#yeah I’ll put artificial weather in here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelz-dust · 3 years

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heatwave (jason todd x gender neutral!reader)

summary: extreme heat leads to a little accident with your popsicle and jason finds a way to rectify the problem.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out - pls wrap it up y’all), shower sex, mild food play (popsicle), mild choking.

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

the sun shone through the window of your bedroom, the rays of light dancing against your sweaty skin as the wind from your fan made the blinds shake. you laid out on your bed, which had been stripped of its comforter, in only your underwear. you were about ready to peel those off of yourself, too. you weakly grabbed at your phone, checking the weather. 77 degrees.

77 degrees, your ass. it felt like 90.

as much as you enjoyed reaping the consequences of a depleting ozone layer, you felt like it was time to do something to control the temperature in your apartment. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to handle breathing in air that felt thick enough to chew. slowly, you sat up, having to peel your sheet off of your sweaty back. you were going to have to do the laundry at some point because going back to sleep in drenched sheets was just as disgusting as it sounded. that was a problem for 3pm you, though. 11am you needed water. desperately.

waddling your way to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator door and you let out a loud moan of satisfaction. the bright white lights invited you inside its cold confines and you could've swore you saw a dead relative or two beckoning you in. you didn't want to leave the door open for too long, so you quickly grabbed the last water bottle and shut it. you wasted no time swallowing down the cold liquid, ignoring how it made your teeth hurt and froze your throat. you didn't even care that some of it had spilled down the front of your body, down your chest and to the band of your underwear. you welcomed the cold droplets onto your burning hot skin.

“fuuuuuuck,” you breathed out, your body going limp as it pressed itself against the metal refrigerator door. you could feel your perspiration creating a suction between it and your skin. it was fine, though. you had no intention of moving anyway.

had it not been for your brain taking a few minutes to power itself off, you would've heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door and you would've turned to see jason coming in with the desserts you requested.

“what the hell are you doing?” you heard him say and you slightly turned towards him, a dazed look on your face. he was already stripping out of his clothes before he even asked.

“dying,” you responded, opening the freezer for him as he threw in some ice cream and multiple boxes of popsicles.

jason put his hand on your clammy shoulder, slowly ripping you off of the fridge. he turned you towards him, holding some contraption in his hand, which appeared to be a cross between a spray bottle and a fan. without saying anything, he turned it on and began spraying you down like a misbehaving cat, only you didn't flinch. no, you relished in the feeling of the mist on your face.

“here. i got one for myself, too,” he said, handing you the fan. you smiled happily as you started spraying and fanning yourself all over.

“i hope whoever invented this is getting bomb ass head right now,” you breathed out, starting to feel some relief.

“what about the guy who bought it for you? what does he get?” jason asked, starting his fan up and spraying his chest, it now glistening with both sweat and tap water.

“absolutely nothing until the temperature drops,” you smiled at him. “what flavors did you get?”

jason’s lips puckered slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “strawberry, pineapple, and this caribbean mix with a bunch of flavors in it. you might wanna wait on eating them, though. they’ll probably melt fast.”

“it's a risk i'm willing to take,” you said, going and grabbing a popsicle for yourself. you unwrapped it and hummed happily at the flavor against your tongue. the brand jason bought was a little more expensive but it was definitely worth it. the real fruit juices and chunks were much more satisfying to taste than the artificial flavoring of the other brands.

“is it good?” jason asked, a small smile on his lips. despite being uncomfortably hot, seeing you happy made it bearable. the fact that he was able to provide you with the things you needed, even if it was something as simple as your favorite popsicle, made him feel good.

“mhm,” you nodded, some of the juices starting to trickle down your chin and onto your chest. you looked down and frowned a little. you started spraying your chest, trying to get the stickiness to go away.

jason watched you desperately try to lick up the juices that were now sliding down the stick and getting on your hands. it just wouldn't stop and it was making a huge mess, just as he had warned you it would.

“sweetheart, there's more popsicle on your chest than there is in your mouth,” he commented condescendingly and you glared at him.

“maybe that's how i like eating it, jason,” you said, his name coming out of your mouth like venom.

“you know what? i like eating it that way, too,” he nodded in agreement, stepping towards you and dipping his head down to lick at your collarbone and move down the valley of your chest.

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact and the added body heat to your personal bubble. jason had come back up, giving you a soft kiss and licking the remnants of your most recent bite off of your lips. as badly as you wanted to melt into the kiss, you pulled away. you grabbed your fan and started spraying him in the face.

“down, boy,” you scolded him playfully, little giggles coming from him as he flinched his punishment. “i'm trying to eat.”

“so am i,” he smirked, taking the popsicle from you and taking a bite out of it. he looked around the room, whistling as he not so subtly let the popsicle fall against your chest and dragging it down some, watching as it dripped down your abdomen. you gasped out as the contrasting temperatures, your back hitting the fridge.

“oh wow. i'm so sorry,” his fake apology rang against your ears. he took the dessert off of your skin, handing it back to you. “i'll get that for you.”

his lips and tongue fell upon your skin again, dragging over the stains. he found himself at your nipples, despite not getting anything on them. he swirled his tongue around the quickly hardening buds, managing to get a pleasant sound from you. he got on his knees, collecting the sweetness that was threatening to make it way to your underwear. he eagerly lapped it all up before it got to that point, firmly holding your hips against the door to prevent you from moving away.

“jason, it's too hot,” you sighed as he planted kisses up your naval, looking up at you with playful eyes.

“i know. this is really sexy, isn't it?” he spoke against your body, which got himself sprayed again by you. this time, he saw it as encouragement instead of a punishment. how thoughtful of you to help keep him cool while he focused on making you feel good.

you kept spraying him until he eventually let up, laughing again as he got off of his knees. “fine, fine. if you won't indulge me in my sexy popsicle fantasy, can we at least go take a shower?”

“only to get the juice off. no other reason,” you said coyly and he smirked at you, giving you a firm nod.

“of course. what other reason would there be?” he asked as the two of you headed to the bathroom, touching at each other and giggling your entire way there, taking what little clothes you both had off of each other. by the time the water started running, the little act had dropped and you were all over each other. it was freezing, which put your bodies into a slight shock as you panted heavily in between feverish kisses.

jason’s favorite thing to do was hoist you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist. he liked showing you how strong he was and feeling your body flush against his own. he made sure to position you high enough against the tile wall so you wouldn't have water violently hitting your face, but close enough to where you could still feel it everywhere else. he never allowed himself to be blinded by lust at the expense of your comfort.

his hips rolled into yours and his face found its way back to your chest, peppering it with kisses. you carded your fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it just how he liked. even though you were doing a very physically taxing activity, this was the coolest you had felt all day. you wasted no time giving jason’s plump lips the kisses they had deserved earlier, your boyfriend more than happy to reciprocate. as much as you didn't want to part from him again, he pulled away and began suckling at your neck. normally you would object to being marked in such a visible location but you gave him a pass this one time. after all, he was the guy who bought you the spray fan.

your feet touched the ground again and he turned you around, pressing you against the wall and grinding softly into your backside. it didn't take him long to pull your leg up and slowly insert himself inside of you. you started seeing stars and that's when your legs became like jelly, causing you to lose your balance. jason quickly reacted, your hearts pounding as you tried to stay vertical.

“are you alright?” he asked, his nose rubbing the shell of your ear.

“yeah, i just got dizzy,” you explained, grabbing his hand with an embarrassed smile. “i'm okay.”

“so clumsy,” he grinned, kissing your temple as his slow thrusting began. his hand trailed down your side and landed on your ass, using it as leverage.

you moaned his name as he started going deeper and slower. he was teasing you now, which was to be expected. even on the hottest of days, in one of the least comfortable locations, he didn't pass up the opportunity. jason treating this like any other love making session and not just a quickie turned you on even more. he never let you question his dedication to making you unravel beneath him.

“jason, please. stop teasing me,” you begged him, knowing that was the only way he would stop. closed mouths don't get fed, as he would say.

“only because you asked so nicely,” he responded smugly, picking up the pace now. the sounds of slapping skin and breathy moans were amplified by the acoustics of the room. you began feeling a slight ache; a result of jason’s girth and length inside of you. a normal person would’ve asked for a break, but not you. it fueled you to continued, fucking back against him and squeezing around the very thing that was causing you mild pain.

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked you and you didn't respond. you hated how he always knew exactly what you were doing. “tell me it does, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.”

you ignored him again, moving against him a little faster now. his hands quickly went to your hips, holding you still. “answer me,” he whispered in your ear and you whimpered in defeat.

“it feels good,” you mumbled, trying to move again, but to no avail.

“sorry, i didn’t catch that.”

“it feels good, jason.”

“i'm glad. i want you to feel good,” he smiled, letting you go. you continued to try and reach your high, doing most of the work now while jason watched. his hands caressed your body, encouraging you to continue.

“does it feel good for you?” you asked him and he nodded.

“it always does, sweetheart. i feel amazing whenever i’m with you,” he told you, starting to meet you half way with his thrusts. “doesn't matter if i'm inside you or not.”

you felt your face heat up at his words. you hated how he had that effect on you. you felt yourself slip against the wet tile again and he caught you, pulling you back against him.

“would you stop doing that?” the two of you laughed together, taking a quick breather. “i need you to not die in the middle of me fucking you, okay?”

“okay, i'm sorry,” you giggled as jason helped you get back into position. “i'm sorry.”

“it's alright, don't worry,” he reassured you, slipping his hand up your front and around your throat. “is this okay?”

you nodded, feeling more secure in this modified position. despite your little interruption, you still felt as needy as ever. his grip on you was so gentle that you could almost be convinced you’d slip again, but jason knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe and not hurt you in the process.

“let’s finish up,” jason’s tone was comforting and you hummed in agreement, picking up right where the two of you left off. it didn't take long, either. you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, waiting to wash over you. once you felt his tip pressing against that sweet spot he was so good at exploiting, you knew there was no going back now.

you both started getting sloppy, jason’s thrusts being less methodical and your movements no longer matching with his. jason’s broken gasps and moans send you over the edge, sending you spiraling in euphoria. his grip on your throat tightened very slightly as he filled you up, his face resting in the crook of your neck. you let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, feeling his cheek pressing against you, silently urging you to turn around. you complied, your noses grazing each other before your lips met again with little kisses.

“we can take a real shower now,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you again. “no more sexy fantasies. i promise.”

“no more sexy fantasies during a heatwave,” you corrected him, grabbing your wash cloth and wiping away some of the sweat forming at his hairline. “any other time, they will be greatly accepted and expected.”

“good to know.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #dc x reader

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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Monstrous Morning Brews

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Halloween Lattes

Rowan keeps asking himself why he orders the same, overly-sweet, coffee every day when he prefers it black and bitter. Oh, the golden-haired barista—that’s why.

Fic inspired by the title image 👻🎃

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1838 words

*******

“Large pumpkin latte for Rowan!”

Rowan’s head snapped up as the barista’s voice rang out through the small café. He carefully finished setting down his laptop and books before striding towards the pickup counter.

Aelin was leaning onto the counter’s other side, her golden blonde hair pulled up in a precarious bun as she smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you,” he grabbed the drink and offered her a crooked smile of his own.

“I gave you a ghost this morning, what do you think?” she was grinning as he finally dragged his eyes from hers and looked at the image gracing the top of his coffee.

This was what the café was known for—well, what Aelin was known for, seeing as she was the one to pitch this particular menu item. Specialty designed latte art. Not that latte art was her idea, or new by any means, but Aelin was the one to suggest that the café start allowing customers the choice of images, letters, or patterns on their drinks, for an extra charge of course.

After the first few Instagram posts circulated of various designs, the café soon had long lines of people waiting to get their custom lattes. These days, with Autumn in full swing, many of the Halloween themed images were in high demand.

The first time Rowan visited the café it was only because he’d passed out the night before at his friend’s apartment and desperately needed caffeine before making his way home. This place wasn’t remotely close to either his house or to campus, but he found himself driving the longer commute just to see a certain barista.

He’d been struck by her golden hair and bright blue eyes the first time he’d come in and she’d barely been able to piece his order together because Rowan had somehow reverted to his flustered by a pretty girl teenage phase. Which was why when she’d asked what design he wanted on his latte (when had he ordered a latte?) all he’d managed to say was surprise me.

Watching her eyes light up and a wide grin spread across her face, Rowan decided he would let her choose his design whenever he ventured to the café and bought one of the special lattes.

‘Whenever’ then becoming every day.

But it wasn’t the artistic coffees that brought Rowan back day after day, it was the sharp-tongued, cheerful, stunning barista who smiled at him whenever he walked in. Aelin, who got excited whenever she could draw something new on his drink; who always tried striking up a conversation with him despite his multiple failed attempts at not looking foolish in front of her; who, today, had put a cute little ghost on the top of his coffee.

He chuckled at the little ghost that shook as he gripped the mug. “It’s boo-tiful”

Rowan froze, regretting his stupid pun before the words even finished spilling out of his mouth. What? Why in Hellas’ name would he make such a corny joke—

Aelin laughed and grinned wider but was cut off from replying as another customer approached the till.

Rowan hastily walked back to his table, careful not to disturb the intricate design atop his drink. As he glanced around the café, he was happy to note that besides his, there were only two other tables occupied.

He set the ghostly latte next to his computer and situated himself for the next few hours.

First, Rowan took out his earbuds and turned his study playlist to shuffle. He hated the loud, chatting crowds that sometimes overtook the café.

Next, he pulled out a few bags of snacks, some grapes and crackers. He wasn’t a fan of the overpriced too-sweet pastries on display.

Finally, Rowan looked at Aelin and watched as she ducked into the back and out of sight, before stealthily pulling out his thermos. It was filled with freshly brewed, hot, black coffee. Because he absolutely, without a doubt, hated pumpkin lattes.

***

As soon as the leaves had started changing, the café’s menu was overtaken by pumpkin, caramel, and cinnamon.

The rich aromas were comforting, especially as the weather got colder, but that also meant his already-unwanted latte was now overflowing with the sickly-sweet artificial pumpkin flavor. He knew Aelin loved it; he’d seen her make her own drinks while on shift to know she adored the pumpkin lattes and hot apple ciders.

Maybe that was why he still pretended to enjoy the monster-covered drinks.

In the last few weeks, Aelin had given him coffees with pumpkins, bones, and leaves, as well as more intricate designs like a wolf howling at a moon or a witch on a broomstick.

Rowan would buy a thousand sugar-filled lattes if it meant seeing her proud smile as she handed over his coffee.

Aelin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as she walked over towards his table and swept some dust and old crumpled wrappers from the ground. “Not thirsty?”

Not for coffee. He shook off his immediate thought and fought the blush that rose as she tilted her head and waited for his answer. Gods, he hadn’t been this horrible with girls since high school.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?” Smooth.

Her lips quirked to the side as she nodded at his latte which was as full as it’d been when he picked it up more than an hour ago. “Are you not thirsty?” Then her brow furrowed as she asked, “Or was something wrong with it? I could make you another one—”

“No!” His eyes flew wide as her brows flew up at his quick response. “Uh, I mean, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just, uh, I got distracted.” To prove his point, Rowan plucked up his mug and took a large sip. It took everything in him not to cringe at the sugary taste.

“Oh, okay,” Aelin smiled, apparently believing his role of latte-enthusiast. “Well, if you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back.”

That’s when he noticed that he was the only customer left in the café. He smiled at her again and she paused.

“I just noticed you have dimples,” Aelin told him, grinning. “They’re cute.” Then she winked and walked behind the counter and through the back door.

Rowan sat frozen, blinking slowly at the spot Aelin had just been standing, trying to remember how to breathe. She noticed his dimples. He didn’t even know he had dimples. She thought they were cute.

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he couldn’t have repressed his broad grin even if he tried.

In an effort to calm himself down, Rowan reached into this bag and drew out his thermos to take a long drag of the bitter coffee. He’d just taken a second large gulp when the back door swung open and Aelin flounced into the main sitting area.

“Sorry, I forgot to grab the broom—” She halted three steps from him as her eyes darted between his face, the thermos of black coffee, and the barely-touched latte. “I—what?”

Rowan guiltily lowered the thermos to the table, swallowing the coffee as he met her accusatory glare with his own wide-eyed gaze. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed committing a felony, not drinking homemade coffee in Aelin’s café.

“I, uh, well,” he stammered.

Aelin merely crossed her arms and raised a single golden brown as she waited for him to say something. When it became clear that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—explain, she sighed.

“Rowan, is that coffee?”

“Yes.”

“You bring your own coffee to a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” He could’ve sworn she was fighting a smirk.

“Can I ask why you bring your own coffee to a coffeeshop? Especially when you buy a coffee every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, surely red from his embarrassment, and winced. “Yeah, you can ask that.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping towards his table to lean her hip against it. “Okay. Why do bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, when you buy a coffee every day?”

Rowan was tall enough that even while sitting he was able to easily look her in the eye as she stood at his table. Theoretically easy, yes; Actually easy, when he wasn’t sure his embarrassment would ever fade away, no. He rubbed a hand down his face and loosed a heavy sigh.

This was it, he had to come clean. She would find out he’d been lying to her and only buying lattes as an excuse to talk to her despite never having the balls to actually say anything in his favor, and she would call him creepy and ask that he never return. But she was staring at him expectantly, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that he had no defenses when it came to Aelin.

“Here’s the thing,” he began slowly, “I don’t actually like lattes.”

Aelin blinked. Twice. “But you get always get a specialty latte.”

He winced. “I do.”

She was silent for a minute and Rowan mentally kicked himself and was already preparing to pack up his stuff and leave when she tossed her head back and laughed.

Aelin laughed.

Rowan gaped as the girl he’d been hard-core crushing over laughed relentlessly at his confession. He couldn’t even be embarrassed or confused because he was too startled by how beautiful she looked when she laughed

“You,” she gasped through another laugh, “come in here every day and pay for a drink you hate—why?”

Rowan opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but he stared at her as she calmed down and beamed at him, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to confirm it.

Drawing up a scrap of the bravado he’d lost every time he entered the café, Rowan cleared his throat and looked Aelin in the eyes as he told her, “Because it gives me a reason to talk to you, and you look so happy making those drinks.”

By the way her smile grew impossibly brighter, Rowan knew he’d said the right thing.

“That is endearingly stupid.”

His face fell but before he could utter another word, Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. The soft kiss short-circuited Rowan’s brain and he remained sitting as Aelin quickly darted back behind the counter and started pushing buttons on one of the machines.

The next thing he knew, Aelin was back at his table with a large cup of fresh, black coffee. “Just so you know,” she grinned as he blinked up at her, “I liked making those drinks, but I liked the customer who ordered them more.” With one last wink, Aelin disappeared back behind the counter, the light scent of pumpkin following in her wake.

Rowan’s grin didn’t falter for the rest of day once he noticed ten scribbled digits and a small waving ghost on the side of his cup.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @themoonthestarsthesuriel @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin #rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fic #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin au #halloween #coffee shop #throne of glass #tog

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writer-k-pop · 3 years

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Picnic

식이오법에 최소한 약간의 야채가 필요해. You need at least some veggies in your diet.

Description: Just going on a picnic with Mingyu because Mingyu deserves the fluff and love. Warnings: None Genre: Fluff, BF!Mingyu x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"MINGYU!" You yell and his head pops into the doorway, eyes bright with excitement.

"Yes?" He coos at you with a silly smile.

"Did you grab the portable charger?" You ask, a hand still resting on the open drawer where the charger should've been.

Mingyu quickly nods his head, "Yeah, it was the first thing I packed."

You pout, "Could've told me." Closing the draw, you pick up your purse from the bed and walk towards the human embodiment of a puppy you get to call your boyfriend.

"I did." He pouts back when you reach him, "But I think you were busy wrestling with the blanket."

You search your brain for the memory of his voice telling you he packed the charger but your brain sits silent. "I definitely didn't hear you."

"Get better at hearing then." Mingyu jokes and wiggles the tip of your ear between his fingers.

You bat his hand away, "Maybe you need to get a louder voice." You joke back.

As you take a step towards the door, Mingyu sucks in a large breath, preparing to do just that. Quickly, you realize what he's doing and leap to cover his mouth with both your hands.

"No need for it right now, though." You say softly and Mingyu's shoulders shake with a muffled chuckle while his squinting eyes mirror the laughter.

Mingyu lowers your hands and reveals the smile on his lips. "We should probably get going so we can find a good spot." He reasons and walks past you to grab the picnic basket filled with your dinner, drinks, and some desserts for after.

You silently agree and grab the blanket, all zipped up in its built-in bag. As you walk out of your apartment, Mingyu's excitement grows steadily. You can see it in the way his hand opens and closes around the picnic basket's handle and in the way he takes a few tiny fluttering steps after every few steps. You can feel it in the way his hand holds yours tightly and how he swings your intertwined hands between the two of you.

"Do you think there'll be a lot of people?" You ask, watching as most of the people around you head in the opposite direction with similar accessories as you and Mingyu.

Mingyu shakes his head, his eyes following two children as they laugh happily, "It hardly ever is and I don't think the holiday is going to change that."

You nod, "Okay, if you say so."

"I know so." He sasses with a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you let out an airy laugh, "Whatever."

"See, what did I tell you?" Mingyu lifts both of his hands, gesturing at the empty park in front of you.

You smile and nod in agreement, "You were right."

He skips ahead a couple steps, "Let's set up over here. We'll be able to see everything from here." Mingyu stops just before the hill breaks away and sets down the picnic basket.

Making your way over, you take in the view. The city is spread around the park and the river splits the city right down the middle. Along the river banks, people mill around while they spend the evening with their friends or family, enjoying a meal and waiting for the fireworks. From up here, you'd be able to see the whole show and your ears wouldn't be terrorized with the explosions.

"Ack!" Mingyu yelps in surprise. You break from your thoughts and look over at him. Somehow, he slipped the blanket out of your grasp and was attempting to lay it out but the slight breeze had other plans. The unfurled blanket is now sliding down his front side and an unimpressed expression paints his face.

You press your lips together to suppress a laugh but a smile still shows.

"Help please." He pouts holding out the crumpled blanket.

"Okay." You nod and pick up the two corners he's not holding. Within seconds, the two of you have got the blanket flat against the ground. Clambering onto the blanket, you use your shoes to hold down two of the corners while Mingyu copies your actions.

