#also don’t question how the hawk works

[riwooga]

DOL npcs part 6, Monster edition 👀✨

This…..took years off my life 🥲

It was really a struggle of figuring out how humanoid vs monstrous they each should be, but I tried to find a good balance! 🤧

Can I also just say that the Night Monster is severely underrated I cannot stress enough how much I want to romance them 😩💕💕💕

…and here are the close ups 👀✨

[tonycries]

Brooklyn Baby - G.S.

Synopsis. Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rock star! AU, fwb-to-lovers, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), Suguru is sinfully sexy and in l*ve with you, Satoru is a menace, pet names (darling, my girl), Suguru has tattoos and piercings, swearing.

Word count. 3.2k (DAMN I got carried away)

A/N. Happy Valentine’s day! *throws somewhat-fluffy smut at you and leaves* 

Art by @_3aem on X.

Also, wild west! AU longfic with someone dropping on Sunday night (EST), keep your eyes peeled yeehaw.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

You did. Your fans did. Hell, you’ve even caught your overworked band manager sneaking a few too many glances. 

And, you conclude, the groupies currently batting their lashes at him definitely did. 

You watch as they swarm to him during open rehearsal, giggling at his pretty smiles. 

Whatever, part of the job anyway.

It’s not like you two were dating. Yeah, a few fucks here and there throughout the years - but what’s one to do when on the road and in such close proximity with a guy that’s practically walking sex? 

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances? 

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow. 

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous. 

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him. 

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears. 

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson. 

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles. 

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room. 

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. 

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously. 

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.” 

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over. 

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers. 

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings. 

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity. 

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers. 

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist. 

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly. 

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close. 

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones. 

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs. 

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases. 

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him. 

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive. 

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display. 

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you. 

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers? 

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside. 

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today. 

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief. 

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off. 

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out. 

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock. 

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.” 

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.” 

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for. 

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds. 

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt. 

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size. 

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans. 

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder. 

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings. 

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base. 

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe. 

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart. 

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear. 

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.” 

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band. 

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world. 

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else. 

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point. 

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer. 

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips. 

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted. 

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his. 

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail. 

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes. 

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-” 

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time. 

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice. 

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces. 

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights. 

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. 

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[transmunsons]

Eddie teaches Steve how to fight. The Munson name might be good for nothing but they were a scrappy lot. Eddie learned early how to throw a punch. His dad said real boys knew how to fight, so put your whole body into it, twist your hips.

Eddie had heard King Steve got his face beat in by the Byers kid. Also heard he might’ve deserved it. And that Byers got off with hardly a scratch. But none of that was his business. He was just trying to graduate.

The second time Steve showed up to school with a face full of bandages, he took pity on him. This time he’d apparently gotten into a fight with that mouthy new kid, the one who gave Jeff the heebie jeebies. They ended up in detention together and Eddie leaned into his space and asked some questions, like “how come you get beat up more than my ducklings?”

Apparently the pretty rich boy had never learned how to defend himself, never needed to. What a waste of muscles. Which is how Eddie ended up giving Steve a lesson in the middle of Ms. Pratt’s room. Keep your fists up, turn your body so you’re a smaller target, shift your weight to your toes, and if you need to: scream.

“What?” Steve lowered his hands, bewildered.

“Yeah, man, just scream.” Eddie said. “At the worst, it’ll give you a second while they’re confused and at best they’ll think you’re nuts and disengage entirely. It’s a win-win scenario.” He shrugged.

“Is that how you fight?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed my reputation around here, Harrington, but half the school wouldn’t touch me with a rainbow colored pole and the other half thinks I’m straight up insane. No one’s gonna fight a crazy person, ‘cause crazy people might just kill ya.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Steve remarked. He packed up the singular sheet of homework he’d tried to do.

“No problem, that face is too pretty to be marked up all the time.”

But Steve couldn’t stay out of trouble for long.

Eddie was trying to see if the new mall theater was as easy to sneak into as the Hawk when he passed by some teens in sailor costumes slumped by a water fountain. One of them pointed at him as he walked by.

“Munson! It worked!”

[hanaonesflower]

“let me do this for you.”

“let me get that for you.”

“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.

"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"

"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."

you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.

you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.

"this is getting out of control, kento."

"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."

nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.

so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.

"kento! what happened?!"

"nothing to worry about my l-"

"enough! tell me, now."

your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.

"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."

"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."

"it's not that bad."

you glare.

"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."

"I bet it does."

you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.

there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.

"you haven't been yourself lately."

silence.

"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."

kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.

a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.

"that's really how you feel?"

"have I been absent to you, y/n?"

you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.

"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."

"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.

"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."

"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."

truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"

"is it working?"

he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.

"I think it's very kind of you."

he sighs.

"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."

"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."

“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.

“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.

“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.

“then can i say that i love you, too?”

“that, you can.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧

note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)

[touyasdoll]

Scream 2

this is a follow up to a fic I wrote last year for kinktober, but it’s not necessary to read that one before this one. it can stand alone <3

pairing: ghostface!Dabi x f!reader x ghostface!Hawks

warnings: DARK CONTENT, please be advised. CNC, dubcon, fear play, knife play, home invasion, threesome, double penetration in one hole, eiffel tower for lack of a better term, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), backshots, also Touya is 6'4 idc what the canon says, au where Hawks actually double crosses the HPSC bc a girl can dream, rough sex, not exactly hair pulling but hair grabbing, face sitting, thigh riding, size kink, dirty talk, biting, marking, overstimulation, mild degradation, praise, impact play (barely), nipple play, breeding, let me know if I missed any please <3

word count: 5.3k

notes: Happy Halloween! 👻🔪🖤

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Keigo asks as he narrows his golden irises at the white haired man before him on the rooftop. 

The sky is dark, especially in this part of the city. The few lights from the rundown buildings and buzzing street lamps provide the only meaningful illumination, as the moon is hidden behind a thick blanket of dark, heavy clouds that promise a storm is coming. 

“I’m sure. Don’t sweat it, feathers. Just stick to the plan and everything’ll be fine. Scout’s honor,” Touya replies, flashing a sardonic smile. 

“Your honor isn’t exactly worth much,” the hero scoffs. “But I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

Keigo’s dressed in his civilian clothes; an all black ensemble consisting of jeans, boots, and a well-fitting hoodie. He’d clearly heeded Touya’s instruction to dress for stealth, while the villain is still dressed in his stitched ensemble. 

“That’s a good little bird,” Touya says as he heads for the stairs. “Good luck. You might need it, hero.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, heaving an anxious sigh before he takes off into the cool night air.

You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night. It had been a successful Halloween. You and Touya were able to watch a few spooky movies and take turns passing out candy before he had to leave for whatever PLF business he’s up to tonight. 

He actually seemed to enjoy himself whenever it was his turn to answer the door. Maybe it was because he got a kick out of seeing the kids’ reactions to his Ghostface mask, but you have a feeling it was more about seeing your reaction to the mask. 

He hasn’t pulled it out since last Halloween, much to your disappointment. He just looks so good in it. You could even do without the theatrics. Just being able to ride him or get railed while he has that damn mask on would be enough.

You were hoping that he’d give you an encore tonight. He did use the code the two of you had established. You vividly remember him slowly lifting off the mask after closing the door on another round of trick-or-treaters and sauntering over to the couch with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Hey, doll. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He’d asked, the question so full of promise, just as it had been last year. 

But it was well past midnight now. He’d said that he might be back late tonight, which is usually how it goes when he’s working. Maybe you two could have your fun on another night, you suppose as you retreat to your bedroom. 

You change into one of Touya’s t-shirts before you slip beneath the covers and just before you rest your head, your phone rings. Seeing that it’s your boyfriend, you pick it right up. 

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, sitting up against the headboard. 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear a word that he says. What you do hear is much more terrifying. A loud, sudden thud reverberates throughout the house and you swear it must be coming from your kitchen, but you were just in there hardly a minute ago. Surely, you’d notice someone creeping around your house, right?

Then again, you hadn’t noticed last year. Maybe he was keeping up the tradition after all. Trying to pull the wool over your eyes again to give you a scare. Well, not this year. You know better. 

“Sorry, baby. You were breaking up,” you say calmly as you slip out of bed and creep into the hall. “What did you say?”

You’d play along with his little game, but you know that you have no reason to be truly afraid. He’s probably hiding behind a corner somewhere, watching you as you pad about the house in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear. The thought actually turns you on quite a bit. 

“I said I’m about to head home. Sorry things took so long, but I should be back soon. M’not far,” Touya says as he jingles his keys in his hand. 

“Okay. I was just about to turn in to bed, but I’ll wait up for you,” you say as you head into the kitchen to turn the light on. 

There’s a large duffel bag in the center of the floor and you can’t help but wonder what might be inside. Seems like he’s really trying to up the ante this time. Your insides start twisting with a heady mixture of both excitement and desire, but then you see a figure who seems too short to be your boyfriend step into the other entrance to the kitchen and your heart stops. 

“You don’t gotta wait up if you’re tired, doll,” Touya says on the other end of the phone, confirming that it’s definitely not him staring you down in that familiar Ghostface costume. 

“Babe,” you whisper, your voice trembling in fear as you take a step back and the masked intruder takes one with you. “S-someone’s in the house.”

“What?” Touya asks and you can hear the fear in his voice as well, which sends your blood pressure through the roof. “Doll, just stay hidden. I will be there as soon as I can. I’m on my way, okay? Where are you?”

“O-okay,” you respond meekly, your voice cracking as you continue to walk backwards. 

The intruder keeps at your pace, tilting his head to one side as he studies you. Your eyes are drawn to something glinting in the light as he reveals a blade from behind his robe. 

“Doll, where are you? Do they know you’re there?” Touya asks frantically as he fires up the car and takes off. 

You only faintly hear his voice and the tires skidding in the background of the call as you freeze up. Everything slows down for just a moment and then the adrenaline kicks in. 

You bolt for the front door, only to find that it’s locked from the outside somehow. You try again in vain to jiggle the handle, praying that maybe it’s just stuck, but it’s definitely fucking locked and that causes you to panic all over again. 

“Doll? Doll, answer me,” Touya yells loud enough for you to hear it even though you’ve since dropped your phone to your side. 

You don’t hear the stranger coming up behind you, but when you look over your shoulder, he’s right there. Close enough to kill you if he wanted. 

You scream in fright and drop the phone in your haste to bolt for the back door, but he jumps in your way. He’s on the smaller side, but he seems especially nimble. You aren’t sure you stand much of a chance getting away from him, but you have to try. 

You just have to last until Touya gets home. That’s what you keep telling yourself. A mantra that you repeat over and over in your mind as you scramble down the hall and into the first open door. 

The slam of the door knocks some sense back into you. You keep your hands pressed against it and take a look around the guest bedroom, eyeing the dresser nearby. It’s mostly empty and it’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing. 

A loud bang that sounds like a heavy fist thudding against the wood startles you and you let out a scream before you lurch towards the dresser to start sliding it across the floor. 

“Doll? Doll, where are you?” You hear Touya’s voice call out from down the hall. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Do you come out? Touya’s more than capable, but you don’t know what this intruder is capable of. What’s his quirk? What if it’s deadly?

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you listen for sounds of a struggle, but your fear of something happening to your boyfriend wins out over your fear of something happening to you. 

“Babe?” You call as you burst out of the door, frantically scanning the dimly lit house as you creep down the hall once more. 

The kitchen lights have been turned off and it’s quiet. It’s silent. Eerily so. Just when you feel like you might have made a mistake, the stranger turns the corner from the kitchen and holds a voice changer up to his mouth. 

“Yes, doll?” He says, tilting his head in a mocking fashion as he slowly stalks closer to you. 

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you’d definitely fucked up and you attempt to retreat back to the relative safety of the guest room, but you hear footsteps right behind you. He’s moving too fast. He covers twice the distance that you’re able to and throws himself across the doorway before lifting the device to his concealed mouth again. 

“Fooled ya,” he says in the familiar, raspy distorted voice of Ghostface. 

Tears well in your eyes as you turn tail and run straight for the backdoor. You aren’t thinking, just moving. Hurtling towards freedom, which you are hoping against hope you are able to find, but all hope is lost when you suddenly collide with another figure in the kitchen. 

You slam into their firm chest and tilt your head back to look up at the imposing new intruder, who is also dressed as the masked fictional killer.

“Fuck,” you mutter, gaping up at the taller of the two in horror as you turn on your heel, only to find the other one right behind you. 

Both of them begin closing in, sauntering towards you silently. All that you can hear is the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears as you back yourself up to the island. The shorter stranger looks between you and his companion in crime, who nods in response as your heart sinks into your stomach. 

“Please. Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper, shrinking against the cool marble countertop. 

The shorter of the two lifts the voice changer to his lips and uses his other hand to brandish the knife once more, using the blade to lift the hem of your shirt and press the flat of the cold steel blade to your stomach.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, gorgeous. We just wanna play,” he says as he leans in closer. 

“I thought you liked playin’ like this, doll?” The taller one asks as he tilts his head to one side. 

You whip your head towards him, because you could swear that’s your boyfriend’s voice, but you’ve already been tricked once tonight. He flashes his palms, revealing no voice changer in his hand. No knife either. He snaps his fingers together and a brilliant blue flame burns away the glove concealing his hand to reveal familiar scars and staples. 

“T-Touya?” You ask shakily, blinking in surprise. “Then who the fuck is..?”

Your heart rate finally starts to slow as you trail off and shake your head, looking at the other Ghostface in confusion. You reach out to rip the mask off and are stunned to find Keigo’s wilder than usual blonde hair and disarming golden gaze beneath the disguise. 

“Happy Halloween, doll,” Touya purrs as you stare at Keigo’s handsome smirk. 

“I-I don’t understand,” you say quietly, not wanting to assume that what you sincerely hope might happen is actually about to happen. 

“Sure ya do,” Touya continues, his large hands finding your hips to draw you closer and bring your back flush against his chest, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as Keigo sets the knife down on the counter without taking his hungry eyes off of you. “You remember us having this conversation, don’t you?”

Your brow furrows and you look away from the hero as you try to remember just what in the fuck Touya is on about when you recall him prompting you with an unusual question a few months ago.

You were sitting on the couch, curled up watching a movie. Sleep was beginning to tug at you, trying to beckon you to bed, but you were stubborn and insisted on staying up to see the end of the film, even though Touya was making it that much more difficult by rubbing his unnaturally warm hands along your back. 

“Say, if we were ever to have a threesome with one of our friends, who would you want it to be with?” He’d asked you seemingly out of the blue, but unknown to you, he’d been ruminating on how to top his Halloween escapade for some time already. 

“Hmm?” You ask as you tilt your head back to look at him and shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t exactly have a whole lot of friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I’d consider that a compliment,” he says, shrugging. “But seriously. Well, hypothetically, I guess. If ya had to pick one, who would it be? There’s plenty of hot people in the PLF.”

You hum curiously, taking a moment to think it over as you tuck your face back into his chest and nuzzle into him. 

“Keigo. He’s hot and I’d trust him,” you reply bluntly, a yawn escaping you a moment later. 

“Good choice. You’re right on both counts,” he murmurs, a plan already coming together in his mind. “That could be fun.”

“I didn’t think.. I mean–I–,” you balk, looking between them in disbelief. 

“I wasn’t bein’ hypothetical, gorgeous,” Touya says as he spins you around to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head back so that his blue eyes can bore into you while Keigo switches on the kitchen light. “So whaddya say?”

“We’re gonna need a clear answer before the real fun can begin,” Keigo says sensually as he steps close enough that you can feel his body heat behind you. 

“Yes,” you eek out, nodding your head as you try to wrap your brain around this unexpected turn of events. 

The bastard had gotten one over on you again after all, but it’s not like you can even stay mad about it, considering what’s in store for you.

“I hope you’re hydrated, doll,” Touya chuckles, fisting a hand into your hair to carefully tug your hair back and kiss you like his life depends on it. 

He sighs through his nose, groaning against your lips as his hand drops to your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze as he shifts his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is already. 

Keigo steps closer to press his toned chest against your back and tilts his head to start kissing along your neck as he grabs your waist and grinds against you from behind, revealing that he’s also sporting a raging hard on. 

You moan, working your tongue and your mouth against Touya as your hands explore his chest, searching for an opening in the black robe he’s wearing. 

“You wanna just cut to the chase already, doll?” The villain smirks, lighting his palm for just a second to reduce your scant clothing to ash. “I think we’ve been through enough foreplay and I’ve been waiting too damn long for this.”

He does the same to his clothing, pressing a hand to his chest and the other to Keigo’s. You feel another brief flash of tolerable heat before you’re hyper aware of the feeling of both of their bare bodies writhing against your own. 

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, tilting your head to one side as Keigo begins nipping at your sensitive pulse point, laving his tongue over it to soothe the subtle ache. 

You reach a hand back to work it into his hair and tug gently as you arch your back, grinding your ass against his stiff cock, which coaxes a gorgeous moan from him. You slip a hand between you and Touya as he captures your mouth again. Your fingers wrap around his length to guide the bead of precum along his shaft, drawing out a beautiful noise from him as well. 

Both of them suddenly pull away and you’re afraid that you’ve done something wrong until Keigo steps in front of you to grab your hips and effortlessly lift you up onto the kitchen island. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long, long time,” he says, smirking as he leans in to kiss you and parts your legs. 

Touya stands back, stroking himself as he watches Keigo crouch down between your thighs. The blonde keeps his eyes on yours as he trails kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, slowly and steadily working his way up to your glistening pussy. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he sets his sights between your legs as dives in, his tongue parting your folds before it spears inde of you. 

He certainly knows what he’s doing and it immediately drives you crazy. You keep yourself supported and sitting upright with one hand, so that you can watch him feast on your pussy while you keep a hand in his hair. He alternates between bathing you with his tongue and sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure, drawing moans and whimpers from you with ease. 

You look up to seek validation from Touya, almost feeling guilty for enjoying yourself so much, but he seems to be just as into it as you are. He nods, grinning wickedly as he comes closer. 

“You enjoyin’ yourself, doll?” He asks as he stops stroking himself to instead reach beneath Hawks’ chin and slip two fingers inside of you. 

“Y-yes!” You gasp, your eyes crossing as your head tips back. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“I know, gorgeous,” he purrs and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Go ahead and cum all over my friend’s face. He’s dying to taste it.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, sending your release gushing into Keigo’s mouth as your hips gyrate on top of the counter. The hero wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you still as he continues ravaging you with his tongue. He noisily cleans up your arousal, sending you into overdrive as you whine and beg for him to show you mercy when it just gets to be too much. 

He eventually lets you catch your breath, but when he stands up to wipe his chin, the look on Touya’s face tells you that you in for much worse if you thought that was too much. 

“S’my turn to taste that sweet pussy, gorgeous. C’mere,” he says, nodding towards the hall as he scoops you up off the counter. At least he doesnt expect you to walk after that. 

He carries you into the bedroom and switches the light on before he lays you down on the bed and lumbers over you. 

“First things first, clean up the mess you made,” Touya practically coos as he offers his slick fingers to you. 

You hold his gaze as you slowly take the digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and moaning quietly when you taste yourself on his skin. 

“Good girl,” Hawks praises you as he crawls onto the bed and Touya repositions, laying flat on his back. 

