#how to find your circle of competence

[jagadishbirajdar]

Your Circle is Smaller than What You Actually Think

[beedreamscape]

She knew love and it was both her curse and her blessing. It was what drove her to pursue her plans even harder, but it was also what kept her from becoming a cold parallel to Ludinus Da'leth.

I know it's funny and girlboss-like behavior Laerryn subscribes to

But listen to me, and I will not back away from this opinion,

If someone were to "seduce" Laerryn into even more hubristic behavior, that person would be Ludinus bc despite his social standing or importance, if he ever reached her, he would've said all the right things to feed her ego and her ambition.

She has Patia and Nydas, but they're no stand-in for what Evandrin was and there'll always be a gap in this area of support, of just as enthusiastic ambition and excitement. And Ludinus would maybe try to give her just that.

But just for a while.

I do agree there would be a point, she would've noticed that "Oh, this guy has issues. No, I don't want to break the order like that. I have people that love me and I love them too much for that. I've found religionless devotion in ways this man could never." bc Ludinus, at the end of the day, feels like a man that's been lonely and selfish all his life and Laerryn isn't like him.

Laerryn knows love and, in the end, that made all the difference.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 3; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

“What is this anyway—‘bring your girlfriend to work’ day?”

She’s snarky as ever, but with an agitated edge. Nerves prickling when Johnny holds her jacket out for her to slip her arms into. Even that makes her snap—something about not being a toddler that Johnny needs to help dress, but by then his head is in the clouds. In another place altogether. 

The prospect of getting to parade his new girl around leaves him giddy, fox-like grin hard to squash. He doesn’t suppress anything, finds it hard to push things down. When he does, it’s often unconscious. 

She doesn’t like the way he savours her anxiety like a fine wine, sniffs it from the top of her head and groans out his breath, cackling when she tries to stomp on his foot to make him go away. He dances away with her coat, light and nimble on his feet because he’s used to ducking and weaving for her affection. 

“The guys wanna meet ye,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising how many times he’s had to say it. 

“Why? Haven’t they ever met a girl before?” she gripes, swallowing now, her stomach probably cramping and poor bonnie lass, Johnny thinks. His poor, pretty girl is trying to put on a brave face when he knows she prefers being in the backroom of her little flower shop, snipping off stalks and tying pretty bows around pretty bouquets. He wishes he could keep her back there forever—put a lock on the door and come only to smother her in kisses and gorge himself on every inch of her—but there’s a whole wide world demanding his attention. 

“Aye, hen, never a lass as cute and sweet as ye,” he crows, ducking a hand that punches through the sleeve of her jacket in his direction. 

In the car, he drops the facade. Loses his teasing edge. It’s a violent removal, like jolting awake to the sound of someone sawing away at a catalytic converter. If his smile is saccharine, it’s really only a smokescreen concealing the apprehension bubbling away in his belly. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel on the drive back to base. Heart in his throat, choking his words and rendering him quiet for once in his life. He hears Ghost’s voice in his head, a low rumbling laugh, tectonic plates shifting beneath his feet. These days, his voice acts as a lodestar, the thing steering Johnny home. 

Months ago, it was the only thing between him and annihilation, the ice cold maelstrom dragging him deeper into its maw. Guiding him through the valley of death. The wound in his arm still aches in the first light of day. His sleep is still wracked by dreams of running down alleys and ducking into houses, the rain pattering against the window panes ominous, a ticking clock, each step having to be precise, calculated, each movement quieter than quiet, fading into the shadows, a cool heart and mind bested by agony from the bulletwound in his shoulder.

And then—Ghost’s voice, low and soothing in his ear, shattering the pain. Ghost’s voice in his ear telling him where to go, how to survive. 

It’s hard to explain. Johnny’s tried. It’s like talking in circles when he opens his mouth and tries to get it out. I trust him with everything in me. He could do anything to me, anything. 

He is no less capable, no less competent. His rank demands respect, and he takes what’s due to him. Since Las Almas, he’s worked across a medley of other teams, even solo a time or two. It changes nothing. He still wakes in a sweat, chasing that voice. It takes him back into the real world. The days burn into the fringes of a memory that he is always living.

“Should I know anyone’s name before we get there?”

Her voice breaks through the noise in his head this time. It’s every bit as precious. 

“What d’ye mean, hen?” he asks, clucking his tongue. Sweats a bit when he realizes how far down the motorway they are now, how long it’s been since he checked out, lost in his thoughts. One hand rests loose on her leg, fingers spread wide and thumb gliding up and down her outer thigh, the other still holding the wheel. 

The pinched look has mostly fallen off from her face, but there’s still a tremble in her lower lip when she says, “Well, I don’t know any of your friends. I wouldn’t introduce you to my friends without telling you their names first.”

“No’ my friends, hen—we’re coworkers.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m friends with my coworkers.”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s no’ the same with guys. Couldnae tell you fuck all about any of them except their names, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t give me that—you’re not friends with a single one of them? No one?”

No hunger without resistance. His mouth goes bone dry. He’d be wise to learn that. 

He swallows. “Maybe a few.”

No transaction without accountability. Ghost saves his life and now Johnny has to pay that debt back tenfold. Sinking into the crease of Simon’s voice late at night, clutching it to his chest. Breathing it out. Maybe they are friends. 

He’s a bit show-offy at the base gates, dangling his ID card out the window pinched between two fingers. The civilian guard on duty just waves him on, scanning it only for the sake of the logs. His tires spin in the dirt when he guns it down the stretch of road leading into the base, windows still all the way down. Her hair whips around in the wind until she gathers it all up in her fist and shrieks at him to roll the windows up. 

Johnny enjoys showing off. That’s a core aspect of who he is, his charm. Braggadocious, confident in the way he looks, his physical prowess, his lot in life—so why would that change with his girl? He holds her close with an arm around her waist when he drags her through the rec centre, the building closest to where they parked. 

He gets lost in conversation for longer than expected. Pure gloating about the girl he’s managed to bag. Cooing in her ear when he feels her get a bit uneasy, still timid around the other guys despite having him at her side. He supposes that’s fair. She’s more comfortable around the women on base, a bit freer with her greeting and questions, but there’s still a pinch in her brow that never smooths all the way over.

It takes a while to find anyone that he knows. There are plenty of sergeants and corporals that he’s worked with before, familiar faces and names, but Johnny still glances around the room while they make light conversation with his girl, searching. Looking for something familiar, something that’ll reel him in, make him perk up like a dog catching a scent. 

They cross Gaz in a random hallway on the way to the comm centre, hardly recognizable at first with the darker stubble of his beard grown out. He must’ve just come back from wherever he’d been shipped off to the month previous, no time to shave or clean up. He even smells of old sweat when Johnny leans in for a hug. 

“Is this—?” Gaz glances over at her just once while the question dangles in the air. He looks back over at Johnny. 

They lock eyes. A silent exchange of meaning. 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, steering her in front of him with both hands on her shoulders, showing his girl off like a kid with a new toy. Eyes glinting like, don’t say a word. “Brought her in to meet everyone.”

A molasses slow smile spreads across Gaz’s face. It’s clear why men like him always get the girl. Johnny’s hands tighten on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you—thought John would hide you away forever.”

She glances up at him through her lashes. “You talked about me?”

Gaz shakes his head. “Not as much as you’d think. Took Ghost ages to get it out of him.”

Johnny flushes. “Did no’. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ blab about everything under the fuckin’ sun doesnae mean—”

“John says you’re a florist,” Gaz interrupts, turning the conversation back to her. Her lips split up into a mischievous little grin, delighted at the turnabout, probably delighted at seeing Johnny stumble over his words.

Something about her teasing grin gets his dick hard. More points to the rapidly disintegrating belief that he doesn’t have a humiliation kink. He leans forward, pressing it into her ass, delighted himself when she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t pull away. 

“So, where’s everybody?” Johnny asks casually, trying not to make it too obvious who he’s referring to. The look Gaz gives him is unimpressed. He keeps running into that brick wall, his thoughts written out on his forehead, obvious to everyone around him. 

“Everyone?” Gaz repeats sceptically. 

“Aye.” His voice is tight, warning. “Everyone.”

“Ghost’s actually on his way here now, I think. We got called over to HQ—s’where I was headed, actually.”

“I dinnae say anything about Ghost, now did I—,” Johnny grumbles, but the words dissolve in his mouth when the man in question comes into the room. 

Sometimes, Johnny has the pleasure of seeing Ghost round a corner. The split second pleasure of being the observer, of dragging his eyes up and over, his chest bursting with a light like dawn cresting behind mountains and splitting the sky. In the field, he’s often deprived of that; becomes used to experiencing the phenomenon of Ghost melting out of the shadows, sometimes scaring the daylights out of him. 

It’s what happens now though. Glancing up on a whim only to see a man round the corner of the hallway leading out of the rec centre, shirt stretched out maddeningly over his arms and chest, muscles bulging like he just came from the gym, still pumped. The shirt’s a little threadbare, something old and worn, and Johnny’s seen it a million and a half times he figures; it leaves so little to the imagination that he’s joked about Ghost busting it at the seams from time to time, only to be met with a steady, aloof stare. 

There’s something to be said about how he’s drawn to people who refuse to scratch him behind the ears until he’s more than proven himself. He works tirelessly for Ghost’s approval, for his girl’s approval. Dogs with their bones, tigers with their stripes. 

He has a balaclava pulled over his face, just a simple black one this time, the underside of his eyes darkened by eyeblack hastily scrubbed off the night before, probably. His eyes scan the crowd, locking on Johnny and Gaz almost instantly. It’s the mark of a good soldier—he doesn’t flounder in the dark. Always finds his target, like a sixth sense for knowing when he’s being watched. 

Ghost course-corrects upon noticing them, crossing the room in a handful of seconds. The curt, “Johnny,” he gets is a bounty, a treasure. He grins back when Ghost glances down at the girl at his side. “That your bird?” 

“Told ye I’d bring her in—s’long as everyone’s on their best behaviour, of course.”

Gaz snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Ghost must cock an eyebrow because he can see the fabric of his mask shift. “Pretty.”

He can’t help the way he preens at that. Tucked away by his side again, Johnny can feel his girl squirm, but he pays it no mind. She’s shy—he’s known that from day one, from the first time she stumbled out from the back of the flower shop and scrunched her nose up at his attempts at flirting. 

Admiration is a smooth, buttery feeling. It keeps him aloft while another couple of servicemen take interest in their conversation and come over, Johnny’s girl at the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d be pricklier about it if he didn’t have a firm hand on her waist, keeping her pressed to his side. 

He soaks up the attention. Drinks it up when someone asks his girl a question and Johnny answers for her or pinches her cheek when she manages to pipe up before him. He knows he’ll get read the riot act when he takes her back home later, but he might be able to convince her to ride him while berating him for talking over her. Might beg her to slap him and spit in his mouth—say it’s the only way he’ll learn his lesson.

Dirty dog.

It strikes him that maybe he’s picked up some bad habits in recent months. He’s never been one to overthink, to worry and fret. Yet, he toils in it now, shovels coals into the furnace of it and gives it life. 

His shoulders go slack, the tension finally ebbing out of him. No longer dogged by the incessant fear that his girl is going to run away, bolt at the first loud noise, or that someone’s going to pluck her up out of his arms. She seems comfortable if anything. 

He’s been overthinking all of this, wrapped up in his head. He can breathe out, unclench. 

When Ghost shifts to stand closer to them, he glances over because that’s where his gaze always goes these days. Seeking Ghost out, finding him in a crowd; looking for his North Star wherever he is, wherever he goes. 

Only to watch in mute horror as, in plain sight, not trying to be discreet or hide it from anyone, Ghost gropes his girlfriend’s ass in front of everyone on base. Just reaches out a big hand and fondles her ass, digging his fingers into the cheek. She freezes, back ramrod straight as she stares ahead, eyes going a bit blank. 

He fails whatever test this is, mouth too dry for any words to come out. Humiliation burns him from the inside out. Another sergeant that he’s worked with before frowns, glancing over at Johnny. Neither of them say a word. 

Ghost tilts his head, staring down at his hand on her ass like he’s contemplating its plushness. Admiring it. With how Johnny stands on one side and Ghost the other, the two of them bracket her, like the soft centre of their trio; nowhere for her to go, a handler on either side. That’s wrong though. Ghost is not her handler—Johnny hardly is, more of a self-appointed one. 

Still he—

He lets it happen.

Contention dies a bloody death in his mouth, massacred. Mangled. He lets Ghost sink his fingers into his girlfriend’s backside and hum a little under his breath before finally pulling his hand away. The others look at him, waiting for Johnny’s reaction with bated breath. A reaction that never comes because it gets strangled in Johnny’s throat. 

“Nice meeting the bird,” Ghost finally says, voice a decibel lower, rough enough to scrape. “Gaz and I’ve got shit to do now. Be ready on the tarmac by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Johnny.” 

He grips Johnny by the shoulder before heading off, like he didn’t just grope Johnny’s girlfriend. Like he didn’t just reach down and grab a handful of her ass like it was his to feel up. And Johnny just nods. A placid, docile thing under Ghost’s hand, bobbing his head like a doll. 

Then Ghost leaves, Gaz trailing after him, looking back about a half dozen times to see if Johnny will suddenly follow them until he’s forced to job to catch up to Ghost, the man already yards away, longer legs carrying him fast out of the building. 

They don’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, the inside of the car tense and uncertain. Johnny walks her to the door when he lets her off, but it’s a formality, a chaste kiss at the door instead of the rough fuck that he’d envisioned to send her off. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she doesn’t lambast him like Johnny expected. The silence is worse though, haunting when she shuts the door in his face. 

The drive back to base after the drop off is agonizing in a whole new way. Still pent up, cock heavy in his pants, and fingers drumming over the steering wheel twice as fast now. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? What he wants to do is turn around at the closest gap between both sides of the motorway and speed all the way back, knock on her door until his knuckles blister and bleed, until she opens the door and lets him in, lets Johnny push her to the floor in the entryway and spread her legs, welcoming him in. 

Until she lets him fit his fingers into the marks left behind by Ghost’s hand. 

Cold fire rising up off his bones, and then something hot. And wet. 

The next day at breakfast in the mess, one of the guys says something like, “If Ghost was into my girl, that’s the last you’d see of me and her,” and his mind goes blank and he goes over the table.

[mellowwillowy]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Your husband is a man of reputation, respected by everyone for his competency as a lawyer and his benevolence toward the people of this town. Yes, people who don't know him as a man of greed would never expect just how greedy this man is.

A man of greed, corruption, and lovesickness. Your beloved husband who treasures you like his precious treasure of all, worth even more than all his possessed assets and the most beautiful of all creations he has ever seen and made.

There are times when he might feel guilty about objectifying you, but he can't deny the feeling he gets from seeing you being so docile, a dependent spouse who can't do anything after he strips everything that might take you away from him.

While he is not a fan of taking away your autonomy, he is also not a fan of seeing you being basked in the capability of leaving him. You bet you'll end up as a house spouse the moment you vow to love him eternally.

There are also times he sees you as his beloved songbird, the beautiful lily-of-the-valley, or just a very fragile sculpture, all need to be taken care of and pampered by him properly.

He may be a gentleman but one could go feral should he ever see someone pestering you. A lawyer who served injustice, his relation to the mafia ringleader will assist him in erasing this pest's existence as he dumps his body into the ocean, missing all the limbs.

"Dear, do tell me where he touched you with those filthy hands of his," Yulian questioned as his thumbs circled your hands. He had personally ensured to break his index finger before shooting him to death, seethed in anger upon seeing someone trying to humiliate you at the party he had you attend with him.

That bastard did not only try to provoke you but was also brave enough to touch you, earning the aristocrats' pitying gaze as he was unaware of the invisible rule, 'Never bother the spouse of Adam deus'Otiosus."

"Uhm, I'm fine, he didn't touch me since I managed to dodge just in time! Please don't worry too much about it, dear!"

If you noticed how his face darkened then you decided to turn a blind eye to it, a pout soon formed in his lip, "That bastard, even I wasn't daring enough to touch you back when I was still only courting you..."

You chuckled at his remarks before patting his head, "I'm alright dear, really."

But the same couldn't be said about the bastard the moment you turned on the television next week. It was not hard to find him as Yulian did not even bother to tie a weight by his ankle.

[xveenusx]

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8.  Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in. 

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents. 

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me. 

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me. 

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince. 

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him. 

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding? 

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out? 

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned. 

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him. 

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older. 

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing. 

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention? 

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing. 

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance. 

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question. 

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway. 

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts. 

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me? 

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe. 

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different. 

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter. 

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too. 

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually. 

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move. 

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away. 

“Not right now, Kells.” 

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe. 

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe. 

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him. 

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead. 

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up. 

Topper coughs. “Sophia.” 

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move. 

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor. 

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor. 

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation. 

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open. 

He’s high. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me. 

Dying would be less painful.

 I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but. 

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal. 

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel. 

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical. 

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder. 

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask. 

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.” 

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away. 

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.” 

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed. 

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small. 

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.” 

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels. 

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything. 

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all. 

 “No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused. 

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change. 

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room. 

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low. 

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place. 

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought. 

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it. 

I loved him once too. 

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.” 

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating. 

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes. 

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats. 

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again. 

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.” 

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

 “I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.” 

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?” 

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all. 

“Friday.” 

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.” 

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

 “Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even. 

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé. 

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

 “You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger. 

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.” 

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic. 

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

 “This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex. 

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.” 

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain. 

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic. 

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble. 

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms. 

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them. 

“You promised me we’d never end.” 

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off. 

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see. 

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him. 

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. 

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.” 

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.” 

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve. 

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me. 

