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pynches · 4 years

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through the years we will be together (if the fates allow)

a/n this is a gift for @mletart for @pynchpromptweek Secret Santa! I hope you like it! summary: The Lynch brothers do Christmas caroling together to uphold the brotherly bond after their parents passed away. It so happens to be that Adam lives at the church they frequent at. The Myth of the Brothers Lynch become a reality when Adam finally meets the middle one.

word count: 2571

ao3 Adam had never seen them, he had tried many times to catch as much as a glimpse but his job at Boyd’s lined up with the mass times and he was always a little too late. Once, he thought he saw the edge of a BMW turn around the corner but he had waved that off. “Good boys” as the attendees had said, didn’t drive cars that were shark-nosed, all edges and brute force.

“They sing like angels,” one old lady told Adam. She attended church often, burning a candle sometimes. Adam wondered who she had lost, if she was the only one left standing. He almost wanted to ask if the angel metaphor was blasphemy but he held it in at the last moment and politely listened instead, the key to his apartment still in hand. “Especially the middle one.”

“Ronan,” Adam said helpfully, nodding his head in recognition. He had been so mystified by the brothers that he had absorbed every bit of information about them like a sponge, trying to piece everything together and create clear images of them.

He never quite succeeded.

“You must come to mass,” the lady said, her watery eyes looking up at Adam hopefully and Adam had politely declined though it cost him great hardship to do so.

“I’m not religious,” Adam said apologetically and stayed to listen to the lady’s story about the grandson she never really saw because he went to study abroad before Adam finally went up the stairs and let himself into his apartment.

The Brother’s Lynch, now a tangible subject in his mind, took residency in his thoughts for the remainder of the day, the week, until it was Sunday again and Adam was home for once.

Boyd had called Adam to him a few days before, telling him that he had to take some vacation days or he would breach the contract he had signed the year before. It so happened that one of those vacation days was that Sunday, since it wouldn’t be too busy at the shop that day anyway.

And thus, Adam was at the window on Sunday, peering through the slightly cracked glass to try and catch the eye of the brothers.

He watched as the shark-nosed BMW appeared again, followed by a much more boring car, parking next to the BMW. The first guy that got out was one that looked like he was the poster child for bad behaviour. Shaved head, tattoos that curled up from his shoulders and around his neck, peeking just above the black suit he was wearing, the tie artfully undone.

Next came another guy out of the more boring car, a displeased frown already set in his eyebrows. He wore a gray suit, everything perfectly in place. Adam wondered if the perfection was compensating for something.

Then, the last guy, which Adam expected was Ronan, the one with the nice voice, the “very kind boy” as one of the old ladies had whispered to him. Golden curls, a sweet smile on his face, an excited jump in his step as he entered the church.

Adam didn’t go down but he snuck out of his apartment and sat on the stairs, hoping to catch one of their voices. He wanted to learn the magic behind the sound, understand why everyone, including him, had been mesmerised by the brothers.

He didn’t hear a single one stand out, all of them combining too much to notice the ‘angelic’ ones the woman had told him about. Adam wished he still had his other ear in use, thinking that perhaps he would be blessed with the heavenly voices of the brothers if his father hadn’t beaten the hearing out of it.

Disappointedly, he stood again and moved upstairs to his little apartment, sitting down to study as he had done a hundred nights before and would continue to do so until the very end.

It wasn’t a half-hour later when he heard a single voice, moving below in the heart of the church, the voice echoing off the wall. Adam quietly tiptoed down and peeked around the corner. He was too entranced by the voice at first to notice the person singing. The musical notes and the quiet timber of it made Adam wonder if the church was built for the sound instead of God. But then he saw the figure and his heart momentarily stopped.

Shaved head, eyes sunken into his head, was he sleeping enough? Perhaps he was an insomniac as Adam was as well, by choice or not was the question. The suit jacket had been shrugged off and laid over one of the benches. His dress shirt had been rolled up his arms, exposing the boy’s pale forearms, scarred and vulnerable looking. Adam could distinctively see two hooks etched into the sides of his neck, the black ink a stark contrast against the whiteness of his skin.

