#i mean you are trying to hide behind a cold professional lady mask at work and go to the club to play a piano and being yourself for a mome

[aenslem]

FOR ALL MANKIND (2019– ) 1.04 "Prime Crew"

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.8 (M.M.)

The Date

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader,  onde-sided Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3850

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. You go out with Matt Murdock and to your own surprise, it doesn’t end up a disaster. Quite the opposite.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Story Mastelist

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“I honestly don’t know why I’m freaking out about my outfit. He won’t even be able to see it! Why am I freaking out, Tasha?” you asked her on a verge of desperation, smoothening your dress for the millionth time.

As you got to the hem of the dress, all you wanted to do was to pull it over your head and change. Again. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, honestly considering it.

Natasha, standing behind you, put her hands on your shoulders to keep you in place and raised her eyebrow.

“Hey. You have every right to be nervous. How long has it been since your last date?” she asked gently, surprisingly so for a super-spy.

You bit your lip guiltily – of course, she found the root of the trouble. It had been too freaking long. The fact you were going out with Matt – an amazing human being – was not helping to sooth your nerves either.

“Almost two years.”

“Well. I think you’re entitled. But you’re gonna be fine,” she reassured you and you caught her honest gaze in the mirror. She squeezed your shoulders. “That guy? He fell hard – I hope you figured that out already. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”

You took a deep breath. “Thanks, Tasha. I really should go or I’ll be late. The taxi might even be here already.”

You picked up your coat, leaving the dresses you didn’t even want to count – Natasha had supplied you with too many of hers and still, you took the only dress you owned yourself – and grabbed your purse on the way.

You were insanely grateful to Natasha for her help – yet, your heart was fluttering nervously and ached a little. You wished Steve was here too, but you understood this was more of a ladies thing. You were sure he wished you the best for your date even if you hadn’t heard him say it.

You opened the door only to meet with Steve’s surprised face. His eyes measured you from head to toe and you fought the urge to hide – god knew why. That was until his gaze returned to your face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“You look beautiful, Snowflake,” he whispered, checking you out shamelessly once more. “He’s a lucky guy.”

You bit your lip, feeling the rush of heat colouring your cheeks. You lowered your gaze, examining your shoes; they had heels, you were about to kill yourself in them, why were you wearing them again…?

Steve chuckled at your reaction. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something foreign in that supposedly happy sound, something you couldn’t decode.

A hand appeared under your chin, fingers tucking a strand of your hair that fell in your face behind your ear. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you inhaled deeply, trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart. You knew he was trying to help, but it didn’t really work.

“Hey, Snowflake. Hold your head high, you look wonderful. It’s gonna be fine. If he upsets you, you not only can let him go, but you have five– no, six pissed off friends actually, I’m sure Thor would stop by for that – to punch Matt in his face. Understood?”

That finally made you relax and the tension in your shoulders eased with a huffed laughter. Steve’s eyes twinkled for a moment and you couldn’t but laugh again.

“Did you just say ‘pissed off’?” you asked incredulously and Steve shrugged it off – except a hint of a blush appeared in his cheeks too and hell, you could not miss that. You feasted your eyes on his embarrassment and only then gave Captain Language a proper hug, which was reciprocated tightly.

“I guess I’m nervous for you that much,” he murmured over your shoulder and the statement melted your heart.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He squeezed your waist once more, caressed your back and released you from his embrace, uneasy smile on his lips.

“Go. We wouldn’t want you to be late.”

You just nodded and made your way to the elevator. You sparred one more glance at Natasha, who joined Steve in the hallway, couple of dressed folded over her forearm. She grinned at you.

“Not to make you nervous, Frosty, but just because he won’t be able to see you with his eyes, it doesn’t mean he won’t appreciate your appearance! And other stuff! Considering all of his senses are heightened!” she called after you and you felt you face turning into a mask of horror.

All of his senses. Shit. What perfume did you use? How much could he— would he be able to tell you hugged-- did Steve just hug you to make Matt jealous and possibly make him think you were wanted, so he would value the fact you were going out with him more?

No, wait, you were the one who hugged Steve, which--- this was so going to be a disaster. You whined and slid into your coat, hoping it would make you invisible. And undetectable in any other way. This evening started swimmingly…

With you going down in the elevator, Natasha and Steve were left alone.

“Smooth, Rogers. Very subtle,” the spy exclaimed, patting his arm patronizingly. Steve shot her an unreadable glare.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“About the fact Mr. Hot and Devilish wouldn’t even have to make her unhappy. It’s him making her happy that you want to punch him in the face for.”

Steve grinded his teeth, his look turning murderous. “That’s not true. I want them to get together.”

“Sure,” she agreed, shrugging. “That’s why you marked your territory like a goddamned dog.”

The rush of irritation and shame at being caught hit him stronger than excepted. Natasha knew exactly how to push his buttons and it drove him crazy.

“I didn’t-“ he protested lamely, only to realize he indeed hadn’t. “She was the one who hugged me.”

“Yeah. Keep yourself telling that. She did hug you, but what happened before that, that was on you. I’m surprised you didn’t kiss her on her mouth. I don’t understand how one can be so blind— eh, sorry-”

Steve’s hands curled into fists and he paced to his room to change into something more suitable for workout. He needed to punch something and as much as he was pissed at Natasha for mocking him, he liked her too much to hurt her – the punching bags would have to suffice. Bags, definitely plural, because he would tear some today, no doubt.

“Have a good workout, big guy!” she shouted after him almost cheerily and he slammed the door with such force that dust of plastering snowed down around the doorway.

Snowed down. Fuck. That would be more than one ruined bag today.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Entering the restaurant was one of the scariest things you had ever done. But the friendly space welcomed you, soft lights illuminating the room, white clothing on the tables, each with a candle on it, several people talking rather lowly. You gulped looking around – probably forgetting everything Natasha had taught you about subtle observation, because the hostess spotted you immediately and walked to you, assuming you were completely lost.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation, madam? Are you meeting anyone here? Or I am going to look for a table for one?” she asked politely, professionalism never leaving her face.

You gulped. “Uhm… meeting someone actually. There should be a reservation for seven o’clock under the name Murdock?”

“Of course. Mr. Murdock is waiting for you. Follow me.”

‘Waiting for you?’ You were five minutes early! You were kinda hoping you would have time to calm your nerves-

Matt probably knew about you the second you entered the restaurant – still, it surprised you when he rose as you approached the table and pulled out your chair for you to sit down before helping you from your coat.

“Hi, Matt,” you greeted him unsurely, obediently sitting down. “Thank you.”

If he wouldn’t have stood up, you wouldn’t have recognized him – or at least it would take you a while. He wore a nice-fitting black suit with white shirt and crimson tie – not something you were used to; the only outfit you had seen him in was either his armour or the shirt he wore in the hospital, where you hadn’t really paid attention.

His face was partly hidden behind a pair of round red-toned glasses, making you feel like you were meeting a completely different person. You had already met Daredevil, you had met Matt, you supposed, and now you were meeting Mr. Murdock. Though the colour of his tie and glasses was a hint, sending a vibe of familiarity towards you.

“Your waitress will be here shortly,” the hostess announced, barely noticed.

Matt smiled at you. “Hi. Glad you could make it.”

You inhaled sharply. Was your nervousness that evident?

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. It… it was… okay, uhm, I guess you can tell I got hugged profusely. By Steve. And Nat. I was… nervous. Sorry,” you mumbled, watching the flame of the candle flicker as you exhaled. “It’s been a while since I was… out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone surprisingly soothing. It worked for you, okay. “It’s been a while for me too.”

That made you snap your head up.

“Really?” you blurted out. “I mean… you just seem like a guy who…”

He tilted his head, his eyebrow rising in challenge. “…yes?”

“Oh god, no I didn’t mean like…” You whined silently. Now it sounded as if you were saying he was a manwhore.

“I’m waiting for you to finish that sentence. Are you suggesting something?” he teased you and it ignited the flame of banter-queen that had revealed herself while on the mission with the Devil.

“I’m suggesting that you seem like a guy who can’t complain about the lack of attention from women – possibly men. I don’t know where your train of thought headed…”

He grinned, impressed and possibly satisfied with himself; he had every right. You found the uneasy sensation in your stomach resolve as you stepped into a more familiar territory of teasing. And with him grinning, damn, he was a handsome little shit.

“Thanks. I do have a rich nightlife, but…”

“Right. I can understand that there are different kinds of nightlife.”

“Exactly. Sneaking from bed every night doesn’t work well. And loading every potential partner with why I do it… it’s not that easy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and Matt just shook his head.

“It’s my choice. I’m glad you’re here and we have this part out of our way.”

You bit your lip as he gave you yet another smile, this time softer. “I’m glad too. But are you suggesting there’s more?”

He chuckled dryly. “Well. Of course there is, but we can work with that later. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has some things that are important, yet not the best thing to discuss on the first date.”

The flutter of your heart caused by the mention of heavy baggage on your side turned into an excited one as you were reminded this was your first date – with a great man, who was as badass and cocky as he seemed understanding, sweet and gallant.

“Yeah. You think wine would help?”

“Absolutely.”

────── ·❆· ──────  

The wine did help. You two made it through why you hadn’t been on a date for a while, which featured your struggle with the disease and you ‘dying’ and joining the Avengers. To balance the heaviness, you mentioned few stunts your friends in the Tower had pulled so far.

Matt told you about his best friend finding about his nightlife, but also about the work they did in their little firm with big ambitions, throwing in stories from college.  

You laughed, your cheeks hurt and your belly too, your body was pleasantly buzzing and you hadn’t even noticed the restaurant was almost empty until Matt took off his glasses, toying with the earpiece of them.

“I like it better this way,” you noted deliberately and his fingers froze. “Uh-uh, no, leave them off, please. I really do like it better, if that’s okay with you.”

He sort-of looked at you shyly and you were welcomed by the warm of his brown irises, twinkling in the soft light of the candle.

“You sure?” he pried hesitantly and you nodded, hoping he could perceive that.

He resembled a lost but hopeful puppy and it was such a surreal look on his face – through the night, you had had an opportunity to know him a bit more, but this was… new. No matter what you had been discussing, there always had been confidence in him – more or less. You didn’t think he would be self-continuous about his eyes of all things, but it made sense. Your heart swelled.

“Yeah, Matt. I really am.”

Time flied and before you knew it, the waitress politely pointed out they were about to close the restaurant.

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, honestly taken aback. This time wary of being subtle, you checked the space – it was empty. Everyone was out. Oh.

“Of course. Bring me the check, please,” Matt asked, apparently unfazed. You could only wonder if he had been aware of their situation; given his abilities, he probably had. Huh. Guess he didn’t want to leave either – the thought warmed you heart.

He paid for you both, helping you with your coat again. Once you were outside, pleasantly cool air brushing your cheeks, he turned to you sheepishly.

“May I walk you home? Or do you prefer a cab?”

Your heels were killing you already; yet, the choice was clear, because you didn’t want the night to end.

“Walk?”

Your reward was his wide smile and silent request for your elbow. Damn the heels, this was worth it.

“Lead the way?” he asked as he folded his cane, his hand sliding under your arm.

You would be hesitant about the direction, but the Avengers tower was too much of a highlight to miss it. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Do you trust a woman with directions?”

He chuckled. “Well, I am blind, so I’m trusting anyone who can actually see where we’re going. Perhaps not any woman. I think we established a while ago that I trust you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, making Matt’s smile grow. Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all, that he could read literally every reaction your body had. Not awkward at all.

“Thanks.”

You weren’t stupid enough to walk to the Tower. For all you knew, Tony had his eyes on everything within a half-mile radius at least and you didn’t want him to spy on you two. That man had no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“Well, I guess this is me,” you murmured, stopping in your tracks. Matt frowned and you cleared your throat. “Uhm… eyes and ears everywhere. I don’t want to…”

A flash of understanding appeared on his face and he laughed silently as he turned his whole body to you. He was close. Very close.

“That makes sense. Too bad it means we have to say goodbye now.”

“Technically, we don’t have to. Say it, that is,” you added at his confused expression. One corner of his lips rose higher, his free hand finding yours and running up your arm.

“Very true, Gerda.”

Your breath hitched as he used your nickname for the first time that night. His hands weren’t helping you to control your breathing either.

“We can always go with a goodnight.”

“Is a goodnight kiss too bold?” he whispered, leaning in just slightly, giving you a room to escape if you wanted to. You didn’t think you wanted to escape.

“Very bold…” His face fell, silent ‘oh’ escaping him. “But I’m okay with bold.”

