Miraculous x Reader One-Shot Book

Defeat [Hawkmoth x assistant/model! reader]

A/n: i've been thirsting for Hawkmoth for years and there's barely any x readers for him so i thought i might ruin my social status and write this. maybe someone somewhere will be happy if they find this also there's gonna be angst ahead but whatever who doesn't like angst? also yeah this is copied and pasted from my quotev

    Another failed attempt at getting the Ladybug and Black Chat miraculouses.

    The room remained silent, the window still open and the sunset from the outside world casting an orange glow in the room, and butterflies fluttering about in the area. No final monologue, no signature promise that he would get their miraculouses eventually before closing the window—nothing. There was only silence, save for the flapping of butterfly wings, and a soft sigh finally falling from Hawkmoth's lips.

    You stood there, feeling a million things at once, wanting to say something—anything, to break the ice or perhaps cheer him up and tell him there was always next time, but Hawkmoth, no—Gabriel Agreste, had never asked anyone to cheer him up, for it was all only a waste of time in his eyes. So despite having so much to say, but feeling your vocals fail you, you allowed this defeat to your own voice because it was what Gabriel would have wanted.

    And what Gabriel wanted always came first in your mind. Not what you wanted, nor your own feelings—his came first for you. He had never asked you to do this, and truly wasn't aware; but it was just something that came along to you naturally. It's not like he ever asked you to do something you weren't comfortable with either, because that wasn't him. That wasn't Gabriel Agreste, who despite being emotionally constipated and is the most dangerous man in all of Paris, was a softer man deep down. Deep, deep deep, very deep down, in a tiny little place in his heart. Truly a grinch in the fashion capital of the world, but he played his cards and was one of the most respected men out there for his achievements in the world of fashion.

    And despite being so powerful, so respected, so determined and achieving so much—Hawkmoth, for the second time in his life, felt defeated once again. The first time was losing his wife, and it seemed to be the same scenario now but more to it this time. He stared out the window without a word, you beside him. You stared at the ground for a while, feeling a little uneasy. Is he concealing his anger? Would he explode any second and vow to pry the jewelry from them even if he has to take the whole city of Paris down with him to get them, or would he finally give up after all this time?

    You had taken to being an assistant to Gabriel Agreste a few years ago to handle his son's schedule, among other things. You were almost ten years younger, but just as hard-working. You were a part-time model, a parental guidance to Adrien without really realizing it, and one hell of an assistant. All this brought you to be closer to Gabriel, because in all reality you needed to be as his assistant. Somewhere down the line though, but you couldn't pinpoint when, you had developed feelings for the seemingly cold fashion designer. And not because he was rich, you weren't a gold digger—but because you had voyaged into parts of Gabriel's mind that he hadn't shared with anyone prior save for his unconscious wife, and you had discovered who Gabriel was really under all that cold exterior. Being the most dangerous man in all of Paris never struck you as an inconvenience, either. He had revealed it to you somewhere down the line in this professional relationship, and although you were startled for a bit, you kept your lips sealed and never told a soul, for he had shown you because you were more than just an assistant in his eyes. You were unlikely partners in a likely scenario, side-by-side against a cruel world that wouldn't give him back his wife. Hawkmoth trusted you. Gabriel trusted you.

    Silence.

    Absolute silence.

    Finally prying your eyes off the same spot that they were glued to on the floor, you summoned the guts to turn your head to look up at Hawkmoth's face from a side-view, the orange glow of the sunlight reflecting off his mask some and illuminating his suit a bit beautifully despite who he was. If it weren't for the fact that he was the most evil man in all of Paris, you were sure you wouldn't be the only one who could appreciate it. His brows furrowed beneath the mask, a deep sadness upon his face you had never seen before on the man. There was a time you walked by his office and saw a similar look, but it was nothing as bad as this.