#they’re surfing her….

[deathshallbenomore]

in light of current events, may I present you one of my favourite wiki articles

[luveline]

May I request a roan & eddie & r's first outing after the wedding and roan is so happy she tells everyone "this is my mom"?

dad!eddie x (step)mom!reader —breakfast on the family moon

The sun is high in the sky that afternoon, and every breeze smells of salt and fresh flowers. Eddie turns his head one way and sees a field of lush green grass, turns it the other and finds himself looking out over the white stone monolith of the family hotel where you’re staying. 

Roan climbs up onto the solid wooden table next to empty plates smeared with syrup and melted chocolate, vying for a last strawberry as big as her hand. “You want that one, bub?” he asks. 

“Can I have it?” 

He bites off the stem. He’s not sure if that’s disgusting, but you’ve married him now, no take-backsies, and you aren’t here to see anyhow. He spits the green into a napkin and offers the fruit to his waiting daughter. “Okay?” 

“Thank you,” she says, catching it in her teeth. “All the fruits are so yummy here.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouthful, baby,” Eddie says. 

She shrugs, pulling her knees up. They’re red from crawling along the wooden table but unscathed, stark against the pale fabric of her dress’ skirt. 

“Look,” he says, pointing at the waiter standing near the restaurant's big patio doors, “the waiter’s gonna see you climbing all over the table and getting your spit on me.” 

Roan turns to look. Her behaviour remains unchanged. “Where’s mommy?” 

Eddie drags her backwards off of the wood and into his lap. He kisses her cheek, her forehead, hoping to imbue the intensity of what he’s feeling on to her —he’s never been this content in his life. He’s married you, and marriage is a piece of paper and all his heroes would laugh in his face but would they? Because what’s better than finding your person, and loving them, and getting to be loved back? “She’s getting another plate for you and your good appetite.” 

Roan’s been just as thrilled since the wedding. She cried a little on the plane from the changing pressure, but before and after that she’s been a vestibule of joy. She turns into his kissing to cuddle him by the neck, her arms around him and her hair tickling his throat. “Mommy said we can try surfing today.” 

“I know! Do you think you’re ready to surf? We got you that wetsuit, all we need is a boogie board.” 

“A what?” 

“It’s like a surfboard, but not so big,” he explains, stroking her curls back from her face absentminded, eyes scanning inside of the hotel restaurant for a hint of your pale dress. 

“I want a real surfboard.” 

“Mm, no, babe. You can’t carry a surfboard. It’s okay though, we’re gonna be on boogie boards too.” 

She leans back. “Can we have more breakfast?” 

“Let’s see what Y/N brings back.” 

You’re summoned by his name drop, edging toward the patio doors as you chat to one of the waiters. You’re laughing politely, attempting to point to your two Munson’s but struggling with the plates you carry, one in each hand, while drinks pressed between your arm and chest threaten to spill. The waiter takes one of your plates. 

“Aw, sugar, thank you,” you say, “it’s just there. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” the waiter says with an easy customer service smile. 

You and the waiter approach and put down the plates and cups. “Hi, baby,” you say, visibly perplexed at Roan’s huge smile. 

“This is my mom,” Roan tells the waiter. 

“And she’s just as beautiful as you are, hun. You are a lucky guy,” he directs his last comment at Eddie. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Eddie says. 

“We just got married,” you say proudly. 

“But how old are you?” the waiter asks Roan. 

She holds up five fingers, and then a sixth. 

“You were slow,” the waiter says to Eddie. 

“It’s not his fault, we’ve been engaged almost a year,” you say, “and we didn’t know one another until not even three years ago, so–”

Roan doesn’t care about the waiter’s confusion. She reaches for you where she’s sitting in Eddie’s lap, almost tipping onto the floor as she stretches as far as her arms can go. She whines until you take notice. 

“Hi,” you say, cutting yourself off to pick her up. “What, babe?” 

“I love you,” she says. 

You and Eddie laugh. The waiter makes a sound of understanding. “She looks like dad because you are the stepmom,” he says. 

“Just mom,” you say, giving her a little kiss. “She really does look like her dad though, huh? Except he’s not covered in chocolate.” 

“We can arrange that.” 

You laugh against Roan’s cheek, “I love you,” you say, just for her, “I got you a bowlful of strawberries, your skin is gonna turn pink ‘cos you’ve eaten so many. Love you.” 

Roan closes her eyes. She’s been smothered in love for a week straight and there’s no signs of it ever stopping. “I love you too. Let’s have melon.” 

“I got some.” 

Eddie nudges you back into your seat. “Alright, quick, we need to eat and sleep it off for an hour before we go surfing. Chop chop.”

“He’s so bossy,” Roan says.

“I know, baby. Don’t listen to him.” 

[zahri-melitor]

The other reason I think Red Robin 12 is a moment of trust between Tim and Dick is that Dick catches Tim.

Dick has a lot of issues with the concept of catching or failing to catch someone who is falling. It’s haunted his dreams.

(Nightwing #4)

It’s not so much the fall itself - Dick is fine with heights and with throwing himself off high places.

(Gotham Nights #10, Nightwing #140)

It’s about the fact he doesn’t make the catch.

One of my favourite bits of the Freefall storyline is Dick catching the Mother of Champions’ baby. Because it ties back to this fear of not getting there in time.

(Nightwing #6, Nightwing #146)

Nightwing catches the baby and is able to hand him to his mother. Wu Mei-Xin has never held any of her children before, it’s a lovely moment. It really caps off the growth Dick goes through over his solo.

(Nightwing #146)

And similarly, Dick being there to catch Tim is important imagery in their relationship.

Dick catches Tim when they’re playing around, train surfing:

(Nightwing #25)

Dick ‘catches’ Tim when he’s depressed. “You’re not catching me at a bad time”.

(Robin #156)

Dick is there to catch Tim as he falls apart after pouring out the water from the Lazarus pit.

(Nightwing #139)

And Dick is there to catch Tim as he falls from a building.

(Red Robin #12)

Dick’s grasp has never missed, when it’s Tim. It’s IMPORTANT to Dick that he make the catch for anyone, when they’re falling in front of him, but it’s especially important to him when it’s a child (and when it’s his baby brother).

Tim can honestly say to Dick “you’ll always be there for me” because a little part of him, deep inside, trusts that no matter what, no matter how impossible it might seem, Dick will be there to catch him.

[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

[bytebun]

attempts at consideration (misunderstood) (ingo would battle all day if he could) (don’t you wish you could hang out with characters without having to beat stuff up)

ID under cut

4-panel comic titled “do you have games on your phone”.

PANEL 1: Ingo recalls his Pokemon. He thinks: She’s been looking worn out. Ingo says: We don’t have to battle every time.

 PANEL 2: Akari droops. It’s her 32nd attempt at the eevee path of solitude. She thinks: He’s tired of this, huh... Akari says: Oh, uh, then...

PANEL 3: Text pointing to Akari says: doesn’t know what “normal” friends do. Akari says: ...Do you wanna play games on my phone? PANEL 4: They have their backs turned, looking at Akari’s phone. Ingo looks very distressed, with his hands on his head. He yells: AKARI YOU MUST CEASE “SURFING” ON THIS SUBWAY!! IT IS VERRRY UNSAFE!! Akari replies: lol don’t worry it’s a magic skateboard. It’s implied they’re playing subway surfers. Out of frame, Kamado comments: What are those two doing...

[ohwowimlonley]

Closer

CHAPTER ONE - blank stares

Series Synopsis - after being evicted and having nothing left, your best friend sends you to live with her brooding, stoic boss. Except, he isn’t so brooding, and he isn’t so stoic, and now that you live with him, your underwear keeps going missing

Chapter Synopsis - you meet your bestfriend’s angry boss, but he isn’t so angry

Chapter Warnings - crybaby!reader, dilf!perv!hotch, food mentions, reader is kinda a housewife already

Word Count - 2517

Add yourself to the taglist

The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, you’re just a tad bit desperate. Not for him, of course, you’d just met the man. But you’re definitely a bit dishevelled because you’d been sofa surfing for weeks now and your friend Penelope has only just notified you that her boss has a spare room in his apartment and she can ‘try get you hooked up’.

So, two days after her phone call, you’re standing outside of a door that looks much too expensive for you to even be close too and before you can stop yourself you’re knocking on the pristine white paint and then there’s locks clicking and chains clinking and the door swings open and you’re face to face with the most gorgeous man on the planet.

He looks you up and down, tongue peeking out from between his lips to wet them, brushing over a patch of stubble and you find yourself having to wrench your eyes away from the scene. He steps back, gesturing for you to come inside.

“I’m Aaron,” he extends his hand, a polite smile gracing his lips as your fingers brush over the calluses on his palms, causing goosebumps to break out over your (thankfully sweater-clad) arms, “Penelope has told me a lot about you. Please, sit down,”

You’re hardly convinced this is the man your best friend had been telling you about. His soft smile, gentle words and overall kind demeanour was a complete 180 from the man your friend had described. Nevertheless, you perch yourself on the edge of a plush grey sofa, resting your hands on your denim-clad knees and look around anxiously, taking in the sparsely decorated room.

The living room is carpeted in a charcoal grey, bookshelves are dotted across the place, most of which are filled with criminal law books. There are two small picture frames, one with a picture of him and a small boy. A grin stretches over both of their faces, and the small boy has a glob of icecream on his cheek. Aaron is wearing a pair of sunglasses, but they’re pushed to the top of his head, and his cheek is squished to the boy’s forehead, exposing some laughter lines around his cheeks and eyes.

The other picture isn’t nearly as interesting, though. It’s a picture of what you assume is the whole BAU team. You spot Penelope, and Derek (who you only know from the countless pictures of him Penny had shown you) then you guess Spencer is next to Derek, then Emily, JJ and Rossi respectively. A few feet from them stands Aaron, his smile more reserved than the others, and nothing like the one in the other picture.

You’re so consumed with your examination of the pictures you barely register the sofa cushions dipping under his weight, or the clinking of glass against enamel coasters, or really anything until the sound of Aaron softly clearing his throat damn near makes you jump out of your skin.

You try not to show too much of a visible reaction to him, mostly so he won’t think you’re just a creepy stalker who wants to stare at pictures of him all the live-long day. Aaron pretends not to notice anything, mercifully turning his gaze from yours and spinning a set of keys attached to a D-ring on his pointer finger.

“Um, so I assume you have questions for me before I like, steal your spare room or whatever,” you chuckle awkwardly to yourself, and Aaron offers you a tight-lipped smile in response. It’s only now that you realise he’s pushed up the sleeves of his button down to expose his forearms, and suddenly you’re distracted all over again but this time by dark hair contrasting just barely sunkissed skin, by bulging veins twisting and turning and pulsing under layers of skin, by muscles with soft indentations of old scars.