“Mean woman,” he murmured, erasing the distance and meeting your lips.  

Your heart positively stopped the moment it happened and it felt like eternity before it kicked back in.

His lips were warm against yours, gentle and hesitant at first. Your own hand deliberately shot up to his face as you realized a response would be appropriate, but dammit it had been a while and his mouth on yours felt so fucking good. Your fingers found his nape, pulling him just a little closer as heat coiled in your abdomen, welcoming the butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. You felt the grip on your elbow tightening and Matt took your lower lip between his, fondling with more boldness indeed.

You sighed in appreciation, your heart hammering in your ribcage that suddenly felt too small, even for your breathing. You retreated just slightly, needing some air, but aching at the thought of creating a distance between you and him. He inhaled deeply too, his hand on your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Goodnight?” he tried out silently and you couldn’t help but chuckle, enjoying the tickle of his breath as he did the same.

“Fight me, but that didn’t feel like a goodnight kiss.” You shortly met his lips again, unable to resist – but aiming for only a peck that wouldn’t leave your fingertips tingling like the previous kiss. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight indeed.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth before letting go of you and you pretended you didn’t feel cold all of sudden. At least his warm eyes were still watching your chin.

“Stay safe,” you whispered and Matt gave you one more gorgeous smile.

“I’ll try. Take care.”

You nodded and forced your body to spin on your heels to go, because if you wouldn’t do it now, you might as well end up going home with him or taking him to the Tower, which something you weren’t really ready for.

You started walking, snuggling into your coat, crossing your arms on your chest to keep yourself warmer. You spared one more glance at Matt, who was still standing where you had left him, raising his hand in tiny wave as you looked over your shoulder. Your cheeks burned as you got caught; then again, he hadn’t move from his position, watching you as well, so you had no reason to be truly embarrassed.

Or you thought so, until you realized the air actually was unusually chilly for September and to make it perfect, a snowflake fell on your nose. You looked around, realizing it started snowing.

Snowing. This wasn’t normal. Which meant… did you just…?

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath, unsure whether you should be horrified or not as you turned your palm up, catching few more snowflakes. You… you somehow did this. It was as terrifying as awesome.

In the end, you just giggled at what you had caused.

Let it snow.

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Natasha was standing in her room, staring out of the window as snowflakes slowly descended. None of them stuck, melting as soon as they collided with the surface, but there was no denying it really was snowing. And given the fact that the temperature needed to drop significantly for this to happen, there was no doubt whose doing was that – deliberate or not.

Your emotions were running high.

“Hey, Steve. What are you still doing awake?” she heard your astonished voice from the hallway and she bit her lip. This was definitely your excited voice; the date went well. The snow was a good sign.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Natasha’s heart ached for her friend, simultaneously wondering if you could hear the subtle hint of pain in his voice. She suddenly felt guilty for helping you to get ready for the date – but it felt like the right thing to do.

“So you went to a gym? It’s after midnight. You’re making us all look like couch potatoes.”

Natasha could easily imagine that the soldier ‘casually’ shrugged.  

“Felt like working out,” he explained easily. No shit. How many punching bags did he destroy this time?

“Is everything okay? I know it’s not the first time. Something troubling you? Talk to me, Steve,” you pleaded softly.

Natasha sighed. That would be your placing your hand on his forearm in comforting gesture, your eyes screaming ‘you can trust me’. You always did that, because it was the thing you two did and you two were so utterly hopeless it hurt.

“It’s nothing, Snowflake. Nothing you need to worry about. You look happy. I take it the date went well?”

His voice was strained and the spy had no doubt you could tell. Yet, you answered him, tiny chuckle bubbling in your throat. “Yeah. It did.”

“One more reason for you not to worry about me,” Steve offered kindly and Natasha just gritted her teeth. Rogers was such an ass. Noble, maybe, but bozhe, such an ass. “I’m happy for you, Snowflake.”

“Thank you. But we’re talking about you, soon. I need you to be happy too, Steve. You’re too important to me and too good not to be.”

Natasha agreed wholeheartedly, glancing at the flash drive on her nightstand. She had downloaded the conversation she had with Steve, him confessing his feelings for you, but now, it seemed worthless.

While she wished for you to be happy, she was hoping you could do that with the supersoldier who was head over heels for you. She had been sure you felt the same, but now she had doubts. You could easily fall in love with Daredevil, he was charming enough, and she had no right to interfere with your love-life.

“Okay. I promise I’ll tell you later.”

Natasha scoffed. Yeah, sure. On your deathbed, maybe.

“ ‘kay. Love you, Steve. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Snowflake.”

Natasha heard your footsteps trailing off and slowly went to open her door for a slit.

“Don’t say a word,” Steve warned her icily, a heart-breaking crack in his voice.

“I was gonna offer you a drink, an ‘I’m sorry’ and a hug.”

She heard him inhale and exhale shakily and she stepped out to find him resting his forehead against the nearest wall. His eyes were squeezed shut and she would swear it wasn’t sweat what gleamed on his cheeks. She pressed her lips together, hesitantly bringing her palm to his arm. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” she whispered tentatively, surprised when he bounced off the wall, looking her straight in the eye. His own were indeed glassy, but he wasn’t crying.

“You don’t have to be. She deserves the win, I’m happy for her.”

He said it with such conviction that if she hadn’t known him well enough, she wouldn’t notice how fragile the façade he had hastily built up was.

“Good. But you should know you don’t have to be, macho man. It’s okay to be angry, not just with yourself, but also with her and especially with him. You can be sad and you can be hurt. I know I’m not exactly the most open person when it comes to emotions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel. And you can feel too.”

Steve escaped her gaze, but she could see his tiny nod. She took it as a victory and encouraged, she took his huge arm.

“Come on, Cap, let’s find out where Thor stocked the good booze.”

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Tags:  @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek

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Thank you for reading! If you read for Matt x reader, this is it for ya, sorry ;) You can always check out Steve x reader ending or my other Matt Murdock fics :-*

[voemae582]

The Truth Changes

Chapter 4: Is Blue Warm or Cold?

Let it be known, I wrote this chapter before I watched reflectdoll and Desperado. And I'm so angry with how Marinette and Adrien acted, but most importantly the writers... Enjoy. Also I post the story on my Fanfiction.net page under Voemae Patterson and on Wattpad under Tia_Patterson!

Meanwhile Chat Noir made his way across town and hid in an alley way to transform back. Plagg flew out of his ring in a panic.

"Plagg calm down, we need think of a plan, maybe she was bluffing and Ladybug is fine."

Plagg shook his head, "Kid this is serious, I can honestly tell you, she was telling the truth. We need to find Master. I have a feeling Tikki's with him, which is good."

"Tikki?" Adrien asked.

"No time to explain, lets go!" Plagg flew in the direction of Master Fu's massage place with Adrien close behind him.

They took back streets and alleys to avoid any Marionettes in the area. It didn't take long before they finally reached their destination and took cover inside where they were greeting by Wayzz. They entered the massage room to find Master Fu and Tikki talking. Adrien saw the polka doted Kwami and put two and two together. It was Ladybugs Kwami. 

"Tikki!" Plagg shouted and he wasted no time flying to her side. "What happened?"

Master Fu put his attention to Adrien who was still confused. Where was Ladybug? Why didn't she have her kwami? "Adrien, come and sit."

"Master Fu, Marinette, she's the girl akumatized. She's my friend."

He nodded. "Yes, well without Ladybug we're in quite the predicament."

Adrien clenched her fists and grit his teeth, "Please entrust me with saving them both."

"Everyone whos fought alongside you has been turned into a puppet." He stroked his little beard and turned his head away from Adrien and whispered, "She must've done that on purpose."

"What?"

"It's nothing." He waved his hand to signal there was nothing to worry about.

Tikki, Plagg and Wayzz sat at the middle of the table. "Oh Master, it's not her fault! We must save her from being a puppet." Tikki chose her words carefully as to not reveal Marinette was Ladybug.

"I understand the situation. Ladybug knew she would be caught, and purposely took out her earrings to prevent Hawkmoth from finding her using the connection between the akumatized." He pondered for a moment and the room fell silent with thinking. "But," He broke the silence. "I can not ignore the fact that she did fall into this situation."

"Master?" Wayzz questioned.

"Don't worry, I chose her for a reason, that being said I have to wonder what she'll do. Or if she can snap out of it."

"I know she will." Adrien stood up. "Because she's Ladybug." They all looked up at him as he radiated the confidence he lacked a moment ago. "I'll focus on snapping Marinette out of it, try and find the item that's been akumatized then free her. But, Chat Noir can't catch the akuma, or fix what's been destroyed. Master Fu, please let me use the Ladybug miraculous."

Fu stood and turned to get more tea, "Absolutely not. It's far too risky."

"But-!"

"But this may be our only sound option right now. As for the cat miraculous, you cant use both at the same time. And I don't feel good having both miraculous near each other while you're fighting. I suppose I could also-" Just then a crack echoed in the room. His age was catching up to him and he cracked his back... As always Wayzz was worried for the master and helped him sit back down with the tea. "We almost lost the Bee miraculous once, we can't afford making these same mistakes." He shook his head, he knew he wouldn't be much help, but he couldn't do it alone. "We need to move location, she might come here."

"Why would she come here?" Adrien asked. The Kwami's looked at Fu to make an excuse.

Fu cleared his throat. "Your friend Marinette, yes, um she, she's been in my shop before, to get a muscle relaxer!" Not his best moment but he was going to roll with it. "You know how kids are these days, stressed about school and such. So I gave her an old Chinese remedy to help her out... Of course she still seems a bit clumsy..."

Adrien chuckled at the last comment. "No, that's just her."

Fu saw his sincere smile as he thought about her. "I see.." He smiled. "Well, lets move location of the box carefully first, then get a plan started."

"I've got an idea." And so it was decided where the box would be moved to...

Half an hour later after mast Fu settled Adrien transformed back into Chat Noir. "Until we figure this out, I'll go and patrol the surrounding area. I need to help those who have not been caught."

"What ever you do, don't go looking for her." He warned him.

"Which one?" He joked before leaving the building.

Master Fu saw as his Chat Noir figure jumped over a building. "The only one."

"Oh master... What should we do?" Tikki hovered next to him looking out the window.

"Where there's a will, there's a way." he sighed. "For all our sakes, we can only wait and see if she has a stronger will then the darkness in her heart."

About twenty minutes past and Chat Noir saved a few hand fills of civilians and hid them from the akuma. He made sure to stay low and out of sight trying not to cause a scene. All the while he was trying to think of a plan. He was alone, without his Lady. He was worried, but he didn't know for who more. Marinette or Ladybug?

It was already night and the stars were bright. a lot of the city lights were off because there were people hiding. For the most part if Porcelain had no need for them, the marionettes had free will to go home or do anything they wanted as long as the didn't rebel they could live a normal life as a porcelain doll. Until she needed them that is, and took control of their body's again. The brightest lights were the Eiffel tower, which is where Chat Noir assumed Marinette was based. The day had been the longest time anyone has ever been under an akuma's affects and trance before. 

No one knew what was supposed to happen next. Where was Ladybug, the hero of Paris? The Parisians began to worry. Every time that day Chat was asked where she was or heard a rumor of her disappearance he quickly retorted it stating she was well and they were just thinking of a plan.

He returned to his mansion per master Fu's request for the night. Adrien wanted eagerly to go and try talking to Marinette but was stopped every time by Plagg. He agonized over the thought of pain and suffering she was feeling, alone. Plus he was scared sooner or later Ladybug would break, not that she would ever lie.

Checking on his father was impossible since the Gorilla stood outside his bedroom room and Natalie probably wouldn't let him into the office. Little did he know his father was better then okay. Because he had finally found a suitable victim to capture all the miraculous.

In his lair Hawkmoth reveled in the army before him. "Your progress is taking much longer then I expected, but you told the truth, Ladybug hasn't shown her face yet. Meaning you did capture her, and Chat Noir's the only one left. He is the only one left, right?"

Far from the Agreste Manor, sitting at the very top of the Eiffel tower looking at the night sky above her was Porcelain. "Yes, I assume he'll be no trouble. And before you ask again, I do not know where to find the guardian of the box." She technically wasn't lying, she didn't know where master Fu could be, its not 100% certain he'll be at his home. She knew how to manipulate her powers so she wouldn't crack.

Suddenly she felt a pain and all her muscles stiffened making her feel weak. "If you're lying to me I will take away your victory!" Hawkmoth threatened her.

