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vvh0adie · 1 year

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strawberry kisses | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader | type: oneshot | words: 9.6k | rating: 18+ / M

Yoongi loves Summer. It’s a time of basking in the sun, feeling the beach breeze, and taking in the crisp scent of his favorite strawberry field during the annual market festival. He goes every year to pick fresh berries. And every year he watches from afar as you do the same, but he's never mustered the courage to properly talk to you. Good thing you finally have.

⇴ tracking: #fic: strawberry kisses | #strbrrykss: ask | #strbrrykss: feedback | #strbrrykss: mentioned | #strbrrykss: vibes

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The night is long and it seems as if it could go on forever. Slid down into his chair, Yoongi stares at blocks of colors stacked on top of one another, each holding a different sound from drums, to synthboards, to 808s. He’s been working on this track since before the sun came up. He continues to blink at the track, scrolling back and forth, thinking of how to fill the gaps.

He knows he didn’t sleep enough, but not finishing this track has been bothering him throughout the week. His temples are pounding and his eyes feel heavy too as he feels like someone is poking him in the back of the eye socket. It could partly be his fault as he’s sitting in his dark ass bedroom with his computer screen on full brightness and gazing upon his work without glasses. Really, he should have gone to his studio, but his body’s been content with just being here.

At the moment, Yoongi’s over it, clicking the save button and turning the computer off, watching as the little ring goes round in circles till the screen goes dark, leaving him to stare back at his own reflection. He looks a hot mess: just a sunken lump of ruffled hair and cat-like eyes as he’s tucked away into his hoodie, nose down. He feels like he needs a hot shower to ease his muscles from the absolute deadlock he’s placed his body in.

Yoongi swivels in his chair, turning towards the floor to ceiling window as he gazes up on the many skyscrapers clustered around, lit up with neon signs or office lights from remaining employees. His eyes shift, following cars till they're out of his sight, just for him to target another.

The city is beautiful at night, but he can’t help but feel out of place. He’s alone for most of the day, and barely sees his friends which you could say is partly his fault. But even with them, he feels like he’s just drifting along till the next big thing in his life happens.

Yoongi sighs, closing his eyes to listen to the bustling transportation. He feels himself about to drift off, when his phone vibrates against his hand, prompting him to pull both from his hoodie pocket.

He taps the screen, immediately turning away at the brightness. After quickly turning it down, he enters his password, redirected to his messages.

Joon: drinks with me and Hobi

Yoongi stares at the message from his friend. It’s been awhile since he’s seen them, and he knows he wants to see them but his body deems otherwise.

Suddenly, three little ellipses bounce on the screen.

Joon: really gonna leave me on read hyung?

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to the little ‘read’ label under Namjoon’s text. Then he sighs at the fact that he forgot to go in and change it.

Joon: our spot in 15

“Why? What if I don’t show up?” Yoongi says to his screen, sitting up as his body begins to pop. “Oh, shit.” He stretches his arms up, feeling his spine pop, shivers running through his entire body. He really shouldn't have sat like that. He rolls his neck, allowing for a pop to sound through the room.

After straightening up, he looks at his phone again, seeing that Namjoon hasn’t texted anymore. But that gives Hoseok all the more reason to try for himself.

Hobi: I know where you live ��️

Yoongi chuckles at his friend’s remark. It’s always like Hoseok to try and get Yoongi out of the house. He knows for sure Hoseok will come and drag him out, but he doesn't really want his friends to see his home in complete disarray cause he knows they’ll never end up leaving till Hoseok is done tidying up like the ultimate cleaning fairy he is. Then, Namjoon will probably turn around and make him have a heart to heart as to why he’s been neglecting himself. Either way, they’re there for him, so the least he can do is show up for his friends -the only true ones he has actually.

“Come on, Yoongi. You can do it. Drinks then back to shower and sleep. Easy,” he says, slapping his cheeks.

Yoongi walks into the bar, greeted by a waitress as he bows back. He looks around, only for his name to be called. As he continues to search, there’s a couple of eyes on him and he really sticks out, deciding not to change much except combing his hair. He doesn’t even have a shirt on under his hoodie and he’s still wearing his flip flops.

“Yoongi, over here.” He turns, seeing Hoseok and Namjoon waving. He slowly walks over with his hands in his sweatpants.

Once at the table he throws them a little deuce before sitting down across from the duo.

“You look like shit.” Namjoon says, as he and Yoongi stare at each other.

“The dead has arisen. I didn’t think you were going to show up; let alone have your phone on,” Hoseok says.

“We haven't seen you in days, Hyung. Almost called for a wellness check; still think I need to though.” Namjoon quirks a brow, looking at his disheveled friend as he sips from a shot glass.

“Well, I'm alive.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Doesn't seem like it. You look paler than usual.” Hoseok chuckles.

“Maybe he’s dead and we’re just drunk enough to cross the spirit realm.” Namjoon giggles in a drunken stupor, causing the man in question to roll his eyes. A part of him wants to laugh at Joon’s stupid joke but he remains stoic, not having the energy to do so.

“Here, drink.” Hoseok pours his friends a shot. “Excuse me, miss, we need another bottle.” He holds up the empty soju at the waitress as she walks by.

“So, what you been up to?” Namjoon leans back, folding his arms.

“Producing.” Yoongi murmurs.

“That's very much apparent.” Namjoon glares at him for the obvious. He cares about Yoongi and he can clearly see the sleep deprivation hammered into his usually soft face. The dude looks like he just survived a withdrawal. It’s concerning.

“Yah! Tell us what's wrong?” Hoseok whines, after making a throaty sound from knocking back a shot.

“I don't know. I guess I’m just ready for summer vacation.”

“Why wait? You’re a freelancer; you can pick up and go anytime, Hyung.” Hoseok lays a hand on Yoongi's shoulder. Hobi’s lashes are heavy and his cheeks are slightly flushed. Yoongi gazes upon the younger’s face. Even when drunk, Hobi always has a solution.

“Where are you trying to go?” Namjoon stares at Yoongi taking a shot; just in time for the waitress to land a new bottle of soju on their table.

“The countryside.” Yoongi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ah, gotcha.” Joon nods slowly, staring aimlessly at the table. Summer is Yoongi’s favorite season. He’s never really divulged why but it has to have some heavy significance. But Namjoon also understands that summer just hits different and that his friend needs a change in pace. To be honest, he’s started to feel it too; how slow everything has become.

“You gonna go be a farmer?” Hoseok laughs to which Yoongi tries to roll his eyes but ends up joining him. Hoseok claps, wearing the biggest grin. “There we go!” he yells, happy to see Yoongi smile.

Yoongi truly is happy about summer coming and it only took stepping out of the house for him to see that. He can’t wait to feel the warm sun on his skin and smell the crisp air. But most of all he can’t wait to spend time with his grandma and see new yet familiar faces. He has very fond memories of his childhood, helping her harvest from the garden, playing in the sprinklers, and eating watermelon outside. Then there’s the annual festivities that he loves so much.

“What about you guys?” Yoongi may be a little out of it but he still cares to ask and not make this entirely about himself.

Namjoon sits up, placing elbows on the table as he takes a shot. “I got a collab in New York. Probably do some sightseeing; go to a museum or two.”

Yoongi looks at Hoseok who grins before taking a shot and clapping his hands. “Dubai.”

“Dubai?”

“Yep! Sand, beach, camels, hot babes on my arm while I sip martinis. And get this… casual sex; no strings attached.”

“That sounds like you.” Yoongi smirks, picking up his glass. “Cheers, then.”

“To Summer Sex.” Hobi laughs.

“I don't know about that.” Yoongi says.

“Ah, Hyung. Have some faith, huh?” Namjoon frowns. It seems someone’s been manifesting a lay recently.

“Fine. To Summer… Sex.”

“Cheers,” they chime in unison, throwing one back.

Summertime has finally come, awakening Yoongi with its warm rays of sunlight. He stretches upwards as the sun shines on his face, a smile spreading on his lips at the warmth that wraps around him. Light dances across his skin, highlighting his golden undertone. He hasn’t woken up feeling this refreshed since he was a child; even better that he gets to wake up in his old childhood bedroom too.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed to look around. The atmosphere is so serene that Yoongi’s heart nearly skips a beat at the lack of city sounds. He can’t help but laugh at himself.

With a sigh, he rests an elbow on his thigh as he lays his cheek upon his hand. He takes a deep breath, air feeling his lungs and nose with the crispest air. He thinks he could celebrate the air quality alone.

“Min Yoongi-ah!” His grandmother knocks on the door. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, Halmeoni.”

“Good. We have a lot to do today. Get ready and meet me in the kitchen.” Yoongi smiles, reminiscing how he used to dread the sound of his grandmother’s voice early in the morning, but now he sees it as a gift because he’s still able to see her everyday.

Yoongi hops out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, surveying the hall. He’d hate to be indecent in front of his grandma.

Since coming to stay, he’s begun taking better care of his appearance, like he did prior to his slump. His hair has grown out to his shoulders and he’s refrained from dying it, letting his natural color come in. He feels more mature this way, but he also wants to avoid a scolding from his grandmother.

When he’s finished grooming, he makes his way to the kitchen, greeting the little old lady he adores so much.

“Good morning, Halmeoni.”

“Good morning, puppy.” She smiles at him as he mimics, right down to their gummy smile. People always wonder where he gets it from. His cheeks hurt from just how much it pleases him to be called the nickname he’s had since the woman learned his mother was pregnant. He likes it much better than being called a cat -which don’t get him wrong because he very much sees the appeal.

Halmeoni sits Yoongi’s breakfast down, petting his head as she coos about how much he looks like a nice young man. He thanks her, diving in to savor the meal.

He closes his eyes, humming at the taste on his buds as he taps the plate with his fork. “Delicious.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if I should make a big meal or not.”

“No, Halmeoni. We need to eat light. You said we have a lot to do anyway.”

“Oh, my grandson, so considerate. You keep it up, you might meet a nice girl while you’re here,” she dotes.

Yoongi dips his head, taking another bite to hide his flushed face. The town is small where everyone knows each other and he’s practically lived here before, knowing most of the women as they never seemed to move after high school.

He thinks they’re nice but as much as he loves countryside living, he loathes some of the mindset that the locals have. He’s very much the type to go out and travel when he’s not in a rut, just so he can come home and be a homebody till the mood strikes again. Truthfully, he wants someone who can complement him. He hasn’t told his grandmother yet, but he definitely has his eyes set on someone.

After breakfast, Yoongi helps his grandmother clean the kitchen before heading out into the front yard.

He takes a deep breath of the warm, crisp air and closes his eyes. This is all he’s ever wanted and he’s starting to feel like he doesn’t want to go back to the city.

“OH MY GOODNESS! MIN YOONGI?!” He opens his eyes to see you speeding by on your bike as you disappear down the road. But then a screech followed by the pitter patter of your sneakers comes back as you roll your bike to park in front of the house. “Hi, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi simply throws a hand up and a quaint smile. He looks so put together in his long sleeve, blue jeans, and brown work boots. And his hair catches the light, showing off the brownish undertones of his long locks. Even his hands stand out, tan and veiny from gripping the crates. He looks like a genuine small town country boy.

“Are you here for the annual market?” You smile weakly before biting your lip. Of course he is; he comes every year. Honestly, small talk is the only thing you can get from anyone around here.

“Yes.” Yoongi pops the tailgate of the truck to pull crates off.

“I’m going to be there too, but my booth is much bigger this time.”

“That’s nice,” he says, never looking at you as he stacks the crates.

“You should stop by. I’d love for you to come try my pastries. I’ve expanded since last year.” You tilt your head and lean, trying to get a look at his face. Even from behind the gate, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

“Sure.” Welp.

You know Yoongi’s rather laid back and very shy. You chalk it up to him not really interacting with much of the town except during the market. You know he used to go to school here but it's been a while since he moved away to the big city.

“Oh, well I look forward to seeing you there. I heard the Kim brothers are even setting up a booth for the wine business they started this year.”

“Yeah, I know.” Of course he’d know; they’re his friends.

Silence stirs; just the sound of crates hitting each other, a light breeze, and chirping birds. It feels awkward and intrusive to just stand here and gawk at him.

“Well… I have to head back to my shop.” He stacks crates. “Bye.”

He bows to you before picking up the crates and heading into the house; leaving you standing there to watch. You feel your chest tighten and swallow the lump in your throat.

Yoongi walks down the corridor, listening to the sound of your bike grow further from him. Then he sets the crates near the back door to the garden, afterwards crouching down as he covers his face. “Yeah, I know?” he mumbles into his hand. ‘YEAH, I KNOW’?! What the absolute fuck kinda response is that?!

“Puppy?” Yoongi looks up at his sweet grandmother’s face.

“I’m fine, Halmeoni; I’m just a little hot.” It's true that he’s hot but that's only because he’s furious with himself and still slightly anxious from having to speak with you. He’s literally sweating like a pig from how nervous he was.

“Halmeoni will get you some water, but sweetheart you should go lay down.” Halmeoni pats him on the head before going to the kitchen.

Yoongi can only imagine that this is a taste of Hell and surely he isn’t ready for the eternal flame that he very much deserves. How could he be an absolute dickhead to you? HOW?!

The sky is blue, birds are chirping, adults are in community, and children are laughing all while the sun lays a warm blanket over the land and a cool breeze sweeps through to aid in a relaxing day.

And one Min Yoongi can’t stop smiling as the apples of his cheeks hurt. He doesn’t know why he’s smiling but it just seems like the right time. And for once, he doesn’t really mind others greeting him with a gentle smile as well.

“Puppy, help Halmeoni get the crates.” Yoongi looks over to see his grandmother trying to pick up a crate of tangerines by herself.

“I got it.” He goes to take it from her but she turns away.

“I’m not that old, you know.” Yoongi’s brows raise. “I move better than you young ‘uns.”

“Sorry, Halmeoni.” Yoongi swiftly picks up a crate of his own this time and follows in behind his grandmother as he looks around.

The whole market is covered by a giant tent that’s supposed to shield the produce and festival goers away from the sun. Yoongi likes the steady breeze flowing from under the tent, but he does hate how dark it is. He’d rather much be in the field picking fruits and vegetables.

“It looks like the Kim brothers were serious when they said they’d be selling wine.” Halmeoni sets down the crates on a clothed table, looking behind Yoongi. He does the same, seeing their empty stand, but knowing very well it is in fact their station just by the use of silk, velvet, and gold decorations everywhere and professionally made menu posters.

“Who sells wine in the summer?” Halmeoni shakes her head before heading back to the truck.

“The Kim cousins. I’ll be damned if I call them brothers.” He says under his breath. He almost goes to follow his grandmother till she sees a couple of high school volunteers show up.

This is the perfect time to dip and go see what this wine is all about. Yoongi lightly jogs to the unoccupied booth now closing in on the two enormous barrels with taps sitting on the table and the display case of what seems to be summer inspired wines. Most of them are berries, so it can’t be that bad.

He carefully picks up a bottle and checks the alcohol content. As much as the Kims get on his nerves sometimes, they’re actually funny guys and great business men, so Yoongi’s glad to support them in their endeavors.

“Hey, Kookie, can you hang this up for me, please?’ Yoongi immediately sets the bottle down, looking around in search of your melodic voice again.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Yoongi’s broods at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. When he finally has eyes on the two of you. Jungkook is throwing a cloth over a bar, while your hand is on his stomach as you begin to laugh. Yoongi doesn't know what you see in the boy, but he’s never seen you upset over him. So that is something he can give the kid.

“Minie, be careful. Don’t get hurt.” Yoongi watches your other friend, Jimin, set down a stack of pink pastry boxes as he lets out an over dramatic grunt.

“Come rub my back,” He says slumping into a chair.

“No can do, I’m gonna go look at the funky shaped watermelons.” You grab your basket and walk off.

“She better be glad that her friendship is enough.” Jimin cranes his neck to look up at Jungkook.

“Whatchu mean? We get free snacks, too.” Jungkook looks at him with doe-eyes, causing Jimin to grin. It seems your charms can swoon over any man.

Yoongi knows it’s toxic but having Jungkook and Jimin as your friends and employees makes him feel a little bit better about his chances with you. Which may be slim to none, but at least he knows there's a chance that they also don’t like anyone who fancies you.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Yoongi jumps at his friend Kim Taehyung whispering in his ear. He has the slyest grin on his face as he walks by, his arms folded, afterwards turning on a heel to face Yoongi.

“Taehyung.” Yoongi broods.

“I’ve admired ____ for some time now. She’s cute and passionate about her business. You think she’d accept, if I proposed, Yoongi?” Yoongi turns to Kim Seokjin who’s twirling a bottle of wine in hand as he “reads” the label. Jin doesn’t have to look to know that his friend is stunned.

“Hyung.” Yoongi hates to admit that he truly believes that Jin would do such a thing just to teach him a lesson.

“You think she’d like a boyfriend too, Seokjin?” Yoongi whips over to look at Taehyung again.

“An open relationship? I don’t know, Taehyung. Let’s ask Yoongi.” He turns to the man in question who simply rolls his eyes. “How does Mrs. and Madam Kim sound to you, Yoongi?” Seokjin stares at the man, his face cold like marble as Yoongi hears Taehyung snicker.

“You two are sick.” Yoongi shifts between the two men.

“Oh, I see. You wanna do way worse to her.” Jin grins, laying a hand to his shoulder before being shaken off.

“Being a husband and a boyfriend isn’t always about sex, Yoongi. Who’s the sick one, now?” Taehyung crosses his legs, holding the table behind him as he quirks a brow at his lovesick friend.

“Ugh. Do you two ever give good advice?” Yoongi groans, snatching a basket on the table before walking off.

“For a price!” Seokjin shouts out to which Yoongi throws a middle finger back as he walks off.

He doesn’t understand why the Kims think embarrassing him will encourage him to confess his feelings for you. In situations like these, he wishes Hoseok and Namjoon were around. But Hell, he may still end up rejected because those two know how to charm a woman without even trying. Then you’d just be Mrs. Kim-Jung.

Yoongi finally steps from under the tent, the sun instantly shining down on him. He shields his face and makes his way over to the strawberry field up ahead. He crouches down, taking a plump berry into his hand. It’s vibrantly red and firm, ready for picking. He likes that the field is the staple of the market festival every year because they just go with summer. There’s other fruit fields like the watermelon, but there’s something serene about getting low to the ground and smelling the dirt as you pluck a ripe berry from its vine. Plus there’s so many things you can use them for: salads, smoothies, cakes, lemonade.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, taking in the crisp air as he watches festival goers peruse the scene. There’s plenty of old people here, but you won't miss your occasional parent and child, teen volunteer, and young lovebirds.