"I wonder why no one ever comes here to watch the show." You wonder as Mingyu begins pulling items out of the basket. "It's such a good spot."

Mingyu hands you a container of pasta and answers, "It's pretty far away and I guess most people like to be down there with all the other people." He holds out a fork and you pluck it out of his hands.

"Lucky for us that we don't mind being alone then." You smile happily.

"Very lucky for us." Mingyu repeats before taking a large bite of pasta. "Mmm," He hums happily, "This is so good. I'm such a good cook."

"I helped!" You retort, twirling red stained noodles around your fork.

Mingyu swallows and nods, "Right, and my sous chef did an amazing job of opening the noodle box and placing the noddles in the boiling water."

You roll your eyes but let the comment slide and bring a bite of pasta into your mouth. "Who's recipe is this?" You question, taking in the flavors as you chewed.

"Uh, I found it on the internet on a blog of some sorts. Though I tweaked it a little cause I know you don't like some of the things that were listed." Mingyu explains before taking another bite himself. "OH!" He mumbles with pasta hanging from his mouth. Quickly slurping up the noodles, he reaches back into the basket and pulls out two more containers of food.

One container holds garlic bread and the other a simple salad.

Picking up a piece of garlic bread, you hum happily, "I was starting to think we were forgetting a pivotal side dish."

"I would NEVER forget the garlic bread." Mingyu feigns offense that you would even think that about him, "Also make sure to eat some salad. You need the veggies."

"Mingyu." You state and straighten your back.

"(y/n)." He mimics you while righting back a smile.

"When eating pasta, the only thing needed to complete the meal is good bread to dip into the sauce." You argue, "Salads were never invited to the carb party and I don't know when they decided to show up but I'm not giving into their presence. And you can't make me." You point your fork at Mingyu, teasingly.

Mingyu's mouth twitches into a playful smirk and his eyes sparkle with the laughter he's holding back. "But eating all those carbs isn't really that good for your health. You need at least some veggies in your diet."

"I eat veggies!" You counter, spinning more pasta around your fork.

Mingyu chuckles, "Nibbling on a slice of cucumber every other day is not enough."

You pout while chewing and he can't help but smile adoringly at you. With another glance at you, he lifts a forkful of pasta up to his mouth.

"Garlic bread will always be the right hand man to pasta." You say while stabbing some lettuce pieces grudgingly.

Mingyu nods, letting you win the banter, but you don't notice the corners of his mouth tick up. He, honestly, can't help it. He loves you and whatever playful mood you're in whenever. Whether it's when you're so certain that you could do something better than him or when you're like this and know he's correct but will do everything in your power not to outright admit defeat.

"I made it with your favorite dressing so I'm sure you'll like it." He tells you and follows your actions of stabbing some salad onto his fork.

You chew in silence before sighing happily. The weather is perfect, the view is perfect, and the meal Mingyu prepared fits the mood perfectly.

"I can't wait to see what kinds of fireworks they have prepared for this year." Mingyu comments, looking up at the sky.

You nod in agreement, "Last year's show will be tough to beat."

"Especially the heart eyed emoji. That was the best." He nods and twirls his fork around.

"No, that wasn't the coolest." You shake your head, "The coolest was the one that exploded like three different times. The first was into three stars and then the points of those stars exploded into more stars and then those points exploded into hearts. That was the coolest."

Mingyu chews and glances at the sky in thought before swallowing. "You know," He says with a laugh, "I don't remember that one. Must've not been that impressive."

Your fork drops into your pasta container and your jaw drops as well. "What do you mean you don't remember that one? You weren't even there!" You nearly exclaim, remembering that he had to miss the fireworks last year, but then you see his squinted eyes and the wide smile on his face. "Kim Mingyu. Why do you do this to me?" You sigh and pick up your fork again.

"Because it's fun to see your reactions." Mingyu explains a little too happily.

"One of these days..." You let the threat dissipate and put another bite of pasta in your mouth before taking a bite of bread for completion.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, one of these days, I'll pay for all this." Then, he leans closer, "I am looking forward to it."

Nearly choking on your food, you push him away while he laughs giddily.

30 minutes later, when all the food has been finished and put away, Mingyu opens his arms and you scoot over to him. Resting your head against his shoulder, you sigh in content. The sun has just disappeared from the sky and the park lamps are slowly illuminating one by one giving the park a warm, artificially yellow glow.

"I'm glad you could come this year." You say, staring out at the city as it lights it while the sky darkens. "Last year was very boring without you."

A chuckle rolls through his chest, "I know, trust me, I was wishing I was with you watching fireworks every single moment. Stupid work." He says, playfully angry but in reality he loved his job. Though it did have its downfalls with having to miss attending some events with you.

"Promise me next year?" You ask, hopeful but knowing that it was a slim chance as a year is a long time to promise something.

"I promise I'll try to keep my schedule clear for next year." Mingyu says and places a kiss on the top of your head. "It would suck to miss another one."

"If you can't come next year, I don't know if I will go." You tell him, "It was weird doing it without you and I don't know if I want to go through that again."

Mingyu pulls back slightly, "Then who's going to show me blurry pictures of the fireworks and who's going to tell me about the coolest fireworks?" He asks, a touch of panic in his voice.

You shrug, "Someone else?"

"But you explain them the best." He shakes his shoulders making your head bounce up and down.

"Okay, fine. I'll go but know I won't enjoy it." You smile at the thought that Mingyu likes your explanations of fireworks.

"I love you, (y/n)." Mingyu says softly as the first firework is launched into the sky and explodes into shimmering flames.

"I love you, too, Mingyu." You reply, snuggle closer to him, and let your eyes wander up to the sky where another firework is exploding into specks of green and red.

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen mingyu imagine #seventeen mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu imagine #kim mingyu #writer-k-pop

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mariecuttlefish · 3 years

Text

Cooling Off [3k words, MariexAgent 3]

It's been a while since I had new writing to post! This is a belated piece for @receding-tides, mainly starring their Agent 3, Faye, and Marie (though Callie and another of their OCs are there as well).

External links: [Google Docs], [AO3]

Warnings: None. Appropriate for teenage audiences.

Description: When Marie has a hard time handling the summer heat, Faye steps in to offer some comfort.

---

The sky overhead was as blue and bright as the air was thick and soupy. Midsummer heat bore down persistently, each brief respite of shade subdued by an ever-present humidity that clung to exposed skin and made ink drip from tentacles. What little breeze did manage to cut through was slow and dampened by the squiff.

Marie clung to her parasol, fighting her tired arms to keep it aloft and get what little shelter from the sunlight she could. The weather forecast playing on the lobby television before she left the hotel that morning had warned of high temperatures, and she'd prepared as best she could to deal with it, but for all her efforts to stay cool she'd still sharply underestimated how draining it would be to spend the day mostly outside. Several hours of milling between storefronts had left her exhausted and struggling to keep pace. At least the group she was with was small — just her, Callie, and their respective partners — so she didn't have to worry about crowding on top of it.

"Alright, you guys! The concert is starting soon, let's head over!" Her cousin, on the other hand, seemed no less energetic than she had been that morning, bounding forward without a care. Marie couldn't understand how she was still so upbeat, especially with her near-black tentacles that had to be tied up just to keep her from tripping on them. Surely those things were unbearable heat sinks, right?

"Hopefully there'll be some place to sit," Jake said from Callie's side. He was making a noticeable effort to keep his balance as Callie swung his hand to and fro in her own, and if Marie only possessed the energy to be amused she probably would have had a hard time containing her laughter at the sight. As things stood, she could only think about how much she agreed with his sentiment. "My legs are killing me... couldn't we have shown up to the mall later if we're just here for the show at the boardwalk?"

Callie raspberried that notion. "It's the Seaspray Galleria, of course we're not just here for the concert!" She shook the collection of overly decorative bags in her other hand for emphasis. "This is basically the biggest mall outside of Inkopolis! No way could we spend a week in the area and not go on a shopping spree! Right, Mar?"

"Mmh." Marie offered a noncommittal shrug, trying (but probably failing) to seem a bit less exhausted as the couple turned to look at her. She wasn't the biggest on shopping even in a good mood — trying to find places for everything back at the apartment was too much of a bother — but this mall was big and fancy enough to include a couple of niche health food stores, so she'd gotten to enjoy the rare indulgence of stocking up on snacks she would actually be able to eat. She just wished they would've put a roof over the place instead of pursuing the 'open-air market' aesthetic.

Whatever Marie's opinions of the mall were, though, her acting was about as weak right now as she imagined. Immediately Callie slowed down, a look of concern in her eyes. "Wait, are you doing okay? You look super out of it…"

There was exactly the thing she'd hoped to avoid: people noticing she wasn't feeling well. Marie was too used to being the more sensitive half of the Squid Sisters, the one who avoided any big events their manager didn't push her to attend and who was more often than not the cause for them having to leave things early. Seeing how excited Callie was to visit this place and watch one of their shared favorite bands perform on the boardwalk outside the mall had made her determined to stick it out and get through the entire day, and now that it was getting into the evening and the sun was starting to set she was almost there. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint her cousin by forcing them all to head back to the hotel early. Sure, the alternative meant a probably-miserable hour of noise and confusion when she was already feeling lightheaded from the temperature, but it wasn't anything she hadn't put up with for her own performances before; she could tolerate it to make her cousin happy.

Then followed another wave of embarrassment as she felt a gentle hand come to rest on her back. "Are you sure you don't need to go back to the hotel?" Faye asked softly, aiming her words at Marie alone rather than the whole of the group. Of course her girlfriend had picked up on how tired Marie was first, and had asked about it a couple of times whenever Callie and Jake weren't paying attention, but when Marie had insisted she was fine Faye had let the topic go. Marie knew she wasn't going to be so lax about it now that the others had confirmed she wasn't just misinterpreting things.

"'m fine," Marie answered with a meek wave of her hand. The words didn't quite want to come out, but they would have to deal with it.

"Just... tired."

"Marie—" Callie took a step forward but stopped as Faye raised a hand, gesturing for her to give some space.

"We have some time until the concert thing, right? Let's sit down for a bit in the shade," Faye said, carefully guiding Marie to a bench a short distance away. As the two sat down Faye offered a bottle of water, which Marie traded for her parasol without protest. Callie and Jake followed close behind, Jake taking the opposite end of the bench to rest his legs while Callie leaned up against the wall beside; both looked worried — more worried than Marie wanted them to be — but seemed at least to take the hint that crowding around her wouldn't help.

For a while they sat there, Faye fiddling with the parasol to figure out how best to block the sunlight while Marie tried to find a balance between the desire to curl up in her girlfriend's arms and the knowledge that they were still very much in a public space. Several minutes passed without many words spoken until, at last, the awkward quiet was broken by Callie pushing off of the wall and gesturing toward the restrooms across the nearby courtyard. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom real quick, should I grab some more water on my way back?"

"I got a couple more bottles, don't worry," Faye replied. As Callie headed off across the courtyard, her attention returned to Marie. "How're you feeling? It's okay to go back to the hotel if you need to."

Marie frowned and clung to her girlfriend's arm. "Callie wants to see the concert..." she answered reluctantly. Her voice felt scratchy and gross even though she was halfway through the bottle of water at this point; maybe, she decided, she would just avoid talking after all.

Faye leaned her head against Marie's. "Is that why you've been saying you're fine all this time, so Callie doesn't have to leave early?" Marie didn't want to answer that, but she knew her silence gave it away. "Love, you and I can go back just the two of us. I'm sure Callie and Jake'll be fine on their own for another hour or two.”

That... somehow hadn't occurred to Marie. The prospect of going back to the hotel to be alone with Faye was already an easy winner in her book, and if she could have that and not have to make Callie miss out on something at the same time... Of course, she would still miss out on a band she adored, but that wasn’t as much a concern; she’d already seen the Chirpy Chips play at least a dozen times before, and in more pleasant weather. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, and Faye wrapped an arm around her shoulder to give a comforting hug.

"We'll head back, then." Faye motioned for Jake's attention (which wasn't hard to get when he had already been keeping an eye on Marie to begin with) and nodded in the direction Callie had left in. "Can you let her know once she's out of the bathroom?"

Jake nodded. "Can do. Text one of us once you're there so we know you made it back alright?"

"Yeah," Faye agreed. "And make sure you both take care, too. I know you're alright with the heat but I have a feeling Callie's gonna start feeling it soon herself." Taking one of the remaining bottles of water she'd brought with her, she handed it to him.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out! I hope you feel better soon, Marie." Marie managed a polite nod in place of saying anything, hoping Jake would interpret that as a sufficient gesture of appreciation.

"Thanks, Jake," Faye added, and moments later she and Marie were away, navigating back through the scattered crowd of shoppers to make their way to the bus stop.

* * * * *

Air conditioning was simultaneously the best and worst thing after a day like this. On one hand, the heavy, artificial breeze that billowed through the bus to the hotel was exactly what Marie needed to stop her from feeling like she might melt at any moment; on the other, it did little to negate the humidity, instead simply blowing the moisture around until Marie was coated in an invisible layer of grime. By the time she and Faye walked back into the hotel and felt the sweet, freezing relief of expensive "we-don't-want-a-single-customer-complaining" central air, Marie felt substantially more comfortable emotionally but also five degrees of unpleasant physically.

They wasted no time lingering in the lobby. It felt even more awkward to be overheated and out of it in a neat and quiet place like that than it had sitting outside in a public mall, and with the privacy of their room so near Marie could at least muster up the energy to carry herself into the elevator and down the hallway. No sooner was the door opened than Marie was finding her way to bed, lazily tossing aside the mask and sunglasses she'd worn to hide herself from any paparazzi and letting down her tentacles as she flopped face-down into the welcoming embrace of an overly-plush comforter.

Behind her she heard the sounds of Faye settling in as well, setting aside the few bags the two of them had brought from the mall (and putting the snacks Marie had bought into the room's minifridge; Marie made a mental note to give her a kiss for that later) before quietly sitting down on the bed beside Marie. Fingers brushed the back of her neck, coming up to soothingly stroke her mantle, and Marie slowly rolled onto her side so she could look up at her. "Hey there," Faye said, her voice even more tender now that they were alone.

"Mmm... hey," Marie murmured, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Wordlessly she lifted her head up and scooted over to rest it in Faye's lap, curling up by her side.

Faye looked down at her with a gentle smile. Carefully she brushed Marie's longest tentacles to the side, keeping them out of her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda dumb…" Marie wasn't eager to admit it. She averted her eyes, which unfortunately left her with little to look at but the front of Faye's shirt. In the back of her mind, she silently cursed the fact that feeling bad could make eye contact with her own girlfriend so hard.

"Marie," Faye started, not a trace of frustration behind the word. A hand slid under Marie's jaw to guide her to look back upward; Marie settled for the compromise of staring at Faye's cheek. "It's okay. It's good to tell people when you aren't feeling well."

"Says you," Marie murmured. "You're like, the queen of not asking for help." As soon as the words left her mouth she worried they'd come out meaner than she meant, but Faye just smirked.

"Takes one to know one, I guess." Pulling a pillow over from the end of the bed to place behind her, Faye laid back, tousling Marie's tentacles. It was a comfortable feeling, and Marie couldn't help but purr as she nuzzled her head into Faye's hand.

"I guess you're right," she said quietly. "Sorry I was so resistant."

Faye shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, it's okay. I'm just glad you said something before it got too bad." Stretching, she held her arms out, gesturing as if she was waiting for a hug. "Now c'mere, dear."

Marie smiled and scooted up to meet the embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around Faye, half-laying on top of her, and nestled her head into the crook of Faye's neck. A small part of her worried that the accumulated grime from being out in the heat would make cuddling less appealing, but before she had the chance to dwell on that thought Faye was hugging her closer with one arm wrapped around her shoulders, leaning down to plant a kiss at the top of her head. Another long purr built up in her chest and Faye chuckled, idly running a thumb along her shoulder.

The pair got comfortable like that, relaxing together for a moment before Faye reached into her pocket suddenly. "Oh—" she started, then pulled out her phone and began tapping something out with the hand that wasn't occupied holding Marie.

"Hmm?" Marie glanced up through one half-open eye, her face buried against Faye's skin. Her girlfriend was comfortable, and despite how they'd spent the day still had a faint pleasant smell about her; now that they were alone together and able to relax under proper air conditioning, it was taking all of Marie's concentration not to fall asleep where she was. "Looking something up?" she mumbled.

"Just texting Jake," Faye answered. "Almost forgot to let him know we made it back to the hotel."

Marie hummed. "Ask him how Callie's doing? Probably pretty well, if the Chips have started playing."

Faye smiled at that. "I'll ask." She typed out a few more words before at last hitting send, then plopped her arm onto the bed beside her with the phone held just loosely enough that she'd notice it vibrate if a text came in. She didn't need to wait long; hardly a minute later the phone buzzed with a pair of incoming messages, and Faye picked it up again to read them.

"Says Callie's doing fine, but he noticed the heat was starting to get to her too so they found a bench in the shade for the concert. Callie won't stop dancing in her seat. Oh, and Jake says hello."

Marie snorted. That sounded like her cousin, for sure. "Hiii, Jake," she murmured lightheartedly. Satisfied to know things were fine back at the mall, she stopped resisting the exhaustion in her eyelids and let them droop shut, instantly feeling the urge to fall asleep take over her. The passive discomfort of overheating was still there — Marie made a mental note to take a long bath as soon as she had the energy to get up — but she was cozy, her girlfriend was soft, and the slow rise and fall of Faye's chest as she breathed in and out held the perfect rhythm to lull a very tired squid to sleep…

When Marie opened her eyes again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. The dim evening light filtering in through the curtained windows was gone, leaving most of the hotel room dark save for the single light turned on at the entrance. Faye was in the same place she had been (predictably so, considering how thoroughly Marie was curled around her), watching what looked like an old soap opera at minimum volume on the TV that she'd somehow managed to turn on. When she felt Marie stirring, she turned her head to look at her and smiled. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Marie started to speak, but the difficulty of forming words was compounded by the grog of waking up at odd hours. Instead she just rubbed her cheek against Faye's neck and purred affectionately, content to stay comfortable in her love's arms. Faye smiled and brought her hand to rest against the small of Marie's back, gently tugging the back of her shirt up to rub soothing circles against her skin. The contact made Marie shiver as her nerves woke up, and she clung tighter to Faye, wanting nothing more than to stay there for as long as she could.

"You fell asleep for about an hour and a half," Faye cooed, guessing the question Marie had tried to ask. "Callie and Jake got back to the hotel a little bit ago. They said the concert was great, Callie wishes you could've been there for it.”

Marie gave a little nod, turning her head away from Faye to clear her throat. When she spoke her voice came out raspy and inconsistent, but she could wait a little longer to get up for a drink of water. "Did they say if they were going to sleep yet?" Even if she still wasn't feeling well, a part of her wanted to poke into their room and verify that she was, in fact, alive and not a pile of melted ink on the floor.

Faye shrugged. "Nah, but knowing the two of them they've probably just been in their room making out since they got back."

"Gross." Marie grimaced, giving her shoulder a playful nudge. At least that meant one less potential reason to stop cuddling with her own girlfriend.

"What? It's not like we wouldn't be doing the same if you were feeling a bit better," Faye teased. Marie made a point of pouting at that remark, but she knew she couldn't dispute it. Heck, the only thing stopping her from kissing Faye right now was the knowledge that moving her head to do so would make it impossible to get back into the perfect comfort spot she had settled into. She had no choice but to concede, taking Faye's free hand in her own and lacing their fingers together.

The two lay there for a long while, disturbed only by the barely-audible sound of fictional couples getting into melodramatic arguments on the television screen. Occasionally Faye would turn her attention to the show when (Marie presumed) things started to get interesting, and the tiny little laughs that escaped her at the far-too-corny jokes only made Marie want to kiss her even more. The urge to fall back to sleep filled her again but this time she fought it, not wanting to miss out on the feeling of being with someone who she loved so dearly.

At last Marie's need for hydration overpowered the desire to cuddle and she slowly sat up, planting her palms against the bedsheet to stay steady. As she stretched and stood up to walk to the mini-fridge Faye stood up as well, joining her and wrapping both arms around her belly for a gentle hug from behind. "I love you, Marie."

"I love you too, Faye," Marie responded with a tired smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. You're the most wonderful girlfriend a squid could ask for."

"Right back at you." Faye leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Marie's neck, drawing one last purr from her before Faye let go of her with a giggle. "Now that you're up and moving, your wonderful girlfriend is gonna go run a bath. Both of us could stand to clean up and cool off."

Marie nodded. "You wanna go first or should I?" she asked absentmindedly, digging past all the snacks she'd bought to find the chilled water bottles at the back of the fridge.

"Either or," Faye answered as she ducked into the bathroom, and Marie thought she heard a quieter 'Both works too' tucked in under the sound of the bath's faucet starting up. She smiled, closing the fridge and returning to sit on the edge of the bed to take a long sip of water. Only one thought sat in her mind:

I'm so glad she's in my life.

#splatoon #marie #callie #agent 3 #mari3 #outside ocs #tidal writing #the t rating is just to be cautious due to one offhanded line of dialogue #...i feel like i had more to say in the tags but i forgot it in the process of getting things formatted #oh well

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

----------------------------------------------

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

----------------------------------------------

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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eldrai · 3 years

Text

Skeleton Crew

Whumptober 2021 - Day 4 - Prompt: Taken Hostage

masterpost / read on ao3

Character: Garcia

Warnings: guns, mentions/references to gun violence, brief description of a dead body, canon-typical references to murder. This is a heavy one.

Words: 4.3k

Summary: A late night in the office, the team in California and an unwelcome visitor.

Penelope checks the weather forecast again and is intensely jealous of the team right now – the sun in California must be nice. Certainly better than the miserable downpours lingering over D.C.

Then again, sunshine is considerably tainted by child homicide cases, so it’s a lot less pleasant than a holiday. And the time difference is a little irritating, too—she keeps blinking and time slips by just like that. Two o’clock in the morning last time she’d checked, and for them it was only late evening.

With her search algorithms booted up and running, she has little to do except wait for it to send her hits. Her screens fade into her screensaver, bubbles bouncing off each other. Maybe she should change it up a bit. The default is sort of boring, now that she thinks about it.