“You know my favorite number, doll,” he says as he delivers a swift smack to your behind, just enough to make you jump a little. “Assume the position.”

You look between him and Keigo curiously and do as you're told, straddling Touya’s face to wrap your hand around his cock and begin stroking, but before you can take a seat, he tuts his tongue. 

“I want your mouth on him, baby,” Touya says before he hooks his arms around you and forces you to sit. 

His mouth starts working wonders between your legs and you think you might just cum in record time after what Hawks had done to you, but then you remember that your mouth is needed elsewhere than just filling up the sticky air with filthy noises. 

You shift forward as Keigo comes closer, his swollen cock bobbing in front of your face. You lift your eyes to his and take great pleasure in watching the watch his head dips back and his Adam’s apple bobs when you take him into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep still as he lets you slowly bob along his length until you’re comfortably taking him in and out of his mouth while working your hand along his shaft. 

You keep your other hand wrapped around Touya’s cock, focusing on trying to please both of them while feeling like your brain is going to break thanks to what Touya’s doing beneath you. The moans that you drive from him send vibrations straight into your pussy that only drive you closer to the edge. 

You hold on for as long as you can, but it soon becomes to much again and you pull your mouth and hands away from both of them to sit up and support yourself with your hands on Touya’s thighs, gripping them tight. 

“C-can’t,” you practically sob, squeezing your eyes tight as you hang your head. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, you can,” Keigo coos as he reaches out to cup your breasts, massaging them with care before he starts tweaking your nipples, which sends you cascading into oblivion for the second time tonight. 

You nearly collapse, slumping forward as you’re overcome with pleasure, but Keigo catches you, loosely holding you in his arms as he rubs his hand along your back, which only heightens the sensations you’re feeling. 

You whimper in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he and Touya gently ease you off of the latter, so that Touya can sit up. 

“You’re doin’ so well, beautiful,” Hawks croons, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your lips. 

“Mm,” is the only response you can muster at the moment as you slowly come down from your high. 

“So well,” Touya praises, moving behind you to rest his hands on your hips as he kisses along your shoulder. “Such a good girl. Can you keep bein’ a good girl for us, gorgeous? If we give you what you really want? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, nodding your head as your eyes fall closed. “I’ll keep bein’ good. I’ll be so good.”

“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck before he places a chaste kiss to it. 

Keigo moves aside and then Touya presses a hand to your back, keeping the other firmly planted on your hip as he forces you onto all fours. He groans as he grinds himself against you, his cock gliding through your folds, nearly penetrating where you need him the most. 

“Please,” you whine softly, shaking your ass as you drop your hips back against him. 

“Since you asked so nice,” he purrs, smirking as he slips inside of you, letting you feel him enter you inch by glorious inch, his piercings sliding against your walls and making your eyes roll back. 

Keigo starts stroking himself as he watches Touya set a steady rhythm, fucking you just hard enough to make you gasp now and then as you fist your hands into the sheets and meet him thrust for thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the euphoric noises pouting from each and every one of you.

“Just gotta stretch you out a bit, gorgeous,” Touya pants, draping himself over you as he slows his pace. He reaches a hand around ti gently guide your face towards Keigo, who’s abs are drawn taut as he continues stroking himself, his eyes now fixed on your face. “You think you can take both of us? He’s not exactly small either, but I believe in you, doll.”

Your eyes widen, but you find yourself nodding. You aren’t sure if you can do it, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. 

“I want to,” you breathe out, nodding as you reach out towards Keigo to take over stroking his cock, tugging very gently to guide him closer as you smirk up at him. “We should get you nice and lubed up though, yeah?”

His eyebrows raise and he looks extremely pleased as he nods and cradles your head in the back of your hand as Touya straightens up. 

“So fucking good,” Touya marvels through grit teeth as he picks up the pace again. 

He lets you adjust to having Keigo in your mouth, but he starts pushing your further, driving into your hard enough to make you deep throat the hero, which makes both of them groan sinfully as they watch you swallow their cocks at either end. 

“Fuck,” Keigo sighs as he suddenly backs away. “Anymore of that and I’m gonna be done way too soon.”

“Let’s see if you’re ready then, doll,” Touya says, smirking as he pulls out and kneads the fat of your ass before giving it a light smack. “Lay down, Kei. You should her pussy for yourself first.”

Hawks lays on his back and Touya cups your cheek to guide your face towards his one, giving you a passionate kiss before he lets you go and nods towards the blonde. 

“Give him the ride of his life,” he says as he wraps his hand around his own cock. 

You climb on top of Keigo, leaning in to give him a kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, teasingly tracing it around the entrance of his mouth as you wrap your hand around his length. You suddenly sink down and he lets out a choked groan as he seizes your hips. 

You rest your hands on his chest, smirking with satisfaction as you start riding him, moving your hips slowly at first as your walls clench around him, hugging his cock tight. 

“You feel so good, Kei,” you say breathily. 

His eyes widen and for a moment, he feels like he might just cum and pass out right there. He lets you set the pace, watching you intently as you bounce up and down on his length. His hands glide over your body, exploring every inch of you that he can reach before they settle on your breasts. He massages them as gently as he had earlier before tweaking your nipples. 

He seems to get a better idea as he sits up and wraps his arms around you, grabbing your ass to start guiding your hips more forcefully while he takes your nipple into his mouth to suck. He expertly moves his tongue across the sensitive bud, flicking and swirling it around as he applies more pressure to your hips and encourages you to quicken your pace. 

“Just like that, doll,” Touya pants, struggling to stave of his own end as he senses yours coming. 

“Keigo,” you whimper, grasping onto his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back, your hips bucking as you come undone again. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans loudly, panting for breath as he continues fucking you through your end while fighting off his own. 

Touya pulls his hand away from his cock to take a few deep breaths, watching you contort with pleasure until you’re through the worst of it. He moves behind you and kisses along your shoulder again, sending delicious shivers down your spine. 

“You sure you wanna do this, doll?” He asks quietly, his tone sincere. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, nodding weakly nodding your head. 

“You don’t have to do any of the work this time, baby,” Keigo says as he runs his hands along yours arms and lays flat on his back. “Just let us make you feel good.”

You nod again and Touya rests a hand on your back to gently guide your forward so that you’re laying on top of Keigo before he situates himself behind you. 

“I’ll go slow,” he assures you as he first works one finger inside of you. Then another. 

You and Keigo both moan quietly, your shallow breaths mingling with one another’s as he drags his fingertips along your back. Touya starts slowly thrusting his fingers and Keigo slowly shifts his hips, working you open further as you rest your head on the blonde’s chest and submit to it. Once he’s confident that you’re able to take both of them, Touya slowly guides the head of his cock inside of you. 

“Shit,” he groans, continuing to gently bully himself inside. “It’s so fucking tight. So fucking good. You feel that, Kei?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Hawks sighs, holding perfectly still as his face twists with pleasure. “It’s so fucking good.”

You press your nails into Keigo’s biceps as you feel the two of them stretching you open and filling you up in a way that you never thought possible. They’re right. It is so. Fucking. Good. 

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly once Touya’s seated inside of you. “Please fuck me. Wanna feel both of you.”

“You’re gonna, baby,” Touya croons as he slowly draws his hips back and pushes inside of you again. 

The sensation is glorious. It’s mind numbing. It’s like the best drug you’ve ever felt and you know that you need more of it. 

He holds onto your hips and Keigo seizes your waist as they both begin to move in tandem, slowly at first, but working their way to a pace that has you at a loss for words. You couldn’t find any if you tried. None of you can apparently. 

The only noises to be heard are your bodies all grinding against each other. The lewd squelching of fluids between your forms as you trade sinful noises and panting breaths back and forth. Eventually, you do find one phrase, but just one. 

“Cum inside me, please. Please,” you whine, your voice pitching higher as you feel another orgasm building, this one threatening to tear you apart in the best way. “Cum i-inside.”

“We’re gonna breed you so fuckin’ good, doll,” Touya promises without missing a beat. “I promise.”

They seem to have mastered their movements. Together, the two of them drive you steadily towards your end whilst chasing their own. You snap first, of course, howling with pleasure as your writhe on top of them, your walls contracting impossibly tight around both of their cocks. 

Keigo cradles your head and kisses the top of it, whispering praises and Touya hunches forward to do the same, speaking them right into your ear as both of them keep driving themselves inside of you with unparalleled need. 

Keigo finishes next, his eyes snapping shut as he lets out a long, loud moan, his rhythm stuttering just as Touya finds his end. His head snaps up as he leans back and grips your hips with bruising force, delivering a few more good thrusts while letting out a primal groan before his thrusts become sloppy and begin to taper off as he lays himself across your back again. 

The three of you are left a sweaty, blissful mess on the bed. You’re so wonderfully full. So much so that you’re leaking all over both of them, but neither of them seem to care and neither do you. It’s as if the world has stopped for a minute and you’re all floating outside of time and space, suspended in this moment.

“So good for us,” Touya finally murmurs after who knows how long. He gently grabs your chin to guide your face towards his once more, a lazy smile on his lips as he captures yours in a decidedly sweet kiss. “Happy Halloween, doll.”

thank you for reading! I hope you have/had a safe & happy halloween!

[fatkish]

Request for the Pro Heroes x child reader

Character(s): Hawks and/or Endeavor (yes I'm giving this man a chance to be a good person)

Prompt: Abandoned nonbinary reader with a Phoenix quirk (wings and fire) and everyone thinks they'll be a Villain because of how hot the reader's fire can burn. Phoenixes in Japan are seen as goddesses. (Reader was originally abandoned for coming out at nonbinary but the deal was sealed when the reader accidentally burned a house down)

-🦦

Thank you so much for your request. I’m so excited since this is my first official request. I already had an idea for a phoenix quirk so I hope you don’t mind that I used it here. I hope you enjoy this story and that it helps you.

Hawks and Endeavor x Phoenix Quirk Child Reader

Reader was 13 when they were found by Hawks and Endeavor

The reader’s mother had an endurance and adaptability quirk that allowed her to change her body to better fit her environment. For example: if the reader’s mother was stuck in the desert, her body would change to allow her to store excess water similar to how a camel does. Or if bullets were fired at her, she could thicken her skin and produce osteoderms (these are the small bone like plates that cover the crocodilian species’s backs)

The reader’s father had a weak heat quirk and could grow sharp feathers from his arms and shoulders.

Their parents were very traditional and strict. Having been a late bloomer was already causing strain on their relationship with their parents.

The reader developed their quirk late at the age of 10. The reader has retractable wings that are covered in specialized feathers. The Primary and Secondary feathers are sharp and resemble blades, these feathers harden after they fully develop. The Primary and Secondary Coverts are hard and sharp at the tips. When the tips of the Coverts rub or strike each other it creates a spark.

Each feather has microscopic holes along the Calamus and a gland beneath the follicle that secretes an Ethanol based, oil-like substance that covers their skin protecting it from the flames but also acting as a fuel. This oil is similar to Bakugou’s nitroglycerin sweat as they both produce more, the hotter they get. (Ethanol burns at an extremely high temperature but is invisible to the naked eye, you won’t know its there until you’re right next to it) The holes allow for the oil to cover the feathers.

Due to their Mother’s endurance quirk, the reader’s body is unaffected by the flames they produce. The reader’s body sweat has a natural cooling effect as well as burn soothing and healing properties. This is how they are not burned by the flames. (The reader has to maintain a healthy hydration and drink lots of water because they are easily susceptible to dehydration)

Due to the reader’s quirk their body is naturally androgynous as they don’t have feminine curves or broad shoulders. The reader is short (5’2, sorry if you’re taller) and has a lighter than average body fat percentage to allow for easier flight. (Reader would most likely have a small penis like appendage to make urinating easier as well as a Cloaca. It’s also possible that reader could change their bodies physiology similar to how frogs can change their genders)

Due to the reader’s late development of a quirk as well as their androgynous appearance, they were seen as a freak and were bullied and shunned by their peers.

At age 12 the other kids around them began puberty and as their peers’s bodies began to change and developed they began to question themselves and eventually came to the conclusion that they were nonbinary.

One night their parents sat the reader down and began to discuss the reader’s appearance and how they needed to change in order to fit into society. Since the reader would have a harder time developing fat and couldn’t change the bone structure of their hips, their parents decided that the reader would be a male.

Their parents told them that they were to start working out and building up muscles to create a more masculine appearance. They began telling them about all the things they would have to change and even suggested drastic measures like surgery or hormone treatments to make them look more masculine.

The reader tried to explain to their parents how they felt and how they didn’t want to do all that stuff but they wouldn’t listen.

Eventually the stress began too much as the reader’s wings sprouted and their feathers naturally created a spark that ignited them. As the situation quickly became more complicated and stressful the reader accidentally bumped into a curtain, lighting it on fire, causing it to quickly grow and spread.

As their parents were shouting at them and their house went up in flames, they couldn’t deal with the stressful situation and flew off into the night sky, leaving their small town and flying far away to were they would discover in the morning to be Kyushu

After being ostracized and shunned for basically their entire life, the reader didn’t have much faith in society. Eventually they saw a news report about their hometown. Their parents claimed that their house was destroyed by a villain and blamed the reader for it, completely ignoring the fact of them being their child. The news showed a blurry picture of the reader that was taken by someone.

Due to the blurriness of the image as well as the reader having not really shown anyone their quirk, they weren’t easily identified. However, the news gave a short description of the reader and advised the public to keep an eye out for them and to alert the authorities should they spot the reader.

Realizing that they had no food, money, shelter or family and fearing being seen as a villain and being put in prison, should they ask for help, the reader decided that they had no other choice but to focus on survival.

2 months had gone by with the reader being homeless and barely scraping by. They had found an abandoned building in the less populated and more industrial area of the city and had created a small living space. They had gathered things that people had thrown away like tattered or stained clothes, old bedding, thrown out area rugs and other soft things that people had thrown away and wouldn’t realize were missing. They created a makeshift nest that made them feel safe

They had resorted to dumpster diving in order to find food and water and refused to pick pocket or steal purses. They didn’t want to do things that would make the accusations of them being a villain, true. This led to them being malnourished and having lost a lot of weight and having an emaciated and boney appearance

Hawks and Endeavor had been working together to capture a group of robbers who had been committing a string of robberies but kept getting away. Earlier in the day, the pair had apprehended and caught the group, but two of the seven had managed to escape and fled.

The robbers fled and hid in an abandoned building and planned to lay low and wait for the chance to escape the city, unaware of the red feather stuck and hidden in one of their hoods.

Hawks and Endeavor gathered the police and their sidekicks and had them surround the area near the building. The plan was to wait for the two villains to feel safe and let their guard down, then Hawks and Endeavor would storm the building, if they tried to flee, they would be caught by their sidekicks.

Using a few feathers to scope out the area and get an idea of the perpetrators positions, Hawks sent feathers into the building and relayed the information to Endeavor

Upon sensing a third body inside the building Hawks was going to tell Enji about it but felt someone grab his feather

Realizing that the element of surprise might no longer be on their side, Hawks alerted Endeavor. Inside the building, the robbers had finally noticed the reader and started to attack them when the reader summoned their wings and began to defend themselves

Since it was nighttime, the reader’s flames were emitting a blue glow similar to Dabi’s flames. Thinking that Dabi was in the building, Hawks and Endeavor rushed into the building only to quickly duck as one the robbers was sent flying over their heads from a strong wind

Using his feathers, Hawks was able to knock out the distracted robber and carry them both outside where the police quickly restrained and arrested them

Inside the building, Endeavor and Hawks had turned their attention to the reader. Upon realizing that the reader was just a kid, Hawks tried to tell them to stand down and stop their quirk. His feathers could sense the reader’s heartbeat, telling him that they were obviously scared.

When the reader tells them that they are unable to control the flames and that their wings secrete Ethanol to fuel them Endeavor is reminded of His first born son’s death

Having been living on the streets, the reader was unable to stay sufficiently hydrated and thus quickly ran out of protective sweat, causing the reader to begin being burnt

Hearing the kid’s screams of pain, Endeavor snapped out of his thoughts and quickly instructed Hawks to grab flame repressing foam from the the fire department and use his feathers to dump it on the reader

After following his instructions, the flames were quickly put out. Endeavor went over to the reader and carefully began to help them clean off the foam as he began to check the reader’s burns. Hawks took the moment to survey their surroundings and found the reader’s nest and realized that the reader was living here

Once the reader is calmed down and retracts their wings, Hawks asks about why the reader, a child, is living in an abandoned building

Fearing their situation but knowing that lying would only worsen their situation, the reader begins to explain their situation, telling the heroes what happened and why they are living here

As the police began to search the area and start to finish up their business there, Endeavor and Hawks both realize that the reader shouldn’t be returned to their parent’s custody but that placing them in the foster system would be bad due to their inability to control their relatively new quirk.

Due to developing their quirk later than others, the reader wasn’t given the same counseling and guidance that people normally get. Endeavor, having seen the reader’s potential as well as hoping to spare them the same fate that took his son, decided to become the reader’s legal guardian. Hawks, having plenty of experience with his wings and feeling a kinship with the reader, decides to become a mentor/older brother/fun uncle figure to the reader

Endeavor takes the reader to his home and has them get settled in.

Endeavor may seem grumpy and unapproachable but the reader quickly grows on him as Enji develops a soft spot for the reader.

Enji tries to teach the reader how to control their flames but is constantly reminded of how he trained his children and worries that the reader will hate him

Eventually Hawks is able to teach the reader to control their flames when he tries to have the reader cook chicken with them. Hawks originally intended it as a joke but Endeavor saw the accidental genius and decided that it was a good idea. Hawks just wanted some chicken

The reader has a tendency to build nests as a result of their father’s side of the family having mostly bird related quirks. One day Enji comes home from patrol to see the reader has built a giant nest in his living room. The reader is sitting in the nest in front of the TV. Hawks walks into the room with popcorn, snacks and drinks. After much convincing, Enji finally agrees to sit with them and watch a movie

Half way through the movie the reader falls asleep and snuggles up to Enji’s side. Wrapping an arm around them, Enji lets them sleep as he realizes how much he’s missed out on with his other kids. It’s at this moment that Enji promises himself and the reader that he’ll be better and that he’ll cherish these small moments

Hawks and Enji don’t care about the reader’s appearance, they understand that their quirk just makes their body different from others and they accept it.

Hawks will often visit the reader and they’ll preen each other’s wings. Hawks likes to make spa days out of this. He’ll take them to a bath house or bring bath salts to them. After relaxing in the bath he’ll either have a masseur give them both massages or they’ll massage each other. After that they’ll both take turns inspecting the other’s wings removing old or damaged feathers, combing the feathers, etc. after that Hawks will do face masks with the reader and basically anything that he can use as an excuse to relax

Overall, the reader is an irreplaceable part of Enji and Hawks’s lives now

I hope you enjoyed this.

