#i'm a simp what can i say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

davishater · 1 year ago

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Guys, I am so sorry.... This post might just break Tumblr.... If you see my post and your Tumblr breaks, I apologize IMMENSELY! I have just written a Winter Moriarty X Reader that is 5,284 words..... Please forgive me..... 🙏 At the end, there is a part where Winter and the reader watch TV. I got that idea from @kawasemy I hope that I have been able to feed my fellow, starving, Winter simps. Again, please forgive me for everything and read the tags for more humor. Also, masterlist link in the beginning, cause it's too long to scroll....

Masterlist

Winter shoves her pale hands into her pockets and watches the sky, as the heavens shed their tears on the city of London. She was never fond of the constant rainy weather, but it's where she's lived her entire life, so all she can do is accept the gloomy weather. At least, it was gloomy until she met a certain someone.

Winter exits the store she's in and runs towards a canopy in the park across the street. She watches her only friend jump in the puddles on the basketball court the rain created. Her laughter reaching Winter's cold ears, even from that distance.

"Y/n!"

Winter calls out to her friend and she waves with a bright smile on her face. Winter weakly waves back, but quickly returns her hand to her warmer pockets.

Y/n moved here for school, from a dry climate in America. They met in a cafe, when the clumsy girl tripped and dropped her books and computer on Winter, also spilling her coffee on her in the process. The coffee had also gotten all over Y/n's computer. Winter felt bad for what happened, and even though she doesn't make it a habit to help everyone who crosses her path, she offered to fix the girls computer. Y/n's outgoing personality had pushed the unwanted friendship onto her, but after sometime, Winter couldn't bother to avoid the strange girl. She finally accepted the friendship; the first one she's had since her younger sister died.

Winter calls out to her friend again and she comes running. She stands underneath the canopy with Winter and laughs from all the fun she was having.

"You've been out here forever, aren't you done?"

Winter slightly shivers as she shoves her hands deeper into her pockets.

"What? You're such a party pooper! Why don't you come join me? You'll have more fun."

Y/n pulls on Winter's arm.

"Hard pass. You know I'm not a fan of the rain."

"And yet, you're out here with me."

Winter goes quiet at her comment and looks back out at the rain. She then speaks up to divert from the topic.

"I can't believe you forgot your umbrella."

"Well, I didn't think it was going to rain." She replies.

"Y/n, it's London. It always rains here."

"Well, it's been sprinkling lately, so I didn't think it'd come down this hard..."

"Never trust the weather here." Winter advises.

She turns back to Y/n, wipes some wet hair off of her face and brushes it behind her ear.

"Did they look at your motorcycle?" Y/n asks, brushing the rest of her hair back with her fingers.

"Yeah, just some minor issues. I can pick it up tomorrow afternoon."

"That's good, it wasn't as bad as we thought."

Winter nods and shivers again.

"If we don't dry you off, you'll catch a cold." Winter says a little concerned.

"Nah, I'm sure I'll be fine!"

"What?" Winter smirks. "Cause 'idiots don't catch colds?'"

"What!? No!"

Y/n huffs and dramatically folds her arms across her chest. Winter chuckles at how naturally expressive she is. She's been surrounded for so long by people hiding their true feelings, it's refreshing seeing someone that's so easy to read.

"It's not that funny..." Y/n continues pouting.

Winter ignores her and grabs the back of her shoulders, pushing her towards the main road.

"Come on, let's get you something warm to drink."

Winter and Y/n walk alongside the sidewalk towards the cafe that's nearby. A truck drives by and Winter tries to shield Y/n from the large splash from the truck running over the puddle, but it drenched Winter and still got on Y/n.

"Oh my gosh, Winter! Are you ok?"

Winter sputters to try and get the muddy taste out of her mouth, but fails, and wipes the excess water from off her face with her hand.

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm good, but most of the water got on you! Uhg, you're more soaked than I am! Man, what a jerk!" Y/n shouts, sounding annoyed.

Winter looks at her a little questioningly.

"It happens. Come on, let's head inside."

"Are they even gonna let us inside with how wet you are?"

"Yeah. It's normal to see people drenched walking into places to get dried off from the rain."

"I see."

The girls walk into the cafe and a hostess immediately runs up to them with two towels.

