#Four is here because he's my fav and I want him to hang out with both members of this duo more so sue me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wriokitty · 6 days ago

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like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE.

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot.

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it.

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often.

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him.

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow.

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that.

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TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings.

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head.

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly.

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should.

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends.

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude.

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents.

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings.

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it.

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause.

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down.

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad.

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion.

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?”

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too.

Something that kills his mood for the week.

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you.

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TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed.

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his.

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way.

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else.

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother.

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him.

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up.

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see.

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue.

It’s just the kind of guy that he is.

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps.

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock.

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not.

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave.

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to.

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement.

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment.

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial.

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—”

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk.

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow.

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too.

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

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TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were.

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache.

Alone.

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact.

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other.

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had.

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always.

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can.

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head��can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense.

Saturday happens to be your day off, too.

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit.

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time.

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs.

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it.

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you.

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them.

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin.

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you.

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you.

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself.

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place.

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss.

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble.

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself.

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours.

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls.

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, ropes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless.

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his weight over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same.

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So��so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff.

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart.

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you.

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause.

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter:

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace. Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus. Forever yours, Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

#—rivistyping!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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maplesyrupsainz · 1 year ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙slut! | CL16 MV1 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: charles leclerc x model!y/n reader (she/her) x max verstappen, lestappen x model!fem reader

genre: social media au, polyamory, established relationship x new relationship

warnings: polyamory lol lestappen, mentions of cheating & slut shaming

summary: in which you and your boyfriend get a new boyfriend and everyone gets confused, or in which no one considers polyamory before branding you a slut

a/n: i wanted to make this so bad ever since i got the request & now is the time 🙏

request!!!: I was thinking maybe when model!reader dating Charles and she starts hanging out/becomes friends with Max, and then everyone thinks that she cheating plot twist they are all dating

fc: sophia birlem

my masterlist

instagram ->

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 813,754 others

charles_leclerc 💋

tagged: yourusername

view all 9,138 comments

user1 my fav couple forever

user2 y/n is so hot

user3 her leg on him🥹🥹

yourusername love when im in almost every pic

charles_leclerc duh, you are beautiful

user4 stop ittt

maxverstappen1 beautiful couple

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername

user5 oh hi max

user6 are max & y/n friends?

maxverstappen1 posted a story

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 692,418 others

user7 OMG Y/N???

user8 hottest girl in the world wtf

user9 where's charlesss

user10 max are you third wheeling

user11 i am no better than a man 🥵

yourusername

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 812,018 others

yourusername bahrain bahrain bahrain

view all 13,027 comments

user12 aww i love that she's friends with max now

user13 y/n are you a lestappen shipper like us

yourusername yes x

user14 OMGGGG

user15 she's insaneeee 😍

charles_leclerc what is that picture

yourusername you and max

maxverstappen1 he's ashamed of me 😢

yourusername he's so nasty

charles_leclerc no.. what the?

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1 posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 614,788 others

yourusername BECAUSE IM A GIRL LEAVE ME ALONE!!

maxverstappen1 😂

user19 shaming her for why

user20 where r u going

charles_leclerc she needs lots of outfits okay

maxverstappen1 dont defend her!

user21 they're spending sm time together lately and where is charles

yourusername posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 634,802 others

user22 got any games on your phone

user23 WHERE ARE YOU GOINGGG

charles_leclerc be kind to eachother

yourusername we are 😅

charles_leclerc hmmm

user24 i need more info on this friendship

f1wagupdates

liked by user21, user9, user16, and 231,044 others

f1wagupdates an image has emerged of max verstappen and model y/n y/l/n, who is famously known as charles leclerc's girlfriend of almost four years. is she cheating on him with one of his own friends?

view all 8,024 comments

user25 what the actual eff

user26 IS SHE CHEATING ON HIM??? WELL OBVIOUSLY LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE

user27 wtf im spinning around in circles

user28 just threw up

yourbff everyone always thinks they know everything 🙄

user29 huh??? what is she on about

user30 the pics there to prove it.. 🤡

user31 what is going onnnn

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 915,274 others

yourusername my job is so fun

view all 12,837 comments

user32 is cheating fun too

user33 what the hell???? so shameless

user34 charles still in the likes?

francisca.cgomes ily

yourusername ilysm 🥰

yourbff hot girl

yourusername real

charles_leclerc my perfect girl

yourusername 💋 love u

user35 ??? does he not know

user36 im so lost

f1wagupdates

liked by user13, user34, user4, and 283,615 others

f1wagupdates we are here once again with a y/n y/l/n sighting, this time once again with her boyfriend charles leclerc. does anyone know what is going on? lol

view all 10,732 comments

user37 can someone explain to me what the hell is happening

user38 maybe she's dating both of them lol

user39 😂😂😂

user40 she did say she shipped lestappen 💀

user41 omg slut much?? wtf is going on

user42 grid bunny

user43 this is sick and twisted

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 1,233,017 others

yourusername & if they call me a slut u know it might be worth it for once

view all 28,962 comments

charles_leclerc my girl 💋

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 my girl ❤️

liked by yourusername

user48 wait guys...

user49 they're all dating arent they

user50 OH MY GOD?!!??

user51 poor y/n LOL

francisca.cgomes 🫶🫶

pierregasly 🩷

carlossainz55 ❤️

yourbff proud of u all 😘

lilymhe 💜💜💜💜💜

user52 we're sorry y/n

THE END ❤️💙

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isagispuzzle · 2 months ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 200 🤍 you deserve that and so much more !!

for your event, even tho it's rlly hard to pick just one trope, i would say that the second chances trope has been one of my recent favs lately!

HEHE THANK YOU NISHIII anyway are you in my walls.... because i've been thinking about doing a part 2 for my oliver angst piece like this timing is too perfect HAHAHA

oliver might have played it cool when his teammates found your makeup bag, but now, his heart is about to explode.

it hasn't been long since you moved out of his life. he found your makeup bag in his backpack the day after you left, but he didn't reach out to you till a month later. he told himself it's to give you time to rebuild a routine without him, to let your heart start to miss him a little before he re-entered your space. of course, he knows that's just an excuse, and he only hesitated to text you because he wanted to hold onto the remnants of you for just a little longer.

oliver doesn't fear much, but when his thumb hovered over the send button on his phone, it trembled at the prospect of giving up this last piece you've left him with, the last relic of your love.

yet, despite his selfish reluctance, he arranged to meet you at a cafe to return your makeup bag, because he knows how much the earrings inside mean to you.

(did he hurt you enough for you to give up retrieving a piece of your heart just to avoid speaking to him again?)

he reaches the cafe at four on the dot, like you agreed to. he scans the room and is surprised to see a jarring lack of you. you're not at the counter, nor at the window seat you loved, nor at the shelf on the inner wall, admiring the owner's memorabilia from across the globe. so he finds himself choosing the table, staring at an empty seat in front of him, without any sign of you.

barely a minute passes and his leg starts bouncing restlessly under the table. oliver checks his texts to see nothing new from you. he looks out the window just to see a new wave of strangers exiting the subway station, and when he doesn't see you in the crowd, he starts to pick at the nail on his thumb. his thoughts start to race. oliver wonders if he's been stood up. he doubts you'll ever break a promise with him, but what's to say that hasn't changed, now that he's no longer someone special to you?

oliver's palms start to sweat and he feels his pulse in his neck. this sucks, he thinks. he hates feeling like this. like he's grovelling for your scraps, like he's hanging off every little thing that could be related to you. he's always been the one to care less, the one with nothing to lose, the one who left the other begging for more.

yet here he is, breathing the biggest sigh of relief when you finally show up, five minutes past the agreed time. you're straight faced and composed, and you haven't done anything to your hair. in the fleeting moment when you walk past oliver, he notices that you smell different.

"you're early," you say as you sink into your seat, and his stomach drops.

you're echoing his words back to him, from back when he'd turn up late for dates and never utter a word of apology.

oliver sees the satisfaction billowing in your eyes. he recalls all the times there were tears in them instead, when you'd beg him to love you more.

(which, he never understood why you ever doubted his love for you, because you're the only one he's ever held onto for this long. you're the only one he could truly be himself with, the only one he never got bored with, the only one he wanted to build his life with. you're the only one he's ever truly loved.)

it's only when oliver catches himself apologising for everything he's done to you and promising he'll do better that he finally realises you were never a gamble to him. there was never any doubt that you're the one for him, and there was never any chance that he'll truly let you go. you were never a gamble to him, but a promise, which he now swears to keep like a vow.

you might be repeating the mistake of letting oliver into your life. but you see the sincerity in his eyes and the desperation in his words, and you convince yourself that he's learnt from his mistakes. the walls you prepared around your heart for this day crumble when you realise they had only kept him in your heart, not out.

so you reach out a hand for him to take, a peace treaty and a warning, a second chance and an ultimatum.

instead of the red string of fate, oliver sees a thin, translucent fishing line around your pinky and down his throat, because you've got him hook, line, and sinker.

#isagispuzzle hits 200 followers!#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #oliver x reader #emma is thinking...

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uwukillmenowowo · 10 months ago

Note

Hello I have a request can you do a various Yandere MHA x Reader (like class 1a vs class 1b type of stuff) if that's comfortable with you!

