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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Didn’t Know Where Else To Go.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Warnings: violence, assault, death, mentions of smut at the end and curse words

Requested: Nope

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes- they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “...didn’t know where else to go...” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Summary: Sebastian Stan: a mobster boss. Everyone in the city hated him. When he meets Y/N, a new bartender at his favourite bar, she makes it clear that she also doesn’t like him. What changes?

Author’s Note: Hey peeps! The aforementioned prompt is something I read on Tumblr and really liked it. So I decided to write a fic loosely based on it. I hope you guys enjoy this! (This has been in my drafts for a long time, I’m currently working on 2 requested fics)

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Sebastian POV:

"Boss, there is someone at the door."

"Send them in," I commanded, looking up from my book. The person who walked in with him was… instantly recognizable. My jaw dropped— she had been crying. Her pupils were dilated, she was taking short, fast breaths and her voice was frail. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't know where else to go."

With that, she did the most YA-Novel-Female-Protagonist thing she could do— faint.

It all began 7 months ago. The person who was at the door was Y/N Y/L/N, a bartender at one of my favourite bars ever in the city. The thing is, when we first met, she hated me. Let me take you back 7 months.

Flashback:

I entered the bar, smirking when everyone turned to look at me. They looked away just as quickly, their voices becoming hushed. I looked around, stopping when I saw the bartender. Whoa, this was someone new and damn was she cute. Smiling, I walked over and sat down in front of her.

"Hey, was— oh. What will you like, sir?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Come on, why does everyone do the same thing? What is it about me?" I joked, winking. "Um, the fact that you're a fucking mobster and have been terrorizing the city for the past few years and would kill anyone if they question you? Uh, I don't know, actually," she snapped.

I froze. The woman seemed to really hate me. Here I was, thinking if I buttered her up enough she'd come home with me. I told her my order and looked away from her. "So, why here?" she asked me as she prepared my drink. "I really like this place, I've been here before loads of times. I don't plan to stop," I shrugged.

"Ugh, just my luck," she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Look, you don't have to be fucking rude, okay?" I retorted. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Shoot me? That's what you like to do, right? Kill people. Innocent people, let me be precise. No wonder everyone in the city except your goons hate you."

With that, she slammed my glass on the counter and stormed away from me, going to serve another customer. I was left staring at the glass, my figure shaking with repressed anger. She knew damn well I never laid hands on innocent people. No one in the city hated me.

Or did they?

The shaking stopped. What if she was right? I mean, she was much closer to the civilians than I was, what if they all hated me? "Uh, excuse me," I called out, hating how my voice cracked slightly. She glanced at me. "What do you want?"

"Answers."

"Ask the questions first," she huffed. "Does… does everyone really not like me?" I asked her. She stopped cleaning the glass, set it down and looked straight at me. "Yes. They don't like you. You're a mobster boss, dude! Have you seen films with mobster bosses? All of them, evil as hell. See how everyone in the bar became quiet when you came in?"

She had a point. "You know I would never lay a hand on innocent people," I defended myself, glaring at her. "Look, I'm sorry but we can never be too careful. What if you snap one day? What if you go rogue? Everyone lives in fear. They're afraid of you. And it's not like I can change everyone's mindset all at once."

"I guess you're right," I muttered, downing my drink in one go. "Hey, Mr Stan?" I looked up. "Y/N Y/L/N. I shouldn't have snapped at you," she apologized quietly, holding her hand out. "Doing this to get onto my good side?" I teased and she laughed.

"Come on, man! Doing this to show people you're not all you seem to be." I took her hand and shook it. "It's very nice to meet you, Y/N." She nodded and went back to cleaning the glasses. "Can I get one more drink?"

"I hope you didn't drive here."

"I came on foot, actually. My house is just down the block." She gasped, startling me. "Mr Stan, giving your address away to strangers? How irresponsible of you!" I couldn't help but laugh. "I guess I trust you to not do anything bad." I spent another 2 hours there, chatting with Y/N.

She was a really fun person to be around. She had completed her education but was searching for jobs. In the meanwhile, she had decided to work here.

By the time I was done drinking, I was too tipsy to even walk. "K, I'm goin'," I slurred, standing up. "Mr Stan, don't— oof," Y/N hissed as I fell off the chair in my intoxicated state. She rushed around the bar and helped me stand, wrapping her arms around my waist. "You can't walk in this state."

"I need to go home," I whined. "As it turns out, you've stayed long enough and now it's closing time. Let me get my coat." She dumped me on the chair and went to fetch her coat. I admired her from afar.

She wore a mini-skirt that was flirtatiously snug around her thick thighs and a tank top. When she wore the coat, it extended past the skirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she was looking very sexy in the dim light. "Damn," I whispered under my breath, smirking.

When she returned, she helped me stand. I draped an arm around her shoulder and we stepped out of the bar. "Okay, which direction?" I pointed to the right and we proceeded to walk. "Have you ever gotten this drunk before? Because it's obvious you can't handle booze."

"Not really, I usually have to stay sober for my job. We need real intellectuals in the mob biz, you can't have drunk idiots running a mob," I laughed, finding it hard to keep myself upright. Shouldn't have drank so much…

"Right now, sir, you are a drunk idiot," Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. "Thank you, I will take that as a compliment. Plus, you can just call me Sebastian, it's okay." She shook her head and silence fell between us. "Tell me when we're there," she spoke quietly as I felt a headache coming.

"Being drunk sucks," I pouted, "I'm not even having a good time! It hurts everywhere—" "Probably because you fell off the chair." "—and my head hurts! I don't understand why people like to be so drunk." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You are seriously reminding me of my ex-boyfriend. He couldn't handle drinks either and I always had to babysit him when he got back home drunk," she muttered. "You can babysit me anytime!" I said cheerfully. "You're drunk, Sebastian, stop flirting with me."

"But you're so cute."

"Thank you, that is very kind of you."

"And se— we're here! That's my house!" She stopped in front of my house and rang the bell. "Is anyone at home or do I have to tuck you in?" she joked. "Nah, my best buddies and right-hand-men live with me. One's name is Chris—" Just at that moment, Chris opened the door.

"Wha— Sebastian? Are you drunk?"

"Sorry sir, I didn't know he couldn't handle drinks. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new bartender at Red Tavern." With that, she passed me to Chris. "Thank you for bringing him home, Ms Y/L/N. It's not your fault he got intoxicated, he should've known when to stop. He didn't cause trouble, did he?"

