#this was unhinged but my computer is fighting against me today so i needed some distraction

[industrations]

I need to tell more people about my vision with this

So wolfstar are fighting and james wants them to “make up RIGHT NOW” so he holds their hands. It doesn’t matter that “we’re literally pissing prongs” because he can’t stand the bickering anymore.

Thankyou for listening

And yes james is pissing handsfree

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating. 

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegardener @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[thewarlocksbitch]

I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 5 - next

word count - 5.8k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

+

Adam woke to loud knocking Saturday morning, and it took a minute for his sleep stupid brain to understand that it was coming from outside his door.

He sat up and murmured a sleepy greeting to Noah, only to realize Noah wasn't there. There was only rumpled bedsheets and a perfectly pressed pillow. Maybe he'd stayed at a friend’s.

“Parrish? Adam? You in there?”

Adam picked his jeans up from the floor and pulled them on as he walked to the door, trying to think of what was waiting for him on the other side. A cancelled class? An insufficiently paid book fee? Someone with better grades or more money raring to take his scholarship?

Adam opened the door. Some guy he'd never seen before was standing there. He pointed down the hallway. “Phone,” he said.

Adam watched him walk away. He left the door hanging open behind him and padded barefoot to the shared dorm phone.

The phone was on the table, face up. Adam picked it up with sweaty hands. “Hello?”

“Hi, Adam? It’s Gansey.”

Adam breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall. “Hi, Gansey,” he said.

“I didn't ask for your number yesterday because I'd assumed Ronan would have it, which was stupid of me. He's not a friend to phones, or their numbers for that matter. So I found this number in the student directory.”

“I don't have a phone,” Adam told Gansey. He closed his eyes; he felt drained, and heavy, like his body was missing more than sleep. “What's up?”

“Well,” Gansey said, “Ronan’s still asleep, but him and I are going up this mountain later today. There’ve been strange energy readings from the base of it that match the energy readings I have from the faerie ring. I want to get higher up and see what's there. If you wanted to come with us, if you're not busy, I was thinking that you might be able to feel changes in the line….”

Adam had seen Ronan in Latin on Friday, but he hadn't seen Gansey since Tuesday, when strange things had happened with the faerie ring. He would not lie to himself: he was nervous.

No, nervous was not the word to describe the feeling. He was unhinged, unmoored, undone. He’d been fighting with himself the past few days, trying and failing to make sense of what had happened.

He knew it couldn't be real, but it was. He wanted to believe in it, but it was hard to. It's not real, it's not real, Adam told himself. But he had heard the faeries, felt the line, seen Gansey’s awestruck face. He couldn't make himself feel indifference when he had such solid evidence.

But still…. Adam thought, never able to believe in something so wholly, never able to beat the untrust hard instilled in him. At the very least, he would climb a mountain and sweat with some boys he had just met. At the very least, they'd laugh and tell him it had only been a joke.

Adam didn't have anything to do but catch up on sleep, so there wasn't much to lose by saying yes.

After telling Gansey he would go and consequently listening to another few minutes of faerie-filled rambling, Adam hung up and went back to his room.

“Hey!” Noah said, jumping at Adam from behind the door and nearly giving him a heart attack. Adam slipped past him to the kitchen for a drink. Noah stepped on his heels with how closely he followed Adam to the tap. “You're up!” Noah said. “Want some breakfast?”

Adam got his water and backed away out of Noah’s space. He let himself slump against the wall for the second time that morning. Noah went to the microwave, as perky looking as ever in his rumpled university sweater and faded jeans. Adam rubbed a hand over his eyes. The rate his heart was going at couldn't be healthy.

“What's for breakfast?” he asked.

Noah tapped an enthusiastic, uneven beat on the microwave, then threw his hands up when it beeped. He punched it open and tossed a steaming bag to Adam. “Pancakes!” he said.

Adam gingerly let the pancakes flop onto the counter. He looked around the kitchen, but the counters were bare save the usual box of protein bars, chips, and miscellaneous coffee cups. “Did you go grocery shopping?” he asked.

“Nah,” Noah said, grinning, “I just swiped them from the cafeteria. They taste better when you cook them in your own microwave!”

“Right,” Adam said. “Thanks, Noah.”