Without realizing he starts to look for you out in the various fields and back at the market. He doesn’t see you wandering about; just Jimin and Jungkook using their boyish charms to sell desserts. Yoongi would buy something from you, but he thinks it would be awkward either way he goes about it: buying while you’re not there may seem like he’s avoiding you and buying in your face even though he didn’t seem to make such a big fuss might feel like he’s doing it out of pity.

He has so many thoughts swirling in his head that it takes him a moment to register the shadow that’s creeped in front of him. When he finally does he turns to see you standing over him and he’s utterly stunned.

You look ethereal with the sun shining behind you as your dewy skin shimmers. You’re practically glowing. And the scent of your perfume encapsulates him as a light breeze blows, hitting him with the fresh smell of crisp peaches. His senses shock to life and he stands up to gaze upon your even more beautiful face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” You shield your face from the sun while touching his shoulder. He looks like he saw a ghost or any other cosmic being.

He looks at your hand on his shoulder and you swiftly take it away. “I should have asked, sorry.”

“Uh, you’re fine.” Come on, Yoongi, say more than two words.

You look in his basket and see the numerous berries he’s picked. “What are you gonna use those for?” You smile at him, finally letting your hand down as the sun's rays hit your face and cleavage. Yoongi can't help but think how’d it feel to lay upon your soft bosom and let all his worries melt away.

He forces himself to focus on your face because looking at you wholly is way too much for him to handle. You’re the personification of summer in your baby blue midi dress and beige wedges. Your hair is up in a bun, big and full, as two little twists hang by your ears. You have excitement in your eyes, and a smile so bright it compliments the glossiness of your lips. You’re ready for what Summer has to offer and he’s in love.

“It’s okay, if you haven’t yet. At least you’re not like me; I have a million recipes I can think of off the top of my head, but not nearly enough man power and time to execute them all.” You start to fan yourself, then look towards the breeze, letting it soothe your cheeks. “If you want, you can come to my shop, I can help you put ‘em to use.” You look back at him and he’s staring at you.

But then you notice he’s zoned out a bit, and you immediately worry that he may be too hot. The weather forecast didn’t predict heat-stroke levels of temperature, but everyone’s temperament is different. “Yoongi, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” You go to grab his hand, being the caring person you are. You’re more than willing to help him back to the tent.

“Yoongi?”

“No, I’m sorry; uh- I was just thinking. There’s really a lot of things you can do with -uh- strawberries.” You freeze looking at him. He was zoned out the entire time, letting you ramble on. You feel like a fool and you can’t hide how your eyes gloss over.

You let go of his hand and push your basket up your arm. “Well, if you’re fine now, I’m gonna go. I have a lot to do back home. And I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough,” you mumble the last bit, now in your head about everything. You don’t know why you feel so self conscious around him or why you want him to like you.

You walk off, careful lifting your dress to watch your feet.

“Wait, ____.”

“It’s okay, Yoongi, you have a wonderful evening,” you say, quickly walking away. He wants to follow you. He should follow you but he does want to respect your boundaries. Maybe he should give you some space? He never meant to make you feel stupid. He just thought you looked like Summer.

After gathering all he can, Yoongi comes back to the tent, walking past the Kims’ booth. They almost get his attention till they see the glare on his face. He’s not in the mood for more of their taunting.

He immediately makes a straight shot for your booth and is met with the most unsettling glares from Jungkook.

“Is __-”

“What do you want?” Jungkook stands, his arms folded.

“I came to speak to ____.”

And as if it couldn't get any worse, his worser half, Jimin comes out. He stares at Yoongi before leaning in to whisper to his friend. The two hold each other's gaze till Jungkook’s voice interjects.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where-”

“None of your damn business.” Jimin calls out before turning to go behind the curtain, looking back to glare at him. He stands there for a bit till Yoongi sees what looks to be your hand pulling him towards you. The curtain flows for just a second longer for Yoongi to see you laying your head against Jimin’s stomach as you cry.

“You should lea-”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” Yoongi interrupts as Jungkook quirks a brow. What? Did he truly expect for him to just back down without giving him a taste of his medicine?

Yoongi simply picks up his basket and leaves you crying in the arms of your friends. He can’t do anything with them around. They’d never let him get close enough to breathe the same air as you ever again. He’s shit out of luck at the moment and maybe forever.

As he makes it back to his grandmother’s booth, she’s busy counting money to place into her collection box. When she glances over at her grandson, she immediately knows something’s wrong.

“Min Yoongi?”

“Yes ma’am.” He doesn’t look at her, instead playing with the berries.

“Is there something going on?” She taps the money on the table before putting it in the box, but she never wavers from her grandchild.

“Yes, ma’am.” Her sweet boy dumps the berries into a styrofoam cart and places them in a cardboard box. He can’t lie to his grandmother; it literally causes him a visceral reaction.

“Then what are you going to do to fix it?” Yoongi looks at her staring back. His expression is unmoving but he can detect the admiration in her eyes. He knows this is how she helps but it's never been enough. Her generation barely wants to talk things out; they just want solutions because feelings don't solve problems.

“Pray for a miracle?” He sighs, giving her a weak smile.

“Well, you keep praying then, but it won’t make him answer on wishes alone. You have to make an effort as well, son.” At least she isn’t a fanatic that sits and waits for her blessings. And honestly, he shouldn’t either.

Yoongi walks into his bedroom and flops onto the bed, before letting out the loudest guttural sigh. How did he fumble this so hard in such little words? You practically ran from him.

He finally sits up to look outside his window. What is going to do? You probably hate his guts right now. Or you’re so distraught that you can’t even feel anger; just sorrow. If he doesn’t rectify the situation now, you may think he hates you forever. You don’t deserve to harbor that kind of pain because he can't find the balls to tell you how he truly feels about you.

“You gotta fix this, Yoongi. If it's one thing you do with your measly life, you don’t break her heart… a little too late for that, but you don’t shatter it into a million little pieces, man. I can mend this.” Yoongi puts on his shoes and heads to the kitchen to rummage through the junk drawer. When he finds the sticky notes, he leaves a message for his grandma, telling her that he’s gone to your house. He’s most certain he’ll be back before she is, but it's just in case she decides to call her game of Bridge with friends short this evening.

Yoongi leaves the house on foot. You only live a mile up the road, and he wants to give you a proper apology, so he wants as much time to really find the words to convey to you that he never intended for his behavior to come off as disdain or even hatred for you.

But that leaves the real question of whether he should confess to you or not? He imagines that this interaction could get emotionally charged, so he doesn't know if something as big as a confession could really change how heavy this already is for you.

When Yoongi finally closes in on your house, he takes a minute to just breath before he rushes up to the door and knocks. He waits for a while. Your lights are on unless you were so emotionally exhausted that you went to sleep without shutting down the house. He then presses the doorbell.

“SORRY… UH, I- I'M IN THE BACKYARD!”

Yoongi walks around the side of the house and comes up to the gate. He’s so nervous that he takes some time to breathe.

“Hello?” You see a figure standing there and get a little scared because you left it unlocked as the town is pretty safe.

“Huh, yeah. Sorry, it's Min Yoongi.” His voice wavers.

“Oh,” you murmur, sounding sad.

“Uh -aht- can I talk to you?” Yoongi can’t describe how nervous he is, but he can feel his whole body buzzing as his shaking hands hold one another.

Silence stirs. Did you up and leave? It would be valid if you did.

“__-”

“Sure… the gate is unlocked.” You don’t sound too enthusiastic.

He pushes past the wooden gate, coming in to see you sitting under a tree. There’s baskets of varying fruits surrounding you, but you’re busy cutting an apple with a pocket knife. He stands there awkwardly with his hands clasped, looking like an inquisitive little grandpa.

This is Yoongi’s first time at your house and he’s mesmerized by the way you’ve decorated the yard. There’s fairy lights strung along the tree and an awning attached to the back of the house creating a patio with a firepit. The grass is so lush that it almost looks like fur. And there’s little sprouts of flower bushes planted around. It’s truly magical, especially with the orange-pink sky up above.

Eating a slice of apple off the knife, you watch him intently as he observes your home and you can’t help but find him cute. “Come sit,” you finally say, patting beside you. He hesitates a little but eventually follows, plopping down rather close to you. You study him for a while. Admittedly, this is your first time seeing him up close like this. Other times, he’s always kept his distance or never looked at you directly. It’s a nice change and it lets you admire the little moles on his face, his eyes, and his silky black hair. But most of all his scent. He smells like fresh linens hung out near an ocean breeze. It’s calming.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” His eyes wander your face; your smile is warm -welcoming even- but he does notice the slight gloss and redness to your eyes. And if he wasn’t already feeling guilty enough, he now feels worse because it’s almost nightfall, meaning you’ve been in shambles the entire day. And considering how he’s treated you throughout the week, this probably isn’t the only day you’ve cried. He feels like utter shit; just thinking about you crying in bed because of him.

“I’m so sorry.” His features soften as his brows come together and his cheeks puff out. “For ignoring you and making you feel like I didn’t like you.”

“It’s okay.” You look down, slicing the fruit again, but settle on staring at it.

“But it’s not. You’re the last person I would hate. I’d have to hate myself before I could even fathom turning on you.”

Your brows raise at the high stakes he sets for himself. “I don’t want you to hate yourself, Yoongi.”

“But I do. You didn’t deserve that from me.” He sighs before letting a moment of silence stir. “Truth is, ____… you make me nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yes, you’re so pretty and smart that whenever I get around you, my mind goes blank and it leaves me looking like an asshole who can only respond in simple sentences. And you’re so bubbly and outgoing too that it intimidates me a little bit.” He looks down at his hands, but abruptly shoots back up at his words. He waves his hand. “But not in a bad way. Just like- I don’t know… there’s way better people you could talk to… than me.” All of this wouldn’t have happened had he just been direct with you. It’s so easy to be that way with everyone else, but with you? You just have this way of disarming him, and frankly he’s not opposed to it. You’re immensely charming, but he’s just…. “____, there’s no excuse for my behav-”

Your giggle graces his ears first before your smile does. When he looks at you, there’s just a mix of shock and confusion scribbled on his face. “I’m sorry… it just seems like I should be apologizing to you, now.”

“What?! N- no. Truthfully, I don’t have much experience with people. I lock myself in my studio and I only talk to the same two people -three, if you count my grandma. So it's been hard for me to tell you that I like you.” Silence ensues again and he looks up to see you staring back. Your eyes wander his face and you begin to notice just how attractive and enduring this man is.

“You really like me?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the realization of his confession. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this or ever. He wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. Why would he say all that? If you thought he was odd then, you definitely think so now. But truthfully you don’t; you never have.

Before he can even try and cover himself, you reach out and take his hand as your head tilts in admiration of him. He can’t find his voice as you’ve completely disarmed him. Like you always do.

“I more than like you,” he murmurs as you watch his round cheeks turn red and the big sigh he lets out genuinely surprises you. He’s been holding this in for some time now; letting it cause him great stress. You even feel his hand relax.

All has come to light now, and he can honestly say an immense weight has been lifted off his chest. If you reject him right now, he can honestly say he won’t have any regrets and be proud to say he even tried.

Yoongi stares back at you, waiting, but he didn’t prepare for your features to suddenly contort, tears streaming down your face as your voice cracks and wails.

Yoongi instantly feels his heart drop into his stomach, twisting into the most sickening knot. What has he done? He never thought confessing would make you cry. He expected rejection but not full blown tears. Do you think he’s pranking you by toying with your heart? Maybe it was better to just let you go on thinking he hated you?

He shifts, getting ready to speak which he’s sure no amount of words could help him recover from this, but he has to try, for you.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Yoongi.” His brows raise. “I’ve been really lonely since I moved here. I mean… I love the town but really only old people live here and… the adults our age don’t really talk to me cause they think I’m too different. I have Jungkook and Jimin but we’re just friends.” Yoongi is trying to process everything but his mind’s still lingering on your first statement. “For a while, I told myself that even being your friend would make me happy, but sometimes I catch myself thinking about you, but beyond friendship.” Yoongi isn’t sure he heard you right. “You’re charismatic and shy but I know you deeply care for people. I just couldn't for the longest time fathom why it couldn't be me. And even though I thought you harbored these feelings against me I still have to accept that maybe I’d like to have you more than a friend.” No, he heard you correctly the first time. “But I’ve been too scared to shoot for anything bigger.”

“Why?” Is all he says. It’s frankly all he can muster.

“I thought that maybe you had someone back home already. We’re older now and this is the time when people usually settle down.” You look away, your cheeks growing hot. “So I took my chance at the fair, thinking it might be my last.” Yoongi feels awful that it took heartbreak to reveal your mutual pining for one another. He truly doesn’t have any words for you. All he can think is that somehow all the celestial bodies aligned perfectly on this night to grant him his one wish and apparently yours too.

You two don't speak for a while as it’s grown dark and the only sounds present are your sniffles and chirping crickets.

He doesn't know how to make the situation better or any less awkward, so he simply gets up, grabbing your basket of strawberries and heads to the water pump to clean them. You watch through teary eyes in confusion. You just had a heart to heart and this man is washing fruit. You don't know whether to be upset or intrigued by his thought process.

When he flops back down, placing the basket between you, he picks a berry up by the tuff of its leaves and holds it out to you.

“Today’s been… eventful to say the least.” So a strawberry is going to help? Your eyes shift between his. “Eat.” Confusion stirs on your face at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but you lean in anyway, taking a bite of the fruit. It’s sweet with a sour kick at the end, making you hum. Maybe it helps a little.

Yoongi eyes the way your lips wrap around, the bright red contrasting with your pout till you pull off with a smack. Juice catches on your bottom lip as you lick it off, gazing at him with glossy eyes.

“Feel better?” You nod, watching him bite the berry. You think nothing of it, but he savors the taste, knowing your lips have blessed it first. He holds the berry in his mouth, bringing a hand to your cheek as he thumbs away your tears. Then he releases the fruit with a smack. “Then don’t cry anymore. Although you look pretty, I hate the reason behind it.” You’re utterly stunned, feeling in a state of limbo. Who is this man? And what has he done to Min Yoongi?

Yoongi finishes off the fruit, setting the leaves down near the tree roots before picking up another strawberry. He holds it out to you again as you stare deep into each other's eyes. “You done?” he asks, going to take it for himself till your hand grabs his wrist, redirecting him back to your plump lips. There's no hesitation this time as you let him feed you once more.

Yoongi watches your lips wrap around the big berry, juice squirting and spilling down the side of your mouth. The entire time, you’re engaged in a deep stare as he swallows hard, licking his lips. He quickly lays a hand lazily over his crotch, trying to hide his ever growing erection.

When you release, a moan escapes you. He’s about to burst when you give him a little smile. Then he gazes at the drop of juice on your lips. “Oops, I made a mess,” you giggle, your big eyes shining and lips pouty. You look almost innocent, and Yoongi can’t help but wonder if you mean it on purpose. You giggle once more. “It looked too good not to act on impulse.” And you mean it. It’s a perfect distraction and you honestly feel a lot better.

“Hm.” His eyes wander your face, his features going darker. “Wanna ‘nother?”

“Yep. Aah~” You open wide, exposing your palate to Yoongi. How are you this fucking cute? Everything about you is sweet, innocent, and bubbly. He wants to appreciate this side of you more but his mind keeps flickering to him fucking the back of your throat raw and abusing the roof of your mouth as he empties his ball before making you swallow his cum.

But he grants your wish instead, taking another strawberry to let you devour it whole as you giggle at the juice running down your lip. A little dark patch of dirt begins to form from the liquid dripping down.

You finally release with a hiss, taking in a cool breath as the refreshing taste lingers on your tongue and the crisp scent fills your nose. It tastes like heaven, and Yoongi is contemplating whether he died on his way to your house and is already enjoying his stay in eternal paradise.

Seeing a drop of juice rest upon your bottom lip, he takes his thumb, smearing the essence across the full expanse of your plush pout. Your eyes wander his, watching as they become slightly heavy and dark. He finally inches his thumb past your lips and you willingly take it into your mouth, sucking his thumb.

His mouth falls open, whining as you suck and hollow your cheeks before popping off to twirl your tongue. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’ve officially crossed that line and you don't think you two could even stop if you wanted to. There would always be this lingering desire for one another, so you might as well see where the night takes you.

And Yoongi certainly feels the same, taking the berry and feeding you till you hit the rine. He then pulls from your grasp to glide it across your lips before leaning in to kiss you. The taste of strawberries and each other mix together, dancing along your tongues as they swirl about. You want -no, need- more of him.

You quickly crawl to straddle him, sitting on his thigh as Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Your clothed clit drags along the rough denim of his jeans, and you cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss. He squeezes your sides and hips, occasionally straying further down before finding his way back up. Even now, he’s trying to be a gentleman.

“Squeeze my ass, Yoongi,” you moan against his lips, grabbing his wrist to place his hands on your plump ass. He obeys, but catches you off guard as he grips you so fiercely that his nails dig into your supple skin. You moan at the slight sting spreading down your thighs as his large hands rub to soothe you. “Yoongi,” you whimper as he does it again, this time giving you a shake that rubs your pussy deeper into his thigh. Yoongi groans into your mouth, feeling a wet spot seep through his jeans. Your hands travel down his stomach and into his shirt to graze his abs, afterwards snaking further to grope his massive bulge.

“Ah~ ____,” he growls, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to press you deeper into the kiss.

Your pace picks up as you rut your hips against his thigh. He quickly throws your dress up in the back and slips a hand down into of your panties. With one hand spreading a cheek, he uses his other middle finger to tease your rim.

“Oh my -fuck- baby, yes.” He dives down further to your entrance, circling around as your hands grip his belt. Your pussy lays soft kisses upon the tip of his finger, urging him to sate your clenching walls. You hastily unbuckle his jeans. Yoongi always took you for a sweet girl, but he never thought you’d be such a cock-hungry slut. He likes this side of you just as much.

Whipping out his dick, the two of you stop to look at his massive erection: long, thick, and riddled with bulging veins. You can hardly wrap your hand around him. And a lush patch of dark hair brushes your skin. His tip is a deep mauve, glistening with precum. He’s been pleasing you this whole time and in need of release. You spit, watching as a long thread glides down your wet taste and drips onto his tip, your hand moving to coat him in a slick mess.

“Aah~ Fuck,” he rasps out, his voice shaky as he watches you stroke his cock. The warmth and firm grasp of your hand feels divine, sending his head to knock back into the tree as you attack his jaw with kisses. You’re sloppy, licking from his ear to his neck, then placing chaste kisses to his cheek as you giggle.

But your amusement soon ceases, now replaced with lust as he dips two fingers into your slick pussy. They glide in and out of you with ease except for when they rub against your beveled walls from clenching so hard, causing your thighs to shake a little at the sweet sting of him hitting your g-spot.

