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winchesterwords · 4 years

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“Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time” Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Sam and Dean need help on a case, they reach out to Rowena who sends you, a hunter, to help them with a ghost problem. Dean however, may have just met his match in more ways than one.

Word Count: 5265

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time” by Thomas Rhett

Note: Dean Winchester has my heart! Feel free to request! Also, I am not exactly sure where I set this, but it’s before the fall as Cas still has his wings.

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“Of all the people we know, Sam, you called Rowena.”

Dean looked over at his brother in the passenger seat of the Impala with narrowed eyes. Sam sighed, shaking the hair from his face. “You said we needed help and she has connections,” explained Sam. “Besides, she said she was sending someone to help, not that she was coming herself.”

“Great so we don’t get the Head Bitch Witch, just one of her friends,” Dean said.

“Rowena said she’s a hunter, not a witch,” Sam said as he tapped away on his phone. Dean didn’t bother to respond as he turned his eyes back to the road in front of him.

The Winchesters had gotten word of a case just outside of Omaha. There had been previous witch activity in the area years before so Sam had reached out to Rowena in hopes of getting some insight. However, the woman was currently busy trying to wrangle her son and since she didn’t believe the case had anything to do with witches, she passed along the message to you, a hunter she knew that was in the area. You had told her that you were going to meet the boys at a motel off the highway and Rowena had sent the message along to the Winchesters.

“I just don’t get it,” Dean said after a few more minutes, “why is she helping us all of a sudden?”

“When it comes to Rowena, she’s probably only doing us this favor so we have to do her one in return.”

“What? Does she think we’ll be at her beck and call?”

“Seems like it.”

“Well if this goes South,” Dean said, “I’m tracking down her broomstick and making her fix it.”

“Fair enough.”

-------

When the Winchesters arrived at the motel, the parking lot was nearly empty except for a dark truck in the corner.

You leaned against it, tapping away on a cell phone. When you heard the rumble of the Impala you looked up and lifted your hand in greeting. “I really don’t like new hunters,” Dean grumbled as he pulled into a spot across from you.

“I bet they think the same thing about us, Dean,” Sam countered.

“No, no they don’t,” Dean said with a sly smile at his brother, “because we’re awesome.” Sam rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door and stepped out. Dean followed quickly after. Both men kept their weapons close as they approached you.

You were calm and casual as they walked over. If this was any other night, Dean would have thought you were just a normal girl waiting on a friend, not a hunter with a specialty in ghost possession.

“Sam and Dean?” you asked. “Though, I don’t know who else would be driving a car like that.” Sam smiled first, moving forward to reach for her hand. “I’m (Y/N),” you said as Sam grasped your hand in his.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said pleasantly as you turned to Dean. He gripped your hand tight as well.

“So, you’re the ghost girl?” Dean asked, trying to get a feel for you.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said with a small laugh. “I’ve been called worse. Come on, I already got a room.” You nodded your head towards the motel room not too far where you had parked your respective vehicles. The boys followed after you and out of the corner of your eye, you could see that both were keeping their hands near their weapons. You rolled your eyes at the movement. “You know,” you said as you dug the key out of your pocket, “if I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t do it at a motel frequently visited by hunters. That would be a bit too cliche.” Looking over your shoulder you sent them both a wink.

Dean blinked at you as Sam awkwardly coughed next to him. With another quick laugh, you pushed into the room and tossed the key on the small table by the door. “So,” Sam said as Dean closed the door behind you, “how exactly do you know Rowena?”

“She and I worked on a problem last year,” you explained, leaning against the wall, observing the two flannel-clad hunters before you. “Rowena was helping out another witch. Some kind of dark versus light turf war, I guess.” You shrugged. “Bystanders were getting caught in the middle and it got pretty messy.”

“I bet it did,” Dean said, crossing his arms as he stood by the garish partition. He was looking at you as if he was trying to see the tumblers of an unbreakable safe. Every move you made, he clocked. You had heard the stories of the Winchesters.

Sam and Dean, they were legendary within the hunting world. You were surprised to see that they were traveling with just each other as you had heard of a winged companion that tended to tag along at times as well. Regardless of the Angel, these two were some of the best and you were hoping to make a good first impression. As Rowena had said, “it never hurts to have a Winchester owe you one”.

“She warned me about you,” you said to Dean as you took a seat at the table and kicked your feet up.

“Is that so?” he asked. “And what did the witch say?”

“That you’re impulsive and have major trust issues while Sam here, is the smart one with a knack for magic and the books,” you said, recalling the last conversation you had had with the Scottish witch. “Though, I am still not sure if she was saying those things out of kindness or annoyance.”

“Knowing Rowena, it was probably the latter,” Sam said as he took a seat across from you. You nodded in agreement.

“So, show me what you got,” you said.

“Over the past couple of weeks there has been an increase in drownings in the area,” Sam began, digging his laptop out of his bag and placing it on the table.

“Accidental?” you asked.

“That’s what the cops think,” Dean said, sitting down on the bed next to you and Sam. “But four people drowning in the same place like this doesn’t seem like an accident to me.”

“Where did it happen?”

“A local spot,” Sam said, turning the screen toward you. It showed the front page of the local newspaper. A local fishing hole that apparently had a history of its own.

“What’s with the creepy statue?” you asked, pointing in the background of the main photo.

“That was the first thing I noticed too,” Dean said, leaning back on his arms. Sam enlarged the photo and zoomed in. Just behind the main swimming area was an old stone statue of what looked to be an old man reaching towards the murky water. It was a bit too ominous for your liking.

“We’re not sure,” Sam said. “Apparently it’s just always been there. Some people think it was put there by the first person to own the land, but now it’s all owned by the city.”

“And this is where everyone had been drowning?” you asked and Sam nodded. “Sounds to me like spirit doesn’t want the Living hanging out their spot. What are the details behind the deaths?”

“All strong swimmers and they just calmly walked into the lake and then didn’t come back to the surface until their bodies were discovered.”

“Does this sound like your kind of thing, Ghost Girl?” Dean asked. You slowly looked over at him and then grinned. Digging into your pocket, you produced your fake FBI Forensic badge and showed it to him.

“Why do you think I brought this?”

---------

You elected to ride with the Winchesters over to the crime scene.

Leaning towards the front seat, you rested your head on your forearms. “Yeah... I could never do the suit,” you commented. Dean looked at you in his mirror with a brow raised.

“You do realize you’re posing as FBI too, right?” he asked.

“But I’m a tech,” you clarified. “All I need is my trusty windbreaker,” you said, shaking the collar of the jacket that was wrapped around your shoulders. “I have found that people tend to overlook an extra tech at the scene rather than another agent.”

“That… is actually very smart,” Sam said, looking back at you. You winked at him and settled back into your seat. You listened to the boys talk about the case and as Dean drove, as you mulled over theories of your own.

The statue was the biggest clue, but you weren’t sure how it all fit. However, Rowena had been right when she realized this wasn’t witchcraft. If a witch wanted to kill someone, drowning wouldn’t be the way to do it. The combination of water and witches never really worked out in history so they tended to avoid it.

You had perhaps thought it was demon possession, but then it didn’t really fit with the usual motivation behind demonic activities. Also, there weren’t any omens in the area so you were back to your comfort zone, ghosts. Ghost possession was something you had focused on after you, yourself, had become possessed at age sixteen, and then both of your parents years later. You had inked up shortly after discovering the world of hunting and now were impervious to their body jumping, but not everyone was a hunter and so you had to help clean up the messes whenever you could.

As you went over a strategy in your head, you didn’t even realize Dean was talking to you. “Sorry, what was that?” you asked, leaning forward again.

“I asked if you needed any weapons,” Dean repeated as he turned down the final street and pulled over by the entrance to the trail that lead to the water.

“Oh, no, I’m good,” you said, lifting your shotgun that was placed in your bag along with salt rounds and then the iron brass knuckles you kept on an iron chain around your neck. Dean whistled low at the sight of your accessory.

“I gotta get me some of those,” he said with a charming smile and then pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out of the car. You followed after the boys, scanning the area. It was crawling with squad cars and you knew it wouldn’t be long before the press showed up.

While Sam and Dean headed to speak to whoever was in charge, you hiked your bag up on your shoulder and ducked through the branches to get to the water’s edge. Nobody gave you a second glance as you walked the shore of the swimming hole. Divers were still in the water collecting evidence as you made your way towards the statue. That is where Sam and Dean met up with you.

“Sheriff is clueless,” Dean said as he approached you.

“As always,” you agreed, walking around the statue, eyeing it closely.

“A deputy thinks these are all suicides,” Sam revealed.

“He might not be that far off…” you said as you took out your pen and dragged it along the side of the statue. When you pulled it away, black slime coated it. You held it up for the boys to see. “Ectoplasm.”

“Great,” Dean sighed. “So spooks are doing this?”

“Yep,” you said, shaking off the ecto. “For some reason, this ghost is possessing people and drowning them. It explains why they just walked into the water. Somebody really doesn’t want people here.”

“What was this place before it became party central?” Dean asked, kicking an empty beer bottle.

“Just old land,” Sam said, “there isn’t much in the county records and when I asked the cops, everyone shut up like it was taboo or something.”

“Oh, I love a good town scandal,” you said with a smile at the boys. As you went to grab your bag, your eye caught something glinting in the sun. Kneeling down, you dug it out of the mud. Holding up to the light, you turned it in your hand.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“I’m not sure,” you said as you held a small locket in your hand. It looked as if someone had dropped it recently, breaking the mechanism on the side. It was tarnished and caked in dirt as if it had been underground. Popping the seal, you nearly gagged. “And I’m not sure I want to know,” you said turning to show the boys. Nestled in between the two metal sides was a tooth, the root still attached. Dean did gag at the sight.

“Okay, that’s just wrong,” Dean said. “Oh, what are you doing?”

“It could be evidence,” you said as you slipped into a small bag you kept in your fake forensic kit.

“Or it could just be someone’s necklace where they keep grandpa’s final tooth,” Dean said. You stowed it away anyways.

“Look all I know is that a ghost is drowning people and this locket may have something to do with it. Can we continue debating this or can we go get a drink?” That last sentence had Dean grinning.

“See, Sammy, this is how you solve a case,” he said, clapping his hands and gesturing everyone back to the car.

---------

The three of you sat in a local dive bar, swapping war stories.

“You really took out a fully grown skin walker on one of your first hunts?” Sam asked you as he sipped his beer. You laughed.

“Okay, don’t make me sound like some big badass,” you said, swirling the whiskey in your glass. “The guy was drunk off his ass. I just got lucky with him.”

“Still, that’s pretty damn impressive,” Dean said with a smile. You gave him one of your own. At first, you weren’t sure about Dean Winchester, but now? He was definitely one to keep an eye on. “Alright,” he said, trying to steer the conversation back to the task at hand. “Sam, what did you find?” Sam took out his computer and fired it up.

“I looked into the tooth locket that (Y/N) found and I think I got something,” Sam said, turning the computer so you and Dean could see. On the screen was a photo of a young woman, dressed in white, and around her neck was the same locket you had found by the statue.

“Who was she?” you asked.

“Melinda Manns,” Sam explained. “She was the wife of Thomas Manns, the man who owned the land the swimming hole is on. And get this, her grave was recently robbed.” Sam flicked to the news article that reported on a series of grave robbings nearby. “That necklace was one of the things missing.”

“So then who is our spook? Melinda or Thomas?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

“How did Melinda die?” you asked. Sam grabbed the computer and began typing away.

“Oh,” Sam said, “she drowned under mysterious circumstances.”

“Which in my book means murder,” you said downing the rest of your drink. “My bet? Old Man Manns killed his wife and buried her with that locket of hers. Maybe he felt remorse, maybe he didn’t, but one thing’s for sure, he didn’t want people digging her up.”

“So, he’s drowning people out of revenge?” Dean asked.

“Ghosts have had stranger motivation. He’s tied to the swimming hole. Doesn’t know who disturbed the grave so he’s just taking who he can get. Sometimes spirits get confused and a lot of the times they can’t help but possess people to try to get answers.”

“Well, I scanned for EMF and didn’t get much of a steady reading at the lake,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Don’t frett, Sammy, we’ll figure it out,” Dean said with a wink and his brother rolled his eyes.

“Ya’ll want another round?” you asked as you stood up from your seat.

“You guys go ahead, I’m gonna head back to the room for a bit,” Sam said as he gathered his stuff.

“Ah, come on, man,” Dean said, but Sam shook his head.

“I’ll see you two later,” Sam said with a slap on his brother’s shoulder. You waved to him as he slipped out of the bar.

“What about you, Winchester? You want another beer?” you asked Dean, leaning towards him.

“Make it a double tequila and you got yourself a deal,” he said with a wink. Shaking your head, you got up to get the next round.

Dean watched after you and he couldn’t help but think of the way you had walked around the crime scene earlier. There was something so...natural about the way you searched for the clues and how you were able to put the pieces together quickly. You were born for this life, but there was also something underneath the surface, something dark that prompted you to become a hunter in the first place. While he was curious, he knew he didn’t want to push. He knew about inner demons and he wasn’t about to force you to reveal yours.

When you came back to the table, you had a grin on your face. “Flash a smile and a badge and look what you get, free booze!” You handed Dean his tequila and took your seat again, sipping on the smooth whiskey. You smiled as you leaned back in your chair. Dean watched you for a second before placing his drink down and leaning forward.

“You are an odd one,” he said, narrowing his eyes a bit.

“Is that bad?” you asked, trying to read the man before you.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said with another grin. The night went on with many more shots and a whole lot more laughter. You and Dean exchanged more stories and soon, the two of you were leaning against one another in a booth, watching the patrons of the bar stumble around and play pool. Taking off your jacket, you relaxed further into your seat.

Stretching your arms over your head, Dean noticed something on the side of your neck. “What happened there?” he asked gently. Your hand went to the scars on your neck and covered them with your hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you...uh, sorry,” he stuttered.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Just a hazard of the job. I was, uh, possessed by a ghost when I was sixteen,” you explained. “I managed to get control for a few seconds and we had this old iron tool at our farm and I don’t know how I knew to use it, but I just grabbed it and,” you mimed raking something across your neck.

“Damn,” Dean said. “What happened to the ghost?”

“Local hunter took care of it, I guess,” you said. “Some guy showed up on my doorstep a day later with an obvious fake badge and I never had a problem with it again. Until two more possessed my parents later on. I guess I don’t have the best luck when it comes to spirits.”

“That’s why you’re the ghost specialist,” Dean figured.

“We all have our things,” you said. “I know yours is Angels and Demons.”

“Well, that was not really my choice. When an Angel saves you from Hell, you sort of owe them,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not the only one who owes them,” you said with a small smile. Dean’s brows shot up as he caught onto your meaning. “Sorry was that way too forward?”

“Not at all,” Dean assured you, draping his arm across the seat behind you. “Although, and this may just be the tequila talking, I wasn’t exactly sure about but you when we rolled up.”

“Because I know Rowena?” you asked, leaning slightly into his arm.

“She hasn’t always been the most...helpful of people,” he said. “I mean she’s a witch with the King of Hell as a son.”

“Fair point,” you said with a small laugh, “but Rowena has helped me in the past. Not just the witch turf war, but she has looked out for me for a while. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know, but she’s never let me down. So, when she calls, I answer.”

“There seems a lot to unpack there,” Dean said.

“It’s a story for another time, Winchester,” you said with a smile as you shuffled out of his arm and threw some bills on the table as a tip. “Walk me home?” Dean rolled his eyes, but grabbed his coat and followed you out of the booth.

You and Dean stumbled from the bar, still quite tipsy from your night of drinking. Sam had taken the Impala back, so you two began the short walk back. Dean slung his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. The two of you walked the dark street back towards the neon sign in the distance. He kept you tight to his side as cars rushed past on the street and you didn’t mind the feeling at all of his strong arm wrapped tight around your waist.

When you finally got back to the room, you leaned against the side of the motel, trying to gain your bearings. Dean stood in front of you, resting his hands on either side of you. As he leaned in, you didn’t object. You smiled as Dean pressed his lips against yours. You leaned into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, but eventually, you pushed him back.

“Easy, Winchester,” you sighed, “we’re working and I am not sober and neither are you.” Dean smiled, but stepped back, raising his hands in surrender.

“Breakin’ my heart, Darlin’,” he said but kept his hands to himself.

“I know, I enjoy it,” you said with a small smile. Dean laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“Now I see it, the reason Rowena likes you so much,” he said and you pursed your lips.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” you said. He winked at you and elicited another laugh from you that brought another smile to his own face.

“Okay, since we are working, any more theories?”

“I think it was the maid,” you said with a serious expression.

“(Y/N), there is no maid,” he said.

“There isn’t?” you asked, feigning confusion. It was only a few seconds before both of you began laughing. Suddenly, the door to the motel burst open and Sam came out. He stared at the two of you for a second before shaking his head.

“We have another body,” he announced and you and Dean sobered up quickly.

“And I was just starting to have fun,” you whined as you pushed off the wall. You approached Dean and patted him on his chest. “Rain check, Winchester,” you said.

“(Y/N)” Sam said, “Dean and I are going to go to the Coroner’s Office. Can you check the swimming hole? We’ll meet you there in a bit.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said as you headed to the Impala, sliding into the back as you waited for the boys to change into their suits and grab their badges. As soon as Sam slipped into the driver’s seat seeing as he was the only one equipped to drive at the moment, you headed out.

-------

Sam and Dean dropped you at the entrance to the swimming hole and you crept through the trees.

Forensics were packing everything up and soon, you were alone with the neon yellow crime scene tape and the light from the moon above. Pulling out an EMF reader you had snagged from the trunk, you turned it on. It lit up immediately as you scanned it back and forth. “I know you’re here somewhere…” you said, slipping on your iron knuckles. Realizing you left your salt gun back at the motel, you hoped that there was actually only a single ghost and not two.

It was another half hour before you finally spotted something. It was flicker at first, but then you made out the full figure of one Thomas Manns. The spirit stood by the statue of himself, watching out over the water. Pulling out your phone, you silently dialed Dean’s number.

“What’s up? We’re on our way already,” Dean said as he answered.

“Thomas is the ghost,” you whispered into the phone.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because I am looking right at him, genius,” you said, but then the ghost disappeared. “Dammit, I lost him.”

“Okay, listen to me, (Y/N),” Dean said. “We finally have a connection for the victims. They’re all suspects in multiple grave robbings. Most likely Melinda’s too. That’s why he’s killing them.” Suddenly, your pocket felt very heavy. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and felt the cool metal of the locket.

“I think I screwed up, Dean,” you said and as you spoke, your breath was very visible.

“What’s wrong?”

“I still have the necklace. The one from Melinda’s grave.”

