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comfortscripts · 3 years

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I Won't Say I'm In Love ¬ Chris E.

Plot - After getting the part of Meg in Disney's live-action Hercules alongside Chris, the chemistry your characters feel seems to be predicting your own fairytale. Guess Disney is a matchmaker

Genre - Fluff ☁️

Pairing - Chris Evans x Actor!Fem!reader

Notes/Warnings - Age gap (Chris is current age and reader is early 20s), just full of cheesy moments basically and possibly horribly written (so don't be shocked if I redo it). This is written at different points of production/filming so there will be scene/time change markers.

Word Count - 2k

As an up and coming actress, staring in a Disney movie was like winning the lottery. The moment you got the news, tears of joy flooded your cheeks and you practically glowed for the rest of the day, radiating happiness. Everyone was telling you how this opportunity was going to change your life, but you never realised how right they were.

First Script Reading

You arrived onset for the first true step of this movie coming together and you could feel the nerves filling your bones in apprehension of meeting the cast and crew. As you walked into the large room of people, you were immediately welcomed by Kenneth, the director.

"And there she is, Y/N L/N. Our Meg."

Walking over to the man himself, you gave him a small welcoming hug. Kenneth was always a sweetheart and always enthusiastic about his projects, you were lucky to be working under him.

As Kenneth got brought into a different conversation, you went in search of the food & drink table for some tea to calm your nerves. Reaching the checkerboard table, you noticed him. His sheer size made him unmissable, having bulked up for the role of a demigod but it was piercing eyes that made you almost lose your footing. Chris Evans, aka Hercules, aka the man who played your love-interest.

You were no stranger to who he was but part of you had been so wrapped up in being cast that you forgot that he was the man who were paired up with onscreen, your long-term celebrity crush. You weren't prepared for this interaction so you tried to busy yourself in tea-making, hoping he wouldn't clock your presence.

"Oh hey there. You are Y/N right?" Part of you melted at the way your name sounded coming from his lips. Turning to look at the Bostonian man, he offered a smile. "I'm Chris. Kenneth told me loads about you and I'm excited to work with you."

"That’s me!" You responded in an animated manner before mentally hitting yourself to act more professional, like he had. "I've been a fan of your work for a while so it will be really lovely to work with you."

Before either of you could make another attempt to chat, Kenneth's voice rang through the room calling everyone to take their seats and begin the read.

Filming Rescue Scene/First Meg + Hercules Meeting

Today was the day. The first time you had to work on camera with Chris and god, you felt a zoo take home in your stomach.

Deciding that it would be best to try and stay professional with him was impossible to accomplish. The actor just exuded a magnetic energy, which paired with his flirty jokes and friendly personality caused you to be constantly reminding yourself of why it can't work.

'He's like 15 years older than you for god's sake! He is just being nice, not like he would actually go for someone like you'

Smoothing out your dress as Amir, your makeup artist, adds some finishing touches, you are finally ready. Even though this scene requires you to look a bit dishevelled, somehow you still looked smoking hot in the long royal purple dress.

"Looking good doll" Not even needing to face the man, you know it's Chris who is complimenting you and making it harder, once again, to stay somewhat professional.

Feeling the blush rise to your cheeks, you decide to be a bit bolder today.

"Oh shush Evans, I always look good but I must say, the armour is quite handsome on you." You retort taking in his full costume. This man looked like a God rather than a demigod but saying that was just a bit too bold for today.

Adding a smile, you walked towards the main set where Hercules attempts to save you. It may not be real but it was nice to let the illusion of Chris rescuing you play around in your mind.

Filming 'I Won't Say I'm In Love'

The three months of shooting had gone by in a flash. And your friendship with Chris had flourished, dangerously close to more than friendship. You'd be lying if you denied having feelings towards the muscular man, the feelings were full force and far too powerful to stay hidden but you only had to make it through another couple weeks. After shooting was over, you could go and erase the feelings before press started up but till then, bottling up the emotions you held was the only way to preserve your heart.

The set was beautiful and everything was just running so smoothly for this scene. It was your big character moment and also your solo, you felt the pressure but sheer amounts of excitement overcame any nerves present.

Waiting around the side-lines whilst the crew set the final props in place, you couldn't help but recite the lyrics in your head and link them to your own situation. You weren't in love with Chris but you are definitely on your way, and just like your character, you couldn't admit it. Whilst her reasoning was more based off being stubborn, the common factor was that admitting you loved someone was daunting and could mean that you lose them.

A heavy arm falling across your shoulders snapped you out of your depressing analysis trance. The scent of cologne and cinnamon washed over your senses as Chris appeared by your side. He brought a warmth with him physically and emotionally whenever he was near, leaving those emotions to flutter and beg to be admitted.

"So are you ready to profess your undying love for me?" He joked, not realising that he had made your heart stop and your breath catch in your throat. If only he knew the truth within his words.

"Well since you are clearly waiting for me to confess, maybe I will but don't get your hopes up Oldie."

Mocking pain, he mumbles an 'ouch' before letting out one of his booming infectious laughs. Part of you wished you could be honest and just kiss the blue-eyed actor but flashes of how terribly it could go were all you could see. Thankfully, you were called to set.

The song went through without a hitch, feeling yourself embody Megara and connecting with her heartfelt conflict meant that your performance was better than you could've imagined. Images of you and Chris danced through your head as you sang the angsty song, seeping your own stubborn emotions into every word.

Allowing your gaze to drift towards the side of the set, appearing to look off into the distance. Your eyes meet Chris' captivating ones before reciting your final line.

At least out loud I won't say I'm in love

Realising your mistake, you quickly broke away from the Bostonian's encasing gaze. All the emotions swirling around your head wore you out and that final slip up of emotion made bile rise in your throat. Fear took over at the idea of Chris seeing through your hidden feelings.

Final Scene/First Kiss Scene

This was it. The last scene you had to film before wrapping up the movie. This was also the scene you had been fearing.

Hercules and Meg were finally getting together, sharing a kiss and solidifying their undying love for each other in front of the Olympians themselves but that was not where you and Chris were.

After realising your slip up with the lyrics, you had been limiting your time with Chris, which was easy enough given how busy you both got. But your heart ached every time you avoided his affections, every time you raced back to your trailer after finishing a shot. Chris saw your avoidance but whenever he would attempt to fix it, you ran. Overall, both of you were left in this weird purgatory state of wanting to be near each other but not being able to.

"And action!"

You turn to look up at the Gods and Goddess surrounding and congratulating Chris on being a hero. A forlorn look takes over your face as you weakly congratulate the hero, knowing that no one is listening.

"Congratulations Wonderboy, you'll make one heck of a God"

As you walk down the step of Olympus, Chris turns and reaches out to your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

"This is the moment I've always dreamed of" Chris recites, looking at the Gods before turning his gaze to you. "But a life without Meg, an immortal life, would be empty."

His heartfelt words causing threats of tears in your eyes as he places your hands within his. The moment filling the both of you with unfiltered emotions.

"I wish to stay on Earth with her" He states, pulling you into his chest for an affectionate and protective hug. "Because I finally know where I belong."

As the words leave his lips, the two of you embrace in each other and connect lips in the passionate moment. Falling into the kiss, almost forgetting you're meant to be acting. Sparks are tingling through all your senses as you feel Chris extend his arm so it is laced around your lower back. Cheers from the fellow Gods and extras brought both of you back from your love filled moment as you reluctantly pulled away from the man that your heart was yearning for.

"And cut! That was fantastic"

Extras, crew and Kenneth started busying themselves with sorting out whether they got everything done but you and Chris stayed in each other's arms, neither wanting to walk away from the connection. The silence between you was tense and heavy, filled with emotions radiating off both of you. You cleared your throat and readied yourself to break away from the embrace, already feeling the cracks in your heart start to widen.

"Y/N, why have you been avoiding me?"

His blunt question froze you for a moment, alarm bells ringing in your mind as you fought between whether to tell him the truth or figure out a quick lie. The idea of lying to Chris seemed to send aches through your body so you risked it.

"Because I started to fall for you, which is ridiculous so I distanced myself to save the heartbreak and embarrassment."

Your heart stopped for a everlasting moment as you realised the gravity of what you had just admitted. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for the inevitable rejection but your heart was waiting. Waiting for him to tell you that you get a happily ever after.

Chris stood there with his arms still encasing your figure, disbelief painted his face as his ocean eyes swirled with emotions and comprehension of what you just confessed.

"Chris, please say somethin-"

The final syllable was taken from you as Chris collided your lips in what could only be described as ecstasy. His soft lips melting with yours as you deepened the kiss, wanting to enjoy every moment of intimacy he could supply. Months of yearning was communicated through this passionate action. Fireworks erupting, hands roaming in an attempt to get closer and desires being fulfilled.

Pulling away, Chris leant his forehead down so it was connected with yours. "I have been falling for you since we met but I never thought you could feel the same way. Thought you'd think I'm too old".

"You idiot, I feared you'd never see me in that way because I'm so much younger." Both chuckling at your shared idiocy, you broke away and gazed at each other, taking in the new feeling of honesty and love.

"So I guess you really did profess your love for me" The older man joked with a teasing eyebrow wiggle, causing you to roll your eyes in feign annoyance.

"Maybe but at least out loud, I won't say I'm in love"

Offering a sly smirk, you grab the tall man's collar and bring him in for another kiss.

Meg and Hercules got their happily ever after, whilst helping you and Chris get yours. Maybe Disney is a matchmaker.

#chris evans x y/n #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans imagine #Chris Evans fluff #Chris Evans fic #chris evans one shot #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #cevans #Chris Evans

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markets · 2 years

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has anyone here ever been so mad your teeth started chattering. Literally just happened to me while talking to my chem teacher bc she took off 2 points on this stupid middleschoolesque periodic table coloring activitiy we did because i was supposed to put a checkerboard pattern on the noble gases and apparently what i put wasnt a checkerboard pattern EVEN THOUGH IT LITERALLLY WAS??????? LIKE IT FUCKING WAS I EVEN GOOGLED IT TO BE SURE AND ALSO MADE A LEGEND JUST SO SHE WOULDNT BE CONFUSED ABOUT ANYTHING I COLORED. Like i left that classroom and facetimed my fucking mom i went to the pllace where the 7th graders were eating lunch and showed her my paper and called my teacher inssane i know the 7th graders laughed at me once i was ggone but idegaf. and then i went bacjk to the classroom "checkerboard pattern" google results in hand to tell the teacher that thats what i had done and she just gave me a lecture on how i shouldnt fight for such small amounts of points instead of focusingg on learning and how that is the improvement i need for honors bio next year. i was soooo mad like i said my teeth were like clacking and i started tearing up bc thats what happens when im mad and the teacher was like "awww dont cry🥺" and i wass like "oh i have allergieis" but in my head i was like "[CHEMISTRY TEACHER'S NAME] U will NEVER be famous." Nauur she will not vote for me to be in NHS next year i can feel it in my bones FAWK HER😂🖕

#angiemarkets.txt

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ubemango · 4 years

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pups series 1: the precursor

what originally began as a drabble with an oc suffering from rbf and a very sweet classmate!namjoon (who just so happens to be Big) became the cornerstone of what has now become..... Big Joon/pups!joon. Drama aside, I’m excited to have it back! Enjoy 🥰🥰

“Oh you’re fucked,” Jimin says with absolutely no remorse. You throw popcorn at him but he just catches it with his mouth and eats it. “Kim Namjoon?”

