#also the fact that she says ‘I won’t even dignify that with an answer’ when Glenn accuses her of still having feelings for Bruce | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

1K notes · View notes

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Note

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

871 notes · View notes

6blackfilin9 · 3 years

Note

I love your Anko fanart! Tell me, what are your views/headcannons on Anko X Kazuku?

hThank you so much for the ask, finally I can answer it

here is my big thank you for the waitng

In a nutshell, the shipp was created by accident while me and my buddy were working on our first Naruto AU in 2019, where Kakuzu and Deidara survived their shitty plotholes end eventually ended up in Konoha

Yeah

so, the shipp’s birth date is july the 1, 2019

anything like classy, aristocracy kind of tension-filled passionate gothic romance with playful, psychological games & hurt/comfort vibes with slight scent of rivalry is KakuAnko

Basically, they are: a very, very old man with absolutely horrendous background who’s trying to finally have his mother*cking 10 or 30 years of peace, and a rather young lady with a rocky youth who’s being good & noble yet has very strong antihero tendencies

You know, I think they do have potential, since, in fact, they seem to be very similar, at the core

They are both very pragmatic realists, the people of logic and reason, yet if Kakuzu’s irritability doesn’t affect him a tiny bit due to his ideal self-control, Anko’s can lead her to quite bad places, sometimes. They put their interests in the first place, and even though she tries to attach them to Konoha’s, she still has ‘personal’ things (I’ll write ‘bout it lower*). Their mindsets are so complicatedly organized that, at some point & way, it prevents them from having many close people, and makes them very hard to see through and predict

Both of them are very flexible & adaptive, independent individuals with similar outlooks on plenty of things and high intellectual level. They clearly can find plenty of traits that they would highly respect and adore in each other

Here I will speak mostly for “why and how” kind of things, bc both of them are terribly tricky to accurately figure out. But there will be some headcanons too

So, there are still some odds about them, due to the strong difference in their occupation, like, in plenty of cases they are really tricky to be brought together, because:

- Of the job

In original, Anko is a Konoha’s special jounin, and she is very dedicated to serving the country. Independently of whether she likes her job or not (depends on the plot), she orienteers at the people, at society’s gain from her work. So, accordingly, in any other AU her job is somehow connected to civil service, whether it’s something police-like, connected to science, or something like CCG in Tokyo Ghoul

Kakuzu, on the other hand, is a hitman and a persona non grata in literally all the five big countries, Konoha too (which makes it barely possible to bring them together in the original universe without hard complications or heavy drama. But still possible). He orienteers on his own gain alone, but, depending on the job, it can include others’ gain, too.

This detail makes him a saint once he holds supervising position in some company or any high position in the government (the better the working conditions of the staff now- the more money in the prospective), and the sheer nightmare once he has it on the opposite side of the law. Him as a mob boss is a complete different topic for discussion, but to get the point, in this case, the trouble isn’t him increasing the level of criminality (its rather vice-versa), but taking hold of too much control in the high and underground structures. Even as an ordinary hitman he’s rather tricky, since everything depends on the case

In most of the stories, they come to some sort of compromise, and how hard it is to reach it depends on how shitty his job is and how attached they are to each other at the moment

Like, in the above mentioned Shippuden AU and Harry Potter AU (which I also wrote with my buddy) everything went like clockwork, because there they are both more or less on this side of the law, in Tokyo Ghoul AU (which I also wrote with my buddy) it is a bit more complicated, with her being in-law and him being very much outlaw, in the Avatar AU (which I also figured out with my buddy, but we never happened to write it) it is also pretty smooth, with both of them being outlaws and then jumping out to the glory after all the shit is done, but in another Shippuden AU of mine, this all would be just a motherfucking bloody disaster

- Kakuzu is actually a hard nut to get attached to anyone

He lived too long to be truly afraid of anything, though. Its mostly because he doesn’t really need to get attached to or become close with someone to satisfy his need for communication. The man can get along with anyone once he wishes to, he can have countless acquaintances and plenty of buddies, but he doesn’t have many comrades and barely can call anyone a friend. Because he is used to lose everything and everyone he ever had or happened to have, because of his inhumanly lengthened lifespan.

It requires time for him to get used to the person, and then, eventually, in some cases, spend plenty of it to get attached

Plus, for him, due to his profession, each close connection is a really great responsibility for him. In most cases, he’d think twice of weather he is ready to take it or not

Though it of course has the personal factor, too

In Anko’s case, she has a grand privilege by being a very intelligent and keen woman, not just in cognitive plane, but in emotional, too. High emotional intellect is actually a rare trait, so she automatically stands out of the crowd for him. Even though it won’t guarantee his alliance, it will grant her his high respect and some sort of sympathy

- Kakuzu is, technically, an asshole

He does have his moral compass, which includes a great amount of common social morality, but he also has that “I am working” state

Even though Kakusu has a set of professional principles, and he still acts accordingly to what he thinks is right, one and the very same situation can be solved diametrically different once the context changes from working to casual and vice versa

This, and him being very independent and quite antisocial, makes the degree of assholeness depend on various factors

This can lead to major conflicts of interests, and if they are possible to have any compromise or not is strongly attached to the circumstances. After all, both are very, very prideful and dignified people

- In other words, the only major issue for them would be morality questions. It’s possible to make the case acceptable for Anko, since both of them ain’t truly squeaky clean, along with Kakuzu being willing enough to watch his borders

- She is provident and doesn’t really need a lot of money on a daily basis, which is much of a joy to him lol

- *they both seek for the stable ground, first of all

Taking in consideration the life conditions Kakuzu had in his youth (despite war state, he still stably had family, friends, grand respect from everyone, home, warmth and food) and how terribly he was torn out of his secured social environment, I believe what he seeks through all his bounty hunt and other money-connected manipulations is stability. Sustainability he had back then. The only way to have it in the conditions of our existent world order is to have money (and a very good mind and luck)

Anko has indeed much more altruistic motives, yet it’s still not that simple. It seems to be, on the first sight, yet considering the “Orochimaru related cases” and her very wayward behavior toward them, it’s clear she keeps her own motives and needs in mind oh so well. The service she has is very well payed, it allows her to do what she likes or believes is right, and to have the living conditions she finds comfortable. And only here, relying on the made sustainable basis, she does what she does

- Thus, they both illustrate the principle “first help yourself, next help the other” just right

- She knows she can keep an eye on him, yet it’s clear for her that her influence isn’t borderless, as well as telling him off some stuff is kind of a not wise thing to do. So in the majority of cases, she never interferes

- This is not common, yet he can actually change some plans if the situation is serious and the compromise can’t be found. He is that kind of person who works on a further prospective, and in this context, this would be the relationship with his loved one

- While Kakuzu is quite conflicted and has very reserved controversial persona, Anko is both controversial, conflicted, and sort of two-faced, on top of that

She is a very sincere, cheerful and humbly honest human being, yet she has some darker natural traits of her character that became rather strong with age and traumatic experience. Cunningness, guile, ways-depend-on-the-case and a bit of ruthlessness, that is. Moreover, she has some unsolved personal issues, which makes her even more twisted.

Like, remember the time when she confronted Orochimaru during the exam? And Kabuto, on the war? Getting rid of them is indeed beneficial for Konoha, but it’s clear that for her it is personal vendetta in the first place. She wouldn’t have tried to do this alone, otherwise, because these two are rather dangerous ones, to say the least.

She uses greater good to cover her real motives (even though it is not truly complete bullshit), and seems to have a terrible habit to keep silence about really important things, which makes her quite prone to lying, in some cases

And sometimes it very badly pisses Kakuzu off, since it makes her prone to doing useless but dangerous shit too

Yet this not any kind of separate hidden side, it is integrated into her personality, and coexists with her bright one. That’s where her violent humour comes from, for example.

But Kakuzu, on the other side, is completely monolith individual, yet sometimes his mindset can create contradictions when it comes to something important to him. but it's another topic

And seeing these layered constructions, and motives, they can pretty finely predict each other’s behavior. Not super-neatly, but they for sure see the basis. This is what helps Kakuzu to prevent Anko from doing some stupid shit, sometimes

- Anko has a role of an indicator for the people who don’t understand and see the changes in Kakuzu’s mood sometimes, since she usually reacts quite openly. Yet, when she has the same unreadable mask of cold, or one of guile, it’s a nightmare for them

- They prefer the non-verbal way to show their feelings, even though Anko is obviously the more chatty one

- They don’t say things such as “I love you”, or other sensual stuff like that really often, believing it to be some sort of cherished words that shall not be spelled mindlessly

- Anko isn’t majorly into PDA, but she fancies it much more than Kakuzu does. She has her whole moments of studying something with her hands, whether it’s a hand, scar or face. He’s more into passive display of affection, like wrapping an arm over her waist or leaning to her or something of this kind; they can allow themselves to (not sexually) kiss in public though

- She knows he doesn’t like to walk hand in hand due to considering it a youthful thing, so there are times when she intentionally walks holding on to his sleeve; generally they walk separately in order not to bother each other, but sometimes they walk arm in arm (like an old Victorian couple lol)

- Being older and wiser, Kakuzu eventually upholds some kind of mentoring position, yet he never considers himself any kind of a teacher or master to Anko, believing her to have a good head of her own. He is just insightful enough to break something through to her or give a word of advise

- This, combined with his highly powerful demeanor, also makes him have the leading position in their relationship

- Anko respects him much enough to fortify this, entrusting with plenty of life questions (like organizing the family budget), even though they make the majority of decisions together. Mostly because he is truly wise and highly experienced individual.

- This makes him one of the very few people Anko would actually listen to and take their opinion in consideration

- So basically they have equal relationship with some tendency to patriarchal order

- And it is, really, mostly economically-based disbalance, with him earning much more than she does

- Yet they never have any financial-based issues, since both of them keep in mind and respect the contributions of each

- There is major power play here, too. He has the absolute might, she has seduction. Anko loves how he makes her want to submit to him, let him have all the power, so she likes provoking him. And she knows he adores it, loves the subtle control she has over him

- They don’t have conflicts in their everyday life. Each knows how to avoid pissing one another off

- He cherishes her playful demeanor, her intellect. Combined with her cunningness, it allows her to rival him, in social sphere. The way she constructs her phrases, the way she speaks, mimics, moves, how bewitchingly it suits her feminine snaky features makes his blood boil and heart melt

- Both of them, actually, have rather specific kind of dry, dark humour. Kakuzu’s is very cynical, satirical, quite often menacing and subtly demeaning; Anko’s is very sarcastic and quite dirty, even gruesome and rather violent

- Sometimes they “fight” verbally as a form of a play. In some circumstances they may sound pretty vile, so some unobservant people mistake this for display of hate

- In general, Anko is the one to heat things up with her playful demeanor, which can include provocation and rivalry, and Kakuzu is the one to keep this energy in borders, accumulating it up to much more intense states

- They both put the comfort in the first place when it comes to household. Everything must be cozy, useful, silent and super clean

- Yet they are both very unpretentious and modest, really

- She absolutely adores when he is showing his serious, severe side, or powerful demeanor. She finds it incredibly suitable for him. She also likes how his real age is sliding out in this or that way. Like, even though he has rather young face (that of 37-40 y.o.), his eyes give away that he’ve seen oh so much more than it seems; the grumpy noises and grunts he makes, the lazy attitude in movements and the way how rapidly he finds a comfy pose once he has a chance to take a seat

- They are both rather patriotic, yet while in the most stories Anko’s feelings mostly lay towards the country she lives in, Kakuzu’s more often lay towards some places, so called small motherland.

- Kakuzu actually could be a source of deep, strong admiration and delight for her, despite all of his bullshit. The unbreakable will he has, mighty burning heart, all the wisdom, talents and mind. Being sent to fight god damn Hashirama, clearly a genius of his times, financial & management genius at the least. And, still, after all the hard times he’ve been through, he maintained the very strong sense of dignity and nobility, even though slightly twisted due to the profession and abnormal lifespan

- And the very same things can serve as the source for her chagrin: with all those traits, he could have been so much more rather than a criminal. With all the gifts he’ve got, he could have been of great use to society. He’s much easier about this, since his prospective is much wider and embraces decades (and in some universes even centuries) instead of months & years, and he knows that he’d be switching sides throughout his life, being on this and that side of the law, yet he still is a bit uncomfortable once it’s brought up

- They are deeply into science, which makes them atheists. He’s into medicine and human biology, she’s into chemistry and reptilian biology; both of them are nuts for physics, history and psychology

- They solve complicated physical and mathematical problems together time to time. She is the first one to have tea-breaks due to losing her temper over it, he tries to figure things out right until you can sense the smoke coming off his head

- Actually, they do have a stumbling stone aside from job & morality complications. And this is Anko’s attitude towards Orochimaru

What she does is basically ruins her life very-very slowly, maintaining the issues she has and planning to make him pay for all he’s done

Kakuzu knows exactly what is really going on with this attitude and why, but he can’t really do anything about it. Like, he knows he can’t make her change her mind or put something into her head

All he can do is really nothing but try to explain how those things are working, and even this option is basically a landmine field for him. At some level she does understand that he could probably be right, yet she just refuses to go back on her mind. And this is actually really dangerous, so at some moments they can fight quite badly about it

- He’s scared shitless to lose her, though; especially like that, even though he knows clearly that he will, anyway, sooner or later

- he knows that losing loved ones ends up with sheer disaster for him, yet he isn’t afraid to pay such a high price for those six, five or four decades of being with her. Because these decades are that of a paradise ones for him. Wife and family, as well as stable job, incomes and life conditions, are some sort of physical definitions of sustainability he craves. Especially family, yet it’s far ahead to plan

- The fact that he will have to bury her one day makes her rather depressed, as well as the knowledge that the only thing she can really do about it is to try to bring him as much happiness and comfort as possible before she dies

thank you, i'd say more, but it's too much already

#my art #naruto #naruto shipuden #akatsuki #naruto akatsuki #akatsuki kakuzu #kakuzu #naruto anko #mitarashi anko #kakuanko #they are very entertaining disaster

84 notes · View notes

anonymousweirdo · 3 years

Text

My favourite Loki

“You know I’m not really his favourite.”

Loki’s brow furrowed temporarily at the unexpectedness of Sylvie’s sudden proclamation. “Okay.” He huffed.

“Wow you’re not even trying to hide your jealousy there I see.” Sylvie chastised smugly.

“I’m not jealous.” Loki stated seeing Sylvie raise an amused eyebrow he continued, “I can see that it would seem that I am because I said that rather quickly but believe me I am not in the slightest.”

“Oookay.” Sylvie replied rolling her eyes. “I mean he may have looked at me as he said it but he meant it about you.”