"I saw what happened through the window. Are you two alright?"

"Yeah." Winter replies, plainly.

She takes the towels and places one on her shoulders and the other on Y/n's head.

"Could we use your restroom to clean ourselves up?" Y/n asked the hostess.

"Of course! Follow me."

They followed the hostess to the restrooms meant for paying customers and unlocked the door for the drenched girls. They walk inside and Winter starts rubbing the towel over Y/n's head. She swats Winter's hand away and dries off her own hair.

"I'm fine, just take care of yourself."

Winter takes a step back and stares at Y/n out of the corner of her eye. She then goes to the sink and starts washing her mouth out from the dirt taste she had since earlier. Winter wipes her mouth on the towel around her shoulders and then slowly puts it over her head and starts drying off her hair. She glances at her friend again and sees the small pout on her face.

"Are you upset with me?" Winter asks quietly.

"What? Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"You're not you're usual happy self..."

"Oh... No, I'm upset with that truck driver... There's no way he didn't see us or the puddle! He should've slowed down! Driving through puddles like that can ruin your car and it gets people wet! It was so unnecessary and if I could, I'd definitely yell at him about it! I swear, some people are just so inconsiderate!"

"He really got you that upset?"

Winter looks a little surprised.

"Of course! Now there's a possibility of you getting sick! Oh, I swear, if you do, I'm going to hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind!"

Winter accidentally lets a chuckle escape her lips and she's shocked from her own reaction.

"What? I'm serious you know!"

"I know."

"Then why'd you laugh?"

"Well... I don't know myself... I guess, it's cause I'm seeing a new side of you. I don't think I've ever seen you get mad before. I almost thought you weren't capable of that kind of emotion."

"Huh? Well of course I get mad! That's a normal human reaction, so I wouldn't be a normal human otherwise."

"Oh, my bad! I didn't realize you were capable of being normal." Winter mocked.

"What? Hey! I can be normal!"

"I'd bet my life you can't be normal about anything."

"Now that's just mean!"

Y/n pouts and Winter chuckles again. She stares at Winter's face and sees black streaks running down her cheeks from her eyes.

"Oh dear, your makeup is running."

She grabs some toilet paper and wipes off the black streaks from Winter's cheeks. Winter stares into her eyes as she does so.

"I could've done that, you know."

"And I could've handled getting drenched, so we're even now."

Winter looks away and continues rubbing the towel over her head. She then frantically pulls out her wallet and phone from her pockets. The few bills and business cards she had in her wallet were far from saving and just made the wallet look like a mess. She puts her wallet on the sink and then tries turning on her phone, but it refuses to respond. Winter cusses underneath her breath.

"That bad?" Y/n asks.

"Well, I can't contact anyone, which isn't that big a deal, but I don't have access to money either."

"Oh... Yeah that's pretty bad."

"How's your phone?"

"Well, let's see."

She pulls out her phone, which has a heavy duty case on it, and tries turning it on.

"Oh yay! My phone works!"

"I bet the case is what saved it."

Y/n chuckles, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I tend to drop my phone often... I guess my clumsy nature helped us a little there?"

Winter smirks and shakes her head.

"Well we at least still have access to my money, if there's anything we need." Y/n says, hopeful.

"No, save your money. Use that for your school needs."

"But I want to help out, too."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Ok, then have you figured out how we're going to get back to my apartment without using money? We came kinda far and it's too far to walk in the rain without an umbrella."

Winter goes silent and looks away. She takes off her leather jacket and hoodie and tosses them to the floor. She then starts pulling on her t-shirt that's sticking to her body and rings out some of the water. Y/n sighs and looks around the bathroom. She then grabs Winter's hand and leads her to the hand dryer.

"Come on, we can at least dry you off a little, while we come up with a plan."

Y/n turns on the hand dryer and it blows in Winter's face. She closes her eyes and winces from the sudden intensity. Winter takes the towel from off her head and shakes her head as the warm wind blows her hair dry. She then lifts up her shirt a little, showing her stomach and waist. Winter looks up and notices Y/n staring.

"Is there a problem?" Winter asks.

"Oh... No, it's nothing."

Y/n turns her head away and Winter notices her cheeks are slightly pinker than before. Winter pulls her friend closer to her as she looks surprised from the sudden notion.

