#I say this in jest but do i? Idk man im just a girl

[scarameownya]

tags ran out so im continuing it here JAJSJSDJJD

on a second thought i should have tagged this as nsfw before the tags ran out 💀

#GRANDMA LOST HER SON AND DAUGHTER IN LAW... STOP IT STOP I DONT WANNA GET EMOTIONAL JAIL JAIL FOR YOU

#"grandma filled the roles so well even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled out" thats its im stealing your brain this is actually insane writing and wording IM IN LOVE

#NO NO NOT HIM REGRETTING NOT BEING TO HELP HER AS A CHILD NOBONONOON

#AND HER DEATH HELLO ?!?!?! ok and ik u didnt intended for it to be but id like to think him brushing off people's remarks

#are somewhat in a way him grieving cause hes knows all of it and in a way because he knows his child self could not reciprocate all of it

#DO NOT TORTURE ME MORE WITH HIM READING HIS PARENTS LETTER AND FUCKING CRYING RIV I WILL KILL YOU HELLO IM ?!?@?@?@?#?@#*×*

#ALSO AUAGAHAHAHA I LOVE THEIR BANTER SO MUCH OMFGGGGGGGG THE FACT THAT HE HAS SOMEONE TO SHARE AND CALL A HOME WITH AUGAHSHSHD

#als his thought process during the smut scene... :[[ poor lil brain boy.. he's literally so happy at how you are so perfect for him

#and just how whole you made him feel... wahhh :"[[[[ riv should get her device taken away signing a petition rn //lh

#THE LETTER AT THE END ?!?!?! OMFG HAITHAM YOU CHEESY ASS //POS ALL POS HES JUST SO ?!?!?! SO ?!?@@??!

#seeing haitham this gentle is insane omfg riv i love love LOVE your version of him so much-- lowkey got me blushing at it like-- STOP

#ALL IN ALL HELLO ?!?!?! THIS IS INCREDIBLE IM LITERALLY SO HOOKED IN EVERY WORDS AND THEYRE ALL SO WELL WRITTEN

#eating your brain i need that nutrients PLS I JUST ?!?!?! I JUST LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMFG UAHSUAHDHSDHDHFHDH

#what if i die for just liking this too much-- IM SORRY BUT JUST ?!?!? EVERYTHING FLOW SO SMOOTHLY AND AND ITS SO NATURAL AND I JUST LOVE SEEING IT PLAYED OUT FROM START TO FINISH

#whens the wedding this should be at 28 ill be waiting //lh

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. 

────────────────────────

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. 

────────────────────────

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.”

────────────────────────

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, topes 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 wait 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

[gunkbaby]

Ghoul, so confusing

[defensivelee]

mmm does anyone remember the miss miseryguts au. yknow the genderswap verse with a focus on james/sophia. yea im having a lot of thoughts, srry this is a lot and not very coherent :3

it's just so fun imagining the specific dynamic of how sophia is viewed, possibly even less favorably than her male historical counterpart bc she's 1. openly delusional (not in the pop psychology way but like actually suffering from delusions and religious mania out here) and 2. an old woman. she went a little bit mad, they say, after losing big sister...

but like imagine how much more badly everyone wants charles (boy mary) to come over to get his mother off the throne. i think he's more willing to do this than real mary was historically, but he still rlly wants willemina's support and kind of that confirmation like.... yes go ahead you can absolutely go kill ur mother and i would still love you.

i think charles would rule as the sole monarch (the REAL charles 3) and willemina as his consort, though she's probably still Necessary for charles and his rule. she's not viewed very favorably and is seen as a bit of a 'viper' behind the throne, but she is very smart. she's just lowkey kind of miserable bc she misses the netherlands a lot and she so badly wishes she could do all the things a man could, a bit like irl liselotte. her mental illness here makes itself a lot more obvious so she acts a bit erratically and she's kind of an alcoholic tbh. it's not made better by how she can't conceive any children either, but she's at least very pleased with never feeling bad about it for england. she hates everyone there, the whole country can rot, she just feels bad she can't give charles a son bc he rlly does deserve it...

also a little bit random but i think henry villiers (boy anne villiers) would go with charles during the glorious revolution and hopefully never die. he'd probably be rewarded the earldom of portland then, so miss johanna villiers (girl bentinck <3) then becomes the countess of portland and it all works out. since henry is an englishman i don't think the court has their xenophobic freakout over him, but what they do freak out over is for what they deem charles' excessive affection towards johanna. charles is kind of jokingly assumed to be just like his uncle at times, tho everyone knows he's a bit of a pussy so even they don't believe their own jests. still, they're starved for some scandal from their king, so anyone is fair game... the countess of portland, the duchess of shrewsbury (suo jure!!! by charles!!)....

anyway thats all idk where i was going with this i just thought it was some silly goofy fun

[squeiky]

Just getting even more weird tonight- idk I think holding myself back because I fear unanimous rejection is probably what’s keeping me for horny posting on main about why certain colors reflected on objects and skin tones makes me like 😳👀👀👀👀 and y’all don’t understand but the aesthetic attraction has got me weak

Holy fuck I’m into some weird shit y’all. I can’t even call it “sexy” or “hot” or “horny” because you’d immediately assume “oh like sexual attraction?”

