Barbie Girl
This is my first fic so be nice. Um warnings....let's see...hum..... references to crossbreeding, yuri and yaoi. I don't own those cute little digi things so don't sue. This is told in a first person, try to guess who.
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I'm a barbie girl in the barbie world
wrapped in plastic it's fantastic
My C.D. player has been playing that song for the last hour now. I'm half way tempted to bash Takeru's skull in for it. He's in there dancing with his precious Angemon. If it weren't for the fact this is the only time I get to see him I'd tell him to get the hell out of my house.
Actually, I kind of like that song. The girl sounds like me. Everyone sees me as their barbie doll. The little sister they can turn to when they need a shoulder to cry on. I was even the first person Takeru came to when he came out.
Takeru, now there's a work of art unto itself. His older brother is dating mine. Taichi and Yamato were made for each other though. Takeru and his little boy toy weren't. I've had the biggest crush on him since, well, from the moment we met I think. He and I were side by side for years. Even as adults we still insist being so. I like being his friend, I really do, but I hate lying for him.
No one but me knows who he's dating. They'd probably all choke and die if they found out he and Hope, as Angemon has been nicknamed, are a lot more than just good friends. God I feel like the world's biggest bitch for even thinking bad things about Hope but I love Takeru.
"Sweety, you okay," a light voice asks, reminding me that I am every bit as guilty as Takeru. Awai, as Angewomon had herself renamed, is my own lover. She and I share this apartment with Takeru and Hope.
"Yeah I'm fine."
Plastic smiles on the outside, hollow on the inside, the true barbie girl. Maybe someday I'll tell Takeru how I feel. Maybe I'll tell my family who I'm really dating and maybe get T.K. to do the same. And maybe I'll always just be a barbie girl.
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Short and depressing, I know, but I had to work it out of my system.
This is my first fic so be nice. Um warnings....let's see...hum..... references to crossbreeding, yuri and yaoi. I don't own those cute little digi things so don't sue. This is told in a first person, try to guess who.
***********************************************************************
I'm a barbie girl in the barbie world
wrapped in plastic it's fantastic
My C.D. player has been playing that song for the last hour now. I'm half way tempted to bash Takeru's skull in for it. He's in there dancing with his precious Angemon. If it weren't for the fact this is the only time I get to see him I'd tell him to get the hell out of my house.
Actually, I kind of like that song. The girl sounds like me. Everyone sees me as their barbie doll. The little sister they can turn to when they need a shoulder to cry on. I was even the first person Takeru came to when he came out.
Takeru, now there's a work of art unto itself. His older brother is dating mine. Taichi and Yamato were made for each other though. Takeru and his little boy toy weren't. I've had the biggest crush on him since, well, from the moment we met I think. He and I were side by side for years. Even as adults we still insist being so. I like being his friend, I really do, but I hate lying for him.
No one but me knows who he's dating. They'd probably all choke and die if they found out he and Hope, as Angemon has been nicknamed, are a lot more than just good friends. God I feel like the world's biggest bitch for even thinking bad things about Hope but I love Takeru.
"Sweety, you okay," a light voice asks, reminding me that I am every bit as guilty as Takeru. Awai, as Angewomon had herself renamed, is my own lover. She and I share this apartment with Takeru and Hope.
"Yeah I'm fine."
Plastic smiles on the outside, hollow on the inside, the true barbie girl. Maybe someday I'll tell Takeru how I feel. Maybe I'll tell my family who I'm really dating and maybe get T.K. to do the same. And maybe I'll always just be a barbie girl.
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Short and depressing, I know, but I had to work it out of my system.