"Dry yourself off with the hand dryer, too. I don't want you getting sick, either."

Y/n complies and starts to try and dry her clothes while they're still on. The feeling of her clothes slowly drying on her made them feel icky. She scrunches her nose from the feeling and feels awkward drying herself off with a small hand dryer and Winter standing closely next to her. She knows it was her idea, but didn't realize how awkward, or embarrassing, this situation would be. Lifting your arm up to dry your armpit, while someone you care about is standing so close to you, isn't the ideal situation...

"This isn't working. We'd be able to dry our clothes better if we took them off." Winter suggested, sounding a little annoyed.

She starts lifting her shirt even higher to take it off, but Y/n stops her.

"Wait, wait, wait!"

"What?"

"Well... I uh- I'm not exactly comfortable with that..."

"Oh..."

Winter put her shirt down, then picks both her jackets off the floor and starts ringing out the water in the sink.

"So? What should we do now?" Y/n asks.

"Well, this little hand dryer isn't going to be enough to dry us off. We're going to have to change into different clothes in order to get warmer."

"Well then, at least let me buy us some warm drinks as we come up with a plan."

Winter sighs and gives into the girls protests.

"Fine, but that's it! Nothing else."

"Deal."

Winter collects her things and they leave the bathroom and sit at one of the small tables next to the window. A waitress comes over and takes their orders. Y/n stares out the window as they sit in silence until their drinks come.

Once the waitress gives them their drinks, Y/n thanks her and drinks from her cup. Winter immediately puts her hands on her cup and keeps them there. Every so often, she sips from the mug.

"I swear, how does someone not bring an umbrella along when it's raining?" Winter mocks a second time.

"Hey! You don't have one, either!"

Winter sighs.

"Ok, that's fair."

"There's a hotel across the street there."

Y/n points out the building and Winter follows the direction she's pointing in.

"Why would we go to a hotel?"

"Well, we can shower, and they have a washing machine, and we can stay there until the weather lightens up. The forecast also says tomorrow won't have as much rain as today."

"And who's money are we going to use to stay there?"

Y/n goes silent and pouts again.

"I told you, you need to save your money for school. I'm sure the fees take up the majority of your allowance anyways."

"You don't know that." She says, still pouting.

"Ok, then how much do you usually have left after you've paid the fees?"

Y/n blows a bubble in her cheeks and pouts more.

"That's... None of your business."

"Which means it's not much."

She whines and turns her attention outside again as Winter shakes her head. After sometime, her friend starts chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"No, sorry. I just realized, it's kind of like we're on a date and you're the guy who wants to pay for everything just to make a good impression."

Winter becomes flustered and rests her chin on her hand to hide her embarrassment and slightly pink cheeks. She looks out the window as she speaks quietly.

"O-oh, uh... Does it?"

Y/n sees through Winter's failed composure and continues chuckling.

"I'm sorry, maybe that was too much for me to say."

"No, you did nothing wrong."

Winter puts both her hands back on her cup and stares out the window, watching the rain fall as Y/n looks at her. She then turns her attention outside as well. After some time, Winter speaks up.

"If you let me pay you back, I'll let you use your money to at least pay for a taxi."

"Yes!"

Y/n's face brightens up.

"Let me use your phone to call a taxi." Winter says, putting her hand out.

"Why can't you use your phone?"

Winter's shoulders fall and she frowns at her friend.

"Oh right, I forgot."

Y/n pulls out her phone and gives it to Winter as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, as she dials the number to order a taxi. After a few minutes of Winter talking on the phone and growing more annoyed, she scoffs and hangs up the phone.

"They're all gonna be busy for a while."

"Well should we wait until one is available? Or take the trains or bus?"

"Rather not be in a crowded place if I don't have to."

Winter replied, with her fist pushing into her cheek, and the way she spoke sounded silly. Y/n giggled and Winter paid her no mind.

"I remember you don't like crowds. If only your motorcycle could be ready in a few hours."

"We can't do anything about that. Why don't we just start walking? There's a small store around the corner from here. We can buy an umbrella there and dry off at your place."

"If you're ok with that."

"There's nothing else we can do and it won't be good if either of us get sick. Gotta do what we gotta do to get dried off as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, you got a point."

