#i have a pair of circle glasses and they're my favorite pair of glasses i ever owned | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-meadowlark · 1 year

Text

Fic: Thermodynamics [Barbie/Gloria]

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

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

AO3 LINK

Water is extremely complicated.

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

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

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

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

She can work with that.

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

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

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

She loves Sasha's Bio textbook.

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

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

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

"Okay, Nerd Barbie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Barbie just lets her smile answer for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, no."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Barbie can tell she means that, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Barbie smiles, because she already knows.

—-

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

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

"How are you feeling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You help me feel better."

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

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

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

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

"Can you stay with me?"

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

"I don't—"

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

"It's not— that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I trust you."

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

"What? What do you—?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

It's just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So she... lies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you faking a cold?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know—"

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

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

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

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

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

"What was the context?"

"What?"

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

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

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

"Because!"

"That's not a real answer!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

"I'm sorry if you—"

"Kiss me now."

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No more faking, please."

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

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

39 notes · View notes

senashenta · 2 months

Text

What No One Knows

Title: What No One Knows

Pairing: Lambden

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Language

Summary: Lambert is working a case in Pontiac and finds himself in a bar, as usual. He summons Aiden, this time on purpose, for the first time in a while, and the two of them talk about a few things they have been dancing around for some time.

Notes: More SPN AU. Haven't written in this AU in a long time! The world these lil fics take place in is like a mashup of Earth and The Continent, and the lore and monsters are a mix of SPN and The Witcher. I highly recommend you read my other fics, Crossroads and Call My Name, before this one, if you haven't already. They're both explicit though. Lambert and Aiden are my favorites in this AU, which is probably obvious. I have like three more short fics with them in this AU that I'm currently working on as well. Also a Geralt and Jaskier one. Yay new ADHD meds. (Can also be read HERE on AO3.)

WHAT NO ONE KNOWS By Senashenta

The little business card in his wallet—a literal Calling Card—was getting a bit beat up, but it still worked and that was what mattered. It was the only way Lambert had of calling Aiden, after all, aside from going to a crossroads somewhere and burying a box of tokens—and even then, he was just as likely to get another demon as he was to get Aiden. He didn’t want another demon.

This thing he had going on with Aiden was nearly a year strong at this point and still didn’t make any sense to him, why he continued calling to the demon or why Aiden kept coming when he did call—why they continued to fall into bed together on a regular basis, when Lambert was out on solo hunts and craving companionship.

There were other, probably better, definitely more moral, ways to seek company than hooking up with the literal spawn of Satan, but for some reason Lambert found himself turning to Aiden time and time again, despite all of that. And with him being a Witcher, it was all the more wrong.

But they just… fit. Somehow. In some way that Lambert couldn’t quite figure out and had stopped trying to figure out countless orgasms ago. He was wary by nature, but in this case, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Because when it came down to it, Lambert was…

Lonely.

Sure, he had his brothers. He had Vesemir. He even had Jaskier, as irritating as the angel could be at times, but it just never seemed to be enough. And something about Aiden filled the void inside him, though he wasn’t sure why or how. He supposed the sex helped.

What he didn’t get was why Aiden was humoring him the way he was, always arriving in a timely manner when he called, appearing more than happy to be there, to spend time with him—to fuck him. Surely the demon had better (okay, worse, probably) things to do than entertain a lonesome or occasionally just bored—or horny—Witcher.

In any case, Lambert was in somewhat of a conundrum now because they had established a relationship of sorts—albeit a fucked up one—and he had to do everything in his power to hide it from his family. Because they would say he was being stupid (he knew that) and reckless (he was), and if they found out that Aiden was possessing the body of a former-Witcher? They would hunt him down and kill him just for that alone.

And Lambert didn’t want that. He liked Aiden. He—

Gods. Was he actually falling for a demon?