This must be the youngest one Adam thought. He wanted to go up, introduce himself but he was too scared to. The boy was not only taller than him but significantly stronger too. Adam didn’t exactly feel fear but he didn’t want to take any chances either.

He barely noticed the singing had stopped before the boy was in front of him and Adam’s heart stilled in his chest. “Who the fuck are you?” Adam was asked who immediately went into defensive mode.

“I live here,” Adam said with an annoyed pull of his lips. He wondered why the ladies had said they were ‘good boys’. This one seemed anything but.

The boy’s mouth opened and closed, the spell on his hardened eyes momentarily broken and he looked so much younger immediately. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Adam swallowed and nodded before his everlasting need for approval reared its ugly head. “Adam Parrish,” he said, knowing how ridiculous his name sounded in a church of all things. The boy, Matthew, Adam presumed, seemed to realise as well and smirked a little. Adam wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did.

“Ronan Lynch,” the boy replied and…

Oh.

“You’re not Matthew?” Adam asked and he immediately realised how stupid he sounded. He also realised his hand was still in Ronan’s, pleasantly warm under his soft skin.

“That would be my baby brother,” Ronan answered and cocked his head. Adam didn’t dare to tell him that it made him look like a confused puppy. “Why would you think I was Matthew?”

And here Adam was, standing in front of the most dangerous-looking boy with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, tongue-tied and all. “The ladies who come here told me Ronan was the nicest of the brothers and well…”

“Matthew looks like a golden retriever personified,” Ronan helpfully added. “We’re all aware.”

Adam bit his lip and finally released Ronan’s hand. It took him everything to not immediately start running. He would have if he didn’t also want to tell Ronan how nice his voice was and, more importantly, leave a good impression for whatever reason that might be.

“Your voice…” Adam started and cleared his throat. “It’s really nice.”

He walked away after that, hating himself for coming up with ‘nice’ of all things. As if that wasn’t the lamest thing he could have said to the hottest person he had ever met in his short and sheltered life. You didn’t often find people like him in little Henrietta, Virginia and Adam blew it completely.

Adam could hear the soft laughter of Ronan echo against the walls again, following him up into his room. It was a quiet and surprising thing, fleeting like the birds’ wings on Ronan’s neck.

Adam dreamt about Ronan that night. Perhaps he truly wasn’t real but just a myth his mind had helpfully added a face to. But it couldn’t be, Ronan’s hand had felt so real in his own, warm and soft, the comforting touch of a mystical stranger.

Adam looked out the next day but Ronan was gone. It wasn’t a surprise, he didn’t think people that drove such cars actually slept in churches but he still felt a deep sense of disappointment that nobody was waiting for him downstairs, singing a beautiful song in greeting.

Adam got back to work the next Sunday and though he rushed back to catch a glimpse of the brothers, or, well, Ronan, it was to no avail. They were gone, carrying their voices with them.

The days flew by, the weather got worse. Adam was cold more often than not and in those freezing days where he could only pace up and down his small apartment to gain some warmth, he remembered the touch of Ronan’s hands, their palms pressed together, Ronan’s finger lightly touching his racing pulse.

“They have a habit of Christmas caroling,” one of the ladies, Dorothy, apparently, had told him with a wink as if she knew Adam had been looking out for them. “They do it every year, it keeps the brotherly bond alive.”

Adam thought Christmas caroling only happened in cheesy Christmas movies but he had thanked her and kept Dorothy’s words to heart. He made sure to finish all of his homework before sitting down on his bed on Christmas eve, eyeing the door with nervous anticipation. He belatedly thought of the possibility they would only carol at the door of the church, not of his apartment. Still, he held the hope that Ronan would remember their conversation and attempt to sing for him.

Though Adam had hope, he didn’t actually expect a knock on his door. He turned the doorknob with a shaky hand, his stomach fluttering with nerves.

Before him stood three brothers.