[jazziejax]

Queen Treatment for the

King

Pairing- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- cute moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- suggestive moments, implied sexual content, sexual tension, feet stuff…

Jazzie’s Notes!- This can be read as an ‘x reader’ since I don’t think I go into detail about my OC all that much. I also don’t really know how to write that well without an OC so,…..sorry :( also sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don’t enjoy reading back my own work

Word Count- 2,012

Part II, Part III

The noise in the room instantly went silent as the sound of shuffling made its way to their ears. Around the small corner at the entrance of Tashi’s dorm emerged Dion King in all her glory. The lean but curved girl made her way into the room with bags hanging on her arms and hades on top of her short blowout. She dropped the bags at the very corner of the archway as the door closed behind her with a click. Slightly out of breathe, she looked between her three best friends in front of her, dispersed around Tashi’s dorm. Patrick, who was sitting at her desk, looked annoyed as his eyes went Dion’s and back to Tashi, who was turned her attention from the boy and to her open closet. Art, who sat on the girls bed, eyes jumped from everyone in the room, not knowing what to say.

“What’s going on?” Dion asked, her sweet voice showing her confusion at the tense atmosphere. She stood there, not having a clue of prior conversation and why it stopped all of a sudden when she walked into the room. There was pause in the room, the tension growing. When no one else spoke, Art did.

“Nothing at all. What do you have going on there?” He asked, trying to change the subject. Dion quickly glanced between Tashi, who was still going through her closet for her next match outfit, and Patrick, who had turned to the monitor on Tashi’s desk. Dion’s brow twitched as her tongue poked her cheek. Not wanting to leave his question unanswered, Dion looked over at Art and smiled sweetly at him. “These are some gifts for my favorite person.” She said as she walked over to the side of the bed he was sitting on and placed the bags down in front of them as she took a seat. Art’s eyes trailed her figure, her bikini tan lines showing through the top of her bandeau top. His eyes then made their way down to her long legs, which didn’t add to her height. They were smooth and oiled, save for the small dots that littered her skin, a condition she liked to call ‘strawberry skin’. He knew that she had just gotten a fresh way by the mango oil smell that admitted from her skin and the short shorts she was wearing that showed the bottom of her ass cheeks.

She then snapped her eyes over to him, catching the boy admiring her. She beamed at the boy, Art immediately imitating her smile as he scooted closer to her on the edge of the bed. “But first,” She started. She then held out her hands, her many gold tennis bracelets that held different gems jingling together softly. She waved her fingers in front of him. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her nails. At her question, Patrick glanced over his shoulder to see what they were talking about but he couldn’t see to well.

Art looked down at her hands and softly clasped them in his, seeing her short nails that had her favorite flower on them. “These are cute. Your favorite flower.” He noted, looking up at her. Dion cheesed along with him and nodded her head. She then turned and scooted closer, to where the underside of her bottom sat on the outer edge of his thigh. She threw her legs over his lap, never looking away from his face even though he broke eye contact to watch her movements like a hawk. She held up her leg, her knee almost touching his face. “What about these?” She asked, her voice lowering as she trailed the side of his face, leaning back on her elbows. Art's hands were immediately on her as she got closer, one hand coming to wrap around her legs over his thigh while the other trailed the leg that was up in the air. He followed his hand all the way up to her feet, which were in a pair of tweed wedges with white ribbons wrapped around her ankle and the base of her toes. Without thinking, his free hand pulled on the strings of the bow, loosening it and taking off her show. Dion’s foot was pointed as Art analyzed it. Her toes were done to match her nails, the flower only on the big toe while the rest were pink french tips.

Art’s hand grasped Dion’s foot, the soft bottom of it rubbing against the callous on his hands that he got from tennis. He brought her foot down, causing the file to bend her knee as she rose from her elbows to resting on her palms. His large palm massaged her foot, his thumb rubbing into the arch of it. “So, what do you think?” Dion asked in her sultry tone, leaning forward to wrap her arms around the boy's neck. Art’s head turned to her, his large nose brushing against hers due to their proximity. “Oh you know I love them.” He said, his tone deep and raspy as he held eye contact with her through both of their low lids. Dion smirked, her canines biting into her lower lip.

Both Tashi and Patrick turned to look at the pair, hearing the suggestive and downright horny nature of the conversation. They could see that the pair was close, whispering things to eachother as they never broke eye contact. Dion’s foot was now on Art’s lap, softly rubbing against his boner while Arts hands rubbed anywhere they could. Her feet, her legs, her back, her arms. He was stuck in her trance as they softly talked back and fourth. Tashi’s jaw clenched as she stared at the pair. As she turned to go back to what she was doing, she met Patrick’s eyes for a split second, who shared her hard look. She huffed, seeing him getting her pissed all over again, and turned back to her closet. Patrick wasn’t necessarily jealous in the same way Tashi was. She was angry that Dion’s attention was on some one else besides her while he was pissed that he was being left out of what Dion and Art had going on. Dion never left him out.

And by no means was this Dion trying to make Tashi and Patrick jealous, she was already in the mood after her waxing and was willing to fuck any of them. She would also never do that to Art, she loved her baby boy far too much to use him and do such a thing. But when Tashi and Pat ignored her earlier, she felt that she might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Watching Arts face morph the more she poke into his ear, and feeling the man twitch under her foot, Dion knew he was close. She smiled as she pulled her foot away and turned to sit the way he was, facing the bag on the floor. Art’s mouth dropped open, trying catch his breath after getting worked up.

“I got you something.” Dion said, leaning forward to pick up a small bag that was next to some other ones. “What? You didn’t have to do that.” Art said, watching as the bag was placed in his lap. Dion rolled her eyes. “Duh, but I wanted to so I did.” She said. She looked up from the bag when Art didn’t move to see the boy staring at her lovingly. “Open it, blondie.” She joked, playfully pushing his shoulder, hoping to distract the boy from the blush that crept up her neck.

Arts hands pulled the tissue paper from the bag to reveal a small box at the bottom. He grabbed the velvet cube and held it in hands. His glanced back over to Dion, who immediately pushed his chin to look back at the box. Getting the hint, Art smirked before opening the box. It instantly dropped at the sight of the large gold ring with a blue stone in the middle. He looked back over at Dion, who was smiling at him.

“How much did this fucking cost you?” Slightly angling his body to face her more. Dion shrugged her shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I saw it and I thought of you so now you have it.” She said, taking the ring out of the box and placing it on his left hands ring finger. Art looked down at the masterpiece of a ring in admiration, stunned for a many of reasons.

“Do you like it?” She asked softly, trying to gauge a sincere reaction from the way he was just staring at it. Art immediately looked up at her, a large smile making its way into her face. “So I like it? I fucking love it, Queen!” He said before smacking his low onto hers. Dion laughed into the kiss before settling in, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips moved together for only a minute before Art got too riled up and let his hands start to travel.

Felling his palm directly over her heat, Dion broke the kiss.

“How about we take this next door to my dorm.” The girl smiled before standing up to gather her bags. “I can also give you a fashion show of all the things I bought if you’d like?” She said, smiling down at the dazed boy beneath her.

“You could read a book and I’d enjoy myself just watching you.” Art said, drunkenly looking up at the girl before him. Unbeknownst to them, both Tashi and Patrick simultaneously rolled their eyes at the boys cheesiness. Dion, on the other hand, grabbed the fucked out boy by his jaw, smushing his face together. “Oh Art, don’t you know just what to say to get a lady started.” She said through her teeth before smooching his puckered lips for a quick second.

She then gathered all her bags and was on her way out the door without a word before Tashi spoke up.

“What, no gifts and kisses for us?” She asked, leaning against her closet door as her eyes followed the other girl.

Dion barley spared her a glance as she passed. “I said my favorite person.” Was all that left her lips before she was out of the door. Tashi’s jaw clenched while Patrick sat in the desk chair with the look of a kicked puppy.

Once it closed, Art spoke.

“She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes she did.” Patrick mumbled sadly, not looking up from his hands.

“No, she didn’t.” The blonde boy defended. “She’s only acting that way because she knows you two are keeping shit from her and you’ve kinda been avoiding her for the past week.” He said.

“What, you have, like, three days left?” He asked, looking over at Patrick. “And you’ve spent the majority of your time arguing over how you both feel about her? Can’t make up your damn mind?” He rhetorically asked, glancing between the two.

Before he could continue on, Dion’s head popped back into the door. This time, there was no notion of the prior conversation that could have left her questioning. Her eyes were trained on Art, who was still in the same spot on the bed. “Are you coming?” She asked, big eyes looking at him. The blonde immediately stood up, not caring for the obvious boner that they all could see. Dion giggled at the sight and moved to let the boy out. The door closing behind him engulfed the other pair in silence as they thought over what he said.

Let me know if you could would like me to start a taglist :)

[angelanderson]

I really want an Ellabs x reader fic of fem reader really needing comfort bc she's sad/overwhelmed but she tries to hide it from ellabs but obv they notice smth is off, so they tell her they noticed smth is wrong and she kinda breaks down at that, then they comfort her thru it, listening to her problems or insecurities n'stuff <33 Sorry if it's confusing and/or too long, u dont gotta do it but i'd appreciate it tons <33 (Im totally not self projecting)

ur projecting = supported. 🫢 100% sfw/comfort fic but still no men or minors. type of relationship between them is up to u! this ended up a semi- full length fic oops ? enjoy!

sometimes it just feels too hard. being the newest member in jackson means you feel like you have to prove your worth 24/7. and it’s exhausting, really. abby is just so strong, ellie has the best patrol work, and you? you feel… weak. you (falsely) feel like nothing you’ve done has proven you’re worth the space in jackson.

so when monday rolls around, you tell ellie and abby you have plans with someone else so you can just go home and hide. they don’t question that, why would they? tuesday you tell them you wanna go to bed early. okay, fine. but then it’s wednesday, and they’re starting to get that something is going on with you.

the worry starts to kick in wednesday night after maria tells the two women you asked to go home early, citing that you’re not feeling well. abby all but drags ellie to your tiny place immediately after hearing maria’s words. you always tell each other everything. so why didn’t you now?!

it’s easy to know abby and ellie are knocking at your door simply because of the sheer force of it. five minutes you try to pretend you’re not home. you don’t want them to see you in this state; you’ve been ugly crying for two hours now. however, they don’t give up. it’s not like you could expect anything else from them.

“baby, we know you’re home. let us in, yeah? we’re worried about you,” abby shouts out after another two minutes of knocking.

you respond back with a sickly voice from the sofa, “no, go away. ‘m busy.”

you can just feel the attitude enter ellie’s body now. you know how stubborn she can be. “no, we know you’re lying. i will find a way in if you don’t let us in within the next thirty seconds.”

you know she isn’t joking as you move to open the door. the sight of you upon opening the door is not a pretty one— your face is red, covered in tears. ellie takes a deep breath before she pushes in. she won’t let you shut them out anymore. abby shuts the door before them before heading you back onto the sofa with them. each other is on either side of you within the matter of seconds.

as per usual, abby is the first one to break the silence. “oh, honey, what’s going on? we could’ve helped you sooner if we knew.” the way she sounds sad just makes you feel worse.

insecurities once again bubbling over, you do the only thing you can think of: you try to shove abby away. being significantly stronger than you means it didn’t feel like a single thing. however, abby won’t put up with you lashing out right now. she knows you can be their sweet girl even in the toughest of moments.

ellie watches like a hawk as abby grabs both of your wrists to stop you from trying to push her away again. “just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can act out. are you going to be the big girl i know you are now? or do i need to keep you here?”

the concerned sternness of her voice makes you whimper in reply. fresh tears leak down your face as you try to find the words to explain. “i- i just don’t think i deserve to be here! everyone, especially you two, carry your weight around here! and what do i do? i’m just a stupid girl working in the bar!”

and, well, neither of them could say they were expecting that response. sure, you were newer to Jackson, but so was everyone at one point. you were also one of the most popular Jackson residents— everyone loves the energy you bring to the bar after a long day of work. so it just makes sense that both women are beyond shocked to realize that this is why you’re so down. how could you not know how loved you are here?

as yet another round of tears starts to fall, you feel abby’s big arms quickly pull you into her chest. your body starts to shake with each inhale as you start to sob into abby’s chest. while ellie rushes to rub your back, abby starts to tilt your head up so you can see her.

“angel, angel, no. let’s take some deep breathes and then we’ll all have a talk, okay?”, abby coos as she wipes away the falling tears.

ellie puts your right hand over abby’s heart when your breathing doesn’t start to slow any. she speaks in the softest voice she can muster up,“deep breaths with me and abby, baby. feel abby’s heart beat. we’re all going to just relax together before anything else.”

two minutes between your favorite people is all it takes to reduce you to just sniffles. you slouch back into your seat once you’ve finally caught your breath. you look up at abby and ellie with wet eyes before letting out a long sigh. no one is sure who should speak first.

ellie decides she’ll be the one to start, “it’s not true, you know? everyone here loves you. helping run the bar is important. you create a space where we can all relax for once. emphasis on the relax part.”

abby grunts in agreement with ellie. “you know ellie’s right, don’t you baby,” abby questions before looking over to ellie, “our favorite girl’s always making everyone feel happy, isn’t she?”

“for real though, you really do play a big part here. you know ellie and i started arguing less when you came around? pretty big deal there, you know. even joel commented on it,” the dirty blonde continues on the conversation.

and that makes you giggle for the first time all day. “even joel? really?” while you knew they had a previous history of more frequent fights, you didn’t know even joel was over it back then too.

“yeah, it’s really true,” abby starts before taking a breath to think about her next words. she exhales, “strength isn’t everything, you know? you add just as much as we do here. creating a space where people can relax while we live on this hell on earth is just as important as what we do. we all do the best here because we are better with each other. our system can’t function without others.”

you’re sure you’d be crying tears of happiness right now if you weren’t so exhausted from all your previous crying. your previous anxieties start to slip away as you start to truly internalize both of their words from today. you are important. you matter here. just like everyone else.

no one is given a chance to speak before you’re pulling ellie and yourself on top of abby. “i love you, i love you, i love you both,” you whisper out. “you’re right. i promise i’ll come talk to you next time i’m feeling down, okay? know you’ll make me say that part next!”

“okay smarty pants, you better. also, we always are, darling. love you the most,” teases ellie before she presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“hey! what if i love you both the most? then what?” you’re sure you can feel ellie roll her eyes as abby whines out playfully.

“okay, okay. how about we all love each other the most? can we just agree so i can drink some water now? my head is killing me.” a major post-crying headache has just started to come on for you.

ellie rolls her eyes playful at both of you. “i’ll get us all some water”, she commands as she walks to your kitchen, “and get comfy with abby. we’ll watch a movie, and yes, you can choose today.”

yay! end note to say ur important and i’m glad ur here + love that we all each add our own special things to this earth 🫂

[shentheauthor]

That's ok! But I got a new request! Those headcanons for the Harbingers' S/O clobbering people got me thinking... Can I request headcanons about the Harbingers having a sweet and precious S/O who is also incredibly strong? They just regularly bench press Fatui Skirmishers, like the Electro ones with the hammers, will fist fight hilichurls and win, and carry loads that look like they could crush them with ease. Even more confusing if they have an average or slender build.