WOOOOO!! I don’t mind at all :D

Haha I hope this is good- This is rlly my first time writing a Yandere Varius X Reader soooo......

HHHHHNNNNNGGGGG

COMPETITION

(Yandere BNHA X F!Reader!)

Notes:

Reader/ [Y/n] will be female for the sake of ✨Cliche writing~!✨

[Y/n]'s quirk allows her to manipulate water Juvia Lockser style [I chose water because it goes well with a lot of the class's quirks]

[Y/n]'s personality is the classic "Naive, innocent, strawberry milk sweetheart"

I may have left out something but I forgot what it was... :(

I hope it's still good tho :)

Lately all your friends have been acting weird. They want to do stuff like hanging out with you more, have a spar, have a snack, study, stuff like that. At first you found it cute and spent time with whoever asked first... but now... things have become... rough.

{Your POV}

~~~~~

"[Y/n]-Chaann~!" I yelped as I suddenly got hugged from behind. "Mina..?" I questioned. I heard her laugh and when I turned around, I saw the whole Bakusquad there. "What's up guys?" I asked as I tilted my head.

"Oh! We were planning to hit up the arcade. You wanna join?" Kriishima asked as he slung his arm around Kaminari. I groaned and rubbed my arm. "Sorry guys, I have something going on." They looked dissappointed but Bakugo just seemed pissed. More so than usual. "AH?! What could be more important? You're already hella smart and your quirk is kick ass!" I chuckled and blushed at the praise. "Yeah... True... It is only grocery shopping...but-"

"Then we can go to the arcade and then we can walk with you to the store."Kaminari suggested. "O-Oh! You don't have to! I mean- I still have-" Before I was able to finish my sentence, the door to the class opened and I saw Tetsutetsu, Kuroiro, Shiozaki, and Kendo. "Good afternoon. Is [Y/n]-San here?" I smiled and told the people in front of me goodbye before I jogged to the door. "Sorry! Just saying my goodbyes. We can go now." I told Kendo.

She smiled at me and in return, Tetsutetsu linked our arms and dragged me and the 1-B students away.

{Third POV}

~~~~~

It was silence for a while as class 1-A stared at the door that was left open. "WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY IS SHE HANGING OUT WITH THOSE CLASS B NOBODIES?!?" Screamed the blonde haired boy as he activated his quirk. "*hmph* Bakugo, calm down, we all agreed that we wouldn't act against each other until [Y/n] gave an answer." A black haired male ran into front of Bakugo to stop his quirk. "*Tch*... Dammit four eyes-" Bakugo glared at the class president before groaning and exited the class.

"Bakugo? Where are you going?!" Yaoyorozu asked, worried that [Y/n] might see all their true colours. "MAKING SURE THOSE EXTRAS DON'T DO STUPID SHIT!"

Everyone else in the class sighed. They also wanted to do the same but they know it will be suspicious.

{Your POV}

~~~~~

I thanked Shiozaki as she bought us all ice cream. "You really didn't have to buy these..." I smiled and licked my [Fav. Flavor] ice cream. "And Tetsutetsu, you don't have to hold my grocery bags." But Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki just looked more proud and happy with themselves. "We can walk you home too is you want?" Kendo asked as she stood behind me.

I sweatdropped. "Oh! That's too much! It's getting dark so I can't! You guys need to get home too so-" "I'm sure it'll be fine. We live in the same area anyways." Kuroiro said, looking at the others. "Are you sre? If it gets too late than you guys can stay over for the night..." That made the four of them smile. "Oh we won't take long, I'm sure" I smiled back and sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

{Third POV}

~~~~~

"SHE'S GONNA- *MMPHHH*" Bakugo flailed around as the other grabbed him, covering his mouth and pulled him back into their hiding space. "Shhhhuuu! Bakubro she's gonna hear you!" Kirishima whispered and he used his quirk and hugged Bakugo to trap him. "Ahh! What should we do?!" Ashido asked as she gripped her hair.

"Don't worry. I texted the chat." "YOU DID WHAT?!?" The Bakusquad all glared at Kaminari. "Huh? What was that?" The Bakusquad all ducked into the alleyway, tightly holding onto the explosive Pomeranian. "[Y/n]... We should go. They could be a thief, or a villain." They heard a member of Class B suggest. "Hmm... Okay. Let's hurry."

They heard the group that they were tailing start to jog and they all shared their annoyance. "*Tch* It's no use. They're all at [Y/n]'s home so there's no point in tailing them anymore." Sero groaned and facepalmed. "That sucks. 'Cause Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida are already on their way. So are Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Jiro." The Bakusquad grit their teeth while Bakugo activated his quirk, letting out muffled yells. "This stupid idiot-" Sero sighed and smacked the back of Kaminari's head. "Hey!"

But before Kaminari could respond, the three boys he mentioned earlier just arrived, along with Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Jiro arrived. "Where are they?!" Midoriya asked as he kept a straight face.

"Simple~ Anywhere where no class 1-A morons are!" Out came a voice that 1-A was all too familiar with. "OF COURSE IT'S YOU, COPYCAT!" Bakugo yelled, getting out of Kirishima's grip. The "Copycat" just laughed and from both side of the ally, came more students from class 1-B. "An ambush?! So you knew?" Yaoyorozu stated firmly, reaching for her stomach and pulled out a spear while the other class 1-A activated their quirks.

"Whoa... Whoa... Settle down! You wouldn't want dearest to find out about this little thing do you~?" Kaibara chuckled as he pulled out his phone with a video that the 1-A students knew all too much about. A video of... a certain person who... let's just say tried to do bad stuff to our dear reader. "How?" Iida demanded, getting into a fighting position.

Monoma stepped forwards. "Relax~ We won't actually do anything yet." He laughed as he clapped twice. At the signal, Class 1-B all charged at 1-A. Because of the small allyway they were in, class 1-A had trouble controlling their quirks. I mean, sure they have control but their anger of being blackmailed messed with them.

"You tell her and I swear on All Might's name I will completely mmmmmmhh- frick you up." Uraraka exclaimed, pouting. "Ohhhh no~ We're so scared" Kodai responded with sarcasm. After a great stare off, they all launched their attacks both sides determined to beat the other to prove the strength of their love.

[Request for Pt.2]

AAAHHHHH!!! THIS WAS BAD IT HAD MORE RIVALRY THAN... STUFF

THIS WAS HONESTLY MY FIRST TIME WRITING A YANDERE x READER- SOOOOOO I HAD NO CLUE WHAT TO DO WITH THE PLOT MY MIND JUST WENT. "Okay, fight, love, hate, fight, kill, blood, love, jelly jelly, tsun tsun, fight, jelly, hate, love, blood, tsun tsun, blood, fight, kill, jelly jelly."

#Yandere BNHA #class 1 a #class 1 b #Yandere #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #requested

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lurkingshan · 7 months ago

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Japanese QL Corner

The fun continues with three currently airing gems, a new show entering the fray, and an animated story so good I am reading a manga to keep up with it. Four of these are on Gaga and one is coming to us via fan sub. Jump on in to the weekly watch, we're having so much fun and not feeling at all overwhelmed by the deluge of amazing content! *chuckles nervously*

Takara's Treasure

I continue to love this quiet little show. This week I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to answer Taishin's earnest questions. He is doing his best to figure this out but no one is helping him! I like that despite wanting him to figure out his feelings for himself, Takara continues to reach out to Taishin to let him know his attention is welcome. This week we also met Emiri, an instant fav who taught Taishin all about stanning. I appreciate that this show joined other recent jbls in making a clear distinction between being a stan and being in love. Real love is not fanaticism, and the former is what Takara seems to want from Taishin--once he's ready.

I Hear the Sunspot

Ugh this show just gets me right in the heart. As I hoped, we got to sit with Taichi this episode as he worked through his confusion and worry about Kohei. It makes sense for Kohei to back off in the wake of his ignored confession, and it also makes sense that Taichi didn't hear him (metaphorically). And even after having it repeated in a way he can't misunderstand, he still doesn't know what to do with it. He just knows he likes Kohei and wants to be around him, and he seems okay with just leaving it at that for now. I loved, too, that we got to spend time with Kohei as he's coping with his worsening condition and get to know his mother, who is a delightful person who loves Taichi just as much as her son does. I'm so glad we are getting to see this story told properly in full in such a great adaptation.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Finally, the truth!!! Ayaka is a menace and Hiroko is fighting for her life. Like hanging out with a niece, my ass! Most of the office misinterpreting Ayaka's behavior as crushing on Yuya instead of Hiroko continues to be hilarious, as are all Hiroko's friends trying to push her to cross the line. I was sad to learn that Risa has her own unrequited love going on; I want all the girls to end this story happily! I did love their conversation about identity, and that the show gave some space for Ayaka to consider whether lesbian is the right label for her. Checking out the lesbian bar together was a great way to test things out, and I was dying at the other girls hitting on Ayaka. Can't wait to see what happens next now that Hiroko has no more denial to cling to.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Shoutout to @isaksbestpillow for picking this show up, because it’s an instant fav! Ishida and Mitsuya are fantastic characters, and man are they GAY. This is a food drama and a story of queer men of different generations seeing something unexpected in each other and forming a surprising bond. I was pleasantly surprised by how immediately the attraction and sexual tension arrived in this story, and I want to know so much more about Mitsuya and why he seems to be holding a desperate sadness alongside all his wisdom about life. Very excited to see these two nourish each other. You can find Sirii’s subs here.