“Get rid of it!” Dean yelled, but it was too late. A coldness swept through you and as you turned over your shoulder, the very angry face of Thomas Manns appeared. He lashed out at you, tossing you through the air. You hit the ground with a grunt, your phone leaving your hand as Dean yelled your name on the other end.

You scrambled for your knuckles, but they were too far from you as you struggled to get to your feet. However, Manns was faster. He took hold of you and fear entered your gut. You knew your warding protected you from being possessed, but nothing could stop him from killing you.

You fought as Mann threw you into the water. The coldness shocked you immediately as you struggled for breath. Swimming to the surface, phantom hands pulled you back under. You kicked out at nothing as you tried your hardest to break the surface. When you finally got a breath of air, Manns was there. In his hands was a knife that you were positive he used to injure his wife before drowning her in the very lake.

Your brain struggled to remember a banishing spell Rowena had taught you, but it was too cold and the fear was overwhelming. As Manns went for you again, his hands freezing your blood, you finally heard the shouts of Sam and Dean. Manns tried to pull you down again, but Dean arrived at the shore.

“Hey, Old McDonald!” he shouted. “Hands off!” Dean raised his shotgun and fired. The salt hit Manns and then entered your shoulder. You shouted as the ghost disappeared and then Dean was running through the murky water to get to you. You weakly met him halfway, tossing your arm around him. “I got you,” he said in your ear.

“Ouch,” you whined as your shoulder bled. Dean hauled you back onto the shore and checked you over, pulling your jacket aside to see the wound. It wasn’t deep and the salt wouldn’t do any permanent damage.

“Sorry,” he said, “hard to aim from that distance.”

“Thanks for the save,” you said as Sam wrapped his blazer around your shoulders, “but next time? Let’s make sure that the salt is accompanied by tequila.” Dean smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

--------

The last thing to do was salt and burn the body of Thomas Manns.

You leaned against a nearby tombstone as Sam and Dean dug up the grave of Manns. “Who knew grave robbing was going to bite us in the ass one day?” Dean asked, tossing his shovel down.

“It’s technically not grave robbing when we salt and burn bones,” Sam said from inside the grave. “We’re not taking anything.”

“Oh, well that makes me feel a whole lot better,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes.

“Sam,” you said, gaining his attention. The younger Winchester looked at you and you tossed him Melinda’s locket. “Better safe than sorry,” you said and he tossed it into the coffin.

Sam had wrapped up your shoulder before heading to the cemetery in your respective vehicles. You watched as they soaked the bones with lighter fluid and then Dean lit the matches and dropped them into the pit. The grave was set ablaze and you finally relaxed.

Sam and Dean stood over the burning bones, watching it with the same calmness as they did with everything. Rowena had said that they were becoming numb to the idea of monsters, but you didn’t think she was right. Sam and Dean weren’t numb, they were just used to the ugliness of the world and knew how to process the emotions that came with it.

Even in the short amount of time you had known them, you realized there was a reason Angels watched over them. The Winchesters were what the world needed and you had only wished that you had known them when your parents had died. Dean’s eyes flickered to yours over the flames and he nodded to you. You sighed, offering him a nod of your own. Whether you saw him again after this, he was going to be leaving your mind any time soon.

-------

You said goodbye to the boys at the entrance to the graveyard. Giving Sam a big hug, you said, “Don’t hesitate to call, big guy.”

“I won’t,” he said, stepping out of your hug. “Tell Rowena thank you for me.”

“I will,” you promised with a smile. He squeezed your shoulder once more before heading to the Impala to wait for his brother. Dean approached you, his hands in his pockets.

“So, this is goodbye?”

“For now,” you said. Dean smiled, awkwardly staring down at his boots. You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by his jacket. He fell into you and didn’t waste any time in connecting his lips to yours. His hands went into your hair as you gripped him tight. You sighed into the kiss, trying to memorize every touch and caress from Dean Winchester.

He pulled back for a second before kissing you again and then once more. You smiled up at him. “Are you gonna call me?” he asked, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Maybe,” you said, “only if you need my help.”

“Well, I’ll need something,” he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes but mimicked the smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet, Winchester,” you said. “I’ll see you around.” You reached up and kissed him one more time, letting your lips linger on his for just a bit longer before pulling away. You waved to him as you got in your car and drove away.

Dean watched after you, feeling like you would keep your word and he would be seeing you very soon. He waited until your taillights were out of sight before joining his brother in the car. “Sammy, I think I just found my future wife.”

Sam snorted, “Great, maybe Cas can officiate,” he joked.

“Officiate what?” Sam and Dean jumped at the sudden voice. Turning around, Castiel was sitting in the back seat of the Impala, looking between the brothers.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yelled, trying to get his heart rate down.

“Sorry,” Cas said and then looked at Sam who just burst out laughing. “Am I missing something?”

“I’ll fill you in on the way,” Sam said.

“On the way where?” Castiel asked, confused. Dean revved the engine and hit the gas.

“We’re going after a girl, I got a date.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #Dean x you #Dean Winchester x reader #Sam winchester #castiel #hunter!reader #rowena #spn imagines #supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural imagine

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 3 years

Text

Dysmorphia

Imagine a man; featherless, bipedal, pretty standard. This one has pale skin, black hair with a slight widows peak, and eyes so dark he looks like he has nothing but giant pupils. He has a faceful of freckles which looked much cuter when he was a kid, and two small moles, one on his lip, the other on his neck.

Picture him taller than average, but not exceptionally so; 6′3″, 6′4″ with shoes on, sub-basketball player height. Now give him a terrible hunch. He loses a good three or four inches from posture so bad that chiropractors make appointments to see him. He locks his knees when he stands so his legs curve backwards, which just looks uncomfortable, and he always leads with his gut hanging out; his spine looks like Trogdor the Burninator (sans beefy arms, wingalings, and consummate v’s, of course).

What he lacks in basketball player height he makes up for in basketball player feet. Just look at those clod hoppers! He has to order all of his shoes online because most stores only carry up to size 13. Last he checked he was a 14 and a half, 15-ish, but nothing he tries is comfortable because he’s got flat feet, like a dirty, draft-dodging communist! The way he walks is just wrong somehow. He regularly wears out the back of his shoes, right over his Achilles tendon. He has to pad the worn chunk of plastic and foam with duct tape to make them last longer, because size 15′s are not cheap!

His wardrobe consists mostly of t-shirts and khaki shorts, but these don’t seem to fit him right either. Sure, he’ll buy nice clothes every year, but they all seem to change size between the mall changing room and his house, or otherwise disappear (his dad probably co-opts them into his own wardrobe, the bastard). He is somehow both lanky and portly at the same time; thin arms and legs, with a big beer belly paunch over feminine hips, though he doesn’t drink. His khakis are all too loose and too short; they come to above his knees when he sits, and he has to wear a belt cinched tight to keep them from slipping down to his ankles.

His shirts are comically large because men’s clothes get wider, not taller, when the size goes up. He has to wear an L or XL, which are the right length, but make him look like he drank Alice’s shrinking potion. His only other alternative would be to wear a shirt that is the right circumference, but bares his midriff whenever he moves his arms.

His fingers are the stuff of nightmares; the nails are either crack addict long or chewed down to the bloody stump. He’s apathetic about this, he just lets them grow until they start getting caught on stuff, then he bites them off so short it hurts. He doesn’t like cutting his thumbnails because they’re thicker than the others and they hurt the most when they’re short. He has a weird sensory problem so that whenever he cuts them with clippers they feel artificial, unnatural, uncomfortable, so he has to chew them down or go mad.

Left alone for long enough his hair starts looking like Eraserhead; his hair doesn’t get longer, it gets taller, but not in a cool mad scientist kind of way. It’s super curly and thick, so it never looks good no matter how he brushes it. Not once in his life has he ever had a decent haircut; every single barber he’s ever been to has given him the exact same Deep South chud cut like one of those beefy dudes who pose with fish in their facebook profiles. No matter how many times he shows them photos and asks for something different, he still gets the Standard Chud for $15, $20 after tip. Whenever it’s cut that short, it makes his head look like an egg. “WE ARE FROM FRANCE.” His hair always looks best a week or two after getting it cut, but he never takes pictures in that little window because he is oblivious and self-loathing.

The less said about his facial hair, the better.

I’m going to say more anyway.

Both of his grandfathers had long, thick beards. His father has a long thick beard. He, however, is incapable of growing anything that looks even remotely presentable. He can grow a short, coarse, curly neckbeard that looks like pubic hair, a thin pencil mustache like a creep who lives in a van, and patchy sideburns that cover random spots on his cheeks. His chin is bare save for the thinnest saddest wisp of a soul patch that he can’t see, but he can feel. Oh, It’s there, mocking him. Altogether, it could not be a less flattering combo, but he often goes weeks without shaving because in These Trying Times™ he figures nobody’s gonna see his face anyway. His depression lets him justify his “why should I make my bed if I’m just gonna sleep in it again” argument about his entire personal appearance. Yikes.

His arms and legs are covered in scars and dark spots because none of his cuts ever heal right. He would wear pants to cover them, but he lives on the surface of the sun where it’s about a million degrees in winter, so pants are not an option unless it’s a formal occasion, which are few and far between because his hometown is a cultural wasteland with nothing to do and no one to see. His legs are disproportionately long, so he looks like he’s striding with purpose everywhere he goes. His normal walking speed is ever so slightly faster than whoever is walking in front of him, so he either has to awkwardly slow down which makes him looks like he’s following them, or speed up to try and overtake them, but he’s not going fast enough to do it quickly so he ends up walking next to them for a few seconds too long which is even worse AAAHHH

Eye contact is weird. Too much, not enough, he can never tell. He tries to keep his head down with the prey-instinct that if he can’t see them, they can’t see him, which results in a chronic case of Text Neck. When he walks past someone, he locks his neck straight forward so as not to make eye contact, which is almost always the WRONG thing to do because it comes off as rude, which he only realizes much later.

He overthinks everything and comes across as pretty sus because he’s trying to judge how everyone else pictures him on the fly; he doesn’t want to be rude, so he tries to leave everyone alone, but more often than not that makes him look cold and angry. His worst fear is that people of color will think he’s racist when he doesn’t look at them, or looks at them too much, or gives them a wide berth, when in reality he does that to everyone because being seen makes him uncomfortable, and he can’t stop from feeling guilty about living in his own head because he doesn’t want to keep thinking the way he does, which is to say TOO MUCH!

And to round out his insecurities, he has a big gap in his front teeth and his voice sounds like a nasally child trying to compensate for a speech impediment.

But you know what, his grammy says he’s a handsome young man, so he’s actually doing okay.

#welcome to my brain #I don't like it either #dysmorphia #body dysmorphic disorder #body dysmorphia #this actually felt nice #getting things off my chest #working through some stuff #venting #laughing at myself #character description #description #self loathing #laugh at yourself #self confidence #self esteem #low self esteem #self image #body

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fruit-teeth · 4 years

Text

Child of Fate

For as long as Helen could remember, she was sick.

There was always something wrong with her. Her childhood was full of doctors coming in and out of her house, hands touching her forehead to take her temperature, sour medicine being poured down her throat, and sheets and stuffed animals being taken away for fear of contamination, never to be seen again.

It had become routine to her, at this point, but it had caught her off guard when she’d overheard her grandmother telling her mother, “She’s not going to live to be a woman, we might as well give up now,”

But Helen did not die.

Helen recovered and survived, but even then she never did feel quite right. She was always tired, always pale, and she couldn’t walk very well since her legs had never formed properly. She could never remember a time when she felt ‘fine’— she often found herself wondering what it was like to be ‘fine’. It was probably like heaven. She listened in on many of her grandmother’s conversations with the men she worked with, and each time she heard mentions of something called ‘Australium’. No one would tell her what it was when she asked, but somehow she knew deep down that it would cure her.

There were things she still wanted in life. She got a journal for her twelfth birthday, and on the first page she made the following list about what she wanted her life to be in ten years:

‘In ten years, I will have—

Someone to love

2 little cats (black and gray)

A school teaching job

My own child

Happiness’

Indeed, Helen had dreams. But what she didn’t know was that her mother and grandmother had already planned her destiny, long ago.

“Wake up,” Helen’s mother, Emily, gently shook her awake early one morning. “Silly girl, wake up, will you?”

Helen sat up, frowning at her mother when she saw it was still dark out. “But why? There’s no school today...”

“I know,” Emily took her hand and pulled her out of bed. “I should mention— you will no longer be going to school. Today we will begin your training,”

It took Helen a few minutes to realize what her mother had said, and she finally spoke once they reached the bathroom. “Training?” Helen felt worry twisting within her as her mother got her bath ready. “For what? And what about school? I can’t get a job without school!”

Emily laughed, turning to cup her daughter’s face in her hands. “Of course you’ll have a job! I’ve told you since you were a babe: you’re going to have the same job your grandmother has now,”

Helen had never actually been told this, she had just heard it in passing all her life. However, she’d never thought that it would really happen.

She didn’t argue, though, as her mother bathed her and dressed her in a brand new dress. After she’d braided her hair, Emily took Helen by the hand and led her to the coach, just as the sun was beginning to rise. The world was covered in dew, and Helen wished she could admire it a moment longer but her mother just tugged her along.

They arrived at the headquarters— Helen actually didn’t know what it was called. She knew it as the place where her grandmother worked, and she believed her mother worked there too, but they were both highly secretive about what they did.

Upon entering the building, her grandmother greeted her, smiling her usual wry smile as she took Helen’s hand.

“Good morning, dear sweet girl,” her grandmother, Elizabeth, crooned. Her voice somehow always reminded Helen of molasses. “Have you come for your training?”

Helen just nodded, and Elizabeth looked up towards Emily. “Today is finally the day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, thank goodness,” Emily agreed. “The sooner, the better,”

Elizabeth took Helen up the stairs and to her office, which was the most extravagant room Helen had ever been in. The wall paper had an almost glittery sheen to it, and there were plump, fancy chairs right beside the window with a table right in the center of where they were gathered. Elizabeth had Emily and Helen sit down, and then she called for a maid to bring them some breakfast to eat.

It wasn’t until Helen had begun to drink her tea that Elizabeth began speaking more seriously. “Now, Helen, your new job is that of an Administrator, here at this company we call Mann Co.,” Elizabeth paused to sip her tea. “Your job will be to manage and look after men which the company has hired,”

Helen tried to process this, before she asked timidly, “Manage?”

“Don’t worry,” Emily assured her. “It becomes quite easy after a while. It’s much like teaching— you like teaching, don’t you?”

Helen nodded, starting to feel a sliver of excitement. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Elizabeth went on. “You will also look for mercenaries to hire, and you will recruit them as you find them. Trust me, that is never easy, but with our guidance you will learn how to see the best parts of people,” Helen would come to understand, years later, that by ‘best’ she had really meant ‘useful’.

In the present, though, Helen thought this over. “Teaching people, and finding people...” she nodded. “I could do that,”

“Wonderful,” Elizabeth smiled with that tight-lipped smile of hers. “There is more too it, but those are the basic principles. You will learn more day by day,” she stood up, reaching for a file from her desk and handing it to Helen. “Take a walk through this floor, and while you do, look through this file. It has pictures, so you have a better understanding of what you will be doing,”

Helen nodded, taking the file. “Yes, grandmother,” she went to the door, before pausing and turning to look back. “And thank you,”

Elizabeth smiled again. “Oh, no, Helen— thank you,”

Helen walked around the hallways, just as instructed, and as she did so she opened the file. There were some rather uninteresting papers in there, like information sheets and a document labeled ‘conditions’, and since she did not care to read them she tucked them towards the back of the file.

A particular image captured her attention, though: a bar of what appeared to be gold laying on a table, yet there was a note added to it which simply read, ‘Australium’. Helen found herself mesmerized by the photo, pausing to get a good look at it.

“So that’s what it looks like,” she murmured aloud to herself. She would have to ask her grandmother how to get some, but for now she pushed the thoughts to the side and kept looking.

It was then that the trouble started. First she saw a photograph of what appeared to be a terrified-looking man tied up in a dark dungeon, while a mysterious figure loomed nearby. The caption read, ‘A man, before learning what the mercenaries to those who commit treason,’

This image gave young Helen an overwhelming feeling of unease: this had to be a fabricated photo, that man was likely an actor. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this picture, and yet she soon realized that her worst fears were, in fact, true.

There were more images, depicting people being hurt or in some kind of danger, usually involving weapons. Many of them were outside, such as one of a man about to be shot in the middle of the desert, and while she wanted to believe they weren’t real she just knew they weren’t. These men all had pure terror in their eyes, and their expressions made Helen want to sob. There was one picture left, and Helen hesitated before fishing it out.

This picture showed a group of men, all dressed differently, standing around something on a table covered in a sheet. Standing with the men was none other than Elizabeth, who had that same smile on her face as if she were posing for an everyday portrait. Beneath the sheet, Helen could somewhat make out the shape of a wrist watch, and the watch was attached to...

Helen slammed the file shut, feeling her heart pound. She felt sick, she could already feel her body start to get more and more closed in as the panic crept closer. She looked all around the vast empty hallways, checking to make sure no one was watching before turning and sprinting back to their office.

“No!” Helen blurted out the moment she slammed the office door open. “No, forget it! I don’t want people to die— I don’t want that!” She was nearly in tears, now, her lower lip quivering.

Emily stood up, a strange sort of sadness present on her face. “Helen...”

Elizabeth motioned for Emily to sit down. “Emily, no. I will deal with this,” she cleared her throat, approaching Helen. “What you’ve seen, child, is just a part of the job, one that we learn to accept,” she tucked her finger beneath Helen’s chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eyes. “In time, you will accept it as well,”

Tears welled up in Helen’s eyes, and she pleaded, “Please don’t make me hurt any people...I-I don’t want to!”

Elizabeth scoffed. “Oh, you have much to learn. The people you’ve seen? Trust me, once you get to my level of experience, you will learn one very important thing,” she leaned in close to Helen. “Those who work under us are tools, they aren’t really people,”

Helen covered her face and sobbed, her body quivering. Elizabeth went quiet, before turning back to Emily.

“What did I tell you?” She hissed bitterly at her daughter. “She cannot do this job! This is all your fault—!”

“Mother, hush!” Emily retorted, and she sighed. “I have an idea...”

Emily went to the desk, opening a drawer. Elizabeth watched her, and asked, “Do you believe she’s ready?”

“She is,” Emily lifted a small device out of the desk, and something golden gleamed from inside. She approached Helen, stopping beside her. “Helen,” she began after a moment. “Let me show you why we do this, what we’re striving for,”

Helen sniffled, looking up at her mother, and Emily just took her hand. She pressed the device up to the skin of Helen’s forearm, where a needle pierced the flesh there and made Helen cry out. It hurt, it hurt so badly, and yet it was instantly replaced by a warm feeling claiming her body. It flowed through her young form, and she suddenly felt lighter and calmer. She closed her eyes, and for a moment all she could see was gold.