“Fuck my pussy, Min Yoongi. Ugh~ Baby, just like that.” Your warm breath tickles his ear as you whimper in approval of his fingers curving and pumping vigorously inside of you. His moans grace your ears as well, making more slick seep from around him. You look down, licking your lips at the way his foreskin pushes all his precum to the tip, some of it white from friction.

The atmosphere fills with the sounds of both your whimpering, fucked out voices. But it doesn’t matter as all your neighbors live miles away from you. Simply just another reason for loving the countryside. And as far as they're concerned, you’re two wild animals going at it -which is true in many respects.

You continue to please each other till your vision becomes a cloudy, white haze and the pressure in your stomach finally snaps. You press your open mouth to Yoongi’s as you both cry out, writhing in pleasure together.

You swirl your tongue around his, trying your best to ride through your orgasm as your body writhes and you coat his fingers white. Then you feel Yoongi twitch, veins pumping as he coats your hand in hot cum. “Mmh~ Yoongi, good boy. Cum for me, baby,” you coo, earning a whimper from him as he cums again for you to milk his cock. “Give me your cum, Yoongi.”

“Aah~ Fuck, ____.” You feel exhilarated hearing your name moaned into your ear and his hot essence in your palm.

“Do I make you feel good, Yoongi?”

“Ugh, yes. Yes, baby. So fucking much. You don’t even…” His features contorts and his mouth gapes open, unable to make a sound.

“‘I don’t’ what? Tell me, Yoongi.”

“Kn-know how much I’ve wanted to ruin you.” You continue to coax him through his orgasm, stroking him and sucking his lips and tongue as he whines from overstimulation.

Looking down, your head tilts as you watch one big rope of cum spurt from his tip. You look absolutely intimidating as Yoongi whines and watches your tongue glide along your top lip, a smirk appearing at the way he so easily obeys you.

“You did so good, baby,” you whisper in his ear and he whimpers with a shutter. You caress a cheek and kiss the other before gazing over his flushed face. He’s going to sleep good tonight.

Once Yoongi falls silent, you stop and rest against his shoulder. Your body relaxes into his as you sit, listening to each other’s shallow breaths. It’s only till Yoongi pulls his fingers from your aching cunt that you whine and grip his arm, burying your face in his neck. He gazes upon his glistening hand, spreading his fingers to watch golden light dance along the threads of your slick. Your scent is pungent, yet intoxicating.

You unburrow to look at the sight too. You even surprise yourself with how drenched his hand is. But that doesn’t stop you from showing him that you’re an absolute freaknik when you take one of his fingers into your mouth, the decadent tang dancing along your buds.

You continue to suck, bobbing your head back and forth as your big eyes gaze into his. You stick him so far down your throat that your eyes start to water. The hum around him causes his mouth to gape open as he hisses, thinking that he’d could get it up again for you to perform the same to his cock.

When you finally pop off, you guide his middle finger into his mouth, so he can savor your taste as well. It’s maddening, the way your head tilts as you look at him with soft eyes full of endearment.

“How’s it taste?” you ask so casually that it almost seems like you're talking about actual food.

“Better than any strawberry.” He gives you a quaint smile.

You’re like the sweetest dream as you loom over him smiling. Though, even through haziness, he can see that hint of mischief as you raise your hand to lick all his cum up. You never break your gaze with him, grinning around your index finger. You're like an actress for a yogurt ad, pulling a spoon from your lips as you look at him with big innocent eyes.

“You taste good, too.” You giggle, leaning in to kiss him. This is not the first time Yoongi has tasted himself, but doing so from your tongue makes it seem like a transcendent experience.

“I like you so much,” he confesses quietly, like he’s telling you his greatest secret.

“I like you so much, too,” you whisper back, running your clean hand through his hair as you gaze into his deep brown eyes. “Come on, let's get cleaned up.” You kiss him before getting up and heading towards the patio sliding door. You hold the door open after entering your home and Yoongi follows after.

He looks around admiring how cozy the place is. You have plenty of blankets for a good cuddle and the air smells like fresh baked cookies.

“You can go first; it's the door right there.” You point. He looks back at you, giving him a shy smile before he goes inside. You think it's cute how he’s always looking for you or not wanting to leave your side.

When he comes out, he looks around for you. “Yoongi.” He turns and his eyes light up at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Come make yourself at home. After I’m done, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yep.” You giggle through a small crack in the door before closing it.

Yoongi is buzzing with excitement as to what your surprise could be. You’ve already given him your affection which is enough for him. Well, almost because he hopes to completely win over your love one day. And he’s more confident than ever that he can.

You come out, smiling at him as you come to grab his hand. Once in the kitchen you pull out his chair and gesture for him to sit.

You then rewash your hands before pulling out a plate from the overhead cabinet and a fork. You look over at Yoongi to see him posted on an arm watching your every move. “You gonna stare the whole time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yoongi, it's fine. I like when you look at me.”

“Oh… well, I can only imagine that you look even more beautiful….”

“Naked? Y'know Yoongi, you don’t have to imagine anymore.” You smirk at him as his cheeks get flushed.

You then open the fridge and bend over, exposing the back of your thighs. Yoongi wants to be able to bite them one day and get a taste of your nectar right from the source as your beautiful legs fight to stay open. But he wouldn’t mind being trapped between them forever as he holds onto your plump ass for dear life.

When you raise up, there's a glass dish in your hands. You set it down, pulling off the foil before grabbing a serving spoon to scoop a big helping of pineapple dump cake onto the plate. You then pop it in the microwave and turn facing him as you grab onto the counter behind.

You two stare at each other for a while before your feet are guiding you to him. You just can't stand being apart from him anymore as you cup his cheeks and kiss him. He moans at the intrusion of your tongue. He loves how you just take what you want from him. He’d happily grant your every fantasy; do anything you tell him to when making love. He’s absolutely smitten with you.

The alarm goes off and you release him, giggling at the way he breathes heavily. You grab the plate and trot back to him, setting the plate down and handing him the fork.

He looks at the dish and he’s glad it's a simple homemade dessert; he feels a little less guilty of ruining it unlike your decorative pastries you sell at your bakery. He does hope to taste them one day, but something tells him that this is something he’ll only be able to get at your home.

You pull a chair beside him and sit, both hands on your cheeks as you anticipate his very first bite. When the warm gooey goodness hits his buds, all he can do is hum in delight as he shakes his head.

“So good, baby.” Your heart jumps at his praise. You typically make Jungkook and Jimin try your food and they always have great things to say but it feels good to have that extra affection. You always want him singing your praise whether it's feeding him or fucking him.

“You make me feel so good, Yoongi.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wished for.” His big smile sets off a spark within you.

You’ve never felt this strongly about someone as you do now. He better get ready cause this will be the last time Min Yoongi ever slips from your grasp.

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my-meadowlark · 8 months

Text

Fic: Thermodynamics [Barbie/Gloria]

Title: Thermodynamics Fandom: Barbie (2023) Characters/Pairing: Barbie/Gloria Rating: T Word Count: 9,043 Summary:

Barbie has some serious trouble grasping the finer points of weather and humidity, which leads to her very first encounter with human illness. Gloria takes care of her, and some very confusing feelings accidentally come to the surface. Written for prompt #3 "Sickfic" of @tropetember

AO3 LINK

Water is extremely complicated.

Barbie honestly doesn't think humans realize just how complicated it truly is. And she's not even just talking about its fluidity and how infuriatingly hard it can be to contain it once it's decided to go everywhere at once (she's working on her accuracy when eyeballing the volume of liquid she can pour into a glass). Oh, no. That's, like, beginner level water-handling. It's the way water affects... everything else that keeps tripping her up.

Sometimes there'll be a day when the heat is so oppressive Barbie feels like she's trying to breathe with plastic lungs. And Gloria will nod sagely and simply say "it's the humidity" right before suggesting she take a quick cool shower like that won't just add even more humidity to the mix. But it works, somehow, until it doesn't because she's out of the shower and her damp hair has gone from keeping her scalp cool to weighing her entire body down until she feels absolutely, indescribably gross.

"Yeah. It's the humidity," Sasha will say when Barbie mentions how she can't even tell where the dampness from the shower ends and her own sweat begins and are they sure she's not melting? It's the humidity but if you add more humidity by hanging a wet towel in front of the fan it helps. Yeah. Okay.

Eventually, by the end of her first Summer in the Real World, Barbie thinks she has somewhat grasped the basics of water when it comes to temperature. Water can cool you down if you drink it or pour it over yourself or blow air through it (the bowl of ice trick Sasha saw on TikTok worked even better than the wet towel one). But it will warm you up if it's naturally in the air (humidity is her least favorite word).

She can work with that.

"If you go out later you may want to wear a jacket," Gloria says over breakfast one late October morning, "it's a bit nippy outside."

Barbie likes the sound of that. Nippy. It sounds fun. Playful, even. She's nowhere near bored of the Real World yet, but she'll admit some things have become so routine by now she barely even notices them anymore, and that makes her a little sad. She misses the feeling of absolutely every experience being brand new and exciting. So, nippy weather, huh? Sounds like a good time to her!

As it turns out, she enjoys nippy. The cooler air feels so different on her skin. She gets goosebumps like when she takes too long drying off after a shower, but they're not exactly the same kind. She doesn't notice when she breathes anymore because she's been doing it for several months now, but she does notice when she breathes in the colder air. She feels it going all the way into her lungs. Through her trachea and into her bronchi and bronchioles and filling up her alveoli like tiny little balloons.

She loves Sasha's Bio textbook.

So, when a couple months later, she hears the words 'cold snap' while watching the weather report, Barbie is nothing short of delighted. Nippy was fun, so she's sure a snap can only be even better, right? A snap. Fun!

"Do you think we'll get any snow?" Sasha circles the coffee table for the third time, open backpack in her hand, like she's expecting whatever she can't find to magically appear if she looks at the exact same spot the correct number of times. "Like, not downtown obviously, but nearby? Hey Barbie, where'd you put my Chem book?"

"Oh, I left it on your desk. Thanks for letting me borrow it! I loved reading the little intro about water's specific heat capacity but I need way more information than that so I think I'll go to the library later." She feels like she's found the path to understanding water and its weird behaviors, and she can't wait to pay a visit to her favorite librarian. Sasha insists she should just Wikipedia stuff, but Barbie likes the face-to-face interaction and the fun of going from book to book like she's on a scavenger hunt.

"Okay, Nerd Barbie."

"Tone," Gloria warns, one finger pointing in Sasha's general direction in a slight sweeping motion that means she's not really in any trouble at all. You can tell a lot from the exact way Gloria points a finger at you, especially when you pay as much attention as Barbie does.

"Sorry," Sasha lies (Barbie can tell when that happens, too), already on her way to her bedroom, "but you gotta admit it is kinda nerdy."

Gloria chooses to ignore that particular comment and focus on the earlier part of the conversation instead. "I don't know about snow. Maybe. We got some nearby last year."

Barbie's been in the Real World for long enough to know even the things they do have back home, like snow, are completely different here. Because they're real. "Gloria? What does snow feel like?"

"It's like—" Gloria stops pouring coffee into her thermos to think for a moment. She can answer easy questions while doing other stuff, Barbie's found, but when it's a hard one, or when she really cares about giving a thoughtful answer, she has to fully focus on her thoughts. Watching it happen makes a very particular warmth start somewhere in the vicinity of where Barbie's heart is and then spread out towards her lungs and down to her lower abdomen where it pools like... like something both warm and fizzy, somehow. Like warm soda pop, but not nearly as disgusting as that sounds. She hasn't found an explanation to that particular phenomenon in any of the human biology books she's read so far.

"It's like a snow cone, but like, without the syrup obviously." Sasha's voice travels through the open door of her bedroom and snaps Barbie back to reality, pulling her focus away from the mysterious Gloria-related effervescence in her belly. "And it's cold. And wet. It doesn't look like it should get your clothes wet, but it totally does."

See? Water. Doing unexpected things once again, even in solid form.

"I'd love to see it. Do you think it'll happen soon?"

"Maybe, yeah! You heard the weather guy." Gloria grabs Barbie's house keys instead of her own car keys, like she does nearly every morning. And like nearly every morning, Barbie notices before Gloria does and picks up the forgotten car keys, jiggling them to bring Gloria's attention to her mistake. "Shoot, thank you, Barbie. Sasha! We're gonna be late!"

"And, you know," Gloria continues, her voice down to a conversational tone once again, "even if it doesn't snow right here, we can plan a weekend getaway some time. Do some sledding, maybe skiing or even snowb—"

"I vote Switzerland," Sasha interrupts, walking past her mother towards the front door, "for the chocolate. And the cheese. Wait, do you have a passport? Can you even get a passport?"

"Right," Gloria says, "let's aim for Big Bear Lake or even Tahoe this year. I don't think we're at the international travel level just yet."

Gloria winks at Barbie like she's in on some kind of joke. Like they've just told someone Barbie's spent most of her life in Australia and that's why she's not fully confident with American money yet, and it's funny because they both know that's not the reason but it's a completely harmless fib. Barbie has no idea why Gloria is winking right now (international travel does sound complicated, and Sasha brought up a valid point about passports, whatever those are) but she smiles anyway, the kind of smile that's so wide she can feel it on her cheeks and in the crinkle of her eyes. She may not know exactly what the joke is, but whatever it is is between her and Gloria, and that's good enough for her.

"See you at lunch time?" Gloria is already halfway through the front door when she asks, like Barbie hasn't had lunch with her every single day since she arrived in the Real World. She even has a favorite taco truck that stops near the Mattel headquarters every other day.

So Barbie just lets her smile answer for her.

Later, Barbie finds out the cold snap is not fun. At all. As it turns out, there is a drastic difference between nippy and cold (Sasha's insistence that it doesn't even get really cold in LA does not help Barbie feel any better about it), and Barbie is firmly against cold as a weather concept, thank you very much.

It's interesting at first. It's like nippy, but more. Sharper against her skin and in her lungs and on the tip of her nose. But soon enough it becomes uncomfortable. Just like the heat in the Summer, it seems to permeate her clothes and then her skin and all its layers until she feels like it's inside her and there's no getting rid of it. Gloria recommends a warm shower, which helps just like the cool ones in the Summer did. Barbie figures she can let her damp hair do what it did back then and become warmer with time, but Gloria already has the blow dryer in her hand when she steps out of the bathroom, and Barbie is more than happy to let her play with her hair for as long as Gloria wants.

On the second day of the cold snap, the weather guy informs there's a low-pressure system bringing in higher humidity, and Barbie breathes a sigh of relief. Humidity makes things hotter. It makes you sweat. If heat plus humidity equals being slowly cooked in your own juices, then cold plus humidity should equal something between pleasant and slightly nippy, right?

See, she's been reading about thermodynamics. It's all about equilibrium, as it turns out.

So you can imagine her surprise (and, frankly, outrage) when she goes out in a light cardigan and finds herself standing in what can only be described as an outdoors fridge. Ridiculous. It's ridiculous and wrong and downright unfair, because the air is cold and the humidity is in there and she's been reading those books that say the heat will go from the hotter substance into the cooler one until they reach thermodynamic equilibrium so why is the moisture not heating up the cold air? Why is the air somehow even colder than yesterday?

Barbie feels her eyes sting with tears and she's not sure if they're from the sheer frustration of feeling like the laws of Physics keep tricking her, or from the cold air hitting her eyeballs. She figures it's a combination of both of those things.

All she wants is to go back into the warmth of their home, but it feels like letting the humidity win, somehow. Like going back inside is admitting defeat. And Barbara Millicent Handler may be many things (she's still figuring out which things she is, as a matter of fact) but she's absolutely not the kind of woman who gets defeated by moisture, of all things.

No way.

So, frown in place and arms tightly wrapped around herself and her puny cardigan, she marches towards the library determined to figure out this humidity nonsense before lunchtime. It can't be this hard. Everyone else seems to get it. There has to be something she's missing.

Her favorite librarian is helpful as always, even offering Barbie a cup of hot cocoa from the coffee machine when she notices the way her teeth chatter as she asks for another book on thermodynamics.

"Is there anything in particular you want to research?" She asks, and is kind enough not to mention the way Barbie's eyes water all over again when her nearly numb fingers wrap around the warm paper cup. "We may have better luck finding exactly what you're looking for if we narrow the field a bit more."

Fifteen minutes later, Barbie's sitting at her usual table with a book about weather that has her feeling so giddy she's no longer thinking about the cold. Well, she's thinking about cold as a concept. Just not about how cold she was just a moment ago. Sasha can insist all she wants: there's no way her beloved Wikipedia would've provided not only the perfect book, but also the perfect hot beverage.

Once she's finished her cocoa, Barbie opens the book and immediately realizes she's found a whole area of knowledge she didn't even know existed. Weather seems simple enough on the surface, but the more she reads, the more she realizes just how much there is to learn about it. By page four she's feeling so full of excitement about all the things she's about to discover that she actually giggles out loud. By page ten, she's wondering why the weather segment is always so short when there's so much to talk about.

"Barbara?" The librarian's soft voice pulls Barbie's attention from a two-page illustrated guide to cloud shapes. She's got to tell Gloria about lenticular clouds. "I hate to interrupt your reading, but you always leave at eleven, so—"

"Oh?" Eleven. Gloria. Lunch. "Oh! Thank you so much, Evelyn."

She rushes out of the library with the reassurance that Evelyn will make sure nobody checks out the book before tomorrow and makes it to the bus stop with six minutes to spare (running helps with the cold, she finds) according to the clock on her phone. And she has only been waiting for a minute when she feels a drop of water on the very cold tip of her nose.

"Oh, no."

It doesn't rain often in Los Angeles, but she's already experienced a couple of rainy days and she can recognize the first sign. Rain is a lot like crying, in that you get one drop first and then a whole bunch of them with no warning at all.

By the time the bus stops in front of her, she feels like she's spent the last five minutes taking a cold shower with her clothes on.

The bus ride to the Mattel headquarters is not very long, but when she gets off at her stop Barbie feels like even her bones are soaked through. Her clothes stick to her skin, cold and heavy and wet, and (thermodynamic equilibrium!) seem to be sapping every last kilojoule of body heat out of her. She feels like there isn't an amount of hot cocoa in the world that could possibly warm her back up.

"Barbie! Oh, honey, didn't you bring— I should've told you to grab an umbrella. Why aren't you wearing your coat?" Gloria is waiting at the bus stop like always, dry under her umbrella and toasty warm inside her fleece-lined rain coat. "Why aren't you wearing your boots!?" Gloria looks at Barbie's soaked tennis shoes like the sight of wet feet is something out of her wildest nightmares.

"I just—" Barbie feels her chin tremble. It's half shivers and half wanting to cry from just how uncomfortable she feels standing in the cold (at least Gloria's pulled her under her umbrella so she's not getting rained on anymore) in soaking wet clothes. And shoes. And socks. "I just thought—" Barbie shakes her head just as the first tear falls, "I just don't get humidity, okay!?"