Noah shrugged in his weird, erratic way and jumped up onto the counter. He pulled his knees  to his chest and propped his head on them; the patient look on his face told Adam he was going to very happily watch Adam eat his twelve miniature breakfast pancakes.

Adam ate as fast as he could as Noah told him about everything that he had done in the past week, repeating some stories and details Adam already knew. When Adam was done he checked his watch.

“Hey,” he said, gently interrupting Noah’s tirade on the campus police officers, “I’m about to go hiking with some new friends, so,” he turned to find his shoes, stalling because he was unsure if it was okay to invite Noah. He knelt down to double knot his laces.

Noah hopped down from the counter. “I’ll go with you!” he said happily. “I love hiking. Didn't I say that a while ago?”

“Oh, okay,” Adam said, standing up. “Do you-”

Noah tapped the toe of his sneaker on the toe of Adam’s. “I've got my shoes, you've got your shoes. All set all set! Are we going now?”

Adam nodded, staring down at Noah’s shoes.

They were the same pair of converse he wore everyday, with fraying laces and beat-up soles. They were crappy in the real way, not in the fake, desperate way that Adam saw so many students showing off. It comforted Adam, a little, to have someone like Noah in his life, someone who was so much like him; someone who was careful about buying bikes and, despite his unstable personality, always knew when things needed to be quiet.

Adam had never asked Noah about his home life because Noah had never offered, but he guessed the beat-up shoes and obsession with material possessions meant Noah was a runaway like him.

A pretender.

Noah tapped Adam’s shoe again. “Where are we going? Exactly?” he asked.

“Gansey said to meet at the Starbucks off campus. I don't know where we're going after that.”

“Okay,” Noah said, though he sounded concerned. Adam looked up at him. Noah shrugged happily and ruffled Adam’s hair. “Cool! Let's go.”

+

The walk to Starbucks was short, the wait much longer. Neither Adam or Noah ordered coffee, so they sat and waited, Noah chattering away while Adam watched student after student pay for six dollar coffees with wallets full to bursting.

For the hundredth time that morning Adam wished he had a cell phone. Calling Gansey to see how far away he was wouldn't do him any good, but the ever present want inside him hungered nonetheless; to be able to look something up without having to go to the public library computers, to aimlessly glance at a blank screen when walking to class or feigning disinterest, to have something in his pocket of the shape and weight of casual wealth.

One day, he told himself. His terrible mantra. The headache that was always hanging behind his eyes. One day.

A chill pricked the nape of Adam’s neck. Noah was watching him.

Adam looked over at Noah, but Noah wasn't paying him any attention. He was quiet and calm, the breeze from the air vents overhead ruffling his colorless hair. He had upended a bowl of sugar packets onto the table and was busy making a castle out of them. He pushed the two salt and pepper shakers against either side of his creation to reinforce the center, but it was all for naught; his hand shook, and the castle fell apart. Immediately he began building it again.

Adam looked back at the line of customers, and there was Gansey, looking hectically and effortlessly attractive in dark shorts and a half tucked in white t-shirt. In one hand he held his thick journal full of all things Glendower; the other hand reached for a coffee while his smiling mouth thanked the barista.

Adam tried to find Ronan, but Gansey spotted him and waved him to the door before he managed to. Probably Ronan was waiting outside with Chainsaw and couldn't come in.

“Noah,” Adam said, getting up. “Gansey’s here.”

Noah looked up from his castle. “Ganseywhat?”

Adam pointed to the door. “My friend. He's here.”

“Right,” Noah said. He put all of the sugar packets back and jumped up. Adam led him out of the air conditioned building and into the heavy Virginia morning.

Gansey was right outside the door, sipping his fancy iced coffee and looking unpleasantly hot already. At his side, Ronan was sullen and sweating in a black muscle T and jeans too messily ripped for it to have been on purpose. Hunched on his shoulder, Chainsaw didn't look very happy, either.

Gansey greeted Adam and together they walked to where the Camaro waited in the parking lot. He unlocked it, turned around, and did a double take when he saw Noah still behind Adam. It wasn't the first time Noah had gone unnoticed by the people around him, so Adam didn't agonize over his feelings. Gansey looked over at Ronan, but Ronan was too busy grinning at Noah to notice.

"This is my roommate," Adam said uncertainly. “Noah.”