“Well,” once again, you’re pulled away from fantasy land by the older man, but it’s not completely unwelcome because his deep gravelly voice is something that you don’t think you’ll ever tire of, “first things first. As you know, I’m an FBI agent, which means my schedule is mostly very hectic, and would sometimes be home very late in the night, is that okay?”

You furrow your eyebrows, why would that be an issue for you? “No, uh that sounds fine for me, I’m kinda an insomniac anyways, so it’s not like it would disturb me much,”

“Well, that’s a relief,” and you can tell from his now relaxed shoulders that he's telling the truth, “what do you do for work?”

“Oh, well I was in finance, but that’s not really my scene, so I quit,” you didn’t catch him staring at your smile as you spoke, nor the way his gaze travelled ever so slowly down and becomes glued to the subtle way your tits brushed against each other as you spoke. Aaron determines that you’re definitely not wearing a bra. Do you always do that? Walk into a complete stranger's house with no bra? God, if it were two degrees cooler in here then he would be able to see your nipples poking against the fabric of your only slightly revealing shirt, he could practically see them already, all he had to do was reach out and- “so now, I’m focusing on what I really want to do; my writing,”

“Oh,” he clears his throat desperately, pulling at his collar and praying you don’t notice where his eyes were just affixed to. His panic quickly settles when he notices your obliviousness to the situation, and he lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips, imagining that his tongue could grace any part of your body, oh what he would give to taste you.

“Oh god, that makes me sound like I make no money, look, I’ve got savings and stuff so I can afford to pay rent, and- and I have family money too but,” you cut yourself off, and Aaron realises that he must’ve gone too long without replying because now you’re panicking and he’s about to interject but then you’re talking again, “I’ll- I’ll do all the housework and- and I’m not loud I promise, I- I just can’t keep sleeping on my friends sofas,”

“Sweetheart,” he’s a little ashamed at the fact his cock gives an interested stir at the thought of you acting like his little housewife, keeping everything perfect and waiting for him to come home, and his predicament becomes even worse when tears begin to fill your eyes and now he has to school his expression to remain soft and inviting - absolutely not to look as depraved as he feels, “I don’t care about rent, I bought the place outright, and I think it’s wonderful that you’re following your dreams instead of doing something you hate,”

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, and you can’t meet his eyes, desperately blinking away the tears still building up from your annoyance at yourself for crying at something so silly. You nod along to his sentiment, if only to give yourself something to do to distract yourself from the oncoming tears.

You resign yourself to discussing practicalities for the next hour or so; where you would sleep, what his usual schedule was like, the security and alarm systems, the motion activated cameras, if you wanted any furniture moving into any communal spaces (you desperately wanted a more comfortable sofa than the barely sat in one, but you bit that comment down and asked if there was room for your plush loveseat) and then he gives you a tour of the house. He shows you around the kitchen first, and you make a mental note of a barely used pack of expensive looking coffee, sat next to a cheaper looking brand and theorised he must only drink one cup every morning at home and didn't want to allow his good stuff to go stale in the warmer throughout the day. Next is his office, which he kindly requests you don’t enter unless he is home due to its sensitive contents, and you knew enough not to ask questions, but you do straighten out a stack of files that look as if they’re about to topple over. After that is his own bedroom, and it’s as neat-messy as the rest of his house. You can tell some things are left looking messy simply out of convenience (for instance the duffle bag settled by the front door, or the fresh suit laid out on his dresser), and not because he’s a slob. His bed is made with military precision, and everything about his room is perfect, bar the thin layer of dust settling almost everywhere except his bed and the doorway. Next, he shows you a smaller room directly adjacent to his. It looks as if it’s cleaned even more meticulously than his own room, because there isn’t even a speck of dust across the expanse of the place. What surprises you, though, is that it's clearly the bedroom of a child. The bed isn't even a single mattress, and it's covered in Spiderman sheets. The bedside tables are decorated in figurines and the lampshades have the visage of Batman? Or maybe that star wars guy? You don’t know, pop culture isn’t really your thing. You turn back to him.

“I probably should’ve told you about this,” his neck burns red and he brings a hand up to scratch nervously behind his ear, “I, uh, I have a son,”

You bite down on your tongue, repressing any response as you wait for him to continue.

“Jack, his uh, his name is Jack. Me and my wife- my ex wife, rather, had him just over four years ago,” he clears his throat and looks down at his feet, “he, well it’s for the best probably, he lives with her now, but I see him every time I get the day off, I hope you don’t mind,”

“Mind?” You spit out. Then, a grin splits across your face, and you’re venturing further into the room, running your fingers over an assorted stack of toys, ones more obviously more used are piled closer within reach and then you’re whirling around to look at him, “tell me about him,”

And he does; he spills every detail he can about his son, Jack Hotchner. He tells you about the picture in the living room, about how excited he was about his first ever big boy bed, about how he could stay awake to watch Star Wars for hours past his bedtime (and that’s when you realise it’s Darth Vader on his lampshade, not Batman), and how his favourite ice cream flavour is chocolate, but not just any chocolate, the chocolate ice cream he asks his dad for at the fair after they go on the teacup rides. After a long twenty or so minutes of you exploring the room and Aaron rambling from where he now sits on the edge of his son’s bed, you’re ready to move on.

He leads you onwards, down the hardwood hallway and into another room. It’s completely empty, save for an expensive looking bed frame, mattress and duvet set. The walls are a stark white and sunlight bleeds through the closed window, exposing the thick layer of dust, some of it kicked up just from the door opening and floating about the room. You try to stifle the cough that rises in your throat as you inhale, but it doesn’t work and soon you’re choking and Aaron is dashing across the room to open the window.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll have the room cleaned before you move in,” his face glows red again, and you send him a pained smile to let him know it’s okay, in between coughs of course, “I’ve been meaning to get around to it, but you know, work gets in the way,”

“No, no it’s fine really,” you rub at your eyes with your fists and take a better look around, albeit from the doorway, and you note the room’s impressive size. Really, despite the mental-hospital-esque coloured walls, you can really see this being a good room for you.

Before you can say anything else, Aaron is ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back and the door shuts softly behind you.

“Well, that's pretty much everything, oh except the utility room,” he walks off and you follow him to a room just off the kitchen, stocked with a washer, dryer and several staacks of cleaning supplies. You take a gleeful look around, sifting through drawers of bleach and scrubbers and sprays. Yes, this place will do.

–

You iron everything out with your new roommate (roommate!!), and by the time you’re finished its nearly nine pm and you’re yawning into your arms and nearly knocking over a precariously balanced pizza box from the coffee table as you stretch the tiredness settling deep within your bones. You’d ordered some pizza to share at some point after five, and a few lonely slices are left going stale in the soggy box so you stand and bring the box to the kitchen and ferret through the drawers and cupboards for a tupperware to contain the leftovers. Aaron tries to protest, saying that he should do some of the work, but you bat his hands away and shove the freshly filled box into the unsurprisingly empty fridge.

You're about to bid your goodbye and drive back to your friend's house when Aaron grabs your hands in his.

“Stay here tonight,” his eyes bore into yours, and suddenly you feel wide awake, “you've been practically falling asleep on my arm since eight, and I don’t want my new roommate to fall asleep at the wheel and crash into a tree or something,”

You bite at your lip, and glance at the hard sofa and try to imagine yourself trying to fall asleep on that, rather than your friend’s pull out bed.

“You can have my bed, I think you’ve had enough of sleeping on couches for a lifetime,” he gives a small, tired chuckle and you gnaw on your lip again. You can’t take his bed, not after he’s paid for dinner and agreed to let you live in his home. Again, Aaron senses your apprehension, “seriously, it’s fine. C’mon, you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in,”

You end up in Aaron’s bed, wearing what you’re sure is the only shirt he owns that isn’t a button down and a pair of sweatpants you have to tie at the waistband with a bobble, a pile of your skirt, shirt, panties and bra just next to you. Aaron bids you goodnight, and concedes himself to a night on the uncomfortable sofa. It takes you almost an hour of tossing and turning to finally sleep, and you don’t wake until the alarm clock next to you reads 9:34am. But, as you roll over to put on last night’s clothes on, you notice one very disturbing thing.

Your panties are missing.

[dontworryihaveyourblorbos]

Trolls headcanon dump!

- Bruce absolutely teaches JD and Viva how to surf, everyone else wants to just chill at the beach

- Floyd’s favorite color is actually red, not because of love, but because it’s powerful

- JD craves touch because he’s touch starved, but gets easily overwhelmed even if he initiates it, and has to take breaks. He hates it.

- Poppy heard Floyd stick up for himself once and immediately copied him and used his example to help train herself to stop people pleasing so much as a queen

- Clay went through Gristle’s tax files and found his records impeccable, Gristle stayed on top of all his finances, whether through delegation or by himself, Clay will never know

- Branch loves to fall asleep to music when he’s not having a sleepover with Poppy. Either sad songs or alternative music is his favorite for bedtime

- Bruce loves bragging about his brothers to his kids, so they all knew his brother’s names even though they’d never met their uncles yet

- JD spoils the fuck out of his niece, and Branch teaches her self defense

- Floyd and Poppy are besties, they have spa nights with Smidge and Guy Diamond and they all spill tea and drop lore until the wee hours of the morning

- JD is the type of guy to see one of his bros Just Sitting There and say 🫵 cmere and give them a full chiropractic adjustment. He learned it from some country trolls during his wandering years

- Floyd met quite a bit of people during his solo career, but didn’t have any close friends or band mates. When he sees someone he knows, they’re secretly really happy for him, because he’s back with his little brother whom he talked so much about.

- Branch learns how to braid hair so he can do it back to Viva, and surprises Poppy by braiding her hair one day. She is amazed and so proud.

- Clay likes techno music because the sounds remind him of math and numbers, with their electronic and patterned sounds

- Bruce steals JD’s recipes and adds some to his restaurant menu, and they become very popular

- Floyd mentions offhand to Poppy that he enjoys having a skincare routine but hasn’t been able to do it in awhile, so she grabs products from every tribe and makes a gift basket for him and he almost cries

[rafeandonlyrafe]

m.i.a.

words: 900

warnings: mentions of violence/murder but it is not serious, rafe being kind of controlling but mainly freaking out

“can you get your nose out of your phone country club?” barry asks, as rafe has them pull over yet again on their ride to the other side of the island.

“y/n hasn’t responded yet, i’m fucking worried man, she never takes this long to reply to my text.” rafe knew that you were planning on surfing with a couple of your friends, but you sent him a text saying that you got home three hours ago, and you haven’t responded since. 

