Have A Good Night

Could you do a Lady Lesso one shot with #31 and #6

Where the reader and Lesso always had some tension and one time the teachers have some free time so they play truth or dare and Lesso ask the reader and the reader chooses truth and she asks #31 then that leads to smut with #6 in

Kinks maybe? Choking? mommy kink? Bondage? Pain/blood maybe? Humiliation maybe... its up to you

Oh You Are In For It… ~Lady Lesso xFem Teacher!Reader

Summary— Tensions between Reader and Lesso are known to be high. But what happens when it all comes to a breaking point when the staff plays truth or dare…? Anon Response— Hey anon!! Thank you for your request! I always enjoy writing for Lady Lesso. I would love to write this one shot for you. Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#31. “What’s the dirtiest thought you’ve had about them/me?”

#6. “My eyes are up here…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, oral sex, fingering, nipple clamp usage, rope use (light bondage), chocking, mommy kink, chocking kink, light humiliation kink, implied pain kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Truth or Dare…?” Lady Lesso pointedly asked you.

The room immediately went silent and all eyes were on you. All your colleagues sat in silent anticipation of what you would say, and what Lesso would come up with.

“Truth…” you slowly said, deciding that a truth from Lesso would be far less harsh than one of her infamous dare.

You were wrong.

Lesso smirked and paused before speaking, as if to think about what to ask you. But her sparkling gaze told you that she already knew. The tension between the two of you only grew.

“What’s the dirtiest thought you’ve had about me?” She finally said.

Eyes in the room widened and a few giggles were stifled. But no one stopped the woman from asking her question.

Your breath fled you and your face went red. The sexual tension between you and Lesso was well known between the staff of the two schools. But neither of you had ever acted on it. Only teased and taunted one another.

Well this was a whole new level…

Your mind raced. So many thoughts were coming up to mind. Your main debate was whether to give a fake answer to satiate the crowd or to give the real answer and satiate Lesso.

You decided to go with the former.

“Well… I suppose that would be you underneath me…”

You spoke with a grin on your face as you watched Lesso’s smirk turn upside down. She looked furious. But no one spoke up about it.

The game continued on until everyone decided to call it a night. The entire time, you had felt Lesso’s unwavering gaze on you. She was plotting something… her revenge probably…

As you all got up to go back to your rooms for the night, Lesso made her move. She came up behind you and took you by the collar, dragging you behind her. You tried to yelp but nothing came out, and everyone else just watched with pity in their eyes as you were dragged to the redheads bedroom.

Lesso didn’t let you go until you were both in her private quarters and she had shut the door. She was sleeping in frustration, and you could hear her growling lightly she. Finally, Lesso turned around to face you.

You gulped and went red at the woman’s piercing gaze. You couldn’t look at the woman, so your eyes were everywhere but.

“You and I both know that answer was bullshit…” Lesso seethed in a slow and growling tone.

Your breath hitched as she stalked toward you. You shakily nodded.

“My eyes are up here…” Lesso growled.

You immediately looked up at Lesso at those words, biting your lip in anticipation. Her eyes were dark pools of lust and domination.

“So tell me the truth.”

You gulped and nodded.

“I… I’m bound by my wrists, hanging from the ceiling… w-with ropes around my body a-and nipple clamps on… you-you do whatever you want to me, while umm…” you stammered.

“While…?” Lesso growled, taking much pleasure of the humiliation you were experiencing from telling her this.

“While I call you m-mommy with you chocking me…” you finished your statement with your light stuttering of embarrassment.

Your face was beet red now. But Lesso was radiant, shining. She couldn’t be more pleased. And really, this was turning you both on. You desperately so.

“Alright…” Lesso purred with a wicked grin, “Strip.”

You stopped breathing for a moment as you processed that this was really going to happen. Your eyes widened.

“I— ok yes!”

You immediately began stripping, but you were suddenly stopped by Lesso’s hand squeezing your throat. You involuntarily moaned as she put a sweet and tight pressure around your neck.

“Yes mommy…” she jeered.

“Y-yes Mommy!” You whimpered.

And with that, Lesso let you go and you went back to stripping. The woman locked the door shut and then simply watched you undress in amusement.

When you were standing in front of the woman, completely nude, she stood up from the wall she was leaning against and huffed in satisfaction. Without another word, she left the room to go into her closet.

When Lesso returned, her hands were filled with an assortment of goodies. Your heart skipped a beat as the redhead layer each toy out on the bed. When she was satisfied with the placement of it all, Lesso took the rope and met you back in the middle of her bedroom.

“Look up. And put your hands all the way up.” She ordered.

You tilted your head back and gasped lightly as you saw the hook on the ceiling a few feet in front of you, in between you and the edge of the bed. You quickly shifted directly underneath it and the your hands all the way up in the air.

Lesso chuckled and began to tie your wrists to the rope and then to the hook on the ceiling. Soon you were hanging from the ceiling… it was surreal. You couldn’t process what was happening fast enough.

But Lesso still had a lot of rope left. She used this remainder to tie intricate patterns around your body, making sure to not skip the rope that went under and back up your crotch, sitting right against your folds and sensitive clit.

As Lesso tightened her rope work and stepped back in delight, you squirmed lightly against the makeshift harness. The rope in between your legs shifted and sent jolts of pleasure through your system, making you whimper loudly.

“Please… Lesso please…” you whined, bucking your hips towards the woman in front of you, but that only made the rope in between your legs ache and hurt more.

Lesso chuckled wickedly.

“Baby, we’re only getting started…” she purred, making her way back to the side of the bed, this time picking up the nipple clamps.

Shivers corsed through your entire body, as Lesso ran the cold metal clamps up to your stomache, before effectively clamping your nipples. The clamps were connected by a chain, which the woman immediately tugged. Your body jolted in pleasurable pain in response, your mouth letting out a desperate yelp. This quickly turned into more whispers and mewls.

But Lesso wasn’t affected by your whimpers and begging.

“Tell me what you want…” Lesso taunted, wanting to hear you say it again.

You whimpered and bucked your hips but to no avail.

“Want… want you to use me, mommy—! Please use me, choke meeee…”

Lesso smirked wickedly and slowly got down on her knees. She looked up at you, her dark and wicked gaze meeting your desperate one.

“This is the only time you will ever see mommy on her knees…” Lesso cooed darkly, before sliding her entire tongue into your aching cunt.

Your eyes rolled back and you tugged against your restraints desperately. Strings of moans and cries flew from your lips as Lesso ate you out with skill and determination.

Then one of her hands wandered up to your nipple clamp chains and pulled. This only made you closer to your edge. The pain was deliciously dizzy and matched the immense pleasure you were experiencing quite well.

Soon, you were begging her to let you cum…

“Mommy mommy please mmmm gonna cum ahhhhh—!!” You cried out.

Suddenly, Lesso pulled away completely, standing back up. You looked at her with shock and frustration, immediately whimpering and squirming at the loss of contact.

But the woman was against your body again quickly, this time standing with her left hand wandering in between your legs. She slipped two digits inside you, pumping and curling her fingers.

“Not yet…” she warily growled, as she watched up teeter on the edge.

Her other hand then came up to your throat. Lesso’s right hand wrapped itself around your neck and squeezed. This was your breaking point.

You came with a violent squirm against her and your restraints and with a loud cry.