"Oh no, of course not, sir. He's fun to be around," she commented, gesturing towards me. I grinned. "Please, he's really not, you don't have to lie. Anyway, thank you so much again! Do you want a lift home? I can ask Anthony to drive you home."

"That would be great, thanks. My house is in the opposite direction, it's a bit far…"

"Absolutely no problem. Anthony!"

A few minutes later, my other friend, Anthony Mackie came downstairs, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah— oh, Sebastian is— damn." He tried to hold his laughter in. "Yeah. While I get him to his room, do you mind dropping her home? That's Y/N, she brought him home." Y/N waved at him.

"Of course, I don't mind. Thanks, Y/N, for taking care of our boss." She shook her head, waving her arms in dismissal. "Absolutely no worries, sir." They walked away, closing the door behind them. "She's cute, right?"

Chris blinked at me. "You have a crush on her!" he guffawed. "Duh, man. Did you even look at her? Girl was oozing sexiness," I smiled in fond memory. "Okay this got weird fast, I'm just gonna take you to bed." He got me to my room, placed me on the bed and left.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I passed out.

End Flashback.

"Y/N!" I yelled, jumping out of my seat to catch her in time. "Get a suite ready," I barked angrily at a few people, who immediately ran in fear. "And you, get me some water and a blanket." The person nodded shakily and ran out of the room. I picked Y/N up and carried her to the couch, laying her down. I sat next to her, checking her temperature.

Oh no, I needed a doctor. I took out my phone and called my personal practitioner but before I could speak, Y/N coughed. "Y/N," I whispered, cutting the call. "Sebastian, it hurts," she moaned. "Don't worry, doll, I'm calling my doctor. Stay here tonight."

"I don't have anywhere else to go." I froze. "Your house?" I asked. "That's… that's where I got attacked. I can't go back," she cried. "Wait, just— just take rest, we'll talk when you're better. Get some sleep, I'm calling my doctor." I called him again, glancing at Y/N when she took my other hand and closed her eyes.

I chatted with him for five minutes; he said he'd take half-an-hour to get to my place. "Damn it," I grumbled, keeping my phone on the table. Just then, one of my servants returned with the glass of water and the blanket. I thanked her and she left the room, so it was just me and Y/N.

"Y/N, sweetie, can you please get up for me?" She opened her eyes. "What?" Oh God, she was getting weaker. "Have some water." As soon as I held the glass of water in front of her, she freaked out. Screaming, she pushed the glass out of my hand and it fell to the floor with a 'clang', the water spilling everywhere.

"No, no water, no… no…" She sobbed, pulling at her hair. "Okay, okay, no water! No water! Y/N, calm—" I grabbed her hands and clutched them in mine. She stopped sobbing; looked at our hands and then at my face. I brought her hands to my lips, softly kissing them. "No water. It's okay, Y/N, you're safe with me."

"Safe," she breathed heavily, "That's what he said to me before he poisoned me!" Who was he? Okay, she was getting insanely paranoid now… "I'm not like him, Y/N, I don't wanna hurt you," I whispered, looking straight into her eyes.

"Yes, you are! You both can't handle drinks!" she yelled, her tears beginning to flow once more. "Wait." My nostrils flared. Her ex-boyfriend, he harmed her? "Y/N, please, this is not good for your health, why don't you try to calm down? Breathe, baby girl, please," I pleaded.

She seemed to momentarily come to her senses. "Sebastian…" Without warning, she sat up and flung herself in my arms. And for once, I didn't mind holding her close. "You're okay with me. I'm not him. I am not going to harm you, Y/N, trust me," I mumbled into her hair, rubbing her back.

"I trusted him," she sobbed, "And he tried to kill me." This time, my anger won. I vowed to myself, if I don't kill her ex boyfriend in the next 24 hours— "I am nothing like him. We may have one shared trait," I rolled my eyes at its stupidity, "But I am nothing like him. For once, I wouldn't harm you even in my dreams."

Her sobs started to subside. "That's it, doll, don't cry. I'll keep you safe. Even if I die trying, I'll let no harm come to you." For 7 long months, I missed her. I missed her a bit too much. Every waking moment of mine was spent thinking about the beautiful bartender.

She was in my dreams. She was constantly on my mind. I longed for the moment when I could meet her again and ask her out. Alas, that time never came.

A week after we met, I had to go to Romania for some important work. I spent three months there and when I was back, Y/N was no longer working at the bar. She found a new job and I had no way of locating her anywhere.

I knew Anthony dropped her home that one time but when I asked him, he told me she had asked him to drop him off somewhere else. From there, he said, she was going to walk alone. He offered to drop her home again, but she refused. Having no choice, he returned without knowing where she lived.

That resulted in me not knowing where she was. I was heartbroken and told myself to stop thinking about her. I became more and more engaged in work, I became moody, temperamental and cold-hearted. Everyone started fearing me more now.

And I finally saw what Y/N meant.

What if you snap one day?

That day was closer than I thought. Even though I became a much more accomplished mobster, there was one thing I couldn't do even if I tried— forget about the love of my life.

"Seb, it hurts." I was brought back to the real world. "What hurts, baby girl?" I whispered, pulling her closer. "Head. Stomach. Legs. Arms. Heart." I smiled sadly at the last word. "I'll help you heal, Y/N, you don't have to go anywhere until you're better." She nuzzled into my neck. "I'd like that."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," I called out, it was probably the doctor. Sure enough...

"Mr Stan? Oh, you have a guest." I tried to shift to make space for the doctor, but Y/N whimpered. "It's okay, Mr Stan, she clearly feels safer with you here." I placed Y/N on my lap, covering her with the blanket. "This is my friend, Y/N," I spoke fondly, though I really wanted to add 'girl' in front of 'friend'.

"Nice to meet you, dear, I am Dr Greenwood." With my help, he quickly ran some tests on her. "Hm, she has a fever, her heart rate is very fast and that's not good. Is there any other problem you're facing?" She nodded. "Headache and stomach ache."

"She claims to be poisoned," I added. "Oh dear me! I need to run a blood test, will you be so kind as to extend your right arm?" She did as he told her and he quickly took some blood. "Will she be fine?" I asked worriedly.

"Well, she seems to be doing okay currently, which means the poison hasn't affected her yet. How about I get back to you by the morning? Just keep an eye on her and if something happens, bring her to the hospital."