Gansey reached out a hand to Noah, but Ronan pushed past him. Chainsaw chirped nervously and wiped her beak underneath Ronan’s ear.

“I remember you!" Ronan said to Noah, more joyful than Adam had yet seen him.

"Oh," said Noah. He half hid behind Adam like a shy child. His hands were cold where they gripped Adam’s elbow.

"At the Blue. You totally fucked that kids car." "Oh," said Noah, meeker this time. "A frat party?" asked Ganesy, concerned - though he seemed happy Ronan had a friend. "What were you doing-” His expression turned tense.  "Ronan. Don't tell me you were with-" "Then don't ask," Ronan said cheerily. It didn't miss Adam that Ronan all of the sudden was not looking his way. Ronan directed his attention to pilfering the Camaro’s keys from Gansey’s pocket.

"Noah, wait," Adam said, finally processing what Ronan had just said. "You crashed someone's car? Were you drunk?" "No," Noah said, very unconvincing as he shuffled his feet. He looked up at the sky and down at his shoes, at the sweating coffee in Gansey’s hand, and at every other point that wasn't one of the others’ eyes. "How are you paying him back?" Adam asked. He knew Noah had to have at least a little more money than him, considering the eagerness with which he collected material possessions and the laden care packages he brought to the dorm monthly, but that still wasn't saying much.

"There was a rainbow..." was all Noah said, and Ronan's laugh and Gansey's sigh stopped Adam from saying anything else. Their unconcern made him feel something ugly inside. One day, he told himself. One day.

Gansey wrestled his keys out of Ronan's grasp and pointed a warning finger at him. With no discussion and a decent amount of swearing from Ronan, Noah and Adam clambered into the back of the Camaro, Gansey threw himself into the driver's seat, and Ronan slumped into the passenger seat.

Gansey grabbed his headrest and turned around to face the back. Ronan stole his keys again and turned the air on. Gansey paid him no mind. He was looking at Noah, thoughtful.

“Noah, was it?” he asked. Hot air began to wheeze through the vents.

Noah nodded. “Yep. Noah.”

Adam saw Ronan roll his eyes in the rear view mirror. They both knew where this conversation was going.

“What do you know about Welsh kings?” Gansey asked.

Noah looked out the window. He watched a group of students for a few moments, then shrugged. “I know a lot about the stories of sleeping kings, like Glendower and stuff. And all the stuff with how he's supposed sleeping to be on a ley line, and he can be woken up by whoever finds him and grant a wish and all that.”

Ronan laughed once, loud. He caught Adam’s eye in the rear view mirror and then Adam was laughing, too. Chainsaw cawed and flapped up to sit on the shoulder of Ronan’s seat, her feathers ruffled with excitement. Adam laughed until it hurt, looked up to see Gansey’s dumbstruck face, and laughed some more. Noah observed all of this with faint interest until, gasping, Ronan punched Gansey’s arm and said, “Shit, man. He stole all your lines!”

“Oh,” Noah said. “Sorry.” He reached a hand towards Chainsaw, curious, then drew it back before touching her. The raven hopped down to Adam’s knee. Adam pet her like he'd seen Ronan do and she gave a happy chirp.

He looked up to try and catch Ronan’s eye again but Ronan was already watching him. Adam felt himself flush and he looked at Gansey instead.

“I didn't tell him anything,” Adam said to Gansey. He turned to Noah. “How did you know all of that?”

Noah reached a hand towards Chainsaw again. He didn't quite meet Adam’s eyes. “I like reading about that stuff, I guess,” he said.

Gansey made a pleased sort of sound. He didn't seem bothered that Noah didn't notice him grinning in the rearview mirror. He didn't seem like he could be bothered, by anything. His happiness did not dull or sharpen in accordance to others. It simply existed as it was, bright and pure, easily distinguished from every other emotion in its sheer magnitude. He asked Noah, “Do you know about faerie rings?”

Noah shook his head. “Nope,” he said.

Gansey smiled some more, and told him. He told him about the ring they'd found deep in the forest, and what had happened when Adam stepped inside it. He told him about ley lines, about Glendower, and about his desperate search.

“Wow!” Noah said. “Awesome.”  He seemed ready to believe anything Gansey said. He didn't ask Adam why he hadn't told him about the ley line or the faeries’ voices. He didn't ask anything at all, except, “Ronan, where did you get your pet bird?”