A few moments passed between the two as they continued on their way.

“Now really. Why should I care if Mobius likes you more than me?” Loki said carefully and deliberately making sure he had a perfect evenness to his tone.

“Oh I don’t know why but you do.” Replied Sylvie.

“I’m not even going to dignify you with a response.”

“Tell you what.” Remarked Sylvie. “I’ve never been one to turndown a wager and I’m sure you’re the same. I have an idea to propose about our little Mobius situation.”

She smiled at Loki who was waiting for her to continue. Realising she wouldn’t unless he further prompted her he reluctantly said. “Alright but the stakes better be high.”

Sylvie’s face instantly brightened with a deviant smile, “Oh believe me they are.”

Loki didn’t like the way she said this but really wanted to beat her at her own game so he said, “Well let’s have it.”

“Next time we meet Mobius we’ll figure out for certain which one of us he likes more. If it turns out you’re right and he likes me more I’ll teach you all I know about enchantment. However...” she smiled wickedly, “If it turns out I’m right, which I certainly am, and you’re his absolute favourite you have to kiss him.”

Loki felt his heart leap at this but ignored it and refused to show any sign of embarrassment or emotion whatsoever. He stretched out his hand to seal the deal and smiled smoothly. “You’re on.”

“Great!!” She enthusiastically shook his hand, “I hope you’re as smooth a kisser as you are a talker.” She teased.

“And I hope you won’t look too idiotic, which you will, when you become enchanted by the very person you taught enchantment to.” Loki smiled keenly.

***

Meanwhile Mobius had his fair share to deal with as taking down the TVA was no easy task. He had however found deep within himself courage and was heavily determined. Whether he admitted it or not Loki had really inspired him to think for himself and what he truly wanted in life. Not what certain higher beings dictated was ‘sacred’ or ‘supposed’ to happen.

Comforting Ravonna with all this proved to go as unfavourably as expected. She of course didn’t see it that way and was used to the idea of ‘timekeepers’ controlling the universe. Not to mention the last time they had met she ordered him to be pruned. He held nothing against her in fact he still respected her in a way. Perhaps that’s why instead of banishing her to somewhere awful or locking her away he sent her to where she was really from. Her life before she joined the TVA. She may have gone unwillingly but perhaps in the end her mind, or rather her heart, would change.

Regardless Mobius hoped for the best. He was startled by a TemPad portal opening which Loki and Sylvie stumbled clumsily out of. He couldn’t help but grin wildly at the sight of them, both relieved to know they were safe and heavily amused at the way they lay on the floor in tangled mess.

Loki quickly got up as though he hadn’t fallen in the first place and gave Mobius a quick half smile. “Well. You were right about one thing. We did manage to see each other again.”

“That we have.” Said an amused Mobius.

“If you two are through flirting I’d appreciate a hand.” Sylvie announced still positioned uncomfortably on the ground.

Mobius reached down and offered her a hand kindly helping her to her feet. “So,” he started, “How’d meeting the almighty timekeepers go?”

“Well it wa-“ Loki was cut off by Sylvie.

“It went well but we have more pressing matters now.”

Mobius raised an amused eyebrow “More important... huh.” He muttered.

“Which one of us do you like more?” She said bluntly.

Loki grimaced for but a moment then stated, “What Sylvie means is, we have a wager, that has very high stakes involved, which depends on your answer to this question. It’s not that it’s all terribly important... just another way to see which one of us is the superior Loki you see.”

Mobius surprised just stared at the both of them in wonder thoroughly entertained. “Well well well!”

“I already know your answer and it’s him.” Sylvie declared jabbing a finger in Loki’s general direction, ”So you needn’t draw it out.”

“Hey now, that’s rather presumptions besides being clearly inaccurate.” Loki remarked. Shifting his attention to Mobius he said matter of factly, “You said ‘you’re my favourite’ while looking at her. Besides she really is quite deviant and not fully unpleasant to look at.”

“Why thank you.” Said Sylvie who had never received such a wonderful backhanded compliment in all her life. “But...” she now looked at Mobius, “You realise he’s much more of a Loki than I am, if I can even be called a Loki. And it is Loki’s you’re fond of not to mention you’ve gotten to know one another so much more than you and I have.”

“But!” Interrupted Loki who was trying his absolute best to convince Mobius Sylvie was the more favourable of the two of them. “She has really amazing fighting skills and is quite crafty plus she knows enchantment. Also you’ve made it clear you consider her the ‘superior’ Loki.”

“Just because he recognises-“

She was cut short by Loki, “Considers.”

“Whatever,” she continued, “Me as the superior Loki doesn’t mean I’m his favourite.”

“Yes well-“

Loki was stopped by a soft chuckle emanating from Mobius.

“Wow... I don’t think I’ve ever been fought over this much in my life even my previous one. If I was I know I’d never forget it. Gotta say I’m flattered!” He raised both hands in a showy shrug.

“We’re not fighting over you we’re simply trying to get an answer out of you so I can prove to her that I’m clearly the superior Loki and claim my prize.” Loki professed.

“Oh really?” Said Mobius who could see right through Loki as he usually does, “Because it really sounds to me like you’re fighting over me.”

“We are absolutely n-“

“Ugh just answer the question already!” Moaned an exasperated Sylvie.

“Well...” Mobius hesitated immensely enjoying the whole situation. “Unlike the two of you I don’t lie so in all honesty....”

Loki could hardly take the build up. Feeling his heart grow faster with every millisecond that went by and absolutely hating it.

“You’re both my favourite.” Mobius simply said at last.

“Oh.” Loki and Sylvie uttered in unison

Loki turned to face Sylvie, “I guess we were both wrong.”

“Yeah... I guess we were both right too.”

“You know...” she continued a little smile growing across her face, “I’ll still teach you a little enchantment if you do you know what.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” She shrugged, “Guess I’ll just always be the superior Loki.”

“Now that’s just cruel.”

Loki had a million thoughts cascading around in his head trying to ignore most of them he in the end couldn’t ignore his pride and with a reluctant sigh stepped towards Mobius.

“My friend,” He started. “Um well you see. We had this wager on who your favourite was obviously you know this but well.”

His confidence wavering he tried his best to explain the details without showing any sign of embarrassment or foolishness. He failed immensely.

“And it’s just that the stakes were I mean are quite high. She,” Loki glared in Sylvie’s direction who friendly waved at him, “Offered to teach me enchantment and still will if I hold up my end of the bargain.”

“So hold up your end of the bargain.” Said Mobius very amused at how flustered Loki was. How Loki was currently the complete opposite of how he always tried to make people perceive him. Instead of being confident and prideful Loki was uncertain and bashful which Mobius found rather endearing.

“Yes well.” Loki smiled painfully, “That’s the thing. I know I lie a lot but believe me. Believe me this was her idea.”

Mobius waited for him to continue pleased at the whole situation.

“Um.” Loki cleared his throat then let it all out abruptly, “If I kiss you then she’ll teach me enchantment.”

“Is that so?” Mobius said looking at Sylvie who was behind Loki.

She met his gaze and nodded enthusiastically.

W-o-w silently mouthed Mobius.

“Believe me if there was any another way I’d choose it instead but this is my only option.” Mumbled a throughly flushed Loki.

“Alright. Give it a go.” Said Mobius.

“Wait really?” Said a rather taken aback Loki.

Mobius chuckled, “Sure why not. You really can’t stand being second place can you?”

Loki uncomfortable and not knowing at this point how he even wanted to respond. Just lamely said “Okay well don’t blame me if she becomes your favourite after this.”

“Oh don’t worry I won’t.” Said Mobius looking as unbothered as Loki was uncomfortable.

Loki slowly inched forward towards Mobius and all those thoughts started to race through his head again much too quickly. All those feelings. All those things he doesn’t allow himself to process or even consider.

Seeing his friend step closer leaning into him only made it so much worse. His friend. Loki couldn’t recall if he could truly say that about anyone else. Other than Sylvie of course. Maybe that’s why this whole situation was driving him mad.

Just as their faces were mere inches apart Loki drew back forcefully. And exclaimed with a very offputing bitterness to his tone, “Actually there’s really no need for any of this I’m clearly the superior Loki. I don’t need to justify that to either of you.”

Mobius just stood there slightly stunned.

Sylvie just stood behind the both of them no longer smiling.

Loki continued to fill the suffocating silence that was quickly enveloping them. “Besides I can teach enchantment to myself it’s not like I need anyone for that.”

“Loki.” Mobius prompted gently.

“It’s not like I need anyone in general for that matter.” Loki declared refusing to acknowledge or except the tears that threatened to stream from his eyes. He turned away thinking of leaving. Of grabbing the TemPad and just going wherever it would take him. He closed his eyes and said scathingly “This was fun while it lasted but who are we kidding.”

“Stop it.” Said Sylvie who couldn’t bear it any longer. “Just please... stop lying.”

Loki completely lost in his own head and heart suddenly felt something warm wrap around him. He opened his eyes to see both Mobius and Sylvie who had caught him in a group hug.

“I used to think I didn’t need anyone either.” Muttered Sylvie who’s face was tightly pressed into his shoulder. “But no matter how many times I told myself that lie it didn’t make it true.”

Loki felt Mobius’ breath tickle his neck as he softly said, “Loki you may lie in order to not let anyone get close to you, know you, or love you, but that won’t stop us.”

And in an instant all the lies Loki told himself about how he felt about other people, how he felt about caring for others and being cared for, shattered with the simple realisation of a simple truth. He wasn’t wrong. He truly didn’t need anyone he just needed his friends.

Loki put his arms around the both of them finally letting go of his fear of being loved. Then hesitating for but a moment he tenderly placed a soft kiss on Mobius’ cheek first then on Sylvie’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer all embracing one another. Until Sylvie happily muttered, “Guess I have to teach you enchantment after all.”

Loki let forth an amused short snort of laughter. “Well I guess you do.”

“And you guys honestly thought I could choose between the two of you.” Mobius shook his head amused, “Look at you, you’re adorable!”

“We are aren’t we?” Said Sylvie owning it.

Loki just smiled genuinely. Happily. Warmly. Knowing without a doubt in his mind that he had found his favourite people of all time.

#this quickly tuned into angst my bad #sorry if this is ooc I just love them so much #loki fanfiction #lokius fic #lokius fanfiction #sylki fanfic #slyvie #loki #loki x mobius #mobius x loki #loki x sylvie #loki fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #loki disney+

107 notes · View notes

letapollojusticesayfuck · 3 years

Note

"the way you flirt is shameful." Klavier (klapollo) and ema ?

"short fics," I said, like a liar.

anyway please enjoy almost 2k of Klapollo Nonsense.

Send me a random line of dialogue and some characters, and I'll write a short fic!

---

Another grey morning, another lukewarm cup of coffee. Apollo pulls his coat a little tighter around him, scowling at nothing in particular. It’s just his luck, isn’t it, that this week’s defendant is a fisherman, accused of murdering their boat’s captain out on the docks.

It’s also just his luck that it’s March, and he hadn’t even thought anyone would be out on the water this early in the year. Shows how much he knows about the fishing industry.

He jumps when an arm lands around his shoulders, and has to fight to keep his awful beverage from sloshing entirely out of its styrofoam cup. With an irritated huff, Apollo turns to reprimand his unexpected company, but the words die in his throat when he looks over to see Klavier Gavin—and, more specifically, the woolly hat perched on his head. It appears to be lovingly hand-knitted, in a shade of purple he’d swear he’d seen in scraps of wool lying around the office in previous weeks. It also happens to be emblazoned with Gavin’s ridiculous logo, the angular G as distinctive as ever.

“Uh…” he says instead, eyebrow raised in what he hopes is a skeptical, yet bewildered expression. He’s not sure he succeeds with that, though, considering the way Gavin’s casual smile crooks up at the edges into a more genuine grin.

“Ja, Herr Forehead? How goes the investigation?” Lazy curls of steam rise from the stainless steel travel mug clasped in his hand, dissipating into the pervasive fog that’s blanketing the docks. Typical. Apollo considers asking him if he’d like to swap drinks.

“Cold. Damp. And is this a good time to mention that I’m allergic to shellfish? I think that’s probably an important detail, considering….this.” he replies, poking an errant mussel with the point of his dress shoe. His dress shoe that he’s for some reason wearing to a crime scene out by the harbour, because Apollo has misplaced ideas of professionalism, apparently.

“Ach, it’s not that bad! For one, you have my company to brighten up your day! And for another thing...I have news for you about the case.”

“Really. And it’s not just going to be something that you’ll immediately rescind in court tomorrow?”

“HerrForehead, what kind of prosecutor do you take me for? We’re on the same side, you know—both seeking the truth.”

“That’s cheesy as anything.”

“But correct! Anyway. FräuleinSkye has just uncovered something tangled around one of the fishing lines on the boat, and she’s attempting to piece it back together. If you hurry, you might get a glimpse before it goes straight into the evidence dossier.”

Apollo hmms, considering. He’s not sure he wants to just take Klavier’s tip-off; it could be seen as collusion under some circumstances. But he’s really not accomplishing anything on his own, and any new evidence could help him prove Annette Sloop’s innocence.

He also realizes, belatedly, that Klavier still has his arm around his shoulders, and that he’s been unconsciously leaning into the warmth of the taller man’s down jacket.

“Okay, sure—it’s gotta be better than anything I can find here,” Apollo decides, and tries to subtly extricate himself from Klavier’s grasp without drawing attention to the fact that he’s actually found some kind of comfort in their proximity, that he’s really not particularly enthusiastic about losing his human space-heater.

Luckily, Klavier realizes that he’ll have to grant Apollo his freedom if he wants the shorter man to be able to take advantage of his newly-gained intel, and drops his arm back to his own side. Apollo stifles a shiver as the cool, damp air rushes back against him, clinging to his skin with a pervasive chill.

He’d assumed that Klavier had business to take care of on the dock, so the fact that the prosecutor follows him as he boards the fishing boat takes him by surprise. What also takes him by surprise is the intensity of the fishy aroma around the vessel, something that Apollo really should have considered as a factor beforehand. He wrinkles his nose and tries to breathe shallowly—and when that doesn’t work out, he buries his nose in the collar of his jacket.

And that brings with it its own set of problems, because somehow the short amount of time his jacket was in contact with Klavier’s own was enough to allow the other man’s sandalwood cologne to seep into the thin fabric. Apollo wishes this wasn’t his life. Isn’t this the kind of stuff teenagers write about?

Luckily, his panicking is cut short by Ema Skye clearing her throat from the other end of the deck, midway through spreading fabric scraps onto a plastic folding table. She appears decidedly unimpressed, but waves them over.