Heyo sorry this took so long! But I am here now to write <3

Harbingers with an s/o who’s small, but very strong

~~~~~~~

Pierro:

This man has lived for centuries

He thought he’d seen it all

But when you picked up a skirmisher with one hand and threw him across the room while helping the new recruits train

Pierro almost had a heart attack

He thought he imagined it at first, but the groaning skirmisher you’re helping to stand is more than enough evidence to the contrary

He’ll run over immediately and start questioning how in the hell you did that

Were you born with this strength???? Or did you do some kind of insane magic????

Watches you like a hawk now, but affectionately

Lowkey wants to be carried, but he refuses to ask

If you pick him up without permission tho, he will get SO flustered

Lift that old man, he’s touch starved and he needs it

Capitano:

The fatui soldiers see the two of you as a sort of “good cop” and “bad cop”

Soft, sweet angel, and an absolutely intimidating powerhouse

Imagine everyone’s surprise when you lift capitano effortlessly

Capitano is the most surprised out of everyone

He was just coming back home from being away for a while, and you greeted him at the city’s entrance

And there you go, spinning him around and crushing his ribs despite your average size

The man was too stunned to speak

His first thought is “have you been training??” But he’s smart enough to know that this is probably just

A You Thing™️

He’ll let you train with him now

And help the Fatui grunts train as well

You’ll beat everyone’s asses (politely) and capitano will just go “now this is why we don’t underestimate our opponents”

Now you two are both powerhouses, and everyone is afraid of you LMFAO

The two strongest people in Teyvat dating each other… what are the odds /hj

Dottore:

He’ll probably find out during an experiment gone wrong

A ruin machine goes out of control, and the segments are all working to take it down

AND ITS THE S/O WITH THE STEEL CHAIR (except the steel chair is your fucking fists)

Lifting literal Tons of metal effortlessly and tearing it apart without breaking a sweat

The segments: ���️👁️

Godspeed, friend, bc they will NOT leave you alone now

When you date one Dottore, you date ALL of them

And all of them want to run tests on you

Or get carried by you

Or both at the same time

Seriously they wanna experiment on you SOOOOO bad

He is an absolute simp for you tho, so he will shut up if you promise to carry him around and help him with other experiments instead

Carry multiple segments at once, they will miraculously not fight with each other bc they’re in your arms <3

The Fatui soldiers thought you were the safe one, the sane one

But now they’re terrified of you too AJGKBKDKVKDK

Columbina:

Omfg dude she is SO happy

She’d probably find out after you pick her up

It’s not exactly hard to do, but she’ll notice that you didn’t even make an ounce of effort

So she’ll ask you to lift more things

Getting increasingly heavy

And she is absolutely delighted

Literally living her best life

You are now her personal vehicle

Carry her everywhere and she is happy

Loves watching you lift impossibly heavy objects easily

She thinks it’s so hot and amazing and impressive

She is so in love <3

Two people who look soft and sweet, but are secretly terrifyingly strong <3

Arlecchino:

She’d probably find out if someone tries to hurt you

Like on a mission or smth

Ruin golems come after you, as they tend to do, unfortunately

Arle wants to protect her soft, sweet s/o

But boom, there you go, LIFTING THAT THING

Bc you don’t want her to get hurt, of course!

She would have a solid 10 minutes of sheer confusion

“Who are you, and what have you done with my s/o”

It’s very clearly still you tho, as you’re checking her over for injuries

Once she’s processed and accepted what happened, she’s even more in love

You’re so strong, and that’s AWESOME

Asks you to help “deal with” insubordination

She doesn’t approve of how gentle you are with disobedient soldiers

But at least watching you lift them up and place them gently in their barracks as punishment is hella fun

I wanna know more about her HoYo…

Pulcinella:

He would not realize for a while

You like carrying him, but he isn’t exactly hard to carry for a normal person

No, he would realize when you’re both on a business trip

Loading luggage onto your carriage, there’s a ton of suitcases

“I’ve got this, love,” you say, reaching for all the very large, very heavy stacks of suitcases

“No, you don’t have to— what the fuck”

Very shocked, very flustered, bc wait, you can do this to ANYONE you want? Not just a little tiny gnome?

Oddly quiet and shy around you for the trip 🤨🤨🤨

This old man is so in love

Definitely watches you if you ever train in any way

Hell you probably have a few friends in the Fatui

He’ll watch you “hang out” with your friends (aka bench press them)

And he will just be :)

Quietly flustered mans

Scaramouche:

He can feel your strength when you hug him and pick him up

He isn’t exactly hard to pick up, being made of mostly light materials

But your lack of effort is suspicious

He has theories, and he will test them by taking you on missions and having you fight enemies

“Will you please lend me a hand”

You’re super sweet, so of course you’ll help

And oh there you go, literally punching through a ruin guard in one shot

Being an absolute ray of sunshine the whole way through

“Are you ok, kuni? :D”

He won’t comment on your strength, but man he’s proud to have such a strong partner

He knows the appeal of allowing your opponents to underestimate you, even tho that’s not what you’re doing

So he won’t tell anyone about it and delight in the shock that everyone else experiences when you reveal it yourself

And if he lets you carry him more often after? Well that’s none of your business…

Sandrone:

She wants one of her larger dolls moved

And before she can get her big robot butler guy to do it, you’re taking care of it

Boom, big robot butler guy has been replaced /hj

Like, Sandrone won’t even use machines to move her dolls anymore

She just has you do it, since you’re happy to help

She’s so excited for the extra help 😭😭 for once

Be honored she lets you touch them

BUT! Also…

She wants you to carry her sooo bad

She will never tell you directly, but she makes it so obvious you always know when she wants it

Sandrone visibly relaxes in your arms

She feels safe and warm and happy

Very glad she didn’t turn you into a puppet lmao

Signora:

She’s so shook omfg

You lifting her is kind of insane, bc she is TALL AS HELL

But you did lift her, and there she is, held in your arms and slowly beginning to blush

“…dear, please put me down”

“Nope <3 your feet look tired, you deserve a break <3”

“…fair enough”

She won’t let you carry her in public, but in private? She will wrap her whole body around you and let you hold her

She thinks it’s funny to watch you just LIFT gunners and skirmishers, bc they’re always so shocked

She will compliment your strength in private all the time

What I wouldn’t give to have her wrapped around me, dancing in her bedroom with nobody else around AUGUHHHHH

Pantalone:

You two get caught in the rain together while in Liyue on banking business

Neither of you have umbrellas, and Pantalone is wearing his nice shoes

You, being a sweetheart, don’t want his shoes to get dirty, so you pick him up and book it to the bank

This man is so confused, flustered, and delighted at the same time

“Darling, you never told me you could lift me like that”

When he finds out you can lift more? Oh my god dude he is so whipped

He wants you to hold him all the time

He just adores watching you carry things around

Especially because everyone stares and looks so freaked out Lmao

This man is literally just… heart eyes, motherfucker personified

Literally so so down bad for you, it’s not even funny

Carry his mora for him, he’ll propose on the spot /hj

Tartaglia:

OH MAN

He wouldn’t bring a non-combatant onto the battlefield

But he would see you training with the soldiers and immediately do a 180 on that

“PLEASE SPAR WITH ME!!!”

You will, bc you know how much he loves it

And you won’t beat his ass, bc he’s very skilled, but man the hits you land hit HARD

He will now show you off to everyone

“Guys this is my beautiful, kind, strong s/o, look at them :D”

Down bad mf

Loves being carried soooo much dude, he’s so touch starved and he wants affection so bad

Hell dude he’ll let you carry him in public

Unless it’s around his soldiers

He has to set a good example after all

But every other time, you will not be allowed to put him down

Utterly smitten mf

[jbaileyfansite]

The finale of Fellow Travelersis now streaming, ahead of its Sunday night airing on Showtime—a conclusion to one of the year’s best series that is gorgeous, devastating, and cathartic in equal measure.

The story of a tortured-yet-beautiful romance between two men over decades, the show waltzed through those emotions throughout the entire season, as Matt Bomer’s Hawk and Jonathan Bailey’s Tim weather the historical circumstances that prevented their deserved happily ever after. Bomer’s nuanced performance as an infatuated, conflicted man is the best work of his career, and, in the emotion-packed finale, Bailey is a revelation. Across multiple timelines, he showcases how intertwined grit, defiance, and joy in spite of darkness are for gay men determined to make their lives mean something in a world that actively works to strip them of dignity.

The series spans Hawk and Tim’s meet-cute during the Lavender Scare and McCarthyism-led panic of the 1950s through the AIDS crisis of the 1980s. The final scene, set at the unveiling of the AIDS Memorial Quilt at the National Mall in D.C. that might as well have been an anvil plummeting straight onto my heart, it shattered me so much.

There are two images in the final episode that have seared into my brain since I first watched, tableaus charting the arc of a doomed, yet life-changing relationship. First is Hawk and Tim slow dancing naked in the privacy of a secret apartment and, later, Tim’s head nestled on Hawk’s chest as they take a post-coital nap—moments of bliss stolen in a society that won’t allow them that pleasure. Then there’s a mirror of that position decades later, when Hawk climbs into Tim’s hospital bed to cradle him, as Tim struggles through a rough night during his last days battling AIDS.

The power of those moments is amplified by Bailey’s performance. In the earlier timeline, his wide, giddy eyes betray a man fully aware of his good fortune to be so madly in love, cognizant of how precarious and fleeting the feeling could be and determined to live in the splendor of it. Later, as he faces death, his resignation to fate is not one of defeat, but a catalyst for clarity.

So much of his life was impacted—some might say ruined—by his inability to move on from his connection to Hawk. But in a sensational monologue delivered after Hawk questions how much pain he’s caused Tim, Tim corrects the narrative: “I spent most of my life waiting for God to love me. And then I realized the only thing that matters is that I loved God. It’s the same with you. I’ve never loved anyone but you. You were my great, consuming love. Most people don’t get one of those. I do. I have no regrets.”

Bailey’s performance of this monologue stunned me. It is spoken with such certainty, an outpouring of a lifetime of emotion funneled into a searing, pointed declaration. He’s speaking to not only a complicated romance with his lover, but also on behalf of generations of gay men whose great loves were colored and, it often seemed, marred by the misfortune of the times in which they were kindled. That’s the revelation that Tim, through Bailey’s delivery, speaks to: There’s no misfortune when it comes to love; we may now be aware of the hideousness with which society treated (and still treats) the gay community, but how dare we assume that the love found was any kind of misfortune.

I’ll be thinking about this episode, that monologue, and Bailey’s performance for a long time. Do yourself a favor and watch it.

Source

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Could you possibly do head canons or a fanfic of Ghostface! Keigo(Hawks) x reader?

You have free creative control to what would happen and stuff like that (I just think the idea would be interesting) but you don’t have to do it if your not comfortable.

(Also I love your work)

Thank you so much!! (I"M BACK BITCHES FR THIS TIME! Also this is my very late Kinktober contribution because college is kicking my ass rn)

He would wait until a day you knew he wouldn’t be home.

“Kei, I promise, it’s alright."

Your boyfriend whined into the receiver. “Yeah, but we had plans tonight."

“And sitting in front of the tv with a bowl of candy and some Jordan Peele movies tomorrow night will be just as lovely.” You reply. “Besides, you gotta protect us from all the toilet-papering teens terrorizing the city tonight.”

“Hardy-har. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you.”

“I love you back.”

Preferably at a time when your other emotions were likely to overwhelm any idea of his plans.

Setting the phone down, you allowed your body to slouch into a sigh, one final act of disappointment that you didn’t want your boyfriend to see.

While one could argue that you were technically used to his fluctuating schedule, it still didn’t make it any less disheartening when he was called in last minute on holidays. Of course, you didn’t let him know that.

Then he'd play with you just a bit, letting your sense of anxiety spike just the slightest by leaving the overhead skylight ajar.

Had he really left it open?

“Dumbass,” you muttered with a grin, quickly standing up to grab a ladder.

A chill rattled through your spine as you climbed, fall wind blowing through your hair and poking goosebumps in your skin as you pulled the window closed, making sure to lock it before wandering into the kitchen for an after-dinner snack.

A bowl of cereal was always an easy solution, especially when it was accompanied by a spooky flick and a comfortable bar seat at the counter.

Your phone would ring at exactly midnight, a voice he knew you'd find familiar, yet still unable to place, would answer.

Unknown Number.

"Hello?"

"Hey there," the voice was masculine and deep, like the sound had been covered with a sheet of gravel before being released.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, come on, don't you recognize me?"

"Uh, no. I think you might have the wrong number."

"No, I don't." Silence followed for a few moments, just enough for a touch of unease to stir in your gut. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You gotta have a favorite. I know you like them."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you're watching one right now."

He also knew how well you liked horror films, how easily you would recognize the reference and think of the surprise call as a prank. Then he'd make sure to get your heart beating once more.

"I also know your boyfriend left the window open on his way out. That's dangerous, dontcha think? Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone with the door locked?"

"What do you want?" Fear shook your vocal cords, the question coming out in a ridiculously less forceful manner than you would've liked.

"You."

Being the over-protective boyfriend he was, you had been taught how to react to a situation like this beforehand. That just meant he had to move quickly, sliding a hand over your mouth to smother a scream and prying the phone from your fingers before you could even think of calling for help.

"Calm down, sweetheart." The masked figure tossed the voice changer away, black fabric tickling the rim of your ear. "I've got ya."

Keigo was thoughtful. He'd give you a moment of realization, and another to stop struggling, before forcefully turning you around and lifting you on top of the counter, one hand encasing both of your wrists and the other toying with the end of your sleep-shorts.

Eyes widening in shook, you took in the white mask in front of you. Lifeless black eyes and a horrifyingly exaggerated mouth, one that left the expression into one of pure terror for eternity. The dark fabric surrounding it just exaggerated that pristine look, one of perfectly untouched cartilage.

Still, despite its velvety presence, you recognized the hands poking out from the robe. Bronze skin kissed by years in the sun, interrupted by the lines of scars that you had spent countless nights running your fingers over.

The hands were warm, just as they always were, as they slid over your thighs, forcing them open before sliding underneath the bottom hem of your pajamas.

He would watch you try not to moan as he brushed his thumb over your clit, caressing gentle circles over it before pushing a finger inside. The soft whimper he earned made his cock jump.

"That's right, gorgeous." The masked figure slid another digit in, undoubtedly smirking as he felt you clench around him.

"I wanna hear you scream."

[turbulentscrawl]

In the poly post you said that ithaqua is as close as it get to a yandere may I ask why you think that ? Or any headcanons related to that if that's okay with you (sorry if the English is bad )

As luck would have it, Ithaqua is one of the few Hunters I think I have a decent grasp on rn so I was also able to crank this out quickly! (To my other request-ees: I'm working on HC requests for several other characters rn! I should have them ready to spam-post sometime this weekend <3)

So here's some general and sfw relationship hcs for Ithaqua ;)

-A first small note, his exact age is not listed, but he’s described as a “young adult,” so I imagine him to be somewhere between 18-22.

-Ithaqua is a man who has entirely rejected society. He wants nothing more to do with it, with anyone, and any instance of breaching his territory is met with wind-swift punishment.

-It all fits when you consider the major events of his life. He was abandoned in a snowstorm, left for dead, because he was thought to be a devil. He was saved and raised by a “witch,” a kind woman who stood outside of society’s norms and was feared and hated for it. Their solitary home was trespassed on in the night, defiled, and his mother was kidnapped, tortured, and broken by a man with his exact face. Every small bit of comfort he ever had was destroyed by a mirror image of himself that was raised in “civilized” society. If that doesn’t cement the idea that people from that world can’t be given a chance, I don’t know what would.

-And I think on some level he questions the reality of it all. Did he do it? Did he destroy his own life? Was his so-called brother actually a copy of himself? Was Nathaniel supposed to be the better or the worse version? Was he himself evil before…or is he evil now? None of it matters in the long run, though. His only remaining goal in life is to defend his home and his mother’s resting place from interlopers. But he does get this distant, sour expression sometimes when he contemplates these things.

-I think he’s close to an as-is yandere because, if we assume he’s still capable of bonding with someone on a genuine level, that person would be a one true exception to his otherwise all-consuming distrust and hatred for society. He could not be “led to water”, so to speak, even by a partner who exemplified everything good left in the world. He’s just not capable of making that leap anymore.

-So again, he’s territorial, and that would 1000% extend to a partner. He’s not a master and you’re not his pet, but god would he try to keep you in his clutches. Use every sweet word and convincing anecdote in his arsenal to convince you to stay in the forest. The thing that keeps him from being all-out controlling is that his mother let him make his decisions for himself. She taught him how to survive in the wilderness, and she taught him about the rest of society, and she let him decide for himself if he ever wanted to get involved in it. He didn’t of course, because how could a place that shunned his mother be good for him? You deserve to make those choices too, even if he disagrees with what you pick.

-He will, however, watch you like a hawk. To not sugarcoat it, he’ll stalk you. Ithaqua wants to be prepared for the moment everything goes wrong. The moment he knows for certain will come, when you see he’s right about other people. When that happens, he’ll swoop in to save you. He refuses to be late again, like he was for his mother.

-He doesn’t leave the forest unattended often, but when you spend longer stints at your home in a village, you’ll notice the weather gradually becoming worse and worse. It seems to snow every day, and the wind is so harsh that walking outside is deafening and blinding. When you return to visit Ithaqua, the village mysteriously returns to its normal weather patterns.

-Ithaqua hates when other people interact with you. No one is no one is safe enough, trustworthy enough for him to not worry for your safety. They don’t deserve to even stand near you. But he won’t do anything until they do…or you say he can.

-Anyone he takes as a partner would have to remind him of his mother, at least a little. She’s the only example he has of a “good person” so he’s not likely to give people with divergent personality types much of a chance. He’s also more likely to trust a woman over a man, by a small margin.

-He won’t stand for being doted on or babied by anyone other than his mother or partner. he won't fall for other people's faux-gentleness! Don’t you know who he is? What he is? Call him cute or pitiful again and your blood will stain the snow red.

-His lips are always chapped to hell and back, sorry. Sharp kisses only for you.

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ [1, 2, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 10k

“I have not been meeting with Steve.” you scowled behind gritted teeth. Balled fists return to your side. Pin-point daggers shoot back, unphased.

It’s an absurd notion on its own, that you betray him in the slightest. You also know you’ve had sneezes last longer than that conversation–how the hell did Tony know about it?

“Try again.” He doesn’t return your heat in his voice, leaving that to be felt through his grasp. 

“Fine, I ran into Steve, but come on, you seriously think I would–”

“Not sure what to think given how easy it just was for you to lie to me.” 

“You’ve been lying to me from the start!” 

You pulled yourself from his grasp, tossing the bag onto the island. Cream marble and translucency make for wonderful camouflage, almost losing itself in the light entirely.

“I’d hardly call my personal habits comparable to sneaking around.” 

Adrenaline does what it knows best, keeping you pliant and pissed. Two things that erode rationalism like rust. The iron spreads to whatever argument you would’ve made had there been more time to prepare. Or sense to see the mosaic pattern here. Time stills for no more than a few seconds–and that’s all Tony needs.

“So, go ahead, please. Tell me more about what I should think .”

He says it so permissively, you might have obliged if his jaw loosened even a bit to do so. That tiny breadth of space is stalked through by shiny leather oxfords. You’re given a not so pleasant reminder of his stature when he's in front of you again, more overwhelming than before. The cool stone island digs into your back. 

“Here I was actually worried something could have happened to you–turn’s out you’re searching for, what , exactly?” 

The reversal almost worked, really. The reminiscent guilt came back as it always does. You felt the same way for wanting to leave back in California months ago. Even all that time ago in that dimly lit boutique. Tony showed you time and time again how much he loved you– wanted you, and here you were, finding another reason to push him away.

You were so close to giving in. The marble’s nearly swallowed the powdery bag whole by now, for it takes you longer to see the plastic outline bouncing back at you. 

Tony waits, hands tucked into the pocket of his suit pants (in a very deliberate attempt to hide his own unease). His eyes still bore back into you like a hawk, and you wanted to surrender to them until their pin-point, reddened nature dawned on you. Then, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tempo beating fast your own. The shake in his hands when he held you in place.

To Tony, you meet his eyes with something far more heart-piercing than anger, and he gets a sick feeling of deja vu. You wouldn’t know–his face stone cold from years of practice. But this close, you can see something worse. 

