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chelseeebe · 6 months

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promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #eddie munson x female reader smut

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mirai-e-jump · 2 months

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TV Guide & TV Life, March 2024 Issues ft. Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger Main Cast Member Interviews (translations below)

TV Life 3/15 Issue, Publication: February 28, 2024

Iuchi: When you first heard the title, "Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger," were you surprised?

Suzuki: I said, "Huh?" in response. I also said "Is that true?" (laughs).

Hayama: For sure, I kept wondering what it meant (laughs).

Iuchi: Did it mean "to cheer up" or "the sound of a car's engine"? I wondered which one "Boonboom" was, but it ended up being a double meaning for both.

Hayama: It seems that "Explosive (Bakuage)" also incorporates the staff's desire to make Super Sentai even more "bakuage" than ever before.

Suzuki: It's upbeat and outlandish in a good way, and leaves an impact.

Saito: Other than the title, I was also surprised by the visual impact of Boonboomger.

Soma: They have tires on their faces.

Saito: These forms have a past, nostalgic feel to them. The more you look at them, the cooler they get.

Soma: When I see them fighting, I get alot more attached to them.

Saito: I think they'll be easier for children to draw pictures of.

Soma: I want them to draw alot.

Iuchi: Genba's hairstyle too. All you have to do is go around in circles a bunch.

Soma: No, no! My hair isn't yakisoba! (laughs).

Iuchi: When I was a kid, I liked miniature cars and played with them alot. However, I never really knew how cars were made. Taiya in particular is a master of development and modification, so I first made sure that I knew about cars, and then I'll try to make him look mature and calm as I play him.

Hayama: What I'm most conscious of, is being cool. I was told that "Red" and "Blue" have always appeared in every Super Sentai production. When I heard that, I felt more responsible. I want children to think that Boonboomger is cool even after they grow up. Especially since Ishiro is the coolest of cool, I try to be like that in the way he stands, and even in the way he speaks.

Suzuki: Mira is a bright, energetic, and innocent kid who enjoys everything. I try to be like Mira from the moment I enter the set. I also try to express myself clearly so that the viewers can understand what kind of emotions Mira is feeling when she speaks and moves.

Saito: Since Jou's a police officer, I started by researching the profession. I watched alot of footage and close up interviews at police academies and learned what it was like to be a police officer. While maintaining the seriousness of a police officer that I felt, at the same time, I want to show him as the cheerful and lively Jou that's eccentric when he needs to be.

Iuchi: Also, the angle of his salute.

Saito: Yeah. I'm careful about that too.

Iuchi: When I imitated it alittle, he said, "It's wrong!" (laughs).

Saito: There's a proper way of doing it. Such as it being with your right hand, not left.

Soma: Genba's rather mysterious and doesn't show his true feelings. He's a unique character that hasn't been seen before, so I try to play him freely without being restrained by anything. I try not to make it too elaborate. I think it'll make it feel more "Genba like."

Iuchi: All five of them are unique. Let's "bakuage" through the whole year so that as many people as possible can enjoy it! _

How would you describe yourself in terms of "Explosive(ly) XX"?

Iuchi Haruhi is: Explosively Stubborn It's fine to be particular, but I've been reminded to listen to the opinions of those around me. I think I've gotten alittle better at this compared to in the past. However, I'm still stubborn in some areas.

Hayama Yuki has: Explosively Long Legs All the small, medium and large sized pants at clothing stores are so long that they don't fit. I thought it was fine, since Ishiro often crosses his legs, which makes him stand out. I'm also prideful (laughs).

Suzuki Miu is: The Explosive Mother Everyone calls me "Mother" on set. This is because I'm the one who arranges everyone's shoes and puts away our lunch boxes. I'm Boonboomger's mama (laughs).

Saito Ryu is: Explosively Extreme I take what I like to do seriously, but I never do anything that I don't want to do. I'm either at 0 or 100. That's why I'm serious in some strange ways (laughs).

Soma Satoru is: Explosively Fun I love anything that's fun, and I like to enjoy everything, whether it's having fun at work or in my private life. I try to keep my spirits as high as possible.

TV Guide 3/8 Issue, Publication: February 28, 2024

Iuchi: When I heard that I was going to be apart of the Super Sentai series, my mind went completely blank. The first time I really felt it was at the introduction meeting. When I saw the documents on the desk, I thought, "Ah, so this isn't a joke" (laughs).

Hayama: Ever since I started acting, it's been my dream to be apart of the Super Sentai series, and this was the third time I auditioned for a role. I felt like I had taken the baton from the blue's of "Avataro Sentai Donbrothers" and "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger", both of whom I know very well. If I was going to do it, I wanted to be blue, so when the decision was made, I immediately asked, "Which color?" and was very happy when they said blue.

Suzuki: I went to the audition thinking, "I'm definitely going to be picked," but when I was finally chosen, I felt a great sense of responsibility and pressure. I strongly felt that since my name would be etched into this historic series, I had to be prepared to take on the challenge.

Saito: I've admired heroes since I was a kid, and I entered the entertainment industry to be apart of the Super Sentai series, so I was very happy when I was chosen. When I put the suit on at costume fitting, I realized that I could finally become a real hero.

Suzuki: You say you entered the entertainment industry because of the Super Sentai series, but what will you do when this is over?

All: Are you going to disappear? (laughs)

Saito: No, the Super Sentai series was just my first goal.

Suzuki: It's a production you absolutely had to do. I'm glad (laughs).

Soma: I've had multiple auditions for the Super Sentai series, but this time I was chosen, so I was very happy. Just like Miu-chan said, I felt pressure behind this happiness. But, on the other hand, I hope to enjoy the pressure and do my best together with my wonderful friends.

Saito: Many of the recent Super Sentai's have a flashy look to them, but Boonboomger has an old fashioned coolness, it's as if, in a good way, we're back in the Showa era. It's very appealing.

Suzuki: Ryu-kun, you're always mentioning the names of various Super Sentai series.

Soma: He's the most knowledgeable out of all of us. He's the Sentai master! (laughs).

Saito: I'm from the "Engine Sentai Go-onger" generation, but thanks to the influence of my sister and mother, I've also seen some of the older ones.

Suzuki: When I heard the title, I thought it was an interesting one, but at the same time, I thought it would be an uplifting and upbeat work.

Iuchi: I'm very happy that I'll be involved in the memories of today's children through this production.

Soma: I think it's a production that focuses mainly on smaller children, so I hope alot of children will watch it.

Hayama: I didn't play with toy cars that much as a kid, but even I think it's cool to see singers turned actors appearing in dramas. Cars are a theme that's easily understood by smaller children, so I feel explosive (bakuage) every day when playing the role (laughs). _

Q: What's the moment when your mood explodes?

Iuchi: I like to write lyrics and compose music with my guitar as a hobby. When I think things like, "I've got the chorus" or, "I've finished a whole song," I feel an explosive sense of accomplishment. But, I haven't let people listen to it…(*The other members then say, "We want to listen to it!"), Well then, I'll play it for you sometime over the next year.

Hayama: I like to appreciate music as an art form, and I'll use music apps to play music randomly by genre depending on my mood. During that time, if I happen to land on a song that I like, at that moment, my mood rises dramatically.

Suzuki: I have the biggest blast when I eat ramen! I really like noodles, but I especially love ramen. Even when I'm exhausted after filming all day long, I've still got energy after eating some ramen. Truthfully, I post the ramen I eat on a secret account with zero followers that no one sees. I write my impressions of what I eat for my own record.

Saito: I like to do muscle training, and I get excited about it. I get more excited when I can actually see my muscles growing after my workout is over, rather than during it. I'll look in the mirror and be like, "Nice~ My muscles are growing~" (laughs).

Soma: I'm from Shizuoka, where I used to play soccer, so the moment I kick a ball is the best moment for me. When I'm playing soccer, I get the biggest rush out of it when I get to play the way I want to play and when punting the ball. It's a great feeling. I put all my stress into the ball…but, I don't have that much stress, so my plays are weak (laughs).

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your-local-simp-writers · 27 days

Text

Star-Crossed Serenity

Word Count: 1024

Warnings: None

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Under the golden afternoon sun, the gardens of the twisted wonderland were a sight to behold. Malleus Draconia, with his imposing figure and regal demeanor, had prepared a surprise for you. As you walked hand in hand, the path opened up to a secluded spot where a picnic was laid out under the shade of a grand, ancient tree.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Malleus,” you said, admiring the spread of delectable treats and the soft blanket laid upon the lush grass.

“It is but a simple gesture,” Malleus replied, his emerald eyes softening. “I wanted to share a moment of tranquility with you, away from the chaos of our daily duties.”

As you both settled down, the world seemed to stand still. The gentle breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, and the only sound was the cheerful chirping of birds. Malleus watched you with a fondness that made your heart flutter, and you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the verdant fields of Twisted Wonderland, Malleus Draconia and you found yourselves in a secluded glade, perfect for the intimate picnic he had planned. The grandeur of the Dragon King was evident in every detail, from the fine china plates to the crystal goblets, all laid out on an embroidered cloth that shimmered with threads of silver and gold.

Malleus watched you with an intensity that belied his usual stoic demeanor. “I have longed for this,” he confessed, his voice a deep timbre that resonated with the quiet power of thunder far off. “To be away from prying eyes, to share a moment of simplicity with you.”

You smiled, reaching for a delicate pastry, its flaky layers filled with sweet cream and berries. “And I appreciate every effort you’ve made,” you replied. “It’s not every day that one gets to enjoy such a feast with the heir of the Draconia line.”

He chuckled, a sound as rare as the blooming of the night-blooming cereus, and it warmed you more than the setting sun. “My title means little in the face of your company,” he said. “Here, I am simply Malleus, and you are the one who has captivated my heart.”

The conversation flowed as easily as the wine from the bottle, tales of your respective worlds intertwining like the vines that grew around the ancient tree under which you dined. Malleus was particularly taken with your descriptions of the human realm, his eyes alight with wonder and a touch of wistfulness.