You came against Lesso’s orders…

After you came down from your high, Lesso looked far too pleased about you disobeying her. You had a strong suspicion that this night would be long… And that you were in for it.

~~~

Lady Lesso Masterlist

Do you write for Elle?

If so, maybe like the reader is married to Elle and on the team after Elle leaves, when they met is up to you, and nobody really knows or cares that the reader is married to Elle until the reader gets injured on a case and Elle has to say something along the lines of “that’s my wife, let me see my wife!” in a fit of anger

Hi, darling! Yes, I do! Here it is, sorry for the delay, I've been in a big writer's block. I hope the one shot meets your expectations, good reading ^^

Hope - Elle Greenaway/Female Reader

Elle Greenaway/Female Reader

Classification: Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Swearing, violence and torture

Word count: +3700

Unrevised

When you met her Elle was still working with the BAU, a lively rookie agent with a promising career with the legendary bureau, you were also new to another FBI bureau. After many smiles exchanged in the elevator and trivial conversations in the parking lot she finally asked you out on a date, it was a nice dinner in an Italian restaurant, Elle smiled, flirted and made a few jokes, but you realized that no matter how hard she tried to hide it, something was wrong. The weight of the work seemed to fall on her back, tormenting and making her emotionally exhausted after so many difficult cases to assimilate, she was overwhelmed with pain, frustration and a sense of injustice. Two days later another case comes up, of a serial rapist, and then the news of William Lee's death at the hands of the agent spread like wildfire, reaching you before the team returns to city. She didn't contact you for days and was about to disappear for good, when, in an act of courage and desperation, you stopped and kissed her, declaring your love, saying that you understand and begging her to stay. After that you started dating officially, eight months later you moved into an apartment together in Virginia, where she was able to stabilize herself in a position similar to the one she had in Seattle, after two years of relationship she asked you to marry her, turning you into Y/N Greenaway at the end of the same year, around Christmas. And that's when the first couple ordeal emerged, the BAU wanted you with them, regardless of your relationship with the former agent. The director was impressed by the articles and advanced studies on psychology attached to your name, in addition to the remarkable contributions in cases. Contrary to what you imagined, she was the person who most encouraged you to accept the job offer, proud of your intelligence and efforts that got you a guaranteed spot in the elite FBI, honorably invited just as she once was. Elle always believed in you and all the potential as an agent, knowing how strong and professional can be to face what awaits you.

- Okay, I'll take care of myself, baby. Oh, and don't forget to water the plants. - you whisper into the phone waiting for the rest of the team to get on the jet to take off - Love you, El.

- Text me as soon as you can. Love you more, sweetie. - She hung up the phone and you let out a tired sigh, the last case was exhausting, you barely had time to unpack when Hotchner called, the team was sent to Minnesota to track down a serial killer, he has been acting out of control for weeks, killing young women in the state capital.

- Even tired, always the first. - JJ comments, passing by your seat and sitting down in front of you, followed by Emily - Did you at least get some sleep?

- No, I was waiting for my wife to get home from work so we could enjoy the day together, in the end I didn't even see her. - you comment without much thought, which causes an almost awkward silence.

Creating a relationship with your co-workers was very difficult, practically nonexistent at first, because as soon as the admission was made official they immediately knew about your spouse, she had advised you to omit this part of the file with a special request, but you made sure to continue with the married last name and a transparent life, taking the principle that relationships are not built that way. Hotchner didn't trust you, expecting that you would have a bad moment and act irrationally, which didn't happen during your one year on the team. You passed the main test. The rest just decided to ignore the name of your emergency contact and try to act as if you had no relationship, trying to separate Elle's personality from yours, not having much difficulty when you are agents of different styles and specialties. It helped that you were an unusual couple, hard to imagine, easy to ignore bonding. In short, they don't mind that you are married to Elle and carry the last name Greenaway as long as your personal life doesn't affect your professional life, which means going unaccompanied to events and bars with the work staff, rarely mentioning her name, especially around the Chief. Morgan and Reid are the least awkward around it, having been the closest to her previously. It's as if you live a double life with both sides knowing of each other's existence and feigning ignorance.

- Let's take off soon, there is a new lead. - Hotch announces as he walks past you to his usual seat.

Two days have passed, the fresh lead they had reported was nothing more than a false one, leading the team to take unusual measures when a new victim is found, it happened right under your noses, as if he knows every next move, always one step ahead in covering up evidence and redirecting the team. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. The team has managed to trace a profile of victims, young girls just out of their teens, who frequent bars in the wealthy area of the city, almost always using false identity, which makes identification difficult for the local police, in appearance similar... to you. Appearing to be younger than you really are made you a perfect bait. That's what Hotch said to convince you to interpret the role. Few hours in a high-class bar strategically chosen by Reid, a tall, muscular man starts to misfortune you, he is confident, flirtatious and even makes jokes, the opposite of what had been profiled. You dismissed him and gave your attention to someone who fit in, an antisocial man indicated by Hotchner by the hotspot in your ear. There was a trap waiting for him at the back door, you tried to do your part, luring him to the back exit, and it worked to a point, he fell as you squinted, but a pair of large, strong hands made you disappear into the gloom as the team cornered him.

When you wake up there is only darkness, something rough squeezing your wrists and a male voice humming, he doesn't seem to mind as he notices your consciousness, just ignores it and continues whatever he was doing. That man at the bar, who introduced himself as Nate and the first one to approach you, smiles as he takes a sip of water and keeps his eyes fixed on the neckline of your shirt.

- My little dove, I was just waiting for you to wake up for the fun. - he abruptly stands up and flashes a psychotic smile. - You're different from the others, you were with them, weren't you?! Those shits got my brother, poor Noah, he really thought someone would be interested in him, but you guys did me a favor, the kid was getting on my nerves. - Typical narcissism, you concluded when you saw the obvious admiration for himself and disdain even for the blood of his own blood.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - you decided to try to stay in character, clinging to a thread of hope to buy time until the team could locate you.

- Don't lie to me! - he shouts and strides over to you, kneeling in front of you, his face scarlet with anger. - Don't make me ruin your pretty face.

For more than two hours you have struggled against the clock and this man's countless tortures, he has plunged you at least ten times into the freezing water, keeping you there for seconds or minutes depending on his mood regarding your answers to all his baseless questions, a mind game. He wants to break you, he wants you to suffer before he finally does what he so desperately wants to do, impaling an ice stake through your chest, thus satisfying the pleasure, he feels is like the climax of the whole act. You shudder, knowing exactly what the end of this story will be if the team doesn't arrive in time. You're strong, but it's still hard to stay sane after hours of torture and swearing, Nate wants a confession, so giving it to the man might make him tired of you.

- Come on, Jessica! - he shouts your cover name in frustration and forces your head into the pool of water, the contact with the ice instantly burning your already bruised skin.

- Please, I'm telling you the truth. - you manage to whisper after being pulled back to the surface, exhausted both mentally and physically. - It was a coincidence...

- You are a liar. - the man throws you to the ground, then huffs, increasingly frustrated and annoyed with your persistence in staying in character, he rushes to get your belongings, raising a golden necklace that you wear under clothes during work, in the small round circle E is delicately engraved, a delicate accessory that you as wives wear symbolically instead of the ring - Emma? Elise? Evelyn? Elle? Oh...

Hearing your wife's name among the list of guesses caused an instinctive reaction even in your state of confusion and drowsiness, it brought you the reality of what is happening and that if something happens you will not see that smile again, nor the brown eyes full of affection or receive soft kisses that make you forget how sick the world is. The criminal realizes this, a sick smile growing on his lips as he comes to the erroneous conclusion that this is your name and now he can finally have you as a trophy. Nate jumps for joy like a child who just got his Christmas present, catching a glimpse of a dagger stuck in the waistband of his jeans, and it's fucking scary, especially when he comes inches away, grabbing you awkwardly to get you to stand up, face to face.