Twilight Out of Focus

I don't watch anime (do not @ me, many have tried), but @bengiyo liked the story for this one enough that he told me I can’t skip it, so I am reading the manga along with the show. And I gotta say, I loved this first story with Mao and Hisashi (this is a multi couple series so not sure how the next one will go). Ben is on vacay so I'm tagging @twig-tea to talk about the episode that aired this week.

#japanese ql corner #takara no vidro #takara's treasure #i hear the sunspot #hidamari ga kikoeru #ayaka is in love with hiroko #mr mitsuya's planned feeding #mitsuya sensei no keikakutekina ezuke #twilight out of focus #japanese bl #japanese gl #shan shouts into the void

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quillsandblades · 8 months ago

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What could be the reasons for Hange's death?

I’m not best at doing these analysis posts, but I’ve had this in my mind for a while now and it needs to get out.

As a sort-of writer, I know there’s always reasons to kill off a character, especially if they're well-developed and play a crucial part in the story. So what could’ve gone through Isayama’s mind when he decided to kill our precious Hange? Here’s what I think.

First of all, reading the manga I really felt like her death was forced, staged. It didn't seem right, didn't seem to fit. Now I don’t know if the rest of you felt this way but I sure did. And that's why I'm gonna talk about why I think Isayama killed her.

There are four points in this post and each explains a potential reason:

1. To make the readers cry

Many characters are killed just to give a truck load of emotional damage to the readers. And sometimes authors enjoy it — don’t get me wrong, we love the characters, it’s just what even is a good story if devastated readers aren’t sending you death threats for killing their fav fictional pookie? Such characters often possess some or all of these qualities: Lovable, witty, humorous, determined, has big goals/dreams, you get attached to them easily and if they have a love interest that you’re invested in, and they both got plans to *ahem* live peacefully once a certain war is out of the list of duties, it’s over for you (IFKK 😭).

And who do we know that holds nearly all these characteristics, and died?

Maybe Yams was in killer mood the day he wrote chapter 132. I wonder if he’s doing the evil laugh somewhere, thinking how we’re suffering every day.

2. It’s crucial to the plot

These kinds of deaths aren’t in the author’s hand, and they really hurt us sometimes. I have a few characters very close to my heart and I hope I never have to put them to death cuz I may not have the willpower to write ahead if I do. It happens when you get dead-ends (yes you can get dead-ends even in fiction as well, at least that’s what I think because the setting or world you create has to have some limits), when the rules you have set up to make that world start to cage you in. And sometimes there’s no option but to kill them. Their death is important, it’s a key point, or maybe it’s part of what their personality demands. It’s needed, and it hurts.

But coming to Hange, I can safely say that’s not the case. Her death could’ve been avoided. In the manga she barely managed to get much time. Yes the plane made it, but it’s Hange we’re talking about and she has a big brain. She could’ve made a less harmful plan to stop the Colossal titans right there, I don’t doubt her intelligence at all. Or someone could’ve helped. The part about titan shifters saving their strength was a flimsy excuse Isayama, cuz taking out a Colossal isn't such a back-breaking task for the Shifters - they’ve had worse and done better.

3. Some other character needs to take the spotlight

This happens when our character is in the way of someone else’s glory. They need to be taken off the stage so the next one comes up.

For Hange I’d say, that was Armin. I think Isayama might have wanted to give the stuttering blonde kid a glow-up, and I gotta say it worked well. I’ve seen countless posts where Armin back then and as commander is compared and people are like, ha! Y’all used to laugh at him cuz he was a timid, scared little thing but look at him now, Commander of the scouts and such.

I’ve seen him get a lot of hate for not being strong enough, not being confident and such things. So what does Isayama do? He takes that character and upgrades him to Commander. I think he’s wanted to do this for a long time, to show just how much potential the kid has, and take it as a character development. He was chosen over Erwin and then Hange. He couldn’t be Commander after Shiganshina cuz Hange was named successor. He got his chance in ch 132 and took it. The only way to make Armin Commander was to kill Hange and so we had to part with the crazy genius we loved. (I don't hate Armin though, it's Isayama's fault not Armin's)

But here’s the thing, she could’ve still come back. Battered and bruised, and Armin would still be Commander as the title was already handed over. Then why go all the way and kill her? Here’s why.

4. External reasons

This and the 3rd point, In my opinion, are the main reasons for Hange’s death.

The external factors here include her relationship with Levi. The man has a HUGE fanbase and he’s shipped (and shippable) with so many characters it’s concerning. And the most popular ships are Ereri (this one doesn’t even make sense) and Eruri. As a character that’s so popular among fans, I don’t think Isayama wanted to confirm anything related to his love life as that would only create rifts among fans or even drop his popularity. By keeping it vague he kept the fanbase up. But what has Hange living got to do with it?

Well, we all heard her ‘Let’s live here together’ confession. It’s probably the most romantic thing anybody said to Levi canonically and no one can deny it gives hints. Then comes Levi's double meaning statement of ‘Unrequited titan love’ and I’d say that pretty much sealed the deal. ‘Devote your heart’ was the cherry on top and now if Hange returned they both would be so canon.

But for the sake of argument, let’s say all of that meant nothing romantic. But if Hange’s still alive we all know she’d never leave Levi alone in his impaired state after the war. She’d be the one pushing his wheelchair around and since they’re already veterans and very close friends, Levi would only tolerate having her around him at all times. So if someone’s gonna say that all of those ‘confessions’ meant nothing, then these facts are proof enough that after the war Levihan had all the chance of being canon. So if Hange had lived these two would have been a sealed deal - but that isn’t possible in reality due to Levi’s popularity.

So, Hange dies and Isayama avoids a ton of mess for himself.

All of this is entirely my take on breaking down my fav character’s death, not saying it’s 100% legit. Just a harmless analysis.

#HANGE SHOULD'VE LIVED #hange zoe #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levihan #shingeki no kyojin

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bloodyymaryyy · 7 months ago

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Taking care of Kai

Kai cenat x reader

Side note : it's probably gonna be messy and short but I want to write it because I just got a new phone and yeah .

I will be starting fanfics again and for YouTubers too not only f1 because there is next to nothing about amp especially

________________

You visited kai's home and was hanging out with him a few hours before he streams .

You noticed that his fridge had nothing , same with his pantry, you thought he would be going shopping but he in fact did not so when he was complaining that he had nothing but a expired cookie and thought of what duke would do and thoughted it out and was imitating duke about shit like wanting to be taken care of and "that nature " as he put it you decided to take matter into your own hands .

Dressing up and fixing up your make up , you headed to the store .

After buying extra shit for you and snacks for the guys you went to the amp house , most of them were streaming which wasn't a surprise, Chris and Davis was sitting in the living room watching TV or their phone on occasion you went up to them first , hanging them their drinks and snacks that you got them and chatted for a bit you went into dukes room first as it was the first door you saw , also handing him his drink and snack while he was thanking you , you said hello to chat and left to go to fanum's room next . Knocking on his room door too you went in after getting confirmation to enter you got him a bit of extra so he won't fanum tax Kai or anyone,you both exchanged pleasantlies (?) you left to to agent's room next, knocking once again because he wasn't streaming so you knew to knock a few times after traumatic experience from a few of the guys and you just threw his shit in his bed and left after he wasn't awake and finally you got yo kai's room where you was carrying a big bag of chips , chocolates , candy and a few others .

" oh shit! What are you doing here !? "

" I bought you snacks !" You said smiling and hugged him as he was still sitting down shocked .

" why didn't you text me I could have sent you over money !"

"nah it's okay I was watching the stream and I knew you didn't have shit so I thought I could get you some for the stream ! Also I bought something for the guys so you don't have to give me money !"

As was talking to him I handed him the bag so he could decide what he wanted and for me to get them into the pantry and fridge.

" nah I will Venmo you money after bruh! Thank you I was starving!"

Y/n is like a mother, taking care of her kids 🥹😭

I love their friendship!

I want what they have !!!!

Hello y/n

My fav girl is hereeee

Hey y/n

Why do I ship them ?

Her is your girl that takes care of you Kai

You look like her kid but in black 😂

" You are my friend you don't have to give me money I have a job ! I like taking care of you guys! Ok so I have to go to cook you guys something so you dont get fast food for the 5th time this week "

I again hugged Kai and left down to the kitchen to make us something, after what felt like forever I did some potatoes fried with a four different types of cheeses and throwed it in the oven with thick milk ( I don't know how it say it otherwise) and a few steaks and mushrooms and plate them up .

After taking two plates at the time to the guys for what felt like the hundred time today and many compliments and praise for feeding them you took the last two plates and headed again into kai's room , handing him a plate and setting yours in the table ,you retrieved a chair and sat down with Kai , chatting on stream , reading the chat and receiving many compliments it was time you go and sleep . Having a norlan 9-5 job in the morning.