"Okay, doc. Thank you." He nodded and got up. "Bye!" Y/N called out weakly; he smiled at her and left, closing the door behind him. "You've got to tell me everything, doll," I whispered, putting her down on the couch. She lay down and I sat on the floor near her head.

"Okay, I will tell you. It was a few hours ago," she began quietly, "I was at home, watching the seventh season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine when someone rang the bell. When I opened the door, my ex burst into the room forcefully. He pushed me."

My breathing sped up. "He pushed you? How dare that asshole—"

"Let me finish?"

"Go ahead, love, I'm sorry."

"Right, so he was very very drunk. And he was talking about how I broke his heart by breaking up with him and how he was so mad at me that he wanted to kill me. In front of me, he popped open the bottle of beer with him and poured an entire bottle of poison in it! An entire bottle! Then he attacked me and pinned me to the couch, forcing me to drink the poisoned beer."

"How did you escape?" I whispered. "By kicking him in the balls. Unfortunately, I ended up gulping down a sip and panicked. Seeing no other choice, I pushed him as hard as I could and he collided with the table. He hurt himself and became unconscious. I ran out of the house to the first place I could think of— here."

"I'm glad you came to me, Y/N, you'll be perfectly safe here. Our security is top-notch," I chuckled. She smiled, too. "Where are Chris and Anthony?" she noticed. "They're in Romania. They decided to stay back."

"Wait, that's where you were this whole time? You didn't come to the bar again and until then, I found another job so I quit. I thought you would never come back. I missed you a lot," she pouted. "I missed you, too. I was actually in Romania for 3 months and when I came back, I couldn't find you. I didn't even know where you lived, I didn't know where to look."

"What matters is now we're back together again!" she squealed. "You should rest for a while," I muttered, running my fingers through her hair. I checked the time, it was almost 2 am. Laughing when she yawned, I sat up. "I guess I should."

"Come, I'll take you to your room." I stood up with Y/N still in my arms. "I don't wanna be alone," she worriedly spoke, "What if he's awake and comes looking for me and finds me here?"

"No one is finding you here," I sighed, "I'll stay with you, okay? Just tell me your address." Without thinking, she narrated her entire address and looked up at me with sleep-hooded eyes. I walked into the suite my people had readied for her and placed her down on the bed.

"I'm right here, just relax and try to sleep," I crooned, running my fingers through her hair. She immediately closed her eyes, which relieved me because she was listening now. When her soft snores filled the room, I heaved a breath and got up. Covering her with a blanket, I left the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

---

"This is the place," I spoke to myself, stopping my car under the building. I got out and entered, taking the elevator to the sixth floor where she lived. When I reached her apartment, I noticed that the door was still open. I walked in, my gun ready as I looked around the place. Wow, Y/N maintained this place well.

I searched every room thoroughly, starting with the living room, then the kitchen and then the two bedrooms. Shit, did the asshole leave? Y/N told me she left him in the living room. I was about to leave when I heard belching coming from one of the bathrooms. I opened the door to the one closest to me, only to see someone puking in the toilet.

"Ew," I whispered and he looked up. "What the fuck—" He flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth with the toilet paper, "—are you doing here?" I realized he was still under the effects of heavy drinking. "Y/N told me everything," I sneered, hiding my gun behind my back.

"She knows you? Pfft, I knew she was a whore, why would she leave me for a goddamn mobster? Everyone in the city hates you," he jeered back. "Um, why don't you consider this? You're an abusive and possessive asshole and Y/N left you because you obviously were treating her badly?" I snapped.

"Don't get smart with me," he snarled, taking out a knife from his back pocket. "Oh," he snorted when I glanced at the knife, "Yes, I came prepared to cut that bitch up if she tried to fight back." The language he was using to describe Y/N was getting to me now.

"Enough!" I stated firmly, so firmly that even he paused. "I will not have you talking about Y/N like this, you are crossing a line." He returned to laughing. "Care too much about one of your sluts? What is she, your girlfriend?" Okay, he didn't have to rub it in…

"I said—'' I whipped out the gun and pointed it at him, "—enough. If you don't stop badmouthing Y/N—" He interrupted me again by laughing. "Of course, you're gonna shoot me. You like to murder innocent people, that's all you are! A bloody, fucking cold-hearted murderer! Y/N would never leave me for a guy like you! She is your slut!" he spat.

"Are you listening to yourself?! You tried to fucking kill Y/N because she couldn't put up with your abusive ways and your disturbing habits! I do not kill innocent people and I don't plan on killing them ever," I growled, "However, I do make exceptions for abusive boyfriends who treat my friend wrong!"

With that, before he could retort, I fired three bullets at him. All three hit him in the chest and I watched as he fell against the floor, instantly dead. Some of his blood sprayed on my clothes and face, which made me scrunch up my face in disgust. But as I watched his lifeless body on the floor, a smile bloomed on my face.

Y/N was safe.

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror, washed my face and decided to go back. But before I could, I realized that Y/N would be spending some time with me and would need her necessities. So before leaving, I packed two full-sized travel bags with her clothes, electronics, footwears, toiletries and sanitation products; anything I deemed necessary for day-to-day living.

Soon, I left the apartment with the bags to go back to Y/N.

---

"Seb?"

I looked up from my book as Y/N sat up, yawning and clutching her head. "Y/N, the results came back, you're going to be fine," I told her happily, sitting down next to her. "Really?" A smile bloomed on her face. "Yes! Dr Greenwood said you didn't swallow too much poison and that you will most likely excrete the amount you swallowed." She nodded.

"That's great news! I'm glad he brought one of those cheap poisons instead of the deadly ones," she giggled. Just his mention made my temper snap. "Oh, don't even talk about that jerk," I snarled, "I took care of him last night and now he won't be bothering you anymore."

She blinked at me. "You killed him, didn't you?" she deadpanned and I blushed. "I mean— I didn't—" I stammered but gave up when she raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I killed him," I muttered, looking at my lap. When she placed her hand on my cheek, I turned to look. "I'm not mad at you. Bitch had it coming."

I burst out laughing at her word choice, which made her smile, too. All of a sudden, she leaped up and wrapped her arms around my neck, catching my lips in a kiss. I stopped laughing and put my arms around her waist, kissing back. Had this just happened? Was she kissing me?

"I love you, Sebastian," she murmured upon pulling away, straddling my lap. I kept the book away and pulled her closer. "Really? I love you, too." She snorted. "Kinda obvious, you killed a man for me. I wasn't going to make a move on you but now I'm sure."