“maybe she’s too busy with another dude.” barry says with a laugh, but then catches rafes worried face, “man, i’m messing with you. she’s crazy in love with you, maybe her phone just died.”

“yeah, maybe.” rafe sighs, pushing the phone into his pocket. “lets ride.” he doesn’t mention to barry that your house is on this side of the island and after they finish their business that he’s stopping by.

rafe puts his helmet back on as they take off, sour look on his face as his mind runs through the scenarios of what you might be doing. barry rolls his eyes, knowing the quick job they were supposed to do is now going to be a lot more complicated with rafe being all grumpy.

“i’m gonna kill whoever she is with.” rafe says when they stop at the house they’re supposed to pick up some money from.

“rafe!” barry groans. “focus on the job. this dude is giving us half up front, the other half when we deliver the product. don’t fuck anything up.”

“how can i fuck up him handing over some money?” rafe sets his helmet down on his bike seat. “come on, i just want to hurry up and get it over with, i need to go to y/ns house.”

“alright, man.” barry rolls his eyes, heading towards the house. rafe is silent for the entire handover, brooding in the corner, occasionally pulling out his phone to send you a text.

“i think you scared the crap out of him.” barry says as they leave, getting back on their bikes. “do you want me to come with you to y/ns?” 

“yeah. if someone is there with her you can fucking shoot him.” rafe revs his bike before taking off.

barry sighs, knowing rafe is overreacting, but can’t get out of the cycle of anger thats spiraling in his head. he follows close behind, only a short ride to your house, a cottage right on the water that got passed down to you from your grandma. 

“no other car in the driveway.” rafe observes, parking his bike right behind your jeep. “of course not. i’m telling you man, she’s head over heels for you, she’s not cheating.” barry says, heading to the door right behind rafe. 

rafe takes his keys out of his pocket, opening your front door with the key you gifted to him on your one year anniversary, giving him access to your house whenever he wants.

“living room clear.” barry says.

“we’re not fucking cops.” rafe says, heading right towards your bedroom. he pushes the door open, stopping when he sees you laying on your bed, phone abandoned on your nightstand, eyes closed as you nap.

“aww, my baby.” all of the worries going on in rafes head are completely gone, seeing that you’ve simply fallen asleep, not ignored or cheated on him. 

you move in your sleep, adjusting to lay on your side. rafe moves to the side of your bed, needing to be close to you after all the worry that went through his head.

“hey, honey.” rafe places his hand on your cheek, rubbing it gently.

your eyes flutter open, taking in rafes face. “rafey.” you go to sit up, but rafe stops you. “i- i didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry.” 

“it’s okay, honey.” rafe kisses you gently, “you must have been tired after surfing, huh?”

you go to reply when you realize you’re not alone in the room, startling slightly as your eyes land on barry. “oh!” you press a hand to your chest. “hi barry!”

“hi y/n.” he looks to rafe. “told you, country club. see you tomorrow.” barry walks out of your room, closing the door behind him.

“told you what?” you ask as rafe slips off his shoes, climbing into bed with you.

“oh, it’s nothing.” rafe says, but you can tell from his tone that something is off. “what?” you giggle, slinging your leg over his waist, snuggling in close.

“i just… kinda freaked out when you didn’t answer your phone.” rafe admits, wrapping an arm around your shoulders so you can rest your head against his chest.

“you didn’t think i was cheating on you, did you?” you laugh, but instantly shut your mouth seeing that rafe frowns. “baby!” you sit up slightly. “you really think i would do that to you?”

“no, i don’t.” rafe pulls you back to laying down. “i was just thinking of the worst case scenario.” 

“well, i would never do that to you honey.” you kiss him deeply, but have to pull away to yawn. “i was just sleepy.”

“aww, my sleepy baby.” rafe laughs. “wanna keep napping? i’ll stay here.”

“you sure? you’re all done with barry?” you ask, but pull the blanket over your bodies and close your ask. “yes, and even if i wasn’t, you come first.”

you giggle, “thank you honey… can we spoon?”

[sunnitheapollokid]

more leo x daughter of poseidon pls!!!

🐚┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。WHAT A GREEK TRAGEDY!

leo valdez x daughter of poseidon headcanons & bonus blurb for y’all <3

📬 sunni’s notes : you got it artist!!! i’m having so much fun writing these two NSBAHAB like cmon. but can we talk about HOW MUCH I LOVE AND MISS THE BEACH i haven’t seen the beach in like two years it makes me wanna curl up and cry </3 and this fireboy and watergirl thing RAAAHHH also which do you guys prefer as a leo face claim?? because i use benoftheweek alot (also bc hes one of my comfort ytbers) im totally not biased. THIS IS A LITTLE SHORT SO MAYBE ANOTHER PART??? guys i actually need to shut up why is this so long okay have fun with this teehee!! lub u!!

⊹ HERE WE GO LEO BF HCS!!

⊹ since most poseidon kids are from the beach, leo’s from texas, you would kind of see it as a teasing opportunity.

⊹ “how’s my lil cowboy?”

⊹ “i’m going to tape your mouth.”

⊹ even though this, leo wants to show you texas so bad.

⊹ he tells you all the good bbq places, the best rodeos in town, fucking buc-ee’s.

⊹ out of topic but yall i literally have the buc-ee’s easter shirt the hype is real i love that shirt <3

⊹ ACTUALLY,

⊹ leo gets you that exact shirt. for your birthday.

⊹ since it’s the color of seafoam and it matched your eyes, he flew across manhattan and the absolute sea to get that for you for your birthday.

⊹ you chuckled at the beaver at the front of the shirt but you loved the effort regardless.

⊹ if you could, you would wear that shirt to sleep every night.

⊹ it’s canon that leo cooks right?

⊹ good. because he loves cooking for you, not just any food, BLUE FOOD.

⊹ i’m slamming my credit card on the table.

⊹ blue pancakes, blue soup, blue tacos.

⊹ he does it just to see the smile on your face.

⊹ also, whenever he goes on quests, he manages to sneak in goldfish or whale crackers for you when he gets back because they don’t have it back at camp and they remind him of you.

⊹ leo’s on a quest with piper and jason right? they’re fighting monsters yada-yada, and they have to flee. they left their stuff behind but leo goes to grab his backpack and piper just goes,

⊹ “for zues’ sake leo, LEAVE THE BACKPACK!!”

⊹ “HELL NO MY GIRLFRIEND’S SNACKS ARE IN HERE!”

⊹ this goes for seashells too. if the quest happens to come across like a beach, he’ll collect shells for your hair or just to have you decorate in your room.

⊹ this man is so stupid in love with you.

⊹ i like to think that leo makes cute lil sea animals for you out of scrap metal.

⊹ you have a metal whale, an otter, and a jellyfish sitting by your lamp.

⊹ leo calls them your guys’ children.

⊹ you’ll accidentally slip out and cuss, and he’ll have his ears over the animals.

⊹ “don’t say that infront of bubbles baby!”

⊹ the giggle you’d let out.

⊹ gods, he’d be melting.

⊹ anyway, leo would ask percy to teach him surfing.

⊹ he can skate?

⊹ watch him surf too.

bonus blurb — longer showers? ✧˖*°࿐

leo knocked on the girls’ locker room, “she done yet?!” he yelled. piper opened the door, with a scream in leo’s face, “no buttface! go away!” leo groaned, burying his face in his hands as piper slammed the door.

when you’re a daughter of poseidon, who happened to be leo’s girlfriend, you usually take longer showers. like, long showers. showers that can maybe even last the whole day.

and poor leo was suffering by the other side of the door, his girlfriend already spending an hour and a half in the shower.

“i am going to die out here.” leo mumbled to himself. and after waiting another half an hour by the steps and getting weird stares from other campers, (name) stepped out with her hair dry, perfect, and covered in pretty white shells. “oh hey baby.”

leo lifted his head up and, “FINAAALLYY.”

[ficmashup]

Gardening

Summary: Ghost is moving into a new apartment and you just so happen to be the building's owner.

A/N: First dip into writing second person (I think that's the right term?) and I'm not sure if I don't like it or if it was just difficult for me. People who've read my Price fic in first person, please weigh in here. I need to know if this sounds weird or if it's just me. I might rewrite the whole thing in first person and see which feels better.

Warnings: Not much here...overworking? Slight fainting. Not edited.

Word Count: 3k+

Masterlist

The first time he sees you, your hands are elbow-deep in dirt and there’s more smeared over your face. It’s late afternoon and he’s heaving a duffel over his shoulder to head into his new apartment. It’s been a long time since he spent long in an apartment at all and by the time he came back to his old one, the building was being foreclosed. He’d never been one to couch surf and he wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not for a month. Jump to seeing you covered in dirt in front of his new apartment building.

He hesitates on the steps, watching you a moment longer while you grumble to yourself. You’re on your knees digging through a flowerbed as if digging for diamonds. “You alright?” He surprises himself by asking and almost keeps walking with the expectation that you won’t even answer, but you turn your face up to him in an instant. Your arm raises to block out the sun and you don’t even flinch as dirt rains down on you.

“Fine, thanks. Just a few roots being stubborn.” You give him a warm, welcoming smile that keeps him still a few moments longer. Long enough for you to scan the duffel on his back and the few boxes set on the ground by his truck. “Moving in?” He hesitates a moment before answering. He’s not in the habit of giving away information freely, but the conclusion is obvious enough. He nods once.

“Then you’re Simon Riley.” You pull your hands from the dirt as if they’re the ones who have taken root and wipe them off on your jeans while getting onto your feet. Trepidation begins creeping into his chest and he grips the strap of his bag over his shoulder a little tighter. “I’m the building’s owner. Nice to meet you in person.” You offer your dirt-smudged hand as you give him your name and he laxes slightly. He takes your hand, seeing approval flash through your eyes. He wonders briefly if offering your dirty hand was a test that he just passed.

“I’ll walk you to your place and make sure you have your keys. Need help carrying anything?” You offer and it’s clear you mean it.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He replies evenly and you nod before leading the way and expecting him to follow.

“I run a tight ship. Hope you read the rules about staying here because if you break any, I’ll throw you out on your ass.” You move around the entrance easily, clearly knowing where everything is without having to look. A little glance over your shoulder is all you give him to make sure he’s listening and you catch the slight upward tilt of his lips.

“Yes, ma’am. Read over things twice.” He answers honestly and you hum with approval before guiding him up the stairs. Something about the way you hold yourself, the easy confidence, the way you say orders and expect them to be followed, reminds him of Price and puts him a little more at ease.