___________

Okay that's it I don't know if it's good I just pulled it out of my ass so yeah . Have a good night babies I love you and I am sorry I was absent for so many weeks ❤️ love you all

Oh btw here is the "inspo"

#x reader #marriswriting #my writing #bloodyymaryyy #kai cenat #kai cenat x reader #amp x reader #kai cenat x yt reader #fanfics to boost the fandom to make more fanfics #send asks #send help #idk how to tag this #idk #request are open #love

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queensunshinee · 7 months ago

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a cool idea for a blurb would be to see the two of them dealing with the lack of attention/jealousy they had towards Liana when she was dating that guy Jake

ps: the best of all is that probably at that time they still didn't really know how they felt about her, so even they didn't understand why they were so bothered by the fact that she had a boyfriend 🤭

I love it sooo much they are soo petty and mean it's WILD

"Have you spoken with Sarah recently? Liana hasn't come at all since Patrick and I arrived," Art asked his mother casually. Both woke up before everyone else and decided to have coffee together. He tried to make it sound as if it didn't really interest him. As if it wasn't strange that Liana hadn't contacted him for four days, even though they were only two blocks apart.

"Oh yes, I asked her why Liana isn't here at all because she hardly came to visit before, and we usually meet a bit, but she's busy with her new boyfriend," Christine replied, not taking her eyes off her son. Art swallowed and his eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise.

"What boyfriend?" He almost chuckled at the idea. "Someone she studies with at school, but don't worry, I'm sure she'll come on Saturday for your birthday. It's a tradition," she smiled at him, noticing the small crease between his brows and wondering if he even understood why this news bothered him. "I'm not worried. Just surprised," he tried to dismiss it.

When he returned to the room, he woke up Patrick. He shook him so hard that Patrick nearly fell out of bed in response. "What's wrong with you?" he muttered, trying to open his eyes calmly. "Liana has a boyfriend!" Art said dramatically, seeing Patrick wake up in an instant, almost jumping out of bed himself.

"No way." Patrick felt his heart pounding. She would have told him. She would have told him if she had a boyfriend. "My mom just told me. That's why she hasn't come to visit yet," Art's jaw moved slightly uncontrollably as he paced the room, unable to calm down. Patrick rolled his eyes because Art's reaction was ridiculous. "There's no way she has a boyfriend. You know Liana. She's too quiet for a boyfriend. She's too good of a girl," Patrick said, not knowing who he was trying to convince, Art or himself. He couldn't believe this was happening to him; he comes once a year, and Liana doesn't care because of some random guy?

"What's his name?" Patrick asked. "I don't know, why?" Art returned, rolling his eyes. "To look him up on Facebook, duh," Patrick smacked his forehead as if he was an idiot. He didn't have time to explain everything to him. They needed to figure out who Liana was hanging out with instead of hanging out with them. Instead of eating ice cream with them. Instead of lying on an inflatable mattress in Art's pool. "She'll come on Saturday, ask her then." Art rolled his eyes again. He lay down on the bed and bounced a tennis ball, trying to organize his thoughts. It didn't bother him at all. She can do whatever she wants. She wants to play family with some loser from her school? That's her right. She wants not to see them all summer for that? She can do whatever she wants. It didn't bother him. At all.

Turns out it did bother him. Because they came together on Saturday. And if you ask Art, he would say it's rude. Because it's his birthday, and he didn't invite her ugly boyfriend. He doesn't know her boyfriend, who made no effort to introduce himself. He also knows that Patrick thinks the same thing. Art also realized that Patrick and Liana talk on the phone and overall, his birthday was completely ruined. He doesn't understand why it bothers him so much. It shouldn't bother him. He comforts himself with the fact that it definitely bothers Patrick. That he's not crazy. That it's reasonable he doesn't like Liana's boyfriend because, well... Liana should have a nicer boyfriend. One who appreciates who has been her best friend all her life (so he decided. Liana would probably say otherwise).

Patrick considered murdering Jake. Assassinating him. He thought about drowning him in the pool. He tried to find flaws in him all evening and couldn't. The main flaw was that he clung to Liana's hand like a leech. Not letting her move away from him. Possessive bastard. Why does she need such obsessive behavior around her?

As usual, Liana and her parents stayed after everyone left, causing Liana to go to the guest house, where Patrick and Art usually hung out when Patrick arrived, and they wanted to smoke. "What's up?" she asked with a wide smile, happy to have a moment to say hello to Patrick properly. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she could even tolerate Art's presence now. She missed him a bit too. "Whoa, it's not a bird, it's not a plane, it's Liana Levy," Patrick tried to be amused, but he was angry at her. "In the flesh," she sat down, unaware that neither of them was in their usual mood. "Your boyfriend seems charming..." Patrick said, trying to keep it light. "Why are you lying to her?" Art said sharply, looking at her with a piercing gaze.

"Excuse me?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "He kissed you in front of your dad, and I heard what your dad thought about it," Art lied. It was a white lie in his eyes because he knew what her dad thought about it. Unlike the little shit she was dating, he really knew her dad.

"What is your problem?" she asked. "There's no problem, Liana, you found new friends, so why are you here?" Art stood up. "You coming?" he asked Patrick, who was in shock. Liana was also in shock. Art had never talked to her like this. Even when they were little kids and fought, it was always with a tone of amusement and words they could easily take back.

Art was trying to hurt her. Art was trying to make her feel what she made him feel that evening when he found out she was talking to Patrick on the phone occasionally, that she had a boyfriend, that she preferred to be in touch with everyone but, well...him. "In a bit..." Patrick replied, swallowing.

While Art didn't understand why he was reacting the way he was, Patrick understood perfectly. They both felt in jail right now. They both felt like Liana cut them off from receiving attention for a complete stranger who allowed himself to kiss her in front of her dad. Who behaves like that?! for God's sake. "What's his deal? Why is he more of an idiot than usual?" she asked, furrowing her brows as Art walked away from them. "His birthday didn't go as planned..." Patrick replied, trying to maintain his usual composure. Indifference with a touch of humor. That's what Liana liked about him; he was easygoing and nice. He wouldn't lose that over her without a visible reason. "He should take the stick out of his ass, and maybe it would go as planned," she said louder, hoping Art would hear.

"How are you, Li? I haven’t seen you at all since I got here," Patrick tried to change the subject, giving her a light smack on the shoulder, trying to make her feel a bit guilty. "I'm sorry. With all the arrangements for Stanford and Jake, I just haven't found time to say hi," she smiled, a genuine smile. "Hi," he said, keeping a sincere smile. Truly happy to see her. Really wanting her to stay a bit longer. "Hi, how’s your summer?" she replied. "Not as good as yours, that's for sure," he said with a smirk on his face. "Oh, fuck off," she rolled her eyes.

"No, seriously. You have a boyfriend now. You’re all serious and mature," Patrick continued. "What's his name?" he asked as if he didn't know. "Jake. His name is Jake. Can you leave him alone?" she started to lose patience with the two boys she was used to spending every summer with, but this time they were acting terribly. "He has a very impressive smile, I see what you find in him," he said. Patrick hated his smile. He smiled too much and it looked insincere. "Thanks, I'll make sure he adds a line about his smile to his resume," she rolled her eyes and stood up, officially done with this conversation. "Also tell him that the polite thing to do is to say hello to the birthday boy," Patrick said, knowing he sounded petty. "I didn't know you had a birthday, Pat. I'll remember for next year." She started to walk away from him, and he didn't try to stop her. Feeling his summer slipping away and ruined even before her and Art's move to Stanford.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" she asked Art, who just sat cross-legged by the pool. "For what?" he asked, slowly shifting his gaze to her. "For being a jerk, for instance?" she replied. Not knowing why it bothered her so much and why she was reacting like this to these stupid boys. "Liana, you brought a complete stranger to my birthday and ignored me all evening. Now you care about how I behave? By the way, stop calling my best friend for no reason, it's pathetic," he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, not looking away for a moment. Shooting words without thinking. "I didn't ignore you all even-" she started, seeing his gaze darken. "You know what? Go to hell, Art. Really." She rolled her eyes. "Great, at least there I won't see your face." he retorted, not looking away. "Wow, Art. Happy birthday. You’re an asshole, and I hope that for your birthday, you choke on cake to death, and I’ll have the chance to write that on your grave." She walked away from him too, just wanting to get home.

A week later, she broke up with Jake. She didn’t talk to Patrick and Art until the end of the summer, no matter how much they tried to get in touch. She decided to forgive them only two weeks into the school year at Stanford when she had no choice and felt lonely.

Rebecca once told her that boys will be boys, Right?

Send me more requests, it's really fun to write those. anything you wish to fiil the gap about my fav trio is more than welcome in my inbox <3

taglist:

@suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

#the time of our lives #challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers

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tickle-bugs · 2 years ago

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I just wanted to say regardless of whether you've seen the show that you're my favorite ST writer. I dont know how you capture the characters so well while further developing them perfectly but it's genuinely incredible. I must've read your steddie fics like 97 times just because I adore them <3 If you're still taking prompts, I'd love to maybe see Steve and Eddie! Maybe with "Oh this is too good to pass up" as the dialogue? Either way, you're incredible and I can't wait to read all your other work <3

Okay, wow this is VERY sweet ;w; You are so so kind anon. I think I'm getting better at writing them now after having practiced. Those first fics have a fond place in my heart for being the first ones, but every day I am tempted to rewrite them LMAO

anyways, I'm certainly far from perfect but I'm grateful that you enjoy them!! This warms my heart so much. I really do love writing them and the positive response to those fics made me wanna keep going and improve. Still haven't seen the show yet but honestly I'm chilling in this little niche I've carved for them.

Hopefully this fic makes you happy and pushes me a lil closer to being worthy of the honor of being your fav. Really hope you enjoy--I fuckin love these boys <3

...................