The two girls finish their drinks and Y/n goes up to the counter and pays. Winter holds both of her jackets and waits by the entrance. They walk out together and quickly head to the general store around the corner. Y/n grabs one umbrella, pays for it and then heads back to Winter, who's again waiting by the entrance.

"Give it to me."

Y/n gives the umbrella to Winter as they walk outside. She opens it up and holds it over both of their heads as they start walking towards her friends house.

"Why don't you let me walk on the outside of the road this time?"

"No, you stay on that side." Winter says, bluntly.

"But what if a car comes by and splashes you again?"

"I'm more aware of my surroundings, so I can move us out of the way faster if that happens."

"What about earlier? You didn't move out of the way then."

Winter sighs.

"I shielded you, didn't I?"

Y/n goes quiet and looks down at her feet as she walks. Winter notices her silence and mentally scolds herself for not being good at relaying exactly what she wants to say.

"Besides, I'd be more comfortable if I was the one next to the road." Winter continues.

"Alright fine. Guess I can't really say anything if that's the reason."

Winter pats her head and they continue walking down the street towards Y/n's apartment.

"What if you let me hold the umbrella?" Y/n ask after a minute of silence.

"No, I'll hold the umbrella."

"Well, I want to help with something, too."

"You've done enough."

Y/n huffs while Winter stares at her and sighs.

"You really want to do something more?"

"Obviously..."

"Here."

Winter hands her jackets over to her sulking friend.

"This helps me."

Y/n smiles a goofy grin and giggles contently as she holds Winter's jackets close to her. Winter looks away and scratches her cheek. Y/n looks up at her and swears she saw a light pink color dust Winter's cheeks, but it was too dark outside for her to tell. They walk in silence for a few minutes.

"So, what do you want to do once we get back to my place?" Y/n asks.

"I just want to get warm, I don't care about anything else."

Y/n hums in response.

"Are you gonna stay the night then?"

"No." Winter replies, furrowing her brow at her friend.

"How come?"

"I'm not going to intrude on you."

"But you won't be! Besides, how are you going to get home without your motorcycle?"

"I'll manage."

"What if I force you to stay?"

"Well, then I wouldn't have a choice now, would I?"

A wide grin is placed on Y/n's face and she hugs Winter's arm as they walk.

"Then I guess that's what I'm going to have to do! I'm forcing you to stay over!"

Y/n giggles with excitement and starts skipping.

"You're that happy to force me to stay over?"

"Of course! It means we get to hangout longer!"

Winter stares at Y/n.

"You're weird."

Y/n giggles again.

Winter looks out at the street, watches the cars drive by and the people traveling to their destinations. She sees the many different expressions and judges their thoughts accordingly. Some enjoy the rain, some aren't fond of the weather and some just accepts this as a part of their life. Winter remembers that she doesn't like the rain, but finds she doesn't mind the gloomy weather at this moment. She feels a shiver come on, but the feeling immediately goes away, and her body starts to warm up without the need to shiver.

She listens to her friend hum the chorus over and over from a popular song in London right now. It's a song Winter isn't fond of, but she finds herself fighting the urge to hum along to the stupid song. She hears splashing at her feet, along with the pitter patter of rain echoing all around her, and looks down. Y/n has continued to jump in each puddle they come across again today, but Winter pays her no mind. Her friend grips her arm, for support, as she jumps in ever puddle. Winter doesn't mind it when the water splashes up onto her shoes, or even the bottom of her pants. In fact, she finds it more comical, than anything.

"If you keep skipping like that, you're going to slip and fall."

"No I won't, cause you'll catch me!"

"Will I?"

"Mh hm!"

Winter stays silent and after a few seconds, she starts moving her body weight downwards. Y/n doesn't notice until she jumps in another puddle and her grip on Winter's arm becomes unstable, from her change in posture, causing her to slip. Y/n shrieks and Winter holds her up with her arm to keep her from falling to the ground. She smacks Winter's shoulder annoyed as she spots a small smile creep up on Winter's lips.

"You did that on purpose!" Y/n yells annoyed.

"Maybe that'll teach you to be more careful." Winter says, chuckling.

"You're so mean, betraying my trust like that!"

"Well, I never told you to trust me."

"I know, but I wanted to trust you."

"I don't know why."

