akariamai

[akariamai]

Glitch [Part 3]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Pairing: Tommy Merlyn x Reader

Word Count: 1228

You couldn’t help but shake as you neared the Meryln residence. Cooking had always been a world of passion for you, but everything had to go smoothly today. Today is the day you will meet your recently found best friend. You could feel yourself getting cold feet. Oliver Queen was not just Tommy’s best friend, but his chosen brother. What if he didn’t like you? Would it be the end of your relationship?

‘It’s just a dinner.’ You thought, ‘An important dinner with an important figure in Tommy’s life.’

You never felt this way when you had an impromptu dinner with Tommy’s father, Malcolm Merlyn. He had invited himself to one of your more extravagant dates and took the liberty to introduce himself to his son’s ‘current bed warmer’ (his words, not Tommy’s).

You know you wouldn’t be able to survive another embarrassment. Tommy doesn’t hold his father’s opinion in any regard, but Oliver is different. Despite his flaws, Tommy held Olivier in high regard.

Tommy did not take kindly to his father’s words. He promptly cursed his father for speaking in such a way to you, swiftly paid the bill, and got you away from his father and his venomous words. After the horrendous dinner, Tommy apologized for the interruption and his father’s callous words.

‘Please let this dinner turn out better.’

You parked your car, gathered the grocery bags, and walked up towards the door. One of the maids gave you a gentle smile before allowing you inside. You vaguely remember the way to the kitchen. After the encounter with Tommy’s father, the two of you didn’t spend much time at Tommy’s place.

You called out his name before stepping into the exceptionally spacious kitchen. It was the type of kitchen you would see on television—the type advertised to be for the middle class but clearly for the filthy rich. The kind that is just for show and never used.

“Here.” He turned to you with a bright smile. He was finally getting his dream: his best friend and girl were about to meet. It was something he thought would only stay a dream, but somehow it became reality.

You turned your attention away from him and onto the new kitchenware. He definitely bought them for this occasion, even though you offered to bring your cooking utensils. You had even insisted on hosting the dinner at your place, but he had a vision of how things would play out.

You shook your head in disbelief. “You didn’t have to buy all of this.” The equipment alone must’ve cost a fortune, and what a waste if it was only used once.

“How else am I supposed to show off that I am an amazing cook?” He joked. “I need to have proof, don’t I?”

You hummed, “And what have you cooked in this kitchen? Let alone the new kitchenware.”

He shook his head and raised his hands. “It is not about what I have or haven’t cooked in this kitchen. It is about the possibilities of what I can make. Especially for the love of my life and my best friend.”

You could almost feel your heart bursting out of your chest. ‘The love of his life’ It was like hearing your favorite song on the radio. It felt like a warm blanket was wrapping you up on a chilly winter night.

“That sounds like someone who has never worked a bone in this kitchen.” You say, almost daring him to disagree with you, before raising an eyebrow, “Am I wrong?”

He gripped his white shirt in what was supposed to be anguish. “How could you attack my ego so unapologetic? I thought we had something good.” He wasn’t the best actor; his feeble illusion was shattered by the laughter coming through his words.

You joined in, laughing until your stomach hurt. “I just want to keep my man on Earth with me. I can’t have him floating away.”

His composure shattered, and he erupted in laughter. His laugh, his genuine laugh, was so light and gentle. It reminded you of the wind chimes your grandmother would hang out on the porch as the wind created music. You would never tire of hearing his laugh.

He clapped his hands and brought you back from your daydream. “Let’s get started! I want to show off my skills.”

“Or lack thereof.” You joked.

“Hey!” He pouted. He watched as you removed the ingredients from the brown paper bags. “What do you want me to do, chief?”

“Did you preheat the ovens like I told you?” You asked about covering several sheet pans with aluminum foil.

“Yes.” He said, “One was set at 225 and the other at 450.”

“Perfect.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Take the mini medley potatoes and wash them before placing them on this.” You pointed at one of the olive oil-covered pans and said, “Pan and smash them with the bottom of the jar.”

Tommy exclaimed, “Yes, chef!” You could hear him take the potatoes to the sink and turn on the water while you seasoned the bone-in rib eye with salt and pepper.

The time the two of you spent making the perfect dinner felt so mundane. It was something you could imagine doing for the rest of your life with him. Tommy was not your first boyfriend, but he was the first to spend time with you in the kitchen. Normally, you would be busy cooking dinner while they played video games with their friends. You used to do it alone, but these two of you were perfect. You would give anything to continue to have moments like this.

‘Oliver should be here soon.’ You busied yourself by mindlessly plating the uncut rib eye onto the decorative platter. As you did so, Tommy spent his time stabbing toothpicks onto the Bourbon Glaze bacon-wrapped shrimp and moving them to a different plate.

As the two of you continued to finish up, a roar sounded out from Tommy’s stomach, which led to the two of you laughing. “All this work made me hungry.” He rubbed his stomach sheepishly. “Oliver needs to get here soon, or else I’ll riot.”

“He’ll be here soon.” You reassured him before handing him the shrimp. “Go put this on the table.”

“Yes chef!”

Almost as if you could read his thoughts, you called out, “And no snacking!” You could only hear a disappointed groan as you watched him walk into the dining room and disappear. You thought, ‘He was the love of your life. He was your person.’ You would climb mountains to be his.

You were thankful to have Tommy in your life. He showed you the love authors write about—a love you once thought only existed inside the pages of a novel, and you prayed this was real. And that you didn’t conjure him up in your imagination.

You portioned out the cuts of the rib eye in your mind before slicing into it. The slices should not be too big or too small. Each slice should carry enough chimichurri sauce to melt in your mouth.

Once you finished, you washed your hands and checked to see if you had acquired any stains on your clothing. When you deemed yourself presentable, the doorbell rang, and your body tightened. Dinner was about to commence.

Masterlist

Tag: @twilightlover2007

#tommy merlyn fanfiction #tommy merlyn #tommy merlyn x reader #tommy merlyn imagine #arrowverse #arrow tv show #arrowtv #oliver queen #green arrow #dc imagine #tommy merlyn x you #tommy merlyn oneshot #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[akariamai]

Romeo & Juliet [Part 2]

Pairing: Jacob Black x OC!Swan

Word Count: 1616

Part 1 Part 3

Author's Note I changed a few things to better fit the story. Jacob will be a year younger than Bella. Bella's friends are semi-different than how they are portrayed in the books/movies. Sam and Leah were never in a relationship. Imprinting on children is not a thing. Hope you enjoy the story and sorry it took so long to write the second part of this.

~~~

Sloan and her sister used to be best friends. They were two peas in a pod, but ever since the move to Forks, her strange fascination with the Cullen boy, and the start of her relationship with Edward, their relationship has dwindled.

Bella became more distant and secretive. Sloan understood that a relationship meant change and less time for the two of them, but she didn’t think the relationship would take priority over everything. Bella was in love, that was certain, but she left no time for friends or family. Edward was her world. There was no place for anyone else. Not their dad, their mother, Sloan, or even herself.

Sloan did miss the relationship they used to have. Tranquil car rides to school, mindless arguments over their favorite classic literature, and the late-night talks they used to have. Sloan never realized how meaningful those things used to be until they were gone. It all went away as soon as Edward came into their lives.

Their eighteenth birthday came and went, and Bella was more frantic than ever. The reason? Sloan had no clue. Sloan didn’t know much about Bella these days. She does know Bella was quiet after her birthday party at the Cullen’s house. Something happened, and whatever it was rocked Bella. The days that followed were marked by an absence of the Cullen family, and it barely went unnoticed by everyone except Bella. Bella felt lost without them, but most importantly Edward. Unfortunately for Sloan and her father, they would both come to realize the extent of Bella’s dependence of the Cullens.

Sloan tried to be empathetic towards her sister. She had never been through a breakup herself, but normal heartache does not leave a person lifeless and empty. She had imagined how their first heartbreak would entail, watching sappy romance movies and eating ridiculous amounts of ice cream, it was nothing like this. She had never imagined a boy would leave her sister like a lifeless doll.

Bella would mindlessly stare out her window, day in and day out, as if waiting for Edward to save her from her isolation. It was a lost cause, however, as he and his family moved away and Bella was left with the memories of what once was.

Every night in the Swan’s residence is plagued with the screams of her sister. A good night’s rest was a luxury now and both Sloan and her father felt the effects of the lack of sleep.

“Bella.” Sloan began as she found her sister in the same place as when she left her. “Do you want to go hang out with our friends? We’re going to La Push again. They miss you.” Bella had completely shut down after the breakup. She resembled a lifeless doll waiting for a child to find it and play with it. She spent her days waiting for Edward to come back.

“I miss him.” Her voice was barely a croak. Her lips bleeding slightly as she had not drank the water Sloan had left on her desk.

Sloan sighed. Edward was not worth this. “This isn’t normal, Bella. You need help.” She’ll need to bring up therapy to her father. Bella couldn’t keep living this this. Maybe a change a scenery would be helpful as well.

“I need him.”

“No you don’t.” Bella liked to believe in soulmates. It was a frequent topic of arguments between the two. She believes there is one person for everyone and finding that person is magical and sacred. Sloan should’ve known that Bella would’ve considered Edward as hers.

Sloan didn’t believe in soulmates. The idea that out of thousands of people there is only one that is just right. That seems implausible. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Bella stayed silent. Sloan walked out of Bella’s room silently, closing the door on her way out.

~~~

“How’s Bella?” Mike asked as they unloaded the cooler filled with refreshments. Eric and Jessica went ahead and found a respectable spot, while Angela went to snap a few pictures of the ocean waves.

“Not good.” Sloan mentions. “I don’t think staying in Forks is helping either. Maybe there’s too many memories of him.”

“He really messed her up, didn’t he?” Mike has never seen anyone take a breakup as hard as Bella. He had seen tears split over the loss of a relationship or an occasional screaming match between old lovers, but never something like that.

It made him reevaluate the relationship between Bella and Edward. They were too attached. Too obsessed with each other.

He remembered a conversation he’d had with Bella when her newfound relationship became public. He warned her about the way Edward watched her, as if he were a lion eyeing his prey. It may have come off as disdain. He had liked Bella before Edward dug his claws into her, and maybe the disdain part was true to some extent, but Bella had to know the way Edward stalked her when she wasn’t looking. If only he had voiced his observations more.

Sloan nodded. She really needed to have a conversation with her father. Bella needs help that they are not qualified to give. Mike and Sloan went silent as they carried the cooler to the beach. Jessica and Eric had placed the inflatable pools in a half circle. All three of the inflatable pools were heart-shaped. Angela thought it would be a better idea than bringing a beach blanket.

They watched the waves crash onto the beach as they spoke about their aspirations for the future. High school was coming to an end. Much faster than any of them had anticipated. There was a whole world outside of their small town. Were they ready? Were they prepared? They had no clue, but they’ll take it one step at a time.

The group of friends didn’t see the sulking boy wander closer towards them. The conversation ended abruptly as a familiar name was called out: “Sloan?”

They all turned to the boy. “Jacob?” Sloan hadn’t spoken to Jacob since he and his father came to watch the game with her dad. They were both busy with friends and school. They hadn’t found time for each other. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“Do you want to join?” Sloan offered, “We were just about to crack open a few soda cans and talk about our deepest, darkest secrets.”

The others laughed, and even Jacob cracked a smile. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Not imposing if you’re invited.” Mike chimed in.

“Come on.” Sloan motioned for Jacob to join her. “We brought extra, and it would be rude if you didn’t help us finish our snacks.”

Jacob joined her awkwardly, snacking on the chocolate-covered strawberry Sloan offered him.

“We were just talking about summer plans. Do you have anything planned yet?” Summer was months away, and their graduation was on the horizon. They wanted to do something memorable and fun.

“Not yet.” He admitted. He would probably do the same things as always. Hang out with Embry and Quil, and take care of his father.

“We were thinking about planning a road trip after graduation.” Angela said, “Would you like to join? We wouldn’t want Sloan to be the fifth wheel.”

Jacob was taken aback by the invitation. They didn’t know him on a personal level, and yet they were so kind to him. It might’ve had something to do with him being friends with Sloan.

“Yeah, you should come, man.” Eric said.

“It’ll be fun.” Jessica replied.

Jacob didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He needed time to think.

“When we come up with a game plan, we’ll let you know, and then you can decide.” Sloan placed her hand on his shoulder. “There’s no rush.”

Jacob nodded before the conversation shifted once again. Sloan’s friends were nice. They made him feel welcomed. They included him in their conversations, even when he had little to say.