Ahoy, Sailor

You can read this as a season three au or as season four. Either way, Steve and Eddie have a bitchy will they/won’t they rivalry situation going on. Eddie REALLY likes pushing Steve’s buttons.

It’s not unusual for Eddie to find his way to the Harrington house for some excuse or another, but he’ll admit it’s unusual to be invited. He tends to just appear and haunt Steve unasked. It’s more fun that way.

Steve had called him, muttering something about how Eddie needed to come pick up his vest because it ‘smelled like a depressed hippie’. Eddie had fired back that Steve’s room couldn’t possibly smell any better without it, and their usual bickering had Eddie leaving fifteen minutes later with a grin on his face.

He loves Steve. Messing with him, that is. So, naturally, when Eddie ascends the stairs and sees Steve dressed like a little schoolboy, he takes a minute to compose his best jokes.

“Ahoy, sailor.” Eddie whistles, leaning in the doorway to Steve’s room. He drinks in the Scoops Ahoy uniform and all it blessedly has to offer.

“Wh—oh, fuck off. It’s laundry day.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” Eddie salutes. Steve flips him off.

“Cool the attitude, sassy lost child.” Eddie snorts. There’s piles of clothes on every surface in the room, arranged in a way that suggests intention but would baffle even the most equipped psychologist. Eddie wants to ask about the system here, but he knows he’s no better, so he just watches Steve flit around with a little pout on his face.

“You look like Donald Duck’s worst cousin.” Eddie snickers into his fist.

“You done?” Steve puts his hands on his hips.

“For now.” Eddie shrugs. Steve huffs.

Steve keeps rooting through the piles on the floor--slow enough to be mesmerizing, but fast enough where he’s clearly looking for something specific. Oh, his vest. Laundry. Eddie scans the room until, aha--he spots it hanging over the back of Steve’s desk chair, smooth and loved. Striking, compared to the state of everything else. Eddie smiles before he can catch himself.

“My vest is over there.” Eddie jerks a thumb towards Steve’s desk.

“Yeah, I see that.” Steve gives him a perplexed look. He shakes his head and keeps drifting through the clothes.

“Then what are you looking for?” Eddie ventures, stepping into the room properly. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t shrug his vest on. It feels like a conclusion of business, a visual excuse for Steve to kick him out despite the olive branch he’s inexplicably extended.

“A shirt. Robin’s got a date to impress.” Steve sorts through a pile. He looks between a yellow sweater and a green one, sighs, and tosses them both aside.

“By wearing…your clothes?”

“Yes, Munson, keep up.” Steve puts a hand on his hip. “She’s gonna be here eventually, probably freaking out, and I wanna give her two options. Just two. She’s gotta look good, but she’s gotta be comfortable.”

“Right.” Eddie nods slowly, as if this makes sense.

“Hey, make yourself useful. I’ve got this shirt, uhm, dark blue? With a little stripe? If you find it, let me know.” Steve flaps a hand at him. Eddie knows precisely the shirt--it fits Steve distractingly well.

“I’ll get right on that, sweetheart.” Eddie flops backwards on the bed. Steve shoots him a withering look. Eddie gives his most charming smile and folds his arms behind his head.

God, he loves this part of their little dance. The way Steve looks at him, the undeniable fondness buried beneath the exasperation—it’s a thrill.

Steve tugs at a shirt underneath Eddie’s body, but he can’t get it free. He heaves a belabored sigh.

“Do you mind?” Steve’s eyebrow twitches.

“Not at all. I’m enjoying myself immensely.” Eddie smirks.

“If you stretch out my shirt, I’m gonna push you in the goddamn pool. Get up!” Steve jabs Eddie in the side. Eddie giggles and flinches violently.

Steve Harrington is looking at him as if he’s the best present he’s ever received, and while some deep and unacknowledged part of Eddie does flips at the sight, it’s terrifying.

“Oh, this is too good to pass up.” Steve crawls onto the bed after him, his devilish grin curling wider by the second. Eddie’s face burns and he scrambles to flee, but Steve’s already on top of him.

“Don’t you dare, Harring—aaah!” Eddie’s soul and dignity flee him in a high-pitched shriek.

“Holy shit. I’m barely touching you.” Steve staccato pokes him everywhere he can reach, quick and light, and Eddie can’t stop the giggles bursting from him in waves. He wants to think of something witty to say, but it tickles, and Steve’s smirking—it’s a lot to ask of man under these conditions.

Steve starts tickling him in earnest, his fingers skittering wherever they can reach. When Steve trips up his ribs, Eddie arches like he’s being hit with a defibrillator. He smushes his face into his hands, hoping maybe he’ll smother himself and they can call this a day, but Steve tuts at him and pulls his hands away from his face.

“No way you’re this ticklish,” Steve says again—does he really need to rub it in—and gives Eddie’s sides a curious squeeze. Eddie shrieks and flips himself over, attempting to crawl towards freedom.

“Where’re you going?” Steve drags Eddie back into place by his waist. He makes an incoherent whining noise that breaks off into laughter and goes limp on the bed. He tries to roll back over but Steve is solid on top of him. Being face-down gives him the small mercy of being able to hide his face while he cackles.

God, he didn’t even know that the back of someone’s ribs could be ticklish. Holy hell.

Eddie grabs at Steve’s knee and releases a desperate jumble of syllables. Steve yelps and falls backwards off the bed.

Eddie peeks at him over the edge of the bed, laughter petering off into gentle embers. Steve stares up at him, wide-eyed. Eddie backtracks, trying to figure out why a simple touch would’ve elicited such a big reac—oh. Oh.

Steve’s halfway down the stairs before Eddie even realizes he’s gone.

“Hey! Get back here!” Eddie skids after him two stairs at a time, swiping at the back of Steve’s shirt.

Eddie tackles Steve over the back of the couch, both of them a tangle of screeching, flailing limbs. Steve’s stronger but Eddie is scrappy, having long since abandoned his self-preservation instincts. Steve tries to roll them over and Eddie goes limp. Steve grunts under the deadweight, and it gives Eddie the two seconds he needs to clamber on top of him properly.

“Now—“ Eddie finally wrestles Steve down, huffing a lock of hair out of his eyes— “What the everloving fuck was that?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s poker face is good, but Eddie can see right through that easy smile. He walks his fingers across Steve’s stomach. Steve inhales sharply.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Eddie raises his eyebrows innocently. Steve narrows his eyes at him, but his fake smile is very slowly twitching into a real one.

Spurred on, Eddie kneads into Steve’s stomach, gentle and a little clumsy. Steve trembles under him, wrenching a hand free just to cover his face. Little huffs and snickers wobble out of him.

“Dishing out what you can’t take? Oh, this is precious.” Eddie snickers. Steve shoves his hand into the side of his face to push him away. Eddie licks it.

Steve screeches, but that breaks the dam. The first beautiful sound from him is a snort. Eddie gasps happily, then laughs right along with Steve.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t laugh, he does, but it’s often the restrained chuckle that Eddie loves to give every royal NPC in his campaign. Eddie’s never heard anything like this, this bubbly rush littered with voice-cracks and little bouts of nose-scrunched hiccups. He didn’t know Steve was even capable of these kinds of noises.

The stupid little Scoops shirt rides up and Eddie takes advantage of bare skin. Steve squeals and goes boneless on the couch. He hits Eddie with the full brunt of his smile, unfiltered and radiant, and something in Eddie’s chest flutters.

“EddieEddieEddie--” Steve snorts again, and the speed at which his face turns scarlet suggests embarrassment. Eddie can’t imagine why.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Eddie reaches behind him and finds Steve’s knee, tickling just where the goofy shorts stop, and Steve wails. He curls his head into Eddie’s chest and seems to resign himself to die there. Eddie has absolutely no feelings about how warm Steve feels or the desperate little leg kick he does.

Steve grabs Eddie’s wrists and he relents, figuring the promise of future mischief is a sufficient tradeoff for a truce. Steve collapses back into the couch cushions with a delirious little giggle, rubbing his hands over his beaming face. Steve peeks at him overtop his hands, then snickers again.

The longer they sit here, both breathing a little hard, the longer Eddie has to notice the gentle warmth and curve of Steve’s eyes. A hysterical man would call them doe-like. Eddie accepts this new state of being and leans a little closer. His guitar pick necklace dangles over Steve’s chest. Steve’s jaw falls slack, eyes flitting to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s hair falls in a frizzy curtain around them both.

Eddie doesn’t see Robin so much as he hears her—the screech of disgust bounces off every wall. He pops his head up and they make direct, unfortunate eye contact. She shoots him an all-knowing look with her beady, accusatory little eyes and he gives her his most threatening zip it gesture.

Steve decides that that’s the moment to counterattack, sending a cackling Eddie toppling off the cushions and onto the floor. Steve slides down after him, ducking under a flailing arm and scribbling his fingers wherever he can reach. Eddie curls up like a pillbug. He can hear Robin saying something but it's unintelligible over the sound of his own laughter.

“I know, right?” Steve grins back at her, then looks back to Eddie. Softly.

Steve has the audacity to wink at him. Eddie files that little moment away for Tonight Eddie to scream into a pillow about, and instead focuses on launching a counter-counterattack that’ll save his life.