The student centre’s pretty empty so you don’t really mind Jimin practically yelling the name out but you’d appreciate it if he toned it down just a little. Not that he would, though. He’s inconsiderate like that. “Mm.”

He lets it simmer. Mulls it over while he chews in that annoying way that makes you wanna throttle him and then he laughs, mouth too wide just so you can see all the crunched kernels in his teeth. You sneer. He laughs even harder. “Nah. Ice princess and the tall, really nice dude with huge tits? You know they have their own names right?”

You shake your head.

“Joobs.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You know Jimin’s just being dramatic but it still struck a chord that he thought you didn’t have a chance. “And you’re being mean!”

Jimin scoffs. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was supposed to be on the lookout for your feelings, Miss I-don’t-give-a-fuck. You didn’t care when I was on my Ahyoung conquest now were you.”

“Yeah because you called it a conquest which makes you sound like a weird colonizer. And Ahyoung is so sweet, you didn’t deserve her.”

“You make me sad.” He says this with a dramatic gesture over his chest.

“Sorry, Mister I’m-always-hungry-for-pussy.”

Jimin ignores you and the chemistry homework he’s laid out on the table for vanity’s sake. “Look. I’m not saying that you don’t have a chance but you literally just—you have that look.” You raise your eyebrow at him. “Yeah like that but not really, that just made you scarier. Like regularly you look like you could kill a man but that eyebrow made you look like you could kill a god.”

“You’re so dramatic!” You whine.

“I’m not! Look, I know you. You like listening to that lofi romance shit and if you had an aesthetic it’d probably be pink Usagi and all the butterflies in the world but you just—it just doesn’t translate well. And I say this with love, babes. I really do.” Jimin heaves such a deep sigh you’d think he’d be confessing to you. “But Kim Namjoon is scared of you.”

“You’ve literally never seen us interact,” you counter.

“So what. I can just feel it. In my bones. Point is!” He smacks his hands on the table. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

You don’t know why he’s so vehemently against the idea of you with Namjoon. All you’d suggested was that you thought he was cute and he’d gone absolutely haywire trying to destroy the potential of a crush. But Jimin lives for drama and his life source comes in the form of annoying you as much as he can, so. Understandable. “You do realize why I bring him up right.”

“Nope,” he says.

“We have a presentation together.”

Jimin gawks. Then says with a light voice: “Oh no fucking way.”

“And I’m meeting up with him in the library in like, ten minutes.”

“Oh no fucking way,” he reiterates. “You—wow.”

You glare. “What?”

“I take it all back! So here’s the new course of action,” he introduces, completely new mindset and it’s just like him to switch between decisions so quick because he always wants to be right. “Namjoon’s the one to finally melt away your iciness.”

“Ha ha,” you throw back at him. “I’m not icy.”

“Once I asked you for a tbh on Instagram and you said that I look like I think that the rich shouldn’t be taxed and that I have nothing amounting for me ever,” Jimin reminds you.

“First of all you were the one who asked for it when I wasn’t even offering in the first place,” you say. You round up all your things in your bag before swinging it over your shoulder. “See you.”

“Tell the Joobs I say hi. Greet each one individually.” He waves you off with a middle finger.

Namjoon’s at the table in the back just like he’d texted. He’s wearing that sweatshirt entirely too big on him and instinct tells you to burrow yourself into his big bear warmth. Why’d he have to be six feet? It was too much for your little heart. “Hey,” he greets. You give him a nod. One you know that Jimin would be fussed about because you probably could have greeted him with at least a word, but Namjoon’s moved on anyway. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sure. So excited about aestheticism and decadence in Victorian literature,” you offer. He laughs, and you hide a shiver.

You didn’t think he’d ever notice you in seminars, and granted your class was twenty-two strong but Namjoon took up so much space just by sitting there you’d think he was the only student and you all were just observing for fun. His presence overrode pretty much any coherent thought you could conjure up about him, and a lot of those thoughts tended to be about how goddamn handsome he is. So finding out that you would be partners was a shock on your part, to put it lightly. You’d only talked through random group discussions or in tutorials from previous years. That one tall, cute dude specializing in English. He was nice enough to sit beside you that day you were assigned partners, and you’d talked about life on and outside campus for introductions. Nothing major but it still had you shaking in your seat to be conversing with the Kim Namjoon. At the very least you could poker-face your way through all your meet-ups if need be, because you’re still thinking about how handsome he is.

“So I’m gonna say this now but I’m terrible with all things technology,” Namjoon starts.

You turn your laptop on. “Whaddya mean?”

“Like I don’t have an eye for all those—visuals, you know. Power points? Suck at those. But I must say I can do a mean slide transition though.”

“Ah. So if I’m stuck between dissolve or checkerboard then I know who to call,” you tease.

Namjoon scoffs. “We all know honeycomb is the go-to.”

You laugh, watching your screen boot up. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” Suddenly Namjoon gulps down a choke. He’s wide-eyed when you look back at him. “You good?”

“Y-Yeah, just—“ he clears his throat— “you, uh. Got a nice smile, is all.”

“Oh.” You distract yourself by putting in your password. “Thanks, dude.”

You can hear it. Jimin screaming because you really just called Namjoon dude. But you couldn’t help it! You didn’t need to put in any effort trying to hide away the heat from your cheeks because you just deadpan it away, so you ended up fumbling with your words instead. No biggie, because Namjoon moves on for you about deadlines and what-not.

Today’s meet-up is pretty much about going over the outline, so you’re quick to clear up any issues about scheduling. You agree to meet up every Tuesday for the next three weeks. You make sure to say bye when it’s time, and you meet up with Jimin at the cafe across campus.

He doesn’t scream but he does whine very loudly when he says, “God! Can’t leave you alone for one second! You called the man dude?!”

“I’m sorry! I panicked, he really said I had a nice smile.”

“That’s the other thing,” Jimin whines again. “He said you have a nice smile, god. I bet next week you’ll have his dick down your throat.”

“Shut up!” You hit his shoulder. “Can you just think for two seconds before you say something!”

Jimin mumbles something about you having the strength of an army when your phone lights up with a text.

Namjoon [4:19PM]: hey found a nice article for you to look at if you have the time. It’s about Charlotte Bronte. I sent it to u thru email:)

“Oh my god.” You look up to see Jimin wiping away a single tear. “She’s really—she’s smiling again.”

You hit him upside the head. You scowl at him the rest of the day, trying not to think about Namjoon’s big shoulders.

#bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #f: pups series #ubemango fic #drabble

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agathasangel · 3 years

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Questionies between 60 and 75 please and thank you😋

yayy thank you <333

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

It’s been a long time since I’ve watched anime, but probably something like cute/girly so i wouldn’t die lol

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.

Ok I can’t think of my actual favorite but this exchange in the last episode of ahs hotel is up there (for my favorite as in funniest):

Sally: You telling us to stop killing is like colonel sanders telling us to stop eating chicken!

JPM: I’m not familiar with your military friend and his fondness for poultry

or in the same scene when Iris says “We can’t have people continue to go missing, obviously that’s bad for business!”

62. seven characters you relate to?

1. Sally because of her obsession with finding someone to love her

2. Madison Montgomery, not because I look or act *anything* like her at all but purely because of that speech she had about all the things she does to numb herself

3. Sydney from I Am Not Okay With This. Not only to I get told I look like the actress who plays her literally at least once a day but Sydney is also a lesbian with repressed anger issues and... mood.

4. Luna Lovegood. Some people have told me she reminds them of me (like my mom when she watched the movies, or when my friends were casting a musical version of hp and cast me as luna), and a lot of people say she’s autistic coded so there’s that?

5. Coraline. I don’t even know why, I’ve just always identified with her.

6. Violet Harmon (except gay lol), there’s just something about her that’s relatable to me

7. I can’t think of a seventh, sorry.

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I don’t like controlling the music but uhhh... basically anything on any of my spotify playlists? I hate sharing my music with people i always think they’re gonna think my taste is bad.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I was obsessed with webkinz as a child and I collected webkinz plushies and was at least somewhat active on the website between the ages of 6 and 13. I still have my love puppy in my apartment at 21.

65. any permanent scars?

2! I was born with a raised mole/birthmark thing on my left shoulder that became so sensitive that I had to get it surgically removed and I have a pretty thick scar from that. I don’t know if this second one counts but when I was 5 i accidentally stabbed myself in the stomach with a pencil i had just sharpened and the mark is still there

66. favorite flower(s)?

Violets (but I prefer herbs to flowers)

67. good luck charms?

I don’t really have any, which may explain a lot.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Um I’ve definitely had worse things before but I once tried swedish fish flavored oreos? Also there’s a certain dish at the place i work that smells so terrible that there’s no way it could taste good.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I don’t know? It’s late.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

the “aesthetic” checkerboard pattern that was popular on here in like 2014/2015. It was ugly.

72. worst subject?

math and science, especially algebra and chemistry. I was like... good at school until I had to take chem and algebra 2 and those classes tanked my gpa and took my other classes down with it because I was too busy stressing about them to care about the three ap classes i was taking on top of those two! High school was a mess.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Um I make this like crispy tofu with soy sauce and this spicy seasoning and sometimes I eat it with ketchup? Because I invented the recipe when I was vegetarian and I thought they tasted like spicy chicken nuggets. Which they don’t at all. But it’s still good even if it sounds gross.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

Like 7.5 unless someone suggests it? It normally has to be at least like a severe migraine before it occurs to me to take a painkiller

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I think I was in kindergarten.

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alix-writes-things · 4 years

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Ember’s Story Chapter Two: Deflated Laughter

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Nox says.