The door squeaks. She scoots back in her chair and spins it around.

“Kev—”

Penelope trails off.

The man standing in the doorway is a sturdy build. He stands tall as if he’s used to it and his jaw is set, mouth pressed into a thin line. She swallows. Deep brown hair cropped short, dark eyes she finds herself compelled to look into and away from, his face registers as neither familiar or threatening. There is no ID badge pinned to his shirt. No visitors’ lanyard around his neck.

He does, however, have a rifle resting across his chest.

Her mouth goes dry. His easy confidence takes on a darker edge, and she has to tear her eyes from the gun to examine his face. Memorise every unique identifier just in case—

Well.

Just in case.

“Where are they?” the man demands. She’s taken aback at how young he sounds, how unsteady it is against the rest of his posturing.

“Where are who?” Penelope asks. She inches slowly towards her phone, sat carelessly on the edge of her desk, and wipes her hands’ clamminess away on her skirt.

“Behavioural Analysis Unit,” the man says. “Says they’re here.”

There is no air in her lungs and her insides are water, heavy and twisting. “The… the unit is here, but they’re away right now.”

Whether this will enrage the man or please him – his lined forehead gives her the impression it’ll be the former – she doesn’t care. Nobody smuggles a gun like that into FBI headquarters for a friendly chat.

“I don’t believe you,” he says. “Show me.”

“…show you what?”

His knuckles blanche as his grip on the gun tightens. “Where they are! Where they’re supposed to be, I don’t – you’re lying.”

Penelope shakes her head. She can’t leave. Her phone and her computer and her everything is in this room. The team are hundreds of miles away and the bureau runs on a skeleton crew at this time of night. She knows it’s irrational – she has as much chance talking him down here as in another room – but she can’t help it.

Stall, she thinks frantically. Buy time. Buy time for… for something, she’ll come up with something. Co-operate but don’t let him take her to a secondary location (does that count if it’s in the same building? She hadn’t asked. It hadn’t occurred to her.)

“I’m not,” she promises. “I’ll show you the office, I just… well, I don’t know your name?”

The man’s face hardens. “My name.”

“If you’re waiting for the team, we’re gonna be here a while,” Penelope jokes. Her voice sounds hollow. “I didn’t mean anything, I – I – normally I don’t get many people down here, so it’s nice.”

“Just show me where they work.”

Her hand clasps around her phone but his sharp gaze catches the movement and he shifts, lifting the barrel of the gun slightly. “And leave that here.”

She does. Moving slowly, waiting for his permission – or lack of objection, seeing as he’s not much of a talker – she stands and walks out of the room with him on her heels. The artificial fluorescents and unappealing beige strike her as unfriendly. Cold. This is not somewhere she belongs.

Her body isn’t hers. She isn’t herself.

“Okay, so this isn’t going to go well for you,” Penelope says, “but just so you know, it’s really really not gonna go down well with the rest—”

Metal cracks against her skull and white-hot pain saps her vision. She stumbles forwards, slumps along the wall to keep balance. She tastes the blood before she feels it: her lip is split where she’d bitten down with the momentum.

Her eyes sting with tears as he marches her onwards with the gun brushing the sore spot.

Penelope hardly expects there to be anyone around. That doesn’t mean she’s not awfully frightened when they reach the unit without having encountered so much as a janitor. Her heart races in her chest like it’s competing with her rapid, shallow breaths.

It’s so much different when everyone is away. In the day it gives her pause, to see the bullpen so still and quiet, but at night it’s downright eerie.

The man directs her to sit at a desk. He sweeps the phone off the desk and yanks the plug out by the cord.

“Stay there, and be quiet,” he barks.

The man prowls around the bullpen, pulling out drawers and rifling through papers left on the desks, glancing at name plates. He isn’t looking for anything specifically – she doesn’t think – but it makes her nervous just the same. She wishes he was. Then he’d leave.

His hand is never far from the trigger.

When he turns his attention back to her (and she curses herself for not looking, not finding some way to contact someone and let them know about the man, a gunman, here, breaking every assumption of safety she’s ever made) he moves jerkily. Almost twitchy. His eyes don’t settle.

“Call them,” he orders.

Penelope blinks. “I don’t have my phone.”

He reaches into a pocket in his cargos and tosses a cheap cell on the desk. She reaches for it as if it’s a bomb, handles it tentatively, glancing up at him intermittently. It strikes her as a risk, to give a hostage a phone, and some painful part of her points out he must be pretty desperate.

(She doesn’t want to have sympathy for him. She doesn’t. But…)

(She doesn’t even know his name and he’s threatened her life.)

Her fingers hover over the 9 for a touch too long and he lifts the gun. Penelope moves on. Though her mind has gone blank her muscle memory kicks in and she keys in Hotch’s phone number. She’d call Morgan but if they aren’t all together, it’s… probably better to let him know about the situation.

The man. The angry man. The angry man with a large gun. That situation.

Angry. And, she thinks as she hits call, afraid.

It rings.

Rings.

What if he doesn’t answer? What’s the man going to do? What does he even want? A stone settles in her stomach and she finds herself longing for the boredom not half an hour ago. Grey skies and thunderstorms.

The man shifts. His shoulders are pulled back into a firm line and – how’s he going to react? This is going to make him more stressed, which is going to make him more vulnerable, which is going to make him more danger—

“Who is this?”

Oh thank god. Thank god.

The man puts a finger to his lips and slices his hand across his throat. Penelope nods. She sets the phone on the table and wrings her hands.

“I thought she was lying,” the man says. “The phone makes it harder but it’s… it’s okay.��

“Who are you?” Hotch asks. “What do you mean?”

The man runs a hand through his hair as he paces. “My brother didn’t do what you all said. You said he killed them and he didn’t. You’re wrong.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Hotch says, “and I don’t know who your brother is. How did you get this number?”

The man jerks his head at her. Penelope swallows. Her throat itches like sandpaper. “…Um, hi sir.”

“Garcia? What’s going on?”

“That’s how,” the man says. “That’s why you’re going to listen to me.”

Her blood runs ice cold. Agitated, the man begins to pace.

“It must be important,” Hotch says, “whatever it is you want to say, if you’ve gone to these lengths.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking important,” the man barks. “I told you. He didn’t do it. Jamie’s not like that.”

“Jamie’s your brother.”

“Don’t!” he snaps. Penelope flinches. “James, call him James, don’t—”

“James,” Hotch corrects. The line crackles with static as the phone rustles against something. It clicks. “What did James not do?”

A harsh laugh. “You put him in jail for life and… and, what, you don’t remember? Ruin enough lives that you don’t care?”

“I wouldn’t want to think of the wrong James. I remember, but James is a common name. I’m listening.”

“He’d never do that,” the man says. “That’s what everyone said. It’s true. Jamie doesn’t kill people.”

“I think my colleagues can remember James better than I do,” Hotch says carefully. “They’ll listen too. Can they talk to you as well?”

“I don’t care!”

She has the sudden thought that if she stays still enough, the man might forget she exists. That she might not exist. Just stay outside her body like this, terrified and numb and freezing and hot all at the same time.

“I need James’ surname.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course you do,” he sneers. “And then you know who I am and then everyone’s making up shit about me too.”

“So you’re presumably holding an FBI agent hostage,” Rossi interjects, “and you’re worried about your privacy now?”

A pinprick of pain at the tip of her finger. She’s bitten at the skin around her nails, hadn’t realised she was doing it.

“No, I’m worried about getting arrested for things I never did. Like James. You’d – you’d want people to stop saying things if it was you.”

“Not really,” Rossi says. “What they say about me is true. So what is it you want, you or James?”

“He’s innocent,” the man says. “I want him out of prison.”

“Wrong people. You’d want the department of justice for��”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re not listening!”

Pallid face reddening with rage, he stalks around the table and in one swift motion yanks her hair to force her head back. She cries out in pain.

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t really care but you have to listen,” he says. “Didn’t you hear me? Didn’t the other one tell you? I’ve got Garcia, right here.”

“Sir,” Penelope says. “Please. He’s got a gun. Just listen. I just want to get home.”

“See?” the man says. He loosens his grip. “You listen or she gets hurt.”

“We understand,” Hotch says. She wonders where Morgan and Reid and Prentiss are, hopes it’s the same room. “But without a name, we can’t help James and even if we could, it’s a much longer process to release him. We don’t have a say about that.”

“Bureaucracy and all that,” Rossi says.

“James Horwat,” the man says. “Ring any bells?”

It is a quiet but distinctive noise, the way he clears his throat. “Actually, yes.”

Reid. Of course he’d remember.

She loves him to death but she really, really hopes he doesn’t put his foot in his mouth this time. Not with the gun still levelled at her.

“You do?” The man’s voice lifts.

“He was twenty-three,” Reid says. “You… so you must have been Isaac.”

Isaac. It’s strange to have a name to his face. Strange to think about his parents, about him, the decisions which must’ve gone into picking a name. All the choices that led him here tonight.

“Yeah,” the man says, “yeah, you do remember. But James didn’t do it.”

“We found the evidence in his car,” Reid says. “We didn’t find anything to contradict it, where… where should we have looked?”

Penelope doesn’t take her eyes off the gun as the man – Isaac – takes a frustrated walk around the desk before he brings himself to answer. “I don’t know. That’s your job. James never hurt them and now he’s in prison.”

“We must have gone wrong somewhere,” Hotch says. “If there’s an innocent man serving time. I think you must have some idea what happened.”

“Everyone wanted it to be Jamie,” the man says. “It was easy. To get rid of him. They just said he did it.”

“Why did they want to get rid of James?” Reid asks.

“He wasn’t right,” the man says. “In the head. He wasn’t – it wasn’t his fault that he was like that. But he never killed them. Nobody ever listened. I had to come here. That’s why. Nobody would listen.”

“I know,” Reid says. “I’m sorry. And I think, I think you might know, I think you know this isn’t a good way to do it.”

Penelope freezes.

“It’s not right,” the man says, “what they did to Jamie. I’m not gonna let you try and tell me it is. I know how it goes.”

“It isn’t,” Reid says. “It’s not right. And I want to talk to you so we can help James but I can’t do that while you’re with Garcia.”

The man glares at her, and ice runs down her spine. Reid’s voice hurts—she wants to be there, with them. Wants them here. Anything but to be alone with this man right now.

“You’re doing it now,” the man says. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, restless. “She isn’t going anywhere until you help him. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Don’t make me.”

“So you’re… you’re there with Garcia,” Reid says. “How did you manage that? I know you don’t want to hurt her but is there—”

“It doesn’t matter!”

She flinches. His voice cuts through the silence and lingers long after he stops talking.

“Let us talk to her,” Rossi says.

Isaac takes in a long breathe and his hands settle on the rifle. His throat bobs as he swallows. She doesn’t dare look up at him. “Tell them.”

“He…” Penelope studies his face – in a word, nondescript. No details which stand out. DNA is good but she’s not getting close enough to get his hair or his skin. She doesn’t like to think why those are so valuable.

She’s going to be fine.

“…he isn’t lying. It’s okay. I’m fine, I… well, it’s kinda cold up here, do you guys always keep the office so freezing?” Penelope says. She just hopes they know what she means. Not that they’d be the ones getting her out of here, not from California, but… knowledge is power, right?

(It has to be. It’s all she has left.)

“But yeah, I’m… it’s okay. He hasn’t hurt anyone, we didn’t even run into someone.”

Her chest aches and her voice is fragile. She pokes her tongue at her split lip, where the bleeding has started up again, hates the metallic taste. Fear. There’s something wet on the back of her neck—she cringes at the tacky feeling of dried blood.

“I’m not leaving,” Isaac insists. “I know they’re gonna arrest me. I don’t care how long for. This is for Jamie.”

“It doesn’t have to be a long time.” Hotch again, calm and flat. Like this is just any other conversation. “You haven’t hurt anyone and you don’t want to, and you’re just trying to help your brother.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You’ve got one now,” he says. “Just let Garcia go, and everyone will understand.”

Isaac’s face twists into something pained, and Penelope sinks down in her seat. She’s not sure whether he’ll swing into anger or sadness and not sure how he’d react to either.

“I can’t,” he insists. “I can’t, nobody is listening! I can’t.”

“This is your best way out,” Rossi says. “Take it.”

His eyes are wet. “Do you know what they said? They found ‘em with – they thought he’d hurt them. He wouldn’t. Not like that.”

“Not like what, Isaac?” Reid’s quiet, soft. It works. It occurs to her that Reid must know, must remember.

Penelope hardly dares to breathe. Isaac’s hands shake with the strength of his grip on the gun.

“Jamie wouldn’t,” Isaac repeats. “He was good. He’d never. He wouldn’t do it to them.”

“To them.”

A pained sob. He’s an ugly crier, face twisted, choking breaths. “It was just us. He didn’t do it. It wasn’t for them. Jamie didn’t do it.”

Her fingers are numb despite her blood roaring in her ears. The room is a vacuum. She can’t breathe.

“I know,” Reid says.

“No!” the man barks. Penelope jumps. He’s moving, a hand raking through his hair, heavy, thumping footsteps. “You don’t. Just stop. I’m staying here. Don’t make me hurt her.”

Just over his panting, she catches the low murmur of voices in the background. Must be on their end. Maybe it’s the others coming to find out what’s going on.

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” Reid says. “None of us want someone to get hurt, Isaac. That’s the thing. We all want this to go well. And it’s best for you if you let us have Garcia.”

Isaac shakes his head frantically. “I don’t care about me.”

“You care about Jamie,” he chances. “He wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Shut up.”

“Just let her go,” Reid implores. “That’s all you have to do. We’re here. We’re still listening.”

His frenzied eyes settle on her for a long time. Penelope swallows back her own fear and meets his gaze, holds it until he breaks and looks away. Not threatening. Just a look. A last ditch effort to make him recognise the humanity reflected back at him.

To save her life.

“No,” Isaac says.

“Please,” she whispers. She feels it in her throat before she hears it, hardly a sound at all. He drums his fingers on the barrel of the gun and she wonders how heavy it is.

If he hears it, he gives no indication.

“Don’t do this,” Reid says. “There’s a lot of ways to settle this and none of them are going to hurt people. Don’t you want that?”

Through gritted teeth, he snarls. “Just ‘cause I want it doesn’t mean I’ll get it.”

“Penelope – that’s Garcia – she had nothing to do with it,” Reid says. “Be angry at us. Be angry at everyone involved but she wasn’t.”

She tastes bile. He’s trying to humanise her, and they aren’t so much negotiating as just begging him not to. This is Reid’s last-ditch attempt too.

What are her last words going to be?

Penelope has so many things to think and say and do and this can’t be it, this can’t be.

The silence cracks.

She ducks down off the chair, knees landing hard on the ground, ignoring the stinging pain as she presses against the desk. Someone is screaming. Glass splinters. Penelope squeezes her eyes closed and waits for the pain.

It’s her. The screaming. It’s her and she hadn’t realised. She chokes on a ragged inhale and forces herself to stay quiet, be quiet, hide and maybe he won’t find her and it might be okay and oh god is she going to go home tonight at all.

Penelope’s hair stands on end. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. The sharp crack echoes out and a sickly silence creeps in on its absence.

A wet gurgle. Her heart jumps into her throat. She cracks an eye open and sweeps the ground for the dirty work boots.

Blood.

Jolted into action, she opens both eyes and examines herself: arms and legs first – no bleeding – chest and stomach and she reaches a hand to touch her shoulders and shouldn’t a gunshot be screaming at her? Shouldn’t she feel the rush of wet heat and the white-hot flaring pain?

Penelope gulps. Her teeth are chattering like she’s cold. Every one of her joints has turned to jelly, weak and wobbly. The ringing in her ears surges back to life.

She can’t move.

She can’t stay.

Clinging onto the edge of the desk, Penelope peers around it slowly. Bright blood speckles the carpet, growing closer and closer until the dark pool of blood soaking a rough circle. It’s not just blood. Some of it is…

Solid.

She retches.

The man’s hands are clasped around his rifle. He’s sprawled out on the ground and she traces the line of his body with her gaze. Long legs. Black cargos. Bloodsoaked shirt. Hollow neck.

His humanity ends there. Everything else is splintered: fragments of a man he used to be. No eyes or nose or mouth or brain. Just blood and pulp.

Penelope scrambles backwards, elbows scraping the ground, legs giving out beneath her. She hits the back of a table and hauls herself to her feet, clinging on it for balance as dizziness crashes over her.

She closes her eyes. Her breath comes louder, rapid and shallow, and she forces herself to exhale through her nose. Just breathe. Everything else can come later. Without vision, sound comes rushing back.

“—there?”

The phone.

Somewhere.

She staggers to the other desk and grasps the phone like a lifeline. Wipes a smear of blood off the screen and tries not to think about it. “He… he’s…”

“Garcia, are you there?”

“I’m here,” she says. “He’s dead, I’m here, I… oh my god… I’m okay. Not okay okay because there’s blood and… him… and everything everywhere but it’s not my blood and oh it’s on the ceiling, that’s never gonna come out of the carpet and yep, the walls as well, seriously, that’s never going to look the same and I don’t care about the paint, why am I talking about it I swear I’m okay—”

“Breathe, baby girl,” Morgan interjects.

Penelope sobs with relief. “Derek Morgan, you wonderful, beautiful man,” she says when she can talk past the lump in her throat. She nearly drops the phone with her shaking hands.

“Uh-huh, just stay focused on me,” he says. “You’re all right. It’s over.”

“He’s… I know, I just didn’t… there’s so much…”

“I know. We didn’t really want you to see that, but, uh…”

“Sending people inside would have stressed him and he’d have reacted unpredictably,” Hotch says. “Otherwise we would have done that.”

“They’re sending someone up there,” Morgan says. “Agents Matthews and Singh. They’ll have their ID on them.”

She blanks out for a moment, talking without registering what she’s saying, then she pulls a chair closer to the – a – desk, untouched, and boots up the computer. The old terminal rattles. Probably the fan loose in its brackets, maybe the hard drive. It doesn’t matter.

Every so often she takes a deep breath and glances behind her for the agents. Or worse. Penelope keeps her line of sight high because she cannot bear seeing that again; the cloying iron smell threatens to choke her. Her wrist aches and she lets go of the phone, working against every instinct to hold it and keep it (because it’s all she has right now he’s gone but he isn’t and what if he wasn’t alone?) by placing it on the desk.

When the monitor blinks to life, he nearly gets herself locked out by mistyping her password – her hands are wracked with fine tremors and keep hitting the wrong keys – but her luck improves when she can just use the mouse for everything. Muscle memory kicks in and she’s booting up a video call. Voices wash over her. She just – she has to see them.

And it goes all staticky. Her stomach swoops as her mind jumps to late-night horror movies, severed internet connections and dark houses, but it clears up just as fast.

The first view she has is an unflattering angle of Rossi’s neck, the man unaware for a good few seconds, and Penelope’s tears turn into a watery laughter as the usual arguments ensue: Rossi complaining about the software, Morgan calling instructions from one side and Hotch from the other, both contradicting, Reid squeezing himself into a gap in the background to catch a glimpse of her. Prentiss’s saying something about men and Penelope doesn’t need to see her to envision JJ’s eye roll. The laptop ends up in her hands as she undoes whatever settings the others have accidentally triggered.

Just their faces, faint shapes blurred through the tears, is enough to set her off again. Someone cuts off the phone call as their voices layer over one another.

“—you okay?”

“—good to see you—”

“—is that your blood—”

“—have Singh and Matthews—”

“—hey, you’re gonna make Reid cry in a second—”

“—I will not—”

She doesn’t smile but her mouth twitches upwards at the corners, more genuine than a forced grin could ever be.

It takes the agents an hour and a half to get to her – sweeping the building first, and though there’s a substantial team doing it their buildings aren’t exactly small – and they stay on with her, all of them, the whole time. Crashing from the adrenaline, she ends up with her head leaning back against the seat and listening to the ebb and flow of their conversation. And Morgan offers to stay on the phone with her after that, too, as the EMTs examine a (thankfully) superficial head wound and Matthews drives her home, and in the end Penelope has to hang up so she can have a shower before she passes out right then and there on her couch.

She lies down for a moment before she dries her hair and…

The sharp rapping jolts her awake, heart in her throat.

“Hey, Garcia?”

Penelope bolts upright and hardly stops for a millisecond to check the peephole; she opens the door and collapses into Morgan’s arms. A gentle hand running through her hair – JJ – and Prentiss on her other side, she can’t fight the tears and doesn’t try to. She’s home, really and truly. She's safe.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #criminal minds #fanfic #cm fanfic #garcia #eldrai does whumptober #criminal minds fanfic #cw guns

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nalax9 · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten Joy

Merry Christmas @hellzeldagirlsfanfic 🎄🎄🎄 I’m your Secret Santa from @dmcsecretsanta

Hope you enjoy this & happy holidays~!!

It's the first year you have a festive celebration with your lover. Vergil and you had a date for Christmas shopping, then you discovered his unpleasant childhood memories.

The blizzard winter this year is torturing. It’s less than a week before christmas but it’s rare that the weather is getting warmer today. You sit on the windowsill and have your tea, listening to some music while waiting for your lover. The ensemble of violin and piano are played by your neighbor, they do it every noon to help with their daughter’s practice. You follow the melody and hums.

Not long after, you saw Vergil walking slowly toward your apartment. You both have a date today, christmas shopping. He beckons to you once he saw you. You smiled happily and waved to him, motioned to him to wait for you, and he nodded. You grab your keys, run downstairs to meet him.

Vergil waits for you under the tree in the front yard, he hands you a red flower when he sees you. “Did you pluck it from somewhere?” Vergil shook his head “Kyrie sent us some flowers to decorate the office. I picked it from there, she said its name is poinsettia and is widely used in Christmas.” “I see, thank you Vergil.” You pin the flower on your scarf, the red poinsettia match well with the color of your scarf.

“Shall we?” Vergil offered his arm for you to grab on, just as you were about to lift, a pile of snow fell from the branches and fall on Vergil's head. “!!” Vergil startled.