“As much as I yearn to see your world with my own eyes,” he mused, “I fear what my presence would bring upon it. My power is not always… well-received.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand over his. “Perhaps one day, we can venture there together. With care, and perhaps a bit of your magic, I believe we could make it work.”

The promise hung in the air between you, as tangible as the magic that Malleus wielded with such ease. It was a promise of future adventures, of shared dreams, and of a bond that transcended realms.

As night fell and the first stars appeared, you lay back on the blanket, Malleus by your side. The constellations above were unfamiliar, yet beautiful in their strangeness. “Tell me about the stars in your world,” Malleus requested, his head turned towards you, his expression open and earnest.

And so you spoke, of constellations and myths, of navigators and explorers who used the stars to find their way. Malleus listened to every word, his hand finding yours, fingers entwining. In that moment, under the celestial tapestry of an otherworldly sky, two hearts from different worlds beat as one.

The night deepened, and the air grew cooler, but the warmth between you and Malleus remained undiminished. Wrapped in a shared blanket, you continued to gaze at the stars, each one a silent witness to the evening’s tender moments.

Malleus’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “In the Draconia-bloodline, there is a legend,” he began, his tone taking on the cadence of a well-told tale, “of two stars, separated by the vast expanse of the sky, yet bound by an invisible thread of fate.”

You turned to him, intrigued. “And what became of them?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“They yearned for each other, across the distance, their light a testament to their longing,” he continued, his hand squeezing yours gently. “Until one day, the thread pulled them together, and they collided in a brilliant display of light and energy, creating a new star, one that outshone all others.”

The metaphor wasn’t lost on you, and you felt a flutter in your chest. “Is that what we are?” you mused. “Two stars drawn together?”

Malleus’s eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the reflection of countless stars. “Perhaps,” he said, “or perhaps we are the creators of a new legend, one that speaks of a dragon and a human, and the love that transcends worlds.”

The conversation shifted then, to dreams and aspirations. Malleus spoke of his hopes for the future, not as a king, but as a man who wished to see the world—not with power and conquest, but with wonder and companionship.

“And you,” he said, turning the focus to you. “What dreams do you harbor within your heart?”

You shared your own visions of the future, some grand, some humble, but all of them painted with the brush of possibility. As you spoke, Malleus listened, his expression one of genuine interest and affection.

The picnic had long since ended, but the connection between you had only grown stronger. As the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky, you and Malleus rose, packing away the remnants of the evening.

“This night may end,” Malleus said as he took your hand, “but our story is far from over. With each new day, we shall write another chapter.”

And with the promise of countless tomorrows stretching out before you, you stepped forward into the light of a new day, the Dragon King by your side.

72 notes · View notes

rhoorl · 6 months

Text

Working Title | Chapter 16

Pairing: Dieter Bravo/OFC

Rating: Mature, 18+, for the love of all things please don’t engage if you are a minor ok?

Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist | AO3 Chapter 16

Chapter Summary: The rest of Dieter’s date and going into the night.

Chapter Warnings: Dun dun duuuuun… we made it everyone! This is the chapter where things turn a bit steamier. I don’t want to spoil it here other than to say that they have sex and that you should practice safe, consensual sex!

A/N: A big thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for being a beta on part of this chapter and to @laughinginthepurplerain for being an amazing cheerleader. I’m not going to lie, this chapter freaks me out to publish for several reasons. Sooo if you don’t like it, just be nice about it?

Frankie lands the helicopter beautifully, you don’t even feel when you are back on solid ground.

“Alright, well, sit tight here while I get everything shut off. I’ll get you both out and onto the next part of your tour,” he pops in over the headset.

You look over to Dieter, your mouth agape, and whisper, “There’s more?!” which makes him smile and nod.

Once you are out of the helicopter, you throw your shirt back on since your swimsuit was dry.

“Thank you so much for this, man, it was awesome,” Dieter shakes Frankie’s hand.

“Yes, thank you so much, it was amazing!” You chime in, also shaking his hand.

“Glad to hear it, well, I’ll walk you all over to the guys, they’ll help you with the next part.” He leads you over to a pair of men standing next to another Jurassic Park-themed Jeep.

“Hey there, I’m Benny,” the man waves. “This is Will. You two ready to explore?” Benny was tall, with some scruff on his face, and his long hair was gathered in a bun low on his head. Next to him was Will, a bit shorter but still broad with a cropped haircut and a red bandana tied around his neck.

“Ah yeah, what are we doing exactly?” You look between all the men, a bit in awe at how much handsome is standing in front of you.

“Oh, sorry. We’re gonna head out to Kualoa Ranch. From there we’ll hop on some ATVs and head into some of the valleys and point out where some scenes from the movies were shot. There’s a little swimming hole too, no pressure if you don't wanna. But, it’s just gonna get kinda dirty out there so it’s a good chance to clean off a bit. Anyways, we’ll have lunch out there and then make our way back. Sound good?”

Your eyes widen as you look at Dieter with a giant smile on your face, “Um yes, that sounds amazing!”

“Great, hop on in darlin’,” Will opens the door and gestures for you to get in.

Dieter rests his hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the Jeep and waits for you to get in, sliding in behind you.

Will drives as Benny talks the entire way pointing out other landmarks and answering your questions about the island. You find out that the men are brothers and have lived on the island for a few years now after retiring from the military.

The vehicle slows down and you approach a ranch. Benny hops out to unlock a gate, letting Will drive through before he closes it and gets back in.

“Ok, so our stop should be just up here.”

Will parks in front of a line of ATVs, each with two seats. As everyone gets out of the vehicle, he goes around to the trunk to pull out a cooler. “Lunch,” he smiles as he carries it over to one of the ATVs and straps it into the back.

“Let me grab your all’s helmets and some bandanas - it can get a little dusty with all the red clay out there. It’s a bitch to breathe that in,” Benny laughs. “You guys can decide which one of us you want to go with.”

“We’re going separately?” Dieter asks, looking at the ATVs behind the men.

“Oh yeah, it’s easier for us to drive. But we’ll stop every so often so you guys can get out and take pictures and stuff,” Benny smiles.

“You ok with that?” Dieter looks at you, rubbing your back.

“Yeah, that’s fine!"

“Great, well, let’s split up and head out.” Benny claps his hands and heads to the side of his vehicle.

You end up hopping into the vehicle with Benny, who helps you get your helmet on and get buckled in. Dieter gets in with Will and gives you a thumbs-up once they’re ready.

Benny was not kidding when he said it was a bumpy ride. It also didn't help that he was flooring it, causing you to grip the frame of the vehicle for dear life. Once you get through the rainforest, you hit a clearing with a relatively flat road that opens up into a valley. Benny slows down and parks to the side of the road motioning to you that you could take your helmet off.

You take a quick look down at all of the mud caked on your legs and shoes. Will and Dieter’s vehicle rolls up a few moments later and they hop out.

“You havin’ fun? Sorry about that one, he’s got kind of a lead foot,” Will smirks.

“What? No, it’s so much fun!” You walk over and put your arm around Dieter’s waist, absolutely beaming. His hand rubs up and down your arm, a soft smile on his face.

“Ok, so this right here is that famous field where the galli…uh the galli…”

“Gallimimus,” Will steps in to help his brother.

“Shit, thanks. We’ve been doing these tours for years and I still can’t say that damn word,” he laughs. “Anyway, when those dinosaurs are flocking…that was filmed right here,” he turns around and lifts both hands up.

You take some photos and get back in and go through a few more locations like where they set up a 60-foot paddock for the Indominus Rex in Jurassic World. You also pass by some bunkers and some of the dinosaur cages used in the actual movies.

Then, it comes time to take a break at a little swimming hole. You help Will get everything out of the cooler and set up while Benny and Dieter jump into the water to clean off. Once everything is laid out, you wade into the water to your knees, looking at Dieter as he laughs at some story Benny was sharing. He dunks his head under the water and when he re-emerges you inhale sharply. You realize that you haven't really seen Dieter with wet hair and the sight of it all slicked back makes you push your thighs together.

“You ok, baby?” You were daydreaming and didn’t realize Dieter was standing next to you. The curls at the nape of his neck just begging for you to tug.

“Shit, yea sorry. I was zoned out,” you laugh. “Hungry?”

His eyebrow twitches and he lowers his chin as he looks at you, wrapping his wet arm around your waist, pulling you in, and whispering in your ear, “Very much so, but I’m gonna have to wait for my dessert it seems.”

Your brain short-circuits and all you can do is let out a shaky breath.

“C’mon, gotta make sure you eat,” he pulls back and winks before slapping you on the ass.

You all sit around eating and laughing and before you know it, it’s time to head back.

“Alright, so we don’t have any more stops til we get back to base. So sit back, and hold on,” Benny winks.

When you arrive back at the base, you see another man standing waiting. He’s slightly shorter, but you notice his amazing head of dark curls, your occupation always makes those details stand out on a person. As you walk over, he smiles and takes off his Oakley sunglasses.

“Hey there, did you all have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a blast, thank you so much guys,” you say to Will and Benny as they wave and head back to clean up the ATVs.

“Nice, well, I’m Santiago and I’ll be taking you both back to the resort,” he opens the door to another Jeep and ushers the both of you in.

The drive back to the resort is quiet, the excitement from the day and the early morning wake-up call catching up with you as you stretch your legs across the back seat, sprawling out and draping them over Dieter’s lap. He gently strokes your calf as you close your eyes, a smile on your face.

“Hey,” Dieter’s soft voice brings you back to reality as you open your eyes. “So, when we get back I kind of have something set up for you…but you can say no if you want.”

“What do you have in mind?” You sit up a little straighter, still keeping your legs where they were.

“Well,” He looks to his left to check if Santiago is listening, but the man is discreetly looking straight ahead. “Since you’re always on your feet, I figured you could use some time to relax. So when we get back you’re headed to the spa.”

“Wait, what?”