We’re in the library, and they’re still absolutely stunned by what they said to that jerk from the football team. We had spent the last ten minutes in complete silence while we all tried to wrap our heads around what just happened. They seem to give up on trying to understand what caused them to speak up like that, and they start looking around the room.

There’s nothing special about the room other than the five fire extinguishers all within reach and the small, purple bookshelf in the corner filled with special-ordered, fire-proof books. The small, light-blue-painted room is only about six feet across and seven feet wide. It used to be a normal study room, but I petitioned to be allowed in the library before the start of my freshman year. I was allowed in on the condition I stayed in this room and only read the fire-proof books the librarian, Mrs. Pace, orders for me. I’m not complaining though. I convinced Mrs. Pace to let me put a mini fridge in here on the condition I stock it myself.

“Wow,” Nox says, “for someone who is treated like a literal wildfire, you have it pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Everett says, “they bribed Mrs. Pace to let them have whatever they want in here.”

“No,” I say, glaring at him, “I did not. I asked politely and agreed to stock the fridge with my own money. Anyways, isn’t there a certain boy you’re supposed to be meeting up with?”

“Oh,” Nox says, “there’s a boy involved.”

“I hate you both.”

“Love you, too,” I say, smirking.

Nox chuckles softly at us. Everett shoots them a look, and they stop for a moment before bursting out laughing. I can’t help but join them.

“Whatever,” Everett says, “I’m leaving.”

“Okay,” I choke out, “have fun with your boyfriend.”

Everett glares at us while Nox and I laugh even harder. He leaves quickly, and Nox and I spend about five minutes trying to catch our breath. We finally calm down enough to look at each other without laughing again.

“So,” they say, “he has a boyfriend?”

“No,” I say, “he has a huge crush on this guy from his history class. They’re hanging out this morning so Everett can help him ‘study’ for his exam this afternoon.”

“Why the quotation marks?”

“We both know there’s going to be more flirting than studying.”

This seems to amuse them. They start laughing again which causes me to start laughing, too. Mrs. Pace walks in to see us laughing at seemingly nothing.

“What’s so funny, you two?” she asks us.

“Everett,” I reply, gasping for air, “has a ‘study’ date.”

This seems to amuse her as well because she lets out a small chuckle.

“Alright,” she says, “I’ll leave you two alone. I just came in to let you know, Ember, that the book I ordered for you will be in in about a week.”

“Awesome,” I reply, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Pace.”

She leaves, and Nox turns to me.

“What’s the book?” they ask.

“It’s about this non-binary kid trying to get through their second semester of their senior year after they transferred because they got kicked out of their parents’ house. They had to move in with their older sister who…,” I trail off, suddenly conscious of how much I’ve been talking.

“Wait, why did you stop?” Nox looks at me with something between concern and confusion.

“Oh, sorry,” I say sheepishly.

I continue telling them about the book while they listen eagerly. We spend the next few hours talking about books, movies, and music. We’re talking about our favorite bands when Everett walks in with an odd look in his eyes and the corners of his mouth upturned.

“I take it your little study date went well,” I say, smirking.

“Hush! I’m trying to relive it,” he says, smiling lazily.

Nox and I look at each other and immediately burst out laughing again.

“Oh, my goodness!” they choke out, “I haven’t laughed so much in years!”

“Will you two stop it? I’m trying to be happy here!”

Everett proceeds to spend the next ten minutes attempting to quiet me and Nox, but he only succeeds in making us laugh harder. We finally calm down enough for Everett to tell us what happened with him and his crush, Isaac.

“He totally flirted with me,” he says confidently.

“Everett,” I say, rolling my eyes, “we get it. Your boyfriend likes you. That makes a grand total of one person who likes you.”

“Rude,” he says, glaring.

“Okay,” Nox says, stifling laughter, “tell us about this boy.”

Everett spends about fifteen minutes telling us everything he can about Isaac, the time they spent together, and all the compliments Isaac gave him. By the end of his tangent, he’s smiling even wider than before and has a faraway look in his eyes. Nox gives me a knowing look. I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing: he’s lovestruck. I sigh and turn to Everett.

“Things seem to be going really we-,”

I’m interrupted by Ethan, the football jerk from this morning, passing by the window that looks out to the hall and yelling

“Freaks!”

I look over to see Nox has tears trailing down their face.

“Just ignore him,” I tell them, but they’re already shaking.

It breaks my heart seeing them so upset, but I can’t do much to calm them down as I’m currently holding back tears of my own. I can hear Everett breathing heavily out of anger. I go stand by the door in case he decides to try to go after Ethan. We sit in silence for a few minutes before Nox decides to speak up.

“Can he really not come up with a more creative insult?”

This instantly lifts everyone’s moods.

“I know, right?” I say, “That’s probably the tenth time he’s called me that in a week!”

“I knew he wasn’t exactly smart,” Everett says, “but I never realized he was too dumb to come up with a more creative insult.”

We start a discussion on the hundreds of infinitely more creative insults a person could come up with; my favorites being “death toll” and “flint and steel”. Realizing it’s now nearly 1:00 p.m., and we have yet to have lunch, I ask the other two what they want to do about lunch.

“I’m down for anything,” Everett says.

“Yeah, same,” Nox says.

“Okay,” I say, “how about we walk down the street to the shopping center and see what we can find there?”

They both agree, and we start walking down the street. The shopping center is only a ten-minute walk from the school, so, hopefully, we’ll have plenty of time to get our food and get back to school before lunch is over depending on where we choose to eat

“How about the steakhouse?” Everett asks.

“Sorry,” Nox says, “I can’t. I’m vegetarian.”

“Me, too.” I glare at Everett “Everett knows that.”

“Worth a shot,” he says knowing full well that it was not “worth a shot.”

“Oh!” Nox says, “I know the perfect place.”

They start leading us to the far end of the shopping center and, after about five minutes, they stop in front of a restaurant I’ve never noticed before. The sign reads “The Life of Pie” with a picture of a pizza where the “o” should be.

“It’s a make-your-own-pizza restaurant!” they say excitedly, “Since none of us have exams today, we don’t have to worry about time.”

Everett walks to the door, but I’m too distracted by how cute Nox is. I’ve only seen them get excited about something a few times, and each time I’m absolutely transfixed.

“Earth to Ember,” Everett says.

I look over to him, and he starts laughing at me. My face starts heating up, and I turn away, embarrassed. I can hear Nox and Everett laughing behind me.

“Oh, shut up,” I tell them.

“Alright,” I hear Nox say, “We’re sorry.”

“I’m not,” Everett says, still laughing.

I hear a small thwack and someone yelp. I turn back around to see Everett bent over slightly and clutching his stomach. I start laughing when I realize that high-pitched yelp came from him.

“It’s not funny,” he says, groaning.

“That’s what you get for being mean,” Nox says.

“Okay,” I say once Everett is able to stand up straight, “Let’s go in. I’m starving.”

The restaurant is small and quiet. The dining area only has five or six tables, and there’s only one person behind the counter at what a sign depicts as the Creation Station. The floors are black-and-white checkerboard tiles, and the red walls are covered in posters and advertisements. We walk up to the Creation Station and decide to order one pizza split into thirds so we each get what we want.

Everett orders ham and pineapple which causes Nox to tell him how much they now detest him. Nox orders mushrooms, tomatoes, and black olives to which Everett loudly proclaims how they have a horrible taste in pizza. I order spinach, tomatoes, and mozzarella slices. Nox and Everett seem to agree that I have the worst taste in pizza.

We sit at a table near one of the large storefront windows while we wait. At first, we sit in an awkward silence because no one really knows what to say. Eventually, Everett brings up the subject of exams, so we start talking about our schedules for the week. As it turns out, Nox and I have nearly identical schedules due large in part to us having five classes together. Everett, who I only share two classes with, has a similar schedule to ours other than an exam on Friday morning whereas we get Friday off because our Chemistry teacher gave us a lab that we did in class last Wednesday as our final. Everett starts complaining about how he’s positive he’s going to fail his History exam, but he’s cut off by the waiter bringing out our pizza. We thank them and start reaching for the pizza as they walk off when they stop and turn to back us.

“I’m so stupid,” they say in a thick southern accent, “I completely forgot to ask for y’alls drink orders. What would y’all like?”

“It’s alright,” I say, “I’d like a Coke please.”

“Can I have a lemonade?” Nox asks.

“Sweet tea, please,” Everett says.

“I’ll have those out in just a minute,” the waiter says, “Again, I am so sorry for forgetting.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Everett says, “It was a minor mistake.”

The waiter smiles at him and hurries off to the kitchen to get our drinks.

“Poor kid,” Everett says, “I feel bad for them. That’s Letha. They’re in my Chemistry class, and they’ve been super stressed out about their exams. Their parents are strict about grades, and if they don’t get straight A’s on their exams, they’re not allowed to go to this science camp they’ve been looking forward to.”

“Sounds like my parents,” I say empathetically.

“Really?” Nox asks, “You seem so unconcerned by the exams.”

“Ha,” Everett says, “when we get back to the library, look at the books on top of the bookshelf. They’re all textbooks they’ve annotated to study with.”

“Oh, hush,” I say, “Nox is right. I’m not all that concerned about the exams. There isn’t much my parents can do. They pretty much gave up on me in 8th grade.”

Our conversation is cut short by Letha bringing out our drinks and apologizing again for forgetting. We eat our food in silence until it’s time to pay. Everett and Nox both offer to pay, but I grab the bill before either of them can. I wait for the usual intake of breath that comes every time I grab a piece of paper, but it never happens. I sign it quickly, leaving a 25% tip because I get the feeling Letha doesn’t make much working here, and hand it back along with my credit card. When Letha comes back with my card, we tell them goodbye and start heading back to the school.

Everett starts making jokes about how I nearly burned the whole building down by grabbing a small piece of paper. Nox joins in, and soon, they’re both making fun of me. At some point, it turns into all of us making fun of each other. We walk into the school laughing at a joke Nox made about Everett’s crush on Isaac. We’re interrupted by Ethan once again trying to make us miserable. This time, however, he seems to be targeting all three of us.

“Faggots!” he yells at us.

This time, no one says anything. We just walk back to the library with silent tears rolling down our faces.

#Ember's Story #Chapter 2 #oc story #writing #original story #my writing #tw cursing #tw f slur #tw food mention

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marthashlyn3 · 3 months

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🌺Hibiscus Times Daily🌺

Epoch Summary: Prophecy. Artistry. Establishment. Love. Evolution. Time. Progression. Mind, Body, Spirit. New Genesis. Tangent. Culture & traditions. Alien stuff organized. Of God stuff recognized. Obedience to the lord. Connection to the kingdom of heaven. Natural living. Cosmic being. Humble.