Then he wiped the falling snow off his head, some melted snow slid into his clothes, slide down his spine, make him shiver and sneeze. “Here, I got this.” You pass him a tissue and put a woolen hat on him, Vergil grunts and got annoyed for the hat suppressed his hair down. “Love, you mess up my hair.” “But you still looking good my dear, I love them, they matched your blue sweater.” Your compliment brought a faint blush to his cheeks. The woolen hat was woven by yourself, which is a pair with the scarf you gave him before. “Alright, let’s go.” You two walked side by side through the snow-covered park and went to the market.

The streets are dressed up with christmas decorations and lights, it’s dazzling. There were booths selling ornaments, trees, decor goods, and also foods and beverages. There also street performers singing at the square. The two of you stroll around various booths and shops in the market, aiming to find some unique gifts for the kids of Nero's family, for each other and the crews too.

You drag Vergil to a booth that sells christmas attires. They have accessories such as elf socks, scarves, santa hats and many more displayed on the wooden board. You put a reindeer red nose and reindeer headband on him.

Vergil held an ugly sweater and wrap it on his neck, the sweater had a chubby santa body printed on it. He gave you a silly smile, there are some glitters on his cheeks. “Looking good?” You burst a laugh by the silly attire of him. “You want this?” “Seeing you laughing so happily, I believe it’ll bring some joy to the kids too.”

Then, you stop by a booth, looking for some greetings card. You get attracted by their exquisite stationery and lost track with Vergil. When you find out, you immediately search for him in the crowd. You found him soon after you walked through a few booths. Vergil stood and stared at those cute ornaments, a music box held in his hand.

“Vergil?” “...” “Vergil?” You repeat “Oh..sorry..my love..I..got distracted..” “It’s alright, what are you looking at?” “I..don’t know..We..I..never celebrate Christmas…....” He went silent, the situation is a bit awkward for now, you try to break the ice.

“Let’s have a drink, my treat.”

Vergil follows you along to a cafe. You both take a rest in there and order some drinks, he is waiting for you to come back from the counter. While you wait for your orders at the bar counter, you see Vergil observing his surroundings. He smiles at you when his eyes meet you, makes you flustered. Vergil seems to like the atmosphere of the cafe. While listening to the music played in the cafe, he tapped his foot and hummed, he looked enjoyable and...relaxed. But he stops immediately when you are back with the drinks.

“There you go, berries tea and scones.” “What did you have?” He asked. “Mulled wine and brownies” Then, You ask tentatively. “So..uhm..did you mind telling me more..?” Vergil remains silent for a few seconds before speaking “Well...I vaguely remember there some people will walk around the neighborhood and sing a choir at your door?” “Christmas carols.” You answer “...uh...They never stop at our door......” He stared at his feet, gloomy “It's okay if you don’t want to continue this topic.” You worried “I’m alright…” He holds your hand, taps on your palm to reassures “Mother will sing to us when we practice the instruments. It seems important on this day, but we have never been invited for occasions... I had no idea what humans do on this day, and what is it for...would you mind to tell me more?”

Vergil let out a deep sigh after he vent his thoughts, his pose more relaxed than before. “Of course I can tell you more of the festive occasions..Honey, I’m sorry you've gone through these..but we can build our memorable moments together..from now..every moment.. ” Your heart sank, all you want is him being happy. “You are right..thank you for being with me, my love..” “Alright, let's have some dessert to cast away the bad mood.” You pass him a scone.

Vergil ate the scone, and took a big sip of his tea. His face scrunched up and coughs after that. “What’s wrong?” “The tea is awful.” “Oh..you silly, you took my wine sweetheart.” *coughs coughs* “What?” “Here's your tea.” You switched the cups with Vergil “...Are you alright...Vergil?” “...I’m alright, just my face is burning hot..” After that, you did observe Vergil for a while, but you can’t tell how his condition is, he looks like he gonna doze off when he is not talking... “How about we go get some fresh air after this?” “oKAY”

You two go back to the square and wander around, do some shopping, your arm hooked with Vergil and you slid your hand inside the pocket of his coat. Vergil caught you, his gloved fingers intertwined with yours and gave a firm grip. You blushed, you were surprised by his rare demeanor.

“Have you got everything you want?” He asked “Yeah...I got it all, how bout you?” He stops walking and ponders, someone interrupts him when he is about to answer your question.

“Hey!! The sweet couple there! Yes, you two! Wanna try some chocolates? It’s handmade!! We have hazelnut, almond, cherry, mint, caramel, toffee, and many more! Come, my friend, come try it!!”

The chocolate store worker is waving to you

“Do you want some?” Vergil asked. “Yup, let’s have a look.” You nod excitedly, jump, act like a child and drag him into the store, then you took a sample from the box, and put one into Vergil’s mouth. “How is it?” “...Dear...It..burns my tongue and throat…” “What??”

“Oh, that contains mint-infused vodka.” the seller said

“Sorry...Vergil, I was not aware it contained alcohol...” You apologize “Don’t be. It melts instantly in the mouth, the bitterness of cocoa blends well with the liquor, and the hints of the mint..not bad.” Vergil grabs one more chocolate and eats.. “Well..If you like it, I will buy some of it. I like toffee and orange.” You took the packet and showed him. “Orange? That's weird than strawberry.” Vergil questioned. “I assure you they taste good. I have to go make the payment, be right back.”

Before you leave the chocolate store, you ask again just to reassure his condition. “You good hun?” Vergil nodded in reply, he is leaning against a pillar, his eyes look dull and redness on his cheeks, you can tell he is probably drunk. “Alright, let’s go home.” You straighten him up with a hand. “Wait..we haven’t bought all the things that we want... the tree..do we have va tree? That guy said we should have a pine for christmas.” Did he talk to a stranger? Yes, Vergil is drunk. He even mumbled while he talked.“Yes, we do have a small artificial tree.” “No, I want a pine tree...I can go cut one in the woods.” He turned and walked in the opposite direction..to the woods... “Nope, we should go home, we'll talk about the tree later.” You hold him to stop him from moving forward, it takes you some hard work and times, dragging a tall, big guy like him to get home. You keep yourself in mind, never, ever let him have alcoholic foods when you are outside.

You put Vergil in the couches once you reach home, and you have to change his damp clothes. “Take a rest, I’ll go get your clothes...” “No..stay...Don’t go.....” He grips your hand that is placed on his forehead, eyes staring at you like an innocent puppy. “Just for a while, I’ll be right back.” You lean on and kiss his forehead, Vergil grumbles incoherent words. After a moment, you back with his clean clothes, you sit at his side and pull off his sweater. While you work on his belt, Vergil pulls you into his embrace, his hand tugging a strand of your hair behind your ears, caresses your face. “Hey..you’re distracting me..” You patted away his hands, but Vergil didn’t care. He sits up and holds you in his arms, kissing you.

The kiss is soft but passionate and his lips are moist and plump, you hold his head, pry open his mouth and slide your tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Vergil slowly lay you down on the couches, his tongue swiftly lapping in your mouth and his teeth gently grazing your lower lips. His hands roaming on your body, fingers swipe up and down on your spine. Then he moves to the front, unhook your bra and kneads your boobs, fingers pinching your hard,perky nipples. You get aroused and your skin burns hot under his touches. Your moans echoes in the dim and quiet living room. Vergil takes off your pants, his hands doing the work to get you ready for him. Vergil’s thumb rubs on your clit, his fingers swiftly moving inside your cunt. His moves are gentle, his needy mouth still lingering with yours, swallowing all your shuddering breath and moans. Vergil caressing your body, calling your name softly while he buried himself inside you, slowly rocking his hips, your legs clasp on his hips as his movement goes faster and faster, both of you reach your climax at the same time and he paints your walls white with his seeds.

Vergil falls asleep after that, he sleeps sounds in your embrace. You pull a sheet, cover-up and cuddle with him in the couches. “Goodnight, my dear.”

You woke up in the middle of the night and heard a melody playing from a musical box. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He noticed you are awake You shook your head “You bought it from the market?” He nodded and took you into his arms. “It’s the lullaby mother used to sing to us…do you like it?” “Yes” “...I feel excited about...Christmas.” “Me too, I can’t wait to see you wear that funny sweater.” You giggles, then plant a kiss on his cheeks “Should we get a tree?” He asked again “Let’s go buy a tree tomorrow, but no cutting from the woods...that’s illegal..” Vergil snorts “Alright, should we decorate the house with lights too?” “You’re motivated aren’t you? Okay, we’ll decorate both the office and house…” *yawns* “Let’s put you to bed..”

Vergil hugs you and carries you to the bedroom, you cuddle up with him. Both of you had a small chat, guessing the reaction of the kids when they received the gifts,the reason of the gift you chose, how you wanted to decorate the trees..until you got really sleepy.. Vergil’s hand ruffles your hair, humming the same lullaby from the music box to coax you to sleep. After you fell asleep, he whispered into your ears.

“I’m glad to have you with me. I love you.”

-End-

#Vergil #vergil x reader #vergil x you #devil may cry #DMC5 #dmcsecretsanta #mywriting #fluff #love

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 34]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. None edited chapters are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Just going to be casually researching today since I finally have my head above water when it comes to school! Yay!

Chapter 13

The room stopped shaking after a moment. “Ow,” Pat said. He seemed a bit stunned but was still moving at least. He carefully maneuvered himself into a seating position. “Ouch. Owie.” He reached up to poke his own nose. “Ow!” Janus slapped his hand away when he got there. A bit of blood was already trickling from his nose and there was a small cut over his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding too much.

Janus pushed him so he was leaning slightly forward and produced a pack of time appropriate tissues from his pocket. He pulled one out of the package and offered it to him.

He took it and pressed it up against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. He seemed mostly alright though Janus imagined he’d have plenty of bruises down the line. The power in the museum flickered and Janus looked up. Now that he was listening, he could hear people panicking in and out of the museum.

“We should probably get off of the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Pat agreed. Janus helped him to his feet, and they climbed back up the steps. Janus looked around and found an employees only sign a few feet away. Usually he’d not risk that as it could get him into trouble he didn’t want to be in, but considering the earthquake that had just happened, he could probably play it off as panic.

He ushered Pat into a small room and found a chair and table. He had Pat sit in the chair and pulled out another one of the tissues to dab at the blood coming from the cut over his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Hold that there. I’m going to go see if there are any bandages about.”

Pat took the tissue with the hand not already holding one to his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

Janus nodded and got to his feet. The lights flickered once again but didn’t stay off for now. He didn’t know how long that would last.

He couldn’t see anything that might hold bandages in this room, but there was a second door. “I’ll be right back,” he told Pat, exiting through it.

The lights flickered once more as the door closed behind him and he cursed. When they came back up Janus’s eyes immediately fell on a man. They both froze.

“Remus!” Janus hissed the second their eyes met. “What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked at him for a moment. “Hi. Janus,” he said. “I… come to France for… tea sometimes?”

“There isn’t any tea back here.”

“So, there isn’t…” he said. There was a moment of silence. “Uh, so I actually cannot talk to you right now.”

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. Remus grimaced in a way Janus had never seen from him before. It immediately set off alarm bells in Janus’s head. “Oh my god,” Janus said. “Oh my god. You’re not from the same time as me.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Remus mumbled.

“Holy shit, you’re looping?!”

“It’s… not looping if I wasn’t here the first time.”

“Remus, we spend more than 12 hours a day together most of the time. The only thing worse than this is if I looped back to this time myself.”

“…Yeah. Anyway, I need to leave now.”

“Please do.”

He turned to go, but then stopped. “Oh, and,” he reached into his pocket and tossed something at Janus. Janus caught it.

It was Band-Aids.

“Oh, shit,” Janus spat at the clear use of foreknowledge. “I hate this. I hate you. I’m going to kill you the next time you see me.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Go.”

He did, slipping into the next room while Janus took a deep breath and then turned back to the door behind him. He schooled his face before Pat looked up. “I found some Band-Aids.”

Pat nodded and Janus came over to squat next to him.

Janus opened the box and Pat looked down. His eyes lit up with sudden joy so intense that Janus felt like he’d just gotten a punch to the gut. “Kitty Band-Aids!” he exclaimed. Janus bothered to actually look at the design on the container, only to note the cartoon cats on the front. Pat was almost vibrating off his seat. “Look they’re all so cute!” He grabbed the container from him to inspect the different designs printed on the back with glee even as a bit of blood was still trickling from his nose.

Janus took the box back gently and guided the wad of bloody Kleenexes back to his nose.

“Which would you like?” Janus asked.

“Oh, they are all so cute,” Pat cooed. “Um, how about that one!” he pointed. “Or that one! Or that one!”

“Pat you only have one cut.”

“But they’re all so cute!” Pat said, tongue tucking into his cheek. He contemplated the box again. “Let’s do the black one,” he finally settled on.

Janus selected one of the Band-Aids with a black cat wrapped around a pink ball of yarn and staring back at them with wide green eyes. The think looked like it had partaken in one two many doses of catnip, but Janus didn’t mention that.

Instead, he just carefully unstuck the backing from the Band-Aid and motioned for Pat to remove the tissue from his forehead. He smiled at Janus as he drew back.

Janus cleared his throat. “How’s the nose.”

“It’s slowing down,” Pat replied. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Janus replied. They met eyes for a second before Pat looked away back at the box of Band-Aids.

“Oh,” Pat said. “There’s a grey one. I didn’t notice.” He pointed to it. “I should have used that one.”

“Do you like grey cats?” Janus asked.

“I like all kitties,” he said, “but one of my roommates loves grey cats. He had one when he was a kid and thinks of them as good omens. Seeing one always brightens up his day.”

“A friend of mine has a grey cat,” Janus said. “She’s much more tolerable than him.”

Pat laughed a bit. “Don’t be mean,” he said.

“Oh, he deserves it, don’t worry.” Janus considered him for a moment. “Here,” he said, pulling out one of the Band-Aids with the grey cat on it. It did, actually, look a lot like Diesel Fuel.

“But I don’t…”

Janus just shrugged and stuck it on his cheek where there was no wound. Pat giggled and touched it with a finger. Janus stood back up.

“Can I have another tissue?” Pat asked.

“Sure.” Janus handed a tissue over to him and he crumpled up the bloody ones in his hand.

“I think I’m good to keep going,” Pat said, putting the new tissue under his nose. “The nose will stop soon.”

Pat got out his iPhone and directed him back out of the room. They checked the second floor and didn’t find anything and so went to the third floor. The second they arrived in the room that Pat’s phone was directing them too, Janus knew that it must be right. There was a strange, distorted whirling sound and the entire room was shaking slightly like they were standing next to a railroad track.

“I’m guessing this is it,” Pat said.

Janus nodded and looked over his shoulder at the screen. They both cautiously walked towards where the little dot was on the phone.

“Is that it?” Pat asked, pointing at a small device on the center column in the room. Janus reached forward to flip the switch on it. The whirling stopped and the room settled. Janus’s time piece vibrated as it came back online. They waited for a few moments. “I assumed… time distortions would be more…”

“They are,” Janus said. “This one is artificial.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a simulation,” Janus said. “It causes similar symptoms to a time distortion, but it’s not actually fracturing time at all.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said. He took the piece of tech of the wall and carefully stored it in his pocket, “but someone’s trying to get our attention.”

Chapter 14

Janus didn’t feel comfortable leaving France 2027 just yet, still weirded out by the strange turn of events. So, he and Pat ended up sticking around for a couple of hours. They looked through the art museum for a bit, but Janus was having trouble focusing on the pieces, and Pat eventually suggested they get some air. Janus agreed considering the museum would close for the night soon anyway.

They wandered around the downtown for a bit. The people seemed to jump back from the strange weather and earthquake that afternoon rather quickly, and there were plenty still about to blend into.

Pat was snapping photos every so often like a tourist which Janus shook his head at but allowed because even with the outdated phone it almost made them blend in even more. It also might stop any questions about Pat’s weird way of speaking French. They could just say he was an overeager tourist who watched too many old movies.

“Ooo!” Pat said. “We should get crepes.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go to France and not eat crepes.”

“I assure you, you can,” Janus said dryly.

Pat shot a pout at him and the next thing he knew he was in a small crepe shop.

For Janus, choosing something was easy. He just ordered the first thing he found on the menu which seemed to be a standard one with ham and eggs. Pat on the other hand seemed to be struggling greatly, and Janus had to gently push him to the side to let some other customers order first.

“What should I get!?” Pat asked. “They all look so good! I could do strawberry preserves or maple syrup or just sugar!”

“Or you could get one that is actually food,” Janus suggested mildly. “I don’t think you need any more sugar judging by how you are acting.”

Pat rolled his eyes. “You sound like Lo.”

Janus made a note of the name ‘Lo’ even though it surely was a nickname.

“But, since you’re insisting, I’ll get something healthy. I’ll have the strawberry one. That’s a fruit!”

“It comes with a cream cheese filling,” Janus pointed out.

“And it’s fruit!”

Janus shook his head and stepped up to the counter. “One ham and cheese and one strawberry preserve, please,” he said to the cashier as he was not allowing Pat to order in French and accidently say something stupid. He forked over some euros.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” Pat protested when he saw that.

Janus glanced back at him. “I was afraid you’d try to pay in francs,” he said dryly.

It looked like Pat was about to stick his tongue out at him, remembered that Janus had criticized him for that earlier, and then just scrunched up his face in displeasure as though that was any less childish.

They waited for their crepes to be finished and then went to eat them outside near a water fountain.

“I can pay you back for the crepe,” Pat said after they sat down. “I do actually have euros.”

Janus waved him off. “It wasn’t that expensive.”

Pat hummed. “Well, in that case. I insist on paying for a wish for you.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “In the fountain!” Pat clarified.

Pat set aside his crepe to dig in his pocket for a couple of coins. “Here!” he said handing one over.

Janus glanced over at the fountain. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Pat beseeched. “You have to want something. I’ll even throw it in for you, but you have to make a wish first!”

“No.”

“Please!”

Janus sighed. “Fine.” He popped the rest of his crepe in his mouth. “I wish for a crepe,” he said after swallowing.

“You just had a crepe, silly.”

“But I liked it, so I want another one.”

“We can go back and get you another crepe.”

“Ah, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

Pat crossed his arms. “You’re just being difficult on purpose.”

“Not me,” Janus said putting hand over his heart. “I would never do something like that.”

Pat glared at him, but then snatched the coin out of his hand. “Fine!” he said. “One crepe wish coming right up.” He hopped up with the two coins and darted over to the water fountain. Janus turned to watch him go but then happened to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eyes.

Pat’s phone.

He didn’t pause in his movement, completing the turn, but as he watched Pat close his eyes, presumably to focus on his own wish, Janus snuck a hand out and grabbed the phone without looking. He slipped it into his own pocket.

Pat came back over after throwing both coins in the fountain and didn’t even seem to notice that his phone was missing, picking up his crepe to take another bite. Just to make sure, though Janus decided to distract him. “What do you think of your crepe?” Janus asked.

“I like it! It’s sweet, but not too sweet. There was a crepe place across the street from my apartment in college, but they always put a bit too much sugar in the dough, I think. I’d still eat them, but these are much better.”

Janus nodded and kept up the light conversation until Pat was finished.

21088

“Well,” he said then, getting to his feet. “It seems that nothing else is going to happen regarding the time distortion. I should be getting back.”

Pat hummed. “I should too. It’s movie night!”

“I probably should arrest you,” Janus noted.

“In the middle of all of these people?” Pat asked mildly.

“Touché,” Janus said.

Pat gasped and pointed at him. “Pun!” he said. Janus blinked at him. “Because we’re in France! That’s French!”

“…Goodbye Pat,” Janus said, turning to walk away from him.

“Goodbye… wait I still don’t know your name!”

Janus stopped to look back at him for a moment. “Like I said,” he replied. “Elvis.”

“Fine,” Pat said. “Au revoir, mon chéri.”

“You never stop, do you?” Janus asked.

Pat giggled. “Considering I don’t know what you mean, I imagine I’m just getting started.”

Janus actually left then, walking off towards the alley he’d first arrived in. In some ways, the mission had been a bust, but in others it had gone very well.

He felt for the weight of the phone in his pocket before pulling up the display screen on his timepiece to go back to the TPI.

It had gone very well indeed.

Chapter 15

The first thing Janus had done when he’d returned to the TPI was hand over the timebomb to Khalid who sent it to forensics. Within the hour, forensics got back to them that it was the same timebomb as 2999 and that it had never exploded, but simply been diffused. Which meant, blessings on blessings, everyone got to go home that night.

Not that Janus went home, no, he ended up falling asleep on his desk somewhere between 3 and 4am, but at least he wasn’t sharing his space with anyone. He’d been trying to hack the cell phone all night to see if it had anything he could use, but he honestly had no idea what he was doing. All it seemed he could do was play some annoying song over and over again about never giving someone up. At around 2am, he’d finally broken and sent off an email, though, he’d continued to try to mess with it after that.

He got woken up by Lena coming into the office at 7am, and noticed he already had an email response asking when Janus wanted to come in.

“Now?” he sent back.

“…Do you sleep?” was the immediate response. “And yes.”

His wrist buzzed as an appointment in 5 seconds downloaded to his timepiece. He selected the coordinates and landed at Cultural Outreach. The receptionist blinked up at him and then back down at the screen on his desk. “Oh!” he said. “I didn’t see this appointment. I think Professor Eran is in his office.”

He didn’t stand to escort Janus this time, so Janus went ahead and went down the hall to Virgil’s office himself.

He knocked on the door and while he was waiting for Virgil to open it, the infernal contraption once again started to play the same stupid song.

“I didn’t even touch you!” he spat, getting it out and tapping on the screen.

“Jonas Brothers dude again?” Virgil asked causally upon opening the door.

Janus shoved it at him. “Make it stop.”

Virgil took it and fiddled with it for a few moments before it stopped with the song. “Oh my gosh,” he said scrolling through something on the screen.

“What.”

“What maniac sets a custom alarm for every 30-60 minutes for a week that just plays ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’? Oh, and one ‘It’s Not Unusual’ on Saturday. He’s mixing memes at an alarming rate.”

“Can you. Just. Make it not happen. Anymore?”

Virgil smirked at him. “Maybe.” He turned around to go back into his office.

“Virgil,” Janus growled following him in.

Virgil just laughed. “What do you want to know about it?” he asked. “Just a fair warning… the song means he… likely was aware someone would steal it.”