"Humidit—?" Gloria shakes her head slightly, like she's decided halfway through her question that she's not actually going to focus on that right now. "Oh, look at you," Gloria's fingers feel soft and warm against her skin when she gently brushes strands of wet blond hair away from her forehead, "why didn't you go back inside when you saw it was raining?"

Barbie shrugs and sniffles slightly. Sometimes being a real person is a bit much for her. There are too many things to feel all at once. And she was already close to the point of being overwhelmed by all the terrible feelings from before — cold and uncomfortable and wet and sad and confused and frustrated — but now there are all these new things added to the mix, and she doesn't even have a name for most of them. The feeling of being very close to someone under an umbrella while it rains. Is there a name for that feeling? The feeling when someone's voice is so soothing it feels like you're being wrapped up in the softest blanket in the world. The feeling when being near someone makes all the bad feelings fade into the background until they barely register anymore.

The feeling of someone catching one of your tears with the pad of her thumb and then pressing her warm palm against your cheek. Is there a name for that? Because it spreads from the point of contact between Gloria's hand and her face, filling her up with whatever the feeling is called until there's simply no room for cold anymore and all she can feel is that.

"I didn't want to miss lunch," she finally says, leaning into Gloria's touch and adding another feeling to the mix when Gloria smiles.

And for a handful of heartbeats they just stand there, Gloria's hand on her cheek, thumb brushing softly against her skin, like they're both a bit too busy feeling to do anything else.

"Let's get you home," Gloria finally says. She moves her hand away from Barbie's cheek and holds the umbrella in her direction. "Here, hold this for me for a second." And when Barbie does, Gloria quickly unbuttons her raincoat and slides it off to wrap it around Barbie's shoulders instead. "Better?"

Barbie nods. The fleece lining is warm from being wrapped around Gloria and it smells faintly of her perfume, and "home" is the closest she can get to finding a name for the feeling in her chest.

"Come on," Gloria lets Barbie hold the umbrella and loops one arm through Barbie's so they can walk close together towards the car, "I don't want you to get sick."

—-

Gloria practically shoves her into the hot shower the second they walk through the door. And if her brain felt even just a bit less foggy, Barbie would've had a thought or two about one kind of water being the cure for another kind of water, but she can't focus on that right now. She's never felt worse in all her months as a human woman. She's cold even if her skin gets warmed up by the hot water. She keeps shivering but she can feel herself sweat. She keeps sneezing, and every sneeze makes her head hurt.

"This is the worst day ever." Barbie pouts, sitting on the couch with a flannel blanket wrapped tightly around her body. The words scratch against her throat as they come out in the most annoying way.

"I know," Gloria says, tone sympathetic from the kitchen area, "I'm sorry, honey."

They've been home for a few hours now — Gloria decided Barbie's first brush with sickness was more important than the rest of her work day, and Mattel agreed — and Barbie keeps feeling steadily worse with every passing minute. At first she was just cold and wet. Now she feels like she's been run over by a cold, wet truck.

"Here," Gloria hands her a bowl of hot chicken soup and sits next to her, "it'll make you feel better. I promise."

It doesn't work right away, but it's delicious and it soothes her throat as it goes down so Barbie can't complain at all.

"How are your feet?" Gloria slips one hand under the blanket to feel around for one of Barbie's feet, both of them safely wrapped in the warmest, fluffiest socks she's ever worn. Barbie doesn't think she's ever seen Gloria look as horrified as she did when she saw Barbie's drenched socks before.

"Warm," Barbie offers, even if she's sure Gloria can tell when she lightly squeezes one of them.

"Good. That's good." Gloria lets go of her foot and fixes the blanket, tightly tucking it under Barbie's legs. "That's good," she repeats, softer this time, like she's talking to herself. She doesn't speak again until Barbie's left the nearly empty bowl on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well." In her time in the Real World, Barbie's learned people often say things like 'I'm sorry' without really meaning them. Just because it's polite. But she can tell Gloria means it in the most literal, true sense of the words. She can see the sorrow in dark brown eyes, in the worry lines on her face, in the way she moves around Barbie, like she used to be made of the most delicate porcelain instead of plastic. "I wish I had a magic cure."

Barbie can tell she means that, too.

What Barbie can't do is understand why the thought of Gloria snapping her fingers and making it all go back to normal doesn't sound nearly as appealing as it probably should. She wouldn't miss the shivers or the sneezing, but she thinks she'd miss the way Gloria's stayed close all afternoon, making sure she's okay.

"You should go to bed. Chicken soup and rest is the best remedy for the sniffles."

Barbie nods. She's not exactly tired, but she doesn't feel like being awake either. Being sick, unsurprisingly, is no fun at all.

"Shouldn't Sasha be home already?" Barbie stands up from the couch, bringing the blanket along like a long, fluffy dress. "It's Wednesday so she doesn't have practice."

Gloria smiles the specific smile she reserves for moments when Barbie remembers details about her or Sasha. She's noticed.

"She's staying over at Mei's to finish a project. She asked for permission in the car this morning." Gloria watches Barbie take the first few steps away from the couch like she's not sure she'll manage without falling over, and breathes a sigh that sounds a lot like relief when Barbie manages to stay upright. "I'm here if you need me, okay?"

Barbie smiles, because she already knows.

—-

"Hey." Gloria's voice is barely above a whisper. Barbie's bedroom is dark except for the warm light sneaking in from the hallway through the halfway open door. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Barbie has never had as much trouble figuring out whether she's awake or still fast asleep as she does right now, with Gloria sitting on the edge of her bed and tucking Barbie's hair behind her ear.

"How are you feeling?"

Barbie wants to answer. She wants to say she's not sure, because she isn't even sure this is really real or just a warm, hazy dream. But Gloria's fingertips brush against Barbie's warm skin as she moves her hand from Barbie's ear to her temple, and then Gloria's slightly cooler palm presses against Barbie's forehead, and all she can do is breathe.

"Oh, that's too warm." Gloria sighs, and Barbie feels the soft whoosh of the air leaving Gloria's lungs and hitting her skin as Gloria leans in to press her lips against her forehead.

It's not a kiss. It's just a press. The softest ghost of a touch. And Barbie realizes in that very moment that she's forgotten how to breathe, but her heart seems to have decided to beat twice as fast to make up for it so she figures she'll be fine.

Gloria remains so close when she pulls away that Barbie can't really tell if she's hearing her or just feeling the words against her skin when she speaks again. "Family trick. You can tell if there's a fever easier with your lips than with your hand."

Barbie nods, maybe a little dumbly. She's never had a fever, but she knows the concept of it. And she definitely feels like her body temperature is much higher than just a few seconds ago.

"Can you sit up?" Gloria turns towards the side table while Barbie rearranges herself against the headboard. The light from the hallway is enough for Barbie to make out a water bottle and a glass, and she watches with fascination as Gloria carefully pours some water and then shakes a little packet of something and adds its contents to the glass. "Here. Take this. If the fever hasn't budged by tomorrow we'll call the doctor, okay?"

Barbie nods again. She's never tried drinking water in bed — that seems, frankly, like the sort of advanced fluid dynamics she should not be trusted with just yet — but Gloria seems very sure of this whole process and Barbie doesn't think she can speak right now, let alone argue with Gloria's instructions.

As it turns out, she shouldn't have worried at all. Because Gloria's hands don't leave hers when she hands Barbie the glass. One warm hand remains covering Barbie's, steadying her fingers around the cool glass, and the other rests gently on the back of her head. It feels like a reminder that Gloria will catch her if she falls.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, it doesn't taste good at all, but I don't think this is the time to learn how to swallow pills," Gloria says, and Barbie looks into the glass even if she can't really see what the liquid looks like with such little light. She can hear it fizzling, louder and faster than any soda she's tried so far (and she's tried a few). It smells oddly... synthetic. Like it doesn't belong in the Real World. "It'll make you feel better. I promise."

It tastes even worse than she imagined. It tastes like nothing she's ever tasted in her short human life. It tastes like something not meant to go inside or even near a human body at all. It tastes so bad she lets out a horrified gasp at the end because she's honestly a bit surprised the awful taste didn't kill her.

"That was—" Barbie struggles to form the words around the lingering taste coating her tongue.

"I know." There's the slightest bit of amusement in Gloria's voice, even if she still mostly sounds concerned. "I know, honey, I'm sorry. Here, have some water. Wash off the taste."

Water only really helps a little bit. The aftertaste remains, gross and bitter and metallic— no. Not metallic. Plasticky. She wonders if her face will ever go back to normal again or it will simply remain in a slight grimace forever.

Barbie rests against her pillow once again with a sigh. She's oddly tired but in a nebulous sort of way, not in the same way she's tired after a long day or after a trip to the mall with Sasha.

"I hate being sick," she says, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. She hates that it makes everything she's slowly gotten used to about being human feel just off enough to keep her constantly uncomfortable. She hates that her thoughts feel fuzzy (not in a good way) and slow. She hates everything about it.

"That's a very human emotion, if it helps you feel better at all."

Barbie's never been to the desert. She doesn't know what a glass of water may feel like under those circumstances. But she thinks it must feel similar to hearing Gloria's soft voice right now. Like the one thing that feels good when everything else sucks.

"You help me feel better."

It's not the first time she's said something similar to Gloria. Barbie appreciates everything Gloria's done for her since coming to live in the Real World, and she makes sure to be very vocal with that appreciation. But it feels a little different when she says it right now. Like there's something extra weighing down the words.

"Yeah?" Gloria smiles, Barbie thinks, but there's not enough light to be sure. She thinks she hears it in her voice anyway.

Barbie nods and reaches for Gloria's hand. It's warm against her own even if it felt cool against her forehead before, and Barbie briefly wonders whether Gloria's lips would feel different against her hand, too. What they'd feel against her—

"That's good," Gloria says, soft and quiet like a secret, fingers squeezing Barbie's, "I want you to feel good."

And it feels like there's a weight to Gloria's words, too. It feels like the air around them is thick with things they both mean but neither say. And then Gloria leans in and Barbie thinks maybe she's going to check her temperature with her lips again, or maybe she's going to do something else entirely, and maybe Barbie's human body picks up on things her brain can't quite grasp just yet because she feels herself... react. Her skin tingles and her stomach flip-flops and her lips part because her breaths are just a little bit shallower and her heart beats just a little bit faster and she's fairly sure her entire nervous system has been rerouted to her hand and her fingers as they slot in the spaces between Gloria's and whatever Gloria is going to do Barbie just knows she wants it to happen, and then—

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

Gloria sits up straight once again and Barbie can tell what she feels is loss even if she still doesn't know what was going to happen.

"You should go back to sleep," Gloria says, a little breathless, fingers still tangled with Barbie's, "get some rest."

But Gloria doesn't stand up or let go of Barbie's hand, and honestly the thought of that happening — the thought of Gloria leaving her right now — makes something twist uncomfortably in Barbie's chest, so she decides to say something before Gloria can change her mind.

"Can you stay with me?"

Gloria doesn't answer right away. Her thumb rubs gently against Barbie's knuckles, and the air fills up with unsaid things once again, only this time it's uncomfortable and a little oppressive. It reminds Barbie of the humidity on hot summer days.

"I don't—"

"You don't have to." Barbie quickly clarifies, because something about this situation has clearly made Gloria uncomfortable, and that's the last thing Barbie wants. "Of course you don't have to, I'm sorry." But when she lets go and pulls her hand away, Gloria's hand chases it and holds it once again.

"It's not— that."

Is this conversation particularly cryptic and heavy on subtext, or is it normal and Barbie's cold-impaired brain is just a bit too slow to follow it like it normally would?

"I want to stay with you. I just wonder—" Barbie hears a sigh, and it's not an exasperated one or a tired one or even a sad one. It's a different kind of sigh. Barbie doesn't think she's ever heard Gloria let out that kind of sigh before. "Because you don't have all the context for this stuff, right?"

Barbie feels herself nod even if she honestly, truly has no idea what Gloria is even referring to. Maybe that's the lack of context she means.

"So I'm not sure if we're looking at things the same way or if you even— if you know what's happening sometimes. You know?"

Barbie is nearly sure this has something to do with before. With the moment Gloria leaned in and something almost happened but didn't.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And if I cross a line and then you didn't want to or— God, or you didn't even know there was a line, I just—" Gloria shakes her head and squeezes Barbie's fingers for just a second, and Barbie still doesn't know exactly what they're talking about but she knows she wants Gloria to not be upset.

"I trust you."

Barbie's words are soft and quiet but there's nothing unsure or tentative about them and she thinks maybe that's why Gloria seems to snap out of her previous thoughts as quickly as she does.

"What? What do you—?"

"I trust you," she says again, "so I'm not worried."

It's not that simple, she knows. She knows almost nothing in the Real World is ever simple or easy, and especially not things involving feelings and worries and potential hurt. But she thinks maybe knowing Barbie feels like she's in excellent hands, like she has nothing to worry about as long as Gloria is with her, will help. Maybe it can be enough for now.

And it looks like it may be, for a while. Gloria doesn't speak for a few moments, and the silence that settles around them is comfortable and light to the point where Barbie feels herself relax into the pillows as her body grows heavier with sleep. She's tired but she's not as achy anymore, and the room is mostly dark and her hand is warm and safe in Gloria's. It would be so easy to just fall asleep.

"I just—" Gloria's voice is softer than before. So soft, actually, that Barbie doesn't feel like she's expected to make an effort to stay awake. "I don't want to ruin things. I don't want this to change."

Barbie isn't sure Gloria is actually talking to her. She sounds a bit like she's talking to herself, like when she's going through the shopping list in her head to make sure it's all in there before she leaves the house. But Barbie feels like maybe this is a rare moment where she knows something Gloria doesn't. Or, more accurately, she knows something Gloria knows, but isn't thinking about right now.

"But that's life," Barbie says, and even she can tell her words sound a bit muffled by sleep, "it's all change."

Her eyelids are so heavy. The room is mostly dark anyway, so she can't see Gloria but she hears a huff of something that sounds almost like laughter, but not quite.

"You were right, you know," Gloria whispers, like it's a secret, "it is terrifying."

It could be the disgusting powder in the water from before muddling her thoughts. It could be the fever, or the cold, or really just being so close to asleep that her brain isn't working right. But Barbie feels like it's been years and decades and centuries since she was sitting on that patch of plastic grass, fighting against the notion of change and imperfection and the unknown.

She was right, like Gloria says, in some ways. The cold is awful. She could do without humidity as a concept. Being sick? She would not recommend it. Pockets weren't really a thing in Barbieland but they're a basic necessity in the Real World and there seems to be a global plot to not put any in clothes marketed towards women. And you do not want to know what happens to milk when you forget it on the counter overnight in the Summer.

But now she knows what it feels like to drink a glass of water when you wake up parched in the middle of the night. She knows what it feels like to bite into a blueberry muffin and get that perfect spot of soft, warm, blueberry-infused cake. She knows the feeling of freshly washed sheets against her skin after a long day. She knows the smell of Gloria's hair when it's late at night and they stay up too late watching old films Barbie's never even heard of but Gloria insists they are a 'must watch' but then she falls asleep halfway through and Barbie pays more attention to the weight of Gloria's head on her shoulder than whatever cinematic masterpiece is playing in front of her.

"Yeah," she finally agrees, because she'd be lying if she said she's not scared at all about all the bad feelings she's sure she'll inevitably discover in her years as a human woman, "but it's worth it."

She thinks she sees Gloria nod right before she finally gives in and closes her eyes. A little later, she thinks she feels Gloria's lips against her temple once again, but she's nearly sure it was the start of a dream.

—-

Barbie's cold lasts less than twenty-four hours.

She's fine the next morning. A little groggy from sleeping twelve hours straight, but all her body parts feel fine and free from aches, there isn't a shiver in sight, and if Gloria hadn't made her promise she'd stay in the house just to make sure she's fully recovered, she would have happily taken the bus and joined her for lunch.

It's one of the most boring days she remembers, but she's fine.

She's fine the day after that, too, when she returns to the library and to her Weather Encyclopedia. She's fine when the cold snap officially ends and the weather goes back to a very boring yet pleasant "mild". She's fine! She's fine.

It's just—

Sometimes she thinks about those few hours between getting home soaking wet and miserable after her mishap in the rain and feeling (or imagining?) Gloria's lips against her temple. And the memories are just hazy enough that she wouldn't be able to say what exactly she and Gloria said, or what she did beyond sleeping and drinking the most vile — yet effective — medicine in the world, but the feelings.

The feelings are so clear in her mind she feels like her brain is taunting her by interrupting her normal thoughts with flashes of Gloria's hand around hers and Gloria's lips against her skin and a moment when Gloria leaned in and then nothing happened. And that moment haunts her in a way that has her unable to fully focus on things like dew point and wet bulb temperature and tsunamis. Her brain keeps circling back to it over and over and over again and she keeps hearing Gloria's words — words about missing context and lines that may or may not exist — and it's driving her a little insane.

She could ask Evelyn, of course. The librarian is so smart, Barbie's sure she could explain or at least point her in the direction of the right book to research it, but it feels... it feels...

It feels hers. Theirs, maybe. Hers and Gloria's. It feels like something she doesn't want to share with anyone else. And a few times she considers asking Gloria herself. Asking her for context or an explanation or even just asking her if she's aware that something almost happened, too. But it's scary in a way she can't exactly pinpoint, and though so far all the risks she's taken since this whole humanity adventure started have worked out for her, there's something about this particular one that gives her pause.

So she doesn't ask. And she's fine. Kind of. Mostly.

Until she suddenly has an epiphany. She's watching daytime television, which may not be the pinnacle of cinematic arts but has its charm. Soap operas feel like crash courses in human emotions, and Barbie likes to indulge from time to time. And she's doing just that when she witnesses a scene that makes her understand why light bulbs are used as metaphors for having ideas. Because she sees a very beautiful woman about to die in a hospital bed, and she sees the Ken-like man standing by her with tastefully glistening eyes, and she sees him confess his secret love for her. And it all makes sense.

This isn't her first 'deathbed confessions' scene, but she hadn't made the connection until now: people say things when other people are dying. Things they may not say when nobody is about to die. And it doesn't even have to be something as drastic as dying, actually. When she was sick, Gloria talked about lines and context, about changes and being terrified. Barbie didn't have to ask, Gloria just talked about them on her own.

Clearly, the way to get the answers she desperately needs is to recreate the exact situation once again. It's a foolproof plan.

So she... lies.

Okay, calling it a lie may be a bit of an exaggeration. It's playing pretend. A fib, at most. It's nothing, in the grand scheme of things. She feels suitably guilty, if that helps her case at all. And when she calls Gloria to tell her she won't be joining her for lunch because she has a bit of a cold, she makes sure Gloria understands it's nothing serious and she doesn't need to take the afternoon off.

She thinks that's just about as ethically sound as she can make this whole plan.