As the day turned to night, the group of friends plus one started packing their things. “See you at school, Sloan.” Jessica waved goodbye as she entered Mike’s car. “It was nice meeting you, Jacob.”

Jacob nodded. “You too.”

“Let me know when you make it back home, Sloan.” Mike said.

“I will.” She replied as she and Jacob entered her car. They watched as her friends drove off.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She interjected.

Jacob began, “I have this friend—well, I had a friend—Sam, and he disappeared for a while. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He didn’t call anyone to tell us if he was okay. He came back today, and it was like he was a complete stranger. I could barely recognize him.”

“We’ve known each other all our lives, and he changed so suddenly. He said it would be best if we weren’t friends anymore. That it was 'safer' for me to stay away. What does that mean? Is he in trouble? I want to be there for him. Why doesn’t he want me to be there for him?”

“Jacob,” Sloan said, reaching for his hand and gently rubbing it. “Sometimes people want to get through their problems alone. It has nothing to do with you, but more with him. Maybe he feels like a burden and doesn’t want to pile his problems on you. Maybe he needs to take some time for himself—find himself. Maybe one day he’ll explain everything once the dust settles.”

“I just want to be there for my friend.” He says, “I never thought we would go on without each other.”

Masterlist

#jacob black #twilight angela #twilight eric #the twilight saga #twilight saga #original character #oc!swan #twilight mike #twilight jessica #jacob black x reader #twilight bella #bella swan #edward cullen #twilight edward #twilight fanfiction #Twilight fanfic #twilight oneshot

[akariamai]

Romeo & Juliet [Part 1]

Pairing: Jacob Black x OC!Swan

Word Count: 1953

Part 2 Part 3

Sloan Swan detested the assigned reading she was given. It bothers her that the widely accepted portrayal of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet It was a narrative of blind lust for a stranger rather than an epic love story of two tragic lovers torn apart by their warring families.

“They loved each other.” Bella, her twin sister, argued as she drove them to school. In contrast to Sloan, Bella was enamored with the notion of love and disregarded the glaring red warning signs it left in its wake. Romeo’s lovely, meaningless words blinded her, just like they did so many others.

She criticized, “Romeo was literally ‘in love’ with Juliet’s cousin, Rosaline, and when she didn’t return his feeling, he went looking elsewhere. When he tells his friends about his ‘feelings’ for Juliet, they assume he’s talking about Rosaline.”

“That’s not true.” Her sister shakes her head in disbelief.

Sloan ruffles through her backpack, searching for the school’s copy of the play and flipping through the tagged pages.

“Page 32 to 33. Benvolio says to Romeo, ‘At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s, Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves,’ and later in the same page Romeo replies, ‘One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun, Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.’ Romeo meets Juliet around page 53. Do I need to read more?”

Bella remained quiet as her perception of Romeo and Juliet was uprooted. The heartbreaking reality was silently placed in front of her, bursting a love she had equated her and Edwards to and a raging loathing emerged for her twin sister.

“And not to mention, Romeo only married Juliet to sleep with her. That’s not love.”

Bella gritted her teeth. “What do you know about love?”

“More than you, apparently.” She shot back. It was true she never had a boyfriend, but she was born with logic, and she’d be damned to ignore red flags when she saw them.

“Why do you hate love stories?”

“I don’t hate love stories.” Sloan clarified, “I hate toxic relationships disguised as love stories. There’s a difference.”

Juliet was a naive girl with rose petal shades shielding her from the truth. She was in love with the idea of love and fallen for the first boy to entice her. Her false sense of love drove her to follow him in death. Her end was tragic as she never once felt true love, only the lust of a boy impatient to bed her.

“I pity Juliet. Romeo used her and would’ve abandoned her when a new beauty caught his eye.” She sniffled out a yawn. “He plucked her from the sky and clipped her wings, locking her in a golden cage, and once he got bored of her song, he freed her but left her flightless. That would’ve been the ending of their story if they had lived.”

Bella remained silent, reeling in her fragmented view on Romeo and Juliet’s relationship, her hatred for her sister burning twice as much. The silhouette of the school could not appear fast enough as Bella hurriedly searched for a parking spot.

Her arms trembling as she parked her truck, unable to comprehend Sloan’s point of view on her favorite Shakespeare play, and needed some space to clear her mind. Sloan had zipped her backpack up; infuriating Bella. How can Sloan act as if she hadn’t disrupted her entire world. She slams her door shut as she frantically searches for Edward, her lifeline.

“Wherefore art thou, Bella? Sloan?” Mike calls out as he, Eric, Angela, and Jessica approach the two twins. “You finish the Shakespeare assignment?”

Jessica pitched in, “He means will you finish his assignment?”

“No, I don’t—okay I do.” He admits.

“I can help you with it — but first —” She pulls out her new camera, a birthday gift from her father that she was gifted earlier today. “I need a picture. My mom’s expecting a scrapbook full of memories.”

Angela holds out her own camera and says, “I take ‘em; I don’t pose for ‘em.”

“You do today.” Bella lightly pushed Angela towards the rest of the group as they arranged themselves.

“I can take the picture, Bella,” Sloan says while holding out a hand. “Go stand with your friends.” Bella reluctantly hands it over before awkwardly walking towards them as the group rearrange themselves for Bella to be in the center.

“You’ll photoshop my nose if it looks big, right?” The question was aimed at Bella.

“Don’t worry, I’m in the picture; no one will be looking at you guys.” Eric proclaimed confidently.

Jessica scoffs at his joke as the group decided on their final poses. Angela, incorporating her love for photography, points the camera at Sloan; Mike and Eric joust, and Bella stands in the center of their delightfully carefree selves stiffly. The clicks of the camera shutters as it freezes them in a moment in time and archives it forever.

Sloan lowers the camera before noticing their playful smiles dissipates except for Bella’s. The timid smile she faked grew into a real one as she had obviously spotted Edward, her boyfriend.

Although her friends did not mind the male, they did not appreciate how quickly she discarded them for him. When Bella and Edward started dating, they became placeholders for when he wasn’t around.

“Oh good. Cullen’s here.” Mike noticed the way Edward stared at Bella; it was not out of love but something more nefarious. At first, he chalked it up to jealously. His feelings for Bella were still ever-present, but he genuinely cared for her well-being. He believed, with all that he’s seen, that Edward did not love Bella the way she loves him. It was only a matter of time before he hurt her, and he prayed to be wrong for her sake.

Jessica’s response was even drier. “Yay.” Once upon a time, she had feelings for Edward, but the second he became unavailable, she pushed those feelings aside. Bella was her friend, even if she didn’t act like it most of the time, and she would never stand in the way of her friend’s happiness. However, she had noticed Bella’s co-dependency on Edward, following him around like a lost puppy craving his attention. It wasn’t healthy. Not one bit, but she had no right to say anything.

Sloan, too, did not like the relationship her sister had with Edward. Edward had stripped Bella away from her independent lifestyle. There was never a moment away from Edward. Bella would choose him over everyone, and the realization of this truth stung. She missed the days when the two of them would read together; although both were silent during this time, the conversations that happened afterwards were fun. Those days were gone, now filled with an empty chair and an untouched book, and Sloan having no one to talk to. She never thought she would become familiar with loneliness.

“Check ya, later.” Eric replied, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere, and lead his friends away.

Bella hadn’t responded, nor did she notice; her attention solely remained on Edward, who approached her figure, his eyes never leaving hers. This was the moment when Sloan decided to leave, her absence going unnoticed by both her twin and the vampire. She preferred to be in her English class going over Romeo and Juliet than forced to watch her sister pine about her boyfriend.

From across the parking lot, someone shouted. “Sloan!” She turned her attention to the person, Jacob Black, her friend from the nearby reservation. His presence brought a smile onto her face as her worries vanished in an instant.

“Jake!” Her excitement could not be contained. It has been a while since the two of them hung out; both busy with school work and other responsibilities. “You grew.” She noticed. His muscles were more refined than the last time she saw him, he was now a head taller than her.

He laughed, “And you didn’t.” Now he can hold the television control over her head like she had done to him in their childhood. Sweet, sweet revenge.

She pouted, “Not my fault I’m bite-sized.” By no means was she short, not was she unusually tall. She was average, yet compared to the massive monster known as Jacob, it would appear so.

His glee was energizing, her thoughts on Edward and Bella fading into the foreground of her mind, acting as a life jacket keeping her from drowning in her thoughts and worries.

“Happy birthday.” He offers her a warm hug before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small hand-woven bracelet. “It’s not much, I know, but.” He drops it in the palm of her hand, eyeing the marvel embedded in her chestnut eyes. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it!” She exclaimed, “You didn’t have to get me anything.” It was a thoughtful gift—something she’ll treasure forever. She quickly slips it on and makes a silent vow to never take it off. She won’t, however, except when she bathes or swims. She does not want his hard work to be ruined by water.

“I’m glad you like it.” He looks around for the other birthday girl, seeing her in a quiet conversation with her boyfriend. “I’m going to give your sister her gift.”

Sloan nods. Class is going to start soon, and she needed to get to class. “Bye Jacob.”