"Hm, my intelligent sweetheart," I grinned, leaning forward to kiss her again. The problem was solved and all was well. "What are your plans for the day?" she asked me, trailing a finger down my face, jaw, neck and chest. "Hm, don't have any," I smirked, pulling her closer.

"Wanna stay and… have some fun?"

"Boy, do I?"

Y/N laughed loudly as I flipped us over, laying down on top of her. Her laughs soon transitioned into moans as I attacked her neck and jaw with kisses.

We did have fun.

A lot of it.

A bit too much of it.

But who cares?

I was finally with the love of my life and everything was good.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy · 3 years

Note

All of them *^*

Heya Ash!! Oof you're giving me a project lol thank you so much for the ask!!!

1. How big is your mods folder?

That is a really great question. I couldn't tell you off the top of my head, but it got to the point where I had to put all my mods on a thumb drive and only move them around as I need them because I'm computer was running so terribly. So I'd say it's a lot 😅.

2. How would you describe your style?

Uh, I would say very graphic novel type vibes. I'm a huge graphic novel buff and the story I'm actually working on I intended to be a graphic novel, but it really got away from me and is much too big for that now (not a brag, just my legitimate crack head antics) so when I got into Sims editing the thought was always to kind of keep the drawn/comicbook-y feel to it.

3. What is your favorite challenge?

Thus far it's been the stereotype challenge ! It was a lot of fun and I got to do it with four of my OCs who ended up fitting the criteria pretty well! I just think it came out really well both as an edit and as my OCs.

4. Do you make CC?

Aahahaahahahhaahahaah!!!!!! No. I tried to make poses one time! One singular time and it ended so poorly that I decided to swear off making anymore off my own CC for the distant future. Maybe I'll try it again, maybe I'm scarred for life, only time can tell!

5. What type of CC do you hoard?

I had answered this one before, but I FUCKING LOVE POSES!!!! And like I said I didn't have the best experience making my own so I prefer to use downloaded ones. But I never really clean out my poses in case I need them for something else! So my pose folder is astronomical at this point.

6. What default eyes and skin do you use?

You know.... This really is a question I should have the answer to but I'm totally drawing a blank right now so I'll go ahead and put a link to the eyes here and the skin here when I can look it up! ✌

7. How many URLs have you had, and what are the meanings behind them?

On this blog I've only had the one? And I feel like it's pretty self explanatory, I love Morgyn because 1.) They're the absolute best 2.) Untamed magic? Yes ma'am! 3.) They're gender fluid / nonbinary like me!! And 4.) They're an absolute snack!!!! So it was a perfect fit for me.

8. Who is your favorite gameplay blog?

Why would you do me like this??????? I can't choose!!! I love them all and I'm friends with all of them because they're absolutely amazing people that I love so much!!! I don't have a favorite! 🥺

9. Favorite story telling blog?

Please see above answer!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS ALL SO MUCH I AHDHAHSGA I CANT!!!!

10. Who is your favorite CC creator?

I don't really want to answer this one either 😭 but I think the only person I know that makes CC is the awesome @barbieaiden they made a really kick ass emo glove CC that I absolutely love and you should check out. (Sorry if the rest of you make CC I'm sure I've probably seen it, probably even downloaded and reblogged, but this is all I can think if right now 💜) Also my go to for all pose stuff is the glorious @katverse they do incredible poses for pretty much anything you could think up, highly recommend.

11. How do you edit you photos?

This is certainly going to get a few gasps, but I make all of my edits on my phone!!!!! I use just a basic free photo editor app and kind of bend it to my will to get what I want out of it! I'm really bad at figuring out stuff like Photoshop and I'm not willing to pay the expensive price when I can do it and get just as good as a result as I want from something free easy and portable.

12. What's the last screenshot you took?

Once again it has to do with an edit I'm working on so here's the last one I put up if you're interested.

13. What do you do when you are unmotivated?

Honestly, this! Editing and the Sims are my escape from the real world. It helps me when I'm having a hard time with my anxiety because it gives me control over something, it helps me a lot with writer's block I can't tell you how my stories have been inspired because of it. But I guess if I'm bored in the game I usually just start a new save or play another game for a bit, I always come back after like a day though! To be fair I haven't been doing this long enough to feel unmotivated yet, maybe we should revisit this when I've been doing this longer than two months 😅

14. Who is your current favorite Sim?

Ugh!!! As you guys have found out about me I don't like to play favorites......... But if I had to say maybe my OC Parker's Sim, he just came out perfectly and is just spot on.

15. Who is your current favorite Sims that isn't yours?

Guidry!!!! He's frickin' hilarious and just so great. I honestly didn't expect them to put as much into him as they did but I'm glad they did!!! He's the best!! He's no Morgyn, but he's pretty great too.

16. Recreate someone else's Sim in your style.

So this sounds like a lot of fun! But I really don't want to change anyone else's Sim, I know how much we all put into them and they're basically like our babies. They mean a lot, so unless I get explicit consent from someone saying I can use their Sim in my style I'm going to pass out of respect this time.

17. Do you talk about the Sims with people in your life?

Yes! One of my really close friends is the whole reason I'm into editing and mods and stuff! She showed me everything I know and is totally awesome for that. (@jennifermakesstuff on Instagram, go check out she's absolutely amazing and a crocheting god, go do it)

18. How many packs do you own?

.......... I don't want to answer this..... It's honestly a problem..... But I have them all.... Minus the star wars one I just I cannot bring myself to get it, it just looks terrible. But yeah I collect the packs and it's a problem 😅 but if you need advice on what pack to get next I'm your person!

19. How many posts do you have on your blog currently?

141 👀 I uh.... I have nothing else to say about that lol

20. How many drafts do you have currently?

Too many. But they're all like ask games and stuff for my OCs so yup!

21. How many posts are currently in your queue?

Only two 🙃 I need to get back to editing so I can hopefully have some more but I'm sick right now so... Maybe it's time for me to start that gameplay I've been threatening.

22. Have you ever moved blogs?

Okay yes, but not intentionally but I've moved three times? I had a blog for when I first started on tumblr it was for music stuff but I forgot to pass code to it so now it's just there, the other one I had was for my art & make up stuff but it wasn't doing good at all so I just turned it into my personal blog, and then from there I moved to this one! Also I'm avoiding my personal one like the plague right now because of a whole disaster that happened with someone I followed and I don't have the balls to unfollow them so I'm just pretending that account doesn't exist 😅.