“Uh…I mean, you don’t have to. I just figured that y-”

“No, are you kidding? I haven’t had a massage in … damn, I don’t know how long.” You smile and see his shoulders relax. “But, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll keep myself busy,” he winks. “But anyways, after you’re done you’ll need to get ready so we can go to dinner. We kind of have to be there at a certain time but then after that I’m done with surprises for today, I promise.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little shy.

You lean over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “So what’s the dress code for dinner?”

“Uh…it’s not a super fancy place, but still nice. So uh…a dress? I like when you wear dresses,” he smiles.

You were back at the resort before you knew it and whisked away to the spa to rinse off before settling down for the best massage in your life. You make a note to tell Indy about the hot stones and how relaxing they were.

Dieter had arranged for you to have a glass of sparkling wine waiting for you when you finished and your massage therapist invited you to relax for a bit. You chuckle to yourself as you sit there wrapped in a fluffy robe and curled up with a blanket listening to the relaxing sounds. Today has felt like a dream and it wasn’t over yet.

“So how’s it going?”

Dieter called Liz as soon as he got out of the shower to check-in. “Ah, good…I think. She’s at the spa now.”

“You’re really pulling out all of the stops aren’t ya champ?” He could practically hear her smirk.

“She deserves it,” he says softly as he walks around his closet trying to figure out what to wear.

“She does. And so do you,” she clears her throat. “What’re you wearing tonight? Please tell me the Crocs are staying put in the closet.”

“Lizzie, those are my lounging shoes.”

“Ok, says the guy who tried to wear them to an Oscars after-party.”

Dieter rolled his eyes, “Ok Lizzie.”

Knock

“Shit someone’s at my door, hold on a sec,” Dieter padded down the hallway to the door to his suite. He opened the door to see a member of the hotel staff holding a garment bag.

Dieter put the phone down to his side, “Hey, can I help you?”

“Mr. Bravo, I was asked to bring this for you,” they passed over the bag to Dieter and started to back up.

“Ah, thank you,” Dieter furrowed his brows, confused. He closed the door and brought the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, Lizzie, someone brought me clothes? What the fuck?”

“Oh, they’re early. That’s from me!”

“What?”

“I know that you probably hadn’t decided on what to wear and frankly, I don’t trust that anything you have is ironed, so I got you a little something.”

Dieter put the phone on speaker, set the bag on his bed, and pulled the zipper down to reveal a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt both in a beautiful, deep blue.

“Damn, Lizzie, this is nice! I love this color.”

“I knew you would. Now please wear dress shoes, I know you have some. Oh gotta go, there’s a call coming in. I hope you have a great night.”

“Thanks, Lizzie.”

You’re pacing around your room, trying to figure out what to wear, debating between a short coral dress with a halter top and a maxi dress in a tropical white and blue print. Undecided, you head to the bathroom to put some makeup on and do your hair as you mull over your choices.

As you apply some lip gloss, you check your phone and see you have about fifteen minutes until Dieter is due to pick you up. Staring at your dresses, you decide on the maxi dress, slipping on a pair of lacy blue underwear underneath just in case. You fiddle around with accessories and your purse and before you know it, you hear Dieter’s knock at your door, a few minutes early.

Seeing him nearly takes your breath away. He looks so handsome all dressed up. He’s not wearing a tie and he has the top few buttons of his shirt undone. What you love most is his messy curls. You both stare at each other for a second, smiling and taking each other in.

“We match,” Dieter finally says.

“Huh?”

“We’re…uh…both wearing blue,” he chuckles pointing between you both.

“Oh, ha, great minds,” you wink.

“You look stunning,” he reaches for your hands, rubbing circles with his thumbs before he gives you a gentle kiss. “You feelin' relaxed from the massage?”

“Oh my gosh, yes, that was amazing, thank you,” you smile and sneak another kiss.

He pulls back as you chase his mouth, smiling, “As tempting as this is, I really do want to take you to dinner.”

“Well, then lead the way, Mr. Bravo,” you bat your eyes as he straightens up.

When you get downstairs, you see a black SUV with a driver waiting for you.

“Hmm…” you give him a side eye.

“What?”

“No Jurassic Park-themed Jeep?” you arch your eyebrow making him laugh.

“Ha, no. Just a boring SUV.” He smiles as he helps you into the car.

“So … you know I’m going to ask where we’re going,” you smirk as you head out of the resort.

“And you know that I’m not going to tell you,” Dieter threads his hand into yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand before laying it in his lap.

Eventually, you wind down a two-lane road lined with vacation rentals and timeshare resorts. Your car makes a U-turn and stops in front of a restaurant called The Beach House. It’s nestled right along the water, in a little cove. Dieter quickly hops out as a valet opens your door and he's there to take your hand before the man can help you out of the car.

You notice a few heads start to turn as you walk to the entrance and then you hear the whispers. Dieter holds your hand a little tighter as you head to the host stand. The two women behind the stand stare at Dieter with their mouths agape and you can’t blame them, he does look hot.

“Ah, Mr. Bravo, thank you so much for coming to visit us tonight. We have your table ready for you, right this way,” one of the women says, grabbing two menus and leading the way to a table nestled in the corner of the restaurant.

The restaurant has floor-to-ceiling glass windows along three sides, giving a near-panoramic view of the ocean. The sun was just about to set, casting a beautiful glow on the water. You arrive at your table and Dieter insists you sit in the chair that has a view of the ocean as he opts to have his back to the windows.

“You sure you want to sit there? I could scooch over, the view here is amazing,” you smile.

“My view is amazing too,” he smiles, looking between your lips and your eyes. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip. You let out a shaky breath as you feel the slick start to pool in your underwear.

Your waiter comes and takes your drink orders and before he leaves, he insists that you both head outside since the sun is about to set. “It’s honestly the reason people come here, well, and the food of course,” he chuckles. “But seriously, you can’t beat this sunset.”

“C’mon baby, let’s check it out,” Dieter gets up and takes your hand, leading you through the restaurant and outside.

Along the way, you feel eyes on you as you see heads turn. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, looking down as you move closer to Dieter, who’s walking in front of you. He squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves.

It was a bit crowded on the lawn outside. Your waiter was not kidding, the restaurant nearly emptied out as everyone went outside to snap photos. Not one to pass up a pretty sunset, you grab your phone and take a few shots while also trying to soak it all in.

Dieter steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You lean against him, feeling his stubble rub against your temple and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

“We should grab a picture before the sun sets,” Dieter says in your ear.

You turn your face and see his big brown eyes searching your face like he wants to say something. Smiling, you hand your phone to him, “You have longer arms, you take it.”

You both smile at the camera as Dieter snaps away. He keeps snapping as he surprises you with a kiss on your cheek. You close your eyes and scrunch your face, giggling as he kisses you. Remembering there were people around, you stop and turn around. Dieter's arms return around you again as you join the other patrons in watching the sun race toward the horizon.

“That was so beautiful,” you say as you walk arm-in-arm back to your table.

“It was perfect,” he smiles, looking over at you.

You were on cloud nine through the rest of your meal, between the beautiful ambiance, your handsome date, and the delicious food, you didn’t think your night could get better. It didn’t even faze you when a few brave fans came to your table asking Dieter for a photo which he obliged so graciously.

As dinner goes on, you notice Dieter seeks any opportunity to touch you, whether it is reaching for your hand or leaning over to caress your thigh under the table. You decide to tease him and play some footsie. It was amusing to see how much you affected Dieter as he sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat as your foot worked its way up his leg. On one pass, he grabs your ankle and brings your leg into his lap as he strokes your calf. You feel goosebumps and are thankful for the padded built-in bra of your dress because otherwise, he’d see how hard your nipples have gotten.

“You wanna head back?” he smirks as you try not to react to his hand as it moves underneath your dress and up your leg.

“Mmhmm, y-yea, sounds good.”

The ride back to the resort is an exercise in restraint as you both try to keep your hands to yourselves for the sake of your driver. But, it is Dieter who has a harder time, pun intended. You slip your shoes off and stretch your legs across the back seat, letting them rest in his lap. You’re tempted to run your foot up his length. He readjusts in his seat and inches his fingers under your dress. You're thankful you opted for the longer one, the extra fabric helping to hide what he's up to.

He side-eyes you as he makes small talk with the driver, continuing to move his hand up the inside of your leg. He grips the back of your calf as you squirm, trying to press your thighs together for some relief.

As the driver winds his way back to the resort, you swing your legs off of Dieter and get your shoes back on. When the car comes to a stop, the driver gets out and opens your door to help you out and you're met by Dieter who jogs around the SUV to greet you, a bill in his hand ready to tip the man.

The walk from the lobby to the elevators seemed to take longer than normal, you just wanted to be alone with him, for what you weren’t exactly quite sure yet, but you wanted the privacy. You think you’re in the clear to have an elevator cabin all to yourselves when a family hops in with you. The mother clearly knows who Dieter is as she tries to get the attention of her oblivious husband, which makes you smirk.

In order to make room, Dieter stands behind you, arms at your waist rubbing small circles and his chin resting on top of your head. As the cabin ascends, Dieter pulls you closer to him and you can feel his dick hard against your ass. You let out a shaky breath as you eye the numbers for the floors tick up, wishing the family could get off now. When you finally reach their destination, the mother turns and tells you to have a great night. Dieter flashes his swoon-worthy smile and says he hopes she has a good night too, making the woman blush.

The energy in the cabin shifts the moment the doors close. You turn to look at Dieter, who brings his hands to your face, pushing your back to the wall. He presses himself against you as you open your mouth, inviting his tongue to explore.

The elevator dings for your floor and he leads you out, never taking his lips or hands off of you. He presses you against the hallway and you pull back, stroking the bare patch on either side of his jaw. “Dieter, I…can we,” you look up at him through your eyelashes as you try and catch your breath.

“Can we what, baby?” He searches your face, cupping your cheek.

You shouldn’t feel this embarrassed to ask for what you want, especially from him, but you still can’t bring yourself to say it, so you instead move your hands down to his pants, undoing his belt.

“What do you have in mind sweetheart, you have to tell me first,” he tilts your face up and lets out a shaky breath before biting his lower lip.