The state of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church

Sinai Haitian SDA Church. Informerly, Sinai French SDA Church.

Coexistence & unity worldwide

God still needs our attention and there needs to be ONE voice. His. His voice must be heard worldwide. He matters and needs a smooth flow

Fun facts: ⬇️

Including ⬇️

Reproved acquaintances by the lord in my personal life

Reproved family by the lord in my personal life

Psycho celebrities & greeks

‘The Players Club’ the movie

My left leg

Irrational personal vendettas

3 older adult warlocks, 1 young adult warlock, & their families

Several young & old adult witches

Poor police work turned difficult to me

Corrupt medical professionals

Silver, rose gold, gold diffusion

“Mom”

“Daddy”

Spiritual issues

Church & state

Family division

Personal lives, individually

New white space

Peace

#active psalms #harmonic alignment #checkerboard chemistry #c natural #guide class freestyle for myself #forward march to peace #soprano #realm of elderings #full blast glitter #full flitter #2024 #quality life #quality assurance #quality control #health science college #survivor series #survivor

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dancetothisyeet-blog · 4 years

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15 Best Pinterest Boards of All Time About concrete patios ideas

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justsomenigga00 · 4 years

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20 Questions You Should Always Ask About patio concrete paint Before Buying It

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Among the easiest strategies to increase texture is to use a stiff broom above the drying concrete, when in Each and every way, which can provide the area some "tooth" and maintain it from getting to be slippery when moist.

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studeoghibli · 4 years

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When Professionals Run Into Problems With concrete patios columbus oh, This Is What They Do

Comment: 1848 west grace st from the Lover. Require repair of entrance techniques And maybe the tile about the porch. MUST have the ability to perform with or be familiar with Admirer district historic preservation recommendations.

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taubc · 6 years

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LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by.

tagged: @white-reaper tagging: @episentre, @daturida / @fletschte, @hiemals, @batoushoujo, @zroday, @bureaubitch, @ you, steal it & you can tag me ( if you want to! )

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS.

Stoical, focused. Seemingly perpetually. Hardly anything is done with half of her attention and effort. Infected with inquisitiveness.

Confident, proud. Her public name is an elite one, an ace in her hand, giving such power and reach within their worlds of the CCG and ghoul-hunting families. And it all reflects in her ways.

Calm, quiet. Mature, almost at peace from a quick glance, but an eerie aura consumes all the same. ‘What is it about those Washū even when they’re not talking that make it hard to breathe..’

Critical. Of herself, of particular aspects that affect particular things and especially of those who behave improperly or have simply struck a nerve with her at the wrong time.

Melancholy, in droplets. Unbeknownst to the world behind her door.

GREETINGS.

Austere formalism at it’s finest with those she works with or is introduced to in a professional setting. A polite yet rigid bow to others if the situation calls or a hand extended if the customs different. A courteous nod or mannerly words if it’s appropriate; cadence that is chillingly soothing soon follows. She doesn’t lack these skills that are imperative to maintain face and dignity. Anything less than is disgraceful.

Quite haunting and cold towards those she does not share any unique relationship with, on the other hand. Still mannered and mindful but when she speaks can be like frostbite to those who aren’t expecting. She’s rarely in the company those she does not have some connection to; she doesn’t randomly socialize often if she can help it - so in these instances where she’s in the presence of strangers, her head is high but her mind is elsewhere for the time being.

More or less, winter’s cruelest days are similar to how she may be towards those she has no fondness for, whatsoever. Sometimes something could be said, something sharp, like ice; it can burn and sting, too, like ice. But her eyes do most of the work, a hard stare tells of buried cruelty and judgment in God’s likeness.

While members of her clan are prestigious individuals in their fields of expertise, there is little familial-love, or elementary love at all. Their system has been corrupted for many and far few attempt to create an illusion of normalcy. Offering formal words as per protocol but it’s all a shallow farce, a plastic masquerade. Few are given something more, something open and tender - like. Her father, for example, can receive little, dead Mizuumi’s embrace, the one that lasts a little longer and her hold just a little tighter. He isn’t perfect, but to her, she’s more willing to relax her shoulders. And if it can’t be helped, a laugh - a giggle as if things are alright.

Friends are few and far between for good reason. However, she greets who she thinks of as such well. It may not always be a shy smile, and soft eyes that compliment a little wave, but there’s a chance.

COLORS.

White. Sterile, bright and clean. Lab walls, floors, her coats, she’s surrounded by it in every place. It’s death’s best color; the one that many, including she, look best in.

Black. Class, elegance, professionalism, duality. The two shades, black and white, counterbalance one another. A checkerboard, a chess board with all the pieces, symbolism and meanings it comes with it.

Shades of grey. Morality-based than an actual preference.

Beige. Earthy-tones are nice to her heart and kind to her eyes; warm or cool, she enjoys the champagnes to deep, rich oak tones in her clothing and furniture.

Reds. From the dark hues in her veins to rosy tints that belongs on cheeks and petals alike.

SCENTS.

Petrichor, muted and awash.

As fresh as her work permits; strong perfumes are not encouraged.

Sometimes the lingering scented cleaning agents unapologetically adhere to her garb. Can disturb others if they’re sensitive.

Said perfumes are reserved for her days at home or wandering about; they vary from woodsy - florals, sugary and vanillas, some are old lady - like but greatly valued for their quality and brand.

Just.. Different. There’s something peculiar about it. That even the most acute noses have trouble identifying the more bizarre aspects of her scent.

CLOTHING.

Nicely tailored pea coats and blazers with all different types of embellishments ranging in a number of colors, fabrics and patterns. Although hardly any in her closet are wildly loud and bright.

Polished attire all around -- dress shirts, ties, pencils skirts and tights / stockings. She sticks primarily to a monochromatic theme with her daily wardrobe. Many - if not all - came with a heavy price-tag.

Her casual wear is rather chic. Slim pants, loose blouses or fitted, sleeveless ones, a few dresses that accentuate her shape and the necessary-heavy sweater, or two. Still as simple as her business apparel, her choices are neither boisterous in design nor color. Unless she’s in the privacy of her own quarters, then her style of is a`bit less; the neckline can be plunging or she may opt for just that sweater to lounge in and nothing else. The less there is on her, the more she feels more freeing and comfortable.

Lingerie is something that isn’t as limiting, surprisingly, in comparison to her typical pieces. Some are basic, the every-day set of solid colors to match her outfit, some are not. Some are thin, lacy, frilly; some are silk and satin and romantically designed with bows and intricacy. Push-up bras and bralettes alike share a home. Few cute baby-dolls and garter-belts with matching thigh-highs for herself, also do too. Although, during busier days and evenings, they aren’t her initial choice - too time consuming. More something to choose when she has downtime to be alone.

While stilettos ( 120 - 200mm ) aren’t an option that would be the most suitable for work, she owns a few pairs. Conservative heels, kittens, however, are the more sensible option for meetings and tasks outside the laboratory division. Flat, closed-toe sneakers are kept in her office as her pair to wear when she’s in the labs. Nothing else is apt. Boots also range in height and length: ankles, mid-calf to thigh-highs.

OBJECTS.

Her pens, notebooks, piles of papers and drawing boards for blueprints, notes and calculations. Anatomy books, psychology books, chemistry -- the works all shelved or opened with countless tags and scribbled notes beside its text.

Instruments and commonplace tools in her laboratories that are kept always stocked: scalpels, syringes and vials.

A passport when she travels abroad.

Photo albums. Something she keeps in her desk, surprisingly. Plenty full of both the serious, graduation ceremonies and meetings, and not-so-serious times, including baby pictures of Matsuri, Yoshitoki’s more youthful days and her mother.

Long, sterile corridors that instill an eerie sense of dread the longer you continue to look down. The inverted can be applied too - dark, poorly-lit corridors, the same ones mentioned, now with less lighting and more echoes.

VICES / BAD HABITS.

Arrogance. Her confidence can be and is perceived as haughty behavior, akin to high hubris. Contempt for others beneath her typically comes in discussions regarding other ghouls, in particular.

Bias. A bias attitude towards herself and others. She upholds at face-value the traditional discriminatory mentality.

Deceitfulness. Hiding in plain sight, she is a liar; they’re all liars. A ghoul in humanskin parading about, condemning those like them ( but not ) through manipulation of the worst degree.

Hypocrisy. As noted in the previous points, she’s lying. She’s bias against her own and arrogant, publicly standing by the notion equality but unequal equality. She’s a ghoul, taught to think high and stand tall above the rest. ‘The lion does not concern itself with the opinions of sheep.’ However, more often in the privacy of her own space, she finds herself identifying with other ghouls - the ones brought in after a confrontation from stronger investigators. She wears her mask well, but inside, there are moments of hesitation. But those moments are almost always squandered to save face.

Self-destruction. Willing to destroy her sense of self, physically / mentally / psychologically, for the feeling of strength in a “familial” system built to discourage that.

BODY LANGUAGE.

Spine erect, shoulders straight. She has good posture, visibly calm and in control.

Hands in her coat pockets. Something casual, not a frequent occurrence though it happens in the labs more often. Can be seen as being reserved.

Elbows propped on a table, finger-tenting or steeple-hands. She’s listening during meetings while maintaining the appearance of superiority.

Closed eyes. While patiently standing, waiting, listening too.

Spinning pens through her fingers. Bored or pondering.

AESTHETICS.

Rain. Heavy rain, stormy weather, wet skin / wet hair and blooming umbrellas beneath grey skies.

Blood. Dripping down limbs, lips, and walls; blood stored within vials and behind teeth. In droplets or trails.

Tall windows / scenic, modern cityscape views. Be it ominous or beautifully captivating.

Loneliness. Commonly alone in her ventures, walking down hallways or working.

Heavy, thick, classic architecture. Traditional construction, inspired by past eras and places around the world.

SONGS.

Porter Robinson & Madeon’s Shelter

BoA’s Eat You Up

Garry Schyman & Paul Gorman’s Cocytus.

Dark Matter’s Creature Called Human

Kammarheit’s The Poignant

#iv. heavy rain‚ reigning.#( tried not to repeat myself when it came to aesthetics / scents / clothes &#other things?? like the songs. I know I've said before her music tends to be more #in the genre of classical #so i changed it up. 2 pop songs & 3 creepy/dark songs also #so I tried to expand on her character some more #&& linked my pinterest board of koko's aesthetics ey )

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thewarlocksbitch · 7 years

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I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 4 - next

word count - 8.6k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

Ronan didn’t show up to physics class Friday morning. Probably he was too wealthy to think of school as more than a pastime. A little annoyed, Adam flicked his pen in irritation – an unjustified and irrational irritation, he realized – and opened his book to take notes.