23. Are you in any Sims related discords?

Yep! This one right here by the very amazing @clumsyghostie I'm really new to discord so it's the only one I've been apart of (EVER) but everyone has been really nice and friendly!!

24. What are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (Paranormal)

I like it! It added more to the gameplay than past packs have, but I always felt it left something to be desired in the way of CAS and build mode. Spoilers starting here if you care: Also it would've been cool if you could have had more interactions with Temperance like you can with Guidry, and if the specters did more that would be cool too. Either way I think it's good, I wouldn't say it's groundbreaking for the game experience, but it is fun.

25. How many hours have you played the Sims?

Let's find out 3,215 hours 😅 that's board line a problem hahaha if my math is right (it probably isn't because I'm gay and bad at math) that's a hundred and thirty three days straight? Jesus I might need help lol.

26. If you play gameplay, do you play with mods?

I used to! But I play on a regular laptop so it can't really run gameplay mods unfortunately so unless I'm doing edits my game is vanilla.

27. What's the furthest you've gotten on a challenge?

So I'm really bad at challenges! My favorite lately has been rags to riches it's a lot of fun but I always get bored after they get married and pregnant :/ I never know what to do after that because like the challenge is over but I'm so invested in these Sims 😅

Thank you again for the asks! This was a lot of fun 💖 I know I answered all the questions just now but feel free to send me an ask for whatever you want! I love interacting with you all, you're all so amazing 💖💖💖

#get to know the simblr #get to know me #izzy answers things #izzy speaks but i really shouldnt #lilypixels #love ya ash!!!#ask game #ask #send me an ask if you want

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thewarlocksbitch · 7 years

Text

I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 3 - next

word count - 4.9k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

Adam woke sometime after twelve on Sunday. He couldn't remember sleeping in so late since during the summertime back at home, and even then it had been interrupted by raised voices and slamming doors.

He sat up, causing a textbook and some papers to slide to the floor. Wearily, he bent down to pick them up, his movements and thoughts hazy and uncoordinated with sleep. He looked over the assignments in his hands. Had he finished them last night? Yes…

“Adam!” Noah said, suddenly an inch from Adam’s face, leaning over the bed. “Good morning, roomie! Friend! Parrish!”

“Hey,” Adam said, voice slow. He leaned back, trying to focus on his roommate. “Noah.”

Noah grinned and backed away until his legs hit his bed and he plopped down onto it. He laid sideways and rubbed his flyaway, colorless hair into his pillow, his eyes closed like a little kid’s.

Adam shivered as the sheets slid from him and he pulled his blanket around himself. "I asked the residential director about the drafts in here the other day, but she said we're probably just sensitive to it or something, since all the dorms share the same heating system." "Sorry," said Noah meekly, his hands fitful over his arms.

"It's not your fault," Adam said dismissively, but he felt all at once uneasy. He hated it when people apologized to him for things they weren't at fault for. It made him feel like he was higher than them, and threatening. Which was to say, it made him feel like his father.

“My pillows at home were softer,” Noah said suddenly. “My blankets, too. And I had a dog I slept with. She was so warm. Like a heater!” Noah pressed his entire face into his pillow so that his voice became muffled. “You were up so late last night. I actually tried counting sheep. Not ‘cause I was trying to fall asleep but because my eyes were closed and I don't have eye-clocks, so, you know.”

“I was just trying to finish an essay and-” Adam had to check the papers in his hands again to remember what they were on “-some history.”

“Cool! Smart student!” Noah exclaimed. “Do you want to go to the park? Or something! I have no plans at all. I wanted to skate, but…” Noah trailed off as he often did. He was quiet for a moment, then began to hum something that sounded like ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’.

Adam pressed his elbows into his thighs and his palms into his eyes, taking a moment to just think. He’d spent half of yesterday working and the other half studying. The endless hours had paid off. He could afford to let himself relax a little today.

He dropped his hands to look at Noah, who was now tugging on tennis shoes. This Noah was a wholly different person to the Noah that had slouched in last night, disappeared into the bathroom for thirty minutes, and then climbed into bed without a word.

For a while now Adam had wondered if Noah was bipolar. Now he began to consider whether Noah was medicated or not, and if he needed to be. There had to be something to regulate him besides marijuana and street racing and meditation circles.

Noah finished with his shoes and looked up at Adam. “Have you eaten yet? No, you haven't, you just woke up. Wanna go grab something?”

Eating with Noah was one of Adam’s least favorite things, because it was always either Adam eating by himself while Noah rattled on about everything in the world or while he sat there silently and stared into space. Adam didn't mind the company, but the fact that Noah never ate around him bothered him a little. He was always trying to take care of Adam but Adam never seemed able to take care of him.

They ended up walking to the Green - a protein bar in Adam’s hand and a thick blanket in Noah’s - where students lazed and threw frisbees for dogs and participated in group yoga.

Noah spread the blanket under a tree while Adam munched on his protein bar. He grabbed Adam’s bag from him to weigh down one corner, then took off his own shoes to weigh down two more. He sat on the last corner with a satisfied oof and threw his hands up in the air. “There!” he said. “Oh, we should get a dog.”

Adam followed Noah’s gaze to where two girls lay in the grass together, matching sunglasses covering their faces and a fat, panting mutt spread across their stomachs.

It was an impractical idea, but still Adam smiled as he sat down next to Noah. “What kind?” he asked. He toed his shoes off and stuffed the wrapper from the protein bar into his pocket.

Noah thought for a moment, then he pointed to a dog across the lawn that was rolling in the grass and seemed to be in a state of ecstasy. “One like that. I’d name her Godzilla.”

The dog did not seem to Adam anything special or fear-inspiring, but he nodded and laid back on the blanket. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to let the shadows of leaves run over his face, to let the wind breathe across his shirt. He became so distracted by the calming feeling of the air around him that he didn't realize Noah had stopped talking. He looked over to see that he had laid down beside him and was staring up at the tree looming over them.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Noah said. “Taking time to chill out.”

Adam nodded. He'd worked enough yesterday that he didn't have to worry about making money today, but he did want a safety net of some extra credits. Noah never seemed to worry about school, but Adam could never stop. “I’m working in a few hours,” he told Noah. “At my TA job.”

“You can go to sleep. I’ll wake you up.” Noah promised him.