Knowing that he was nervous too helps ease your insecurity. “I…um…I want…you.”

“Well, that’s good, glad I’m the only one here,” he winks, looking around. You roll your eyes and laugh, thankful that his humor is able to bring some light to the situation. “Ok, so you want me. That’s good. What do you want me to do?” He rubs up and down your arms.

“I, uh, I wanna…can we try…” you feel your face getting hot.

“Belle, do you, d'you wanna have sex with me?”

“Yeah, I do,” you nod and look down. His left hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth turns up.

You nod and push yourself close so you’re flush against his body, feeling his dick twitch beneath your dress. He starts to trail kisses from your cheek down to your neck and finds the spot behind your ear that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“C’mon let’s get to your room,” he whispers, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

You swallow hard and nod, taking his hand as he leads the way down the hallway. Fumbling one-handed for your room key in your purse, you finally find it as you reach the front door. Your hand is shaking, so you miss inserting it a couple of times before Dieter places his hand on your back and takes the key from you, unlocking the door and ushering you inside. You throw your shoes off and toss your purse on the couch as his lips return to yours, leading you down the hallway.

“We’re going to take our time, okay?” his warm breath hits your ear. “And you’ll tell me if you want to stop?” His eyes search yours.

You manage to nod. Everything about him in this moment is intoxicating - how tender he is, his soft caresses, his lips, his smell. You are putty in his hands and thankful he is taking the lead.

His lips find yours and it only takes seconds for him to deepen the kiss as a moan escapes. He threads his hands through your hair and slightly pulls. He walks you back towards the room, stopping halfway down the hallway and pushing you up against the wall.

He quickly unbuttons his shirt, getting frustrated and just pulling it off before reaching for the straps of your dress, pulling them down, and kissing along your collarbone. You throw your head back against the wall, a soft moan coming out. Not one to pass up this much access to your neck, Dieter works his way back up, a little hungrier this time, lightly nipping before passing his tongue over to soothe the spots.

You buck your hips against him as his hungry lips return back to your mouth, with a more frenzied kiss. He pulls you off the wall and resumes your trek down the hallway.

“I’m not fucking you against this wall…at least not yet,” he says in ragged breaths between kisses.

The next thing you know, you feel the bed hit the back of your legs.

Dieter pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours, panting. “Still ok?”

“Y-yea.”

“Good. Lay down, baby.”

You quickly comply, sitting down and scooting back up the bed until you feel the pillows. It takes everything in you to not become a puddle based on the image in front of you. Dieter’s hair was tousled from haphazardly removing his shirt, his pants laying low across his hips. He undoes the button and zipper, quickly pulling his pants down as you realize he had nothing on underneath. Your mouth waters, seeing how hard he was. He smirks as you try, but fail, to keep a calm front as you press your legs together.

He starts to crawl up the bed, like a tiger stalking his prey. His pupils dilated and his breath ragged. He works his way underneath your dress, pressing soft kisses up your legs as he brings the fabric up, bunching it around your waist. His fingers find the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips up to help him as he works it down and off. He stares at you, both of you unsure what to do next.

Normally this type of scrutiny would have made you so uncomfortable that you’d hide. But as you look at Dieter, fully naked, sitting on his heels and rubbing your calf, you feel…safe. A word that has been swirling around your head for the past couple of days is pushing through loud and clear. What you feel towards this man is…love. Pure, uncomplicated, and unconditional. He's embraced you for everything you are, including your flaws both physical and emotional. He just sees you.

He furrows his brows, “Hey, are you ok? We…we can stop if you…”

“No!” You didn’t mean for it to come out forcefully as it did. “No, sorry, I was just…thinking.”

“About what?” He keeps rubbing up and down your leg.

You take a deep breath, thinking of your next move before shaking your head and chuckling to yourself. “Fuck it.” You pull your dress up, lifting it over your head and tossing it off the side of the bed. It’s in that moment just after you drop it to the floor that a bit of unease and regret pass through your mind. That is until you look up to see Dieter take a deep breath, his eyes grazing over every inch of your body. You feel so exposed, so on display, you want to hide under the sheets.

Dieter crawls back up the bed, snapping you out of your spiral. “Hey, look at me,” his hand gently cups your face so you look at him in his big brown eyes. “You want this?” You nod and he tilts his head.

“Yeah, I do,” you nod.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“I…I’m scared,” you whisper, surprised by your candor.

Dieter shuffles to sit next to you, wrapping his arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You both sit there for a moment, as you close your eyes and relax into your breath. “Why’re you scared?” Dieter finally breaks the silence, his voice shaky as he plays with your hair.

You shift so you’re sitting, looking at him in the eyes. “I’m scared of…ha…well, a lot,” you softly chuckle. “But I think most of all, I’m scared to…get hurt? Because I care a lot about you, Dieter. And I know this seems fast, and I am still working through shit, but I can’t put the feelings I have for you back in a box. And… I’m scared because as fast as this has all been, it can all end just as fast and I can’t think of that…” you’re rambling as your voice starts to get shaky, tears threatening. You’re annoyed at yourself that tears are your first reaction no matter if you’re happy, stressed, frustrated, or sad.

“Hey, hey, I don’t wanna hurt you. Shit, I’m…scared…of getting hurt too,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to freak you out but I um…I…uh, fuck,” you bury your face in your hands to try and stave off the tears.

“Belle, baby, hey, don’t hide. Do you know who you’re talking to? I doubt there’s anything you could say that would freak me out,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You take a deep breath before you mumble “I love you” into your hands.

The silence in the air is deafening. You can’t bring yourself to look at Dieter. Not only were you physically exposed but now you're emotionally exposed too. How he’s made you feel, the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, he makes you feel loved.

And, on the flip side, you want to make him feel as special and cared for as he makes you feel. You know he’s yearned for love himself and you want to pour everything you have into making him feel safe and protected. But sitting here, with your confession lingering in the air is almost too much to bear, the moment too raw. He has to be the one to break this silence because you don’t trust yourself.

“W-what?”

You shake your head, the tears just waiting for the signal to start pouring out as you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the onslaught.

“Hey, c-can you look at me?” Dieter’s hands come gently to your wrists, pulling back.

You take a deep breath, knowing that this is the make-or-break moment, and most likely a break. You feel so stupid for thinking this man could love you, or that you could let yourself feel this way within a week of knowing him. After another breath, you center yourself and finally flutter your eyes open to see Dieter chewing his bottom lip, his eyes watery. He takes a deep breath as you hold yours anticipating what’s to come.

Suddenly the biggest dimpled smile comes across his face. His eyes, which were dark with lust moments ago, are sparkling as they dart around your face. “I love you too.”

“Wait, what?” you scrunch up your face.

“I fucking love you, Belle. Since the moment I saw you in the lobby at the studio. Since the balcony," he cups your face and traces his thumb along your bottom lip, "Since the first time I kissed you. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I thought you would run for the hills,” he chuckles, his shoulders relaxing.

“Wait…what?”

“Baby, I’ve almost caved and told you that I love you like…a bunch of times,” he laughs. “I love you. All of you. And I know there’s still a way for us to go to get to know each other, but I know that I love you with everything I am. I…I've been an outsider my whole life but you… you make me feel seen. And even though I’ve done some really shitty things in my life, you make me want to do better. To be better. And fuck, I’m rambling…I didn’t want you to-”

You cut him off, straddling him and greedily kissing him, threading both hands through his hair and pressing his face close to yours. He wraps his arm around your waist and lays you gently down. His kiss turns more frenzied as he works down your body.

He nestles between your legs, looking up at you as you let out a shaky breath and get a tight grip on hair. That’s all he needed as his fingers and mouth worked in tandem to make you come apart twice. Your legs are shaking and you’re panting as he crawls back up your body. Holding himself above you, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He explores your mouth, starting off gently before growing more passionate. He threads his fingers through your hair and you don’t miss an opportunity to do the same, raking your fingernails down his scalp to his back.

Something in you snaps and you go feral, wanting this man inside of you, now. Your hand comes to his face, pushing him back as you look up at him through your eyelashes, stroking his stubble with your fingertips. “Dee, I…uh…I want you,” you look down between your bodies.

"Are you sure?"

"God, yes, Dee, please," you whine.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes hearing you beg for him. “Fuck, baby. Hold on, let me grab…fuck…I...do you have?” His eyes search around for a condom as he realizes he’s in your room and not his where he had a box in the nightstand in hopes the night would turn out like this.

“Um…it…it’s ok. It’s been a while for me,” you bite your lip. You can’t believe you’re about to do this, but you want him so badly.

“Me too, I…uh, are you sure? I can just go and ge-”

“Dieter, please I can’t wait, I need you now,” you kiss him again.

"Fuck, baby," His lips part, and he lets out a breath. He drags himself down your folds, the anticipation making you squirm. “Ready?” he looks at you as you nod. He sucks his breath in as he gently pushes himself inside. You tilt your head back as you feel a delicious stretch as he slowly works his way in.

He bends your left leg so he can rest his right knee on the bed for leverage. He stills for a moment, both of you looking at each other, smiling. “Goddamn, you feel amazing, I knew you would,” he chuckles.

“You…ah…do too, but please move.”

“Oh shit yea,” he laughs as he braces himself onto his hands.

He starts off slowly pumping in and out, the squelching sounds are obscene but make you wetter. You grip onto his biceps, moaning as his thrusts hit deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, you keep making those sounds baby, I’m not gonna last,” he says between shaky breaths, almost whimpering as he twists his face trying to concentrate so he can keep going.

He feels himself getting close, so in a swift move he flips you so you’re on top. He’s staring up at you, running his hands down your sides. This wasn’t a position you did very often, it left you too exposed. But, the way he was caressing you, telling you how absolutely beautiful you looked, it made you feel like a goddess being worshipped. It gave you the confidence you needed to start rocking against him.

“Use me, baby, I want you to feel good,” he encourages. You lean forward, bracing yourself on the wall as he trusts up into you.