Declan, his expression stoic, his suit black this time with a tie that looked as if it was made by someone artistic, snowflakes and Christmas trees decorating the red and green background. The tie greatly contrasted what Adam had thought was his personality. Maybe he wasn’t as boring as he portrayed himself to be.

Matthew, all golden curls and happy smiles as he sang, his head bobbing a little with every note, his eyes squinted to feel the music more. He was as he seemed, cheerfulness evident in every word he sang.

And then there was Ronan. He was dressed in all black, not quite right for Christmas eve but it fit him, Adam could tell even though he didn’t truly know him. The scar on his lip pulled a little when he sang, the sole focus point of Adam’s sight until he suddenly remembered he had been staring at Ronan’s lips with fascination and looked up again. His eyes met Ronan’s pale blue ones. It reminded him of the ice he always wished he could skate on but never could afford.

Ronan smiled while he sang, he could tell from the crinkles around his eyes. Adam couldn’t help but smile back and applaud a little when they were done.

“You deserve every praise you get,” Adam told the brothers. Declan nodded in appreciation and squeezed Ronan’s shoulder.

“He really is nice,” he said, smirking a little as Ronan’s cheeks turned red, his expression affronted that his brother dared to expose him like that. “Ronan forced us to sing for you.”

This time it was Adam’s time to blush, unable to meet Ronan’s eyes so they fell on Matthew instead who looked ecstatic. “I think you’ll make a lovely brother in law.”

“Matthew!” Ronan yelled and Matthew laughed as he dragged Declan down to ‘give them some privacy’.

Adam finally looked up to Ronan again and tugged a little on the sleeve of his suit jacket so he met his eyes again. “I’m glad you came here.”

“You are?” Ronan asked, sounding as if he expected Adam to slam his door in his face. Adam could sense the hope in Ronan’s eyes and, hell, it was Christmas Eve . This was the night for miracles and taking chances, for spending time with loved ones that Adam didn’t have but if he played it right, he could have exactly that next Christmas.

Adam thus nodded and ran inside to get a pen, writing his phone number on the palm of Ronan’s hand, the light blue almost the colour of the veins that ran underneath his skin. “I want to get to know you better, maybe you become less of a myth in my head.”

Ronan’s laugh sounded like bells and Adam couldn’t help but grin back, strangely proud that he made the boy with the wonderful voice laugh like that.

“I don’t use my phone a lot,” Ronan confessed but protectively curled his fingers around the phone number anyway and Adam knew he was going to call him.

“See it as a Christmas present to me,” Adam replied and Ronan’s lips pulled in a smirk, leaning closer to him as he spoke his next words.

“And what is my present then?”

Adam rolled his eyes, somewhere between exasperated and amused, knowing that he would be walking that fine line more often with Ronan. “A date?”

Ronan’s cheeks flushed a little again and he nodded. Adam cheered inwardly. “Deal,” he replied as if they were in some kind of business meeting. He briefly frowned, having realised that himself too.

Adam wanted to tease that he was more like his brother than he was probably willing to admit but he kept his mouth shut to ensure he would still go on that date.

“Deal,” he replied softly instead and watched as Ronan finally turned to leave, looking back one last time at him before going back into the cold. Adam watched Ronan push Declan and ruffle Matthew’s hair before getting into the shark-nosed BMW and driving off, the pristine snow still lingering to its exterior.

The myth of the Lynch Brothers didn’t end there but next Christmas, Adam was in on it too. He didn’t carol, it was something for the brothers alone. Instead, he comfortably sat on the worn couch of the Barns, sipping hot chocolate with Chainsaw, Ronan’s raven, her beak comfortably pressed into his neck, waiting for the brothers to return.

With them, the Lynches brought warmth and joy, a liveliness that Adam had missed in those years alone. It wasn’t before long that they came barrelling through the door, Ronan curling up next to him, one arm around the back of his shoulders as they retold where they had been caroling, how the old ladies of the church wished Adam a happy Christmas.