"Why- argh!" She struggled to talk with the pressure he forced on her. "-would I-ugh, why would I lie to you!?" He finally released her letting her gasp for air.

"If I find out you were lying to me or are plotting something, not only will I take everything away from you, but I'll get a professional to do it instead." He chuckled. "You might know her. She tends to fib a bit."

If Porcelain wasn't wearing a mask you'd see the anger in her eyes and her teeth ready to break from clenching them to hold her tongue. "Lila." She hissed through her teeth.

"Correct. Instead of getting your revenge on her I'll replace you with her. So don't forget your end of the deal."

Marinette felt a stab in her heart. Even Hawkmoth preferred Lila. Why was she not good enough? "Why would you trust a liar like her?"

"Of course I don't trust her you fool, but she'll do her job. And who knows, after she does get me what I want perhaps she'll become even more adored with her lies then you'll ever be with the truth."

"Forget you! I'll get you what I promised by using my powers for their own good!" She stood up and yelled at the sky. "I can't concentrate with you nagging in my ear!"

"I'll check back later." Back in the lair Hawkmoth cut the communication with Porcelain. "Dark wings fall!" And turned back into his formal attire as Gabriel Agreste. "Natalie, I may need your assistance tomorrow." He turned around to face Natalie who held a clipboard to her chest never showing more then a poker face.

"Of course. I would be happy to, sir."

"Right, go get some rest, it'll take a toll on you tomorrow."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, I've had all nighters before doing work, but you should get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow. I'll watch over things for the night."

Back at the tower Porcelain looked over the Paris buildings to a small shop with it's lights still on. It was her parent's bakery. They were still up so late. She had the urge to go and visit them, but something stopped her. She was ashamed. 

"Damn it." She held her head in her hands and cursed at the world. It all seemed so unfair.

Last month she was adored by her friends and she adored them. Marinette was hanging out with everyone, and sure, once in awhile Lila would tell a lie, but she learned to ignore it. Over time she just left Lila alone and avoided her as long as it didn't affect anyone, but now, how did she end up like this. Her mind got foggy and her memories blurred together. She could only remember the bad parts.

Porcelain had forgotten the good inside of Marinette, and it scared her, not because she couldn't remember anything good, but because she didn't actually care. She couldn't even remember how her morning started. It had only been hours ago but she couldn't think of her parent's and their kind words. What she did remember was Lila. The lies. Alya ditching her in her time of need. Adrien's rejection. Her parent's pitying her. Ladybug.

Oh lord Ladybug. It was always Ladybug. Even Chat Noir prefers Ladybug. Adrien would probably prefer Ladybug. Alya would prefer Ladybug. Her parent's would be better off with a daughter like Ladybug.

Porcelain stopped gripping her skull with anger and let her arm frail onto her knee. She was Ladybug. But Ladybug wasn't her. No, she used to be Marinette. And Marinette is no Ladybug. Marinette's clumsy, a coward and a complete mess. Over a boy. A boy who didn't even like her. Or notice her. She was just a friend. She was a nobody. A wanna be fashion designer.

Marinette was always good at over thinking things, but Porcelain was the queen of over thinking.

A tear appeared from the dark hole of the mask where the eye should be and rolled down the porcelain surface. All her terrible negative feelings came crawling into her heart. Her chest hurt, it felt like something was pulling at her heart strings until they snapped. A punch in the gut. Her head ached and felt like it was on fire and going to explode. Water leaked from her eyes. She shook all over and couldn't breath. She was panicking. She hated this feeling of helplessness. This feeling of depression and anxiety. Eating at every nerve and cell in her body, until she snapped.

And she screamed.

A burst of red deflected from her like a ring of fire around her and widened until it disappeared into the night. She hunched and tried to calm herself. At this moment she knew she messed up. Hawkmoth had increased her emotions of betrayal before he went to bed leaving her to wallow in self loathing. She had no choice but to blame others.

Time had passed and she was walking around on the tower trying to control her emotions and also devising her plan while sewing a scarf together using the red thread she possessed. She had puppets guarding the castle.

"M'Lady." a Marionette approached her.

"Speak, but do not call me that." She ordered him still continuing to make the scarf.

"Several Marionettes whom are not under your control at the moment have asked for an audience with the great poupée de porcelaine."

"Very well."

A few moments later Nino, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Ivan and even Luka appeared before her. They stood in front of her and She could tell by their faces what they wanted to say. This small group was made up of Kitty Section. The band Marinette designed for. Her closes friends other then Alya.

Nino was outwardly distraught making him the first to burst out his feelings. "How could you do that to Alya!"

Rose and Juleka stood on both sides of him and held his arms as if he would try to attack Porcelain. "This isn't what we practiced" Rose tried to calm him down.

Apparently practicing and deciding what they would tell her ahead of time was the plan to convince her to stop. Little did they know, the longer Marinette was under the Akuma's control the more she lost herself. It had already been too long for logic and reason to save her.

Ivan stepped forward and started first. "Marinette, we're sorry. All of us. We knew you didn't like Lila for some reason but we didn't take your feelings into consideration and hung out with her."

Porcelain's eye twitched in annoyance. "You think this is because I didn't want you guys to hangout with someone I don't like?"  She cracked her neck and continued. "True I despise Lila, and I didn't want anyone to hangout with her, but that's because she's a liar, and constantly tortures me, not because I just don't like her! Marinette wasn't so shallow she'd try to monopolize you guys!" She took the wooden controls from her side pockets and the thread connected to Nino and pulled him in front of her.

"Nino!"

Nino could still talk and looked her in the eyes. "I thought we were friends?"

Knowing Hawkmoth went to bed Porcelain got close to his ear so no one would hear her, and she whispered in Nino's ear, "Are you secretly Carapace?"

"H-how did you-?"

She asked more loudly so everyone could hear, "Are you? Answer the question!"

"N-No!" He gulped.

"Perfect." Porcelain watched his arm start cracking until it just shattered revealing a wooden surface. She let him go giving him free will.

Nino stepped backward away from her and tripped falling on his back. "AAARUGH!!" He yelled in pain. It felt like every bone in his body shattering even though it was just his arm. The pain continued for what seemed forever. He finally bit his tongue on the pain and sat up gripping his wooden left arm.

He had control of his body except for his left arm that was now wood. "What's happening!? I only told one lie! I shouldn't have shattered anything! It should just be a crack, right!?" He yelled at her confused and scared. The others ran to aid him.

"So you admit you lied to me." She started to walk in a circle around them and their eyes followed her every move.

"What's going on with his arm!?" Mylene spoke up.

She sighed, "True, a lie would usually only give you a crack, but, the bigger the lie, the more severe the injury." She winked. "Don't you wanna know what I asked him?" 

Luka stood up, "Marinette, this isn't you."

Again telling her who she was. People just couldn't take a hint. "My names Not Marinette!" She yelled and took control of them making them stand in a line. "It's poupée en porcelaine! Now leave before I decide to shatter you all." She demanded more then requested. With a point of the finger she forced them to walk out. 

"Wait!" Luka pleaded as his legs led him to the elevator. "Marinette! Please, wait, I just want to talk!"

She froze them for a second. The were in mid stepping pose facing the opposite direction of her. Staring at his back she asked, "If you stay here you'll be broken one way or the other. Are you willing To risk the damage?"

Juleka tried to look at her brother, "Luka, don't."

Luka had a soft smile on his face. "Sorry Jules, you'd do the same for Rose."

"Touching..." Porcelain mocked. "Your answer?"

"Yes. I'm okay with that." He spoke louder.

Porcelain walked up to him and examined him for any crack. He was telling the truth. She snapped her fingers and the rest of them walked to the elevator and left. She took away their speech temporarily so they wouldn't interfere until they left.

For the next minute they stood in silence just looking at each other. She wondered what he was looking at her for, what was he trying to find. She focused on his eyes. They were a clear blue, not like hers, his were deeper. Clear with no clutter. Why were his blue eyes so... Warm?

"Cold." He muttered.

Porcelain snapped out of her thoughts, "What?"

"I finally caught a glimpse of you're eyes behind the mask, when the light hits you just right, and they were cold."

She covered the eye he was focused on and turned her face slightly to hide her other. "Blue is cold."

He realized how rude that might've sounded. "No sorry." He scratched the back of his head and looked at the ground. "It's just that, your eyes are usually so warm."

For a second she thought he read her mind. Her eye brows furrowed and she made him stand up straight and look at her. "What nonsense are you spouting? Everyone knows blue is a cold, cold color."

He stood quietly and let her make her point. Studying her actions and moves. Trying to find an ounce of Marinette. He focused on her every detail. Her perfectly place hair in a bun with a red ribbon. The intricate detail on her dress. The carefully placed paint strokes on her mask and especially the way you can see her expression through her eyes.

"Do you ever dislike being in a band with your little sister, and her friends?"

Luka was caught off guard by the question. "What? No, of course not. I love my sister and her friends are mine too." No cracks, he was telling the truth.

"Really? You never feel childish being around them?"

"No they're awesome." He smiled knowing he had nothing to hide.

Porcelain grunted. "Do you even have friends outside of them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I see them all the time."

"Ever wish you lived in a house like normal people?"

"I love living in a boat."

The two of them went back and fourth for quite a while. Porcelain started to run out of questions. She asked petty things like fights with Juleka, or stealing candy when he was young. Despite his looks he wasn't really a 'bad boy'. He was sweet and kind and honest. She hated it.

"There's got to be something you don't want to admit to! So admit it!" She was getting frustrated. "There's got to be something you lie about. And I'm going to find out."

He went silent and thought about something. Porcelain noticed he was hiding something. She was about to confront him with more questions, but he beat her to the punch. "I never want to lie to the girl I like."

She taken  aback. "What? Who?"

"Marinette." He said confidently.

"You're a liar, no one likes a nobody." She wasn't convinced.

"I do." He breathed. "Because to me, she's not a nobody. She's-"

"Like an everyday Ladybug, nice, good, perfect and all that crap!" She turned around as to not face him.

"No." He replied. "Ladybug isn't perfect. I don't know her personally so I can't say much about her personality. But no ones perfect or good at everything. Especially Marinette."

She felt a tug at her heart and the corners of her lips weigh down.

"Marinette isn't perfect, she's clumsy, and stammers, and sometimes it's like she's always in her head."

"You've made your point-"

"But I love that about her. She might fall a lot, but that only means I get to catch her. Her stammering is the cutest thing I've ever heard. And to be able to look at her when she's lost in thought is the greatest privilege I can have." He smiled and you could hear the passion of his words. "She has all the qualities of a super hero, but that's just one part of her, she's also an amazing girl."

"Stop it." She gripped both her upper arms.

"Her designs are incredible! She works hard and deserve every good thing in her life. She apologizes even if she's not in the wrong. And she's honest to a fault, that makes her unique because now a days there's nobody that honest. She tries to help those in need. She messes up, but she she'll try again until everything's fixed."

"I said enough!" She turned around waved her hand violently and took his speech away. She stomped in front of him only three inches from his face. "These are all lies!" She aimed her sight down and he mouthed something to her. 'I love you'. 

She backed up and held her fists at her side. "Why aren't you breaking!?" She shouted almost pleading. For some reason she was running away from love. Perhaps she didn't deserve it. "Lie!" Her voice got shaky and she got close to him and he mouthed it again. she hit his chest with her palms and her forehead landed on his chest. "Lies! All of them!" While one hand hit him repeatedly, the other slowly reached for her mask and slid it off letting her take a deep shaky breath.

Without knowing she had let control of him go and felt his arms wrap around her. "I love you, Marinette." And she let his chin rest on her head. "You're the song playing in my head, and the rhythm my heart beats too." There they stood on the Eiffel tower, embraced in each others cold china hold, with the warmest blue eyes.

"No.." A whisper was barely heard.

"Did you-" Luka started say before being pushed away.

He caught a glance at her face without the mask, her sapphire eyes glossed over with denial, and there was a notable break under her left eye.

"Marinette wha-?"

"My. Names. Not. Marinette!" With a wave of her hand she made him leave, immediately. As soon as she could no longer see him she fell to her knees and hung her head. "Damn it..." The lights of the Eiffel tower then turned off as if on que.

The next day was sure to be chaotic.

[thechocobros]

Her freedom

Day 3 - LUNYX WEEK ✧   Gestures of love

Couple: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Nyx Ulric

Words: 3746

Summary: Once she arrives in Insomnia, the Princess has to struggle with her own desires for freedom. 

It began as a silent presence, always dancing around her. A voiceless companion quietly watching over her, maybe too silent for her taste. 