“You’re on the edge of the building, so only one neighbor on the north side and another across the hall. Delaney is quiet and keeps to herself more often than not, but I let her play music on the roof with friends on Saturdays.” Your voice fills the halls and he notes that the place is very well-kept and clean. Even the windows are clear and gleaming. You go on, “Mr. Cruz across the hall can be a bit miserly, but other than mumbling about the newspaper and the state of the world, he’s harmless. His wife, on the other hand, is a shameless gossip. So I hope you’re not too bothered if you come home and see her peeking at you from her door.”

Simon hums a small laugh. “Don’t mind it. I’m not that interesting.”

“Pity. She’s been dying for a salacious neighbor since Beck moved out because her husband caught her with the nanny.” You quip instantly and amusement flits through Simon as you finally come to a stop in front of a dark green door. It’s quick work to unlock it and you push the door open, but don’t step inside. He likes that. It’s as if the second he signed the lease, this became his space and you won’t enter it until invited. “If you’d like to do me a favor and need some furniture, I have some in the basement from past tenants that I’d be glad to be rid of. Tell me if you’d like to look and I’ll take you. You have my number if you need anything else, but I’m usually around anyway.”

He enters the apartment and looks around at the empty space with a small sigh. It’s a good space with plenty of room and a view of the street below, but being in a new place feels like starting over. It’s a discomforting feeling given that nothing in his life has actually changed except for his address. But he turns towards you all the same and gives you another nod. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

You nod back and spare another moment to look him over. He’s not the first stray soldier that’s wandered into your building, but each one has been different. This one…this one might take quite a bit of coaxing. You give him another smile and see his body shift towards it just like he did the last time, as if your smile is sunlight he’s basking in. “Welcome home.”

*     *     *

The next time he sees you, you’re crouched on the stairs in front of a kid no more than eight-years-old. “It…hurts…” The little boy says between sobs with red smeared over his right knee. Probably from a nasty fall. Simon pauses on the next flight of stairs, looking down at you through the railing.

“Aw, yeah, I know it does. You’re being brave for me though.” Your voice is soft and gentle as you clean the blood away. “Bet that wimp Eric would be wailing this whole time, huh? Remember when he stubbed his toe and screamed for a minute straight?” There’s a little giggle and his heart squeezes at the sound.

The kid sniffles. “Yeah, I remember. He fell on the ground like he broke it or something.”

“That’s right.” You approve, smiling at him and reaching to the side where a first aid kit sits. “But I saw you play baseball and you didn’t even flinch when that pitcher hit you with the ball.”

“Yeah, that’s true. And that hurt!” The kid leans back a bit, relaxing as you distract him and I idly think about how many medics I’ve seen use the same tactic on wounded soldiers.

You finish cleaning up his knee and press a large band-aid to the ripped skin. “But you were so tough then and you were tough now. All done.” You muss his hair a bit and he giggles, slapping your hand away. “Now, what are we not going to do?”

The kid’s head droops. “Sprint up the stairs.”

“Smart kid. Now, wear that scrape with honor.” You tilt his chin up and he grins, sniffling again before leaning forward and giving you a hug.

“Thanks.” He squeezes tight before getting up and heading down the stairs at a slightly slower pace than running. A wait a moment as you pack up the things from your kit before heading down. Your head lifts and you smile at me, the same as the other day, and it strikes me just like it did then.

I clear my throat and tilt my head to where the kid went. “You seem to know everyone in this place.”

You hum and stand with the first aid kit in hand. “It’s my job to know everything that happens in this building.”

 He quirks a brow at you. “That’s not a position taken by most owners.”

“You should have easily learned by now that I’m not like most owners.” You quip instantly and are rewarded with a little upward twitch of his mouth.

“I was hoping you might have time to show me some of the furniture you mentioned?” He asks, unassuming and polite despite his size and clear musculature. It makes you like him a little more.

You nod and take a breath in the face of another task. “Sure. Let’s go.” You turn on your heel and start moving, Simon trailing behind with surprisingly soft footfalls. You jingle slightly with each step from the keys on your hip and he can’t help but think of a cat with a bell.

The basement is dark until you pull a heavy switch and illuminate a surprisingly large space littered with furniture. “Pick whatever you like and I’ll help you carry it up.”

“You ever stop working?” He asks and you can hear the amusement in his voice. You shrug a shoulder and lean against the wall beside the stairs as he slowly walks through the room.

“There’s always something to be done and no one else is going to do it.”

“You could hire people.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “Then I’d have to fix whatever they screw up. Better to do it myself and get it right the first time.” He exhales softly and you swear that it’s almost a soft laugh.

“You remind me of someone.” He says and pauses next to a little kitchen table with two chairs in pretty good condition.

Your head tilts and you give him a little smile as he glances over. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

This time, you get an actual chuckle. “From me, it’s a compliment.”

“Hm. Then thank you.” You’re not sure you want to know why it would be an insult coming from someone else. He knocks on the table and the wood makes a dull, solid clunk noise. He nods and apparently that means it’s passed inspection. He lifts it up into his arms with a grunt and surprise widens your eyes as he carries it towards the stairs. You clear the way, grabbing the two chairs and staring at him as he bypasses the elevator in favor of more stairs without making a sound. It’s not exactly professional the way your eyes linger on his muscular arms, the shifting of his back under his t-shirt, and especially not how his thighs fit his jeans oh-so-well.

He grunts again as he sets the table down in his apartment and you sidle in to set the chairs on either side. There’s almost nothing else in the apartment. There are a few blankets and books in the bedroom along with a few cushions on the floor of the living room facing a tv. That’s it. He certainly isn’t one to overdecorate. “Anything else?” You offer with a hand on you hip.

He nods once. “Mind another trip?”

You smile and start walking to the door. “I’d be glad to empty out my entire basement if you like. Seems like you need it anyway.” The corner of his mouth lifts.

“I suppose that’s true. I appreciate the help.” He says and his voice is deep, but gentle. You only grow more curious about him and during the few more trips up and down the stairs, you realize that this guy might need a bit more than a little help with living.

*     *     *

It starts slow.

A few neighbors start bringing him some food throughout the week. Leftovers, baked goods, all under the guise of welcoming him to the building. Then there’s a small flyer set outside his door for an estate sale nearby where he finds a few more things to make his apartment less sparse. It’s a tad overbearing, but in an amusing way and he finds he doesn’t mind. Something about being aggressively looked after reminds him of Soap’s family and any thought of the Scot is a welcome one. He has little doubt that the interference is due to your instruction. You run this building better than most people in charge of the military.

His favorite spot in the apartment becomes the little window seat in the living room. It has a good view of the street and without fail, he gets a glimpse of you working in the flowerbeds in the front of the building. On the nicer days, he’ll even crack the window to hear you cussing at your rosebushes. But you’re a little quiet one day, moving slow, still working amongst the thorns in jean shorts and a tank-top dark with sweat. When you stand and wobble in place, he puts down the book he was pretending to read.

You heave a breath and wipe sweat off your brow before grabbing onto the railing leading into the building. Ugh, it’s hot. The sun is beating down like a physical weight and your sunhat is currently somewhere in Delaney’s apartment after her girlfriend borrowed it. Best to just bear the expense and get another one. “You run yourself ragged.” That deep voice disturbs your thoughts and your head lifts to see Simon standing there with a water bottle held out to you.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you gratefully accept the water and settle on the steps. “Too much to do to stop. Thank you for this.” The bottle is blissfully cold as you press it to your neck and take a deep breath of relief.

Simon moves across from you and leans on the railing, looking you over. Something you’ve noticed is how careful he is to give you space. He never comes too close. “I’ve seen you running around the building at least three times today. Once unclogging the garbage chute, the second time greasing the hinges of a door down the hall, and the third—” He gestures to rosebushes you were just digging in.

You finish drinking half the water and raise a brow at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Keeping track of me?”

His lips part, but he’s interrupted before he can say a word. “Sweetie, my air conditioner is on the fritz again.” An older woman peeks out of the front door and Simon recognizes Mrs. Cruz from across the hall. She scrutinizes him through her big glasses before blinking innocently back at you.

You sigh, but nod. “Alright, Mrs. Cruz. I’ll be there right away.” She shuffles back into the building while you heave yourself up onto your feet and your vision immediately goes black. It almost feels like you’re outside your body as you feel it sway backward before a large hand slides onto your lower back and another grips your arm. Your hand tightens on the railing as your eyes snap open, the world swimming in front of you.

“Steady, now.” A pair of concerned eyes are the first thing you see as your vision clears. “Let’s get you inside.” He moves closer and begins to stoop, but you grab his shirt in a fist.

“You are not picking me up.” You grind out, every word a command. Not in front of your building, not by a tenant, not with Mrs. Cruz waiting inside who would assuredly spread every type of rumor she could about the scene. “Just…walk inside with me.” He hesitates a beat before straightening and letting you use his arm and the railing to get back into the building. You shoot a smile towards Mrs. Cruz waiting exactly where you expected her. “I need my tools, but I’ll be along in just a minute.”

Her eyes squint, but she nods a moment later before vanishing into the elevator. “Slowly and steadily, then.” Simon murmurs with his hands gentle and sure as he moves you towards your office in the back. You hold your tongue despite the desire to insist that you do not need help because you very clearly do. Still, you can’t hold back your heavy sigh as you both slowly walk back and he helps you settle into your office chair.

“Thank you.” You murmur, pride a little wounded but ultimately grateful you didn’t have to crawl in here. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Then I’ll head up to help Mrs. Cruz.” Your head shakes as you make yourself drink the rest of your water while taking some steadying breaths.

“Unfortunate we’re not closer to my apartment. I’d give you something one of my neighbors gifted me earlier this week.” Simon comments with amusement lacing his tone. Maybe you weren’t as subtle about filling his pantry as you thought you were.

“I ate today. Just pushed a little too hard in the heat. That’s all.”

“Mm.” He hums, watching you from the doorway with the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “A habit of yours?”

You can’t resist returning his near smile. “Practically my occupation.”

He huffs a small laugh before clearing his throat as if trying to hide it. The fact makes you smile a little wider. “I’ll get you another water, then walk with you up the stairs.”

“Oh, there’s really no need—” But he’s already walked out. You sigh again, relaxing back into the chair and closing your eyes for a few moments. Time passes, a bit too long than it should have taken, but when you open your eyes there’s another water in front of you and no Simon. You feel a bit better and rise from your seat with a groan, grabbing your toolkit and heading up to Mrs. Cruz. But it’s an utter surprise when you get to her apartment to find the usual whir of her air conditioning uninterrupted.

“That handsome man across the hall had it fixed in a few minutes. Didn’t complain or say much other than asking what the problem was.” Mrs. Cruz reports with rare approval in her voice. Mr. Cruz grumbles quietly from his usual seat in his favorite armchair. You sigh and glance out the door towards Simon’s apartment with a hand on your hip and a half-smile. Seems you’re not the only one keen to help. Whether it’s asked for or not.