And Adam did have a happy Christmas, more so than he ever experienced before. He was surrounded by people he cared for more than anything and finally understood what the true Christmas spirit was about. Love, joy, and most importantly, spending time with your family, be it born or found.

#pynch #pynch fic #pynch fanfic #pynch fanfiction #trc #the raven cycle #trc fanfic #the raven cycle fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #pynchpromptweek #declan lynch #matthew lynch #mine

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parakeatswrites · 3 years

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oh hell yeah! what's your take on the pairings questions for ronan and adam?

Yes thank you! The lads! The boys! Oh boy, these two have so much of my heart ok here we go

[[link to the questions, send me a pairing (poly and platonic welcome!) 🥰]]

Who:

proposes - Ok, so I like headcanons about either one of them proposing equally, BUT my favourite headcanon is they are mid-fight, mid-crisis and Ronan proposes but then DOES NOT MENTION IT AGAIN b/c my boy thinks that should count as a ‘proposal’ and is waiting for Adam to give his answer. So maybe Adam doesn’t pick up on this because he’s not Actually a mind reader, ok, and so Ronan privately convinces himself that it’s FINE. He doesn’t NEED to be married. And then absolutely loses his cool when Adam (who thinks they haven’t had the conversations) proposes thoughtfully later.

shops for groceries - Ronan, probably, but he’s not like. GOOD at it.

kills the spiders - Both these boys are olympic gold level spider killers. (I’m looking at all the places they’ve lived and like... old farmhouse, church attic, doublewide, converted factory apartment, on-campus residence... these are filled with spiders. They have Practiced their Craft.) Tho, imagine if Adam tells Ronan that they can’t kill spiders anymore b/c it ruins the Balance just to fuck with him. And he insists for months that they have to catch them and put them outside. Blue is VERY on board with this and Ronan mutinies by refusing to acknowledge any spiders in their house.

comes home drunk at 3am - Canonically Ronan.

The rest under a read more b/c it got LONG

remembers to feed the fish - Ok, if they had an aquarium, Adam would probably have a notification in his phone to remember to feed the fish (like he definitely has calendar notifications in his phone to remember to water / rotate the plants, because sometimes Adam is just me), but he DEFINITELY doesn’t remember. It’s such a small habit to cram into an already overfull routine, this boy just doesn’t have the brain space. Ronan grew up on a farm though, he probably just adds ‘feed the fish’ after ‘collect the eggs’ and before ‘go talk to the goats’.

initiates duets - Ronan, hands down Ronan. Adam will come home super tired and Ronan decides to be really cheesy and start signing along to the radio that’s always on in the kitchen and pulling Adam into a hug that turns into clumsy sway-dancing and he’s like “come on babe, don’t make me carry this tune all by myself” ♥

falls asleep first - Adam

plans spontaneous trips - Ronan, usually I think. Ronan’s spontaneity to do fun/ridiculous things is one of the best things he brings to the relationship imo.

wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes - (god who does this? every atom in my body is opposed to this. i would probably vaporize anyone who did this to me.) Probably Ronan the first time. He was probably awake for the nth night in a row and ready to make a bad decision, so he woke up Adam and when Adam is blearily asking ‘what’s wrong, are you ok?’ Ronan is thinking ‘oh shit uh, yeah, this was a bad idea but i’m committed now.’ and demands a pancake party. The next week Adam does it back out of spite.

sends the other unsolicited nudes - Ok, first up I have to put context to the ‘unsolicited’ part of this. Because I’m not imagining unsolicited as in “they have barely talked and now there’s a dick pic in the chat.” Instead it’s more of a “they’re in a sexually active relationship and pics are a part of that, but no-one asked for any pictures at that very moment.” With that stage set, it’s Adam pretty much every time. He’s a very proactive partner 🤷‍♂️

brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt - Ronan and he didn’t even make any belts at all haha

comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops - Adam, but he doesn’t go in or anything. My boy just likes looking at things he thinks he can’t have.

blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit - Ronan!!! RONAN LYNCH!!! oh my god

killed the guy (also, which hid the body) - This is a couples bonding activity for them 💜💜💜

wears the least clothing around the house - I thought very hard about this and you know what. These two are probably totally clothing optional inside. Their friends probably assume it’s just Ronan, but look. Adam in private spaces is just as much of a weird, boundaryless gremlin. They also live somewhere hot, it’s got to be a ‘boxers or less’ kind of situation in there. Also less laundry?? Always a win.

has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason - Ronan, but it’s like. He just holds Adam’s hand and Adam is like “I’m. I’m cooking dinner. I need that.” and Ronan goes “ahuh” and leans up against him and like. Kisses his hair or something.

