Karina Yu only ever gets jealous of two things.

The first one is actually pretty reasonable.

The human ability to sunbathe without disintegrating into ashes the moment a tinge of the Sun’s heat seeps through their skin. 

It’s understandable, it’s clear, it’s obvious.

The second one, however — as embarrassing as it may sound — is not as reasonable as the first one. 

It’s the mere existence of Klaus Mikaelson (because why does he even look like that? It’s seriously not fair). She doesn't care if he’s just a fictional character. She doesn't like him. That’s it. No ifs and buts, no “but have you seen the fifth season, though”, no “plus he was a good dad” and just no. No. No, and no. No. And also, to make matters worse, her girlfriend, Winter, has been ridiculously in love with him for ‘obvious’ reasons (said reasons being his stupid accent and his stupid face) and it has been seriously putting Karina at her wit’s end the more her girlfriend talks about his attractive everything.

(“He has dimples, babe!”

“He was a sociopath.”

“Yeah, but his dimples though.” )

Mind you, Karina’s dimple is so much better than his.

Not to mention—deeper.

“I’ve seen this show for like, a million times, and I still can’t believe that he’s dead.” Winter grumbles, her gaze fixated on the screen in front of her.

They're currently watching the last episode of the very first season of The Originals, and Winter just won’t stop griping about the (well-deserved) death of Klaus Mikaelson in the final season for presumably fifty hours straight.

It’s literally driving the vampire up the wall.

“I can,” says Karina.

“Of course you– why are you floating?” Winter catechizes down from where she is because apparently, Karina is quite literally up on the wall — face up and all horizontal. “Come down here, Carl Fredricksen!”

“Who?”

“From Up.”

Craning her neck to slightly catch a sight of her girlfriend through her periphery, the vampire shrugs in the air. 

“I thought you’ve already seen Up?” the human gasps, her eyes up and amused.

Karina returns her gaze to the ceiling, crossing her arms as she stubbornly releases a huff. “I have. I’m looking at it right now.”

And having already memorized the things that make her girlfriend tick within the slightest move of a hand for quite some time now, Winter immediately picks up on the vampire’s disgruntled tone. 

Pushing the laptop off of her lap, the human breathes out an audible sigh. 

“Alright, what's gotten you extra grouchy today?” she asks genuinely. “You’ve been acting all mean and facetious ever since I got here.”

“No, I wasn't.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“No.” the vampire shakes her head with finality.

“Karina.” Winter doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. “Get down here, please?” 

“I can’t control it, remember? You have to pull me down yourself.” Karina tells Winter.

It is true that she doesn't know exactly how to control this certain (and completely unnecessary) ability of hers, but that doesn't mean that she also has no idea what primarily triggers her body to just… float in the air like a hot air balloon made out of a half-dead woman’s atoms and molecules because frankly, her anatomy’s logic is basically an entire circus full of bat- baloney. It’s beyond science at this point.

A sigh escapes her lips as Winter, her girlfriend , props up to pull her down. Karina is by no means proud of getting herself perceived as a hissy kite as of this moment, but she doesn't really have a choice now, does she? She brought this upon herself.

“Klaus Mikaelson doesn't have this ability, just so you're aware.” the vampire adds as if that would make him any less attractive in her girlfriend’s eyes.

With a laugh bubbling in her chest, the human rolls her eyes with a smile etched on her face. “Oh, I am very much aware.” she chuckles, “Is that what this is about?”

“What?” Karina’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“You float when you're jealous?”

“No?” says the vampire defensively, mindlessly letting herself be cocooned by her girlfriend’s warmth.

Winter puckers her lips teasingly as she tilts her head. “Well, you were floating earlier.” 

Crossing her arms stubbornly, the vampire huffs like a petulant vampire. A very in denial petulant vampire. 

“I’m not jealous.” She says through gritted teeth.

Okay.

Perhaps she definitely is a hundred percent jealous, but can you blame her? Her fangs are literally a millimeter shorter than that oh-so- fangfully mighty Mikaelson’s, and much to her perturbing, needling chagrin, her canines are actually one of (if not only) her biggest insecurities in her 411 years of existence.

“He’s not a real person,” Winter retorts because, yes, okay , maybe she does have a point.

“I know.” Karina mumbles.

“He’s dead.” 

“I know that, too.”

“I love you.”

“I kno–” Karina pauses in surprise at the sudden declaration of her girlfriend's undying love (she's not overreacting) towards her. She then looks down and begins to play with her fingers. “I love you too. I'm sorry for floating.”

The human acknowledges her apology with a smile, shaking her head as she shrugs. 

“What if you float in an open space? What happens then?” 

A tightened hold and an abrupt peck on her left cheek, Karina throws a glance at her girlfriend, amused with the random question.

“I’ll keep floating, or as kids say these days, I would girlboss too close to the sun, I presume.” she retorts confidently.

“I don’t think they meant that literally—and where did you even learn that?” frowning in curiosity, Winter leans her head back just so she can see the vampire better.

“The Twitter.”

The human chuckles, playfully slapping Karina’s shoulder. “Twitter. It’s just Twitter, babe.”

“Well, sue the old lady for not knowing proper grammar, I guess.” the vampire mutters sarcastically.

Winter gives her an eye roll, brushing her off like a tumbleweed. “Can we just go back to our main issue at hand?”

Karina grumpily scoffs, a tad bit upset that Winter actually had the audacity to remove the vampire out of the comfort of her silly noodle human arms, so out of sheer pettiness, said vampire merely rolls her eyes at Winter just as well.

“Which is what?” she retorts, t