#reader x adel

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The thing is, Canaan knows that he’s a handful.

He’s under no illusion that he isn’t. He’s well aware of what he’s like, knows the kind of whispers being exchanged behind his back, of the gazes that track his back no matter where he goes.

He’s the kind of man who’ll expect you to go with his flow or to get lost. He starts a ruckus every now and then, his reasons for each one undisclosed because shouldn’t it be obvious enough?

And, in spite of all of this, you still chose him.

He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught word of the rumors spiraling behind him, but, in the grand scale of things, that hardly matters because every trait of his beneath his smile should have pushed you away, should have made you back off.

But the fact that you didn’t, that you still don’t, is what throws him off. And when you tell him why, he finds himself unsure now of how to handle you anymore.

You linger by his side most of the time, shadowing his steps as he does his job, your eyes wide as you watch his magic curl around pieces of metal and stones to create a ring just as beautiful as the rest sitting on plush cushions for his customers.

You show appreciation for each one of his works, fingers hovering over the air above the rings as if hesitant to lay even a single touch on them.

It’s during one of those moments, where he’d just finished a ring and presented it to you for your perusal, that an idea comes to him as he sees you admire his work.

He doesn’t commit to it completely, since he wants to keep it a secret from you. He does it on the side in between requests and when you’re much too busy with other matters to sneak a peek. It takes weeks for him to finish, his meticulousness to blame, but as he inspects his latest creation once more, he supposes that it was time well spent.

His efforts are rewarded when he shows you the ring and he sees how instantly your eyes brighten. Something like satisfaction floods sweetly into his mouth when he slips it on your finger and tells you that it’s yours and your expression transforms into one that he’s never seen before.

Later, when you ask him why, his neck feels hot when he tries to nonchalantly pass it off as something casual.

“Isn’t it obvious? It just feels wrong to me that someone this close to me isn’t wearing any of my pieces. Hmm, that just gave me an idea. What do you think about matching ones?”

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To Adel, you choosing him is both an opportunity and a threat to his line of business.

With you around, he finds himself with another pair of helping hands. Though you don’t possess the same skill as he does when it comes to weaving magic into the seams of fabric, you listen well enough when he asks you to get something or to fill up an order for another bolt of this and that.

However, it’s the fact that you chose him to guide you certainly adds another set of responsibilities to his growing list. A list that definitely did not need another item on it, yet here the two of you are.

Still, if he were to weigh benefits against the drawbacks, he would begrudgingly admit, at least only to himself, that he was certainly getting more of the former.

Lately, he finds that his productivity has been higher than ever in your presence and he see why. You’ve been accomplishing the tasks needed for preparation, allowing him to place his undivided attention on the actual design and craft. Furthermore, he doesn’t have to worry about forgetting to eat since more often than not, you come by with food on clockwork.

In a way, if he had to compare you to something, then it would be a soothing balm. A walking and talking soothing balm that eased his nerves that frayed whenever he felt daunted by the expectations he’d placed on himself.

It occurs to him, as he’s in the middle of needlework, if you’re getting just as much as he is in this…relationship between the two of you.

And so he’d asked you, in a moment of curiosity and concealed unease, if you were truly amenable to your current situation with him.

You’d paused, having not expected his question, but a certain kind of look had appeared on your face before you placed your hand atop his and told him, in no uncertain terms, just why did you stick by him and why do you continue to do so.

He’d by lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t shaken to the core by your resolve, with how you’d stared straight into his eyes. Even up to now, where he’s supposed to be concentrating on the makings of an evening gown in front of him, his mind keeps straying to that one moment.

Before he’s even aware of his actions, he’s already reaching out for a sheet of paper and charcoal, a design coming to life in his head and pouring out through the tips of his fingers.

His inspiration? Well, who else is there?

“I was wondering if you perhaps you’d want to accompany me to one of my past client’s parties? Ah, don’t worry about what you’ll wear. I’ve already prepared something for you.”

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The first time Volks had laid eyes on you, a slight prickle of something had surfaced at the back of his mind. It was the same kind of feeling that arose whenever somebody would present an unrivalled quality of gem to him, or when the person he was talking to truly was telling the truth no matter how unconvincing their tale might have been.

Basically, it was his instincts telling him that you would be a worthwhile individual to befriend.

So, when you’d chosen him out of the other Meisters, he was only all too pleased to go along with your whims.

After all, he now has a solid excuse to seek you out whenever he wanted to.

His intuition is once again proven true when, after quite some time, he can say for sure now that your company is something irreplaceable.

There’s a unique charm about you, much like a gem with a magnificent clarity, that keeps drawing gaze towards you, beckoning him to listen to whatever came out of your mouth.

From past conversations with you, he learns how just how dedicated you are to your aspirations, the kinds of food you’d prefer whenever the two of you would catch lunch together, and your concerns for an uncertain future.

He’s sure that you probably know just as much about him, and it’s because he knows that he has your trust and that you have his, he is always ready to lend you a hand if the time comes and you’re unable to shoulder everything weighing you down.

Eventually, rather than seeking your company for the sake of befriending you, he does so because he wants to, missing your presence whenever you aren’t there.

He’s aware, on some level, that you feel the same way.

After all, he can see how you gravitate towards him in the same way that he does, your hands brushing his every now and then during a stroll, and the close proximity between the two of you that only seems to shorten with each passing day.

Had you felt what he’d felt when you’d seen him for the first time? Or was it something else that drew your life into his? Whatever the answer may be, he’s just glad that he’s able to have this with you.

“Hmmmm, hmm, hmm. Oh? Ah, sorry, I just thought that this gem would look nice against your hair. But then again, maybe it would look best on your wrist...Hmm!"

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Curious as he is to know of your intentions for choosing him, Merry Rose understands that everyone has a right to their own secrets. So long as you don’t pry into his, he won’t ask for any of yours.

Yet, over the course of knowing you, of seeing what makes you smile, what drives you to tears, and what pushes you to anger—

He finds his grasp on his secrets gradually weakening.

When he realizes this, he’s torn between letting them slip free from him or pulling them even closer to his heart where nobody else could see them. The time he spends mulling over it is meaningless because, in the end, all it has to take is you reaching out for his arm, this look on your face that sends his thoughts into a jumble, and asking if everything’s alright.

He doesn’t blurt everything out at the spot, of course, but it’s seeing you concerned for him, seeing that you care, that really makes it feel as if this was all just inevitable.

He mentions the experiences he’d had in the past every now and then, lets himself feel vulnerable in front of you during the bad days, and lets you trace the vines mapped out underneath his skin.

Your touch feels like fire against his skin, and the goosebumps they leave in their trail remind him of the bubbles that form occasionally when different chemicals are mixed together in one beaker.

When he sees the questions in your eyes but the restraint in the firm line of your mouth, he only chuckles and places a hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing the crescent swoop of the apple there, so very, very, fond of you,

You, who could have been a stranger in another life, but chose him in this one.

Still, even if after you’ve held everything he’d buried deep inside of him, he doesn’t ask.

But you can tell, in the same way that he knows what you want to ask, and, when it’s just the two of you in his laboratory with him working on a new scent and you watching him, you tell him why.

Seeing him pause just right as he was about to pour his concoction into a bottle, you lean in closer to see how the flower bud initially sleeping behind his ear suddenly unfurls into a magnificent bloom pinker than his blush.