Lunafreya would have liked to speak with him, at least enough to know about the strange, new reality surrounding her since her arrival in Insomnia, but she never did. She didn’t even know his name and when asked why, he simply shook his head, looking away. It was then that she realized: a simple Glaive wasn’t allowed to speak with the holy Princess Oracle. Not only did idle chatter not have a place in the young Oracles schedule, but it would be looked as having been improper, considering she was the beloved bride to be of the King of Kings. Familiarizing with other men would have created gossip for sure and the royal family simply couldn’t allow that. Yet in spite of this, Luna persisted in cultivating such a dangerous desire.

She couldn’t wrap her head around her fascination with him. At least a dozen other Kingsglaives and Crownsguards were assigned with her security for her duration in Insomnia. But he remained the only one able to capture her attention. His appearance was interesting and appealing, that much couldn’t be denied. Braids and tattoos adorned his body but they couldn’t hide his Galahdian origins, nor the small scars on his face revealing the battle veteran that he was. And Gods was he handsome, but Luna wasn’t one to not know what handsome was supposed to look like. Ravus was a very good looking guy, Prince Noctis was a looker as well. Even the future kings entourage was full of dapper men. Having grown up as royalty she had been surrounded by good looking men her whole life so no, it was not his pretty face that allured her most. 

It was something else.

But she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

 ————————–

Until one day, it dawned on her.

He and a couple of other Glaives escorted Luna from her apartment to the Citadel. She was supposed to participate in a counsel meeting that Prince Noctis would miss leaving Luna charged with taking his place. Since arriving in Insomnia, Luna became accustomed to her fiancée laziness so she didn’t complain much. Instead she actually found herself enjoying that part of the day, since it conveyed the impression of having some control of her life. 

The mysterious Glaive -  charged once again with her security - opened the door of the car signaling for her to get in. Swiftly entering the car, she couldn’t help but indulge on how tall he was as he stood next to her. Eyes constantly observing him in silence from the safe distance of her car seat, hidden behind dark glass. After helping her in, the Glaive turned to his companions, a chubby man and a pleasant looking brunette. And there, it happened: the perfect, professional mask of the detached soldier crumbled down, leaving space for his true being to show. A warm and utterly beautiful smile, glowing eyes fueled by a fire which slightly colored his cheek, sparked by an electricity flowing fluidly throughout his body. His whole being blossoming, ever true in that moment, shining warm and bright like the sun. When compared to his radiating light, the Oracle felt so cold and dim. 

“Save some of that warmth for me too” she whispered, fingers eagerly touching the glass, iching for a taste like a child yearning for sweets in a candy shop. The crash of the car door shutting sprung her from her intimate thoughts, bringing her back to reality as the engine grumped and roared taking  her away.

 ——————–

After that episode, she couldn’t watch the Glaive anymore without wishing from the bottom of her heart to see him smile again. 

Sadly, her hopes remained unfulfilled. Luna guessed that man was a pro. If protocol said to not interact with the royal member he was guarding, then he would oblige. Just to be cautious he wouldn’t even look at her or get too close. It was clear he was there only to work and it appeared as though all his humanity was reserved for moments outside his guard duty. Or at least, that was what Luna believed. 

She had been in Insomnia for two months already but she still didn’t catch his name, and it started to frustrated her. Actually a lot of things were frustrating her: being far from home, forced into the busy schedule of the kingdom, being obligated to wear a mask the whole day in order to avoid letting others know how much she suffered, not being able to choose her own destiny. Sometimes it was too much for the young Oracle to endure, and soon she would finally cave into her emotions.

———————

That day it rained all over Insomnia.

The clouds were a dark grey, water falling down from the sky like an unstoppable waterfall. Shivering in her white sweater, Luna moved near the desk and looked outside, dealing with boredom for the first time in what seemed to be forever. She was supposed to go to the gardens that morning to meet with some politicians from the minor regions of the kingdom to conduct deals and who knows what else. Rain ruined her schedule of course, so she stayed in her apartment, waiting for the bad weather to pass. 

She hated being busy but she hated having the time to think even more. Thousands of memories of her rotten adolescence came back to her mind, tormenting her soul as they always did. She knew that her present didn’t offer any hope for a better chance either. In Tenebrae she was the former Princess and at least her role of Oracle guaranteed her a certain freedom, but now in Insomnia she was nothing but a puppet whose wires were moved by superior forces. An empty shell molded to appear sophisticated, pure, and beautiful at all times. It was in Aldercapt and Regis’ interests to clip her wings not because she posed as an obstacle for their plans, nor to draw the attention of the gods upon themselves. They simply wanted to play the part of the ostriches, hiding their heads underground in order to ignore prophecies and omens which said she would been queen of Tenebrae one day. However, both Regis and Aldercapt would be gone soon in any case, and when this would happen, she would remain alone with Noctis on top of the world, things having changed. But in the mean time she had to wait. 

In spite of the calm she was used to displaying on the surface, Luna wasn’t very patient. She felt so frustrated and craved action. But most of all, she craved justice.

She wanted to see the people who hurt her suffer the same pain they put her through. She wanted her freedom again, to be queen, she wanted to rebel against the Gods that forced her into slavery since the mere age of four. 

Even if surviving everyone’s attempts to kill her and become queen was not her destiny, she would have to make it happen since that was the only purpose of her long waiting. 

The only price she had to pay in exchange for justice was to share a bed with her childhood friend, but she hoped she would get used to that too. She got accustom to far worse things after all, like oppression, sufferance and abuse. Sleeping with a husband like Noctis may have been pleasant after the first few nights. She did care for him after all. Or at least, that was what she hoped. Sadly enough, the truth was that in rainy days like these, she felt that was a price too high to pay. 

Noctis was a dear friend, but the thought that ‘they’ chose him for her made her stomach churn. Maybe spite was her only motivation, but she didn’t want to be forced into a  marriage of interest. She wanted the freedom to choose and experience something different and new. To indulge in whatever she wished for her own happiness and for some reason the Glaive’s smile popped up in her mind, hurting her feelings even more.

She rarely allowed herself to cry for the freedom she knew she couldn’t have. But that day, as she watched the rain pouring down on the large windows of her room, her tears fell ever so silently, streaming down her porcelain face. 

Maybe the weather was to blame…

Or maybe she was putting too much tension and stress on her own shoulders and she needed a minute to let herself go. Either way she cried, sobbing uncontrollably like a child lost and afraid. She tried her hardest to be silent but it was to no avail, and so she stood there, hoping nobody would intrude on the vunerable Oracle.

“Lady Lunafreya?”

Of course someone had to knock  on the door at that very moment. Luna quickly wiped the tears away, sniffing, trying to pull herself together again.

“C-come in” she shakily responded.

The large doors of her suite opened, revealing  two Glaives hastily walking towards her. 

One was the brunette girl, a mage named Crowe. She was the only one who was permitted to speak with her on rare occasions. The other one was the Glaive with the heartwarming smile, professional and detached as always.

Luna wished to dig a hole and bury herself in it, such was the embarrassment she felt in showing herself in such a miserable state. There was no way that the duo didn’t notice her pale, redened expression reavealing that she was crying ��not two seconds ago. 

“I-I am sorry” Luna said, standing up, breathing deeply. “What can I do for you?”

Crowe seemed puzzled by the sight of the sad Princess but proceeded anyway. She nodded, bowing at the same time, speaking with great respect. 

“We need you to write a small letter for the deputies you were supposed to have met this morning, asking them to reschedule for another meeting. Two gentle and formal senteces would be enough, they just need you to write it with your own hands. The secretary will take care of the rest. After that, we shall escort you to lunch with the royal family.”

Luna looked lost for a moment but quickly gained the energy to answer: “Of course.”

Sitting at her big desk she prepared herself to do what was ordered of here as always.

The mysterious Glaive placed himself next the window behind Luna, while Crowe gave the Princess a couple of documents, explaining what each one was for. Even if she was good at paperwork, Luna still found it pretty annoying, especially in that very moment. She just wanted to go back to crying alone.

“Sign here and here.” Crowe said like nothing happened minutes before, her voice a gentle whisper. When she finished, she continued: “I’m going to deliver it to the Captain and will come right back, your Highness. Just go on with your letters in the meantime.“ 

The brunette shot a nod to the other Glaive, leaving him in charge of the Princess. 

In a matter of seconds, Crowe was gone and Luna was left alone with the man who haunted her dreams these past few weeks. 

She really wasn’t in the mood for more emotional torture, so she just tried to ignore him, ending in failure every time. He was silent like a tree standing behind her, yet she could feel the electricity he emanated. She could feel his presence, his aura, and it was addictive. Maybe she was just weakened by the weather or her previous breakdown, but she found it extremely hard to sit still in her chair. Focusing on her letters was begining to prove to be almost impossible. 

“I…..” she started, raising her head to look at a point in the distance in front of her. She didn’t hear him move, so she assumed he didn’t care for whatever she was trying to say. What was she trying to say? Even she didn’t know. Her thoughts were confusing and disconnected. 

She merley bowed her head again, starring at the letters in front of her. Words she already wrote turning blurry. Something wet escaping her eyes, falling onto the paper.

Oh no.

Please no.

No tears now, she pleaded with herself, hastily trying to hide them, wiping them away from her face. 

“You can wait outside, Glaive.” Her harsh tone was betrayed by her shaking fingers and shallow breaths. Luna waited a second, hoping he would have obeyed but when he didn’t she quickly raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I said you can leave.” This time she tried to sound more serious and she succeeded. The Glaive turned around and stepped ahead. She could hear the movement in the air and the delicate swish of his movements. Luna expected to see him walking out the door, leaving her alone, free to melt in her own sadness. 

Surely she didnt expect to feel his hand touching her hair, gently moving strands away from her cheeks, revealing the crazy mess she was. Of course it surprised her, because there was no professionalism in that simple gesture. If he couldn’t speak with her, it was heavily implied that he couldn’t touch her either. But at the same time, the way his fingers adapted to the form of her face felt so right. And since she stupidly dreamt about his touch for weeks, maybe it made sense if she welcomed his somehow familiar caresses. She immediately closed her eyes, like there was nothing wrong in enjoying the touch of a Glaive she knew nothing about. His glove smelling like consumed leather, his fingers like soap and it was more than just pleasant. It was….Soothing. Slowly washing away the pain, loosening the unforgiving grip stress had on her heart.

“It’s fine to cry sometimes.”

It was the first time Luna heard his voice and it was so beautiful it echoed in her mind for seconds before she could answer. She had to look up at him certain that such a warm tone must have matched a similar expression. As a matter of fact, the usually cool Glaive was ready to break every rule forced upon him by giving into the weakened Oracle, smiling shyly and audaciously at the same time. And that was it. That was the warmth she craved. The unexpected gentleness that tore the brick wall between them, bringing them closer and pushing them to connect. Now that the bond was finally created, it would prove to de difficult  for both of them to suffocate it again. 

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The Glaive encouraged, reaching for the other cheek, gently cupping her whole face to make her look at him. “Your'e doing great, Highness. C'mon.” He delicately pointed at the letters again and smirked, arching his eyebrows. 

Luna couldn’t help but bit her lip.

“It’s not about the letters, it’s…”

“I know.” And she was certain that somehow he truly did know. The truth and sincerity in his eyes were proof enough. Luna reached out for a tissue and worked a few seconds on putting herself together again, all under his attentive gaze. When she was finished, she looked at him again, not sniffing anymore.

“May I ask your name now?” The Glaive’s smile grew larger and shrewd. 

“Well, you’re gonna get me into trouble if you do.” Even if she was still exhausted by the crying, Luna knew she almost got him and couldn’t afford to give up now. She knew she wouldn’t have another chance and so she reached for his hand, which was resting on her neck and squeezed his fingers, raising her big blue eyes at him. This must have had some effect on him, because he immediately let his walls down. Sighing loudly he looked at her and confessed: “Nyx. Nyx Ulric.”

Luna’s expression sweetened.

“It has been a long time, Nyx Ulric.”

The man kneeled down allowing their faces to be on the same level. His grey eyes were sparkling, swirling blue, looking for a good way to formulate a response. All the while Luna admired his tattoos and scars from a close distance. 

“You must promise me you won’t tell the Captain. Or anyone for that matter.”

“And you must promise me you will continue to break the rules everytime I ask you to.” He shook his head, in amazement. 

“I’m so fired.” Luna bit her lip in triumph. It was clear as day that the Glaive was not worried at all about the possible consequences of his actions. Maybe he wasn’t such a man of duty after all. “Now, can you please finish writing those letters so Crowe doesn’t cut my head off once she comes back?”