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

 Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

 He had me. Then he lost me. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to.  But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

[mionemymind]

Lost in the Universe (Part 2)

Summary: The aftermath of Y/n being rescued from the alternate universe.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Cursing, Jealousy

A/n: @tynix had requested a part two. And I wanted to post something since I JUST TURNED 23 BABES!! So I guess this is a birthday gift for me?? Hope y'all enjoy the fluff. Also, I love all the Candy Montgomery gifs that I keep seeing :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

Part 1

“I appreciate you teaching her how to control her powers, but we cannot have you going through different universes again,” Wanda complained into Y/n’s chest. Today was an off day and the couple decided to spend much-needed quality time together. Y/n slightly chuckled at Wanda’s pouty-ness, ever since they came back to their universe, Wanda had been feeling extra clingy. 

“You worry too much my love. There was no doubt in my mind that you would’ve found me.” Y/n tweaked her words a little as she remembered alternate Wanda’s words. “We’re tethered,” Y/n thought. She kissed her girlfriend’s forehead, continuing to run her fingers through Wanda’s hair. 

“How can I not worry? You try finding me throughout different universes.” Y/n chuckled more much to Wanda’s dismay. The redhead was more than anxious about the whole situation. She tried her best not to be so angry at America for the obvious accident, but not knowing what universe Y/n was in spiraled her to think the worst. 

“Well my love, you’re more powerful than me. So I would have a harder time getting to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes at the compliment but still smiled. “Not only that, I would’ve probably talked to other Wanda’s out there to help me find you.” 

“Speaking of, how was my counterpart? Was it freaky to see me in a different universe?” Y/n hummed for a bit, letting herself get lost at the thought of alternate Wanda. 

“I was really scared at first. You being the Scarlet Witch, I wasn’t sure if alternate Wanda had the same powers as you. Not only that, I begged in my heart that you were good too. I wouldn’t know how to deal with an evil Wanda - wait if she’s evil, she might be emo too - and your emo phase was pretty hot babe.” Wanda swatted Y/n’s chest as Y/n laughed at the obvious joke she said. Intertwining their hands, Y/n rubbed circles in Wanda’s palm, “But seriously…when I first got there she called me dekta like you. I almost thought it was you, however, something inside me could just feel that it wasn’t you.”

“So what happened?” Y/n sighed as she rubbed Wanda’s back. The redhead enjoyed the constant feeling of Y/n’s touch. “She called me out. Told me that I’m not her Y/n. Rather than giving me a hard time for being in her universe, she let me into her house and kind of relieved my anxiety.” 

Wanda smiled at the thought of her counterpart being nice to her girlfriend. Although Wanda could never imagine a world where she would hurt Y/n, she was just extra grateful to know Y/n never landed in that scenario. “Did you like her more than me?” Wanda joked. 

Y/n snorted at Wanda’s lame joke, “Well she did make me hot chocolate.” Wanda rolled her eyes again as she lightly hit Y/n’s chest one more time. “Keep hitting me woman, I’ll make America send me there again.” 

Wanda lifted her head and flashed her red eyes at Y/n. “Don’t you even dare.” Y/n smiled at her girlfriend’s obvious jealousy and gave her a small kiss. “I wouldn’t - plus the only reason I would want to is to help my counterpart get their shit together.” 

“What do you mean?” Y/n kissed Wanda once more before laying her head back onto the pillow. “Alternate Wanda said that alternate Y/n hasn’t confessed her feelings yet, which is annoying because they literally live on a farm together. How platonic can that shit even be?” 

“What if your counterpart was just as scared as you?” Y/n lingered back to the time before she confessed her feelings to Wanda. All the yearning and pent-up feelings were enough to compete with any love-struck idiot. “I can imagine that, but at the same time, I hadn’t bought a farm with you yet and she did.”

“You and this farm.” Wanda kissed Y/n's arm. “Should we get a place of our own?” 

“Where would you like to live?” Wanda thought about it, no particular location was coming to mind. “Something that doesn’t scream American capitalism.” 

“Italy farmlands?” Y/n moved her hand from Wanda’s back up to Wanda’s head, running her fingers through her hair again. “What made you think of that?” 

“I forgot the title, but I remember liking this movie that was located in the Italy farmlands.” Y/n kept racking her brain for the title, nothing came up though. “When you were searching for me, did you ever find alternate me’s?” 

“I found a couple. One was almost like you but two of them were drastically different in style so that helped a lot.” Wanda recalled the moment she almost mistook one of Y/n’s counterparts for her Y/n. But it all came back to that tethered feeling. 

“One of the Y/n’s was actually with their Wanda. It was fun to talk to a different version of myself. She was quick to tell me that I was in the wrong universe and tried to direct me to you.” 

“What if she thought you were there to steal the other version of me?” Y/n joked once more. “I wouldn’t want a different version of you. You’re it for me dekta.” Wanda got up once more and kissed Y/n slowly. “Don’t ever forget that.” 

“Never.” 

Alternate Universe

“Who’s the slut?” Wanda barely entered her house before the accusations were thrown at her by Y/n. “Excuse me?” Wanda had returned from the edge of their farm where counterpart Y/n was rescued from. 

“You heard me. Who. Is. The. Slut.” Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her eyes motioned to the two cups at the coffee table. Wanda rolled her eyes with a devilish smile, “You.” 

Making Y/n work for more answers, Wanda walked away to the kitchen. “Very funny Wanda,” Y/n mocked. “I wasn’t being funny,” Wanda batted her eyes innocently which annoyed Y/n even further. “Who the fuck was it?” Y/n was irritated beyond belief. She had come home from a mission hoping to see her crush just to find out that some bitch came over and drank her supply of hot chocolate with “her girl”. 

“Well, she’s this very hot girl,” Wanda said as she played dumb, she walked slowly to Y/n and continued, “She’s very charming and kind too - actually, she helped me with the farm today.” This angered Y/n beyond belief. Who the fuck comes to her home and manages to steal her girl within hours? She had a five-year plan that’s been in motion since the day she met Wanda. 

With one last step, Wanda was in Y/n’s space, wrapping her arms around her neck and Y/n held her hips. “Do you like her?” Wanda thought about it for a second, before saying, “Something like that.” Wanda enjoyed the feeling of messing with Y/n, especially with something so harmless. 

However, Y/n could not take it anymore. Frustrated, Y/n stepped out of Wanda’s grasp. “Well, I hope you live happily ever after,” Y/n said sarcastically. Before she could walk any further, Wanda grabbed her hand and pulled Y/n back into her arms. She rolled her eyes, “You are so oblivious.” 

Not wanting to wait any further, Wanda confidently kissed Y/n, feeling the tether that connected them ignite with a new fire, a new love. Y/n reacted swiftly as Wanda jumped and wrapped her legs around Y/n’s waist. “More,” Y/n begged in her head, her knees were growing weak, but she needed more. 

Wanda abruptly cut the kiss off, pushing Y/n slightly back as she moved forward, eager for more. “Will you finally admit that you’re in love with me?” Y/n grinned as she kissed Wanda’s cheek, “I had a plan.” 

“Oh yeah? It took somebody coming over to finally rile you up.” 

“Speaking of, who the fuck was it?” Wanda laughed as Y/n sternly asked. 

“You’ll never guess.”

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[sserrafeim]

I’m going to hold your hand when I say this:

Feyre isn’t a bad artist. She doesn’t draw stick figures. She’s not a bad warrior either. The inner circle is her family, they wouldn’t be mad at her for painting the walls of a magic cabin that can clean itself. She’s not a breeding mule for having a child, neither is she too young for one, given that having a child was her choice and something she discussed with her partner beforehand. She didn’t lie and wasn’t manipulated when she recognised a male character’s abuse for what it was, no matter how much you want to justify his actions.

Nesta isn’t a bad dancer. It’s mentioned, and later shown, how she can enchant people with a mere dance. She’s not a bitch for dealing with her trauma in a way that you don’t like or you don’t think is “fit for a woman.”

Elain isn’t bad at baking. She isn’t stupid and a coward for choosing to live a simple life without violence, something she detests. She still needs time to accept her turning into fae, having a mate, and let go of the last.

Morrigan isn’t a whore for wearing revealing clothes. She isn’t a stupid manipulative bitch for not reciprocating a man’s feelings towards her or for not feeling safe and comfortable around a man that hurt her, no matter how attractive both men might be. You can’t blame her for not feeling ready to reveal her romantic and sexual preferences to her chosen family when she’s spent years being abused and ridiculed by her blood relatives.

Amren isn’t a bitch for being born a creature of terrifying power that doesn’t feel a single emotion and has no real free will, created only to follow her father’s orders. She can’t be blamed for not reacting to most things the way people would do when emotions are a new thing to her after living thousands of years without them.

Gwyn didn’t fake her rape. She has no intention of infiltrating a group of people for nefarious purposes or luring a man away from another woman. She spent years in a sanctuary trying to regain her identity and bodily autonomy after being brutally assaulted and witnessing the decapitation of her sister, the only family she had left. Her decision to take her life back in her hands wasn’t made with an ulterior motive. You can’t blame her for a man’s actions and feelings (ACOSF bonus chapter) because it “threatens your ship.”

Emerie spent her whole life being afraid of her father, thinking he would kill her. She suffered him after he beat her mother to death and had to endure everyone praising him for being a “good man” when not even her wings were spared from his cruelty. She then had to suffer the threats and humiliation of other male relatives, and not, after her father’s death, because she ran a shop by her own.

The Valkyries isn’t a stupid plot about women training as warriors and surface-level feminism. It’s about women reclaiming their lives after horrible things were done to them and gaining the power to prevent it from happening again to them or other unprotected women. Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie winning the Blood Rite wasn’t “unrealistic.” They trained for that and they trained even before knowing they were going to compete. It wasn’t a senseless victory for the sake of plot.

The obsession this fandom has with diminishing female characters, friendships, and traumatic experiences of said characters for the sake of uplifting the male ones in the series is wrong on so many levels and it has to stop. It’s not “critically thinking” or “valid criticism”, it’s misogyny. Deep-rooted misogyny. It’s ironic in a way, reading a book series that is all about women healing, discovering themselves and finding true love and friendship, only to shit on its female characters.

[syluslnd]

so, this is kind of a.. personal request (its really something that happens often with me, being a diagnosed one.

so, i wanted to request a autistic mc x sylus.

she's sensitive to loud noises, and it can quickly trigger panic attacks. how would Sylus comfort her?

if you find it too complicated or too triggering to write, just ignore this request. keep going with the beautiful writing, friend! :)

when you’re sensitive to loud sounds

The mall was bustling with noise—voices blending with the echoes of footsteps, store music competing in volume and the occasional loud announcement over the speakers.

You had tried to stay calm, focusing on the plushies you wanted to pick out but the chaotic sounds began to press in, each one making your chest feel tighter and your breathing a little shallower.

Sylus, by your side, noticed the change almost immediately. He caught the tension in your body, the way your hands gripped tighter onto a plushie, and how your eyes looked unfocused.

Without a word, he gently took your hand, his usual confidence and assurance guiding you away from the noise.

You barely noticed as he led you to a nearby changing room, closing the door behind you so the noise of the mall was muffled, replaced by an intimate quiet between you both.

“Breathe, kitten” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he cupped your cheek, letting his thumb brush lightly across your skin. “It’s just you and me now. No one else.” His tone was teasing but warm, letting you focus on the familiar comfort of his presence.

You tried to smile, still a bit shaken, and he watched you carefully, his fingers gently tracing circles on your hand. “Are you going to be okay if I hold you close?” he asked softly, still with that slightly playful edge that made you feel safe.

When you nodded, he pulled you into his arms, letting you hide against his chest, where the only sound was the steady beat of his heart. “That’s right, sweetie, just focus here.” He leaned down, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. “You know, you can’t get rid of me that easily, so take your time.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finding comfort in his lighthearted words, and he smirked, ruffling your hair. “There’s my girl. Nothing’s getting past me—I’ll keep you safe.” He held you for as long as you needed, a quiet strength that kept you grounded until the noise outside faded away and all that was left was him.

[cheriladycl01]

My girlfriend jousts! Charles Leclerc x SouthKoreanOlympicFencing! Reader

Plot: Charles Leclerc finally dates outside of his friendship circle, nobody in the paddock has met you yet. He invites you to your first race and tries to explain your job to everyone...

You walked next to your boyfriend F1 driver Charles Leclerc. It was your first time in the paddock with him and you were very nervous. You'd never met his team-mate Carlos Sainz, or any of the drivers for the matter.

You reached out to take his hand which he took happily, pulling it up and kissing the top of your hand.

"There's no need to worry! Everyone's going to love you!" he smiles down at you, you rub your thumb over his knuckles as a comforting gesture for yourself.

You both swiped in and he didn't leave your side, no matter how many people came up to talk to him. Weather it was the likes of Will Buxton, wanting to talk to him about the car, or a fan asking for a signature on a Ferrari cap or one of his fellow drivers offering him quick good lucks for the weekend as they rush off to whatever media duties they have.

"Come on, lets go find Carlos! I'll introduce you to Rebecca" he smiles as you both head over to the Ferrari motorhome. You can tell everyone really is like family there, Charles walks you round introducing you to all the mechanics and the social media staff. Literally anyone he can find he goes up to, and he knows their names and is asking them about their families.

"Oh! Yes this is my girlfriend Y/N. She's much cooler than me... she jousts for her job!" he exclaims using the worst way possible to describe what you do.

"Excuse me?" the man laughs, not really understanding what Charles was trying to explain your job as.

"I'm a South Korean Olympic Fencer. I competed in the 2021 Olympics in Tokyo. Charles just finds it funny to tell people i joust like some medieval brute!" you smile at the mechanic who laughs nodding.

"I knew i recognized you from somewhere, just couldn't put my mind too it where I support Italy!" he smiles and you nod at him.

"So what's it like being a fencer?" he asks.

"I enjoy it, there's obviously a certain level of talent too it and dedication but i've also found its rather artistic" you smile while explaining how you've linked your training schedule up to Charles' with Joris so you can get fitter before the next games.

You'd placed silver which had been incredible but like most olympians or people in sort you wanted that gold. You'd noticed major improvements in the way you'd fenced since you'd gone to training with Charles. You basically copied his everyday routine. You ate what he ate and you exercised like he did.

Next up Carlos came jogging over Rebecca as graceful as ever floating behind him greeting everyone that she passed.

"Omg hello! You must be Charles girlfriend. He and Carlos have told me all about you!" Rebecca smiles but you struggle to understand her because of the strong Scottish accent. It took you months to get around the way Charles spoke that you actually found it easier if you both spoke in French, which you'd learned at school. But you eventually both got around that curve-ball.

"Hello. It's nice to meet, both of you. Charles has also told me lots about you!" you admit smiling at her, she pulls you into a hug which you kindly accept and try to not make the first contact awkward.

You all ended up having lunch together in the Ferrari hospitality talking about everything and how you'd be flying back to Korea next week. Carlos said how he was upset that the Korean International Circuit wasn't on the roster anymore and that he'd never driven round it and might never get too.

Charles was very touchy all day, every time he left you to go do something team related he either held onto you while you walked him to wherever he needed to be. You'd wait and he'd rush straight back out pulling you into a hug kissing your neck and burying his head into the crook of it.

"What's wrong Jagiya (Baby)?" you asked looking to him and holding him.

"I just want to go home with you" he sighs, you can tell its not been a good day with the media considering they kept asking about his DNF in last weekends race.

"Mmmmm and we will. But I think you have some more friends to introduce me to" you grinned at him.

He introduced you to Lando and Oscar, who you both enjoyed their vibe. You found it easy to make conversation with Lando and his upbeat energy and Oscar had very funny and comedially timed inputs and ad libs to the conversation but also had a comforting silence you enjoyed.

He also introduced you to Pierre saying how they'd been best friends since they were very young and they'd come all the way through Karting together.

Pierre asked his girlfriend Kika to come over and introduced the two of you. Being similar ages you both got on having similar sense of humors and were into the same things.

You spent the rest of the day walking round the paddock with her, until someone caught you for an interview. It seemed to be Sky News, you'd been privy to Sky News before when they captured you in the Olympics.

"So Y/N it's your first time here! How have you found the energy of the paddock?" he asks.

"Yes, it's been very faced pace I think I've met and spoken to more people today than i have in my 23 years I've been around!" you joke laughing with the presenter.

"And how does it feel, as a Silver Olympic medalist to be around a sport like this?" he asks.

"Yeah, I mean from a very young age I was active and enjoyed different types of sport. My mum really wanted to pursue Taekwando as it's our national sport but I was never an aggressive person. I tried football and then when i was sent to a boarding school I was enlisted for fencing and I just stuck with it!" you answer politely.

"So, as i'm from the UK I would assume that your Premiere League Team is Spurs?" he asks hoping you liked football still to this day.

"Yes, I do. I try watch them at any opportunity i can! Sometimes and don't tell Charlie but I've skipped qually to watch them play" you say biting your lip a little.

The quick interview wraps up and it was safe to say that afterwards Charles Leclerc was now having to share his girlfriend with everyone online who had fallen in love with her personality.

"You look cute here!" Charles says latter that night a still from your interview on the TV where he'd paused it. You were laughing at something the interviewer had said and you hand was over your face covering it while your sharp eyes crinkled from your smile.

"Mmmm today was fun! I'd like to come to this more often!" you smile at him, flopping down onto the bed and playing with the collar of his red team shirt.

"Yeah? You would?" he asks and you nod before pulling him into a hug.

y/user

Liked by charlesleclerc and others

y/user: Amazing weekend at my first race! The Scuderia was very exciting. Thank you for the time @scuderiaferrari

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charlesleclerc I love you ❤️ thank you for coming 🔥

2 hours ago

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A/N: sorry this is my first try at some kind of social media! Im sorry if it’s bad!

[isak-dot-gov]

Finding Your Balance

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Word count: 2349

My Masterlist :)

...................................................

The late afternoon sun streamed into the practice gym, casting long shadows across the court. KK Arnold’s sneakers squeaked lightly as she paced back and forth, her mind racing. The air felt heavier than usual, like it wasn’t just basketball weighing on her today.

For the past week, things had been off between you two. You had always been close, whether it was holding hands in the halls, stealing quick kisses between classes, or staying up late talking about everything and nothing. Lately, though, you’d seemed distant, more focused on your schoolwork, disappearing into textbooks and assignments with a determination KK couldn’t compete with.