- Elle suits you. It's going to look so beautiful on my wall... C'mon, dove! - he pulls you to a brighter corner, completely empty, the only thing you see is a strong flash against your face, he registers the miserable state you are in and smiles staring at the small square that is revealed in a few minutes. You also stare at the picture as he practically forces you, your skin is pale, hair is sticking to your face and your extremities are purple, as are your lips. - Fun fact, you are the one who has endured the most. A record.

Nate throws you against a kind of surgical table, equally cold to the rest of the room, it's painful, frightening, but at the same time calm when you lie down, exhaustion has taken over and you're tired of fighting him, accepting your fate, too tired and abused to keep trying to fight back. Not even verbally, you have practically lost your voice after so many cries of pain, begging him to believe in you. There is a light above, strong enough to blind you and it almost makes you want to laugh, it looks like the light at the end of the shift that those who experience death and return describe. Your eyes close after seconds, surrendering to the cold embrace, your mind struggles to sketch in the uncomfortable clarity that woman you love so much, Elle is the last image you want to keep before you go. This comforts you as the disgusting man rips the shirt you wear, the thin point of the scissors makes a fine line from the foot of your stomach or breast valley, where the sharp part stops and presses.

- Not yet, dove! - he laughs sickeningly and pulls the utensil away from your skin - You know, I really enjoyed our little game. Maybe I'll do it again soon. And that's why I'll always remember you, Elle.

Another sharp thing is placed against your chest, exactly between your breasts, it's more painful and real, Nate is relating what he is doing and will do, always with a smile on his face for seeing you like this, destroyed. That's what the serial killer wanted from the beginning, but you fought back and no one has ever done that before, he easily subdued them, played mind games to find out something about them and then killed the hope he gave them by impaling each one with ice stakes. It's all about power, he had the power over his brother Noah playing him as his partner, over the police who had been hunting him for more than a month, over the women he hunted down and killed with his bare hands. You didn't give that to him right away, like a spoiled child he got angry and weakened you to breaking point. And he succeeded.

You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare for your fate, trying to materialize Elle, all the moments you spent together. The smiles she gave you in the elevator, that first slightly awkward date, the first kiss after the storm of her leaving the FBI, when you decided to move in together, every space you created together, the dream wedding and her face in pure admiration watching you walk down the altar. All the memories you have created for yourselves. And all the ones you haven't finished yet. The pain of being away from her is unimaginable, there are tears flowing as you wait for the undeniable destination, but nothing comes. You feel that you can finally crack when, as you open your blurred weeping eyes, you find Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss running up to you. Nate is on the ground, bleeding and being handcuffed by Hotchner. The flame of hope rekindles.

The screams in the hallway are heard throughout the entire wing, there is a commotion at the reception and a group of people in suits trying to hold a woman down, Morgan is trying to get Elle to stop squirming in his arms as she tries to reach Hotchner to choke him with her bare hands. Every time you go out on a mission she worries herself to death about every hour without news and as much as she understands the weight of being an agent she can't let go of these invasive thoughts, she can't stop thinking about the possibility of one of those psychopaths hurting you, just like one day one of them hurt her, always terrified of losing you. When she received a call in the middle of the afternoon after going almost a day without replies by text, she knew, something had happened. With sweaty hands and trembling, the police answered, not the least bit relieved to hear Derek on the other end of the line. He got right to the point, something she was grateful for because she felt she might faint imagining the worst, halfway through the call she was already in the car on her way to the airport, praying for last minute tickets to Minnesota. She flew out with nothing but documents and body clothes, in two hours she walked through the doors ready to kill the chief, she knew about the cover, you spoke before the mission, and for Elle there is no one to blame but him for putting you in this position knowing the danger. There was not enough information, an uncertain and dangerous terrain that he risked with her wife's life.

- You can let me go, Morgan. He's not worth it. - she stops moving and is finally put on the ground, the two of them face each other before she tries to get past him, being stopped by the same arms that were holding her before - Let me go now, I'm going to see my wife.

- Greenaway, you better calm down...

- Calm down, Hotch? Fuck you! You shouldn't have sent her in this shitty disguise just out of desperation, as if her life wasn't important too. - she starts, trying not to get worked up again.

- Don't you understand...

- Don't I understand? You don't care about her. - Elle backs away and puts her hands over face, sighing trying to control her breathing, pure frustration - Besides, why the hell did you call me after twelve hours? I could have been here hours ago. Damn it! I'm going to go see her, now.

- Elle...

- Derek, I need to...

- You need to calm down.

- No, I don't need to. You put her in danger, then acted like I wasn't her family and didn't even call me at the time she was hospitalized, nor did you have that compassion. I know how indifferent you treat her because she is married to me, how great and mature a team can be around that. You should just be ashamed of yourselves. Y/N is so different from me and has proven this in so many ways, she has shown how amazing she is as a person and agent, worthy of all of your trust. - as soon as she says this the agents bow their heads, not knowing what to say or how to defend what there is no defense for, feeling that they have failed as teammates, even though it is a necessary risky mission there should be someone to trim her down, someone who knows her beyond what is in the file.

- Still, you should wait. - Hotchner insists, crossing his arms.

- I've already waited long enough. - she tries to run towards the corridor and ends up being held by the tall man by the arm, they stare at each other, then Elle does something no one would imagine, she screams at the top of her lungs in his face - That's my wife, let me see my wife! Stop holding me back, I'll see her, whether you like it or not... - the anger taking over again.

- Hotch, let her go... - JJ intervenes and he finally releases her, letting her go.

Elle runs in search of the room you have been assigned, slipping on her boots when she finally finds the right number, all the anxiety she has built up all the way to Minessota manifesting itself in tears. She can't believe her eyes, she has imagined a similar scenario many times and usually in nightmares, but nothing compares to the real feeling of it actually happening. The tightness in her heart to see the person she loves hospitalized is too much for the woman, you are still pale, skin marked by bruises in several places, frostbite, a cut lip and a bandage in the middle of your chest. That image would not leave her mind so quickly. Elle takes a deep breath, trying to control her emotions and herself, trying to become the support you need right now, to be the wife you need. Before entering the room she wipes her tears and tries to open a smile, which turns out to be melancholic.

- El...

- Sweetie... - you speak at the same time - Sorry for the delay, I wanted to be here before, I swear. - the tears that she held so tightly return with more force and emotion, wetting your hospital clothes when Elle hugs you, gently, afraid of hurting you more than already - Did it hurt? Did I hurt you?

- No, maybe a little, my muscles still hurt... Actually, I'm a little better, before I was miserable. - You're secretly thankful that she didn't see you like that, it would have traumatized your wife forever and it's a sight you don't want her to see. - The doctor said it was a miracle, I could have had acute pneumonia, severe hypothermia, coma or even a heart attack. Think on the bright side.

- I can't think on the bright side when I almost lost you forever.... - she straightens up on the edge of the hospital bed, looking straight into your eyes, showing all her feelings and frailties - I was afraid, I still am, very afraid.

- I was too, El. The thought that I wouldn't see you anymore hurt me more than any of these physical injuries. - the woman approaches and strokes your face, both of you allowing the tears to take over in this post-storm moment - Were you at work?

- Yes, I rushed here as soon as I got the notice. - and it was clear to you, she is still wearing the shirt you helped her pick out by video call the day before - Before you ask, I asked my cousin to feed Reba. - she guessed what your question would be next, always concerned about your pet kitten, a two-year-old Siamese cat who is extremely attached to you. - Oh, I picked this up at the airport for you. - From her pants pocket she pulls out a small pink teddy bear with a heart on it, with a cute little bow on top.

- Aw that's very sweet. - You give her a chaste kiss, taking the little gift in hand, smelling a sweet perfume of vanilla and freshly washed things.

- What can I do for you? - Elle asks, standing up, ready to do anything you want. - I know you hate hospital food, so do you want me to get you something from a restaurant? Clothes? Snacks? Board games? Derek says you're going to be in observation for a few days.

- El, I just want you.

- What?

- You. I want you to lie with me until sleep. - she approaches uncertainly and ends up being pulled by you to lie down together, careful not to hurt you in any way - I'm not made of glass.

- I know, I'm sorry. - You arrange yourselves on the small bed, she becomes the bigger spoon hugging you tenderly, distributing small affectionate kisses on your neck and back, making declarations of love and thanking you for being alive - I love you very, very much, sweetie.