Lambert scoffed into his drink. He was currently seated in a corner booth of a run-down bar in Pontiac, into his second glass of whiskey and making his way toward a third. The case he was in town for, a rather nasty poltergeist, was proving to be difficult and it was… annoying. A poltergeist should be an easy hunt, not leave him chasing himself in circles the way this one was.

But this particular poltergeist had an especially mean streak, and he’d already lost someone to it. One of the members of the family who currently lived in the house, a little girl called Lily, and she didn’t deserve to die bloody. Not the way she did. Not at all. She was liable to become a ghost herself, all things considered.

And the only way to reliably get rid of the thing was to track down the former-person now-poltergeist’s bones, salt and burn them. He had already tried cleansing the house and failed miserably. The attempt had only riled the spirit up—gotten that little girl killed in the end. That was all on him, something he would have to carry from here on out. But he already had so many deaths on his conscience that one more was just one more. He could cope.

The problem now was that he couldn’t find the right graveyard to dig up the corpse. There were five cemeteries in Pontiac and the grave he was looking for didn’t appear to be in any of them. He had gone over all of them with a fine-toothed comb and nada.

So here Lambert was, drowning his sorrows with alcohol and thinking about the weirdest relationship in his life, when he really should have been out looking for the grave some more. Going over the graveyards again. Instead, he took another sip of his drink and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, then flipped it open and tugged the business card out of the very back slot.

He looked at it contemplatively before rubbing his thumb over the now-faded embossed lettering once, then twice. Then a third time just to be sure.

“What’s with the face, Lambs?” A familiar voice spoke up from across the booth only a few seconds later. “You look like someone ate your puppy.”

Lambert lifted his gaze toward where Aiden was now seated, eyes flitting over the demon’s form. He took another sip of his drink. “Bitch of a case, is all.”

“What have I told you about drinking alone?” Aiden asked with a little quirk of a smile, and raised a hand to call a waitress over, ordering himself a whiskey—and another one for Lambert, as well, since his was getting low. When she delivered them, he paid her with a twenty and told her to keep the change. She walked away smiling and Aiden turned his attention back to Lambert. “Much better.”

Lambert downed the last of his glass and pushed it aside, reaching for the glass Aiden had just ordered for him. “I told you not to call me that.”

“It’s a pet name.” Aiden chuckled, “considering what we’ve got going, I should be allowed.”

“And what have we ‘got going’, exactly?” Lambert asked around the rim of his glass, eyes sharp and calculating, studying Aiden’s every move, his every expression. He already knew them all by heart, but still. “No, really, Aiden. I’m curious, tell me.”

“Did you call me here just to pick a fight?” Aiden asked, tilting his head.

Lambert made an irritated noise and downed his new drink in one gulp, setting the glass down a little harder than was absolutely necessary. “No! I—I called you because…” He trailed off, glancing away. He had called Aiden because he was feeling lost and frustrated and something about the demon now seated in front of him always seemed to soothe those kinds of feelings away. “I’m having a shitty day and I just wanted to see you.” He muttered, instead of saying all that.

Aiden studied him for a moment before his expression shifted into something amused, almost fond in nature. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Fuckin’…” Lambert rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes with a groan. “Poltergeist. Killed a kid on my watch. Godsdammit.” Dropping his arms back down, he averted his gaze and managed, “and having you around makes it better. So, I just. I called you.”

There was a long silence after that while Aiden just looked him over, eyeing Lambert over the edge of his glass. Then he set his drink down—much more gently than Lambert had been—and sighed, shaking his head. “Lambert, it was just one kid. I’m sure it could have been much worse. Poltergeists can be nasty sons of bitches.”

Lambert glared. “One kid still counts.” He hissed. Sometimes he forgot that Aiden was a demon, but times like this brought the realization back full force. “Don’t say shit like that to me again.”

Aiden held his hands up, palms out in a placating gesture. “Sorry.” And then, “I am… glad you called me, though, Lambs. It’s been a while. I was starting to think you were over me.”

A little snort at that, and a muttered, “hardly.”

