Imagines || shows and movies characters x reader

Mayhem || Barbie [Barbie dreamhouse adventures]

Barbie stood on the balcony of her Dreamhouse, the neon lights of Glam City twinkling below like a spread of jewels. The wind tugged at the ends of her perfectly styled hair, but she didn't flinch. From up here, she could see everything—the glimmering pool, the endless closet, and most importantly, the swarm of paparazzi gathered at the gates. 

"Well, isn't this a clusterfuck," she muttered under her breath, watching the chaos unfold below. But her gaze wasn't focused on the flashing cameras or the screaming fans. No, she was looking at you, standing in the middle of the living room, hands on your hips, giving her that look—the one that always made her feel just a little less like a plastic doll and a bit more like a real woman.

"Y/n," Barbie started, striding towards you with the confidence of a queen who knows exactly how to rule her world. "This is what I get for hosting the fucking Glam City Gala, huh?"

You crossed your arms, not even trying to hide your frustration. "You invited every fake bitch in this city, Barbie. What did you expect?"

She paused mid-step, one eyebrow arching in that perfect way that made it clear she wasn't used to being talked to like that. But there was a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth—she liked a challenge. "Expect? I expected them to bow down, kiss my perfectly manicured feet, and go home talking about how fabulous I am."

"Instead, they're here to ruin your night." You pointed out the window where the Fake Barbies were already causing a scene. Vicky, the leader, had climbed onto the roof of her limo and was drunkenly shouting something about Barbie being a has-been.

"Fucking Vicky," Barbie growled, her fists clenching at her sides. "She's been trying to take me down since high school. And you know what? I'm sick of it."

Before you could stop her, Barbie was stomping towards the door, her heels clicking against the marble floor like gunshots. "Barbie, wait—"

But she was already gone, strutting down the grand staircase with the kind of determination that meant someone was about to get their ass handed to them. You sighed, following after her. Someone had to keep her from burning the Dreamhouse down.

Downstairs, the party was in full swing, but the energy had shifted. Everyone was watching as Barbie made her way through the crowd, her eyes locked on Vicky, who was now trying to dance on top of a fountain. "Oh, this is gonna be good," you heard Jazzie say, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, clearly enjoying the show.

Barbie reached the fountain and didn't even hesitate. "Get the fuck off my property, Vicky," she commanded, her voice as sharp as the stilettos she was wearing.

Vicky turned, wobbling slightly. "Oh, look who it is—the plastic princess herself," she sneered. "What are you gonna do, Barbie? Call Ken to fight your battles for you?"

Barbie's smile was cold, dangerous. "No. I'm going to handle this myself."

And before Vicky could react, Barbie reached up, grabbed her by the ankle, and yanked. Vicky shrieked as she toppled off the fountain, landing in the pool with a splash that soaked everyone nearby. The crowd gasped, and for a moment, there was silence.

Then Barbie laughed—loud, unapologetic, and full of pure satisfaction. "You really thought you could outshine me at my own party? Bitch, please."

The crowd erupted into cheers, and just like that, the party was back on. You couldn't help but laugh too, shaking your head as you watched Barbie strut back towards you, her head held high. "That was... intense," you said as she approached.

Barbie shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Someone had to put her in her place. And besides, what's a party without a little drama?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile on your face. "You're impossible, you know that?"

She grinned, slipping her arm through yours. "Yeah, but you love me for it. Now, let's get back to the party. I'm not done being the queen of this fucking Dreamhouse."

And with that, Barbie led you back inside, the music pumping, the lights flashing, and the night still young. As you looked around at the chaos—the spilled drinks, the dancing, the laughter—you realized that maybe, just maybe, she was right. Life with Barbie was never boring, and that was exactly how you liked it.