#my fics #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #ticklish!steve harrington #ticklish!eddie munson #me answering this ask and sweating: dont write an essay dont write an essay there's already a fic attached to this dont--#anyways thank you anon ive been sitting on these kind words for a little bit and it really means a lot to me. <3 #kind anons carry this blog on their backs fr #also codependent besties stobin are everything to me. robin steals steves clothes and then he just starts giving them to her #also at the end robin definitely is saying that eddie laughs like a goblin and steves like yeah. he does <3 #continuation of the 'robin has a key to steve's house' saga

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deleahtarte · 11 months ago

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BRO IM IN LOVE WITH UR KEVIN x BUTTERS FIC, CAN YOU PLS PLS PLS PLS SHARE SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT THE PAIRING WITH USSS PLSSSsS???? ex: how did they started hanging out more? how did they reliaze they where in love with each other? who propossed? how? whats their fav activity to do together? etc. IM DYING TO KNOWWW

OH MY GOD THANK YOU!! It’s always such a delight every time I see another kindred spirit that enjoys Kevin/Butters, wow 😭😭

I have a draft of the prequel of The Boy Who Drank From The Sun and Moon, which answered most of these questions so forgive me when I say this, but you’ll have to read it to find out!! But I’m going to do my best to answer what I can loosely without giving too much away, so here I go!!

1. They started hanging out more because after Kenny’s death, Butters was extremely sad. The main four checked in on him whenever they could but Butters let Kevin in more than anyone else cause he reminded Butters of Kenny. So truthfully, sadly, at first—Butters didn’t really see Kevin for Kevin, he just wanted Kenny and Kevin was the closest thing to it. That’s why he slept with Kevin in the fic, it led back to Kenny, for him.

2. Kevin. It was Kevin. Kevin proposed. They’re not married in the fic I wrote about them but in the future, I can easily imagine Kevin doing it outdoors, alone, and they are surrounded by a bunch of flowers and it’s all very romantic because like that man is a romantic deep down

3. Their favorite activity to do together would be playing board games. It’s random, but they both love it because every time Butters played when he was a child he got excluded and no one took him seriously. Kevin has played them all his life with his siblings (I mean what else can they play) so he’s extremely good. They have a night dedicated (a date night really) where they just bust out a random board game and go to town. They love it. When they grow old together, they’re playing board games.

Random things I think of;

A. Kevin grows facial hair very quick so Butters helps him shave it off all the time. He’s a pro now

B. Kevin has awful vision but he refuses to wear glasses (he’ll wear them around the house…sometimes.) so Butters usually has to read something out loud to him when it’s distant. Ex. A menu hung on the wall. A speed sign

C. Everything Kevin cooks somehow ends up oddly…spicy. It could be a dessert, and it will still have a tang of something spicy in it. Butters does not understand how this could be and once launches a full blown investigation to figure it out and still hasn’t come out with an answer. He thinks it’s sorcery and one of the many wonders of the world; Kevin doesn’t even notice it.

D. Kevin is insecure about their age gap, three years, Butters does not really give a darn. He didn’t use to before he liked Butters, but after, he became vastly insecure about it. He keeps wondering if Butters will leave him for a younger guy (it’s only three years bud 😭😭) so he tries when it comes to appearance. (If there is something all the McCormicks have in common, it’s that their insecure, despite pretending otherwise)

#Butters will always love Kenny and that’s okay #After writing the first chap of Sad Man’s Paradise I have changed the hc a little hehe

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xtrablak674 · 3 months ago

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My First Painted Portrait

The original photo is from September of two-thousand and four, it was a self portrait I had named "Reflections". It was taken on my Olympus digital camera X-250. I can't recall if I exhibited the image or not, it may have been one of the selects in my first exhibition at Zion Gallery, I would have to dig through my records to confirm that. But it was one of my favs in its simplicity.

I am guessing Mr. Walker agreed because when his wife wanted to purchase one of my pieces he decided to do a painting in exchange, which would be the first piece I would ever have painted of me. I even recall the piece she wanted it was my second showing of WORK this text based piece face-mounted on a piece of plexiglas. I recall seeing her be out and about with the piece just in a bag, I cringed a little because it wouldn't probably stay in great condition like that, but clearly she was enjoying the work.

Mr. Walker named it "The Iconoclast" clearly borrowing from the tagline I had given myself, I want to say it was completed in two-thousand nineteen, but since its hanging on the wall and the back is covered up I can't confirm that, but I think that is the correct date. Mr. Walker would go on to paint me again, in that instance I actually sat for him, well the modern painters equivalent of sitting, he did a photoshoot.

The Iconoclast has consistently hung on my walls since I got it framed the same year of its birth. I change out a lot of the work on my walls but this one always remains through whatever iteration I am going through.

This isn't the first time I have been the subject of artist friends, usually they would take my own work and create their own. I need to do a separate post about folks who have photographed me. Here are some links to other pieces of that nature:

Sketch by Jeffrey Casto

Colored sketch by Jennifer Birkenhead [Say Hello to My Little Friends]

youtube

2nd Painting by Ajamu Walker, Trevor 2021

Charcoal sketch by Jeff Casto

Sketch by Jennifer Birkenhead

Pencil sketch by Jeffrey Casto

[Photos by Brown Estate]

#journal entry #art #artist #ajamu walker #jennifer birkenhead #jeffrey casto #sketches #charcoal #pencil #by hand #painting #portraiture #painting portraits #New York artist #artwork #fine art #charcoal sketch #Youtube

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oh-snapperss · 1 year ago

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i was tempted to post the whole fic here but here's a section from your work, "ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece":

""I have twenty-two minutes left," Skizz says, as if he were merely telling Etho what time of day it was, or that the chickens were all loose in the base again, or even that Impulse had fallen asleep on the stairs again, and don't wake him up! "And this is my final order."

Skizz fixes Etho with a look, right in the eye, one that Etho knows he'll never escape. The ticking still doesn't stop. "My time will not go to anybody else. TIES gets to final three."

Etho's grip around the axe tightens, but– he turns to face Tango and Impulse. “Tango, you don't– you don't want it?” Please take it. Please. But Tango is shaking his head, resolute. "You need it most, dude."

Skizz turns, and kneels, his face turned to the ground in acceptance. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The axe swings upward, poised in the air above Skizz's neck, and the night falls silent, the air static with energy Etho can't quite place.

(There are Eyes w̸̜̼͗͝͝a̴̦͓̻̋̂t̷̤̰̞́͠c̵̠̯̩͌h̷̫̰̏i̸̱̙̻̊̋͑ň̷̙̠g̵̫̱̊.)

For a moment, the axe hangs there, held up by invisible strands that Etho swears are pulling the axe away from Skizz's neck, tightening by the moment as if to stop him from doing the very thing he knows he'll do at any moment. The axe drops towards Skizz's neck, falters, and pulls back up again before Etho can force his body to go through with it. He grits his teeth, forces his eyes to stay open–to aim. Readjusting his grip, Etho takes one deep breath. Then two. He's wasting his time and he's not even sure why. It's not like he's never killed before, or even used an axe to do it.

“Etho....?”

He doesn't even know who said it.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

(Somewhere in another game, Tango tells Bdubs: He's a survivor, man, that's what he does.)

Etho swings.

Heat travels through his body, up through his hands and arms and then the rest of him. It's so much that he thinks he might explode, or maybe he just has. The world is silent, save for the ringing in his ears, and a thousand years have passed in the agony that tears through him. The entire world is white and gone and it's too much, enough he’s sure he’s going to die with Skizz."

i can't get that phrase out of my head, of "static energy". your writing is wild man, absolutely one of my fav life series authors :] -vm

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA no i'm so glad you asked about this passage OMGGG

link to the fic this section is from

send me a passage of a fic i've written and i'll give detailed commentary on it!

god. okay so this scene was definitely one of the harder things I've written in the year or so I've done fic--I wanna say I actually rewrote this entire part... three, four, five times? I was struggling to find the right way of describing being hit by lightning because. well. I hadn't been hit by lightning so I didn't really know how to write it!

and them a miracle occurred by my own dumbassery and i accidentally electrocuted myself three times in one night with an outlet and that gave me a starting point! ((disclaimer DO NOT DO THIS))

Anyways, my thinking for this paragraph! I really wanted to have the memories of a slightly domestic life within TIES flashing through Etho's mind. I like to think about TIES as fiercely loyal to each other, like some type of almost family. Not like... family family, but you get what I mean. Having that section, that little glimpse into what living in denial about their time running out was something I think added to the overall horror of this chapter.

Skizz fixes Etho with a look, right in the eye, one that Etho knows he'll never escape. The ticking still doesn't stop. "My time will not go to anybody else. TIES gets to final three." Etho's grip around the axe tightens, but– he turns to face Tango and Impulse. “Tango, you don't– you don't want it?” Please take it. Please. But Tango is shaking his head, resolute. "You need it most, dude."

This part was less me and more the actual dialogue of what happened. I must have rewatched that scene from Etho's pov a good thirty times just trying to peruse what I wanted to keep, edit, or add to this scene. The only thing I really, really needed to convey throughout this entire time was the time ticking away and away, because I think as the end approached in LimL, that was something every player came to notice constantly. Tick, tick, tick, tick. That little rhythm, a reminder that their time was fading. A reminder it wasn't too late.

The other thing I think is worth noting about the ticking in this fic--I don't know if you ever heard or watched Unus Annus, but I was a day one watcher of that channel and the first thing I thought of when I saw the concept of LimL was that goddamn ticking clock they had at the start of their videos, counting down. It really affected how I watched the entire series and I wanted that tick tick tick tick to carry through in this.