Emily removed the needle, watching her daughter’s reaction. Helen opened her eyes, and it was then that she realized all of the pain she felt was...gone. Not even the pain from her various illness, but also the fatigue and any aches she may have experienced. For the first time, she felt fine.

Helen wanted more. She reached for it, but she mother held it above her, just out of reach.

“If you agree to work here, you may have access to this whenever you’d like,” Emily told her simply.

“Mother...grandmother...” Helen looked to Elizabeth for help, but Elizabeth just gave a nod.

“Your mother speaks wisely, child,” Elizabeth agreed. “Do what you need to do, and then get what you want,”

Helen looked down at her hands, noticing that they looked healthy and smooth compared to how dry and veiny they usually were. She looked back up, her heart aching. “But...I wanted my own dreams,” she swallowed. “I want to be a teacher...I want to have a family,”

Elizabeth knelt down again, looking her granddaughter in the eyes. “Trust me, Helen— once you’re training begins, you’ll learn not to feel a thing. These,” she collected the girl’s tears on her fingertip. “Will be a facet of the past,” she flicked the tear drops away. “And besides, soon there will only be two things you want,”

Helen sniffled, looking back up. “What?”

“Power,” Elizabeth began, picking up the glowing device. “And Australium,”

Helen looked out the window. The curtains were closed, but a little sliver of sunlight shown through. Emily took her hand.

“Sit with us, Helen,” her mother directed her back to the chair. “Tomorrow, your training will begin, and intensify,”

Helen obeyed— she felt she had no choice. Her grandmother passed her a cigarette, and she accepted it. As she lit it, breathed in the smoke, and then watched it leave her lungs, she kissed childhood and the future she might have had goodbye.

This was what was meant for her. Wasn’t it?

#not my best but here it is #ive had this for a while now #so #hope its okay #writing #my writing #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 administrator #tf2 emily #tf2 elizabeth #the tf2 wiki says they might all be related so im going with this #smoking tw #death tw

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kuiperchaos · 4 years

Text

Smoshblr Secret Santa

Happy Holidays from your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy reading!

Wes didn’t really have an interest in relationships. They were a lot of work to maintain, and it took a lot of time to grow and develop trust between partners. It seemed like a lot of effort for results that didn’t really appeal to him. He was a man with his whole life ahead of him! He had every door to open, and thought a relationship would lock them and throw away the key. And because he was a grown man with boundless opportunities, he decided he was going to take some time off and visit a neighboring theme park.

The park had just installed a new roller coaster, so all of his friends had advised him against going. They complained about lines, prices, and overall quality, but Wes really didn’t care. You don’t go to a theme park to admire cleanliness and expense. You go to indulge in all of your childhood memories of the fire in your soul at doing something new. However the long lines do tend to dull the spark of the spirit, so Wes took the plunge alone. Single rider lines were always shorter, plus he wasn’t opposed to the thought that he might meet someone new. So he took a day off from work to minimize the teenagers involved, and went online to buy his tickets.

Once he got to the park, he found a direct path towards the fabled coaster, but the line seemed longer than his lifespan, so he decided to take a look around and see what else he could do. He quickly began to regret visiting alone, as he seemed to be the only single adult in the park. Rides and games were no fun unless you had someone to play and laugh with. He contemplated going home. It was his money after all, he could do what he wanted with it. But the child shallowly hidden under the surface pressed him into staying. He rationalized his decision because after all, he bought the tickets to ride the coaster, so he would ride it no matter how long the line was!

He was a single man, so he decided to take the shorter option of the single rider line. He stood solo for about 30 seconds before he was caboosed by a man with a royal blue chunk in his hair. Wes had never been superficial, so he tried not to make an opinion about the stranger based on his appearance, but that, like many things, was easier said than done. The man was absolutely gorgeous, and if Wes had a type, he would be the perfect example. Tall, glasses that were slightly askew, and hair that was so soft a chinchilla would envy it. If social pressure didn’t exist, he could have admired the man forever. Sadly, it did, so before he could be caught staring, Wes quickly turned away from the stranger, but he decided the view behind him was significantly more beautiful than the one before him. Line stretched for what seemed like miles, and Wes agonized for the poor people traveling in groups. Quickly going numb to the ambient noise of shrieking and laughter brought about by the theme park, Wes made the decision to take a dive of the edge of his comfortable thoughts into the possible wonderland that could await him within the mind of the man behind him. Everyone says that life is better with a buddy anyway, right?

Before he could overthink it like he tended to do with everything else, Wes spun on his heel and smiled at the stranger. The opposing man responded with a lopsided grin that could put the sun to shame.

Bolded by the mans kindness, Wes attempted to start a conversation. “Do you think the park architects know how to drive? They seem to not be very good at managing traffic.” He said, sounding much smoother than he expected.

“It’s kind of strange really” The other man said with a gentle chuckle at the pun “I tried to come on a day no one would be here, but I guess everyone else had the same plan.” He said with a soft chuckle.

Wes decided that no matter how intense the ride was, nothing would have the ability to throw him through loops, and turn his stomach into knots the way this guy could. “Oh, most definitely! That’s why I decided to come today. I’m Wes, by the way.” The words tumbled off his tongue as if they had been pushed before they expected it. Wes was already cringing at the sound of the sentence.

The man grinned, and seemed to be endeared by the awkwardness. “Well nice to meet you Wes by the way. My name’s Damien”

Wes was relieved by the teasing. If Damien felt comfortable enough to tease him, then the conversation wasn’t going as bad as he worried it might.

They continued to converse throughout the line, and Wes felt increasingly grateful for the amount of people. As they talked, he kept falling harder and harder. Not only was Damien attractive, but Wes delightedly discovered he was also intelligent, kind, and really passionate about things and people he cared for. The two men also had very similar tastes in pop culture. If he had to estimate, he would say at least half the line was spent discussing recent anime releases.

Since they began talking, Wes crossed his fingers that the two would be seated next to each other. People said that you shouldn’t do those kinds of things because they jinxed it, but Wes thought they were just unlucky. His suspicions were correct because when Wes slid through the turntable onto his seat, he heard a clicking behind him, and fluffy brown hair invaded the neighboring seat. Damien opened his mouth to remark on their unlikely connection, but their bright green cart projected them outward before the words could escape.

The first part of the track led them into an unlit elevator with rails on the sides. Even in the blackness, Wes could swear he saw a shine in Damien’s eyes at getting to see the inner workings of the ride. He barely had a second to fawn over the sight before they stopped over a 90 degree drop. The ride fell down the edge of the elevator as the riders let out a shriek at the force they were feeling.

The ride continued jerking them every which way, and Wes was thankful his head didn’t collide with Damien’s. Once they neared the end, a smile sign appeared on the decorative waterfall next to them. Wes posed as if he were a model, hoping to draw more attention to him from his new companion. He heard a mumbled “You need more training” next to him, but the ride jerked to a stop before he could process it.

Their shoulders rubbed together as they moved to release their restraints. They both awkwardly shimmied out of the cart, feeling the blood returning to where it was supposed to dwell. As they walked back towards the central area of the park, they saw a flashy booth advertising photos of the ride. Wes wanted to preserve the memory, so he walked over to the booth. He was quickly followed by Damien as he was unwilling to lose sight of his new companion.

“It’s only a few bucks, I can pay for yours if you want,” Wes heard from behind his shoulder. The idea made him laugh. He had already spent this much, what was a little more?

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’d be happy to pay for yours” He said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

“Nope,” Damien said, adding an extra pop to the P for sass. “I want to pay for you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Wes wasn’t hesitant to admit that he found the sentiment sweet. He believed everyone wanted to be spoiled deep down after all. However, he also wasn’t going to let a white knight come along and wipe away his every trouble. “Fine by me, but I guess that means I need to treat you to lunch,” He said with a teasing smirk. He saw Damien’s hesitation, so before he could counter the statement, Wes continued “No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

Damien tried to hold back laughter at his own words sounding silly coming out of the other man. Wes saw his shoulders shake with the effort, and he was sure he’d be able to hear it had the squeals of the park not drowned it out. “As you wish my good sir,” Damien said, skirting into laughter at the words.

Wes didn’t know if it was the adrenaline from the coaster, or his own lovestruck heart, but he and Damien couldn’t stop laughing and goofing off together for the rest of the day. Even after they took a breather to eat, the madness filled their blood once again as they ran around with each other as if they had never grown up.

Their energy hit its peak once they started wasting their money playing overpriced carnival games. Wes was a romantic at heart, so he kind of wanted to win a toy to give to Damien, so when he saw a game with massive stuffed animals, he held Damien’s hand and pulled him to the bright red booth.

It was a pretty simple game in premise. All players got a small squirt gun attached to a metal prong on the counter. The goal was to fill the mouth of a cardboard cutout as much as possible. Wes fished the money out of his wallet, and handed in to the bored teenage handler. The game started with the shrill sound of a bell. He was trying to test the limits of the gun holster, so he rotated it around, spraying a small amount of water. He hadn’t accounted for the force of the movement though, so a small stream of water his Damien in the neck, and dampened a section of his shirt collar.

Wes quickly turned away, and went back to his mission of winning the massive stuffed Squirtle hung up on the overhang. Once his attention was back on the game, he was surprised by cold running down the side of his face. He turned in the direction of the source to see Damien acting just a bit too innocent.

Oh it’s on. In a moment of determination, Wes decided memories were more important than giant pokemon. With a quick pull to the side, Damien had a drenched spot in the center of his chest and it was leaking down the rest of his torso.

In less than an instant, Wes was also spotted with water covering his clothes. Despite how different their patches of water looked, they both wore grins equal in magnitude, and red faces from laughter. If you had to ask, Wes would cite that as the moment he really developed feelings for the now known stranger. The sight of him with shiny, watery eyes, and face red from exhilaration. The only reason he looked away was to return his focus towards his weapon to continue the war waged between them.

Wes may have not had an interest in relationships a year ago, but a lot had changed since then. He never thought he would spend the holidays with two cats curled up together on the arm of his couch, and he certainly never thought he’d have a cat-man curled up on the same couch nestled against his side. However the beautiful stranger he’d met that day had changed a lot of things, and in all honesty, Wes wouldn’t have it any other way.

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seriestrash · 7 years

Text

The Story of Us

PROLOGUE || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14

Chapter Fifteen: Wedding Bells

Word Count: 8121

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

Throughout the week, Riley’s errands regarding the wedding continued and the more time she spent out, the more locals would stop her and press for details about the upcoming nuptials. Of course something like this is big news for the tiny town and it seemed that everyone wanted to be apart of it.

What was originally planned to be an intimate family thing in Jed’s own backyard turned into a Hillford Creek Spectacular held right in town square. Riley worried the towns involvement would take away from the magic of the reunion, especially since hardly any of them actually knew Jed on a personal level. Sure, maybe a few locals had surface level conversations if he ever ventured into town for groceries or to run errands but none of them - except for Cassidy - had made a real effort to befriend Jedediah.

Despite Riley’s concerns, both Jed and Rhiannon insisted that the only thing that mattered to them was that it happens and not how it happens.

It’s Topanga whom suggested they marry under the tree in which Rhiannon asked Jed to ‘come with her’, an idea Riley was more than happy to support.

Riley had spent the week organising the finer details of the ceremony. She’d been to the bakery, florist and even to Chubbie’s to organise food. The New Yorkers plan was to accumulate the things she deemed necessary for the small wedding but once the venue changed to the town square and it was posed as an open invitation, Riley began to panic. It was Mary - Mabel’s mother - during Riley’s final dress fitting the day before the wedding that calmed Riley’s nerves. The kind woman put down her dress pins and looked Riley right in the eye, a sweet smile present on her face and she said, “You need not stress, Riley darling, a little goes a long way in this town.” Strangely enough the womans words did calm Riley’s nerves about it all, even if they didn’t entirely make sense to her.

Come Saturday morning, Riley truly understands the meaning of Mary Becker’s words. For every person Riley had spoken to in the past week seemed to come through with the small arrangement she’d confirmed with them but on a much larger and very generous scale. It seemed that the people Riley spoke to, spoke to other townies and those townies passed on the word and in true tiny town fashion it seemed that everyone was lending a hand.

Once Riley first arrives in town square she’s at a loss for words when she spots the crowd of people buzzing around and the piles of supplies that seemed to be building up.

Throughout the day Riley is continuously surprised with the generosity of the town. Local business owners gathered up their spare tables and chairs, some owners went as far as offering up their own in store seating for the event. The florist not only came through with the bouquets Riley asked for but supplied a mix of beautiful centrepieces for each and every table.

The help everyone was giving became too much for Riley to track. At some point during the day a mix of beautiful white and lacy table cloths covered each table, a candle lit or little electronic lantern sat by ever flower centrepiece. Each table had a place setting but not all were the same, in fact, the whole setup was mix matched and Riley couldn’t have planned it more perfectly herself.

Even mix matched, everything flowed just lovely. The tables all lined in white, white plates, silver cutlery, flower centrepieces and lantern lighting, but it was the details that set each place apart. Some tables had solid white cloths, others had lace trims or embroidery, the flowers arrangements were different on every table, flooding the park with extra colour and beautiful smells. Everything was looking wonderful and it excited Riley as she felt it gave the vibe that both her grandparents lost touch with.

At one point in the day Riley caught up with the chef at Chubbie’s and he assured her that he’s got everyone’s bellies covered, he’d enlisted the help of a few other cooks in town.

Even the towns Mayor loans Riley some fairy lights from the Christmas decorations used in the street throughout the holiday season. The tree in which the couple are set to marry under is wrapped in strings of light and a few other poles are set in place with lights being hung between them, providing light for what is going to be an evening ceremony.

It’s late in the afternoon once it all finally comes together. At this point Mabel has already taken Topanga and Rhiannon back to her mothers shop where they’re going under all the beautification steps for the night. The men of the family gather at Jedediah’s to relax and prepare before they’re due back in town square. The locals whom had been helping, all sporadically left throughout the day. Riley stayed the longest so she could project manage. Tristan and Thomas stay behind still hanging up a few lights around the park. Riley looks at the setting in awe and has a wave of guilt for her previous negative thoughts about the locals. It’s clear to her that they’re willing to welcome anyone into their close community and are genuinely happy to lend a hand, especially to a sick old man who’s found love again.

Although it looked beautiful Riley still felt like it needed a personal touch, something extra special for her grandparents. An idea quickly comes to the forefront of Riley’s mind and she shouts at the twins that she’ll be back soon. With that Riley jumps on the bike Mabel lent her and rides back towards Jed’s house. She bursts through the front door and mumbles explanations to the men in her family as she pulls down the ladder to the attic. Riley is quick and purposeful with her trip home, it’s only ten minutes later that she’s leaving again on the bicycle with a basket full of of photo albums.

One Riley arrives back at the park she finds the twins packing up their things. With arms full and an innocent grin Riley approaches them and asks for a little bit more of their time. Thomas groans loudly which earns himself a whack in the arm from his brother but Riley just chuckles quietly at him.

“You know what, Tommy? You remind me a lot of my friend Maya.” A slight ache in Riley’s heart because they still haven't spoken after their phone fight.

“Is she also devastatingly good looking?” Thomas jokes.

“Or painstakingly annoying, perhaps?” Tristan jabs.

“No.” Riley laughs sofltly. “She has a real tendency to pretend like she doesn’t care when really she cares a whole lot.”

Thomas exaggerates a frown. “You’re going to ruin my image.”

Riley rolls her eyes and Thomas laughs and then asks what Riley needs him to do before they go. Riley points at the the beautiful white gazebo at the edge of the park. For someone else perhaps, that would make a lovely backdrop to be married under but since the tree holds more of a sentimental value Riley came up with another use for the gazebo.

Thomas marches the box of spare fairy lights over and Tristan helps Riley locate the fine fishing wire they were using earlier.

“You should bring Eli.” Riley whispers once Thomas is a few steps away from them.

“I don’t know, Riley.” Tristan shakes his head. “You know how Lucas and Thomas feel about Miles...”

“This relationship could be good for everyone.” Riley says positively. “It might help build a bridge between your two friend circles or at the very least it gives Eli other friend alternatives, friends that baa less.”

“I’ll ask.” Tristan nods sheepishly.

The pair find what they need and join Thomas in the gazebo. The musically inclined twin has already strung more than half the rails with lights. Riley begins cutting strands of fishing wire and taping them to the backs of photographs from Jed’s albums. Tristan helps by tying them to strings of light and he climbs on the ladder and hangs them from the gazebo’s roof.

“Have you seen Lucas?” Riley asks casually as she hasn’t seen or heard from him all day. Riley worries he thought about their whole ‘spending time with each other’ conversation and has since changed his mind about where they left things.

“Not since this morning.” Thomas shakes their head. “He said he had to do something at Pappy Joe’s farm but I stopped by earlier and couldn’t find him. He’s always disappearing like that, I wouldn’t worry about it. Lucas tends to adopt the broody cowboy persona sometimes.”

If he’s disappeared like Thomas said, Riley figures she’d find Lucas at the inn but with too much on her plate right now she has to give it a miss.

“Hey Riley, is this your mom?” Tristan asks with a small smirk. Riley takes the polariod he’s holding.

“Yeah.” Riley smiles at the photograph of her mother, back in her middle school days when she too rocked the flower child vibes. “My dad used to call her the ten pounds of hair in the front row.”

“I think that’s so sweet that they’re one of those forever couples.” Tristan smiles. “I guess your grandparents are one of those forever couples too...”

Riley smiles at his thoughts spoken aloud and slips the polaroid into the back pocket of her jeans. Shortly after, the three finish the last minute task and Riley dismisses each twin with a hug. Then, Riley runs over to Mary’s store to get ready.

Riley enters the shop and finds Mary and Mabel pinning hair curlers into Rhiannon’s hair. Riley’s grandmother sits in a silk robe with her face already decorated in a light and beautiful coat of makeup. Mabel’s ready too in a lovely emerald green dress with her hair pinned nicely off her face. The most shocking presence in the store was Vanessa, standing with a makeup brush in hand.

“Finally!” Mabel beams once Riley arrives.

“Sorry, I was just finishing up a few things.” Riley shrugs innocently. “Where’s mom?” Riley asks noticing Topanga’s absence.

“She’s dressed and ready,” Rhiannon begins, “She's just stepped out to run one last errand.”

“Did I forget something?” Riley crinkles her brows as she quickly tries to check off things in her mind.

“No darling, everything is beyond wonderful.” Rhiannon gives Riley a genuine smile. “Your mother will be back soon, nothing to worry about.”

“Riley, I’ll help you get ready.” Mabel wiggles the garment bag containing Riley’s dress.

“I can help with your makeup if you like.” Vanessa adds sheepishly.

“I’d love that.” Riley nods genuinely.

“Do you know how you want your hair?” Mabel questions.