“Justice. I take it you were informed of the recent developments by the fop here?” she remarks, as disinterestedly as possible for someone who’s practically vibrating with the excitement of being able to do something actually forensically significant.

“Er...yeah, Klavier told me that you’d found something?” Apollo replies, trying to look as though he understands more of the situation than he actually does. He thinks he pulls it off. If not, Ema doesn’t comment on it.

Klavier, however, smiles impossibly wide at Apollo’s words, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s because he’d called the man by his first name, as opposed to his more professional title. A slip of the tongue, nothing more! And yet…

If it’d get a reaction like that, Apollo might start using Klavier’s first name significantly more often.

“Oh, come on, do neither of you actually care about this T-shirt I found? This apparently-bloodstainedT-shirt?” Ema taps her foot against the plank wood of the ship’s deck. Apollo breaks out of his thoughts with just about enough time to look marginally interested in the new evidence—which he hopes is convincing.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to solve the murder! It’s really just that—well, Klavier is just there, being distracting, like he always is—except it’s worse, recently, somehow. Apollo swears he used to be able to spend time focusing on other things, that he wasn’t always this preoccupied with what the prosecutor was doing, where he was standing, if he was looking at--

“Oh, for God’s sake. The way you flirt is shameful,” Ema says, entirely exasperated. She also seems to be looking at Apollo, for some reason.

“Are you talking to me?” he asks, confused. The detective rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically, visibly resisting the urge to throw up her hands.

“You, him, both of you! This used to be almost funny, you know, watching Gavin be all glimmerous in your direction and seeing you shut him down. But recently you’ve been playing into it and—you know what? I’m done! You don’t get to listen to my stunning forensic breakthroughs until you’ve sorted your shit out, because I just can’t be doing with this. It’s ridiculous. Why can’t you just act like adults?”

The outburst is followed by Ema Skye whirling around, the sensible shoes she’s wearing clacking against the ship’s deck. Halfway to the door to the crew’s quarters, she remembers that she’s left all her forensic materials spread out next to where Klavier and Apollo are standing, and backtracks with increasingly evident frustration.

“You know what? I’m not leaving! You two—off my ship!Go figure yourselves out, and I won’t tell you about this case-changing evidence until you’ve stopped acting like this.”

Apollo’s a little taken-aback—not the least because he doesn’t think that he’s been doing any flirting, especially not with Klavier. He’s been hiding his feelings far too well for that—right?

Klavier looks at him and shrugs, motioning with his head that they should retreat the way they’d arrived. It’s not necessarily the most dignified thing, climbing off a boat in shame after being reprimanded by the detective on the case.

Once they’re back on “solid” ground (as solid as one can call a fishing boat’s dock, anyway), Apollo turns to Klavier.

“So, what was that about? I’ve never seen her that angry.”

Interestingly enough, color rises to Klavier’s cheeks. “Well...I think that, perhaps, she’s...misinterpreting the situation?”

And if Klavier’s strange statement hadn’t been enough to tip Apollo off that maybe something strange is going on here, there’s the familiar pinch of warm metal against his left wrist, his bracelet constricting at the taller man’s fib.

And—they know each other well enough, by this point, that all Apollo has to do is level an unimpressed stare in the prosecutor’s direction, and deadpan “Klavier” with all the air of a man who is taking no bullshit for an answer, for him to deflate and give up, shoving a hand in his back pocket awkwardly.

“Ugh. Okay. Erm. So, HerrForehead, this wasn’t...exactly...unprovoked. It’s possible that FräuleinSkye has been on the receiving end of many conversations about how I would like to….uh…”

It’s quite something, seeing Klavier at a loss for words. Apollo hadn’t thought that the former rockstar could look as awkward as he does now, the hand not trapped in his pocket fiddling with a loose strand of his hair.

He really, really tries not to think about how endearing it is.

Klavier seems to have reached a point, however, where he’s just decided to say things and worry about the consequences later. So Apollo’s contemplations are brought to a screeching halt when the man sighs, flips his hair, and stares at him straight-on, enunciating with perfect clarity:

“Apollo Justice, would you like to go out with me? On a date? Because I must say, I’ve been trying to find the best way to ask you for a while now, but unfortunately all I’ve succeeded in doing is, apparently, annoying the FräuleinDetective until not even Snackoos are a valid enough weapon.”

And—this isn’t the setting Apollo had pictured, in his often-hastily-repressed daydreams about Klavier asking him out. For one, he’d not quite imagined the quantity of fish, or the less-than-steady footing. But Klavier looks so earnest about his request, and Apollo can’t deny the way his heart’s skipped a beat, the way he’s almost petrified to say anything just in case this isn’t real—and so, he takes a deep breath, steps forward, and twines his fingers with Klavier’s.

“You know what? I’d love to. I’ll go anywhere you’d like—with the exception of a sushi restaurant” Apollo smiles, hesitantly at first, and then more genuinely as he sees the softly disbelieving expression on Klavier’s face.

“Really?” the prosecutor asks, and isn’t that incredible—that Klavier Gavin had been worried about being turned down. Apollo can’t quite believe it himself, yet.

“Yeah, really,” he says, smiling up at Klavier, who beams down at him in return. He feels the other man squeeze his hand briefly, and can’t quite contain the impulse to lean in closer to him, consciously this time, sharing both warmth and physical contact in a meaningful way.

When they return to the fishing vessel, Ema takes one look at the two of them and narrows her eyes, proceeding to mime nausea at the way they’re still holding hands.

However, she does follow through on her promise—and by the time they’re ready to leave the crime scene, both Klavier and Apollo are fairly certain of the next day’s trial’s outcome—as well as of the location of their post-trial dinner date.

#lucy's thoughts #my writing #klapollo #thank you for the prompt!!#mogoliz #ask #asks #ask game #sorry these are taking me ages!!#you might have noticed that they keep getting away from me #also i am going to be on an island for five days starting tomorrow #so i will be very slow in answering the other two i've got sitting in my inbox #just know i am getting around to them!!#i will just have to write them out on paper rather than on a laptop #and then type them up later

56 notes · View notes

asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

me lámh le do lámh - Part VIII

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They left the next day just after the sunrise broke watery through the clouds still lingering overhead, not wanting to overstay their welcome. The walk back to the nearby village was an easy one, the air still cool from the recent rain. The innkeeper hadn’t given their pre-paid room away to other guests despite the fact that they hadn’t used it for anything more than storage, which was a surprise. It was noon by the time they made it back, and they were easily able to secure the room for another evening so early in the day. Jaskier agreed to play at dinner, so they even managed to get a slightly reduced rate.

When they made it up to the room, Jaskier flopped immediately down on the bed, throwing an arm over his face. “Melitele, I could sleep for a week,” he groaned, slightly muffled. “I haven’t been this sore in years.”

“Good for you to finally get some exercise,” Geralt smirked as he checked on their belongings. Everything was where they’d left it, luckily. Geralt let out a breath of relief to see his potions all secure in their bag, the oathstone nestled amongst them.

Jaskier lifted his arm enough to glare at him. “As if walking day in and day out at your side isn’t work enough.”

“You’ve ridden Roach more than I have over the last week,” Geralt pointed out.

Jaskier put his arm down, head tilted to the side to look in Geralt’s direction. His hair spilled messily across the pale sheets. “I suppose I have,” he said, a small furrow appearing in his brow. The easy energy he’d had since they’d woken this morning was gone; now he seemed tense. His eyes lost their focus, his mind clearly going elsewhere.

Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m going to go and see if they have any contracts for me. We won’t be stopping much over the next few weeks.”

At this Jaskier refocused, curious. “Where are we going next? We have all the pieces for the ritual, right?”

Geralt nodded. “The last piece is a location. We’re going back to Posada.”

The journey from the Brokilon to the Blue Mountains was one of weeks, rather than days. At this time of year the River Sodden and her many roads were wide open, and they were able to easily pass south under the Mohakams. This far south, spring was already giving way to summer, the warm vestiges of the Nilfgaardian desert winds finding their way to the pockets and hills of Angren and Rivia.

It should have been a pleasant journey. It was one they’d taken many times before, once Nilfgaard was no longer an issue, and they were both well familiar with the area. They kept the river to their south and traveled during the cooler parts of the day, stopping often. The wide river offered a constant source of beauty and convenience, and they were able to wash and fish regularly. Rivia, though not Geralt’s home by any stretch of the imagination, was friendly and offered plenty of places for them to stop and rest at the halfway point.

It should have been downright delightful, but instead it was… tense. Jaskier was quiet and contemplative much of the time, reserved in a way Geralt had rarely known him to be. He barely touched his lute, to the point where Geralt asked after it, only receiving a vague and unconvincing answer about saving the strings from the humidity. He spent the evening hours scribbling away in his journal, or simply lying and staring up at the stars. Sometimes, disconcertingly, he watched Geralt, especially when he seemed to think Geralt wasn’t paying attention. The furrow between his brow had grown to be near constant, and his shoulders had lost their easy swoop. When they spoke, something about Jaskier’s words felt needling, as if he was testing the waters for something. What, Geralt couldn’t even begin to guess.

He wanted to ask about it, but he found himself unable to find the words to do so. Jaskier didn’t seem mad at him—he knew what that looked like well enough, and this wasn’t it. He wanted to ask, but if he did it seemed possible, probably even likely, that Jaskier would admit that he’d figured out that Geralt was hiding something from him. He might even have realized the extent of Geralt’s feelings, or what the ritual really meant. Maybe Silvandrel had said too much, or Geralt had been too expressive, or too generous. Whatever it was, Jaskier was smart, maybe the smartest man Geralt had ever known; it wouldn’t take much for him to put two and two together. As he found Jaskier’s eyes lingering on him more and more frequently, it seemed also more and more likely that Jaskier was just trying to find a way to let him down easily.

Still, it wasn’t unbearable. Traveling with Jaskier in a mood was still better than traveling alone, and as always Geralt relished the chance to spend such uninterrupted time together. It was the best in the evenings, when their camp was already set up and the heat of the day had dispersed, and they had nothing better to do than sit and talk before both of them grew too tired to stay awake.

“What’s it like?” Jaskier asked one evening, lying on his bedroll with his ankle propped up on one raised knee. His lute was in his hands, a rare thing nowadays, but he wasn’t really playing it, just plucking a tune here or there. Testing the waters, it seemed.

Geralt was sitting with his back propped against a ragged tree stump, charred at the top where lightning had once struck. He looked up from where he was examining Roach’s tack, taking too long to reply as he was caught up in the image of Jaskier in the firelight. “What?”

Jaskier swiveled his head to look over at him, looking uncharacteristically pensive. “Being immortal. Or—not mortal. What do you even call a witcher, anyways. Semi-mortal? How long do you usually live? I’ve never gotten a straight answer about it.”

Geralt shrugged, the bridle dangling between his knees as he set his elbows to rest on them. “No one really knows,” he admitted. “Vesemir is… three hundred? We’re not sure, that’s based on references he makes, but Lambert swears sometimes he says things just to throw us off. Witchers don’t really… die of old age.”

“Surely some of you must retire,” Jaskier insisted. “Maybe not lately, but in years past…”

Geralt shook his head. “If they did, I haven’t heard of them. The Path is our life; we meet our end while on it. I know we can live for several human lifetimes, at least. I was older than you are now when we met.”

Jaskier’s mouth twisted in a smile that ached with bitter nostalgia. “I must have looked like a child to you.”

“You were a child,” Geralt laughed.

Jaskier threw something at him, and it bounced harmlessly off his knee. An acorn; the entire area was thick with oak trees. Clearing the ground beneath their bedrolls had been a pain. “Ass,” Jaskier chidded, but he was chuckling too. “I suppose we must all seem rather young to people like you though. Yennefer is the worst, she shouldn’t be allowed to poke fun at my very dignified salt and pepper and then turn around and call me an infant the next moment.”

Young man, Silvandrel had said, with that odd patronization that came only to those who would outlive most people they met. “It’s… not exactly like that,” Geralt allowed, studying Jaskier’s profile painted in orange and gold and dark dusky blue shadows. “Age isn’t the same as experience. There are eighty year olds who have done less in their lives than you had at twenty-three.” Jaskier looked over at him again, with a distinct expression of surprise and awe that Geralt was beginning to recognize as his reaction to Geralt giving him a compliment. He pushed on, turning his own gaze back to the tack in his hands. “I just mean, you don’t seem young, or inexperienced—at least not anymore,” he added, unable to resist throwing Jaskier a quick smirk.

“So Yennefer just calls me a toddler for her own enjoyment,” Jaskier said, squinting at him.

“Well, yes,” Geralt snorted. “But, it’s—you’ll understand. After. It’s not that you all seem young, necessarily, it’s just that you all seem sort of… I don’t know.” He shrugged. It was difficult to articulate the strange sense of fragility and youth that he associated with all humans, no matter their age.

“Temporary?” Jaskier offered, and Geralt grunted an affirmation. Of course Jaskier would be able to identify the feeling without ever experiencing it himself. Jaskier hummed in acknowledgement, and was quiet for a few moments, as if mulling that over. His fingers played over his lute strings, picking out a melancholy tune. After a while, he said, “It sounds a bit lonely. Knowing that almost everyone you meet will die a hundred years before you do. That they’ll never understand the way you view the world.” His eyebrows were knotted together as he contemplated the night sky.

Geralt bit his lip. “It… can be. Even amongst ourselves, we never know who’ll make it back after a year on the Path.”

Jaskier’s foot tapped the empty air where it hung over his knee. “Everyone I know, went to school with, taught with in Oxenfurt. They’ll all be gone before I will, if this works.”

Geralt felt dread unfurl within him, but this wasn’t something that he could deny Jaskier. This was the reality of Geralt’s offer, of what he was asking Jaskier to do. “Yes,” he said. But you’ll have me, he didn’t say, even though it burned at the tip of his tongue. You’ll have my brothers, and Ciri, and even Yennefer, and you’ll have me, always. That’s the point.

Jaskier looked over at him, eyes bright. He looked like he could hear Geralt’s thoughts, like maybe he was thinking the same thing. And then he grinned brightly and said, “I’ll outlast Valdo Marx by a century.”

Geralt couldn’t help the startled bark of laughter that left his throat. Jaskier launched into an excited diatribe against Valdo Marx, something about destroying his legacy after death, and Geralt allowed the babble to wash over him as he went back to fixing Roach’s tack.

After a while the conversation turned to other things, and they spent the rest of the evening in relative quiet. Eventually it was time to bed down for the night, and they banked the fire and crawled into their respective bedrolls. Just as Geralt was on the edge of sleep, Jaskier’s voice slipped through the quiet darkness around them.

“I don’t think I’m going to be.”