"Hey," Gloria says when she walks into Barbie's room, quiet and soft like last time, "how are you feeling?"

And then Gloria does it again. She presses her palm against Barbie's forehead, and Barbie's eyes flutter closed because when you don't actually have a cold everything feels a little crisper and sharper than when you do.

"I don't think you have a fever. You don't feel too warm."

Barbie's not proud of herself for what she does next. She just wants to make that clear. She's not proud at all but she does it anyway because there are some weaknesses that come with being a human, and this is clearly hers.

"Are you sure?" Did she just infuse her voice with just a hint of a pained tone? Perhaps.

"Well, I don't know," Gloria concedes, and then she leans in and presses her lips against Barbie's forehead and her hair smells like her conditioner but not exactly like it does when it's in the bottle (Barbie's smelled it). It's an entirely different, unique smell that's a mixture of conditioner and Gloria filling Barbie's lungs, and she decides a fib can be worth it sometimes.

"No fever." Barbie can hear the smile in Gloria's voice. "Looks like you're already on the mend. I'll make you some soup for dinner and you'll be just fine in the morning."

And Gloria is already turning to walk out of the room, clearly relieved and happy to see Barbie's sickness was nothing serious. And it's not that Barbie wants her to worry. She doesn't. Not at all. She just feels like she's missing her chance to finally know the answers to all the questions in her head.

"Wait! Wait, I—" She what? She's not going to fake a serious illness, that would be just plain mean. But she needs Gloria to stay. "I think you need to double check."

Barbie sees the second Gloria figures it out, because her entire stance changes. She flicks the light on and looks at Barbie with a slightly raised eyebrow that reminds her of the look she gives Sasha when she says there is no homework on a Friday afternoon.

"Are you faking a cold?"

Barbie feels her blood immediately rush to her cheeks. They feel so warm she's sure Gloria would believe she has a fever if she checked right now. And she's bracing herself for a lecture like the ones Sasha gets when she's far from honest about her school obligations, but Gloria sighs and comes closer instead.

"Why are you faking a cold?" Gloria sits on the edge of the bed, close to Barbie, both hands resting on her lap.

Barbie shrugs. This is a new feeling, actually. She doesn't think she's ever felt it, but it's one of those she's heard about enough to be able to name it. She thinks it's shame. It makes her eyes prickle with tears that fall as soon as she blinks twice.

"Hey. Honey, I'm not mad. Please don't—" Gloria brushes tears away with her thumbs and Barbie doesn't know what she's feeling anymore. Shame and something else, something warm, something big. Shame and too many things at the same time. "What is it?"

"I just—" Barbie's chin trembles, and she's trying not to let this turn into actual crying because she's really not very good at sobbing and talking at the same time, but she's a bit overwhelmed by it all. By her feelings and the things she doesn't know and doesn't even know how to ask about. "I just wanted you to talk to me again."

"But we talk all the time," Gloria says, brows furrowed even if her voice remains gentle, "like, literally all the time I'm not at work."

Barbie shakes her head. "Not like that. Not like— like the other night. When I had the cold."

"I don't know—"

"When you said I didn't have the context." Barbie watches as realization washes over Gloria. As brown eyes round and cheeks darken and she stands a little straighter. "When you said there were lines. That you might cross."

Gloria nods, slowly. Barbie lets the silence settle between them for a few moments, because she figures maybe Gloria needs some time to figure out what to say. But she doesn't. And Barbie's not about to let this conversation end here so she can go back to thinking about it constantly for another week, so she decides to press on herself.

"You leaned in, and then nothing happened." The moment is so vivid in her mind she doesn't feel the need to clarify further. Surely Gloria knows exactly what she's talking about. "Was that a line you didn't cross?"

"Yeah, I—" Gloria looks down at her hands, and then at the coffee table, and Barbie wonders if she's just doing whatever she can to avoid looking at her, "I'd say that's right."

Barbie sighs, relieved to finally have at least one answer. That moment did happen, and it was significant, and it wasn't just her own inexperienced human brain making it bigger than it actually was.

"What was the context?"

"What?"

"The context," Barbie folds her legs under the covers and wraps her arms around her knees, settling in for what she hopes will be an enlightening lesson, "you said I don't have all the context, so I want to know what it is. What the line was and why you didn't cross it. You know. Context."

"Well, I just—" Gloria looks at one of the flowers on Barbie's bedding, and then at her left foot, and at one of the pictures on Barbie's wall, and the more she looks away the more flushed her cheeks look. "There was— I mean I—" Eventually after a few more failed attempts to get out a full sentence, Gloria shakes her head and looks at Barbie once again. "You can't just ask that. I can't just answer that. That's not—"

"See? That's why I had to fake a cold!" Barbie just cannot believe Gloria would simply refuse to answer a question. She doesn't think that's ever happened before. And it really only serves to fuel her belief that whatever it was had a lot to do with her being sick and a milder version of deathbed confessions. "You talked about it then, kind of, so why won't you just tell me now?"

"Because!"

"That's not a real answer!"

"Well, it's the only answer I have!"

Barbie could just cry again from the sheer frustration of knowing there's this apparently essential bit of knowledge she doesn't have and is also not allowed to learn. It's like the freaking humidity all over again. Obvious for everyone except for her. Because she doesn't have the context. And for the first time since she met her, Gloria is not willing to help.

She's watched enough movies (and soap opera episodes) by now to know she probably should say something right now. It's an emotionally charged moment. An argument. She's angry at Gloria for the first time in her life. But she can't come up with anything to say, so instead Barbie shifts under the covers and slips out of her bed. Gloria can stay seated on it for as long as she wants. She just needs to not be with her right now.

But when she's walking around the bed to leave the room, she feels Gloria's fingers wrapping around her wrist. Lightly. Light enough that Barbie could easily keep walking and they would do nothing to stop her. The touch feels like being asked to stay.

"Wait," Gloria finally says when Barbie stops walking, and her voice sounds quiet and almost small and Barbie feels the anger melting away, "I'm sorry."

Barbie has already forgiven Gloria by the time she looks at her. Because she knows she really is sorry, and she knows she never wants to hurt her. Because Gloria's fingers are so soft and warm around her wrist, and there's something in Gloria's eyes that feels nearly as big as the feeling that lodges itself between her ribcage and her heart when she thinks about whatever almost happened when Gloria leaned in.

"I'll tell you. I just need to—" Gloria stands up without letting go of Barbie's wrist, and she reaches for the light switch to make the room mostly dark once again. "It's easier like this."

Barbie nods. Maybe it wasn't her illness making Gloria want to open up. Maybe it was just the lack of light.

"There was a line." Gloria's thumb presses against Barbie's pulse and Barbie doesn't tell her she's read you're not supposed to take someone's pulse with your thumb because you'll feel your own pulse instead. She just stays quiet and imagines the sound of both of their heartbeats at the same time. "When I leaned in." Gloria moves her hand, thumb sliding from Barbie's wrist to her palm, and Barbie's fingers wrap around Gloria's almost on instinct. "And what I nearly did— what I wanted to do," Gloria swallows and squeezes Barbie's fingers like she's keeping herself from running away, "was kiss you."

"Oh."

Barbie knows what a kiss is. She's never experienced a kiss — not a real kiss — but she knows what they are. And she wants one. It surprises even herself because if she's perfectly honest she doesn't know exactly what a kiss entails beyond lips touching lips (which really doesn't sound appealing at all out of context) but right now she wants Gloria to kiss her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. It's a want that comes from somewhere she doesn't control, somewhere that's definitely not her brain because there's nothing rational about what she's feeling right now. All she knows is she wants the kiss that nearly happened that other night.

"I'm sorry if you—"

"Kiss me now."

"What?"

Barbie takes one step forward, closer to Gloria, and she feels like maybe she's stepped over one of those invisible lines herself. Because they've been physically close a million times before. They've hugged and held hands and fell asleep on each other's shoulders while watching movies. But this feels different. This jump-starts something, makes her feel like one of those magic balls that make your hair stand up when you touch them, gives name to a bunch of different feelings she hadn't been able to categorize before.

"Please," Barbie says, and she's so close now she can feel Gloria's breath against her lips, "kiss me now."

Gloria's lips feel soft and gentle and real. Barbie doesn't think she's ever felt anything as real as a kiss. It's short but it lingers, and when Barbie thinks it's over Gloria presses another, quicker, softer kiss to her lips that makes Barbie smile around a sigh.

"Good?" Gloria asks, still so close and so warm and making Barbie feel all kinds of things she now thinks are different flavors of want.

"Mhmm," Barbie manages, licking her lips and feeling a sudden urge to do the same to Gloria's, "again?"

She feels Gloria's silent chuckle against her skin just before she feels Gloria's lips again. And this time it lasts longer. Barbie's free hand moves to rest on Gloria's waist, to keep her close, and Gloria's lips part to suck on her bottom lip as Gloria's fingers slide into Barbie's hair, and Barbie feels like her world has changed completely once again and there's no going back from this.

She doesn't ever want to go back from this.

"Still good?" Gloria's whispered words come out muffled against Barbie's lips, and all Barbie can manage is an affirmative (she hopes) sound as she chases Gloria's mouth to kiss her once again, bolder this time, tongue nudging Gloria's lips apart and then sliding inside her mouth and feeling a new wave of want build up low in her belly at the sound of Gloria's moan.

They kiss for a long time. Barbie doesn't know how much time passes. She knows they go back to the bed eventually, sitting first and then Gloria is on her back and Barbie is on top of her and their bodies are pressed together, legs tangled and hands exploring warm skin under a work blouse and a sleep shirt and Barbie can't remember ever pondering the actual meaning of life, but she's pretty sure this is it.

Hours or days or weeks (under an hour, realistically) later, their kisses become less hurried. Less hungry. There's less urgency and more warmth, and they're back to just soft lips meeting soft lips until they're both smiling a bit too much to go on.

"Are you okay?" Gloria reaches up and tucks a wisp of blond hair behind Barbie's ear, her other hand still busy under Barbie's night shirt as her fingertips slowly trace the line of Barbie's spine.

"Yeah," Barbie's voice comes out low and breaks halfway through the word, and it makes her smile even more. "I'm very okay."

"We'll have to talk about all this," Gloria says, thumb brushing against Barbie's tingling bottom lip, "about—"

"The context?" Barbie offers right before she presses a kiss to the pad of Gloria's thumb. She's not sure whether Gloria laughs at the kiss or at Barbie's suggestion, and she's not sure she cares.

"Yeah. The context. We'll have to talk about that."

Barbie nods. She has a feeling kisses are like water, in that they're seemingly straightforward but there's a lot going on under the surface. She wonders, briefly, if there's an encyclopedia of kisses at the library, but then decides she'd rather learn from Gloria than read about it anyway.

"Will I have to fake a cold again so you'll talk to me about it?" She teases, and she feels Gloria's laughter under the hand she has pressed against Gloria's ribcage.

"No more faking, please."

Barbie nods and kisses her again. Just because there's nothing less fake than that.

#glorbie #barbie 2023 #barbie fic #barbie x gloria #femslash #fanfic #tropetember #my fic

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inkofamethyst · 6 months

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November 20, 2023

Weekend thoughts.

So I've had an album to help deal with anxiety for the past couple of years, and I think I now have an album to promote self-confidence and hype myself up before an event. Beyonce's Renaissance has been played regularly this semester (almost) straight through. It's great for a power walk to campus.

UGH okay so six months to the day after my last day of undergrad my school-supplied free HBO Max subscription was cruelly ripped from my grasp without warning. I knew it was coming eventually, and I've been working on clearing my watchlist for months. Unfortunately, their bet was totally on point. I immediately resubscribed. And best believe imma watch every CENT's worth (I watch a minimum of 1-2 Batman episodes a day these days, and when you consider the convenience, the cost isn't bad). So it seems that my streaming service hopping has begun, as it's neither necessary nor responsible to pay for several services that all have the same role. (I might let Max go over break to focus on reading and watching shows on my parents' accounts at home.)

My... ceramics-friend (a cohort member) invited me to a friendsgiving she was hosting (she knows a lot of people who live in the area), and it was not a bad time at all. I get nervous in situations (lol there could be a full stop right here) where I only know the host, but a couple of people I knew/was acquainted with showed up and that made things a bit better. I employed my usual strategy of "find a place to sit and then stay there" and that was good. I didn't stay to the end, but pretty close. I did meet some really cool people!! (Side note: I don't really drink bc I don't care for the taste, but we're now at the age where a goldenish drink is more likely to be gin with other flavors than apple juice and now I know that it is absolutely necessary to ask what something is before filling a glass (but best believe I finished my whole (tiny) glass like a big girl). I tell people that I'm a bit stunted due to covid but truthfully it's just because I'm pathetic boring uh uhh.. intensely introverted (still gotta mind how I talk about myself these days, even an unchecked joke could set my progress back)).

This summer I'd bought two pairs of Docs (one on a whim and then another that I'd wanted for years and years) because they were both ridiculously discounted. I'd broken in the impulse pair over the last several months (1461 patents, they're going to be my ~conference docs~ I think) then a week or so ago decided to start breaking in the other pair (1460 Nappa). Ngl, I thought they were a huge mistake at first. Tight, inflexible, tough to put on. My feet HURT. But. After a couple of days out (only a few hours at a time), they feel quite a bit better. Still months to go, I know, but I feel relieved.

Last thing: after having my third eye opened to the idea of building equity through a house and feeling intense rage against the idea of renting for the rest of my life (specifically if I choose to settle in one place), I've come to realize that this foreverrent thing touches more than just housing. I want to own my favorite albums now, my favorite movies, shows. I don't want my ability to consume my favorite media to be at the mercy of a streaming service. The most difficult part of that though (after figuring out the list of what I want to own and also paying for it over time) is figuring out where to store the hard copies. This might be a problem I spend more time working out this summer when there's less going on, but now that I'm ~radicalized~ I just wanted to state that it's on my radar. It's probably not reasonable to chip away at this while I'm in this apartment since it won't be my final place in grad school and I don't want to move more boxes than needed.

Today I'm thankful for.. uhm uhh OH I'm thankful that the clicking noises don't wake me up at night anymore.

I wonder how much of that half circle skirt I'll be able to complete at home over break [edit, four days later: none]. May have to hem during winter break.

Also the M9 reunion post-apogee was SO FUN k bye

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noblechaton · 9 months

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humbly introducing Norette!

my first ever OC/sona! (drawn here by the ever lovely @sidsinning). I've had a lot of fun creating her and even have a lil writeup for her that I'll post down below for anyone that might be curious about her. she's a lotta me but unique in her own ways too

Age: 27 Height: 5'6 Sexuality: Bi/Pan/Omni (she's into anyone and anything) Eyes: Brown

A sleepless creative with more dreams than ability, Norette has a plethora of niche interests, a penchant for short capes and spicy sushi - as long as it doesn't have vegetables in it - and a knack for talking her way out of - or into - almost anything. She loves to cook, she could have been a foodie in another life, and daydreams often, most comfortable beneath a robe two sizes too large and zoned out into her own little world amid online conversations with her various friends.

She loves accessorizing, from rings to necklaces to hats. She can sometimes be found wearing glasses, though it's uncertain as to whether or not they're purely an aesthetic choice or something she actually needs (she definitely needs them, even if she forgets them far more often than she'd like). Her wardrobe is quite plain with graphic tees and sleepwear aplenty for the most part, though she's often found wearing what's effectively her signature jacket - one modeled off one of her favorite games - and a typical pair of dark jeans, themselves one of the few pairs she owns because, as is frequently said by her, "I ain't paying that much for pants"

A collector of figures, toys and knickknacks of all sorts, Norette's hobbies range from pretty common to more niche and lowkey. She loves model kits, plays plenty of video games both new and old, and secretly likes collecting hats - from proper headwear to the novelty sort. She's also something of a TV and movie buff, with filmmaking being something of her first calling - writing just got its hooks in her a little sooner and just a bit deeper. She feels her talent with a digital pen (don't ask about her proper handwriting) varies wildly, but she does truly adore the written word - though it doesn't seem to always love her, despite what some close may say.

Norette's a friendly girl, one that's as genuine as she can be, who loves to help wherever she can and chooses to believe the best in people first and foremost, whenever she can at least, with an ear always open for anyone who needs someone to listen. She'll sit with someone in need as long as they need it, do whatever she can to help - though she's often limited in one way or another, and often frustrated by that fact. She tries to be as good natured as she can be, though, even if sometimes her quietly playful attitude might be a bit much - which something she does try and keep an eye on, too.

Norette herself, by contrast, is slow to truly open up and very much reserved, even if she's got a habit for oversharing when someone shows interest. She's shy and tends to dodge the more personal topics, in regards to herself. You could sit with her for hours and not really learn too much about her. She's more likely to make some quick and quiet joke, with a habit for dry sarcasm and deliberately aloof commentary, than she is to engage with someone outright - at least until she knows the person. Generally slow to trust, Norette's affection is often best earned through a mix of venting and comedy. And though her circle of friends can be considered a good bit expansive, Norette does often find herself lonely due to various factors - the least of which is her horrendous sleep schedule.

Loyal to a fault and fiercely defensive of those she holds most dear, Norette holds those she considers close friends in high regard. Even on the surface, she tries to remain friendly and kind to any who happen to come to her. It may be difficult at times to break through her outer shell or to approach her in general, some have considered her intimidating for some reasons she never understood, but it's hard for someone to truly leave her once they have - even if they're already gone, which leads to its own sort of hang-ups.

She's indecisive, fears being alone, worries of driving those away she'd wish to be close with and is often wracked by overthought and anxiety alike. She doubts herself often, though her confidence has taken an upward turn as of late. Her past is shrouded and what she does know is held close to her chest, but she knows hurt - and that's why she always does her best to do no harm, even in cases where it's futile. Norette is trying, and that's what matters.

Little is known about Norette's home life, less is shared about her family outright - though one can assume that she both has one, and perhaps isn't on the best terms with them. For however close some may get to her, whatever past she has is often left largely as a mystery to them - it's a deliberate choice on her end for various reasons, and something that often gives her pause when it comes to her relationships. Some of it is simply things she'd rather not get into, others are things she genuinely doesn't know.

A hopeless romantic, curious yet shy, Norette lives a quietly active life, always finding something to be busy with between her model kits, writing and friends. Sometimes she's stretched too thin, other times she's got so much time on her hands she often simply wastes it at home in her modest apartment, which she shares with her grey and white farm cat she's named Spidey. She likes going out all the same, preferring more casual places like the malls and shopping centers, even bars - though she doesn't drink - to anywhere too quiet, as she likes the hustle and bustle of public life.