“Fuu…nghh, Dee…I…” you aren’t able to form words.

He flips you back over again, caging you into his arms. He’s kissing you, swallowing your moans as he pumps in and out. You hear the slapping sound of your bodies together, the pace quickening. You still can’t believe that he’s making you feel this good. Sex has never felt like this before. It feels like your bodies are connected, fitting perfectly together.

Dieter kisses you again, moving to your neck, whimpering in your ear as he praises you and tells you how amazing you feel. And he feels amazing too. So good in fact, that you feel the pressure starting to build. You can’t remember the last time that you came this way.

“Stop thinking baby.” He slows down, going deeper and hitting a spot that makes you see stars as you groan and throw your head back, gripping his hair and pulling his head into your neck. “Come for me,” his warm breath hits your throat and you feel the stubble of his beard. “I love you.”

Those last three words were the key. Your breath picks up, your chest moving up and down as you feel yourself coming to the brink. Dieter’s mouth comes to yours as you moan into a kiss.

“Fuck, b-baby, I, nghh,” you manage as the wave crashes over you. His thrusts pick up and he leans his forehead against yours. You can feel the sweat on his brow and you tighten the grip on his hair as his lips crash into yours, your walls fluttering around him.

He doesn’t let up. “W-where, quick, where,” his voice is raspy as he tries to hold on a bit longer.

“Inside…I…I have an implant, you’re…you’re ok,” you pant as one of his hands grips your thigh, hitching it up.

Only a few more pumps and he lets out a guttural moan, panting before he stills draping himself on top of you. Both of you catch your breath before he pushes himself out of you with a groan, laying next to you, an arm draped across your stomach. You instantly miss the feeling of him inside you.

You turn, facing him as he brings you close, kissing your nose and then your forehead. You nuzzle into his neck, basking in the bliss.

He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, “I fucking love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I think you told me once or twice,” you smirk, busting into a laugh as he tickles you. “I love you too, Dieter,” you smile into a kiss which he quickly deepens before you pull back. “Fuck, I gotta go pee, hold on.”

“Wait, I wanna see,” he twitches his eyebrow, looking down your body. He shifts himself down between your legs and gently pushes your folds out so he can see the remnants of his spend spilling out of you. A smirk comes across his face as he moves down to your core. You moan as his tongue passes through your puffy lips, lapping up your combined arousal.

You’re a little overstimulated, so a slight shudder comes over your body. Dieter pulls back, kisses your inner thigh, and taps your hip, giving you the go-ahead to get up. You pad over to the bathroom to take care of what you need to, before coming back into the room and slipping on Dieter’s shirt from this morning.

Dieter is already under the covers. He opens his arms for you to settle in and cuddle next to him.

“W-was that ok?” he finally asks as he traces his fingertips up and down your arm.

You give him a sarcastic look, “Seriously?” He chuckles, bringing you in closer as you connect the freckles on his chest with your fingers. “You’ve ruined all other men for me Dieter Bravo.”

“Good,” you can hear his smirk. “Same. Well, ah …I mean, you…you’re all I want.”

“Me too.”

A/N: How are we feeling? Hopefully, that slow burn was worth it. Right?

I think I’ve mentioned before in some reblog and/or comment replies that Jurassic Park is one of my favorite movies and the island of Kauai is my favorite place in the world. I actually did an ATV tour that was very similar to what Belle and Dieter experienced. I’ve also been to The Beach House and it was beautiful. Mr Rhoorl and I celebrated our honeymoon with a meal there. I think when I’m done with the series I’ll put together a little personal post about all of the references since there’s a lot throughout this series.

Anyway, thank you for reading. We still have more to come with this story and these two…

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Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae / @partyofone3413 / @guelyury / @weho2kcmo / @missladym1981 / @soapjay / @darkheartgatita

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #working title fic

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heartricky · 1 year

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hello👋 can i please request zb1 reaction to their s/o being a producer? like they didnt know that their s/o had produced alot of hit kpop songs or like that😌 (esp imagine gunwook’s s/o produced hot by svt😫) ty in advanced!

omg anon you're so smart, yes, here you go!

this isn't proof read so I'm sorry if there any any mistakes!

word count: 1163

𝐣𝐢𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

as an actor, jiwoong knows all about being constantly busy, so when you suddenly went radio silent to work on a secret project, he couldn't help feel curious about what had gotten you so busy. it was only when he heard the sentence in an interview, "oh and you know y/n l/n? the person who produced the title soundtrack for your new series?" did it make sense as to why you would lock yourself in your office for days at a time, unable to contact him often.

to say that jiwoong was shocked would be an understatement, but the shock was quickly replaced by pure pride, he couldn't believe he had such a hardworking and talented s/o. he definitely helps you get onto producing zb1's title track.

𝐡𝐚𝐨

considering you had never been much of an instrument lover, it shocked has that you knew so much about music composition when he played a new piece on the violin that he had been working on for the last couple of weeks. so upon asking, he found that you had been producing songs every now and again for fun, liking the way that certain instruments and keys worked well together.

he was so impressed, falling even more in love with you, wondering how he had managed to bag such a badass babe.

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧

hanbin had a feeling you were a producer, talking about how layers of tracks on songs blend together and being able to pinpoint where a new section of recordings had taken place when listening to a song in the car with him, but he decided to let you tell him in your own time, he didn't want to pressure you into telling him. he knew what it was like wanting to keep something big about you secret incase of people who wanted to abuse the information.

but when you did tell him, boy, did he give you the biggest, most warmest hug filled with many compliments and temple kisses. you both listened to all of the songs you had produced after that.

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰

as an avid music listener, matthew had always wondered what it would be like to produce some songs, especially now that he would be debuting. it felt like such a cool accomplishment to be able to say you helped produce your own group's songs. so when he mentioned it in passing to you, and your face starting glowing when telling him how to get started and how to download certain softwares that would be most useful when being a beginner.

poor matthew had missed when you told him you were a producer when you first met each other, so he asked "how do you know so much about producing?" giggling you replied, "because its my job? matt, I told you this on our first date". *insert matthew surprised pikachu face*

"oh. I'm sorry I must have missed that. can we listen to the songs you've produced? wait no, let me guess them!"

𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐞

taerae had his suspicions when listening to a song, where the producer tag sounded a bit too much like your voice, so the next time you both saw each other, he decided to play detective and put on one of the songs he thought you had produced.

the way your face glowed with pride when hearing that taerae liked the song you had produced enough to play it in front of you told him everything he needed to know. eventually, once the song finished, he asked the question, and when you nodded your head, taerae couldn't help but feel amazed, "wow, you're so cool do you know that y/n?", "you're even cooler taerae".

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲

when you had mentioned that you were saving up for a specific type of headphone set for your birthday to ricky - which was definitely not cheap - he asked you why you wanted it so badly. telling him why, that you had picked up producing a few songs as a hobby and had wanted to get some more professional items to help boost your career, he bought them immediately, getting them customised to your favourite colour as well, so you could spend the money on a well deserved treat instead.

you had decided to pay back your boyfriend for the kind gift with a couple's trip to see this musical he had been wanting to see for a while, where you both stopped at a strawberry field on the way and ate the delicious berries watching the performance.

he was so proud of you and couldn't believe how hardworking you were, he definitely bragged about having such a cool s/o to his yuehua friends - poor ollie and had didn't hear the end of it for months.

𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐧

gyuvin always wondered why you stayed in the music rooms at school for much longer than you realistically needed to as a music major in the high school. so when he walked into the room one day with a chocolate milk and sweet bread as a snack for you, did he discover the tracks and arrangements of vocals on a large desktop.

after telling him that you had been offered to work on a few songs for some extra money, he gave you the biggest hug ever, telling you how talented you were, jokingly suggesting that you help produce a title track when he debuted.

𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐤

after saying that he would dance to "hot" by seventeen in the star level test, he was shocked when hearing "ahh, yes, did you know y/n l/n produced this song and 'ash' as well, on this album, they worked with woozi directly! at such a young age, they're so talented already."

gunwook went and googled the listed producers on the title track when he finally got access to the internet in the dorms, surprised that your name was there, it only boosted his ego that he had a musically talented and academically talented s/o, just like him.

he definitely interrogated you when he talked to you on the phone later that night, jokingly pouting when you had to rush to tell him that you were under a contract not to tell anyone when helping produce the song, but your worries were quickly brushed away when he told you how much he loved you, and how much he loved the song as well.

𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧

you were one of the producers for 'say my name' on boys planet, so when he saw you in the room for recording the song, he was both equally shocked and amazed that you had been behind the catchy song he was performing to later that week.

he dragged you out into the corridor after recording the song's vocals, kissing your cheek lightly, holding your hand as he told you how gifted you were in music production.

imagine his surprise when you told him you were also producing the title track for when zb1 debuted after the final.

#zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 reactions #zerobaseone #zb1 #boysplanet #boys planet imagines #boysplanet fics #zhanghao #kimjiwoong #kimtaerae #kimgyuvin #ricky #shen ricky #park gunwook #seokmatthew #sunghanbin #hanbin #hanyujin

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getupthestairs · 6 months

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the historical inaccuracies in tgaa are really charming and cute and i do adore them, but one thing i dont understand is making stronghart the Lord Chief Justice, a title created in 2005, as opposed to the WAY cooler-sounding and ridiculously powerful LORD CHANCELLOR - which would have given him nigh-total power over not just the judiciary, but parliament, government AND the police. it just makes more sense thematically In My Opinion, with how he abuses his power but is never satisfied with it, to give him an even More powerful status.