“Of course, he was,” Janus groaned.

“But I’m sure we can still get something out of it.” Virgil started tapping at the screen again. “Okay, let’s see. It’s an iPhone 5, and someone jailbroke it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tampered with it so they could install non-company approved software,” Virgil explained.

“Well I figured that since he was using Google Maps to track time distortions,” Janus grumbled.

“I think I have something,” Virgil said to himself while digging through his desk. “Ah ha!” He held up some sort of cord. “This will let me hook it up to my integrator.” He slotted the cord into the bottom of the iPhone and then crawled under his desk to fiddle around with some other things. “There we go,” Virgil said popping back up. “It might take a few minutes. Running the program any faster might overheat the phone.”

Janus nodded and sat back to wait. Virgil grabbed the phone and started to play around with it a bit even as it uploaded all of its information to his computer.

“Weird,” Virgil said after a moment.

“What?” Janus asked, sitting up straighter.

“There are exactly two contacts. Fewer than I’d anticipate for a regular phone from the 2010s. More than I would expect from one clearly not being used as a phone.

Virgil glanced to the side, and it must have finished the download because he unhooked it from the computer. “I have a 21st century phone network adapter,” Virgil said. “It transfers call back to whatever date the phone says. Do you want to try calling one?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Janus replied.

Virgil dug back into his desk for a small device that he plugged into the same port he’d plugged the earlier cord. “Okay, which contact do you want to try first?” he asked. “One has ‘Ro’ with a crown, red heart, and a gold star emoji. The other has “Lo” with a book, blue heart, and Milky Way emoji.”

“He mentioned a Lo,” Janus said. “So, try him first.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll put it on speaker.” He pressed some buttons before setting the phone on the desk between them.

The phone rang three times before with a bit of a crackle, it was answered. “Salutations,” a voice said, voice sounding a bit scratchy as though he had only just gotten up.

Virgil motioned with his head for Janus to speak. “Are you ‘Lo’?” he asked.

The man hummed. “To some people.”

Janus… didn’t quite know what to say to that, or even what questions he should ask.

“I’m assuming you’re the man that stole my associate’s phone.”

“Your associate?” Janus fished.

The man made an amused hum. “I believe you were calling him ‘Pat’ on your last adventure.” Janus could hear something being placed down on the other end of the phone. Before Janus could respond, he heard what sounded like an old keyboard being typed on. “Now,” Lo said. “I have to admit, I am surprised you were willing to oblige me so thoroughly by plugging the phone into your system. Let’s see…”

The screen on Virgil’s lit up bright blue all of a sudden. “…shit,” said Virgil.

“Well,” Lo said, “it seems you were clever enough not to plug it into the TPI system, which is disappointing, but…”

There was more clicking on the other end. “Hmm, interesting music tastes for the 4000s,” he said.

“I’m an anthropologist,” Virgil spoke up.

“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Lo replied. “Virgil Eran, senior professor at Silver Mountain University, a vetted member of the Cultural Outreach program, and searched the phrase ‘How to eat sushi without making a cultural blunder and making everyone hate you and losing your job because what kind of shit anthropologist doesn’t know how to eat raw fish right’ which you then shortened to ‘How to eat sushi’ and proceeded to search 52 times in the last 48 hours.”

Virgil went a bit scarlet around the ears. “Dude, did you really have to out me like that?” he hissed at the phone.

“My apologies,” Lo responded. “From my personal experience, don’t dip the rice parts in soy sauce, and don’t add too much wasabi. Overall, most people will be understanding of mistakes, and you will certainly not be fired or ostracized for handling food incorrectly. As long as you are not acting intentionally disrespectful, and I image you will not be considering your clear anxiety over whatever outing you are planning to attend, you will be fine.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Good point, but counterpoint, what if you’re wrong and everyone hates me forever?”

“Is it the lunch meeting today at 11:30am?” Lo asked, “because I can see that a Professor Boris Laden has attended the event multiple years in a row. Considering he is a philosophy instructor, has no Japanese heritage that I can see, and I have found a photo of last year’s event wherein he has placed his chopsticks vertically in his rice, and he has yet to be fired or ostracized, I would postulate that your fears are unfounded.”

“Yeah but… okay, I really don’t have an argument for that one, except maybe I’m a piece of shit and everyone is looking for a reason to hate me.”

“Considering your many impressive accolades in your field, I would argue that ‘a piece of shit’ is not a good descriptor of you. Not to mention the fact that you are often a highly requested member for different committees in your department and outside of it.”

“Oh, but is that because people like me or because I’m an anxious mess and make sure events go off without a hitch?”

“From experience, disorder with people you enjoy the company of is far more tolerable than order with people you do not. Which explains my current living situation and the lack of finished dishes in my sink. Therefore, I would assume the former.”

22735

“A lot of assumptions,” Virgil commented, but he was smiling slightly.

“Assumptions based on data,” Lo argued back lightly.

“You really came in here, hacked into my computer and smacked my anxiety in the face, huh?”

“Glad to have helped.”

“Y-”

“Are the two of you finished?” Janus interrupted, finally getting sick of the two of them.

“Not nearly,” Lo said. “I have gained access to an entire network of a very large university and will be sorting through the data for a long time.”

“Ugh, right,” Virgil groaned, “and you got access through my integrator.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to trace it back to you if you don’t tell them.”

“Nice try,” Virgil said dryly, “but not likely. I’m telling them about you immediately so they can work to kick you out.”

Lo laughed. “Fair enough, but I’ve already gotten plenty of information at this point. Including the fact that you work with the TPI and scheduled an appointment with an Agent Janus Picani this morning set to start a few minutes before this phone call. So, hello Janus.”

“Bastard,” Janus shot back.

“And goodbye Professor Eran. It was a pleasure.” He hung up.

Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “This is going to be fun to explain to both of our bosses.”

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Pat said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Pat told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything major yet,” Pat said wiggling his fingers a bit. The display changed slightly to some sort of colorful overlay Janus did not understand. Pat hummed. “Did you two come from that building recently?” he asked nodding at it.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “How do you know?”

“There’s sometimes a slight temperature change when people time travel,” Pat explained. “I can read it on here.” He tilted his head. “There also seems to be a big enough temperature change in a church a few blocks away that could indicate time travel. Want to check it out?”

“We might as well,” Janus agreed.

“And if it’s nothing, we can get drunk on the communion wine!”

“He’s going to get immediately struck by lightning,” Janus said.

Chapter 18

“If we see anyone,” Janus said as they entered the church. “You keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? Remus, do you understand me?”

Remus immediately turned to Pat. “You know, I didn’t grow up Catholic,” he said to Pat who looked at him in confusion. “So the first time I ever entered a Catholic church, you can’t blame me for being a little confused about the whole cabinet thing with a wall between them. After all, everyone was singing about glory to god and what not. So I…”

Janus slapped him. “This is why you were almost burned at the stake yesterday.”

“Excuse you,” Remus said, putting his hand over his heart. “I was almost drowned.”

“You were almost drowned?” Pat asked, his voice seeming legitimately distressed.

Remus shrugged a smile on his face that caused a Pavlovian migraine to start up behind Janus’s eyes. “It’s one of the hazards of the jobs, and really it would have all been worth it if I’d actually gotten to drown in that man’s…”

“We’re in a church!” Janus cut him off switching from Spanish to Swahili in the hopes that no random passersby would be able to understand him in this time and place. “Don’t talk about lewd sex things. Don’t talk about sex at all. It’s a Catholic church!”

Remus continued to speak in Spanish with no regard for anything. “But not talking about lewd sex things takes away 3/4ths of my personality,” he pouted.

“More like 9/10th,” Janus grumbled, “and the other 1/10th is just normal stupid.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be mean,” Pat scolded, in fucking English for some reason, “but Remus, honey, you probably shouldn’t be saying things like that right now.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Remus said switching to English.

“He’s my partner, I have the right to call him stupid,” Janus insisted.

“And I love you too!” Remus said in Greek because he was really, truly, stupid.

Pat looked between the two, but then seemed to accept it, dropping the concerned expression for a slightly amused one. “If you say so.”

“Can I… help you?” A voice asked. All three of them whipped around to see a young boy looking at them and seeming very confused. Which was fair considering that to his ears, they’d just been speaking nonsense.

“We’re here to pray!” Remus claimed, then he turned to wink at Pat and said under his breath in Swahili, “to that ass.” Pat went immediately bright red again, which was doubtlessly Remus’s aim. Janus subtlety stepped on his foot while smiling at the boy.

“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in questioning the random strangers in front of him further. “I’m going to go back to the celebration now.”

Janus smiled at him. “Have fun,” he said. He waited for the boy to leave through the front door before slapping Remus on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he whined sounding far too pained for how hard Janus had actually hit him.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just start investigating,” he said.

“Sure, sure, you never let me have any fun,” Remus said, pulling up his wrist and spinning the golden bracelets on his arm. “Hmm…” he said.

“What?” asked Pat.

“Either I put on the wrong jewelry this morning… or my timepiece isn’t working.”

“Well, then I’m guessing we’re in the right place,” Janus said. He turned to Pat. “Your stuff still working?”

Pat brought up whatever device was on his hands. “Yeah,” he said, “and it looks like something is just starting.” Just as he said it, there was a violent crash of thunder.

“Well,” Janus said. “We should probably find the source and soon. Which way?”

Patton glanced around himself and then motioned with his wrist. Suddenly there was a 3D display of the church in front of them.

Janus could see immediately where the problem had to originate. There was a swirling mass of some sort of energy centered at the top of the bell tower of the church. As he watched, he saw the picture of the church glitch out a bit. He had a bad feeling about that.

“Is there something wrong with your display?” he asked, or more hoped.

Pat shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so…” The room seemed to shift suddenly underneath their feet. It felt a bit like time travel, but also wrong. The picture on the display flickered harder, part of the building fracturing and dissolving before appearing back in place. The room settled after a moment, but Janus’s stomach did not.

“Whatever is going on,” Janus said, “We need to stop it right now.”

Pat nodded. “The quickest way up would be that way,” Pat said pointing. The display closed as he did.

“Then, let’s go,” Janus said.

The world was eerily calm as they all started off in the direction Patton had pointed out. In fact, it was almost too quiet.

“Where’s the nearest window?” Janus asked when they came out on the second floor.

Pat glanced at his hand. “There should be a couple a few feet that way.” Janus nodded and left them standing there. When he glanced out of the first window he came to, it appeared to be night. Yet, when he walked to the next window, he saw daylight.

26606

“Time is fracturing,” Janus informed them. “We need to be careful.” This time distortion was much more intense than any of the other ones the agency had been tracking down over the last few months. It had also come on much faster. Usually there was some time between when the time distortion began and it started having extreme effects on the environment. He was suddenly very glad that he and Remus had not split up today. He was even glad for Pat’s company, no matter how aggravating he may be sometimes. Not to mention, he was glad for the man’s technology that seemed to circumvent whatever was blocking Janus and Remus’s timepieces.

He backed away from the windows and returned to the others.

“Whatever you do,” Janus said. “Don’t let anyone be in a room alone.”

“I know what time fractures are this time,” Pat promised.

“It was as much for the idiot as it was for you,” Janus said.

“You accidently bring a bubonic plague infested rat to 900BC one time and you never live it down.”

“I’d say I should put a leash on you, but you’d twist it into something disgusting.”

“Probably,” Remus agreed.

“Where next?” Janus asked, ignoring him.

“That way,” Pat said.

They walked together to the door he’d indicated. “Please don’t be bullshit,” Janus prayed. He opened the door and immediately got bowled over by a stream of salt water.

#not writing #study break stories

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milknette · 3 years

Text

chapter 04 - best friend

your whispers and sunlight, cold hands feeling for mine.

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

“WE’RE not dating,” Marinette only repeats, for what seems to be the hundredth time that afternoon.

She looks outside the building, irritatedly watching as the rain continues to pour outside.

(If not for the weather, she’d have long-since escaped the conversation already.)

Alya doesn’t look like she believes her— nothing new, and shakes her head. “Okay, but you went on a date yesterday,” she continues. “Seems to me like even if you’re not dating right now, you’re definitely on the way to it.”

Marinette has to scoff. “Please, we just had dinner together. You’re just reading too much into it.”

“So what?” Alya only asks, continuing the conversation. “How’d you end it then? No goodnight kiss? No longing glance before he ran after and confessed his undying love for you?”

“Absolutely not,” the mermaid shakes her head. “I told you, we’re just friends. And that’s all we’re going to be.” She pauses, and her expression sours. “Besides, we had to end the date early because some wonderful little fanclub decided to attack their idol with a water balloon.”

“Actually, I think that was meant for y—,” Alya starts, then nods. “And you know that… okay.”

“Come on, you’re telling me that you felt nothing?” She only argues, shaking her head. “Not even a skip in that little heart of yours?”

“Mermaids don’t have hearts,” Marinette only answers automatically, before placing a hand on her chest. “Not like you humans do, at least. Because if my heart so much as skipped a beat, I’d be dead.”

“It’s just a form of expres—,” Alya pinches her forehead. “Look, whatever the difference between our species is, I know you still feel things. Like how much you love me. And how much you’re in love with Adrien Agreste. Don’t you think you’ll become something more?”

Why does the conversation keep coming back to this? It’s like they’re swimming in circles.

“Now that you mention it…,” Marinette pauses, as if in thought. “You might be right. We won’t just be friends anymore…”

“I knew it! I just know that you’re going to be adorable and cute and have little half-merperson babies—“

“We’ll be best friends!” The unamused look on Alya’s face is evident. “I mean, the spot’s open now since the original holder of that position wouldn’t shut up and was therefore demoted.”

The girl only rolls her eyes, then dramatically looks away. “Can’t believe that you’re dropping your first ever human friend just because of some cute boy,” Alya fake-sobs, sighing loudly. “I can be just as cute, you know.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Believe me, you don’t even compare.”

“I think she’s pretty cute, though,” a third voice suddenly chimes in, smiling.

Alya beams at the sudden visitor as he comes to view, and the mermaid can only watch as she jumps over to hug him.

(Marinette can’t quite place it, but he seems strangely familiar.)

“Oh my god!” She says, eyes bright. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t gonna be home for another week!”

“Decided to come back early,” the figure responds easily. “It was fun, but it’s good to be back. Were you surprised?”

She gives him another hard squeeze, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Absolutely,” Alya says, revelling in the bright red that floods the boy’s cheeks.

As if recalling the situation, Alya turns to face Marinette, who offers a strained smile at the stranger.

Ah, another human.

How wonderful.

“This is Nino,” she introduces him, as he throws a friendly wave her way. “He’s also from the mythology department, but he conducts field research a lot so he’s barely here,” Alya explains, before huffing. “Which sucks.”

Nino laughs nervously, You know I have to go,” he argues back. “It’s not like they can work without me.” At that, he turns and tips his hat in the mermaid’s direction. “Hey, it’s cool to meet you. Thanks for keeping Alya company while I’ve been gone.”

Marinette only nods curtly, not making any effort to introduce herself.

(For all she knows, he could be some other mermaid-hater or water-balloon-thrower. He seems the type.)

Alya rolls her eyes at the icy greeting, then speaks up. “And that’s Marinette,” she finally states. “Remember the one I told you about?”

Told him about?

What exactly has she been telling him?

Nino’s eyes light up in recognition. “Ah,” he echoes back. “The mermaid.”

“Yeah…,” Marinette only responds, before cautiously wrapping the jacket around her tighter. “What’s it to you, land mammal?”

“No need to get so defensive,” Nino explains, raising his hands up in an apparent bout for peace. “I’m a friend.”

“I don’t make friends with humans that easily.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Nino starts, then smiles at her. “Doesn’t bother me, after all.”

Noticing her confused stare, he only smiles, before rolling up one of his raincoat’s sleeves to showcase damp scales, glittering in the artificial light of the building. “Was not prepared for the rain today.”

“Wait, you—?”

“Well, not fully,” he’s quick to say, before she can finish her question. He pats the scales in his arm, before putting the coat back on. “I’m a halfie,” Nino explains. “Dad’s a merman, mom was human.”

Marinette stares at him in wonder. So that’s why he isn’t completely transforming, then?

“Wow…”

“This is the first time you’ve met someone like me, huh?”

She nods slowly, before realizing how rude such a thing might come off. “I mean, I think it’s amazing.”

“I think a pure-blooded mermaid is a lot more amazing, but I’m not one to turn down a compliment,” Nino replies coolly. “Has Alya not told you about me?”

Marinette pauses, as if in thought. “I don’t think she ever—“

“Hey, no. That’s because you never wanted to listen!” Alya protests, shaking her head. “Whenever I want to talk about relationships, you always zone out.”

“But you never told me he was half-mermaid!” Marinette argues back. “Now he’s a lot cooler and more interesting.”

“Aw, thank you Marinette.”

“You’re welcome, Nino.”

The two stare at each other for a moment, then laugh.

“Glad to see that you two are getting along,” Alya only says drily.

“Of course,” Marinette responds easily. “He’s my best friend, after all.”

Catching on quickly, Nino nods solemnly. “Yeah, sorry babe. It was best friendship at first sight.”

“So you’re replacing me too, then?”

The three of them are surprised to see the entry of a fourth party, and Marinette briefly wonders how many chance encounters she can have with someone before it finally counts as stalking.

“Dude!” Nino’s only too quick to say, wrapping a hand to give the speaker a hug. “It’s been way too long.”

“I rushed over as soon as Mme. Mendeleiev said you were back,” he responds brightly. “Can’t believe you didn’t even tell me,” he continues, giving a light punch on the shoulder. “Am I really not your best friend anymore?”

As if noticing the others, Adrien grins as his eyes land on one girl. “Fansea meeting you here, Marinette,” he greets, jokingly bowing down to her.

It’s extremely dorky.

Almost painfully so.

But as usual, she finds it just as painfully adorable.

“You really just have a habit of apiering out of thin water, huh?”

(At that moment, Alya telepathically sends her three messages.

You just punned.

And not just any pun— an objectively terrible one.

You’re falling head over fins for this boy, aren’t you?

Understandably, she chooses to ignore all of them.)

Nino only looks on in confusion, and Marinette almost doesn’t notice the telling nudge that Alya gives him.

Almost.

The couple only stares at each other for a moment, before Nino connects the puzzle pieces together, and grins.

They subtly fist bump, and the mermaid can already feel the oncoming headache she’s about to have.

Great. Now there are two of them.

“So…,” Nino starts, wrapping an arm around Adrien— with Alya doing the exact same to her. No escape.

“I happen to have three backstage passes to Jagged’s show tomorrow,” he continues, “since I’ll be opening for him. “Any of you up for it? Consider it my welcome-back gift.”

Adrien’s only too enthusiastic to agree, but Marinette stares at the two of them in suspicion. They’re hatching something, she knows. And from the pits of her stomach, she knows she won’t enjoy it.

“You know, I actually have a lot of work to finish by this week, so…”

“Come on, make an exception?” Nino pleads, “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You wouldn’t leave your best friend hanging, right?”

“And your real best friend, too,” Alya points out, wagging a finger in her direction.

Marinette holds back the urge to sigh in exasperation, watching as they both look at her with pleading eyes.

She bites the need to scream, but finally, begrudgingly, nods. “Fine!”

Adrien grins as the mermaid agrees. “You know,” he starts, “I can’t help but feel a little left out of this best friends club of yours.”

Alya looks at him innocently (which is really just code for she’s going to do something absolutely evil). “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she says easily. “Marinette said she’d be absolutely open to taking the next step in your relationsh— MMF!”

“Aand that’s our cue to leave!” Marinette finally says, acting calm as she places a strict hand over her best friend’s lips and basically drags her to the exit of the building. “You know, we have a lot to finish by tonight if we want to go tomorrow.”

“Right…,” Adrien says, evidently confused with the situation, but deciding against asking with his better judgment. Nino’s really only holding back the need to burst into laughter.

“We’ll meet up again then!”

(As Marinette opens the door to the exit, she catches Adrien ask, “what was that all about?”

“You still have a lot to understand about women, my dear Adrien, Nino only responds. “So… Marinette’s cute, huh?”)

The mermaid makes a note of adding Nino to her people-to-drown list.

Half-merman heritage be damned.

#sandbar nine #adrinetteapril2021 #adrinette april #adrinetteapril #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 013

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

Hey all!! Evie attends a party to get back into the swing of being a messy teen and the night doesn't go as expected. Billy opens up about his past in California with a story Evie finds all too familiar. TW: Slight sexual refs, teens drinking/smoking, talk of past s*icide/death, and addiction. TAG LIST OPEN. Always open to chatting about the fic, thanks!!

Chapter 13: Almost Paradise

“Are you sure about this?” Heather spoke over Evie’s shoulder.

“We always hit the mid-winter break parties. Why wouldn’t we, Heath?” Evie applied her favorite shade of cherry in the mirror. Makeup still only covered so much that next night. But, with the swelling down, she hoped it wasn't that bad.

“Figured you’d be hanging with Billy.”

“We haven’t done anything...much. His dad is grinding him to stay in. He'll...also be at the party I'm sure.”

"That why you put on the new bra?"

"It's not new..." Evie fixed her sleeve to hide the black strap. Blushed a whole garden of strawberries. "Like I said...haven't done anything."

“Haven’t had the chance, hm.” Heather plopped down and stole some mirror space. Relenting as she applied a lustrous pink shade to her lips that matched the scrunchie holding her curls high. “I know you’re hopelessly into him. All the eye fucking over the movie last night. If you hadn’t have passed out on the couch-”

“Would...you be mad?” Evie looked up.

“I’m just coming around to him again. If you trust him, I will.” Heather smiled. “I just have to be the bitchy best friend. Make him sweat it out for my own enjoyment. Cute how he tucked you in last night through, looked like he might not leave you.”

Evie lowered a brush doused in gold glitter from her eye.

“I am sorry...about the whole-”

“You don’t have to be sorry about him, Bowers is the one that should be sorry.” Heather frowned. “I’m not mad you didn’t tell me. Honest. I get it. I can’t imagine what I would have done.”

“You wouldn’t be in that situation because you’re smarter than me.”

“No, I’ve made poor boy choices too. We both know that.” Heather beamed. “Can I borrow your earrings? The little cherries you made.”