Adam closed his eyes again.

Ronan raced and drank all of Saturday – this was momentarily interrupted by Declan’s Volvo pulling into his and Gansey’s driveway unannounced – and spent Sunday with his brothers: the morning at St. Agnes church with Declan and Matthew and the afternoon and night with Gansey exploring and playing Mario Kart.

He drove himself to campus on Monday morning by sheer force of will. He didn’t want to go to class, but staring out the window while some poor professor droned on for an hour or two was better than dealing with Declan’s surprise visits. I’m in class, Ronan took the time to text him, so don’t fucking come over.

Ronan shut his phone off as soon as the text sent and shoved it deep in his bag. Declan hadn't always been the controlling, tense and tie-choked man he was today, but since Niall Lynch’s death he'd taken it upon himself to carry the entire family, even though a certain passenger had been unwilling. Ronan hated him for it. Their mother dying two years ago only made him hate Declan more.

Campus was sprawling and alive, all green hills and old brick buildings, the scholar’s version of Niall Lynch’s Barns. It reminded Ronan not fondly of Aglionby, except now the real world felt much closer than it had then and Gansey wasn't at his side as often. Here he wasn't Ronan Lynch, dreamer, and he wasn't Ronan Lynch, best friend of whoop whoop Gansey boy! He was Ronan Lynch, student. One angry, hateful student among thousands.

Ronan crossed a section of too-green grass. At Aglionby, his bag had banged against his hip, full of books he despised. His tie had choked him until Gansey looked away long enough for him to loosen it.

Here, he wore jeans and a tank and carried the bare minimum in his arms or pockets. And Gansey didn't have classes on Monday’s, so he was completely and horribly alone.

Ronan pushed his way through the double doors of a weather-worn brick building and immediately turned right to take a staircase up. He skipped the last two steps to the first landing and threw his weight against the heavy metal door. It closed behind him with a satisfying bang.

The hall was beginning to empty as students ended conversations and got to their respective classrooms, but there were enough still in the hall that Ronan bumped into them a good deal.

He followed Gansey’s map with more attention than he need have. He shoved it into his pocket for safekeeping when he reached the right room. As he passed the professor's desk he saw a vase of familiar flowers, with the store card still nestled in the middle of them.

Ronan looked from the desk to the rows of students and found the dirt-colored kid in the front row, just like in Latin. Sitting there in his faded t-shirt and scuffed sneakers and with his pen at the ready over a sheet of clean, pristine-looking paper. Again.

Ronan dropped his bag under the desk next to him and threw himself into it. The dirt-colored kid didn't look over at this disturbance.

Ronan leaned far back in his chair. He tilted his head back and towards him, unsure why he wanted so badly to bother him but just knowing he did. His face was interesting, but Ronan had already seen a lot of interesting things. His features were delicate, and Ronan was not skilled with delicate things.

Students still poured into the room in a steady, unending stream. Ronan caught glimpses of perfectly knotted ties, watches as expensive as his own but ten years newer, smiles schooled amiably. Why, he asked his father, did you make me come here? Here, of all places?

Ronan looked back to the dirt-colored kid. He was different than all of the other students, and although he hid it well it betrayed him in the smallest of details: the fray on the shoulder of his jacket that could only come from years of use, the cheap plastic watch on his thin-boned wrist, the lack of rigid, princely posture in his spine.

Ronan thought back to the way his mouth had tightened at the shop, when Ronan had finished calculating his total. The careful way he clipped his accent when offering an answer. The concerned furrow of his pale, thin brows. This was a person that stood separate from others with just a few mannerisms, someone who had a history with some weight to it.

Someone, Ronan thought, that Gansey would like.

"So, you're dating the professor?” Ronan asked him.

It took him a moment to realize Ronan was speaking to him , and when he turned to face Ronan he looked slightly affronted.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

Ronan didn't say anything in reply because a scholarly looking girl had come up and she slapped papers on the guy’s desk.

“Adam,” she said, pointing at the papers with much more enthusiasm than Ronan had expected to see in a lecture hall. “Look at this! I haven't gotten a grade this good all semester. You're a genius.”

He - Adam - smiled up at her. “I’m glad I could help.” That accent was definitely from Henrietta.

Ronan waited until the girl was gone to ask, “What's a genius doing kissing up to a teacher?” Usually he wouldn't care. Usually he'd say nothing and be done with this. Usually.

“It's none of your business.”

This was where Gansey would apologize, and rephrase the question in a kinder way. But Ronan was not Gansey.

He turned away without a word and took his notebook out, but he didn't write down a single word the entire lecture.

That Thursday night Ronan received a text from Kavinsky: racing with some highschool kids. wanna come? Not on my seats though

Ronan felt an unclean kind of pleasure run through him. So soon after losing to him Kavinsky wanted another go. He’d been the same in high school, and he was the same now, except he'd moved mansions and graduated to harder drugs instead of a harder curriculum.

Ronan locked Chainsaw in her cage and toed his shoes on. Kavinsky would never learn.

He was quiet when he closed his bedroom door behind him, but it was in vain; Gansey was sitting cross-legged and awake in the middle of the living room floor, his flannel pajama pants bunched up around his bare ankles and his hands preoccupied with rebuilding his miniature Henrietta.

Gansey looked up. He was working on a flimsy and unimportant looking office building and looked more tired than usual. The bags under his eyes seemed like they were getting very comfortable.

Ronan paused just outside his door. Gansey frowned. It was killing him as much as it was killing Ronan to be away from home.

Gansey said, “Don’t race tonight.”

It was more than enough to make Ronan stop.

Gansey knew what it meant when Ronan disappeared at night and came back smelling of adrenaline and burnt rubber, but he usually pretended he didn't. He'd figured out sometime in their junior year of high school that it was something Ronan needed.

Him so blatantly asking Ronan to abstain was enough to make Ronan tuck his phone back into his pocket. He carefully picked his way through the miniature town until he reached Gansey at the heart of it.

He kicked at Gansey’s foot. “You wanna do something then? You've been rebuilding your beloved girlfriend for hours.”

Gansey blinked up at him, his brown eyes quizzical behind wireframes. “I haven't, really.”

“Let’s go to a bar,” Ronan said.

“We’re both underage. And I don’t think you should use your dreamt fake ID’s, even if they are perfect.”

“Let’s go to the park, then,” Ronan countered.