And though she's often timid and wary of the world around her, she's always keen to make a friend

#noboc #<- gonna maybe be my tag for her/oc stuff in general. not sure yet #either that or like. noble norette. idk

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grimdot · 7 months

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reading about the most recent death grips shows sucking rly breaks my heart tbh. they're one of my favorite acts & deeply influenced the way I look at art & myself (& myself within art) & I only got to see them live once. it was in 2017 & I just merged into the pit. it was honestly just pure trance. the crowd was one. I was totally sober for it. wanted nothing but the actual experience & it just melted me the fuck out.

enough about me. at one point a shoe showed up. I was rolling with the rest of the pit & I saw someone holding up a shoe. obviously they were looking for the owner but nobody came to claim it. regardless the pit stayed open for most of the set, the shoe circulating among ppl who came in & out of the empty circle we were all creating. eventually the shoe vanished & I heard the crowd cheering for the person who was again properly shoed for the show.

later we found a pair of glasses in the pit. the second someone spotted them & recognized what they were they immediately started opening up the pit so nobody stepped on them. they were also ultimately returned to their owner unscathed.

at a fucking death grips concert. words cannot describe how hard they fucked on stage that night. it was one of the best live experiences of my life. I saw them once thinking I would never see them again (this was at the tail end of the Jenny Death saga)

to know they're being disrespected like this on stage feels so so so sickening. it's just sad. the culture is changing & we all need to be critical of where we want to take it. these dudes influenced Beyonce & spawned an entirely new genre of music (thank you Zach)

idk whatever. disrespect your surroundings all you want. eventually you'll have to think about what that actually did for you

#x #death grips #this rly sucks

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nocturnebby · 2 years

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Lore for my empiressona? More common than you'd think:

Nox is originally a Stratos citizen, born in the village under it. She was very protected as a child and was sick of all the fussing around. So she vowed to become fully independent and become an explorer of the worst areas people don't dare to step in. Ofc everyone was like "dude no" She was like "fuck u"

So grown up Nox regularly travels and resides in the deep dark, more specifically the ancient cities. They are proper cities, although cracked in some spaces. And the excess amount of wool provides enough comfort. It's very lonely down there but it's not usually that noticeable. She collects a load of the loot in the abandoned cities and is very skilled at it.

Already rich enough to own netherite tools (she doesn't care for armour, it ruins her clothes) she travels back to the aboveground to sell some of her wares. Or give it to passing children who look in wonder as she tells her stories with the items brought from the depths of the earth.

She tells stories about how a warden lies sleeping beneath the soft skulk, the noises of water dripping from stalagtites calming the great creature. The footsteps of a brave wanderer awakened it and it slowly rose up sniffing above the layer of skulk. The beast climbed up and felt the fear emitting from the human and slowly trudged over to it-

"what does trudge mean?!" one shouted

Walked over to it. It sniffed around as the human stood deathly still, and made a funny little noise. It was annoyed at being woken up! don't you get annoyed when your ma wakes you up early for harvest? So was the warden! it wasn't able to see the human, so it just left some baked potatos for it and went back to bed under the soft wool and skulk. And my dears look what I have here! potatoes freshly gifted from the warden!

the little children rushed over in excitement and shared the basket of potatoes. She smiled and sat within the chattering circle, a moment of relaxation from her usual travels.

Her ears stopped working quite a while ago. Not fully, but enough to not hear a particularly low pitched person. to amend that she traded some of her many books to an interested little researcher who fashioned up an earpiece for her. It worked quite well, sometimes a little rusty but nothing a good oiling and a bit of tinkering couldn't fix.

She now spends her days in the newly built taverns across empires. Her favorites are the Dawn and Stratos taverns but shhh don't tell anyone. Also helps with the rulers if they require any finniky goods to gather from her "homeland" the underground. Gets annoyed at requests purely because they're lazy to get it even with better tools glares at joel

Her favorite things to do are lay in the grass with a nice cold glass of champagne with music on, and trying to tame and train wardens. Has succeeded only twice but they're more rabid than a pair of wild baby wolves. Loves them to death (literally), their names are Radon and Valour.

More to come hopefully!

#empires smp #empires season 2 #empires sona #empiresblr #esmp s2 #hope you enjoyed this extract from my notes app!#if any questions I'd be happy to answer #nocpinions

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softlimefluff · 2 years

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F/O list for Mikitaka please if it's not a bother? 🥰

Mikitaka Hazekura (little irl things for your JoJo f/o)

First off, you can't go wrong with Earth Wind and Fire music! It puts you in the BEST mood. My reccs are September (of course), Let's Groove, Love's Holiday, and the MegaMix (radio edit)

-accessorize with these acrylic alien earrings as a nod to his self-professed alien status and this alien print bucket hat and these green alien style glasses

-keeping with the alien theme, there's an alien perfume from Mugler!

original version

goddess version

-sip your morning coffee from an "i want to believe" mug

-these are a double Mikitaka reference--dice AND aliens (and they even glow in the dark)

Outfit ideas inspired by our favorite alien boy:

-a fake septum to earring chain!

-a gold infinity symbol ring (like the symbol on his jacket)

-a fancy star field headband!

-a sweatshirt inspired by the pins/buttons on his coat!

-this crop circle pendant as a reference to where he woke up when Josuke and Oku discovered him

-these elf ears like Mikitaka's in the "long style"! (you can mod with makeup/paint to match your specific skintone--they're good for cosplay! I have a pair and they're really comfortable)

-holographic nail polish to add to the futuristic/space aesthetic! (I have this too and the formula works really well and it's so rainbowy) -- Shade is "Subculture"

-If you need stickers for your notebook or laptop there's a cute full body mikitaka and a gorgeous headshot sticker from jojo tumblr's very own @mootouman (mwa mwa <3)

-when I think of Mikitaka, I always think of ice cream, so here's this vanilla bean room scent from bath and body works

-finally, take yourself on a solo date out for ice cream as a little way to bring more of your f/o into your life <3

-As always, I recommend writing your f/o a letter (either in a journal or on @ jojolovenotes), sketching your favorite screenshots, rewatching the episodes your f/o shows up in, and making a playlist inspired by your f/o (including their music namesakes).

#jjba #little irl things for your f/o #mikitaka hazekura

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multi-lefaiye · 2 years

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POLYCULE POLYCULE POLYCULE

I know I can ask for in person/over call but consider

I'm feral for this

SUPERNATURAL POLYCULE [the crowd goes wild with applause]

okay also tagging @nicola-writes and @wherearetheplants b/c you two showed interest as well hi <3

so this is kind of in progress rn because i am still deciding on whether or not to add a couple more members to the polycule, but for now this is what we got! going under the cut <3

for context, these are some major characters in my currently unnamed supernatural mystery wip <3 (also cw for a mention of ableism with one character)

[Image Description: A picrew of my OC Henry Blackwell, a man with pale skin, dark curly hair, and a short dark beard. He has a nose ring, pierced ears, a pair of square-rimmed glasses, and uses a hearing aid. Henry is wearing a blue patterned button-up, a dark jacket with a fur-lined collar, and a black choker. He has a smirk on his face and is holding up one hand with a cigarette between two fingers. Behind him are the bisexual and polyamorous flags, with a white circle around his head. End ID.]

HENRY BLACKWELL - HE/HIM

Henry is the only completely normal human in the polycule! He's a private investigator who specializes in finding missing people, and he's a cocky shithead and I love him so much. He comes from a very wealthy family, but his family has all but disowned him for failing to live up to the successful standards of his siblings. Oh, and also for being an openly queer, mentally ill, disabled man. His parents suck, if that isn't obvious. Like, to be clear, he is still in contact with his family, but his parents have made it very clear that they're constantly on the verge of cutting him off financially.

In terms of that, Henry is hard of hearing, and he has ADHD and BPD! With the money he comes from, he has had access to accommodations and aids that a lot of other people may not, and that is something he's very aware of. Henry is kind of the epitome of the Class Traitor™ vibe, but his background still comes into play in his lack of experience with a lot of real-world matters.

The story centers primarily around Henry as the protagonist, and like. When I say he's a cocky shithead, I mean that affectionately. He genuinely does want to help people, he also just thinks he's hot shit.

I also have a lot of thoughts about Henry's siblings because they're very important to the story as well, but I'm just gonna focus on the polycule here.

[Image Description: A picrew of my OC Eden Lomidze, an AU of my D&D character Eden Linnaeus. This version of Eden is a young man with tan, freckled skin, a scar on one cheek, and thick, wavy blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He has gold stud earrings and a serious, disappointed expression on his face. Eden wears a black baseball cap, a yellow patterned button-up, and a dark jacket. Behind him are the mlm and trans flags, with a white circle around his head. End ID.]

EDEN LOMIDZE - HE/HIM

As it says on the tin, this is a human AU of my D&D character Eden Linnaeus! At least, that's what he's starting as. Yes I can have multiple characters named Eden. I just think that's a good name <3 And D&D Eden is one of my favorite OCs that I have rn so <3

Anyway, this Eden is, for the most part, a normal human, but his experimentation with magic and the supernatural has slowly been corrupting him into something a little less human. He also might be a little bit possessed, but no one's too worried about that just yet. Though he's a pHD student studying for a degree in biochemistry, he has a day job as a full-time clerk for a local corner store. He's incredibly tired, and he's basically the store manager without the actual title or pay.

Eden has fibromyalgia and is autistic, and he may also have NPD but that is something I'd like to do more research into before saying definitively. He uses a pair of forearm crutches as mobility aids much of the time!

[Image Description: A picrew of my OC Pierce (?), a woman with brown skin and a partially shaved head. She has long, pink hair that hangs loosely around her shoulders and a large grin on her face, showing her sharp fangs. She wears a black collared shirt, a pink vest, red tie, and dusty brown jacket, as well as a pair of pink heart-shaped sunglasses. She has one hand held up in a peace sign. Behind her are the pansexual and polyamorous flags, with a white circle around her head. End ID.]

PIERCE/ANGEL/PAX/ABEL/LENORE/??? - SHE/IT/THEY

Here she is, the werewolf of many names!!! So I'm gonna just call her Pierce here, but part of the joke with her as a character is that she kinda hoards names. Which, like, good for you, queen. It's unclear what her actual name is and she's glad to continue making that unclear. She isn't going to tell anyone. She also likes to jokingly call herself a furry, as a cute little reference to the werewolf thing.

I'm still working out how lycanthropy works in this particular universe, but just know that, for the most part, Pierce has a generally good handle on its lycanthropy and doesn't view the whole thing as a curse or a problem. Its lycanthropy is an intrinsic part of who it is, and that's what matters at the end of the day, even if sometimes that makes things harder for it.

Pierce and Eden are pretty good friends, though she's a bit older than him and significantly more chaotic. When she first meets Henry, she doesn't like him, but she very quickly comes to respect him. In terms of who Pierce is, well, that's for her to know and you to find out :3c

#talk to the bunnykitty #mine beloved darling cal #augh i need a new tag for this #ok i'm just gonna #the supernatural polycule #there we go that works for now

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anatidae-dragonage · 1 year

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Heyyyyy it's Friday!! How abouttttt f!Trevelyan/f!Surana for ‘i do not expect my fingers to graze the sky.’ from the Sappho prompts?? Happy new year and happy writing!

Thank you for the prompt and the opportunity to write my beloved OCs! This is especially fun because in my longfic for these two, Sappho exists in-universe for the express purpose of Surana introducing Trevelyan to it. 😌 Not pertinent here though! So much younger than I've ever shared for them! Babies! (They're 18.)

Word Count: 1099

Rating: G

Pairing: Mag Trevelyan/Delilah Surana

@dadrunkwriting

For as long as she’d allow herself to remember, the Circle’s gardens had been Magdalena’s favorite place. Flowering bushes made a low maze of the courtyard, and vines that crept up fence posts and trellises bloomed purple and white in the spring. Even in the winter, the frozen birdbath and empty cobblestone paths had a stark beauty to them. Alone on a bench, or in the shade of an ornamental tree when the heat was stifling, she’d read a book or simply sit, watching the sky.

For all Surana complained of them on the afternoons she joined her, she seemed taken by the gardens too.

(“Have you ever seen a bird in that bird bath?” she would ask, and Mag would pause to think before answering,

“No. They must have learned to stay away from the apprentices.”

Surana would inevitably shake her head, and say something about clipped wings and cages, and Mag would inevitably tell her that she’d feel better if she stopped searching for the gray side of everything silver. Inevitably too though, once they lapsed into silence, Mag would look up from her page to see Surana watching the sky. Not smiling, maybe, but something close. It always made her heart skip a beat, and she’d look back down quickly, afraid to be caught staring. Afraid that if Surana thought to stop and think about the moment, it, too, would dim.)

Maybe there was something inherent in a Circle mage that made them look to the sky. For most of her life, Mag had wondered if the way the clouds caught and spun over Ostwick was unique, or if the thought was the product of isolation and daydreaming. She’d asked Surana once. Her smile had been wry.

“There wasn’t much space back at Kinloch for craning our heads out windows.”

In the quieter hours, though, Mag heard about the fog that had blanketed the lake and the constellations viewed through paned glass, and the stormy skies on her long journey from Ferelden to here. Surana watched. It was one of the things she did most.

Sometimes in the garden they did see birds, not flirting about in the birdbaths, but dipping in the sky overhead. Surana liked the way that eagles circled and soared. Mag liked the way the starlings danced. Today was a warm day, one of the firsts of spring, and they weren’t the only ones in the gardens. A senior enchanter painted nearby, and every so often a fit of giggles seized a table of apprentices across the yard.

“You’re going to give yourself a headache like that,” Surana warned her. She was reclined on the bench, long hair splayed over the edge, but Mag felt her eyes boring into her more than the sky. Mag, on the other hand, sat straight with her head craned back. Songbirds were hopping between high-up parapets, and every now and then she could hear their agitated chirps as they fought over nesting spots and split twigs.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“Magdalena—“

Mag was too distracted to realize that Surana was reaching for her until it was too late, and the squeak she gave and the oof Surana let out when Mag’s elbow hit her stomach caused a sudden silence from the apprentice table. Mag now lay stiffly against Surana’s chest, and for a moment Surana held her tight, frozen and silent. After a beat, Surana laughed, grip relaxing, and Mag squirmed free. She fixed her with a halfhearted dirty look.

Surana sat up too.

“Let’s at least walk.”

Mag paused.

“Fine.”

The gardens were longer than they were wide—a courtyard caged by the Circle’s buildings—so a full loop around took mere minutes even at a leisurely pace. Mag gave up on watching the birds and looked to the shrubbery instead. Tiny green buds were forming at the tips of bare branches, and the waxy-leaved evergreens were looking brighter.

Life went on—circles, cycles. Soon the birds at the parapets would have hatchlings. She would watch them learn to fly with patchy wings. Flowers would bloom again. Leaves would broaden and turn towards the sky. This would be Surana’s first spring in Ostwick, she realized. She’d arrived in the stormy first month of summer the year prior.

“Here,” Surana said quietly when they got to the far end of the ellipse. She’d stopped Mag with a hand at her elbow, and for a moment they hovered in the middle of the path. “Sit.”

“Sit?” She looked around, but she’d been this way a hundred times and nothing had materialized.

“On the ground,” Surana prompted, sinking slowly downward, one hand still on Mag’s arm. Uncertain, Mag let herself follow. On the cobblestone, they sat cross-legged. Surana’s eyes were softer than they often were, but they still had that sharp sort of glitter. “Now lay back.”

“Lay—“

“Come on,” she insisted, losing what little patience she possessed, and awkwardly, Mag began to lower herself to the stone. She saw Surana roll her eyes from the corner of hers, then felt two strong hands under her shoulders. Surana hauled Mag onto her lap, where she lay stiff and uncertain. She could feel Surana’s body shift when she sighed. “Relax,” she said. “And look at the sky.”

Mag closed her eyes and drew a breath. Slowly, she pushed the tension from her muscles, the awareness of her body on the stone from her back, and the presence of her head on Surana’s thigh from her mind. When she opened them again on her exhale, she could see the sky. From the place and angle where they sat, it was open, the walls and towers of the Circle out of view, and Mag’s breath caught unexpectedly in her throat.

Surana let her sit for a long moment, body lax beneath her, before she said,

“Nice, yeah?”

A blank cerulean canvas, not a cloud nor cobblestone in sight.

“Nice,” she agreed, afraid to say anything else. For a moment Surana’s hand cut across her vision, fingers streaking along the sky like they were tracing the path of some invisible bird before falling back to her side.

They lapsed into silence. Far from the other end of the courtyard, Mag heard the distant shrieks of apprentice laughter. There was an angry chirping from songbirds far above, and the stir of still barren branches in the slight breeze.

She looked at Surana's face. She was staring up at the sky, smiling. She must have felt Mag’s gaze, because her eyes dropped but her grin didn’t. Mag’s heart skipped a beat anyway. She repeated,

“It’s nice.”

#my fic #dadwc #magdalena trevelyan #delilah surana

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purplesurveys · 10 months

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1711

What is something you’re behind the times on? TV shows (idk anything that's on Netflix or any of the streaming apps anymore) and younger celebrities (idk who anyone is anymore).

What are you brainstorming ideas for right now? Miraculously enough, nothing. Work has been unforgiving the last few weeks and weekends but it's slightly slowed down for now, so I'm allowing myself to just...not...think...for today.

Do you have a neighbor who plays real annoying music? No. Some of them will have music playing very loudly occasionally –usually if they hold a party – but I've never found it annoying as most of the time it's songs I like too. We also have a neighbor who every now and then will be heard taking saxophone lessons and it feels like they're serenading the whole neighborhood haha. It's great.

Do you miss someone? No.

What’s something you’ve had a toxic reaction to? Nothing like this has happened. There was food poisoning in the past but I don't think that counts?

Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? I haven't. I've gotten rashes from grasses and certain fabrics but they all went away within half an hour or so.

What do you want to be for Halloween this year? Idk I don't really care for Halloween costumes anymore. If anything, I'll get a soldier costume and DIY my shoulders to look 3x wider and say I'm Jin.

If you don’t know, what are some ideas you have? ^ Well, there's that.

Are you happy at the moment? I'm feeling happy and very relaxed, but ergh am I hungry. I might take a break from this survey first so I can eat chips, heheh.

Do you have a headache? Continued from last night. No, I don't.

What color are your glasses, if applicable? White.

Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? Every time I see one I do, but I keep my browsing to the action figures and Funko Pops.

List a great $1 store find: It's a little over a dollar but I saw a pair of sunglasses that looked great on me and turned out to be only ₱70. Didn't have to think twice about grabbing it off its shelf.

List a great garage sale find: I've never bought anything from a garage sale.

Have you ever had a friend push you away for no reason? Sure, that happened with me and Cheenie when my soon-to-be-best-friend-at-the-time and I were becoming closer by the day. I guess she thought we were starting to become bad influences due to our vulgar humor, so she broke free from our little circle and just stopped approaching us ever again.