(Lmk if you want to be tagged in future installments of this!)

[fangirl-writes]

Planning Our Future

JJ Maybank x Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of child abuse, mentions of a sex

Notes: I wrote a little blurb when watching the ‘Midsummers’ episode and decided to turn it into a whole fic. Also I still haven’t seen season 3 yet so no spoilers please!

Summary: JJ dreams about running away with the gold and taking you with him.

You and JJ were cuddled together in one of the hammocks tied to the chateau’s trees. It was just close enough to the water to hear the waves, but far enough away not to get sprayed. That, and you could watch the sun dip into the water every evening.

JJ’s arms were wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

It had been a long day.

John B. was in the hospital after Topper pushed him from the Kildare Hawk’s Nest, with Sarah Cameron by his side.

He was losing his mind about the gold and about her. 

“You think he’s still going to try to find it after this?” You asked quietly. It felt wrong to speak in a normal tone and disrupt the silence that the two of you had built there.

“Probably,” JJ replied. “As long as he didn’t break any ribs or anything, he’ll bounce back pretty quick. I’ve never seem him as determined about anything other than this.”

You hummed. “Don’t act like you haven’t been enabling him a little bit.”

He frowned. “No. In fact I told him that if he kept going down this road he was going to end up just like his dad.”

“JJ, that’s a horrible thing to say.”

“It’s true. They’re too much alike. Big John wouldn’t give it up either and who knows where he is now. Probably floating in the bottom of the ocean somewhere.”

You didn’t respond to that. As blunt as it was, he was right.

A few moments passed before either of you spoke again.

“So...are we gonna talk about it?” You asked.

“Talk about what?”

“J,” you said. “Come on. You take the fall for Pope then turn up with a busted lip and bruises-”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“No, JJ, I’m sick of not talking about it,” you said, moving so that you were on the other side of the hammock, facing him. “You can’t stay there if he’s gonna treat you like this. Everybody knows what a piece of shit he is so why don’t you-”

“Shut up!”

You snapped your mouth closed.

He’d never raised his voice at you before.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just...I can’t leave. I don’t got anywhere to go. If Big John was still around, he’d take me in a heartbeat but your guys’ parents don’t like me and I know it. And I’m not letting DHS take me away. If John B. can stick around and play the system, then I can deal with this.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

JJ sighed. “I know just...can you come back here?”

You frowned but slid back over into JJ’s arms, laying your head on his chest; his heartbeat a welcomed lullaby. 

“We get that gold,” he said. “You and me. We’re gonna ship off somewhere nice. Somewhere our parents can’t reach us.”

You hummed good-naturedly.

“We’ll surf waves every day and smoke only the finest marijuana.”

You smiled.

“Our own little slice of paradise. Far from OBX.”

“That sounds amazing, J,” you said, softly.

“We’ll have our own house and everything. Have sex in every room, just to christen it.”

You giggled. “Can we have a waterbed?”

“Of course we can have a waterbed. But also a memory foam mattress for when we need more stability.”

He was staring up at the sky that was slowly fading from orange into inky night, eyes glazed over as he dreamed.

“I’ll buy you a pretty diamond ring. And we’ll get married on the beach in the summertime by the water. Barefoot, but I’ll still wear a tux if you want me too, as long as you wear white. We’ll only invite the pogues...”

You were lapsed into comfortable silence, the hammock slowly swinging.

“I put the gun to his head,” JJ said, suddenly, making you sit up from his chest. “He was asleep and I had it right there” - he gestured to his forehead - “I could’ve killed him...he’d’ve deserved it...but I couldn’t pull that trigger, Y/N. I couldn’t do it.”

You took his head in your hands and pulled him to your chest, the tears in his eyes falling freely and he sobbed in your hold.

“I hate him,” he whispered. “I hate him so much, why couldn’t I do it? Why...”

You blinked back your own tears. “Cause he’s still your dad.”

JJ didn’t reply, just sobbed in your arms.

“Tell me about our wedding again,” you said. “Will we have a priest?”

“No...” JJ said, softly, sniffing and wiping his tears. “Pope will get ordained and perform the service. A full pogue ceremony, nobody else. Not even parents.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...”

“I love you, JJ,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you, too, Y/N,” JJ replied.

“Will we have kids?”

“Yeah...but not for a while. John B.’ll probably have them first. Then Kie. We’ll probably be the last of the group to have any.”

“Names?”

“Booker, after John B., for a boy. I kinda like Bianca, for a girl.”

“I like it, too,”

JJ kept dreaming for a while, until the both of you fell asleep under the stars. In your own little paradise, right in the OBX.

[laurenairay]

Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.

Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.

a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler

Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles

~

2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.

But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.

Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.

A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”

His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.

“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.

Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.

“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”

“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.

“He’s perfect…”

Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.

“…a border collie, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.

Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”

At least he understood.

With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.

“So, you live here then?”

You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.

“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”

You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.

Brock just grinned.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”

~

Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.

Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.

So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.

“Well this looks cosy.”

You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”

He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.

This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.

And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.

He really was so handsome though.

“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.

“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.

“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.

It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.

~

It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.

From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?

To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text

From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?

You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.

To: Brock Of course I don’t mind

From: Brock Of course?

You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.

To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.

From: Brock Well I definitely do now.

You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.

To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon

The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.

But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.

“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.

“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.

Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.

“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.

Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.

“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.

“Great!”

The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.

“Coola! Chill!”

Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.

“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.

There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.

“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.

All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.

~

From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?

~

You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.

There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.

When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.

“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.

The last thing you wanted was to intrude.

“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.

Oh. Now you felt stupid.

Wait, a welcome surprise?

“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.

“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.

Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.

“SHE’S HERE!”

“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!

“YEAH I’LL COME!”

Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.

“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.

“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.

Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.

“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.

“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.

You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.

“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.

You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”

Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.

“Really?”

“Really really,” Elias nodded.

“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”

You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.

You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”

Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”

You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.

“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”

“What?” Elias frowned.

“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”

As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.

Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“Brunch? Can we go?”

Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.

“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.

*

Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.

Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.

He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.

“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.

“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”

Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.

“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.

Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.

It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.

“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”

Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.

“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.

Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?

“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.

“I wanted to.”

The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?

“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.

Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Oh.

He…really?

You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?

While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Another drink?”

“Yes, definitely.”

*

Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.

The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.

“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”

Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.

From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.

You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?

Surely not.

But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.

“Is Brock on his way?”

“Brock isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.

“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.

You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?

“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.

Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”

The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.

Absolutely.

The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.

“Shall we watch another?”

“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”

Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.

Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.

It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.

You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.

It took ten minutes for everything to change.

Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.

The ball was in your court.

Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.

The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.

So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.

“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.

He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.

“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.

Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”

He swallowed heavily before nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”

You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.

“I should go,” he said softly.

No!

Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.

“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.

You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.

“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Oh wow.

For a while?

You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.

“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.

The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.

You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.

[maybankswhore]

Hi, could you possibly write a fic about rafe/jj looking after the reader when they’re on their period? I’m on my period rn and I’m cramping so bad 😭😭

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

pairing(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you get your period and jj makes it his mission to make it as easy as possible.

You’re biggest pet peeve was being on your period. For some reason , you’d always get the worst of it. Especially the first two days.

You bled the heaviest , cramped the hardest. The whole day was just absolutely exhausting and no matter how much pain medication you took , you’d almost always end up free bleeding on the toilet for hours at a time hoping to pass the time.

Starting your period the morning you and the rest of the Pogue’s were supposed to go out surfing made your mood even worse. You had gotten a new swim suit for the day and everthing and now you had to cancel. You had texted Kiara telling her to let John B and Pope know you weren’t coming , her obviously understanding the situation. You also knew JJ would be disappointed because he wanted to start helping you learn how to surf— beings that all you did on surfing days was tan because you didn’t know how.

Finding a comfortable position in your bed , you pulled out your phone and pressed JJ’s contact. It didn’t take more than two or three rings for him to answer. “Hi , baby! Sorry I’m running late. Pope was being a shit head and wouldn’t leave work.”

You smiled lightly at Pope’s disagreement in the background.

“No , J that’s okay. I’m not feeling too good today so I’m gonna stay home.”

“Not feeling good? Are you okay? You sick? Want me to come over and bring you to the doctor?” You could hear the concern in his voice , picturing him furrowing his eyebrows at you. It made you grin a bit , hearing him so worried about you.

“I’m not sick. I started my period and you know how that goes. I’m grouchy and sad.”

“Okay so I don’t need to bring you to the doctor but I’m still coming over.”

You rolled your eyes. “JJ! You’ve been so excited to get the Pogue’s together for this. Don’t skip out just ’cus of me. I’ll be fine , I deal with it every month.”

“Sure but we can get together some other day. I’ll see you soon , baby!” He said , hanging up the phone before you even had time to open your mouth and argue.

You sighed and put your phone down , snuggling up into your comforter.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you were woken up by JJ knocking on your bedroom door , lightly saying your name. Stirring , you groaned when the pain almost immediately hit you— feeling swollen and achey.

“Sorry to wake you.” JJ frowned at himself , placing the plastic bag down on your nightstand and immediately attaching himself to your side. He knelt on the side of the bed you were on , brushing hair away from your face. He sighed at your pale complexion and tired eyes , obviously seeing the affects it was having on you. It came every month and JJ knew it was normal , it still didn’t stop him from feeling bad and worrying about you each time. “Wanna take a bath? I’ll make it extra hot.”

You grabbed his hand that was now cupping your cheek and kissed the palm tiredly , nodding. “Thanks , J.”

He was always so catering to you , on the whim , on his knees at your beck an call. It didn’t matter how much you would stomp your feet and demand him to go about worry about something else— JJ was always all about you , all of the time. And the week of your period he was extra caring and compassionate towards you. Whether he’d simply watch a sad movie with you so you could cry and let all of your emotions out , or watch a show that’d get you all riled up and heated ( secretly giggling at your angry face ) , he did it all and you appreciated it with your whole heart.

JJ pressed a soft kiss to your head as he went to run the water for you as you managed to stand yourself up and find some fresh comfortable clothes to change into , hoping to ease some of that ickness you felt.

As you went into the bathroom , JJ was sitting on the toilet seat waiting for you. His hand checking the water every couple seconds to make sure it was just right. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “I got some pads from the store. Figured you can wear them at home. I heard tampons could give you like. . . electric shock or something if you use ’em too long so I don’t want you risking it.” He proposed , motioning towards the box on the counter.

You giggled as you undressed , feeling comfortable to take your time and not rush , knowing that right now— JJ found you beautiful and all , even if you felt like you were the most bloated and disgusting creature. The look in his eyes said it all.