Luna nodded and turned towards the desk again, but she didn’t let Nyx’s hand go and she didn’t intend to anyway. Nyx didn’t protest either. On the contrary, his fingers kept slipping back and forth against her palm, tracing invisible marks on her delicate skin. It was distracting but Luna managed to finish her letters anyway. When Crowe came back, Nyx quickly jumped away from the Princess, right in time so the mage wouldn’t notice the inappropriate proximity between the two.

———————

Their hands coming together was their first contact, the first gesture of love, but it wouldn’t have been the last. Now that they broke the ice, their fingers wasted no time in starting to look for each others every single time they had the chance. 

For example, when Luna left his apartment and had to use the car, Nyx started to open the door earlier than usual, just to let his fingers quickly slip between hers, accompanied by the most beautiful smirk of complicity. And during his guard duty, Nyx opened the door to her room like the gentleman he was. She proved herself extremely able to squeeze his hand unnoticed and this caused the Glaive to procure a flush on his cheeks every single time, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Or like that time when they finally found themselves alone again, this time in the gardens near the Citadel. It wasn’t a stroll that would have taken place in her normal schedule, yet she insisted, so that Drautos didn’t have any other choice but allow to the Princess to do what she wanted, with the single condition to be accompanied by at least one of his Glaives. Luna even pretended to be offended, so she could have a word in the choice of the soldier. Nyx should have been outraged by the Princess’ ability of manipulating the Captain, but he found himself following her in the gardens anyway. Her pace was getting quicker and quicker as she sneaked under an aisle made of roses, so thick that the shadows inside it transformed the sunset into night. He wanted to tell her to slow down, but he followed her without uttering a single word. He knew what he would find within that garden. First her hands, then her open arms, and finally, her kiss. 

It smelled like the roses that surrounded them, feeling warm, long, and forbidden. 

Nyx pushed Lunafreya towards the wall made of rose bushes, locking her hands in his, in the vain hope of keeping things under control. With the Princess so close, standing there on her tiptoes, he felt like he was eating forbidden fruit. A figure so beautiful that not even the best poetry would have been able to describe her. Reaching for his lips like she was looking for air to breathe, he found having her like this just irresistible. There was no way he could keep the situation under control. 

“Dammit, Princess”

“Language, sir Ulric.”

“You really want to see me get fired.” Luna bit her own lip before bitting his once again, enjoying the Glaives muscles giving up to her. She grabbed his hands, placing them behind her before cupping his face, feeling his beard under her delicate touch, exploring every detail with calm, lingering on those smiling lips which were igniting warmth within her.

“No, I can’t have that. If you are going to be fired, how would I see you again?”

He pulled her closer and thought, if he had to be punished for what he was doing, he figured he would go big. “Yeah, in that case you’ll need to find another stranger to kiss. Another Glaive maybe? Almost everyone in the department would sign up for it you know? You should see them fighting over the assignment for your guard.”

“But you’re always the one assigned with my safety.” Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“And now you know where my bruises and scars come from.” Luna laughed, surprising herself. How long had passed since she last laughed?

It was fun speaking with him, he had a pleasant wit which was rare to find and Luna was glad to discover it. There was so much she wanted to learn about him. His qualities, his flaws, his preferences, his problems, his past, his present. She wanted to know it all, certain that there couldn’t be a better book to read than the one he was providing.

She looked at him for a moment, sighing audibly, closing her eyes. She embraced his neck, indulging in another deep kiss. This time she widened her mouth, allowing his tongue to conquer every inch of her. Without even noticing, her forehead had frowned and her movements turned sad. The intensity he put in that breathtaking kiss made her realize the consistency of her feelings, so she spoke them out loud: 

“I don’t want another Glaive, Nyx Ulric. There’s something about you I have yearned for since the very first moment I met you and I want to understand what it is. Please, don’t let me go before I have a chance to know.”

Nyx couldn’t find an immediate answer to such an honest plea, so he looked at her mouth agape, caressing her cheek with his thumb laughing.

“This is just crazy!”

Luna mirrored his smile, laughing with a hint of relief. 

“Well, I can’t help with it. It’s the first misdemeanor in years for me.” A small dimple appearing right where his small tattoo was. 

“I can teach you a lot about that.” No better promise could be made, since she was eager to finally taste some freedom. And that he was. Her freedom. 

“Good.”

[inkstainedfanfics]

Almost Easy

Summary: Reader needs to find a person that’s particularly good at hiding. Newt needs someone to clean up the messes his thugs leave behind as he searches for answers about his brother’s death. A self-proclaimed pyromaniac and a gang leader may just find allies in one another as they work to exact revenge on the ones that wronged them.

Word Count: 3,854

Pairing: Newt x Reader (not romantic)

Tagging @dont-give-a-bother​ and @sonuvawitch​

Any comments/opinions on this piece, positive or negative, are welcome and encouraged

Fire crackles around you as the blood-splattered curtains turn into ash. The rug disappears as well, fading quickly into a pile of dust, next to the smoldering remains of the desk you’d chosen to burn first. It’d been beautiful, an obvious work of carpentry not many could accomplish.

Precisely why you’d decided it needed to go the second you walked in the room.

Avery raises an eyebrow, arms crossed where he stands in the doorway. “Are you gonna burn with all of this?”

You ignore the question, wiping at the sweat beading up on your forehead. “You placed the bomb?”

“You doubt me?”

Glancing at him sharply, you shake your head. “Answer the question or don’t. Leave the smart comments outside.” You’re on a mission, for Merlin’s sake.

Avery whistles, a low sound. “Forgot that you get touchy once you get the flames going.”

You glare at him as flames hit the lighter fluid you tossed in the corner and erupt.

“Did you or didn’t you?”

“Did.”

“In the vault?”

“Just outside of it, actually. Boss had bad information. We’ll get a bigger explosion where I set it.”

You watch him, wary. “You’re certain?”

Avery’s eyes flash, and he straightens, responding to your offhanded challenge. “When am I not right? You’ve got your expertise, I’ve got mine.”

The flames from the rug lick at your boots now, and their heat burns your calves. “Then I suppose we should get out of here. Decker’s got the car?”

Avery relaxes, slipping the bag he’s been carrying from his shoulder and tossing it to you. “Course she does. I swear she likes that more than the torture.”

You catch the bag and roll your eyes. “We don’t torture them.”

He grins, a wicked sight as the scar that runs over his lips and down his chin stretches with it. “If that helps you sleep, be my guest. Call it interrogation.”

The black ski-mask, a guard against anyone identifying you sneaking out, captures the heat filling the room, holding it against your cheeks and nose, but you slide the rough fabric over your face. “We gather information for Mr. Scamander, that’s all.” The words are sharp, meant to convince Avery that no, you don’t want to discuss the parts of this job that result in corpses and bloody knives.

But Avery’s an arrogant asshole. “But how? Think they like our methods? Think they wish we kept them alive just a little longer so we could-“

“Let’s go.” You say, shoving the bag against his chest as you stomp past him. You don’t want to think about the countless bodies left in your wake today, the bodies that won’t be returned to their families, not after Avery’s job works. You were hired on to burn evidence. That’s all.

“Ah come on,” he says, following you down the ornate staircase, “you’re Scamander’s pet. Surely you don’t mind a bit of death.”

“I don’t kill people.”

“And the security guard?”

You blink back the image of the stocky man, his hand trembling as he held the revolver, pointing it at your temple. “I had no choice.” You growl through clenched teeth.

“Stunning curse?”

“Mr. Scamander said no curses. Not today.”

“You’re the one destroying the evidence. He’d never know.”

“The man would be alive.” You snap. “He’d be alive as everything burned around him.”

Avery scoffs, feet pounding against the steps. “Don’t tell me you’re really that soft-hearted.”

You land on the ground floor, panting, wishing the flames were around you again so you could send them spiraling toward Avery. A nip, that’s all he needs, a small bite from the flames and he’ll watch what he’s saying to you.

Drawing your wand, you turn around.

Avery throws his hands up, sly grin returning to his face. “You wouldn’t really shoot the one guy that’s on your side here, would you?”

“Move or go up in flames with the staircase.” You let a beat pass before returning his wicked smile. “Your choice.”

His grin widens. “I knew you had a sadistic bone in there somewhere.” Then he bounds down the final few steps, landing next to you. The stench of his cologne suffocates you, ruins the moment as you cast incendio and watch the lighter fluid spread down the railings and the sides of the steps explode into flames.

Avery whistles again, and you have to resist the urge to hit him for it. How hard is it to shut up?

Far off in the New York streets, firetruck alarms blare. The trucks must be bumbling toward you. Slow. They’re always too slow.

“How much time do we have?”

Avery glances at his watch. Leather. Shiny face. Thick, black numbers. You don’t want to know where a goon like him got it from.

“Two minutes if you did everything right. Ten if you didn’t.”

His jab passes you as you watch the brilliant red and orange fill the hallway. The heat’s back, boiling you alive, and you feel a swell in your chest as it all begins to crumble with cracks and pops and snaps.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Avery turns with you, reaching for the door handle. “Decker’s got the car in an alley five blocks away. We hoof it. Keep your head down. Flatfoots are probably on the way. Don’t get caught.”

You nod, giving the flames a final glance before letting Avery lead you to the front. He’s serious now, all guises of being goofy and carefree disappearing as he scans the area outside.

“It’s clear for now. Hurry.”

You can’t help but admire this side of him. It’s these times, when he takes the lead in your small group of three, that you understand why Mr. Scamander hired him. He’s professional, respectable, and an asset anyone in this career would be lucky to have.

You rush to keep up with his stride as the moonlight bounces off the two of you. He’s a giant, dwarfing anyone and anything nearby, and you struggle to stay by his side. Hurry. An easy command for him.

Two blocks away from the building, you both tear off your masks, casting a quick spell to transform your dark pantsuits into more respectable clothing: him into a three piece suit and you into your own flapper dress, complete with a headband dripping with rhinestones and glittering jewels. Avery tugs his fedora low over his eyes.

You manage another block, half running as the watch ticks away the time remaining. The flames will be near the bomb now. You can almost picture the glowing reds that are eating away the beautiful woodwork inside, almost smell the smoke that’s clouding the ceiling, almost hear the cracks of breaking wood and burning bookshelves. You fight the urge to go back, to watch everything happen, reminding yourself that Mr. Scamander needs you.

Avery’s voice knocks you from your thoughts.

“Grab my arm. We’ve got flatfoots just around the bend.”

“So draw your wand.”

“Merlin’s sake.” He mutters before grabbing your hand. “Just try to pretend you’re in love with me.”

“Excuse me?” You hiss, but have no chance to let him elaborate when a voice stops you.

Two officers step out of a shadowed alleyway, hands on their belts. One’s older, obvious by the way he walks toward you with a raised chin and ramrod straight back. Experienced. Or, at least, he believes he is. His badge glints in the moonlight. His partner, a younger man, steps forward, but stops at the first officer’s hand.

“Pretty late to be walking around, isn’t it, folks?” The first officer asks, his gravelly voice a grating sound in the silence of the night.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it’s a lovely night. You don’t agree?”

Your eyes slide to Avery’s watch. Half a minute until the building explodes. He just needs to stall until then.

There doesn’t need to be another death.

“I don’t know.” The first officer continues. “Pretty cold out for your woman to just wear that isn’t it?”

You bristle at that comment, but Avery squeezes your hand tight. So tight you nearly yelp.

Another command.

“Sure, sure. The whiskey’s keeping her warm enough for now, but I’m trying to get her home quick as I can. Be easier if I weren’t stopped unjustly.” There’s a layer in his voice, a warning the cop seems to pick up on.

The older cop sizes Avery up. “Don’t know what you mean by unjustly.”

Avery grins, and you can see the malice beneath it as his hand drifts in his pocket. “Me and my wife are just trying to get home, sir. You going to let us?”

Fifteen seconds.

“Why don’t you step away from the lady, sir.”

“What for?”

Ten seconds.

“Just want to talk to the both of you.”

“We’re perfectly fine, sir.”

Five seconds.

The cop’s hand lands on his gun. It’s tiny, but threatening enough to cause harm if he draws it. You squeeze your eyes shut. Not again.

Three seconds.

“Wrong choice.” Avery says between gritted teeth.

The gunshot’s boom melts in the sudden chaos, overshadowed by the loud rupture of the building behind you.