“I have a few ideas.” Riley’s smile creeps wider. “But I’m going to need your help, all of your help probably... If you have any time, grandma?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Rhiannon smiles. “Now what did you have in mind?”

Riley pulls out the polaroid from her back pocket and hands it to her grandmother. “Do you think I could pull off something like that?”

Rhiannon takes the square photograph in her hand and smiles at the photo of her daughter around the age of twelve, back when her clothes were always flowy and her hair bouncy with tight and fluffy waves. “I think this will work just beautifully.”

With all hands on deck Riley’s hair and makeup is done in no time. Riley had worn her hair wavy before, any time she took it out of braids but this was different, there’s so much more volume to her hair which felt odd in a foreign sort of way but Riley really quite liked the fluffiness of it. She liked that it made her feel pretty, it made her feel like her moms daughter.

With time quickly getting away from them Riley steps into one of the change rooms with Mabel where the redhead helps Riley into her dress. Once Mabel ties the bow at the back of Riley’s garment she can’t help but express her awe.

“It’s like this dress was made for you!” Mabel gushes.

“Well technically it was made for me.” Riley laughs. “Your mom made all those changes for me..”

“Lets go show everyone.” Mabel clasps her hands together excitedly.

Riley steps out from behind the curtain, her feet still bare, the only part of her outfit right now was her dress.

“So?” Riley asks sheepishly under the gazes of the three other women in the room.

“Wow.” Vanessa is the first to speak with an approving nod.

“Beautiful. Truly.” Mary nods too and Rhiannon is left speechless.

Riley looks at herself in the full length mirror. Riley fell in love with this dress the moment she saw it, originally it was only half finished so Mary took on all suggestions Riley had and the end result was just so lovely and fitting to Riley and the event specifically.

The bodice of the dress is fitted snugly in an off white lace, thin straps supporting it over her shoulders. A lace sash separating the bodice and skirt, tied nicely in a bow and slightly off centre is an orangey flowery to brighten up the dress and draw focus. The skirt of the dress is made up of three layers, the top layer is the shortest and in a similar off white colour to the bodice. The next two layers are made up up of white and pink lace sections. Originally Mary planned to cover these bottom two layers with another piece of material matching the first layer but Riley asked if they could leave it as is, she loved that the dress felt inside out.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted from your things at Jed’s so I brought it all.” Rhiannon motions towards the corner of the room.

Riley finds the box of clothes and shoes Topanga sent to Riley and the duffle bag Riley originally brought with Maya’s old things in there. Riley has a quiet laugh at some of her old outfit options but she stops when one thing catches her eye. Riley picks up the black fishnet under shirt and thinks deeply for a moment before turning to the group. “Can someone hand me a pair of scissors?”

Everyone else in the room seems confused but no one questions the New Yorker. Riley uses scissors to cut the sleeves of the under shirt, she uses some thread to sew the pieces into socks. Riley slips each one onto her feet followed by a pair of black ankle boots, not the full bulky black studded ones she used to wear of Maya’s but a toned down version that she already owned herself.

Riley returns to the mirror and points her toe as she checks her outfit with the new additions. The fishnet socks poke out of the boots which Riley quite likes but worries it didn’t fit the rest of the outfit. Then, another thought comes to Riley’s mind and she digs through her belongings until she finds her thin black choker necklace, with the help of Vanessa, Riley secures it around her neck. The idea was to bring the black up higher and balance out the bottom half. Riley returns to the mirror again, immediately happier with the look of things. Finally, Riley scoops up her denim jacket and throws it on over her dress.

“Ready.” Riley holds her arms out by her side.

A collective “Whoa” escapes everyone else in the room.

“Is it too much?” Riley asks nervously under everyones gazes.

“I think it’s very, you.” Mabel coaxes her head with a smile.

“Are my clothes speaking to you again?” Riley jokes.

“Yeah and they've got nothing but good things to say.” Mabel smirks.

✮✮ Interrupting your reading with some visuals ✮✮

Riley’s outfit;

Riley’s hair reference; (So imagine she ends up with some beautiful version of this on herself)

✮ ✮ ✮

Rhiannon is last to dress, her gown is simple in the most beautiful way, it mirrors some similarities to her original dress but still fits the graceful woman she is today. Instead of a veil she wears a flower crown amongst her loose curls.

Once everyone is ready to leave Riley wonders where her mother is. Rhiannon says she had a slight delay but is waiting at town square for them now.

The group exits the clothing store, Mary insists no one - especially the bride - just walks over to the park so they all pile in her car.

Literally sixty seconds later the car pulls up at the edge of the park in town square. Riley spots her mother approaching the car, she’s looking lovely in a dress that matched the pink in her own outfit, close by Topanga’s side is Cory looking smart casual, suspenders that matched the ones Riley picked up for Auggie earlier in the week, an orangey flower pinned to his shirt.

Mabel, Mary and Vanessa exit the car to find seats. Riley gives her grandmother a small smile before leaving her to have a moment in the car. Cory opens the door for his daughter and offers his hand to help her out.

“Riley, you look so-” Topanga covers her mouth with her hand, speechless at the beauty of her daughter. Strangely emotional to see her so, herself.

“Did it work?” Riley asks quietly. “Am I fixed?”

“Oh honey, your father and I never thought you were broken.” Topanga says genuinely. “All we ever wanted was for you to realise that there’s nothing wrong with being yourself.”

“I get that now.” Riley nods. “But I can’t give Maya up, I won’t.”

“Is that what you think we want?” Cory furrows his brows.

“You were always so angry at me for being like her, for getting into trouble and-” Riley is cut off when her father takes her chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing their gazes.

“The world already has a Maya Hart. Maya Hart already has a Maya Hart. What the world and your best friend both need is a Riley Matthews.” Cory doesn’t break their stare for a second.

“I need a Maya just as much as she needs a Riley?” Riley crinkles her brows.

“It’s the secret of life.” Cory wears his cheesy grin.

“Not this speech again.” Riley groans playfully.

“It’s my best lesson!” Cory shrugs with a laugh.

“So you two don’t want me to stop being Maya’s friend?” Riley backtracks, she knew the whole secret of life blah blah but had she really villainized her parents during their fights, made it out like they wanted to cast away her best friend in order to have the perfect daughter return?

“Honey,” Topanga gives her a small smile before pointing towards the crowd of people gathering. “We would never.”

Confused, Riley follows the direction in which her mother is pointing. Shock waves over the brunette when she meets the gaze of the blonde girl she’s grown up calling her best friend. Maya is a small distance away staring over at the Matthews, she gives Riley a small wave and her mouth silently reads, “I’m so sorry.”

Overwhelmed, Riley feels the sudden urgency to cry but she manages to hold it together long enough to stress the silent words on her lips, “Me too.”

“I think it’s time to get things moving.” Cory says softly and it pulls Riley’s attention away from Maya. Cory gives his two leading ladies a small smile before meeting Auggie and Jedediah down the end of the aisle.

The intro of the music dedicated to them all walking down the aisle begins to play. Topanga gives Riley’s hand a gentle squeeze “I guess it’s time for my parents to get married... Again...”

Riley lets out a quiet laugh and begins to make her way down the aisle. Topanga helps her mother out of the car before walking a few steps behind Riley.

Riley spots Jedediah at the end of the aisle, Cory behind him and Auggie behind them both. The sight of her grandfather in a floaty cotton shirt is amusing and seems so odd yet nothing felt more right.

Once Riley’s nearing the first few rows closet to the end of the aisle, to her left, she gives Maya another small smile and then to her right, she finally spots Lucas for the first time that day. He’s sat with with his parents, Beth and Pappy Joe. Lucas is smiling at her with a big goofy grin, the kind that gave her butterflies and had her nervously pulling her attention away in attempt to regain composure.

The ceremony is simple but lovely. The sun was setting behind the couple as they gave new vows to each other and right when Jed pulled Rhiannon in for a kiss the big tree behind them lit up with thousands of twinkling lights.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Maya approaches Riley immediately after the ceremony. She’s eager to see her best friend but still very nervous that they’ve been fighting and wondering what it’s going to be like after all the time they’ve spent apart.

“You look really pretty.” Maya opens sheepishly. “I like the socks.”

“I cut one of your old shirts.” Riley admits. “Sorry if you wanted it back..”

“It looks better on you this way.” Maya’s smile widens.

An awkward lull passes before they both burt out, “I’m sorry!- You’re sorry? I’m sorry!”

They both laugh off the weirdness and Maya talks first. “I should never have gotten mad at you about not wanting to come home. I should have gotten angry at that stupid, Charlie Gardner.”

“I should have been more sensitive about your feelings, I know how you feel about people leaving.” Riley watches Maya shift nervously. “You were right though. I have changed, but at the same time not really. Before I was trying to be you, now I’m just trying to be myself.” Riley holds one of Maya’s hands in her own. “It doesn’t matter where I am in the world, or who I am, I’m never giving up on you, Peaches.”

“You haven't called me Peaches in forever.” Maya’s smile has a slight sadness behind it. “I’ve really missed you, Riles.”

“Come here!” Riley pulls her best friend in for a hug. “Oh and I want your painting!” Riley blurts out.

“What?” Maya is evidently confused as she breaks their embrace.

“The one I helped you steal back from school” Riley says. “I want to hang it in my room.”

“Okay?” Maya says still a little puzzled.

“And I think we should apologise to Farkle.” Riley lets out a breath, quickly falling down a ramble hole. “I know he was weirdly obsessed with us but he was such a good friend to us both and we should have never neglected him or anyone else to prove how amazing our friendship was...”

“Okay...” Maya nods.

“And I think we should hang out with Zay more.” Riley adds.

“Zay?” Maya raises a brow.

“Yeah, he’s from here, I told you about that already.” Riley nods quickly.

“I know. When he got back to New York I actually hugged him because I missed you so much.” Maya admits quietly. “Zay..”

“So you’re okay with us expanding our friendships beyond just you and me?” Riley questions.

“Whatever you want.” Maya smiles.

“Only sometimes though.” Riley says. “I love you, Maya and I want to give you whatever you want, but from now on I’m going to be brave enough to tell you when I think that what you need is something else.”

“Oh yeah?” Maya coaxes her head playfully.

“Today I was looking through your old clothes that you lent me and I realised that I pretend to be you for so long that it did eventually rub off on me.” Riley says. “It was the insecure Riley parts that had me convinced that I was only pretending because eventually being like you did make me braver. You did inspire my own fierceness. That’s who I am now and that fierceness is fighting my insecurities and I’m not going to lie, I have had a little help here in Texas with finding myself again...” Riley’s eyes wander over towards Lucas whom is standing with his mother still. “...But you deserve credit too. I don’t think of us negatively, I hope this Riley is enough for you..”

“My strange little bird is all grown up.” Maya says with tears threatening to spill.

“Stop, you’ll make me cry.” Riley says with her own damp eyes.

“Fine, fine, I’ll hold it together.” Maya laughs as she clenches her eyes shut. “Can I meet your friend Mabel?”

Riley spends most of her time with Maya introducing her to friends and locals of the town but it did seem almost impossible for Riley to get a moment alone with Lucas. It seemed the most the pair could get were stolen glances and sheepish smiles as they interacted with whatever family or town member that called each of their individual attentions.

Now with the sky blanketed in darkness the park is lit up with fairy lights. Food is served, Riley sits with her family and Maya at a table, she spots Lucas at a table with his cousins, Mabel and Vanessa. Riley leaves her plate behind to go mingle and hopefully she’d finally get a chance to interact with Lucas, something more than sorry glances as one them gets pulled away before they meet up. Maya tags along with her overloaded plate in hand. Riley chuckles at the blonde and they head towards the table. Once they get there, Maya sits immediately in an empty seat on one side of Thomas and Riley realises Lucas has disappeared.

“Where'd Lucas go?” Riley asks the table.

“Pappy Joe called him over.” Mabel gives her a small and knowing little grin.

Rliey’s eyes scan the groups of people standing and sitting around. Her eyes fall on Lucas’ back as he stands with his grandfather and Jedediah. The three of them seem to be laughing about something and the sight of two old friends connecting made Riley really happy.

Tristan moves over on his chair and frees up space for Riley to share his seat. Riley takes him up on his offer and they not so comfortably sit together, not that either of them minded enough to move.

“No Eli?” Riley whispers very quietly to Tristan.

The twin shakes his head, “I did ask but it’s hard for him too, you know?”

Riley nods silently and turns her attention back to everyone else. The group falls into conversation. Naturally, Maya is quizzed being the newcomer to the group, she answers between mouthfuls of food but mostly offered up funny stories about Zay and how she teases him. Everyone laughed at each story, Riley notices Vanessa grow awkward listening to Maya and maybe even a little jealous but the cheerleader politely smiles and laughs along.

The thought of Maya and Zay as a romantic pairing had Riley confused so she laughs the idea off to herself. Riley’s eyes were fixated on the candle lit lantern in the middle of the table and eventually her gaze wanders around to the dinner plates of her friends.

“What kind of a wedding has pizza, barbecue ribs, Chinese food and a variety of home cooked meals?” Riley chuckles as she reflects again on just how amazing the towns efforts has been.

“The amazing kind.” Both Maya and Thomas say in unison, each with a mouthful of food.

“Whoa.” Tristan whispers to himself. “Now I totally get the freaky twin thing.”

Riley giggles along with the rest of the group at Tristan’s remark. Riley hangs around and participates in light conversation with her friends. Part of her was hoping Lucas would return, he hadn’t as of yet and not wanting to be the girl that spends the entire night with her friends, Riley stands to excuse herself.

“I’m going to see my family, Maya are you alright here?” Riley checks on her friend.

“I’m good.” Maya nods as she wipes at the corner of her mouth with the back of her palm. “I’m actually going to go get seconds.”

“Ooo, can you bring me back some of the pork dumplings?” Thomas asks excitedly.

“Do I look like a waitress?” Maya asks before stopping. “Wait- don’t answer that.”

Another laugh escapes Riley before she parts from the table and makes her way towards the wedding party. Riley’s about to approach them but notices her grandmother go off in another direction so she decides to follow. The two meet by the steps of the gazebo. The older woman radiating, not only from a beauty stand point but her whole aura seemed to shine.

The two step into the centre of the gazebo, now beautifully lit with all the fairy lights. Rhiannon’s eyes dance around at the many memories captured in photographs hanging from bits of wire.

“Riley, this is- amazing,” Rhiannon lets out a breath. “Did you do this?”

“I had the twins help me.” Riley admits. “But I just wanted to give you and grandpa a reminder of life before..”

“I love it.” Rhiannon smiles sweetly.

Riley lets her own gaze wander around the photos, one in particular catches her eye. She didn’t remember handing it up, it must have been one of the ones Tristan fixed up. Something about the photo felt familiar even though Riley was certain that she’d never seen it before. A picture of her grandparents at quite a young age from what she could tell. Riley turns it over in her hands and reads that pen written words, “The day we first met.”

“I have extra photos from that day somewhere back home in Philadelphia.” Rhiannon smiles as if she's looking back on that very day. “To think I almost never checked into the inn.”

“What do you mean?” Riley asks.

“Didn’t your grandfather tell you the full story?” Rhiannon questions. “That’s so like him, to let pieces fall into place as time goes on.”

“That’s exactly how it’s been,” Riley laughs softly. “I thought I got to know about you through the stories but it’s not until later that I find out that this is where you two met and then again it took even longer to find out that you both left town after a few days.”

Rhiannon shakes her head with a smile and begins to explain, “I suppose he left out the detail that Mae’s ballet school checked into the inn only minutes before me occupying all the rooms?”

“You knew Mae?” Riley questions.

“I met Mae before I met Jedediah.” Rhiannon nods.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised.” Riley knits her brows together. “I don’t know why I assumed you came at a time before Pappy Joe met Mae...”

“I hitch hiked my way into town, a mini bus full of ballerinas picked me up and brought me to the inn.” Rhiannon explains. “That’s where I struck up a conversation with a beautiful girl named Mae.”

“Unbelievable.” Riley whispers to herself. “Jed and Joe of course knew each other at that point, the two of them were lingering around the front desk as everyone checked in. Mae’s dance teacher was taking care of their booking so I hung back and chatted with the dancer.” Rhiannon continues. “By the time I got to the desk, the concierge let me know the French school just filled up the last of the rooms. I was about to leave when Jed jumped in insisting that there was one more room left. After some hushed back and forth between Jed and the concierge I had a room to sleep in and as you probably know by the end of the day four people had fallen in love.”

“Where did the room come from?” Riley gives her grandmother a dubious look.

“Jed was staying in one of the rooms whilst he worked there so he just convinced the concierge to give me that room.” Rhiannon laughs softly.

“Because he wanted you to stay.” Riley laughs too. “But where did he sleep?”

“I didn’t find out until three years into our marriage that he slept in the stables on some hay.” Rhiannon laughs harder.

“Really?” Riley giggles.

Rhiannon lets her laughter tapper off. “So the young Friar boy, Lucas, I was speaking with him earlier. He seems lovely..”

“At least one of us has gotten a chance to speak to him today.” Riley sighs.

“The town has you occupied?” Rhiannon gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Constantly.” Riley nods.

“Go find him.” The elderly woman smiles softly as she edges towards the gazebos exit.

“Thanks grandma.” Riley gives her a smile before the woman disappears.

Now alone Riley’s eyes fall back on the photograph of her grandparents, it still has a strange familiarity Riley can’t quite explain. Without thinking about it too much Riley pulls the photograph off the strand of lights it hangs from and places it in her pocket.

Once Riley steps out of the gazebo she finds Lucas’ gaze, he’s back at the table with their friends, Riley’s surprised to see Eli has arrived and is mingling with Tristan and Thomas. Lucas nudges his head back, silently communicating for Riley to join him for a moment alone. She takes a few steps towards him but stops once she hears clinking of glasses. The two teen share yet another small smile and Riley joins her families table for the toasts.

Jed says a few words, Rhiannon says a few words, Cory and Topanga both get up and speak then there seemed to be a pressure put on Riley to say a toast. Nervously and unprepared the teen stands up. Riley fidgets anxiously with her hands for a moment. Quickly she collects her thoughts and begins her toast.

“I am a big believer in fate.” Riley says, “For a while I think I forgot just how much but my time in this town, with the people, getting to know my grandpa and his story, it’s made me remember why I was so trusting in the universe and it’s plan in the first place.” Riley begins to feel more natural talking in front of the large crowd. “In English class we were asked to partner up and write a story revolving around a person in their lives. I was fortunate enough to be trusted with a love story of a ballerina and a stable boy. My partner, Lucas,” Riley finds his gaze but only for a moment as she didn’t want to get distracted, “He wrote about Jed. Afterwards Lucas asked me what I would have written if I were him. I didn’t have too many details to give but I said I’d make sure Jed - my grandpa - got his happily ever after. But it looks like I don’t have to worry about that because the universe already had you covered.” Riley turns to her grandparents with a smile and then back to the crowd as she raises her glass, “To the forever couple.” Everyone clinks glasses, Riley can hear a loud whistle from Tristan, presumably because Riley used his words for the final toast.