At first, KK didn’t mind. She knew how important your studies were and figured things would balance out soon enough. But then days turned into a week, and your responses became shorter, your calls less frequent. When you did talk, you sounded tired, distracted, like your mind was a million miles away. It was starting to get to her.

KK leaned against the wall, her heart sinking at the thought. Was something wrong? Were you pulling away on purpose? 

She couldn’t help the gnawing feeling inside her, the voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe you were losing interest, that maybe this was the beginning of the end. The more she tried to shake the thought, the stronger it grew.

"She’s just busy," KK told herself for the hundredth time. But the reassurance sounded hollow now, like she was just lying to herself.

After another night of watching you rush off to finish schoolwork, leaving her with nothing but a quick kiss on the cheek and a half-hearted “I love you,” KK couldn’t take it anymore. She needed advice. Her teammates always had her back, on and off the court. Maybe they could help her figure this out.

The next day at practice, KK found herself fidgeting with her water bottle, eyes scanning the group as they took a break between drills. Everyone was in their usual spots—Azzi and Paige chatting quietly, Aaliyah sitting with her head back against the bench, and Nika stretching nearby. The sound of bouncing basketballs and the rhythmic hum of sneakers on the hardwood filled the air, but KK’s mind was far from the court.

Gathering her courage, KK cleared her throat and stepped closer to the group. “Hey, can I ask you guys something?”

The others looked up, sensing the seriousness in her tone. Azzi tilted her head, eyes softening as she saw the tension in KK’s expression. “Of course. What’s up?”

KK hesitated for a moment, wondering how to even begin. “It’s about my girl…she’s been really distant lately. Like, I know she’s got a ton of schoolwork and stuff, but it feels like we’re not… connecting anymore. I can’t help but think maybe she’s pulling away from me, like she’s losing interest or something.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her worry. KK hadn’t said it out loud before, and now that she had, it felt even more real.

Paige gave KK a sympathetic smile. “That sucks. Have you talked to her about it?”

KK shrugged, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I’ve tried, but every time I bring it up, she just tells me she’s swamped with work. I don’t want to add to her stress, you know? But it’s getting to me. What if it’s not just school? What if she’s getting tired of me?”

Azzi frowned, shaking her head. “I doubt that. You two are solid. But if you’re feeling like something’s off, you need to talk to her.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her voice calm and reassuring. “She probably doesn’t even realise she’s doing it. School can be overwhelming, and it’s easy to get tunnel vision when you’re stressed. I’ve been there before, but the best thing to do is communicate.”

Nika, never one to shy away from giving her opinion, piped up from across the circle. “KK, you can’t overthink this. She loves you, right?”

KK nodded slowly, her chest tightening at the thought. “Yeah, she does.”

“Then trust that,” Nika said firmly. “But also, don’t just sit here wondering. Talk to her. If you keep everything inside, it’s only going to make things worse. Just tell her how you feel. And trust me, she’ll probably be relieved you brought it up.”

KK exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. They were right. She couldn’t keep going like this, pretending everything was fine while letting her insecurities eat away at her. If she didn’t speak up, nothing would change.

Paige reached over and gave KK a pat on the back. “Just be honest. She’s probably so caught up in school she doesn’t even realise how much it’s affecting your relationship.”

KK nodded, grateful for their support. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I don’t want her to feel like I’m adding to her stress, you know?”

Azzi smiled softly. “You’re not. If she cares about you, she’ll want to know how you’re feeling. Just be there for her, and let her be there for you too.”

Practice ended, but the conversation stayed with KK as she made her way back to her dorm. Her heart was still heavy with uncertainty, but now it was mixed with resolve. She couldn’t go another day like this. It was time to talk to you, to let you know how much this distance was affecting her.

Later that evening, after showering and grabbing a quick bite to eat, KK sat on the edge of her bed, her phone in her hand. She stared at your name on the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Her heart raced, but she knew she had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, KK typed out the message:  

“Hey, can we talk? I know you’re busy, but I miss you. A lot. I feel like we’ve been distant lately, and I just want to know if everything’s okay.”

She hit send, her stomach flipping with nerves as she waited for your response.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed. It was you.

“Of course, baby. I’ve been so buried in school stuff, but I miss you too. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I’m not around. Can we meet up tomorrow after my last class?”

KK exhaled, relief washing over her. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe things would be okay. 

The next day couldn’t come soon enough.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The tension that had gripped KK’s heart for days had started to unravel, but there was still so much she needed to say. Your apology had brought some comfort, but she couldn’t help feeling that you both needed to go deeper, to talk about how to keep this from happening again. She wasn’t the type to just brush things under the rug, especially not when it came to you. She loved you too much to let distance—whether emotional or physical—get in the way of what you had.

As you both started walking away from your dorm, your bag slung casually over one shoulder, KK felt her mind racing, but not in the panicked way it had been for the past few days. This was different. It was like she was finally seeing the situation clearly, and now she needed to know if you both were really on the same page.

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked beside her, and though you looked more relaxed, she could tell you were still carrying some of the weight of the past week.

“You know,” KK started, her voice soft but steady, “I was really scared.”

You glanced up at her, concern flickering in your eyes. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you.” KK looked straight ahead, trying to find the right words. “I know it sounds dramatic, but… when you were so distant, I didn’t know what to think. It felt like I was just watching you slip away and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Her honesty caught you off guard. You had known KK was worried, but hearing her say that she was scared made your stomach twist with guilt. “KK, I never wanted to make you feel like that. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even see what it was doing to us.”

KK stopped walking, tugging gently on your hand so that you turned to face her. Her expression was serious, but her eyes were filled with warmth, with love. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I get it—school is important, and sometimes life just gets in the way. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, and not just when things are easy. You don’t have to shut me out when you’re overwhelmed.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. You hadn’t realised how much you had been trying to handle everything on your own until now. “I guess I didn’t want to burden you. I thought if I just pushed through on my own, I’d figure it out, and then we’d be back to normal. But it didn’t work like that.”

KK’s hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “You’re never a burden to me. If something’s bothering you, I want to know about it. I want to be there for you, just like you’d be there for me. That’s how this works.”

Her touch, her words—they were soothing in a way nothing else had been. You leaned into her hand, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care. I never meant to.”

KK smiled, her eyes softening. “I know. But you don’t have to go through stuff alone, okay? I want to help you, even if it’s just listening or hanging out while you study. I just… I miss being with you. I miss us.”

You felt a pang of regret, knowing that you had let your stress get in the way of something so important. “I miss us too. I’ve been so wrapped up in school that I didn’t realise how much I’ve been neglecting the other parts of my life—especially you.”

KK pulled you into another hug, tighter this time, like she was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you. You hugged her back just as fiercely, the warmth of her body grounding you, reminding you of what really mattered.

After a long moment, KK pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “We’ll figure this out together. But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that the next time you’re feeling overwhelmed or like you’re drowning in school or life or whatever, you’ll talk to me. I don’t care if it’s at midnight or if you think it’s not important. I just want to be there for you, the way you’ve always been there for me.”

You nodded, emotion swelling in your chest. “I promise.”

The relief that washed over KK’s face was palpable. She kissed your forehead softly, lingering there for a moment before stepping back and taking your hand again. “Good. Now, let’s go get some food before we both pass out from hunger.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood instantly. “Deal. I’m starving.”

As you walked toward the dining hall together, the conversation from earlier played on a loop in your mind. You felt lighter, but you also felt determined. You weren’t going to let this happen again. The stress of school was still there, but now it felt manageable. KK was right—you didn’t have to go through everything alone. She was your partner, in everything, and you were going to make sure she felt that too.

When you reached the dining hall, it was buzzing with the usual dinner crowd. KK led the way, weaving through the tables until you found a quiet corner. You grabbed trays of food, and before you knew it, you were sitting across from each other, enjoying the easy conversation that had been missing for the past week.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” KK asked between bites of her sandwich.

You grinned. “Well, I do still have some studying to do, but I figured we could hang out. Maybe you could help me not fall asleep in the middle of my reading.”

KK smirked. “I can definitely do that. And after you’re done, we could watch a movie or something, if you’re up for it.”

You nodded eagerly. “That sounds perfect. I’ve missed just hanging out with you.”

KK’s expression softened again, her eyes meeting yours across the table. “I’ve missed it too.”

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter and light conversation, the tension that had once sat heavy between you both now replaced with a sense of ease. It wasn’t just that you had talked about the distance; it was that you’d both made a promise to be better, to communicate, to show up for each other even when life got chaotic.

Later, back in your dorm room, you set up your textbooks and notes on your desk, but this time KK was there, sitting on your bed, flipping through her phone but glancing up every few minutes to check on you.

“Need any help?” she asked after a while, her voice teasing.

“Maybe just a little encouragement,” you admitted, laughing softly.

KK grinned and came over, resting her chin on your shoulder as she peered at the book in front of you. “You got this,” she whispered. “And after you’re done, you’re all mine.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence beside you. “Deal.”

With KK by your side, the stress of the past few days seemed to fade away. It wasn’t that school wasn’t important anymore—it was. But you had found your balance again, with her. You had found your way back to each other.

And that made everything feel a little easier.

..............................................................

[bouncybongfairy]

Could you do a live action Zuko x reader, they were betrothed to eachother before his banishment. They frequently had visits and got along really well. First time they met he saw her creating a blue butterfly from her fire bending. The reader can produce blue flames but is a gentle, kind person. Zuko is reading the latest letter she has sent him, praying for his safety and health. How does he feel about them after all this time? Maybe this fuel his fire to complete his quest and get home.

See You Soon

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: Both Zuko and can't stop thinking about each other, after reading the most recent letters you sent to each other.

Word Count: 2.0k

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s been some time since the last time you’d seen Zuko face to face. Ever since his banishment, so about three years. You’d think those wounds would have healed, a betrothal that was nothing more than a concept faded in time. Anyone who’d know you would say you were well past it, those people obviously weren’t paying close enough attention. Sending each other letters, drawings and pressed flowers. Detailing everything unfolding in his quest to find the Avatar. Her day to day life with school and helping your mom with all the tailoring for the Fire Lord’s family. A very important part in your life considering your family had been tailoring in the palace for generations. Every once in a while you’d send him an embroidered Lion to represent power and leadership, hiding his name tiny within the mane. Although you found comfort in the words of reassurance he gave through ink and paper, it only made you long for something more. Reminiscing on all the precious memories that now feel like they were taken for granted.  

The two of you met by chance, your mother worked in the palace. She made all the clothes for the royal family. Often having you assist, holding her pin cushion or any other request she may have. At first not paying each other much attention, one day Azula came in, berating both your mother and self like she did to all other staff. Hearing horror stories from others in the palace made you terrified of her. The last thing you wanted was to get your family banished for looking at her wrong. Zuko noticed this, and nudged your arm; looking over at her and then rolling his eyes. Giving you a reassuring smile, Azula then nudged your shoulder with hers as she walked out. 

“That girl may be a princess by blood line but not respect from her people. She rules with fear when it should be grace,” you mother grumbled as you walked into the house. 

“That may be true but it must be hard, growing up competing for the throne. Having your entire life mapped out for you even before you’re born. That must be so hard on someone so young, I think I'd break,” pulling your hair out of the tight bun. Your mother smiled, setting the bags on the table. Cupping your face in her hands,

“I love that in a nation so pitiless and jaded that you have kept your soft spirit. You know that, but that girl spoiled down to the soul,” your mother laughs before turning back to her bags.

You laugh and walk into your bedroom to change before heading back outside. The weather was perfect to practice your fire bending. One of the perks of having a mother who worked in the palace was better education for you. Now that you had been learning to bend from a master, you were able to do more than you could ever imagine. At school all you learned was combat or defensive bending. At home, you liked practicing making different shapes. At the beginning it was simple stuff like circles or hearts, with time they were getting more intricate. Being able to make things like flowers, birds and even butterflies. You were in the empty field behind your family's home, working on your bending. You’d finally learned to make the butterfly flap its wings and fly around for a couple moments at a time before dissipating. Taking a deep breath and creating the flames, putting all your focus into manipulating its form. Holding your breath nervously as you watch it fly around you. The blue light glowing off the flame lit Zuko's face up, where he was watching from a couple feet away. You gasped out of surprise and backed away. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to- when Azula nudged you, this fell off your top. I just wanted to return it,” he said, holding out the embroidered patch of a crabapple tree that was pinned to your top. 

“Oh, thank you. Wow I'm really surprised you took the time to return it, as someone with so much responsibility; it’s an honor,” you say, giving him a quick bow out of respect. 

“I’ve only seen masters create such detailed shapes with blue flame, can I help?” he asks, you nod in agreement as he comes closer. He stands behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Nudging your arms up with his hands telling you to create the flame before continuing, 

“Holding your breath limits the amount of time your fire can stay in the air. Like suffocating a candle with its lid. Fire can’t be without oxygen, can you feel my breathing against your back? Match it to yours then try to make the butterfly,” he said. 

You were so nervous but took a deep breath in before matching the rise and fall of his chest. Immediately you could feel the difference, like you had more control over the flames. Being able to make the wing movements sharp and clean. Making the flame circle around the two of you, forcing your bodies closer together. 

“See, isn't that so much better?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I never thought I could have so much control over my bending,” you said, moving to face him. 

“I have to get back but i’ll see you around?” he asked, as he took off in a rush which made you chuckle. 

After that night, it was like fate just couldn’t keep the two of you apart. He was getting fitted more often for leather armor and things like that. Noticing each other in lessons and sneaking glances. This progressed until eventually Zuko became unbothered with who saw the two of you interacting. One day he slipped a note into your bag, wanting to meet later that night. Your heart skipped a beat of course, and for the rest of the day it was all you could think about. The day seemed so much longer now that you had something to look forward to. Practically skipping home from lessons, even though you still had a couple hours before dark. You were happy to be home daydreaming. Your mom was home, cooking komodo chicken. Giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading off to your bedroom. Originally you were going to wear what you always did but part of you felt like the night was too special for your everyday attire. Normally keeping your hair up in a tight bun, you decide to let it down. It took you a while to convince yourself to leave it down but eventually you did.

Everyone was finally asleep, the house dark and quiet. You sneak out the window of your bedroom. Zuko was waiting for you right outside which made you gasp, not seeing it was him at first. He had a big smile on his face, which was refreshing considering he’s been going through alot lately. On a night with such amazing weather, the main city and markets were busy with life. Zuko and you however prefer the peacefulness of looking over the city from the peak of a hill not too far. Zuko was pointing out different constellations in the sky to you. Or showing him new little tricks you were learning with your bending. He always acted really impressed but you knew he was doing it for your benefit. You loved that about him, that he cared so much about your confidence. 

“You know, my father says it’s time to start looking for a girl to betroth,” he says. 

“Oh? Any girls you had in mind?” you ask playfully. 

“No,” he says back in the same playful tone, which makes you elbow him in his ribs. 

“In all seriousness though, how do you feel about that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“I think I'm waiting for you to ask me properly,” you said chuckling. 

Zuko also felt like he took all these moments for granted. He was currently in his room on the ship. Looking around at all the notes and drawings he’d pinned to the walls. They’d just left where he and his crew were docked, following a lead on the Avatar. Reading the most recent letter you’d sent him, it pained him to know you were feeling the same grief he was about feeling apart. He never really talked about it to his uncle or anyone but it was one of the main reasons he was so motivated to complete his quest. He felt like he was missing out on the most important years of his life. Uncle Iroh always talks about how memorable his late youth was, before he had real responsibilities as general. He missed everything about you. Especially how sweet you were, always finding the good in people. Even finding beauty and grace in Azula; his own mother couldn’t find that in her. 

Often when Zuko was anxious he would think about you comforting him. He knew he could be hot headed both emotionally and physically. This never phased you, even when he was in full blown flames. Always finding a way to calm you down. Somehow reassuring him without making him feel small or stupid. You always used to tell him that anger is a form of passion. That you loved the passion and resilience he had, and that one day he’d be able to channel it without anger. He found so much comfort in you so being ripped away was hard but reading your letters helped. Made him feel like everything wasn’t as impossible as it may seem. Like once he returns home he’ll know you’ll be there to support him. 

He laid back on his bed, your letter on his chest. Worried that you’d grow tired feeling his love through paper and ink. That you’d yearn for love that’s more present in your everyday life. This fear was doubled by the fact that he assumed telling you about this fear would make him come across as insecure. Maybe he was but he didn’t want you to know that. He hated being seen as weak, you were too kind to admit but he knows that exactly what you’d think. Currently thinking about one of the last nights you had together. In Zuko’s old room, laying on the bed together. You were playing with his hair and he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you were pretty tired from training and school. Just melting into each other, enjoying the comfort you gave him. There wasn’t any talking but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d kiss him on his forehead every once in a while, finger combing his hair. Taking in your smell and leaning into your touch. He never felt so vulnerable in a comforting way with someone. 

Iroh came into the room, making Zuko jump up. Clutching onto his letter, immediately his uncle sensed something was off. His eyes were dark and puffy, not to mention quite red. The bruise on his face appeared to be swelling and it was obvious that he was beyond his limit. Iroh set down the wooden tray he carried in, handing him a cup. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this but mentally you are being strained. Bending and combat is easy for you because you’ve done it your whole life. Emotionally, some of your muscles are weak but I can see your slowly strengthening them. It’s important that you get lots of rest while you-” he went to look over at Zuko and stopped talking once he realized the boy was asleep. Iroh held back a laugh before taking the cup and letter out of his hands. Zuko gripped the paper and woke up but settled down once he realized it was him. 

“Rest now, and please truly let yourself rest,” he said, pulling the blanket over him and he laid down. Folding the letter gently and leaving it on the nightstand.

[poeticpascal]

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

[haikyu-mp4]

Vexing

Suggestive workplace romance as an athletic trainer with your rival and secret lover Iwaizumi, for my workplace romance event <3

requested by anonymous. word count; 721 – gn!reader

Everyone wants Iwaizumi Hajime (27) athletic trainer. Seemingly everyone but you.