"Well, obviously cause you're such a good person... Somewhere."

Winter chuckles again at the "somewhere" part.

Winter stops walking and pulls her friend back, before she walks out from underneath the umbrella.

"Where are you going?" Winter asks.

"Huh? What do you mean? Aren't we going to my apartment?"

"Yeah, it's right here."

"What?"

Y/n turns her head and sees they're standing right next to her apartment building.

"Oh, yeah, you're right! Wow, I thought we would have to walk further."

"Well, we have been walking for a while." Winter replied.

"Have we? I never noticed. I guess I was having so much fun with you, time had gone by much faster. Do you ever get that?"

Winter hesitates to speak, but decided to just say what's on her mind.

"Yeah. I wasn't expecting the walk to go by that quickly, either. I almost walked past your apartment building, too."

"You and I are just so silly, huh?" Y/n giggles.

"No, being with you just lowers my IQ."

"What!? You can't say that! That's so mean!"

Y/n hits Winter's shoulder again. She chuckles as she watches her friends reaction.

"Come on, let's head inside and dry off. I'm so done with being cold and wet."

"Ok, let's go!"

Y/n holds onto Winter's arm again and they walk to the front entrance. When they get to the door, Winter closes the umbrella and continues to walk up to her friends small apartment. When the girls walk in the entryway, Y/n shuts the door behind them. They both sigh loudly, in unison, and then look at each other chuckling.

"Why don't you take a shower first?" Y/n suggests.

"I can't do that. You go take the first one."

"I don't have the energy to argue with you. Give me your clothes to wash and hop in the shower, right now." Y/n says sternly.

"O-ok." Winter says a little surprised.

She starts lifting her shirt up and Y/n stares at the curves in her sides and back. Winter's pale skin, how curvy she is, the placement of her veins and the thickness of her spine, Y/n takes a mental note of all of it. She even becomes jealous of the few droplets of water sliding down her back and disappearing in the fabric of her jeans. She wishes her fingers could feel Winter's skin, just like the rain that soaked her today.

Y/n realizes she's staring and the kind of thoughts she's having, so she immediately covers her eyes with her hands. She hears the sounds of Winter stripping down and the wet fabric pulling away from her skin. Y/n feels a tap on her arm, and while keeping her eyes closed, she holds out her arms and Winter lays her clothes over her arms.

"I'll get you a towel and a change of clothes as soon as I start the laundry." Y/n says.

"K."

She hears Winter's bare feet walk across the floor towards the bathroom. When Y/n hears the door shut, she opens her eyes and sighs. She then goes to her laundry room, shoves Winter's clothes into the washing machine and strips down to put her own clothes in as well. After starting the machine, she grabs two towels and wraps herself in one. She goes to her kitchen and fills her kettle with water and puts it on the stove. Then, goes to her room and grabs some comfy clothes for Winter before knocking on the bathroom door.

"Winter, I'm coming in!"

"That's fine."

Y/n walks in the bathroom.

"I'm putting a towel and some clean clothes here on the counter. I'm also boiling some water, so you can come and make a hot drink for yourself while I shower."

"Alright."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"I'm probably fine. I'm almost done in here."

"Ok, I'll give you privacy, then."

Y/n leaves the bathroom and starts collecting clothes for her to change into once she's finished with her shower. She sits on her bed as she waits for Winter to finish up. Winter exits the bathroom and heads towards the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and Y/n goes in the bathroom to shower.

When Y/n gets out of the bathroom, she's dressed in comfy clothes and heads towards the kitchen and living room area. She spots the back of Winter's head, tilted slightly to the side. She makes herself some tea and heads to the couch.

As she comes around the corner, she starts laughing. She spots Winter, curled up on the far end of the couch, mouth slightly a gaped, bowl of cereal in her hands resting in between her knees and chest, and one of Y/n's thin blankets wrapped around her legs. Winter breathes in deeply and sits up straight, rubbing her eyes. She starts to continue eating.

"Did you fall asleep?" Y/n asks, still laughing.

She's never had the opportunity to see Winter in such a vulnerable state.

"No... At least... Not completely..." Winter says quietly.

Y/n sets her cup down on the coffee table and takes the damp towel from around Winter's shoulders and puts it in the laundry. She comes back and relaxes on the opposite side of the couch.

