#this is fluffy bbbbbbbbbb

[anniebibananie]

oh hello it's me here for no reason but while i've got u what about a braime wedding date au

a/n: for those of you who have NOT seen the wedding date 1. i am sorry 2. here’s the trailer 3. essentially debra messing hires an escort to go to her ex’s wedding with her as a pretend boyfriend. it’s excellence (there’s also like a hot boat sex scene that isn’t featured in this fic but i think about on the daily)

“You’re telling me…” Margaery began, pausing to take a sip of champagne from her flute, “he’s your date.”

Brienne shuffled from foot to foot before adjusting the neckline of her dress which kept slipping down. It wasn’t as if she had much to worry about spilling out, but she still wasn’t used to showing so much skin.

“You have to wear it, darling,” Jaime had said as they checked into the hotel room. He had a fancy suitcase, the sort with compartments and built in organization, and he kept pulling different fine outfits out of it like some sort of Mary Poppins’ suitcase.

“I don’t wear stuff like this,” she grumbled, turning in the mirror. She felt large and clumsy. “Don’t call me darling.”

Jaime came behind her, his head peeking over her shoulder. They were about the same height, maybe her a few inches taller in her small heels. He was the sort of attractive that felt more fitting for a print ad than real life.

“I’m your hired boyfriend,” Jaime said. He rested his head fully on her shoulder now. “What pet name would you prefer I use?”

It had taken a near half hour of argument for them to decide on sweetheart, babe if it was used in a “non-lewd” setting, and, begrudgingly, darling. Brienne had assured him she was not the sort to use pet names, though, and he had conceded easily enough. Though, Brienne had learned quickly that Jaime Lannister didn’t really make anything easy.

“You stepped it up,” Margaery continued. “I’m proud of you, really. I wouldn’t have judged if you didn’t show up to your lousy ex-boyfriend’s wedding, but you showed up with the hottest date of us all.”

“He’s your brother’s fiance,” Brienne reminded her.

Margaery shrugged and grabbed another champagne as the tray passed, passing one to Brienne as well. “Yes, but he was sort of an asshole, wasn’t he? I mean, coming out on your two year anniversary? Nan and I were one hundred percent on your side for that, obviously.”

“Thanks,” Brienne said, throat suddenly tight as she watched Loras and Renly smiling and holding onto one another as they talked to some distant relative.

It wasn’t that Brienne was mad, even. Maybe not even embarrassed, exactly. The saddest thing was she was more lonely than anything else. Renly had been her best friend, and he still was in a way, but she had let him see all of her. She had thought he loved the all of her.

Then he had turned away and loved Loras. They were perfect for one another, and Brienne couldn’t be mad at Renly for not loving her even if she wanted to be. She had just wanted everyone to stop giving her those goddamn pitying looks. There was nothing Brienne hated more than pity.

As if sensing her discomfort, a hand came to graze at her lower back. When she turned, Jaime was giving her a soft smile. “There you are, baby.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed. They had not allowed baby because you did not birth me, Jaime. It’s just creepy. He seemed to know the exact words running through her head because he smirked a little, satisfied with himself. He pulled her a little tighter into his side.

“We were talking about what a catch you are,” Margaery said with a tilt of her head and a mischievous smile. If Brienne didn’t know her better, she might have thought Margaery was flirting with him.

She was, actually, but Brienne knew her well enough now to know she did that with most of everyone.

“Oh, but I’m really the lucky one, aren’t I?” Jaime looked to her again and caught her eye. Brienne wasn’t very good at this whole prolonged eye contact thing. What was she supposed to do? Look at him lovingly? Smile? She felt like rolling her eyes, so she did that. He laughed lightly. “You can see she’s overjoyed by that.”

“You lay it on too thick,” she replied, barely thinking. “We all know I’ve tricked you into this, anyways.” It was close to the truth, but she played it off with a shrug.

“Do I look like I’m anywhere I don’t want to be?” he asked in a soft sort of way, something that tugged at the taut strings of Brienne’s chest a little. Gods he was good

“I’m… going to die alone,” Margaery said. Brienne had nearly forgotten she was there, and she blinked as she looked back to her friend. “I mean, this is fucking adorable. And I… am going to die alone.”

“I mean the Stark boy over there…” Jaime began, but Margaery was already pushing her shoulders back and reaching for another champagne glass as if a soldier readying for a fight.

“You’re right.” She tilted toward the two, and she reached out to pat Jaime’s cheek. “I’m going to go fall in love. Take care of my Brienne, she is the very best of us.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Jaime asked, but Margaery was already walking away. Brienne wasn’t sure who he was even saying it for.