#sapphic-sargent

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gansey-just-gansey · 4 years

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Before I Wake Part One

Written by @gansey-just-gansey, @allfortheandriel , and @majoringinlycanthropy

A second later, the engine roared to life. Or rather, the car roared to life. Who knew what strange, miracle wiring was even making the sound that flooded their ears. Blue made a ridiculous whooping sound of glee. The year was stretched out in front of them: magical, enormous and entirely unwritten. It was a marvellous thing and Blue was alive with the thought of a future unpredicted. Fate diverted.

“Do you think it ever breaks down?” Gansey shouted over the sputtering of the not-engine.

Henry began to laugh, warm and delighted. “This is going to be a great trip.”

He stepped on the gas.

Blue jerked awake, disoriented, like she actually expected to wake up in that old, beaten up dream car instead of here, on this plush dream sofa. She couldn’t believe how vivid it all had seemed. Her heart was racing. She could still feel the wind cooling sweat on her forehead, the smell of warm tires, and something fresh and mint-like that lingered on her lips.

“It was all just a dream,” she whispered, if only to convince herself.

“Dreams?” came a smooth voice from the other end of the large sofa. Joseph Kavinsky sat up with a snort, drawing a thumb under his nose to rub the powder away. There was more blow untouched on the mirror beside him. “Dreaming’s my job,” he said. “You just rest your pretty head.”

“Mm, just a crazy dream,” Blue mused. “I was friends with Dick Three and his merry gang. That wasn’t even the craziest part.” The dream had started to fade, but she recounted the heart of it. Prophecies, mysteries, and dead Welsh kings. It sounded like a bad trip by the time she shared the finishing dissolving details.

He laughed shortly. “You dreamed me dead, little witch? Fucking dark. And here I thought we were in love.” His crooked smirk mocked her.

“You should be so lucky,” she said haughtily, rubbing at that space above her nose where a headache had begun to form. “Quit hogging the coke. The world is way too sharp right now.”

“Come here, baby. Come get your fix,” he patted his leg, presenting himself like a throne for her to sit on.

Blue rolled her eyes, but did sit on his lap, pressed up against him as she used one of the numerous fake IDs that Kavinsky must have dreamt to separate out her own line. When she bent in to take it, she saw a flash of his grin. His smile would be almost nice to look at if it wasn’t like experiencing the world being turned over on its head. Her nose burned, stinging hard as she wriggled it, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before that sensation began to fade. The pain, the dream, K’s crooked smile, along with the rest of the world around her would be gone soon.

Kavinsky gripped her thigh as she started to slide off his lap. “Ah ah ah, little witch, where’s my payment?” He tapped his bottom lip.

A kiss. Only a kiss.

Blue didn’t hesitate, catching his mouth easily, and the world as she knew it melted like paint in a rainstorm. Their lips slotted together and her hand curled around the nape of his neck as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss. Complaining was in Blue Sargent’s nature, but in the end she truly didn’t mind kissing him. He was at least good at it, much better than others she had kissed. He knew how to use his mouth and tongue. In an instant, with his mouth against hers, she felt new. She was clean. She was oh so clean. Washed away like the world.

They were still plastered to each other when Proko entered the room; his familiar boots making heavy sounds as he came down the stairs. Blue felt the loss immediately. A kiss and then none at all, broken by K to watch his favorite plaything make his way towards them. No, Prokopenko was the easiest plaything. She didn’t want to think about what she was. She sighed quietly, wiping away the feeling of the kiss from her bottom lip. Her time with Kavinsky was over now.