Sighing contently as you sinked into the bath , your eyes fluttered closed allowing the warmth to soothe your achey muscles. “You know it isn’t electric shock and that only happens if you wear it too long.” You hummed , peeking at JJ through slotted eyes.

“What happens if you fall asleep with it? Or you forget about it?” JJ listed off. “I think you should just wear those when we go to John B’s or something.”

You rolled your eyes at his over protectiveness , but you secretly loved it. Your left hand reached out to his that rested on his leg and held it tightly , rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Thanks for coming over. I know you were really looking forward to going surfing with everyone.”

JJ smiled at you sweetly , lifting your hand up to kiss your palm. “You’re more important.”

Lulling your head to the side , you just stared at him as he patiently waited for you. You couldn’t believe how lucky you got to have someone like JJ. He was always so caring and compassionate , giving you anything you ever needed. He supported you , encouraged you to do the things you loved and to take chances you normally wouldn’t. He’d sit on a ceramic toilet for days on end if it meant he got to spend time with you. “I really , really love you.”

“I really , really love you , my sweet girl. Once you’re finished we can go back and lay down. I have all of your favorite things and Kiara had some medicine she gave me to give to you.”

“We’re watching Taylor’s documentary on Netflix!” You clapped , rushing to bathe yourself now , excited to munch on all your favorite snacks.

JJ groaned. “That’s the third time this week.”

“Okay? Third time’s a charm!”

[qvrcll]

# 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘’𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 — SULLY BOYS + KIRI

— (avatar : twow) -> drabble !

⠀࣪. ᨳ — synopsis. sullies and their jealousy.

cw. contains no spoilers ! gn + non sully + navi reader

auth notes. wanted to write a jealousy trope w the sully teens, because they’re highly emotional and i love them for it. i barely see any kiri works on my feed (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) !

characters. neteyam, lo’ak + kiri sully (♡⃕)

warnings. slight angst , but no real warnings

: LO’AK — ꒷ ᵎᵎ ₊

claims that he is hardly ever jealous. covetous when you join aonung further in the surf than you’re supposed to? sure. bitter when you pitch a friendly arm around neteyam after a close call with jake? fine. but jealous? noooo. he’ll sulk and lodge into a hole with himself all day, eyebrows intrenched and mood sullied with grime. he will confide with payakan and let drop the secret of his jealousy — but it will take weeks for you to converge him in his free time. dwell deep into his bones, skin and soul. feel his jealousy, his bitterness. stipple his knuckles gently whilst he belts his honesty out — “yes, yes i was jealous” — in the stretched out darkness of you and him and the stars — he is bound to love you endlessly.

: NETEYAM — ՞ 〃 ᩙᩙ

thinks he handles jealousy well but its an adversarial clockwork in that head of his. a ticking time bomb. although it takes more to will him, it is not wholly avoidable — lo’ak will lackadaisically mention that you’re hunting with rotxo or seen with aonung, bickering as you usually do, not to get a rise out of his brother — the older’s ears are erect and twitching on their own. but it’s not jealousy, but mere inquisitiveness. it’s in the later frills of the day that he hears from you less often or sees you as a piddling dot. expect him to laxly appear by you, take your hand in his larger one. he will glare more and talk less, just dragging you here and there, with just four footprints — when you nest deep in his warlike head, he will sigh and tell you “i missed you” with his fingers melting on your own and your lips are already on him.

: KIRI — . ˚ 𖧷 · °

its less like a flame with kiri, and more like melting wax: the sting of jealousy will persist in vexing her in the comfortable welt of the sun or silent brooklet with sand and stones at her feet like a candle weeping: she hears her heart, thumping, with the beat of eywa guiding her. but her body is hot and brambly when she spots you awkwardly cackling with her brothers or the boys of the main. she sticks her head beneath the foamy waves and attempts to entrance herself with the rhythm of eywa. she thinks it is because of her difference. her ‘weirdness.’ but her leer and concentration is razed when two blue feet dig in the sand in front of her — water is lodged in her hair and lashes as she gawps at you and asks you “what are you doing here?” and when you tell her how much the boys bore you and how much she doesn’t, she’ll curl her fingers around your palm and giggle as she descends into the nippy waves, knowing no one will intrigue you as much as she does.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ ₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ ₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

© 2022 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 3 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: The gang comes to Luke's aid when he needs to find a new boat. You and Aemond continue to be at each other's throats.

word count: 4.9k

warnings below the cut!

warnings: sensual themes, language, drinking, smoking the devil's lettuce (general substance use warning)

note: thank you for all the love so far! I appreciate it so very much!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

The clouds cleared from the stormy previous night, leaving the sky free of clouds and the sun reflecting over the choppy surf of Blackwater Bay. You’d found sleep easily, soothed by the splashing rain against the windows of High Tide. 

You’d fallen asleep in Baela’s room after binge-watching Criminal Minds together (something you first bonded over when you became roommates at university together). You don’t open your eyes yet, even though you can feel the warmth of sunlight on your face. You’re content to try to sleep a little longer until the vibrations of Baela’s phone begin next to you.

You open your eyes a smidge, peering through your lashes at the screen. Rhaena’s name and face light up Baela’s phone. A cute picture of her smiling holding a pale snake around her neck, its face pressed against hers with its pink-forked tongue tickling her cheek.

“Bae,” you murmur, nudging your friend. She groans, turning to face you, peering at her phone. Rhaena’s face disappears as the call remains unanswered.

“She probably wants to go on a run or something,” Baela mumbles, “Or try to guilt me into a family beach trip.”

Rhaena calls again and Baela lets out an irritated whine. 

She slides a finger over the screen, and Rhaena appears on the screen. Her violet eyes are wide, and it looks like she has just woken up as well; a pink silk bonnet hides her silver locs. 

“What d’you want?” Baela mumbles at her sister.

“Get up,” Rhaena says, in a half whisper, “Get up, get up, and get to Dragonstone!”

“Ew. No,” Baela says, scrunching her nose in distaste, “Why?”

“Dudes, you need to get over hear,” Helaena’s voice is heard offscreen. Baela’s head rises from her pillow and she grabs the phone, angling it so you can see.

“Hel there?” Baela asks, as more voices can begin to be heard in the background. You share a confused glance with Baela. 

“You want some drama?” Helaena snickers, coming into the frame and squeezing her face next to Rhaena’s. Shouting echoes from the room they’re in. Baela glances at you again, with a ‘what the fuck?’ expression on her face.

“.....your fault you fucking psycho!” Luke’s voice rings, breaking as though he may be crying through his yells.

Baela’s eyes widen and she glances at you, scooting closer so you can both peer over her phone. 

“Maybe if you paid better attention you wouldn’t have-” Aemond’s voice carries through the speaker, a taunting, musical quality to the words he speaks. 

“What the fuck?” Baela says, muting herself, “What the fuck are they talking about?”

You can hear the arguing in the background, and see Helaena grab the phone from Rhaena, smiling at you and Baela before shoving it in her pocket. You can hear the muffled conversation.

“You’re blaming me? Seriously? You came outta fucking nowhere in that old piece of shi-” Luke chokes on the words, “That ship is fucking huge!”

“You shouldn’t have been out in the stupid little dingy anyway,” Aemond’s voice carries, and you feel your face begin to burn with anger at his condescending tone directed at Luke. 

“It’s too fucking late in the season-”

“Use Vermax-

“No way my trip!” Jace’s voice barely carries through, “You’re not TOUCHING my boat-”

“Shut up!”

Baela unmutes herself then.

“Rhae!” she calls, “Hel!”

Helaena’s hand enters her pocket, and she brings the phone to her face. She motions to Rhaena as the yelling continues, moving to a different room.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” you ask when the yelling has quieted down.

“Aemond sank Luke’s boat last night,” Rhaena tells you, “It’s completely destroyed. Unsalvageable.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, lips parting in shock. Baela lets out a laugh in disbelief.

“He sunk Luke’s boat? Why would he do that?” you ask and Baela rolls her eyes.

“Please, we’re lucky he didn’t kill him,” she argues, and Helaena laughs.

“Don’t count your eggs before they’ve hatched cuz,” Hel murmurs, “It’s a bloodbath in there.”

“They’ve got another boat he can sail, don’t they?” Baela asks.

“I don’t think so,” Rhaena says, shaking her head, “Unless you’re talking about..”

“I mean…..that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Baela interrupts. The twins are silent for a moment until Helaena speaks.

“Okay, I'm usually great at reading the room, but even I’m lost,” she says, and you laugh. 

“Me too, Hel,” you tell her. 

Baela sits up in bed sighing dramatically.

“Bring Jace and Luke, meet us at Hulls in an hour,” she instructs.

Rhaena agrees and you end the call. You watch Baela carefully, her expression is grim.

“What’s at Hull?” you ask curiously.

“My uncle’s boat,” she tells you, “Seasmoke.”

Turns out Hull was referring to a person rather than a place. Well, two people. Addam and Alyn Hull, two brothers who manage a boat rental service on Driftmark. When you and Baela arrive at the docks you’re greeted by a weathered sign that reads Hull Boat Rentals.

Luke, Jace, and Rhaena are there when you arrive. Luke’s eyes are red, along with his nose. He’s clearly been crying for most of the morning. Jace looks furious beside him and Rhaena smiles tentatively as you approach. 

Baela pulls Luke into a hug immediately, and the younger boy wraps his arms around her. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m sorry about Arrax,” Baela tells him, squeezing him tightly. 

Luke mumbles his thanks and Baela releases him. She glances around the dock, looking at the boats lined up, rocking gently with each passing wave. 

“I called Addam,” Rhaena tells her, “He’s still got some options, and Seasmoke too if that’s what we’re thinking.”

“I don’t know…” Luke says, eyes watery, “Maybe we can look around?”

“Of course, we can,” Jace agrees.

You’re greeted by Addam Hull a few minutes later; he’s a strapping young guy in jean cutoffs and a white tank top that’s seen better days. He’s covered in sweat and grease but that doesn’t dull the award-winning smile he’s got on his face. 

“We’ve got a lot of options still,” Addam assures Luke, “Mostly our older schooners. Not many people rent for the regatta.”

Luke’s crestfallen expression remains as you view the available boats. You love how each one has its own name, its own personality really. Luke spends extra time on one called Grey Ghost but shakes his head when Addam asks if he likes it. 

“I think we should look at…” Jace trails off. Luke frowns deeply, as though he was trying to avoid the situation. 

“I’ve been taking good care of it,” Addam says softly to Luke. 

“Okay,” Luke decided, “Let’s see it.”

Seasmoke is a massive sailboat, bigger than the ones you’ve seen so far. The hull is painted a pale silver-gray that reflects the light from the top of the water. It’s missing the mainsail, and seems to have been used for storage rather than sailing for the last several years. 