“Sure, keep them. You get more mileage out of them than I do. I can make more.”

Heather squealed and went to steal them. Evie thought it funny, her friend would rather wear her craft projects than the baby diamonds in silver and gold her parents were always buying.

“Hey, I… My mom’s been lying to me. About my dad.” Evie admitted. “He’s trying to call and give her money, I think. I don’t know if he asks about me. Where he is. I’m just… I don’t know what to do with it all, Heath.” Her voice broke and leveled out. Slowly the brush came up again. “You ever feel like you remember things differently? Like maybe we never see things as they are, we just see things as we are?”

Heather turned to see, still putting the earrings in.

“I’m sure Mona’s trying to protect you. She’s always been so much.” She pressed her lips and tilted Evie’s face to check her work as she always did. “Covered it nicely. How’s your head?”

“No pounding anymore. Not getting dizzy, I think I barely avoided a concussion.” A beat. “I just wonder what exactly she’s protecting me from. It’s eating me.”

Felt like too appropriate an expression.

“We’ll figure it out, but you put way too much pressure on yourself like you’re alone, Eves, and you’re not.” Heather pulled Evie in to hug her. “You have me and Steve. Friends at school.”

Blue hopped up on the desk to meow loudly, both girls broke to giggle.

“Yes, you too, cutie.” Heather scratched the kitten’s chin. “And Billy, I guess. Whatever.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what we’re doing. But, I don’t mind it so I guess I’ll chase that.” Evie thumbed Heather’s lipstick at the corner. “You’re set.”

“You, too. Let’s head out.” Heather winked and stood up.

Blue trailed after them so Evie filled her dish. Grabbed a prized jacket she used to be too afraid to wear for how loud it was. Red leather and fringe. Bitchin'. A signature piece of clothing. Undoubtedly Evangeline. Fredrick didn't like it so it was packed away with all her sharp edges.

Heather beamed as her friend donned it. Completed Evie's look with a black skirt and graphic shirt tucked in. Vaguely mesh pattern tights and her warm boots. Gold hoops gleaming and her little music note necklace. Plucked piece of juicy fruit and a hard pit for good measure. Curls bounced, almost obscene.

“Think Brock and his shitheads will crash?” Heather waited for the door to be locked before they got into her car.

“I’m not worried about Brock after what happened with Fredrick.” Evie stared at the empty place in the Hargrove driveway where Billy’s Camaro usually sat. No doubt he was already there raging. Evie got annoyed with the flame in her stomach that flickered at the thought of running into him there with all the dancing they’d been doing. Every little maybe and almost. Syllables rolling off tongues to tangle.

Loch Nora rangers were undoubtedly the best.

Evie still liked parties. Liked the stimulation. The noise. That beautiful overlapping noise to wash her world out. The drunk idiot teens wandering to dance or do dumb shit. All technicolor. Even liked them better than what Fredrick would take her too. Annoying how Fredrick had become this constant life point of comparison. Physically out and still here to set the scales.

Time for some liquor.

She peered around and realized Steve never came to them anymore. Heather even asked him and he just declines too politely. Three drinks sank into her stomach so Evie went out back to where some meathead with no shirt was pouring. Moved through sprightly bodies to get another cup. Smoke and sweat in the cool night air.

“Fenny, you hear Tannen got a DUI?” Nameless meathead poured.

“No, shit?” She took her plastic cup back. Black and gold glitter nails clicking the artificial red.

“Swear to god! His dad’s basically paying everyone to make it disappear.” The guy chuckled. “Lucky, the idiot didn’t crash into anyone.”

“Yeah, he’s a mess.” Evie tipped her cup in thanks and watched teens bop around the covered pool to booming music. Rich house on a hill, no one was calling the cops. Cold and slush weren't stopping the festivities, it only made them turn up the noise and heat. Her outfit combated the lingering winter well enough. Perks of being a bigger gal. Thick skin to combat the weather and assholes. “Thanks.”

“Plenty more to go around.”

Evie caught a bunch of metalheads thrashing around a huge trampoline. Jumping from the lowest part of the roof to it and climbing all over. Billy among them spitting beer and cackling. A hungry wolf against the bright moon. Readied to toss his head back and-

“Evangeline!” He howled and she rolled her eyes below, drinking. Cup lifted to acknowledge them. Billy flashed his teeth, glowed there at her. Still among his following.

"You clean up well, Fenny!" One boy cooed so Billy shoved him into one of the many seat cushions that had been stolen to line the perch.

"Why not join us? Stay awhile." Billy crouched at the edge. Admired Evie glittering and that outfit. Tassels constantly in motion, she looked like a song leaping off unworthy pages. They echoed the calls and she laughed outright, went back inside to a chorus of whines wanting her to stay and indulge them in their debauchery.

“They out of the hard stuff already?” Heather approached and offered a tiny joint to Evie that she caved and puffed. “Tammy’s asking. I’m switching to water.”

“Beer only it looks like. It’s raining boys out there though.”

“Oh, maybe I’ll catch myself one.” Heather winked and wandered outside with the smoke.

Evie got squished in between her and Tammy moments later. Talking school and beauty and graduation getting closer. Across the way, Billy had a whole room entertained with his California stories. Evie lingered to see his eyes flicker over to her.

The strange radar he had when she was around. Always on high. He smiled bright and animated his tale, kept them all hooked and laughing because he was just too badass. Too good. A firework in this boring town. Perched on the table with a smoke in hand.

Spinning tales around the way he spun her under confetti.

And they kept peering at each other. Billy got more persistent as Evie made it a point not to look. To stay reeled into Tammy gushing about the car she was almost saved up for. This baby pink bug she dreamed about. Robin joined them and Tammy blushed as they shared a freshly rolled joint. Heather and Evie shared knowing looks.

Billy decided he wanted attention from Evangeline and left the stories behind to cross toward her. Evie felt sparks when he plucked up her hand, nodding aside. One tug and smoldering eyes. She didn't move and played a pout.

“I’m having an important discussion with the girls about the principal's clearly fake mustache, Hargrove.” She lifted her eyes, biting her lip as if that might curve her intoxication. Curled a smirk he matched.

"Thrilling. Something tells me it ain't getting mileage." Billy didn’t take his eyes from Evie. “Ladies?”

“We just finished actually, Evie was about to get herself another drink. You look like just the soul brave enough to help with that.” Tammy, oblivious but a wingman to the end, cut in so Billy pulled Evie up.

Heather flashed a guilty smile as they went off because Evie was aimlessly bickering. They didn’t go out back for a drink. Billy climbed the steps with her hand. Slowly Evie adjusted to lace their fingers. They moved over bodies and went down the hallways into a vacant TV room with beaten couches and thick screens.

“What are you doing?” Evie dropped her arms as Billy bit his tongue with intent eyes and crossed into her space for a kiss. Tasting of some green apple schnapps the boys outside had downed with all the hard stuff.

“Just something I thought about for a while.” He cupped her face for another and Evie felt dizzy for the first time after her drinks. Billy and his lips. Tasting her. Pulling her back into a couch with him.

“You mean like a day?” Evie had giggled. Breaking the kiss to see his pupils spread.

“Hey, it was a long, long day.” Came a shrug, eyes on her pretty tights that were sending him. “I can only say so much over the phone.” Hands worked under the skirt. Melted Evie down while she came in for more of him.

Straddling Billy’s hard thigh, she combed his hair back and ravished him in turn. What could she say? She liked to kiss him. Liked his mouth and his palms and his heat against her. Scorching. Billy adjusted, taking her hips to press his leg up into her.

Evie rocked unconsciously. Gave him a little moan. Let him untuck her shirt. She came out and felt his hand on her bra. Fingers sunk under the fabric while they locked eyes. Rolled her nipple until another moan lulled. Evie still pulling at his hair, lips opening.

“No bad kisses yet, hm?” The hum hitched as Evie pressed into him. Kissed him deeper. Not worried she might squish him with the shameless, signature way he touched her.

“Let’s try a few more.” Evie about whimpered into his tongue. Brow furrowing. Breath quicker. Something ready to churn in her belly.

Billy gripped her hips to encourage her on. Shifted down the line of her jaw. Silken mouth trailing to release warm sighs. Evie had her hands pressed against his grey tee. Skimming under the leather jacket to feel the hard lines. Miles of him to trace and explore. Shifting, one hand came to his left shoulder. Finger pressed and Billy gave a jerk, breath catching as he pulled back to hiss.

Evie narrowed and yanked away the moment he looked in pain. Avoiding her eyes as if he wasn’t just trying to turn them over and finish this.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Billy leaned back in for a kiss she barely responded to. Thoughts racing. “It’s nothing.” He cupped the back of her head. Lips all over Evie’s neck. Fingers slipped to push his jacket aside and Billy grasped her wrist. “Evie, it’s nothing.”

“You’re hurt.” She frowned. Billy gripped her arm still, searching. He opened his mouth to speak and the door burst open, giggles sounding at the same time Evie threw herself out of Billy’s lap. Practically to the other side of the couch. Shamefully tucking her shirt back in.

“Oooh, this one’s taken,” Tommy backed up and processed who was in there again with Carol under his arm, “Billy and Fenny? No fucking way, you two. Ha!” He cackled and Billy gave an agitated breath.

“We’re busy, shut the door, man.”

“No shit, you’re busy. I’m shocked. I thought Fen wasn’t speaking to you ever again after-”

“Hagen, we’re talking.” Evie slid her eyes to Carol who’d gotten dead silent. Eyes bright and full of hate. Piles and piles. A tremendous build of fire and loathing directed at Evie for existing in the same space.

“Talk away. Have fun, kids!” Tommy only found it funny. Jeering in his annoying way before Carol shoved off him and stomped out. “Hey Carol, what’s your problem?” He smacked the door shut following his upset girlfriend down the hall.

“Shit, asshole.” Billy rubbed his shoulder. “Where were we?” The purr made Evie turn her head, thoughts elsewhere. Billy crawled to kiss her again and Evie stood. “Hey, where’re you going?”

“I just, I feel weird now.” Evie stumbled around the coffee table. Cheeks bright and rosy. Not sparing him a glance because Carol’s eyes gnawed her. Created an incessant buzzing around her brain. Billy jolted to follow but she was out the door. Looking around for Carol and Tommy’s loudmouth. Boots hurried down the steps after Tommy, still trying to coax his girl back to the festivities.

“Carol, hey,” Evie pushed beyond Tommy once Carol was out a sliding door, “Hey, can we just talk?”

“You are such a fucking loser, you know that?” Carol spun on her heel to direct some teenage rage in Evie’s direction. A few outside by the kegs noticed the tiff, pausing to see.

A crack.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Evie dropped her shoulders. Billy slipped out and stepped up behind Tommy, pausing at the standoff. Carol staggered. Clearly intoxicated. Cracking a huge, watery smile. Reckless. She stepped toward Evie so a burst came. “Why! I'm not mean to you! I've never been mean to you! I only talk back and I still feel guilty, but you're so... Why?”

"You're nice to me?" She made it sound unreal and laughable.

"Yeah, actually! I don't understand it, I've tried to be kind to you." Evie felt a tear slip down and stayed level. "No one deserves to be treated the way I see you treat others. So, why?"

“Because!” Carol shot back, welling too. “You’re so fucking kind and...playing innocent...and you're good! And I..." She stopped with another deafening crack. So loud, it rang. Carol really stopped to reflect and hated what she saw looking back at her. But, Evie was here looking too so the hate rerouted.

"Good?" Evie breathed and so much ugly spread in her veins like a disease.

"And...And you get all this attention! Acting like you don’t know! And just look at you! Do you really think you’d get that attention if these boys didn’t feel sorry for you?” Carol stumbled and pointed a finger in Evie’s face, furious and shaking. Too close.

Evie got silent. Dropped everything she felt.

“You’re the one I feel sorry for.”

Carol buzzed with rage and reeled back to slap her so hard, the force sent her into Tommy.

"Girl fight!" Came some yelps.

“What the hell, Carol?” He caught Evie on pure instinct, not understanding either. Billy charged forward and Carol kept pushing as Evie found her footing.

A chorus of shocked gasps and awe came from the drunk teens near the pool. The music blared.

“Hit me back, you bitch! Yeah? Do it like you did to Tannen. Think you’re any better than me!” Carol was near sobbing. Eyes crinkling with tears as she shoved before Tommy got in front of her. Looped an arm around her waist.

“That’s enough, Care, c’mon.” He and Billy separated the girls, but Evie wasn’t trying to hit back. Just stared with huge eyes and a palm against her hot cheek.

"Hey. Hey, you okay?" Billy stood in front of her now, tugging. Evie wasn't budging. Enthralled. Stuck. Sinking. Not good. "Let's go. She's wasted."

“Evie!” Heather was racing across the grass to help. “Carol, back off her.” She planted her feet between them and Carol sneered, struggling against her boyfriend.

“Ooh, Princess Heather to the rescue. Admit it, you just like being the pretty friend.” More hissing channeled out.

“Just, shut up!”

“How about you tell Fenny why Tannen even tried to chase her skirts that night? Yeah?” Carol broke free and tackled Heather into the grass. "Tell her what a shit friend you are, baby!"

“Another girl fight!” Teens howled across the way. Billy and Tommy shoved in to pull the clawing women apart as they rolled around and pulled at hair.

Evie heard herself shouting to stop, barely audible over the crowds that closed in on them to cheer and chant.

“Tell her, sweet pea? Tell her that her dear B-F-F set her up with some animal. I was at that party, I heard you, bitch!” Carol skidded as Tommy pulled her off. Billy had Heather by the arm, trying to yank her up from the grass. She began to sniffle. “Perfect Heather. Little priss who can do no wrong. Perfect body. Perfect life. The teen dream. Tossing bones to us lowly folk when you're done.”

Carol laughed and cried all at once. Even the crowd slowed to watch her. Evie felt a coldness spread at the display.

“Oh yeah, Heather, you’re a real carpenter’s dream!” Carol mocked relentlessly. “Flat as a board and needs a screw! Go on and tell Fenny what a great friend you are. You brushed Tannen aside and pawned that puppy off on someone easier.”

“I didn’t know he was like that yet, okay! It was stupid.” Heather admitted, tears falling. Evie froze at that, didn’t move toward her.

“Heath, what’s she talking about?” Evie hated how wounded she sounded.

“I just thought maybe he’d cheer you up, we all were drinking and, Tannen, he...he was nice at the time. So I thought. I just...you know-”

“Just, what?” Evie leveled out. Billy let Heather go once he brought her up from the grass so she came to Evie. Crowds all but hushed.

“Can...Can we not talk about it here?” Heather tucked her hair aside, sounding too small.

“No, I love an audience! Talk.” Evie’s spine went rigid.

“I just...nudged Tannen your way. You just broke up with that guy over the summer and your dad left. Tannen was, I don’t know, it was stupid. He was nice and...and good looking. I thought he’d make you feel better. I didn’t know he was like that yet. I just was trying to hook my friend up.”

"Please, you alluded to owing him a favor after. He ate that up. You talked up a desperate animal in need of a hot beef injection. You said Fenny could barely thread a needle these days." Carol bellowed. More shock. More awe.

"I was super drunk!" Heather covered her eyes to rub them

“So, you told him to try fucking me! Told him I was desperate for it!” Evie’s voice rose and Heather quelled with shame.

“You were so sad...I thought he’d give you a good night.” The tone trailed off.

“I’m fat, but I can get laid on my own, thanks. I don’t need your fucking help, how little do you think of me?” Evie’s curls shook around with the same fervor. Heather just held herself and stared at the grass. “Do I really seem that pathetic to you?”

“No, it’s not that at all-”

“It feels like that,” Evie stepped back, “keep me around because I make you look like the Queen Bee and toss some asshole with a reputation my way out of pity if I cease to function.”

“Evie, it’s not like that!” Heather wept and got her hand shoved off when she tried to touch her friend. Evie wiggled through the crowd because it split for her fury.

“Get off me,” she went around the house, “get away from me, Heather! I don't need you!"

Heather stopped on the lawn and just stood there to see Evie follow the street lamps off.

Carol watched them go, sagging into Tommy who was definitely too drunk for this.

“Jesus, what’d you do?” He pulled her in another direction. Back to the house. Away from the excitement resuming. “Shouldn’t start that shit.” They got back inside so he led his girlfriend into an empty bathroom. “You okay?”

“I am now. Bitches. I just...I can’t fucking…” Carol sniffled and cleared her throat. "I don't know why I hate her, okay, I just do! She just gets...everything."

“This is about your mom getting back with that asshole.”

“It’s not about that!” Her defense went up. “I’m just tired of Fenny acting like she can get everything she wants. Throwing herself at Billy, fuck. Wondered why he all but dropped everyone else. I thought he and Vicki had something. Gotta be kidding me.” Carol crossed her arms to lean back into the counter as Tommy washed his face with cold water, nauseous.

“I don’t even think Fenny’s gonna go for him when she’s already got a thing with…” He perked. Lips sealing. Carol noticed.

“Thing with who?”

“Nothing, I just...I saw something...and I’m drunk. I’m fucking drunk, Care.” He got his shirt tugged.

“Tommy.” She sucked her cheeks in and he knew he’d be caving. “What did you see?”

“Evie’s been seeing Bowers, I saw her leaving his place all roughed up. Not the first time, I live a street away. Saw them in his driveway shouting at each other once. It was so dark. They kissed and she...well, her head dropped down for a bit. Thought I was having a nightmare there. I tried to forget it and just act like... I didn't believe it was her until I saw her on that bus. I'm drunk, fuck...” Tommy blurted in one breath. Carol’s lips opened.

“No fucking way.”

“Listen, I could be wrong-”

“We can’t let them get away with that. I mean, he’s a teacher. What if he really hurt-”

“You’re not doing it to save, Fenny, you’re doing it to make her life worse. Just...forget I said anything. I’m fucked up. Shit. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.” Tommy rubbed his eyes. Let them dart. Carol slid her gaze away and crossed her fingers behind her back.

“Fine. Whatever you say, T. We'll forget it.” Another pull brought him in for a kiss. Tommy caressed her arms and felt Carol trying to make herself small. “Can I stay at your place tonight? I can’t go home to Jason on our couch again. I just...I can’t. I can't do it, Tommy.”

She trembled so he tucked her under his chin.

“You know you don’t have to ask, babe.”

*** ** **

Evie was down the hill still stomping under barely lit streets. Teens ranging to music still in the distance. Forgetting her. Intent, she marched over frozen sidewalks covered in slush. The tip of her nose and ears grew chilled pink. Heather had shouted after but stopped the pursuit at the end of the lawn. Ruefully, Evie wouldn’t weep, she already cried enough this damn week.

She just wanted to be better. Higher. Then all of it.

The unmistakable rev of Billy’s Camaro rolled up behind her.

“Evie, don’t make me come out to steal you. Just get in.” The window came down. “You can’t walk home in that skirt with the snow. We don’t have to talk about it.”

She paused to hear him. Eyes on the wind sweeping frosted shrubbery about across the perfectly trimmed lawns. Rich people. Cozy in their homes burning bags of money on nights like this.

“Are you going to be all the same to me, Billy? Tell me right now, I swear to god. Pretty face trying to get its way with words that are just...empty. You gonna get mad if I don’t put out and try to grab at me like Tannen? Why are you bothering with me?” Evie sniffled, hands out and dropping as he watched her. Brow furrowed. “You saw them looking at us funny.”

“Evie.” He reasoned. “Where am I right now? Am I back there shotgunning free liquor or am I freezing my balls off coming after you? Again.”

“You’re here with me. But, how do I know this isn’t some weird game for you with a prize at the end. Kids like us, we don’t go together. Are you trying to win a prize so you can move to the next? Can’t blame me for thinking it.” She approached the car. Still guarding herself. “I can’t let that go.”

“I like you, Evie, and I can tell you that a hundred times. But, it means nothing if you won’t let me.” Billy leaned over to click the door open. “You don’t let anyone like you.” He waited as she didn’t move, hands gripping the wheel before he sighed. “Didn’t notice the other kids, if you really care. I’m the Keg King.”

A cold breath puffed out her nose, almost amused.

“I was enjoying the view.” Billy drew those glittery blues to her expression.

“What makes this a view?”

“You.” A shrug pulled along with her heartstrings. “Get in, let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you like. Just as we planned, remember?” Billy winked at her and Evie’s walls lowered. She looked back at the house party echoing and got in to buckle herself.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Relax.” He sped off. “Barely anything and I even drank water. You proud?” He fiddled with the radio. “Wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

“Looked like a party on the roof.”

“Well, I still gotta impress the following.” Billy gestured to the glovebox. “Put a tape in, will you?”

“You and your hair metal...and...oh?” Evie skimmed the selection while they whirled away from Loch Nora. “What is this? Fleetwood Mac. I’m so impressed.”

“Ugh, that must be Max’s, she keeps leaving her tapes in my car. Throw it out.”

“Wow. Apologize to Stevie.” Evie gasped and mocked. Cupped her hands over the sacred tape. “He didn’t mean that.” Billy peered over to crack a laugh at her jabbing. “Alright, alright. Can’t go wrong with a little Queen.”

“Fair enough.” Billy let her slip the tape in and mess with the volume so they could still hear each other. “You really mad at Heather?”

Evie went flat.

“Yes and I’ll stay mad at least until school starts back up.” She crossed her arms, relaxing as the heat picked up. Too good just as Carol said.

“Where am I taking you?” Billy turned down another road, flying beyond the trees and Evie stared at his profile. Intent on the road for once.

“You opposed to a little more cold?”

“I have blankets in back. Might have to get cozy.” He slid those eyes over and Evie sucked her cheeks in.

“Take a left up here. I know a secret spot.”

** ** **

“You didn’t say anything about hiking through a dark forest,” Billy whined with his arms full of blankets. "If Michael Myers reams my ass-"

"Maybe I'm a Thing like the movie and I'm taking you somewhere to assimilate." Evie teased ahead of him.

"I actually like the sound of that, Angel. Proceed. Assimilate with me all night long." Suggestive.

She just laughed, loathing him.