“Bye.” He rushed towards her sister, yelling her name to get her attention, managing to break up the couple for a few moments.

~~~

Bella quietly dropped off her sister at home before rushing away to her boyfriend’s house. Apparently, his family were throwing her a small party for their family only—the Cullens and the birthday girl—and no one else. Leaving Sloan and her father to celebrate the twins birthday alone.

The two didn’t plan much but it was just right for them. Both Bella and Sloan weren’t the party type, they preferred the quiet hums of their home, a homemade dinner with their father, and a hushed evening filled with television and soft conversation.

Sloan spent the day prepping for their meal, spicy honey garlic chicken with garlic Parmesan fries. It was a favorite she and her father shared. Bella’s absence remained a constant in their conversations. They spent their evening watching her favorite movies: Legally Blonde, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, and Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Charlie loved the days when he and his daughters would sit together and watch TV. Bella would hide under the covers whenever a horror sequence became too much, opting to stay under until the danger passed. Sloan would mindlessly make comments under her breath throughout the movie, only audible to the person sitting next to her. He enjoyed days like this, as they were a small snippet of the past, his daughters reminding him of their younger selves, and now they were all grown up.

Wrapped up in one of her blankets, she laid her head on her father’s shoulders, her eyes drooping. It was late, and Bella still hadn’t arrived. Their birthday was already over and not a single second of the three of them had celebrated as a family. It truly broke her heart.

She didn’t know when, but her father carried her to her bedroom and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before tucking her in. He was going to miss moments like this. His children are adults now, and soon they will be leaving the nest. He never prepared himself for this day, always believing he had more time with them, but he guessed every parent came to the same realization when the time finally arrived.

Masterlist

#twilight #the twilight saga #new moon #twilight saga #charlie swan #edward cullen #bella swan #original character #oc!swan #twilight eric #twilight jessica #twilight mike #romeo and juliet bashing #romeo and juliet #rosaline #romeo bashing #the cullens #twilight angela #edward bashing #jacob black #jacob black x oc #twilight charlie #twilight edward #twilight jacob #jacob black x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom

[akariamai]

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man. 

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis. 

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands. 

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life. 

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name. 

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner. 

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in. 

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you. 

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours. 

It scares you so much it's not your choice. 

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that. 

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information. 

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter. 

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take? 

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices. 

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running. 

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases. 

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering. 

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner? 

"All done?" 

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left. 

You turn your head to follow her gaze. 

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up. 

The cameras don't do him justice. 

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's. 

The realization shakes your entire world. 

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world. 

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer. 

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you." 

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest. 

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that. 

Your throat gets tight again. 

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat. 

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment. 

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it. 

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office. 

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father. 

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office. 

This isn't about you or your fears. 

This is for Minnie. 

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you. 

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart. 

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain. 

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him. 

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it. 

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before. 

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic. 

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen. 

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party." 

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up. 

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth. 

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille." 

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe. 

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face. 

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well. 

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy. 

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. 

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention. 

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger. 

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper. 

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe. 

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up. 

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times. 

 Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you. 

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

 "She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good. 

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him. 

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying. 

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there." 

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes. 

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me." 

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan. 

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea." 

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?" 

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting." 

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?" 

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes." 

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office. 

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?" 

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right." 

"I do, too." 

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie. 

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over. 

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice. 

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?" 

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you." 

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please." 

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect." 

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man. 

You really hope he's a good father too.

[akariamai]

Didn't realize I needed this until now

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

[akariamai]

Love this!

Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight

Disclaimer: I absolutely love Jenny in the film! Too bad I like writing miscommunication. No bashing of Jenny!

The reader was supposed to be brooding and menacing? But she’s a wreck with a symbiote lol.

My spanish is also pretty meh in writing despite being Mexican myself. I speak better than I write! Pls keep that in mind ◡̈

Summary: The reader watches on the sidelines as Jenny and her longtime crush, Jaime Reyes become close to one another. Being Milagro's closest friend, she dreads when she has to come over and see the lovebirds.

But who says her little friend would allow this to happen? And who says what she sees is true?

->Pairings: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

-> Use of (Name).

-> Marvel/DC crossover (mentioned Eddie Brock, Peter Parker, and relations to other fic)

->Warning: So much miscommunication, murder talk, and spinal cord removal :(

Once again, please ignore grammar mistakes.

⋆｡°✩

I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean? When you gonna ditch that stupid, you got? It's me you should be seeing.

"Are you just going to continue to stare?" Milagro questions her close friend, who stares at her brother with a pair of love-sick eyes. "Dude, just go talk to him."

"Can't really do that," Her friend hums in response, "Look, Kord is walking over to him. Now he's going to have the brightest smile ever and then they'll hug Then she's going to pat him on the back and start helping him with your house remodel. Look! They're doing it!"

Exactly at that point, Jaime laughs as Jenny pushes him over, grabbing the paintbrush on her own and assisting him with the cream-colored outer walls. Jaime shakes his head in response, nudging her back.

"So what? I'm his sister, and what I can tell you is that they are NOT together. They're just really good friends!" Milagro explains, quieting down when Jaime looks over. "Come on, clear it up. I don't want to see my best friend so sad."

"I'm grieving," She pouts, lowering herself into the chair, "You don't see what I see. They are definitely together."

"Si no lo preguntas, nunca vas a saber," Another voice exclaims. Both girls turn their heads to her mother who shakes her head at them. "Don't be shy! I don't want my future daughter-in-law to lose her chance."

Feeling her face heat up, she looks away from the older woman's words. "I know he's your son, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Maybe if you weren't such a pussy, you would have gotten the guy. Does the K-dramas we watch together not mean anything?

The sudden voice caused her to jump straight into her seat. Narc had been quiet since she had arrive at the Reyes’ house hold. She hadn’t expected them to speak at all since he rarely did when she was at their residence. At first, it was off putting to never hear the familiar voice, but she slowly grew used to the silence.

Born out of wedlock from the original symbiote, Narc had been the symbiote who had begun their stay before she arrived in this Universe. They were the only connection she had to the life she once had. Or was it the other being stuck here as well? She wasn’t sure, she ignored all contact to the woman connected to her in more ways than one.

"K-Dramas are not real, idiot." She hissed under her breath.

"Did you say something, Mija?" Mrs. Reyes questions, resting her hand under the woman's chin. "You often talk to yourself, just like little Jaime."

"Mama!" Jaime calls out, "I'm not little anymore! Come on, don't tell her that!"

"You are little, cabrón. Don't you remember the incident? Naked con tus chiquito huevitos." His Uncle Rudy cackles, "Don't you remember that, ama?"

Their Nana shakes her head in response, smiling broadly at the memory. Milagro begins to laugh as well while Jenny sits beside the girls with a small nod in the direction of (Name). She returns the gesture, crossing her hands as she ignored how hard her heart hammered.

"I'm lost," (Name) murmurs, "So, so lost...But anyway, I have to head out. Thank you for having me!"

"Come by anytime, (Name)." Jaime grins, walking up to her and hugging the girl tightly, "Just remember to ignore anything they say about me, okay? Don't want them ruining anything."

"They're your family, I don't think they are capable of doing so," She pats his back, looking down at Milagro who fake kisses the air in front of her. Jenny seems to notice as she raises her eyebrows at the duo still hugging.

"You can let me go now, Jaime." (Name) murmurs into his ear, "Don't want her getting the wrong idea."

Jaime pulls away, smiling at the girl in front of him. His eyes flickered down for a second before he looked back at her, "Sorry?" She smiles sadly at him as she moves towards her vehicle. She refuses to look at the family behind her as she hears the conversation pick up again.

I think we should kill her.

"Absolutely not. There is a new hero here, Narc. We can't just murder a well-known figure and expect to get away with it." She groans, buckling her seat belt. She looks back at the family once more as she shifts her gear to drive.

We've done it once. And we can do it again.

"I don't think killing the Green Goblin counts for anything! He was already crazier than us, so the headlines were thanking us!" She exclaims.

His brain was nasty anyway.

⋆｡°✩

"Do you think Blue Beetle is cool?" Milagro asks, absentmindedly moving her straw around in boredom. "Personally, I think he's a huge nerd. What do you think?"

"Who says you can bother me on my shift?" (Name) frowns, cleaning the bar top in front of her, "And how did they let you in?"

"I have my ways," Milagro grins, "Answer my question. I need to know."

"I think he's...unique? From the news I have seen of him, it's obvious he is of Hispanic Descent. His suit is otherworldly, so I'm assuming it's some kind of alien tech he is using. Definitely not Superman, though." (Name) shrugs, moving the alcoholic beverages aside as she begins assisting the bartenders alongside her.

"Do you think he's cute under his mask?" Milagro leans closer, "Would you date him?"

I would eat him.

"I wouldn't eat him," (Name) responds instead. She pauses as the conversation around her began to quiet down. Some stared at her while others whispered to their compadres nearby.

"I...didn't ask that? I asked if you think he's cute and if you would date him. Dude, where the hell is your mind thinking right now?" Milagro whispers, eyeing the men nearby, "God, I’ve always hated this bar. A bunch of chismosos who are almost always cheating on their wives here. They're always eyeing you too. How do you handle that?"

"First, I can't tell if Blue Beetle is cute based on his voice. Second, I wouldn't date him since I am sooo hung up on your brother." Milagro snorts. "Lastly, this is the only bar that offers the minimum wage. I can handle drunk men well, I've always had."

The conversation began to pick up again as most began focusing on the news displayed in front of them. Blue Beetle was shown on live television, fighting off rogue soldiers from Victoria Kord's force. Despite the woman being long gone, the impact she made had not quite disappeared.

"I knew you were still into him! I say you ask him out! You ain't a homewrecker if he isn't in a relationship!"

"Didn't you say Kord and Jaime kissed? That your whole family cheered for the couple?"

"A fluke! It's a fluke I swear, but it is complicated! Just ask Jaime, please? It would be so cool for us to be family."

"If our lives are ever in danger at this very bar, then I'll ask." (Name) turns away from Milagro's eyes, "That means it will never ha-"

Her voice gets cut off when bullets begin hitting the bar's windows, causing the occupants to duck down to safety. Many of the drunken men tried to escape but most were quickly shot down by the bullets.

Milagro screams, ducking down into a crouch as the bullets continue. (Name) ignores the danger as she maneuvers her way through the destruction. She grabs Milagro, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes. "I need you to hide behind the bar, okay? The bullets won't get you. We will protect you.”

"W-who's we?" Milagro cries as (Name) pushes her behind the bar. There was silence for a moment as screams echoed in the bar. "(Name)? Where are you going?" She pushed Milagro down, moving her way from the bar corner as she looked at the bodies around her. Many men stayed below tables, looking at her in fear as she counted the people alive.

"Nobody get up. It’s not ove-" Her words get cut off when bullets pierce through her whole body. She is flung against the countertop as a bullet pierces too close to her heart. She hears her name being called out as Milagro tries to find her way to the woman.

She smiles at the tear-stained face in her vision. The fear in the other girl's eyes was evident as she continued to scream her name. At that moment, smoke bombs are thrown through the window. The screams had begun to mesh together, the fog covering the vision of the little who were still alive.

She feels the blood oozing out of her mouth, the familiar metallic filling up her mouth. She sputters, not being able to breathe.

It's your turn.

My turn.

Shoes stepping on glass were all everyone heard as the perpetrators stepped through the mess they caused. They held their gun up in return, moving through the fog stealthily. As they communicated with one another, they grew unnoticed by the thing they had angered.

"Find the Reyes girl. She is to be left alive." One spoke up, "Kill every survivor." The main soldier calls out. They await the confirmation of the others but they hear nothing. "I need an affirmative."

The soldier gets smacked in response, feeling themselves recoil from the weight against their body. When they look down at the unfamiliar weight, they begin to scream.

The weight crushing them was there comrade. Left unrecognizable with no head in sight. The blood wafts through their mask. They begin to gag as they try to pull the body off of them. They freeze up when a bloodied helmet rolls closer. Empty and dented, the helmet hits their shoe with a loud clank.

The fog begins to clear up, displaying the mess left behind. The soldier tensed when they noticed the bodies presented around the room. Many hung from the lights, their necks cracking from the added weight of their helmet. Others were hazardously thrown against tables. One had a table leg pierced through their helmet.

"Why must humans be so selfish? Is this fun for you, you pathetic piece of shit?" The soldier whimpers in response, turning their eyes away from the figure crouching in front of their face.

The creature, despite crouching, was still overlooking the only soldier left alive. The disarray and multi-color of the night sky reflected back to the onlookers who began to murmur about the new being. They tilt their head and leaned closer to the soldier, their bright, soulless eyes stared into the helmet. They licked the sharp smile forming from the fear they felt radiating off the soldier.

"Unlike the Blue Beetle, we do not care about the lives of our victims. What do you think happens next?"

"W-What the hell are you?"

"If you must know, my host has named us Narc. Will you beg for your life now?"

The Soldier rips their helmet off, looking at Narc with a look of fear, "Please. Please. I'm sorry. I'll never do this again, please!"

"He had once told us the same. You are just like the others. Pathetic. Unworthy. A perfect meal."

A scream is ripped through his victim's vocal cords as Narc bites down. Blood seeped through their mouth as they ripped out the spinal cord in one sharp turn. Narc stands, spitting their leftovers to the side.

"Hey, ugly!" A voice called out, "What the hell are you doing, man?"

Narc cranes their neck towards the entrance of the bar, watching as Blue Beetle floated at his place. They both stared at each other, unmoving.

"Blue Beetle!" A voice calls out, Milagro moving from her hiding spot to the blue-and-black-clad hero. "My friend is gone! She was just--where is she?" She turns her head towards Narc, who stares down at the shaking girl.

"Get away from it!" Blue Beetle yells, flying through the bar as he centers himself between Milagro and Narc. "Take it up with me and not the civilians!"

"He just--he ate all the soldiers--" Milagro gasps, stepping behind Blue Beetle, "I saw what he did--"

"You--What the hell are you?" Blue Beetle points his palms toward Narc, who continues to stare in silence.

"Does my figure scare you? I can hear your heartbeat." Narc cranes their head towards Milagro. Blue Beetle blocks her from their eyesight. “Worry not, we do not hurt the innocent.”

With those words, Narc feels their familiar bulking figure die down to their less impending figure. The duo are lost for words at the new figure presented in front of them.

"I'm so sorry I think I misgendered you--" Milagro's eyes stayed pinned to the pair of boobs Narc had.

"Where's (Name)?" Blue Beetle turns his head around, "Khaji-Da says she is still here! She was working, right?" His questions are to Milagro.

None of the three seemed to notice the survivors running out of the bar.

"She is here. With me." Narc hums, moving closer to Blue Beetle, "Is Khaji-Da your symbiote?"

"Symb--what? What do you mean (Name) is with you?"

"Jaime Reyes. You are a host are you not?"

"Stop avoiding my questions! Where is she?! How do you know my name--That is not my name! I do not know Jaime Reyes. Do you?"

"I have known of the scarab on your back since the beginning. Do not worry, (Name) remains clueless, for now."

"Why are you saying her name as if you know her?" Milagro questions.

Narc purrs, tilting their head closer to Blue Beetle who stepped back hesitantly. "We have known each other for a long time. We are bonded together until she dies. She is my key to survival in your world. She is me. I am her. We are one. We are Narc."

“Like Narcotics? Did she get you from a drug? She doesn’t seem like the type to do drugs.” Milagro questions, stepping closer to the duo, “And why are you so close? I can smell you from here!”

“We are host and symbiote. We am not from here, you see. Your alien won’t know of us.”

Milagro and Blue Beetle share a look, communicating with silent words. Blue Beetle lowers his hand, allowing Narc to step closer. The symbiote smiles, their purrs growing louder.

“I see why she likes you.”

With those words, Narc sinks into (Name)'s skin, leaving the woman defenseless from the eyes of her long-time crush and friend. She drops to the floor, her wounds patching over themselves with a familiar goo.

Blue Beetle drops to the floor, bringing (Name) close to his body. He rocks her back and forth as Milagro stumbles beside him. Her eyes were bloodshot and the tears that disappeared has formed all over again.

"Why didn't she tell us? Why didn't she tell me?" Blue Beetle, now Jaime who removed his helmet. He leans his forehead on the woman and murmurs into her hair. He kisses her temple as Milagro continues to cry.

"Why didn't she tell us her hero name is literally short for Narcotics?!"

⋆｡°✩

(Name) awakes to a horrible headache splintering her head. She groans as she shifts closer to the warmth of an unfamiliar body. She nuzzles in closer to the warmth, groaning at the light against her eyelids.

"Narc turn off the lights...I feel like I've just been shot." She moans, gripping her blanket tighter against her body, "I'm going out with Milagro later. I have to go buy cat food..."

"Milagro is taking care of Eddie, don't worry." A familiar voice whispers against her head, "Just go back to sleep. I'll block the sunlight."

"Thanks, Jaime..." Processing the name that came out, she jumps away from the warmth. She stares at Jaime, who stares back in equal shock and sleepiness. His hair was a mess, pointing in different directions. She presses her hand to her mouth, gasping behind it.

"Oh my god. We didn't have sex, did we? If so, that would be awkward because you are my best friend's brother and you literally have a girlfriend. I can't even get drunk so it's impossible for me to forget--oh my god am I in your house?"

"Hey, Hey," Jaime soothes her, smiling at the woman freaking out in his bed, "We didn't have sex and we were not drunk. You were...shot multiple times and some things came to light, but it's okay now, I promise."

"I'm still sleeping in your bed though! You could have left me, being shot doesn't stop me! We were holding each other?! What would Kord think if she saw this now?" She grips the unfamiliar sweater covering her body, feeling her legs shift through from under the sheets and hit against Jaime's.

"Jenny? What about Jenny? We aren't...We aren't dating if that's what you're worried about." Jaime grabbed her by the face, locking eyes with her who looked anywhere but him. "I can't just leave you when you were hurt."

"Milagro said you two kissed."

"We did once have feelings for each other. But it's long gone now, it was just a...heat of a moment kind of thing." Jaime brings her cheeks towards his chest, which she just noticed had nothing covering him from her eyes. Her hands stopped short on his stomach. She felt his stomach flutter in response.

"Besides, I like someone else. I like you."

She feels her heart stop at his confession.

Knew it.

"No shit." She exclaims, looking up at Jaime who smiles down at her doe-like look.

"I do." He whispers back. They both stared at one another until he leaned closer to her face. She felt his breath fan her face as she wrinkled her nose.

"You stink." She snorts, moving her hands to the back of his neck. He laughs at her words.

"Yours smells much worse. Now, come here--" She cuts him off, smashing her lips to his. He holds her waist, bringing her to sit on his lap. Her tongue finds his, leaning closer as her hand moves to stay on his chest. Biting his lip, she softly sucks it lightly. She opens her eyes to find his eyes half-lidded, enjoying the moment.

When she pulls away, her lips find his neck, kissing down to his collarbone. Pulling her hand back to his neck, she inhales his scent.

"Couldn't have waited until I was asleep. You are always like this. The same exact way with Peter Parker."

They both jump at the new voice, turning their heads towards Narc who floated their head around the room, reading the boxes that held different items. She turns her head to Jaime, eyes wide, waiting for him to begin screaming.

"Narc-uh. They explained more about your origins with each other. After finding them standing in a bloodbath, Milagro and I thought the worst had happened but someone--something told me to let Narc explain."

"They told you about our.... situationship?" She questions, gripping onto Jaime's bicep. "You're supposed to be running away--not making out with me!"

"And you! You aren't supposed to be out. You're grounded!" She growls, pulling Jaime's face into the crook of her neck, "You told him everything, huh? Why can't you ever keep secrets? She'll be angry our cover was blown!"

She ignored the look Narc gives, opting to continue her rant, “Asshole, is it because I’m not letting you meet Red Robin? You know it isn’t allowed!”

"The other youngling saw you get shot. Was I supposed to act as if I ate you instead?"

"Actually, yes! Nobody is supposed to know, you promised. We promised Eddie."

"You made a promise to your cat?" Jaime's muffled voice questions. Despite the situation, he bites her neck. "Who is Peter Parker?"

She glares at Narc, who innocently whistles. "No one Jaime, he is no one."

"Former boy toy." Narc responds instead, "Hell of an amateur kisser."

"You kissed him! Not me!" She turns to Jaime, pulling his head back to stare at him, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why they're acting this way. I'll go right now, seriously. I don't want you in our mess."

"Relax," Jaime comforts, grabbing her hand that stayed on his cheek. He smiles at her, "I can protect myself. Look--"

She felt him shift from under her, watching in shock as his body began to be covered by a familiar suit she had seen countlessly on television. Everything except his face was covered in armor. Whilst she analyzed the markings on his suit, Narc moved closer as well.

"Does your scarab only speak to you?" Narc asks, "It is unlike anything I have seen on my planet. Do you feed them as well?"

"They aren't really fed? They don't need sustenance. Khaji-Da only talks to me in my head so they're like a second voice...and planet?"

"This is going to be a long talk," She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "At least you don't have to feed them human brains..."

"What?" Jaime recoils, looking at the two with wide eyes, "I'm sorry? Brains? Like Zombies? The Walking Dead? Like zombies from The Last of Us?!"

"I thought you told him everything!"

"I would never tell of my eating habits! Humans are judgemental!"

[akariamai]

Welcome to Spearhead

Shinei Nouzen x OC

Word Count: 2321

Like an infestation, war trickled into every aspect of the lives of those the Republic of San Magnolia deemed to be less than. Those who do not possess fair skin and light hair were sent to internment camps, located in the wasteland beyond the walls of the city. The conditions of the internment camps were despicable — almost uninhabitable. Memories of sharing a horse stall with her family of four were engraved in her mind. Her family was shove into the stall — still full of shit — were left to tidy what was now there new home. Old forgotten hay laid bare on the floor as her mother and father shared the same feeling of helplessness. Her twin sister scrunched her nose in disgust as the vile stench of shit infiltrated her nostrils. Her mother put on a courageous facade before attempting to imbue the stall with a sense of home. She invested a considerable amount of time and effort in her endeavors but ultimately failed.

The family of four was given a month of peace before their mother and father received recruitment letters, promising citizenship and freedom for five years of service. Their father, cursed with his sense of pride, mindlessly accepted. The thought of dying and never seeing his family again hadn’t crossed his mind once. It was his family that kept him alive through the dark horrors of war but captivating notions were not enough to stop the autonomous AI-controlled drones known as the Legion. He perished believing in a lie.

Her mother struggled with her father’s absence. He was her pillar of strength; as long as he stayed by her side, she would always prevail. He was gone now, participating in a war for false promises. She stressed for his safety and health, as well as the survival of her children. She proceeded to smile though it was far less bright. Her children needed her to be in the present; to survive the harsh realities of the internment camp. It wasn’t long before her mother was taken from the sisters, a rebellion against their suppressors turned deadly, and her mother became an unforeseen casualty. Her body buried in an unmarked grave.

“Promise me.” Warm gentle hands held onto hers, “Promise we’ll stay together. That we’ll always have each other.”

“I promise.” Reva whispered.

Once the two sisters realized their father wasn’t coming back from the battlefield, they decided to join. The people, now referred to as the Eighty-six, grasped onto the realization no one was ever coming back. There was no freedom after five years of service. It was a mere lie to get the Eighty-six to enlist.

Reva saw her comrades die at the hands of the Legion. Friends she once smiled and laughed with. Their forms left bruised and battered, while their spirits departed, leaving their bodies cold. She heard the pain-filled cries of her twin sister before she perished with the rest of their comrades.

“Wraith!”

Reva, during the heat of battle, fought her way towards her sister’s irreparably destroyed Juggernaut. Her emblem splattered in blood — her blood — and a lifeless corpse surrounded decimated bricks from the ruins of a nameless city. She fired at the Legion, who stood above her sister’s body, relentlessly. Her finger pulled on the trigger countless of times to ensure her sister’s murderer could no longer move.

“Fuck you!” She screeched, unleashing a rage she didn’t know she had. “Just die!” She didn’t know how long she persistently battered the once mobile machine but once her madness subsided, it was nothing more than scrap metal.

The handler, an older man with an unpleasantly croaky voice, declared, “The Legion are retreating, the other Juggernauts are unresponsive, you’ll be transferred immediately.” The transmission ended with no condolences or congratulations. The Eighty-six’s were nothing but lambs to the slaughter, destined to die for the Alba. An unfamiliar ache etched into her beating heart would unknowingly become a reminder of her loneliness.

She heavily climbed out of her own Juggernaut, the corpse of her deceased sister lying motionless a few meters away of her iron coffin. The reality of the situation seemed to seep in as the sky above began to weep.

Her sister’s name lingered in the back of her throat as she stumbled closer. Breathing almost became too difficult as hiccups threatened to erupted from her lips. Her salty tears camouflaged with the raindrops trailing down her rosy cheeks. Her sister’s lifeless body laid above a growing pool of deep crimson blood, her clothing drenched in red. Once vibrant sapphire eyes faded into a dull emptiness. Reva wanted to roar into the darkness in despair. Embracing her sister tightly against her chest, she instinctively sought to shield her sister from the rain, a futile gesture.

“I’m sorry.” Reva barely choked out. She laid a gentle farewell kiss on her forehead, praying to one day see her again, and used her bare hands as tools to lay her sister to rest in the Earth. The downpour made it utterly frustrating but she persevered. Her sister deserved a burial. Mud soiled her pants as she crouched down onto the muddied floor, her hands shoveling away the filthy water and grime.

Hours must have passed as the daybreak glimmered through the dark clouds. The heavens wept no more, it’s tears all gone. It was the start of a new day without the constant presence she was familiar to; a sunrise her sister would never get to see. She solemnly limped back to her Juggernaut and returned to the deteriorating building she once shared with her squadron. Instead of dirtying the sanitize floors, she waited in her sullied clothing for her transportation.