__

“It was just a little kiss,” Jaime said with a roll of his eyes. “I was improvising.”

Brienne brought a finger up to push into the crease between her eyes. Coming to this wedding single could not possibly have been more painful than this, right? “I wish you wouldn’t improvise.”

“Oh please, it couldn’t have been that bad. I’ve been told I’m an excellent kisser. Not to mention, when was the last time you got any?”

Brienne did not feel bad about stomping onto his foot with her heel. Not a single bit.

___

“Brienne,” he cooed into her ear only an hour or so later. She was at the bar trying to decide if she wanted a mixer or it was late enough she could have the alcohol straight and no one would care. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t gentlemanlike, and I apologize.”

She sighed. She turned to look at him, and he looked genuinely sorry. His eyes were wide, his lips turned up the barest amount in an apologetic smile. Part of Brienne thought she might be a little mad still—he was probably used to smiling like that and getting his way, girls falling over themselves to accept him for his looks and charm. She’d never gotten anything without fighting tooth and nail.

“Accepted. Maybe,” she said. The bartender came over, and she was more than happy to smile at him. “Whisky. Straight.”

There was no way she was going to make it through this weekend with mixers slowing her down.

__

Jaime was in the shower, and she was sitting on the closed toilet seat lid as she used the small mirror in front of her to do the barest of makeup. She felt like a clown painting herself, but she at least liked the way the mascara made her eyes pop.

“Have you ever wanted it all?” she asked, the thought coming to her out of the blue. There hadn’t been much of a time where she had ever contemplated domesticity—marriage, family, life. The only time she’d gotten close had been with Renly, and now she knew how foolish it had been. “Love. A wedding. The whole to-do.”

His humming behind the curtain halted, and the two of them were left with nothing but the sounds of water. “Once, maybe,” he said. It was hard to hear through the shower, even harder with the way his voice softened. “I thought I was in love once.”

She grunted in agreement, feeling too embarrassed to say yeah, me too. It was nagging her, the idea that Jaime, though arrogant and sort of annoying, couldn’t find a partner despite all his advantages. “All the dates you go on, though, you haven’t found anyone who you thought might be worth sticking around for?”

“It’s a job.” The shower turned off. “Most of my clients aren’t like you, Brienne. They’re insipid or have more money than they know what to do with. They’re desperate and everything about us together is fake.”

Her throat went dry. She wasn’t sure why her name, why the distinction, seemed to matter. “And what am I?” She tried to keep it light, and when the curtain pulled back she bent closer to the mirror so she didn’t have to look at him.

“Everything about you is real,” he said as if it was as simple as reciting a grocery list or telling her a piece of sports trivia. It was just true.

She looked over then, because she couldn’t seem to not, and his chest was glistening with water, a towel held around his waist, and with all his physical beauty on display all she could seem to see was his face. It was earnest. There was no joke hiding anywhere.

You paid for this, she reminded herself. “Oh, you’re good,” she threw back, because men like Jaime Lannister did not say things like that to her. Even if it seemed like he was being genuine, even if she dangerously hoped it was true, she had to remember that this was his job. He was probably good at acting this way for anyone, even an unorthodox client like her.

He shrugged and turned away. The easy energy of the air seemed to evaporate. “You should try the pink lipstick, it matches the blush of your cheeks beautifully.”

She threw up her middle finger, and he laughed. She did not watch the muscles of his back as he exited the bathroom.

__

“I do,” Renly said.

There was too much emotion swimming in the room. Brienne felt a little like she was suffocating, and when Renly and Loras bent forward and kissed—the perfect sort of wedding kiss that was sweet and light and joyful–she felt herself clench. Jaime’s hand found her own, intertwining their fingers.

She looked over at him, and he was decidedly looking forward and away from her. When she didn’t turn away, he raised a brow and met her eyes. “What? Is holding hands not allowed now, too?”

“No, it’s…” she trailed off, turning her head back around to watch the happy couple walk down the aisle. “It’s fine.”

Her hand tightened against his. He clasped tightly back.

__

Brienne was surprised how long it was before her and Renly spoke, actually. The reception was going off without a hitch, and they had just about done the first dance to get the dancing going. Jaime had been politely speaking with Margaery again, though it was clear they got on as thick as thieves, and Brienne wanted more alcohol.

Renly appeared next to her, shooting her a goofy sort of filled with bliss smile. He was happy, and that made her happy. It was all the other stuff that was awkward—the fights they had never really addressed and the way Brienne still heard people whispering when she passed sometimes, hurtful words like she’s the one that turned him gay.