“It’s not far. I'll protect you, Billy. You hear the water and ice cracking? Chicken.” Evie flicked a flashlight they snagged from his car after parking in the thrush. “Just up there. C’mon. I promise it’s worth it.” She hurried up, leaving him behind to watch her silhouette in starlight

“Someday, I’m gonna stop chasing this girl,” Billy uttered under his breath, hurrying to follow because that was the biggest lie he'd ever told himself. “The whole ‘no murder’ deal stands.”

“Naturally.” Evie giggled and stepped over a log. “Here.”

They walked along the train tracks going both directions. Came upon the cliffs where the bridge was laid out. Billy looked out at the frozen water yards below. At the moon and stars bathing the space in an ethereal glow. Frozen water framing the rocks. Looked like a castle full of magic.

“Down here.” She went to the edge and climbed down under the steel and wood tracks. Into the space that was suspended over the great fall.

“This is your spot?”

“You'll see why.” Evie reached for his wrist so he didn’t trip. Snagged the blankets from him. “Prettier with all the icicles. Look.” Billy did. Admired the iridescent, dewy glimmer. “And now we wait.”

“Wait?” He came to Evie, lighting a cigarette. “For what?”

“You’ll see, I said.” She settled a blanket around her shoulders and gave him one. Playfully covering his shoulders.

“Wait to freeze to death.” Billy had grumbled as Evie paced farther, stepping over boards and balancing on steel beams.

He saw the moonlight stream through the tracks into her curls. Admired her when she peered back to press a genuine smile. His cigarette dropped. Cherry glowing all the way down. Air whistled.

"Tell me more about yourself, Billy Hargrove." Evie cocked her head at a dewy spiderweb. "Favorite fruit? Favorite insect? Are you fonder of chocolates or-?"

"You think I'm interesting." He decided.

"I think you're here with me." Evie curled around a steel post to see him.

"Tangerines," Billy replied after a beat, "and favorite bug? Do scarab beetles count? Just think they look cool as shit."

"Naturally. Good choice, I suppose." She sized him up and tapped her chin when Billy gestured across the way. Neither moving. "Pineapple and luna moths."

"Luna moths?"

"Yeah," Evie hummed to herself and hid away behind the beam, "I always thought they looked like they were fluttering straight out of our dreams. Don't you?"

Billy took one step. Really watched her shift in ethereal lights. Luminous and bathed utterly.

"Evangeline." He mused as she teetered across a board and came to the edge. Eyes on the water far below. "Why a singer?"

"Hm?" She faced away from him. Seemingly in a dream herself. Billy imagined moths glowing around her pretty hair. Fluttering to follow her into the dark. He wished she'd extend a hand to him so he could join. Follow her right into it.

"Why do you want to be a singer?"

"Always liked it. Growing up, I just felt right, I guess. The most like me. This girl I wanted to be and she's on a stage under too many lights. Singing her heart out to miles of crowds. Touching them all in a way. Connecting." Evie trailed her fingers over chains that hung down, clicked them together like wind chimes. Billy edged up after her. Not getting too close. Wondered about what was ticking in Evie's soul.

"Nice to be heard when you put music out into the world," Billy observed and she seemed to like that. Curls bouncing softer with her voice. Evie unfurled for him there and she was breathtaking.

“I wanna write music that lifts people so high, they’ll have to look down to see heaven." Evie gasped gently, heart-soaring while she came to the other edge on the opposite side. Almost leaning too far.

"Yeah?" He felt her tug tender cords in his soul. Didn't take his eyes away.

"I want to write something that makes others understand they’re not alone. Not small. You know? One great song before I...” Evie trailed off with a sober sort of melodic call beckoning and looked far below to the great fall that was one stumble away. One step. Fingers opened. Her arms lifted enough to drop the blanket behind her and feel the wind. “You think I can write a song powerful enough to help me fly over this bridge, Billy?”

One hand lifted higher, lips open and unable to stop. Unable to look away from the edge. Steady as can be, Billy slid his palm against her. Skin awakening. Reminded her that she was here. That he was with her. That they weren't alone and the song was alive. Fingers laced and Evie seemed to reel back to him, brown eyes glinting to see his face there. Freckles all glowy. Curls spun of gold shifting just right.

"You're beautiful." She observed there.

Billy surely would have followed her to the edge, but he didn't want her to go. Stay.

"You're strange." He'd found this sentiment before and it sounded all the more lovely tonight. Billy gently pulled her from the edge. “Come here, Angel, warm me up.”

Billy draped himself in the other blanket again. Shifted her under it as if it were a cape. A shroud that would keep them both from harm's way. From the edge.

“Okay, Dracula, easy.” She stumbled into him. The diamond lines of Billy’s chest cut into her. “Wait, you feel that?” She watched his earring shift while he looked around. “The vibration.”

“Yeah, I do.” He muttered suggestively.

“Not that kind. Just listen. Feel it.” Evie stepped out, almost giddy as she plucked her blanket up and felt around. Billy welcomed it in his chest. The smooth vibrations generating from above. “Get ready.”

“Ready?” He laughed, coming toward her again. Billy stepped into her space as Evie reached back to curl her fingers into his leather jacket. Head tilted up toward the tracks.

“Lie down with me.” She began to tug and Billy felt this drunkenness take him over at Evie and her smile brightening. They reclined together wrapped in blankets and Billy realized it as the horns called over Evie’s wild laughter.

“You’re full of surprises, Fenny.”

“It helps to scream it out, whatever you want. Just let it go with the train.” She kept snickering as the bridge really began to shake. Billy watched her face. Alight and wild. Red lips against the moonlight pooling to spill over her and illuminate the glitter in her makeup.

“You’re beautiful.” He said then. Unsure if she really heard him over the howl of the oncoming cars.

Billy laughed with her. The roar of a train began to charge above. Blaring horns and steel wheels cranking fast. Her nose crinkled as the windswept their hair. Lips opening to scream with it. Billy couldn’t help joining her. Both of them calling out against the rumbling that never seemed to end.

Icicles fell around the edges and reminded Billy of confetti. Falling so slow and sweet to decorate the space. Shattering colors. That night he first danced with her and kissed her long and hard. Spinning round and round.

Evie pulled herself up and climbed higher into the beams. Head tossed back to give a call like a siren.

“Fuck you!” She saw Billy stand and peered at him. “Keep yelling! Anything you want at anyone! Really let ‘em have it!”

“You first!”

“You left mom and me, you selfish fucking prick!” She raged up into the air for her father that wasn’t around. Hair whirling up into the gust of wind. The train took her syllables with it. Shouting back. "You can't just make people and then abandon them! They'll think they did something wrong forever!" Billy felt his chest tighten. Joined her. Heart bursting.

“Why didn’t you just let me fucking save you! Why wasn't I enough!” He didn’t yell for Neil who beat him senseless. Perched upon steel Evie saw Billy tense. Burst again. “I hate you!” He cried that. Evie's fingers pressed harder into steel. Lost in him. Billy heaved for fresher air. Having never faced it all.

The train ended as they stared at each other. Both breathing into the frozen air. Heaving to gasp.

Evie slipped down and tossed her arms around Billy’s shoulders. Kissed him back into cold steel as if she was trying to comfort him. Kiss him all better. Luna moths landing delicately on their bodies to open and close their lovely wings.

"Why'd you do that?" Billy asked of her for the first time. Evie beamed at the turn in the phrase.

"Because at that time, you weren't going to." She brought him back in. Wanting more. Cupping his face. “Feel any better?” Evie drew out, leaving him to look fluttered. Unsure, Billy swept in so he didn’t have to reply yet. Miles of kisses hot like the cherry of his smoke he let tumble below.

“Felt good.” He murmured, pulling her into him. “If anything.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this place. It’s my secret. Our secret.” She pecked his lips and Billy drew out because they both were too cold to continue. The heat in her belly wasn’t enough.

He tilted his forehead against hers, lulled forth when her weight shifted back and the loss. The loss of her ached Billy down to his marrow. This almost paradise they constructed together.

Curls fell into his face before he lifted to glimpse Evie once more. Wondered how she’d look swaying with lush moonbeams in her hair always. Pretty goddess draped in starlight. Painted in pearly shimmers.

Enough to take his breath, Billy gasped for it back and gave this distant chuckle. Nodded to promise he wouldn't tell a soul. Evie caught him wincing as her hand moved over his shoulder again so she left him completely.

“Sorry.”

“It’s nothing.” He turned to go, eyes elsewhere. Anywhere else they could dart. Not on her. “Let’s just head back.” Billy felt like he was in a dream. Spinning and dizzy all the way back to the car. He realized as the locks clicked that Evie had been speaking.

“Are you alright?” She swallowed and Billy looked at the car keys in his hand. Little scorpion keychain glinting. “Were you talking to your mom back there?”

“Yeah. I just…” Billy shook his head and turned the engine on. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“I thought it’d be Neil.”

“I guess I can’t even stomach dreaming of him.” He replied. “I know it’s not a dream if he’s there. Even if he’s getting his. You know?”

“Yeah. I, uh… Do you…?” Evie squirmed in her seat, worried he’d close up on her as he stared at the road and drove at a steady speed for once.

“Do I, what?”

“Hate her?”

“No.” He skidded at a red light, almost sounded defensive. Shoulders fell. Knuckles went white on the wheel. “Sometimes.” Evie felt her cheeks burn and tried to sound even, it still came out as an airy whisper.

“What happened to her, Billy?”

“She just died.” He sighed to calm his own tone from sounding hot. “She died when I was fourteen.” Finally, he corrected himself. “She killed herself.”

“I’m sorry.” Evie tried not to stare at him. Fear it made him uncomfortable quelled, but she couldn’t look away. Billy closed his eyes at the next red light to breathe, opened them.

“It happens.” He said. “People wake up one morning and decide they don’t want to wake up ever again...and they act on it. And they succeed.” It felt like he started to drive slower the closer they got to Cherry. “Doesn’t matter who they leave behind.”

Evie carefully extended her hand over to touch his in his lap. Because it does fucking matter and it always will. The fingers on the wheel flexed and Billy didn’t tear away.

“She had a lot of problems. Like my dad. Maybe they tried to fix each other once. I don’t know.” Billy continued. Too tender about it all. “They divorced when I was nine. All the back in forth. The visitations. Courtrooms making me choose and I just...I wanted her. I wanted it to stop too. I know she was messed up, but she tried to get better… You believe me, don’t you?”

His blue eyes glistened. Jaw tensing. Billy pulled up between their houses and neither moved as he cut the engine.

“Yes, I believe you.” Evie found the syllables around her tongue.

“You believe people can get better, Evie?”

She almost welled with him. It struck her heart with lightning.

“I really hope so.” She had to or she was lost just as well. Evie sniffled and tried to be stone again when all the emotion came into her voice to cloud it.

“She never hit me though. Dad drank and beat the shit out of her. Made her drug habits worse and worse. Liked when she was some coked-out zombie. Pills and needles, it just… Fuck, Evie, she just kept falling back. They fought for custody the whole time and I really thought she was getting better. Dad acted like a fucking hero, rescuing me from an evil druggie.”

“You’re worth getting better for.” Evie felt Billy slip from her hand so he could clear his throat and rub his eyes.

“I found her, you know?” He shuddered and stared at his open palms in his lap. Saw red on them. “It was her weekend and I took the bus home from school like I always did. We were going to go to the boardwalk.”

His head tipped back and he gave this grim smile. They never made it to that boardwalk, Evie realized.

“The smell of that house, I’ll never… Just rotten...and I couldn’t even see her face at first because of all the flies.” It was Billy who reached out aimlessly for Evie’s wrist. Something to stay rooted, she figured. “My mom was beautiful and she always smelled like oranges. Like the big orchard she worked at. But, the fucking house just smelled like shit and piss and vomit and rust when I came in. Like death. I found her in the bathtub all bloated and ugly and the water was already brown. She sat in there alone decaying and no one...”

Billy kept rubbing his eyes again until they were too swollen to cry. Evie had his hand in both of hers, clamped tight to keep him alert. Unwavering.

“I didn’t know what to do so I called for help. I couldn’t lift her out, I wasn’t strong enough and I kept screaming... Then, I tried my dad three times, and...fuck, I ended up calling Susan. They’d started dating a couple of months before and I didn’t like her. Or her kid. But, she was too nice and gave me a number to call if I needed her after they’d gotten serious. I don’t know why I kept it in my backpack. She came when they were loading my mom up. Kept trying to hold me and I wouldn’t let her until I was too weak to fight it.”

“She does care about you. She’s scared, too.”

“My dad cleans up his act well from time to time. Plays the perfect father and boyfriend, she fell for it. In too deep now with no way out. He'll bleed her dry, too. My dad, he likes it when people don’t have a way out. Mom found a way though, spite him.” Billy dropped his head back again, chest sinking before he looked at Evie. Quivered there. “I just get...so mad.”

“I know.” She sank into the seat a little to watch him.

“She left a note that said sorry. That she loved me. Left this for me, too.” Billy fingered his pendant. “Wasn’t enough. Sometimes, I walk into my own house now and that smell… I can’t escape it. I’m always in that house. In that room with the flies covering everything.”

That shook Evie. They weren’t perfect kids, but they didn’t deserve to be trapped in that house. In that room. Where trauma was fed on a loop. A haunted house where they were the ghosts doomed and trapped to wander. To relive what killed them from the first.

“I tried so fucking hard to make her better, I took care of her and I wasn’t there. I let my dad drive her to-”

“Billy, it’s not your fault.” Evie had his hand pressed against her chest at that. “It’s not.” Both painfully sober, they just looked at each other. Leveled out. “I’m sure she tried so hard for you. Some people, they just… Addiction is…”

Evie felt this ice swell up her stomach. Addiction is a harsh cycle. It never really ends, you work at it and fight it, but it’s always there in the back of your memories urging. Once you start, you’re always an addict. Recovering or not. You can’t stop.

You can’t stop.

“Getting help is so hard when you’re sick.” Was all Evie could manage. Unable to portray how profoundly she understood. “Your job was to be a kid.”

“All I wanted was to go back to California and now, I’m not sure if I ever can. Just knowing she won’t be there again. Sometimes when I’m here, I just pretend she’s alive and still picking oranges on long, hot days.” Billy swallowed. “My dad just...shut down for the first time when he showed up to get me from Susan’s. I asked him if he was gonna hug me. Susan had for a long time. And he just tensed and told me not to be soft. That I can’t act like a pussy and mom was just too fucking sick to get better. But, I knew she had a chance. I knew it was enough. I...” Billy’s voice cut over. He tried to gasp for some clear air so Evie pulled him over the seats into her arms.

“You’re enough.” She said. Plain and simple. So easily.

Billy vibrated in response.

"Sometimes I think you navigate the world like something bad is coming for you and you're waiting for it, Evie," he muffled into her, "and I don't want you to go, too."

"I won't go." Evie held steady, eyes flickering beyond him at dead space. "Promise."

Hands came up like he might shove her off before Billy shattered. Melted into her heat. The soft slopes of flesh. Arms went under his so she could hold him close. Billy hitched a sob and stopped anything else that dared creep up his throat. Fingers wrung into her clothing. Evie let him squeeze her tight. Within inches of breath. Make her a balmy slice of paradise he could sink into.

Billy closed his eyes. Face pressing into the line of her collar. Inhaling perfume and lotion. Flames bubbling up from her skin.

“Come to bed with me,” Evie’s lips touched his ear, “nothing funny. I just don’t want you to sleep alone tonight.” Billy felt himself relent, only nodded into her hair.

They snuck out under street lamps and went into the Fenny house. Cleaned up without words to dress down for bed. Blue wiggled in with them atop the pillows and Billy faced away.

Evie wished she had something better to say, but she just told him goodnight. Gently murmured it against his spine as she tucked in behind him.

“Evie.” Billy shifted after a long beat. Turned over to face her there. Barely awake at that point, her eyes cracked.

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” Billy moved again on his back because it always seemed to get her nuzzling into his side. “What I told you. Don’t tell anyone else. Please.” Arm stretching so Evie could take her place and mumble something he didn’t catch, a nod followed. Nose pressing to the cotton tee he left on, Evie slipped away first. Left Billy to his thoughts as he watched the dim lights pull between the blinds and curtains to make patterns along her ceiling.

He knew he was consumed and he wasn’t sorry. Not one bit. Evie tumbled deeper into her dreams. Not stirring as fingers played with her curls. Petting them softly. Billy mulled over it all and he just wasn’t ashamed and he couldn’t figure out how to make her see it. But, he was willing to keep trying. Evie was worth trying for, too. Plain and simple. Sighing out, Billy let himself begin to slip too.

“Anyone…” He couldn’t help uttering, almost melodic. Lashes fluttering. “...who knows what love is…”

Billy peered down at Evie’s face, peaceful and relaxed against his chest. Cheek pressing hot through the fabric as his fingertips ran a barely-there line down the silky skin.

The rest of the lyrics never came. Tangled into his heartstrings where they made a cozy home.