How could you like someone who competed with you constantly while you both studied in California, only to end up in the same line of work but for the opposing team?

As you headed to the Olympic Village gym with some of your volleyball players, you passed by the Japanese team on their way out. You recognised some of them, like Bokuto, whose eyes widened as he looked between you and Iwaizumi, who squinted in your direction like you had spit in his protein shake that morning.

None of them knew why the two of you always had such tension, but they didn’t dare question it further at the risk of getting penalty rounds during training.

You made a face, facing forward and clutching the training file you held closer to your chest. When he passed, you did your hardest not to turn around and check him out, hoping he might turn around for you and find you completely disinterested.

As if you couldn’t walk the road from your assigned room to his with your eyes closed.

You knocked on the door, crossing your arms and making sure that anyone who might happen to pass by would think this was an involuntary visit. In reality, the lust clouding your mind made your body shiver as you hoped he would open this door quickly.

Iwaizumi opened up and you lifted an eyebrow in response to his eyes widening. “This is not a good time-”

“Who is it, Iwa-chan?” a lighter voice said from inside his room before one of your team’s players, Oikawa Tooru, came up behind his best friend. “Oh, hi! I didn’t think I had training tonight.”

While the man you were actually here to see seemed to stay quiet in the face of potentially revealing the only secret he kept from Oikawa, you tilted your head and smiled evilly.

“Didn’t you know me and Iwa-chan studied together? I’m here to compare notes.”

You leaned on the table, Oikawa yapping away across from where you sat next to Iwaizumi, his hand not so innocently placed on your leg under said table.

“I need your opinion on something. Kawa, get up,” you requested, walking around the table to the setter and turning him around. “For his jump serves I wanted to work here, but I’ve been so careful of his bad knee-”

Your hand stroked down the back of Oikawa’s thigh, already knowing the athlete didn’t mind from working together the last couple of months. However, your eyes were set on Iwaizumi.

Skilled in acting quite indifferent, you watched the man for any reactions. Both of you knew the name of that muscle very well, there was no need to demonstrate. Yet here you were, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, Oikawa smirked over his shoulder as if Iwaizumi hadn’t felt your touch before.

He cleared his throat, making you smirk in victory. “I used to help him with that, could send you some notes later.” He looked down again to spare you his attention and waited for you to sit down before explaining how he would approach it.

“You two sure seem close.” Your back was pressed against the bed after Oikawa left, your rival all over you and your shirt somewhere on the floor. Oikawa hurried out after one of the Japanese players asked him to join some party, but you had a sneaking suspicion Iwa had a hand in that request.

“I’m close with all my players. A trust-based relationship with your clients will make your programs more effective, and-” Iwa finally had enough of your attitude, holding his hand over your mouth and tucking his face into your neck, planting lustful kisses that might still be visible by morning.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You wrote that part,” you argued after prying his hand off your face, only to suck his thumb into your mouth and circle it with your tongue.

Iwa straightened up to look at you with bated breath. “You vex me.”

“Take your clothes off and prove it.”

“You know the drill,” he said with that annoyingly attractive smile, already getting his pants off while you scooted over to adjust the lights.

“Whoever taps out first loses. May the best athletic trainer win.”

masterlist

for the requester: thank you soo much for your kind words! I can't believe I'm your favourite, that's such high praise<33 I hope this was okay!!

[faerievampling]

A Sweet Heart

Summary: Astarion follows the sweet scent of Tav's arousal to her tent, unable to help himself. Set in Act 1, after the clearing scene.

Word Count: 1.2k

Here's the link to AO3!

Pairing: Act 1 Astarion x Female Tav

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Blood kink. Blood drinking. Biting. Vaginal fingering. Oral sex. A little bit of angst and sweetness.

A/N: I wrote most of this in a horny delirium last night. hope you enjoy!! 

Astarion could smell your sweet yearning from across camp. The two of you had thus far only shared a night; but the scent of your juices, your sweat, your blood…Astarion hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Hadn’t stopped thinking about how you had let him feed on you in your most vulnerable state.

And now, he could smell the rise of your swelling desire as you lie in your bedroll; he wonders if you’re touching yourself, or maybe having a naughty dream.

Astarion had been happy to choose you as his next ‘victim’. You were strong, competent, and beautiful. 

You were sweet to him. Your blood was sweet; even your cunt, which Astarion thought was rather pretty, was sweet. 

And you were still standing. Cazador never came and took you away, despite Astarion staying up all night, anxiously awaiting for you to disappear from where you slept beside him.

But you didn’t. You were here. And you were a naive, generous, and sweet little thing with a pretty cunt who could protect him.

Astarion begins to walk to your tent. Once he picks up on the beat of your heart, he knows you aren’t sleeping. He decides to utilize the tadpole rather than startling you by other means.

Which he could totally do uninvited, by the way.

“Darling, I’d like another taste of you,” He edges into your mind, offering an invitation. 

Astarion is excited when you accept. His fangs and his cock are aching for you. 

When he enters your tent, you are already in your underclothes, and Astarion can smell the evidence of your arousal; he doesn’t waste any time with words before he kneels beside you and embraces you in a kiss, hands trailing over your body as he listens to the quickening pace of that sweet heart of yours.

My sweetheart. Astarion pushes the thought away as he frees your breasts, taking you in hungrily before latching his lips to your nipple, remembering how much you liked it last time. 

Astarion trails his hand down your other breast until he is tugging at your underclothes, freeing you of them before he begins to take his own clothes off, coming back to your breast after each motion.

He really wants to bite you here, just above your pert nipple. But instead, he decides to kiss you, using his tongue to part your lips. He's decided that you aren’t a great kisser, and so he would have to teach you. 

Practice does make perfect, Astarion thinks, and it seems like a worthy investment on his part. You are rather gorgeous and you wouldn’t be taken from him come morning. 

As his fingers slip between your slick folds, Astarion hums against your lips, the evidence of his pleasure making you quiver.

The pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and begin to make slow, circular motions; the pressure of his fingers is so perfect, it sends waves of delectation throughout your body.

Astarion moves to your entrance, pushing a finger inside of you with little resistance. 

“So eager, darling,” He purrs before brushing his lips to yours again, this time trailing down to your jaw and your neck. As he eases another finger inside you, his thumb circles your clit, causing you to clench around his fingers. 

Astarion begins to feel his own underclothes wet with his precum; his cock was begging to be freed of its restraints. 

He has you unraveling beneath him in minutes. With each kiss, each roll of the hips, Astarion grows increasingly frustrated until he eventually frees his cock, eyeing you hungrily before placing himself between your thighs. 

When he removes his hand from your cunt, a string of your juices follows, and it is so lewd that he thinks about just ramming his cock and his fangs into you right then and there; using you like a toy, to be discarded after use.

“Oh, you naughty little thing,” He says under his breath. 

But another part of him thinks that he just wants another taste of you. 

Astarion wraps his hand around his cock as he uses his fingers to spread your folds. He eyes your sex with anticipation before tenderly placing his lips around your swollen clit. 

Astarion's lips look lovely on your mound, and you can't help but run your hand through his beautiful curls as he consumes you.

His tongue is soft, almost feather light at first, before he begins to lap and suck at you. Astarion thinks that you taste even better than before. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re trembling beneath him, the shocks of your orgasm reverberating throughout your body as you come on Astarion's tongue.

The smell of your juices and sweat invigorate him, and he wastes no time: once Astarion has lined himself up with your entrance, you feel the weight of his cock slowly pressing into you until he is balls deep.

You squirm around his length as he takes a nipple between his fingers and squeezes, giving you a smirk before bending over and planting his lips on yours again.

He lowers his head to your neck, breathing against the spot he liked to feed from. 

“Yes,” is all you manage to say before you feel the sharp pain as Astarion pulls you into a sanguine embrace.

Astarion moans against you, fully pressing into you as he drinks you in, his swollen cock immediately knocking into that sweet spot deep inside you.

You moan, gripping at his hair and trailing a hand down his neck, his back. You feel your blood trailing down your collarbone as Astarion begins to stroke you; his pace is slow, deep, and it follows the pull of your blood by his pretty lips.

You swear you feel his cock harden even from within you, and when he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed with your crimson.

You feel woozy as he continues to fuck you; Astarion is lapping up the spilled blood, one hand on your waist and the other on your breast as his pace quickens, causing you to moan with each thrust.

Suddenly, Astarion pulls out of you fully before sheathing himself inside you once more. The noise your cunt is making is obscene as the clap of him against you sends you into oblivion. 

You clench around him, moaning his name in his ear as he continues to slide his cock against your walls: but he is about to lose control, and once he does, you feel his thick spurts of come deep inside you as his tip bangs against your cervix. 

After you’ve recovered, Astarion lies next to you, putting his arm around you as he did the first night. You’ve fallen asleep next to him, and he watches as your chest rises and falls. 

He closes his eyes and focuses on your beating heart. It is steady, strong, and for some reason, open for him to explore. 

Astarion curses at himself for even thinking of doing such a thing. Yet here you were, in his arms, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

Gods above. It could never be that simple, could it?

Masterlist

[604to647]

Until Noon

1.1K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You make Tim go back to bed.

Warnings: None – all fluff!  Soft and Sleepy!Tim.  Established relationship. Nicknames per usual (Shutterbug, baby).

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads The Rockford Portfolio – I appreciate it so much! 😭 As always, each story can be read alone, but this one can follow At First Light (or Skittles, or just any night where Tim comes to you after working late/overnight).

Photography inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics💕 / Series Masterlist

The bright sun streams into your bedroom harsh and unforgiving, causing you to squint your eyes open.  Instinctively, your body attempts to shift away from the offending light, but you seem to be restrained by a heavy, immovable arm that drapes across your chest.  As your sleepy fog starts to lift, you smile when you look back and see the handsome man to which said arm is attached.  Your sweet Tim.  Currently snoring peacefully with his face buried in your pillow, his own pillow long abandoned on the far side of the bed in favour of migrating towards the warmth and sweet scent of yours while you both slept.

His soft purrs, indicative of his deep slumber, warm your heart.  If anyone deserves uninterrupted, restful sleep, it’s Detective Tim Rockford; you’re so immensely proud of how dedicated he is to his work and the way the LAPD finds him indispensable.  But while Tim is more than competent at a great many things, one thing he does not have within his impressive skill set is the ability to refuse a call to duty.  Even Tim would concede that he sometimes worked too much; on more than one occasion, his sense of honour and incredible work ethic has pulled him from the safety of your bed at an ungodly hour, or returned him to you physically tired and mentally drained.  Oftentimes, both.

You’re going to make sure Tim gets the rest he needs today.

With a level of difficulty that recalls Hercules’ Twelve Labours, you very gently you lift Tim’s arm, heavy with sleep, off your body without disturbing him.  Finally able to slide out of bed, you close the blinds so that the room once again darkens; though a poor approximation of the night’s shadow, it will have to do – at the very least, it will be easier for Tim to catch up on his sleep without the cheery morning sun threatening to stun him awake.

Eventually padding into the kitchen after having freshened up and pulled on one of Tim’s favourite t-shirts, you get to work – you think you’ll make both of you some breakfast, then read your book while waiting for Tim to awaken.  Scratch that - you’re not going to make him breakfast.  You’re going to make him lunch - doing what you can to manifest Tim not getting up for a few more hours at least.

Humming to yourself, you finish all your prep for the two meals and have just cracked an egg into the pan when you hear a heavy shuffling of feet behind you and the low deep yawn of one very exhausted Detective Tim Rockford.

“Morning, Shutterb-,” he croaks, cut off by another yawn climbing over his words.

“Tim, baby,” you go to your hardworking boyfriend and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head onto your shoulder; though you rub his back soothingly, your tone is disapproving, “You should be sleeping, Detective.”

“Can’t sleep without you,” he mumbles, still half unconscious.

“Awwww… poor baby,” you soften when you feel Tim drop the weight of his fatigue onto you; his hulking frame is overwhelming, but you do what you can support him.  Chuckling, you run your hands through his soft curls, massaging soft circles into his scalp with your fingers; your heart sings a little when you hear him groan in satisfaction, “How did you used to sleep before you met me?”

Tim shrugs, “Didn’t sleep.”  His answer is flippant with no real substance to it, but you suspect there is some degree of truth behind the words.  Your heart breaks a little, ready to acquiesce to anything he asks of you – Tim deserves the world.

“Okay, Detective.  Tell you what, this is what we’re going to do: you’re going to go back to bed right now,” at this Tim starts to grunt in protest, but you stop him with a kindly but firm tut from the back of your throat.

“I’m going to finish making my breakfast and get some things together for your lunch.  Then I’ll bring my breakfast and coffee to bed and read while you sleep next to me.  But,” you crouch down so that Tim is forced to look you in the eye, “you have to promise to sleep until noon.”

“And you’ll stay in bed with me the whole time?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Then I promise, Shutterbug.”

You give your book to Tim and send him off with a loving kiss to his lips and a gentle push in the direction of the bedroom; watching as he lumbers down the hall slowly.

When you finally make it back to the bedroom, steaming cup of coffee in one hand and plated breakfast sandwich in the other, you expect to see your handsome detective conked out and invading your side of the bed as usual, but instead,

“Timothy!”

A pair of guilty eyes, partially hidden behind Tim’s reading glasses, flit up and meet yours – caught in the act of reading your book instead of sleeping, Tim smiles sheepishly at you, “I haven’t read this one yet, baby.” He holds up the Agatha Christie, as if to somehow blame the book for his mischief.  You place you breakfast on your bedside table and climb into bed before gently removing Tim’s glasses from his face and your book from his hand.  Putting these distractions down out of his reach, you then place your small hands on the rounds of Tim’s shoulders and deliberately push down so that he starts to sink back into a laying position.

You press a long, tender kiss to his lips, one so full of devotion and warmth that it induces Tim to close his eyes, all his muscles instantly relaxing as he melts into the mattress.  Satisfied, you coo, “Sleep, baby.”

Waiting until you’ve settled into a comfortable reading position, Tim wraps his arms around your leg and holds on like a koala, pressing his cheek into your softness of your hip.  With one hand you pick up your book, the other you lay gently on Tim’s back – lulling him towards dreamland by tracing delicate and calming patterns up and down his spine and neck.

Tim sighs a contented sigh and murmurs into your leg, “Thank you for taking care of me, Shutterbug.”

Before you can tell Tim that there’s nothing to thank you for, that you love doing things for him, you love him, and moreover, he gives you so much – making you feel so loved, appreciated, adored, the very least you can do is try to take care of him after he comes home from taking care of the whole city, you hear his breathing even and the unmistakeable sound of Detective Rockford finally snoozing peacefully.

Gazing down at the man you love, part of you wishes Tim could always be like this: soft, safe, unguarded - but then he wouldn’t be the noble man you adore. What you can do is sit sentry by your detective’s side, protecting his respite from the big bad outside these walls for as long as you’re allowed to have him like this - until noon at least.

“Sweet dreams, Detective Rockford.” 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE TAMING OF THE CROW

Synopsis: Despite an initial reluctance, Tabito heads off to a mysterious soccer program by the name of Blue Lock. Luckily, it’s not long before you get to see him again. Continuation of Five Ways to Kill a Crow and How to Drown a Crow!

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 16.1k

Content Warnings: spoilers for the u-20 arc of the manga, otoya slander to an unhealthy degree, reader’s best friend is crazily down bad, the bllk boys have karasu STRESSING, half of them think reader is fine af 💯, did i mention otoya slander because there is a LOT of that, 99% crackfic so don’t expect stunning characterization in this one it’s mostly silly compared to the first two parts, chigiri’s sister is also referred to as chigiri, reader & co. accidentally become famous

A/N: here is the final continuation of fwtkac that you requested karasu anon 💖 incidentally also the longest…w this installment the mini-series is over 30k words LMAOAO i hope you have enjoyed the ride because ik i have!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult to reveal your relationship with Tabito to the rest of your friends and classmates. There wasn’t an official announcement or anything along those lines — neither of you were that big on social media, so you didn’t bother with launching each other there, and since half of the school already thought you were dating, things settled into an even rhythm quite quickly.

Tabito’s friends and teammates weren’t all-too-shocked, either. Apparently, you were just about the last person to find out about the crush he had had on you since middle school, so to everyone else, him asking you out had been all but foregone conclusion. What your respective circles were surprised about, at least at first, was that you had said yes.

You’re way too hot for him. This was what Tabito’s group said upon finding out about the news, which was met with crabbiness from Tabito and nothing more than a snort from you. They were just messing with him in any way they could, considering how difficult it typically was to find cracks in his flawless demeanor, so it was easy to dismiss. On the other hand, your own friends gave you confused looks — weren’t you just talking about how much you hate him? You could only shrug, because they weren’t wrong, exactly. You had been complaining about him only days previously, but it was funny how quickly things could change. They accepted it without much more questioning, however, congratulating you on finally getting a boyfriend, and after that life continued as it previously had, except now whenever your friend groups decided to hang out together, you would find yourself at Tabito’s side instead of as far as possible from him.

Being his official girlfriend was everything you had expected and more. He got along well with your parents — your father remembered his name and asked you how he was doing constantly, and your mother was always pleased by the steady supply of flowers he provided for your kitchen counter — as well as your friends, managing to strike that elusive balance of showing them kindness without being overly involved in their lives. His family adored you, especially his older sister, who frequently took you out shopping or for coffee, much to Tabito’s chagrin. All in all, things were going well, and though you two still competed over your grades, it was without the fervor of the past, so that you were gladder for one another’s success than you were incensed by them.

“I hate couples,” your best friend announced one day at lunch. You had finished eating early, so you were leaning against Tabito’s arm and playing Subway Surfers on his phone while he talked to one of his teammates about their upcoming match. Ever since you had discovered his penchant for the childish game, it had become a personal goal of yours to beat his high score, though you had not yet even come close.

“Hm,” you said. She scowled.

“I’m serious!” she said.