A part of you is disappointed. You missed it, the initial spillage of flames and fire and concrete into the quiet street, missed seeing the very fire you began end. Another part of you is disgusted. The officer stumbles around pathetically, hand clenched around his throat, mouth opening and closing and opening again like the fish you caught years ago while fishing with your best friend. The final part of you is thrilled as you fall forward, only missing the ground thanks to Avery’s strong grip.

He shoves you forward, gaining his balance sooner than the younger officer who’s struggling to draw his gun.

“Run to Decker and stay the hell out of trouble. I’ll take care of this.”

“Mr. Scamander says to stay together.”

Avery growls. Honest to Merlin growls, eyes burning with anger. “Get the hell out of here before I kill you myself. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Hell no, Avery. More are coming. You’ll be dead.”

Avery’s lip curls into a snarl. “Go before I make you.”

He says something more, eyes wild, but you don’t hear it. The officer’s drawn his gun, lined it up with Avery’s head, and his finger’s moving toward the trigger.

You leap forward, thinking of nothing but Avery’s unmoving body. There’s been enough death. He won’t fall, too.

The officer is light, thank Merlin, and your hit knocks him off balance. The gunshot bursts, a sharp pop in your ear. Avery’s voice follows quickly, muted, screaming your name as you roll across the ground with the officer.

The officer’s screaming himself, a wordless scream meant only to convey his terror as he scrambles to right himself, the gun still in his hand. Grabbing his wrists, you keep the gun pointed away.

He shoves a foot in your gut, hard, and the air rushes from your chest as your supper threatens to reappear. You curl into a ball, grabbing your stomach, releasing his hands.

Then the gun’s pointed at your head, a swinging silver glint, and you squeeze your eyes shut, ready for it all to end.

Then it’s gone, the bullet erupting out of the gun scraping the inside of your elbow, leaving a streak of burning flames on your skin.

You gulp in breaths, unable to scream, unable to move, unable to even think as you try to refill your lungs.

Somewhere nearby, Avery scuffles with the officer, feet pound toward you, and alarms blare. Still, you remain on the ground, convulsing as you finally manage a full breath.

The bag. You need the bag.

Drawing your wand, you cast accio, charming the lighter fluid hidden somewhere in there. The muggle officer’s too caught up in his fight with Avery, and the others, the ones a block away now, won’t live long enough to remember the magic.

You take a deep breath when the bottle hits your hand. Death. So much death.

Shutting your eyes, you picture your best friend, his face, and nod once to yourself. If the officer’s won’t let you go, they’ll have to die. You have a date with revenge soon, and nothing’s going to stop you.

Yanking the cap off with your shaking hand, you splash it everywhere around you, careful to be sure it misses your clothes, leaving a small circle of dry cement around you. A plan. You need a plan.

Avery struggles with the officer, moving around his back, grabbing his chin and forehead.

Your stomach turns as the man realizes what’s happening at the same time as you.

As you watch the scene unfold, helpless, you smell smoke for a moment, a curl of it, feel it burn your nose, though there’s no smoke around, not for two blocks.

Then Avery’s hands twist and it’s over with, and you’re safe except for the officers that are only a half block away now, their feet so close to landing in lighter fluid.

“Avery, over here, now!” You shout, eyes focusing only on Avery’s scar, his dark eyes, the way his stubble doesn’t grow in one spot on his neck. Anything but the glassy-eyed man at his feet.

Avery dashes to your side, kneeling next to you. “You okay?”

No time for pleasantries. “My matches. Grab one, light it, and toss it.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” You grab at your elbow, squeezing your eyes shut. It bites more than you would’ve imagined.

The officers are in the puddle of lighter fluid now, raising their guns.

“Avery, do something quickly for the first time in your miserable life.”

The match flares in his hand. “You’re so impatient.” He mutters it like it’s a joke, but you can see the terror in his eyes. He doesn’t want to go down, not like this.

You let go of your wound, hand coated in blood now, and grab his white shirt. “Grab me.” You say as the match soars to the ground.

A shame, you think, that you don’t get to see the flames erupt around you, don’t get to feel their heat, but Avery has both arms around your waist and you’re apparating, squeezed through a rubber tube. For a moment, you can see five nails, manicured, painted a light pink, then you’re falling on your face right next to Avery.

Merlin, you hate apparition.

You land in a heap on the ground of Mr. Scamander’s office. Rolling onto your back, you hiss out a curse and grab your arm again. Avery’s next to you, unmoving, just cussing as filthily as he can, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why the hell,” he finally says, “didn’t you listen?”

You gulp in a deep breath of the room’s smoky air, grateful for the chance to actually breathe. “He was about to kill you.”

“I had it under control.”

“Fine, I’ll just let him shoot you in the head next time. Would that be better?” You snap, turning your head to glare at Avery.

He props himself up on an elbow, rolling his eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“And you’re an idiot.” Damn it, your arm hurts.

Avery reaches out, grabbing your hand and dragging it away from the wound. “It’s shallow.”

“I know. That’s doesn’t mean it doesn’t burn.”

Avery’s eyes light up, anger fading fast. “You’re the fire girl. You should enjoy the burn.”

“Shut up and just help me.” You take another deep breath, reveling in the scent of cigars permanently absorbed in the room. It’s a soothing scent, a familiar one you learned to enjoy when you began working with Mr. Scamander the previous year.

“Oh, come on, you saying you didn’t mean to make that pun?”

His anger’s completely gone now, and you’re grateful for it. He can be a real jackass, but when it comes down to it, Avery’s not the worst man you’ve met. “Just fix it, please.”

He chuckles, reaching for his wand.

A familiar voice interrupts any chance of getting comfortable. “Any information?”

Avery blinks as the wound finishes knitting itself back together, then scrambles to his feet, giant body casting a shadow over you. His eye’s bruised and his lip’s bleeding, but he seems no worse for the wear otherwise. Lucky bastard. “None, sir. They were a decoy, just like the other leads.”

Mr. Scamander, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, mustard vest half-buttoned, crosses the room, stepping behind the huge oak desk that fills the center of the room. “Not a thing? You’re sure? Not a mention of the senators, the concilmen?”

His footsteps clack against the wooden floor past the rug, and you notice his boots are untied. He just woke.

“They were just grifters, sir. Swear it.”

It’s unnerving, the silence that follows those words. Undoubtedly, Mr. Scamander’s disappointed, angry, ready to track down the informants that gave false information, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t scowl, doesn’t do anything but reach for one of the desk’s drawer.

He’s the epitome of calm, and it makes you wish you’d stood when Avery did. “You checked everything?”

“Every nook and cranny, sir.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you can’t expect news of your dead brother from a group of criminals, can you?” His lips twitch up as though he’s made a joke, but neither you nor Avery react. His icy gaze sweeps to where you lie on the ground a moment later. “And you destroyed it all?”

You shove yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache of your muscles, taking Avery’s hand. For a second, it’s callused, rough, as though the hand of an old friend you once knew, and his face morphs, too, and you almost shout. Almost. But then it’s over with and it’s normal and Mr. Scamander’s staring at you, so you wipe your hands on the front of your ruined dress and open your mouth. “I did, Mr. Scamander, sir.”

He nods. “Good.” He takes a box of cigars from the drawer. “Avery, Decker’s downstairs. She has a hostage. I’m certain she’d appreciate your help bringing him up here.”

“Right away, sir.” Avery gives you a glance, but turns away, yanking open the heavy office doors.

They shut with a click, leaving you and your boss alone.

It’s silent for a moment before Mr. Scamander speaks, eyes darting up to you. “How are you?”

“Sorry?”

He jerks his chin toward your bloody hand. “That’s yours?”

You raise it, staring at the amount of red covering it, relieved you can answer him truthfully. “Yeah.”

“This line of work isn’t easy.” He fidgets with the box in his hand, “If you’d prefer to leave, I would understand.”

Despite the exhaustion slowly creeping in as your adrenaline fades, you stiffen at the comment.  “All due respect, sir, but you never offer Avery a way out, and I’m just as capable as he is.”

Mr. Scamander smiles at this, the corners of his lips moving up, the wrinkles around his eyes revealing just how tired he is. “Avery’s been here too long to leave.”

You stare at him, trying to read what he’s thinking as he lights the cigar. Avery’s only worked with him for six more months than you. Sure, he’s been here since Mr. Scamander became a true contender in the underworld, but he’s not any more important to the operation than you are.

“Avery’s as new as me.”

Mr. Scamander shakes his head. “He’s done this his whole life. You haven’t, have you? You had a life before joining me, didn’t you?”

You stiffen as he lifts the cigar to his lips. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Or how he could know, not when you’ve kept it buried so deep under lies and half-truths that even you wonder if you’ll forget.

But no, that’s impossible. Every moment of that damned night is inescapable, the scars carved deep in your mind. You won’t forget.

That doesn’t mean Mr. Scamander needs to know.

Mr. Scamander watches you. “Perhaps it isn’t.” He murmurs. “But it’s important for you to consider. Why are you here?”

You mean to answer, but the scars, they’re throbbing, and you can’t block it out, not after a mission, not when you’re so tired.

The smell of the smoke’s going to your head, making you dizzy, and you swear the wound’s splitting open on your arm again as you sway back and forth, memories flashing in your vision. You can hear the screams again, see the smoke curling its way to the black sky.

Destruction.

Mr. Scamander’s in front of you suddenly, hands gripping your shoulders, holding you up. “Are you all right?”

You try to nod, to say something, but your words are gone and your tongue’s too heavy to move, to form the necessary motions to say what you need. His smell, the cigar, it makes it worse, and you can’t shake it out of your head as he drapes your arm around his shoulder, taking you somewhere.

You stumble forward, eyes shut but still seeing.

Dark blood under five manicured nails, screams tearing from somewhere far away that you can’t make out no matter how much you squint,  acrid smoke burning your nose, rough hands under your arms, dragging you forward, whispering words of comfort in your ears, trying to block out the sounds of death.

“Merlin, make it stop.” You mutter, wishing you could go back, change it all, make sure it never happens. Then you’d be okay. Then you’d be at home with your family and friends and pets, not here, not next to the biggest gang lord in New York, so close you can count the scars on his hands.

Mr. Scamander’s saying your name, setting you down on something soft, something fluffy, and then he’s rubbing circles on your back.

You blink again, a scream building in your throat, but then it’s all gone. Vanishes as quickly as it comes.

Mr. Scamander peers at you, concern clear on his face, the scar over his eyebrow pulled down with his frown. “You’re not okay.”

You shrug. “It’s nothing.”

You can hardly keep your eyes open, exhaustion crawling through your veins, tugging you down onto the bed Mr. Scamander set you on. Sleep. That will keep it all away. That will it tuck it back into the out of mind place it belongs for now.

“Why are you here?” He whispers, half a question for you, half a question he says to puzzle out himself.

“You led me here.” You murmur, hoping the joke will get him to leave you be. Goosebumps not from chills but from fear cover your arms, obvious to Mr. Scamander thanks to your silver dress.

His jaw clenches. Wrong answer. “You offered to help me. Why?”

You force your eyelids to open, peering up at Mr. Scamander’s worried face.

You’ve never told him or Decker or even Avery. It’s your secret.

You swallow, a final face flashing before your eyes.

You smile lightly, more cheeky than honest. “I have someone to track down, and you’re going to help me.”

[kpopfanfixture-blog]

The Promotion, Pt I

- You had always thought you could get along with anybody at work - even if it was merely on a professional level. That was until you met Jungkook. The most irritating man you had ever met. He got under your skin in a way nobody else could and vice versa. Nothing could make you like him. Shame then, that your boss makes you an offer you can't refuse, pushing the pair of you closer than ever before. - 

Yet another slow, Friday morning had been spent behind your desk at BH Industries ignoring possibly quite important phone calls and doing the bare minimum when an empty candy wrapper zoomed through your line of vision, landing just beside your keyboard. You stared at it blankly for a moment, yanked out of your daydream about Kim Namjoon aka the sexiest man ever to grace your television before another (this time balled up to ensure it hit its target) smacked you straight across the face. You swivelled around in your chair to see Nayeon just as she let go of another wrapper which landed directly on your keyboard and no doubt had left a greasy mark. Just as you were about to open your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, you clocked the alarmed look on her face and noticed she was trying to point in the direction of the door in what she thought was a discrete gesture. You turned quickly to see what she was warning you about and when you saw it, you threw your head back on your desk chair, looking directly up at the ceiling and gave out a deep groan. Jungkook was wandering about in the office and you knew exactly who he was looking for.