Geralt shook himself, turning to squint at Jaskier’s grey form, two aching feet away from him. His entire body itched to roll closer, but he focused instead on Jaskier’s words. “Hmm? You won’t be what?”

Jaskier let out a deep breath into the night air, soft like a secret. “Lonely.”

Posada was much the same.

Geralt didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been back. He knew he had been here post-Filavandrel incident, and he suspected Jaskier had as well, but they’d not returned together to the little valley at the edge of the world since the beginning. It had to have been at least ten years since he’d last been here on his own, but the small town was relatively familiar looking still. It had grown a bit since the war, likely as refugees from the south settled in the area, and there were new houses clustered around the outskirts. Still, the bones of it remained unchanged, and the inn was right where they’d left it.

They said nothing as they made their way into the town and headed in that direction. There was, so far as Geralt knew, no other place to find rooms for the night, so they didn’t have much of a choice. Stepping inside the small downstairs tavern should have been just like stepping into any other of the thousands like it that he’d been in, but it wasn’t. Things had been rearranged, of course; the furniture had been shuffled, and now a long table sat on the far side of the room before the fire. The small, cleared out space that Jaskier had stood in to sing was gone, filled with a cluster of tables and chairs. But the lone table in the back corner was, somehow, unmoved.

Geralt turned to Jaskier and found him staring at the spot as if entranced. He brushed his fingers against Jaskier’s forearm, and the bard blinked at him, startled back into the moment. “We should get a room,” Geralt said by way of explanation, and Jaskier nodded.

The man who arranged for their stay was not the one who had done so the first time, or the time after that, but his features were similar, so perhaps this was a son. He was amiable enough, and though Jaskier didn’t make any commitment to playing he offered them a fair rate.

Jaskier did end up playing, after they’d sat and eaten a quiet meal, avoiding the table in the corner in silent agreement. His fingers had worried at the edge of his lute case for a long moment, his eyes unfocused, and then something determined had steeled over his face and he’d stood.

There was a decent crowd this time around, bigger than the last time—the first time—that Jaskier had played here. Geralt remembered the stumbling notes, the ridiculous stories that spilled from the bard’s lips, unrefined. The way that the patrons of the bar had heckled him until he dipped sheepishly off the stage. He could understand why Jaskier might be nervous about playing here; even if no one remembered him, this had obviously been one of Jaskier’s first real performances for an honest audience.

It was like night and day. Jaskier had the entire room eating out of the palm of his hand in moments, as he always did, and his voice was clear and strong. Geralt recognized most of the songs, and almost all of them were about him, though he didn’t think any of the patrons put two and two together. Whereas Jaskier normally poked and prodded at Geralt throughout a performance to let everyone know that his muse was present, tonight he was subdued, letting Geralt watch quietly from a side table without dragging him into the proceedings. He might have thought that Jaskier had forgotten his presence entirely, if not for the occasional glance he caught Jaskier throwing his way, stealing his breath each time.

When he was finally done with his set and bowed his way out to the cheers of the audience, he made his way back to Geralt with his lute tucked under his arm. Jaskier leaned against the table in the space next to him, their knees just barely touching where Geralt’s was thrust out away from the chair. Jaskier looked down at him with almost a sheepish expression, giving him a quirked smile. “So. Three words or less?”

There were so many things he could say to that. So many things he wanted to say. You’re so beautiful, he thought, his eyes catching on the way Jaskier’s fingers wrapped around the neck of the lute, how his eyes shone in the low light of the inn. I loved it. Don’t leave me. I love you.

Instead, he said, a bit hoarsely, “Definitely more accurate.”

Jaskier laughed, some of that tension he’d been carrying for weeks breaking, and Geralt felt sweet relief at the sound. “Well I’d certainly hope so, after nearly thirty years of tailing you. At the very least I know my drowners from my nekkers.”

“At least there’s that,” Geralt chuckled, passing Jaskier a tankard of ale as he sat. “Glad to see you got something out of it.”

Jaskier took a sip of his drink, leaning his cheek on his fist. His eyes were bright when he looked at Geralt, and his expression was one Geralt recognized—he was bothered about something, but trying to keep his demeanor jovial. On anyone else, Geralt expected it would be an immaculate deception, but Geralt knew him. He wasn’t fooled by Jaskier’s court masks.

“Was it worth it?” Jaskier asked, taking another sip of his ale. His eyes left Geralt’s, flitting around the room.

Geralt frowned at him. “Was what worth it?”

Jaskier looked back at him, expression unreadable. “Letting an ambitious and no doubt obnoxious bard leave this tavern with you all those years ago.”

Geralt couldn’t help it; before he could think to stop himself, he had reached out to set his hand over Jaskier’s where it still held the handle of his cup. Jaskier jerked a bit at the touch, a drop of ale sliding down over their layered hands. “Of course it was,” Geralt said vehemently, not bothering to keep the earnestness out of his tone. Jaskier had to know. Even if he already suspected that something was afoot, even if this was some sort of test, Geralt couldn’t risk letting Jaskier think that he regretted a single moment of it. “You’re… Jask, you’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Geralt could hear the sharp intake of breath at that, could see the way Jaskier looked down at their overlapped fingers and blinked rapidly. A small smile stole across his face, though there was a twist to it that seemed almost sad. “I’m glad, Geralt. Truly.”

Geralt wanted to ask, And for you? Was it worth it? But the tavern goers were quickly heading out now that Jaskier’s set was finished, and it was obvious that they would soon be the last ones remaining. And he found himself afraid, as he so often was nowadays, of the possibility that Jaskier would say no, that he should have spent the last thirty years playing in noble houses and courting beautiful women, rather than trekking endlessly after a surly witcher. He knew that it would make sense for Jaskier to have regrets, but he found that he didn’t think he was strong enough to hear them spoken aloud.

So instead he transferred his touch to Jaskier’s wrist, giving it a light tug. “We should head up,” he said, and Jaskier nodded. They pulled apart, and Jaskier finished his drink, and collected his lute. As they both turned to walk up the stairs, Geralt found his eyes catching once again on the little table in the corner. It had sat empty the entire night, as if waiting for something—or someone—to fill its seats once again.

Almost done folks! Just two more parts, and tomorrow’s includes the last piece of art for this story!

tags: @whereismymonsterlover

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #witcher #big bang #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #me lamh #geraskierbigbang #multichapter

62 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Lost Objects - 5

Lost Objects: A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Thor x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1722

Warnings: Mentions of sex, oh umm... hey there’s a little bit of talk about things in the trailers for the loki series some people who don’t know anything about the comics might not have picked up. Should have warned on the series for that. I wouldn’t personally call them spoilers, because ... i haven’t seen the series to spoil it, but if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t like to know anything...

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too. He goes to the one person who understands loss.

Chapter 5

Barnaby the fat ginger cat sat down and began grooming himself as the black one seemed to stare at you and Thor. In what really was only a few seconds, Thor seemed to have a whole thought journey. It started with how close the green of that cat’s eyes was to Loki’s and ended with the conclusion that the cat must be Loki. The journey took him through a lot of stops, including Loki’s ability to shapeshift, the fact he had faked his death twice in the past, and the fact you could draw lost things to you, but once he landed on it, his eyes went wide.

The cat mimicked Thor’s expression as the man jumped to his feet. “Loki!” Thor shouted, sending the black cat running. Barnaby seemed to watch him go with a look of contempt like he was above such things. “Loki!” Thor shouted again, chasing after him.

“Thor?” You asked, following on, though with much less urgency than Thor. “It won’t be Loki.”

“It has to be,” Thor said, looking around. The cat had vanished, but two rows over there was a bang and the smell of sulfur followed by a cat yowling. Thor charged in the direction of the sound and when he came around the corner and came to a screeching halt as he reached his brother who was lying up against a partially knocked over shelf, his legs in the air, rubbing his head as various pieces of cutlery, jewelry and stuffed animals clattered down around him.

He looked up at Thor with an expression of resignation. “Hello, brother.”

“Loki!” Thor roared, pulling his brother to his feet and drawing him into a tight embrace. “I knew you must not be dead. You are always the trickster.”

Loki did not hug back but did not resist the affection either. Just allowing it to happen. “What are you talking about?” He asked, dryly.

You appeared behind both the men and looked between them blinking. “What? How? How are you here?”

“That is a very good question,” Loki said, pulling back from Thor. “As is, why I can’t seem to leave.”

“Come,” you said, gesturing to both men. “I think this is a tea conversation.”

“Yes,” Thor said, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He hadn’t felt so light and genuinely happy for years. He had resigned himself to be the last of Odin’s lineage and yet here was his brother, returned to him again. “Come. Let us celebrate!”

Loki allowed himself to be dragged down to your kitchen, where you began to potter around. You brewed tea and coffee and tried to find some kind of sweet to be served with it. Eventually finding a packet of slightly stale cookies behind a teapot with a mismatched lid.

“Tell us, how did you escape Thanos? And how is it you are here?” Thor asked as you moved around the kitchen.

Loki picked up one of the cookies and sniffed it before taking a hesitant bite. When he appeared to deem it satisfactory he shoved the whole thing into his mouth and grabbed a handful of others. It was very un-Loki-like and reminded Thor more of his old friend Volstagg than his much more dignified brother. “How do you even know of Thanos?” Loki said through a mouthful of cookies. “Besides, I don’t know what he has to do with anything. After I escaped from Midgard with the tesseract, I used it to travel around. I worked out a way to move through time, which was fun…”

“Wait? What?” Thor asked. “When you were on Midgard with the tesseract? The last I saw you we were in space. And how did you get the tesseract after Thanos destroyed it?”

“You are speaking nonsense,” Loki snarked. “Thanos never obtained the tesseract, and he certainly didn’t break it. The Time Variance Authority confiscated it.”

You put a sandwich down in front of Loki, and Thor wasn’t sure if you’d made it or just found it like that. It was on a large crusty roll, filled with various meats and salad, and wrapped in thin white paper. Loki picked it up and sniffed it before taking a large bite.

“Why don’t you tell us when you last saw Thor and what has happened to you since,” you said, taking a seat at the table.

Loki rolled his eyes. “After the battle that I brought to Midgard, you shackled me and were going to let the Midgardians lock me up. There was some kerfuffle in Stark’s building and the tesseract fell from its case. I took it and used it to leave. I went to some friends who removed the restraints you put on me and I was traveling around, entertaining myself. Then the TVA took offense and locked me up, confiscating the Tesseract. I was just breaking out to go get it when suddenly I was here and you and this lesser god were fornicating.”

Loki spat the words lesser god the same way he used the word mortal or Midgardian. Like even the words themselves were beneath him. Thor considered addressing it, but he was more distracted by the tale Loki had just spun. It didn’t make sense and he was having trouble getting his head around it. “You were taken back to Asgard and locked up. Mother was killed when there was a prison breakout,” he said.

Loki started at Thor mid-bite and slowly lowered the sandwich to the table. “Mother was killed?”

“You know this!” Thor roared, slamming his hands on the table. “You were there! Why are you saying these things?”

“I know not of what you speak, brother,” Loki said. “When I last saw mother she was alive and well. Certainly, I have not returned home since I fell from the Rainbow Bridge, but if she passed…”

Thor looked at you like you might have some answers to what was happening right now. You took a sip of your tea and seemed to think. “The time variance authority exists outside of time, correct? I don’t know much about them, but it is generally accepted that they are not of this universe exactly?”

“That’s what they say,” Loki said in a bored voice.

“And when you were escaping, had they realized you were gone? Were they looking for you?” You asked.

“Yes,” Loki said. “Which was why I was in the form of a cat. I was moving through the vents.”

You nodded and looked at Thor. “This is just a hypothesis, because… this isn’t how my powers work, Thor, but-” you glanced at Loki and shook your head. “I don’t think this is your Loki. At least… not the one you knew more recently. After the battle there was a divergence, this Loki got away and yours did not. And just now - I think there is power in you worshipping me, Thor. What I am… Loki said it himself, I’m small-time. People don’t actually worship me, they pray and they beg the universe for the return of their missing keys or cell phones. It’s never to me directly, and it’s never very hard. Yet here you are, one of the Norse gods, and you were on your knees for me.”

Loki scoffed and took a long drink of his tea. Thor ignored him. “You think you brought him here?”

“Yes,” you said. “I can’t be sure. I’ve never brought a person here before. Small pets are the limit of the living creatures with free will. But maybe if Loki was in cat form, and maybe if they were wishing for him back, while we were… doing what we were doing… it was enough to bring him here.”

“Well, I’d like to go, if it is all the same to you,” Loki said, sounding bored.

“Brother, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I saw the life choked from you. Surely you can stay for a little while. We have much to catch up on,” Thor said.

“The last time I saw you, you had planned to lock me up for eternity,” Loki said. “What has changed?”

Thor frowned and shook his head. This was not the Loki he had worked with to save Jane and stop the dark elves, nor the Loki who had helped him escape Sakaar and stop Ragnarok. This was the angry Loki who had attacked a city at the behest of a titan and whose pain of finding his father had lied to him about his past for over a millennium was fresh and raw. “You are my brother.”

“And what else?” Loki asked.

“And I have lost everyone,” Thor said. “Mother and father are dead. Jane left me. Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Heimdall, even Stark and Rogers. They are all gone. Loki, Asgard is gone.”

“And that is why I find you hiding with this lesser god?” Loki scoffed. “Why would I want to stay in such a world anyway brother? Where I am from, everyone is alive and well - as far as I know.”

Thor lowered his eyes. “Why must you be so cruel?”

Loki started laughing and patted Thor’s shoulder. “Oh brother, I’m sorry. You are in a bad way, aren’t you?”

“It might be a moot point,” you said with a shrug. “You’re mine now Loki. I can return you to the ones looking for you, and perhaps you could leave with Thor because he was also looking for you, but otherwise, you are stuck with me. That’s why you didn’t go anywhere when you tried to teleport out. Would you like me to return you to the people of the TVA?”

“I obviously do not,” Loki deadpanned.

“Then you might as well make yourself comfortable,” you said, pouring him more tea. “You clearly haven’t eaten properly for a long time. Why not rest and recharge and we can work out what to do?”

“Fabulous,” Loki snarked. “Just what I’ve always wanted - to be stuck with some hoarder deity.”

“Cheer up brother, it isn’t so bad here,” Thor said, grinning and clapping Loki on his back. He had his brother back, even if it wasn’t quite the Loki he knew, it was still one he was familiar with. Soon he’d have Mjolnir too. Coming to see you had been the best decision he’d made in a long time.