Their last meet-up had been in Velen, nearly two months ago, when he’d been hunting down a basilisk and had to spend the night in the forest. Alone. And in Velen that was never a good idea. His brothers were too far away to call for backup, so he had called Aiden instead, and the demon had kept him company through the long night and into the next day. They hadn’t even fucked that time, they had just huddled around the fire, talking—or, sometimes, sitting in silence for a while—until Lambert had to crash for a couple of hours. He had been surprised but privately pleased to find Aiden still there when he woke up later, just kind of… watching over him.

But it was always him calling Aiden, not the other way around. Lambert wondered, briefly, if Aiden would contact him sometimes, if he had a way to. Probably not. He had his own wheelings and dealings to get on with, all over the country. Possibly all over the world, who really knew? He supposed he could just ask, if he was all that curious. Aiden would probably tell him.

Still frowning to himself, Lambert waved the waitress over to order another drink—it would be his fourth—and when it was delivered, his empty glass whisked away at the same time, Aiden gave him a surveying look before asking, “are you sure that’s a good idea, Wolf? How many have you had already?”

“Fuck off.” Lambert muttered, making Aiden sigh.

“I would,” The demon told him, “but lets’ not forget that you called me here.”

“Only because you never—” Lambert began before cutting himself off, turning his gaze to his drink.

“I never…?” Aiden’s eyes were on him, sharp gold, searching.

“You never bother calling on me.” The Witcher grit out finally, his own eyes flicking up to meet Aiden’s briefly before flitting away again, down to a water spot on the table. He couldn’t believe he’d actually just said that out loud. Gods, maybe he was drunk. He could usually hold his liquor better than this.

Across the table, Aiden’s expression shifted into something like surprise—and then a slow smile spread across his face. He pushed his own glass aside and slid himself around the booth until he was sitting right next to Lambert, then reached to rest a hand on the Witcher’s thigh, squeezing firmly. “And how do you propose I do that, hm? You don’t have a magic card like I do.”

“Cell phones exist!” Lambert growled, glaring into his drink. “It just seems like—this. Whatever it is. Is very one-sided.”

The hand on his thigh tightened down even more, just this side of painful as Aiden dug his nails in. “Trust me, Lambert, it’s anything but one-sided.” The demon told him, voice low, and leaned in to speak directly into his ear when he continued, “you apparently haven’t noticed, but you. Are. Mine.” This was followed by a playful bite on Lambert’s earlobe and, “why do you think no other demons have come near you in the last year? I’ve been chasing them off. Keeping you safe.”

Lambert swallowed slightly, his own hand tightening around his glass just a bit. “But you never…” Trailing off, he hesitated before continuing; “you never seek me out. It’s always the other way around.”

“Because of the card thing,” Aiden explained again, “but I keep an eye on you, always. Or, as much as I can, anyway. I do have my own job to do, too. I have a quota, and if I don’t meet it there’s literal hell to pay. Plus, if anyone downstairs was to find out I was fucking a Witcher? Let’s just say you wouldn’t see me again. Ever. It’s a delicate balance, what we have going, Lambs. I’m sure it is for you, too.”

“…keeping you a secret from my family is a fucking nightmare.” A little huff of a sigh and Lambert released his glass and pushed it to arms’ length, then shifted, adjusting to face Aiden a bit more. “Maybe get a cell phone, Aiden. Then you could at least call me, sometimes.”

Aiden sat back slightly to look at him properly. His grip on Lambert’s thigh loosened slightly but he left his hand there anyway. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t think we would be this…” Lambert trailed off, eyes lifting up to meet Aiden’s properly. “It is. Important. For some reason—” Breaking off, he looked away again, frowning absently when Aiden squeezed his thigh reassuringly. “I don’t… understand why. But it is.”

There was a long silence, then, Lambert continuing to avoid Aiden’s gaze and Aiden just thinking, trying to come up with the right words. This was as close as they had gotten to talking about their feelings in the entire time they had known each other, and it was delicate territory. Usually they just got drunk, went back to Lambert’s motel room, and fucked. That was simple. This was the opposite of simple.