And so the night goes on, Jed and Rhiannon have their second, first dance. Riley ends up on the makeshift dance floor with her younger brother, Auggie. Since his latest growth spurt the two at a comfortable height for each other without too much scrunching down or stretching up.

“I love that you’re not too cool to dance with your big sister.” Riley laughs.

“If you make it weird, Riley, I’ll stop.” Auggie shakes his head as they twirl around together.

“Newsflash, Auggie,” Riley’s smile remains. “I am weird.”

“Yeah, I know.” His grin is wide.

As the two twirl around together they spin past Lucas and Annabeth engaging in a similar dance together. There’s is a little more of an odd height difference.

Again Riley and Lucas exchange looks in passing but still nothing comes of it as they each get peeled off in opposite directions once their dances end.

Finally, after another hour since Riley last met eyes with Lucas on the dance floor she has a moment alone. Immediately she scans the park for Lucas. Riley finds him leaning against a tree, he’s watching his younger sister Annabeth and their father sweetly dance around together. Riley sneaks up on him and firmly tugs at the back of his shirt. The Texan jolts from the spook and staggers back a step before smiling when he sees it’s Riley.

“Well if it isn’t the hardest person to get a moment alone with in Hillford Creek.” Riley says with arms linked behind her back.

“That’s funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you.” Lucas jokes.

“You want to disappear for an hour or so?” Riley raises an eyebrow and nudges her head back.

“Now I know this is a wedding, Riley but I’m just not that kind of boy.” Lucas holds his palms out in a joking manner.

“Jerk.” Riley playfully smacks his stomach. “If you’re going to be like that then I don’t want to-” As Riley’s walking away from him Lucas grabs her wrist and spins her back around.

“The inn?” Lucas asks softly.

“The inn.” Riley nods.

The two look around to see if anyone was going to stop them and quickly exit the park together. A little way away from the park Riley feels it’s safe to finally talk.

“I am obsessed with today.” Riley beams as they stroll, Riley’s excitement turns into more of a skip. “Maya and I made up, she’s here! Vanessa and Mabel seem to be paving the way with their friendship again, my grandparents got married, again. Tristan finally told you about Eli-” Riley freezes dead in her tracks. “Wait he did tell you about Eli, didn’t he?”

“Yes.. When did he tell you about Eli?” Lucas pricks up a brow.

“I may have accidentally stumbled across them myself.” Riley lets out a nervous and breathy laugh.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Lucas questions.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Riley gives him a look. “I hope you know that, I’d like to think it’s why you’ve trusted me with some of your own secrets.”

“I’m just kidding.” Lucas nudges Riley’s arm and they begin walking again. “You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks.” Riley smiles at her shoes. “So you’re okay with Eli?”

“Of course.” Lucas nods. “Surprised obviously but I’ve never doubted Tris’ judgement before, I’m not going to start now.”

“See, I knew you’d be cool about it.” Riley smiles.

“So Maya’s here, did you know she was coming?” Lucas asks.

“No. My parents organised it.” Riley explains. “I didn’t even see her until right before I walked down the aisle.”

“I got a chance to speak to her, she seems funny.” Lucas continues the conversation. “She has lots to say about Zay.”

“Oh yeah.” Riley laughs. “She’s been calling him cowboy names ever since he first transferred. So does she match ‘The Rebel’ stories you’ve heard from Zay?”

“I guess.” Lucas nods. “But I think she matches your stories more.”

A quiet but comfortable lull passes by and Riley uses it as an opportunity to bring up something she’s been dying to share.

“Guess what?” Riley bounces on her toes.

“Your parents have decided to move to Hillford permanently?” Lucas asks jokingly and when Riley frowns he apologies. “Sorry, that’s really unfair of me.”

“I was going to tell you about a conversation I had with my grandmother earlier.” Riley says, “Puzzle pieces just keep falling into place, just when I thought there were no more left to be discovered.”

“What new information has come to light?” Lucas asks intrigued.

“Would you believe me if I told you that our grandmothers met each other before they met Jed and Joe?” Riley raises a brow playfully.

“No way.” Lucas shakes his head. “You’re not going to tell me they met in Africa when they were seven or something are you?”

“Not quite.” Riley giggles. “But Mae’s mini bus did pick Rhiannon up on her way into town. They struck up a conversation with each other immediately.”

“Unbelievable.” Lucas says.

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Riley laughs. “Look at this,” Riley pulls out the photograph she stashed in her jacket pocket earlier. Lucas takes the photograph and looks closes at it. “That was from the first day they met.”

“It’s just like the one of my Pappy Joe and Grandma Mae.” Lucas smiles at it.

“Of course!” Riley says as it finally clicks. “That’s why it looks so familiar.” Instantly Riley remembers the photograph resting on the fireplace at Pappy Joe’s house. The faded photograph of a young Joe and Mae, from the way they stood together you never would have guessed it was the day they met. Riley figures each couple must have taken the photo for the other.

Riley is still looking at the picture as they approach the inn. Riley stops in her tracks again and Lucas pauses to find out what’s going on.

“Look.” Riley says with her smile growing wider as she holds up the photograph.

“What am I looking at?” Lucas is by her side staring intently at the photo trying to figure out what has Riley so psyched.

“Focus on what’s behind the couple.” Riley gives Lucas a hint.

Confused but without question Lucas examines the photo again, this time looking past the couple. Suddenly he sees what Riley sees, not only on the photo but the whole picture behind it.

“The inn.” Lucas says in wonder as he closes one eye and watches as the backdrop for the photograph matches up with the inn they stand before.

“Pretty crazy, huh?” Riley smiles at the side of Lucas’ face whilst he continues to measure up the photo with the burnt out building.

Lucas turns his head towards Riley and sheepishly meets her smile. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay.” Riley says with curiosity building. The Texan leads her inside but stops Riley in the front entrance.

“Close your eyes.” Lucas instructs.

“Really?” Riley questions.

“Really.” Lucas nods.

“Okay...” Riley says wearily and shuts her eyes. Lucas guides Riley with one hand gently on the small of her back into the room they've sat and chatted in before.

“Open.” Lucas says once he’s got Riley into position.

Slowly, Riley lets her eyes flutter open and for a moment is speechless at the sight of what used to be a burnt out and broken bay window. Now in it’s place is a repaired seat, with a fresh coat of paint even the windows had been cleared of all black smoke now leaving a clear and beautiful view of the outside.

“Is this what you were doing today?” Riley spins around and steps back nervously with how close she ended up being to Lucas who was only right behind her.

“Yeah, I mean I couldn't in good conscious keep letting you sit on the floor.” Lucas shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly.

“Oh that’s all is it?” Riley coaxes her head.

“Yep.” Lucas shrugs innocently again.

“You know what the bay window means to me.” Riley highlights.

“I’m familiar.” Lucas nods.

“You built me a safe place.” Riley takes a step towards Lucas. Nervously he steps back.

“It’s not like I built you a whole house..” His laugh is stuttered as rubs at the nape of his neck.

“You baby notebooked me.” Riley sways in place, her grin plastered widely across her face.

“Maybe.” A giggle escapes Lucas.

“Is it safe enough to sit down?” Riley jokes.

“I hope so.” Lucas laughs. “Otherwise I’m going to struggle to repair this whole place one day.”

Lucas motions for Riley to take a seat. She purposely pulls at the side of her dress like a curtsey and sits down. Lucas laughs and sits beside her. Riley lets her gaze wander out the window. Quickly the happy bliss she’s been feeling lets some of her past worries slip through to the forefront.

“Are you alright?” Lucas asks noticing her mood change.

“Just can’t help but think about the changes that are to come.” Riley chews nervously on her lip.

“Not all change is bad, Riley.” Lucas smiles. “Like the fall leaves for example. Change can be good, beautiful.”

A small smile flashes across the New Yorkers face but quickly her expression falls back into one of worry. “Can you promise me that no matter what happens next we’ll still be friends?” Riley asks. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Lucas smiles.

“Good.” Riley lets out a nervous breath before lifting her hands to either side of Lucas’ face and closing the space between them. The kiss was one that had Riley certain of the difference between compatibility and chemistry.

“What was that for?” Lucas asks with a sweet awestruck expression when they part. “Not that I’m complaining.” He quickly covers his tracks with a nervous chuckle.

“There are few certainties in life, inevitability's you know?” Riley is quickly heading into a ramble. “In my life there’s a sadness approaching not to mention the inevitability of my return to New York after that-” Riley exhales loudly, “I have no idea what that means for us in the long term- or even in the short term- but I do know that I really like spending time with you-” Riley’s now in full ramble mode. “But like I said, I am returning to the city and I know that might be a deal breaker- presuming you even want in on the deal-”

“Riley!” Lucas can’t help but let out a chuckle as he tries to slow her down. “We don't have to overthink things... We don’t have to be anything but us for as long or as little as you want.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Riley questions.

“On the off chance that you’ll kiss me again..” Lucas chuckles. “Yeah, I’m totally okay with that.”

Riley hangs her head forward with an embarrassed laugh. Lucas stands up and exaggerates a sigh. “As much as I’d like to keep you here I think people will be wondering where you’ve gone.”

Riley nods knowing he’s right, as much as she’d craved this alone time with Lucas she did know they had to go back.

“If I’m lucky I’ll be able to steal you again before the nights over for a dance.” Lucas says as he holds the front door open for Riley.

“Did you not see me stepping on my brothers toes out there earlier?” Riley scoffs. “You really want to sign yourself up for that?”

“Oh do I ever.” Lucas laughs. “I’ve seen the way you twirl.”

“Are you mocking me?” Riley folds her arms.

“I would never.” Lucas holds a hand to his chest. “I’m a Riley Matthews advocate.”

“Okay then.” Riley unfolds her arms and takes marching strides out onto the grass in front of the inn. “Spin with me.”

“What?” Lucas laughs nervously.

Riley looks Lucas dead in the eyes, his face only visible from the moonlight shining down on them. “You heard me.” Riley raises her arms out high and in line with her shoulders, she tilts her head back and points her gaze at the stars, she takes a deep breath and she twirls.

Lucas watches on with a grin, he still stands on the last step of the inns front porch. Riley stops her twirling and looks over at him slightly dizzy.

“Come on.” Riley says with a giggle as she waves her hand and Lucas sheepishly strolls over towards her. Riley pushes Lucas’ arms up and out by his elbows then matches his stance herself. “Head back and just-” Riley does as she did before and resumes her twirling, this time Lucas follows her lead. The Texan feels silly at first but quickly warms up to how freeing it felt. The two kept spinning and giggling until Riley catches her foot on a rock and trips backwards, her dizzy brain makes her stumble and land flat on her butt. Another round of laughter erupts from the girl as she tries to steady her brain. Lucas can’t help but chuckle too as he zigzags his way over to help her up.

“Time to go back?” Lucas asks as he holds out a hand to help up Riley.

“Yeah.” She says with a little sadness behind the word but still she takes his hand and allows him to help her up. The two take off in the direction of town square, neither of them noticing that they never let go of each others hand.

✮ ✮ ✮

End Notes: Firstly I would just like to thank everyone who has been patient with me in the time off I’ve had recently. Your kind messages of support have been lovely to read!

Secondly, this is a LONG chapter. The next part of this story is the epilogue but I will be releasing a bonus chatter after that. You will see why I’ve planned it this way.

Sorry if the editing in this is poor but I’m quite lazy with it, especially when it’s so long like this...

Please let me know how you feel about the story wrapping up. Lucas and Riley have FINALLY kissed. What does the future hold for them?

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #rucas fanfic #tsou

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crocodileniall · 7 years

Text

Masterlist

“I thought you were having fun?” Zoey asked, face falling in disappointment.

“I am,” Franny responded quickly. “But I’m just… tired. I had fun, honest.”

“You don’t even want to finish watching their set?” Zoey asked.

“I have to go now,” Franny shook her head. “You stay here and watch. I’ll be alright.”

Franny often reflected on her life and how somehow things don’t particularly go as she’d hoped. When she was thirteen, Franny wanted to be a marine biologist. She was sure of it. However, when she passed biology by the skin of her teeth and then took into account how unwell she could swim, it was off the table.

Franny wore polka dot pants and matched her socks to her shirt. She wore blouses and docked slacks and spent too much time reading. She didn’t aspire to be a small bookstore owner but somehow life took here where she was running the lived in store and decorating the walls with autumnal colors. Franny balanced herself on the step ladder and tacked a photo of Charlie brown and the clan up. The bell rang and she looked over her shoulder. A regular and also good friend of Franny’s, Zoey stepped in. “Smells like fall,” Zoey announced, heading straight for the young adult section. Zoey was the type of person to live her life through young adult fiction. She was also the type to sit on the sofa for an hour and read a book rather than actually purchasing it. “I plugged a candle burner in,” Franny told her. “It’s called autumn leaves.” “Autumn leaves my arse,” Zoey laughed, plucking the book she started the day before out of the shelf. “Candles are weird and don’t make sense. They never truly smell like they’re named.” Zoey was also the type of person to boycott businesses for preposterous reasons. Franny thinks that’s how they got along so well. Zoey abided by society’s rules as well as making a few of her own and taught Franny a heck of a lot. “Hey there’s this bar downtown and a friend of mine is playing there. Do you wanna check it out?” Zoey asked, looking up from her book. She reached down and picked up her to go cup of coffee and took a sip as Franny pondered it. It was Saturday- the second Saturday of the month to be exact. On the second Saturday Franny cleaned her fish tank and caught up on her tv shows. This was a constant and even if everything changed in her life, this wouldn’t. “Not sure if I can make it,” Franny answered after a moment. She adjusted a set of string lights and stepped down. Zoey knew her and how she excluded herself from society and it was just unacceptable. “Fran, you need to get out and meet people.“

When franny ignored her, Zoey shook her head, opening her book back up. She was hellbent on getting Franny out of her apartment and away from that damn fish tank. Another thing about Zoey was that she always got her way. Franny left her apartment reluctantly, sprinkling food into her fish tank. There was no reason why it couldn’t wait until Sunday morning instead. Zoey was waiting downstairs with her boyfriend Calvin in a car that looked more expensive than Franny’s life was worth. “I’m really glad you decided to come,” Zoey told Franny, twisting around in her seat to get a good look at her. Her hair was pulled up out of her face and though she damned denim jeans to the grave, she was wearing a pair of black ones for the night and a nice looking blouse. It was good to see Franny out of the bookstore. Franny smiled in response. She made eye contact with Calvin through the rear view mirror. He smiled back before his eyes settled on the road. Franny adjusted her seatbelt and breathed out a soft sigh. It was still too early for Franny to enjoy herself. In the moments leading up to leaving with them, Franny wanted to run into her room and stay there all night. However, she forced herself to go out. Calvin pulled into the parking garage where they’d walk a block to the bar. Zoey loved partying and going out to bars was no different. Having a good time was her second favorite past time (after reading books without paying for them). Zoey ordered them drinks while Calvin wandered off. Franny watched him weave through the crowd and up to a brunette man fiddling with a guitar. Zoey handed Franny a beer and nodded towards Calvin to get her to follow. So Franny did. She would follow Zoey around because meeting new people made her feel frantic. “Fran these are Calvin’s friends, uh Niall, jake, Gerry, and Lou,” Zoey introduced her. “Lads, this is my friend and life saver Francesca but she goes strictly by anything but.” Gerry was the first to extend his hand to Franny. She was hesitant to take it, another one of her things. Zoey watched her carefully when she extended her hand to shake his hand. Zoey let out a little breath of relief. Franny pulled her hand back once pleasantries were extended. Jake took little interest in Franny because Calvin brought girls around all the time and they all looked the same to him. Louis left a moment into the conversation but Niall was watching Franny. She could feel it. Franny shifted nervously beside Zoey. Zoey noticed this, looking down at her. “Fran stop fidgeting so much,” she whispered. “I can’t,” Franny whispered back, setting her beer down at a table behind them. “I’m going to take a walk.” “A walk? This is a bar not a bloody park,” Zoey grunted. Franny just stared at her. She wouldn’t move until zoey gave her some sort of confirmation. Zoey sighed, knowing she could force her to come out but she couldn’t force her to have fun. “Alright just… don’t accept a drink from someone and don’t leave with anyone, okay?” Franny nodded, adjusting her purse. She looked around before deciding to scale the wall furthest from the bar. She scanned the room for doors. There were three but only two she could get to. There was the front door and a door inside a little room that looked like where the band piled their belongings. A phone hung beside the bathrooms. There were a total of six people working. Six men and four women. There was a blonde working- “Francesca, right?” Niall, the brunette asked. Franny was in the midst of scoping the area out when he approached her at the bar. “Yes,” Franny nodded. “But I prefer Franny. Or Fran. Not Francesca that’s a terrible name.” Niall laughed, a bit surprised by her adamance. “it’s not so bad.”

“It sounds like I should be tan Italian and beautiful. I am not any of those things so I feel it is an injustice to pose to be that,” Franny explained. Niall was immediately intrigued by her, eyes watching her carefully. Franny continued to look around the place. Niall was only torn away when Calvin and Zoey approached them to let him know the band was ready. Franny only snapped out of it when Zoey quite literally snapped in her face. Franny scrunched her nose up, muttering, “I don’t like that.” Zoey laughed, pulling her towards the other side of the bar. A better view (and closer to the exits) Franny forewent drinking tonight and stood anxiously beside Zoey as the band got ready. Sometimes Franny felt that it was unfair that people could simply enjoy how things were. They didn’t worry about things like whether the building would go up in flames or if some man would snatch her while she wasn’t looking. Franny, however did think about all of this. Bars were at the top of her never-go list. Franny would not lie, Niall was good. His voice sounded like honey and it washed over Franny’s body kind of like stepping into a hot shower on a cold day. It felt like taking that first sip of coffee in the morning. Franny was sort of surprised. She expected indie music about smoking cigarettes and loved lost but his songs were heartache and heartbreak, things that Franny knew too well. This didn’t make Franny want to stay though. It made her want to leave. Two songs in and Franny leaned over to Zoey. “I think I’m gonna grab cab.” “I thought you were having fun?” Zoey asked, face falling in disappointment. “I am,” Franny responded quickly. “But I’m just… tired. I had fun, honest.” “You don’t even want to finish watching their set?” Zoey asked. “I have to go now,” Franny shook her head. “You stay here and watch. I’ll be alright.” Franny could see how much both her and Calvin liked Niall and it would be selfish to pull them away. Franny mustered a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Franny slid through the bar and out onto the street. She searched her purse for her keys and began her walk home. No, she wouldn’t trust a cab driver but the risk of walking home was high so she clutched her pepper spray in her right hand and her keys in her left. Zoey worried about Franny in a sort of protective younger kid way. Franny was the same age as her but somehow seemed so much younger and more fragile than anyone she’s ever met.

ii >>

Talk to me! :)

More of my works

#Niall fluff #niall fanfic #niall fic rec #Paper Houses #PH1

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exoticarmy127 · 7 years

Text

Take You Home (Baekhyun, OC) Part 1/2

In your eyes that try to smile, there is sadness But I can’t do anything about it I can feel it - Take You Home (Baekhyun)

OC - Kang Nami

Baekhyun have always pride himself to be a very rational guy.