~~~

The Alba men assigned to transport her to her new squadron showered her with dirty looks. Their light eyes acted as daggers; deadly if their glares could inflict pain. “Filthy pig,” They muttered under their breath, “Change!”

Reva didn’t bother to move. She had spent hours pondering over the loss of her sister. What gave these men, who were complacent when their neighbors were stripped of their human rights, the right to order her around. They were nobodies forced to work in close proximity to the Eighty-six, acting as mere errand runners with no true purpose or nobility.

“What are you waiting for?” They viewed her as nothing more than livestock; in need of control. They tenaciously held onto the perceived sense of superiority, ingrained by the institution that unlawfully detained the Eighty-six, over her being. Undisturbed by the objections from the men, she confidently moved towards her four-wheeled prison, closing her eyes once she found a spot that would be untouched by the machinery.

Once the men noticed she was not responding to their demands, the older man reached out his arm to drag her out without a care of her well-being. Despite her striking resemblance to a human, the “unnatural” color of her being prevented her from being perceived as such. His hand refrained from making contact with her form as she skillfully twisted his arm and forcefully directed his body to the ground. The Alba men before her have never seen the battlefield; they have never bared the hardships that came with war. They willfully lived ignorant of the truth behind “the war with no casualties.”

The younger man hurried to the aid of his comrade, assisting his higher-up, all the while casting wary glances at the girl, apprehensive that she might persist in her assault. “Are you okay?” The two men refused to take their eyes off of her as if she were a barbaric animal, ready to pounce at any given moment. Realization washed over them as they unwillingly accepted her decision and carried on with their assigned duties.

She remained unaware of the men successfully loading up her Juggernaut or her transport advancing to another battlefield — a battlefield she may very well perish. Her back kissed the metal plating, as the tenderness of her body hit her with the momentum of a speeding train.

Time slipped by before the entrance opened and the light flowed in like a never ending stream of welcoming ambiance. “Get out.” The men left her unattended, apprehensive of her being, standing by for her to step out and allow them to work. She ignored them, absorbing what would be her new home for the foreseeable future. There were two buildings in range of her sight. The first was a weather worn barracks’ hangar where the Juggernauts and other military equipment would be stored away, although the Eighty-six were not supplied with adequate gear or materials. The second was a rundown building; the place where she and the other Eighty-six would occupy themselves in. There was nothing glamorous about the building; there were noticeable cracks on the exterior and foliage sprouting to one day overtake the structure.