After physics was speech, and then chemistry. As soon as chem was dismissed Adam headed back to his dorm. Noah had said he would be at an all-day party - or it may have been a meditation club meeting, Adam couldn’t remember - so the dorm was empty and quiet when Adam got there.

It was lunch time, but Adam was too tired to make himself anything or to bother going to the cafeteria. He set an alarm to wake him up in a few hours and fell face first into bed.

When the alarm went off he got up and made himself a bowl of cereal, then sat cross-legged in bed, his notes and homework spread out in front of him, the cereal box at his knee. He only had a few hours before work, so he munched cereal and got as much done as he could.

The parlor was as busy as usual on a weekday evening, and Adam passed the time with ease making coffee runs, working behind the counter, and chatting with his co-workers. He’d just finished a short coloring job when a familiar man walked in.

“You’re just on time,” Adam told him. He set down the design he’d been idly working on and turned for the back. “Follow me.”

Ronan waited in the lobby for a while, and he wasn’t sure why he did. If he’d known Gansey would be so excited to make friends with Adam, he would have turned around the second he realized Adam worked here.

When it was Gansey and Ronan, it was GanseyandRonan. Nothing and no one had threatened that since high school. They were brothers, comrades in arms, a king and his gallant knight.

Ronan should have expected that Adam would be able to find his way between them. He was too smart, too kind, too interesting to not have caught Gansey’s eye. He was calculating where Ronan was impulsive, genial where Ronan was cruel. No wonder Gansey had been so badly impressed.

And it hadn’t taken any effort from Adam at all. He probably hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing.

Ronan checked his watch. It would have been more sensible to have gone to class this morning and talked to Adam there, and he regretted now the time he was wasting and the work he would have to make up. Ronan was about as adept at physics as he was happy about the prospect of studying it.

Finally, Adam emerged from a door in the back, an older man behind him. The man clapped Adam on the shoulder, his hand spread wide over Adam’s narrow frame, and Adam flinched.

Ronan took a step towards him, then stopped.

He watched as Adam slowly leaned away from the stranger until the hand fell from his shoulder and he was safely at his place behind the counter. His mouth drew down a bit when he saw Ronan waiting in the lobby.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

Ronan walked up to the counter and leaned on it with all his weight. A small, unhelpful part of his mind noticed that Adam was in work clothes today instead of what Ronan had taken to be his school clothes. Where Ronan had expected tattoos, his white tank revealed nothing but dark skin and freckles. “Gansey sent me. Who’s that guy?”

Adam’s frown deepened. “A client.”

Ronan looked over his shoulder and watched as the man left. “I didn’t know you could give guys tattoos in alleys,” he said. “And without your kit.”

Adam bristled. “Gansey sent you?”

Ronan shrugged and scratched at the leather bands around his wrist. “He thinks you’re nice and he’s tired of my antagonistic attitude. Plus, you showed interest in his king, so there’s no getting out of it now.”

Adam’s fair brow furrowed in distrust. “’It’?” he said.

“Pizza. Downtown. Greasy.”

Adam glanced at the monitor, uneasy or reluctant. “I… need to log in one more appointment before I leave,” he said, not quite looking at Ronan.

Ronan looked behind him. The lobby was empty; the only customers in the shop were already under the needle at the hands of the other artists.

“Just one more?” Ronan asked.

“Yeah.”

Ronan looked down at his new tattoo. It was still a little red around the edges, but a little more poking wouldn’t make it much worse. “I guess you can color in the petals on this.”

“What?” Adam said. “Are you serious?”

Ronan dug his wallet out of his pocket and handed Adam his card. “Yeah. It won’t take long, will it? Gansey wants us to meet him in half an hour.”

Adam looked ready to bristle again. His already tense posture and thinned lips showed this was probably something he did often. “It’ll take a few minutes.”

He was holding Ronan’s card between his thumb and forefinger like it was something nasty he’d picked up off the ground. Ronan glanced from the card to Adam’s face to the monitor. “What?” he said. “Can’t you go ahead and charge me before you do it?”

“That’s not…” Adam said, but he didn’t look interested in carrying the conversation any further. He quickly typed something on the keyboard, swiped Ronan’s card, and handed it back to him. He stepped out from behind the counter and glanced at Ronan over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Ronan followed Adam to the same chair he’d sat in last time and watched while Adam got his things ready. He shook his head at almost every color Adam showed him until finally Adam decided on white, a soft yellow, and the exact pink of Ronan’s work apron.

“Funny,” Ronan said.

Adam tore open the antiseptic wipe packet with his teeth and scooted closer on his stool. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Ronan looked around the parlor as Adam scrubbed the raw skin on and around his tattoo with more attention than Ronan thought was necessary. This was another reason why Gansey liked him; he was a meticulous worker. He had the hard-earned charm Ronan refused to acquire.

Most of the parlor’s space was overtaken by randomly placed stools and chairs that went mostly unused. It was a small area to begin with, made smaller by the dim lighting and the illusion of privacy. Ronan’s eye caught on a calendar across the room featuring tanned, beautiful women and expensive, more beautiful cars. He smiled. He’d given Gansey the same calendar for his birthday, once.

Ronan heard Adam’s gloves crinkle and looked over as he turned his pen on. It gave a happy whir and this time Ronan didn’t look away. Adam bent his head close over Ronan’s hand and air-traced the petals of the flower before picking one and pressing down. Ronan’s thumb twitched. Adam held it down with his own.

Adam was silent as he steadily colored in each petal, pausing as he was done with each to wipe away small pinpricks of blood and excess ink. When he was done he let Ronan look at the tattoo and nod his approval, then quickly wiped and wrapped it before Ronan could pull away.

Ronan debated tearing the bandage off, but instead he watched Adam put his things away and then lead him outside to the BMW.

“Wait,” Adam said when Ronan pulled open the driver’s side door. Ronan dropped his keys in the driver’s seat and looked back to see Adam standing at the rear bumper, his grip white-knuckled on the handlebars of a crappy looking bike. “Where can I-?”

“One sec,” Ronan said. He leaned in to pop the trunk. “Just throw it in the back.”

Adam’s long look into the back of the car had Ronan thinking it was full of hiking equipment or something else of Gansey’s the Pig didn’t allow, but when he went to Adam’s side and peered in he saw it was empty.

Adam made no move to put the bike in the car, so Ronan grabbed it from him. With some maneuvering and a lot of swearing, he got it secure.

A few seconds later Ronan was in the driver’s seat and Adam had carefully and silently buckled himself into the passenger’s seat. Ronan noticed Adam looking at his CD’s, but Adam kept his hands still in his lap. Ronan pulled the car out of the parking lot in a messy, rough slide and got them on the road. He didn’t mind the silence.

Ronan’s driving skills were, objectively, acceptable. He got Adam, himself, and the other contents of the car to a small diner in one piece.

Said diner was neon-lit, set far back from the street between an abandoned barbers shop and a laundromat, and extremely obvious in its attempt to seem shabby and secluded.

Ronan pulled in alongside an old orange Camaro Adam would have recognized as Gansey’s even if Gansey weren’t leaning against it. Gansey was dressed the same as he had been Monday, except tonight his polo was peach instead of aquamarine and a pair of ancient-looking wireframes sat low on his nose. His head was bent over a large, leather-bound journal in his hands, and he was so immersed in it he didn’t notice Adam and Ronan’s arrival until Ronan flicked his ear.

“Ouch,” said Gansey dispassionately. He shut the journal against his chest and slowly raised a hand to cup his ear. Then he noticed Adam and immediately put on his brightest smile. It was only a watt or two down from the presidential smile he’d given Adam the first time they’d met, but Adam thought it was an improvement nonetheless.

“Adam!” Gansey said joyfully. “Thanks for coming.” He held out a fist to Adam and after a moment Adam did the same. Ronan snickered as they shyly bumped fists.

“Lynch,” Gansey said, gesturing to the door. “Lead the way.”

As Ronan preceded them into the diner, Adam watched him and Gansey and their undeniable closeness, noticing the looks they shared every few seconds like they couldn’t enjoy anything without involving the other. Adam had previously thought it would make more sense to befriend Gansey rather than Ronan, but it was becoming clearer and clearer to him that he couldn’t have one without the other.

Adam slipped his hands into his pockets and looked around for an identifying sign or feature, but the diner seemed intent on keeping its interior obscure as well. Single paned mirrors hung over every checkerboard-print booth and flashy linoleum table, reflecting Ronan’s expensive watch and Adam’s own dusty reflection.

Adam found himself in the center of a booth seat, facing Ronan and Gansey and trying to remember the last time he’d gone out with people his age.

Elementary school had been a blur of uncommitted friendships that started and ended on the school bus, and middle school was one friend after another turned off by Adam’s reluctance to visit for too long and his inability to have anyone over. By the time he reached high school he hadn’t had any time for friends at all.

Now he didn’t talk much with anyone except for Noah, but Noah wasn’t here. Adam wished badly he could have invited him; his own social clumsiness would have been overshadowed by Noah simply sitting there.

Luckily, Gansey didn’t wait for him to strike up an interesting conversation. He set his giant journal on the table and flipped through it in chunks, giving Adam half-glimpses of diagrams and latin phrases and sketches of birds until he settled on a page entirely filled with cramped, urgent handwriting.

Ronan propped his head in his hands and stared at his reflection as Gansey turned the journal around to face Adam.

“After you mentioned Vortigern, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that I’d read more than just a mention of him before. So I went through my books again and I found this. He was a few centuries before Glendower, but look here-” Gansey jabbed at the bottom of the page, where he’d underlined Vortigern and believed to consult with the Fae and put in parentheses the Fae here are to Vortigern what Glendower’s magicians are to him?

“Ronan and I found a faerie ring on Friday. I heard what I think may have been voices when I held my arm over it. Voices of faeries,” he paused, for emphasis or to gauge Adam’s reaction, but Adam very decidedly kept his eyes on the journal. Gansey went on, “Vortigern was said to take advice from faeries and traveled with them in the same way Glendower did his magicians. They both used the ley lines. It can’t be a coincidence, don’t you think?”

A waitress showed up then, saving Adam from having to answer. She wore an apron tied at the waist of her loose jeans and a brown tee reading LADY PRESIDENT. She was attractive in a way Adam couldn’t help noticing, even as his mind reeled from everything Gansey had just said.

“Hi, I’m Blue, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get your drinks?” She asked, in an accent that was unmistakably Henrietta. Her eyes skipped from Gansey’s fancy clothes to Ronan’s pissy expression and finally settled on Adam.