Luke walks over to it, placing his hand on the hull. Barnacles have begun to take over and he runs his fingers along the rough surface. 

“How long has she been out of commission?” Luke asks, and Addam shrugs.

“A while,” he tells him. Jace shares a concerned glance with Baela. Luke sighs, dropping his hand from the hull. Jace walks up next to him.

“Remember when Dad took us out for the first time? How we ended up in the Stepstones?” Jace says, smiling at his brother. Luke chuckles slightly.

“I remember you peeing your pants because he told us there were pirates that would get us,” Luke says with a smirk. 

“It wasn’t funny!” Jace argues and you can’t help but laugh along with them. It's the first time Luke has smiled today. It wavers slightly as he looks at Seasmoke again.

You can’t imagine what’s going on in his head. It sounds like no one has sailed Seasmoke since Laenor left town. Even though you know there’s history there, that Rhaenyra had an affair with Harwin Strong, it sounds like Laenor was truly their dad. Luke’s eyes are melancholic, and he touches the hull again. 

“Okay,” he says softly, “We’ll use Seasmoke.”

You slap the mop against the deck of the ship watching the water spread and turn brown almost immediately. Sheesh. This is going to be a lot of work. Luke sits miserably on the edge of the boat, his head hanging. Rhaena sits next to him, bumping her shoulder against his. He had hope in the beginning, but as the hours ticked by he became more frustrated with the large task at hand. 

“It’s pointless,” Luke says softly, sniffling and rubbing his nose, “It’s going to take too long… it's not worth it.” He shakes his head, eyes trained on the deck. 

“With our help, it’ll get done faster than you think,” Rhaena insists, “And then you can practice and everything will be fine.”

Luke shakes his head, unconvinced. “We need sails. Fuck- I don’t even think they make the kind Dad used…with that stupid…what’s it called? For the jib?” He sighs again. Rhaena glances at you and you begin to chew your lower lip.

“Whatever you need, Luke,” you tell the younger boy, “We’ve got your back.”

Even Helaena had joined to help assist Luke with prepping Seasmoke. She’d come dressed in overalls, hair pulled out of her face ready to get to work. 

“I can call Iron Islands,” Jace tells him, “Place an order for the sails, they have all that shit.”

“That’s hours away,” Luke moans, placing his head in his hands, “And who knows if they have any left, it’s prime sailing season-”

“Mr. Negative!” Helaena chastises, “What don’t you understand?” She walks over to squat in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his knee, “We’ve got this Luke. You worry about driving this bad boy, we’ll worry about the rest.”

Jace smiles and then glances past you, a frown appearing on his face.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles, and you follow his gaze to someone walking down the dock. 

Aemond comes into view and a familiar surge of anger rushes through you as you walk down the ramp and off of Seasmoke. Aemond slows his purposeful gait when he sees you, his lip curling upwards as he comes to a halt.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Came to see the damage,” he says.

“Haven’t you done enough?” you snap.

“It was an accident,” Aemond insists, “Not my fault the little twerp can’t sail.”

“You’re such a prick,” you tell him, “I hurt your ego that much, you go for attempted murder?”

“Luke can swim,” Aemond says with a shrug.

“You really don’t fucking feel bad, do you?” you ask in disbelief.

“As I said, an accident,” he says, continuing to walk by you.

“Where are you going?”

“Onto the boat.”

“Well don’t!”

“Like I want to be stuck with you all day,” he retorts, “Not my choice.”

Luke looks up as you come aboard, rolling his eyes.

“The fuck you want?” he snaps.

“Mom insisted,” Aemond says, looking around the deck, “This is the one you chose?”

“It was the best option,” Rhaena says, defending Luke. 

Aemond purses his lips together, a smug smile creeping onto his face. “Interesting choice is all.”

“Why’s that?” Jace asks, squeezing his hands into fists by his side. Baela moves toward him, as Aemond shrugs. 

“Let’s go start cleaning out the lower deck,” she encourages, pushing him toward the entrance. Jace disappears below deck and Baela grimaces at you.

Helaena walks over to her brother, who tosses her a tube of sunscreen. “Mom told me to bring you that,” he tells her, following her to the other side of the deck.

“Am I totally ruining your summer?” she asks, pouting at you. You can tell this was not what Baela had planned. But you can’t find it in you to feel anything but sympathy for Luke. It wasn’t his fault this happened.

“Not at all,” you assure her, “I want to help!” 

Baela smiles, and even Luke looks up, sparing a small, pained smile. 

The days tick by and though it doesn’t feel like it, you’re making some progress. Baela and Jace spent the majority of time clearing out below deck and Aemond (to avoid more confrontation) made himself useful focusing on scraping the barnacles off of the sides of Seasmoke. 

Scrubbing the starboard bow with Baela, another girl joins you later in the week. She introduces herself as Sara Snow, a childhood friend of Baela and Rhaena’s. She’s also incredibly kind enough to bring you all lunch from the Wolf’s Den, her family’s restaurant a few blocks away. She even brings Aemond something, tossing him a takeaway bag that he stains with his grease-stained hands. 

He doesn’t join you on deck to each, choosing to sit by himself on the dock. Jace joined a solemn Luke below deck. 

“I cannot believe he fucking did that,” Sara whispers, after hearing the whole story about what happened to Arrax, “The fucking nerve of that guy.”

“That’s Aem,” Helaena says, leaning her back against Sara’s, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She reaches down her shirt revealing a tightly rolled joint, bringing it to her lips as she digs in her pockets looking for a lighter. 

Sara opens her purse, finding one easily as Hel struggles, passing it back to her friend. Hel murmurs a thank you around the joint before lighting it. 

“Has he always been like this?” you ask, unable to help yourself. Aemond Targaryen gets under your skin. 

“Like what?” Hel says, coughing slightly, passing the lit joint to Baela. She takes a long drag, closing her eyes. 

“Like an ass,” you clarify and Helaena chuckles. 

Sara smirks, something you don’t fail to notice. 

“What?” you ask and she shakes her head. 

“I don’t know what happened to him, to be honest,” Sara tells you, “Back in high school, Aemond was just like this nerdy guy. Always polite, even on the verge of sweet.”

Baela nods in agreement. 

“Then he goes off to college and comes back a total prick,” she says, reaching for a french fry, “I mean, he’s always been a bit of a prick but he switched it up to being a complete douche.”

“And that whole thing with Floris…” Sara says, raising her eyebrows. 

“They’re not doing that anymore,” you tell them, and they all stare, “I kind of walked into the middle of their breakup.”

Sara snorts out a laugh. 

“Aemond doesn’t date,” Sara clarifies, “He took a page from Aegon’s book.”

“Ew,” Rhaena says, shuddering. She shakes her head as Baela offers her the joint. Sara plucks it from her fingers, taking a drag.

“At least Aegon doesn’t shit where he eats,” Helaena defends, “He keeps his drama away from King’s Landing.”

“Remember when he was with Cece Lannister?” Sara says, still on her Aemond train of thought, “Man, that was dramatic.”

Helaena groans. “Please don’t mention Cece. Mom is still trying to regrow the rose bushes she set on fire,” she says, shaking her head.

Your eyes widen. 

“She set your house on fire?”

“Just the rose bushes,” Helaena assures. Unsurprisingly, this fact doesn’t comfort you.

“You wanna know what I heard?” Sara says, handing you the joint.

You’ve smoked before, casually, throughout your time at college. You nod, encouraging Sara to continue, placing the joint between your lips and inhaling the sweet smoke. 

“I heard he had an orgy with all the Baratheon girls,” Sara says, lowering her voice considerably. 

Helaena slams her hands over her ears and begins screaming, you jump in surprise at the sudden high-pitched sound. You cough, the joint nearly slipping from your fingers as you double over. Rhaena’s jaw is on the floor and Baela is shaking her head violently. 

“They’re sisters!” Rhaena hisses, trying to stop Helaena’s screams, “Biologically!”

“I’m just repeating what I heard!” Sara insists, covering her mouth and laughing.

“From who?”

“Qyle Martell.”

“Oh, the most reliable fucking narrator-”

“What’s going on?” Aemond calls from his spot on the dock.

Your laughter and screams stop abruptly as you all call back different versions of “nothing!” “Everything's fine!” and Helaena screaming, “You pervert!”

Aemond holds his hands out in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. He meets your eyes and you blush, hoping he doesn’t notice as you quickly avert your gaze. 

After a few more hours and a quick swim to clean the sweat and grease from the work and you slip your extra sundress over your bathing suit, ready to head out for the day. 

“Dinner?” Sara asks, “We can go to the Wolf Den.”

“We’ve had that nearly every day this week,” Baela moans.

“It's summer. We eat every meal there,” Sara insists, clasping her hands on Baela’s shoulders, “Besides, Y/N hasn’t been to the Wolf Den yet! She’s got to meet Cregan!” 

Sara’s been telling you all about her brother; he seems nice. You’re all tired and too hungry to disagree so you head to the Wolf Den. Aemond narrows his eyes at Helaena, who nudges him with her shoulder.

“You’re as bad as Egg,” she teases, and his eyes narrow.

“Why?” Aemond asks, a frown playing on his lips.

“I’ve heard rumors about you little bro,” she says and shudders dramatically, “Rumors a sister should not be hearing about her little brother. Ew.” Helaena sticks her tongue out, pretending to gag. 

Aemond’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What do you mean?” he asks but Helaena shakes her head.

“I’m not repeating what I heard! What, am I, a gossip now?” Helaena says, feigning offense with a hand over her chest. Aemond purses his lips and continues arguing with her as they walk ahead of you. 

The Wolf Den is on the mainland, and with Seasmoke in no condition to sail, you pile onto Vermax; though Aemond leaves on another side of the docks. You don’t see where he goes, but when you ask Helaena she merely shrugs. 

“He’s not getting on a boat with Luke again,” she tells you, “But he’ll probably come through to the Wolf Den. Dude’s gotta eat.”

After a gentle trip across Blackwater Bay, Helaena offers to drive you all in her light blue convertible. The Wolf’s Den is cute; the outer deck is decorated with twinkling multicolored string lights. It’s right on the water, and the music can be heard from outside. Sara ushers you in and you see the appeal right away.

High ceilings, a generous amount of tables, and a dance floor in the middle of the room. Paper lanterns hang from the ceiling rafters, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. It's warm and cozy and inviting. The bartender, a big beefy guy with a thick beard, waves at Sara. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt decorated with wolves wearing sunglasses, and lounging on the beach. 

“Sup sis,” he says as you walk over to the bar with her, “Woah, no kids at the bar please, we’ve been through this.” Luke frowns dramatically at him. So this must be Cregan.

“Even if I’m sad?” he asks, jutting out his lower lip. 