“So you’re the new recruit,” A man with an unkempt field uniform roamed closer to her. “Welcome to Spearhead.” He noticed the dried mud, flaking due to the movement of her clothing, and assumed the two Alba men must’ve tussled her around before transporting her. It wasn’t uncommon for the transport team to harass, even assault, the Eighty-six.

She nodded her head and gave him a pathetic smile. He was pleasant, she noted, by his subtle attempts to respect her personal space. By the condition of her clothing, it would be a rather fair assumption the Alba men physically attacked her; however, she would not get too familiar with him or the others in this squadron. Death awaited them, even herself. She will soldier on without the support of her sister, without a purpose to continue living. She will die on the battlefield; her existence disregarded while the life is scuffed from her body, countless of miles away from her sister’s resting place.

“The name’s Raiden Shuga; personal name: Wehrwolf.” To bear a personal name was a minimal act of respect Processors could offer veterans of the war, who returned from death’s door countless times.

Returning the sentiment, she offered him her true and personal name, “I’m Reva Nakamura; personal name: Hellfire.”

Where Wraith goes, Hellfire follows, a phrase old comrades used to comment. Two veterans whose coordination—without a single word uttered—reigns supreme among the other Processors. He was told, “They were two halves of a whole, you would never see one without the other.” Yet, here Hellfire stood without her other half; presumably dead and Raiden knew better than to mention it.

Instead he acknowledged her, masking the recognition of her personal name, “I’ll show you around, introduce you to the others. Some are busy with chores but you’ll see them afterwards.”

The Spearhead squadron had plenty of members, each a veteran in their own right, each with a story to tell. No matter how often she was transferred, seeing new young faces left a horrendous taste in her mouth. They were all going to succumb to the Legion; it was not a matter of if, but a matter of when. Death cradled them, awaiting for their gut wrenching cries of anguish and grief; to carry them away from the suffering of this bleak existence.

Forever wasn’t meant for them. It was more for the last person standing to uphold the memories of the deceased, although those memories will only persevere if they manage to stay alive. Living, however, does not guarantee memories will stay intact — memories fade through age or vanish in death. They were not meant to linger for eternity. Their sacrifices will not be remembered by the generations to come, only lost in the sea of nameless corpses.

“Reva, given a new change of clothing by Anju, a comrade who bore some resemblance to the Alba with only her eyes countering those thoughts, stepped into the dining room. After being given a bowl of soup, she sought to sit alone but instead was ambushed by her comrades surrounding her with probing questions. The one who lead the charge was Kurena, a rather young girl with chestnut-colored hair and catlike Topaz eyes. Once she heard the infamous Hellfire was sent to their squadron, she couldn’t contain her curiosity. Reva was nothing like the image she had conjured up in her mind. She’d imagined an unyielding woman harden by the numerous battles she’d face, instead the person before her was a girl like her.

“How did you get the name Hellfire?”

“Where were you from?”

“What do you like to do in your free time?”

Reva swallowed another spoonful of soup, made from overgrown fresh vegetables the group scavenged from the ruins of the nameless city. It was better than the horrendous rations the Alba sent the Eighty-six.

“My family comes from the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia, but I was born in the Republic.” Certain questions were ignored; they carried memories she’d wish to forget. Instead of being offended for the unanswered questions, they assumed unpleasant memories were tied to them, and moved on. They were strangers to her, after all, she didn’t need to speak to them but she did.

The group spoke about themselves as well, giving her the opportunity to enjoy her meal uninterrupted without pausing to answer questions. They collectively mentioned their captain would always be found with his nose in a book, Theo pencil in hand would sketch away in his notebook, Kurena bears the role of the group’s cherished little sister, to which she whined was not true, and so many more.

Shin, one of the many nicknames he’s been given, sat away from the group. He listened to them giving the newbie insight on each member of the squadron; an attempt to get her familiar to them. Another name he may have to carry before his death; another burden to shoulder in the battlefield. At the moment, he was content that his friends were cheerful. Moments like these were scarce. Each day could be someone’s last.

Masterlist

#86 eighty six #86 #shinei nouzen #shinei nouzen fanfic #86 fanfic #86 anime #eighty six #86 eightysix #shin nouzen #raiden shuga #theoto rikka #86 エイティシックス #86 light novel #oc #original character #shinei nouzen x oc #shin nouzen x oc

[akariamai]

Glitch

Part 2

Pairing: Tommy Merlyn x Reader

Word Count: 1221

Meeting Tommy Merlyn was not something you expected to happen within your lifetime. You lived worlds apart despite living within Starling City for the entirety of your lives. He basked in the high life society while you primarily stayed cozied up within your condo. Your lives coinciding felt like a glitch. A sporadic moment in a hectic reality just waiting to drop a bombshell disrupting the peace you’ve ever known.

It began with a work email. Your catering business has somehow garnered the attention of one of the assistants working for Moira Queen. It was a surreal moment of your life as you could not fathom how they became aware of your business. To this day, it was still a mystery.

You worked your ass off for each piece to be perfect and delicious. You called up some friends to help you with delivering them to the Queen Mansion. You nor your friends have ever seen the mansion in person. Decorated so gratifyingly that it established an elite lifestyle. One you and your friends could only dream of but never touch. Thea Queen’s sweet sixteen would be the talk of the city and you had but a small part in making it the best day of her teenage years. You were thankful for this opportunity.

The door of the Queen Mansion was wide open. Busy bodies rushing back and forth with decorations barely being hung up. There he stood nearby the stairwell. He diligently surveyed the chaos stirring within the mansion. His only source of entertainment until the guest arrived. He wore an awfully expensive black tux. His presence radiated a sort of authority, a type you were vastly unfamiliar with.

Moira spotted the dishes and instantly began instructing you where to place the food. It was then that he noticed your semi-muscular frame. She attentively inspected your work for a solid second as your friends placed them onto the table, leaving you to verify the flawlessness of each piece. “These look wonderful.” She placed her hand onto your shoulder as you proceeded to unveil the rest. “That’ll be all.”

You nodded before responding, “Thank you.” That’s where it should’ve ended. A brief minute of residing in the same room at the same time. A moment where the planets and the fates and the stars aligned. Laying the groundwork for the glitch to spark an incomparable possibility. An unlikely  window of opportunity for magic to captivate even the utmost bachelor in all of Starling City.

He was spellbound by your beauty, enthralled by your stance, and intended to become acquainted with you. His good looks, he thought, would help drastically but much to his disappointment you’d barely looked at him as you leisurely fled the mansion. He attempted to woo you with his lifestyle and money but you weren’t taking the bait. In fact, you barely muttered a few words to him as he tried to dazzle you. It was slightly frustrating but something kept him from relenting.

Within the entirety of his womanizer life, women came easy for him. It was his last name attracting the attention of women or his ridiculously handsome face (at least he thought so) that usually did the trick. But his usual antics weren’t working. For the first time, he had to work for acknowledgement from a woman and he rather enjoyed it. The rush of knowing his time with you was limited and every action could either disconnect from each other's lives permanently or become the start of something new.

He knew your job ended the second you’d dropped the food off and rectified what could’ve been disturbed by the car ride. His window was slowly coming to a close and you’d be lost forever in the sea of women that inhabited the city. He needed to arrange for more time, allowing his charm to fulfill its purpose and enchant you into his arms.

“Can I have a business card?” You nodded, digging into your pocket and handing him the card one of your friends digitally designed. All you wanted was to cuddle into your bed while silently stressing over the review that would soon loom over your head. A terrible review from Moira Queen will utterly destroy your business. You were dying for the days to come to progress so you could know the fate of your business. You were so busy ensnared into your thoughts that you didn’t notice Tommy Merlyn was flirting with you. Frankly, a panic attack was undoubtedly ensuing your figure as you left.

It wasn’t until a few days later that you’d realized that Tommy Merlyn was trying to pursue you romantically and the thought initiated a hearty roar of laughter. You regarded it as utterly ridiculous. Enough so that you’d poked fun at the situation you’d found yourself in with your friends. Knowing nothing remotely romantic could unravel between the two of you, you dismissed his attempt as a spur of the moment relapse on his part. He wasn’t a one-girl type of guy. His past (and very public) relationships presented as such and you were not looking for a short time. You wanted something more intimate and profound. Something the man the media portrayed could not approach if he continued on with his lack of self-control.

Unexpectedly he popped back into your life as he contacted you. Hiring you for an event he’d be hosting and imparting an invitation to you and your friends. When you relay the message you’d experience endless teasing by your friends. It was, according to them, another chance to have Tommy swoon over you. You took their bantering in stride as nothing, absolutely nothing will occur between the two of you. You were searching for something more than merely sex and didn’t want to be included in his ever growing list of one-night stands nor suffer through the heartbreak that would possibly hover over the hypothetical relationship. It was just something you did not want to bear.

He was, without a doubt, charming in his own right. He’d fished for little nuggets of specifics. Details of one such as preferred hobbies, cherished memories, and everything in between. Nothing a person who desired a one-night stand would seek. He was different from what the media had plastered all over the television and magazines. He seemed genuine when he indicated his want to get to know you on a personal level. Even admitting the entire event was assembled to grasp a fraction of a chance to encounter one another again.

It only brought more questions than answers but with a little convincing from your friends, you decided to give him a chance. It progressed slowly. Dates at Big Belly Burgers and stolen kisses under streetlights. You’d realized just how big his heart was and how much love he could muster for the people around him. Almost too much as most was at the cost of his mental state. He recognized the amount of devotion you dedicate to cooking. So much so he once decided to cook for you. He captured your heart the second he tried to cook Fettuccine Alfredo using a cookbook he’d soon give to you.

An inconceivable relationship blossomed over a mere glitch in reality and you both thank whatever gods or fate for allowing such a circumstance to transpire.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Sunshine

Pairing: Ray Palmer x FutureSoldier!Reader

Word Count: 793

He was the personification of sunshine itself. A man seemingly untouched by the evils of the world with the ability to carry on with such merriness. You envied him. All that surrounded you was darkness and misery. It covers you like a favorite blanket on a cold winter night. The darkness acted as your lifeline because you had nothing else to keep you afloat from the somber abyss you’re exceedingly close to suffocating into. Your nightmares and memories tormented you every single day.

You found yourself watching him tinker with one of his projects. Schematics and a variety of familiar tools covered almost every inch of his workspace. All within reaching distance if he urgently required it. “How do you do it?” It was a question you wondered about since your first meeting. The endless optimism radiated off of his figure like the rays of the sun. A, rather large and muscular, ball of sunshine. 

Once he finished screwing the screw, he looked up into your eyes, face contorting in confusion, “Do what?” It was a very open question and he had no idea what you were referring to. He did not want to bore you to death with the mechanics of the machine he was building in case it was not prevalent to your question. Nor did he want to confuse you even more with the logistics and probability of his machine functioning.

“Your eyes,” You began, “they show loss and heartbreak and yet you are contempt and happy. How do you do it? Staying happy when the darkness knocks on your door.” You both come from different times. He was born and raised into a time with a false security of peace. So fragile it's just waiting to shatter with a push of a button. You were raised in a time of death, war and disease. You’ve seen cities crumble into nothing but ashes. Family and friends perish operating as pawns for someone else’s game.

The team, with the exception of Gideon, was aware of the bare scraps of your past. They did not need to bear the burdens of the future that was set in stone. They did not need to hear the horrific truths of what lies ahead for humanity. That happiness came and went in an instant. Only misery and death lingered on the outskirts of the horizon.

He scrunched his eyebrows together, pondering over his answer thoughtfully. He had no true answer to your question, only speculation and even so you might not find what you intend with said hypothesis. “Admittedly, there’s not much to say. It can be the type of mindset I try to instill within myself. The experience one goes through can remarkably impact one’s frame of mind and outlook on life. While I have had my share of…” He paused for a brief moment, “distressing moments, I wholeheartedly accredit my perspective of life to those moments. Why do you ask?”

 “I’ve never met someone like you. Someone who genuinely cares about others with no ulterior motive. It’s…” You huffed before continuing, “unheard of to be as happy as you’ve shown since I arrived.” There was no place for kindness in war. Merely acceptance of the violence that loomed out into the abyss of politics and billionaires.

An unfamiliar emotion rippled within the drift of what laid ahead for humanity. You had not specified in the horrors you and the rest of your time had faced but Ray was not senseless. There was a slight anguish to your inquiry, a ghastly tragedy harrowing into your soul. It was prominent in the approach you chose to express. Heartbreaking. “I’m not that special. I’m sure there were plenty of people like me that you haven’t met.”