#lord chancellor was actually split into three seperate jobs in 2005 because it had yknow. ridiculous power over every branch of government #those jobs being lord chief justice speaker of the house of lords aaand the other one i cant remember off the top of my head :>#alastop #tgaa #dgs #aa #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dai gyakuten saiban

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punkeropercyjackson · 28 days

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Hobie is easily the most Percy Jackson-coded Spiderperson.He's got the Percy HumorTM and the expressions are either intimdating or goofy asf thing,he goes by a nickname because his full name is lame sounding,he's widely regarded as the coolest ever in-universe and rightfully so but is a huge dork when you get down to do it yet that somehow makes him even cooler and he seems chill and is for the most part but a lot of shit he's done to his enemies is NOT appropriately rated for being pg.His childhood was beyond fucked up so when he got older he turned into a Team Parent to younger heroes and is also the most experienced one in the main cast which is a big reason they look up to him in addition to how kind and caring he is to them and he thinks he's not good enough to be a role model yet he makes them better at world saving than way older people have.He's described as so attractive it's shocking(and i can see where it's coming from platonically)and he's a trans femme who only comes across as masc to normies and he dresses punk to match his personality and record like Percy would if the mc ball wasn't dropped for so long.He's got a pet supernatural dog(Spidermutt),he's autistic,he listens to rock and metal and he even took in a younger girl who's pastel,has a ghost motif and a significant amount of heroism under her belt pre-meeting him and the circumstances that brought them together was the most traumatic event in her life and they became found siblings with them mutually helping eachother heal from trauma.We need to let go of the Peter Parker allegations because the Percy Jackson variant title rightfully belongs to Hobie and i mean yeah Hobie's british and Percy's obsessed with NY but Harry Potter's british too and they were a whole ass entire genre of crossover the two of them alone and there's no evidence for Percy wanting to be a cop and a sellout but there is for him being black if you go only by the books and therefore Hobie's already like Percy by being a black guy with wicks so i'm RIGHT

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mariaofdoranelle · 11 months

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Look at Us Now — Ch. 9

Fic masterlist

Look who’s back three days late! Thank y’all for your patience, I promise we’ll get back to our usual schedule this Thursday ❤️

I’m using @autumnbabylon’s prompt, and I’d also like to thank @renxzs for helping me with a few chapter titles (my translation was a huge mess)

Warnings: language, Fenrys (he’s on fire today)

Words: 5,7k (I’m never beating the irregular chapters allegations)

Rowan hovered the spoon with chili sauce over the freshly-cut mangos as he wondered if he should pour it or not. Maybe he could put the sauce in a separate container, in case she reconsiders.

One month and a half being in charge of Aelin’s food wasn’t enough to prepare him for some of her cravings. This morning, she texted him asking for hot chili sauce along with her mango, and an onion.

He was still hoping she requested the onion because Aedion’s house ran out of ingredients.

His phone pinged on the counter.

Aelin: where r u

Aelin: im abt to climb on a tree and pick some rose apples

Snorting, he thought about how she made Aedion do that last week. It was June, which meant the Rose Apple trees spread across their military housing complex were bearing fruit, its smell enticing pregnant women’s senses.

Rowan: I’ll be right there.

One quick look at the clock made him rush the lunch boxes into the huge thermal bags. Every day, he prepped several meals and snacks for Aelin to eat throughout the day. Rowan only let her run out of full lunch boxes once, and her reaction was enough so he’d never let that happen again.

Earlier today, Aelin texted him a very cryptic message telling him to meet her at another address, a short walk from his place. Before leaving his house, Rowan didn’t recognize the pair of fancy sneakers beside Fenrys’ at the front door. At least they were quiet last night. He couldn’t think about that right now, Aelin was waiting for him.

Despite his current unease, the sound of children playing at the playground in front of his house made him smile. It was usual for a Saturday morning, and Rowan never gave much thought to it until he realized one day he’d have a little one squealing there too. The reminder sent a soft smile to his lips, feeling the kind of warmth he knew wasn’t due to Doranelle’s sun burning his skin.

Which led him back to Fenrys. Rowan never minded his friend’s parade of one-night stands, but he couldn’t think of raising a kid in this kind of environment. He noticed Aelin’s car parked in front of a white, bare house. He’d have to figure out this thing about Fenrys later.

The front door was open. Rowan knocked on the door, hovering over the threshold until he heard Aelin’s voice telling him to come in. This house has the same layout as his, but it was completely bare. No lighting, no furniture, just the smell of dust.

He found Aelin in the kitchen. Standing on a ladder, its hinges squeaked while she changed a light bulb. Rowan’s heart almost jumped out of his throat as he rushed her way. Careful enough to not startle her, he picked her up by the hips and placed her on the floor, not caring about her squeal of protest.

Aelin rubbed the area below her belly. “You can’t press over a pregnant woman’s bladder. It’s rude.”

“What the fuck were you doing?” Rowan had both hands on her shoulders, his breathing still fast.

“Changing the light bulb.” Aelin took a step back and opened her arms, grinning. “Welcome to my new house.”

“Huh.” Rowan looked around, taking in… nothing. The house had nothing. “When do you plan to move in?”

“I just did.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “You did not.”

Aelin took him by the hand and started showing her arrangements. “I stole Aedion’s cooler and one old microwave Uncle Orlon had.” She led him to the master bathroom and showed one mattress and a suitcase on the floor. “I’ll sleep here until my furniture arrives next week. I bought it all online.”

Horrified, Rowan slowly shook his head. “You’re not.”

“What?”

“Does Aedion know about this?”

She crossed her arms. “Why’s that important?”

“Aelin…” Rowan looked around, taking all the nothingness of the house in. “You’re not sleeping here. I can’t see one good reason for you to.”

She was glaring at him with a high chin, looking defiant from head to toe. Rowan had been doing everything he could to keep the easy friendship they built in the past weeks, but he couldn’t put his foot down on this.

“Well, it’s my house, and sleeping here won’t affect the baby, so you don’t get to say a word about it.” A pause. “Neither does Aedion, because if I look at him one more time, I swear to Mala, Rowan, I’m going to flip the fuck out.”

He flexed his jaw. “What did he do?”

“Everything!” Aelin flailed her arms around and started pacing around the room. “He’s so annoying! He making jokes about my cravings, and then he goes and steals a bite of my food, and then keeps suggesting ridiculous baby names.” She was finger-counting her cousin’s shenanigans, face reddening with each example of his teasing. “A few days ago, he said—“ Aelin stopped speaking to take a deep breath and look up, but her eyes were already wet. “He told me to name our daughter Wiggly Jiggly!” Her lips wobbled, and she looked away, hiding her teary face. “That’s such a horrible name.”

Oh, fuck. This wasn’t the first outburst of pregnancy hormones he witnessed, and Rowan was sure he’d never be ready for them.

He sat on the mattress and patted the spot beside him. “C’mere.”

Aelin obliged, laying down with her head on his lap, facing away from him. He just caressed her hair and let her be, knowing very well she didn’t like to cry in front of people, even if she couldn’t help it.

“For what it’s worth, I’d never let our daughter’s name be Wiggly Jiggly.”

She groaned. “You find this funny?”

“No,” he lied. It seemed to be all good-natured cousin teasing, but Rowan did a mental note to ask Aedion to tone down the name suggestions.

“Did I tell you he ate half of my mango yesterday?”

“That’s terrible.”

“He apologized when I started crying, but I haven't forgiven him yet. The apology mango he gave me wasn’t as juicy.”

Rowan snorted. “I have a very good mango supplier.”

She sniffed. “I know you do.”

Aelin’s puffy red nose was so adorable Rowan loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to peck it with kisses because of how cute she looked, and then completely crush and destroy whatever threat made her cry.

“I have an idea.”

Aelin made a sound that was somewhere a hum and a purr. She was no better than a house cat when he ran his fingers through her hair like this.

“If you don’t want to live with Aedion anymore.” He trailed, pondering his words. “You can stay with me. Just until your house is ready,” Rowan quickly added the last part, before she could protest.

Aelin turned her body so she could lie facing him. Her eyes scanned his face, reading how much he meant it. “I don’t know…”

“I have a very comfortable guest room, but you can take mine if you want. Or my roommate’s, I can kick him out.” Aelin chuckled, eyes blissfully closed as he caressed her scalp. Rowan continued, “You can take a nap there, and when you wake up, we can discuss it over freshly baked cookies.”

Her lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “You’ve always been good at dirty talk, Ro.”

It should be illegal, the heat that flooded over Rowan’s body. Especially when they agreed their affair was over. Whenever he looked, scrambling his mind for a decent thought, his brain conjured the memory of Aelin’s flushed face and aroused looks.

He cleared his throat. “Is that a yes?”

“Let’s see how soft your bed is, Lieutenant.”

For Mala’s sake. Rowan let out a string of curses inside his head as he forced his gaze on the ceiling. She had to be doing this on purpose. Which reminded of the other menace he had to deal with.

Rowan: You have 3 minutes to get rid of your boy toy.

Fenrys: how do you know it’s a boy?

Rowan: The sneakers

He helped Aelin get up from the mattress, which was another reason she shouldn’t sleep here. It would kill her with back pain, considering her bump was bigger each day. He opened the chat again.

Rowan: Aelin may or may not spend the next few weeks in our place

Fenrys: nice

Fenrys: does it mean you’ll cook for me too?

Rowan: I already cook for you.

Fenrys: i know

Fenrys: but the pregnant lady stole my chef

When he rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, Aelin was carefully studying him.

“I was letting Fenrys know you’re coming over.

“For the nap, right?”

He didn’t answer.

Aelin slowly shook her head. “I’m going to disturb your routine.”

Rowan squeezed her hand. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re being a big Buzzard right now, did you know that?”

Rowan tilted his head. “A what?”

Aelin tried to portray a serious look, but she was clamping her lips together, trying not to laugh. “A Buzzard. Because you’re hovering.”

After that, Rowan offered to drive her to his place, but Aelin refused, saying she was pregnant, not disabled. His only response was to chuckle and stay close to her during their short walk, in case she tripped or felt ill.

Rowan didn’t mind being called a Buzzard, as long as she didn’t mind that he acted like one.

˜˜

As much as Maisie deserved the best of the best on her birthday, Rowan felt like this outrageously expensive condensed milk was laughing at his face. He didn’t even pay for it, his parents did, but it was a matter of principles.

From the other side of the kitchen counter, Rory barely acknowledged her son’s distressed state. “Being cheap doesn’t look cute, Rowan.”