Ronan was quiet. It was only for a moment, but Adam noticed it. “I found her,” he said.

Gansey pulled the car out of the lot and got them on the road.

After a few minutes of driving, Ronan started punching buttons on the radio at random. Adam watched him, and Gansey ignored him. Again Noah reached for Chainsaw and again he withdrew his hand when she looked at him.

Finally, Gansey said, “Annoying it isn't going to make it work.”

“It’s such a piece of shit,” Ronan said, without anger. “You should throw it out and plant some mint in its place. Start an on-road business.”

Gansey seemed to consider this. Then he reached a hand over to rub it across the dashboard. “The Pig wouldn't appreciate that.”

Ronan muttered something. He turned around in his seat to check on Chainsaw, then turned back and looked out the window.

“Sing for us if you want music,” Gansey suggested.

Ronan snarled something back in a nasty tone.

Gansey glanced at Adam and Noah in the rearview mirror. “Ronan used to perform in Irish music competitions,” he said. “He has a lovely voice.”

“Gansey,” said Ronan.

“Ronan,” said Gansey.

Ronan continued to stare out the window. Then, with a savage smile, he started to sing, “Squash one, squash-”

The Camaro swerved, and Ronan laughed maniacally. Noah grabbed onto Adam’s arm.

“No,” Gansey gasped. “Not that. Never that.”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” Noah whispered in Adam’s ear.

Ronan punched the radio again. Reluctantly, it let out a static rendition of Mr. Brightside. Gansey grinned and pointed at him in a meaningful way. They drove.

+

Finally Gansey pulled the Camaro over and killed the engine. They weren't at a toll booth for public hiking like Adam had expected, but were instead parked in grass that was so tall it reached the windows. Dirt road stretched out ahead of them, and thick forest framed either side of it.

Adam hadn't paid enough attention on the way to know where they were, but he knew at least that they weren't on public land. He wondered who Gansey had bribed to let them trespass. He wondered if Gansey would go so far as to break the law.

Gansey grabbed his journal, electromagnetic frequency reader, and GPS from the dash and got out of the car.

“Chainsaw,” Ronan said. Immediately the raven hopped to the console and allowed Ronan to put her on his shoulder. Ronan opened the passenger side door and got out. Adam and Noah followed.

Gansey walked around the Camaro’s steaming hood to the others, already flipping through his journal. He stopped in front of Adam and Noah.

“I’ve been here a few times in the past two weeks,” he said. “I haven't climbed the mountain yet, but the energy readings around the base match those we found around the faerie ring almost exactly, so I want to see if they’re the same higher up as well.”

“And you think I’ll be able to feel the line up there, too,” Adam said. Already he felt something beating like a heart in his heels and fingertips, but it was possible that was only his own nerves.

“I know you will,” Gansey said, full of confidence. He held up the EMF. “This doesn't stop working on different points on the line, so neither will you.”

Adam wanted to point out that him feeling an energy source that may or may not exist was not an exact science, and so it could not be predicted, but he just nodded and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. As they all began into the forest, it occurred to him that Gansey thought of him as both a magician and a machine. He closed his eyes and felt for the ley line underneath him. He wasn't bothered by the idea.

Unlike the other forest Gansey and Ronan had brought him to, this one had no paths or clearings at all. Ronan swore up ahead as another branch caught around his body, and Chainsaw screeched. Behind him, Gansey tried to placate the bird and got his finger bitten instead.

“Don't be an asshole,” Ronan scolded her. “You can go and look around, just don't go far and don't try fucking with any snakes.”

Noah tripped and caught himself on Adam’s arm. “Oh, geez,” he said.

“‘Oh, geez’?” Ronan repeated.

Gansey looked over his shoulder at Adam. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

Adam nodded. “I think so. But it's not as strong as last time.”

“Ronan?” Gansey asked.

“Could be it’s actually weaker here and the EMF is inaccurate, could be because he's focusing too hard instead of just feeling it. Hell if I know.”

Adam shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at Ronan. He was facing away from Adam, his head turned up to the sky to watch Chainsaw above them. He was flushed and sweating, and there was something weirdly charming about his unwavering yet uncaring belief in these supernatural forces when he himself couldn't feel them.