You were thankful that he was not born in your time. He surely would not survive. Whether it is the disease to end him or the unspeakable conviction of war. You were but a number. An asset. You were not special in any accent of the word. You were a soldier. Breathed and trained to be a mindless killing machine. A pawn for someone else to control. Given pretty lies, in all shapes and sizes, to diminish the guilt that ultimately dwelled in your psyche. All in the name of peace. But peace in itself is fragile. True peace was all but a false belief. It would continue to be so as long as greed and power triumphed over appointed leaders. 

You shook your head, “I don’t believe so. You’re too good for my time.” That kindness would dwindle down into nothingness. The extermination of human life was not for the kindhearted and Ray, in all his goodness, did not need to know the long lasting aftermath of doing so.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Missing

There was only one issue that soundlessly plagued Tim Drake and it was the volume of burdens he situated upon his own shoulders. A mere kid aiming to play the part of the hero in the shadow of the one before him. He was carrying too much that he was, unknowingly, killing himself with the amount of hours he clocks in. The thought of relaxing or even sleep hadn’t crossed his mind as coffee became his drug. It was his feeble attempt of prevailing against his body’s limitations.

His obsessive personality trait did not transpire from upholding the mantle of the infamous Robin but before. His frantic hunger for validation rose due to his parent’s neglect and you helplessly tried to assist him in everything you could. Somewhere along the way, you became an absent memory. Your help was no longer required and you soon ceased to exist to him.

You watched as he spiraled to solve the mystery of the man behind the cowl. Oftentimes forgetting to care and wash himself. His attention was overtaken by his hellbent need of unraveling the mysteries that surrounded Batman and Robin. All the while sipping on the coffee you had generously brewed for him. 

Your heart kept breaking repeatedly as your friendship with the boy withered into nonexistence. He was too preoccupied with his new responsibilities that you could feel him slipping away from your life. You were not ignorant to ignore the hardships he faced every waking moment he parades himself in the suit but you realized you became an afterthought of his life. Your presence became too familiar that he unconsciously disregarded you and your friendship. You couldn’t waste your days away waiting for him to finally acknowledge your existence so you left.

While you disappeared from his life, the ghost of your presence haunted him frequently. Questions and wonder began to pile onto one another as the feeling that something was amidst. A piece was missing from his life and he couldn’t figure out what. It was unnerving, roaming the semi-empty halls of Gotham Manor incomplete without knowing the reason why. There was something missing, he would whisper to no one. Barely conscious, actively engaging in his perpetual battle against slumber. His lack of rest did not aid in his struggle of unfolding the absence of something or someone.

It was Alfred wondering where you went off to that sparked realization to Tim’s drowsy eyes. It was not an object that was missing as he had previously considered. It was a person, his person, that was absent. You were once a familiar face that swam in the sea of adopted children that Bruce collected. He was accustomed to you walking next to him as he ranted about his obligations and interest. Your presence extinguished the loneliness that haunted him for years now.

He pursued to find where you had run off to and potentially bring you back. To restart the routine that initially drove you away in the first place. He had an abundance of questions to throw your way, slight resentment for driving him insane and wasting his time launching an investigation of what was astray in his daily schedule.

Tim, in his Robin attire, knocked on your window late into the night. Twelve hours have passed since his realization and he had just finished patrolling the streets of Gotham with Bruce. He could hear slight movement from within so he knocked again. Your blue curtains were brushed away as your eyes interlocked with his. It was at this moment where the ball was on your court. Opening the window meant facing the boy who once attentively held your friendship in high regards but ultimately left it to rot in the dirt. It meant facing reality that he did not notice your presence for three months and had just realized you were absent from his life.

Against your better judgment, you opened your bedroom window. The freezing wind of Gotham City rushed in, “Why are you here?” You’d figured you were insignificant to him and his life within the first month of no contact. In fact, you thought he would’ve noticed in the first week but nothing. All you got was willful silence.

“Why haven’t you been visiting the manor?”

“When I realized we weren’t really friends.” You whispered. It was a truth that was daunting to hear out loud. It made it feel all the more real than merely thinking about it.

“What are you talking about?” His voice cracked at the sheer shock of the words that were just spoken. “Of course we were friends. We are friends.” His illusions only further pierced your broken heart even more. The denial of everything that transpired.

You shook your head with tears threatening to fall, “But we weren’t. It took you three months. Three months to realize I was gone. Were we ever really friends because I can’t tell anymore.” In the time when you were separate, you did a lot of reflecting upon what you considered to be a friendship. You came to the understanding that you became his caretaker instead of a friend and when the burden was lifted from your shoulders, he had no use for you. You were merely a placeholder for his absentee parents.

He tried to reach out to you but you deviated from his touch. You did not want comfort from the boy nor did you want to continue a friendship as he so-called it. “Can you leave? I don’t want my parents to awaken nor do I want the neighbors to see Robin by my window.” 

“[Reader]-” He began but he came up with nothing. No words could halt the decision you came up with a month ago. No action can repair the damage he unconsciously or not caused you. It was over.

“I won’t tell anyone about your nightly activities.” You assured him. “It’s the least I can do after all of this.” There was nothing more to say so you shut your window, allowing for the curtains to hide you away from his prying eyes. It was somewhat relieving as that chapter in your life was concluded.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Yellow Roses

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Part 2

Warnings: brief mention of cheating and sex

Word Count: 531

Each shared kiss with Dick felt magical. Your soul floats into the heavens as your heart nearly explodes. With every stolen kiss, you fear your demise but each one is worth it. His love is electrifying. You swore sparks bursts with every touch. You are ordinary and he is extraordinary. At times, you felt he’s too good for you but his gaze always makes your doubts float away.

Every moment with him is breathtaking. His love is addicting. An ache emerges whenever he is gone and fades as soon as he reappears by your side. You know you love him. Without a doubt, he has your heart and you pray he keeps it forever.  You feel it in your bones that he is the one for you. It’ll always be him.

His nightly activities never became a problem in the relationship. Date nights are sparse and often brief. You take what you can get. You always understood that the world needed him and you refuse to act selfishly. He’s a hero. He’s your hero.

Giving is his love language. He buys you flowers, all kinds and variations of them, and it excites you to see the next bouquet. You adore flowers. Flowers are divine and elegant. Simply radiant when well taken care of. It saddens you when they wilt. Their brilliant colors fade and their petals deteriorate.

Everything is perfect until it isn’t. A shift in the relationship and you are not ready for the blast. Love makes you blind to the truth. You gloss over the signs. It began with the yellow roses. The roses that sat in the vase he bought you. Then his smile. His old smiles were brighter. Warmer. Filled with love. His new smiles are dim and cold. His gaze no longer held the tenderness and passion it once had.

An unseen text of love, a key of trust, and a forgotten promise was the recipe of ruin. The sounds of intimacy echo throughout his apartment. Waves of emotions, all muddling together, swept over you. Tears fell as your heart shattered into thousands of pieces. It’s his grunts and cries intertwining with another.

You need to see with your own eyes that it is him and not some stranger in his apartment. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that to you. You knew the truth the second you walked in but continuing to be oblivious, for even a moment, is better than facing reality. You peak through the crack in the bedroom door and notice it was her. The one he convinced you not to worry about. They’re friends, he claimed, but clearly they are much more. It sickens you how smoothly his lie slipped from his lips. How easily he gazed into your soul as he deceived you.

You didn’t know what to do. Do you burst into the room and demand an explanation or leave in silence? All you know is that you couldn’t be with him anymore. Not with the knife he left on your back, a bleeding wound that’ll never heal, nor the remaining fragments of your heart that he hammered to smithereens. 

It began with yellow roses and ended in heartbreak.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Interview

Summary: You admit on live television your old childhood crush on Bruce Wayne.

Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1014

You waited for your name to be called up towards the stage; being invited to The Tawny Show permitted your nerves to spike. It wasn’t the first time you were interviewed, in fact you did them for years promoting the projects you’ve been a part of. However, there was something about being backstage of The Tawny Show only cemented the reality of your rise to stardom.

“Please give a warm welcome to surprise guest [Reader].” Tawny’s voice rang out and you mustered as much self-confidence as you could before elegantly walking towards her idol. Tawny gave you half a hug before taking a seat on her fluffy pink couch. “It’s so nice to see you. You were phenomenal in your new movie.”

Your cheeks flushed maroon, “Thank you for inviting me. I am overjoyed you loved the movie. The crew poured so much heart and dedication into the production.”

“And it shows, doesn’t it everyone?” Tawny Young turned to her audience, who agreed with the sentiment, “This production wasn’t your first appearance on the big screen, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “I’ve been in the acting gig for several years now. Smaller roles and such. I’ve starred in several ads for multiple products and been in an assortment of movies and TV shows.”

She hummed in agreement, "You're extremely private when it comes to your background. I've heard rumors that you're a native Gothamite. Gotham Academy was the school you went to, correct? What was it like going to school with such prominent figures of Gotham’s high society?”

You mentioned briefly, “There’s not really much to say. I went to Gotham Academy on a scholarship and usually stayed by my lonesome.” Your peers were not the kindest bunch as you offered no connections to lift them from their current social status. You were raised in the Narrows, an immensely poor and dangerous neighborhood, and were lucky enough to win a scholarship from the Wayne Foundation.

Tawny laughed, “So modest. There must’ve been something from Gotham Academy that’s juicy enough to share. What about childhood crushes?” The room grew quiet as everyone was anticipating the next words out of our mouth.

You thought about the boy you once loved but never pursued. A boy who was too far from your reach and most definitely out of your league. He probably didn’t know you existed during your time at Gotham Academy. Your love for him became a secret only you knew. 

“I did have a minuscule crush on a boy.” You laughed remembering how lovestruck your younger self was. “But I’ve never spoken to him. I was very shy and he was always surrounded by our classmates so I never had the chance to get the chance to talk to him.”

Tawny gasped excitedly, leaning forward to catch the name of your once crush. “Who was it? I'm sure everyone is dying to know.” The uproar of cheers followed soon after from the live audience in the room.

You glance at them for a moment, pondering over the secret you've kept for so long, before redirecting your attention towards Tawny. You no longer felt the puppy love you once held for him but admitting your old crush will bring him unwanted attention. He was already in the limelight at such a young age, born into a rich family and such, but you didn’t want to place more attention onto him nor his family. “Um… I don’t know.”

“Was this lucky fellow Apollo?” Tawny asked, receiving cheers and whistles from the audience. Memories of Harvey Dent narrowly resurfaced as you sparsely had any interactions with the current man. He hung around Bruce Wayne a bunch, establishing her assumption that he and Bruce were friends, but never thought of him as anything more than his past accomplishments and the man he became due to his unfortunate accident. Unease sank into your body as you were aware that once Harvey’s name was mentioned, Bruce’s followed right after. Their names were intertwined with one another.

Tawny’s eyebrows scrunched together, lost in thought of who your younger self fancied, “The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?”