“You’re wasted right now .” 

You don’t bother making it a question (it’s a quiet scoff). Nor do you bother to wait for the response he’s struggling to muster. Decades of life yet he lacked a great deal of experience in getting called on his shit.  All the air seems to leave the room, saving just the few breaths you have remaining in your lungs. 

“We’re done.” 

You use them wisely, calmly , even, to head for the elevator and as far away from this as possible. Despite the fact your ears are ringing. Don’t ask where you find the willpower. You push past him, rather easily because Tony moves for the sanctity of his shoulder and knee. 

Your fingers go to grace the brass buttons, but Tony crosses the threshold with far fewer steps and positions himself between you and the opening door. 

“ Move , Tony.” you say sternly, though it feels ridiculous raising your voice at someone whose gaze you have to look up to meet. 

“Don’t want to keep Mr. America waiting, of course.”

“Seriously?” you scoff, eyes rolling. “You’re still on that?”

“I don’t know, you still wanna lie to me?” 

“How many times do I need to tell you–”

“I know you were with him, so you can cut the bullshit.”

“I told you, I ran into Steve. That’s . It. ” you respond, making another move for the button just for Tony to shift an inch to the left. 

“You two looked very cozy outside that bar. Let me guess, he ordered a Manhattan and you just couldn’t say no.” 

“For god’s sake, no . He came out while I was waiting and asked me not to tell you–end of story.” You’d hoped that added details would be enough to assuage him–at least to move out of your way.

“So, you decided all on your own to rummage through the bathroom?” 

As many of his questions tend to be, he already knows the answer. Even still, the look you give is telling on its own. 

“I mean, really–” he chuckles dryly, “Please tell me what is so special about him that you keep trusting him over me.” 

“He, for one, isn’t controlling or watching my every move–out of the way, Tony.” you repeat, exhausted. 

Tony’s eyes dart down to the elevator panel he’d done such a phenomenal job of blocking, before glancing back at your pleading face. That seems to do the trick, because he presses the call button himself and gestures open arms into the small space. 

“By all means, knock yourself out.”

Shocked, but without another word, you enter. As you turn and press L for the lobby, you expect Tony’s irate face staring back at you.

Instead, you catch the patterned fabric lining the back of his suit vest as he walks away.

Once the elevator doors shut, Tony loses his last semblance of composure. 

A sheer crystal serving tray by the stove behind him, topped with an array of ornate glasses, is thrown straight across the kitchen where it crashes to a million pieces at the plush living room rug. 

He truly does not enjoy your penchant for storming off today or any other day.

Today is the worst, though, for two reasons. One, he’s not certain that letting you leave was the best move in the long-term. Two, you promised never to do this in the first place–you fucking promised. 

Another innocent bystander (this time a glass pitcher) joins the pile in the living room. 

Stuttery hands brace the counter. It’s of little effort for him to keep a hardened facade in the face of anger, but now that you’re not here to see it, the stone mask cracks. Shame, guilt, anger and that sneaky trickster known as self-righteousness blend up into something new entirely. There’s no pride in this for him, truly. 

The billionaire was so certain when he saw the photos. You and fucking Rogers of all people, talking so close. Paranoia and a lack of reasonable perspective means his first thoughts are not pleasant in any shape or form. He wasn’t controlling , everything he did was preventative. This was self-confirmation (and a shit ton of jealousy). You’d simply done the thing he was most afraid of. 

Or it was the thing he was most afraid of. 

The counter stays tight under his grasp until his hands sport two fresh indentations, cursing himself and trying not to think about how breakable the chandelier is. 

Just as he was sure of the photos, he was sure of you . You wouldn’t leave him, you were here to stay, you wanted him–right? 

Only now under the cool touch of marble does he realize those ideas could never possibly co-exist. 

No one as good to him as you would betray him, you wouldn’t. But you could reach the breaking point he sought so heavily to avoid in the beginning.

All alone in his tower built atop money and bad habits, the chandelier is spared as the great Tony Stark starts to break instead.

That is until he remembers he isn’t alone.

“Jarvis.” he calls out, and the older man emerges from the hallway no louder than a mouse.

Don’t feel embarrassed, the walls and loyal ears have certainly heard worse. Discretion is 90% of his job after all. In fact, right now he’s pretending not to notice the tears running down Tony’s face.

“Find out where she went.”

Tony keeps his head trained to the countertop anyway, just in case. Jarvis turns to follow through his instructions, but stops as soon as he starts. Decades of serving the Stark family is enough to know he’s probably better off holding his tongue. He speaks for your sake.

“Sir, I suspect she went home.” 

At this, the wetness is dried by his shirt sleeve, already grabbing his coat to follow you. 

“Sir,” Jarvis quickly interjects, Tony’s fingers on the call button. “Might I suggest…waiting until the morning?” 

He doesn’t need to say why. Tony can guess well enough.

You actually had no destination in mind. The thought of home felt disgustingly empty, and the reminder that you only still had it because of Tony would definitely stay persistent. You couldn’t bear to think about what you might've done to pay for it otherwise. Going to a friend’s would require an explanation you absolutely could not give. For a while, you wander just as before. You must look insane to the people passing by–makeup definitely stained and running.

A rudimentary pros and cons list is drafted, revised, deleted, and drafted once more. Sure, you didn’t have a slew of loves to compare it to, but you knew the one you had for Tony was irreplaceable. No one ever made you feel this wanted , this loved , this special .  No ex of yours left a dozen roses by your door–or waited in the car for hours while you slept. They didn’t fill their lacquer kitchen cabinets with herbal teas just because you mentioned liking them once . Hibiscus and rooibos flooded Tony’s kitchen so long as it kept you happy . Every other relationship was a caustic whirlpool. Tony was a dizzying fantasia. You gleefully closed your eyes so many times that the thought of opening them made you nauseous. 

You swallow stale bile and keep walking. 

The dusky hue in the sky grows to a fine oceanic blue above you until you gain enough sense to go home. Out of spite (and totally not because you have no other way), you take the subway home, cheeks raw from the night’s sharp wind on your tears. 

Your heels clank awkwardly on the metal descent, echoing on the platform. It’s empty, sharply different from the vamping nightlife outside. It’s not long before your train hustles down the track, stepping on to an disturbingly, equally empty train car. 

You slump into the first empty seat you see. In a calmer mood, you might’ve bothered with your phone, instead staring into your reflection on the glass pane. The gentle rocking starts soon after, and you work on putting your mind somewhere besides bergamot and red. 

Tony does not like waiting.

He would be working, if he could find even a shadow of concentration. All he can think about is you– the grit in your voice. 

At some point in his marathon around the penthouse, the small pile of glass is quietly cleaned away. Out of sheer boredom (and latent regrets), he considers creating a new one.

Why would you leave him– how could you leave him? 

In the idle night hours, pacing from room to room, Tony almost wishes you had cheated on him. Then, he could be right. He could skip past silly little thought pieces over his vices addiction and fly straight to indignity. It wouldn’t be his fault, would it? He wouldn’t have to explain a damn thing to a world that didn’t care for him.

Everyone betrayed him in the end, even you. 

With enough clarity, he might be able to see the shame hiding under all that self-righteousness, but alas. Years of practice and all. 

The best he can do for now is scalding admonishment. 

And a pinch of paranoia that his own actions caused Steve to seek you out–again. Tony knew the soldier was stupid, but that would be moronic . He made himself perfectly clear this morning, no shot Steve chose this as the method for exacting his revenge. It wasn’t a well-guarded secret amongst Tony’s circle that you were to be left ignorant, you weren’t like them . Really, he’d purposefully (and harshly) informed this as much. If Steve wanted to embarrass him then he failed succeeded miserably. The fact he would even attempt such a thing is the greater offense. 

Tony’s self-indulgent, not an idiot. Even under watered layers of complexes, he knows the greatest offense lies ten feet away on his kitchen counter. In fact, it’s what keeps him awake through the night. Awake and thinking–thinking about how fucking flawlessly he was keeping everything under wraps. This infallible image he crafted for you was gone. No longer could he hide behind a glass barrier of false separation. Foolish Tony–believing a second chance would come so freely. 

He made the same mistake twice. The odds he’d get a third chance were slim to none. At the time, he felt lucky to even have Pepper. Clearly he’s doing something worth rewarding on this Earth, because then he found you. Or, alternatively, God realized what a disservice he’d done by walking missile Tony’s way in the first place. 

You were invaluable. Nothing like his playboy flings or one-night stands. From the moment he laid eyes on you he knew his life would never be the same without you.

You promised , and he intends to make good on it even if you won’t. 

Tony can’t recall the last time he waited for a damn thing in his adult life (much less to sober up), and he doesn’t care much for starting something new today. Then, he remembers just how much patience he has for you. He waits for you patiently as you oggle every mural, piece of street art, or weird boutique. He waits as quietly as can be while you sleep, and he waited months for you to feel comfortable enough to spend consecutive nights at his home. 

There’s a pit growing in his chest–one screaming that his hard work might be swirling down the drain. How stupid he was for letting you storm off. With each passing second, you were sinking further from his grasp.

To hell with waiting. 

After all, he’s Tony Stark –he’d deny himself of nothing he desired. He didn’t work this hard to settle for less than that. 

In his defense, he does attempt to do the courteous thing of calling before showing up randomly in the middle of the night. Your phone, hopelessly abandoned deep in your purse, rings to no answer. It totally doesn’t make him more irate. 

One extremely lonely, and infuriating train ride later, you make it home. You jump when a knock vibrates through your apartment–though you know there’s only one person who’d show up in the middle of the night. Still, you tiptoe across the living to peer through the peephole anyway. While you were not super enthusiastic about seeing him outside your door this soon, the defeated slump in his shoulders gives you some satisfaction. 

A very brief, stereotypical through-the-door conversation ensues. You shout for him to leave, to which Tony provides the usual platitudes to just open the door and you respond further with a stout fuck no .  You roll your eyes at his continued pleas, and turn for your bedroom. He could sit out there and talk to the door all night like a madman if it suited him, but you weren’t going to spend a precious second on this earth listening to it. 

You don’t even make it past your couch before you hear what you swear to god cannot be your lock turning. God, Buddha, and everything else divine must have been busy, because Tony stands in the entryway, illuminated by the kitchen stove light. 

“Have you lost your mind ? Where the hell did you get a key?” 

He shrugs and looks around like it’s obvious. 

“The lease holder is usually given a key, especially if they’re paying.” 

The aghast scoff can’t wait to leap from your throat. 

“You know what, fuck you .” you spat, flying past him to the door. “No good deed , huh?” 

Somewhere between you storming out earlier in the night and his decision to come here (or maybe walking up the creaking stairs) he seems to have gotten the impression you were in a joking mood. There’s nothing but sweetness in his voice now, yet you still can’t trust that you know where his head’s at. Your night had been tumultuous enough without him showing up. 

Your fingers just barely wrap around a cool metal knob, the hall light leaving a thin warm line on your face. Tony braces a heavy palm above your head the second it does, closing it shut with a frame wobbling thud . 

“A bit rude to run out on me twice, don’t ya think?” he smirks, looking down at you. 

“A bit rude to force your dirty money on someone then hold it over their head, don’t you think?” you mock, stupidly trying to pull the handle open a second time, unbudging against Tony’s palm, biceps testing the elasticity of his silk shirt. You were getting tired of constantly feeling trapped. 

You wish you’d stay far away, in the safety of the living room where citrus didn’t take you over. Where that hopeless little part of your brain could stay quiet and not scream to wrap your arms around his torso. Also because the door doesn’t move a fucking centimeter, so it was a waste of energy regardless. 

“If you wanted someone who’d let you work yourself to death or end up on the street, you should’ve called that guy from your high school reunion back. You know–the real handsy one with the mohawk.”

“I’ll get right on that if you move out of the fucking way.” 

“Please, like I’d ever allow that.” Tony laughs, and you’re wondering why you appear as some sort of one-woman comedy act by every man in this city.

“What the hell do you want? I told you–I’m done with this.” 

He ends his chuckle with a tsk , leaving you in the living room to sit at your kitchen table. The feet of the metal chair make a discordant screech across the linoleum and he turns the seat towards you before sitting. 

“You don’t mean that, honey.” Tony smiles, tapping his shoes against the floor.

“I meant it.”

He gestures back towards the entryway.

“Nothing but space and opportunity to run away again, what’s stopping you?”

“You just said you wouldn’t let me.” You’re giving it your all not to shout, to scream at him for how insane this is. If you were still at the tower, you might not have bothered–far away from neighbors with loose lips and thin walls. 

“I’d never allow you to waste your time with someone else. Storm off as much as you like–that won’t keep you from me.” 

It’s all cool words and charisma, with a sickeningly violet weight that flips your stomach. He’s far across the space, and the door is still within inches of your grasp. 

“Find literally anyone else to sit here and play this game with you.”

“What part of ‘ I want you, and only you ’ do you not understand?” 

The kitchen stove light still illuminates his figure, casting a dim shadow over his back to shadow his figure across the floor. His feet continue to tap idly, head resting on his palms as if confused to why such a statement even needed to be told to you (again).

“You were getting along just fine before you met me, go back to that–I don’t want any part of whatever the hell else it is you’ve been lying about–”

“I’m not letting you go.”

That sweetness is his voice is pushed out to make room for pure desperation. The words waiver as they leave him, clearly fighting against whatever instinct wanted to hold it in, though you can’t help wondering if that’s all that caused the shake. An air of silence falls, where he watches you from the kitchen with stabbing eyes. Walking away is logical, but something unnatural freezes you in place. Plus, you’re not certain he wouldn’t fly to the door again the moment you touch it. 

“Why me?”

Another short silence and this time you’re the one to take advantage of it, louder than you needed to be.

“And why accuse me of sneaking around? I barely even spoke to him how the hell did you know–”

“Were you not?”

Your nostrils flare, nails digging into tight wound palms.  Water droplets leave the kitchen faucet in out of time drips. This is why your fingers shook and bore a million typos to correct. Lying to Tony Stark was one of the stupidest riskiest things you could do. 

“I just needed time to think–”

“To play Nancy Drew..” He corrects. It’s not tempered, just matter-of-factly–like a lawyer pointing out bad evidence.  

“I needed to see for myself–” 

“ Asking totally wasn’t an option.” Tony meets your volume with too much ease.

“Like you would have told me the truth !”

“I’ve never lied to you–”

“Oh, right , you only speak in half-truths, or say it’s nothing to ‘concern myself with ’!” Your anger pulls you across the creaky floors of the entryway, feet tethering on the wood boundary lining off the tile of the kitchen. 

“You’re not–”

“That’s the real reason Pepper left you, isn’t it? Not any of that bullshit you tried to sell me L.A–she left because you play like some larger-than-life billionaire and not the shady piece of shit you are.” 

You don’t have to continue your slow stampede into the kitchen, as the chair makes another unsettling screech on the tile when Tony suddenly stands. An indignation only complimentary to your own is expected, but it isn’t what you get.

“I didn’t come here to be judged by you.” His mouth barely moves to say it–as even the slightest parting would cause him to shout back and have the fight you seem to be dying to have.

“Why the hell are you here?” A better phrased, more favored question in your opinion would have been ‘ why did you break into my apartment after I dumped you? ’, but the answer’s surely the same.

Tony can glare down lasers at you as much as he likes, he’s not getting his way (for once)–you aren’t crumbling (for once).

“I need you.”

That disgusting, heart-string tugging desperation comes back and it turns out you still haven’t built your defense strong enough. You’re taken aback, because you had prepped for a full blown argument. You had enough ammo loaded up to keep this going all night. But somehow, it’s a heavier three-word declaration than I love you .  It’s not a murmur or with a racing chest. 

And it is wholly true. Life had him placed on a giant, constant stage. Where he needed to be someone else–someone stronger and with rougher edges. It kept him enclosed. Where everything he hated about himself was reflected in everyone and everything around him. That kind of cycle is self-feeding. A snake gnawing at its exhausted tail for eternity. It was a spur of the moment decision to stop for a drink that night. Truthfully, he had more than enough already coursing through his veins, but the tower felt emptier than usual in his mind, and this career warrants you very few friends. 

Maybe it was the flickering neon signs–glowing brand names across the sidewalk. The bustling noise flooded the rest of the quiet street like an overflowing bucket. It was a grimy, crowded hole in the wall–small, and cut away from the sprawling residential neighborhood around it. It reminded him of his life before he fucked it up. When no one knew his name or where he came from.

You were just an added bonus. He had planned to relish in the chaos of everyone around as he drank for inebriation instead of taste for once. But dark red nails pass him the glass, and he finds himself stuck watching them for the rest of the night. Despite the man Tony was, he wasn't anyone to you, and a woman like you shouldn’t have been anything to him.

He comes back simply out of craving. That anonymity , that freedom. From responsibility, from judgment. Tony realizes he’s befriended the snake too long. He accepted everything around him as a product of fate and piss-poor luck.You changed that. You made him remember a long forgotten fact–that everything he wanted was within arms reach. 

Suddenly, your eyes take great interest in grout speckling the tile below. There wasn’t enough room for disbelief in the quaint walls of your apartment.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t see me, as–I don’t know, me?” he exhales, running over his face as he re-takes his seat.

“You,” you trail off, shoulders loosening just to earn a small tremble. “--actually mean that.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

You’re gathering the bravado to say something along the lines of ‘ well asshole you were high as a kite when you told me you loved me and never said it again ’. Maybe without the asshole part. A difficult act indeed.

"I didn’t sign up for any of this." you murmur, trying to quench any further questions and avoid a very stern ‘ I told you so ’. But Tony's gaze remains fixed on your arm, making your nerves spike. “–if I had known everything, your work–”

“You wouldn't have agreed to see me, really ?” Tony grins and cocks an eyebrow that you miss in your deep inspection of the tile. “You weren’t clueless when we met.” 

“I wasn’t but–”

“But what?” He sharply interjects. He can’t stand how your eyes land anywhere but him. This conversation is giving him deja vu, and not the whimsical kind. It’s the kind that wraps around the body and stops the flow of blood.  “All of sudden you wanna have a ‘ come to Jesus ’ moment and find some moral high ground?”

Tony’s, unsurprisingly, not wrong. You had good enough sense the moment he slipped into that barstool, asking for a whiskey list as if the knife-shaped tear in the cushion couldn’t tell him that was pointless. A brief glance and finger of Jack Daniels was all he got from you. You spent the rest of the hour catering to the usual Friday night crowd of drunks, only thinking of him again when the shiny green bills made a funny reflection underneath his empty glass. 

Honestly, you were more surprised no one took it for themselves.

It’s when he shows up a second night that you bother with conversation (purely out of gratitude and nothing else, right?). It’s the second night when you stay so, so much later than you should have, talking to someone you knew you shouldn’t be. You ignored it all then, just as you have for the last eight months. Burying your worries under a mountain of attachment and clouds of insecurity. 

You were lucky. Shit, you feel that same gratuitous pang right now. Grateful that he still wanted you. Actually, to put it in his words– needed you. You’re not certain how much longer you could’ve kept it buried if you hadn’t asked Steve directly. You didn’t want him to be right, but all he did was validate every worry and order a swift excavation of everything you hoped wasn’t true. 

“I kept telling myself that it was nothing, but–”” you trail off quietly.

“ But ?” he repeats.

You definitely can’t meet his gaze now, waiting for him to call you naive or tell you that this is somehow some huge misunderstanding. He doesn’t speak, though, and you can’t stop your mouth from opening under the weight of everything spinning in your head.

“But Steve says you’ve been doing this since you were in college.”

“That’s how Steve tells that story?” He scoffs.

“Come on, what else? Lay it on me, doll.” You watch a misshapen shadow stretch the length of the kitchen as Tony makes a dramatic beckoning of the hand.

“Why? So you can figure out what you don’t have to admit to?”

He takes a deep sigh that shifts into a short chuckle.

“You’ve been told a very half-cocked story, my apologies for trying to fix that. Trust me, Steve’s had it out for me for a while now.”

“I trust him a lot more than you right now.” 

“That would be a bad choice.” 

You snap your head up at the scorn. Where you gained this inclination to shoot back at everything with fire–you don’t know. You swear it’s just Tony, where sometimes you just want to match his arrogance tenfold.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that? I’ve learned more about you from him and so far, he hasn’t been wrong.”

“You know more about me than anyone, without running around behind my back.” 