“You’re just mad because you’re single,” you said. “I told you I’m working on it, didn’t I? It’s not my fault all of Tabito’s friends are losers!”

She sighed. “I know. Actually, you two aren’t the ones that prompted me to say that this time, oddly enough.”

“Oh, then who did?” you said.

“You know how I went to visit my cousins last weekend?” she said. You nodded. “Well, we went to watch a movie while we were there, that new one I was really excited about, but somehow it ended up that we got stuck behind this guy on a date!”

“How’d you know that he was on a date?” you said.

“Because there was a girl sitting next to him, and he sucked her face off for the entire movie, thereby completely blocking the screen. Can you believe it? The worst part is, he was totally stupid looking!” she said.

“That’s annoying,” you said, secure in the knowledge that you and Tabito would never do something like that. Public displays of affection beyond hugging or holding hands weren’t really your vibe, and just the thought of making out in a movie theater caused you to feel nauseous. “How’d you know he was dumb looking, though? Wasn’t the theater dark?”

“I confronted him afterwards,” she said.

“While he was on a date? That’s a bold move,” you said. “What did the girl say?”

“Huh? Oh, she had already left. Guess she wasn’t that into him,” your best friend said.

“Yikes,” you said before pouting as your little Subway Surfers character was hit by a train. “Aw, man, I died. At this rate, I’ll never beat the high score.”

“Hey, can I have my phone for a second?” Tabito said, turning to you and plucking the device out of your hand before you could answer. You frowned, so he patted you on the head. “I’ll give it back. I just need to text our coach and remind him to bring my cooler back during the game tonight.”

“Whatever,” you said before directing your attention towards your best friend again. “Okay, describe this guy. I’m really interested in what could have driven you to judge his appearance so harshly.”

“Listen!” she said. “His hair was green!”

“Green?” you said. 

“Yes! Well, mostly it was a grayish white, but there was a green streak, and the undercut part was also green,” she said. You tried to picture it and found you were entirely incapable of imagining anything but the most ridiculous of styles.

“That’s wild,” you said. “Who told him that was a good idea?”

“I just wonder how much bleach he has to use to get it to be that color,” she said. You shuddered.

“I know for a fact that he had the most damaged, dead, crunchy-looking hair ever,” you said. Your best friend shook her head.

“It was actually pretty shiny and luscious,” she said. “If it weren’t for the weird choice of color and his terrible theater etiquette, I could see why someone might consider him attractive.”

“Maybe you can fix him,” you suggested. She immediately scowled in a clear-cut refusal.

“The main thing I’ve learned from your relationship with Karasu is that you can never fix a man’s hair, no matter how much he likes you,” she said.

“Huh? Did you say my name?” Tabito said, handing you his phone back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you and your best friend said in unison.

“That was suspicious,” he informed you.

“Just know that I’ll break up with you if you ever dye even a strand of your hair green,” you said.

He gave you an odd look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyways, that’s my rant for the day,” your best friend said as Tabito evidently decided it would be for the best to leave you to your own conversation, which he was missing far too much context from to possibly understand.

“That really is awful,” you said. “Don’t worry. Someday soon, we’ll find you someone to date, and then you can be the annoying couple everyone slanders. Trust me on that one.”

“I do,” she said. “I have faith that you’re just being picky because you love me so much that you refuse to let me be with a substandard man.”

“Exactly,” you said.

She made a heart with her hands. “You’re the best.”

“I try!”

Now that autumn was bleeding into winter, it was getting chillier and chillier out during Bambi Osaka’s games. Thankfully, Tabito had draped his large jacket over your shoulders before running off to yell at his coach for once again forgetting to bring his cooler back, so you were mostly protected from the frost in the air. You could not say the same for the Bambi Osaka boys, who all looked miserably cold as they jogged in place, trying to warm up in their shorts and jerseys while Tabito and the coach argued.

“Y/N! I didn’t realize you were coming today!” a familiar voice said, its owner leaning over the fence separating the bleachers from the field. You extended your hand to ruffle his hair.

“I come to all of your games, Hiori, why would this one be any different?” you said. He gave you a sheepish grin.

“I know, but now that’s it not as nice out, I thought you might not,” he said. You pulled on the sleeve of your jacket to draw attention to it; Hiori grunted in approval when he noticed.

“Don’t worry, Tabito’s on top of it. Just between us two, I think he would cry if I had to miss one of his games, so he always makes sure I’m as comfortable as possible when I come,” you said.

“He’s a really considerate guy,” Hiori said. As if on cue, both of you turned to look at where he and their coach were still going at it.

“Holy fucking shit!” Tabito screamed. “Give me my cooler back, dude, you’ve had it for weeks!”

“I need it for the party I’m throwing this Saturday!” their coach shouted back. 

“I don’t give a damn about your party! Give me back my cooler!”

“Right,” you said, stifling a laugh. “Super considerate.”

Hiori cringed. “I guess nobody’s perfect.”

Ever since you had started dating Tabito, Hiori had become something of a permanent fixture in your life. He never tried to flirt with you or anything — you didn’t even think he was capable of having those feelings — but he was just so used to trailing after Tabito that, by extension, he began to follow you around as well. It wasn’t really that bad; you both lived close to one another, and frequently he’d ask you to come to the convenience store with him so he could ask you for advice under the guise of buying snacks together. You always went along with it, as you sensed he didn’t have many other sources of reliable help and wisdom.

For his part, Tabito didn’t really mind that Hiori’s attachment to him now included you. The thought of being jealous of the younger boy never even crossed his mind, mostly because he, too, didn’t really believe that the gentle and benign Hiori was capable of anything as underhanded as stealing his girlfriend. Overall, he was more bemused than anything, treating him with the careful fondness of someone who had been given a puppy they had no idea how to care for but found cute anyways.

Soon enough, Tabito joined you and Hiori, dragging his feet and hanging his head as he flopped against the fence. Exhaling, you reached out and stroked the side of his face with the back of your hand.

“Any success?” you said.

“Nope,” he said. “Another week without my cooler.”

“At least it’s getting to be winter,” Hiori said. “You won’t really need it to keep your drinks chilled for a while, right?”

“Tell that to my sister,” Tabito said. “She keeps bugging me about where I put it. I guess she needs it for college or something. Don’t ask me why.”

“I’m sure he’ll bring it to the next game,” Hiori said optimistically. Tabito let out a defeated sigh.

“We can only hope,” he said.

“In the meantime, you two should go over with the rest of your team before you both get yelled at for slacking off and get me banned from coming to anymore games,” you said.

“If he keeps holding my cooler hostage and bans you from games, I’ll fight that dumbass coach!” Tabito said. You pushed him away affectionately.

“Alright, alright, I feel very comforted by that. Thank you for defending my — and your cooler’s — honor,” you said. “Go play soccer.”

With a joking salute, Tabito, and also Hiori, ran off to join the rest of their team, and you settled back to sit with the rest of the attendees of the game, who were mostly parents of the players. All of them knew who you were at this point, though, so you were welcomed with open arms, easily joining in on their discussions about such subjects as how their children were doing in school and what their plans for dinner were.

It was a comfortable existence, and as you pulled Tabito’s jacket tighter around you, you thought that you could get used to it. If only things could stay exactly like this, you would be quite happy. If you could spend every day with Tabito and Hiori and the rest of your friends, you would never complain again.

Unfortunately, life was always changing, as you knew all too well. One day, both Tabito and Hiori received letters summoning them to some soccer training camp far away from your corner of the country, and though Hiori leapt at the chance, Tabito was initially uncertain at the prospect of leaving everything behind for a program that wasn’t even a sure thing.

“What if it doesn’t help me and I give up my schooling for it?” he said, pacing around his bedroom. You raised your eyebrows at him from your seat at his desk, where you were working on a lab report for Chemistry. “Do they really expect me to run there during my last year of high school? What about board exams and college? How am I supposed to get into a good university if I’m playing soccer when I should be studying?”

“Why do you think you won’t succeed in the program?” you said. “You’re amazing at soccer. If you join, you’ll definitely do well, and then you’ll become a professional athlete, so you won’t have to worry about college or anything like that.”

“Of course I’ll do well,” he said. This actually wasn’t anything like his normal self-confidence; when he was in this kind of mood, he didn’t brag, he only evaluated himself and the situation honestly, weighing the costs and benefits until he could come to a conclusion that he was satisfied with. “I just don’t like the thought of not having a fallback option. Even if I become a professional athlete, things like injuries can happen to anyone. It’s not smart to not have a backup plan. That’s why I wasn’t planning on trying out for the U-20 squad until after I got accepted to a university.”

“You can’t give up on your dreams for the sake of a backup plan, though,” you said, finishing up the report and clicking the submit button, shutting your laptop and spinning the chair around so you were looking at him. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

Blue Lock and its outcomes were like the water — entirely out of Tabito’s control, and hence something he was automatically opposed to. But unlike swimming and wading, this was also an opportunity for him to pursue his greatest dreams, so you stood and grabbed him by the shoulders. He halted in his tracks, cocking his head at you as you clasped his hands in between your own and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

“Listen to me,” you said. “You are not going to drown. You’re not because I say you’re not, and have I ever led you astray? You’re going to go to this Blue Lock place with Hiori, and then the two of you are going to come back and be so good at soccer that you immediately join the national team and end up so rich and famous that I can’t help but marry you and become your trophy wife.”

“When you say you, you’re referring to me, not Hiori, right?” he checked with a snicker. You poked him in the chest.

“Obviously,” you said.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay?” he said. 

“I think you won’t know if you don’t try. You’re so smart, Tabito; even if you somehow fail as a soccer player, I don’t think you’ll be unable to go to college. In fact, you could probably do this camp, come back and take your exams while on a break, and still get second in our class,” you said.

“Second?” he said.

“Of course, I’ll be the one getting first,” you said. “Second is still respectable, though. Any university of note would kill to have you, but a chance to improve your soccer career like this might not come around again for a while, if ever. Take it. Take it with both hands and don’t regret it a bit, okay?”

“You’re convincing,” he said, embracing you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you.”

“So you’ll do it?” you said.

“I’ll do it.”

A week later, he was gone. Even his phone was taken away, leaving you without any manner of contacting him in the meantime. To be sure, it was lonely, but you were too busy being proud of him to be depressed about it. Besides, you weren’t the type to abandon your friends just because you were in a relationship, so your invitations to events had never stopped coming. Now, you just said yes to them more often, much to everyone’s excitement.

That was what you did while Tabito was busy at Blue Lock: you hung out with your friends, having sleepovers and going for platonic dates with the ones you were particularly close with, and you visited his sister at her college when she was free, so you could hear embarrassing stories about his past, which you carefully filed away for later use. Occasionally, you even met up with Yukimiya’s girlfriend — in a shocking twist, he had also been invited to Blue Lock, much like Tabito — and the two of you would speculate about what your boyfriends might be up to in that strange facility and whether they might’ve met each other yet or not. 

It wasn’t horrible. Undeniably, you missed him, but it was bearable, and you knew he would be back as soon as he could be, so for the most part, you didn’t let yourself grow too sad. Your father was probably the worst off out of anyone, actually, always nagging you about when Tabito would return. He had grown used to having a friend to watch sports alongside, and was now entirely forlorn without any company to discuss his beloved games with. 

Some weeks after Blue Lock began, you received two emails with nearly identical subject headers. With a confused frown, you opened both of them in turn, but slowly, your expression turned to a smile as you read over their contents.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 player number 6, Tabito Karasu, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 substitute number 16, Yo Hiori, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Both Tabito and Hiori had chosen to give you their seats, which meant you technically had an extra one, so you could bring someone along with you. Your first thought was your father, considering how much he loved soccer, but then you pondered it further and decided that you probably did not want to spend the whole match listening to him explaining the rules. Plus, the game was in Tokyo, so if the two of you went together, you both would have to share a hotel room, and he’d make you spend the entire trip with him instead of exploring and possibly seeing Tabito, if you got the chance.

No, there was really only one choice. With an aunt who lived in the city and a deep-rooted desire to get a boyfriend, your best friend was the clear pick to take along with you to the game, and you knew before you even asked that she would agree to it. After all, what better way was there for you both to spend the two weeks of your last winter break before university?

As you had expected, she agreed enthusiastically and readily, texting you that her aunt was alright with you two staying at her place, as long as you didn’t mind that she’d probably be busy with work most of the time. Of course, this was more of a benefit than a drawback, so you forwarded the email containing Hiori’s invitation to her and immediately began the process of packing for your two week vacation.

Since you would be staying with a responsible adult — meaning your best friend’s aunt, not her herself — your parents didn’t mind that you were going on a mini-trip without them. Your father already knew about the game thanks to his subscription to the JFU’s magazine, and he was so exhilarated at the thought of you getting to attend it in person that you almost felt bad not telling him that he could’ve come, too. Then you imagined having to sleep in a twin bed while he snored in the one across from you and stopped feeling guilty entirely.

“Do you think it would be corny if I wore blue to the game?” you said when the day of the match dawned. You had made a mess of your suitcase trying to decide what you wanted to wear, and when you looked over at your best friend’s side of the room, you noticed that it was in a similar state.

“Maybe a little bit,” she said. “At least, if you went for an all-blue Smurf aesthetic. It would kind of make you look like a mascot or something.”

“I was thinking about that,” you said. “Ugh! This is so hard. Normally, I just wear one of Tabito’s jackets or extra jerseys at his games, so that I look all supportive and whatnot, but it’s kind of hard to do that when I haven’t even spoken to him in weeks and have zero clue what his Blue Lock jersey looks like.”

“That one coat you brought is his, right? You could wear that with a blue shirt underneath it so that it’s subtle but still clear which side you’re on,” she suggested. You closed your eyes, mentally putting the clothes on and deciding that it was a great outfit idea, giving off the exact effect you were aiming for.

“I knew ‘Hiori’ invited you for a reason,” you said. She chucked a pillow at you, fully aware that she was only even going to the game because you had been invited by both Bambi Osaka boys.

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him,” she said.

“Do you know what he looks like?” you said.

“No, but won’t his jersey say his name?” she reasoned.

“Touché,” you said. “Anyways, what are you going to wear?”

“It needs to be something casual but also cute, so if any of the players — the single ones, anyways — happen to look up at me, they are instantly smitten and ask me for my number once they win the game, after which we date until I’ve graduated college and they’ve made it in the big leagues, whereupon they will propose to me and we will get married in the most extravagant wedding the world has ever seen,” she said.

“Um,” you said, your mind working overtime to comprehend the run-on. “Sure. In that case, maybe you should go with the sweater dress you brought. It’s not blue, but you look really pretty in it, and if you put on a longer cardigan along with some tights, you should stay warm. Maybe your aunt has a blue scarf you can borrow? If you want to look spirited.”

“You’re a genius!” she said. 

“Thanks, I do my best,” you said before a silence lapsed between the two of you, both too busy getting ready to gossip, as you had been non-stop since you had arrived in Tokyo.

The ticket scanner definitely looked suspicious at the fact that both of you claimed to be named Y/N L/N, but there was nothing that she could do about it. After all, you both had unique invitations from two separate members of Blue Lock, so what did it matter what your names were? With a curt nod, she approved your tickets and described which way you had to go to get to your seats, though you were certain she was glaring at you as you walked in the direction she had indicated.

“Are you excited?” your best friend said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. 

“I’m more excited to see Tabito again than anything. No matter how the game goes, I’m happy if he’s there,” you said.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said. “Pining has made you a changed woman. The Y/N I once knew would never say anything along those lines.”

“Oh, but you can plan your wedding and it’s perfectly normal?” you said, raising your eyebrows. She gave you a double-thumbs-up.

“That’s all hypothetical, so it’s not an issue,” she said. “On the other hand, you being all sappy about Karasu is reality.”

“You have a point,” you said. “My apologies. Moving on, are you excited?”

“Just to see if the players are good looking,” she said. “I don’t know that much about soccer.”

“It’s okay, I don’t, either,” you said.

“Your boyfriend is literally on the team?” she said. 

“Look, as long as someone on our side kicks the ball into the net, I’m happy,” you said. “If someone on the other side kicks the ball into the net, then I’m sad. That’s kind of the gist of it. Tabito and Hiori have tried explaining the finer details of the sport, but to be honest, it’s a bit beyond me.”

“Excuse me, but is anyone sitting with you two?” a bright voice said. You looked up to see a tall girl with cascading red hair and a brilliant grin pointing at the seat on your left with a questioning tilt to her head.

“Nope,” you said. Unfortunately, Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s school break didn’t align with the game, and she had regretfully told you over the phone that she would be unable to make it, so you and your best friend were on your own. “All yours!”

“Thanks!” she said. “My mother went to go sit with the other parents, and I was planning on going with her, but you two look closer to my age, so I was hoping it would be alright if I stayed here instead.”

“Believe me, I get it,” you said. “I’ve had to hang out with way too many parents at Tabito’s games. They’re nice and all, but most of the stuff they talk about is hardly relatable.”

“Exactly!” she said. “I can’t explain how happy I am to have found you two. I’m Hyoma Chigiri’s sister, by the way! According to the email we got, he’s number 4. Which players do you both know?”

“I’m number 6’s girlfriend,” you said, motioning down towards where the players were beginning to enter the field, getting some last-minute practice in before the game. “Tabito Karasu.”

You wished he would look over so you could wave at him, but he was utterly focused on his teammates and their warm up, so you contented yourself with admiring him from afar. It was clear to anyone that he was in his element, and a lump formed in your throat when you remembered that he had almost given this up. He had almost stayed back, and you could not even begin to fathom how much he would have regretted it if he had.

“I see him!” Chigiri said, shading her eyes with her hand so she didn’t have to narrow them against the sun. “My brother’s right over by where he is.”

Her brother was almost identical to her, a lean boy with flowing hair and a pointed face, and even if she hadn’t pointed him out, you would’ve made the connection.

“He looks just like you,” your best friend said, vocalizing what you had been thinking.

“We get that a lot,” Chigiri said. “What about you? Who are you with?”