“I’m so happy you made it,” he said. The bartender brought him over a beer without asking and went to top up her own whisky. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to, but you’re my best friend. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I’d come,” Brienne said because that much was true. “You know I love you.”

His smile widened. “I do. And I love you, though clearly I will have to start competing for yours and Margaery’s affections with the way your boyfriend has won you both over.”

“He’s a real headache,” Brienne as as they both turned, backs to the bar, and watched the two of them laughing about something or other. They were the sort of people that made sense together—beautiful people who the world seemed to bend toward and for. 

“Oh, you’ve got it bad Brienne Tarth,” he said with a laugh. “I’m glad you’re happy. And for however much it matters, I hope you know how sorry I am about how everything happened.”

“I know.” She nodded, reaching out and giving him a big hug. When she pulled back she grabbed her drink and took a step away. “Go find your husband, Renly. I’m certain he’ll be missing you.”

“Husband.” He straightened his shoulders. “I do love the sound of that.”

__

“You alright?” Jaime asked.

Brienne smiled. She took his hand and leaned into his side, feeling light and daring. Feeling not all that much like herself. “Excellent.”

__

She was perhaps a little drunk. Maybe tipsy was better, but she was certainly struggling a little as the two of them giggled their way back to the hotel room. At some point she had kicked off her heels, and he was holding them from his fingers along with her purse. She pulled the hotel room key from her bra, ignoring the way his eyebrows went high on his forehead, and pushed the door open.

They stumbled their way through, and he tossed her things onto the small side table. Then he was holding her elbow to help keep her balance, but he was right there and she could smell his cologne as if it was everywhere. His eyes dipped to her lips, and though she was pretty bad at picking up signals she was fairly sure she wasn’t imagining this one.

One of his hands came up to her cheek. Her breathing halted.

“What– what are you doing?” she asked.

“Kissing you,” he answered, and he swallowed whatever words were going to come next from her mouth with his lips.

Brienne shouldn’t give into this. It was all fake, she reminded herself. She had paid for this, but he really was a good kisser and she was tired of giving up things she wanted. She was tired of having to fight all the time because the world was so very angry. She reached her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

It was a little sloppy—wet and hurried—but then his hands came to her waist and he slowed it down. She felt as if she was in the hazy in between of moments. As if somehow they were in the blackness between freeze frames, and the world hadn’t kept moving forward yet.

The back of her knees hit the mattress, and she fell back with him shouldering his weight on his hands. He sucked on the lobe of her ear before moving to drop kisses down her neck. Brienne had never felt like this—like her body could no longer hold her, like she was pure want and wanted in return.

It didn’t feel real, but she wasn’t ready for that to end that. She flipped him around so she was straddling his waist, and when she caught a look of his face he looked like a man in prayer. 

“You are…” he began, hands reaching up to her face, her shoulder, anywhere he could touch, really.

She kissed him quiet, unsure if the words would ruin it. He didn’t need him to say it, anyways. His actions seemed to be showing her just fine.

__

In the morning, she woke up to find an empty bed beside her. She sat up, startled. His suitcase was still on the chair, though. He wouldn’t have left. They were quite literally on the same flight home. He didn’t wake up, look over at her, and regret everything, did he?

The door opened, and Jaime looked at her with a wide smile as he held a coffee cup in each hand. Brienne tugged the blanket up a bit higher, though he had obviously already seen it all.

“I brought coffee,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious. “Yours is black because you hate things that taste good, apparently, but I respect all your wrong choices as equally as my right ones.”

She laughed, the sound sudden and brisk. “I thought you might have left.”

He scoffed as he handed her the coffee. “Oh, Brienne, after a night of sweet love making like that? Who do you think I am?”

Jaime kicked off his shoes and sat back down into the bed. He looked at her then—softer, more free. He pushed some of her blonde hair away from her face and dipped to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Last night wasn’t about the job,” he said. “I’m here for whatever you want. I’d like to try.”

Brienne still had a hard time believing any of this could be real, that she could even deserve it, but he was looking at her like she was beautiful and she felt it. She felt like she had begun to open that door again, and he was peaking in and he liked what he saw. She felt as if she was doing the same in return. 

She leaned back against the headboard and drank a gulp of the coffee. “We’re going to have to negotiate the terms of endearment again, because frankly I truly can not stand baby, but—”

His lips cut her off. At some point, she was going to get really annoyed with him halting her words with his lips, but for now she was just happy to let him kiss her. 

[mizunetzu]

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

——————

Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————