You hoped the blood rushing towards your face was masked by the color of your skin. Wished the topic of crushes was not brought up and left skeletons in the closet alone. There was a brief moment to lie but lying in the face of your fans was not a stance you would take. Your fans were everything to you. They cheered, others not so much, and pushed you to try your very best. Lying was not something you considered lightly. You could only nod before Tawny awed in astoundment and scant amusement.

~~~

Dick Grayson mindlessly found The Tawny Show for a good while before he became obsessed with it. He loved Tawny Young and her surprise guests. It was enjoyable white noise as he focused on finishing the last of his homework. Currently Tawny was attempting to snuff out the childhood crush of her guest [Reader], who appeared to be slightly panicked about the entire affair. It wasn’t too obvious for the average person to notice, but being taught by the world’s greatest detective allowed him to observe efficiently.

Harvey Dent was the first name Tawny named drop. Dick never knew Dent before his accident, only the shadow of the man he once was. His school showcased old photos of the students who previously attended and there he learned of the peculiar friendship Harvey and Bruce once shared in their youth.

“The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?” Tawny asked and [Reader] flushed red before nodding hesitantly. The audience went wild at the thought of [Reader] previously harboring romantic feelings for billionaire Bruce Wayne. Tawny then tried to reel them back into silence to proceed with the interview but by then Dick’s mind began to race. He wondered if Bruce ever knew of the girl’s attraction towards him. The thought of a potential love story brewing in the haze of schoolwork and lunches. It really made the boy wonder.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Familiar

Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x immortal!reader

Word Count: 1238

You watched the world you’d always known become public knowledge. It was laughable in which the US government feeds their citizens lies, lies that the enhanced individuals are a new construct, lies that they only started to appear in the age of heroes. Enhanced individuals have always existed. They always walked among the non enhanced. The only difference is more dangers have bubbled onto the surface and now they’re trying to save face.

Steve Rogers might’ve been the world’s first superhero but he was not the first enhanced individual. He was made into one and celebrated for it. Acting as a poster boy for the US government to recruit young men with a romanticized version of war. Those who were born enhanced were often murdered, caught, or experimented on. The history of the lost to never see a glimpse of light.

You had known Steve once upon a time. Your paths crossed whenever you found yourself in New York. You heard him getting beat up in the alley next to the theater being saved by his friend, Bucky Barnes. It was a rather lackluster moment and you had no idea how important to history they both would become. He was but a boy back then, wanting to be a hero but limited by his body. 

Throughout years of torture and experiments by the government, you readily escaped and made a life for yourself. Hidden away from the government and living in isolation. At times, you would gather enough courage to leave your safe haven and explore the ever changing world around you.

Money makes the world go round and round. At least, that’s what those in control want the population to comprehend and accept. You had seen the value of money diminish and the cost of necessities increase unjustifiably. The concept itself is of greed as no person should have to justify their worth with the amount of cash in your bank. You had lived through the rise and fall of empires, the extinction of a plethora of animals and insects, and witnessed the destruction in the wake of greed for money.

As money had never been an issue for you, you’d donate religiously to charities in feeding and sheltering the homeless in various parts of the world, created multiple scholarships for students to get free-rides to their dream schools, funded research centers and other organizations. You had far too much money for just an individual.

Once you explored the world for what it had to offer, you became bored. Traveling was once exciting but the thrill dissipated. You now occupy your time reading books, mindlessly scrolling on social media, watching television, and other niche hobbies. You had so much time to do everything you’d ever wanted and search for the answers to questions that remained unanswered.

You found yourself in a decent routine to keep yourself from going insane. It might’ve been considered boring to the average person but you had done so much in your life, any downtime was welcomed with open arms and a bottle of whiskey.

“Do you think they’re here?” Hushed voices whispered in the distance. The forest creatures that usually surround your home remain quiet, not knowing what to think about the strangers walking through their forest. They had become familiar to you but were still wary of humans.

“Well-kept house in the middle of nowhere and Red Wing picking up one heat signature would suggest so.” It was another voice. A voice you knew you heard before. It was a voice from the TV. You’d realized the voice belonged to Sam Wilson, an apparent pararescue who fought with the Avengers to save the world. You didn’t know if he was considered to be an Avenger though. After the whole debacle with the Sokovia Accords, the breaking up of the Avengers, and the fight with Thanos, the question of the status of the group has been unclear.

“You’d think they know we’re here?” The voices became louder as they inched closer to her safe haven. You wanted them out. To leave you alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want strangers to mess up what you had built for yourself. They needed to leave.

You recognized the other voice as well. It belonged to an old acquaintance. He flirted with you after he saved his friend, Steve, from being beaten in an alleyway. It seemed like such a natural occurrence but hearing him now was a bit surreal. He probably wouldn’t recognize you after all he’s been through. You remember when he was falsely blamed for the bombing of the Vienna Bombing. Sloppy work for someone’s who’s identity remained hidden for so long, only whispers of the nickname Hydra had given him. Idiots. You thought bitterly. Bucky was such a kind man turned into a mindless weapon. You wished he would have lived a long and beautiful life without the violence or suffering that he so rightfully deserves.

He sighed, annoyed by the questions, “Yes. They’re probably aware of our presence. [Reader] we know you’re in there. We just want to talk.” You didn’t listen. You couldn’t move. No one was supposed to know your name. You’d messed up sometime during the rise of technology, you assumed. It was easier to go under the radar before technology developed and expanded to the point where your face could be caught on camera. 

Your mind began to race as they made it to your porch and knocked gently. You couldn’t outrun a supersoldier. Your powers only consisted of immortality which you found to be rather lonely and painful. You slowly crept to the door, your arm uncontrollably shaking as you reached to open it. You were opening the door of uncertainty and allowing the outside world to enter. “What do you want?” It was the question that echoed underneath your breath.

Sam gave you a gentle simple, “I’m Sam Wilson and this is my associate Bucky Barnes.” He gestured to his companion. “We don’t mean to intrude but we have a couple of questions only you would be able to answer.” Bucky stared long and hard at your face. His eyebrows scrunching together as he tried to pinpoint why you were so familiar. “We have evidence to suggest that the soldier serum was recreated. Since you have been alive for a decent amount of time, have you heard of anything that’ll be able to help us?”

Of course you had heard of multiple instances of scientists, from all around the world, desperately searching for the answer to recreate the super soldier serum. Many had failed leaving a trail of dead bodies of unwilling victims.

“You should check with your own government.” You bluntly replied. The American government had tried to keep the experiments of their own soldiers a secret but people talk. Guilt overcomes silence. While the media caught smoke of what happened behind closed doors, drunken secrets were spilled for all to listen and you listened. “I know they tried… relentlessly.”

“You look familiar.” Bucky’s voice rang, catching the attention of both Sam and you. 

Sam gave him a questioning look before observing your reaction. It was neutral. No confusion or alarm emerged in your facial expression. You look straight into Bucky’s eyes, seeing the window of his broken soul trying to mend itself piece by piece, “I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.” The lie slipped so smoothly that neither of them caught it.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Human

Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Android!Reader

Word Count: 1170

You retained vague memories during moments of your creation. Long nights listening to the ramblings of your creator as they built a synthetic body capable of protecting your being from both natural and unnatural forces.

You were programmed to help situate a world war 2 veteran and integrate them into a changed world. Your creator was a massive fan of the man, it was evident from the old posters hanging on the walls, collectibles neatly placed in the bookshelf, and old tapes that remain unopened. Your creator built you, an android, to assist the man in any shape possible. Anything the veteran would ask and you would complete your assignment with grace and excellence.

You could be a cleaner, a cook, a teacher, a plumber, and even a friend. You were designed to learn and adapt like a human. You looked the part, created to blend in, the only exception was you were not alive in the sense of humans. Humans are flesh and bones while you are nuts and bolts.

“Are you ready for your name?” Your creator stuffed away various tools and wires from your sight. He had waited to name you till you were fully operational.

“Yes.” You forced out a smile. Humans smiled. They smile when they’re happy, excited or content. Would this be exciting for a human? To be given a name. A label for others to recognize. “I can’t wait!” You were slowly getting used to synthetically replicating human emotions. You were designed to do so by one of the greatest minds in the world. Was that your own thought process or a programmed code?

“MODEL AX400 register your name.” He waited for a moment before replying, “[Reader].”

“My name is [Reader].” It was a monumental occasion for both your creator and you. Your creator was going to drop you off to your owner and shake a few old hands as praises were sung to him. You were going to follow your new owner, an apparent captain from World War 2, and vertically await for a command.

The ride was loud as your creator blasted his beloved music. It was evident he was in a good mood. You were perfectly operational and the location of your drop off was becoming closer and closer. You noticed the way he fidgeted as you’ve both walked closer to his favorite war hero.

“Captain!” His voice shakes a bit, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

The Captain shook his hand before offering to do the same to you. No one has ever offered to shake your hand before. You’ve been operating for a few months before this meeting.

“They’re not a person, Captain.” Your creator laughed. He found it hilarious for others to confuse you with an actual person. All his hard work melted into you and you were perfect. “This is MODEL AX400. They answer to the name [Reader].”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” You gave him a gentle smile, “You have a very impressive record.”

Steve was stunned at your lifelike appearance and performance. He wouldn’t have guessed you were anything other than human. It was strange seeing how advanced technology had become since he went under.

“Since SHIELD cannot have a SHIELD agent be at your beck and call to help you with readjusting to society, [Reader] here will do so. She will be under your command and answer any and every question you’ll have. She can even do chores.” Your creator especially loved to boast about everything you were capable of doing. You were one of a kind after all.

“I can’t accept,” He tried to argue. There was so much unknown about the technology used to create you that he didn’t want to take the chance. It also seemed costly to just give such advanced technology to be a babysitter and educator.

“She was made specifically for you.” 

“Don’t worry, Captain Rogers.” You tried to ease his obvious apprehension, “I am equipped to handle any situation that may cause you harm. Unlike humans, I don’t get tired or sick. I am not required to have a social life so I’ll be ready for when you need me.”

“She’ll be able to handle anything that’s thrown at her.” Your creator patted your shoulder, “[Reader] is programmed to contact me if she determines a part is broken or a glitch has made its way into her programming. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

~~~

It has been a couple of days since Steve made a space for you in his apartment. He gave you a blanket in the night despite you telling him you wouldn’t get cold. In the night, you distracted yourself with gathering more information to make Steve’s apartment more homey. His apartment was bare and organized.

“Are you sure you want to come with me on a run?” It was a question he always asked before heading out. Despite knowing you weren’t a person, he still felt bad for leaving you alone while he ran. You made sure you would be able to see him at all times when he ran. You could see anything and everything able to hurt him. He was your person and you would ensure his safety.

You assured him, “I’ll be alright, Captain Rogers.” You only wanted to complete the job without any distractions.

“Steve.” He said, “You can call me Steve.”

“Okay Steve.”

It grew quiet as the two of you walked towards the door. You carried his water bottle as you followed him. He was closely becoming accustomed to your presence in his life. Any question, no matter how small, would be answered by you. Most of his questions were about events that occurred after he was missing.

There was one question that struck you as old. It was not information about an event but of a person. A woman. One of the heads of SHIELD. Upon your research, you found he and Peggy Carter were close during this time in the army. You couldn’t understand the feelings he shared for the woman but you wanted to. You told him everything that was public knowledge about the life she was able to live.

Once you both made it to the park, you sat on one of the benches as you watched. A lone monarch butterfly captured your attention as it fluttered near you. You studied it, engraving it into your memory, and stockpiling government data on the insect. Its numbers were slowly decreasing by the years. You calculated in the near future, the insect would become endangered if humans continued to deforest the wintering forest in Mexico, do nothing about climate change or insist on using pesticides that are killing off milkweed plants.

“Are you okay?” Steve was lightly sweating after his run and he noticed you weren’t there to greet him as you always did. 

You offered his water bottle, “I was… distracted. It won’t happen again.” You weren’t supposed to get distracted from your goals. You were supposed to protect and serve Steve.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Why

Pairing: College Student!Matt Murdock x College Student!reader

Word Count: 1128

Part 2, Part 3

You’d often laid awake cuddling with Matt, wondering if he was a figment of your imagination. It’s been three months since you’ve been together and it’s been nothing but perfect. You both fit together impeccably. There was something in the way he spoke, so thought-provoking and humorous, you melted whenever the thought arose. Maybe you both were still in the honeymoon phase, looking at your relationship through a tinted frame. Or maybe it was puppy love. Either way you hoped it would last forever.

As you both were living on a tight budget, you had to get creative with your dates. Nothing too expensive and it had to conform to both of your busy schedules. Dates were infrequent but you’d cherish the time you managed to spend together. Matt was slowly making his way into your heart. You tried to ingrain each moment with him into your mind, not wanting to forget even a second.

The tear jerking storm arrived and ruined everything you had built with him. This storm came in the form of a woman. A beautiful woman. And you didn’t want to be the type of girlfriend to prohibit your boyfriend from having friendly relations with other women. Had placed so much trust in Matt that you knew he would never do anything to belittle your trust. However, there was something about Elektra that screamed trouble and it terrified you. At first, you chalked it up to jealousy. Elektra was gorgeous and alluring and confident. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. Who wouldn’t be jealous of her? 

It was beautifully tragic finding the man you imagined to be the one falling for another. The magic that once sparked now dwindled and flickered into nothing. You ignored the signs as he slipped away from you, bit by bit. She was just a friend, you foolishly convinced yourself as he kept mingling with her without you. Nights that could’ve been just the two of you were now lost in the haze. He spent them with her and the thought was just painful. Burying your head into the sand of willful ignorance, you inadvertently invited heartbreak.

As his birthday approached rather quickly, you planned a small date for just the two of you. Dinner at the small diner you both loved so much. It was the place where you both went on your first date. After dinner, you both would hang out with Foggy and Elektra (as Matt had grown close to her) at a cheap comedy show. It was a straightforward plan and yet, everything went wrong.

You waited for him at the diner, almost physically shaking from excitement, awaiting to give him the present you so desperately saved up for. The waitress knew you quite well as they’d seen you and Matt there quite a lot. They knew you were waiting for him and it became heartbreaking to watch as you realized he wasn’t showing. You called him multiple times without a single answer or text. You called Foggy but he had not seen him either. 