Whatever, it was time for her shift at Nino’s anyway. “Later, bitches,” she said, not bothering to wait for a goodbye. K would already be too wrapped up in Proko to pay any attention to her exit.

She was only halfway through her shift when Gansey, the star of her dream, came through the door, followed by his disciples. She rolled her eyes, ignoring them as they were seated by her coworker. Her cheeks burned at the memory of Gansey’s part in her dream. She could still hear the sound of the Pig’s engine, the smell of mint on his breath, the feel of-

“Pardon me, miss.”

Blue turned unwillingly towards the voice. She knew who it was of course, how could anybody mistake the sound of that honeyed, old-money, Virginia accented voice?

“Yes?” she asked Gansey, impatiently.

He looked a bit put off by her curtness, but not enough to stop his next words. “Would you like to come sit with us?” He gestured at his table where the other three were watching. She knew Ronan, of course, and Adam from K’s stories. The third boy was unfamiliar, blonde and smudgy. The stranger looked curious, Adam distasteful, and Ronan, that absolute bastard, amused. She scowled at him and his smile grew. She jerked her attention back to Gansey.

“Do you see how I’m wearing this apron? It means I’m working. For a living.”

He looked unconcerned. “I’ll take care of it.”

She echoed, “Take care of it?”

“Yeah. How much do you make in an hour? I’ll take care of it. And I’ll talk to your manager.”

Blue was at a loss for words. She regarded him with narrowed eyes. Could he really be propositioning her? Here, at her real job? Considering for just a moment, she decided it couldn’t hurt. She needed money to keep up with her habits. She couldn’t solely rely on K accepting her other services as payment. It wore her out too much.

“How much are you offering, sugar?” she asked, voice like silk. She put one hand on his forearm and left it there, leaning into him.

"You can't sell what you give out for free," Ronan smirked at her, coming up behind Gansey.

"Stay out of this, Lynch. If your friend is looking for a good time, I can oblige. Money might not be a problem for you, but the rest of us need cash to keep up with our habits."

"What kind of habits?" Gansey asked, frowning now.

"That's not anything you need to worry about, baby," Blue responded, pulling out her man-eating smile, the one she used when asking K to get her something good. “What do you say we talk when my shift is over? You can have me the whole night, if you like.”

“Oh yeah, you better prepare to drop a lot on that, Gansey. Like, at least twenty bucks,” Ronan rolled his eyes.

Gansey looked extremely confused and maybe a little frustrated now. “I was just asking if you’d like to have dinner with us.”

Blue’s smile dropped. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. What did you mean?”

“I thought maybe-”

“She thought you wanted to pay her for more than just her pleasant company,” Ronan said gleefully. She wanted to rip the sarcastic smile from his face.

Realization dawned on the Aglionby boy’s face. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

Blue had abruptly run completely out of patience for these boys. “That is what you said! But it doesn’t matter, you couldn’t pay me enough to suffer your abhorrent know-it-all attitude and judgemental friends. Get out of my face,” she snarled, moving to go around them and hide in the kitchen until they left. Maybe she would call K and convince him to make the trip to the pizza parlor so she didn’t have to go the rest of her shift without another hit.

“Wait,” Gansey said, grabbing her arm as she passed. A dangerous look came over her face as she glared at the offending hand and then its owner. He released her slowly. “I just wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding.”

“Whatever,” she snapped, turning on her heel and slamming through the kitchen and out the back door, yelling over her shoulder that she was going on her lunch break on her way out. She was already pulling up K’s number on the phone he’d bought her in exchange for her services.

He answered on the first ring, making her swell a little with pride. He always dropped what he was doing just to answer her. “Hello, little witch. I missed you leaving earlier. You don’t even bother to say goodbye anymore?”

“I did, you were too distracted by Prokopenko to notice.” She tried not to let her annoyance slip through, lest he turn down her request.