He believed things could be settled through thorough communication... through a civilized and humane manner. For he was, in other words, a lover not a fighter.

“Ooof!”

The pain that shot through his jaw was agonizing and Baekhyun immediately tasted rust against his tongue upon the hit. The impact shoved him towards the neighbouring table, causing the couple sitting there to stand in fear and surprise. He winced as he held his mouth, feeling like his teeth was knocked off. He hoped he was wrong because that would definitely be a big problem for his singing career.

“Never thought you had it in you Byun,” Park Jun said, a.k.a. the guy Baekhyun had attacked the moment he heard those two menacing words come out of his mouth:

“She's nothing.”

A fiery rage came over him then and before he could think twice about his actions, Baekhyun had delivered a punch to Jun’s face, which was then followed up (quite swiftly he might add) with a punch to his jaw.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system that made him brave, because Baekhyun wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Or maybe it was anger and frustration he had bottled up so long and he simply reached his limit.

“What the hell is your problem anyway?!” Jun snapped and Baekhyung glared at him through lidded eyes before standing up and lunging at him with a growl.

The restaurant was in chaos as they tried to get the two men to stop fighting. Punches were delivered and kicks to the stomach that had Baekhyun doubling over. He was no fighter and his messy punches were proof. He was glad Jun wasn’t any better, but his punches were doing damage for sure.

“Hey—hey break it up!”

“Baekhyun, what are you doing?!”

When Baekhyun opened his eyes, he could see his best friend and bandmate, Kim Jongdae, holding him back with a forearm to his chest. As he was pushed back, Baekhyun caught sight of his other friend, Minseok, over Jongdae’s shoulder, pushing back a pissed-looking Jun to the opposite side of the room.

Seeing that guy made Baekhyun’s blood boil even more, and his body seemed to retaliate instantly on its own—pushing forward to lunge at him.

“Yah! Byun Baekhyun!” Jongdae scolded as he held him back. “Snap out if it!”

“He started it!” Jun shouted from across the room, pointing a finger at Baekhyun. Jongdae gave him a look like he was crazy and but he returned his gaze to his best friend, he was surprised to see him glaring at him.

“You did?” He asked.

“He’s a bastard.” Baekhyun gritted, not letting his eyes off Jun.

Jongdae sighed and shook his head before pushing him away even farther, right towards the restaurant’s doors.

“Leave before I call the police!” One of the waiters yelled and Jongdae waved a hand at him, assuring him they were leaving and most probably never returning. A shame really, considering Jongdae really liked the food they served.

Once they were outside, Baekhyun shoved his friend off of him and walked ahead to the other side of the street, his body swaying slightly. He walked a few blocks and rounded the corner street before leaning against the wall of a run-down infrastructure, panting and wincing as he held his bruised jaw.

In the quietness of his surroundings, Baekhyun felt his anger dissipating slowly; the adrenaline from the fight a few minutes ago finally disappearing, emphasizing the pain those punches costed him.

Right then, he felt stupid for starting the fight. But he had to admit he didn't feel a single ounce of regret. He had wanted to deliver that punch for a long time now.

“Okay. What happened back there?”

Baekhyun raised his eyes and saw Minseok jogging towards them with an incredulous look as he pointed back at the restaurant.

“Nothing.” Baekhyun muttered a reply as he stood straighter, only to wince and crouch back down when pain shot through his rib cage.

“Yeah, definitely nothing.” Jongdae rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky we got there before that dude smashed your pretty face.”

“I was handling it just fine.” Baekhyun snapped, causing the other two to look at him with worry.

“You’re not likely to start a fight Baek,” Minseok said, looking disappointed. “So that guy must’ve done some real sh*t to piss you off that much.”

“That guy looks familiar though…” Jongdae said thoughtfully and before Baekhyun could tell him to shut up because the pounding in his head was hurting him, he added, “Aah! He’s Nami’s boyfriend!”

Baekhyun frowned upon the mention of her name, clenching his jaw and looking away from his best friends as if he could mask the true reason he got into that fight in the first place.

“Baekhyun…” Minseok started with a gaze that showed he had already picked up on the situation. But before he could say more, Baekhyun held up his finger and gave the both of them a warning look.

“Not a word of this to Nami.”

“Why? Because she’ll kick your ass?” Jongdae snickered as he crossed his arms. Minseok snorted too, knowing Nami definitely would once she found out.

“She’ll find out eventually, you know. I saw someone taking a video of your little show. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t go viral around campus by morning.”

Baekhyun closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, just as a loud ringing pierced the air around them.

They stared at each other for a moment, letting the phone ring through the empty street. It took a couple more seconds before their eyes finally settled on Baekhyun’s coat pockets where the ringing was coming from.

He took out his phone and frowned when he saw Nami’s name on the screen. There was also a photo of her doing a wacky pose which was originally supposed to be a candid shot but she had caught him taking pictures and decided to pose. And as usual, she chose the funny one where her eyes are crossed and lips puckered like a fish.

Not like Baekhyun needed a reminder why he liked her so much.

“Good luck dude.” Jongdae said grimly just as Baekhyun hit the decline button and pocketed his phone without a word.

“Let’s go home.” He simply said before turning and walking away.

~~~

“Did you see that fight? Baekhyun totally smashed his face!”

“Well he totally got that blow back. Did you see that punch to his jaw?”

“That’s gotta hurt.”

Nami gripped her pencil tighter as she tried to drown out the hushed whispers of her classmates. It’s been the talk of the whole university since last night; one that rattled her awake from a peaceful slumber.

The video had gone viral on Facebook and their university student page. It was a miracle that neither of them got in trouble but she guessed it was because it happened outside campus and they weren’t exactly flaunting the school’s name while at it.

Normally Nami never minded these things. Fights happened all the time and people were too eager to get a shot of it. But this time around, it concerned two people she knew… two guys who meant something to her.

It was her best friend and her boyfriend.

Nami had called Jun the moment she saw the video but he was too upset to talk about it and had told her to ask her "so-called" best friend since he was the one who started the fight. He hung up before she could ask.

The fact that Baekhyun, her closest and most beloved bestfriend—who got scared in the presence of bugs, would walk up to someone and punch them in the face was both a mystery and a surprise. Baekhyun was good guy and never had she seen him laid a hand on or perform an act of violence towards someone…

He was usually a calm (though he can be rambunctious and annoying) and sensitive (he cried while watching Finding Dory—twice) guy.

Another thing that was a mystery to her was how Baekhyun ignored her calls and texts last night. And he still was as of the moment. He never missed her calls unless he was rehearsing with the band or asleep. But 95% of the time, he would answer.

Nami wasn’t sure how to feel about her messages being unanswered or her calls being deliberately ignored. She frowned at the empty seat two rows down from hers where Baekhyun usually sat. He didn’t come to school today which got her more upset; worried that he might have had serious injuries. But she had bumped into Jongdae this morning and he had assured her he was fine. He tell her much after that which only upset her even more because that meant he was purposely avoiding her.

Nami wished classes would end soon so she could go to Baekhyun and give him a piece of her mind.

~~~

Baekhyun sat down by the keyboard, his fingers dancing against the keys as he played a random melody. It was late afternoon and the sun hung low in the sky, causing a yellow streak to pass through the studio’s windows.

Their band studio was located a few minutes’ drive from the university—right at Minseok’s house’s basement. They had rented the place back in freshman year when they decided to form a band and “get serious” with their music.

Minseok’s parents had always been a supportive bunch and they practically treated them like their own children with how they grew up together through middle school and high school. They offered their basement which was conveniently close by to the university grounds that they could easily crash and practice after class. But wanting to prove their band’s worth and independence, the group insisted on paying rent even if the place was offered to them for free.

“Hey Baekhyun, I got something I want you to hear—whoa! What the hell happened to your face?!”

Baekhyun stopped playing and then looked up nonchalantly at Chanyeol, their resident guitarist and producer, who was frozen on the last tread of the basement stairs with a surprised look on his face.

“So it’s true what they say that you really do live under a rock.” Baekhyun snickered as he pulled his hood up over his head, as if that would give less attention to the purple bruise on his jaw and cheek.

“What’d I miss?” Chanyeol asked stupidly just as heavy footsteps and voices filled the room.

“Move, Yeol!” Jongdae said as he pushed him off the tread. He was followed by Minseok who had a paper bag of what looked like Soju and junk food: the typical menu for an all-night weekend practice.

“Man... that looked like it hurt.” Chanyeol frowned as he approached him by the keyboard. He sighed as he observed his bruises. “What happened?”

“He got in a fight with Jun.” Jongdae answered as he rummaged through the paper bag.

“Jun?” Chanyeol’s eyes went wide with surprise. “As in... Nami’s Jun?”

“Who else?” Jongdae answered while Baekhyun tried not to let his eyes roll to the very back of his sockets at the term “Nami’s Jun".

“Whoa, dude. What did she say?”

Baekhyun ducked his head low and when Chanyeol looked at the other boys, they had also averted their gazes, letting the question hang in the air.

A few seconds of silence and Chanyeol decided that he didn’t want to get into that mess and so he did the next thing that came to his head to alleviate the awkward tension.

“So. I produced a new track!” He announced, getting the boys attention almost instantly. They were all gifted musically and can play any instrument currently found in the room but Chanyeol was by far the best in producing melodies. Baekhyun played the keyboard and guitar and was the best in writing lyrics while Jongdae and Minseok played bass and drums respectively.They were all pretty solid vocals too but Baekhyun sang the lead melody in most of their songs.

“No words yet—as usual,” he chuckled before looking at Baekhyun expectantly. “Thought you could whip something up after hearing it?”

Baekhyun smiled, which hurt a little because of his bruises, and accepted the sheet music Chanyeol handed to him. They got into place and began to play and Baekhyun let himself drown into the melody.

It was a good one; a little on the jazz side and definitely a bit different from their usual pop rock sound. It was something he would hear at a cafe or even play in front of a crowd at the University fair.

The only problem was: no words were coming to him.

The sound was too happy. And happy was the last thing he was right now.

Lyrics used to come so easily to him especially with upbeat and catchy tunes. They were a great band and their music have become popular among the student body at SM University, earning them what most people would say a celebrity status within campus and even in social media.

They got offers from record labels but never sealed a deal with any of them having not encountered a deal that would give them the freedom to write and produce their own songs. It was their most important requirement. They vowed to play the music they wanted to play and to write music that reflected who they were as band. They’d rather go indie and be starving musicians playing in stuffy old basements than be robot idols under a label’s control.

The chorus hit and Baekhyun nodded to the beat. But still no words came to him. It was a tune made for a love song that much he could tell…but how can he write words of love when the love of his life didn’t even know his feelings?

Worse: had feelings for someone else?

Baekhyun began to wonder how long he could keep up the charade: going through everyday pretending that he was okay. Of course being Nami’s best friend was amazing in itself. They practically grew up together and every moment was special.

But Baekhyun had been greedy and careless, letting himself fall head—heart—first into dangerous waters that is ‘falling in love with your best friend and risking ruining your friendship’ zone.

Baekhyun wished he didn’t feel this way. He denied it for years, but it only made it harder and more obvious how much he was whipped for Nami. How much he loved her.

Most of the songs he had written were actually if not about, inspired by her. The love songs that made their girls swoon at their mini concerts in Hongdae? They were all about Nami and what he wishes could have been.

The music suddenly stopped, waking Baekhyun from his reverie. He looked up and saw everyone looking at him in concern.

“What?” He asked.

“Uh… you actually stopped playing and just stared at the keyboard.” Chanyeol answered as he stated Baekhyun’s current state.

“Oh…” Baekhyun frowned as he looked down at his hands. “Sorry.”

“You okay, man?” Minseok asked, his tone dripping with concern.

“Yeah…fine.”

“You…don’t like the song?” Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun sighed as he ran a hand over his face. “No. I like it, it’s great. I just… I can’t find the words to it.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it man. You can’t rush inspiration right?” Jongdae winked. “Why don’t we just… practice the set we’re going to play at the fair concert on Friday?”

Everyone agreed and moved back to their places—tuning and adjusting their instruments before starting again.

Baekhyun was setting up the sheet music on the stand when his phone suddenly rang. It laid on the stand beside his keyboard and he frowned when he saw who the caller was.

Nami.

He sighed before reaching out for the device to decline the call. He’d been avoiding talking to her since last night and had skipped school so she wouldn't have a chance at seeing him either. Baekhyun wasn’t sure how long he’ll keep avoiding her but he just wasn’t ready to face her right now.

With a sigh, he placed the phone in his pockets and continued sifting through the music sheets.

Just then a door shutting was heard followed by light footsteps. Baekhyun thought perhaps it was Minseok’s sister Dara who usually watched them play on Saturdays.

“Nami! Hey!” Baekhyun heard Chanyeol say which made him stop. “Came to watch us rock the house down?”

Baekhyun could hear his heart pounding in his eardrums and gulped before looking up from the papers. Nami stood by the stairs in her blue sweater and ripped jeans, backpack slung on her right shoulder. Her long hair was tied up in a bun and Baekhyun’s heart was already racing at the sight of her; wondering how she could look so beautiful in such a casual get up.

Nami was looking at him with a frown, completely ignoring Chaneyol’s greeting. Her eyes casted down to his pocket where he had kept his phone a moment ago and Baekhyun felt guilty, knowing she had seen him deliberately decline her call.

“So. Your phone seems to be working.” She said and the silence that filled the room was suffocating.

Baekhyun kept his mouth shut and looked away from her.

“Well?”

“I was busy.”

Nami huffed at that, annoyed at his cold demeanour. “What is your problem—?”

“Hey kids! Let’s have none of that—" Jongde intervened as he tried to lessen the heavy tension between the two. “Why don’t we just relax an—“

“Get out.” She said darkly to the other boys who immediately followed her order, leaving their instruments and moving upstairs to exit the basement.

Once the door shut, Baekhyun was acutely aware of her presence which was like a burning furnace despite the fact that she was standing a few feet away. He was staring at the drum set to his right, unsure what to say or how to start—just waiting for the impact of her accusations.

Should he apologized for not answering her calls and messages?

Maybe.

Should he apologize for punching Jun?

Definitely not.

He was so deep in thought that he almost jumped to his skin when he felt soft hands on his jaw, turning his head slightly until he was face to face with Nami.

He looked down at her as she examined his jaw with a frown, seeing the purple bruises and scratches on his skin.

“You made a mess.” She muttered, eyes swimming with disappointment. Baekhyun sighed then and moved away from her hold.

“I’m sorry… for not answering your calls.” He said sincerely. “I just… “ He sighed again, suddenly feeling very tired.

Keeping your feelings for someone for so long can do that to you.

“I don’t understand why you did it.” She said and the sadness in her tone was killing him. “You’re not the type to hurt anybody, Baekhyun. I know you—“

“Well, we’re human and we all have our limits.” He muttered, looking at her with such unkind eyes Nami felt hurt just by looking at them. “And that was me reaching it. So can you just cut me some slack—“

“Cut you some slack?” She echoed incredulously, unbelieving how he was acting right now. “Wow. Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

I’m still here, Baekhyun thought sadly. But you never really saw me.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?" He said as he turned around, leaving her standing by the keyboard.

“No. We’re talking about this right now Byun Baekhyun.” She said angrily, refusing to let it go as she followed him to the other side of the room. “I want to know why you punched Jun. I want to know what you were thinking—why you started that damn fight!"

“It doesn’t concern you—“

“It doesn't concern?! Of course it does! My boyfriend and my best friend had a fist fight and you’re telling me it doesn’t concern me?!”

“Nami, stop—“

“Tell me why, Baek. That was so unlike you! Why did you—“

"Nami—"

“How could you do that?! Why—"

“You wanna know why?” He whirled at her, eyes wild and angry, causing Nami to step back in surprise. “I hate the guy! There! I said it! I hate that guy’s guts!”

Nami’s frown deepened at his reason. “You hate him? Is that really a good reason to punch him? What did he ever do to you?!"

Baekhyun opened his mouth but he couldn't seem to find the right words to say. He knew he was at a dead end and that no matter what he’d say, he would be the wrong one.

He threw the first punch after all.

Baekhyun cursed under his breath and turned from her, lacing his fingers against the back of his head in frustration.

“Yah. Byun Baekhyun, don’t turn on me when I’m talking to you.”

“Can we just," he huffed, voice breaking slightly. "Can we just let it go, please?

“No, I’m not letting it go. I want to know why you punched him. I want to know why you started that fight!”

“Why do you even care!? Can’t I just hate him?“

“What the hell Baek! Of course I care! Because you’re my best friend and he’s my boyfriend—“

“THE MORE REASON TO HATE HIM THEN!" Baekhyun exploded, his voice bouncing off the walls. A deafening silence followed and Nami couldn’t quite keep her heart from beating rapidly against her chest at his words.

The more reason to hate him, he had said; the statement hovering over her brain—shaking her awake.

Nami watched her best friend's face morph from anger to pained that she suddenly grew confused of the situation. She could see his eyes shaking with unshed tears and she found herself frozen in place, unsure what to do next.

"W—what?" She stuttered stupidly even though the explanation was right there in front of her.

It took a few moments for Baekhyun to speak, and when he did, Nami wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it.

“You shouldn’t even be surprised." He chuckled but there was no amusement in it and it almost hurt to hear him that way. Baekhyun was always full of laughter—the one who always made Nami laugh and smile no matter what. "I’ve been so obvious these past few years... I think you'd know by now how I feel about you. How I've been in love with you all these years."

And there it was: the words clear as day. Nami couldn't explain the rush of emotions stirring within her. A small part of her seemed to know it; knew there was something there but she had denied it to the very end. She was too occupied with others things to see it; too busy being his best friend to even notice it.

"I'm sorry." Baekhyun said. "I'm sorry I punched Jun, and I'm sorry I started the fight. I was...a little drunk that night and he said… he said some things I didn't like. And I just lost it."

Nami remained silent, wondering whatever Jun had said to make him snap.

"You know, this wasn't how I planned on telling you." He said, finally looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way… while we're fighting. But I can't just sit around and watch anymore, Nami. I can't just pretend I don't mind seeing you with him." He said, eyes glinting with hurt. "That I'm okay with everything. Because I'm not."