// NEXT

#thor #thor odinson #thor x reader #reader insert #thor fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #small gods #lost objects

128 notes · View notes

lilylilym · 3 years

Text

Jeankasa also makes sense so far as we want to think about it

Anticipating the possible Jeankasa ending leaks, I wrote a quick Drabble that imagines how Jean and Mikasa feels about themselves and their relationships in regards to Eren’s disappearance during the time skip.

I really appreciate the subtlety of relationship hints in AOT, just like Levihan, I think Isayama really doesn’t dwell much into the affective lives of people in this world, but still establishes enough for readers to extrapolate. I will probably make another post about what I think is Jeankasa relationship as canonically intended to be interpreted, but for now I’ll just say this. A lot of people seem to be upset at the possibility of Jeankasa or think that it’s cheap because he wasn’t Mikasa’s first choice or that she has never been into him. I’m not arguing with that, and not trying to force people into thinking that there are some kinds of interpretation that dominate others. But again, as someone who has lived quite a while, have seen adult relationships and how people make decisions regarding marriage, building families, and whatnot, I think the fact that Jean was still able to imagine his life with Mikasa all the way into the Marley act, like this moment

as well as this

tells me that Jean has a legit friendship and mutually respectful relationship with Mikasa. This is a relationship in which they both recognize and respect the fact that he’s into her and she’s into Eren, and that they do not feel entitled to change the other’s investment. I don’t know about other folks, but I have been in a couple relationships like that, where we were not quite dating but still have a romantic friendship and each respects the other person for the affection that they have for another person. I think that’s the kind of relationship that Jeankasa have. Mikasa knows that Jean is into but not actively pursuing her nor trying to convince her to drop Eren for him, and Jean is dignified enough to not apologize for his feelings for Mikasa but also not creepily trying to make Mikasa his. This type of one-sided romance/courtship is not surprisingly very popular in Asia, Japan in particular, for how it honors the people who are involved. I think Mikasa’ love for Eren is also complicated by the debt she feels toward him, but all in all, I think what is similar between Jeankasa is the fact that they both understand that the best they could do is to be there for the other person and ask nothing in return.

That’s what makes the interaction above interesting; Jean’s insistence on “no, tell me, tell me how he hurts her” signifies that he feels that it’s appropriate to do so right in front of Mikasa. If Mikasa feels burdened by Jean’s attention, his action would have been deeply creepy because you don’t get to stick your nose into your crush’s love affair/business. But that this is OK for him to discuss means that he has always been there as a good friend with no ulterior motive, and Mikasa probably has discussed with him her feelings of Eren. If a woman like Mikasa feels bothered or feels creeped out by Jean, trust and believe, she would draw a line really quick, and Jean wouldn’t even be able to mention Eren’s name around her. So that, for me, is a narrative cue of how Jeankasa definitely has mutually respectful exchanges about their boundaries and relationship regarding the crushes, like “how would you like me to act around you?” and “I know you have a crush on me but sorry I don't” and “it’s okay, I know you don’t but I still care about you but I won’t make you uncomfortable” that type of thing.

Anywho, for whoever is interested in my little drabble about Jeankasa and their contemplations on love and future, keep reading.

Dreams of Faraways

by lilylilym. Paring: Jeankasa, Eremika. Rating G.

One day, while standing guard at the Forest of Giant Trees, Jean asks her, “What are you gonna do if we can’t find him again?” Mikasa glares back at him without saying a word. He wouldn’t divert his eyes, and she knows he isn’t one to budge. After all these years, Jean is no longer the boy who admires her in secret. Both of them know, quite literally, that Jean would die for her. But they both know that in the uncertain time that is coming, they need to be able to do that — to die for one another, regardless of who they are, so long as they are comrades.

“We will. He is not the kind who disappears without having a plan.” Mikasa softens her gaze and turns away.

“Did he tell you his plan?” Jean asks. “I would be very worried if he doesn’t tell you or Armin anything and just disappears like that.”

Mikasa looks down from the branch where she sits. Eren never quite tells her everything. The boy keeps so much secret within him. She sees it; she could feel it sometimes when his attention just fades away from this world and enters one of his own. It has always been like that, since they were kids. Eren doesn’t look at you, his eyes go pass your shoulders, through you, into the faraway that he tells you exists but you can’t quite imagine.

“Mikasa, why do you love Eren?” Jean burrows his eyebrows and decides to ask. In front of Jean, Mikasa doesn’t pull her usual act. She knows that he knows. As cold as her how she’d like to be perceived, it is freeing to have your feelings seen and acknowledged, even to a person it shouldn’t be.

“Jean, why do you love, no, like me?” Mikasa answers as she slowly looks at Jean. Jean looks up while letting out a soft sigh.

“Do you really want to hear that, of do you just want to get out of answering my question?”

“I will tell you once you tell me.” Mikasa quietly smiles. Jean switches his standing leg; his back leans against the big tree.

“I’m a simple man, Mikasa. Superficial, even.” He swipes his nose with the back of his hand, feeling a little flushed. “The first time I saw you, I was amazed by how pretty you look.” Mikasa lets out a soft giggle. Jean feels less tensed as he notices her smiling. “From where I come from, that’s enough. People find each other pretty, pleasant. My mother was seventeen when she met my dad. He courted her for two years before she said yes. And then they have me.”

“I am pretty, huh?” Mikasa repeats to herself. She had wondered this before, about how and why people come to love each other. How they find each other, and belong. She had lived her entire childhood in isolation, on the mountain where the likes of her parents live. They both were chased away from everyone else because of a surname. Even themselves didn’t quite know why; perhaps they did, but were trying to protect her from the truth. Did they find each other only because they’re all there is in that mountain? Sometimes, if she hasn’t exhausted herself during the day, when night falls, she wouldn’t be able to rest. She would lay awake all night, feeling the inside bursting with things she wouldn’t tell anyone. Even Eren. She misses her parents so much, yet they seem like a dream from another life. If they lived, how would her life change? Would she have learned more about them? What kind of memory would she inherit? Would she have married by the time she is eighteen like her mother? Would she hunt like her dad? Would they even let her enroll in the Scout?

“See,” Jean, upon watching her from his branch, scoffs, “You totally didn’t want to answer.”

“You didn’t say the whole truth either.” Mikasa looks up. “You are not simple, or superficial. Maybe you were back then, but you are a good comrade and a good guy. You saved my life.”

“Is that how you see people, Mikasa?” Jean scratches his head. “Good or bad depending on whether or not they save someone’s life? Is that why you and Eren are such suicidal blockheads?”

Mikasa doesn’t answer. Jean continues, “See, this is why I don’t even know if I admire, pity, or like you. Because I, too, want to be able to protect you. But you are so strong, Mikasa, so powerful and efficient, and your loyalty to Eren is so fierce, sometimes I…”

He stops to glance at Mikasa, who is attentively looking at him with an ambiguous look.

“Sometimes I feel unworthy of your presence and that suicidal blockhead’s ambition to something so big that I can’t fathom. It fucks with my head.”

“Why?” Mikasa looks confused as she asks.

“Because,” Jean bursts out in disbelief, “some of us are just human, Mikasa. We just want to live a good life, carve out some space in this nightmare to spend time peacefully with our loved ones, eat good food, drink good drinks. We have seen more than anyone inside the wall could ever ask for, and yet here we are, keep fast forwarding into something we don’t know.” Realizing how harsh he sounds, Jean turns away, avoiding Mikasa’s unflinching gaze.

“Do you ever wish that you remain ignorant of all things, Jean?” Mikasa softly speaks. “I do.” Jean looks at her, anticipating. She continues to look straight into his eyes, “There is a world, many worlds in which all of us have never met one another. You would be elsewhere, eating your mother’s homemade food, and I tend to my family’s garden up in the mountain. Armin probably is reading his book. Eren wouldn’t join the Scout because his mother is still alive, but he will try his damnedest to. I would never stick to him the way I do now, Jean, if that’s the case.”

Jean has never heard Mikasa says this much. He understands to the bone what Mikasa is implying. In the world they live in, the fact that they are brought together, a bunch of kids fighting an ancient battle, it is not something that any of their childish plans could have changed. It was not up to them, since the very beginning, to decide a life for themselves, if the wall would still have been kicked out and humanity’s threatened by outside forces.

“I wouldn’t have been here without Eren. I would still be alive, maybe, but violated, abused, wishing I was dead.” Mikasa continues, her eyes blanking. “I don’t know how much else I owe him, and how far do I go to return the debt, but…” She shakes her head lightly; from Jean’s eyes, he saw her black hair glistening in the sun. “Sometimes I feel unworthy of him too.”

“Mikasa…” Jean gasps. From where he stands, Mikasa looks so vulnerable. Her head tilts down, her shoulders tremble, both hands pressed against the branch where she sits. Jean wonders if she’s shedding tears too, but he’s too afraid to ask. He can feel the sorrow in her voice, and desperately wishes that his urge to embrace Mikasa would be of any comfort to her. But here he is, incapable again, can’t do anything but witnessing the girl he likes going through a heartache. A part of him feels needed, but mostly just sorrowful. He is not big enough to change any of this — not her past, not their life, nor the constant fear of attack from an enemy elsewhere like the last time the Wall fell on them. They have come to know that they don’t know anything, and for that they could never rest again.

“I would get you flowers though.” Jean dazedly speaks. “When the war is no longer and we get our hero salary package and buy a house, I’mma grow so much flowers in our garden. If you grows your hair out again, I will braid it every morning. I will make you eggs for breakfast, from our own farm. You smile so brightly at me, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world. This is what I think to myself all the time, Mikasa, when I feel like dying.” He laughs quietly, like feeling ashamed. “You saved me too, many times, just by existing. So tell me, what beyond dying for Eren do you think of when you think of him? Once all of this is over, what are you gonna do with him?”

Mikasa looks up in disbelief. Jean’s eyes pierce hers, without a hint of reluctance.

“C’mon, Mikasa. You said you love the lad. Surely you must think to yourself some happy scenarios. That’s what we all do.”

Mikasa looks past Jean, into the green forest behind him, where sunlight dances through the tingling leaves. She imagines a sky, blue as clear water. That day, her feet feels the finest of earth sticking inside her toes; sandy beach pulled by the foamy waves. The water falls and rises, over and over again. She had stood there and looked to see if they ever rest. The waves, the ocean, the sand, they seem to have been there before she was born and will still stand after all of them are gone. These organic movements that she never knew existed inside the wall. She never feels so small, so insignificant, and yet so important, for being able to witness things that be. That day, after Eren drags his arm and pointing toward the other side of the sea, Mikasa has pulled him down into and made him taste the salty water. She saw Jean doing it and thought it would be funny. Eren absolutely hated the taste, but for one second, his eyes opened up so brightly. Those green eyes that she adores so much. She loved it when he found things that excite him; it makes standing next to him less unbearable. He had turned around and sought revenge by trying to make her drink the water too. But she was much stronger, and easily disarmed him. Jean has laughed the loudest when Eren was humbly reminded of her strength. Connie and Sasha and their shocked faces made her feel so superior. In the corner of her eyes, Levi and Hanji both snickered at the turn of the event. In those moments, her gaze briefly left Eren and everything else was equally bright. As Armin pulls Eren up from the shallow water, Eren looks at Mikasa attentively, and said with a smile: “I’ll get you next time.”

“We travel the world together.” She says, half-dreaming. “Armin tells us of hot air balloon, so we get on there. Eren holds my hand, and I rest on his chest, and we fly over many, many walls, looking at the people behind us and their busy little lives. I see children running across hills, farmers tending to their crops. I see herds of cows and sheep in open grass. Rivers wrapping around town. Colorful shades of flower fields under our feet. Some people see us and wave. Eren put his arm around my shoulders as he waves back. He kisses the side of my forehead. It feels really nice.”

Jean looks at Mikasa, now fully meeting his gaze. Her eyes seep with tears, as she keeps going.

“We will make friends in strange towns. Eat ice-cream and other sweet pretty things. Drink with people in their homes. Visit water holes where it’s always steamy and hot. See high mountains with water falling down. We will go as far as we can, see as much as we want. We will have our lives to ourselves.”

Mikasa slowly gains consciousness. She blushes, amazed that she just says all of this out loud. Jean nods at her, and she nods back.

As time seems to stand still between them, each following their own deep thought, Connie yells out to them from one of the tents on the ground.

“Hey, you guys, change shift. Come down and eat some food.”

“On it.” Jean yells back. He waves at Connie. Mikasa raises her hand to acknowledge that she hears him. Jean jumps from his branch, landing near where Mikasa sits, and offers his hand. She takes it, and stands up. As they’re about to use the ODGM gear to get down, Jean suddenly says:

“Promise me, Mikasa.”

“Hm?”

“That you’d let at least one of our wishes come true.”

Without waiting for Mikasa’s answer, Jean flies down. From behind, Mikasa looks a bit surprised. She exhales, watching Jean joining the group. All the friendly faces would look up, their hands waving at her to come join them. She turns around and looks at the faraway sky one more time, then fling down as her comrades who let out another collective “ohhhhh” at her incredible speed.

“See you again, Eren.” She thinks to herself as she walks toward her friends.

End.

#this is my first time writing het ship #the power of aot #jeankasa #eremika #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #jean kirschtein fanfiction #mikasa ackerman #jean x mikasa #eren x mikasa

68 notes · View notes

foilfreak · 3 years

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

43 notes · View notes

maboroshi-no · 3 years

Text

Hamefura LN11 Moments: AlanxKatarina

While reading Hamefura Light Novel Volume 11, I wrote some summary / quick translations of some moments.

Here is the AlanxKatarina moment in the book.

Context:

Katarina had met the King the day before. She told Geordo and Alan she doesn’t think of them differently even after hearing what their relatives did

Katarina has decided to study love so that she can face her feelings, Geordo’s and Keith’s

Katarina is now more proactive regarding the measures against her doom

Katarina has decided to go to the castle’s library during her day off, hoping she will find another memo containing hints regarding FL2 in a book

Katarina’s POV

Katarina meets Alan at the library.

Katarina: "Ah, Prince Alan!"

Alan: "Oh, it's you, Katarina. So you came to the castle today, huh. What did you come for?"

Katarina: "I am off from work today, so I have come to the library to do some research."

Alan: "You've come to the library during your day off to do some research? You?!"

Alan is making a mocking face.

Katarina: "How rude, Prince Alan! Even I can come during a day off to do some research (starting today)!

Katarina pouts, inflating her cheeks. Alan is not making a mocking face anymore.

Alan: "Oh well, do your best and try not to fall asleep, okay?"

Katarina is thinking to herself that Alan may look like a grown adult, but inside he's still the same as when they were kids.

Katarina: "Mean Bossy Brat."

Katarina mutters to herself. Alan heard her.

Alan: "What did you say?"

Katarina: "It's not like it was hard to understand."