NO. YOU FOOL AND JEST- you hath not seen anything. You’ve gained the fools eye and walk around as if it is wise. You are no wizard! You are the old lizard beneath a desecrated rock. Seagulls shall shit upon you very home and consume your entire being.

Like how do I explain this? It’s like temperature hot. This shit is flaming. This shit is fire to my eyeballs and thus my body reacts as if a thousand suns has entered the domain of my being- and I sit and stare carelessly as if I am merely gazing upon grace of pole dancers- yet the second that FUCKING aesthetic hits Im a dog on the floor. I am licking my own tears. I am howling at the fucking moon. How do you say “you look pretty. TOO pretty”. And NO not in the “mainstream” pretty way. You could be dressed up like motherfucking grinch and man I’d Tony the Tiger.

I’m fucking weak to lighting too- so I see this girl standing in the sun a bit to lovingly and I’m suddenly a lesbian. ???????????????????? Any other day I would’ve been fine wouldn’t even care to see her exist but OH no the lighting and the artistry of the human body and the structure of the stairwell behind her has created a photo- NO a painting beyond my comprehension and I am back to staring like a lost soul- a puppy in search of a lover to care for it. My heart yearns for a stranger who I should of have forgotten but NO.

don’t get me started on the goddamn moon.

Like who did this. Why does arousal occur only when I decided that the lingerine and clothing looks fashionable enough? (Literally walked by thousands of like bathsuit shit but the only thing that made me awooga was when I thought those clothes just WORKED. Like it had to bless my eyes with the grace of fashion. A naked body is not enough.)

Literally- ask me to play dnd in bed and I will literally be 😳😳😳😳 while someone is rolling the dice dressed like a tiefling with a cool accent and is sitting on the pillow I will never use. don’t even know anymore.

It’s horny aesthetic attraction. Who the fuck made this shit? I have to talk to the fucking manager of attraction because I swear to god you are NOT making me want to fuck a car (looking at you megatron from the films 😡)

[vonseal]

what im weak for this week

yet again, im dumb so we have two weeks worth! i’ll be on top of it next time, i promise!

this is real long, forewarning, but you guys are such good writers sooooo

(from now on, im keeping a running draft that i will just post once a week, this takes so long when i wait two weeks omg)

two boys; one bed by fivepixelphan

(tbh this sounds like it’s going to be dirtier than it is) (and in case you’re wondering, it’s 0% dirty, 100% cute) i love socky and i dont love unrequited feelings and so i was pretty covered in this fic, because it’s SOCKY WITH A HAPPY ENDING! all i wanted was a happy ending while reading through this fic, so bless fivepixelphan for coming through for me! <3

faking it by koutarous

when moonbin needs a fake boyfriend, who does he choose? obviously eunwoo because binu lives forever in our hearts!!! this sort of reminded me of coffee prince, without the whole “eunwoo is a girl holy cow” type of thing going on, which is just fine with me! i love the plot, because it’s corny and cliched and that’s legit my middle name (corny and cliched - it’s no longer Vonseal). please please please read this! it was just perfect!

you & me by sanhasbinu

why do i expect happy fics, all of a sudden there is an influx of angst and my heart is being ripped from my chest. sanahasbinu has been on here before with an angsty fic (cotton candy, check it out), and i thought maybe i wouldn’t have to deal with the pain anymore, but i do. i do. and i love every second of the heart-wrenching feels (i’m 21 and i still use feels unironically, lord save me).

i saw an angel by parkjinwoes

SOMEONE GIFTED SOCKY TO ME!!! i cried reading it, it was long and funny and sort of sad at times, i just wanted them both to be happy together, but then this line: However, Yoon Sanha is also terrible at keeping secrets and feelings to himself. Oblivious to him, Park Minhyuk is too good at doing that. THAT MADE ME REALIZE i gotta trudge through the sad first before getting to the happy. but when i got to the happy, BOY OH MAN it was definitely happy. big recommendation right here!