- I love you more, El.

And so you fall asleep in the arms of the woman you love, no matter how physically injured, emotionally traumatized and exhausted you are, Elle seems to momentarily heal all your pain with love. After all, it was worth every effort in keeping hope, just to see her again.

[Emma about to do something she shouldn’t do]

Ruby: I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sis.

Emma: I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Ruby: Okay

Ruby: I’m calling Regina..

Emma: no, no, no, WAIT-

this shit is so cute

Elementary Masterlist

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

series rating: E (minors DNI, 18+ only, single dad!joel, smut to come)

summary: You’re Sarah’s fifth grade teacher, and after meeting her father at a parent/teacher conference, you find yourself developing a strong interest and affection for the two struggling Millers.

chapters marked with * indicate explicit content. minors DNI.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three*

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six*

drabble: the bakesale*

drabble: out of my depth

Chapter Seven*

drabble: the night out

Chapter Eight*

drabble: the perfect fit

drabble: the distraction*

drabble: a hard day

drabble: winter break

Chapter Nine*

drabble: a helping hand

drabble: dad duty

drabble: christmas 2006

Finale*

drabble: the gift

drabble: the show of appreciation*

drabble: the ranch*

"My parents keep buying me all these queer stuff it's so embarrassed"

shut up just shut the fuck up man

THE ENDING LEGIT CRUSHED ME😭😭

Dark!Milf!Wanda x Babysitter!Reader

Dark!Milf!Wanda x Babysitter!reader 

TW: 18+, dub-con/non-con, infidelity, wlw smut, f+f oral (both recieving), fingering, light face sitting, tribbing, mommy kink, some angst and fluff towards the end, alcohol use, car accident. If I’ve forgotten one lmk so I can correct it!

Words: 2.6k

AN: So this is a lot shorter than the rest of my chapters/one-shots because I’m trying to focus more on putting content out than just adhd hoarding it lmao. If you wanna be on any marvel, wlw marvel, or any of my posts PLEASE send an ask to my page so I can keep better track of it. Anyway thx let’s be gay in the club

You are responsible for your own media consumption. By continuing reading you confirm you are 18+, I do not give permission to have any of my work reposted or translated on any other platform even if you give credit. 

Keep reading

ADUJCSIACBQW9AUDGCB

A goddess

Summary: Mysterious girl with an assassin mother.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!Romanoff!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader

Warnings: mother bear Natasha

Word count: 1328

a/n: thank you for the request! I loved writing this :) repost, tags didn’t work

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

Request: can you please do a Kate Bishop x Romanoff!Reader? Where Kate doesn't know who Reader is because she's only seen her once, so she tries to describe Reader to Clint. Then Natasha comes over and Clint is like "Natasha, Kate was telling me about her new crush, and you should have heard how many creative words she used to describe your daughter" and a little bit of mother bear!Natasha? 🥺🥺🥺 thank you, i really love your work

”Hey, Clint.” Kate walks into the common room where Clint is watching the television. “Can you help me with something.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“So, I have a crush on this girl.” Kate starts as she sits down next to Clint, letting out a sigh with a dreamy look on her face. “She is the most beautiful girl ever. Her face was like a damn painting, even though I only saw a glimpse of it, her body looked like it belonged to a goddess I should worship and my god...her ass looked great in the skirt she was wearing.” She leans against the couch, smiling at the short memory of the girl walking past her and smiling at her. “I thought I was gonna pass out when she looked at me.”

“I didn’t need to hear that.” Clint grumbles. “And that description told me absolutely nothing.”

“She was here two days ago. She was wearing a blue skirt and a white top. Her Y/H/C hair was in a braid.” Clint’s face turns into a knowing one. “Do you know her?” Kate sits straighter when she sees the look on his face.

“Oh, I know her.”

“Know who?” Natasha walks into the common room, holding a book in her hand.

Clint turns to look at her with a smirk. "Natasha, Kate was telling me about her new crush, and you should have heard how many creative words she used to describe your daughter.” Kate’s face falls and her eyes widen. “You said you wanted to worship her body, right? And what did you say about her behind?”

“What?” Natasha furrows her brows as she stares at very panicky looking Kate.

“I-“ Kate looks between the two older adults. “Natasha’s daughter?” She whispers.

“Yeah. Her name is Y/N. She was visiting Natasha two days ago.” He turns to Natasha, loving the situation. “What do you think, Nat? Should we give Kate your daughter’s number so she can do some body worshiping?”

“Absolutely not.” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest. Her glare makes Kate shrink in her seat. If she knew the unknown beauty was Natasha’s daughter she would’ve never brought it up. “I’m going to ban her from ever coming back here.” She mumbles to herself, shaking her head before walking to her room.

Clint chuckles, taking out his phone. “Here. Her number.” He shows the contact to Kate.

“Are you sure? Won’t Natasha be mad?” Kate glances at the way Natasha went to, making sure she isn’t somewhere there lurking around.

“Yes.” Clint shrugs. “But I’m her godfather, I can give her number to you. She’ll be happy.”

Kate stares at the number. “Okay.” She takes out her own phone to write it down. “You won’t tell Natasha?”

“I won’t, but when she finds out I’m not going to protect.”

“Right.” She mumbles, pressing the number to text her. “Guess I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t find out.”

After two weeks of nonstop talking and few dates, Y/N and Kate finally hanging out at the tower together as Natasha left to a three day mission yesterday. The other Avengers promised not to say anything as long as Natasha didn’t start threatening them.

They aren’t dating just yet, but they do share occasional kisses and touches between each other. Like right now, they are sitting on the common room’s couch, watching a movies together while cuddling under a blanket. Kate is holding Y/N in her arms, rubbing her side with her thumb.

“You know, I’m glad I decided to text you.” Kate mumbles.

“You almost didn’t?” Y/N turns around to see her, now sitting on her lap. Kate shakes her head, gripping onto her waist. “How come?”

“Your mom.” She scoffs as if it’s the most obvious answer.

Y/N giggles. “She can be a little overprotective, sure, but she means well. The whole process of getting me was very hard on the both of us and she just wants to make sure I’m safe.”

“I’m pretty sure she wanted to murder me.”

Y/N frowns. Her mother doesn’t know about them. She starts smirking. “Are you the reason I’m not allowed to come here without her supervision anymore?” Kate’s eyes widen as her whole face turns red. “You are!” She laughs. “What did you say? My mom said you said some disgustingly inappropriate things.”

“I- well..” Kate stammers, looking anywhere else but her. “I complimented you.” Y/N’s brow raises. It’s scary how much she looks like Natasha when doing that. “I said you ass looked great in your skirt and I wish I could worship your body.” She mumbles quietly. Y/N’s face feels warm. She looks down with a small smile. Now it’s Kate’s turn to smirk. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t complain.” Y/N mutters, playing with the shorter hairs in Kate’s neck.

Kate’s hands slide under her shirt, going up and down her bare skin. “Good to know.” Whispering, she starts nipping the skin of her neck, leaving little love marks there. Y/N moves her hair deeper into Kate’s hair, pushing her face closer.

“Y/N?” A voice stops them from going any further. Y/N scrambles off of Kate’s lap and the other girl turns her head around in panic. “Kate?” Natasha stares at the two with a very clear glare on her face. “What are you two doing?” She asks even though it’s very clear.

“Nothing.” They state at the same time.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay home, Y/N?”

“Well...you weren’t supposed to be home yet.” Y/N mumbles, rubbing her hands together.

“That’s your reasoning? I wasn’t supposed to come home yet?” Her pointed look moves to Kate. “And what are you doing with my daughter? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you seeing her.”

“Mom.” Y/N walks closer to her before Kate can answer. “If it came to you nobody could see me. You’d wrap me up in bubble wrap and never let me leave.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Barely.”

“I like Kate, mom.” Y/N lets out an annoyed sigh. “Wouldn’t you rather I was with someone who is an Avenger rather than someone you don’t know?”

Natasha stays quiet as her gaze moves between the two. Kate stands up, still staying on her spot so she wouldn’t anger the older woman. “I’m sorry, Ms Romanoff. We know we should’ve told you, but we were scared.” Y/N nods. “I really do like Y/N and I wish I could keep seeing her. With your permission.” She adds quickly.

“She won’t take me away from you, mom.” Y/N gives her a small smile.

Natasha sighs. Rolling her eyes she walks up to Y/N to pull her into a tight hug. Y/N giggles and wraps her arms around her while Natasha kisses the top of her head. “If I have to see you two without your clothes on even one time, I’m kicking you both out.” She grumbles. She isn’t actually that mad or annoyed, she just wishes her daughter would be her little girl forever. “And if even one hair is out of her head I’m going to hunt you down. Do you understand, Kate?”

“Yes!” Kate nods rapidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” Natasha pulls away, holding her hands on Y/N’s cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We’ll talk later about the whole disobeying my rules part.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but nods either way. “Yes, mom.” Natasha grins, giving one more kiss to her cheek before walking away. “See?” Y/N turns to Kate. “She isn’t that bad.”