“Really.” Gansey was smiling; Ronan was not the type to stargaze amongst old people and teenage couples as an orchestrated pastime, and Gansey knew that better than anyone else. Ronan scrubbed a hand over the back of his shaved head. “Then do you want to go with me to the tattoo place? On Cervantes? It’s open late.”

Gansey frowned as he fixed a cardboard door and then fixed it again. “Are you getting more work done on your back?” he asked.

Ronan kicked Gansey a second time, too awake to stay still. “Fuck no,” he said. “I was just thinking about getting a flower on my thumb. Or something.”

Ganseys voice was dry. “You’ve really found your calling catering to old ladies, haven't you.”

Ronan shrugged. “Whatever. It pays the bills. You coming?”

Gansey was quiet for a moment. Then he took off his wireframes and set them down in the parking lot of Monmouth Manufacturing. “Just let me get dressed.”

After spending a few hours at his teacher's assistant job Adam ended up going to the parlor anyways.

The night shift was nothing to complain about, and since he'd finished his homework and studying earlier he had no reason to go back to the dorm except to shower and sleep.

He ended up doing a few small ink jobs and cleaning up behind the counter. His boss was nowhere to be found, as were most of the other artists. Adam was just rearranging the basket of pens for the hundredth time when two familiar looking teenagers walked in.

The first was familiar because he looked just like every other rich student in Adam’s classrooms: a clean haircut, pressed khakis, a brand-name shirt gripping his shoulders and chest in all of the right places. A bright smile that knew it had your vote. He stepped in first and looked around the parlor, one hand beckoning the second boy in after him like he was conducting traffic.

The second was familiar because he was the angry voice from Latin. The surly flower shop clerk. The self-assured sneer from Physics.

Adam watched the shaved-headed boy look around the parlor, and then slowly at Adam himself. He set all of the pens down and crossed his arms over the counter, and he waited.

He kept his gaze on the shaved-headed boy but the presidential one reached him first. He set his hands flat on the counter and instead of looking at Adam he leaned back, back, back, looking up at all of the sketched designs of tattoos and photos of satisfied customers. When he finally brought his eyes back to Adam they were bright with excitement.

The second teenager elbowed his way in before the President could make a speech. “Coincidence,” he said, more to the President than to Adam. “The professor’s boyfriend works here.”

He was wearing a plain black tank tonight, and Adam could easily see parts of his tattoo peeking out above his collar and under his arms. On his nape was a flower, or perhaps it was a thorn. Curling around his shoulder was a deadly looking frenzy of claws and teeth and horns.

“You two know each other?” The President asked. Adam hadn't been watching him, so he didn't know when his face had switched from joyful to polite. The two emotions presented almost the same, so the switch wasn't obvious. But Adam had grown up being careful about what parts of himself he gave to the public, so he knew what a face looked like when it was hiding something.

“ We’re in some classes together,” the other boy said, at the same time that Adam said, “He sold me flowers.”

“Oh!” The President smiled sideways at his friend before looking back at Adam. “So you're the one who put him in such a sour mood after Latin.”

“Yes,” Adam said, unable to help but smile. It was like a trigger reaction. Like he'd breathed it in. “That would be me.”

“Ronan’s used to being uncontested in Latin, but he's been slacking off lately and has consequently fallen behind, so you'll have to forgive him for any aggressiveness or ill intent.” The President extended a hand over the counter. With it came the sharp scent of mint. “I’m Gansey.”

So the both of them had names now. Adam shook Gansey’s hand, once, firmly. “Adam.”

He dropped Gansey’s hand and retreated to the other side of the counter. He tapped the keyboard to get the computer to wake up and then looked at the two boys.

“I’m guessing it's Ronan getting inked tonight,” Adam said, not really a question.

“He really is a genius,” Ronan said nastily.

Before Adam could become annoyed, Gansey interjected, “Yes, it’s Ronan. Not me. I’m just here to watch and to make sure he doesn't get anything distasteful.”

Distasteful, Adam thought, looking at all of Ronan’s barbed wires and Gansey’s smooth demeanor. He wondered how Gansey so easily avoided being cut.

Adam began to set up their walk-in session on the computer. He offered Ronan the waiver of consent and Ronan signed the appropriate lines without reading any of it. “What do you want?” he asked Ronan. “There's enough artists free that you can get started now.”

Ronan shrugged. He held up his hand. Adam glimpsed raised silver scars disappear beneath leather bracelets as they slid down his wrist. “I was thinking of getting a flower, a small one on my thumb or something.”

“Oh,” Adam said, surprised. It wasn't that it was an unusual request, but because of his back tattoo and abrasive attitude he'd expected Ronan to want a sleeve or skulls at the least.

He tore off the corner of a receipt from the stack next to the keyboard and drew a quick flower. Usually it irritated him when customers came in unsure of what they wanted, but he wasn't as tired as he thought he'd be by now and he didn't have anything else to do anyways.

Adam held the sketch out to Ronan. “Something like that?” he asked.

Ronan shrugged again. “Yeah, that's good.”

Adam eyed his scribble again. “If you want a tattoo that simple, I can do it. If you're okay with that.”

“Oh, are you an artist here?” Gansey asked.

Adam finished setting the appointment up and tucked the receipt into his pocket. “I get paid for working the counter but I’m also an apprentice,” he said. “I do smaller jobs when they come up.”

Gansey nodded cordially, then turned a questioning gaze on Ronan. Ronan nodded back like he didn’t care all that much about a permanent addition to his skin. “You’re good enough for me.” he said.

Adam got up and led Ronan and Gansey to an empty chair in the back. He wanted to bristle at Ronan’s uncaring and dismissive attitude, but the way Gansey balanced out his hostility made him seem like the kind of person Adam wouldn’t mind knowing. Though, Adam supposed, it might make more sense to just befriend Gansey, since he seemed to be the more morally balanced of the two. There was something intimidating about Gansey’s easy smile, though; he seemed polished and faraway whereas Ronan was just another student, albeit a rude one.

Ronan got settled and Gansey asked Adam polite questions about work and school while Adam got his tools organized. Soon enough he had Adam confessing that he had a partial scholarship and worked two jobs to pay his end of it. Gansey seemed to like this, and telling him more didn't make Adam feel like he was losing something.

He told Gansey about the study groups, the extra hours, every grabbed opportunity. He told him about Noah. He told him why he'd bought the flowers. He told him about many things that made him Adam Parrish but nothing about how those things had come to be.