What are your summer fashion essentials? Just a bunch of airy pants and sleeveless tops so that I don't end up cranky.

Do you have a 5-year plan? I don't like making plans that long-term because I tend to not take failure very well. Instead, I like going with the flow but with a purpose, if that makes sense? Like I'm fine just going wherefuckingever as long as I get to achieve something every now and then – which has been happening so far anyway with the promotions I've been getting every year.

Who is one celebrity you would like to meet? Post Malone. Dude just seems like a fun and easygoing person to be around.

Who is one youtuber you would like to meet? Smosh or Rhett and Link.

What are your fall fashion essentials? What is fall?

What was your favorite outfit to wear this past summer? I didn't really have a favorite thing to wear back in April/May.

Where do you buy most of your clothes? Shopee or H&M.

Do you post on youtube regularly? I have never posted anything on there.

Do you have your own website? Nope but it's definitely been on my mind for some time now to start a blog of some sort, mainly so that I have some kind of portfolio to show if in case I wanna shift to a writing-heavy job. For the most part I've been trying to think of routes or gimmicks wherein I can somehow merge my equal passions for both BTS and wrestling.

What do you sell, if anything? I don't regularly sell things, but I recently sold a few of my BTS photocards to make some extra cash on the side.

Do you think you would be a good salesperson? Nah. I'm extroverted but not to the extent that I'd use that ability to sell to people. I'm too shy for it, hahaha.

What are ten positive words that describe you? Ambitious, passionate, sensitive, determined, considerate, and idk that's all I can think of.

Are you getting excited about fall?!?! Whatever man, we don't get your four seasons here.

What’s your favorite school supply to purchase? Notebooks, especially in college :D I remember being excited about pastel highlighters too!!!

Do you keep a planner every year? Nah. I've been terrible at keeping them, and I know I will continue to be. What I do instead is have a to-do list on Google Sheets that I religiously update every day.

Do you write a lot? Yes, it's a big part of my job.

What’s your favorite color pen to write with? Just black.

Do you go to church? Yes. Against my will, but yes I do.

What’s your favorite fall drink? Please stop talking about fall hehe.

Do you use a sunlamp? Nope.

What’s your favorite thing about Sundays? Other than it's a weekend, nothing. All I do on Sundays is dread that the next day is a Monday, anyway. I usually can't even rest on Sundays without feeling some slight sense of dread.

Do you like candy corn? It's not as bad as overreacting people make it out to be, but I wouldn't eat it even if I was bored.

What’s on your to-do list for today (or tomorrow, if it’s late)? Finish my croissant, finish my doughnut, take 2-3 more surveys, ENJOY THE REMAINDER OF MY WEEKEND. I might watch Run BTS later too.

Where do you buy calendars? I don't need one; mine is on my phone.

Do you like to wear skirts? Never. They make me feel exposed and conscious, and it's always awkward when I'm going up the stairs/escalator.

What is your name (first and middle)? You're only getting Robyn from me. :))

What are your sibling(s)’ names? I don't feel like sharing them tonight.

What would you have been named if you had been born the opposite gender? No clue. My parents never thought of it as they learned that I was a girl only when my mom already gave birth to me. In other words 1) they wanted to be a surprise and 2) they didn't have the chance to think of names had I turned out to be a boy.

If you had another sibling, what would he/she be named? No idea, but I do know that for a boy they leaned towards Spanish names.

Do you like your name? I love it now. I used to hate introducing myself as a kid because I got bullied for Robyn 100% of the time, but as the years passed it grew on me more and more. People got nicer too – the "Oh, a boy's name?" eventually transformed to, "I love your name!" and that really helped with my self-esteem.

What does your name mean? Bright fame.

What would you name your daughter/daughters? I've listed my favorite girl names more than a dozen times on here and I don't want to have to do it again hahaha.

What would you name your son/sons? ^ Same thing.

Do you want to have kids? Not anymore. They make so much fucking noise.

What was your favorite vacation you went on as a kid? We didn't have much money in my younger years, so as a kid I just really treasured the weekends my parents would take us to the local water park :) They would do everything to make us happy with what they earned and it continues to mean a lot to me to this day.

Were you happy as a kid? No. Life at home was very turbulent and not at all ordinary. I had to mature pretty early on and I think that's what also made me struggle to make friends.

Which Barbie had your hair color? Idk. I didn't like Barbies and never played with them.

Do you have any toys still from when you were a kid? No.

What were some of your favorite toys as a child? My cash register, all my cooking toys, my Blue's Clues telephone, Beyblades, and idk if they count as toys but also my Pokemon pogs and cards.

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redheadspark · 2 years

Note

Hello girl! How are you?

I got a prompt Sunday request with my favorite, our favorite bat boy! 🥰🦇

Azriel x reader

Intimate moments number:

1, 3 and 4

P.s thank you so much for the request with AZ, and I didn't mind its was long, i actually love it 💗👀

A/N: Oh Darling! I would LOVE to do another for you with our Bat Boy 🥰🦇

I'll make this one nice and cute!

For Me?

"Welcome back! Did you have fun shopping?"

You grinned from hearing the familiar voice as you took off your jacket and toed off your boots, the warmth of the townhouse was bringing back life to yoru skin and bones since it was near freezing outside and the snow was about to fall. Solstice was a few nights away, and you had a free afternoon to go out and shop for the Inner Circle. You were only halfway done with your list and what you needed, only needing a few more things before you were complete. You were doing much better and were farther down your list than most of the Inner Circle themselves, including your twin brother Cassian.

He would scowl at you when you brought back one more present under yoru arm, though you tuck your tongue back at him in return.

You waltzed over to the main sitting area where you spotted Mor by the roaring fire, a wine glass in hand and a massive grin on her face. She was sporting her red dress, her blond hair cascading down her back and looked a beautiful as ever.

"I got everyone done, finally!" You said to her as you placed your bags down by your foot. Mor peered over to peek, having you tut at her and move the bag around to the bookshelf, "No peeking since yours is in here!"

"You're no fun," She hummed, then having you heard the clattering of pots in the kitchen and you looked over.

"I take it we're all eating together tonight?" You asked with a raised brow to her.

"Rhysand wants us all to be officially on Solstice mode, starting tonight," She explained as she then took a long sip, "Thankfully, the training camps are at a miminall this year and they're all going home this year,"

"Who decided that?" You asked, placing your hands on your hips. Yet you heard a distinct voice in your head, and a tug was at your lower stomach and within your mind frame as you then slowly grinned.

"Who do you think?"

"You know you two talking to each other in your minds is kind of disgustingly cute, almost like Rhys and Feyre," Mor replied as she saw the look on yoru face. The same look you would give when you mentally spoke to him. You just giggled from her remark, but also from the voice in your head.

"Where are you?"

"Come find me,"

"On that note I'm going into the kitchen to somewhat....help. Though I know they'll kick me out because of my heels and dress," Mor said in a chuckle, walking away from you and over to the direction of the double doors that would lead to the kitchen. It felt you alone near the fire, almost drinking in the small peace and quiet that you knew would be robbed in a few moments when the rest of the group would arrive for dinner.

"Come find me, darling girl,"

You grinned, moving out of the sitting room adn down the hall. The sweet smells of the dinner that was being prepared filled the entire townhouse and the air as you walked barefoot along the wood floors and over the running carpets. You knew the sounds of this house, you were accustomed to it like the back of your hand as you were walking past the staircase, some of the paintings that Feyre painted, and some of the plants in the vases that Elain created.

"Closer....you're getting warmer." You giggled, the blush was coming on your cheeks. You've played this game with him before, plenty of times. This was the softer side that the never shared with the others our out in public. He had a image to maintain and uphold. Yet the exception were the Inner Circle, and you.

Most of all, you.

You were walking past the smaller study, one of there private studies that was tiny and tucked near the grand courtyard, when a pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you inside abruptly and swiftly. You squealed, instantly inside the study and the door slamming shut as a body was pressed in font of you and you gasped out in relief. You knew this body, you knew it so well and so intimately. You've hugged this body before, you writhed under this body before in pure ecstasy and lust, and you protected this body from anger and resentment.

Azriel. Your husband and Mate.

"By the Cauldron, Az!" you said in a snort as you two embraced one another in the tiny study room, Azriel chuckling above you with his arms around you and his wing tucked into his back, "You scared me have to death with that stunt!"

"You like it when I surprise you, don't deny it," He countered back to you, seeing you playfully glare at him as he peered down what you with love in his eyes, "Besides, I missed you today and I wanted to spend a few moments with you..alone,"

"Darling, we don't have the time for...that," you reasoned with a hint of embarrassment on your tongue. Azriel just rolled his eyes and just walked the pair of you over to the loveseat in the study. You followed willingly, the both of you falling onto the loveseat and Azriel wrapping you in his arms.

You loved doing things like this with him, cuddling on the couch and enjoying the quiet together since it was rare. You never had the chance to do this when you were fighting in the war, there was no time to be together when you two were freshly mated and the war banging on your front door. It was unbearable, yet you gave you the thirst and drive to be victorious in the fight in order to have this, to have him, your arms.

"When was the last thing we did this together?" Azriel asked you in a whisper, peering down at you since he was perched over you with his arm around your waist and his fingers in your hair. You feel so small under him, and yet so safe and comfortable at the same time.

"Not for some time," You answered in all honesty, "You were busying training the new recruits with Cassian and I was helping Feyre with the studios and Armen with Court alliances. This Solstice, it'll be a good time to just be together and not have to worry about anything,"

"I think you're night, my darling," Azriel said in a hum of agreement, "Rhysand think we're going to have a truly peaceful Solstice this year. We all need it,"

"And perhaps after, you and I can go away for awhile," you suggested him, seeing him pause and look at you with a tilt of his head, "I've been talking to Feyre...and Since they're nothing really to do and no Courts to keep an eye on....I kindly suggested that you and I can go on a vacation of sorts,"

"A vacation?" He asked, having you shrug and push some of his black hair out of his eyes with your fingers, "I don't do vacations,"

"Which is precisely why we could go on one," you explained, "Cassian can clearly take care of things at the war camps, and Rhysand doesn't need you to spy on anyone for some time. Az, things are good and things are at peace. You deserve it,"

"We do," He reminded you as he leaned down to kiss you on the cheek, "You and I are one, remember? And I think you're right...some rest might....might be needed,"

The front door bang open and loud voices were heard, breaking the small spell that you two had in your quiet little study. Azriel groaned in annoyance with his eyes closed, you giggled as his head went down to rest against your shoulder and curl into you.

"Can we go on our vacation now?" Azriel asked in groan into your shoulder. Two loud bangs were heard against the door into the study.

"Hey love birds, let’s go! I'm hungry and Rhysand won’t let us eat without you guys there. And Az, as great as it is as your my sister's mate, I suggest you two don't get friendly on that couch before dinner! You'll spoil her appetite!" Cassian voice was heard on the other side of the door. It made Azriel, who was still perched over you, shoot his head up and over to the direction of the door with a growl on his lips and a glare in his eyes.

"Come on, darling," you replied in a hum, reached up to press your hand against his head to have him look back at you, "My brother doesn't mean that."

"Are they whispering to each other or are they gonna come out?" Cassian's voice asked on the other side of the door, sounding annoyed.

"Shut up and give them room, idiot!" Nesta scolded him, having you and Azriel giggle form sharing Nesta but your brother in his place. Azriel's smile lit up the room, having you lean up and kiss him squarely on the lips for a moment. He held it there, leaning into it a bit more as you shoved him up and off the couch.

"Let's have this dinner, with our family, and you and I can be alone together," You reassured him, fixing his shirt and hair with your nimble fingers and warmth in your stare. Azriel just stared with love in his eyes, the same kind of gaze that made you fall in love with him from the very beginning.

You two walked out of the study now, the rest of the Inner Circle were all standing together in a semi circle in the sitting room and chatting with one another. They were all in their Solstice attire, wine in hand and laughter on their lips. You were walking ahead first, grinning from ear to ear to see your family there, all in one place. Rhysand was snuggled into Feyre, Mor and Armen were shoulder to shoulder and talking banter with one another, Elain was perched in one of the chairs, looking content with her sisters there and a soft glow on her cheeks, and Nesta was within Cassian's arms, looking happy and in love.

"I'm glad we're all here together for Solstice," Rhysand said to the group now, you watching at the opening of the sitting room with your smile and happiness, "We need the rest this year, all of us. Let's enjoy these few days together as the Inner Circle, and as a family,"

You felt a body behind you, a head on your shoulder, and arms around your waist. You needed this peace too, more than anything. After this holiday, you knew that you two were going to have time away from everyone else, away from the stress of being in the Inner Circle.

But for now, you had this moment with your family.

"Happy Solstice, my darling," Azriel hummed against your neck. You grinned.

Happy Solstice indeed.

The End.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #fanfiction #writing #my prompts #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel #azriel supremacy #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar fandom #acomar #acomaf fanfiction

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗 (18+)

∘ request(s): I am in love w all of you and i'm getting to the others when they fit :)

my personal favorites:

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), smut, choking, fingering, slight domination

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: my incentive for getting these done (when they're fuffy) is listening to 21st Century Vampire in a dark room for four days, in case you guys were wondering.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Your heart hammered in your ears. You took a seat on your couch, carding your fingers through your hair as his face flashed into your mind, the somewhat confused expression boring a hole in your heart. You’d led him on, you knew it. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, but the cold fear of what the two of you had vanishing after assigning labels flushed through your body. What if it was only as strong as it was because you weren’t stuck to each other? Was the fact that you were choosing to sleep with him and him alone not enough? What more could he want?

Then it dawned on you; what more would it be? The two of you were already attached at the hip a ridiculous amount of time, you already knew more about him than you cared to, and obviously, the two of you were already past the awkwardness of building a sexual relationship.

So what the fuck was wrong with you? Would it be so awful to be his girlfriend?

You avoided him for a few weeks, your mind burning with guilt and indecisiveness. As soon as you had straightened your thoughts and favored one reality over another, it was like buyer’s guilt persuaded you the other way.

Lectures were quiet, even lonesome for you without him around. That would add to your Pro Karl list; he was great company, especially in public, when he knew people were watching the two of you. Would that element be different when the two of you were dating?

You hadn’t realized how apparent your moping had become until your roommate brought it up one night. You were tucked into your favorite spot on the couch, mind racing with how to solve your problems. “I called Karl. I’m sick of this weepy, self-loathing bullshit. Man up and tie him down. I know you want to,” she stated bluntly, tugging open the curtains in the room to get to the windows. The night breeze wafted in as if it’d been knocking against the glass for an hour. “He’s outside.”

You blinked at her as she pulled you out of your seat. “He’s what?”

She pulled you behind her, slipping on her jacket. “I’m going to Clay’s. Work this shit out and let me know if I need to vacate for the week,” she jested, making you roll your eyes as she pushed you out in front of her. As she headed down the stairwell, Karl was on his way up, greeting her brightly as he usually did.

He smiled at you gently as he stopped in front of you, fondness and allure playing in his eyes. Even if you looked disheveled, he still looked upon you with pride and admiration. His hair was longer, but despite that, he looked exactly the same way you’d left him. You cleared your throat, the wind bringing his scent towards you. “We need to talk,” you mumbled. “You were right.”

He pressed his back against the dividing wall, tucking a cigarette behind his ear that he had between his fingers and looking out over the railing behind you. The city lights reflected in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I just..." He looked at you softly. "Fuck, I really like you."

You crossed your arms, hands rubbing against the sleeves of your hoodie to generate more warmth. You were so torn. Most of you, wanted to wrap yourself up in him and give in to his offer while the ugly, nagging thoughts in your brain told you to run. "What about after we cool down then?" You asked, making one of his eyebrows feign to furrow. "Are you still going to be attracted to me after I'm… domesticated?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll probably be attracted to you even when your tits sag to your waist, baby." You rolled your eyes at his joke and he crossed the space between the two of you, shoes dragging against the cement. He pushed his fingers into your hair, settling his hand against your neck so his thumb brushed against your jaw soothingly. You leaned into his touch. "I just want to be locked down by you," he chided. "... Officially."

You let out a small wheeze. "You're not gonna be into my friends next week, are you?" It was a joke, but it came out as more of an insecurity.

He fought not to grin. "You're fuckin' serious?" He used his other hand to separate your arms gently, stepping into your embrace. "When I'm with other people, all I can think about is how they're not you."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, eliciting a pleasant sigh from between your lips. You tightened your arms around him, basking in the warmth of his body as you threaded your hands beneath his jacket. "Even your mom?"

He snorted. "Don't make this weird," he jested, making you laugh softly. He pulled your body completely against him, digging his face into the crook of your neck as you sighed tiredly, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

The bathwater was warm against your skin, Karl’s arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him in the small tub, making you giggle slightly. You paused what you were doing as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. You struggled to shrug from his grasp. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna mess up your nails,” you wheezed, before he surrendered, leaning his back against the porcelain.

It was a brighter color than he usually wore, but the hue still gave him the dark appearance he prided himself on. Goosebumps peppered your skin as he drew absent-minded shapes into your back with the pad of his finger. “I missed you,” he hummed. Despite having your back to him and concentrating on not smearing his nail polish, you could hear the content smile in his voice. “And now, I’m your boyfriend,” he mocked, eliciting a snort from you.

You screwed the cap on the polish when you were satisfied with your work. “I feel like a middle school girl every time you say that,” you grumbled, jokingly.

He snickered. “Me too.” You could feel him watching you carefully as you blew on the nail polish, his fingers to your lips to test their dryness. He curled around you again, pressing his lips to your neck, his other arm curling around your torso. His breath was sweet against your skin, mixing with the steam from the water. “Stop it, or I’ll get too excited,” he groaned, making you smile.

You moved his hand to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers threatening to demonstrate his true strength. He swapped hands, his fingers dipping beneath the water towards your heat. His other hand wrapped around your neck, waiting for your first moans until applying pressure. Your head tilted back against his shoulder as he rubbed circles against your bundle of nerves, a sigh of pleasure spilling past your lips as his teeth nipped gently at your shoulders.

Your knees peeked out above the surface of the water as you leaned further back against him. He pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear. “Look at my girlfriend, so needy so quickly,” he moaned in your ear, slipping one of his fingers into you. His name fell from your lips as if your life depended on you repeating it. He pumped another finger into you, basking in the way you reacted to him. You hated how well he knew your body.

Before you knew it, your back was pressing into your sheets, Karl hovering over you. You dug your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on his locks as he pushed himself into you with a moan. His hips rolled against yours, his forearms resting on either side of your head, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It wasn’t long until he was thrusting in and out of you, teeth printing his mark on your skin. “All mine,” he moaned as your fingernails pressed into his skin.

You smirked slightly, rutting your hips against his. “Oh, right there, Todd,” you moaned almost pornographically. Karl stiffened slightly, struggling not to laugh as you giggled.