(i'm gonna put the rest under a read more!)

Skizz turns, and kneels, his face turned to the ground in acceptance. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The axe swings upward, poised in the air above Skizz's neck, and the night falls silent, the air static with energy Etho can't quite place. (There are Eyes w̸̜̼͗͝͝a̴̦͓̻̋̂t̷̤̰̞́͠c̵̠̯̩͌h̷̫̰̏i̸̱̙̻̊̋͑ň̷̙̠g̵̫̱̊.)

Once again, a combination of canon and the tick rhythm.

"Static with energy Etho can't quite place." THIS line right here was where I first started trying to carry in the same feelings as one might have felt when reading The Stories We Tell and the Truths Untold. Being set in the same series, if you've read both fics than you'll know that Etho and the Watchers have just a slight history. My goal here was to carry across that weird energy Etho felt back with Team Canada in this fic. And, if the reader had NOT read the Team Canada fic, which I assumed would be the case since Ethubs is such a more popular thing than Team Canada, they could interpret it as the energy of four men on a platform--two about to watch their best friend die, one about to kill his friend, and the fourth knowing his end is here.

And then the final line with the Watching!! Once again, a throwback to the Team Canada fic, where I not only had used this type of text for the watchers throughout, but had also increased how corrupted the word "watching" was as the fic progressed and Etho got more freaked out.

eeeheheehhehehehe this is literally just building up tension for the most part--racing thoughts, the ticking ongoing, Etho hesitating to do it, which is where the fic differentiates from canon.

“Etho....?” He doesn't even know who said it. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. (Somewhere in another game, Tango tells Bdubs: He's a survivor, man, that's what he does.) Etho swings.

Yeah. yeah... this line. I think the throwback to the Line was important to Etho's character and the study through the rest of the fic. He's a survivor. I'll be interested to see if that continues in Secret Life, because...he's actually been so out of character I could see him not choosing himself in the end. Just once. I dunno! I could be SO wrong. But so much of this fic revolves around Etho and his need to survive vs. the love he has for his friends...I think this sets the stage for the internal conflict coming.

Just as the axe connects with Skizz's neck, thunder cracks overhead, so loud the crack shatters through his bones and shakes the platform. The lightning hits Skizz in the same second, blinding white and in arcs of electricity that dance down Skizz's body, down through his hair and neck, and then up the axe still moving into his neck. It's too late to stop the connection, too fast to stop the lightning from dancing its way up the blade and handle. Instead, it's as if Etho is frozen, mesmerized by the tendrils of pure energy that arc around his hands, before connecting, and– Heat travels through his body, up through his hands and arms and then the rest of him. It's so much that he thinks he might explode, or maybe he just has. The world is silent, save for the ringing in his ears, and a thousand years have passed in the agony that tears through him. The entire world is white and gone and it's too much, enough he’s sure he’s going to die with Skizz."

If you've ever wondered what this sounded like in my head... it sounded like this. I don't know how to explain that most of this section was inspired by a fucking Spiderverse track, but here we are. So much of the build-up and the actual strike was this. If you listen to the song, it builds up and up for the first 34 seconds, and then it stops, and then just. GOES and that's the moment I felt like the axe dropped and the lightning struck, in those moments after. I know that probably sounds like . laurie what the fuck is wrong with you. but the vast majority of my fics are written with song inspiration and soundtrack in mind, and music helps me visualize things such as this i could NEVER write otherwise. If you don't listen to soundtrack or instrumentals, I highly recommend it for writing!

Thanks so much for the section!!! I hope this all makes sense:]

#laurie thoughts #anon #fic segment commentary #etho

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lovesosweeet · 1 year ago

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter ten

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

october 17, 2016 madrid, spain orion

Slightly hungover, I wake up to four missed calls from Calum, along with twenty-something text messages. It's been a while since they were in Europe. They went to the US for a month or so and then toured Australia and New Zealand. Now the that tour is over, none of 5SOS are really posting much, so I don’t even know where in the world he is these days.

We'd gone out last night — me, Paula, Ilse, Marta, and Lucia. We started at Space Monkey, taking advantage of Lucia's employee discount. We ended up at Capital, which is notably the fanciest place we could've gone. I wasn't allowed to wear my normal sneakers, which made me mad, especially for having to pay the 20€ cover fee to get in. I'm not that hungover. My head just hurts and my stomach needs food, and I'm definitely exhausted.

Calum and I have texted and Facetimed sparsely since they left Europe, but I've tried to keep it brief. I'm sure he's been seeing other girls since they’ve been on different continents, and I’ve been trying to make the most of my time in Madrid with my wonderful roommates who’ve turned into great friends. He doesn’t need to waste his time on me. I don’t expect anything out of him. We were just a temporary thing. I don’t know that we make sense beyond the time we’ve spent together, so I’ve been trying to keep my expectations low. He’s called me here and there, but again, I’ve tried to keep it brief. I’ve been trying to avoid getting too attached, and the more we talk, the more attached I’d get.

His onslaught of notifications totally catches me off guard. What does he want? Why would he text me that many times and call, all at once? Did he give me an STD? Jesus, how would I even get tested here? Just go to the hospital?

I nervously open my messages app to see what he’s sent.

From: calum 5sos

hi what are you doing today

your fav bassist may or may not be back in madrid

okay yeah he’s here

i’m in madrid and i want to see you

may or may not have been my first choice in post-tour destination

may or may not be because of you

wow i definitely don’t mean to be creepy

i’ve missed you

so much

just checked your insta story and assuming you’re hungover and/or asleep still

pls let me know when you’re up

also you looked so hot last night

wanna get avo toast and coffee and donuts?!

orion

fuck

i want to see you

i’m outside your place btw sorry to show up uninvited.

if you want me to leave please tell me

i know it’s been a bit but i’ve wanted to see you for so long

i’ll hang here til 2.

no worries if you’re asleep!!! get that beauty rest but you’re the prettiest ever regardless i promise

i just really missed you and am so excited to see you

hope you wake up soon so i can squeeze you

i want to spend every second with you so the weeks apart have been torture

can’t wait to see you. seriously.

pls wake up and let me in

While I guess I am excited to see him, I don’t know what he’s doing here. He came here first? He chose to see me over his family and friends? Madrid isn’t exactly close to LA or Australia. I think his sister lives in London, so maybe he’s on his way to her.

I don’t bother to check the voicemails — his texts have said more than enough.

To: calum 5sos

um hi just woke up

i’ll be down in a bit

I get out of bed and change my sleep shorts to jeans, throwing a hoodie on over my sports bra, and slipping my feet into my beloved white sneakers. I leave my room to head to the bathroom and find Paula and Lucia cuddled up on the couch, scrolling through their phones. It’s 11:30 now, and they’ve both showered it seems, since their hair is wet, so I’m guessing they’ve been up for a while.

“Buenos,” Paula greets me. She doesn’t look hungover at all, but I don’t think she actually drank that much last night.

“Hi,” I say back, debating talking to her or just getting to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face quickly. I decide to update her on the situation. “Um, Calum’s outside?”

Her eyes go wide and she puts her phone down. “What?” She’s also grinning at me wickedly. She has always loved the idea of me and Cal together, but I always reminded her we were just casual and to stop getting so excited about our prospect as a ‘real’ couple. This news is probably music to her ears.

“I don’t know, he sent me, like, twenty texts and called me a bunch.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I don’t know why, but I’m stressed about this. What the fuck is he doing here?

“Orion, I keep telling you. He likes you!”

I frown. Why would he choose me? “I don’t know. I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go see what he wants.”

Letting the water heat up so I can wash my face, I brush my teeth and braid my hair. In the mirror, I see I still have mascara smudges from taking off my makeup in my drunken stupor early this morning. I do my best to wake myself up with the hot water and quickly apply some mascara and brow gel. I don’t need to impress Calum, but suddenly I hate my reflection. I frown at myself and let out a sigh, and then I leave the bathroom, hurrying out the door of the apartment and down the creaky stairs.

When I step out onto the sidewalk, I see him. He’s sitting on the bench that’s about 20 feet from the door, scrolling on his phone. Next to him, I see a small bouquet of chamomile, a silky pink ribbon tied around the flowers. Calum is wearing a cobalt blue hoodie and his typical black pants with a pair of white sneakers. His hair is hidden under a gray beanie. My stupid heart starts beating faster at the sight of him. He looks sleepy and cozy.

I gulp and approach the bench, clearing my throat to catch his attention. Calum looks up at me with his dark brown eyes and instantly grins when we make eye contact. He practically jumps up and runs to me, engulfing me in a tight hug and lifting me off the ground.

I hug him back. It is nice to see him, I’ve decided. He’s warm and he smells nice this morning.

Calum holds me in the air for what feels like a very long time before he sets me back on the ground.

“Hi,” he breathes. He’s still beaming at me, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “I’ve missed you.”

Why?

“I’ve missed you too,” I find myself saying. I have, but I’ve been trying not to think about it. I’ve tried to keep my distance.

He then pulls me into another hug, and I awkwardly wrap my arms around him again, still in shock that he’s here right now. And he missed me. He missed me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My voice is soft, quiet. I’m so uncertain about this situation.

“I wanted to see my favorite girl.”

I’m his favorite girl?