Panic wracked your body as you feared if he’d gotten into an accident and it threw you into a fit of terror. The waitress was kind enough to guide you to regain your composure and asked if there was anything she could do to help. You declined before making your way to the nearest hospital. If he was in an accident, he would’ve been admitted into it. You prayed it wasn’t the case and he had simply forgotten. Keeping to himself with his phone off.

There was no record of him being admitted into the hospital and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe. You let Foggy know of your discovery so he wouldn’t spin himself into a frenzy like she had. As soon as you ended your call with Foggy, a new message surfaced on your phone screen. It was from Matt and relief swept over you in a calming wave. He was alright. He was alive.

Opening it up, your relief soon vanished and only heartache remained.

It’s not working out. Sorry.

Tears surfaced as you shied away from the bright white lights of the hospital. A text message. Matt broke up with you via text message on his birthday after you had planned a date. It shouldn’t have hurt so much but you truly thought he was the one. The one meant to stay. And suddenly the dreams you once had shattered with the words sprawled out on your illuminated screen. 

Why? You wanted to text back but whenever you managed to have a semblance of control, your unsteady hands refused to send it. Your pointing finger would hover over the button but never touch. The wound was too fresh to bear the answer to the question that will undoubtedly keep you up at night. Maybe haunt you late into the night. 

Were you not significant enough to say goodbye to in person? Were you so beneath him that facing you, listening to you weep over the ruins of a relationship, was simply not worth his time. Were you both on different pages of the same book and he tore it all up. The masterpiece that could’ve been the two of you.

A few days later, when you were returning the box full of his stuff you caught them, him and Elektra, making out in his dorm room. It hadn’t even been a week and yet he already found someone new. They stopped when they’d noticed you and didn’t even appear to be apologetic.

“What are you doing here?” He asked without a hint of guilt burrowing into his voice. It lacked any of the emotions tethered to a breakup. “How do you have a key?”

You grilled forcibly, as the love you once shared withered and died, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” You, initially, chose to drop off his stuff when he was gone because you didn’t have the strength to face him.

“Didn’t feel like going.” He shrugged as if he was waiting for something. Maybe an outburst of rage or despair or both. You wanted to scream. You want to shout at him for causing you so much pain and question him if they were together at any point in your relationship but you were tired. It had only been a few days since the breakup and yet here he was resembling the tarnish memories of the two of you. It hurt so much. You felt there was a giant hole in the place where he carved a place for himself. He ruined you. 

“Here’s your stuff.” You dropped the box on the floor and left Foggy’s keys on the table before silently leaving.

Masterlist

[akariamai]

Parody

Pairing: Matt Murdock x voice actor!reader

Word Count: 1199

He was surrounded by constant noise and oftentimes it became too much to bear. He never enjoyed it but he’d hone in to the conversations of others – strangers. He didn’t consider himself to be a noisy person. It was just a necessary act of salvation for his sanity. A habit of drowning out the rambunctious noise with a singular conversation and quiet the voices of the world outside his apartment. It was easier picking someone speaking to themselves. From the ones he remembers, he’d rarely pick up on interesting conversations. Most people were encouraging themselves to ask someone out or praise themselves in the bathroom mirror.  

The noises were becoming louder, overwhelming his senses again, so he picked up on his new neighbor. They’d recently moved into the apartment below his and he had yet to run into them. From the tone of her voice alone, he did not want to meet them. Their voice rang out like in a stereotypical and judgmental tone of voice. It was bothersome with a hint of aggression. He should have chosen someone else but the words they were saying were strange.

“After what he did to me?” There was no one else in her apartment. She wasn’t talking on the phone either. She was alone and eerily sitting quietly. It almost seemed as if she were waiting for someone to respond. “I went to jail! I learned things, terrible things.”

Silence encapsulated her apartment before she said, “I spent six months at a correctional facility!” There was a prominent annoyance enfolding in her voice. It was laced with a stereotypical tone only heard in teen movies and shows of the spoiled mean girl.

“Who said anything about Rin? I stabbed a girl in the yard!” Matt tried to listen more, but the conversation seemed to have ended right then and there. Her voice was replaced with the clicking sounds of a keyboard being used. He concluded the conversation, if it could even be called that, ended. This abrupt ending only left him with questions and no answers. Who was Rin? Who did she stab? Is she going to stab someone else? Is she a threat so some kind?

Matt was left rendered speechless and investigative. He didn’t know anything about his neighbor, nor had he had the chance to officially meet her. Their schedules didn’t align. He left for work relatively early, trying to look professional towards any potential client, however his neighbor didn’t seem keen on leaving her apartment much. It almost seemed as if she knew whenever he wasn’t around. Like she was intentionally avoiding him. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence.

From his office, he would listen to her leave her apartment. For weeks she would leave her apartment sporadically. Shopping for groceries or grabbing an occasional coffee whenever she ran out of coffee beans.

Foggy questioned him and Matt decided to tell him of what he had overheard. Freaking out the poor man and scaring him away from Matt’s apartment for the foreseeable future. Matt’s laugh rang out as Foggy sarcastically shouted, “This is not a laughing matter, Matthew.”

Finally, the time came about where their schedules plans. She was, unfortunately leaving, and he was walking up to his apartment. He took the chance to pretend to clumsily stumble into her.

“I’m so sorry.” She said steadying his body, “Are you okay?” Her voice was completely different from what he heard a few days ago. There was no semblance of the snobby mean girl voice that rang throughout her apartment. Her voice, in this moment, was soft and empathetic. It left him puzzled to no end. He knew it was her who spoke in her apartment. There was and has been no one else.

“I’m alright.” He gently grabbed her arm to anchor himself to the ground. “It was my fault.” It truly was his fault. He knew the step was an inch taller than what he pretended it was. It was his one of the many ways to successfully gain the attention of women.

“Do you need help?” She graciously offered. Her outward personality didn’t scream ‘danger.’

“I don’t want to be a bother.” He pleasantly smiled. His cane was placed within his hands, he didn’t even notice it had fallen, “Thank you.”

“It’s no bother at all. If it was, I wouldn’t have offered.” She kindly offered him her arm as he told her where he was going.

“Are you new?” He asked fishing for more information on the woman, “I never heard you before.” Lies spilled out of his lips flawlessly. He’s heard her plenty. Whether she typed on her computer or moved around in the apartment. He needed insight on her.

“I just moved in,” She causally mentions right when they make it to his door, “Here you go.” He needed more time. It frustrated him that he didn’t wait at the bottom to stumble into you.

“Thank you,” His words faded to wait for her to mention her name. “[Reader].” She gave him a name. A starting point.

“I’m Matt,” He offered her a handshake. Her hands were rough, filled with callouses, and he was afraid to let her go.

“It was nice meeting you, Matt.”

~~~

Her name brought up nothing. No legal issues. No arrest records. Not even a speeding ticket. Nothing to her name. He heard her though, yesterday, talking about her parole officer. She was a mystery and he needed to find out if she was a threat of any kind.

“But I don’t have time to worry about that. My parole officer says I need more extracurriculars, and they said they won’t let me back into sewing club because apparently when I threaten someone with sewing needles, it’d deemed ‘inappropriate’ and ‘I have to leave.’”

Those were the words he heard yesterday. He had never heard of a parole officer checking up on her. Maybe that’s where she went the day they met. Maybe she was leaving early and that’s the reason why she helped him up the stairs. She was meeting her parole officer.

“Matt, I think I found the reason why she might be saying crazy shit in her apartment.” Foggy said, carrying his laptop towards Matt’s office, “She’s a parody voice actor. She’s acting.” He played the audio of one of the episodes and he hears the familiar voice.

A loud gasp filled the semi-empty office, “The muscles… I ship them! Them! They hate each other, but they also fuck each other!”

“Hey. We try not to get this part of the gym wet so whatever you’re doing is gonna have to stop.”

“Hahaha. I’m looking for my brother, Matsuoka Rin.”

“Rin.” The voice of a man sounds out. Matt could tell he was pondering over the name, “Oooh, 6’2, shark teeth, cries when you call him bitch baby?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Foggy laughs, as the parody plays in the background, “We did all this work for a parody voice actor.” They’d spent office hours trying to find information about her and it was all for nothing. It was better than pretending to be busy. “How could you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

Masterlist

[akariamai]

You Left

Part 2

Summary: Matt overheard his neighbor briefly speaking of a betrayal

There was a stranger situated in your living room and he couldn’t differentiate if they were a friend or an enemy. He knew you must’ve suffered a great deal of trauma. At times, your heart beat kept steady as you reassured him you were fine and the nightmares didn’t haunt you as often as they did. When he returns from his nightly activities, he can hear you still awake sipping on coffee to relieve you of the nightmarish memories he had yet to figure out. You were a complete mystery to him. A blank slate that perplexed his senses to the point where he could not deceiver lies from truths and vice versa. It was just a guessing game with you.

This stranger carried the same atmosphere as you did, his senses could not pick up any obscurities in their movement, and it only left him to wonder in the comfort of his apartment. He knew your schedule and you should be arriving soon. If he hears any discrepancies in the beat of your heart, he’ll definitely come check as Daredevil. His costume laid next to him and he slowly started to change in case he was needed urgently.

You stood right outside of your apartment, searching for your keys in the purse you’d carried everywhere, and you stopped for a brief moment. Matt wondered if you could sense something was out of place like the woman sitting on your couch. Most likely waiting for you to arrive through the front door. “Are we gonna talk like grown-ups or do you always break into people’s apartments all willy-nilly?” He sighed internally. You knew the woman who broke into your apartment and were not even surprised. Not a single elevation to your heart beat. Such intrusion didn’t even faze you. Almost like you were anticipating this happenstance to occur.

“Is it a crime to wait to visit?” The woman’s voice was silky but filled with a false cheerfulness.

“What do you want?” The lack of emotion in your voice rattled both the woman and Matt. You were often closed off to him but still managed to mask your joyful facade. However, to this person your true feelings arose. “You obviously want something, so spill. Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see you.” Her heart sped up for a quick second, almost swift enough for his senses to miss. 

You chuckled indifferently, “Bullshit. If you wanted to talk, you could’ve done it years ago. So why now?”

“You’re my sister.”

“Don’t say that. You left me. You left me in that god awful place while you got to play with the cool kids.” Matt could feel the grief and outrage of the whole affair. He did not know what you meant by there but it must’ve been horrid enough to hold such anguish and an immense grudge. Abandonment. It was one of the causes for your distaste towards the woman. “You know once we heard of your escape we felt a sliver of hope that help would arrive. You would save from that penitentiary of hell but you never showed. You never looked back.”

“I did try to help. I thought I killed him.” The woman pleaded. Grasping at anything she could to get back into your good graces. To reconnect the bond you’d once shared but Matt could feel there was nothing left to repair. It was severed the day you realized her presence was gone for good.

“Well you should’ve fought harder.” You asserted bitterly, “You should’ve looked for us. To see if you and your new friends could have provided us with some fucking stability.” Instead she did a sloppy job with her assassination attempt and chose to run away from her past rather than confront it head on. She had the ability to aid the rest of the little girls who had and hadn’t shrouded their hands in the blood of innocence. She had the chance at preventing more little girls from being reformed into mindless weapons but refused to do so. She instead chose to turn her back on her fellow black widows and widows in training, to fool herself into thinking she could splinter from what they conditioned her to become. 

“Please.” Her voice was weak. Her heart was breaking into tiny fragments of what it used to be. Matt, with his senseless need to assist, wanted nothing more than to comfort you. The words you spouted spitefully were coming from a woman who cried for help numerous times but was never answered. A woman who yearned for the love she didn’t think she deserved. Matt cannot fathom the amount of torture you’d endured during your time in the place you and the woman referred to, but even he knew it’s ghost still haunts you.

“Leave.” Your voice turned hard. “You need to leave and never come back. It shouldn’t be too hard for you. You already did it once.” It was a cheap blow. You knew it and so did she, but nevertheless she walked towards one of the windows. Presumably the window she slithered her way into. She glanced over at the girl, now a woman, she’d once abandoned. Reaping the seeds she’d sowed all those years ago. Matt changed into his civilian clothing as this was happening. He could not stay in his apartment knowing you were suffering in silence. He wanted to become your shoulder to cry on as you had listened to him rant about his troubles beforehand. You need someone even if it is to sit in your apartment in silence knowing someone is within reach.

Masterlist