centaurea cyanus by A_N_D_Y

I WAS SO SCARED OMG. usually with these hanahaki type of fics (tbh i still dont fully understand what the hanahaki thing is or how it came about, but i’ve read three astro fics relating to this so i may or may not be a sorta-expert), someone ends up dying??? annnnnd i really thought death would come in this fic. and i dont want to tell how it ends, but pls understand binu is forever alive and well within our hearts (and maybe the fic, i may or may not be giving away the ending)

shopping list by Shinigamibutter

when she releases cute myungjin, she really release cute myungjin. i mean, this was so fluffy and domestic and i just wanted it to go on forever and ever. never before has a shopping trip been so interesting!!! never before has it filled me with such joy and happiness! also BUTT GROPING YES (you guys learned my weakness)

like a game of hide-and-seek by kimtaehyungsleftpinky

frat boy jinwoo is something i never knew i needed in my life, but good golly, i did need it. coupled with cat owner myungjun (also my weakness - cats and myungjun, how dare) this fic was just perfect??? i want to know more about their relationship and  “I don’t like your cat.” Jinwoo muttered and looked at Marco in disgust. Myungjun gasped and covered Marco’s ears as if the cat had understood what Jinwoo had said. this just made my entire day, that’s a me thing, hashtag relatable.

our own space travels, shall we leave? by spaceviolet (vividplum)

MINHYUK IS THE TRUE MVP OF THIS FIC. i wish i had barista minhyuk all the time. but we have more socky (i am REALLY loving this sudden rush of socky fics, you guys rock!) and SANHA GETS STOOD UP and i’ll punch whoever stood him up. but minhyuk is ready with the correct drink order, bless this barista, and his pals are hilarious and i just had a lot of feelings for this fic <3

soft rock by birdbrainberke

soft pebble minhyuk, so soft and so in love with yoon sanha. this is the socky sequel (is it a sequel?) to the broken bones fic i posted and raved about recently, and oh my good golly, i love this so much. i love the insight to minhyuk’s character, and the reasons he does the things he does and says the things he says. also he is #savage towards bin, which cracks me up, and i love birdbrainberke and all his beautiful, wonderful fics <3

blood, sweat & tears by jiminaddiction

(is this a bts reference? i’ve only heard three bts songs, but i think this is a bts reference?) so im a little nervous about this one because it’s got some crazy tags that make me scared for the future. I DO NOT LIKE SADNESS AND PAIN and i think i’m going to get it. im a soft, meek marshmallow, and i finally found some Moonrock and I KNOW THERE WILL BE SADNESS AND PAIN. but i think i can trudge through, i will be strong!

cliche by Shinigamibutter

THIS IS SO SOFT AND CUTE BINU how do you write such cute and soft binu??? idk, but i love the little descriptions of bin’s smile and eunwoo’s absolute infatuation with him, like this is short and sweet and it pierces my heart with the cute, bless u for this!

the sweet ride home by diametrical

idk if you guys know this, but i love kids and i love families and i love astro, so when you just combine all three of these into one, im just a melted pile of gooey feelings. binu and eunwoo as a single dad kills my heart it just melts it all completely. this was so well-written, too, and i found myself ready to sacrifice someone to get more of it (i jest only slightly).

made in the a.m. by koutarous

tbh mj is me drinking - i’ve been forbidden to drink at work events anymore because i am easily drunk, i am not sorry for my low alcohol tolerance and neither is mj, apparently, because he does it regardless. i didnt expect the MYUNGJIN BUT I GOT THE MYUNGJIN and i may or may not have just fallen in love with it???? bless u for writing this (underage drinking = big no no)

secret by j_kwanboo

JINCHA!!! JIN. CHA. tbh thats all that i need sometimes, some good ol jincha (flashback to jinjin calling eunwoo pretty and my heart melting, that was so cute), and this is cute jincha and also SANHA LOSES HIS INNOCENT EYES, PLEASE SPARE MY CHILD!!! i really loved this fic, i laughed at it and i will hug poor sanha and give him back his purity.

who wrote the book on goodbye? by Rach4040

when i was younger, i thought i was so mature for liking that dear john book by that-fantastic-romance-author-whose-name-escapes-me, but then i realized i hate those goodbyes for lengthy periods of time, so by all accounts i should hate this, but i can’t because it’s cute and pure and it is a little sad, but i know it will be happy in the end!!! <3

train to busan astro au by @glowingjinjin

i am still very mad at this whole fic, do not read if you value your heart in one piece, im not even kidding i just cried over this a lot and im waiting for some cute myungjin, lanna, or else i might punch someone in the face, not naming names at all, but even going back to link this fic made me get flashbacks and i feel empty inside thinking about it. how dare u. dont read this, on second thought, it’s painful.