“Water, please,” Adam said, trying to figure out if he remembered her from somewhere or if it was only her accent making her seem so familiar. She definitely looked his age with her spiky hair and round, chubby face. Perhaps he’d seen her in passing on campus.

“Coke,” Ronan said to her reflection. He was staring at his tattoo in the mirror; he’d taken the wrap off his hand at some point and his reddened skin almost hid the new pale colors on the petals.

“Coffee,” said Gansey distractedly, his attention focused on his journal. “With a lot of sugar, please.”

Adam watched Blue walk away. She was very pretty, but there was no way he’d try talking to her when he hardly knew the two boys he was with.

Gansey had again lost himself in his journal, which he seemed to be somewhat successfully reading upside down. Adam tried prompting him back to reality with, “Why are you looking for Glendower, exactly?”

Gansey looked up to meet Adam’s gaze. “Do you believe in coincidences, Adam?”

“I guess it depends,” Adam said carefully.

“I told you about the legends of sleeping kings, and I told you that I think, after he disappeared, Glendower became one of them.” Gansey’s gaze became heavy, measuring. He glanced at Ronan, then seemed to decide something. “I don’t mean this as a metaphor, Adam. I truly believe that Glendower is still alive, sleeping underground. And I believe that it’s my responsibility to find him.”

“You believe he’s been sleeping for centuries,” Adam said. “Actually sleeping. Kept alive by magic.” He couldn’t think of anything but to repeat Gansey’s words. They were unreal. Impossible. Laughable.

“Yes,” Gansey said, his eyes alight like they had been back at the parlor. “And I believe that when I find him and wake him up, he will grant me a favor.”

“And he’s on a-” Adam faltered. He looked from Gansey to Ronan, waiting for one of them to laugh, waiting to be made fun of. But Ronan was checking his teeth in the mirror, and Gansey’s face was still terribly earnest.

“What exactly are ley lines?” Adam asked.

Ronan leaned against Gansey and into Adam’s space. “They’re energy lines that run beneath the ground. Gansey followed them to find clues on Glendower in Henrietta, but here they’ve only led to rocks and fucking faeries.”

“We think the faeries are taking energy away from the lines,” Gansey said hurriedly. “The energy from the ley lines concentrates so strongly around the ring that I can’t get readings on anything else.”

Again Adam waited for one of them to laugh at him. Again Ronan checked his teeth. Again Gansey looked earnest. “You think faeries are taking energy from a sleeping Welsh King?”

“He’s a scientist,” Ronan told Gansey, “you’re going to scare him off.”

“Right,” Gansey said importantly. “Adam, come with us to the forest. You can see the energy readings for yourself.”

Blue showed up with drinks, again saving Adam from having to immediately answer Gansey, and because Adam had been watching Gansey he saw the minute widening of his eyes.

When they ordered their drinks, Gansey had been too absorbed in searching his journal for notes to notice Blue at all. Now he was staring.

Blue set all of their drinks down. She took out her notepad and caught Gansey’s eye. “Yes?” she said.

“What?” Gansey managed to stammer the single syllable.

Ronan made an unkind sound.

“Are you ready to order?” Blue rephrased, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Gansey said quickly. He pushed his wireframes up on his nose and glanced down at the menu, then at Adam. “Are you okay with sharing a pizza?”

Divided between them the cost would be pretty cheap. Adam nodded.

Blue tucked her notepad back into her apron. “It’ll be right out,” she said. She turned for the kitchen.

“Excuse me,” Gansey said, a little too loudly. Blue looked back at him. Her eyebrow was definitely arching higher by the second. “What’s your name?” Gansey asked.

Blue didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. Ronan laughed. Again Gansey looked extremely embarrassed.

“It’s Blue,” she said, and walked away.

“Does she not like me?” Gansey asked Adam and Ronan, a little hectically. “Blue. That can’t be her real name, can it? That’s a… color. Was she lying?”

“I think she was offended,” Adam said delicately, “because she already told us her name. Earlier. When she took our drink orders.”

Gansey dropped his face into his hands, skewing his glasses. “Oh, god,” he said.

Ronan looked away from the mirror to punch Gansey in the arm. “Shit, man,” he whispered. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up,” Gansey muttered.

Adam was very glad he’d kept quiet about his attraction to Blue. He was also glad to see this boyish, embarrassed side to Gansey.

“Faerie hunting,” Ronan said to Adam. “Magic shit. Tomorrow. You in?”

“Are you really serious?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “And you gotta make sure you bring garlic, in case they get testy.”

“That’s vampires, asshole,” Adam said, and Ronan laughed.

The laughter surprised Adam. He glanced at Gansey and saw that he was smiling. Loosely. Lazily. Looking between Ronan and Adam. And Adam felt that maybe this was what he had been lacking.

They didn’t say anything about it, and Gansey filled the comfortable lull in conversation with random facts about Glendower and ley lines until their pizza arrived, and then there was much more eating than talking.

Finally the pizza was gone and paid for - with a rather heavy tip left by Gansey - and Gansey was discreetly watching Blue walk away as he finished off his coffee. Ronan hit him over the head when he was done and pushed him out of the booth.

Adam got his bike out of Ronan’s BMW himself and bid the two boys goodbye while Gansey was distracted with something in his Camaro and Ronan was busy leaning into the car but being otherwise unhelpful.

Adam walked his bike around the corner of the restaurant and stopped. Because Blue was standing there, not smoking or on her phone but looking up at the stars. Adam’s bike creaked as he walked up to her.

“Hi, Blue,” he said.

“Hi,” Blue said uncertainly.

Adam stuck his hand out. “Adam,” he said.

Blue shook his hand, then peered around his shoulder. “Where are your friends?”

“Driving home, I guess. I live on campus so I’m going the other way.”

Blue accepted that without comment and looked away. She didn’t seem to be annoyed with Adam, but she did seem very annoyed.

“I’m sorry about Gansey,” Adam said. “About him not remembering your name. I don’t know him well, but I think he’s a good person. He felt bad about offending you.”

Blue smiled, a little. She dug her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and rocked forward on her heels. “Rich boys should have enough sense of responsibility to apologize for themselves,” she said.

Adam couldn’t say he didn’t agree with her. “I know. I think he just didn’t want to bother you any more.”

Blue shrugged. “Thanks.” She looked past Adam’s shoulder again, but neither Gansey nor Ronan appeared.

“Well,” Adam said, “It was nice meeting you. Have a good night.”

“Wait,” Blue said, stepping closer. “I overheard…were you guys talking about ley lines?”

“Oh,” Adam said, surprised. “Yeah, he was. Gansey, I mean. He’s using them to find a Welsh king, but I don’t know much about them.”

“Oh, okay,” Blue said. She toyed with a patch on the thigh of her jeans. “That’s interesting. Well, thanks for apologizing, even though you shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” She pointedly glanced at the watch on her wrist - a plastic one like Adam’s. “My break is over, so, bye.”

Adam waved. “Bye.” He watched Blue walk away for a moment, then climbed onto his bike and pushed off the sidewalk. He wanted to be in bed already with the lights off. He needed some quiet to think. His head was full of fanciful things - magical energy lines and faeries and sleeping king’s miles underground - rather than the history homework he wasn’t yet finished with or the money he needed to make by the end of the week.

Adam’s bike bumped onto the sidewalk. He almost couldn’t focus enough to keep it in a straight line. No one could sleep for centuries. Faeries were nothing more than a children’s tale. Any energy running beneath the ground was either manmade or scientifically explainable. Adam was hard-wired not to believe in anything without science and proven facts supporting it. He couldn’t start accepting things at face value after an entire life of never believing anything without proof.

And then there was Gansey. Adam was not in the business of giving people chances, as people tended to disappoint him, but there was something about Gansey that rubbed him the wrong way. Or, rather, the right way. There was something admirable about believing in magic just because you really wanted to.

Just as Adam reached the end of the sidewalk and paused at the stop sign, headlights - from behind him, not from the street in front of him - illuminated his path.

Adam looked over his shoulder just in time to see the orange Camaro give a wet cough and stutter to a stop in the middle of the road. The shark-nosed BMW behind it honked and nudged its rear bumper. When the Camaro was unresponsive, the BMW pulled to the side of the road and its engine cut off a second later.

Adam waited to see if Ronan would get out to help Gansey, but he remained hidden behind dark tinted windows. The Camaro shuddered again. Adam turned on his bike and pedaled over to the passenger-side window.

Gansey rolled down the window at Adam’s approach. “I was going to drive up behind you and offer you a ride home, but,” he gave a short, self depreciating laugh. Then he slowly leaned forward until his forehead was pressed to the thin steering wheel.

Adam looked in at the interior of the car and then at the steaming engine. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out the problem. Daringly, he asked, “Do you want me to fix it for you? I know a bit about cars.”

That laugh again. Gansey ran one hand over the dashboard, slowly, like he was paying attention to its every detail. “I’ve had this car for four years and I still have to call a mechanic every time it breaks down. Could you teach me how to fix it instead?”

“Yeah,” Adam said as Gansey got out of the Camaro. “Sure.”

Together they wrestled the car to the shoulder, taking turns pushing and steering. It wasn’t until the car was completely over that Adam heard the door to the BMW slam shut. A second later Ronan had taken up post at the Camaro’s side. He didn’t say anything but stared Adam down to the point it was uncomfortable. Adam leaned his bike in the grass beside the Camaro’s back tire and followed Gansey to look at the engine.

“You said this happens often?” Adam asked.

“It does,” Gansey said, his voice fond. “Back at home I’m on a first name basis with every roadside mechanic there is. Since moving up here the Pig’s breakdowns have been quite unpleasant.”

Adam thought perhaps they had been quite unpleasant because Charleston’s locals were by nature wary of rich college boys in bright polos, but he wasn’t about to tell Gansey this. Spotting what had most likely lead to the Camaro’s demise, he leaned over and reached in. The smell and feel of gasoline and grease was at once comforting and tiring.

He wasn’t ready yet to say Aglionby, so he didn’t know why he said, “You and Ronan went to Aglionby Academy, right?”

“Yes, we did. What about you? I don’t think you mentioned it the other night.”

“Mountain View,” Adam said. Then, in a rush, “Actually, I went to Aglionby for freshman year. I was on a partial scholarship, but I couldn’t pay for a second year.”

“You paid your way through a year of Aglionby on your own, too?” Gansey said.

There was no judgement in his tone, only curiosity; and maybe, if Adam wasn’t imagining it, respect. After a moment Adam nodded. “I worked three jobs. One was as a mechanic.”