"Did you want to sleep?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You sure? I don't mind if you do. We had a long day, after all."

Winter takes a few bites of her cereal before answering.

"Maybe."

She finishes up her cereal and then puts the bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She motions Y/n to move closer to her. Instead, Y/n picks up the bowl and takes it to the sink. Winter starts to untangle herself from the blanket to try and get up.

"That's not what I meant for you to do. I was going to take care of it later."

"I know, just stay there. Now you don't have to worry about it later."

Winter leans back on the couch when she sees Y/n coming back.

"Where's your phone?" Y/n asks.

Winter pulls out her phone, that had fallen in-between her and the couch cushion, and shows it to Y/n. She dramatically snatches it from Winter's grasp and Winter looks surprised as she watches her friend walk back to the kitchen.

"What are you-"

Y/n pulls out a bowl and a bag of rice. She then takes Winter's phone out of its case and places it in a bowl. She pours the rice over the phone, making sure it's completely surrounded by rice.

"And now we wait."

"Are you performing some kind of voodoo over there?"

"Um... No? Putting your phone in rice can actually get the water out and fix your phone. At least, it's supposed to do that. Doesn't always work, though."

"You don't have to do that. I can always get a new phone."

"But then you'll lose the silly messages I've sent you! I know if it was me, I'd be sad if that happened. This way, we can say we did all we could to fix your phone."

Y/n goes back over to the couch, picks up her and Winter's cup of tea, which was also on the coffee table, and brings the two cups with her as she sits next to Winter. She gives Winter her cup and Winter moved the blanket so it's covering Y/n as well.

"You don't have to do things for me. I'm capable of doing them myself." Winter says, a little irritated.

"Oh, don't be like that. You always help me out, so I wanna help you, too. Besides, if I didn't try to help fix your phone, I'd feel somewhat responsible that it broke."

Winter purses her lips together and then takes a sip of her tea.

"Thanks." She says quietly.

Y/n smiles wide. Winter then picks up the TV remote next to her and tosses it into Y/n's lap.

"Why don't you turn on that show you like?"

Y/n thinks for a bit.

"The baking one?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why don't we watch what you want to watch?"

"Cause I don't care. Just turn it on."

"Ok, ok." Y/n chuckles.

She turns on the TV and starts playing The Great British Bake Off.

"These people are so stupid."

Y/n laughs at Winter's comment.

"That's why I like it."

"Oh, that's right, they're your people."

Y/n looks at Winter confused.

"But I'm American?"

"No, it's cause you're not the smartest person."

"Wha-! You are so mean to me, and for what?"

"Are you saying you're smarter than these people?"

"Obviously."

Winter looks at Y/n questioningly and sips from her mug.

"You think these people are smart enough to stick a wet phone in rice to fix it?"

Winter starts laughing as she sips from her mug and almost chokes on her tea.

"Please, do not die on me, I would literally cry."

"You don't want a crime scene here?"

"No! I do not!"

Winter giggles and buries her forehead into Y/n's shoulder.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Y/n laughs.

"I don't know. I never stay awake when I'm this tired!"

"Then sleep! I literally do not mind!"

"No."

Winter starts giggling again.

"Oh my gosh."

Y/n shakes her head.

"Uhg! Why am I like this!?" Winter leans her head back and whines.

"I like this side of you. It's fun watching you act in a way you usually don't."

Winter buries her face into Y/n's lap and groans. Y/n giggles and runs her fingers through Winter's hair.

"That's nice."

"You like it when I run my fingers through your hair?"

"Mmh."

Winter reaches over and puts her cup on the coffee table and then points at it.

"Stay."

Winter then rolls over and points up at Y/n as she giggles.

"Ok, I'll make sure the cup stays." Y/n says as if she's talking to a child.

Winter's arm falls onto Y/n's lap, next to her head and then positions her legs so they're hanging over the side of the couch. Y/n fixes the blanket so it covers Winter and continues playing with her hair.

Winter stares into Y/n's face curiously.

"It's a shame that you don't know how pretty you are..."