Alan: "You were insulting me, weren't you?"

Katarina: "If you know, then don't ask!"

Alan: "What's with you, stupid duke's daughter?"

Katarina: "And now you're insulting me?"

Alan: "Weren't you the one who started it?"

Katarina: "YOU started it by making fun of me!"

Alan: "I was just telling the truth!"

Katarina: "What did you say?"

They argue back and forth for a while and then Alan bursts out laughing.

Katarina : "?"

Katarina is blank.

Alan: "No, it's just that it has been a while since we had that kind of exchange, so I thought it was funny."

Hearing Alan say this with an innocent smile, Katarina was taken aback and thought it was indeed funny, and then laughed with Alan.

Katarina: "That's right. When we were little, we would often butt heads like this."

Alan: "Ah~ Yeah, kinda. For all kinds of things."

//TN: starting here, I switched the narration to Katarina’s POV

Alan looked embarrassed saying this. At first, when I met him, Alan had a strong inferiority complex towards Geordo, and was stormy. He has completely calmed now. This fight just now feels so nostalgic. As I was remembering the past,

Alan: "I am sorry for all I did in the past. Butting heads with you for whatever.".

He said.

Katarina: "Eh?! After all this time?!"

I opened my eyes wide from getting apologies more than 10 years later.

Alan: "Yeah, it is late but it's just that I remembered I never apologized, that's all."

He said this, looking embarrassed, and continued with

Alan: "I am sorry, and thank you."

As I got confused again from being thanked this time, he laughed at me again and I couldn't ask him why. Alan is laughing a lot today. Ah, that's right. I guess I'll ask Alan.

Katarina: "Prince Alan, do you know about love?"

Sora told me that even if I asked people about love, I won't fall in love myself, but... If I ask various kinds of things, maybe when I have this kind of feeling I'll be able to realize it more quickly. So there isn't anything to lose. However, Alan and Mary are only engaged for political reasons and they don't give off a lovey-dovey air. Besides, Alan is especially childish so even if I ask, I don't think he would know. He is probably like me, a fellow member of the "I don't know what love is" club, but

Alan: "Wh- What are you saying suddenly?"

Alan was bright red and shaking.

Katarina: "Eh?! No way! You know?!"

I raised my voice in surprise as I thought he would say "I don't really know". While I saw them as a boss and her underling, there was love developing between the two of them.

Alan: "What do you mean 'No way?!'? I have been an adult for several years already... So of course I would know that much..."

Alan said with a red face.

Alan: "What about you? Do you?"

He asked me in return.

Katarina: "Eh, Me?! Well.. I..."

If I told him I didn't, he would probably make fun of me, and since I couldn't reply right away...

Alan: "I bet a kid like you wouldn't, right?"

I knew he would make fun of me. I got so upset I felt like matching his words.

Katarina: "Of course I know that much."

I replied in a somewhat pretentious way. As I did, Alan's eyes grew wide, and

Alan: "...So you do, huh? And who is the one you love?"

Alan had an unusually serious face.

Katarina: "Eh?! Well, he is..."

I didn't think that far, and since I couldn't answer...

Alan: "Could it be Geordo? So in the end, you..."

Because Alan continued the conversation with a serious tone, I couldn't keep up with it, so I immediately threw away my pretense.

Katarina: "I'm sorry. I lied when I said I knew. I was just putting on airs. Actually, I don't know anything about it."

As I replied honestly, Alan felt somewhat relieved. Eh? Could it be that Alan was also putting on airs when he said he knew? As I thought, could he be a fellow member of the "I don't know what love is" club?

Alan: "Oh, I see! So you still don't know!"

As he said this, Alan vigorously ruffled my hair. It feels like I am being treated like a kid.

Alan: "Oh well, I guess you wouldn't. Makes sense."

Alan is nodding to himself. It feels like he is making fun of me again. And he also looks extremely happy for some reason. I thought I would ask him if he really is a fellow member of the "I don't know what love is" club, but Alan who was now in high spirits said

Alan: "Well then, I have some official business to attend, so I'll see you later. Good luck with your studies at the library!"

As he said, he stroked my head again before going off happily. Jeez, it's not studying, it's research. In the end, I couldn't hear from Alan anything useful about love.

Alan's POV:

I, Alan Stuart, am on my way to attend an official business, in a very good mood. Earlier, my mood sank to the very depth for a moment, but after I realized it was a misunderstanding, my mood then reached new heights. Just thinking I could see her 2 days in a row makes me happy. Yesterday, when I heard from Father that he would talk to Katarina and Maria about the unsightly past of the royal family, I felt dizzy. It's because I felt anxious thinking that after hearing the story, Katarina might look at us with eyes full of contempt. The time during which Father was talking to them felt incredibly long and just imagining Katarina telling us "I don't want to see you ever again" was the worst feeling ever. But when we asked her directly she told us while staring right into our eyes "The royals who took part in this struggle are different people to begin with. My opinion of the two of you cannot possibly change after hearing this story. Besides I know very well each of your personalities.". Looking at her dignified appearance, I fell for her all over again. However, when I looked at my side, Geordo was looking at her so lovingly. I averted my eyes right away. That's right. Katarina is Geordo's fiancée. And afterwards, when I saw her being escorted by Geordo, I suppressed my feelings somehow. Why did I have to fall for my older brother's fiancée, a woman I absolutely must never fall for? And when I think of looking elsewhere, there is no other woman like Katarina, and as a result I can't stop my feelings for her. Mary, my fiancée who, like me, has fallen for someone who won't return her feelings told me "Even so, I can't simply give up". But I can't do the same. Geordo and Katarina will get married eventually. I know I have to give up. But it's just that, while it is a well-known fact that Geordo loves Katarina, I know that Katarina herself does not have such feelings for him. No matter how much time passes, childish Katarina won't have such feelings. So just like that, I have been feeling at ease. So when Katarina asked me "Do you have someone you love?", I ended up shaking fiercely. But then, when I realized my misunderstanding, learning that Katarina was actually still not in love, I felt incredibly happy. I know someday I will have no choice but to give up. But I can't help wishing I could stay like this just a little longer. I kissed the hand where the sensation of her soft hair remained, and continued on my way with light steps.

#hamefura #my next life as a villainess: all routes leads to doom #bakarina #katarina claes #alan stuart

21 notes · View notes

recklessmark · 3 years

Text

chapter three: i love him forever, is it better than you yet?

—from DISCRETION series

Summary: you incidentally met a notorious CEO and your gut told you that you must claim this man. and even the fact that he’s engaged to someone else didn’t stop you from achieving what you want.

Pairing: CEO! Mark x Designer! Reader

Words: 1620

Warnings: none

—previous: chapter two-encounter

Ever since the day you met Kim Yeri, you haven’t even contacted Alicia. You’re busy designing the wedding dress for your rival. It sounds hilarious, you know though. You tiredly stretch out your shoulders, finding a contact in your phone.

“Hello?”, a low voice answers.

“Mark, it’s me. The wedding dress is done, do you want to have a look?”

“I’m having a meeting. Alright, you bring the dress to her house, just let her decide.”

You smirk, “You’re bold huh? Let your lovely fiancé meet her rival at her own house. You’re always provoking me!”. Hanging up the phone, you sigh. Your fingertips trace up the white fabric, mumbling something.

Following the address Mark sent, you quickly pull up to Yeri’s house. With your arms crossing on your chest, you walk into the villa, followed by a man who is carrying a suitcase.

“Sorry, who do you want to see?”, a woman politely asks.

“Designer, bringing Ms Kim her wedding dress. Can I come in?”

The woman instantly nods, smiling widely she leads you inside. You smirk, seems like this wedding is really important. What could you expect, that’s Mark Lee. Stopping in front of the door, you asked the man to give you the suitcase and walk inside alone. The first sight that you see is a woman sitting next to the balcony, the wind blowing up her hair slightly.

She’s an artist, you remind yourself.

The specific lavender fragrance of you draws Yeri’s attention, she immediately recognizes it. “How could you come here?”

“I don’t like talking, just try this dress on.” You open the suitcase, revealing the wedding dress.

Noticing the doubt in her eyes, you casually sit on the couch. “Don’t worry, I have my own rules. I won’t kill you while you’re trying the dress on, there’s nothing suspicious inside the dress either. Losing my reputation just because of a girl like you is embarrassing.”

Yeri tightens her fists, she doesn’t move a little.

You raise a brow, “What? You don’t like it huh? Mark took his time begging me to bring it here for you and you don’t want it? Haiz alright, I’ll tell him later.”

Seeing you have the intention to leave, Yeri frantically stands up. “Wait! I didn’t mean it. Please wait a minute.”

You happily sit down again, wondering how naive this girl is, to the point it’s ridiculous to you. Mark Lee, there would be a gun to his head and he still never begs anyone for anything. She thinks she’s all that matter huh?

Trying the dress on inside the bathroom, Yeri has to admit your talent although she doesn’t like you. The gown fluffy with layers of velvet fabric, on top is a layer of lace, the white color vibrant as cloud. Some little diamonds are attached to the top of the dress, sparkles like stars. You even bring her a pair of high heels, a pair of velvet gloves and a crystal necklace that goes with the dress. Yeri can’t help but surprised, you’re truly professional and delicate.

“Miss, did you sleep in there?”, your impatience kicking in you, you hate waiting.

Yeri quickly opens the door and steps outside. You stand up, giving the woman an overall look from top to toes.

“No need to look at me with that cautious eyes.”, you mutter out, your hands touch the waist of the dress. “Hmm, your waist is quite small than I estimated. Take it off, I have to fix it.”

Hearing you, she ironically touching her waist. “Really? I think it fits well...”

“Clothes were born to dignify human, at least to me. Furthermore this is your wedding dress, just take it off.” You turn back to sit on the sofa, waiting for Yeri to change.

When she walks out, carrying the white dress with both arms, she hesitantly asks. “When Mark comes he can’t see me wearing it, can him?”

You smirk mockingly, so she wants to dress up prettily for her lover. You don’t mean to look down on her but she’s way more mediocre than you think. “If you want to wear something that doesn’t fit you for that man to see, just keep the dress yourself.”

Yeri heard that, realizes she’s too shallow. On the other hand, your personality seems to match with Mark’s unironically, both of you always seek for perfection.

“You’re definitely the best designer. Mark did found a lot of designers but none of them works delicately like you.”, Yeri hands you the dress, smiling softly.

You put the dress back inside the suitcase, locking it. “Miss girl, I hope that you don’t think that I’m a nice a person. I don’t like you so don’t act like we’re a friends!”, you give her a cold glance. The smile on Yeri’s face faded away slightly. She flattered herself too much, these small reconciliations are like ridiculous kid games to you.

“You really think that Mark will come?”, you naturally flop yourself on the bed.

“What do you mean?”, the girl frowns.

You chuckle, tracing the rings on your fingers. “A soon-married man, despite how busy he is, he will take time to see his future wife in the wedding dress. People always say a woman is prettiest when she wears a wedding dress. So what do you think? Being an artist still requires a grey matter right?”

Yeri’s body shakes lightly, how could she not know. You mean that she’s nothing matter to Mark!

A memory of three years ago playing in her head. When Mark came to her exhibition, she immediately fell for this man. Then Mark occasionally offered Yeri to do some paintings for him, for unknown reasons. The relationship grew up gradually. She has always being so arrogant about her boyfriend, although many women have a dream to be with him but they all gave up without you interfering. She always thought that Mark told them he already had a girlfriend. And now, with your appearance, she realizes she was flattering herself. If she actually thinks about it, why would Mark choose her, a normal artist. She definitely can not compete with you, both appearance and wealthiness.

You smile, “What did you think for so long Ms Kim, Mark texted me to say you sorry cause he can’t come, he’s too busy.”

Yeri frantically snatches your phone, which was being hold in your hand. You smirk, Mark sent it when Yeri was trying the dress on but you want to make the game better. Certainly the woman can see it herself, ‘delivered 30 minutes ago’. She tries to ease her anger, squeezing your phone in her fist. “Why would you do this?”

“Why? Because I like Mark!”

Your words make her mad even more, “Like? You don’t even have the right to say it! I love him, 3 years! Who the hell you think you are? To steal Mark from me?”

Her reaction makes you satisfied. All that naivety, tenderness is a cover for her true being. She’s tearing off her mask now, by herself, in front of you.

“Oh really? So I also love Mark! I love him forever! Is it better than you yet?”

Yeri throws your phone on the floor, “Y/N L/N!”, she screams.

You pick up your shattered phone, shoving it inside your jacket. “Only by saying, ten mouths of yours still can not compete with mine. Look at yourself, I’m cruel, how about you?”

—

You’ve been working your ass off since that day at Yeri’s house, you don’t even have time to see Mark. The dress is done, stored in a suitcase that is probably somewhere in your office, you don’t remember. Your desk is full of white fabric, you tiredly lay your back against the chair, closing your eyes.

Knock! Knock!

“Come in!”, your voice sounds raspy.

You aren’t even bothered to open your eyes but you know for sure who that is by breathing the air. “I don’t want to eat.”

“You wanna die huh?”

“Go out!”

“No!”

You grit your teeth, open your eyes which is displaying some red blood veins due to overworking. “Alicia! What do you want?!”

Alicia almost dropped the tray of sandwich and a glass of milk on her hands. Staring at your eye bags, with the vein showing in your eye balls clearly, she knows that you didn’t sleep for days. “You only drink milk to keep yourself alive, didn’t have a good sleep huh?”

“Yeah the exact moment I’m taking a nap, you come in and disturb me!”

She furiously looks at you, putting the tray of food on your table. “You should eat first. The tickets are booked, the flight is on this Sunday.”

“What’s the day of today?”, you ask, take a bite on the sandwich.

“Miss Y/N, today is Saturday, we’re flying tomorrow!”

You instantly put the halfway-eaten sandwich back on the plate, “Go out, I have a lot of work to do!”, you take a sip of milk.

“Hey but why I can’t call you?”. You glare at the phone on the floor, “Dead”, you sigh.

Alicia picks your phone up and then brings the tray out. You’re having a fashion show in France, but you totally forgot about it, because you were playing too much. Alicia is your manager, she organizes all your works, however she doesn’t know much about the “wedding dress” thing. But you said it’s really important, this “Flechazo” collection of you can not have a single mistake.

Alicia sighs, glancing at the closed door of your office. All of a sudden, the front door is opened.

“I come to see Y/N.”, it’s a familiar voice.