Nami looked away from him, biting her lip to prevent the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"I know I don’t get a say on who you date. It’s your choice. I’ve tried so hard not to intrude, Nami... But does it really have to be him?" He shook his head with a scoff. "Why him?! Why him who can’t even pick you up when you’re studying late? Why him who stands you up every other date and doesn't care whether you got home safely or not? Who makes you sad and cry—no. Don't even deny it because I'm your best friend and I know you, Nami." He said before she could even protest and Nami gulped, his words like knives poking at her heart.

The truth always did hurt the most.

“Why do you stay with him? Why? Why when…” He paused and Nami kept her mouth shut as she waited for him to continue, the silence ringing in her ears.

“Why do you stay with him when I’m here?" Baekhyun finally said and Nami felt a pang in her chest at his words. She let out a shaky breath, wanting to speak, but the words escaped her; leaving her speechless and a little breathless from his confession.

"Why can't you see me?" Baekhyun asked, a tear falling down his right cheek. "Why can't you look at me for once?"

Nami closed her eyes almost painfully at that. "Baek I...I'm sorry, I—you don't understand—"

"I don't understand." Baekhyun echoed, stepping back from her with a cold expression. Only then did Nami realize what her words meant.

“Baek, no I—“ She huffed. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you…"

"You're right, I don't understand." He said almost robotically. "I'm sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m deluding myself anyway. You can’t possibly see me as more than just a friend."

“Baekhyun,” She reached out and held his hand, stopping the both of them in place. They had held hands before lots of times but this felt different… and a little sad.

Simply because Baekhyun didn’t hold her hand back—didn’t grip it tight the way he would when they crossed the street back in middle school. He didn’t hold her hand back they way he would when they watched a scary movie on the living room floor.

“Let go.” Baekhyun said weakly, his face stoic and unreadable. When Nami didn’t move, Baekhyun used his other hand to release her grip on his, then turned and left without another word or glance. Nami stayed there, watching his back as he disappeared up the stairs, the door shutting with a soft click.

Only then did she really let herself cry at the frustration and confusion—at the mix of emotions pressing down on her.

She wanted to run after him and apologize but her feet wouldn’t move—her body immobile as she felt like she just lost a huge part of her, leaving her heart hollow and broken.

To be continued...

youtube

Because I loved this song so much *cries* it had inspired me enough to write a story based from it. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Do you want to read more?

- Kaye Allen

#Baekhyun scenarios #exo scenarios #EXO #Byun Baekhyun #EXO Baekhyun #kpop scenarios #EXO fanfic #Baekhyun #kpop #fanfic #Take You Home

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ashapon · 7 years

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Join Overwatch

Summary: Reyes can’t be an adult about how he feels, Morrison just wants the fighting to stop. Tags: Pre-Zurich HQ Explosion, Reaper76, pre-relationship

Word Count: 2,902

Reyes knew better than to test the waters; for all the golden boy do-gooder charm and charisma that Morrison seemed to have in spades, it was clear that Overwatch’s Strike-Commander was on his last leg of patience though the day had barely started.

Oh, there was no doubt it was his fault in some fashion. Just the night previous, Morrison had gotten an earful from the higher-ups about the disrespectful conduct of some individuals under his command. That part was definitely his fault, but he was sick of not calling out assholes when he saw them.

It was unfortunate that one of the men almost solely responsible for gauging Overwatch’s capabilities and subsequently providing them with what he deemed appropriate funding was in fact a giant tool. Reyes didn’t like beating around the bush when it came to guys like that, didn’t believe that organizations like Overwatch should be so caught up in the politics and the bureaucracy of it all.

So he’d told him off, big fucking deal. He was just being honest.

Fortunately, Morrison was there in an instant to, as he put it, ‘salvage the situation’. Smooth things over with twenty straight minutes of ass-kissing. Or that’s what Reyes assumed had happened after he was ordered to leave the briefing room and stand in the hallway like a child in timeout.

Maybe not twenty straight minutes of ass-kissing. Five, tops. The rest was devoted to a furious tirade about Overwatch’s lack of professionalism and how they’d ought to keep “those filthy Blackwatch mutts on their leashes”.

Reyes really wished he’d landed a hit on the guy.

Morrison had left the briefing room looking the better part of completely exhausted, had rounded on Reyes and demanded an explanation.

In retrospect, an impish grin and the words “he started it” did nothing to help the situation.

He hadn’t spoken much to Morrison since then, not even on the journey to the photography studio in downtown Zurich. Overwatch officials wanted some of its members in on a promotional photo-op for recruitment posters, news stories, whatever the hell else. Reyes had no intention of getting his picture taken, but he knew Jack was going and he wasn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to see something fucking hilarious.

Overwatch’s best and brightest dolled up and posed mindlessly before a fluorescent green screen, trying not to blink against the blinding flashes of the camera. He promised he’d send Jesse pictures, too.

As it so happens, the studio was also providing refreshments. Reyes helped himself to a cup of fresh coffee and a cinnamon-coated doughnut while the head photographer gathered the other assembled members and explained how they would proceed.

Besides himself and Morrison, Ana Amari, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Angela Ziegler, and Lena Oxton were also present. Some more excited than others about the opportunity, bounding to their chairs and awaiting hair and make-up.

“You as well,” the head photographer squinted at him, disbelieving blue eyes and brown hair packed in a neat bun. “You are not actually here for the photo shoot, are you?”

Reyes tried not to be affronted by his skepticism; he was, after all, looking as though he’d only just rolled out of bed in a dark hoodie, jeans, his beanie. His hair had been a mess this morning, as it often was since he’d allowed it to grow a bit, but even if it hadn’t been, the hat was his go to.

He swallowed what remained of his first pastry, downed a fourth of his coffee, and shook his head.

“Nah,” he fished for a second doughnut, one with sprinkles. “Moral support, you know. Mind it I sit here?”

He didn’t really provide Reyes with an answer, instead opting to turn to his team and give some orders before summoning the first victim.

Reyes shrugged and plopped down in a seat not unlike a director’s chair, allowing glee to pull his lips into a small smile. He relished in feeling - for the moment - like an actor, because the embarrassing dream had once been there, a very potent part of his childhood.

And then, months later, he’d wanted to sing. That lasted weeks and then he’d taken up sewing.

How his mother survived his fleeting interests was beyond him, but she’d always been supportive. God, he needed to give her a call one of these days.

“You look rather pleased,” it was Ana who shook him from his reverie, a disapproving arch to her brow. “Please tell me you’re not here to put Jack in an even worse mood.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hummed into his coffee. “Tell me he’s up first.”

Reyes cackled at the sight of Morrison conversing with the photographer.

“Hell yeah,” he leaned back in his seat, grinning. “It’s fuckin’ Christmas.”

“You are ridiculous,” it was no shock that Ana was rolling her eyes beside him. “What has gotten into you these past few days?”

His grin faded and he thumbed at his Styrofoam coffee cup.

Right, nothing got past Ana and it was likely that Jack confided in her his frustration with Gabriel’s unbearable behavior.

If Reyes was going to be honest with himself, he would say he knew one hundred percent what the hell was going on, why he was doing this. He knew and he was fucking terrified of what it meant, which was why immaturity, frustration, jealousy had all won out and taken the fucked up form of passive-aggressive deeds like, say, telling off a potential Overwatch donor just to get Morrison yelled at and pissed off and...

It was easier when Morrison was pissed off, anyway.

“Gabriel,” Ana’s hand touched his shoulder and the weight of it forced him to look over. “What is this about? Are you really mad at Jack?”

Reyes regarded her, silent, teeth toying with the delicate flesh on the inside of his cheek. He bit down, hard, and drew blood.

He was saved from confronting that particular bit of reality when Morrison and the photography team took their positions. No, he could return back to what he knew best.

Sitting up in his seat, Reyes leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees and let out a laugh just loud enough to cause Morrison to glance his way.

“Make sure you get his good side,” he joked, winking. “Knock ‘em dead, Jackie.”

He watched the way Morrison’s expression tightened, the hope of some playful conversation fading from his eyes, replaced by resolve. The photo-op was one more thing to do on the list of many.

Reyes’ overall satisfaction was squandered by the growing mass of guilt clenching in his chest.

“Let’s do one with a three-quarter view,” the photographer instructed, waving his hand. “From the right, please.”

The entirety of Morrison’s photo shoot followed a similar pattern; Reyes made various attempts at embarrassing his friend while all the attention was on him, knowing that somewhere there was a crack in that collected and oh-so-polished facade of his. The crack had been there for days, splintering, growing deeper and deeper.

When Morrison was about done with his photos - and Ana had hissed for Reyes to keep quiet and nudged his shoulder enough times he probably had a bruise - he had stopped to talk with a few members of the crew. A small crowd had formed around him, but he was smiling, polite, charming. Always so endearing, so likeable.

Reyes had to hand it to him, it was difficult to spot the weariness in his expression, the irritation. They’d known each other for so long, he knew not to take Jack at face value.

Jack knew the same of him.

Whatever Morrison said had the group around him laughing and a particularly brave, or overly friendly, crew member placing her hand against his arm, smiling. That casual ‘oh, you’ gesture that had Gabriel frowning and tapping an impatient finger on the edge of his empty coffee cup.

Every single goddamn time.

He bit his lip, glancing away from the scene, huffing under his breath, forgetting that Ana was directly beside him. That she’d been watching him like a hawk since they’d arrived.

“Oh, no,” Ana started, her tone a mix of incredulity and something overwhelmingly sweet, something like fondness. “Gabriel, you cannot be serious.”

“I try not to be,” Reyes retorted, a weak attempt at diverting what was coming with sarcasm. “Don’t you have to get your picture taken or whatever?”

Ana went silent, but he could feel the warmth of her gaze heavy on his temple. She didn’t say anything and he wondered if it would have been easier if she had.

His agitation won out.

“For the love of...” he lowered his voice, narrowing his eyes up at her. “What? What is it?”

She hummed.

“This is about the the interview, isn’t it? The one from Zurich News?”

Reyes clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. For an instant, images played against the black of his eyelids like a film reel.

Morrison, impeccably dressed, perched with an awkward smile on the edge of his seat. One of the Zurich News’ hosts sitting beside him. Close, way too fucking close. Touching his thigh with her hand and laughing when Morrison seemed flustered.

“You have to know,” she said. “Come on, now.” “I didn’t,” he insisted, chuckling. “I never imagined... it’s very flattering, though. Thank you.”

Reyes stood from his seat, shaking his head and making his way over to where the refreshments sat.

“You hear that, ladies?” The host winked at the camera. “Handsome and modest. Must be why they keep you around.”

“Must be,” another laugh.

He refilled his coffee, grimacing.

“With a face like this at the head of their organization,” the host playfully tapped Morrison’s cheek with a manicured nail. “Overwatch has my support.”

“Fuck,” Reyes cursed, hot coffee scalding his palm and spilling onto the table. “God fucking...”

Ana was right behind him and he hoped desperately that he was radiating the appropriate ‘I really don’t want to talk about this’ mood. She sighed.

The spilled coffee stained the front of his hoodie, soaking through the bottom hem, down his sleeves. He swore under his breath, shutting the machine off and staring down at the java puddle.

“You should talk with him,” Ana said at once, her voice soft. “Don’t make me do it. This can’t keep going on.”

Reyes remained silent, pacing from the room without another word.

The room he ducked into was at the far end of the studio, housed two long tables, some mismatched chairs, a few appliances, and a sink. It might have been where the crew members ate their lunches or held in-house conferences.

He closed the door behind him and tearing off his coffee-soaked sweatshirt. His beanie fell to the floor in the brief struggle but Gabriel ignored it and moved over to the sink.

There was a towel folded into a neat square, which he used to scrub vigorously at the stains. Water splashed onto the red tank he wore underneath.

What the fuck was wrong with him? What else could happen at the end of this scenario but Jack hating his goddamn guts? Was that what he wanted?

Reyes stopped scrubbing, a sigh slipping from his lips.

What he wanted, if he actually gave it any thought, wasn’t going to fucking happen. Period.

Reyes jumped when the door to the room flew open and Morrison stood at the entrance, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He let the door shut behind him, taking swift steps over to the Blackwatch Commander.

Before either of them could speak, Jack pulled Gabriel’s hand into his own, turning it over to examine the inflamed skin of his palm.

“Can I help you?”

Jack’s thumb smoothed over the skin before he guided it over to the sink, adjusting the steady flow of water to something cooler.

“I thought we should talk,” he replied after a long moment. “Can we?”

“Are we going to talk about how unnecessary this is?” Gabriel waved his free hand. “This whole ‘tending to my wounds’ bullshit?”

Jack shook his head, an eyebrow arched. Silence, apart from the running water, filled the space between them. When Jack seemed satisfied, he shut the sink off, dried off Gabriel’s hand, and inspected the wound.

His thumb glided across the tender pink skin once more. He didn’t let go, even as he spoke.

“I want to know what I did to upset you.”

Gabriel scoffed and simultaneously struggled to quell his rapid pulse.

“Not everything’s about you,” he snatched his hand free, frowning. “Hate to bear the bad news.”

“So you’re not pissed?” Jack crossed his arms. “And I must be imagining the fact that you haven’t looked me in the eye for over a week.”

Gabriel shrugged, reaching for his half-soaked sweatshirt draped on the counter.

“You must be imagining things, Strike-Commander,” he replied. “Maybe it’s all this work. You ought to get some rest.”

From the shift in Jack’s position, the nonchalance was not well-received.

Gabriel almost jumped when Jack closed the distance between them, hands braced on the counter top, caging him in.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” Gabriel growled and this time his eyes darted up to meet his friend’s. “But I’d like to go back and have another fucking doughnut, thanks.”

He was surprised to find not anger, but something imploring in Jack’s furrowed brow, something exhausted, but still hopeful. He looked away.

“Gabe,” Jack sighed, so close that Gabe could feel the rise and fall of his chest. “Ana told me to ask you about the interview I did with Zurich News.”

Gabriel ran a hand across his face, flustered and gripping the edge of the counter.

“Why the hell would you even ask?” He bristled, mumbling. “Goddammit, Ana.”

“It was the interview.”

He fucking knows, a darker part of his mind whispered, sending his body, his muscles into a panic. When he pushed away from Jack’s hold, the man let him go.

Gabriel could feel Jack’s eyes on him as he paced, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

What could he say? What could he say? What would make sense? Pissing Jack off had done nothing, really, and it was tiring the both of them. He didn’t have the energy - emotional, mental - to keep up this bullshit anymore.

Gabriel took a deep breath and forced himself to think carefully. It was there in his mind, one of the most basic concepts tucked alongside his fight-or-flight instincts.

The best lies are based on truth.

More bullshit, it was. For both their sakes.

“I’m sick of it,” he blurted finally, standing still. “You’re more than just a goddamn figurehead for the higher-ups to show off. It isn’t like you went through hell in the S.E.P. just so you could be paraded around as the ‘face of Overwatch’.”

Gabriel made a grand gesture with his at the last bit, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“How can you deal with that shit?” He went on, scowling, spinning to face Jack. “People don’t even look at you like you’re human. I fucking know better, you’re more than just your stupid subjectively handsome face; you’re tough, you’re smart as shit, and you deserve to be more than just a symbol people can throw their shitty feelings at.”

Huffing out irritated breaths, Gabriel ignored the thought that he himself wasn’t any better than those people with their shitty feelings. His chest rose with another deep breath and he was about to fill the ensuing silence when it was interrupted by Jack.

Laughing.

Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from regarding his friend with a look akin to betrayal, his cheeks flushing in the face of what seemed like a complete dismissal of his inner dilemma. He waited - a shocking display of patience - until the laughter cleared and Jack was glancing over at him with affection.

He cleared his throat.

Jack spoke first, “You think I’m handsome?”

Gabriel’s hands flew up in an elaborate demonstration of his displeasure.

“Wow, fuck you,” he replied, his face growing warmer. “Fuck you very much. Okay, I’m going now.”

“Gabe,” Jack chuckled, reaching out as he turned away. “Hang on a sec, c’mere.”

Gabriel, who had no intention of continuing this humiliating conversation, found himself being blinded by what he eventually realized was his beanie. He struggled to pull the lip of his hat up over his eyes and was instead guided into an embrace by the hand that snagged his elbow. His shoulders, his body, his entire being relaxed into hold before he could stop it. His hands remained suspended at Jack’s side, pathetically indecisive.

“Right,” Gabriel managed, the acerbic edge of his usual sarcasm muffled by Jack’s shoulder. “You’re a hug person.”

God, it felt so good, though. He closed his eyes for just a moment, savored the scent of Jack’s stupid spiced cologne.

Gabriel schooled his expression into something other than disappointment when his friend pulled away. Jack’s smile was overwhelming and genuine, his hands still resting on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Morrison started, soft, kind, an all-enveloping warmth. Gabriel’s own personal star. “It’s okay, Gabe. Thank you, honestly, it... It means a lot to know I have the support of those who matter most, okay?”

Blinding, like the sun, and all Gabriel could do was nod, numb, and let himself be consumed by it.

#Reaper76 #Overwatch #Poncywriting #Poncy writes #Fics #Jack Morrison #Gabriel Reyes #Ash writes #My writing #Ashapon

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russellthornton · 7 years

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15 Tinder Tips You Can NOT Ignore if You Ever Want a Date

Ahhh… Tinder. Gotta love its hook-up reputation, huh? It has evolved, but you have to know what you’re doing. So, here are some Tinder tips.

Online dating *and dating apps like Tinder* should be easy for people. But all I ever hear are complaints. Most people don’t even get dates. Or if they do, they have total horror stories to tell as a result.

So, why is it so hard to snag a date in the online dating world? Well, it’s probably because people do it all wrong. It’s amazing how many times I look at some profiles and think, “Oh you poor thing… you really need me to help you write your profile!” I’m not trying to sound arrogant, but being a communication professor, I teach about these things… including what makes a good online dating profile.

Tinder tips you can NOT ignore

The problem is, most people don’t take classes like mine. Instead, they just fumble through the dating world hoping to get someone to notice them. And even if they do, they might not find anyone that they would want a relationship with. So, here are some Tinder tips for you… basically the super important Dos and Don’ts. Let’s start with the Don’ts.

Don’t…

#1 Forget to use photos. Come on, people. Do you REALLY want to go out with someone who doesn’t even have a picture? It can mean a lot of things. First, they are too lazy to put up a photo. Or maybe they’re married and they don’t want their spouse to find them.

Or maybe they don’t think they are attractive and are afraid to put a picture up. In any of these scenarios, it’s not a good thing. So, don’t be one of those people… use photos! And also, don’t bother contacting people who don’t use them either. [Confession of a girl: I used a dating site without a photo and this is what happened]

#2 Use old photos. I know you think you looked good in your high school graduation picture from 10 or more years ago. Even if it was just 5 years ago, people change. If you don’t put up recent photos of yourself, you are basically deceiving everyone.