Adam ducked under a branch while Gansey held it aside for him, then held it for Noah, and then they were at the base of a stone face that inclined steeply upwards.

“We’re here!” Gansey shouted, his face turned up to the sky, arms spread like the wind was lifting them.

He stood like that for a moment, looking less like the Gansey that Adam was starting to understand and more like a statue of a war hero or a defender of the world. Then he resumed the loose, giddy posture and gait of a boy adventuring. He jogged ahead of Ronan to a gathering of boulders at the base of the mountain, knelt down on the ground, and set his journal down in front of him. Flipping through the pages with one hand, he dug the other into his pocket and pulled out a tape measure.

Adam and Ronan went to Gansey’s side while Noah hung behind them, his hands gripping his elbows. He was wearing his usual long-sleeved university sweater, and unlike the others he seemed completely unaffected by the heat, but very affected by something else entirely. He wasn’t sweating, and he looked paler than usual.

“Noah?” Adam asked, half turning away from Gansey. “You okay?”

Noah nodded, not really paying attention. He was starting to look less like the excitable version of himself and more like the quiet, barely there version.

Adam looked back at Gansey. He was writing down measurements in his journal, the tape measure forgotten on the ground, Ronan watching him over his shoulder with his arms crossed.

“I knew you'd want proof,” Gansey said, getting to his feet, “so I wanted to wait to show you these measurements for when you could see them for yourself.”

He handed Adam the journal and stepped close enough that Adam could feel his body heat. It was open to a page full of sketches of boulders with notes underneath them and arrows pointing upwards. Written along the margins were lists of measurements ranging between a few centimeters to half a foot.

Adam looked up at Gansey. He was smiling. He didn't seem to be able to stop. Ronan was frowning behind him. Adam believed less and less by the second that they might be joking about all of this.

“They've been rolling upwards?” Adam asked Gansey. He was starting to like this way of talking with him, this heated exchange of questions and answers.

Gansey nodded. He took his journal back from Adam and pointed to the top of the mountain above them. “I think we'll find the reason why at the top.” he said.

They began their ascent. It was not an extremely steep mountain, but ten minutes in Noah began stumbling behind Adam.

“Look,” Gansey said to Ronan, showing him the EMF.

Ronan glanced at it but kept on walking. “It'll probably go back up in a second.”

Noah made a surprised sort of sound as he slipped, loud enough that Gansey heard. Gansey stopped and looked back at him. “Noah?” he said, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Noah shrugged. He looked nervous. “I'm just… I don't think I’m very good at this.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek and looked away. “I'm sorry…”

Ronan looked a few degrees past irritated, but Gansey turned around without hesitation and went to Noah’s side. “I’ll walk in front of you,” he offered. “We’re almost to the top anyways. Just follow my steps exactly.”

Noah shrugged again. “Okay.”

Gansey made, from what Adam could hear, many valiant but fruitless attempts at small talk with Noah. His enthusiasm wasn't affected at all by the slowness of Noah’s replies.

Adam followed Ronan the rest of the way up. He could see the top already, thick with trees and fog. He tried to feel the ley line under him, tried to listen for that hum in his pulse - nothing. It was like it was dead. Like it had never been.

He didn't bother telling Gansey until they reached the top. There was no point if the line ended up coming back on.

A few minutes later, they reached the top. And the line was still dead, and there was nothing there.

Gansey breathed out a soft swear word. He looked up from the dead EMF reader. “Anything, Adam?” he asked, voice hopeful.

Adam shook his head.

Gansey's face fell. Ronan punched him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he said. “Don't get all emo. It's just like in Henrietta. The line gives no fucks about being predictable.”

“It'd been pretty predictable up until now,” Gansey said, pouting. “I thought there'd be at least something. Something connected to the faerie ring. A clue, maybe. ”

“Life isn't a mystery novel, Gansey,” Ronan said, but he didn't say it stern.

“I just thought,” Gansey started, then he shrugged. “I don't know. Let's go back to the faerie ring.”

“Now?” Adam asked.

“Christ, no.” Gansey laughed, but it was weak. “Later. Not today. Now I think it's in our best interest to go to The 90’s and stuff ourselves with pizza.”

“Um, Adam,” Noah grabbed Adam’s sleeve. His breathing was fast. “I don't feel good. I think I need to go.”