—next: chapter four-you’re my first kiss

taglist: @nuoyii @jjikyuu @generantionct @keemburley @skrtbeepbeep @sunshinedhyuck

131 notes · View notes

physicalturian · 3 years

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 2

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5016 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Flirting … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

-- Part 1 -

The heat of two bodies against one another. Skin upon skin, fingers grazing tenderly. Hands gripping suddenly, forcefully yet securely. I am holding onto dear life on his broad shoulders. My nails digging inside the skin. It makes him grunt in pleasure. I can’t hear it over my own sound of pleasure. My head lolls back, my neck is being attacked. Bites, kisses and words against it. My entire body is aflame. I’m now holding onto the bed head. I’m not surrounded by darkness anymore.

The landscape has changed, I’m not on my bed. It’s a hospital bed. No one is around, someone is on top of me, I can’t see their face. But it feels good. Hot breath against my skin, soft hands on my hips. The increasing pressure inside-

“Hey wake up! If you want to ride with me to campus, you better get your ass out of bed.” I was startled awake by one of my roommates who seemed on edge. From what my brain understood, I was late and from the look on her face, she was pissed.

Squinting my eyes at the sudden light from her brusque action of opening the curtains, I groaned. Her heels hitting the floor made my ears ring, it was too much too quickly but I wasn’t going to say anything. The ginger girl was stopped dead in her track by a hand on her shoulder, a softer voice spoke, “Come on Nami, look at her. Clearly, she went to sleep late again, give her some time to clear her head.” Robin said a lot calmer. With a small smile, she gave me a nod and pushed Nami out of the room.

“You have ten minutes at best, hurry up. She has plans today.”

“And I am hungry, could you make me a sandwich while I get dressed Robin?” I asked with the softest pleading eyes I could manage at this hour. She smiled knowingly in return and nodded, but did not leave until she added, “It’s the last time you leave crumbs on the counter from your midnight snacks.”

With wide eyes, I grimaced and nodded. It made her chuckle as she closed the door behind herself and left without a word.

The moment I was left alone, I remembered the dream I was having and hurriedly got out of bed. “Nasty brain, naughty.” I mumbled while undressing. Sure, erotic dreams weren’t bad, but the fact that I had dreamt about that stranger was something entirely new. Maybe it was to be expected if we interacted more like we did last night, if we had more sessions like last night’s one. Damn, am I that needy for a good fuck? Is this what I’ve become? I thought with a huff.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and all that I needed for class before leaving the room. On my way out I saw the notification that had popped on my screen, a message from the doctor but it was one from last night.

HandSurgeon: I’ll allow you to call me doc, just because my username is not very adequate when shortened. But watch it.

Looking at it I laughed and wrote back, albeit later than when he had sent his message.

Edelweiss: Good morning to you too, doc. Hope you were able to catch some z’s, because of you I almost missed my class.

Edelweiss: kidding, it’s entire my fault but I want to blame it on you for the fun.

I shoved my phone in my pocket when I heard my two friends’ voices, telling me I needed to hurry and hurry I did. I grabbed the sandwich Robin handed me and thanked her with all my heart, telling her I’d make the food tonight but she told me she’d rather not die of food poisoning at a young age.

“Come on, I can make some things! We’ll order in, then?” I said, leaning on the counter with a grin as I took a bite of the food.

“Careful, Nami has invited her best friend tonight. He’s constantly famished, and eats a large amount of food so I’ll take you up on that offer another day. Now off you go, Nami’s waiting in her car.”

Giving her a thumbs up I leaned off the counter and pondered, “So Nami’s cooking tonight? I see why she’s stressed out now. Anyone else coming by?” I asked quickly. Robin chuckled elegantly, her back leaning against the counter, in front of me, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He might bring one of his friends, but it all depends on his schedule. Nothing definitive yes. Now off you go!” She shooed me, smiling. Most of her classes were in the evening, and yet she woke up that early every day.

It was also fascinating how, even when in her pajamas she looked so dignified.

Without losing any more time, I waved her goodbye and rushed down all the flight of stairs to jump into Nami’s car. “Good morning-“ I closed my mouth when she gestured for me to shut up, pointing at her ear and at the board. Looking at the screen, she was on a call with someone but started the car without another word. I could only hear her replies, but tried not to eavesdrop. To stop myself from falling asleep, I took my phone once more and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

I hated how it sent excitement coursing through my body. Was I remembering the thrill of last night or was I that interested in talking to him? I did not ponder the question longer and opened the app.

HandSurgeon: Good morning Edelweiss. Are you feeling good? Physically.

HandSurgeon: We’ve barely done anything. But don’t worry, you’ll blame me later when we’ll have more fun.

Edelweiss: I’m great, a bit sore but that’s on me.

Edelweiss: don’t threaten me with a good time 😩, you can’t start the horny talk this early in the morning. How do you expect me to focus during my classes?

HandSurgeon: Haha, I’ll stop. Do you have time to talk?

Edelweiss: ominous much? But yes, I do have time to talk. Something on your mind?

A knot formed in my stomach, I started to worry he’d say we couldn’t keep doing this. Would it be that bad? We’d known each other for so little time, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else to fuck.

I huffed at my own thought, I could find someone else but did they have HandSurgeon’s charisma? Unfortunately, no, I was bound to be horny for a strong doctor that I did not even know the face of.

HandSurgeon: I got a bit too excited last night, I forgot to mention the most important info.

HandSurgeon: Those being: we can stop whenever you’d like. We can try whatever you feel comfortable trying. If you said you were ready to do something, but in the end feel like you can’t do it: tell me. You can change your mind, it works the other way around, too. You can say you want to try something even though you were against it at first.

HandSurgeon: I won’t always be up to… play but I will be willing to help you if you ask nicely. And if I’m awake.

HandSurgeon: Finally, always call me sir, during our sessions.

I hid the relief I fell in real life, when I read all his messages. I did not want Nami to ask me what was wrong, nor who I was texting, but it was hard to hide the satisfied smile on my lips. Pursing my lips, I thought of what to answer without looking too desperate.

Even with the thought put into it, I read my message over a few times and desperation dripped out of it.

Edelweiss: you scared me, I thought you were going to just disappear or something. I’m good with all of this. If I can add one, be honest with me? Like, uh…

Edelweiss: If I’m being too pushy, but you’re busy, tell me, I’ll calm down haha.

Edelweiss: So… I agree to the terms, sir.

I saw him type, then stop. Then type again, before stopping again. Had I said something bad? I was going to put my phone away when he replied.

HandSurgeon: Good girl.

HandSurgeon: Now, I won’t be able to play tonight, but I’ll be free to text if you’d like.

HandSurgeon: It’ll give you time to rest, that way we’ll fuck you good once you’re feeling better.

I choked on my saliva. Why was he this casual saying things like this?

Edelweiss: I-

Edelweiss: I said don’t get me horny, the audacity you have to be that good with your words.

Edelweiss: I’ll be busy tonight too, but I’ll text you if it gets a bit boring.

Edelweiss: Also, are you not like… cutting people open or something? Why would you be awake this early with how late you went to sleep?

HandSurgeon: It’s cute how easy it is to get you flustered. Very interesting too. But I’ll stop for now.

HandSurgeon: Since you’re curious, I’m in bed. I have to meet with my intern in an hour, he’s very eager to learn.

HandSurgeon: Just like you, but maybe I find one more satisfying than the other 😉

Staring at the screen, I hesitated and felt my cheeks heat up. I wanted to be horny and ask him for a picture, or be funny and ask him for a picture. Both could work together, but should I flirt or ask in the most stupid way possible? I was curious if he’d be willing to send anything, I’m sure it’d make my day if he did send me a picture but I did not want him to force him either. You can’t force a dom to do shit, idiot, my common sense told me.

Edelweiss: send pic or fake.

HandSurgeon: Of my intern?

Good fucking lord, I’m an idiot. I typed back quickly, trying to fix my stupidity.

Edelweiss: of you in bed.

Edelweiss: maybe I’m asking for a nude? 🤔

HandSurgeon: Are you, now? What sparked that need? Do tell me. I’ll consider.

Edelweiss: I’m curious, and I wonder if you sleep dressed or not 😳

Hit and run. That’s all I could call what I had done. I dropped that message then locked my screen and stared straight ahead, regretting sending it. I couldn’t delete it since he had probably seen in, considering we were both online at the same time. We were both staring at the conversation, craving for more, awaiting the other’s reply to weight our own answer in return.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I rested my elbow on the small space by the window and felt my heart beat faster. I shouldn’t feel like that, I had literally fucked myself to his guidance hours ago. And yet, there was this stressed from asking him nudes. I mean, I hadn’t asked a dick pic per say… If he slept in pajamas it clearly wouldn’t be a nude, so…

My phone vibrated in my hand, I looked down so quickly my head slipped off my hand and hit the window with a thud. “Are you good? You look nervous, do you have a final today or…” I heard Nami ask. She threw me a side glance but kept her gaze focused on the road.

I was so focused on my own conversation; I had not realized she was done with her call. Had she been watching all of my reaction since then? No… no, probably not.

“I’m good, just need a bit of sugar.” I paused and continued casually, “Robin told me Luffy’s inviting someone tonight? Are you cooking or are you planning on ordering? They better pay their own shit, if we order in.” I grumbled, hoping to make her drop the subject.

I needed to stay focus on what she was saying but my brain was drifting to the pending message on Discord. Fortunately, my distraction worked and she replied, “If he’s coming, I’ll make him pay the entire orders.” She scoffed as she pulled up into the parking, her eyes still focused in front of her. “He owes me, and since it’s last minute, I’ll use that against him to not pay my food.” She added. I laughed at her logic, was it really last minute if she knew he was coming since this morning? Shaking my head, I unlocked my phone and opened the text.

HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

While I masked my reaction, my eyes sure widened for the span of a second. On that very screen was a picture of the doctor, or more precisely, his crotch covered with just a thin blanket covering it. I could see the shape of his cock, and it made it more sinful than a full dick pic. The v shape of his lower stomach, along with the happy trail, made the whole thing hotter than it was supposed to be. Is this for fucking real? Thinking for a second it might be a catfish, I finally looked at the rest of the pic and saw a badly torn piece of paper with the word ‘Edelweiss’ scribbled badly on it.

“Damn, who’s is this? Girl, you tapping that?” I quickly turned my phone face down and looked at Nami with what probably looked like guilt. “What? No. I’m on Twitter. I don’t have time to literally fuck around, too busy.” I stated, putting my hand on the door handle as I took hold of my bag.

She was about to say something else, but we spoke at the same time and she let me talk. “What time do you finish? I’ll be done around 5 pm if you’re still there.” I stepped outside the car and slammed it shut, waiting for my ginger friend to join me.

“Around that time too, we’ll head right back home after. I think Luffy and his annoying friend will already be there. I’ll sent you the menu, so that you can pick from it.” She then hurried off when she saw one of her classmates waving her over.

I let out a sigh and looked back at my phone, typing back while marching towards my class.

Edelweiss: Are you kidding me? Dude…

HandSurgeon: I’d prefer you call me doc than dude. Although sir is the most appealing… But what’s wrong?

Edelweiss: You’re telling me, someone that hot is on weird websites when I’m sure anyone would want to fuck you. No offense, but you’re probably very hot, so why are you like… domming online? Instead of your own pretty little sub in real life? Not that I’m complaining! I like it.

HandSurgeon: Schedule is shit. And I’ve been told I’m bitter. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it, I’ll get dressed now. You focus on your class.

Edelweiss: Oh I am definitely enjoying it, a lot.

Edelweiss: by the way, I came to a realization this morning…

Then we sent a message at the same time, I laughed nervously.

HandSurgeon: So you think of me when you sleep? Very cute.

Edelweiss: my brain was slow last night, but like. Did you sext me while in your office?

Edelweiss: maybe I did think of you in my sleep, but I don’t think we need to talk about that, my question is definitely more important.

I almost tripped over nothing, from looking at my phone instead of the path but I managed to make my way to class without a hitch. Throwing my bag over the desk, I sat down and waited for my professor. Checking Discord once more,

HandSurgeon: I did. It’ll happen a lot too.

Edelweiss: damn that means no sexy live for you

I replied without thinking. The loudest sigh escaped my lips, what even did I mean by that? Was I really considering giving him a show? What was I expecting from telling him that? I mean sure, if time goes on and I get more comfortable it could be fun…

HandSurgeon: If that day comes, I’ll be sure to get my earphones. I’m sure you’d actually enjoy the thrill of showing yourself off. Knowing full well I’m watching, maybe with a hand in my pants, ordering you around. There will be a “sexy live”, if you’re comfortable enough… The fact that I’m in my office only adds to the charm. Wouldn’t you say?

I blinked a few times, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed something then deleted it. I paused and typed again, before deleting it once more. Was he wrong? It was very exciting, just thinking about it. Even more so knowing he was willing to be in that situation, at his desk, looking at me getting off under his command. But also, even more knowing he’d be at his work place, where anyone could walk in on him being in such an embarrassing situation.

HandSurgeon: It looks like you’re speechless. But do answer me, would you get off on knowing someone could walk in? Knowing we could get caught, knowing they could see you fucking yourself on screen just for me. Just to please me. They wouldn’t know it’s you, but you’d know. My good girl fucking herself, showing off her perfectly fuckable body just for me.

I let my head fall back against the seat and took a deep breath. I felt suddenly self-conscious, even though I knew no one knew what was going on, on my screen. And yet, I had to look around to make sure before typing with a lot of hesitance. He hit the spot, I hated how right he was. But I replied in all honesty.

Edelweiss: …

Edelweiss: yes…

Edelweiss: I’d like that…. sir…

Edelweiss: I need to focus on my class, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able since you just went off and made me very much distracted now.

HandSurgeon: My hand slipped.

Edelweiss: the a u d a c i t y, then do tell me where it’ll slip next time 😉

Edelweiss: ok, no. that was bad. I’m trying, I’m not as good as you okay?

HandSurgeon: I think it’s a conversation best kept for late hours, wouldn’t you say?

HandSurgeon: I have to go. Focus on your class, or think of where you’d like my hands to go. The choice is yours, Edelweiss.

HandSurgeon: [send an attachment]

There it was, another picture of him. This time it was his gloved hand gripping the fabric around his thigh tightly, the sleeve of his long shirt was slightly risen. I could catch a glimpse of the hair on his arm but focused on the length of his slender fingers. Of the way his fingertips were digging in his pants, of the lines his muscles drew on the back of his hand and maybe of, once again, the fact that he was sitting at his desk. Instead of replying, I took it in and locked my screen to try and focus on the class.

I never thought I’d have a medical kink, but my thought would sometimes drift off, imagining him in his full surgeon outfit. Sitting on his chair, legs spread open while looking at me with a smirk. What it’d look like, I do not know, but I could only imagine the sultry gaze he could give me while in that position. He’d pat his thigh for me to come over and let me ride it- Shaking the thoughts away, I told myself to focus, and tried my best to keep up to that promise.