Y/n immediately stops playing with Winter's hair and feels her cheeks heat up. She watches as Winter starts to relax down and her eyes fight to stay open. Y/n recomposes herself and turns off the TV, then continues to play with Winter's hair to help her fall asleep. Her breathing slows and her finger wraps around the hem of Y/n's shirt. She smiles and watches Winter for a while, before she starts falling asleep herself. One hand entangled in Winter's hair, other hand resting on the cup at her side. She couldn't have asked for a better day.

Later, Winter wakes up and crouches on the bathroom floor, cursing herself for acting the way she did before she fell asleep. She decided to pretend as if she never acted all 'cute' like that and swears to force herself to never act that way again for as long as she lives. She'll never speak a word of that moment to anyone and hopes Y/n will forget all about it. Although, Y/n will probably only want to talk about that one moment as soon as she wakes up....

#I'm so sorry for the length 💀#i just kept writing and it wouldn't stop #might come back and edit a little more later #it was only supposed to be a little more than 2000 #then 4000 #the end product is now more than 5000 #again I'm so sorry #i hope all y'all Winter simps can be fed by this 🙏#definitely self indulgent here #so glad it didn't come off as cringey #I've been told I'm good at writing dialogue lololol #bruh my writing app says it takes between 22 and 42 minutes to read #guys i am extremely sorry for the length i have no idea why it's so long #my friend asked me what the plot was and i literally didn't know how to explain 💀#lolol uhhhhh this is so long tumblr keeps lagging 💀#what do i even name this story when i don't even know how to explain the plot #guess I'm naming it I'm Terribly Sorry 💀 cause y'all know i am #was writing almost the entire day and now I'm pooped #10am to sometime after midnight man that's a lot of hours #in order to finish this story today i literally lived off of half a pack of peanut butter Oreos #and two english muffins covered in cream cheese #guys was my sacrifice worth it #did i give yall the story of a life time #is it really that good of a story #anyways sorry again for the length uhhhh lololol #idk why Winter's personality changed at the end there but it did #kinda cute though not gonna lie #maybe I'll write a bonus part where Winter just acts like that cause of how tired she is #ron kamonohashi deranged detective #winter moriarty

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pranabefall · 8 days ago

Text

deep breathes okay okay i've noticed rin hasn't read this judging by the reblogs i will have to change that rin lock the fuck in gd.

@meimeimeirin

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, 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

#📼 — recs.#first of all “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”#look hear me out just saying i find this reader so silly and charming would she be free this friday can i hold her hand we can be thesis bu #but GOD idk why but love love LOVE a pathetic flavour of haitham just making wet puppy eyes at the reader #only his wet puppy eyes are not wet puppy eyes but wet doberman eyes yet EVERYONE goes “oh god he loves her.”#he's just pining SO hard like gg he's basically screaming about wanting to be MORE than friends on the inside but does he say it??? NOOOOoo #HAITHAM ISTG I WAS SO TEMPTED TO STEAL UR GIRL OKAY #and oh riv RIV #THE '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.'#RIV DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS LINE DOES TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #GAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH KIUYTFRDEFGHJUKIUYTRFDEFGHJK>LKJHGFGHJK #<- THE SOUND OF ME SCREAMING AND DYING FROM THE FEELINGS GG #IDK WHAT TO SAY BUT GOD GOD GOD THIS WHOLE FIC OIUYTFRDBHJKIJUHYGTFRGBHJKL #and ofc ths SMUT #GG RIV IDK HOW TO SAY IT #but it's the way you write smut okay there's so much dialogue and jugfdFGHJKIUYTFRDF just FEELS FEEEEEELS #BIUYGTFGHJ AND THE LETTER AT THE END TOO GG #I WILL DIE NOW GOD GOD GOOOODDDDDD #THE LETTER AT THE END WHAT THE FUCK I'M SCREAMING AND BANGING ON THE DESKKKKKKKKK #I AM NOT AN AL HAITHAM SIMP BUT RIV OMG RIV WHAT ARE YOU DOING??????!!!!!!!#but god idk how to say this because overall thoughts??? god just god this is so well written kjhgbhnj. the growing relationship between-#- al haitham and the reader and the slow decent from friends to something so much more intimate god god god. and the denial the denial -#- AND THAT FUCKING LETTER IN THE END like that???? THAT was the finiching fucking blow i'm dead now this is my ghost typing and crying onto #-my keyboard help.#either way thank you for writing this riv!!!

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