“We’re leaving,” Adam reassured him.

Gansey smiled at Noah, bright as the sun. “The altitude might be getting to you. The air’s thin up here.” He looked around the clearing, eyes excited despite the disappointing nothing they'd found. He clapped Noah on the shoulder on his way back down the mountain. “You'll feel better once you've had some pizza.”

Ronan followed Gansey. Noah stared after them, then turned a startled look on Adam.

“Adam-” he started.

“You don't have to eat,” Adam told him. He preceded Noah down the mountain. “Let’s go.”

+

Adam caught Blue’s eye just a few minutes after they were seated. She was working a table across the restaurant, notepad in hand, her spiky hair going in every direction. She waved. Adam waved back. Then he turned around to see Gansey watching.

“So Blue’s working tonight,” Gansey said nonchalantly. He was decidedly not looking at Ronan.

Noah elbowed Gansey in the side, suddenly bold. “She's cute, dontcha think?”

Gansey coughed into his fist. “She is attractive, sure, like a…. like girls tend to be, I mean…” he trailed off as their waiter showed up.

Their waiter tonight was an older man, which was a disappointment ; but he took their orders with a significantly less amount of impatience than Blue had, which was a relief.

Again there was talk of ley lines, but it was more for the pleasure of it than to figure anything out. They had hit a sort of dead end, and Gansey was rallying the only way he knew how.

He entertained Noah with a book's’ worth of legends and theories, intermittently interrupted by Noah’s appreciative ooh’s and ah’s. Adam half-listened to them as he watched Ronan cut lines into his napkin with a fork.

Finally their pizza arrived and Gansey stopped talking to shove it in his mouth with the typical unselfconscious desperation of a college student. Ronan grabbed two pieces and put them on Adam’s plate, then grabbed two for himself. Noah politely shook his head at Gansey’s offer and sat with his hands in his lap.

“So, Adam,” Gansey said, putting down his pizza long enough to look Adam in the eye. “I was wondering if you would you be interested in an internship with a law firm my father is affiliated with? He was telling me yesterday that they're looking for bright college students willing to work next summer and I thought of you.”

Adam put his pizza down. Something simmered in his gut, ugly and familiar. He told himself not to be offended. He told himself that he had grown past letting every little thing hurt his pride.

But he could feel Noah’s and Ronan’s eyes on him. And this wasn't a little thing. He knew it was an act of charity, even if Gansey didn't think it was.

It was charity to Adam. It was charity because it was something he needed. Gansey did not need an in to the game; he didn't need the bright smiles or genial slaps to his shoulder. Adam did. He needed their questions, their interest in his future, their yearning for his youthfulness. He needed their internships and their sponsorship money. He needed their impressive names at the bottom of job applications, their insistence on his amiable character.

“You thought of me,” Adam said.

Gansey nodded. “It's a few hours from campus, so you'd need to live nearby during the summer, but that can be arranged.”

Adam looked down at his pizza. “I’d have to think about it,” he said carefully.

“No rush,” Gansey said, “I just wanted to let you know.”

Gansey went back to Glendower. Adam went back to his pizza. After a while, Ronan’s leg fell against his.

Adam stilled. He considered moving over to give Ronan more room, but he didn't want to piss Ronan off, or make him feel awkward.

He leaned forward to get a bite of pizza, his leg shifting against Ronan's. Ronan's hand dropped from beside his plate to touch Adam's knee, for just a second before moving away. Adam swallowed. He didn't know if that had been an accident. If Ronan had even noticed.

Adam looked at Ronan out of the corner of his eye. He was slumped over the table, slurring something to Gansey about cars.

Ronan’s eyes slid over to Adam’s and caught, then briefly dropped to his lips in a distracted, flighty way before going back to Gansey.

That had to be intentional. Adam felt himself flush, unsure if he was self-conscious or flattered. He looked at Noah to see if he had noticed, but Noah was busy staring at Gansey. There were no witnesses.

He bent his head over his pizza and listened to Gansey ramble on about the faerie circle and Ronan shoot down every inventive theory he came up with. His pulse was a chaotic thing inside him.

He watched Ronan, but Ronan didn't look over at him again. Adam wasn't sure if he was surprised. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be.

Later, a few minutes before closing, Blue brought them their bill. “I stole your table from Ron,” she said, a little nervously, looking mostly at Adam.