“Technically, I’m not with anyone,” your best friend said. “The thing is, both Karasu and number 16, Yo Hiori, invited Y/N, so I just took her extra — what the fuck.”

“Is everything okay?” you said. Both you and Chigiri shot her concerned looks, but she was too busy staring at the field with her jaw dropped to pick up on it. “Hello? What’s gotten into you?”

“Y/N L/N,” she said. “Why is your boyfriend talking to that — that — that creature? Why is that thing even on the field in the first place?”

“Number 9?” Chigiri said. “Do you know him?”

True to her word, Tabito was speaking animatedly to player number 9, who according to his jersey was named Otoya. He was a slender and clearly handsome boy, his pale hair streaked through with green and his features distinctly sharp despite the distance. For some reason, there was something familiar about his description, and it was only when you noticed that your best friend was all but seething that the conversation came back to you.

“Are you serious?” you said. “That Otoya dude is the theater guy?”

“Deadly serious,” she snapped. “What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be off ruining innocent moviegoers’ experiences?”

“Playing soccer, I’d expect,” you said. “It looks like he’s starting for the Blue Lock 11, too. He must be good — I mean, even Hiori is just a substitute, and he’s crazy talented, so their starting lineup must be nothing short of spectacular.”

The two teams got into position as the clock was set up, and a hush fell over the stadium as the ball was brought onto the field for the kickoff. Unexpectedly, Chigiri grabbed your hand, clutching it so tightly that your circulation was impaired, and when you glanced over at her, you saw that her shoulders were tense.

“Hyoma tore his ACL recently,” she murmured. “He never said it aloud, but I think he’s wanted to quit soccer ever since. This is the first time he’s starting in a game since before he was injured. I’m worried it’ll happen again.”

You rubbed soothing circles against her wrist. “He’ll be alright. I don’t think they would put him in if it was a health risk. Plus, they have substitutes, and I’m sure he’s much more in-tune with his body now, so the second he feels something off, he’ll probably ask to be put out.”

Chigiri dabbed at her face. “Thanks. You’re right. This is an exciting game! I shouldn’t bring down the mood. Let’s get ready to cheer our lungs out!”

The referee blew the whistle, and then the match was on. You could hardly keep up with the players’ movements, so fast was it all; this was a level of skill that even you could recognize was far above anything you had ever seen. Every single player on the pitch was at least on Tabito and Hiori’s level, if not above it. Unlike Bambi Osaka, where Tabito was the captain of the team and often had to play doubly as aggressively because of that, he blended right into the mix of talents that was this motley collection of high school forwards. You could tell even from so far away that this thrilled him instead of grating on his nerves; he wasn’t the kind of person who craved the spotlight, after all. If anything, it was something he shied away from, preferring to strike at his opponent’s weak points from the dark, and it was only here, with the rest of the Blue Lock 11, that he could finally play how he preferred.

When the first goal on Blue Lock’s side was scored, by the tall, pale-haired number 7, you, your best friend, and Chigiri shot to your feet, screaming and clapping as loud as you could. Your enthusiasm, which was a stark contrast to everyone else’s quiet confusion, sparked a tidal wave. The entire stadium resounded with a roar of approval as the number 7 — Nagi — crashed to the ground before raising his fist, getting tackled by his teammates directly afterwards in celebration. 

“That was amazing!” your best friend said as everyone settled for the restart. “I never realized that soccer could be so exciting to watch.”

“That guy is skilled,” you agreed. “So is everyone else. Including that Otoya—”

“Don’t even mention him!” she said. “Nagi’s the one who scored, so stick to praising him!”

“Hyoma’s doing so well!” Chigiri said, her cheeks pink from the cold and round from her grin. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was never hurt at all!”

“Honestly, this is way more intense than I expected,” your best friend said, hugging herself tightly. “I really hope they manage to win.”

“They will,” you said. “I’m confident of that.”

Maybe the Blue Lock 11 were the underdogs, but something told you that they were going to win. There was just this fire to them, a heat and a hatred that emanated off of only their side of the field. The docile U-20 boys, who were so dependent on the efforts of defender Aiku and midfielder Sae, could never hope to compete with that overwhelming energy, which was so potent that the bleachers themselves were washed in it.

That was why you weren’t even surprised when number 10, Rin, scored another goal right before half-time, ending the first half with a lead for Blue Lock. You knew for a fact that your voice would be hoarse the next day from how much you were shouting, but based on your best friend’s and Chigiri’s faces, you figured you were in good company and didn’t even take any measures to lessen the severity of the consequence.

As the players began to move towards their respective locker rooms, Chigiri stood up and began to wave her hands frantically.

“Hyoma! Over here!” she called out. Her brother paused in the middle of drinking from his water bottle, whipping around, his face turning the same shade as his hair when he noticed his sister, who pulled out her phone and took a picture of him. “He noticed me! Ah, hello, Hyoma! You’re doing awesome!”

Tabito and Otoya walked past where the younger Chigiri was frozen in place, and before they could vanish into the locker room and out of your sight, you cupped your hands around your mouth.

“Tabito!” you said. He stopped in his tracks before twisting back to face you, his face breaking into such a wide grin when he saw you that it was a wonder his face did not ache from it. He raised his hand in greeting, and you did the same, so relieved to see him again that you thought you might vomit from the giddiness.

Beside you, your best friend stood, drawing herself to her full height. Then, before you could stop her, she jabbed her finger towards Otoya, who had remained at Karasu’s side when he had stopped to greet you. Otoya turned his head this way and that before pointing at himself hesitantly. Your best friend nodded and then stuck up her middle finger at him, causing Tabito to burst into a fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking as he dragged the helpless Otoya away from where he was suddenly rooted to the ground in perplexity.

“That’s what he gets,” she said with satisfaction, sitting back down now that she had accomplished her mission.

“He probably has no idea who you are,” you said, giggling to yourself, finding great entertainment in the one-sided feud she had with Otoya, who appeared to be a great friend of Tabito’s. “Also, you described him horribly back then. He’s really pretty good-looking, and the hair is nowhere near as bad as you made it sound.”

“I’m telling Karasu you said that,” she said. “If I was him, I’d be offended! My beloved girlfriend finds a guy who appears to be fresh out of the swamp attractive? That would really make me insecure.”

“I don’t find him attractive, I just said that he’s good looking. It’s objective,” you said. “And fresh out of the swamp? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

She glared at you. “No way. He owes me the price of the ticket he made me waste, but since he obviously isn’t going to pay me back, I’m going to make as much fun of him as possible.”

“You do that,” you said, judging that there was no arguing with her. “Chigiri, do you want any snacks? I’m going to head to the concession stands while there’s a break.”

“Could you get me some fries? I’ll send you the money,” she said.

“As long as you save my seat,” you said. 

“Of course! Go quickly, I’m sure the lines are going to be long. There’s a lot of people here,” she said.

“Good idea,” you said, racing off and cutting through the crowds swarming the many concession stands so that you could get some fries for her, candy for your best friend, and chips for yourself.

The second half was even more exciting than the first, though you hadn’t previously thought that that was possible. A boy named Shidou, who had something like a current crackling through him, joined the U-20s as their striker, and in quick succession, he managed to not only tie up the score but actually get a lead, thereby undoing all of the work that Nagi and Rin had put in. To make things worse, right after Shidou’s first goal, Hyoma Chigiri collapsed, earning a gasp from his sister as she shoved a fistful of fries in her mouth. Simultaneously, one of their defenders, the number 3, stumbled before slumping over entirely

“It looks like a cramp,” you reassured Chigiri as one of the other players helped her brother stretch out his leg and then stand. “And I think Niko must’ve sprained his ankle during that earlier play. They’re going to have to put in alternates, but it’s not serious. Both of them just need some rest and they’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” she said, biting her lip.

“No way, is that Reo Mikage?” your best friend said, her eyes wide as a tall, well-built boy took Niko’s place on the field. He had purple hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and a desperate sort of anger simmered beneath his serene exterior. You squinted and found she was right — the name Reo was indeed written above the large number 14 on his back.

“Like the corporate heir?” you said. Everyone who was anyone knew about the Mikages, but what business did the son have playing soccer? Then again, you supposed even the wealthiest people in the world had to have hobbies. Maybe soccer was just what filled the void for him. You supposed you couldn’t really comment either way.

“I’m sure of it!” your best friend said. “Oh, man, Y/N, he’s even more gorgeous in person…do you think Karasu knows him? Can I get an introduction? He’s so dreamy and perfect and amazing and unreal!”

“I can ask. I’m sure they’re at least acquainted, considering they’re playing on the same team — wait! Look, it’s Hiori! Oh my goodness, it’s Hiori! Yay, yay, Hiori! You’ve got this!” you squealed, pointing at him insistently. He was the one going in for Chigiri, and though he seemed solemn, you knew he must be nothing less than agitated at the moment. You willed him to glance up at you, and whether it was divine intervention or just a coincidence, he happened to shift towards your direction and thus made direct eye contact with you.

Immediately, any gloominess dropped from his shoulders, and you showed him your fingers, which were crossed for luck. He mimicked the gesture before running out to the field, where Otoya patted him on the back in greeting.

“Somebody save that poor, innocent boy,” your best friend said as the game began again.

“Hiori? From what?” you said.

“From being corrupted and turned into a bad-mannered asshole by Otoya,” she said.

“Fair enough,” you said before your jaw dropped as Reo Mikage perfectly mimicked Aiku’s signature defensive move, stopping Shidou from scoring yet again. “Woah. Reo’s rich and a soccer genius? I thought you were full of bullshit earlier, but you actually might be onto something.”

“Exactly,” your best friend said with a smitten sigh. “What a man.”

Despite Reo’s prowess and the goalie’s unorthodox methods, they were ultimately unable to stop Shidou from making that second goal. As the U-20 boys celebrated and the referee called for the ball to be retrieved, Blue Lock’s number 11, Isagi, stomped over to the sideline where their coach was sitting.

“They look like they’re arguing,” Chigiri said. “Do you think everything is alright?”

You weren’t sure when or how you had become the designated soccer expert, but for some reason, both Chigiri and your best friend looked at you expectantly, like you knew what the hell Isagi was pressed about. 

“Maybe he’s mad about his cooler?” you said.

“Huh?” your best friend said.

“Never mind,” you said. “Uh, if I had to guess, he’s probably either asking the coach to give them a new strategy or calling for their substitute to be put in. Shidou and Sae have backed them into a corner, and if they don’t switch things up soon, they’re going to lose.”

“Looks like Karasu and Hiori taught you more than you realized,” your best friend said as Isagi jogged back to the field and the referee whistled to call for a pause to the game. One of the benched Blue Lock members, their number 13, stood up, and you actually shivered when he did. He made every single other player look like a gentle kitten in comparison to his hulking presence, even those towering monsters like Shidou and Aiku. There was no doubt about it; this was a beast amongst men, his fangs bared as he stormed onto the field, and the only thing you could not understand was why he had not been playing from the start.

“That guy is scary,” you said.

“Scary hot,” my best friend said.

“Moving on from Reo already?” you said. “This is why you’ll never have a boyfriend. Too fickle.”

“Listen, I have to keep my options open! Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who’s good-looking, talented, and has been obsessed with them for years,” she said, elbowing you in the side with a smirk. You rolled your eyes, though you could not help but look down at Tabito when she said that. “What if I get rejected by Reo? I need to have another option, or else I’m fresh out of luck.”

“Looks like he’s replacing Otoya,” you said. “What’s his name? Barou? I’m interested to see how he does.”

“He’s getting rid of that wannabe bog monster? Even better! He’s quickly shooting up in my rankings,” my best friend said.

“Wannabe — okay, I’ll just be happy for you,” you said. “Though his hair isn’t so green as to deserve this much slander…”

“Thanks,” she said, ignoring the rest of what you had said.

“I hope they can make a comeback,” Chigiri stressed. “It’ll crush Hyoma if they lose.”

“No matter what happens now, he should be proud of how he did in the match,” you said. “Pass that message along when you see him, please. There’s no way he’s not going to get scouted by some seriously great clubs in the future.”

“You’re really kind,” Chigiri said, leaning her head on your shoulder with a sniffle. “I hope that Hyoma and your boyfriend stay on the same team for a while. Watching games is so much more fun with you.”

“Thanks! You as well. But speaking of being on the same team…” You whipped out your phone during the lull of the match, pulling up Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s contact and typing out a quick text.

‘are you watching the game??’

She responded almost immediately. ‘i convinced my parents to let me skip school so i could lol. i’m so stressed out right now!! karasu is playing super well btw.’

‘so is yukimiya!!’

‘thx!! omg also i saw you and your best friend on the screen HAHA.’

The last text was startling, to say the least. Nudging your best friend, you showed her the message, after which she took out her own phone, flipped on the camera, and checked her appearance in it.

‘no way. when??’

‘YES it was right after nagi scored in the first half. you two + the redhead were the ones who started the cheering, so they focused on you guys at first!! dw you all looked rlly pretty. as usual <3’

‘ohhh that makes sense. and tyyyy but you’re the pretty one here!!’

‘STOP you are the sweetest. also look at this LMAO they’re already making edits of you guys!!’

‘WHAT?!?!?!’

She sent you a link, which you opened with trepidation, beckoning Chigiri and your best friend over. Turning up the volume, you held up your phone as an edit of the three of you at various points in the match began to play. You were equally impressed and horrified at the speed with which the editors had gotten to work, but you couldn’t even be upset — whether it was the song or the clips they had chosen, the video made you all look magnificent. You saved it to your folder and then put your phone away, vowing to go through the comments later.

Mere minutes after you all tuned back into the flow of the game, Barou somehow pulled off a near-miraculous sliding shot, slamming the ball into the goal and once again tying back the score. This time, nobody was uncertain about what to do; every single person was on their feet, whooping as Barou tore off his jersey and tossed it in the air, flexing his arms and raising his chin as Tabito wrapped an arm around his neck, Nagi jumped on his back, and Isagi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Wow,” your best friend said.

“Wow is right! That was an incredible play. Barou is in another realm entirely!” you said, your palms stinging from how hard you were slapping them together. Your rudimentary soccer knowledge was apparently sufficient enough for you to keep up with the game, though just barely.

“Oh, I don’t know enough about soccer to be in awe of his goal,” she said. “I’m talking about those wow muscles of his. I bet he could carry me with one arm…”

“Ew, nasty,” you said, smacking her, fully aware of where her thoughts had just gone.

“Come on, you know it’s true!” she protested.

“I have a boyfriend. I’m not allowed to answer that,” you said.

“But you’re allowed to say that Otoya is good-looking?” she said.

“That was just me being nice!” you said. 

“I sense favoritism,” she said. “And not even the good kind, because for some reason, you’re favoring the worst guy in the bunch! Since Karasu isn’t around to be disappointed in you, I’ll do it on his behalf.”

“Shut up,” you said half-heartedly. “I liked you better when you were in love with Reo.”

“Believe me, I still am,” she said. “He’s not the kind of person you get over easily.”

“Ah, and remind me of how many times you’ve spoken to him?”

“That’s not the point!”

The match was decided when Sae and Rin — who were supposedly brothers, according to the guys Chigiri had overheard while she was heading to the trash can — got into a fight for dominance over the ball. Somehow, it managed to end up in exactly the spot where Isagi was waiting, and without taking a moment to think, he drew his leg back. At the very last second of the game’s overtime, he sent it streaking into the net.

“They did it!” Chigiri shrieked, tackling you and your best friend in a hug. 

“They did!” you shrieked back, equally as overwhelmed. 

“I can’t believe it!” your best friend said. “They really pulled it off!”

With that one-goal lead, Blue Lock had managed it. They had won the game against the U-20s, thereby cementing their place in the world of soccer for good. Those whispered hopes that Tabito had shared with you, his dreams of being an athlete and playing the sport he loved…they were as you had always assured him: inevitabilities instead of impossibilities. 

After all, you would say to him, over and over until you were sure he believed you. Do you think I would spend so long hating someone if they were mediocre? You can do whatever you turn your mind to. Whether it’s winning a soccer game or managing a company or getting the girl you like, your success is a guarantee.

The Blue Lock boys were ushered back to their facility after the game, so you didn’t get a chance to congratulate Tabito, but even being able to wave at him had lifted your spirits immensely, so you didn’t feel like you had wasted the trip.

In fact, you had a new pastime to occupy yourself with: namely, watching edits of yourself and liking all of the comments hyping you up. There were many of both, and when you weren’t listening to your best friend rambling about her favorite Blue Lock boy of the hour — Barou and Reo were definitely the ones she brought up the most, but Nagi and Isagi were mentioned a fair bit, too — you spent your hours on social media, sending the best edits to the group chat that you and your best friend had created with Yukimiya’s girlfriend and the elder Chigiri.

A couple of days after the game, you and your best friend were lounging in her aunt’s living room when you got a call from a number you had not seen on your phone in ages. Springing to your feet, you answered it immediately.

“Tabito? I thought they took your phone in Blue Lock?” you said.

“Hi, Y/N. Yes, they did, but we just got our stuff back and are on the buses back to the city. We’re on break for the next two weeks! Are you still in Tokyo?” he said.

“Yes! I’m here for about that amount of time — for all of winter break,” you said.

“Perfect. Some of the guys have plans to meet up in Shibuya tomorrow, but I don’t mind canceling—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, an idea formulating in your mind. “Are Barou, Nagi, Isagi, and Reo Mikage included when you say ‘some of the guys?’”

“Uh, I think Reo’s going to be there, but not any of the others. Why?” he said quizzically. Your best friend gave you a puzzled look, obviously wondering why you had just listed off her top Blue Lock crushes while on the phone with your boyfriend.

“Is it okay if we come, too?” you said. Tabito hummed uncertainly.

“Er, I don’t know…it’s not that I don’t want you to or that they’d mind or anything! In fact, they’d probably be delighted if you showed up. Rather, it’s that a few of them are a little bit odd, and you’d probably not enjoy yourself very much if you came,” he said.

“On the contrary, I think we would enjoy ourselves a great deal. Some of us more than others, naturally, but as long as you’re there, I’ll have fun, and as for my plus one…let’s just say that she could probably listen to a speech about the drying of cement, as long as it was Reo giving it,” you said.