And if you snag a date, they might have a look of shock on their face and run screaming toward the door because you look different. I’m exaggerating, of course. But it happens. It really does. So, make sure you put photos up that are no older than a year. And also… just don’t misrepresent yourself in any way, shape, or form… AKA, don’t lie! This is one of the biggest Tinder tips of all.

#3 Use sexy/half-naked photos. I know Tinder has a reputation for being a hookup site, but that doesn’t mean you have to sink to that level. Well, I guess if you really are just looking for sex and a hookup, then maybe that’s the message you want to put out there.

But really, it degrades you. It screams desperation, and no one wants to date a desperate person, right? Save the sexy photos for when you are off Tinder and in a relationship. [Read: 18 things you do that makes guys think you’re an easy lay]

#4 Use photos of objects instead of yourself. This is one of the Tinder tips not a lot of people think about. Guys, the ladies are not dating your motorcycle. Or your fish. Or your house. They are dating YOU. We don’t care that you caught a big fish or are a Harley dude.

We want to see your face and body, just like you want to see ours. And ladies, guys aren’t dating your cat, or your kids, or a beautiful sunset. They are trying to date YOU. I think you all get the point, right?

#5 Use photos that don’t show your face. This kind of goes along with not using photos. There are a lot of people who put up pictures of their body parts… I’m sure you’ve seen them. The chests, or the wet t-shirts *for girls* or strategically wet, sheer boxers for guys *where you can basically see everything.*

That’s just not respectable. You have a brain, right? And a personality? Show THAT! Even if you do want to have sex, you don’t have to put your body out there like that. Of all the Tinder tips to keep in mind, make sure you respect yourself. [Read: Dick selfies – Why men love sending dick pics to women]

#6 Use crowd photos. Hey, it’s great that you and ten of your friends had fun at Mardi Gras or the Kentucky Derby. But ummm… which one are YOU? If you use crowd photos, at least point out where you are in the picture.

Even if it’s a picture of you and another person, they can wonder “Hey, is that his girlfriend or ex-wife in the photo?” or “Hmmm… two girls in this picture… which one is she?” You should stick to pictures of you, and only you, if at all possible.

#7 Use selfies or bad photos. I know we live in the age of selfies. But please, for the love of God, don’t use them!! Especially the ones where you are in a public bathroom and you’re holding the camera in front of your face trying to look sexy.

Selfies make people think, “Don’t they have any friends to take a picture of them?” And “Why the heck are they in a public bathroom doing this?” It’s kind of creepy. Just don’t do it. Have a friend take pictures of you in good lighting at a good angle… in a respectable location.

#8 Forget to write something! How do we know if we want to date you if you say absolutely nothing about yourself? Okay, maybe some people are more picky that others and are just looking at the pictures.

But this is your chance to put your best self out there to get a date or a relationship. Is saying NOTHING really putting your best self forward? I don’t think so. This is one of the Tinder tips that seems kind of obvious, but it’s not. [Read: The 30 best and worst words to use when you describe yourself online]

#9 Say “I hate talking about myself” or “If you want to know, just ask.” If you hate talking about yourself, that sends the message that you have low self-esteem. I mean, if you had decent self-confidence, you should have no problem telling the world all about you because you are proud of who you are.

And if you say “If you want to know, just ask,” well, that’s just lazy. If other people take the time to write something about themselves, why are you requiring them to put in more effort by asking you about yourself. People, it doesn’t take a lot of time to write a short bio. Don’t be lazy. Put in some effort!

#10 Use improper grammar, type in all capitals, or write only one sentence. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t stand when someone can’t spell, doesn’t use decent grammar, or has one big long run on sentence.

I understand that not everyone is highly educated, but again, you are putting your best self out there. If you’re not a good writer, then have someone help you with it. Grab your mom or a friend to help you. It gives a MUCH better impression to people when you can actually be articulate. [Read: How to spot the liars in an online dating site]

Do…

Now that we’ve covered some of the don’ts *there are more, but then this feature would turn into a book,* let’s cover some Tinder tips regarding what you SHOULD do.

#1 Smile and show your eyes. Don’t you want to date a friendly person? Of course you do! We all do. So, why not try to look friendly in your photos by smiling? It’s not too hard to smile, right?

Also, don’t wear sunglasses. Why? That doesn’t sound like a big deal, right? I mean, sunglasses can look pretty cool. Well, the reason is because you are hiding your eyes. And the eyes are the window to the soul.

So, if you’re covering them up, then it looks like you are hiding something. You look shady *no pun intended… okay, well maybe*. People might get the subconscious message that you could be a liar. [Read: 30 effective tips to help you win at online dating]

#2 Look respectable. As I said earlier, please don’t use sexy photos. I mean, you don’t go to work with your shirt down to your belly button *at least I hope not*, so don’t do it… even on Tinder. You don’t have to be all buttoned up in a 3-piece suit, but makes sure you look like you respect yourself. Dess nicely, and pose in a polite manner.

#3 Introduce yourself if you match up with someone. If you swipe right, why wouldn’t you contact that person? I mean, maybe you’re just bored, but think about the other person. They want to meet you!

So, reach out and start talking. It seems quite silly to me to swipe right and never even interact with the person. It’s almost like you’re saying, “Hey you’re cute, but I really have no desire to even talk to you let alone go out with you.” Then why bother? Start talking!! [Read: Creative Tinder lines to snag you a date on the first try]

#4 Try to engage in a conversation. When you do start talking, make it meaningful. Just saying “heyyy” or “hey beautiful” or “what’s up” is really boring. Put some effort into it! Mention something you liked about their profile or their photos *without being creepy*.

Ask them where they are from, about their job, or if they have any kids. Get to know them. Pretend like you’re talking to them face-to-face. You’re not going to get to know them by saying “heyyyy.” [Read: Signs a girl likes you on Tinder – 15 things to keep an eye on]

#5 Keep up the conversation. In other words… don’t disappear on them! Okay, I know. You were bored on a Friday night with nothing to do. You guys messaged each other for a couple of hours. But maybe that person is really interested in you. So why would you disappear? What’s the point? It’s just wasted time.

So, make a real, concerted effort to keep a conversation going. And if at some point you realize you don’t like them anymore, be gentle and kind in telling them that you don’t think you’ll be a good match. Trust me, that’s the classy thing to do, and people will appreciate you for it.

[Read: Online dating woes – 8 most common Tinder horror stories you’ll come across in real life]

Online dating can either be fun or a nightmare. You just need to know how to do it right. So, if you follow these Tinder tips, you will find your soul mate in no time!

The post 15 Tinder Tips You Can NOT Ignore if You Ever Want a Date is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

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sarahcassellsuniverse-blog · 7 years

Text

Once Upon a Time..

Ari fluffed her flaming red hair into a bouffant and smoothed down the stray hairs that were determined to escape. She drew a fat bristle brush carefully along her halo of fire, her tongue poking out and resting on her lips with the intensity of her concentration.

The brush hovered in the air beneath her last split end as she drew it slowly away, careful not to make any sudden movement. She held her head stiffly as she placed the brush down on her white dressing table before her long pale fingers slipped gently around a can of hairspray. She lifted the bottle and sprayed liberally until the ticking black hand had circled twice around her clock.

With a satisfied sigh she shook the now empty bottle and threw it aside, where it clattered into a wastebin full of similar cans.

She fluffed her hair again and winked at her reflection, admiring her long dark lashes. She frowned and peered closely at the new extensions, wondering if they could have grown out in the last week. She would have to book another appointment. She couldn't possibly wait the recommended four weeks.

She pouted her perfectly shaped lips, tilting her head. She felt a stab of envy, thinking about Rose's lips. They had all warned her that the operation could go wrong, but she hadn't cared. She had booked in to see the surgeon and a week later they were done. Ari couldn't help but feel disappointed; they had turned out perfectly, beautiful even. Now she felt so inadequate. Stupid bitch, she thought. Maybe next time they would go wrong.

Ari flicked her hair back and hoisted her bra up, ensuring the creamy curve of her breasts was visible. Her short green dress sparkled like fish scales, and clung to her lean body.

Her diamond encrusted mobile rang, vibrating on the table. She flipped it open and placed it to her ear, still pouting in the mirror.

“Yello.”

“Where are you? Are you coming?” came the concerned voice of her friend Belle.

Ari sighed. Belle was a worrier. Always had been.

“I'm on my way,” said Ari, rubbing some more rouge lipstick over her lips.

“By that do you mean you're still in front of the mirror?” asked Belle.

Ari's pride prickled but she knew the truth when she heard it. She took a deep breath and finished powdering her face.

“I'll be there soon Belle, chill out. You're always too early.”

Belle was silent for a few moments.

“You're forty-five minutes late Ari,” she said quietly. “And nobody else except Alice is here.”

Ari sighed exasperatedly.

“I'm leaving now alright?”

There was silence.

“Ok Belle?”

“Alright,” said Belle, after a few moments. “Don't be too long. I need to talk to..just get here soon.”

Ari clicked her phone shut and sighed, slipping it into her bag. She glanced at her husband, whose fat body was sprawled across their bed. Great snores came out of his drunken mouth, much louder than the roars that had once come from Belle's husband. She wondered how their paths had twisted. Belle had suffered excruciatingly attempting to tame her man, but had been rewarded with a humble, kind and loving husband for the rest of her life. Ari had sacrificed everything to gain her husband's love, and now...well, she still had her looks.

She shoved the empty bottles of whiskey out of her way with her pointed high heeled shoe, avoiding the many carpet stains. There was no point in fixing up the dingy flat. Ari's love of beauty and her husband's alcoholic tendencies had put paid to that.

Ari hailed a taxi and climbed in, Chanel wafting after her. She crossed her perfect legs and gave the destination to the driver. Her phone bleeped with notifications. She pulled it out and scrolled through Instagram.

She grimaced at Rose's post. Her lips took up most of her selfie. She had a pink bralet and skirt on, her bleach blonde hair coiffed and curled.

Another notification. Snapchat. Ari opened the picture, and was greeted with a selfie of Cindy and Snow, who were in the back of a taxi. Snow's eyes were glazed, a sneaky bottle of vodka sticking out of her bag. Cindy was pulling a duckface, her hands shoving her chest up.

“BFFs. Get ready boys,” the text across the snapchat read.

Ari scoffed and clicked the phone shut. Guess Cindy still didn't know her boyfriend was coming in Snow's mouth every Thursday after work.

Throbbing music pumped louder as Ari's taxi drew up beside the club. She paid the driver and stepped out, her long legs appearing before she did.

A few wolf whistles came her way, and she glanced proudly down at her legs. They were her pride and joy, her ultimate prize for the price she had paid all those years ago. This was the true reward. Certainly her 'prince' hadn't been worth his salt.

She navigated her way through the tightly packed crowd, feeling hands on her arse more than once.

“Ari!” cried a familiar voice.

Ari glanced towards the bar, where Jaz was stood waving. Her short red dress sparkled under the lights, her shining Arabian hair halfway down her back.

Ari made her way over and grasped her in a hug. Jaz' beautiful almond eyes were framed with black and she smiled widely.

“You look gorgeous!” Jaz cried, whipping out her phone. “Selfie?”

Ari posed for the camera, as Jaz stuck her chest out. The flash blinded Ari. She watched Jaz scrutinize the photo, before clicking upload.

“Nice,” she said, nodding approvingly.

“Where are the others?” Ari asked, her eyes sweeping the room.

“Over there,” Jaz pointed. “In the corner. But you won't spend too long there. Alice is being a right bore. I don't know why she bothers coming out. It's not like any of the men come and talk to us while she's there. Unless they're paedophiles,” she said nastily, laughing loudly.

Ari couldn't bring herself to laugh and made do with a grimace. She tapped her on the arm and made her way over to the others.

Snow and Cindy had arrived just before her. Snow winked at her.

“Where's Cindy?” asked Ari, as Belle stood up to greet her. She looked classy in a little yellow dress, her brunette waves falling softly over her shoulders.

“Gone out for a cig I think,” said Snow, downing another shot. “You look good,” she said, insincerity in every tone of her voice.

Ari caught little Alice gazing at her with an expression of pure envy. She quickly averted her eyes when she saw Ari had noticed.

“Ok Alice?” Ari asked.

Alice nodded and forced a smile. Her skin was drawn, pale and tight over her prominent cheekbones. She looked like she hadn't slept for weeks.

“Hey bitches,” cooed the soft sultry voice of Rose. There was a collective gasp that got lost under the music, but Ari knew they were all thinking the same thing.

Rose was so thin! Her waist was miniscule, especially under her silicone filled double F cups. Her hip bones jutted out under her skirt, and her belly was concave. But what upset Ari the most were Rose's legs. There was no fat, no muscle, just beautiful stick thin legs. Ari's arm was bigger than both of her friend's legs. She stifled her tears and forced a smile.

“Wow,” she said, “You look amazing.”

Rose twirled. “Thanks,” she said. “I've been working hard.”

“What do you do to get like that Rose?” asked Snow, leaning over for tips. A huge grin appeared on Rose's face and she flopped down beside her, immediately launching into a full description of her eating and exercising habits.

Ari glanced at Belle, who gazed disbelievingly at Rose. She looked sick, and placed a reassuring hand on Alice's leg.

Ari turned to get some air, feeling she might cry at any moment. She stepped out into the beer garden, and took a deep breath of smoke filled air. She caught Cindy's eye, and made her way over.

Ari wafted the smoke from Cindy's cigarette away from her and leaned against the wall, trying not to think about Rose's new figure. She had to be doing something else. Detoxes maybe. That would be it. She was completely fake. Stupid whore.

Cindy let out a long sigh with her smoke.

“I'm pregnant, Elle,” she said quietly.

Ari frowned, quite sure she'd misheard her. “You're joking.”

Cindy grimaced. “Fraid not.”

“But- jesus Cindy.”

“I know. Bummer.”

Silence fell between them. Ari couldn't digest the news. A fight broke out on the other side of the courtyard. Glass smashed onto the floor as the bouncers dragged them out.

“You shouldn't be smoking Cin.”

Cindy sighed. “Doesn't matter. It'll be damaged any way.”

“Why?”

“Because you can't bring a baby into a world where its father fucks his girlfriend's bestie every other week can you?”

Ari felt her mouth drop open as Cindy took another drag.

“You know?”

“Of course I know. I've known since it started. I don't wear that trashy violet lipstick do I?”

She sighed again and threw her cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with her heel.

“What are you going to do?” asked Ari quietly.

Cindy glanced up at the starry sky, partly obscured by the smoke.

“Carry on,” she said. “Isn't that what we do best?”

“But-”

“There's no point trying to be perfect Ari,” Cindy said. “I was. You are. Fucking Rose can't stop,” she said with a bitter laugh. “But there's no point,” she sighed. “There's no such thing. Not any more.”

Ari felt Cindy's fingers interlace with hers before she left, disappearing back into the club. Ari leaned her head against the dirty wall and closed her eyes momentarily. She sighed and headed back into the club.

Rose and Snow were still deep in conversation, but Belle and Alice were nowhere to be seen.

Ari pushed the door of the bathroom open and headed for the mirrors. She glanced at her body, too fat now. Her legs looked like tree trunks, nothing like Rose's spindly perfections.

Jaz burst into the bathroom with a man in tow. She winked at Ari before disappearing into a cubicle with him. Her sounds of pleasure began to rise. Ari ignored her, having heard it many times before.

The door banged open again as Belle entered. She looked relieved to see Ari.

“Have you seen Alice?” she asked.

Ari shook her head, flexing her legs in the mirror.

“Well do you know when you last saw her?” Belle asked, shouting to be heard over Jaz' screams.

“Uh uh,” said Ari, still gazing at her legs. “Ow,” she cried as Belle grasped her, her fingernails digging into Ari's skin.

“Will you pay attention to something other than how you look for once?” she shouted, tears seeping from her eyes. “I'm sick of the lot of you! You haven't even noticed, you never notice. Any of you.”

“Belle-”

“No I'm sick of you. When did we start acting like this?” she shouted. “Sluts,” she said, throwing a hand out to Jaz' cubicle. “Beauty obsessed, anorexics, drug takers. Surgery addicts.”

Ari felt stunned. She had never seen Belle lose control like this.

“Do you know what I was told last week?” she said. “I was told that I had schizophrenia.”

Ari felt the news hit her in the face. Belle's lip wobbled as she said it. Her body shook but she held it together.

“But you know what,” she said, smiling slightly. “I'm not the one here who is mentally ill.”

A heavy silence fell between them, disturbed only by the distant music and Jaz's now quieter moans.

“Belle,” Ari whispered, “I'm so-”

“Don't be. I'm not. Because I feel sorry for you. And Rose. All of you. Especially Alice. Because she will never be like you,” said Belle tearfully. “You don't realise do you? How she looks up to you, how she's desperate to be like you. But she never will be.”

“She can try. A little make up, a little diet-”

“Do you hear yourself?” cried Belle, her hands in her hair. “She will never be like you because she is normal. Like me, like every other girl in this world. But we can't be the same as you, wanna know why?”

“Why?” snapped Ari viciously.

“Because you,” Belle whispered, “are fake. Not even you, can really ever match the fake you.”

Ari seethed quietly as Belle shook her head tearfully.

“You know the really sad thing?” she said. “Once long ago...you could.”

She gave her one last long look and left, slamming the door behind her. Ari faced the mirror slowly, and raised her eyes tentatively to her reflection.

She hadn't known then that Alice had been in one of the cubicles, that she had heard everything, and that she had picked up on the only sentence that truly mattered to her. Selective hearing, the strongest vice that had ensnared the women of this century.

Little Alice had been found hours later, her nose bloodied from the cocaine she had been taking for weeks. The reason why? Cocaine was purported to make one thin.

Ari sat on the sandy shore of her hometown, her feet in the water. She hadn't realised how much Alice had been struggling. How any of them had. Including herself.

Rose had been taken into hospital, after suffering a cardiac arrest. Cindy had cut ties with Snow, kicked her boyfriend out and was going to raise the baby on her own. Jaz had been diagnosed with HIV, but continued to sleep with guys in the bathroom.

As for Ari, she had moved home not long after Alice's death, had found a counsellor and was slowly but surely coming to terms with herself. She was beginning to remember her true voice, not the voice in her head that told her to be better, thinner, more beautiful.

Belle visited often, and they took long walks along the beach. Ari had deleted all her social media accounts, and the only pictures she took were polaroids.

She sighed contentedly as the water lapped against her feet. She watched the glittering ocean caressing her skin and wondered for the hundredth time if she had made the right choice. Being human wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

But what could she say? She had sold her soul to the devil long ago. And she knew there was no escaping him. If not a sea witch, then Instagram, or Snapchat. Calories, surgery, hair extensions. The devil was everywhere. But he would never take her voice again.

#short story #Disney #satire #writing #write #author #books #disney princess #Ariel #Belle #snow white #alice in wonderland

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