His teeth dug into your neck, shutting you up with a moan. He pushed your hands above your head, intertwining his fingers with yours while his other hand moved to wrap around your throat. “He fucking wishes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, making your toes curl. His pace slowed, focused on driving himself deeper into you, reaching your sweet spot with each of his thrusts.

You moaned his name, pressing your lips to his shoulder as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. He muttered pet names into your ear, coaxing you over the edge with his declarations of ownership over you.

The next morning, you wrapped your arms around Karl’s waist, pressing your cheek against the middle of his shoulder blades as he stirred whatever he was making. Your hands looped into the front pocket of his hoodie. The kitchen was humming with life as the radio hummed softly in one of the corners and the two of you lightly conversed.

You moved to lean against the counter beside him, attempting not to completely gush at the sight of his messy hair and lazy smile as he made you breakfast. “So, do I get to wear your letterman’s jacket now?” You joshed, making him smirk.

He flipped a pancake. “I mean, you can if you’d like, I think it’s at my mom’s,” he answered, soft tones of sleep still hanging in his voice. “You can twin with your pal, Todd. We went to the same high school.”

Your head tilted at the news, mouth slightly ajar. “No way. Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged. “We lived down the road from each other growing up,” he recounted, making you chuckle at the irony.

You wet your lips slightly. “Now that we’re official, do you wanna have a threesome with him?” You asked sarcastically.

“If Todd’s dick comes anywhere near me, I’m moving to Iceland,” he finalized, making you laugh.

Tag List: @mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole

#edgy!karl #edgy!karl jacobs #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs my beloved #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

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enhypia · 3 years

Text

HS ; couples

couples answers questions with the choice of drinking instead of answering

pairings: lee heeseung x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint really hard

words: roughly 1.4k

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

~guides and warnings~

italics - reader speaking

bold - heeseung speaking

[enclosed] - interviewer speaking

italicized bold - both reader and heeseung speaking

[enclosed bold or italics] - question (depends on who's speaking)

heavily inspired by: rec.create lie detector games, cut truth or drink

warning: contains and mentions of !!! drinking, swearing

i don't promote underage drinking, save your livers

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi! i'm (y/n)

hello, my name is heeseung!

and we're together

we're couples!

[you guys were invited here today as couples for a fun little drinking game, you guys were aware of that right?]

yes

we are

[okay, for this game, questions will be asked and if you refuse to answer, you drink, it's that simple. should we start?]

let's go, i can't wait to drink

so you won't be answering the questions?

i mean, it's free alcohol

*hee shakes his head in disbelief

[how long have you been together?]

we actually just had our 3rd anniversary last week

so 3 years now <33

[how did you two meet?]

pffft- *(y/n) laughs

can we just choose pass

shot!

*hee offers the shot glass to (y/n) and both take a shot, laughing after

we're drinking this early on damn

we met through a mutual friend

i was brought as a wingman

i think you can guess how it went

[but how did you guys become a couple?]

we got closer after meeting and i think it was obvious to the both of us that we were interested in each other

yeah but it still took a lot in me to ask you out

he stuttered the first time he asked me on a date

did i?

*(y/n) laughs at the memory

you went "hey, so uh you wa-"

*hee cuts (y/n) off by squishing their cheeks

we don't need a reminder

*(y/n) swats his hand away

but it was cute, don't worry

*(y/n) pats his head making heeseung smile

[okay, how about we officially start the game now?]

*both nod and played rock paper and scissors to determine who gets to ask first, (y/n) wins

*(y/n) reads the card and chuckles

[was it love at first sight?]

it wasn't

like i said, i was supposed to be a wingman so in my head, they were already off limits

i don't believe in love at first sight so *(y/n) shrugs

[do you have/did you have doubts with us being together?]

goddamn *(y/n) drinks

*heeseung is wide-eyed

no honey, not like that, i will answer, it's just that i need the alcohol boost

*the shock goes away

i was about to shed tears not gonna lie

*(y/n) rolls their eyes

when i agreed to becoming heeseung's significant others, i had no doubts, i knew what i felt was true and i knew his was too. the doubts were mainly on myself?? like "what if he just wakes and he doesn't love me anymore" but everyday heeseung proves to me that that will never happen

*(y/n) smiles at heeseung

*heeseung looks away trying to hide the smile and blush appearing on his face and he takes a shot refusing to meet (y/n)'s eyes

*(y/n) picks up a card and laughs

[if i become a zombie and had to eat people to survive, would you stick by side?]

heeseung gets scared easily i don't think he will

but if it's you...

*(y/n) raises an eyebrow

wait let me think about this more clearly

see! *(y/n) laughs

*heeseung continues to think

omg just say no!

but it's you !!!

i know it's me but baby we both know you'll run the other way once i start to eat people

...... you still love me right?

yes heeseung, i still love you

*hee :D

okay! next question!

*he picks up a card and laughs

oh i like this one.

[would you date any of my friends?]

*(y/n)'s mouth drops in shock

*(y/n) ultimately decides to play with heeseung

i mean.. *(y/n) reaches for a shot

*the grin on his face disappears

yah!

*(y/n) bursts into giggles and takes a shot

yah~ !!

[would YOU date any of my friends?]

*hee's eyes narrows and takes a shot for revenge

*both laugh at their antics

the answer is no guys, i love his friends but they're pretty much like annoying siblings

sorry (y/n)'s friends, (y/n) is the only one for me

but i'm pretty sure someone who used to be in my circle would jump at the chance

really ?? who ??

*(y/n) gives the look

AH! -

*scene cuts as he says a name

moving on.

*(y/n) picks up a card and laughs

[do you wish i offered to pay for more dates?]

MAN I WISH I COULD PAY MORE ON DATES

i like paying for our dates, but arguing with them is hard

yeah there was one time we spent 10 minutes bickering about who will pay, so we just made an agreement

we take turns per month, like for this month i'm the one paying for all the dates, then on the next month (y/n) will be paying

but everytime it's his month, he always tries to go out a lot, and when it's my month he opts to stay in

hehe

hEHE ??

*heeseung picks up a card and reads the question intently

*he is in deep thought

what is it?

[will you agree to an open relationship?]

ohhh

open relationship is when it's okay if you see other people right?

yup and i don't think i'd agree to it. you?

me as well

sorry im selfish, heeseung is mine, i do not share ;)

*heeseung laughs

yeah, sorry it's not for me, i don't think i can stomach seeing another one hold (y/n) , find your own

*(y/n) raises glasses to cheers and both take a shot

[it's okay not to drink if you answer]

yeah we know

but it's free alcohol

and drinking makes it more fun

*they hi-five

okay! next question,

[if i had to move away for many years, would you wait for me?]

yes.

wow no hesitations

yes i would wait for you

*(y/n) :O

yes

okay we get it

*they laugh

but i will, you're worth waiting for

your patience says otherwise

are you doubting my ability to wait?

do you hear yourself when you're playing?

that's with games, you're not a game, you're not something i play

*(y/n) blushes making heeseung laugh

shut up okay i get it

i also do not actually trust my patience

SEE ?!

*heeseung bursts out laughing

so instead of waiting i'd probably just go to them and/or visit them a lot

or just move in with me

*(y/n) avoids heeseung's stare

is this still related to the question or the present

huh? *(y/n) acts clueless

WAIT-

*camera cut

*we see both of them sporting a blush with big smiles on their face, and the alcohol evidently lessened

[freestyle! ask any question you want]

wah, i don't know what to ask

*he is thinking, everybody shut up

just keep it simple

no i want it to be hard

i can just actually follow the rules and drink instead of answering

*hee pouts

no you won't

*(y/n) :P

okay!

[did you like ... when we first met?]

oh the 'friend'?

yeah

*(y/n) drinks

*heeseung :O

*(y/n) xD

no heeseung, i did not like them, i really just saw them as a friend

ohh ouch sorry buddy

*they share a laugh

oh it's the last one

[question for both: what does loving each other feel like?]

awww that's a cute one, i'll go first

loving heeseung feels like the comfort your favorite songs bring you. it feels like the excitement you get whenever your favorite show releases a new episode. it's the deep sigh in content you release whenever you smell your favorite scent. it's just, loving him feels like everything your favorites make you feel.

*heeseung is not tearing up, definitely not, that's just sweat, he is also 100% not blushing, it's just hot

*he takes a shot and (y/n) laughs at his antics

now how am i supposed to beat that?!

let me be more romantic gosh

respectfully, no.

*both laugh

okay uhh, loving (y/n) feels like riding a rollercoaster. from all the emotions while waiting in line to exiting the ride. loving them is like the feeling of hitting a high note you previously couldn't. it's winning multiple prizes at the arcade. loving (y/n) is like the softness of a sunrise and the absolute wonder in staring at a night sky.

*(y/n) takes a shot not even bothering to hide their blush

why are we so cheesy and poetic when we're intoxicated damn

*heeseung laughs and agrees

forgive us if we're cringey

not our fault you're single

heeseung! :O

*he stays unapologetic

and that's it!

thank you for having us~

bye~

»————-　♡　————-«

bonus: youtube comments

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long, i caught up with everything i missed in my classes, i'll try to update the series more frequently. i will also be posting timestamps later since it's been days since i last posted. i hope you also like this one!! jay's will be posted next, please look forward to it <33

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #speak or shot #enhypen series #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen fluff #heeseung #enhypen x gender neutral reader #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios

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ichorai · 2 years

Text

ILLUSIONISM ; m.yg

pairing ; vigilante!yoongi x villain!reader

synopsis ; yoongi hasn't seen you in months. not since he forced you to flee from the city to keep you safe. when you come back with a thirst for his most dangerous secret, yoongi can't help but surrender to your illusions.

themes ; action, suggestive, drama, e2l? e2e? just know that they're enemies <3, villain au, vigilante au

words ; 1.9k

warnings / includes ; allusions to sex, mild cursing, descriptions of violence and injuries, oc is really morally ambiguous whoops, oc also has the power to cast illusions !

a/n ; this is sorta a backstory to yoongi's character in galvano but can most definitely be read as a stand-alone !! i think i might expand on these two characters in the near future o.o

masterlist.

There was a queer stillness to the air that didn’t sit well with Yoongi. The city was never this quiet. The streets were void of the usual honking cars and drunk townsfolk stumbling back home with an arm slung over their equally hammered friends. Even the neon lights were warbling strangely, as if he was watching the town through warped glass.

With a snarl, Yoongi unsheathed his daggers in but a heartbeat, pivoting away from the edge of the building to send the blades arcing through the air. The illusion that was folded so cleanly over his eyes seemed to fracture into a million pieces until it gave way to the real world, revealing the city he knew like the back of his palm. Sound flooded back into his senses, the lights were no longer distorted, and he caught sight of the bustling cars and passerby once more. The unsettling weight that sat on his shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

You stood in front of him with a malicious grin playing at the edge of your lips, his daggers twirling between your fingers. The light of the moon bathed you in a pale glow, casting deathly shadows over your sinister features. Yoongi hadn’t forgotten just how beautiful you were—and how deceiving you could be.

“Took you a while to notice,” you whispered almost coyly. Yoongi’s nose twitched in annoyance. “You losing your touch, Suga?”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped with bared teeth, stalking forward until he was just an arm’s length away from you. If he wanted to, he could grab you by the forearm, dangle you off the edge of the building—be rid of all his worries. If he wanted to, he could tug you closer, wipe that smile clean off your face.

It infuriated him to no end when you preened at his rough tonality, circling him like a wolf would its prey. “Why? I don’t seem to recall you minding that little nickname when you shoved me into your bedroom and—”

A noise of discontentment left his throat as he dove forward, fishing out a pair of throwing stars that were slotted against his leg. Much to his dismay, you were faster, casting an illusion over his eyes once again, completely disappearing from his sight. Dazed, he wildly glanced around until he spotted you on the other side of the building’s rooftop. You flashed him another dazzling beam, lifting a hand to mockingly salute him.

“You lied to me,” he spat, jaw clenched. He remembered the day he found out you were part of a villainous organization as if it were yesterday. That inky black stain of resentment marring his conscience was still fresh and tarnishing.

An off-hand hum rumbled from your chest. “I didn’t cast a single illusion that night, Yoongi. That was all real.”

A jolt of uncertainty spidered through his veins at your words. “So you’re really an elementary teacher?”

When you tossed your head back to laugh, Yoongi shouldn’t have felt his heart skip a beat, resting an unsettling uncomfort upon his ribcage. “Pfft, no, of course not. I said I didn’t use my powers that night, not that I was being truthful about everything I said.”

The vigilante felt his eye twitch in unrestrained frustration. “What are you doing here?”

There it was. That evil grin that painted your lips a dangerous shade of carmine. “Visiting my favorite wannabe hero, of course. I missed you. We had a fun tussle last time we saw each other, hm?”

When was that? The time you stabbed his thigh? The time you kissed him until he was gasping for breath, then proceeded to shove him onto a busy highway? The time he put a bullet in your shoulder? The time the both of you broke each other’s noses and he threw you an ice pack before dashing away? All his encounters with you were bleeding together, stitched into one large mass of constant hurt. Constant yearning.

Not a second had passed before you were suddenly a hair’s breadth away from him, your nose almost brushing against his. He glared into your molten irises, loathing the fact that you smelled of fresh mint, repulsed at himself for breathing you in.

“When?” Yoongi grumbled, pupils flickering down to your lips.

“When what?”

“When was the last time we saw each other?”

You pulled out his dagger to drag feather-light along his cheekbone, but Yoongi didn’t bother batting you away, transfixed by the way you puckered your mouth to the side in thought. “Must be half a year by now. I remember because you looked real pretty laying in blood and snow. Tell me you missed getting your ass kicked.”

“Can’t say I have,” he retorted, to which you rolled your eyes to the starless sky.

“Liar.” The dagger was flipped away, sheathed into your boot. He’d never admit it, but you were right. He missed you more than you could ever comprehend, often staying up until the dead of night wondering where you were, what you were up to. But he remained silent, only watching as you walked your fingers up his kevlar suit, repressing a shiver when your nails dragged up his pectorals. The atmosphere seemed to shift ever so slightly, and in a brusque fashion, a knife suddenly appeared in your hand, pressed against his throat. A pearl of blood welcomed the sharp blade, but you didn’t press any further. “You’re a filthy liar. You told the news that I knew where the superhuman serum was. I got kicked out because of you, you know. Highest ranked assassin there was, thrown to the alleys. Trust me, if I knew where the damn serum was, I wouldn’t be here now. You told them just to drive me out of the city! You only want that serum all to yourself—!”

Amidst your angry ramble, Yoongi caught you off guard by striking you once in the abdomen, kicking the knife away so that it clattered off the edge of the building. It was interesting to hear that you were no longer part of the villainous organization, but still consciously chose to commit heinous crimes.

You dodged his second hit, but left your flank exposed just enough so he could grab your waist, shoving you a bit too roughly onto the ground, pinning you down with both his knees caging your limbs.

A salacious leer appeared on your face at the compromising position he placed you in. “Gosh, at least buy me dinner first!”

“Enough,” Yoongi commanded with a tone of finality, leaning down close enough so that his dark tendrils brushed against your own forehead. He was tired of your teasing. “I told the news to drive you out of the city, yes. I did it to protect you.”

“You and your protecting,” you spat, wriggling in his hold, but not making any actual effort to free yourself. “I’m sick of it. Sick of you, sick of this fruitless hunt for something that may not even exist, sick of living a lie—!”

The way he relinquished his grasp on you didn’t go unnoticed. You shoved at his form so that he landed on his hindquarters, grumbling under his breath. “Stop. Just stop, will you? Don’t you understand that if the serum gets in the wrong hands, the world would be in shambles? I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut as soon as your muscles visibly stiffened. It was a small detail, minuscule in change, but he noticed it nonetheless. Jerkily, you pushed yourself onto your feet, glaring at him with an intensity that was both as cold as being submerged into a frozen lake, and as heated as a million suns.

“You know where the serum is.”

He shouldn’t have said anything. You were always too smart for your own good. Cold dread frosted over his spine.

When he opted for silence, a look of betrayal melded your features into pure, unadulterated fury.

Yoongi wanted you to scream, cry, throw something at him. Instead, you spread your arms out, and the familiar sensation of another illusion blanketing his eyes with darkness made him call out your name, but his voice only ricocheted back to himself. He misliked hearing his own desperation taint his words.

“I should kill you,” your voice echoed in his ears. He could hear you but he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t see anything. Heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage, Yoongi blindly grappled for his weapons that were usually hidden in his suit, but found the holsters to be completely empty.

“You wouldn’t,” he seethed into the bleak oblivion.

“Don’t put your money on that,” you murmured. An invisible force snaked around his neck, applying just enough pressure to have him struggling for a breath. “We would’ve been so great together, Yoongi. Everybody painted me into some sort of villain. It’s only expected of them—I hurt, I maim, I kill. Now, this probably makes you the most stupid human alive, but you saw past all that. Perhaps you saw a bit of yourself in me, hm? That same darkness within you. But you save whoever needs saving, and I exterminate whoever needs exterminating. That’s what sets us apart.

“That serum would’ve been mine to destroy, don’t you understand? It’s the whole reason every person I’ve cared for in the past is gone now. You really think that by keeping it a secret, people won’t eventually find and use it for their own benefit? I thought you were smarter than this.”

Yoongi hesitated for a moment before thrashing wildly against the force, heaving a dry breath when you finally relinquished your hold on him. “I can’t trust you. Not ever again.”

The illusion gradually faded away, and Yoongi found himself back in the city, on top of the rooftop, with your face just inches away from his. “You’re a farce, Yoongi,” you said, venomous. It was quite ironic coming from you, who had the literal ability to fabricate lies in physical form. For some reason unbeknownst to him, those words stung him more than the cut you left across his throat. “You say you protect, but there won’t be a city left to protect once that serum is found. No number of daggers will let you slice your way out of this one.”

Shameful turmoil flourished within his chest. What was he supposed to say to that?

“I’ll be back,” you growled, glancing down at a watch on your wrist when it beeped thrice. “ If you’re not going to tell me where it is, I’ll find it myself. And if I don’t… you’ll rue the day I stand over the ruins of your precious city. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”

“Wait—!” he called out, reaching forward to grapple at thin air, but you had already disappeared, blending yourself into the city’s nightlife. Where you were going, he wouldn’t ever know. Trying to keep up with you was like searching for a golden needle in a haystack. Virtually impossible.

In all his years of knowing the notorious villain, Yoongi had felt a great range of emotions for you. Anger, confusion, lust, amusement, frustration, on and on and on. But never was he afraid of you.

Yoongi was stricken upon realizing that, for the first time since he’s met you, he was utterly terrified.

#ficscafe #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #bts action #yoongi action #bts drabbles #bts superhero #bts villain #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfiction #bts x you #yoongi x you #bts marvel

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