Billy immersed himself in burning amber, closed his eyes to follow Evie into absolute darkness. Almost paradise.

~~~~~~~

Thanks guys for being so lovely! This is probs my fav chapter to date. Leave words in my ask or replies if you have them! Love to hear from you all xoxo

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virtueangel · 4 years

Text

limitless.

chapter seven.

wc: 2,313. original publish date: october 12, 2020.

Four-thirty-five looks like every other freeway exit in all of America. JFK pushes firmly down on the brake as the car rolls up to the white line of the intersection. There is a green sign next to the road, and oddly enough, Marshtown is marked in metallic white lettering at the bottom. Printed next to the town name is a right-turn arrow, and even smaller next to that is the number five.

"Five miles," John F. Kennedy says, grinning.

Vincent can't help smiling either. He can still feel JFK's arms wrapped around his torso and the way his chin rested on the taller boy's shoulder. "We're getting close."

"Think it'll be worth it?" John asks, glancing at his passenger.

Van Gogh shrugs. "I sure hope so."

"We've spent all this time romanticising it..." Kennedy starts.

Both boys turn to each other, giddy smiles still plastered across their faces. "Wanna do it some more?" They say in unison, breaking out into boyish giggles afterward.

"God..." Vincent mutters.

"Hm?" John hums as the light turns green. He accelerates.

"I feel like we're little kids again," he says in a sad voice, but the smile is still taught across his lips and Kennedy doesn't know which look to meet his gaze with.

"We were pretty fucking awesome as kids," he tries.

This earns him a grin from Van Gogh. Score. "Yeah. I was cool back then."

John knocks his best friend's arm playfully. "You're still cool, Minivan."

Van Gogh covers his eyes with his hand, mock repulsion surfing the waves of his voice. "God, don't remind me of that nickname!"

"Hey! I might've meant to antagonise you back then, but I promise you: I've changed."

Vincent shakes his head, but he can't help smiling. His cheeks are starting to ache, but his happiness is genuine. "Oh, I know you have. That little five-year-old didn't know how to -- how do you put it? -- 'bang the sweeties'."

Kennedy laughs. "Oh, believe me -- he did."

The car goes silent as the sky fills with fog. It's thick and grey and the windows of the shiny red convertible are already starting to precipitate. Vincent zips his letterman jacket all the way up and tucks his chin into the collar, the cold already starting to set in. Even John has to admit that his knuckles clamp up and go a little white against the steering wheel.

"We must be getting close," Vincent says. The sky hadn't been blue for the earlier part of their drive by any means, but even the clouds that hung in the sky let the faintest bit of sunlight filter through. Now there is a dense blanket of moisture blocking the rays from view.

John goes quiet, suddenly wishing they'd planned the trip. He worries that he'll get in another fight with Van Gogh over where to sleep or how they'll keep themselves entertained in this town that they know next to nothing about. They aren't even sure if it has a marsh or not. But most of all, he fears that Vincent will get cold in the fog or the air will be too wet for him to draw. Part of the reason Kennedy had even vouched for this trip was so that the boy would have a lot of inspiration to paint or sketch or read or write, because above all, John loves his best friend's poetry. But he doesn't know how to tell the boy any of that.

Van Gogh looks across the car as Kennedy starts to drive more defensively, and his brow furrows; not in disgust, but in worry. He notices the boy's white knuckles and the way he grips the steering wheel like he's trying to strangle it. He reaches out and places a hand on his best friend's forearm, rubbing him through the sleeve of his jacket slowly and comfortingly.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

John swallows. "Sorry. Nothing, sorry. Don't worry. I'm okay."

Van Gogh's worried gaze lingers. "Are you sure?"

Kennedy gives his best friend a smile and a nod, but the motion is only half convincing. Vincent sighs and turns away anyway, not sure if he's allowed to push.

A couple seconds of silence pass before Kennedy requests timidly, "Can you, uh, keep doing that? With your hand, on my arm? It feels kinda nice." He laughs at himself sheepishly.

Van Gogh smiles to himself and obliges, happy to keep touching the boy. Er, uh, that came out wrong! He thinks. I'm just doing a good thing for him. Just trying to calm him down. He banishes the first thought, convincing himself that this is an uncomplicated act of kindness that he's doing for his best friend. He'd do anything for Kennedy, right?

Vincent stops rubbing the boy's arm and squeezes instead. With a gasp, he points out the windshield. "John, look!"

In front of them is the Marshtown sign, a yellowish-beige rectangle with dark green trim and text. It's an ugly sign, Van Gogh has to admit; especially from an artist's perspective. It's dilapidated and sinking into the ground, parts of some of the letters missing and splintering. The population number has been knocked off but the word "population" itself is still intact. There is no "welcome" or cheesy slogan. The boys can barely see the road beyond the sign, because the fog seems to have thickened since entering the town.

"Vincent, it's-"

Both boys stare into the fog, jaws dropped and pupils dilated. They are at a loss for words and almost a loss for breath. The road turns into a bridge, and on either side is a marsh, wet and gooey with coarse grass shooting out of it in various locations. The cement is covered in puddles and John slows down the car to ten miles per hour, squinting to see through the fog.

Beyond the marsh is a town. Not much of one, but it's there nonetheless. Every building and house is falling apart -- some are burned down to the foundation, others are missing doors and windows and from what Van Gogh can see, some of them are without floors as well. There is a dense ring of pine trees around the houses and they seem to stretch forever, but then again, John and Vincent have limited vision due to the intrusive fog. Each house looks different, and not just the way they're destroyed; the floor plans are unique, with different finishes and dimensions.

To their left is a general store. It's more intact than most of the houses, but its door is hanging off the hinges and there's a gaping hole in the middle of the wooden stoop. There's a sign on the door, flipped to the "open" side. Van Gogh wonders if some teenager had come by to flip it in their day of mischief or if there's someone in this ghost town to manage the shop.

With all of its lichened and weathered wood, Marshtown looks like a summer camp location. Neither John nor Vincent had spent their summers shipped off into the arms of overenthusiastic counsellors to go swimming and hiking, but they've seen enough cliché coming-of-age movies to know what a good old fashioned American summer camp experience should look like.

"I love it," Van Gogh blurts, eyes fixed out the window.

Kennedy grins. "It's incredible."

Vincent turns away from the limited outside view to look at his best friend's side profile. "I want to live here."

John's smile widens. "Okay."

"No, I mean it."

"I know you do," he meets Vincent's glare. "I do too."

Both boys seem to realise at the same time that Van Gogh is still gripping the taller boy's arm, and he lowers his hand sheepishly without a word.

"Do you think anyone still lives here?"

JFK squints at the houses, looking for cars or intact doors. "No," he concludes.

Van Gogh smiles to himself. "So we've got the whole place to ourselves, huh?"

Kennedy's stomach somersaults and his breath catches in his throat, his jaw suddenly going slack. "It would appear so," he swallows.

Vincent doesn't seem to register the boy's off-kilter tone. "Ooh, you know what?"

"Hm?"

"We should locate the creepiest house and stay in it."

Kennedy chuckles. "Vincent, some of the houses don't even have roofs."

"Perfect for stargazing."

JFK laughs even harder. "We can barely see six feet ahead of us!"

"So we'll pretend. Make up our own constellations."

Kennedy and Van Gogh make eye contact, and the shorter boy's deep brown gaze burrows itself into JFK's soul. He feels it snaking around his heart and making its home in his stomach. His cheeks seem to smile themselves.

"Okay. I'll play along."

Van Gogh leans back in his seat, satisfied. His hands shake, and he can't tell if it's due to nervousness or excitement. They are, after all, the same emotion -- the only difference is how they're interpreted by the subconscious.

"Try that one," he says after a couple minutes, pointing to a two-story Spanish style house finished in yellow stucco. It stands out from all the other developments, and not just because of the material it's made out of. It's almost perfectly intact, complete with a bay window and a second-floor balcony. It has a few imperfections, probably due to lack of maintenance. There are deep cracks carved into the outer walls and the paint on the door is chipping. Some of the upstairs windows have shatters blossoming in them, fanning out across the glass like spiderwebs. Van Gogh knows this is the right place to stay.

Kennedy redirects the car off the road and into the driveway of the house. The lawn is splotchy and has more mud and puddles than grass. The plants that actually grow there are clearly invasive: coarse wheat-like sprouts and greying succulents. The succulents are definitely artificial -- Van Gogh knows nothing of the sort could prosper on marshland.

"Why this one?" Kennedy asks, just for the sake of conversation. He parks the car in the driveway and slides the keys out of the ignition. He unbuckles his seatbelt, but makes no move to exit the car. He sits back in his seat, moving his feet away from the pedals and turning his knees toward Van Gogh. The shorter boy unbuckles his seatbelt and turns his own knees toward the driver, his letterman jacket still zipped snugly up to his neck.

"Because it looks special."

"You can do better than that."

Vincent sighs and looks away from Kennedy, thinking about his answer and choosing words from his lexicon wisely. "It looks like a home and not just a house."

"But you don't know anything about it," JFK challenges, and he wonders if he's crossed the line into the asshole realm.

Van Gogh smiles, thankfully amused by the comment instead of annoyed. "Let me tell you something, John: when you're an artist, you start to look at everything like a piece of art. It kind of sucks sometimes. I can't read books without thinking about the edits I'd give to the author. It ruins the fun a little bit."

JFK reaches out, not quite sure what he's intending to do with his outstretched arm. He lays a palm on Vincent's shoulder awkwardly, guessing he's in too deep to retreat his arm without any contact at all. "But I like the way your artist brain works," he says, and it feels like an admission instead of a conversation volley.

Vincent smiles down at his lap, flattered. When he looks back up at Kennedy, he can see that his best friend's cheeks are pink. "I want to know this house's story," he adds.

Kennedy smiles affectionately, staring down at the boy with soft eyes. "So what are you waiting for?"

Vincent opens his car door, and immediately the thick fog wets his tongue. He opens his mouth, half expecting a snowflake to dance down from the sky and land in his mouth. But while it's dark and gloomy here in Marshtown, it isn't April winter like it is in Exclamation!. For a fraction of a second, he misses the city's name on his mind. He shoves the thought away, hoping it will dissolve on its own.

JFK and Van Gogh walk up the driveway to the house side by side. They climb the three brick steps to the porch in unison, John slowing down for Vincent the way he always does. He sneaks a glance at his best friend, still staring at him with the same cloudy eyes.

"Oh, shit, moment of truth," Van Gogh says, taking the door handle in his hand. He looks back at his best friend, who is standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his khakis.

"What do we do if it's locked?" Kennedy asks, which he knows is a stupid question.

Vincent shrugs, but there's no disappointment or angst frozen behind his features. "We'll find out." He squeezes down on the handle and the mechanism clicks. He slowly pushes the door open, suddenly worried there will be someone inside.

The first room in the house is the kitchen, a beige tiled floor meeting his shoes as Vincent steps inside. To his pleasant surprise, there's no grime crusted into the tiling, no spider nests burrowed into the corners of the room. Grey, foggy light spills in from the bay window, washing the room a drowsy white. Everything seems to shine, even in the permanent dreariness of Marshtown.

"You were right, Vincent," Kennedy says, and he doesn't need to see the rest of the house to know it's true.

Vincent turns around to face the boy, a genuine smile sitting lazily across his lips. "Haven't you learned not to doubt me?"

John steps forward and wraps his best friend in a hug, resting his chin on Vincent's head without a second thought. "I'm still learning, Minivan."

Into his chest, Van Gogh mumbles, "I hate it when you call me that."

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #clone high reboot

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eighth--wonder · 3 years

Text

part 2 of Stranger

first | previous | next

The play ended and we parted ways. It was a nice hangout. A bit longer than I expected, but nice. Cody wore a grey shirt with a beige cardigan. His attire was rather feminie. The sleeves were baggy and had that “aesthetic” look to them. Looking at the two of us standing next to each other was like looking at ying and yang. Me and my black Blink-182 shirt and ripped jeans, and Cody with his beige cardigan and baggy light blue jeans. God, he looks perfect.

Wait wait wait wait. What? Where did that come from? That thought hadn’t been there before. Actually now that I think of it, it had been there before. Most times I think of Cody my heart does funny things and my stomach is all of the sudden a trapeze artist. Again, I know what this feeling is. I’m not stupid, I have a crush. Yeah, but a crush on Cody? I don’t even know him that well! I met him literally like, two days ago! Yeah, but he’s so pretty. And nice, and caring, and funny. He cares about what I care about and he’s genuinely excited to hang out with me. That’s definitely a first.

I shook my head. Now’s not the time to develop a crush on some random guy.

I made my way home. The cold November air bit at my cheeks. It had gotten really cold all the sudden and I was definitely underdressed. I hadn’t brought a jacket or a sweater and made a mental note to bring one next time I went outside.

I opened the door to my apartment. Everything was the way I left it. The pillows were they way I left them, smushed and old. My frayed charger sat on the arm of my couch. My TV remote sat on the coffee table.

I put down my satchel and grabbed my phone out of my pocket. Barely any notifications. I texted Cody that I had made it home safe and shut my phone off.

As I sat down on the couch, my attention was brought to the pile of bills sitting on my coffee table. After I lost my job at NYP, money had gotten really tight. Bills went unpaid, there were some nights I went without dinner. I had run out of ramen a few days ago and a grocery run was due. I groaned and stared at the ceiling. I need a job.

I got a text back from Cody saying “Me too! <3”

My face felt warm. A heart? A let out a little giggle. A heart..

The little dots implying that Cody was texting showed up on the left side of my screen.

Cute Bench Guy: I can’t hang out tomorrow, but how about Tuesday?

I looked at my calender. Tuesday was 3 days from now. As usual, I had nothing that day.

Me: sure, i’m free. where would we go??

Cute Bench Guy: There’s a really good coffeeshop downtown. What about there?

Me: sounds good :)

Cute Bench Guy: :)

I mimicked the smile I had sent over message. A coffee date.

A few days passed by before my calender reminded me of the meeting I had with Cody. The time associated with the event was 1:30. I looked at the clock. 12:45 am.

I put on the shirt Cody had picked out for me and threw on a pair of black jeans. I smiled a bit when I looked in the mirror. The shirt made me happy. The reason was stupid, of course, but if it makes me happy, sure.

I threw on a jacket, remembering the last time I walked home in the suddenly cold weather.

I texted Cody.

Me: ready for today?

It took him a few minutes to respond.

Cute Bench Guy: Yup, see you there!

I opened the door to walk to the coffeeshop. It was a bit early but the coffeeshop was a few blocks away. It would take about 30 minutes to get there if I took my time.

I hoped to run into Cody on the way. I don’t know where he lives so I can’t know if there’s a chance I’ll run into him.

Surprisingly, I did.

“Wilson!” He said, waving his arm in my direction.

I smiled and waved back.

He opened the door to the coffeeshop for me. Such a gentlemen.

We sat down at the table closest to the window and joked about the most recent news headline.

“Wilson?” The guy at the coffee counter shouted my name, meaning our order was ready.

I stood up from the table and walked to the counter to get our coffee. Well, my coffee. Cody ordered a strawberry drink. It went with his aesthetic.

Cody wore an oversized light pink sweater, the sleeves passing over his hands. He had them rolled up a bit so he could actually use his hands. He wore jeans similar to the ones he wore last time. Light blue and baggy. These jeans had tiny paint speckles on them. I had asked him about them earlier.

“You pai-paint?” I said.

Cody chuckled. “No, no. These are from a Goodwill.”

“Ah,” I nodded.

I awkwardly thanked the cashier and rushed back to my seat.

I sat down and handed a laughing Cody his drink.

“Did,” He paused to laugh. “Did you really say ‘you too’ to the cashier?” Cody said.

I blushed in embarrassment. “Ma-Maybe..” I said, putting my head on the table.

Cody laughed loudly. I giggled quietly into the table.

Once we both calmed down, we sat and talked normally.

I stared at Cody. He was looking out the window at a family walking by. His blue eyes shone, even with the grey clouds blocking most of the sunlight. He had a small smile on his face and you could see he was thinking about something only he could understand. He was wearing the pins he had bought a few days ago. His hair rested on his forehead, the light made it look like his hair had gold highlights in it.

“You loo-look really cu-cute.” I said, almost involuntarily.

Cody was snapped out of his trance to look at me. He smiled.

“Thank you. You look cute too, Wilson!” He said, putting his weight on the table.

I furiously blushed. There’s no way that just happened. It’s not real, this isn’t happening.

“Tha-Thanks Cody.” I said quietly.

He giggled.

Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the sub-

“Ho-How’s your dri-drink?” I said.

Cody swirled his drink around in his cup. “It’s good! Here try some!”

He handed his drink towards me, gesturing for me to drink it.

I took it, taking a sip. It was actually really good. It tasted mostly of strawberry with an undertone of milk. The milk tasted like coconut milk. The strawberry taste was definitely natural; not artificial.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “That’s goo-good!”

Cody smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I know! You should get one next time.”

“I should.” I said.

A few minutes went by before Cody mentioned he needed a job.

“You sh-should get a j-job he-here.” I said.

Cody’s face lit up, like his brain had just realized he could work here.

“Yeah! That’s actually a really good idea, I’ll go ask now.”

Now? Me and Cody definitely had different ways of approaching things. He tended to handle things head on and in the moment. I liked to handle things by taking a step back and assessing the situation.

He stood up and walked to the cashier. I saw them converse for about a minute, no doubt the cause of Cody’s charisma.

He came back with a smile and some papers.

“Wha-What are tho-those?” I asked, pointing at the papers he carried in his hands.

"Papers about their business. They said they wanna interview me!' Cody said, sitting down and bouncing his legs excitedly.

I smiled almost proudly. “Good!”

He smiled happily.

I put my head on my hand and looked at Cody. He looked so excited.

#this parts not that good #i feel like cody's personality changed a little bit and i'm sorry for it #stranger #danny tries to write

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 8

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

The Language of the Arts

This is awkward.

“So,” you spoke up, eyes strictly focused on the painting in front of you, hating the silence standing in between. “Nice weather we’re having."

"Yeah,” Steve said, his voice was stiff with a hint of nervousness. “Really cold."

"You like winter?"

"No, not really.”

“I do,” you said, folding your hands behind your back and tiptoeing up and down. “It’s a great time to do cozy things, y'know? Like watching movies and drinking hot cocoa."

"I guess it’s nice if you think of it that way,” he shrugged with a small smile. “I usually just think of how cold and dark it is."

"I like that too, to be honest,” you replied. “I don’t know why, but I just do."

"All the more reason to do cozy things I suppose?” he chuckled in your direction.

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I guess so."

His gaze lingers for a while before he snaps his head back towards the painting like he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be staring. Your smile falters a bit and it’s kind of annoying how different he’s acting. You liked the obnoxious version of him more.

"So, uh,” he clears his throat, “how ya been?"

"Good,” you nodded. “You?"

He shrugged. Miserable "I’m fine,” he replied. “How’s your boyfriend?” He asked, straining to sound nice.

“Oh, he’s fine,” you said.

It’s awkward again and neither of you knows what to do. He just had to be there when you had to be there. In a city of over two million, the odds of meeting the same stranger more than once were less than likely and yet you’ve met this oaf far more times than you needed to. The universe was scheming something.

“Another art project?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t."

"Your hatred for art is something I’ll never understand,” he shook his head.

“People like different things. I don’t like art, deal with it,” you jabbed.

Steve puts his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying. It’s just, I don’t know – when I see something like this there’s this bubbly feeling I get on the inside. And it just doesn’t make sense to me that someone can’t see it the way I do."

"I know how you feel,” you said. “But with science."

Steve’s shoulders drop. "But science is boring."

"It is not!” You retorted then sighed. “I guess someone as simple-minded as you wouldn’t get it,” you shake your head.

“Or maybe someone as close-minded as you wouldn’t understand where I’m coming from,” he snapped back playfully.

“I am not close-minded!"

"Yes, you are,” Steve said. “You don’t actually try to connect with the art. You’re just trying to get an A. Maybe if you open your mind a bit and really let the art speak to you, you’ll appreciate it more and even get a better grade."

"Are you trying to tell me I’m stupid?"

"Not in the least,” he said with a chuckle coloring his words. “You’re probably really smart, smarter than me. All I’m trying to say is that maybe you should try stepping out of your comfort zone? Try something you don’t like or want to do. You never know you might actually like it."

He gives you a charmingly crooked smile as he urges you to try it. You pry away from his gaze with a huff. He hit the mark when he said you needed to get out of your comfort zone, but he didn’t need to call you out on it.

"Fine,” you replied with a groan, returning to the painting. He smiled gently before speaking.

“Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean Leon Gerome,” he said. “I personally find this painting filled with passion for obvious reasons. The way he kisses her as she transforms into a human. His dreams come true at that moment. He’s never felt more alive in his life."

"Personally, I think he’s a jerk. I know the story of Pygmalion and Galatea. I used to be really into mythology a while back,” you told him. “Pygmalion was a self-imposed lonely sculptor. He didn’t like mortal women because he thought they were flawed so he made a statue of what a perfect woman should be like. Aphrodite noticed how much he loved the statue so she brought her to life."

Steve chuckled. "Then what do you think the painting’s about?"

"Male superiority.” You stated, looking into the picture. “Look at how pure and delicate Galatea looks, isn’t that every man’s dream girl?"

"I see where you’re coming from,” Steve chimed in. “Notice the sculptures in the back. One is of a woman with her child which could represent the role of a mother that’s pressed upon them. The other is of a woman looking into a mirror and I think that symbolizes vanity. How women only really need to worry about their appearance and how it should please men. It’s how society wants us to be or at least in a man’s eye.”

“Then there’s Pygmalion, muscular and thriving in his own creativity and imagination. The ideal for any man at the time,” you put your hands on your hips. You know the more we keep talking about this, the more I’m starting to hate it.“

"Nothing wrong with that,” Steve shrugged. “I thought that was rather impressive - coming from you that is."

You growl under your breath and push him off balance. He chuckles, only making you cross your arms annoyed.

"I actually see it differently,” Steve said.

You raise a brow and turn to him. “How so?"

"It’s like the roles have been switched. Pygmalion’s reaching up to Galatea since she’s up on a pedestal. While she has to crouch down for his affection. Although we can’t ignore the fact that she is his creation, we know she possesses all of his love because he’s invested every part of him into her. His heart, soul, and mind, it all belongs to her. She possesses his idolization and can make him do whatever she wants,” he said.

You bring a hand to your cheek. “That makes sense. I like that interpretation more."

"It makes you feel pity for Pygmalion almost. He’s blind and naive in his devotion to her. If that was the painter’s intent, I think he did a good job by adding the theatrical masks in the corner.” You pointed. “Cause it isn’t reality. The emotions when you’re on stage are only skin deep. Even if Galatea may show love and affection towards Pygmalion, it’s not real and it never will be. Whatever emotions she holds will always be artificial. But the way he kisses and holds her shows that he believes Galatea’s love is sincere, and it makes you pity the guy. Everyone has a weakness and his is the desire to love."

"I feel exposed,” Steve mumbled.

“What?"

"Nothing,” he said. “I’m honestly amazed by your analysis."

You snorted. "I’m smarter than you, remember?” You teased and he rolled his eyes. “And thanks to you I don’t have to bang my head against the wall for the next three hours. Thanks, I guess you were right. I ended up liking it,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“I’m glad I could help."

Your eyes lock with his and you really look at them. Like it’s the first time you’ve seen him. You noticed the way his eyebrows raised a centimeter or two, lined between confusion and wonderment, his eyes twinkled in amusement as if he knew something you didn’t. They were like the ocean, so full of life yet so uncertain. The blue-green hue residing within pulling you deeper into the currents.

Staring isn’t exactly the word Steve would use. Your eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; the effect is soft and inviting instead of harsh. Perhaps it’s your lips that give away the intention, not quite smiling but tilting as if they do.

As if you’re telling him to stay a little longer. It’s unspoken, but sometimes words aren’t needed. And he’d stay if you wanted him to, let you pull him deeper into the vast expanse of your eyes, glazed like honey and warmer than a summer breeze.

He snapped out of his thoughts. There he goes again. Your lips part to say something, but Steve says something first.

"I should go,” he said.

“Oh,” you said in disappointment. “Thanks for helping,” you give him a smile. “See ya around then?"

"Yeah, just be careful next time?"

"I’ll make sure to,” you chuckled. “Have a nice day.”

He turned on his heel and waved goodbye. You smiled at him and waved back. The minute he turns away from you completely, the smiles on both of your faces fall instantly and it’s like you’ve lost something you never had.

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a bad guy. I’ll be nothing but good to you."

His smooth voice whistled in your ears. Another groan escaped your lips and you slammed your head against the cool metal surface of the kitchen table.

Usually, the kitchen at Urban Remedy was a chaotic mess. Complete with shouting chefs and frolicking waitresses, sizzling pans and the clatter of dishes. But as the day began to wind down, so did business allowing its workers to catch a break.

"I know this isn’t the best place to work, but-” your head shot up at the sound of your boss’ sassy voice.

“Oh no,” you replied sheepishly. “I was just-"

"I’m just joking,” May chuckled. She leaned over the table. “What’s wrong sister? Someone didn’t tip you well enough?"

"No, it’s not that,” you chuckled while sitting straight up. “Just life I guess."

"Lemme guess it’s a guy,” she laid it on the table. Your cheeks heated.

“Dost mine ears deceive me?” Wanda popped her head in through the door. “Our residential man-hater has a guy problem?"

"Where did you come from?"

"I have super hearing,” the girl said, taking a seat next to you. She shakes your arm in excitement. “Now spill."

"First off, it’s not a guy,” you lied. “I’m just in a bind is all."

"Sweetheart,” May said, “you’re not fooling anyone."

"It’s not!” You insisted.

They replied with doubtful looks and a roll of the eyes.

“It’s that cute guy that comes to visit sometimes, right?” Wanda asked. “The one with the old man name?"

You snorted. "No, Quentin is Quentin. He’s not a guy."

"So there is a guy, but he’s not your friend,” May conjectured.

You exhaled deeply, feeling annoyed by them and yourself.

“Okay, there’s a guy,” you grumbled.

Wanda bounced in her chair while clapping her hands. “I knew it! Is he cute?"

"I don’t know!” you retorted. Your eyes flit towards May and she’s smiling, pulling all the juicy details out of you. “Okay, maybe a little,” you mumbled and they giggled like children “But I don’t like him or anything!"

"He wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t,” May smirked, resting her chin in her hand.

“It’s not like that,” you look away with a sigh. “You ever just want to stay away from something but end up getting closer? Like you want nothing to do with them but they pull you in regardless?"

"Me with cats,” Wanda said. You turn to her puzzled. “What? I’m allergic to cats, but they’re so cute."

"Seems like you’re in quite the predicament,” May chuckled.

“You know a way out?"

"Nope,” she deadpanned, “but you better get yourself out there cause I just heard the door open.” She pointed behind her with a chuckle.

You stand with a groan and make your way to the front.

“Hey,” Wanda called you back, “I think you should just follow your heart.” You rolled your eyes. If that isn’t the stupidest thing -“I know what you’re thinking but try it out? I mean it might be uncomfy at first but it could be worth it?"

You shoot her a smile and a nod. "I’ll try,” you said pushing past the door and into the hall, to find a boy standing by the counter with his back to you.

“Welcome in, how can I help you?” you asked as you approached him.

The boy turned and you could’ve sworn you’ve seen him before. And by the way he looks at you, mouth agape and eyes wide, you probably did.

It’s like Peter’s memory has been swiped clean and he doesn’t even know what language is anymore as he stands in front of you.

“Uhm?” You asked, totally not judging him.

“Oh Peter,” May said from behind you. “You’re here!"

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