UPDATED FICS FROM LAST TWO WEEKS -

problems with pastry by sanhasbinu: im glad mj survived war  ^o^ ^o^ ^o^ ^o^

hide and seek by Mintwho (NaCltyRy): mj, why do you gotta be this way??? also why do you gotta write a fic making me choose between my bias and my bias wrecker, like im so sad

the year we met by  fivepixelphan: MY HEART IS SLOWLY BEING MENDED IM DYING IN CUTE FEELS NOW

medley by sassysavagesanha (RedJusticeLibra): i get so hyped whenever this gets updated, you always deliver such cute socky!!!

stray romance by Alette: MJ: im an adult i cant just come willy-nilly. ROCKY: eunwoo has boyfriend. MJ: im coming willy-nilly. i love.

and if you ever have anything you think i need to check out, hit me up with that fic, fams. i dont even care if it’s your own. i check a03 regularly, so if it’s something posted elsewhere, pls let me know!

[nisitime]

1. Are looks important in a relationship? yes

2. Are relationships ever worth it? yes

3. Are you a virgin? no

4. Are you in a relationship? no

5. Are you in love? yes

6. Are you single this year? i guess

7. Can you commit to one person? yes

8. Describe your crush. tall, big shoulders, cute as heck

9. Describe your perfect mate. Big and caring

10. Do you believe in love at first sight? nah

11. Do you ever want to get married? yes

12. Do you forgive betrayal? yes

13. Do you get jealous easily? yes

14. Do you have a crush on anyone? yes

15. Do you have any piercings? no

16. Do you have any tattoos? no

17. Do you like kissing in public? yes

20. Do you shower every day? no

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you? yes

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? yes

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? yes

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? nah

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? dont want to think about it rn tbh

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? yes

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you? only premade ones

28. Have you ever been cheated on? not that i know of

29. Have you ever cheated on someone? yes

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body? not really

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl? oh yes

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love? yes

33. Have you ever had sex with a man? yes

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman? no

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you? yes

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends? yes

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated? yes

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? yes

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? yes

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone? nah

41. Have you had sex so far this year? e_e

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? depends on the person and the moment

43. How long was your longest relationship? 4 and a half years

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? 3

45. How many people did you kiss in 2011? none? honestly dont remember

46. How many times did you have sex last year? loads

47. How old are you? 23

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? ‘’hope you get to be happier’’

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her? i dont

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept? would prolly punch him

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for? idk anymore

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why? yes, its not worth it

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?  not that i know of?

54. Is there someone you will never forget? yes

55. Share a relationship story. this one time, we were at his place and we were baking pancakes and he tried to flip it and failed and then he ate it and it was so inocent and adorable then we sang and danced in the kitchen. he kept trying to flip it and namaged it and in general was a really happy afternoon

56. State 8 facts about your body

i have a big butt

my hips dont lie

i hate my nose

i only have white hairs on my bangs and i hate it

57. Things you want to say to an ex

in order is:

hope your life is miserable

hope u stopped being a pussy

i wanna be close to you again but it just hurts so much rn please understand.

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

be gentle/polite

make an effort

dont be boring

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners? jest a few months 

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone? their mood

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you? i dont really know

63. What is your definition of “having sex”? anything that is sexual related

64. What is your definition of cheating? something physical or emotional

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine? cuddles and kissis

66. What is your favourite roleplay? being helpless

67. What is your idea of the perfect date? just a chill day

68. What is your sexual orientation? Pan

69. What turns you off? smoking

70. What turns you on? nervous laugh

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream? dont really remember

72. What words do you like to hear during sex? anything that is kinky and that makes me feel wanted

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you? a hug would be nice

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?  dont think about that i guess

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? so many things that i cant really name them

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? same as num 75

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships? dont really care, its their problem, not mine

78. What’s your dirtiest secret? i dont shower if i dont leave home

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why? im an hypocrite thats why

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them? last year

81. Who are five people you find attractive? yes

82. Who is the last person you hugged? my ex

83. Who was your first kiss with? a guy from my class 

84. Why did your last relationship fail? things pile up (fights and arguments) and im not healthy to deal with this and sometimes love isnt enough.. we took eachother for granted and im sorry

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet? never dated anyone on the internet

[applebootycomb0]

I dont think id be able to type and respond if i was 1/32 lmao th... thats not even out of the womb yet if i wasnt too scared id stop being an anon. not like im scared of you i just get scared of people running away when its me myself and I. im suppose to ask 3 things 1) How are you today? I hope youre well :-7!! 2) idk do u have any specific pronouns i dont want to offend. 3) what made you ??? choose "applebootycombo"?

Hey man, I’m sorry you’re apprehensive? Cautious(?) about coming off of anon, and just know that you don’t have to come off!! Most things I say on here and in actual life are all in jest lol. But I’m certain you’re a lovely person. Additionally, thank you for the questions you asked! I’ll try and make this short so this message isn’t blowing up peoples dashes hahaha. 1. I’m doing marvelous, thanks for asking. Just a bit sore from working out and then working with kids all day yesterday. How are you?2. I’m a cis girl, so she/her are fine. 3. Applebootycombo is a kind of a long and jumbled story? Long story short my butt is like my best feature.