“Was he upset?” Gansey asked. He politely put down the pizza crust he'd been picking at and looked at her.

Blue smiled, a little. “Delighted, actually,” she said. “He thanked me.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Gansey said.

“Hm,” said Blue. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. Noah shrunk away from her. “I heard you guys talking about ley lines, and faeries, and, well, I heard a lot. Anyways,” She leaned away from the table and stuck her hands in her jeans pockets. “I come from a family of psychics, so I'm familiar with all that. I just haven't heard anyone talk about it since moving here.”

Ronan shoved Adam. Adam startled and looked at him. “Come on,” Ronan said, his eyes on Gansey. “Let’s get out while we can.”

Adam followed Ronan’s gaze to Gansey’s face; it was lit up like it always was when he talked about all things Glendower. His mouth was hanging open slightly as well, but that probably had more to do with Blue than thoughts of long lost sleeping kings.

Adam gestured to Noah, but Noah was looking between Gansey and Blue like they were his favorite show. Adam shrugged and slipped out of the booth. He led Ronan outside to the parking lot.

It was night now, heavy with streetlight and the buzz of cicadas. Ronan lazily dragged his shoes on the asphalt on his way to the Camaro. Adam hesitated for a moment, then went to stand beside him. With a little smile, Ronan knocked on the passenger side door. Chainsaw replied with a raspy caw and hopped up to balance on the open window a second later.

Adam reached out a hand to pet her. “She stayed in here the whole time?” he asked Ronan. “She could have flown out the window while we were inside.”

There was something fierce in Ronan’s eyes as he considered the raven. He dug a pizza crust out of his pocket and held it up to her. “She never goes far,” he said.

Adam ran the back of his finger along the soft feathers on Chainsaw’s beak. He wanted to look at Ronan, but he thought that maybe Ronan was already watching him. And he wasn't sure what he might do if he caught him at it.

They were both silent for a while as Chainsaw demolished her pizza crust. Then Ronan said, “You should take it.”

Adam glanced at him. “Take what?”

“The internship.”

“It's not as simple as just taking it,” Adam said, “I don't want you guys giving things to me.”

“That's just Gansey,” Ronan said. “It's just what he does. He likes helping people.”

“Like a project pet,” Adam said. A little heat had crept into his voice. Chainsaw shook out her feathers.

Ronan was petulant. “You know he doesn't mean it that way.”

“Even if he doesn't realize,” Adam said evenly, “I think he does.”

“He's excited about being your friend. Let him.”

“Ronan,” Adam said, starting to actually get angry now. “It's not-”

“Just fucking think about it,” Ronan said, so calm and collected Adam felt ridiculous in comparison. “Knowing Gansey, it's a good internship and it probably pays. It could give you a better way to make money.”

Suddenly, horribly, Adam thought back to yesterday, when Ronan had seen him coming in from the back. Anxiety overtook him as he remembered Ronan’s raised eyebrow, his own flinch. He’d brushed off Ronan’s questions, his gaze, but had it not been enough? Had his hair been disheveled? No, he'd checked it. Had something given him away? No, he was always careful. Had Ronan seen through him so easily?

“What do you mean, ‘better’?” he asked.

“I mean steady pay,” Ronan said, his tone even, gaze unflinching. “In an air-conditioned office, with frail businessmen and complimentary bagels.”

“I like my job fine,” Adam said. Jobs, he thought.

Ronan didn't say anything. He merely looked at Adam, eyes bored, mouth pulled down in dissent. Adam gazed back, refusing to flinch, refusing to back away. He knew Ronan used silence like a weapon, but he was good at being quiet, too.

Ronan kept staring, and Adam endured it. Then something like a smile tugged at the corner of Ronan’s mouth. His eyes flickered to the door. “The posse’s here.” he said.

Adam looked over his shoulder to see Gansey and Noah stepping outside, Gansey in front and bathed in streetlight, Noah half a step behind him, all shadow. He could see Blue, too, through the window, bent over a table with a rag in her hands, a small smile on her face.

Gansey stopped in front of Adam and Ronan, grinning from ear to ear. “You guys good?” he asked.

Adam looked at Ronan. Ronan turned away from them both and got into the Camaro. “Yeah,” Adam said, after a moment. “We’re fine.”