He scanned the room and you slunk down in your chair, praying that perhaps he would miss you and assume you were out, but alas, there was the flash of recognition in his eyes before he made his way over. “There you are,” he said casually as though it weren’t at all strange that you were halfway down your chair, almost on the floor. He perched on the end of your light wooden desk, identical to all the others in the room and placed his hands softly on the end of one knee that was draped across the corner of the table like it was perfectly normal for him to be here. “Did you sort out the April ‘17 file I sent you?”

You refused to meet his gaze, pretending to scan the papers before you, although your eyes flickered to your screen showing the one unopened email marked ‘IMPORTANT!’ from his address. You had made it a rule to ignore anything from JJeon2801 until the last possible moment and it appeared that the last possible moment had passed five minutes ago. 

You thought for a moment and settled with: “not yet, I haven’t had time.” Half-true. Your voice had exited your throat sounding calm like you had hoped, but unintentionally sing-songy in a way that would no doubt grate on his nerves. 

However if it had irritated him even in the slightest, he didn’t show it. His composure maintained like a perfect mask in a way yours never did and probably never could. “Shouldn’t you prioritise those? We have to get it done for-”

You cut him off with an over-dramatic sigh you saved just for interactions with him, wheeling yourself over to the printer in your chair and wheeling back to straighten them out by tapping them gently on the desk in an unnecessary fashion. “Don’t you have anything better to do besides to criticise how I do my job?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re keeping me waiting. Perhaps if you did something other than strut about the office like you own the place you’d get some work done.”

He always did this; resorting to making little digs about your performance. Each time you promised you’d have a scathing remark waiting to bite back with, and each time you came up with nothing. “Keep waiting.” You snapped and stood up, collecting the wrappers Nayeon had thrown at you and balling them up in frustration, chucking them into the wastepaper basket with a little too much force. “Last time I checked you weren’t my boss, so I don’t have to answer to you.” You made your way to the door, grasping the door handle before pausing and turning back to face him. “And I don’t strut.”

In a huff, you stormed out of the room and headed to the ladies bathroom to recollect yourself. Once again you had let him get to you in front of a room full of people - people you respected, and it was no less mortifying than the last time. Even when there wasn’t a problem, the pair of you would find some way to argue, and it always seemed to you that he won. It had gotten considerably worse since Jungkook found out about the time you had gone to your boss to ask if you could avoid working with him. Needless to say, your boss had basically told you to get on with it, and so here you were once again. This was becoming too regular of a thing.

“Surely not another fight with my boyfriend?” You heard a voice you recognised to be Madge from HR chuckle behind you. She always flirted with the younger men in the office, it was a game for her, but she seemed to have built up a particular rapport with Jungkook - much to your disappointment, as you had always felt you could confide in her beforehand. Now it just seemed a bit rude to rant about one of her friends.

You shrugged, taking steadying breaths in the mirror as you watched your own reflection. From here you could see Madge sat behind you nibbling on a Kit-Kat whilst perched on the window ledge with no window. As usual, she looked absolutely incredible even in unflattering office attire; perhaps looking in her early forties despite pushing late-fifties. It hadn’t surprised you that she was here, she always seemed to be hiding in here and it was a wonder she hadn’t been fired.

“What’s he done now?” She asked as she picked apart the wafers on her chocolate bar and let the crumbs spill all over the place, ignoring your coldness as she always did when you turned up here.

“Oh, you know... He’s trying to tell me how I should be doing my job.” You explained, trying to sound nonchalant but instead sounding completely apathetic - almost robotic. Inside, however, you were a swirling mess of frustration, somewhere between wanting to punch something and wanting to bang your head against the wall and scream.

Madge just shook her head and tried to hide her smile beneath her blonde hair. “You two need to stop this - winding each other up and nobody is going to win.”

You turned to look at her face-on, almost shocked at the suggestion that any of this was somehow your fault. “He started it!” You exclaimed, your voice rocketing octaves higher causing even you to wince.

Madge hopped off the ledge, wiping the remaining specks of chocolate from her trouser leg to the floor. “You sound like a sulky teenager right now.” She frowned at you in disapproval and you bit your tongue, knowing she was right and feeling ashamed that she had seen this side of you. You could hear just how childish and silly this all sounded, but you couldn’t stop it. Madge came over to you and gave you two gentle pats on the back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Just try giving him a chance - he’s sweet. You’re the only one in the office who doesn’t like him.” She pointed out, to which you couldn’t help but sigh and roll your eyes. She smiled at that. “I’d say exactly the same thing to him about you.” Then she gave your shoulder a quick squeeze and was gone, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Once again Madge was your voice of reason and the only reason that you didn’t go mad working here. You thought about how lucky you had been to find somewhere like this to work. All-in-all you were pretty popular in the office, with quite a few friends and a decent relationship with your boss and before Jungkook had arrived, no particular feelings of ill-will towards anyone. But when he turned up, you’d have thought the Messiah himself had step foot in the office with the way everyone was behaving. One athletic pretty boy gets hired and suddenly all the men want to be him and all the women swoon over him. Madge had been quick to point out to you that he’s not just a pretty face. Apparently, he’s also quick-witted, hard-working and an all-around nice guy, but the thought of that made you scrunch up your face in disgust. Usually, you trusted Madge’s opinion, but he had never exhibited any of these qualities while you were around so it was much easier to believe that it wasn’t true and that Jungkook is in-fact a monster sent to drive you crazy.

Back at your desk, you were relieved to find that there was absolutely no sign of Jungkook at all - your desk was the same, everyone was sat down quietly chatting and working, and everything seemed normal. With a baited breath, you opened up the dreaded file and groaned loudly at the number of fuck-ups you could see just at a glance. He must have done this on purpose because if you had one good thing to say about him was that he was never usually this careless. It would take you all day just to correct his mistakes, never mind anything else.

“How’s Madge?” Nayeon asked playfully as she skipped over and plopped herself down on the edge of your desk before slipping a small red lollipop into her mouth and stuffing the empty wrapper into your pencil holder. 

You let out a small whine of disapproval as you pulled it out immediately and threw it away, earning a big grin from Nayeon through which you could see that her tongue was tinged with chemical red. “She’s fine, I think. Still trying to convince me that Jungkook isn’t out to get me.”

Nayeon shot you a look that told you she probably agreed with Madge, so you turned your computer monitor towards her showing her your predicament. “I mean, come on. Look at this.” You watched her register everything that was wrong, her eyes widening in shock at all the silly little mistakes within it. “Look at the state of it, and he wants it done by tomorrow. Who does he think he is?”

Nayeon slid herself off the desk, her feet landing gently on the floor. “You could try sending it back and asking him to review his mistakes before you work out the cuts for this month?” She suggested, and you glared at her, well aware that she knew as well as you that he would send back the exact same file demanding that you do it. She held her hands up in defeat and head back to her desk. “Fair enough, I’ll leave you to it.”

You worked from that point on in silence as you tried to go through every mistake, even skipping lunch to ensure it was done. He was not going to get the better of you. Nayeon occasionally offered candy or asked if you would like a tea, but only really cut through the intense quiet when there was a half hour of the working day left. “Are you coming to the party tonight?” She asked as she shut down her computer a little too early and began to clear away her desk haphazardly. 

The party was being held in a function room in BH Inc’s downtown offices in honour of Nara - Nayeon’s sister and the main desk receptionist on the first floor. She had been working there for 10 years, but now she’d finally gotten her degree she had gotten herself a brand-new, high paying job on the other side of town, so this party was her big send off. 

“You couldn’t keep me away!” You winked with false enthusiasm, seeing Nayeon’s face light up at your response. Nara and Nayeon had been great to you since you had moved here and you couldn’t bring yourself to let them down now. Jungkook’s stupid file had tired you out and in all honesty, you just wanted to head to Bedfordshire, but you owed Nara a great deal so the least you could do was make an appearance. 

Nayeon threw you your old leather jacket that wasn’t entirely appropriate office attire and the zips clanked against your desk making you cringe at the sound. “It starts at 8 - we’re getting a taxi, do you want us to pick you up on the way?”

You nodded as you shut everything down and made sure the chairs were tucked away neatly. “I’ll be ready for 7.45.”

[mayquita]

I Choose You (1/4)

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Surprise @shipsxahoy!! I’m your Secret Valentine. I’m so glad to have shared this experience with you over the last few weeks. It was a pleasure to meet you through the shared messages. I hope that now the mystery has been revealed, we will keep in touch. At least I can follow you now, lol.

Here’s your gift. As you may have already guessed, this is an AU “Enemies to Lovers” story. The story grew and grew, so it eventually became a multi-chapter. Although I have two other WIP I’ll do my best to try and update soon. I hope you like it. :)

@chrissascorner, thanks for helping me with the edition, you’re the best. Also thanks to @saraswans for her continued support and @lenfaz for taking a look at the outline.

Summary: When Emma Swan’s brother and his fiancee decide to get married, she suddenly becomes the maid of honor. Although she is not very fond of weddings, her sister-in-law-to-be assigns her a mission, helping her with the wedding photographer’s choice. What she didn’t expect is that they are the ones who need to be chosen by the photographer, who turns out to be an insufferable Irishman. His name, Killian Jones.

Ffnet here

Ao3 here

Emma Swan hated weddings. Although it was a feeling perhaps irrational, she found it extremely difficult to deal with it. The mere mention of any aspect related to this kind of event was enough for her breathing to race and for her heart to hammer furiously in her chest.

For that reason, when her brother and his girlfriend announced their engagement, she had to hide that feeling in the depths of her heart to be able to show the joy they deserved. However, when the engagement ceased to be an abstract concept in her mind and became something real in the form of a wedding date, her joy turned into some uneasiness. When her sister-in-law-to-be, Mary Margaret, gently asked her to be her maid of honor, the uneasiness became a panic that she tried to hide behind the mask of a neutral expression.

The months passed, though, and she managed to get away from most of the usual tasks in this type of celebrations, with more or less reasonable excuses. But inevitability was bound to happen sooner or later. For that reason, when her brother suddenly fell sick and Mary Margaret came to her a little desperate, looking for help with the photographer’s choice, she did not have the heart to refuse.

That was how both ended up inside Emma’s vehicle, while she drove and her very excited and nervous sister-in-law-to-be stirred in the passenger seat unable to close her mouth. Her words came out so fast and Mary Margaret talked about so many different things that she was finding it extremely difficult to keep up with the conversation, which not only failed to improve her mood, but it was starting to cause her a pulsating headache.

“So we’re going to choose the wedding photographer.” Emma said rather abruptly, trying to cut off Mary Margaret’s endless monologue.

“Not exactly.”

Emma glanced sideways at Mary Margaret, then turned her gaze back to the road. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that…” Mary Margaret paused for a moment. “We have an appointment with the photographer, but it’s he who must choose us.”

She looked at Mary Margaret for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“He is a very sought-after photographer. He has even done the wedding photo report of some of the celebrities in the area. So he decides who he wants to work with. He will interview us to see if we are the suitable candidates.”

“You mean we’re going to do some kind of casting?” She replied, unable to avoid a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The previous confusion was giving way to some exasperation. How could a professional be so vain as to decide who he wanted to work with? Which standard would he choose? The physical aspect? The money? The social category? Was this something common lately at weddings? Too many questions she was not sure wanted to know the answer to.

“Emma, please.” Mary Margaret almost begged. “This is so important to me. Promise me you are going to behave and try to make a good impression.”

“But he’s just a photographer, who the hell does a casting to choose a client?”

“Let’s make this clear from the beginning, I WANT that photographer at my wedding. I’m going to do everything in my power to get him. And you are going to help me. Understood?” Emma kept her eyes on the road, so she wasn’t able to see Mary Margaret’s expression. Even so, and despite her soft voice, she had managed to imprint enough determination and authority on her words so that her goal left no room for doubt.

Emma nodded without a word, her lips pressed together to avoid replying Mary Margaret again. From that moment a tense silence fell over them.

The trip did not take them much time, to her relief. Living in a small town like Storybrooke had its advantages, like the fact that everything was within easy reach. Thinking about Storybrooke led her to wonder why an apparently famous photographer would have chosen this town as his place of residence.

By the time they reached their destination and the car was parked, Emma rushed out of the vehicle in an attempt to leave the previous tension behind. Although the fact of being about to face an appointment with the damn photographer did not help in the least.

As she drove, she had been so focused on the road, in her thoughts, and in the brief conversation with Mary Margaret that she had not even realized where they were going.

Now that she was out of the vehicle, she could see that they had traveled to a location close to the woods and what was in front of her, nestled in a privileged place, far from resembling a sophisticated office, looked more like a cottage.