I don’t say anything else. I just remain wrapped around him, breathing in his scent and enjoying his warmth. It’s a bit chilly today. Fall has started to kick in, and I’m jealous of Calum’s beanie right now.

“Would I be able to go upstairs for a sec? I’ve been here for a few hours and really need to pee. I didn’t want to leave in case you came down while I was gone. Didn’t want to miss my chance to surprise you properly.”

I nod against him, untangling my limbs from his. “Yeah, of course,” I breathe out. I take a step back, and he grabs my hand quickly, pulling me back closer to him. He leans down and kisses me, which catches me off guard. This whole thing is catching me off guard and I’m so confused. My brain won’t compute what’s happening.

“Sorry, just needed to kiss you real quick.” He laughs. The smile on his face is still plastered there, unceasing.

I manage to smile slightly at him before I use his hand to pull him toward the door of our building. We climb up the creaky stairs back to our apartment, and I take a deep breath before I open the door to our apartment, hoping Paula and Lucia aren’t gossiping about Calum as we walk in.

Cal’s been here before, of course, so he just heads straight to the bathroom and I whisper to him that I’ll be in the living room when he’s done. Lucia and Paula are waiting patiently for me in the living room, speaking almost silently in Spanish to each other. They look to me excitedly and expectantly, hoping I can share some sort of insights with them as to why Calum is here.

‘He LOVES you’ Paula mouths to me as I sit on an armchair that faces the couch they’re sitting on.

‘STOP’ I mouth back, shooting her an angry glare. The walls in the apartment are thin, and you can usually hear everything if you listen hard enough. I don’t want to risk Calum hearing what she says.

We’re all surprised when we hear a scream and some door slamming.

“Sorry! What the fuck!?” Ilse yells. She must have tried to go to the bathroom. At this point we don’t even knock before we enter it; we’re all so close and familiar we just enter the bathroom whenever we want. It’s four girls and only one bathroom, so we have just given up on privacy in there. When Lucia is here, it’s five girls and one bathroom, so she’s just gotten used to our practice and uses it just like she would if she lived here. It seems that she’s tried to go in while Cal is in there.

I hear her footsteps scurrying to the living room.

“What the hell is Calum doing here?!” Ilse whisper-yells when she gets to us.

“I don’t know!” I whisper-yell back.

We all turn our heads as the sound of the toilet flushing and the door squeaking back open hits our ears, followed by the sound of Cal’s quiet footsteps to the living room.

“Sorry, Ilse — I should’ve locked it. Baño is all yours.” He looks a little embarrassed, but it’s not like we haven’t all seen that infamous Snapchat. “Also, hi everyone. Good to see you.”

“Why are we screaming so early?” Marta’s voice echoes out, and she joins us all in the living room seconds later. It takes a moment for her to register that Calum is here, and then her eyes widen and she freezes in shock. “Calum?”

“Hi Marta! Sorry to wake you up,” he apologizes. He crosses the small space between them and wraps her into a quick hug, and then he hugs Ilse, and then Paula, and then Lucia.

This is weird. This is so weird. He’s met them all before but this just feels so different. None of us could’ve predicted he’d be here this morning.

“We’re gonna go grab breakfast. Do any of you want us to bring you anything back? Coffees?”

He’s met with a chorus of ‘yes please, coffee’ and he nods, looking at me expectantly with a small smile. “Ready to go?”

I nod wordlessly and turn around, heading for the door. I hear Cal’s footsteps behind me quickly, and we leave the apartment once again and get to the street. Almost as some kind of reflex, I grab his hand in mine and start walking toward my favorite breakfast place, assuming that’s where he’d want to go. We walk in silence for a few minutes before he disrupts the quiet.

“Are you okay? You’re pretty quiet.” He squeezes my hand.

I nod again. “Yeah, just kinda stunned, I guess?”

“You didn’t think I’d want to visit you as soon as I could? I wanted to keep it as somewhat of a surprise!” He laughs his sweet, quiet laugh and I feel his thumb rub the back of my hand the way he’s done so many times before.

I clear my throat and shake my head. “No, I didn’t really expect that you’d want to see me again, honestly.”

My shoulder is almost ripped from its socket when Calum suddenly stops walking.

“What?”

I turn around to face him and his expression is a mix of confusion and hurt.

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

His expression makes my heart hurt a bit. I didn’t mean anything nasty by what I said, but I truly didn’t expect that we’d keep seeing each other now that the European leg is over and tour is over and he can go back to his normal life.

I shrug. “I guess I just thought you’d move on.”

He frowns. “Did you want me to move on?”

No. I didn’t want him to move on. I liked him. I liked him a lot. The idea of us being more than what we were just felt unattainable, so I always assumed he would move on. I was sure there was a girl or two in the other places they went, and surely back in LA there are plenty of girls more suitable for him, other musicians and actresses and influencers; definitely not some random student at UCLA.

“Of course not.”

Calum looks deeply confused and hurt, which wasn’t my intention. I feel bad. “Orion, I really like you. Have I not made that clear?” He’s not being snarky with his question. He sounds genuine and uncertain, which makes me feel worse.

He had been texting me this whole time we’d been apart. He likes everything I post to Instagram. He calls me every week.

Have I just been an idiot this whole time?

“I thought I was just the girl in Europe.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I guess kind of like… a groupie? I was the girl you hung out with in Europe. Maybe just one of the girls? I figured there were others, and you had girls in Asia and America and Australia.”

Calum looks bewildered. “No, no. Orion, this whole time, it’s just been you. I like you. I’m so sorry if I wasn’t clear, because I thought you knew.”

Still in shock, I really don’t know how to reply.

“Shit, Matt had you on our security list as ‘Orion Moss - Calum’s girlfriend.’”

Girlfriend? We’re both silent for a few seconds, the words hanging in the air. I feel like I can almost read them floating in the space between us.

“Am I?”

Now Calum seems to be at a loss for words. He’s still confused, upset almost.

Am I his girlfriend? Do I want to be his girlfriend? I guess that’s a stupid question. Of course I do. I check his tagged photos on Instagram as a pre-bed ritual almost every night. I scroll through the photos we have together in my camera roll constantly; I even made an album of them so they’re all in one place. When he texts me, I have to intentionally make myself wait to reply so I don’t seem too clingy or desperate.

“Do you want to be?” He finally asks.

This time I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Relief washes over him and I watch his stress melt away. A smile appears shortly thereafter, and then he’s stepping toward me, kissing me for the second time this morning. There’s a warmth that starts to burn in my chest and I find myself smiling against his lips. He’s here. He’s really here and he likes me.

Calum creates a tiny bit of space between our mouths, just enough that he can speak. “Then please, please be my girlfriend.”

I giggle, feeling like a giddy little kid whose crush just said they like them back on the playground. “I am happy to accept your offer.”

We kiss a bit more, and then I start feeling self conscious when I remember we’re just making out on a sidewalk in Spain’s most populous city, one of the largest cities in Europe, and he’s famous and anyone could see us and post about it. I pull away, saying we can continue it later, and he says he can’t wait.

We resume our walk to the cafe, hand in hand, and I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. When I glance at Calum, he’s smiling too. I’m probably happier right now than I have been in a very long time. Once we reach the cafe, he stops.

“Want to get it to go? We can get donuts too and take it to Retiro for a little picnic.” His suggestion sounds perfect, so I agree.

We order our breakfasts — hummus and avocado toast for me, tortilla con jamón for him — and wait a few minutes before they bring it to us. Cal pays, as always, and then we walk to the donut shop that I consider my favorite place in the whole world. We get a four pack of the day’s most unique flavors, along with oat milk cappuccinos to drink, and then we travel the short distance to Retiro, which is bustling as always.

We sit by the pond to watch people using the little paddle boats, and I try to aesthetically set up our spread of food to take a picture. Calum just watches me in amusement while I try to get the perfect shot. Once I’ve got it, I tell him he can start eating. I quickly text the picture to the group chat with my flat mates, whose replies come through instantly, as if they were waiting for me to text them an update (which, to be fair, they probably were).

To: lavapies ladies!!!

Image attached

brunch picnic in retiro with my BOYFRIEND

From: paula (lavapies ladies!!!!)

BITCH I TOLD YOU

HOLY SHIT

From: marta (lavapies ladies!!!!)

DIOS MIOOOOOO

From: ilse (lavapies ladies!!!!)

she’s a rockstar’s girlfriend aaaahhhhhh

From: paula (lavapies ladies!!!!)

“it’s just casual” mY MF ASSSSS

At the last message, I roll my eyes, locking my phone and putting it into my back pocket. I look up from my phone and find Calum’s camera pointed at me. The shutter goes off as soon as I make eye contact with the lens.

“Just wanna remember this moment,” he gushes, smiling so sweetly at me before putting his phone away too.

We then dig in to the spread, but of course it’s far too much food for the two of us. I know we’ll bring whatever is left back to my apartment and the girls will inhale it all, so it’s fine. I get to listen to lots more tour stories from Calum than he’s shared over text or on our brief phone calls, and I tell him more about my classes and the little adventures I’ve gone on with my roommates. It’s so nice getting to talk to him again. It’s so easy, and it feels right, and I just feel so giddy about the fact that it wasn’t just a casual thing. It’s real, and it’s serious.

It’s then that I realize it, and I don’t know what took me so long. I now know I was in denial, but it’s clear as day while we sit in this park.

I am completely and utterly in love with Calum Hood.