And as much as Aiden was a demon, and as much as their relationship had started out as a simple transaction—and then shifted into basic lust—he had grown to genuinely care for Lambert, deep in his dark, withered heart.

Demons weren’t known for their ability to care, their ability to love. Oh, they could love and crave material things, certainly, but people? Not so much. Aiden wasn’t sure why he was different from the rest of his kin. Maybe because his body had once belonged to a Witcher. But he was different. At least when it came to Lambert, anyway. He wanted to keep Lambert all to himself, hide him away somewhere safe, give him all the best things in life, all the things he, as a demon, could get his hands on.

He settled for chasing the other demons away from his Witcher and meeting up with him every now and then to fuck in dingy motel rooms.

“I understand why.” Aiden said finally. He brought one hand up to delicately stroke along Lambert’s stubbled jaw and smiled—a genuine smile, uncharacteristically gentle and soft. When Lambert finally looked at him again, Aiden ducked in to kiss him—again, just gently. “I feel the same way.” He murmured against Lambert’s lips.

Lambert stiffened, entire body locking up on those words, but when Aiden made to pull away, he suddenly surged into motion, grabbing hold of the front of Aiden’s jacket and yanking him closer again, diving in to kiss the demon firmly, all tongue and heat—desperate. Aiden made a delighted noise in the back of his throat and kissed back in kind for a long couple of moments before breaking away to grin against Lambert’s mouth and murmur, “let’s get out of here, Lambs.”

“Yeah,” Lambert agreed, just the slightest bit breathless and a grin on his own face, now, “definitely.”

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambden #lambden fanfiction #lambert #aiden #witcher spn au #shut up sena #sena writes #what no one knows by senashenta

4 notes · View notes

inkofamethyst · 10 months

Text

November 20, 2023

Weekend thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 notes · View notes

noblechaton · 1 year

Text

humbly introducing Norette!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10 notes · View notes

nocturnebby · 2 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

"what does trudge mean?!" one shouted

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

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

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

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

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

More to come hopefully!

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

10 notes · View notes

softlimefluff · 2 years

Note

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

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

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

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

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

original version

goddess version

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

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

Outfit ideas inspired by our favorite alien boy:

-a fake septum to earring chain!

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

-a fancy star field headband!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6 notes · View notes

multi-lefaiye · 2 years

Note

POLYCULE POLYCULE POLYCULE

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

I'm feral for this

SUPERNATURAL POLYCULE [the crowd goes wild with applause]

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

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

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

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

HENRY BLACKWELL - HE/HIM

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

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

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

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

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

EDEN LOMIDZE - HE/HIM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 notes · View notes

anatidae-dragonage · 2 years

Note

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

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

Word Count: 1099

Rating: G

Pairing: Mag Trevelyan/Delilah Surana

@dadrunkwriting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“Magdalena—“

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

Surana sat up too.

“Let’s at least walk.”

Mag paused.

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay—“

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

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

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

“Nice, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s nice.”

#my fic #dadwc #magdalena trevelyan #delilah surana

3 notes · View notes

georges-chambers · 19 days

Note

11, 15, 23, 25, 27 :)

Thank you sm for all of these <333 they're very interesting and fun to answer

11. 'Anything from your childhood you've held into?'

I have a fair amount of boxes of old toys, I think, which is nice. And technically since I've grown So Little a fair amount of 'childhood clothes' still fit. But the oldest things are probably a 2DS i got around when they came out. It does not work, got sand in it at some point and somehow it's basically unfixable because of it but. I Cannot will myself to throw it out due to sentimentality. And of course a blanket I was given when I was born thats white (a bit off white now) with a rainbow of circles of different animals over it. Also of course the 1990 tarot deck my mother just. Gave me at a young age before i got into it. Both of those are very beautiful and I love them.