“Yeah, there's just the woman you’re still married to, the cocaine in your bathroom, your company, whatever the hell it is you do while I’m sleeping because you surely aren’t–”

“Alright, alright, okay,” he interrupts, tossing his hands up in defeat and leaning back. “Would you just sit down for a sec–humor me, will you?”

Sullenly, you pull out the matching metal chair across from him. As you sit, folding your arms over your chest, you wonder how fate has aligned that you’ve met such an infuriating and intoxicating person. And why you were even giving this hail mary display the time of day. 

“Let me tell you a story, it’s a good one, swear.” Tony flashes a diamond grin and it takes everything in you not to return it. It does cool your nerves somewhat.

“Better be a good one.” you respond, and Tony promises it’s worth hearing. 

“I’m in my last year at MIT taking this exam for this real stick-up-his-ass professor–I’m talking this guy doesn’t have the muscles required to smile, just all nonsense. It’s my last godforsaken test before winter break and I’ve gotta pass this to be done with this soul-sucking school–”

“You? Stressing about school? Already this story’s got holes in it.” 

“Did you miss the part about this guy being a hardass? Because I could’ve sworn I mentioned it.”

“The test was all about theory and it didn’t matter how much you knew, you had to answer it the way he would. I actually had to focus for once and I’m on this question about integrating quantum computing with electrical grid systems, you know how the ions might–”

“Totally, right.” you remark once you realize a science lecture is inbound. Tony’s ramblings often came late and always flew completely over your head. Tonight, you’re just finding it hard to care. 

“You are a really bad listener, you know that?” 

That earns an instinctive smirk from you, but you sigh and let him continue.

“I’m ten equations and at least five paragraphs into this question and my pager starts going off. I don’t even bother checking what it is–I just hit silence and keep going.” he tells it like it’s a true epic, the sort you swap at tailgates or weddings to try to one-up someone else’s, but you get the sense it’s not. 

“An hour later with like, the worst cramp in my hand and 500% certainty I failed, no big deal, I finally check the message–call Jarvis back and he tells me my parents were in an accident. The weirdest thing was I didn’t even think they were dead–” 

“Tony–” you start, though you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Honestly,” he chuckles dryly, the bravado in his voice silking away. “I was kinda relieved, for a second. The old man would’ve ripped me a new one for failing that test and I just thought he was a little banged up–too busy nursing a broken arm or something to check my grades.”

Tony’s laugh fades off into a somber sigh, shifting in the wobbling chair. The count of drips in the sink to your right tells you it’s been silent too long. You still don’t have the words to fill it. What kind of words would they even be? Of comfort? Humor to dispel his sadness? If he even was , that is. You gave up on trying to read him. 

“Anyway, my point is . I wasn’t ready to do this– I was 21, getting an electrical engineering degree, notice how that has nothing to do with medicine or biotech. So I did the cowardly thing–let someone else take the wheel and I’m still paying for it twenty years later. Believe me, I’m not loving this either.”

“Then why don’t you stop? I mean you still have a legitimate company, stop using it to make things you don’t want to make.” 

“It sounds so incredibly simple when you put it like that. Gee, wonder why I didn’t think of that earlier.” He makes an exaggerated face of amazement. “Look, I didn’t want you to know because I don’t need someone else telling me how to handle things–it’s my company, it’s my job to sort this out.”

“Does your job require you to test the product yourself?” It’s a lot ruder than you mean it to be, but it’s the real issue corroding your mind. 

“That’s one of the benefits we offer at Stark Industries.” he laughs. 

You still aren’t feeling humorous, scoffing and standing the moment you realize he isn’t taking a word you say seriously. Tony’s fast behind you, stepping between you and the arch into the living room. 

“Okay, okay. But you’re worrying yourself over nothing, doll. I’ve got it handled.” he assures you (poorly), bracing your shoulders with his hands. 

“Yeah, from here it looks totally handled.”

Contrary to the snare in your words, you weren’t a heartless monster. You weren’t playing moral adjudicator like Tony might think. You can recognize this as one of his rare moments of emotional theater, but you can’t be bothered to care knowing what comes after if you fall for it. Especially when you can tell from how not-serious he’s taking this that there’s not a chance he’d stop using anytime soon. You were just tired of being lied to. And you weren’t going to keep watching him self-destruct. All you needed right now was your bed and hot, long shower to put this day behind you.

Tony sighs, abandoning your shoulders to pinch his nose.

“It’s just…You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. This business, Pepper, things I can’t even put into words. I...I'm just trying to make sense of it all. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you’re around a lot more. Which is great. I do love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep, not when there's so much to be done to get out of this.”

You’re stunned into silence again. Because Tony speaks a thousand miles a minute and you’re still getting used to hearing ‘ I love you ’ from a sober mouth.

“Tony, this isn’t–” you stammer.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna say this doesn’t change anything but I can’t do that without you, I won’t.” 

Calloused hands brace your sides instead. Warm and loose instead of strict and holding. You can feel the static though. There’s an electric heat jumping between fingertips and white fabric that wants to hold you tight until you can’t tell the difference between his skin and yours. You’ll never see it another time so clearly, but the glaze in Tony’s eyes is desperate– unyielding . You’re scared to give in and only slightly less worried about what it means if you don’t.

You were pissed that he kept something from you– again . You still were. The whole world seemed privy to exactly who Tony Stark was, except you. You were an outsider looking in through frosted window panes. Like the new kid watching everyone else giggle at an inside joke you couldn't possibly understand. 

But you couldn’t say he didn’t care for you. The most damning part was that you loved him . Whether it was truly reciprocated was another question, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he’s standing in your kitchen at three in the morning, letting the stained brown walls wash out the blue details in his suit vest. 

So, you rather than blindly submit, you place a wager. 

“Then promise me you’ll get help.” You force your voice to be stable, confident. You meet his eyes with the same bravado, stepping back from his grasp. If done properly, and he needed you as much as he so claimed, then you win your self-made bet.

You notice he doesn’t reach out to hold you close, instead staring pensively into you for a moment longer than you would like.

 “Okay, done.” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly. “That all?”

“Really? That simple?” you ask, baffled

Tony shrugs again, the crisp folds of his vest giving way to a stout laugh then a sigh.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Afterwards, you’re able to easily separate your life into three segments. There’s life before you started dating billionaire Anthony Edward Stark, life after, and life when you started dating Tony . They are too separate individuals, afterall. You learn that in due time. 

Anthony Edward Stark is a wealthy businessman, arrogant, withholding, charming, and a few notches above dedicated to you. He hates vegan food and wasting time.He's utterly hopeless in the kitchen, with a preference for iron red and a penchant for dry martinis (always dry, you learned this from serving him a classic out of habit on night two). There’s a collection of Black Sabbath albums hiding under his office desk, and there’s a slightly larger collection of ballpoint pens in the trash can nearby–caps gnawed to uselessness in one too many spirals of concentration.

Tony is much the same, in all respects. Eeeeexcept there’s that ex-wife he seemingly abhors. And the designer powdered death he proliferates through the city. And the addiction he promises to hold at bay. He keeps his end of the bargain, though and vicariously becomes someone new once he sleeps a whole lot more. Okay, okay so there's a lot. Overall, he is calmer. The fiery temper is dulled, replaced with an occasional unwarranted annoyance at the most mundane of things. At first, it’s concerning to you–watching his face screw at tailgating cars or broken zippers. Then, you find it pretty amusing, seeing someone so perfectly sewn together furrow their brows at long lines instead of losing it altogether at moments of chaos. Though you quickly figure out why he avoided sleep in the first place. 

It doesn’t happen until your third night back at the tower. A drizzle coats the high windows of the bedroom, the moonlight barely enough to see the rise and fall of his chest beside you. You’re deep into sleep, curled into Tony when you’re jolted awake by a sudden movement. Your eyes flicker open, confused and scanning the silk sheets before he twitches again, muttering in his sleep.

Barely awake, you shifted onto your side, planting a hand on his chest. With his arms no longer wrapped around your side, another twitch sends them flying to his chest.  His skin was warm, damp, mutterings continuing to fall from his lips–angry broken pleas for someone or something to stop. You’d think the windows were open with how bad he shivered.

“Tony,” you called out softly, rocking his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

It takes a few more attempts, each shake growing stronger as you gain more clarity. One of them must have woken him, arms leaving his chest to push your arms away. Fresh off a nightmare and no more awake than you were, he used much more force than needed, completely overshooting your hands to inadvertently strike your cheek.

You winced at the unexpected blow, your hand instinctively flying to your slight sting. Swearing softly, you met his wide-eyed gaze. He moves away from you in the same instant, breathing heavily at the edge of the bed

“Shit–I’m sorry– Fuck,” His hands ran across his face and through his hair more times than you can count, still struggling to catch his breath. “I didn’t know you–”

“It’s okay-Are you okay?” you interrupted, far more concerned about the way how terrified he sounded in his sleep and barely feeling it anymore regardless.

“Yeah, all good, bad dream.” Tony swung his legs over the edge, head resting in his hands. “Shit, that shouldn’t have happened.”

You wanted to press him about it, but decided against it while his voice is this shaky. 

Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal. You don’t say anything when the shakes turn to muffled sobs. Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal.

Neither of you speak about it. Not then, the next morning, or ever again. It just becomes a new part of reality. Anthony Edward Stark doesn’t sleep. Tony has nightmares that can turn into full panic attacks and render him a tremoring mess. Afterwards, he takes a cold shower and returns to bed without a word. Not that you know what to say anyway.

This is somehow harder. To watch him lose control. You were, as most lovers are, impeccably biased. Tony’s life was enviable to anyone with a brain, and yet he was as fractured as anyone.

“Honey, you plan on eating?” he asks, tapping the rim of your porcelain plate with his fork. 

You’re brought out of your deep thoughts and back into the present where roasted lemon fills your nostrils from the salmon below. You blame the restaurant–far too quiet to keep from drifting off. The candlelight flickers gently over the small table, creating small dancing shadows of you and Tony on the white linen. 

You met his inquisitive brown eyes, giving a small apology before grabbing the cold metal fork. Despite its mouth-watering smell, the taste is anything but. You attempt to hide your displeasure, but such an act is useless this close. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony abandons his own meal to question you. 

"Nothing, it's just... a little overcooked for my taste," you reply, trying to sound lighthearted. You were never the kind of person to send a meal back, and certainly weren't about to start at a place with a Michelin star.

“Could have sworn you ordered medium.” His posture stiffens, eyebrows raised. 

“Simple mistake, it happens.” you shrugged, preparing for a second attempt. 

You don’t get the chance, as Tony stands abruptly, grabbing the plate before your fork could make an impression. 

“Be right back." he assures you, a cold detachment in his voice. 

Without waiting for a response, he strides away from the table, towards the back of the restaurant, leaving you confused. 

After a few moments of waiting, a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you. You rise from your seat and, with hesitant steps, vaguely follow the path he took to a set of wide swinging doors. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminates the narrow hallway, casting long shadows against the walls.

As you approach the kitchen, a waiter hurriedly scurries out, giving you a glimpse of Tony inside, one hand typing away idly at his phone and the other resting on a prep table, wrapped tightly in a blue rag. 

Blood stains the pristine white of the chef's uniform, his nose crimson and dripping onto his graying beard as he flips a fresh piece of salmon. He spares you a brief timid glance when the doors swing. One hand dabs poorly at the splotches while the other white-knuckles a metal spatula. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you step cautiously into the kitchen, abandoning the warm lights of the hallway for the fluorescent kitchen overheads.

"Oh, hey there," Tony says casually, an icy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 “He’s remaking your salmon.” he explains enthusiastically, returning his attention to his phone.

You stand frozen, watching crimson bleed through the rag. You guessed the chef didn’t take too kindly to criticism, and you know Tony doesn’t take no for an answer. 

Maybe you didn’t know what calm looked on Tony after all. 

You assume you should be grateful. Grateful that he did as you asked and stopped hiding behind his own layers. You got exactly what you wanted after, Tony, wholly and entirely bare for you to see. No more paranoia that you weren’t enough or that this would all come crashing you both down into murky waters. Well, there was still a chance of that. Only now the waves are crystal clear, revealing everything you begged to see. 

At least he got more sleep this way. 

You relished in waking up next to him–when it wasn’t from night tremors, of course. You could watch the sun streak through the curtains and glow around his features, calm and peaceful. It’s a moment of absolute solitude you look forward to each night. Listening to nothing but the faint calls of birds and muffled rumblings as the city woke up 93 floors. You bide the time hill wakes by running your fingers along his chest and shoulder, memorizing scars by feeling alone.

This morning you awake too early, daybreak barely starting and an inability to fall back asleep. Quietly, you pull yourself from Tony’s tight embrace and tiptoe your way downstairs for a cup of tea. You forgo bothering with the lights, getting enough light from the shy horizon to make your way around. You open the kitchen fridge in the hopes of finding a lemon, only to jump nearly out of your skin when a sound comes from the island behind you. 

“ Christ !” you yelped, slamming the door shut and turning to the source.

Harley laughs and takes another bite of his apple, making the same loud crunch as a moment ago. “Aw, did I scare you?”

“What is with you people and sitting in the damn dark?” you question rhetorically, walking to the end of the kitchen to turn on the lights. You tighten the short silk robe around your pajamas, standing across from him. “I was trying to surprise the old man for his birthday, which you are ruining, by the way.” he remarks, pointing a wagging finger. 

“Tony’s birthday?” you ask, confused. “I didn’t know–”

The young man interrupts with a dismissive wave as he swallows another bite. “He doesn’t like to make a ‘ thing ’ of it, don’t sweat.” He gives complimentary air quotes, sitting back in the barstool.

“Fair enough.” You turn back to the cabinets to complete your original task. Behind you, Harley’s teeth piercing the fruit fills the early morning silence, interrupted by the flicker of the stove as you heat the kettle. You feel him eyeing you the entire time but decide not to feed into this time for your own peace. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Hot water is making its way into a lilac mug when he speaks again. 

“For, y’know.” he adds when you pivot with a puzzled face.

“No, I don’t know.” you respond exasperatedly, feeling a dig coming your way. You dip the tea bag into the water, stirring as he just stares back at you. You roll your eyes and head towards the stairs, deciding for certain that conversation with that kid was pointless.

“Were you not the one who got him clean?” He waits until your feet touch the first step to say it, forcing you to pivot.

“I’m not taking credit for his life choices.”

“Fair enough.” he mimics your tone from earlier with a gentle shrug. 

With that, you leave and retreat back upstairs.

The lukewarm tea slides down your throat with better ease in the bedroom. Tony continues to sleep beside you as the sun greets the sky, until you're drifting off too.. 

When you rise again, the chaotic rumbling of the city drifts up and through the windows in full force. You stretch out slowly, tuning into the sound of Tony’s voice and staticky music from the bathroom. You flip over to the source, seeing Tony at the sink fixing a slender graphite tie to his neck. Quiet as a mouse and far too comfortable to leave the silk sheets, you simply observe through the open door. Unaware to his spectator, he continues half-singing half-muttering  verse after verse of Back in Black . You have to stifle a giggle–not in judgment but in adoration. You didn’t think Tony Stark would belt rock lyrics as he cursed his hair for not blow drying exactly how he wanted. 

Eventually, he spots your watchful eyes, after he secures chrome cufflinks and stoops down to straighten his pants. You smile when you realize you're caught. 

“Hopefully you’re enjoying the show.” he grins, exiting the bathroom as he loops a thick leather belt around his waist. 

“It’s alright, could have better acoustics.” you taunt. 

Tony feigns offense as he kneels on the bed beside you. The soft mattress doesn’t make a sound for his weight to settle over top of you. Suddenly beneath him, cypress aftershave and evergreen shampoo drown out your senses. You know he’s not doing this to turn you on, it’s a byproduct of his nature–but now you just want to ruin the hair you watched him spend five minutes perfecting.

“Anyone else would be appreciative to AC/DC , or is that beyond your generation?” Tony asks, bracing an arm beside your head to fiddle with a free strand of hair. 

“I worked in a dive bar–think I know dad rock when I hear it.”

“Ouch.” he winces, a short chuckle following after. 

“Hey, never said it was bad.” you add, and he gives you a questionable hmm in response.

You’re fixated on the way his body compresses your own–the texture of his thumb on your face.

 “Happy birthday, by the way.” you say after a moment of silence. To this he stiffens, his gentle expression changing in the same way. 

“Hmm, guess that is today.” he muses. 

“I take it you haven’t been downstairs yet, then.” you say, thinking of Harley. Tony groans you curse the loss of his weight as he stands. 

“Nope, and I already know the kid’s down there raiding my refrigerator and getting crumbs everywhere.” There’s a strong disdain in his voice, reminding you of the phone call a few weeks ago.

He disappears back to the bathroom, swiping a watch from the granite sink. You stay silent in the airy cloud of sheets, tongue dancing behind your teeth. Clearly, a moment of silence is too telling for Tony. While you're fixated on the ceiling, he creeps back into the room, startling you when he hits the bed once more.

“You want him gone, say the word.” he declares, playfully. You’re barely listening, or really even bothered to think about Harley. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that he’s  just hovering over you and not crushing you into the mattress or kissing you or –

Your train of thought is derailed when a hand laces behind your neck, fingers settling at your nape and a thumb below your chin. Tony smirks when your eyes flicker to his, increasing the pressure with his thumb until your lips part for air.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll.” He relents for a moment, only enough for your throat to strain as you answer.

“I don’t mind.” you whisper, letting your legs graze his suit pants. There was a small hope the cool fabric would soothe the warmth breaking out on your skin, but the itch just drives you insane.

“Good.” Tony releases his grip to plant a kiss on your forehead. In the next breath, his feet touch the floor again and you contemplate if the lost pride is worth begging him to touch you. 

You don’t get a chance to decide, as he gives some short winded promise about returning before the afternoon and exits the bedroom.

After a frustrating shower, and against both Harley and Jarvis’ better judgment (and very stern insistences), you decide to do something nice for Tony’s birthday. Well, as nice as you can without spending his own money.

It takes the better half of the day, and you have to ban a persistently nosy frat kid from the studio the entire time. You feel guilty about not knowing sooner. Then, you maybe would’ve pulled off something more his style. And then maybe like the finished product. It feels, and honestly, looks rushed (because it is), but in the end you feel worse about giving him nothing after all he’s done for you. 

It’s a small canvas–easy enough for you to carry down the spiral stairs without breaking an ankle. It’s a quarter to three when you make the final stroke. Once you’ve managed to get the stained ink from your fingers, voices start to flood from downstairs. You manage to do a half-decent job wrapping, which gets you way too excited to gift it. Sure, you’d given art as presents to friends before, but not since you were 10 and those were C-tier cards at best. This wasn’t your best work, though it still gave you the same sense of love. 

You call out Tony’s name as you head downstairs, hearing his and Harley’s voices echo from the living room. The muffled words are sharp and tense. You don’t notice the third voice over theirs, or the thud of the feet. You don’t even see her until you enter the space. 

“Well, who do we have here, Tone’?” Two rows of perfect porcelain teeth gleam at you over Tony’s shoulder.

He turns to you the moment she speaks, brows tighter than a steel drum and fists tight by his side. Harley stifles his chuckle behind the kitchen island. 

Silence pulls new red heat to your cheeks. The living embodiment of every insecurity you’d forgotten stood ten feet away in Louboutin heels. Tony’s stories painted enough of a picture of a flawless woman. Actually seeing her, now that was new territory. Her strawberry blonde locks were meticulously curled, in a mauve dress without a single wrinkle in sight. You felt embarrassed with your undone hair,  in stained clothes and matching ink-ridden hands. 

You start an equally embarrassing stammer of your name, to which Tony interrupts.

“Nope, not a chance.” He meets your eyes with fire before turning back to Pepper. “How the hell did you get up here–Actually, I don’t even want to know. Leave now.” 

Pepper grins like they're old friends catching up. You feel like you shouldn’t be witness to whatever this is, awkwardly holding the canvas.

“Aw, Tony ,” she drags out with a click of her tongue. A slender hand reaches down into a thin leather briefcase, placing an envelope on the island. “Just thought I’d give you your present in person.”