Kate giggles quietly, still fearing Natasha will rip her head off if she is too loud. “I guess.” She wraps her arms around Y/N’s waist and kisses her. “You wanna continue in my room?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Cuts of Your Silhouette

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda can no longer go to the universe where she'd be most happy but she'll use all the power she's accumulated so far to go the universe where she's most loved. What she finds in this universe is unexpected but in the end, Wanda cannot help but covet it no matter what.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. soft!dark!Wanda. dubcon. explicit smut. Fingering. Oral. choking. overstimulation. strap-on use (cum filled). dirty talk. obsessive behaviour. domestic fluff. angst. MoM spoilers

Note: Innocent moots, don't look at me 👀 This is me acknowledging MoM but only in the fact that Wanda is so hot and deserves to be happy in her own unhinged way LOL

miláčik - honey/darling

Count: 7.2k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The universe where I'm most loved.

Wanda chants this only thing in her head, cautious hope blooming where there was only decay. 

Earth-838 was no longer an option, thanks to Strange's incessant determination to stop her from becoming happy.

That universe was closed off to her, but it was okay. If Wanda couldn't have the universe where she was most happy, she could make do with where she was most loved. 

Wanda has just enough of America's power to make one trip, and she needs to make it count before Strange could come and ruin everything again.

The universe where I'm most loved.

A part of Wanda feels like she's missing something important from this universe she's abandoning. It almost feels as if something is resisting her from going to the universe where she's most loved, but Wanda forces her body to traverse. 

Enough. 

Wanda has had enough of the grief and misery this universe brought. She has always loved more and loved harder than everyone else in her life. For once, Wanda wants to be the person who is loved beyond imaginable measures. 

And this new universe will give that to her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

White quartz. 

It's the first thing Wanda notices. The kitchen island is huge, stretching and covering the middle of the kitchen, and she immediately falls in love with it. 

Wanda misses cooking real meals, a part of her that was subdued over time, with the lack of time and survival at the forefront. But this kitchen looked well-used while spotless. 

The smell of freshly baked cookies invades Wanda's nose, and she almost feels flustered at how homey it makes her feel. 

Looking up, Wanda turns her head and is shocked by her own reflection. Her hair is still a bright auburn, falling just a couple of inches below her shoulder with some natural waves as if she hadn't bothered straightening or fully curling it. 

"Mom, mom, mom!"

The sudden voices and thudding footsteps through the door startle Wanda. She looks to where the front door opened, and two tiny bodies come barreling through towards her.

The arms thrown around her waist almost knock the wind out of her, but the tears sting her eyes because—

"Billy, Tommy," Wanda trembles. 

"Mom, mom! Did you make the cookies?"

"Are they done?" 

"Can we have ice cream with it right now?" 

Wanda needs to swallow down the overwhelming emotion that knots in her throat before she can answer. 

Of course, Wanda thought. Where she was most loved—it'd be where her boys were. Whatever had occurred in this universe to cause Wanda to not be the happiest—it didn't matter because her boys were here, and as long as they were here, she could be the most loved.

"Sur—"

"Wanda Maximoff, you better not be giving in and spoiling the boys' appetite before dinner."

The new voice makes Wanda freeze. It's not familiar, raising Wanda's hackles as she holds the boys closer to her. She looks to the door again, and when you come through...Wanda's at a loss for words.

There's no universe where she's seen you.

You're struggling to hold all the grocery bags in your arms as you peer over to the trio. 

"Did you boys just abandon me with all the bags for cookies?" You cock your brows at them, meant to look displeased, but Wanda and the boys could see the tiny smirk of amusement on your lips. 

The boys giggle before they move out of Wanda's hold towards you. There's a moment where Wanda wants to grab them back to her again, but when she sees them running towards you and taking some of the bags to lessen your load, Wanda can't help but stare.

"Sorry, mum," Billy gives you a boyish smile, trying to take another bag from you to help.

"But we could smell the cookies from outside!" Tommy cackles but still helps you out as well. 

Wanda feels her heart stop.

Mum?

The boys were referring to you as mum?

How could you be—

Now that one of your hands is free, Wanda watches as you ruffle the boys' hair one at a time before kissing the crown of their head.

"I'll forgive this once because I know mom's cookies are the best in the world and if I had been faster...I would've left you two in the dust," you start laughing as the boy screams indignations with squealing laughter. 

You're still laughing as the three of you make it back to the kitchen, placing all the bags on the counter. 

"Why don't you two run up and finish your homework? We'll give you a call when dinner is ready." You look at the boys.

"But the cookies—"

"—Are for after dinner," you cut them off with a look that has the boys sighing as they look at each other and give you and Wanda a kiss on the cheek before running off. 

Anxiety fills Wanda the second she's alone with you. It makes her want to raise her hands, preparing to fight you because who could you be that would make you mum to her boys? Who were you to intrude in on her happiness and the world where she was most loved?

Was this a universe where Vision existed and they divorced? Were you their stepmother?

You turn your face to her, and Wanda's hackles rise like the hair on the back of her neck. You reach out, grabbing her apron and pulling her towards you. Wanda's about to unleash the full force of her magic on you but is stopped short when she feels warm lips against her own.

It's hot—needy and desperate almost. 

Her hand falls against your shoulder and grips at your shirt, and the kiss is broken.

"Hi, darling," you pant just mere inches away from her lips. "I really, really like when you look like this."

The way you say it almost sounds like a whine, and Wanda's lip twitches at it.

"Oh?" is the only thing Wanda can say.

You hum, peppering kisses against her jaw and down her neck, and the sensation is almost too overwhelming. On the one hand, this body feels accustomed to the physical affections, but Wanda is not.

"I missed you all day," you sigh. "Can't believe you're just being all pretty here all the time and I miss hours of it. Should I work from home tomorrow?"

Wanda swallows. Your lips keep peppering kisses, and Wanda almost has whiplash how the needy kisses turn into tender ones, brushing over the tip of her nose and eyelids. 

Something hot stings behind Wanda's eyes. 

"Can you?" Wanda manages to say. She doesn't know what to say otherwise. It's daunting to know she knows nothing about her life here—she knows nothing about you. 

"I don't have any meetings tomorrow," you stand straighter, your eyes drifting up in thought. "Maybe I should take the day off," you muse. "It's been a while since we did something fun with just the two of us."

Wanda doesn't know what to say. She just looks at you, wary and confused. You don't seem to notice her expression too much, taking her silence as agreement to what you suggested. 

You turn to look through the groceries. "What do you want to eat for dinner tonight? I bought a variety of things since you said you weren't sure what you're craving."

Wanda weighs her options and choices. She needs to integrate herself into this life and ensure you don't suspect anything.

"Is there something you're craving?" Wanda asks you in a friendly tone. 

You hum slowly in thought. "Oh, how about those meatballs you made last month? Those were so good, I've been dreaming about them." You start to put away the groceries other than what ingredients you'll need. You mull over what sides to have.

You're mumbling about what's easier to make, and it becomes clear to Wanda you'll be staying to cook with her, and although it's foreign, Wanda finds it endearing. 

Once you finish deciding, you turn to smile impishly at her, and Wanda quirks her brow at it. Despite not knowing you, she somehow feels like she knows that look on you.

"Want to split a cookie? We have to be super quiet, though. I'm pretty sure the boys have a secret power of knowing when we're eating cookies without them."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It becomes clear throughout the evening that while, yes, her boys love her, they're not the reason why this variant of Wanda is the most loved in the universe.

It's you—you're the reason. 

The evening puts Wanda on edge for different reasons. She looks at the ring on her left hand, trying to not fiddle with it again. You helped her put it back on when the two of you were done cooking, seemingly knowing where she always placed it.

She was married, Wanda deliberated, to a woman. It was odd, Wanda had never considered it, but she found that she was at ease with it.

You make her laugh, you look at her with so much love, and Wanda feels suffocated by it. She feels smothered in every way she has ever wanted to be, and she could drown in your love and the way you look at her and the boys. 

They're not yours; it's obvious. You've stepped up into a role you never had to, yet you did. For her, yes, but because you love the two boys as if they're your own. 

You always find a way to touch her, as if you can't be close enough. It's your legs pressed against hers underneath the table, almost tangled together. It's your hand on top of hers at the diner table or on her thigh.

It's all subconscious, Wanda knows. She knows because she looks into your head on a surface level. Things float about and tease deep inside, and Wanda must refrain from breaking into your mind piece by piece. There'd be time for that later. 