Gansey made a sort of awed sound, his smile wide as he looked at Adam. “It’s amazing that we’re just now meeting. It’s amazing that we’re meeting at all, really.”

Ronan gave a dry huff of a laugh. “Gansey doesn’t believe in coincidences,” he said.

Gansey pointed a meaningful finger at Ronan, then said to Adam, “You’re some sort of genius, from what I’ve heard from Ronan. You could help him study sometime, if you were feeling charitable.”

Adam glanced at Ronan and got a sour look in response. “Would anyone actually volunteer for that?” he asked.

Gansey laughed. “Maybe not. I might end up having to hang up flyers. My Latin isn’t the best.”

“I don’t need help in Latin,” Ronan growled.

Adam showed Gansey what had clogged the Camaro’s lungs and how he’d temporarily fixed it. “You can probably get home with it the way it is, but you need to get it to a shop as soon as you can.”

“Thanks, Adam,” Gansey said warmly. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“You probably would’ve had to beg a mechanic to put up with you long enough to fix it again,” Ronan said.

“Thanks,” Gansey said to Ronan. He closed the hood and turned to Adam, his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice he was staining his polo shirt with grease. “I’ll give you a lift home, since Ronan is preoccupied.”

Ronan shook his keys at Gansey. “Don’t get all pissy.”

“Don’t murder your car,” Gansey replied.

“Bye Dad,” Ronan said happily, “don’t wait up.”

Adam and Gansey waved Ronan down the street, then folded Adam’s beat-up bike into the Camaro’s beat-up trunk. Gansey didn’t have a wide collection of CD’s like Ronan, and his radio didn’t seem to work, either. Adam looked out the window and watched the dim streetlights and half-lit storefronts as they drove by.

The short car ride was mostly silent, broken up by random Glendower trivia from Gansey and coughs from the Camaro that made them both hold their breath.

Gansey drove through campus and dropped Adam off right at his dorm building. He was smiling, fidgety, his wave too enthusiastic when Adam got out of the car. Adam got his bike out of the trunk himself, knocked on the hood, and turned for his dorm. The Camaro gave a happy honk at his back and ambled away.

Adam chained his bike outside the door and silently made his way up the stairs. He was confused. Excited. Nervous. He didn’t understand how a person like Gansey could spend years obsessing over a dead Welsh king and he didn’t understand how a person like Ronan could spend years enabling him. He wondered what he would see when they took him to the forest. He wondered if Gansey and Ronan were just crazy. He wondered where Ronan had gone.

Noah wasn’t home. Adam left the kitchen light on for him and fell into bed without even taking his shoes off.

Early the next day Adam found himself waiting outside his dorm building, already shivering in his thin t-shirt. Virginia summers stretched themselves languidly over the calendar with hanging humidity and persistent sunshine - today would definitely be too hot for comfort - but he was feeling jittery nothenless.

Before long the Camaro noisily rolled up, looking somewhat aggrieved to be living another day. Ronan had an arm hooked over the passenger window and expensive looking sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Get in, loser,” he said. “We’re going Faerie hunting.”

As Adam clambered into the back of the Camaro, he heard Gansey ask Ronan, “Did you really just use a ‘Mean Girls’ reference?” and Ronan reply, “No the shit I did not.”

“You did,” Gansey insisted. He grabbed his headrest and wrenched himself around to face Adam. “Adam. Good morning. I wrote down what we know about the faerie ring so far, if you want to take a look,” he handed Adam the thick leather-bound journal he’d brought to dinner last night, already open to a page full of handwritten notes.

Adam skimmed through the notes. They were mostly a repeat of what Gansey had told him last night, if only more organized and with more quoted sources. The page on faeries was the furthest back and one of the few that was covered entirely in Gansey’s writing; the rest of the journal was glued together and folded over with newspaper clippings, taped in old photographs and letters and brittle, yellowing paper.

He ended up paging idly through the journal, his eyes skipping over drawings and diagrams and randomly cut and ripped pages without taking anything in. There was no point in reading any of this without having proof that it was true, and Gansey would tell him anything he wanted him to know anyways.

Adam closed the journal and set it down on the seat beside him. He leaned forward against his seatbelt. In the rear view mirror, Gansey was sunny and smiling, the picture perfect model for a summer catalogue or a relaxed family portrait where everyone wore matching outfits and the easy confidence of old money.

One arm still hooked over the open window, his eyes closed against the breeze and sun, Ronan looked much more human and real. He was sweating and very clearly pissed off, though Adam didn’t know if that was because of the sweating or something else entirely. Probably it was both.

Adam looked down to where Ronan’s jeans creased at his thigh. His hand hovered over something there. Something that tilted its head towards Adam when he made a startled noise.

“Gansey,” Adam said. “Ronan has a bird.”

“What?” Gansey said, loudly to be heard over the engine. He was looking between Adam and Ronan like he expected them to be fighting and seemed confused that Ronan was, for all appearances and purposes, dead to the world. Gansey shut off the air co to hear Adam better. Immediately Ronan groaned and opened his eyes.

“Ronan has a bird,” Adam said. “A raven?” The bird ruffled its feathers and turned its head from side to side, peering at Adam with both eyes.

“Raven,” Gansey confirmed. “She’s Ronan’s. Her name is Chainsaw.” He frowned at Ronan. “You haven’t introduced them yet?”

Ronan gestured irritably between Adam and the raven. “Adam, Chainsaw. Chainsaw, Adam. It’s balls hot. Turn the fucking AC back on.”

Gansey did and the wheeze of overworked vents again joined the rumbling of the Camaro’s engine. Ronan didn’t close his eyes again. Instead he stared out the window, the furrow to his brow complicated. Chainsaw made a raspy noise and ruffled her feathers. Ronan laid a hand over her head and she was quiet.

“We’re almost there,” Gansey told Adam, his smile lifted to the rear view mirror.

“There” turned out to be a fork from the main road that, after a few miles, became a dirt path, and, a few miles after that, became a dead end.

Adam, Gansey, Ronan, and Chainsaw emerged from the Camaro as a single entity. Immediately Chainsaw hurtled herself into the air. Adam watched Gansey and Ronan tilt their heads back, back, back. They both looked extremely pleased, fully in their element with the Camaro gleaming at their backs and the forest stretching out in front of them, waiting to be explored.

Adam looked up to see Chainsaw circle the sky once before gliding down to land on Ronan’s shoulder. She pressed her body to the side of Ronan’s neck and rubbed her beak against his ear, either in apology for taking off or some other reason Ronan seemed to understand.

Gansey caught Adam’s eye and beckoned him over. He was holding a gadget Adam had never seen before in one hand and his journal in the other.

“This is an electromagnetic frequency reader,” Gansey said. “It measures the energy along the ley line. Here. I want you to hold it. That way you can see for yourself how the energy acts on and off the ley line. And especially how it acts near the ring.”

Adam took the EMF from Gansey. It was already on, and it blinked unsteadily between two red and orange lights. A wavelength spiked on a thin screen between them.

“We’re directly on the line right now,” Gansey said. He pointed to Adam’s feet. “Move over. Just two feet to the left.”

Adam did. The readings fell to orange. He stepped two feet to the right. They blared red.

Adam was acutely aware of Gansey watching for his reaction, though he wasn’t sure what to think yet.

“This could be picking up from anywhere,” he said.

“It only picks up electric and magnetic energy,” Ronan said, suddenly at Adam’s back. He reached over Adam’s shoulder and tapped the screen. “What else could it be picking up? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“No power lines within ten miles,” Gansey said, sounding supremely happy. “No buildings. Nothing but us and the trees and the things in the trees. Come on.”

Adam followed the two boys and Chainsaw into the forest. Early morning sunlight filtered through the trees, turning over motes in the air and blinding Adam. He averted his eyes. In front of him, Gansey was walking parallel to a stream like a tightrope, putting one foot directly in front of the other. At his side Ronan swore at the uneven terrain and stumbled as the path became increasingly steeper.

The light dimmed the farther they walked. After twenty minutes of trekking Adam looked down at the EMF. He slowly let himself zone out. It was easier to pay attention to the device in his hands than the others. Easier to adjust his direction when the energy fell on either side. It kept him in an almost perfect straight line, right on the rockbed.

Ahead of him, Ronan and Gansey stopped suddenly, Chainsaw flapping uncertainly above them. They had reached the edge of a cliff that would take some maneuvering to descend. Gansey caught Adam’s eye, then pointed to where the stream they’d been following suddenly veered below them, cutting off the path.

“Make sure you watch the readings when we cross that,” he said, “they’re going to rise considerably.”

“Your cell phones,” Adam said suddenly. “What about them?”

“Hmm?” Gansey said pleasantly, understandably unable to follow Adam’s trail of thought.

“Couldn’t they register on the frequency reader, and the readings could have been consistent this whole time just because they’re in your pockets?”

“The signals from them aren’t strong enough to register,” Ronan said. “Besides, my phones in the car and Gansey shut his off.” He jumped down the cliff side and skidded the rest of the way down the path, either not understanding how physics applied to his body or he just didn’t care. Chainsaw screeched “Kerah!” and flew after him.

“We’re almost there,” Gansey told Adam, smiling. “You’ll see.”

Adam and Gansey picked their way down the cliff, then followed the ley line to the stream. The readings spiked as Adam picked his way across the stepping stones, but not so much that Adam would have noticed if he hadn’t been watching for it.

Adam wondered what kind of person Ronan really was to so loyally follow Gansey on his search.

Adam’s feet hit solid land and he opened his eyes; he didn’t remember closing them. Gansey had stepped aside so Adam would have an unobstructed view of the clearing in front of him, but Ronan had gone all the way to the edge of the ring.

It was clear now to Adam why Gansey believed the ring to be magical. Right next to Ronan’s scuffed boots, set up in a perfect circle like they’d been put there with meticulous care, were round stones and fungi, all bathed in the gentle light.

Adam stepped closer, and he let the electromagnetic frequency reader drop to his side. He was too bothered by how perfect and out of place it looked to focus on the readings, too shaken by his own pulse suddenly pounding in his ears.

He walked past Gansey. Something in him spasmed as he went to Ronan’s side, just outside of the ring. Then the line went dead under him.

Adam hadn’t named the energy he’d been feeling since stepping into the forest. He hadn’t wanted to. But now that it was gone there was no doubt that it had been there.

Gansey murmured something at Adam’s left side.

Adam turned to face him. “Sorry,” he said. “What did you say?”

“Check the frequency reader.”

Adam did. He wasn’t surprised to see that the readings had gone dead.