Emma pointed to the house, giving Mary Margaret an inquiring look. “Is the appointment here? In his own house?”

Clearly, the closeness of the meeting was affecting her friend, her earlier determination turned into nervousness as she nodded in silence, her lips pressed together in a straight line and her elusive gaze directed towards the house.

As they walked silently toward the entrance, Emma stared at the landscape around them. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by nature, the woods to one side and breathtaking views of the ocean on the other side. She would at least concede that to him, good taste when it came to choosing a location for his home.

Mary Margaret took two deep breaths before knocking on the door. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. However, Emma was not prepared for what appeared in front of her when the door finally opened.

The damn photographer —assuming he wasn’t some sort of secretary or something— was attractive, sexy, in fact. He was a dark-haired man wearing dark blue tight jeans and a sky-blue henley matching his piercing blue eyes. A well-groomed scruff framed a smirk perhaps too sinful for his own good.

Emma realized at that moment that her mouth had dropped slightly while her gaze traveled over his body. Her scrutiny didn’t go unnoticed by him, as his smirk grew even wider. Bastard. In response, she pressed her lips together hardening her features and turning her eyes back to his.

“Welcome to my humble home, ladies.” Emma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he had an accent. After a little bow, he turned to Mary Margaret. “Killian Jones. And I suppose you must be the bride. Miss Blanchard, am I right?” She nodded with a shy smile as she shook his hand.

Then he turned to Emma, his gaze lingering on her a little more than normal, his eyebrow arched playfully. “And I guess you’re not the groom.”

This time Emma did roll her eyes but didn’t have time to reply with the appropriate sharp remark, as Mary Margaret overtook her. “My fiance suddenly became ill, but she’s Emma Swan, his sister and my maid of honor.”

He gave her a new appreciative look as he held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure. Swan, I like it, I think it suits you.” She let out a snort but shook his hand, feeling his touch warm and firm, causing on her a kind of unexpected electric jolt. Dammit.

After releasing her hand, Killian stepped aside to let them in. He then escorted them to what appeared to be his office. For the next few minutes, Emma merely watched as Killian Jones unfolded all his charms in front of Mary Margaret, flattering her and showing an interest that seemed almost genuine about the preparations for the wedding. Emma rolled her eyes as she watched as her sister-in-law-to-be fell into his nets and was seduced by his appeal.

She knew those of his kind, and she was quite certain that he was playing a role only for the purpose of winning over a prospective client, her years of experience in studying the behavior of people didn’t deceive her. She also noticed that he kept his left arm concealed, something she missed in their meeting at the entrance, but which now seemed quite obvious. However, she had no chance to appreciate what it might mean, for within a few seconds he leaned back in his seat, his left arm hidden behind the desk, and addressed them, this time also including her in the conversation.

“Well, once the necessary presentations have been made, what do you think, ladies, if we get into the business?” The mask of his charm had partially disappeared, his voice seemed harder and his smile less gentle. “Why should I choose your wedding over all the other candidates for the same date?”

Emma couldn’t suppress a snort as she rolled her eyes, causing him to tilt his head slightly as he gave her a curious look, his fake smile lingering on his lips. “This is funny because I always thought it was the bride and groom who chose how they wanted to organize their wedding, so why should we choose you?”

“Emma …” Mary Margaret pleaded in a whisper to her side, but she ignored her friend and focused on Killian’s reaction.

“Perhaps that is the reason why you are here, because you have already chosen me.” He kept his smirk, but the coldness in his eyes and his arrogant tone sent a chill over her body.

Fucking bastard. She should restrain herself, she owed to Mary Margaret, but that arrogant dude was driving her crazy. “Oh, do not make a mistake here. We are also evaluating our options. But I’m curious about your standards to select a winner. Maybe if you give us a clue we could or could not offer you what you want.”

He leaned forward, his gaze still cold although she could detect a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, love. It’s called fair play.”

The use of the word love infuriated her even more. “I’m not your love.” She said sharply as she glared at him.

“Well, we …” Mary Margaret started to speak, probably trying to ease the tension, but Emma was out of control, so she cut her off abruptly.

“Let me guess. What are you looking for? Money, maybe? Nah, you don’t look like that kind of guy. Maybe social recognition? Maybe someone who can fuel your ego?”

“Emma!” Margaret Mary chided, sounding almost shocked.

Killian’s gaze became even colder. She could detect him squeezing his jaw before speaking. “And what would be your reasons for choosing me, love?” He paused deliberately at the last word ignoring her previous request. “Maybe my undoubted attractiveness? Or maybe the fact that I’ve worked for a couple of celebrities? Or the morbid thing about getting a one-handed photographer?” He raised his left arm and placed it on the desk. Emma’s eyes widened involuntarily when she saw that there was a prosthesis in the place where his left hand should be.

“Eh, guys, please …” Mary Margaret sounded mortified beside her, interrupting any reply on her part, although she couldn’t have done so either, since her ability to articulate words had disappeared because of the surprise caused by seeing his prosthesis.

Still, she ignored her friend for a few more seconds as she held his gaze. His eyes didn’t leave hers either, in a clear silent challenge on both sides. Despite the genuine initial surprise, she was not going to be so easily impressed and was more than willing to show it to him.

“Excuse me for abusing your hospitality, but could you leave us alone for a few seconds? It seems like my maid of honor and I should discuss some aspects.” Though Mary Margaret’s voice kept her tone soft and gentle, Emma could detect a hint of reprobation in her words, especially when she uttered Emma’s bestowed title.

It was Killian who looked away first, to Emma’s satisfaction, though a wave of guilt began to seize her.

“Of course, my apologies for my rudeness. I will leave you alone for a few minutes so that you can speak in private.” He got up, but, before leaving the room, he went to one of the bookshelves and extracted two volumes, depositing them on the desk right in front of them.

“Since it seems that you are not aware of my work, maybe this will help you and you’ll be able to decide if it is worth hiring my services, despite everything else.”

At the same moment Killian closed the door behind him, Mary Margaret turned to her with a frown, her forefinger raised in warning. “I told you this was important to me and you’re ruining everything.” She hissed.

“Come on, look at him, he’s a complete idiot. What an arrogant dude!” Emma defended herself.

“Do I have to remind you that you started it?” Mary Margaret rebuked her again. Okay, she had a point. It was Emma herself who started the fight, but she could not restrain herself at the sight of his attitude.

“Okay, okay, I got it, I’ll behave.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she had let her aversion to everything related to weddings take over. Maybe she was being unfair to the guy. She wasn’t helping her friend, either. Emma swallowed as guilt began to invade her.

Mary Margaret sighed. She reached for one of the volumes and handed it to Emma. “He’s right. Look at his work, that’s the reason I want this photographer at my wedding.”

Emma shrugged and grabbed the album. She had to admit that she was curious to know what his work would be like, wondering how he would manage to make good enough pictures with just one hand.

The moment she opened the album and looked at the first photo, she knew what her friend was talking about. The guy had talent. A lot of talent, in fact. Although she wasn’t a professional, she loved everything about photography, and she had the ability to recognize the quality of the images. And these photos had it, no doubt. As she turned the pages her good impression was increasing. The light, the angle, the sensitivity to catch the perfect moment, getting to tell a story with just one image. Fucking bastard. He was good.

Emma leaned against the back of her seat as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, he’s good.” She admitted dropping her arms in defeat.

“Do you understand now why we have chosen him? Have you seen the sensitivity that his photos transmit? The elegance of the images? Now imagine this kind of photos for our own wedding. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Mary Margaret’s words, charged with emotion had their effect on her, increasing her sense of regret.

She was right, Emma thought as she sighed. The contrast between the sensitivity he conveyed in his work and the arrogance of his attitude was quite striking. The discovery of his work made her take his earlier speech more seriously by wondering what a guy like Killian might look for. What could they offer him? What could attract him? Maybe a challenge? Something different, original? He looked like that kind of people…

Emma looked at her friend, her features showing the same emotion as her earlier words. She placed her hand over hers, that were resting on her lap, and gave her a small smile. At that moment, Emma realized how selfish she had been. Her aversion to weddings had prevailed above what David and Mary Margaret were giving her, that was, playing for the first time an important role in a celebration of this kind.

Two years ago she was a lonely person, neither friends nor family, but they, both her son Henry and her brother and Mary Margaret, had found her and given her the hope she needed. They had offered her a family and a future. And now that they needed her, she was about to fail them.

“I’m so sorry, Mary Margaret. I’ve been a total jerk.” She said, both her gaze and voice filled with regret.

Her friend rested her hand on hers as she gently squeezed it. Her lips drew a reassuring smile matching her next words. “It’s okay, we’re still here, right? Maybe it’s not too late yet, and in spite of his anger, he seemed interested in you. Maybe you surprised him. Maybe he is accustomed to receiving flattery with the aim of getting him and it’s not usual for someone to face him the way you did.”

Emma bit her lower lip, clearly nervous but curious. “Did you know that he was missing a hand?”

“Yeah, it’s a well-known thing, but because of the face you put on when he showed you the prosthesis, it’s clear to him that you were not aware of it. That means the fact of his lack of hand had nothing to do with our decision.”

“I have to admit that I’m impressed.” Emma held up her hands as if she were holding a professional camera. She tried to imagine how she could handle the controls, focus and rotate the zoom wheel with just one hand. She found it really complicated, especially considering how quickly he had to act so as not to miss the best moments of that kind of events. As she watched the photos, her admiration for his work grew.

Her mind began to work to try to find something to offer him, although it was a complicated task since they had no clue. Emma looked back at Mary Margaret and at that moment something clicked in her head. Her lips curled into a smile of satisfaction as the thought popped into her mind.

“Okay, I think I have it. Let me talk, I won’t spoil it. I promise.” At that moment there was a soft knock on the door. They both turned to see the door open, Killian’s head popping up, his gaze directed toward them.

“May I come in or do you need more time?”

Emma and her friend looked at each other, Mary Margaret nodding at her almost imperceptibly. Then she turned again, nodding, this time more forcefully. "Sure, it’s your office after all.”

At the same moment Killian sat behind the desk, Emma spoke, giving him little time to react. “We can offer you a story.” She said, trying to print determination and a hint of defiance in her words.

Killian leaned back in his seat, his arms folded over his chest as he cocked his head slightly, holding her gaze with renewed interest.

“You have my full attention, love.”

Emma bit her tongue, preventing the words ‘I’m not your love’ from coming out of her mouth and making things even worse. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued.

“Our family has gone through many experiences in the style of a classic fairy tale, traumatic events, painful separations and unexpected encounters. This wedding is the first one we all are celebrating together, the representation of the happy ending they deserve.”

Killian narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a few seconds. His gaze was so intense it seemed like he was trying to read her. Although his scrutiny gave her goosebumps, she didn’t look away.

“I gather then that my work has been satisfactory enough.”

“Well, my sister-in-law chose you for some reason, right?” She replied, unwilling to praise him more than necessary, but making it clear that they were still interested.

After a few seconds of tense silence during which they both continued their silent challenge of looks, Killian finally spoke again.

“Okay, I think I’ve already gotten all the information I needed.” He got up and went to the door, opening them and making a gesture towards them to accompany him.

After escorting them to the entrance, Killian turned to Mary Margaret. “It’s been a pleasure. I’ll call you when I make a decision.” After that, he gave her a wide smile as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles.

Her friend’s cheeks flushed slightly. Once her hand was released, she spoke to him. “Thank you very much for your time. This is really important to us.”

“I will keep it in mind, truly, milady.”

Killian then walked over to her, repeating the act he’d taken a few seconds earlier with Mary Margaret. Emma felt, however, that the contact of his lips with her knuckles lingered a little longer as he studied her from beneath his lashes, her breath caught in her throat, her breathing quickened, unable to escape his intense blue eyes.

“I hope you put so much passion into the other facets of your life, love.” His deep voice and piercing gaze sending a chill all over her body, while her blood ran hot in her veins. Fucking bastard. Why did he have to be so hot?

Emma released her hand, feeling her cheeks burn. Even so, his comment full of intention deserved a similar reply, so leaving aside her bad impression from the beginning, she responded in a somewhat suggestive voice, “you know what you have to do if you want to have a chance to find it out.”

The last thing Emma saw before the door closed behind them was a grin on his face and an inquisitive look mixed with curiosity, challenge and something else she couldn’t identify. She let out the breath she’d been holding, hoping she’d have amended her initial behavior. Now they could only wait and see if Killian’s next move was heading toward them.

Thanks for reading :)