“I see what’s happening here,” he said with a snort. “Okay, I got it. I’ll ask them and let you know what they say, alright?”

“If they say no, then tell them you can’t go and come hang out with me,” you instructed him. “I want to be with you tomorrow. I’ve missed you for far too long.”

“Will do. I miss you more.”

The line went abruptly dead, ostensibly from a lack of signal on his part, but now that you knew you were going to see him the next day either way, you just tossed the useless device aside and grinned devilishly at your best friend.

“What was that all about?” she said.

“Just go ahead and tell me you love me,” you said.

“I love you?” she said.

“And I love you,” you said. “So much that I’m making my boyfriend take us along on his group date with his soccer group — where none other than the man himself, Reo Mikage, will be present.”

About an hour or so later, Tabito texted you in the affirmative, sending you the address of the cafe where they were planning on meeting up at and giving you a rough estimate of the time they’d all be there. You and your best friend stayed up late that night, picking out your outfits — well, mostly hers, you were at the point in your relationship where you were positive that Tabito would find you pretty even in a trash bag, so you weren’t anywhere near worried about your own clothing — and planning what she’d say to sweep Reo off of his feet. Once you were done with that, you got in your pajamas and watched romantic comedies to get yourselves in ‘the zone’ and be completely prepared for the day to come, which might have qualified as one of the most important in her life. 

You were the first ones at the cafe the next morning, so you took the liberty of choosing the largest table you could find and setting your things down before looking up their menu online. Your best friend, who was the one that had convinced you to be so obsessively punctual for fear of making a bad first impression on Reo, did the same, though she left two seats in between you and herself.

“Tell Karasu to sit next to you, and then have him get Reo to sit in between himself and me,” she said to you.

“Yup, I know the plan,” you said.

“Good,” she said. “Have you picked what you’re ordering? Since no one else is here yet, I can go in and grab stuff for both of us.”

“Yeah, I want this, and this,” you said, pointing at the exact menu items so that there was no room for misinterpretation.

“Mm, looks good,” she said. “Eek, I think there’s a line.”

“It’s peak brunch time,” you said. “We’re lucky to have gotten a table at all, let alone one so big. Just leave your sweater on your chair so no one else takes it. Unless you want me to go in instead?”

“Nope, I don’t want to look like a friendless loser if Reo gets here before you come back or the others show up,” she said.

“You should hurry up and join the queue before it gets any worse, then,” you said. “It would suck if you were stuck waiting and Reo left before you could even meet him.”

“I’m going!” she said, speeding into the cafe, the glass door clanging shut behind her. You laughed softly at how easy she was to rile up, resting your chin in your hands and regarding the bustling scenery of the street with adoration. Tokyo was different from home, but you didn’t mind the change. It was fun, anyways, coming up with backstories for the people who walked past, inquiring into their lives from the snippets you were shown with the curiosity of a squirrel.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” a light, playful voice said, distracting you from your thoughts. The speaker was a boy in a dark jacket, with headphones slung around his neck and a beanie pulled low over his hair, though a few stubborn strands poked out anyways — grayish-white strands, in specific, which were cut through by brilliant green. You swore under your breath. How had you not realized that he would be here as well? You could only hope that Reo would distract your best friend well enough that she would not flip out over Otoya’s presence

“You’re Otoya, right?” you said. At the mention of his name, he grinned and slid into the seat designated for Tabito, leaning his elbow on the table and batting his eyelashes at you.

“That’s me. How did you know? I’m certain we’ve not met before, because I’d remember a lady as pretty as yourself,” he said. 

“You played in the match against the U-20s,” you said.

“You watched that?” he said. “I was pretty great, wasn’t I?”

“I don’t seem to remember you ever scoring,” you said thoughtfully. “And weren’t you subbed out? Ah, but yes, I was actually in the audience that day.”

Otoya wilted. “Oh. Were you rooting for the U-20s?”

“No, I was on Blue Lock’s side,” you said.

“Hold on, are you one of the guy’s sisters?” he said, stroking his chin and inspecting you. “Probably not Chigiri’s, but maybe Barou’s? I think he mentioned having younger sisters at one point. But I hope not, he’d definitely kill me for talking to you. Speaking of which, what are you even doing around here? Wanna go somewhere a bit nicer together?”

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” you said.

“Boyfriend?” Otoya said, face growing unnaturally pale. He inched his chair away from you. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

Before you could respond, a hand covered your eyes, blacking out your vision. “Guess who?”

“Tabito!” you said, standing up, yanking his hand away from you and kicking your chair out of the way so you could hug him. He was already waiting for you, pulling you to his chest immediately, burying his nose in your hair as he did when he was particularly tense or had been missing you.

“That’s correct. Gold star for Y/N,” he said. 

Though it had been a while, now that you were back in his embrace, it felt like no time at all had passed. That was how it was between you and him, a product of the many years you both had known one another before ever dating. Tabito was as much your friend as he was your boyfriend, a confidante and a rival and a companion and a lover all wrapped into one package. There could not be secrets nor distance between the two of you, not when you both had been studying one another’s complexities since before you had even understood what it meant to pay such special attention to another person.

“Sit next to me,” you said, tugging on his coat.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Dude, move over.”

Otoya scrambled to his feet, taking the seat on Tabito’s other side and eyeing you warily, his cheeks flushed a light pink — no doubt due to that brand of humiliation which was borne from trying to get with one’s friend’s girlfriend.

“You’re Y/N?” he said.

“That’s me. Has Tabito mentioned my name or something?” you said. When he realized you weren’t going to rat him out, Otoya relaxed and pretended to gag.

“All of the time. I thought you were his celebrity crush or idol, the way he talked about you! I couldn’t believe you were real when he waved at you during the game. You were sitting a bit too far away for me to get a good look at you, but you waved back, so I had no choice but to believe him,” he said. You recognized that this was his attempt at an apology, and, finding no merit in anything but acceptance, you shrugged.

“I wasn’t that crazy,” Tabito said.

“I don’t know. Otoya doesn’t seem like the lying type,” you said. Otoya let out a sigh of relief, catching your eye and mouthing thank you when Tabito gave you an irritated look.

“He totally is! Don’t believe a word out of this asshole’s mouth, he’s full of shit!” he said.

“So that must be why you’re friends, then?” you said. Otoya let out a choked laugh, and Tabito gave you such a kicked-puppy look that you could not help but lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Just joking. Who else is coming?”

“Well, you already know about Reo, but besides him, Tokimitsu said he’d come, Aryu, and Yuki,” Tabito said, counting off each name on his fingers.

“Yuki? Like Yukimiya? You two are friends now?” you said, already planning double dates with Yukimiya and his girlfriend in your head.

“We were in Blue Lock together. That kind of experience can bond anyone,” Tabito said.

“This guy really hated Yuki at first, though,” Otoya said, jabbing his thumb towards Tabito, who scowled. “So fucking funny. Yuki would just be standing there, and he’d go crazy, talking about how ‘one centimeter isn’t a big deal’ and how Yuki was ‘just an average, mediocre guy.’”

“You can stop talking now,” Tabito said.

“But all’s well that ends well, right? Now Yuki and Karasu are great pals. He never did explain what his problem was at the start, however. I’ve always wondered,” Otoya said, in a tone that clearly suggested he was fishing for an elaboration from you. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling on me! And to my girlfriend of all people!” Tabito said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why does Tabito not like Yuki? It’s a funny story, really,” you began.

“One we do not need to go over,” Tabito said. Now that the misunderstanding was well beyond cleared up, that fight right before you two had gotten together was a point of great embarrassment for Tabito, who still could not quite believe that he had behaved so irrationally.

“What don’t we need to go over?” It was another newcomer, but one who you knew — Yukimiya himself, who beamed when he saw you. “Oh, Y/N! Karasu mentioned you were going to be here, but to be quite frank with you, I sort of forgot. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain. What about you?” you said. “Great job in the game against the U-20s, by the way.”

“Thanks!” he said, sitting down across from you. “I’m in the same boat. It’s nice to be on a break. I actually slept in for the first time in forever, and I got to use my own skin products instead of the crap Blue Lock gave us.”

“I’m happy for you,” you said. “You all deserve a break. It’s obvious you’ve been working really hard.”

“Pardon, madam!” You hardly had the time to react before a spindly man with flowing black hair and dark, painted fingernails was crouching beside you. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I just — I have to acknowledge glam when it’s so obviously in front of me.”

“What?” you said.

“Here he goes,” Otoya said, steepling his fingers in anticipation.

“It’s just…I was aware that Karasu was bringing his girlfriend and her best friend to this little meeting of ours, but I didn’t know that one of you would turn out to be the most glam individual I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in ages! Please, tell me you’re the best friend,” he said.

“She’s the girlfriend, Aryu, so leave her alone,” Tabito said. Aryu pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

“In another life, my dear,” he said, fluttering his fingers at you.

“No?” Tabito said. “In no other life! She’s mine in every one, so piss off!”

“Uh, thanks for the compliment. It’s nice to meet you, Aryu,” you said awkwardly. Otoya and Yukimiya did nothing to dissipate the tension, both of them exchanging looks and giggling.

“Sorry about him,” a stocky boy with huge, panicked eyes said, taking the chair beside where Aryu was still muttering to himself about a ‘grand love affair’ that would ‘shock the world with its glam potential.’ “You’re the girl from the edits, aren’t you? Y/N L/N? I’m Tokimitsu.”

“How do you know her full, official, government name?” Tabito said, arching his eyebrows. Tokimitsu shook his head so rapidly you thought his neck might snap or something from the speed of it.

“No, no, it’s not like that, Karasu! She’s just famous at the moment!” he said.

Tabito’s eyes flicked towards you for confirmation. You rubbed the back of your neck, beginning to explain for the benefit of the entire table.

“Right when Nagi scored, the three of us — my best friend, Chigiri, and I — were the only ones cheering, so the cameras focused on us,” you said. “After that, they would periodically show us throughout the match, and people have been making edits of those clips. At first, we were just the unnamed Blue Lock fans, but I think I liked one too many comments calling me hot, because now everyone knows who we all are…”

“Some of the edits are really good,” Tokimitsu agreed. “They’re all over my dashboard. People have even started shipping you guys with the players! Right now, the most popular pairings are you with Karasu—”

“Good,” Tabito said, sticking his nose in the air. You pinched him on the bicep, finding his uncharacteristic possessiveness as endearing as it was unnecessary.

“—and your best friend with Otoya,” Tokimitsu continued.

“Huh?” Otoya said.

“The clip of her giving you the middle finger right before halftime is super popular,” Tokimitsu said. “People have actually taken screenshots and made matching profile pictures. It’s a whole movement.”

“Huh?” Otoya said. “How am I supposed to flirt with girls if everyone thinks I’m taken by some psycho who hates me for no reason? Where can I file a complaint? This needs to be stopped at once!”

“It’s not for no reason, exactly,” you said.

“There’s a legitimate explanation?” Tabito said.

“Legitimate is a stretch, but there is an explanation,” you said. “You know her. She wouldn’t hate someone without having at least some kind of logic to it.”

A shiny black limousine pulled up in front of the cafe, and the back doors opened to reveal Reo Mikage, who stepped out and thanked the driver before walking over to join the rest of you. You were about to tell him to take the seat in between Tabito and your best friend, but then you realized that there was a massive problem: somebody was already sitting there. Namely, Otoya, who was busily swiping through his phone and reporting every account that he came across which had either him or your best friend as a profile picture.

“My apologies for the tardiness,” Reo said. His mere voice had a particular cadence to it that spoke to his wealth and upbringing, and down to the slightest, his mannerisms were genteel and refined. “I had to sneak out from a meeting to come here.”

“Sneaking out from a meeting to come to another meeting? You’re a busy guy, Reo!” Aryu said, evidently completely over his earlier heartbreak. “What a glam schedule.”

“That’s not the word I’d use for it,” Reo said, running a hand through his hair, which fell loosely around his face now that he wasn’t playing soccer. “Anyways, I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting for too long.”

“No, we haven’t gotten started yet,” Tabito said.

“We’ve been discussing the edits people made of Y/N and her friends!” Tokimitsu said. Reo looked over at you and smiled politely.

“I’ve seen a few of them. It’s an impressive marketing strategy on the JFU’s part — by sprinkling in clips of you three, they managed to appeal to a broader audience. Now, people who ordinarily never would have watched the game are watching reruns, therefore increasing their revenue tenfold,” he said, offering you his hand to shake. “I’m Reo Mikage.”

“Y/N L/N,” you said, taking it as professionally as you could, all the while wondering what was holding your best friend up. She ought to be here as soon as possible, or else she really might lose her chance. 

Like she had read your mind, the glass door of the cafe swung open, and your best friend strolled out, two plastic cups balanced in one hand and two scones in a napkin held in the other. 

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, thankfully oblivious to the members of the meeting you were crashing. “The barista got confused and made my drink iced. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she insisted on dumping it and remaking it properly, free of charge. Apparently, she’s new or something, so she’s still in that phase where she isn’t entirely jaded by the public yet.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Tabito. Grab my drink before she—!”

“You!” your best friend said, pointing at Otoya, who groaned in defeat and buried his face in his hands. Your drink slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground, spilling out onto the concrete, though she took no notice of it, putting the rest of the goods on the table and glaring at Otoya.

“My drink,” you said mournfully.

“I’ll go get you a new one,” Tabito said, making like he was going to stand. You grabbed onto his arm and shook your head.

“No, don’t leave me here,” you said.

“What? Why not?” he said. You pointed at the infamous duo, both of whom looked about ready to blow up, and then you looped your arms around his neck, peeking over his shoulder at the pair.

“If they get in a fight, I’ll be stuck in the crossfire,” you said. “You have to stay here and defend me if it comes to that. Quick, take the scones while she’s distracted. I’m going to eat them as payback for her dropping my drink.”

He did as you commanded. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“You owe me ten dollars!” your best friend said.

“What? No, I don’t. We’ve never even met, so why would I owe you any money at all?” Otoya said. “Wait. We haven’t met, right? Or did we go on a date at some point? If so, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but you have to understand that things just end up like that sometimes. I’m not going to compensate you for that.”

“Jeez, Otoya,” Yukimiya said with a chuckle. “You’re kind of horrible, man. How many dates have you been on, if you don’t even remember whether you were with her at some point?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Otoya said. Yukimiya made a face.

“You were definitely on a date,” your best friend said. “I wasn’t, though. In fact, I was just innocently trying to watch a movie with my cousins, when somebody decided that they would just go ahead and make out with their date, right in front of my face, for the entire one hour and forty-seven minutes of the film!”

“Who’s somebody?” Tokimitsu whispered.

“Probably Otoya,” Aryu whispered back.

“Oh, I do remember you!” Otoya said, snapping his fingers. “You came and yelled at me after the movie, too, right? That was funny.”

“Okay, guys, how about we all relax and get to the point of this meeting instead of squabbling over past grievances?” Reo interrupted before the argument could grow anymore heated. Satisfied that things were now under control, you ceased your cowering behind Tabito, though you did make sure to shove the last of the scones in your mouth before your best friend could ask where they had disappeared to.

“Fine by me,” Otoya said when your best friend did not respond. “Yo, you gonna sit down or what?”

“You guys can have your meeting without us, since I’m quite sure it’s not anything that we’ll be able to meaningfully contribute to. In the meantime, she and I will go and get a replacement drink for me,” you said.

As soon as the two of you were inside and out of earshot of the boys, she let out a wail. “I completely made an awful first impression on Reo Mikage!”

“I can’t lie, you definitely did,” you said. “But at least it was entertaining for the rest of us. Cheer up! There’s still Barou, Nagi, and Isagi, right? You have an entire list for a reason. Reo might be a wash, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up entirely.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. If only that lettuce-headed Otoya weren’t here! Things would’ve gone perfectly, but ruining my life must be a particular hobby of his,” she said.

“You might be better off if you pretend he’s not around,” you said. “How about this? We’ll get Tabito to set you up on a date with one of the others on your roster, and I’ll personally ensure that Otoya stays far, far away.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Here, I’ll pay for your drink, since I spilled it the first time.”

“Yeah, I was going to make you do that even if you didn’t offer.”

Upon your return outside, drinks and additional scones in hand, you were met with a larger group than you had left. Even more of the Blue Lock boys had appeared, and all of them were talking animatedly with one another.

“You’re Hyoma!” you said, taking a sip from your still-hot beverage, waving at your new friend’s little brother. “I sat with your sister at the game.”

“She’s mentioned you a couple of times. Said you thought I did well in the game,” Chigiri said, scratching the bridge of his nose shyly. “I really appreciate it. You’re Karasu’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes! Thank you for knowing that!” Tabito said, snatching your drink from you and taking a swig, bursting into a coughing fit as it scalded his throat.

“That’s what you get,” you said, taking your drink back, blowing on it to cool it before taking the tiniest sip. “Alright, I know Isagi and Chigiri, but who’s the third one?”

“That’s Bachira,” Tabito said. “He’s a fascinating guy.”

“You know what we should do? Since all of us are together for the first time outside of Blue Lock, we should hang out!” Bachira said, rocking on his heels. 

“That’s good with me. Our meeting ended up not being that productive,” Yukimiya said.

“Mostly due to certain individuals,” Reo agreed, looking pointedly at Otoya.

“Me? Blame her!” Otoya said, pointing at your best friend, who was busy exchanging hair care tips with Aryu instead of putting the moves on Isagi, as you thought she might’ve. 

“Reo’s too much of a glam gentleman to blame a lady for anything,” Aryu said.

“What he said,” Reo agreed. “Though, again, I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Where should we go?” Tokimitsu said. “I’m okay with anything.”

“Wait, what about Nagi? Isn’t he with you guys?” Reo said to Isagi, who hummed.

“He was supposed to meet up with us, but he overslept, and then he saw an arcade on the way, so he stopped in there,” Isagi said.