“Cheap?” His voice came out a pitch higher than he intended. “I’m not cheap, I just do a cost-benefit analysis before buying something, and it still ends up being expensive. But your groceries weren’t expensive, they were outrageous.”

Rory pointed a finger at her son. “Your job is to parent Maisie and teach her to be responsible.” She pointed at herself. “My job is to spoil her rotten, and that includes baking her overpriced cakes.”

“And giving overpriced gifts,” Rowan murmured to himself while organizing his shelf.

“You’re still bitter about that?”

Rowan looked at his mom dead in the eye. “You could’ve bought her a toy. You could’ve bought her a princess costume.” A dramatic pause. “You bought her an acoustic drum set.”

“It was your dad’s idea.” Rory beamed. “She’ll love it.”

“I will never know peace again.”

“Is Sellene coming tomorrow?” His mother asked, changing the subject.

Rowan resumed putting groceries away. “Just for Skull’s Bay on Saturday.”

After tomorrow morning’s surprise, Maisie had something with Aelin at Orlon’s, and on the weekend they’d go to the pirate-themed restaurant every kid in Doranelle City loved.

“It’ll be just us and Aelin, then?”

“Just us.”

“And Aelin?”

Rowan gave her a hard look, and his mother’s shoulders dropped.

“I thought things were better between the two of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair as if it’s take the frustration out of his mind. Yes, they were communicating better. It only erased one of the problems they had. And to be fair, it’s much easier to look Aelin in the face when she’s shooting daggers at him than when she’s smiling because of something their daughter did. It made him feel more at ease with his choices.

“We’re fighting less, yes, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“You’re not friends yet, that’s alright. But is the birthday yours or Maisie’s?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because you just told me you didn’t invite Aelin because she’s not your friend, but this is not your party. She’s Maisie’s mom, Rowan, it doesn’t matter if you’re friends or not.”

“Well, Aelin’s throwing another party in the evening and didn’t invite me either.”

Rory shrugged. “I don’t care about the guest list for her party. In my parties, Aelin will always be a guest.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Your party?”

It was Maisie’s party at Rowan’s house.

“I’m making the food, which means I have a say about who gets invited.”

It didn’t, but his mother was impossible to argue with.

“Fine. I’ll text her when I’m done here.”

Rowan didn’t even mind Aelin’s presence there, it was just how they operated since last year. But they were better, and maybe he should have more initiative. Rowan scrubbed the flour container clean a lot more than he needed, thinking about this over and over.

“You know how I feel about this, son.” his mother turned to him from the other side of the kitchen.

His shoulders went rigid. “I know, could you not—“

“You should’ve married her.”

Rowan spilled flour all over the counter while opening the sack.

It wasn’t the first time his mother expressed her feelings about this, but they got fewer and far between as time passed. Going from encouraging him to propose while Aelin was pregnant to… this.

“We’re seeing a therapist after years apart. Can you imagine the shitshow we’d be if we were actually together?”

His mom had to understand this. If Rowan had been telling this to himself so much he had the words memorized, it had to make sense.

She didn’t seem to, though. “Every couple has fights, Rowan. It just needs to balance out with how much sex—“

Grimacing, he felt his upper arms quiver. “Could you not?”

”Alright.” Rory sighed. “I’m just saying you chose to have just the bad end of the deal. Apart from Maisie, that is.”

Fed up with this conversation, Rowan felt his pulse faster each second. He identified the anger he was feeling and repeated to himself that he would not snap at his mother over and over as he slowly wiped his hands on a cloth.

“I know you mean well, but I don’t like it when you tell me what I should’ve done,” Rowan explained in a carefully controlled tone. At that point, he had all of Yrene’s pdfs memorized. “It makes me feel…”

“You can talk to me,” Rory insisted when silence stretched, lips pursed as she looked too concerned for his liking. “How does that make you feel?”

Resentful. Frustrated. Hurt. There was no point in admitting that, though. The worst part is that no matter how much Rowan forced his face to look neutral, his mother still read him like a book. He drew out a long breath. “I need to pick Maisie up from school.”

The kitchen couldn’t be more silent after that.

˜˜

Turns out shoving his feelings down his throat was just what Rowan needed to go on with his day. His phone pinged around an hour past Maisie’s bedtime, and he already knew who it was.

Aelin: she’s still up??

Rowan: She’s too excited

Rowan: The first party I’ll be throwing for myself, *if* she falls asleep.

Aelin: lol lmk when i can come

Since they planned two separate celebrations before inviting each other, Maisie was now having two parties on the same day with both parents.

A small smile made its way into Rowan’s lips as he watched Maisie babbling in her kitten pajamas about her birthday tomorrow. She barely noticed he was using his phone, and if his little girl even suspected what was happening soon, her chances of falling asleep would be ruined.

Rowan: You don’t need to, I’ve got this

Aelin: stop fussing

Aelin: and text me when she’s out

“…I also like my birthday because I don’t have to brush teeth.”

Rowan crossed his arms. “Who told you that?”

“Mommy!” Maisie’s voice was more high-pitched than normal, and she looked a little too eager for his response, wearing a maniac smile. His daughter was such a bad liar, and Rowan hoped that never changed. At least not before teen years. She tapped the side of her head. “I have it in my rememberys.”

Rowan felt the warmth in his chest and refused to correct this mispronunciation. They got rarer each year, and he was enjoying the remains of this phase before it stayed just in his rememberys.

“Come on, Mais.” He kissed her forehead. “The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner your birthday will be here.”

She didn’t only close her eyes, but squished her eyelids together as if it’d make her fall asleep faster. “Maybe I can turn 7 and not 5 when I wake up.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s not how birthdays work.”

“But I want to be older than Charlie!”

After a lot of wrangling and lavender sleep spray on her pillow and reading books about hippos and answering that no, tomorrow isn’t Mrs. Hippo’s birthday as well, Maisie’s tiredness finally overthrew her birthday euphoria.

Rowan: She’s asleep.

Aelin: k. i’ll be there in 5

As carefully as he could, he removed himself from Maisie’s strong hold and went to the guest bedroom.

Rowan knocked on the door, even if it was open. “Everything alright there? She’s asleep.”

His parents let out a collective sigh, as if they were the ones fighting Maisie’s frenzy with their lives.

“Finally!” Rory whisper-yelled while getting up from the bed. She tapped on Rowan’s shoulders at the threshold. ”Time to do some baking.”

As loud as his mother could be sometimes, at least she understood that this preparation needed to be as silent as possible. If his daughter wakes up and sees what they’re up to… for Mala’s sake, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Crouching, his dad dragged a huge suitcase from under the bed and opened to reveal the new bane of Rowan’s existence.

Maisie’s acoustic drum set.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Buying her drums wasn’t enough, you got one kit so big it needed its own suitcase.”

His dad was smiling so much at that thing it showed off every crinkle around his eyes. ”Nothing more than what our Maisy Daisy deserves. And it’s pink!”

Rowan crossed his arms, feeling a little torn. As much as he hated the idea of leaving a very active kid with the loudest, messiest musical instrument of them all, it could be overwhelming when his parents and Maisie were together. Rory and Owen were the kind of doting grandparents Maisie deserves, and it warmed his heart to see how much his little girl was loved.

A notification from his phone snapped Rowan out of his thoughts.

Aelin: where r u??????

He frowned at his phone, confused.

Rowan: At home?

Aelin: GREAT. could you pls answer the front door????

Cursing under his breath, he quickly dismissed himself to get the door.

“Don’t worry about me, son! Sellene sent the link on how to assemble this.”

“Of course she did,” Rowan called over his shoulder from the hall.

Rowan’s heartbeat was a little quicker than he intended while fumbling with the door handle. He didn’t want to upset Aelin tonight, but

“Gods, Rowan, I was knocking for ages!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, but then frowned. “Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “And wake up Maisie?”

He grimaced. Their daughter didn’t wake up that easily, but he was actually glad she didn’t take the risk.

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his head. “Mom’s cooking, Dad’s assembling her drums, I’ll do the decoration.”

She blinked, eyes widened. “I’m sorry, drums?”

“Yes.” Rowan mimicked playing with drumsticks with the dullest face possible, to portray how unhappy he was with it. “Drums.”

“Dear Mala, this—“ Aelin cackled into her palm, shoulders trembling as she tried not to be loud. “You are so fucked,” she wheezed.

He squinted his eyes at her amusement, arms crossed. “Are you done?”

Of course she’d find this funny. The drum set was too big to fit into Maisie’s backpack when Rowan dropped her off at Aelin’s house.

“Alright, alright.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I can’t cook, and I’m not a percussion girlie. What do we’ve got?”

She was carefully silent the whole time Rowan showed his decoration plans.

“You got…” Aelin wrinkled her nose. ”Orange, pink, red and green balloons?”

“Maisie likes those colors!”

“But this is a terrible palette!” She complained, waving a hand at the packs of balloons displayed on the table, but then something about his face made her stop. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, I…” from Aelin’s furrowed brows, Rowan knew she was trying to mentally fit her unkind words into Yrene’s Guide On How To Communicate With Kindness. “I’m not a fan of the color scheme you chose. I think we can do better for Maisie.”

“Alright.” Rowan’s posture relaxed. “I’m listening.”

Rowan still didn’t know how to feel about this new technique. They were always saying how much they acknowledged each other’s efforts and feelings and respectfully disagreed. Sometimes, it made his interactions with Aelin feel too robotic, unnatural. It gave him a weird hollow feeling to see the two of them like this, but it was for the best. They were doing the best they could for Maisie.

After some explanations Rowan didn’t pay much attention to, Aelin decided the pink and orange balloons went better with the number 5 rose gold balloon he bought, and it was settled.

She rubbed her hands together. “Where’s the balloon thingy?”

“The what?”

Aelin gestured with her hands, but he could only understand a small, squared shape. “That thing we use to fill the balloons.”

Rowan tilted his head. “Our lungs?”

“Boo! Boring!” Aelin protested, but she was smirking at him.