“An email would have sufficed.” He grits.

“Well that wouldn’t be very polite, hm?” She cocks her head like it’s a serious question. 

“Exit is directly behind you.” 

Some quippy remark brews and dies on her tongue. A small glance is spared your way again, before she leaves.

Tony doesn’t move until the whir of the elevator starts. Harley clears his throat and retreats to the back hallway without another word.

“Tony–” you call out as he passes you for the stairs. He grants you a dismissive wave that cuts you short and swells your throat. All but stomping he makes his way up the stairs, leaving you alone with all the tension they left behind.

The white envelope goes unattended. Tony didn’t bother with it, but you do. Setting your gift against the stair railing, you tiptoe over to it. It’s unsealed–a solitary white letter tucked away. The ornate New York State emblem is a pale distraction for the words below. 

ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ 

An agreement for complete dissolution separation of any and all assets for both parties.

Signed by Pepper Potts in midnight ink.

[queenbees21]

BNHA Their nickname for you | Them

Characters : Katsuki Bakugo | Izuku Mydoria| ★Shoto Todoroki★ | Tamaki Amajiki | Keigo Takami [Hawks] | Dabi [Toya Todoroki] | Hitoshi Shinso

Warning | Grammar error | Not proofread

Type | Bullet Point • Fluff

A/n: I really need to finish this character list 😭 I’ll try my best write them quickly, also I’m still working on some requested works so I’m sorry if I’m slow right now (​꒦ິꈍ​​꒦ິ)

M.List

| ꜱʜᴏᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ | | Y/N |

✯ Love ✿ ✯ Icyspicy

✯ Princess ✯ Hot stuff

✯ Darling ✯ Candy cane

✯ Peach ✯ Shou ✿

• Shoto never thought about giving you any nicknames. Both of his parents weren’t the most, affectionate couple; so it never crossed his mind. Until he noticed how other couples gave each-other cute nicknames, and so he seek advice from an export at romance.

“Hmmm, well you could call her maybe love? Love is a good start, for relationships starters. ^^” Ochaco advice, and that’s exactly what he did. As he did; it made you shy around him.

• Where there’s a prince, there’s always a princess. Yes, you’ll always be Shotos princess. He calls you Princess when he's in a good mood. And he thinks it suits you very much. Because of how charming you tend to be, you do it without realizing it. <3

• “Hello darling, how are you?” yes, this is a classic nickname he calls you when you're alone. It may be cheesy but, he loves be it. And as for you, you love it as well. You feels so special in a way, when he calls you darling. It gives you butterflies in your stomach.

• Peaches are your favorite fruit, although; you rarely ate them. Shoto figured it was because you didn’t have time to pick some. For you both were way too busy with hero studies to do so. Therefore, he somehow convinced Mr. Aizawa to take him to a peach farm… Perks of being the number one hero’s son.

When you had first heard him say that, you were confused. So when you asked him how he got the nickname, you were surprised and very amused at the same time.

“Aww! You remember! I like peaches! That’s so sweet Shou!”

He only nodded, and there was a stumble small smile when you called me Shou.

| Y/N |

• How do I even begin with this… nickname. Icyspicy? Really? What kind of nickname is this T^T? I can’t even believe how nonchalant Shoto was about it.

He was a bit confused, though; there was surprisingly faint pink hue upon his cheeks when you called out his “nickname”.

“Where did you even come up with that?” He questioned.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I figured since you have an ice and a fire quirk. I’d give you a nickname that is combined with it.” You smile. He pat your head in amusement.

• “Hey there hot stuff~” You purr in Shotos ear, as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. Okay, now this took him by surprise. He was barely getting used to icyspicy, but now you are coming up with nicknames left and right.

“Where do you get theses nicknames…”

“From my heart hot stuff ❤︎“

• At this point Shoto doesn’t even know nor question, where you get your.. unique… nicknames for him… “Marry Christmas candy cane! I love you!” You say, as you handed him a present and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too love.” He kissed your nose and walked away.

“Hey! Candy cane! You can’t just do that and walk away!” You exclaimed, flustered by his action.

• Shou is his permanent nickname. Out of all the nickname you called him. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, but never came up with anything. You wanted to give him a permanent nickname. One that you could proudly call him out to without embarrassing him. “Hmm…” you thought as you wrote down some nicknames.

You played around with it, until you “accidentally” spelled him name wrong. “Hmm… oh! Opps—wait…” you looked at the writing. Shou… “sounds like shoe hehe.” You giggled as you doddle around.

The next day, you had accidentally called him Shou. He was confused. “Oops! Sorry, I wasn’t trying to call you that—“

“I like it. Sounds cute.” He smiles slightly. You blush a little. “Oh.. alright than,” you giggled.

“Anyways! Shou~ let’s go on a date! I wanna have you all to myself today!” You cheekily winked. He agreed and left to go change. “Oh! Shou!” You called out to him. He turns around curiously. “I love you!” You smile, before running off.

————————————————————————

A/n: Thanks for reading! Have a good day and night! I’ll be working on the rest, so stay tuned! 🐝 👑 2️⃣1️⃣

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

The F-Word (BR) - A Gwynriel One-Shot for Gwynrielweeks2024

@gwynrielweeksofficial My first of two contributions to this years Gwynriel weeks, yay!

Thread: After Azriel accidentially hurt Gwyn in training, his apparent lack of care makes her question the true depth of their friendship.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: faint swearing, miscommunication

“I will kill him.”

Healing salve was applied generously to Gwyn’s throbbing wrist. The overwhelming smell of peppermint and oak bark put her frayed nerves at ease, and she was finally able to relax into the soft cushions despite the flash of pain that racked up her arm and into her shoulder.

“I will rip out every hair on his head one by one.”

A bandage snaked its way around her wrist, the gentle but firm hand guiding it nearly shaking with anger.

“I will plunge his oh-so-dangerous knife in his oh-so-dangerous head and see if he’ll still have enough bravado to hurt you then.” Nesta continued to wrap the bandage around and around Gwyn’s wrist and secured it with a pin as she continued to mutter unintelligible curses with venom in her voice. Like an over-protective ghoul squatting in the attic.

The priestess snorted, testing the stability of the wrap by flicking her arm back and forth cautiously. “You know he didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t think he even noticed what happened.”

Nesta levelled a stare at her that would have sent lesser females running. “And why would that be? What could possibly have happened for Azriel to not notice he sprained your wrist during training?”

Gwyn averted her gaze, lest Nesta see the faint smile that stole itself on her lips. “Maybe because I pretended it didn’t happen?”

The female kneeling before her rolled her eyes dramatically and got up to discard the medical items.

“It was my fault anyways”, Gwyn stated quickly, trying to calm down her best friend, “I didn’t warm up properly. No wonder my wrist couldn’t handle his weight without preparation.”

What a white lie that was…

Nesta scoffed, clearly not in the least convinced of Azriel’s innocence. “He is your instructor. He should know better. Especially when its just the two of you. The bat doesn’t have any reason to not dedicate every ounce of his attention to you when you train in the evenings.”

It was true that Azriel technically just had one trainee during their nightly sessions. The extra attention he paid her was only one of the many perks. But also the reason for her downfall.

“Let it go, Nes. It’s no big deal. Give it five days and it’ll be as good as new.”, Gwyn murmured, absentmindedly testing the bandage. Thankfully, Az had only rendered her non-dominant hand useless. Maybe he didn’t even have to know and she could ask Cassian to focus on leg training tomorrow morning-

“Five days where you can’t lift a shield, let alone weights. Not to mention having to slow down your library work.”, Nesta retorted seriously while observing Gwyn with a hawk’s eye.

Gwyn sighed, letting her head fall back on the couch. There was no denying it, was there? It went against every fiber of her being, but she needed to tell Azriel and Cassian that she sustained an injury during training.

Her ego will have to take the hit.

It wasn’t that injuring herself was so difficult for her to handle, it was more so how it happened that brought a wave of heat to her cheeks.

Because she did in fact warm up properly. Mother, the incident happened during the last ten minutes of training, every muscle – wrist included – had been ready for combat.

So how was she supposed to tell everyone that she was too busy losing herself in Azriel’s eyes to pay attention?

“I’ll tell Cassian tonight and he’ll relay it to Az.”, Nesta decided, clearly taking Gwyn’s lack of argument for permission.

The priestess nodded, heaving herself out of the comfy cushion and bidding Nesta goodbye.

As she lay in her dorm room a few hours later, cradling her injured wrist close to her chest, she debated whether or not skipping tomorrow’s training would be worth the trouble.

Nesta didn’t wait for Cassian to come home.

No, as soon as she heard the door down the hall clicking shut gently, she was out of her chair and on her way to kick some Illyrian ass. Even if that ass had more than a few inches on her.

“Az, may I come in?”, she shouted through the door while simultaneously knocking. The Shadowsinger probably sensed her agitation and opened after a few heartbeats, still in his leathers and eying her with a wary gaze.

“Nesta.”, he greeted her, stepping aside to let her in when noticing her expression. The male was smart enough to sense when her anger was directed at him.

She stormed into his room, turning around to a confused looking Azriel.

“Care to take a guess why I’m here?”, Nesta asked, her voice dangerously low.

Azriel had the decency to look mildly concerned. After thinking it through, he concluded to not have done anything wrong and wordlessly shook his head in her direction.

“Something to do with Gwyn in training?”, she prompted, angling her head.

Azriel crossed his hands before his chest, leaning back against the door. “With Berdara? Do you mean tonight or another day?”

“Tonight.”, Nesta replied, “During hand-to-hand-combat.”

She could have sworn a little blush crept into his cheeks, but it might have been there from the start. She was too agitated to care. “Nes, I seriously have no idea what you are talking about. Did I do something wrong?”

Nesta let out a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, didn’t his job entail paying attention to details? “You managed sprained her wrist during training. She came to me just an hour ago to have it set and bandaged.”

Silence ensured.

She expected her words to have some effect on him. After all, the two of them seemed quite close. But the pure horror that slowly took over every feature of his was another thing.

“I did what?”, Azriel whispered, body taunt with shock.

“She says it’ll probably heal in a few days. But she obviously shouldn’t do any training – morning or night – in the meantime. I wanted you to know that, just in case she shows up tomorrow pretending it didn’t happen.”, Nesta added, trying to calm him down again. She’d wanted him to grovel a bit, but now he seemed dangerously close to suffering an aneurism. “She’d rather have kept it a secret and suffer through her exercises than telling you. So I did.”

If it was possible, Azriel looked even more crestfallen at that. A low curse escaped him, and Nesta took that as her cue to leave.

As she approached the door, she paused to put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad.” Well, maybe a little bit. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’ll live. And you are both fools for how you acted.”

Azriel nodded, but it was so absent-minded that Nesta turned to leave him to his thoughts, bidding him goodnight quietly.

His reaction left her wondering, though. Had she been too harsh? If it got Gwyn a heartfelt apology and maybe some sweets to make it up to her, it might not have been too much. But the Mother knew Azriel was an overthinker. She only hoped that, whatever was going on between them for Gwyn not to admit to an injury would soon be mended.

She did it. She skipped training.

Throughout the whole day, Gwyn felt rotten to the core. She had never abandoned her responsibilities, at the very least not without explaining herself properly. Nesta had probably informed the two Illyrians by now, and the other priestesses had noticed the glaringly white bandage, but still – it felt so wrong to sit on all these weird feelings towards Azriel, to not talk to him as regularly as she used to.

It felt like abandoning him.

And only the Gods and Gwyn new how that made the already confusing and borderline frightening emotions she harbored towards him more complicated.

She realized it was wholly her fault. She should have admitted to the injury right away, blaming a loose stone on the ground, or an errand shadow or anything for her mess-up. But no. As soon as his arms had wrapped around hers from behind, as soon as she twisted her head to meet his gaze, she was lost. Utterly and hopelessly caught up in whatever daydream it was that took over her mind at that moment. And she didn’t have the capacity to free herself as he sent her tumbling down, painfully bending her wrist in the process.

She’d laughed it off, turning her back to him to stabilize and feel out the injury, all while joking that ‘at least he bested her once this entire session’. When she faced him again, he’d looked away too quickly for his eyes to linger on her form and suggested a water break.

Gwyn couldn’t pinpoint exactly when her feelings for him had taken such a turn. When their nightly talks or training sessions became a little less accidental, but rather more and more anticipated. She only knew that one morning, when her alarm allowed her a few more minutes to slumber in bed, her mind had drifted to him.

And it continued to do so until now.

She sincerely hoped she would get a grip on herself, or she’d completely ruin their friendship.

If Azriel didn’t manage to do it first.

Days after the accident, Gwyn’s wrist still too sore for training, the Shadowsinger remained as silent as death. No note, no impromptu lunch visits. Gwyn even trekked up the stairs one night, hoping to catch him waiting for her on the roof of the house. But it was Gwyn who ended up waiting for hours in the cold, without any luck. Not even Nesta had a message to relay on his behalf when they met for their weekly reading night.

It left a sour feeling in her stomach. Friends were supposed to take equal interest in each other. And Nesta assured her she informed Az of her injury. What was keeping him back, then?

Another long day of work passed and Gwyn returned from evening service, walking into the dimly lit hall that contained some of the priestess’s dormitories.

And stopping dead in her tracks when she beheld the massive bouquet of flowers that adorned her doorstep.

Peonies and tulips, lilac and lavender in the most beautiful hues of white and purple made the whole hall smell like spring. With measured steps, Gwyn crouched down to retrieve the card attached to the crown of the bouquet. The handwriting itself made her heart flutter with excitement.

Dear Gwyn,

please accept this as the first of many apologies to come for by behavior in training and afterwards. I hope you are feeling better.

Your friend (?) Azriel

The priestess’s brows scrunched in confusion. She appreciated the gesture, but something in his message bothered her. She read it again, and again, gaze snagging on his signature. And just like that, with as small of a symbol as that question mark, Gwyn’s smile was whiped clean off her face, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Her friend. The word in itself should have been enough to elicit a little happy dance. Because that was what Azriel was to her, and so much more. It was a first step, the first time she heard him reciprocating the feeling.

But the question mark put the virtual nail in the coffin of her affection.

He either thought so little of their friendship he thought it breaking at the slightest mishap, or, and Gwyn’s lungs fought for air at the thought, he didn’t really consider them friends.

And it made sense. She never heard him say it. They never let a few days pass without seeing each other, but it took him a whole week to ask for her? Mother, she didn’t even know if he came willingly to their nightly training, or if he was ordered to – keeping an eye on the unstable female he had to save and making sure she didn’t crumble under pressure.

On some nights, she had poured out her heart to him and he had listened, comforted her, just as she had on nights where his own façade revealed the hurt and shame he carried around.

It couldn’t have been a lie, could it?

Gwyn’s thoughts spiraled, feelings of being unworthy of his affection eagerly feeding on her uncertainty. Until she was sure: he only sent flowers because he accidentally hurt one of the frail and traumatized priestesses and felt bad about it. Clearly not because they were friends.

Gwyn picked up the flowers and, trying to steady her breathing, brought them into her room where they found a place on her nightstand. Unfocussed eyes remained on the flowers while she debated whether she should cry or fight that overgrown bat – it only took a second to decide.

The priestess stormed out of the library, Azriel’s handwritten card fighting for breath in her fist.

She mulled it over as she took the stairs to the house proper two at a time, how he could negate their relationship with one simple message. Had she been so mistaken in his kindness, his interest? Had he seen their time together as an obligation, rather than a blooming friendship?

It agitated and confused her to no end. And as she finally arrived in the training ring, eyes already pinpointing the swirl of shadows with Azriel in their midst, she was positively furious.

“Azriel!”, she shouted across the ring, eating up the space between them in no time. She pointed her finger at him in accusation, her other hand grinding his message for her to mush.

The Shadowsinger turned, his expression morphing from wary to concerned in a split second. “Gwyn? What’s wrong? Do you need a healer?”

He actually had the nerve to step towards her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he ran his eyes over her form. Trying to detect whatever it was that made her upset.

“Don’t you touch me!”, she snapped, and his arms dropped to his side immediately. “You forfeited your right to that.”

Azriel gaped at her, but nodded nonetheless. Massive wings behind him folded together tightly as he braced himself for her.

If anything, his actions made Gwyn even more angry. She came to pick a fight, not for him to roll over. So, the priestess stepped into his personal space again and pushed at his chest until he stumbled backwards.

It was petty, and unfair, and nothing like her usual self. But seeing the little slither of hurt flashing on his face made it worth it. She pushed again, ignoring the stab of pain emanating from her wrist as it collided with mountains of muscle.

“You are a coward!” Push. “You don’t deserve my friendship!” Push.

If Gwyn’s late high priestess could have seen her now, she’d have washed her mouth out with soap to negate the curse words leaving it.

But she didn’t care. The pain flooding her heart at his apparent betrayal was too much to deal with on her own. It needed an outlet.

After enduring another minute of her assault, Azriel saw his opening. He caught both of Gwyn’s wrists in his hands, stopping her dead in her tracks, and cradled them to his chest.

“Gwyn.”, his voice turned pleading and soft, “please stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

And as the tenor of his beautiful, stupid voice reached her ear, all fight evaporated. With heavy breathing, she returned his stare. Somehow, even in the depts of hurt, the only thought her head could muster was how she had missed him the past week.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispered, his thumbs stroking up and down her hostage-held hands, “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it. You truly deserve better than that.”

Gwyn didn’t find words for him, frozen in time as she stood before him, her chest nearly touching his armor. She didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But an apology sounded about right.

“I was so caught up in my own head that night.”, he continued softly, his voice trying to soothe her into tranquility, “But I realize it’s not an excuse. I should have checked on you after that fall. Gwyn, I’m so sorry I failed you. It will never happen again.”

Gwyn’s eyes hardened. She stepped away from him, forcing Azriel to release her.

“I don’t care you hurt me in training.”, her voice turned cold. “I don’t care if you didn’t check up on me. What I care about is this.”

She flung the crumpled piece of paper at his feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened for a split second before he picked the message off the dirty floor, trying to straighten out the paper. He stared at it for a long time. Enough for Gwyn’s anger to subside, until only resignation was left.

She knew he was about to apologize again. But he’d never understand where she was coming from. Mother, she’d confused herself with the onslaught of feelings the little piece of paper elicited. So she spared him the mental effort.

“You don’t think we’re friends, do you?”

The silence that ensured was deafening.

“I mean”, Gwyn started, her eyes focusing on a stone on the ground, “it’s completely fine if you don’t think so. After all, we’ve been seeing each other only for a few months, and I know you have a hard time making friends. But I thought-“

With all the courage she had left, Gwyn lifted her eyes to him again. If she wanted his honesty, she needed to give it in return. “I have seen you as my friend for the longest time now. You are the person I can rant to with all the stupid, miniscule facts I read about daily. I feel like I can tell you about my hopes and dreams and don’t be judged. You make me stronger, even challenge me to dream bigger.”

She breathed in deeply, trying her hardest to keep her emotions at bay. “And until tonight, I hoped the same would be true for you. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that you keep me company because you have to, not because you want to.”

There it was, all her thoughts and deepest fears spread out before him as cohesively as possible. Minus the crush of course, Gwyn could only take so much heartache in a day.

Azriel gaped at her, as unmoving as stone, his message stretched taunt between his fingers.

And even though his voice remained quiet, the hurt in it carried all the way to Gwyn to bury straight into her heart.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Now it was Gwyn’s turn to gape at him. With each second passing, Azriel looked more and more agitated, his eyes pinning her to the spot.

“What did I do for you to come to that conclusion?”, he began pacing before her, each and every one of his next words a punch in the gut, “Was it the time I poured my heart out to you with feelings not even my brothers are privy to? Or was it when we spent nearly a whole night in each other’s arms when I can’t remember the last time I hugged someone that wasn’t family? Maybe it was that particular day when I nearly threw a temper-tantrum because you couldn’t make it to a session and I needed to see you so badly?”

He stopped in his tracks, hazel eyes so open and vulnerable that Gwyn had to swallow. “Or was it the night when I literally sprained your wrist and didn’t notice because your eyes are so gods-damn blue that I got distracted?”