"Alright, what should we do tonight? Movies? Games?" You ask as you gather the plates with Tommy to place into the dishwasher. Wanda's eyes trail after you, staring at your form in scrutiny before Billy tugs at her arm. 

"What do you want to do, mom?" He asks her, and Wanda knows he's asking her because he can tell she's been out of sorts, and it makes her heart swell.

"Oh, anything you want to do, sweetheart," Wanda wraps her arm around Billy, placing his head against her collarbone as she strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

"Movie!" Tommy is screaming from the kitchen as he runs back in with you trailing behind with the cookies and ice cream.

"Do you mind grabbing plates, darling?" You ask Wanda, kissing the crown of her head as you pass by her and set the things down in your arms.

Wanda is about to get up, but you place your hand on her arm.

"Use your powers," you tilt your head in confusion as to why she was getting up.

Wanda is surprised you so openly encourage her to use her powers, but she likes it. Four plates float from the kitchen to the dining table and set themselves down gently. 

"Alright, how many cookie ice cream sandwiches do we want?" You look at the boys.

"Ten!" The boys shout simultaneously as they look at each other, smiling.

You snort, and Wanda finds herself laughing.

"Ambitious," you smirk, "but let's start with two and go from there."

"Mom," Tommy whines as he looks at Wanda like he knows she'll be more likely to cave in. "Tell mum to make it three."

The look Tommy gives her makes Wanda tender. This is everything she wanted, this was everything she deserved, and she'd do anything for her boys.

Wanda looks at you and shrugs. "It can't hurt to have one more."

You point the ice cream scoop at her but grab more cookies. "When either the ice cream melts by the time they get to the third one, or they get too full, you will regret this, Maximoff."

You're still grinning, and the boys are chatting animatedly, and Wanda is surprised to find she wants this moment to last, even with you in it.

The boys grab their plates and take off carefully to the sofa and begin looking for a movie to watch. You diligently make a cookie ice cream sandwich for Wanda.

"Let's go," you say as you pass her the dessert.

"Not going to make yourself one?" Wanda asked as you went to put the ice cream back in the freezer.

You return, pecking her quickly on the lips, and then promptly take a bite out of the dessert you just made Wanda.

"Someone's going to have to eat the third one the boys won't finish," you say after chewing.

"And if they finish it?" Wanda challenges.

You grin at her innocently. "If it seems like they're on track to eating the third one, I'll share with my generous wife."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The boys don't finish the third ice cream cookie sandwich as you predicted, and you look entirely too smug at her when you're eating the soggy dessert. Of course, you generously shared the dessert with Wanda, who tried to refuse, but it was futile. 

The night was peaceful, and Wanda almost hadn't wanted it to end. You spent the evening curled into her, almost purring as she ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. You fit perfectly against her, warm and alive.

Wanda doesn't know what to think, and she merely goes with the flow, keeping you close as you clearly so want. She strokes the softness of the skin of your arm while you play with the fingers of her other hand.

When you do this, Wanda can't help but think about how you don't know. You don't know her corrupted fingers, blackened by the results of her desperation to be happy. 

"I think it's time for bed, boys," you say suddenly, and Wanda looks over to find the boys half-falling asleep on the couch.

"No, I'm not sleepy," Tommy argues, trying to open his eyes, but they stay half-lidded.

Billy doesn't seem to agree but doesn't speak up either, curling into Wanda's side.

"Bedtime, Tommy," Wanda gives him a look to which he frowns but agrees as he gets up with Billy, and they make their way upstairs.

"I'm going to clean up," you tell Wanda.

"Do you want help?" She offers, but you shake your head.

"No, why don't you start tucking the boys in and I'll be there soon?"

Wanda nods, hesitating for a moment before she leans over and kisses the corner of your mouth, and walks off. She can hear the sounds of dishes clanking as she makes her way up the stairs. Taking her time, she looks around. The hallway is filled with photos of you and her together, and there were photos of all four of them.

But one particular photo made her pause, heart dropping into her stomach as she stared at it.

A photo with Vision with the kids. 

Vision—he was in this universe as well? Had he died? She stares at the photo, finding that the kids don't look much younger—a year at the most.

Wanda stands at the photo longer than she thinks until she can hear someone calling her.

"Mom?"

It's Billy and Tommy, stepping out of the washroom as they've finished brushing their teeth.

"Hey, all ready for bed?" Wanda smiles at them, and they nod. She follows them to their room as they both jump into their bed, only a couple of feet away from each other. 

The scene is all too familiar, and her chest aches. She tucks them in, kissing each of their foreheads as she sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. At this point, you enter the room.

Tommy smiles at you as you grin back at him, walking over to him and kissing his forehead. He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything.

You then walk over to Billy's bed, sitting on the edge and kissing his forehead.

"Did you have fun tonight?" You ask softly, and the boys nod. "And you finished your homework?"

The boys roll their eyes in union but nod nonetheless.

"Angels, the lot of you are," you tease, and they giggle. 

"Goodnight," you and Wanda bid. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," they say together.

"Love you," Billy says sleepily as his eyes close, and Tommy mumbles something similar. 

With that, you stand up, holding your hand out for Wanda. She looks at her kids one more time, chanting to herself that she will see them in the morning, that this isn't a dream and she won't wake to the nightmare. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Were you okay today?" You ask softly. "You were kind of quiet."

The two of you were lying in bed together. You have curled into Wanda again. Your face rested against her chest, arm around her as you rubbed her back.

It's soothing, Wanda thought. It almost made her bitter that she hadn't felt like this in a long time. 

Wanda felt you shift and looked down to see you peering up at her. 

"Of course," Wanda reassures you. "Am I always so rambunctious?"

"Sometimes," you grin, teasing her, and Wanda pinches your side, making you try to wriggle away from her. She holds you tighter, preventing you from moving too far away from her. 

When things settle down, and you wriggle to move back close against her, Wanda stares at you pensively. 

"Do you love me?" She asks.

The question surprises you as you look back up at her. You study her face as if you were looking for answers.

"You haven't asked that since just before our wedding," you comment and that surprises Wanda. Because, at the very least, she knows the two of you have been married for a couple of years. 

This variant of her was so sure you loved her that she hadn't questioned it for years?

It was almost laughable to Wanda. Something jealous brews inside her, simmering just beneath the surface. 

Wanda doesn't say anything, and she thinks you might not either, or you'll say something so predictable and empty like, "of course I do."

But you simply press your face into her chest, reaching to grab her hand and drag it to your cheek.

"Look," you tell her, and Wanda freezes.

Privacy was always an issue for the people around Wanda. They always worried about whether or not she was listening to them, even if unintentionally. 

Now with how her powers had grown, it was a given that people automatically assumed she was breaking into your head. Don't get it wrong, Wanda had. Anything to get the results she wanted, she broke every unspoken rule to get it. 

But here you were, freely offering Wanda access. Here you were, being vulnerable to her with all the trust. 

And Wanda didn't hesitate. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You sleep soundly on your side with your back facing Wanda, and she stares at the back of your head. 

She should kill you, Wanda thinks, make it look like an accident. 

The boys would be sad, but she could help them get it over time, couldn't she?

Seeing into your mind was too much. It was too much to see how lucky this variant of this Wanda was. Sure, she had lost many people to Thanos. She had even lost Vision last year to another villain threatening earth. 

But the loss only makes Wanda laugh bitterly because she had already split with Vision years prior, agreeing to amicable joint custody with the boys. 

All because she fell in love with you. 

But could she blame this variant? Wanda watched everything play like a long sitcom about how you loved her. 

This variant had been as miserable as she, had lost just as much as Wanda had, but she had you. 

It was unfair, Wanda thought distantly. Why had you not been in her universe? Or if you were, why did they not meet? Why was she once again the only Wanda to be alone?

This variant loved you tenderly—desperately. She kissed and made love to you like you'd break if she was too rough. 

And Wanda hates that variant for it. To love something so much that she was capable of treasuring it. 

Wanda scoots closer to you, pressing against you as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you flush against her. She presses a kiss against your shoulder and bites into it.

You whimper.

Wanda resolves that all of this is hers now.

This life, the boys, and you. 

Everything belongs to her.

And the first thing Wanda wants to know is if you will break if she's too rough. 

Wanda's hand slides against your thigh, gripping the inner of it roughly before she moves back up and yanks your panties down.

The sharpness of her touch wakes you.

"Wanda?" Your voice is groggy as you startle. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Wanda replies simply, her hand slipping between your folds, rubbing your length slowly, stroking your clit in circles when she comes up.