He sat on the couch with the pink pack of balloons and tossed the orange one at her. “Come on, I’d like to get more than three hours of sleep tonight.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, lungs too busy to speak, being interrupted only when Aelin groaned about the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

Her eyes were full of mischief. “Do you think your mom will let me take a bite?”

“Only after Maisie wakes up,” his mom warned from the kitchen’s threshold, pointing between the two of them with a dirty whisk. Then she aimed a soft grin at Aelin. “But I’m making those chocolate hazelnut cookies.”

She sagged back on the couch, eyes closed while wearing a small, blissful smile. “Your mom is the best.”

“Thanks, darlin’!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Aelin chuckled and turned to him. “Shall we get the tape?”

Rowan shook his head. “Nope, it’ll ruin the walls.”

“Really?” She had her arms crossed and brows raised. “Are you worried it’ll ruin Maisie’s drawings? Because it doesn’t look like you care about the paint.”

Completely ignoring Aelin’s taunt, he kneeled in front of her and tapped his shoulder. “Hop on.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way the corner of her lip twitched. “This is terrible for your back.”

“You think I can’t take you?” Rowan wore a playful smile while watching Aelin’s blood rush into her cheeks. “Be careful, you’re about to bruise a man’s ego.”

Resigned, she carefully sat on his shoulders, cursing under her breath when he got up. When Aelin grabbed a fistful of his hair to support herself, Rowan’s body immediately tingled. It brought him back to another time when she’d yank his hair the same way, but he was quick to shrug it off. His memories were a menace.

“Okay…” holding Aelin’s legs, he kicked a balloon up and she caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding his hair. “Now rub it in my hair and put it on the ceiling.”

She was quiet for a second. “You want me to do what?”

He squeezed her calf for reassurance, since they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “I need you to make the balloon electrostatically charged enough to stick it to the ceiling.”

“And that’s better than tape?” He couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t sound happy.

“For Mala’s sake, Aelin, I’m an engineer! Just rub the damn thing in my hair.”

She kicked his torso with the heel of her foot. “Where are the manners Yrene taught you?”

“His mother too!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, embracing his defeat. He was helpless when the women in his family ganged up on him. “Please.”

“Here we go.” Aelin did as he asked, and let out a squeal of delight when the balloon adhered to the ceiling. “It worked!”

“It had to. It’s a law of physics.”

She playfully kicked him again. “Killjoy.”

This was nice. The weight of Aelin on his shoulders didn’t even cause an itch, maybe because Rowan felt so much lighter right now he didn’t even notice the extra weight on his back. Just like he didn’t notice time running, only realizing how late it was when his parents went to the living room to say goodbye.

After they finished decorating the ceiling, Aelin started on the wall while he rested on the couch for a few minutes. As much as the orthopedist beside him disagreed, there’s no running from back pain after 30. In fact, at this point in his life, if Rowan didn’t wake up in some sort of physical pain, that’d probably mean he’s dead.

“What’re you doing?” He asked her as she grabbed the pack of green balloons, after they made a half-wall of pink flowers.

She filled a small one and placed it on the corner of one balloon flower. “A leaf! You wanted more green.”

That gave him a faint, very tired smile. Rowan barely remembered their disagreement earlier about which colors they were using, but apparently she did.

She sat on the couch next to him after adding a few more leaves to the flower wall. “I can help you with your old man's back pain if you keep teaching me cool Physics tricks. How about that?”

He snorted. “That’s basic high school Physics.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Of course you were the nerd.”

“And you weren’t?”

“Nope. Too cool for that.“ Aelin tried to conceal a distant look on her face as she reminisced, ”I was hot and depressed. Had bigger things going on than physics.”

Rowan stared at her, wide-eyed. “How did you get into med school without studying?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”

The TV’s remote control was right by her side, so Aelin turned it on Netflix. He didn’t feel like watching TV yet, though. Rowan didn’t miss the part about her being depressed during her teenage years, especially how she tried to laugh it off. The same way she downplayed her going to therapy weeks ago.

“So…” Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you now? With the… Yrene stuff.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “We’re doing better, right? At least that’s the impression I got from the last few weeks.”

Now that he was paying more attention, he realized Aelin sometimes talked about family while answering his questions about her. Rowan didn’t know if this was intentional, so he didn’t pressure her to correct her answer, but he didn’t like it either.

“I think so too.”

“And now that we don’t fight as much and I don’t spend half of my time being angry at you, I realized I have all this energy I can focus on something else.”

“Like what?”

He glanced at Aelin from the corner of his eye. She looked calm, relaxed. Maybe she didn’t lie to him about the reason she was seeing a therapist. Maybe Rowan was just being a worrywart and worrying about things he shouldn’t.

“I’m reading more, but sometimes I think about getting back into playing the piano too.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “And sometimes I think maybe Maisie could use some siblings.”

“You’re pregnant?” Rowan blurted, completely ruining the mood they were in.

“What?” She jerked at the couch, staring at him. “Why would you think that?”

“You just brought babies up!”

Why in hell was Rowan’s heartbeat so fast?

“Gods, no.” She sighed, relaxing again. “I just get pensive around Maisie’s birthdays, that’s all.”

That definitely wasn’t all. Considering having more kids just because one turned five isn’t a thing. Rowan felt his chest burn and tighten. It felt wrong to have his family fixed just so she could finally grow another, but maybe not in Aelin’s head. Maybe he was naive to think just him and Maisie would be enough for her.

Sensing something was wrong with him, she pressed play on a half-watched show on his TV. Good. His eyelids were starting to drop, but he was a trained military man. He could survive under the hardest conditions, especially exhaustion.

˜˜

Rowan woke up with Fenrys Moonbeam slapping the side of his head. He was laying on the couch with his legs intertwined with Aelin’s, who apparently fell asleep with her head on the other end.

Turns out his friend crashed into his daughter’s birthday breakfast because he assumed there’d be food, but everyone just shrugged it off as Fenrys being Fenrys and went on with the party.

As predicted, Maisie was a little bubble of excitement. Rowan had no idea what kind of bribery his parents would do to take her to school after that, or why they insisted on doing it in the first place.

It was all nice and easy, but the second Fenrys got him alone in the car, the questions started.

“Did a bug bite your ass on that old couch?”

Rowan had his eyes narrowed at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too stiff for your daughter’s birthday. Spill.”

He grimaced, hoping Maisie didn’t notice that. There was one thing going on inside his head today, but Rowan decided to give Fenrys some other answer. “Did you see my parent’s present? I’ll never enjoy silence again.”

Fenrys clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned off the radio. “When Maisie pisses you off by being a little hellion, you do that thing where you’re making pissy faces while trying not to smile. Now you’re just full pissy.”

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and she ignored the hollowness inside his chest as he recalled part of his conversation with Aelin last night. He was probably going to regret sharing this, but it was done now.

“She definitely wasn’t just thinking about it. She’s on the hunt.”

Rowan tilted his head. “The hunt?”

“Listen, man, Aelin’s different. The way she’s lighter when she talks, you can’t fake that shit.” Fenrys was counting on his fingers with one hand the same way they’d do on a mission, before becoming drill instructors. “She’s happier. Each year, her ovaries only get closer to the shrinking age or whatever. She’s on the hunt. She wants Mr. Right, and she wants him now.”

Rowan faked a bored look now that his friend could look at him during the red light. “Go on. Without the ovaries part, please.”

It was so frustrating how easily he engaged in Fenrys’ nonsense. But if he did, it must hold some truth, right?

“We need to avoid The Sam Mess from happening again.” Fenrys’ voice was so serious Rowan could barely believe it came out of his friend’s mouth.

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a mess. She didn’t- green light!” Rowan winced when the car harshly took off. There was a reason he didn’t let Maisie drive with Uncle Fen. “Aelin didn’t tell me about him, probably to avoid said mess.”

“Nope, I’m talking about you. You were a mess.”

“What’s your point?” Rowan was definitely going to snap at Fenrys if he mentioned Lieutenant Cortland again.

“My point?” His friend raised his hand in surrender and Rowan gripped the steering wheel to save them from a car crash. Fenrys immediately got back to it, cursing. “My point is to save my best friend from endless heartbreak.”

“Not an endless heartbreak, that ship sailed years ago.” A pause. Fuck, he was too curious to shut Fenrys out now. “But what do you mean?”

“It’s a complicated plan with many, many steps.” His friend gave him a look as if daring Rowan to disagree or find it funny. “But when the time comes, you’ll need to be fucking someone hotter than her.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. Like it was an easy task.

Over the years, he had a few flings. Real flings, not the kind where people move in and have children together, since Aelin insists on labeling what they had like this. But these affairs happened sporadically, and Rowan never considered turning any of them into something serious.

Showing up with some arm candy out of the blue just to spite Aelin sounded petty and desperate. There was no way Fenrys was talking him into it.

His friend continued, “Being hotter than her next boyfriend works too, but that’s harder to control.”

“You know, I’m almost regretting telling you this.“

“You have an advantage over Aelin—“

“If you’re trying to suggest I’m near as good-looking or interesting as her—“

“Not that.” Fenrys gave him a quick apologetic look. “But you’re a dude. Dudes are like taxi drivers.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Not one of your theories again.”

“Not mine. Sex and the City’s.” Fenrys raised a finger without taking his hands off the steering wheel. “We see someone there who looks like they won’t kill us, and they hop in. That’s how dudes work. Have you ever put your love life on hold because you were hoping to get the right person?”

Rowan refused to answer this question. “This is so sexist I can barely believe it’s coming out of a queer person’s mouth.”

“It’s Sex and the City wisdom, man. Those four chicks just know things.”

“So, basically…” Rowan sighed, weighing the absurdity of it all. “You’re telling me that being a slut will make me feel better about Aelin looking for a new family.”

“That’s the quick fix, yes. You should really talk to Lorcan too, though.” Fenrys glanced at him, smirking like the devil. “But in the meanwhile, I can even help you with a Tinder profile.”

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my-meadowlark · 7 months

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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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