“Reo, I bet you have Nagi’s location on your phone at all times, right?” Bachira said. Reo nodded. “Then I say we use that to go and find him!”

“An arcade day does sound like a blast,” Yukimiya said.

“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to stay back and spend the day with Y/N,” Tabito said.

“She can come, too!” Bachira said. “On one condition: she has to be my partner for rhyming ping-pong.”

“That’s a fair deal in my books,” you said. Ordinarily, you would have agreed with Tabito — a calm date with him was far more appealing than the prospect of going to an arcade with a bunch of soccer players — but above all else, you were a loyal friend, and you could hardly abandon your best friend when Reo, Nagi, and Isagi would all be present at this gathering.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel bad for me. I don’t mind missing out on hanging with these idiots. I see enough of them in Blue Lock as it is,” Tabito said.

“I’m offended,” Otoya said dryly. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Considering she’s his girlfriend and he’s liked her for going on six years now, I’d say she’s probably a bit more than a ‘hoe,’” Yukimiya said.

“I don’t feel bad for you, Tabito, so you can put that out of your mind. I haven’t gone to an arcade or played rhyming ping-pong in ages. It’ll be fun, I think,” you said, kicking him under the table and angling your chin towards Reo and Isagi ever-so-slightly. His mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization.

“Then I guess we’re off to the arcade,” he said. “Lead the way, Reo.”

“Follow me,” Reo said, holding up his phone, which displayed the elusive Nagi’s location on the screen.

You all must’ve appeared an odd group to any onlookers, but that didn’t stop any of you from enjoying yourselves as you weaved through the streets of Shibuya. You walked with Tabito, your hand intertwined with his like usual, both of you pointing out window displays you found appealing or ridiculous. Chigiri and Bachira hotly debated which arcade games were the best, Isagi doing his best to mediate while Otoya egged both of them on in turn. Reo and Yukimiya continued their discussion on the economics of Blue Lock from the earlier meeting, and Aryu described every single step he took in the shower to your best friend and Tokimitsu, both of whom were enthralled by the topic. All in all, it was a blend which should not have worked but somehow did, and more than simply working, it really excelled.

“There you are, pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” Tabito cackled as everyone entered the arcade and saw Nagi sitting at one of the booths, controls in his hands and a small frown on his face as he gunned down his virtual enemies. Letting go of you, Tabito wrestled Nagi into a headlock, messing with his hair as Nagi whined in protest. “You’re going to lose all of your friends, you jerk!”

“Caught red-handed,” Reo said with a sigh. “Classic Nagi.”

“Now that we’ve found him, it’s time to party!” Bachira said, pumping his fist in the air. “Tokimitsu, let’s go play darts!”

“Okay!” Tokimitsu said.

“I’m heading over to the claw machine,” your best friend said. “Wanna come, Y/N?”

“Sure, I’ll cheer you on,” you said. “I’m pretty bad at it myself, so I won’t waste my money on my own attempts.”

Everyone dispersed throughout the arcade. Tabito, Otoya, and Aryu followed you and your best friend towards the claw machine, much to your best friend’s disgust — you were certain that she had been hoping Isagi, Nagi, or Reo would come with you, but all three of them were preoccupied with the darts competition Bachira had set up, leaving her to side-eye Otoya and stick to conversing only with Aryu. For his part, Aryu was happy to oblige her, as sticking close to your best friend had the double effect of cooling Tabito’s ire from earlier as well as alleviating the hostility between her and Otoya.

“This has got to be rigged!” your best friend said when her third attempt at trying to nab a panda plushie proved unsuccessful. On each attempt, right before she was able to drop the plushie into the chute, the claw would give out and it would fall back into the pile, leaving her out of money and patience.

“Move out of the way,” Otoya said. “Let me show you how the masters get it done.”

“You call yourself a claw-machine master?” you said. “What, do you practice or something?”

Otoya entered a token into the machine and shouldered past your fuming best friend, grabbing the controls with casual ease. “Girls love it when you win stuffed animals for them. Check out my flow!”

“I never put you down as someone with this type of functional glam,” Aryu said, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “I sincerely repent for the underestimation!”

“You really are a master,” you breathed, doing the same, watching in astonishment as Otoya expertly maneuvered the plushie towards the chute.

“Stop shaking the machine, idiots, you’ll make him mess up,” Tabito said, pulling you and Aryu away from the glass by the back of your collars and holding you there until Otoya had retrieved his prize.

“Bam,” Otoya said, tossing the panda at your best friend. “Ninja skills.”

It hit her in the face and fell to the ground; with a withering glare, she stooped over and tucked it under her arm before stomping away.

“You better not find yourself anywhere near the dartboards! I’m warning you, I have a bad aim, so look out!” she threatened before disappearing, presumably to join in on Bachira’s tournament.

“Isn’t that just a self-insult?” Otoya said. “Sucking at darts is even worse than sucking at the claw machine, don’t you think?”

“She means she’ll hit you with the dart and you can’t blame her for it because she warned you, you dunce,” Tabito said, face-palming. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go see how the tournament’s going.”

The tournament seemed to have split into two sections. On the right side, Reo, Tokimitsu, Yukimiya, and your best friend were tossing darts at the board with precision and care, tallying up their scores and congratulating one another after each round. On the left, Nagi was standing in front of the board with his arms spread and his back to Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri, who were gleefully taking turns throwing darts in his direction, talking about how this was his ‘punishment’ for standing them up.

“Who’s winning?” you said, right as Bachira sent a dart shooting towards the back of Nagi’s head. Nagi exhaled heavily.

“Sorry,” he repeated for the thousandth time.

“Do you think it’s even possible for someone to win in a game like that?” Tabito said. “Better to ask those guys.”

“I think Yuki is up right now,” Reo said in response to your unasked question. “Although Tokimitsu’s catching up. It’s super close. Could be anyone’s game.”

“Now that you’re here, Y/N, let’s go play rhyming ping-pong!” Bachira said.

“Who will we play against, though?” you said.

“Nagi, for one,” Bachira said.

“I don’t want to,” Nagi said. Bachira raised another dart, causing Nagi’s sleepy frown to deepen. “Okay, I will.”

“Then Tabito can be your teammate,” you said. 

“You’re challenging me?” Tabito said. “You’re going to regret that. Prepare to lose.”

“Bachira and I won’t let you get even a point, right, Bachira?” you said. 

“That’s right!” Bachira said, high-fiving you and charging forwards as the entire group headed over to the ping-pong table. Picking out four paddles from the rack, he handed one each to you, Tabito, and Nagi, keeping the last for himself and joining you on your side of the table.

“If we beat you, then you have to take me to the aquarium for our next date!” you said, brandishing your paddle at Tabito.

“Fine, but if we beat you, then you have to join me during my workouts for the rest of the break!” he said, tossing the ball up and down in the air.

“We have to crush them,” you said to Bachira. “If I have to workout with him, I’ll probably die.”

“Got it,” Bachira said, rolling his shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

“Nagi, get your head in the game,” Tabito said to his reluctant partner. “We need to win this. The aquarium is so creepy and unromantic! What kind of first date back from Blue Lock would that be? I need your talents, prodigy.”

“Okay,” Nagi said. “Are we starting?”

“Yeah, you can serve. Do you know how to play?” Tabito said.

“Not really,” he said.

“Whenever you hit the ball, you have to say a word that the other team can rhyme to, and when they return the serve, they have to come up with that rhyme and say it,” Bachira said. “Pretty easy, right?”

“It’ll be a simple win,” you said. “I’m first in the class for Modern Literature, so I know a lot of words.”

“Don’t underestimate Nagi,” Reo said. “He may look like little more than a typical idiot slacker, but he actually came second in our year without studying at all.”

“I’m so torn,” your best friend said. “Who do I root for?”

“Why’s it a question? Wouldn’t you want to root for your best friend?” Chigiri said. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” she said.

“Hmph,” Chigiri said. “Whatever.”

“Okay, are both sides ready?” Yukimiya said. He had been chosen to referee, mostly because he was the most impartial. All of you nodded, and he whistled. “Rhyming ping-pong, begin! Your serve, Nagi!”

“Um,” Nagi said, tossing the ball in the air and tapping it with his paddle. “Orange?”

Yukimiya whistled again. “Out! Y/N and Bachira are the winners!”

“What was that?” Tabito screeched.

“He must’ve gotten nervous in the face of Bachira and I’s combined prowess,” you said, tossing your hair.

“Not really. I just didn’t wanna play,” Nagi said. “There’s some good aquariums in Tokyo, Karasu. You can probably have a fun date there.”

“You’re the worst,” Tabito said. “I’m taking Chigiri next time. I bet he wouldn’t have picked orange as his first word!”

“I would’ve gone with bat,” Chigiri said.

“Ooh, and then I would’ve said cat!” you said. Bachira had vanished alongside Isagi and Reo, giving some excuse about karaoke before running out the door after them, leaving you standing alone across from the furious Tabito and lethargic Nagi.

“Maybe we should’ve teamed up,” Chigiri said to you. You winked and gave him a thumbs-up in assent.

“Can we go see what Reo and the others are doing?” Nagi said, limp in another one of Tabito’s headlocks, completely unbothered by the vulnerable position that he was being held in. 

“Bachira said they were going for karaoke,” you said. “Maybe we should find Otoya and Aryu before joining them, though.”

“How about just Aryu?” your best friend suggested, though her ideas went unheard.

“I’ll text them,” Yukimiya said.

“No need,” Otoya said, peeking his head into the door. “We’ve been looking for you guys for a while.”

“Such unglam conduct, disappearing like that,” Aryu said in disappointment.

“Sorry!” Tokimitsu yelped. 

“Since we’re all here now, we should be good to head to karaoke,” Yukimiya said.

“Karasu and I are going to do a duet,” Otoya informed everyone as you all followed the signs for the karaoke section of the building.

“Hell yeah,” Tabito snickered. “We’ll knock everyone’s socks off. They’re not ready.”

“What song?” Tokimitsu said.

“Something with a lot of belting,” Otoya said. 

“Please don’t,” your best friend said. “I didn’t bring ear plugs, and I do value my hearing.”

“Wait a second,” you said. “Hey, Tabito, Yukimiya — isn’t that Aiku from the U-20 squad?”

“Huh?” Tabito said.

“It is!” Yukimiya said. “He’s talking to Reo, Isagi, and Bachira, too. That’s unexpected.”

“Looks like the whole gang’s here, in fact,” Tabito said, cracking his knuckles and motioning towards the rest of the U-20 squad, who were glowering at the boys beside you as they approached.

“A fight?” Nagi said.

“Could be,” Otoya said, striking a ninja-pose that caused your best friend to dissolve into a fit of laughter, which he ignored completely. “I’m stoked.”

“Need backup, Isagi?” Yukimiya said, his hands in his pockets and a genial smile on his face. “We’ve got you.”

“Ah, but don’t expect anything from me!” you said, flashing them all a peace sign. “I’ll cheer for you from the corner, though.”

“A girl? Hello—” Aiku began, though he was immediately interrupted by Tabito.

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” he said. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Aiku said. 

“What are you all doing here?” one of the U-20 boys, whose name you couldn’t recall, said.

“Likely the same thing as you,” Chigiri said.

“But in a more glam way, naturally,” Aryu added.

“The fuck? Don’t think I won’t mess you up, freak!” the U-20 player said.

“Freak?” Aryu said. “Say that again, I dare you!”

“How about we settle this over a game of bowling?” Aiku suggested. “That way, none of us get in trouble with our coaches for accidentally injuring ourselves.”

“Fine by us,” Yukimiya said. “We’ll beat you either way.”

“I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to watch you all pummel each other,” you agreed.

“Same,” your best friend said. “Though I wouldn’t mind too much if you roughed Otoya up a bit…”

“Hey!” the boy in question said.

“The ladies have spoken,” Aiku said. “Bowling it is!”

“Are you going to play?” Tabito asked you as you all trekked towards the bowling alley. 

“Nah, this is a feud between Blue Lock and the U-20 players. I’m just an onlooker,” you said.

“Aw, but you’re the bowling champion! We’d win for sure if we had you on our side,” he said. Going bowling had been a common event for both of your friend groups all throughout high school, so he had been privy to many a round in which you absolutely annihilated everyone else, demolishing him and his friends and yours alike with a careful, needle-like precision.

“You’re not half-bad yourself. Plus, who knows how good the others are? It’ll be alright. Go beat those U-20 boys again, and then let’s get out of here,” you said.

“Just us? Or do you mean everyone?” he said.

“Just us,” you said. “I’ve been downright helpful all day, so no one can begrudge me for being a little bit selfish and sneaking off with you. I’ll only do it if you win, though.”

That was a lie, but Tabito was the type who performed better under pressure. The thought that he might miss out on a date with you — especially one not at the aquarium — would be more than enough to drive him to bowling success.

“Y/N!” your best friend hissed to you as Tabito and the others went to check in at the counter. “Check it out! It’s Shoei Barou!”

“He’s bowling all by himself? Huh, that’s a little startling. The more you know, I guess,” you said. Privately, you had believed the intimidating Barou would have had similarly intimidating habits, like powerlifting, or beating up thugs in alleyways, or activities more along those lines, but of course, everyone had layers, so maybe you shouldn’t have assumed.

“It’s kind of cute, if I’m being honest,” she said. “Like, oh my gosh, you’re a friendless loner! I need you so badly.”

“There’s a lid for every pot,” you said, not at all seeing the appeal in that kind of person but having decided long ago that you were more glad than anything that you and she didn’t have the same taste in men — you had likely avoided many awkward situations in that way. “Well, what’s your plan? You’ve got Reo, Barou, Nagi, and Isagi all in one room. Who’re you going to go for?” 

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons. That should help us come to a proper conclusion,” she said.

“Got it. Cons: Reo finds you super immature for fighting with Otoya, Nagi doesn’t seem to care about you one way or another, Isagi is much more interested in hanging out with Bachira and Chigiri than trying to talk to you, and you haven’t even met Barou yet,” you said. She gulped.

“And, uh, the pros?” she said. You frowned.

“Uh…at least Nagi’s opinion of you isn’t bad?” you said. “And you haven’t had the chance to make a terrible impression on Barou yet.”

“That’s it?” she said.

“Sorry,” you said. “But kind of. It’s not looking good.”

“What do I do, then?” she said. “Is it time for me to give up on my dreams? Am I destined to be single forever? Will the closest I get to a wedding be in the form of attending yours as a bridesmaid?”

“Don’t be pessimistic,” you said. “There’s always Aiku. He seems like he’d take anything on legs for a date or two.”

In unison, you glanced over at Aiku. He, and Otoya for that matter, were talking to a pair of girls, who were hooked on their every word, irises sparkling as they listened to both boys flirt. You and your best friend exchanged looks.

“I’d rather die alone,” she said. 

“That kind of relationship wouldn’t last,” you affirmed. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Tabito if he can introduce you to Barou. He’s likely your best bet at this point.”

“You might be right about that,” she said, following after you as you made your way towards where the ones not actively bowling were hanging out.

This, unfortunately, was a fatal mistake. The route took you past Otoya and Aiku, and, more importantly, the girls they were chatting with. One of them happened to catch a glimpse of you both, and she immediately gasped, shoving past Otoya to tap the two of you on our shoulders.

“You’re the girls from the edits!” she said. You winced at the murderous expressions on Aiku’s and Otoya’s faces.

“Yeah, we are,” you said.

“No way!” the other girl said to your best friend. “You and your boyfriend are my sister and her boyfriend’s profile pictures!”

“Boyfriend?” your best friend said. “I’m single, though?”

“The guy you gave the middle finger to at the Blue Lock vs U-20 match! Aren’t you two dating?” she said.

“No!” your best friend and Otoya said at the same time.

“Wait, I didn’t recognize you because of the hat, but you’re the confused player that she flipped off!” the girl said to Otoya. “Can we get a picture of the two of you together? We’re guaranteed to go viral if we can post something like that!”

“Oh, boy,” you said. “Aiku, you seem like a nice guy, so I’m going to advise you to run right about now.”

“What?” he said. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” you said, darting off before you were caught up in the fallout that would accompany the request, not slowing your pace until you were safely over by Tabito and the rest, far away from the brewing situation.

“I think we’re going to do it!” Tabito said when he saw that you were once again at his side. “As long as Nagi is more motivated to bowl than he was to play rhyming ping-pong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s great,” you said. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” he said.

“Right now,” you said.

“Did something happen?” he said.

“This bowling alley is about to turn into a war zone,” you said, gesturing over to where Otoya and your best friend were standing stiffly beside one another, the girl angling her phone to take as many photos of them as possible.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “See you guys later!”

“What? You’re already leaving?” Chigiri said.

“Yup, it was great to meet you all! Good luck in Blue Lock. Hope to see you again!” you said, sprinting towards the doors with Tabito, ducking out right as your best friend went off on a tirade about how Otoya needed to stay a ‘minimum of two bodies’ away from her at all times lest he ‘infect her with the green hair disease.’ “Phew.”

“We made it,” Tabito said. “Now what?”

“Now we do whatever we want,” you said, reaching up and kissing him softly. “No more worrying about everyone else. Let’s do something for just the two of us.”

“Finally,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you left the arcade behind. “I’ve been missing you for so long, and when I finally got you back, I had to share you with all of my dumbass teammates. Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “It’s like Otoya said — bros before hoes.”

“Otoya’s a jackass,” he said. 

“True,” you said. “But enough about him. I want to hear about everything you did in Blue Lock, so that when you have to go back, I can imagine what you might be up to at any given moment and feel a little better.”

“Gross,” he said.

“You act as though you hate it, but I knew deep down you like it,” you said. He wrinkled his nose, though it did little to hide his prominent blush.

“Nah,” he said, drawing you impossibly closer to his side, as much to be affectionate as to prevent you from further exposure to the redness of his face. “I just like you.”

“Oh?” you said. “That’s good, because I like you, too.”

“I already knew that,” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “If that’s the case, then I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. You smiled, playing with his fingers as the two of you walked around the city with no destination in mind, no end goal but to enjoy each other’s company.

“No, I don’t.”