You moan lowly, your hips moving with her hand as she sucks and nips at your neck. It isn't long until Wanda's fingers are slick from you.

"You got so wet quickly, miláčik," Wanda husks in your ear. "You must want me to fuck you badly."

Your breath hitches at the way Wanda talks to you. The two of you engage in dirty talk often, but not like this.

Wanda guides your leg over her hip before she resumes stroking your pussy until you're dripping and thrusting your hips desperately against her fingers for more.

Wanda's other hand is under you, wrapped around your torso and underneath your shirt as she gropes your chest roughly. Her index finger rolls your hardened nipple back and forth, and she can hear your labored breathing.

Your neck is littered with hickeys, dark and bruising. Wanda isn't even close to being done with you, and you look so ruined already. Wanda wants to see you completely undone. She wants to break you down to nothing so she can build you back up to be hers. 

"Wanda..." you keen, gripping the bed sheet on the side, trying to not cry at how bad you want more. Something feels different, but you can't put your finger on it. Honestly, you could barely even think about it with how your body was trembling.

"Use your words, miláčik," Wanda bites at your earlobe. "Tell me what you want—how ready your body is."

You feel close already with how diligent Wanda had been paying attention to your clit, but you just want—

"Please, please, please," you barely get out. "I want you inside, I wanna feel you...I want to cum."

Wanda mutters about how you're such a good girl and thrusts three fingers inside you until she's all the way in, stroking your walls.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, gripping the bedsheets tighter as your leg tenses against Wanda's hip. 

How you feel on Wanda's fingers has her biting your shoulder again, almost hard enough to leave imprints. You whimper at the pain, but Wanda doesn't let up.

Her other hand abandons your chest and moves out of your shirt up to your neck, grasping it. You feel so delicate against her, and Wanda almost understands why this variant was adamant about being gentle. 

"Wanda—" you say, almost a little alarmed, but Wanda hushes you.

"You're gonna cum just like this," she hisses in your ear, squeezing your throat a little tighter. She licks the shell of your ear, and her voice is throaty when she says, "I missed you, too. You wouldn't even believe how long I've been waiting for you."

Wanda can feel herself dripping for you, but she wants to feel you come over her fingers. She keeps her thrusts inside you, curling her fingers as she strokes that spot inside you that makes you tremble. 

"Wanda—"

"Go on and cum, miláčik," Wanda moves her fingers a little faster, keeping the pressure steady as it finally mounts over, and you come with a long groan.

You feel lightheaded and exhausted as Wanda strokes you through the remnants of the hardest orgasm you've ever had.

Going limp against her body, Wanda releases your throat as she pulls her fingers out of you, earning a hum from you. She sucks the mess you made on her fingers, licking the length of her fingers one by one.

You're panting, trying to regain control of your breathing, and Wanda moves and pushes you to lie on your back. She grips the end of your t-shirt, dragging it up and over your head. She stares at your naked form unabashed, appreciating it for a moment before completely undressing herself. 

Wanda adjusts her body over yours, legs straddling your thigh. You feel Wanda lower herself, her wetness spreading over your thigh as she rides it slowly. 

The low guttural moan Wanda lets out sparks something in your stomach. She looks at you, her eyes glowing red for just a moment. 

"It's good you're taking the day off tomorrow."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Just like that," Wanda moans, grinding her hips more firmly.

Your hair is gripped tightly, hair threading through Wanda's fingers as she uses it as leverage to thrust her hips into your face. Wanda looks down, only able to see a little less than half your face as she's sitting on it while you eat her out. 

Your hands are hooked over Wanda's thigh, securing and occasionally massaging her thighs and hips. Your tongue dips inside her, and Wanda grunts. Her thighs tighten around your head. 

Wanda allows you to drag it out a little longer before she pulls at your hair in a warning, and you quickly fasten your lips around her clit, sucking and keeping the pressure steady until Wanda lets out a high keen, thrusting her hips with reckless abandon as she comes messily over your face. 

You don't complain about how she might be suffocating you, and when Wanda slows her hips, coming down from her high, she looks to the side. The curtains are still closed, but she can tell it's nearing noon. 

Wanda had woken up early to drop the kids off at school while you slept on obliviously. When she came back, she only let you sleep a little longer before waking you by peppering kisses up and down your neck, pressing her body into yours as she lay on top of you. 

Wanda's been working your body since, and she's lost count of how many times she's made you orgasm. Similarly, she's lost count for herself as well. 

Climbing off your face carefully, she watches you use your fingers to clean your face, licking her slick off your fingers. The sight of you exhausted but clearly having enjoyed yourself has Wanda leaving more hickeys down your body. You're littered with them, all marked up by her, and she revels in it. 

"Wanda..." you whine, trying to move your body away, but she holds you still. "I can't anymore."

But Wanda doesn't listen, kissing her way up your body until she's face to face with you. She captures your lips in a messy kiss, licking the inside of your mouth and the teeth pulling at your bottom lip. She can taste herself with the taste of you, and it's all Wanda wants. 

"One more," Wanda tells you, caressing your arms until she reaches your hands, pushes them against the mattress, and holds them down. 

"Wanda, I really can't—" you shake your head. "We've been going at it for hours...I'm too sensitive now."

"Feels better that way," Wanda mutters, barely even listening to you. Her body feels addicted to you. Everything in her tells her to take it, to make you give everything to her. You're hers now; you're always going to be hers. 

You try to reason with Wanda, unsure what's gotten into her. The last time the two of you had this much sex was around the time you were on your honeymoon. 

But even then, whatever was happening now was different. Wanda was always a little desperate. It was just who she was after everything she's experienced. As desperate as she was, though, Wanda was also always careful. 

That carefulness seemed to fly out of the window since last night. Wanda was fucking you with reckless abandon, determined to take everything and more. 

You feel a pressure between your legs, something thick and slick pressing into you. Wanda groans, her forehead dropping against yours. You look down, but the only thing you catch is something red attached to Wanda disappearing into you. 

"Wanda—" your breath hitches, feeling the stretch as Wanda moves inside you. "Oh, god, Wanda, it's too much," your hands strain against Wanda's as she laces them together, bringing them over your head and pinned down.

"Just perfect," Wanda mutters, and you can feel her lips ghosting yours. "Feels good, feels so fucking good inside you."

You know then that Wanda used her power to create some kind of strap-on connected to the nerves of her clit. You can feel Wanda's hardened nipples rubbing over yours as she thrusts slowly into you. 

When she's all the way in, Wanda pauses, taking a deep breath. You were trembling from how sensitive you felt; it was on the edge of being painful.

But then Wanda moves, and you let out a string of incoherent pleas. She barely moves out before she's thrusting back in. She strokes the same spot inside you over and over until tears run down your face.

"One more," Wanda breathes into your mouth. "One more, give me just one more."

"I can't—" you huff. 

"Yes, you can," Wanda cuts you off. Her thrusts get harder but remain the same on moving slightly out before thrusting relentlessly back in. The rough sensation brings you closer and closer to the edge, and Wanda can feel you pulsating as you get near your end.

 She drops your hand, and they immediately go to her back, your nails dragging down. Your roughness makes her moan, and Wanda sinks her head into your neck.

"Fuck, I want to come inside you," Wanda mutters. She wants to coat the inside of you. She wants to own you in there too. Wanda wants it all. "I think you'd like that, wouldn't you, miláčik?"

You don't answer, and Wanda grips your face as she lifts her head to stare down at you. Her thrusts are getting messy as you are nearing the climax. 

"Wouldn't you like it?" Wanda asks you again, more roughly this time. "Tell me you want me inside you like that right now, miláčik."

It's like an unspoken threat that if you don't, Wanda won't let you off until you do.

"Yes," you immediately whimper. "Yes, yes, I want you to come inside me."

Wanda looks satisfied as she brings her thumb to stroke your clit until she's roughly ripping your last orgasm out of your over-wrought body. 

The moan you let out is soundless as Wanda groans in the back of her throat, and you feel something warm gush inside you. The thrusting doesn't stop as Wanda rides out the waves until you stop pulsating around her. 

Your chest heaves just as hers does, trying to calm your breathing. You pray that Wanda finally takes mercy on you and keeps her promise that it was just one more. 

You feel the strap-on disappearing until it's just Wanda resting between your legs. She kisses you softly now, and you almost breathe loudly in relief as you return her tender kisses with your own.

Despite how rough Wanda treated you, your gentle kisses are what sways her completely into you. Gentle, rough—you truly love Wanda as she is. 

"I love you," Wanda mumbles against your lips. "Always love me."

You stroke her head, finally regaining your breath.

"Have I ever not?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next few weeks for Wanda are complete bliss. Even though you're somewhat wary around her, you still touch her the same.