15. 'Rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning'

Freezing least wanted. Painful the whole time and hard to stop, from what I've heard. Drowning second because while the end is okay, the instinctive fear I've heard can kick in sounds incredibly painful, so no. Freezing, I've heard, feels painful until it suddenly doesn't and then just feels like sleeping, so going with that. Plus there's a chance of ice mummification.

23. 'Do you wear jewelry?'

Yes, usually. Always wear a specific necklace under my shirt and all, usually wear at least two particular rings. I got a (probably fake but whatever) gold ring recently for surprisingly cheap and have a fair amount by now I just sort of switch around, especially in summer. Wearing more rings/necklaces somehow makes up for it being too hot to wear longer sleeves. I also have 2 necklaces I do wear more visibly.

25. 'Would you say you have good taste in music?'

Not really. Interesting taste, at best, but mainly because a fair amount is rather obscure, sometimes lesser known 50s-60s musicians, but still more often pop styles than not, and a lot of music from like the 1900s-1930s or so very roughly, which I don't really specify the genre because it's like. Jazz-ish? Idk what to call it but phonograph recorded music is something that is very beloved to me. But all that being said I do not in any way defend it, its Not great I just like it.

27. 'What's your favorite go-to outfit?'

T-shirts and Various sweatpants, and almost always in summer a black buttoned shirt over it all with smaller stripes of different colours. Sometimes a necklace over that. Usually 2-4 rings. In winter the black shirts replaced by a green knit sweater with a belovedly accommodating pockets. Often crocs and socks are the most comfortable shoes, but vans too sometimes. And of course glasses. Only very recently got a new pair of very nice pants that have a slightly Jartnell-reminiscent pattern but they're made of such nice material I'm worried to wear them too often but like. They tempt me so much.

#ask game

1 note · View note

whydotheycallmechimney · 2 months

Note

sending u ruby for the ask game. go for it

How I feel about this character: LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! from the moment I first saw her in s3 I knew I would be weirdly obsessed with her. aside from both actresses being extremely gorgeous, I just think she's a really fascinating character??? like name another character so devoted to their cause and dedicated to their con...also an evil woman taking advantage of my favorite character? hell yeah.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: sam!!!! though I don't know if I enjoy them as a traditional romantic pairing...mostly they're just fun to psychoanalyze and put in fucked up situations. she made herself his mother mary you guys!! also dean...I think her being one of his mirrors means they should fuck. also anna...and meg...and ava in an alternate universe where she won the special kids hunger games <3

My non-romantic OTP for this character: oh wait I should put dean here bc I don't ship them ship them, they should just be hostile and horny about it together <3

My unpopular opinion about this character: okay so I think I'm too much of a fandom newb to answer this bc I don't know the popular opinion about her. I know the fandom circle I'm in loves her and also doesn't view her relationship with sam through rose tinted glasses soo....yeah, sorry I've got nothing

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: mostly I really wished we could have seen an alternate version of s5 where she lived. just to see her dynamic with lucifer and if she would have remained loyal to him till the end. also I think her and meg would have been really good foils of each other smh

give me a character and I'll break their ass down

#spn #asks #nonny thank you for this bc I was about to delete that ask game out of embarrassment rip

1 note · View note

purplesurveys · 1 year

Text

1711

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

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

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

Do you miss someone? No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What color are your glasses, if applicable? White.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are your fall fashion essentials? What is fall?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you use a sunlamp? Nope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does your name mean? Bright fame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

0 notes

redheadspark · 2 years

Note

Hello girl! How are you?

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

Azriel x reader

Intimate moments number:

1, 3 and 4

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

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

I'll make this one nice and cute!

For Me?

"Welcome back! Did you have fun shopping?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who do you think?"

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

"Where are you?"

"Come find me,"

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

"Come find me, darling girl,"

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

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

Most of all, you.

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

Azriel. Your husband and Mate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Solstice indeed.

The End.

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

124 notes · View notes

apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗 (18+)

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

my personal favorites:

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

604 notes · View notes