“Now,” Gansey said excitedly, “hold it out past the ring.”

Adam did. He was aware of Gansey watching him, and he was aware of Ronan going tense. Something whispered inside his deaf ear, but it was too quiet for him to make any sense out of it.

Adam handed the EMF back to Gansey. Then he stepped into the circle.

Ronan snarled something, but he was too far away for Adam to hear. Adam’s hands became heavy. He looked down at them. A single blackberry had fallen into each of his palms. Or had they appeared?

“Your friend,” a voice whispered in his deaf ear again, only it was clear now. Adam closed his eyes. He let the berries fall from his hands. The sound of them hitting the leaves at his feet was too loud to seem real. “The dead one. Where is he? He was just here.” It wasn’t a voice; it was voices. They were high and fluting, inhuman. They screeched something, and then they were dancing around Adam, their flimsy nails scraping over his neck and shoulders, their chalk-like feet beating an invisible dance around him. It was too much, too loud, too real.

“Stop,” Adam said. He opened his eyes. His heart was beating too fast. His own hands were wrapped around his neck. Gansey was standing in front of him with his hands around Adam’s wrists.

“Adam?” he said. Sweat was shining on his upper lip.

Adam allowed himself to be pulled out of the ring. “This has happened before,” he said. “In Henrietta. I haven’t heard the voices before, but I’ve felt this.”

Ronan made a sound like a bark. “What do you mean? Feel what?”

“The ley line,” Adam said. “Except I didn’t know it was the ley line last time.”

“Really? Where were you last time?” Gansey finally let go of Adam. His eyes on Adam were hungry, excited. Behind him Ronan’s expression was unreadable.

“It was some forest, I don’t know where. I was lost and it started to storm and I couldn’t see, but I could feel energy beneath me. I followed it to the main road. I’d convinced myself that I’d imagined it by the time I got home.”

“What does it feel like?” asked Gansey in a rush. “Tell me exactly.”

Adam had to remind himself that Gansey was earnest, not demanding. The look on Gansey’s face made him want to be careful, made him want to consider his thoughts before he let them take shape. He focused on the energy beneath him again and struggled to explain, “It’s like a pull. It’s like when you lick a battery, or… how you can tell if a hose is running by touching it. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“You heard voices?” Gansey asked. “Could you tell what they were saying?”

“They… asked about my dead friend? They wanted to know where he is. They said he was just here.”

Adam had closed his eyes again while focusing on the line without realizing it. He opened them to see Gansey furiously writing in his journal.

“Strange,” Gansey said, tapping his pen too many times at the end of a sentence. “Last time, and just now, too, when I was inside the ring, I couldn’t hear any definite words. I don’t understand why you can.” He was quiet for a moment, then pointed a very serious finger at Adam and asked, “You’ve never been struck by lightning or anything, have you?”

“I… haven’t,” Adam said cautiously.

Gansey nodded as if Adam had said something exceptionally intelligent. He wrote in his journal for another minute, then stared at it for a few minutes more before looking up at Adam again.

“I don’t remember if I told you this,” he started, “but the fae are believed to live on a separate timeline, or in a parallel universe, even, to us, and faerie rings serve as a sort of gate to the human world for them.”

Gansey stepped away from the ring and began to pace between Adam and Ronan.

“Ley lines mess with time,” he said. “If you say something while standing on the line, you could hear it echoed back to you years later, or even years before you said it. I think you’re connected to the ley line somehow. That’s why you can feel its energy, and that’s why you can hear the voices.”

Gansey stopped pacing and crossed his arms. He stared at the ground and pressed a pensive thumb to his lower lip.

“I think they were talking about Glendower,” he said suddenly, looking up at Adam and Ronan. “I think they know where he is.”

“They said dead, not sleeping,” Ronan said. He was beginning - no, continuing - to look very pissed off.

“They might consider sleeping to be basically dead,” Gansey argued. “Some legends say he isn’t truly alive, but will live again when he’s woken.”

“None of this makes sense,” Adam said. “I’m not denying that I can feel the line or that I heard voices, but how do you explain this?”

“I can explain some of it to you,” Gansey said. “But most of it you just have to believe is real.” He looked at Ronan. His eyes were full of a fierce and uninhibited joy. “You found Glendower’s magician.”

“I beg your pardon?” Adam said.

Ronan gestured animatedly with his hands. Chainsaw flapped indignantly on his shoulder. “Gansey doesn’t actually think you’re the reincarnation of some long dead magic freak,” he said. “So don’t get all sweaty. He’s just excited.”

Adam ignored that with all the good grace he could muster. Again his thoughts were spinning too fast, but now that there was proof behind them it wasn’t as overwhelming.

This was just a different kind of science.

“What now?” he asked.

Gansey grinned. “Now we find Glendower.”

Later, hours later, Gansey was tired.

In the time after the forest, after the faerie ring, after writing everything down and running it over in his head until it made him sick, Gansey could not find it in himself the feeling that he deserved this.

He had searched for so long. In Washington, in Wales, all over the world, but it had never been enough. It had never been close to enough.

And then he found Henrietta, and Ronan, and something had settled itself comfortably in the cavity of his ribs, but still the longing had remained. Henrietta had been home - Henrietta was home - but it wasn’t the means to an end. It was small clues and finds, days spent exploring and nights spent researching. He had known it wasn’t where he would find Glendower.

He didn’t find Glendower, and then he and Ronan finished their last year at Aglionby, and it felt a little like the world was ending. Gansey had felt sick leaving Henrietta. He hadn’t expected to find anything in Charlottesville.

He couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events in his head. He couldn’t decide if Adam himself was magical, or if the forest was only enabling him, and he couldn’t decide whether it mattered. Again he considered Adam, the constant furrow to his fair brow, his specific way of moving and speaking. Gansey couldn’t believe a person like Adam had found his way into his life. He couldn’t believe that Ronan was the one that had found him.

Gansey leaned forward on his bed, accidentally causing his phone to fall to the floor. He ignored it. He flipped through the book in front of him, desperate to research, to take notes, to find a new lead.

But there was nothing. Nothing about faeries, at least. He’d have to order some books tomorrow. He’d have to convince Ronan to go to class, and then convince him again to do his homework. He’d have to ask Adam to go to the forest again. He’d have to, he’d have to, he’d have to.

Gansey shut the book and leaned back in bed. Maybe he wouldn’t have to ask. Maybe they were already friends.

He hadn’t wanted to wait. He hadn’t wanted this space of unsureness. Of not knowing whether Adam liked him, whether Adam believed anything he said. He had wanted to take Adam back to the apartment immediately after the forest, to show him more, to give him the proof he needed, but Ronan had punched him on the arm and said, some people have jobs, Gansey.

Gansey pulled a mint leaf from the plant beside his bed and put it on his tongue. He could hear Ronan in his room, the restless creak of his bed as he rolled in it, the dull beat of music from his headphones. Gansey thought to check the time, then thought better of it. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and readjusted his glasses.

Ronan’s door scraped open, and a second later Gansey heard the sounds of approaching fiends: the quiet taps and flaps of Chainsaw’s wings and claws, the carefully careless thuds of Ronan’s bare feet.

Ronan appeared in the doorway, naked except for his boxers and the headphones wrapped around his neck. The darkness made his sharp edges look less like warning signs and more like the parts of Ronan that were just a little harder to understand. It complimented his tattoo, disappeared the thin line of his mouth. He was already a terribly handsome boy, but the darkness made him all the more terrible.

He looked more like the current, dangerous version of himself than ever, but maybe if Gansey took off his glasses he would be able to see some of the old Ronan. Maybe there would be some of the old softness in his aura, or in his eyes as he looked down at Chainsaw. Maybe the flower tattoo on his thumb would seem brighter.

Ronan knocked softly. The wires from his headphones were tangled together below his neck, looking like a mockery of the ties he had knotted with so much contempt back in their Aglionby days.

There was a phrase to be remembered here, Gansey thought, one his father liked. A loose tie shows loose morals. But Gansey couldn’t remember when it had ever applied to him, or his ability to properly tie a tie. Ronan would laugh at him if he ever said it aloud.

“Hey,” Ronan said. He shut the door behind him and went to sit at the foot of Gansey’s bed. Chainsaw chirped happily as she started for Gansey’s dirty laundry.

“Can’t sleep?” Gansey asked, more to keep with tradition than anything else.

Ronan shrugged. He took the book Gansey was reading from him and paged through it, quick. He was obviously trying very hard to seem unbothered by whatever was bothering him, which was strange enough that Gansey let him pretend instead of calling him out on it. Ronan pushed the book away and grabbed Chainsaw from the floor. She allowed him to pet her beak and the sides of her face.

“What do you think of Adam?” Ronan asked.

Oh, Gansey thought. He didn’t think they’d be having this conversation so soon. He shut his book and set it aside. “I like him,” Gansey said. “He’s nice.”

Ronan looked up. “Just nice?” he asked.

Gansey shrugged. It wasn’t an eloquent thing to do, but it was late, and he was out of eloquent things and thoughts. “You know what I mean,” he said. “He’s good people.”

He thought about Adam. About his presence. The realness of him. The way talking to him felt more like talking to Ronan than talking to another student, another peer. He thought about the way Adam watched him and Ronan, and he thought about the way Ronan watched Adam.

Gansey knew what Ronan was like around people. He knew how Ronan would react to a new professor, or one of Gansey’s rare new girlfriends. He had enough experience to predict what Ronan would do before someone got hurt. But he didn’t know how Ronan would react to Adam. Because he didn’t know what had so easily convinced Ronan that Adam was different in the first place.

Ronan had been the one to introduce Adam to Gansey, after all. To really introduce him, to allow him past the barrier of casual acquaintance. He’d let Gansey invite Adam to dinner. He had to like him to do that.

But Gansey could see Ronan’s jealousy, even if Adam couldn’t. He could see where problems might start to appear.

Ronan looked angry. And tired. Gansey rubbed his eyes again.

“Don’t you think so?” he asked Ronan. “Magical inclinations aside, he’s a person worth knowing.”

Ronan shrugged, unsure. “I mean, we don’t just talk to people.”

“You don’t,” Gansey said.

Ronan traced his new tattoo. It was the most colorful thing in the room. Gansey let his eyes go out of focus as he stared at it.

“I mean,” Ronan said again, with feeling, “that we don’t have any other friends. Not any one real. It’s been just us since Aglionby.”

Gansey closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”

#pynch college au #pynch fanfiction #trc #trc fanfiction #the raven cycle #vv #posting this before class and gym yay!!!! hope u guys like it this chapter starts getting more into what the plot actually is

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