The rest of the day, I kept my hands off my phone the best I could. I wanted to keep texting HandSurgeon and have some fun, tease him the way he was teasing me but I did not know how to push his buttons. Suddenly I realized I had never asked what were his kinks. By default, being in control must have been one of them, but I was curious as of what else he enjoyed. I made a mental note to ask him next time we talked, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, it all depended on tonight’s fun.

Right, tonight… I don’t even know who’s the guy that’s coming over. Nami said that Luffy’s friend was annoying but maybe she was a bit biased since she was easily frustrated, which was ironic considering her best friend was the most tiring person ever. At some point during the day, she sent me a text with the name of the restaurant we were ordering at and told me to pick whatever I wanted.

Seeing the prices, I had to make sure she had sent me the right restaurant and sent her a text asking if it was alright. Her reply was, “I told you he owed me, he said to choose whatever restaurant I wanted. And I did. He has the money, might as well use it.”

I winced at her words and sent her my choice with a lot of reticence, adding, “If I get yelled that for picking something, even though I don’t know the guy, you’ll pay for my food.” She was quick to reply and told me it’ll be okay. “The dude might bitch and moan about it but he’ll eventually accept it” were her words. I don’t really know if it had helped or worsened my anxiety but I just let her do her thing and went on with the rest of my day without a hitch.

I was able to focus on my classes and assignments after a while, when my brain finally decided to shove the whole HandSurgeon conversation in the back of my head.

The day came to an end right on time. I had done my fair share of thinking for the day and needed a break. Knowing a nice warm meal was waiting for me at my apartment only made things ten times better. I rushed out of my last class with haste, almost bumping into other people and dropping my phone but I caught it before anything dramatic could happen.

When I stepped outside, I was met with a drizzle and had to walk faster to Nami’s car. I was lucky to see she was already there, waiting inside of it with music playing loudly. She was trying to fix her hair the best she could, and gave up when it looked half-decent. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I opened the car door and slipped inside, greeting her, out of breath.

“You scared me!” She gasped, a hand on her chest.

“Is it my fault? You’re on edge, not me.” I huffed, throwing my bag in the back of the car, making the ginger groan when she received a few droplets on her clothes. Apologizing, I buckled my seatbelt and we drove back home in a good mood. Food always lifted spirits, even more so after a draining day. On our way home, Nami started renting on how I will have to keep Luffy’s friend away from her because she couldn’t handle his attitude.

I did not dare ask her what happened but listened carefully. She did not give me any useful information about him, only telling me he was “arrogant, annoying, he’s bitchy and way too cocky because of his job.” I winced and was expecting the worst, probably a business man that was too proud of making money or a politician. No, no… Luffy would never befriend people like that, right?

All kind of ideas simmered in my head until we reached our apartment. I don’t know why, but I was going to knock. I quickly caught myself and unlocked the door, hanging my coat in the entrance as I took off my shoes. “Robin? Have they arrived yet-“ I was cut off when the excited black-haired man came rushing in and wrapped his arms around both Nami and I. She laughed and hugged him back, while I pushed him away, smiling softly. “Hello Luffy, let me get changed first? I smell like a wet dog.” I scoffed.

He agreed and pulled Nami to the side, bringing her to the living room. I did not look their way and instead went back to my room to get changed. Maybe I could catch him before he went to his evening activity? I kind of wanted to have a bit of fun before going back to eat… But then again, did I have time? Humming pensively, I locked my door and stripped naked then pulled out my phone.

Edelweiss: Good evening, can I suggest something? I want to make my evening more fun… maybe have something to look forward to this evening…

I waited a moment, sitting on my desk chair completely naked. It was frisky and I felt well… naked. Was it too bold? Should I just delete the message and get dressed? I did not have time to ponder longer that the little dot next to his name turned green. He had answered.

HandSurgeon: What do you suggest? I’m all ears.

Edelweiss: let’s say… I wanted to keep something inside me the entire evening… like an egg, you know those vibrating egg but like, not turned on because that’d be too much.

Edelweiss: here, this:

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

I made sure we could see my lower body, the hand holding the toy was right above my thighs and I angled it so he could see most of it. When I sent the picture, I felt the pressure in my stomach grow, maybe he’d refuse and I was getting excited over nothing.

HandSurgeon: I won’t be able to guide you, gorgeous.

HandSurgeon: But… I think it’s a great idea. Although, I need to be sure you’re not too sore to have some fun tonight.

Edelweiss: I’m good, I’m great. Don’t worry, I can definitely handle this. I mean, if you want to, sir.

HandSurgeon: The eagerness ever so present, you’re being very good asking for it. I would hate to punish you.

HandSurgeon: Let’s do it, if you think you can’t take it anymore send me a message and take it out.

HandSurgeon: But I’m sure a good girl like you could take it entire night, wouldn’t you agree?

My answer was to send him a picture of the toy inside me, my free hand gripping my thigh while spreading them wider.

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

HandSurgeon: Fuck. A warning next time. I’m not against more pictures, but let me remind you I’m not alone tonight.

HandSurgeon: Or is it what you’re looking for? You want to show off to me, but also to them? The odds of the people here looking at my phone are low, but they’re not null. That’s what gets you off.

I was going to reply but he sent another message that sent something coursing straight between my legs. The throb I managed to numb after this morning’s talk came back without much efforts needed.

HandSurgeon: Maybe to calm that eagerness, we should turn it on? Have you dripping wet for tonight? Would that help with how needy you’re feeling right now? You’d be surrounded by, let’s say your friends. But your thoughts would be nowhere near that, no.

HandSurgeon: You’ll be thinking of me. Of what I’d do to you tonight, looking forward to obey. To be on your knees, in your bed, expectant in front of your screen. Like a desperate girl, pleading for some relief.

My hand slipped on my desk and grabbed the little remote, pressing it to turn the toy on. I let out a shaky breath at the sensation, spread my legs wider to try to press it deeper but finding my attempt fruitless.

HandSurgeon: Get dressed, and go join your friends. I’ll be available to talk in a few.

HandSurgeon: But don’t get too greedy. If you think you’re getting close, you turn it off. I want you begging for an orgasm tonight. Are we good?

Edelweiss: Yes sir. More than good.

Edelweiss: Maybe… maybe I could call you, no video, to do it…

He’ll ask for me to be precise. But I felt like my pride would take a hit if I wrote it down, did I want to beg? I gave it a thought while getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. Usually I wouldn’t want to beg, but it felt different here. Maybe I could use this moment to find out more about him, his tastes… his kink.

HandSurgeon: “It”?

Edelweiss: Beg. You want me to beg, I am suggesting to do it on a call. That’s what you want right? You get off on being in a position of power but what else do you like?

HandSurgeon: I’ll have you begging, no matter what. That’s the fun, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now you’re curious about what I like? We’ll talk about it after tonight’s session, right now I have to go. Have fun, be good.

I thought it was going to be child’s play. The vibrations weren’t that strong, and it’s not like there was going to be a lot of things that’d turn me on during a friend gathering. Right? Right. It’s what I thought until I joined everyone in the living room and there stood a definition of handsome. I don’t know what Nami said about him but I’m sure she never mentioned how hot he was.

Nami, Luffy and Robin were sitting on the ground by the low table. They were taking the boxes of food from the bags and giving them to everyone. What caught my eyes was the man sitting in the couch, almost lazily. He was looking at the three people with something close to boredom, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

Suddenly I regret trying to make my evening more fun… Or did I? I’d have to see how the evening go to make an opinion on being in the company of such a beautiful man when I had my own hardship going.

[Part 3]

#trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #law one piece #physicalturian #writer #ao3 writing #ao3 writer #writing #fanfiction #wop #words of pleasure

110 notes · View notes

andoqin · 3 years

Text

Greetings Ninth Uncle

So I’m reading a het novel called Greetings Ninth uncle and oh my god.

“Duke Cai said that I am an ideal wife and mother, and I think so too.” Cheng Yujin smiled softly. It was the look she used most often in front of people. However, the bright light in her eyes was incompatible with the usually gentle and virtuous eldest Miss Cheng.

“My family has decent status and clean background. Even if we are not of the highest rank, my father is Yichun Marquis Manor’s shizi, soon to be titled marquis, and my mother is Qingfu Junzhu. In the eyes of many prestigious family’s madams, this is an ideal background for a daughter-in-law. There is the saying that ‘Men should take a wife from a lower status, women should marry a man of the higher status.’ My status is neither high nor low, but decent enough and clean. As for myself, I am beautiful and have a gentle disposition. My manner is excellent, I am good at social niceties, and proficient in the four arts of zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. I am also good at cooking, embroidery, and household management. I fulfill all the requirements of a virtuous wife and good mother. Not to mention others, even myself also want to take such a daughter-in-law home.”

Zhai Yanlin frowned. These words made him uncomfortable. Zhai Yanlin curled his eyebrows and said: “Eldest Miss Cheng, as a boudoir girl…”

“As a boudoir girl, how can I say such things, right?” Cheng Yujin still smiled sweetly. “But this is the fact. Everyone acknowledges it. Ah, this is the result of my long years of hard work. From a perfect noble family daughter to a perfect daughter-in-law candidate. In the future, I will become a perfect bride, a perfect wife, and a perfect matriarch. This is my goal. As long as I can get what I want, it’s not hard to maintain this perfect image.”

“After I knew about Cai Duke Manor’s intention, I also carefully considered this matter. I can manage the duke household well. I can manage Zhai Qing well. Although it’s a bit tricky, it’s not impossible to regain the right to manage the household and bring the crooked Zhai Qing back to the right path. But let me ask Duke Cai, what can you bring me in exchange for my hard work?”

When Zhai Yanlin heard this, he was too shocked even to say a word. In the past, women would pounce upon him one after another. Whether it was to be his concubines or second wife, there were countless of them. But no one ever asked him, “what can you bring to me?”

What could he bring to her? Zhai Yanlin’s three views1 were having a violent turbulent. He was the dignified Duke Cai. He possessed wealth and power that made countless people envy him. He was tall, majestic, and had a good look. Shouldn’t women fall in love with him as a matter of fact?

Zhai Yanlin couldn’t believe it. He was used to be the one who chose. He never thought that there would be a woman standing on the opposite side, wantonly evaluating his worth.

Cheng Yujin didn’t care how great an impact was her words brought to Zhai Yanlin’s three views. She continued counting with her fingers: “If Second Madam Zhai’s words are not wrong, then the duke title and all the family property will belong to Zhai Qing in the future. That is to say, after twenty to thirty years of hard work, I have to raise another person’s son and won’t even get large rewards. Then why should I bother to work hard? Even if I give birth to a son, he can’t inherit the family, then why should I risk my life and damage my beauty to give birth to a child? Taking a step back, no matter how good I manage the household, those properties won’t belong to me or my children in the future. So why should I spend so many efforts to accumulate wealth for others?”

Cheng Yujin raised three fingers to Zhai Yanlin. “Wealth, power, comfort. Duke Cai cannot give me any of these. Why should I marry you?”

Zhai Yanlin took a long time to finally regain his ability to speak: “You…you are rebellious. Women should be gentle and tactful, supporting husband and raising children without asking for anything in return. How can you open your mouth so blatantly and talk about benefits and rewards?”

Cheng Yujin was already very impatient: “Duke Cai, I think you are also a high-ranking official of the court. Then let’s just speak openly. Since you want to form a cooperation with me, then you should show sincerity. Don’t bring nonsense like womanly virtue or gentleness to the negotiating table. I can bring peace and order to your family for at least thirty years. If you still want me to take care of Old Madam Zhai and correct Zhai Qing’s behavior, you have to add more bargaining chips. This is my worth. What about you? What can you bring to me?”

Cheng Yujin discussed marriage with the same tone as discussing a business deal. This kind of scene was not unfamiliar to Zhai Yanlin. On the contrary, he dealt with many people in the court and the army on a daily basis, using the same negotiating tactic to exchange interests and test each other’s bottom line. If he was dealing with the court officials, Zhai Yanlin liked this kind of person who showed their demands and worth straightforwardly. But in marriage…

Zhai Yanlin was utterly shocked. Cheng Yujin was like a sharp knife with no emotions. She mercilessly cut open the thick cloth that had blindfolded him over the years and presented the bloody truth before his eyes.

That’s right. Those women who pursued him, did they truly like him as a person? No. His wealth, power, and status were the key.

He had always deceived himself, thinking that he was extraordinarily heroic and charismatic, which attracted so much love from the women. But those women, those concubines in his home and even his late wife, which one didn’t look at his family’s status and future wealth? They all wanted to give birth to a son and gained a part of his family property.

This thought just never occurred to Zhai Yanlin. He maintained his ridiculous, stubborn male self-esteem, pride, and self-confidence he had lived in for most of his life. But at this moment, Cheng Yujin put on all the bargaining chips on the negotiating table, and for the first time ever, Zhai Yanlin realized that his self-confidence was actually so vulnerable. In front of Cheng Yujin’s calm, rational, and ruthless words, it collapsed easily.

Zhai Yanlin was agitated, and switched into the negotiation mode he used at the court. However, he immediately realized that he couldn’t bring anything out. Zhai Yanlin remained still for a long time, and finally said with a dry tone: “If you become my wife, I will treat you well, and you can have any gold and luxury as you want…”

Cheng Yujin laughed. Her voice was not loud, but the laugh directly pierced into Zhai Yanlin’s ears.

Zhai Yanlin felt an indescribable embarrassment.

Talking about feelings at the negotiating table was unbecoming.

“Duke Cai, your feelings are worthless to me. What else can you offer me?”

Zhai Yanlin could not answer. Cheng Yujin also didn’t expect him to answer, and immediately continued: “You cannot give me any benefit, whether in the present or the future. Then why do you want to marry me? And even stop me in the middle of the garden?”

Your feelings are worthless to me—this sentence hit hardly, and gave Zhai Yanlin the final and fatal blow. His male self-esteem was greatly hit. But he couldn’t even refute, because it was a fact.

Many women in the world were soft-hearted, but Cheng Yujin obviously won’t. The affection of her future husband was worthless to her. She wanted money and power, and didn’t want him.

Like a poor, dejected young man, Zhai Yanlin stood in front of the woman he likes, feeling at a loss as to what to do. He watched Cheng Yujin turned around and leave. He didn’t look away for a long time, and just standing there in silent depression.

Is it heavy handed? Sure. But it still works for me, because yeah, why *should* the FL marry this dude. If only more FLs in het C-Novels had this attitude, honestly.

#greetings ninth uncle #cnovel

19 notes · View notes