Adam left out the details on what had been his home, the reasons why he needed to work so hard to keep what he had. He left out too much for it to be considered a full truth but Gansey didn't push him for more.

When Gansey ran out of questions, Adam returned them. He learned that Gansey nor Ronan knew what they wanted to major as. He learned that Gansey owned a 73’ Camaro he called ‘Pig’ and loved fiercely. He learned that both Gansey and Ronan had gone to Aglionby, though he didn't share that he'd attended as well but for only freshman year. Gansey was overjoyed when he learned that Adam was from Henrietta, and politely interrupted Adam to ask him:

“What do you know about Welsh Kings?”

It was not the kind of question Adam would have expected from a boy like Gansey. His one year at Aglionby had taught him more in history than his three years at Mountain View High, but he remembered nothing about Welsh Kings from his classes.

He thought back to the rare few times he’d had enough free time to visit the local library, to the random books he'd perused for no purpose other than pleasure. There had been one book, The Kings and Queens of Wales, that Adam had read over the span of a few afternoons.

There was one king that had struck something in Adam, an enigmatic ruler whose life was surrounded by deceit and betrayal and obscurity. Maybe Adam remembered his story because the king had been unknowable and a runaway like Adam himself, because he seemed more human than most other historical figures. Maybe Adam only remembered him because he'd happened to get enough sleep the night before reading that particular chapter.

He grabbed onto this king. The earnest look on Gansey’s face had Adam not wanting to disappoint.

“Vortigern?” Adam said carefully. “All information about him is up to debate, but he was supposedly a Welsh warlord in the fifth century.”

Gansey, Adam thought, could not have looked more delighted, but Ronan snorted and said, “Try ten centuries later.”

Adam searched his mind for information on any fifteenth century Welsh Kings but came up blank. He shook his head, more at Ronan than Gansey, not that Ronan was paying him any attention.

“So there was this one noble,” Gansey began, “a medieval Welsh noble named Owen Glendower. He was the leader of the Welsh Revolt that fought the English for Welsh freedom. For years he was successful-”

Now Adam remembered. “Until he was captured and killed by the English.”

Gansey's smile could have blown Henrietta’s fuses . “That's one story, but I believe in another. I believe that he was never captured. I believe he only disappeared.”

“Disappeared to where?” Adam asked. He knew he was getting too distracted from his job but he couldn't help it - rather, he didn't want to; he so rarely let himself engage in meaningless conversation like this that he'd forgotten what it was like. He slowly organized his tools as he listened to Gansey, unable to feel disinterest when Gansey told him about Glendower’s unreal victories, the rumors of his impossible powers, and how he had disappeared into the northern mountains and escaped history with his men as if it all had happened just yesterday.

Adam would have thought Glendower disappearing was the end of Gansey’s interest, but Gansey continued.

“Have you heard of the legends of sleeping kings?”

Adam was beginning to feel somewhat left out of the educational loop, but Ronan said, “No one fucking has, Gansey.”

Gansey had the good grace to look embarrassed, but he went on, “There are legends that heroes like Arthur and Glendower aren't really dead, and are only sleeping in tombs underground, waiting to be woken up.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. He saw Ronan smirk in his peripheral vision.

“I believe Glendower’s body was brought to the New World,” Gansey went on. “Specifically here, in Virginia. I've spent the past six years researching him. I want to find him.”

“Gansey,” Ronan interrupted, “you're keeping him from making a living.”

Again Gansey looked embarrassed. Adam was quiet as he finished up getting his things together. When he was ready he showed Ronan the receipt again and asked where he wanted the tattoo.

“On my thumb,” Ronan said unhelpfully.

“Put your hand up here,” Adam said, tapping the arm of the chair. He repositioned Ronan’s hand until he had the perfect angle. He spread Ronan’s fingers, then tapped along Ronan’s thumb; the small space just beneath the knuckle, the lower inside corner where it connected to his palm.

“There,” Ronan said when Adam touched the end of his thumb, where the biggest part of the bone jutted out beneath the skin.

Adam accepted that without comment and pulled his gloves on. He disinfected the target area, then carefully sketched the flower there with a light stencil. He could feel Gansey’s keen attention when he glanced up at Ronan and asked, “Is this exactly how you want it?”

Ronan smirked as if Adam had told a joke. “There exactly.”

Adam nodded and got his needles and ink ready. The flower was simple line art, all thin, clean black lines and no color. It wouldn't take more than ten minutes to finish, and that was if he decided to be lazy.

Adam started to trace the design, the only sound between him and the other two boys the whirring of the needles and the occasional approving sound from Gansey. He checked and rechecked it as he traced the second petal, admiring how the simplicity of it was so delicate and drastically different to the ragged bracelets on Ronan’s wrist and the ink on his back and the fire in his eyes.

Gansey went quiet as the pen whirred louder, and Ronan looked away. Adam bent over his hand and held it steady with his own. He enjoyed the clean process of driving ink into skin, loved how this skill of keeping his hand steady let him live just a little easier. He was almost done. He just needed to pause here, spread Ronan’s fingers more, and finish tracing the curve of this last petal.

When Adam was finished, he let go of Ronan’s hand and set his tools aside. Ronan sat up to examine his hand, expressionless except for an arched brow. Gansey said nothing, but he seemed much more interested than Ronan from his vantage point over Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan began to get up, his eyes still on his new tattoo.

“Wait a second,” Adam said. “I have to cover that.”

Ronan obediently sat back and Gansey watched attentively as Adam wrapped his hand. Once he had it taped in place he stood and preceded the other boys to the counter.

Adam tapped the keyboard to wake the monitor up and set it up to close Ronan’s appointment. Ronan handed Adam his credit card without even asking the price.

Adam rung him up and handed him back his card. One day, he told himself. One day.

“It was nice meeting you, Adam,” Gansey said, in the tone Adam would use on teachers or employers. This was Gansey finishing their interaction, like a businessman shaking your hand at the end of a meeting. From that polite tone, Adam knew he was nothing more to Gansey than his profession and the services he could offer.

“Likewise,” Adam replied.

Ronan had already taken the bandage off. He crumpled it in his hand and tossed it onto the counter. “See you in class,” he said.

As the door closed behind them, Adam heard Gansey say, “You’re actually going?"

#pynch #pynch fanfiction #trc fanfiction #the raven cycle #trc #pynch college au #vv #ive been really busy so im super late posting this #so i hope you guys like it!!! they finally TALK to each other!!!

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