Not even trying to process that last admission, Gwyn remembered all the instances he talked about. She’d considered them accidental at the time. That he was so stressed from work he took it out on the next-best person. But it slowly dawned on her that Azriel wasn’t the type to just dump his emotions on the next-best.

“You put a question mark.”, she tried weekly, suddenly feeling very small before him, “On the message, I mean. And you waited to contact me for a whole week.”

Even in the dark, Gwyn could actually see the vein in his neck pulsing with anger. He held his emotions at bay as he answered tough, his voice taunt. “Nesta came to me the night you got injured. She informed me of what I did and voiced her concern that you’d likely show up in training, pretending nothing happened. And the only logical conclusion I drew from that was that you clearly don’t trust me. I must have done something for you to keep an injury that I caused a secret. So forgive me if I didn’t think you considered me a friend, that I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Well, that actually made a whole lot of sense.

Blood rushed into her cheeks. How did she let her emotions get away with her like that?

“Oh Mother”, she mumbled, her hands fumbling her hair out of her face as she tried to come up with a way to salvage this. “I misunderstood.”

“Clearly.”, the Shadowsinger deadpanned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He observed her for a moment, his own emotions seemingly calming down. “So why on earth would you think I spend time with you out of-what? Obligation?”

With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Gwyn let herself sink on the nearby rock. The adrenaline that had been running amok in her body had left her to fend for herself, apparently. Even if it got her into this situation.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d actually like me as a person, or as someone you could consider close to you. The fact that you were the one to save me that night in Sangravah doesn’t help this feeling either.”, she chuckled humorlessly, wringing her hands together for support, “I tend to think people see nothing in me but my trauma. That I need to be catered for specially, handled with care. I never wanted that.”

Azriel slowly stepped before her, kneeling down right before her spot on the rock. “And when have I ever handled you with more care than necessary?”

He pointedly glanced at her bandaged wrist and Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh. The admission did something within her, lightening the heavy feeling in her chest. He has always been real with her, holding her accountable, giving her his honesty. “That’s true. I know you designed the obstacle courses last year especially to vex me.”

The sheepish grin Azriel showed her was enough to get her stomach to do a little flip. “Worked like a charm, too.”

The priestess had to bite her lip to keep from smiling too hard. She remembered how she’d taken personal affront to the difficulty of those obstacles, and how she spent every waking minute planning how to best them – and in turn wipe the smug look Azriel liked to sport at that time off his stupidly handsome face.

The lightheartedness of the situation vanished, though, as she remembered how she spoke to him a few minutes ago. She’d pushed him for Cauldron’s sake.

“Azriel, I’m so sorry for coming at you like that, for screaming at you. You didn’t deserve that.”, she admitted, searching his face for any sign of anger. But she only found sympathy.

“It’s okay. You overacted a little today, but I didn’t react at all when it mattered. I’d say we’re even.”, he reached out his hands for her to take, resting them palms up on her knees. She complied, loving the warmth of his skin and the attention he showered her with.

“I agree. Let’s never talk about this again?”

Azriel nodded once, before lowering his head to press a light kiss on both of her knuckles, one after the other. His gaze snagged on her still lightly bandaged wrist. Pulling her hand closer, he kissed it too, his lips lingering on the gauze until Gwyn could feel the heat of them right through her skin. Her heart fluttered so loudly at the gesture she was sure he must have heard it.

So she blurted out the next best thing she could think of. That she couldn’t stop thinking about since he’d said it, actually.

“My eyes are teal.”

Azriel just watched her, a slow smile spreading on his lips as he took her in. As if he had nothing but time, as if he didn’t feel this overwhelming urge to shoot up and run from this situation. The bastard surely enjoyed her squirming.

“I know. But you didn’t seem to pay enough attention to the way I acted around you – and I wanted to make sure you do, from now on.”, he pulled her up with him as he stood to his impressive height. She would be paying attention now, that much was clear.

“Friends?”, Gwyn asked, not releasing him just yet. Their fingers must have found a way to interlace autonomously in the past few seconds and she savored the feeling of them a little longer.

“Friends.”, the Shadowsinger replied. But his face betrayed his even voice. Gwyn couldn’t quite put a finger on what happened, what change between them.

She only had this nagging feeling that more than friendship shone from his face as he bid her goodnight.

And she that she was well and truly in love.

[hypexion]

There was no Chloé Bourgeois  Redemption Arc

It’s time to for me to write about the so-called “Redemption Arc“ for Chloé Bourgeois, of Miraculous Ladybug infamy. Many people claim that such a thing existed. These people are wrong. While Miraculous Ladybug may provide the illusion of such an arc, that’s all it is - an illusion. And like all illusions, it falls apart once you touch it.

There’s also some questionable takes in regards to exactly how responsible Marinette is meant to be for Chloé’s “redemption”, which need to be tackled since they help feed into the illusion. And also because I find them deeply offensive. To me, personally.

A neccesary preface here is that I’m not saying Chloé is incapable of redemption. What I am saying, however, is that during seasons two and three of Miraculous Ladybug, the redemption arc people claim existed clearly did not.

Redemption 101

In the most basic sense, a redemption arc is a type of character arc where a bad character decides to stop being bad and start being good. Along the way, it’s generally accepted that they need to atone for their bad actions, and perhaps do something to reverse the damage such actions have caused. A critical component required for this to work is that the character both understands that their actions are harmful, and so decides to act in a better way.

Probably the most famous redemption arc in western animation is Zuko’s, from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Zuko begins the show as an antagonist, directly attempting to capture Aang, the Avatar and Last Airbender. Doing so will allow the Fire Nation to win the war, and also complete their genocide of the Air Nomad people. However, Zuko realises that supporting the Fire Nation’s bid for world domination is harmful to others, and himself. By the end of the series, he has rejected the worldview of his father, grandfather and great grandfather, and indeed helps Aang defeat the Firelord. Along the way, Zuko find a way to help not just Aang, but also Katara and Sokka, who are also victims of Fire Nation Imperialism. Zuko earns redemption not through the decision to be good, but by performing good, and in many cases, reparative actions.

Honestly, from this basic definition, I think it’s pretty obvious that Chloé hadn’t even started the first step of a redemption arc by the time she betrays Ladybug in Miracle Queen. She never accepts her actions are wrong, makes no attempt to change them without an ulterior motive, and generally continues to do bad things for bad reasons. But in spite of this, the claims of this mythical redemption arc don’t just exist, they are considered generally accepted. Why? It’s complicated, yet simple.

Chloé Who?

On a basic level, Chloé Bourgeois is fairly generic character - the “mean girl“ school bully, who torments the protagonist, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. In keeping with Miraculous’ superhero genre, Chloé admires Ladybug, Marinette’s superhero alter-ego. How ironic! Generally, Chloé acts as a minor, civilian-level antagonist to Marinette, who gets in the way, while being clearly much less of a deal than Hawk Moth. However, due to the mechanics of akumatization, Chloé’s actions often spiral into larger, supervillain-shaped consequences. Because while she may fit into the bully archetype, there is one thing that makes her somewhat atypical: a reach that extends far beyond the school setting.

André Bourgeois is his daughter’s primary enabler. As a rich person and Mayor of Paris, he has a significant amount of influence. Influence he makes freely available to Chloé for basically any purpose. No grudge is too petty, no problem too small when it comes to indulging her whims, and no bridge is too big burn. Nobody who theoretically has the authority to say no to Chloé actually can, because her father is implicitly approving her every action. It’s hardly a shock that Chloé is consistently terrible when she faces no consequences for her actions.

But there’s one last piece in the Chloé puzzle - Audrey Bourgeois. Chloé really wants her mother’s approval, but her mother lives in another country. Audrey is also a terrible person, a character who is literally defined by her vileness. She has Chloé’s attitude, and André’s level of influence, and like her daughter, immediately throws a tantrum when she can’t get her way. The attention Audrey gives towards her daughters is primarily negative, and that’s when she actually pays attention to them. Thus, Audrey provides Chloé with a Tragic Backstory, and some much needed Sympathy Points. This, of course, forms the foundation of the Redemption Illusion.

The thing about Chloé’s relationship (or lack thereof) with her mother is while it explains her behavior, it doesn’t excuse it. The harm she inflicts is no less because of it, and many of her actions cannot be ignored due to it. I think there’s a pretty obviously piece of bad logic here. Many characters who undergo redemption arcs are often sympathetic villains. Chloé is a sympathetic villain. But that doesn’t mean that Despair Bear, the episode that introduces this sympathetic side is the start of, nor the foundation of a redemption arc. If anything, Despair Bear shows the primary reason why Chloé isn’t on the path to redemption - her attempts to be “nice“ are motivated entirely to maintain her friendship with Adrien, and once she has what she wants, she immediately reverts to her normal behaviour. This theme of apparently good acts being done for selfish reasons will be repeated later.

Marinette: Victim, Not Victimizer

An important part of the Redemption Illusion is how it ultimately revolves around not just Chloé, but Marinette. Chloé is nothing but negative towards Marinette, but at the same time admires Ladybug... who is Marinette. This isn’t Alya style “wow look how cool and heroic she is“ style admiration, however. No, Chloé, in a sense, wants to be Ladybug. First by pretending to be her, and later via the Bee Miraculous, which would seem to put her on the same level as Ladybug. But since Ladybug is Marinette, this can only lead to conflict.

While Chloé has perpetrated many on-screen acts that are selfish, obnoxious and downright cruel, something that manages to slip under the radar is her pre-Origins treatment of Marinette. Sabine’s comment about how long Marinette and Chloé have been in the same class indicates that the latter has been bullying the former for at least three years. This has evidently damaged Marinette’s self-confidence, since even after being Ladybug in part one of Origins, she still thinks she can’t do it, and tries to give it up. She also doesn’t dispute Alya’s rather hasty assessment of Chloé as evil, and immediately assumes that Adrian is a bad person because he’s friends with Chloé.

Marinette’s relationship with Chloé is already poisoned at the start of the show. And it’s entirely Chloé’s fault. She didn’t have to bully Marinette. Being cruel to Marinette wouldn’t earn Chloé her mother’s approval. All it achieves is making Chloé feel better, by making Marinette suffer. Three years of bullying isn’t something you can ignore. It’s not something Marinette can simply “get over”, even as Ladybug. She probably hates Chloé, and every drop of enmity is earned. But how can I know this all from the limited picture painted by Origins, and the glimpses into Marinette’s pre-Ladybug life? I don’t. This isn’t something I needed to find from the text or subtext of the show. So then, how do I know?

I know because I lived it. When I was Marinette’s age, I was bullied. A lot. It hurt. But what people don’t want to acknowledge is that being a victim of bullying doesn’t just make you sad. It’s deeper than that. It made me angry. At the perpetrators, and the staff who let it happen, no matter how many times it was brought to their attention. It’s took me years to realise just how much it affected me, how my aggressive behaviour in certain online spaces might be connected to it. In Marinette, I see a part of myself. So when I see people claim that Marinette is somehow to blame for Chloé’s actions, that “Marinette should have given Chloé a chance“, it makes me a little angry. If someone told me I should be responsible for making my bullies better people, I’d tell them to fuck off.

Attempting to shift the responsibility for repairing Chloé’s bad behaviour on to Marinette is simply victim blaming with extra steps. Yes, Marinette is Ladybug, hero of Paris. But Marinette is also Marinette, a long-term victim of Chloé, and someone who Chloé continues to try to abuse, even if the efficacy is no longer there. It’s also not really fair to Chloé, either, when you think about it. Marinette is positioned to think the worst of Chloé, meaning she’s likely to see any regression on Chloé’s part as proof that the whole endevour is pointless. For Chloé to escape her toxic behaviour, she needs help from someone she hasn’t caused significant damage to.

And as with the rest of the Redemption Illusion, you have to ignore a lot of the text to make the idea that Marinette is somehow to blame seem reasonable. Marinette shows more compassion to Chloé than Chloé does to anyone in her entirety. It simply doesn’t help, because Chloé doesn’t want Ladybug to be nice to her, she wants Ladybug to accept her as an equal. And when that isn’t given, Chloé isn’t above trying to take it, with disasterous results.

Bad Bee-haviour

A key point in Zuko’s redemption arc is when he joins Team Avatar. This is when he truly abandons the ideals of Fire Nation Imperialism, and chooses to work directly against them. It’s not the end, but a midpoint. And it’s not a reward - it’s a duty, a commitment to help Aang defeat Ozai. I think it’s worth noting that Zuko actually gets weaker due to this, as he can no longer draw on his negative emotions to firebend. Only by helping Aang discover the pre-imperialism version of Firebending does he regain the ability himself. Rejecting the negative brings Zuko so far, but to be complete he must embrace a positive alternative.

Chloé’s transformation into Queen Bee is her anti-Zuko moment. She doesn’t work to attain it - the Bee Miraculous is literally dropped into her path. It gives her power, yes, which she immediately abuses. Queen Bee doesn’t exist to do good, like the other four heroes at the time. No, Queen Bee exists to exalt Chloé. Becoming a hero doesn’t move her to toward redemption. If anything, it moves her away from it.

It all comes back to Chloé’s first act as Queen Bee. In an attempt to prove that she’s “exceptional“, she transforms and tries to find a problem to solve. But when she can’t find one, she chooses to create one. By paralysing a train conductor, which ends up creating a problem she can’t solve. If it weren’t for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s timely intervention, a lot of people would have been injured, or even killed. All because Chloé wanted to seem like a “hero”. It’s an act so callous that it should have marked the end of her career as Queen Bee. It’s instant, irrevocable proof that she can’t be trusted with a Miraculous, because she nearly murdered a bunch of people with it.

But even if you ignore the train incident, being Queen Bee clearly doesn’t make Chloé better. In both Stormy Weather 2 and Miracular, her cruelty is what triggers an akumatization. In Animaestro, she forms a truce with Marinette entirely for the purpose of harassing Kagami. These are not the actions of someone trying to be a better person. Indeed, they look very much like the actions of a person who doesn’t think they need to change, and is thus continuing as usual.

Yet in spite of the lack of actual progress, Queen Bee is perhaps the keystone of the Redemption Illusion. She wants to be a hero. So it is assumed that if she wants to be a hero, she must be good. I suppose this line of argument sounds convincing, if you only consider it on the surface level. The problem is that it falls apart when you actually examine Chloé’s actual behaviour after becoming Queen Bee. Which is mostly the same as her behaviour before, except sometimes she tries leveraging being Queen Bee for status or bullying. This is because her motivation for being a hero isn’t heroic - it’s selfish.

Malicious Queen

Of course, the Redemption Illusion eventually collided with reality in the form of Miracle Queen. When Hawk Moth offers her the Bee Miraculous, Chloé doesn’t hesitate to take it, and is then willingly akumatized. While I do think this could have had a little more setup, it’s an action that’s entirely in-character for Chloé. She’s selfish, she’s cruel, and she’s unwilling to change. But Ladybug couldn’t be bullied or blackmailed via Chloé’s normal methods. So when Hawk Moth offers her a way around Ladybug’s No, of course she takes it. She accepts akumatization because she believes that the best way to prove her superiority to Ladybug is by harming her. The same way she harmed many other characters up to this point. (Including Marinette, who is Ladybug.)

Some people attempt, in the usual poor manner, to deflect Chloé’s responsibility for her actions onto Ladybug. Gotta keep that victim blame train going, I guess. The logic is that because Ladybug chose Kagami to help fight Heart Hunter for selfish reasons, Chloé is magically absolved of her guilt. I can’t disagree that picking Kagami in order to break up her date with Adrien was a bad thing, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not that bad. The fact of the matter is that Ladybug probably wasn’t going to bring back Queen Bee, no matter the situation. It’s not her job to make Chloé a better person, and it’s not her responsibility to stop Chloé from making bad decisions.

Marinette made a dodgy decision because of a teenage crush and suffered massively disproportionate consequences. Chloé decided to help a terrorist because she felt entitled to the Bee Miraculous, and could still go back to her incredibly privileged life afterwards. It’s Marinette who had to live with the consequences of both their actions, becoming Guardian far earlier than she should have. A consequence that only occured because Chloé decided to help Hawk Moth. Once again, Marinette is not the problem; Chloé is the problem.

Ultimately, Miracle Queen is entirely in-character for Chloé, because Chloé has never been a good person. The Redemption Illusion persists, however, because people seem to have blended her few sympathetic traits with her occational (and temporary) good actions to create a version of Chloé who doesn’t exist within the show. Along with one last act, that really isn’t as heroic as it might seem on the surface.

The One Where She Isn’t Akumatized

In Miracular, Hawk Moth tries to akumatize Chloé and fails. Up to that point, akumatization had been presented as 100% effective, with no attempts to resist being successful. This is occationally used to suggest that Chloé is becoming good, which ignores basically all information the show provides about akumatization.

Throughout Miraculous Ladybug, succumbing to akumatization is never considered to be an immoral act. Indeed, the reasons for akumatization vary, from completely unjustified selfish reasons, to justified selfish reasons and more community-minded reasons. But no matter what a victim’s starting intentions are, Hawk Moth twists them around until he can make them into a supervillain. People are even akumatized over stuff like “kids don’t respect panthers“ and “ice cream was wrong“, which aren’t really things you can appy a moral judgement to.

Since being akumatized is not a moral failure, it follows that resisting is not a moral success. While breaking the akumatization is impressive, with very few people achieving it, that doesn’t mean Chloé gets merit points for it. Indeed, Chloé resists akumatization on the basis that she believes she can still be Queen Bee. She rejects Hawk Moth’s offer not because it’s the right thing to do, but because she thinks she doesn’t need it. Which is why once it becomes clear that Ladybug won’t be giving her the Bee Miraculous, she willing accepts akumatization.

But the real killer problem is that Sabrina is able to be akumatized into Miracular because of Chloé’s actions. When Lila’s fake Ladybug dance fails, Chloé takes it out on Sabrina, in a way that’s just, look, here’s the exact quote:

PLAY? With you!? Who are YOU anyway? You don't have any powers! You're a nobody! I'm a superheroine, okay? I'm Queen Bee! You and I have NOTHING in common! Go away!

That’s a horrible thing to say to someone, especially a friend! She explicitly ties Sabrina’s worth (or lack thereof) to having powers. And the real kicker? This is the last thing she does before the failed akumatization. Out of context, Chloé resisting akumatization might seem heroic. With this context? It’s anything but.

The Overdue Conclusion

Ultimately, a Redemption Arc is a narrative process for developing a character. It’s a trope, a storytelling pattern. The key element of such an arc is change. A static character cannot undergo a redemption arc (or indeed any arc), because the arc is the process of transformation, of becoming a better person. Not just on the surface, but in a fundamental way. A post redemption character is, in some ways, a different person to who they were before.

During seasons two and three of Miraculous Ladybug, Chloé does not change in such a way. She’s just as cruel and spiteful after becoming Queen Bee as she is before. She does bad things for bad reasons. Her motivation for being Queen Bee is entirely selfish. Indeed, while there is some feeling of a divide between Marinette and Ladybug, Queen Bee is simply Chloé with superpowers. And while she may be a victim of abuse from Audrey, that doesn’t mean she is excused from abusing others herself.

Chloé’s tragic flaw is her desire to be exceptional, in a way that places her above other people. This is why she fails to change. In the narrative of Miraculous Ladybug, the exceptional that matters is to be exceptionally kind, exceptionally couragous, exceptionally selfless. Character traits which Chloé displays sparingly and insufficently, because she believes she is above them. But without humility, there can be no change. Without change, there can no redemption. And while others might provide a catalyst for such a change, ultimately it must come from within.

The concluding point is that I still don’t think there was a Chloé Bourgeois Redemption Arc, but I can sort of see how you’d fall into thinking one existed. But when you actually examine the character’s behaviour, the illusion quickly crumbles. At this point, the whole thing has clearly taken on a life of its own beyond the source material, and is perhaps unstoppable. Will my long, somewhat rambly Tumblr post make much of a difference? Perhaps not.

But there are harmful ideas attached to it. As long as people try to make Marinette responsible for Chloé’s actions, it adds, however slightly, to the notion that the abused are responsible for the actions of their abusers. In many respects, I don’t care that strongly about these particular fictional characters. Yet other people do, and in doing so I see how they distort the role of victim and victimizer, and I care about that. I understand that it’s not a big serious issue, but it matters to me. So I’ll say my piece, and move on to other thoughts.