s really frustrating him.

Oh.

Oh I see.

“Riddle,” you begin cautiously, “have you… ever…”

“What?” he demands, eyes narrowing.

You let your head fall back on the wall. “Have you ever been in love?”

Riddle reacts like you’ve electrocuted him, drawing back sharply and staring at you with open hostility.

“I don’t think you’re in love with me, don’t worry,” you say quickly. “I just mean… this is sort of a cheap imitation of that,” you gesture between the two of you. “Maybe you should think about looking for something… real.”

Riddle looks at you suspiciously, but with something undeniably (and reluctantly) curious. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

“It’s different when you’re in love.”

“Different how?” he demands at once.

“Have you ever been touched like that?” you cock your head.

Riddle hesitates, looking strangely… nervous? “Like what?” he says quietly, watching you warily.

It’s a bad idea.

It’s a very bad idea.

You reach your hand up to his face as slowly as you dare and very gently let your fingers trace up the curve of his cheek, his warm, soft skin just barely textured with the faintest pull of stubble, before you reach up further. You softly brush his hair to the side of his forehead and let your fingers push through it slightly. He has lovely hair – well, all of him is lovely, but his hair in particular, thick and soft and dark. You’d always liked touching it, though this is different, of course. This isn’t fiery and filled with desire, intense and hungry. This is reverence, feather-light like he’s something precious that would break if you touch too firmly.

Riddle’s eyes are fixed on yours, and as you meet his gaze again something you don’t care to name stirs in your chest. You gently place your palm against his cheek and lean in, hesitating at the last second, wondering exactly how bad an idea it is. Riddle’s expression hasn’t changed, his eyes flicking between yours. You blink slowly, gaze dropping to his lips, and then you push forward and close the last millimetres between you, kissing him very, very softly.

The dangerous feeling immediately swells up inside you, coursing even stronger when Riddle takes a long breath and lifts his hand to your face too, holding you to him as his lips move gently on yours. You wrap your legs tighter around him but the kiss stays slow, warm, gentle, dangerous –

You reluctantly draw away, but only just. It’s very hard to ignore how fast your heart is beating as you met Riddle’s gaze, dark and burning. “Like that,” you whisper, cheeks aflame.

A long silence falls as he stares at you, as you stare back, trapped beneath his gaze.

“Why is it different?” Riddle asks quietly.

You swallow nervously, knowing that you need to get out of this situation as fast as possible before your inconvenient feelings become completely unignorable. “I…” you whisper, unable to answer. “I don’t…”

Riddle blinks, his brows drawing together slightly, and to your horror he slowly starts to lean in again –

“I need to go,” you say hastily, looking down and breaking his gaze. “I – I have to do extra prep for Potions. Bloody Langley screwed ours up so bad.”

There’s a very painful silence.

“I see,” Riddle says mechanically, before letting you down.

You’d never felt awkward whilst tidying up before, but you certainly do then.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you mutter to him, escaping out the door as fast as you can. Your cheeks are still warm and your heart is still pounding, so you beeline straight for the dorm to hide until your stupid reaction fades. If you come back from seeing Riddle looking like that, Opal and Felicia would never let you hear the last of it.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Part 1 ★ Part 2 ★ Part 3 ☆ Part 4

@the-almond-dinger 💕

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