“You still 17?” Cregan asks, and Luke opens his mouth to protest, “Yeah, no. Grab that booth over there.”

Luke mumbles something under his breath, but Jace clasps a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the bar. Rhaena goes to join them as they head to claim a booth. 

“Sup Jace,” Cregan calls, and Jace glances over his shoulder. His cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink as he says hello. Sara scoots into a chair, motioning for you to sit. You do, Baela sliding next to you.

“What’re you drinking?” Cregan asks, smiling warmly at you, “I’m Cregan, by the way.” He offers his hand you take it, feeling the rough calluses as he engulfs your hand in his.

“Y/N,” you tell him, with a smile, “And umm is there something you recommend?”

Cregan releases your hand, nodding appreciatively. “The Winter Rose, if you trust me. It’s our current special.”

“I’ll do that,” you tell him.

“A risk taker, I like it,” he says, grabbing a shaker, “Ladies?” 

“We’ll make it easy for you Stark, we’ll have the same,” Baela answers for herself and Sara. You look around the Wolf Den, just as Aemond walks through the door. You catch his eye briefly, before looking away, exhaling. Helaena notices, slipping off her stool to greet her brother. You can’t help but watch, noticing he’s joined by the same man from last week who he played tennis with. 

As Cregan slides your drinks in front of you, Baela notices your distraction. She follows your gaze. 

“Criston Cole,” she says, nodding to Aemond’s friend, “A friend of Alicent’s.” Aemond, Criston, and Helaena choose a table to sit at, on the opposite side of the room than Luke’s. It's deliberate, the choosing of sides. Even under the guise of working together on Seasmoke, the tension is palpable in the Wolf Den. 

You spend most of the evening chatting and sharing drinks and food with Sara and Baela. They have the funniest stories about growing up together; spending summers between King’s Landing and Driftmark. They met with Sara and Cregan had moved to King’s Landing from Winterfell after the death of their father. 

“Baela was my hero,” Sara told you, “I came to school, my first day at a new school, wearing my dire wolf slippers.” She bites her lips, “Kids started teasing me, calling me wolf girl. Baela punched 3 kids in their noses.”

“Friends ever since,” Baela says, smiling widely, before insisting you have to hit the dance floor, at least once this evening. One song turns into five, and soon you’re having the time of your life in the middle of the dance floor.

After a while, you slide up to the bar, ordering water, leaning your palms against the counter. You’re a tad tipsy, that perfect buzz where you feel incredibly warm, and your palms have started to tingle. 

Cregan hands you your water, before attending to other patrons. You hold the glass against your bare sternum, relishing the feeling of the cool condensation on your skin. You dip your fingers into the cup, removing an ice cube and sliding it over your collarbone, and around the back of your neck.

“Having fun?” you’d know that snarky voice anywhere. Aemond slides up next to you, leaning against the bar. His eye tracks a drop of water that runs down your chest, before disappearing between your cleavage. 

You bring the ice cube to your lips, rubbing them against it. 

“Yup,” you murmur around it, not really sure why he’s making small talk with you. 

The ice cube has nearly melted, so you hold it against the back of your neck once more. 

“Hot?” Aemond murmurs. You glance up at him. 

“What?” you ask.

“You’re hot?” he asks again, motioning to the ice cube. 

“I was dancing,” you tell him.

“I saw,” he says, lip curling upwards.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you ask, the liquor giving you courage, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you-”

“You ruined a family heirloom the first day I met you,” Aemond interrupts, tapping his long fingers against the bar. 

“That was an accident,” you tell him, again, but your cheeks bloom with blush regardless. 

Aemond smiles at that, eye flickering over your face.

“Your flower boy ask you out yet?” Aemond asks, quickly changing the subject. 

“Flower boy?” you ask, until you realize he’s referring to Will, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, raising a brow, “Just curious. It gets dull around here.”

“The thrill from sinking teenage boys' boats only lasts so long, huh?” you tell him, turning to face him. Shit, he’s tall. You’re forced to look up at him through your lashes. Aemond turns slightly, leaning one hand against the bar as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll have to find something else to entertain me,” he agrees, tilting his head.

“Heard you don’t have a problem with that,” the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. Goddamn, it. Baela once told you your mouth would be the death of you. Sometimes you just can’t seem to stop your thoughts. 

“What’s that mean?” Aemond asks with a shimmer of curiosity in his eye. 

“Nothing,” you tell him, shaking your head, “Stop talking to me.”

“The mouth on you,” Aemond says, shaking his head, “You’re being rather rude.”

Your jaw slacks, eyes widening. “I’m being rude? You’re the one being rude!” you tell him.

“How so?” he inquires, a puzzled expression crossing his features. You scowl at him. 

“You’re just trying to be an ass,” you tell him, shaking your head, “You know, I’m a very nice person. We could have been friends.”

“You and I are not going to be friends,” Aemond says, voice lowering an octave. He looks at you intensely and you feel warmth creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. You break away from his gaze, taking a sip of your water.

“Sara was fucking lying,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. 

Aemond brings his lower lip between his teeth. You can tell, he’s genuinely curious about what information you have on him.

“About….?” he asks.

Your cheeks are blazing with heat, but you decide to call him out. 

“About you and Floris,” you say, placing your glass on the counter, “And her siblings? Sounds a little incestuous to me.” 

Aemond’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. You reach for your drink again, needing something to do with your hands. 

“Oh?” he says, pursing his lips. He hums slightly, gazing at you. 

“I didn’t believe it,” you tell him, sipping your drink, “Four girls is a lot to handle.”

“It’s surprisingly easy when you know what you’re doing,” Aemond answers casually.

You nearly choke, but manage to compose yourself as he watches you carefully. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Your mind drifts to Floris, the conversation you overheard. To Cece Lannister burning rose bushes. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You can’t help your curiosity. Aemond somehow had them wrapped around his finger. 

“Yeah right,” you tell him, laughing slightly, “You’re all talk.”

You’re baiting him slightly, but you don’t care. 

“You wanna find out?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Your breath catches as he leans forward, bending slightly to your height. Aemond brings his face next to yours, you can feel the tip of his nose drag across your cheek. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut. 

“There’s a bathroom right down the hall,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll show you what all that talks about.”

Holy shit.

You were not expecting that reaction. 

“I’m not fucking you in the bathroom,” you hiss, pushing your hand against his chest. You can’t think with his breath against your ear.

“Wherever you want,” he tells you, grabbing your wrist. His touch is like fire, as he rubs his thumb along the smooth skin of your inner wrist. Goosebumps form on your arms and you have to suppress a slight whimper. 

Girl, get it together. You’re tipsy that’s all. It's just the alcohol and a hot guy, nothing more. It doesn’t help that the last time you got laid was a one-night stand months ago that left you on read when you reached out the next day. 

“Wha-what?” you ask him, eyes wide.

“Name the place,” he says, “And time. I’m very punctual.”

You blink, not believing what you’re hearing.

“You’re not serious-”

“I am though,” he says, pursing his lips, “You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head. 

“You don’t even like me-”

“So?”

Anger surges through you, along with a sharp sting of humiliation. Your lips turn down in a frown. 

“You’re beautiful,” Aemond says, shocking you like a slap to the face, “Clearly intelligent. I don’t see why we can’t help each other out.”

“What are you even talking about?” you ask in bewilderment.

“A friends-with-benefits situation,” Aemond answers, honestly.

“You’re not even my friend! You said so yourself!” you tell him, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. 

“We can change the name of the arrangement if that’s your hesitation,” Aemond assures you.

“If you’re looking for a fuckbuddy, call Floris,” you tell him.

“That door is closed,” he tells you and you blink in disbelief. He’s speaking so clinically, in such a detached manner. 

Jesus Christ, who hurt this guy?

“Well then take your pick of the other Baratheon girls!” you encourage, “I’m not interested!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says, smirking, “You know where to find me.”

You hurry away from the bar, and back onto the dancefloor with Baela, Sara, Helaena, and Rhaena. They greet you with open arms and pull you into a dance. You glance back at the bar where Aemond still stands, watching you as he leans against the bar. 

You meet his eye, feeling warmth pool in your lower belly. No fucking way. Not this prick. You’re not that down bad for a summer fling. And plus, you have options! Will Tyrell seems like a nice guy! And Driftmark is a big island. So is King’s Landing. Anyone can be your summer fling.

Anyone but him.

note: is it.....getting warm in here? just me? okay bye hehe

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected

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[mushiemellows]

These mf’s need a better name than Old Strawhat Polycule but I will present regardless

Franky and Robin need no introduction. She finds him interesting and a good dose of silly guy cures the depression like nothing else. If a man (35, blue hair, pronouns, naked, craftsman, surfer, local union representative) built me a fish tank and a library, I too could simply not resist. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is.

Robin and Brook, likewise, ooooo the macabre appeal of the hanahone ship. She licks him in the way that archeologists lick rocks and bones to figure out if they are a rock or a bone and she thinks it’s a funny joke every time. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is. When they go to the beach he buries himself halfway in the sand and she digs him back up and she thinks it’s sooooo funny every time.

Brook and Franky lay stoned on the deck noodling their guitars and they’re like when two rockstars kiss on stage. Brook stands there like an anatomical model when Franky’s gotta crack open the hood and points to stuff. They’ve got the same strand of “lived in isolation on an abandoned ship” disease but Brook’s just for it 9x as bad (50 years to Franky’s 4). Sometimes they make Franky run on Milk to see what it does (you DONT want to see Milk Franky)

Jinbei 👏 and 👏 Franky both love 👏 SUNNY!!!! They get her, and to understand Sunny is to Understand Franky and he stands there and he watches Jinbei drive his car like the master that he is and it makes him Feel Things. They listen to dad rock. They go surfing together. They go snorkeling together. They go fishing together. They go to 2pm Wednesday half priced movies together. They go bowling together. They share a shirt collection.

Robin and Jinbei free political prisoners!!! The thinks he’s handsome, she thinks he’s kind, she thinks he’s Just. She thinks he’s admirable. They organize protests, they attend community meetings, they figure out direct action. She’s kissing fish men and it’s making the papers for the revolutionary act that it is (and the papers can’t even comprehend when Franky Kisses Him). He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she IS!

Brook And Jinbei used to Go to Chilis together but then chilis got rid of the 2 for 25 deal (because of inflation) so they’re a little mad about it and are taking direct action against the banks. And trying to find a new restaurant to go to. They’re considering getting into lawn bowling/bocce because bowling nights with everyone are getting too expensive (because inflation is too high! $75 for 4 people to bowl for an hour????? We can have bowling at home!!) but it’s not the same.

And then they all pile up when they sleep too because a cuddle pile ain’t just for the younger crew