This life was perfect, Wanda knows. This was the wonderful little family Wanda had ever wanted. 

Weekdays are filled with domestic heaven, while the weekends are filled with various activities.

Wanda wants this forever, which is why the headaches and glitches she's been experiencing as of late are concerning. 

The spell isn't fully complete, and Wanda curses that she should've fought harder to kill America when she had the chance. They were looking for her, Wanda was sure, and they were getting closer. 

On top of that, she could feel her variant fighting to break loose. 

'Get out,' Wanda could hear her variant in her head. 'Get out! This isn't yours. None of this is! She isn't yours.'

'She's mine and I would never hurt her or the boys,' Wanda would repeatedly say to temper down her variant.

"Are you feeling okay?" 

Wanda snaps her head to look at you, unaware you had approached her.

"Yes," Wanda nods. "Just a headache."

You place your hand over her forehead and frown. "You are a little warm. Maybe you should go lie down. I can finish cleaning and cook tonight."

Wanda nods, and you peck her lips as she makes her way up to her bedroom and locks the door shut. All alone now, her hands returned to their true state, darkened fingers as if decaying. Wanda conjures The Darkhold, flipping through the pages.

There had to be a solution to stay here forever. 

There had to be something to keep Strange and America away from her. 

But before Wanda can search deeper, she hears wreckage downstairs and your scream. 

Wanda immediately transports herself downstairs using her magic and is enraged at the sight.

They found her. 

Strange and America stood in her living room with a portal open, posing to fight her when they saw her. 

"Wanda, you need to stop this," Strange tries to reason with her again, but she tilts her head at him with a condescending smile.

"Stop what? Living my life here? You're the one intruding, and you need to leave. I'm past mercy, Strange."

"This isn't your life!" Strange yells at her. "Let the variant of you go."

"Silence!" Wanda yells at him.

"Oh? Scared your girlfriend's going to find out?" America said with bravado, but Wanda can see her wariness underneath as she eyes you from the side.

You were cautious but silent.

Wanda begins to conjure the red wisps in her hand. "She's my wife." Thrusting her hands out, she releases her magic, and a fight ensues.

Strange is still trying to reason with her, but Wanda doesn't want to hear it anymore.

"You were a fool to bring the girl here," Wanda sneers at him when she gains the upper hand and has Strange subdued and America in her grasp.

The young girl is choking in Wanda's grip, and she sees it as a chance to finally get the power she needs to make this universe hers permanently.

"Wanda, stop!" 

The voice makes Wanda freeze. She turns her head and finds you staring at her with a horrified expression. 

The look of absolute fear makes Wanda feel like she's been punched in the gut.

"What are you doing?" You urge her. "Let her go, she's a kid!"

"No, no, no," Wanda tells you softly, trying to show you that she'd never hurt you. "She's a threat—to me, to you, to us and our life."

"This isn't your life," America chokes before she looks at you. "This isn't your Wanda!"

"Be QUIET," Wanda snarls at America, tightening her grip that makes America choke. 

"Wanda, stop it!" You yell at her, your eyes welling up with tears. "You're hurting people!"

The words make Wanda feel like she's crumbling. She drops America, letting the girl fall onto the floor on her back, hearing the wind knock out of the young girl's lungs. 

Wanda looks at you; betrayal is written all over her face.

"Why are you treating me like I'm the villain?" Wanda whispers, her eyes becoming hot with tears. "You said you loved me. How can you love me and think I hurt people?"

You take a careful step towards her. "Look around, Wanda," you say softly.

"I would never—" But the words fall short on Wanda's lips. "I'm not a monster," is all she can say quietly as she drops to her knees.

"I know you're not," you say softly as you kneel in front of her and cup her face gently. "Just like I know you're not my Wanda."

Wanda immediately looks into your eyes, surprised.

You give her a wry smile. "You think I don't know my own wife? I've known since the first night."

"When—"

"When you asked if I loved you and I let you look into my mind," you give her a sad smile. "My Wanda never takes the opportunity. She is adamant about never looking into my mind and I never offer because of it. She prefers talking honestly, even if it's harder and painful."

Wanda's crying, tears welling and overflowing freely.

"Then why—" Wanda sobs.

"Wanda had her own theories about the multiverse. She was always worried it would happen, but I think every version of her should be loved."

You wiped her tears, but new ones would just fall. "You seemed sad," you tell her truthfully. "Even though I knew it wouldn't be forever by me, I wanted you to know you are loved too."

Wanda's face contorts in pain, lips trembling as she shakes her head. 

"You're not a monster," you tell her again sternly. "You're a person who has done bad things out of grief but that doesn't always make you a bad person."

Wanda feels you kiss her cheek, and it's bitter.

"Do the right thing, Wanda," you encourage her. "It's time to go home."

"Is it home if you're not there?" Wanda tries to refute, and you give her a look.

"Am I dead?"

"...I don't know."

"Then look for me there," you drop your hands and move to hold Wanda's. "That variant of me might be waiting for you too."

It's silent for a moment, and America stands in the background, unsure, with Strange beside her.

"We'll be okay, Wanda," you tell her softly. "We are loved, and you will be too."

Wanda looks at you one last time before releasing the body she's held hostage, and America closes the portal to this universe. 

The scene of the home she's grown used to fades into her lonely throne. It's like a hole has grown in her chest, connecting all the missing parts of her until she's empty. 

America and Strange stand in the distance, unsure what their next move is if they have to continue fighting her. 

"You need to leave," Wanda calmly states.

"What?"

"I opened The Darkhold, and I'm the one who needs to close it so it can never tempt anyone again," Wanda stares at her blackened fingertips. "You need to leave because this place is going to collapse."

As if on cue, the temple began shaking and crumbling. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Strange and America looked at Wanda, who didn't spare them a glance. 

"I'm sorry, Wanda," Strange apologizes, and she knows it's for losing what was never hers in the beginning. With that, he takes America and flies off with her. 

The temple crumbles, and Wanda doesn't move, determined to see its end. Even if you can't witness it, she wants to prove to you that she is a good person. 

Wanda lets out a tiny smile, knowing that you probably believed she already followed through.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

-A Year and 6 months later-

Wanda sips her coffee, breathing in the fresh air. She looks down at her hair and finds it strange to see brown instead of auburn. It's been too long since she's seen the real color of her hair, and she wonders if it looks good. 

The day is bright and sunny, and Wanda revels in how the sun feels on her skin. 

"Would you like another one?"

Wanda looks at the waitress with a smile and shakes her head. She's here every day and usually has two cups leisurely. 

But not today.

"No, thank you," Wanda answers politely and pulls out some cash, giving her usual waitress a generous tip. 

The waitress thanks her and leaves. Wanda stays a second longer, waiting and taking in the view. 

There's a loud car door slamming, and a woman gets out and moves to the sidewalk.

"For the last time," an exasperated voice groans. "It's over! How many times do I have to say it? Stop following me! You can’t just show up here because you know I walk through here every day."

"How can it be over? Everything has been going well for the last year! What changed?"

Wanda watches you groan.

"I don't know! I just don't see a future with you," you tap your foot impatiently. "Now stop following me around, I have shit to do and you're constantly making me late. Just—stop."

You turn to leave, but the woman grabs your arm, and Wanda stands up, pulling her hat closer to her head as she crosses the street. 

Each step feels like she's getting closer to your silhouette, and the thin veil separating the two of you slowly disappears.

Wanda pushes and pushes against the veil until—

"You're hurting her."

The two of you look over to Wanda, and you stare at her for a long moment.

"Stay out of this," the woman glares at Wanda. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business," Wanda says simply. "I'm a good person."

"Are you trying to say I'm not?" The woman snaps.

"Yes, if you keep holding her arm hostage."

The woman immediately drops your arm, and you rub the spot she held, moving away.

"Leave," Wanda glares, and the woman is about to say something else, but the flash of Wanda's red eyes startles her, and she's quick to turn and walk back to her car.

The two of you watch the car drive away, and Wanda turns back to you, and you stare at her curiously.

"Have we met before?" You blink with a tilt of your head.

Wanda smiles. "Maybe in another universe."

You snort. "Smooth," you grin at her. "Thanks for that by the way."

You introduce yourself, and Wanda takes your hand.

Something electric passes through your arm, and you lick your lips.

"I'm Wanda."

You keep holding her hand, pensively looking at the woman before you.

"Can I treat you to a cookie ice cream sandwich as thanks? There's a great place nearby that does the best cookies," you gush.

Wanda nods but grins at you. "Sure, but I can make better ones."

"Really?" You look skeptical. "That's a bold statement."

"I've been told my cookies are the best in the world."

You laugh with a shake of your head as you let go of Wanda's hand and walk with her trailing beside you.

"I'll hold you to that."

AWW

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

.

Mrs.Johansson?! How did I not see these, I’m gonna make Rockband AU fanfics of her now just cause of this