“Ah well, that does sound like me. What do you want?” he asked. As disinterested as it was, his voice was a balm for her frayed nerves.

“I need a hit. Will you swing by?” she asked, scuffing her shoes on the asphalt.

“What will you give me in exchange?”

“Anything. Dick Three is here and pissing me off. I need it,” she said, a plaintive note in her voice.

“Oh is he now? Lynch and Parrish, too?”

“Of course.”

“It might be worth the run just to go fuck with them,” K mused. She stayed silent, letting her bait sit. She knew it would get her further for cheaper than if she begged. “Okay. I’ll be there in five.” He hung up.

Blue heard when Kavinsky showed up, his engine rumbling loud enough to be heard from the back of the restaurant. She went back through the kitchens to meet him in the front, but he was already leaning over the table that held the other Aglionby boys. All four were stiff, with varying degrees of anger on their faces. She smiled for their discomfort.

Finally, K started laughing and straightened up. His eyes roved over the crowd until they landed on Blue, still waiting next to the kitchen. He sauntered up to her, pulling her into a deep kiss that she had no choice to return, not that she minded very much. When he was done, he smacked her ass and slung his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back through the kitchen door. She chanced a glance back at the table Gansey sat. He watched them with a deep frown. The smudgy boy looked disappointed now; Adam’s distasteful look had intensified. She saved the worst for last. Ronan was pissed, his glower following them as they left.

“Definitely worth the trip,” he laughed, pulling out the little baggy of fine powder and holding it in front of her face when they were back outside. She grabbed at it, but he pulled it back at the last second. “Hey, show some gratitude. I came all the way here.”

She propped her fists up on her hips. “You said-”

“That it was worth the trip,” he finished, wagging a finger at her. “Not worth the substance.”

She sighed. “What do you want for it?”

His grin came easily. “Nothing as bad as all that. Just a little something for me this time.” He tapped his lip like he had earlier.

She fitted herself against his body, tilting her head up as he leaned down to reach her. The kiss was soft this time, tongues sliding together and hands roaming. When his palms reached her ass, she nipped hard at his lip.

“Easy,” K chuckled.

“Not at work,” Blue said unconvincingly. Her eyes were still on his lips.

“Fine. When you get home, then.” He tossed the baggy up in the air and she snatched it.

“Done,” she agreed, tearing open the bag and making a line on the extra chair that they kept back here. She did the line, sniffling a little when she was done. “Thanks.” She planted a chaste- or chaste for them- kiss on his lips before returning to finish her shift. She willed the memory of that honeyed, Virginian drawl to fade along with the rest of the sharp edges of reality.

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lynnkn · 4 years

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You can plan on me

Hey! Here’s my gift for @pastelle-pvnk for Pynch Secret Santa 2019 hosted by @pynchpromptweek. They wanted to see the boys happy, and in love, so I hope I delivered on that!

Pairing: Adam Parrish/Ronan Lynch

Words: 2,878

Warnings: One Call Down the Hawk spoiler. It’s a super tiny spoiler, but if you want to go into CDTH knowing absolutely nothing, beware!

Summary: Ronan trusts Adam. He trusts that Adam's recent odd behavior has more to do with Christmas than anything bad. That doesn't mean he isn't curious.

Read it on AO3!

The sun did nothing to warm the December chill sweeping through Henrietta and particularly the Aglionby parking lot. Ronan cranked up the heat in the BMW and pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

He urged the bell to ring sooner. The students were only moments away from Christmas break. Many of them would return to their families in D.C. or wherever the bourgeoisie gathered. But he was only interested in one particular Raven boy.

Okay, that was probably unfair to Gansey, but he was returning to Alexandria for two weeks of family stuff. Personally, Ronan would rather saw off his left arm and then pay someone to do the right than spend a week with the Gansey cult, but he understood…mostly.

It was Adam he was waiting for.

A bell rang throughout the campus, and the lot flooded with rowdy teenage boys, reveling in the first moments of freedom. Ronan slid down in his seat, hoping to avoid eye contact with his former peers. At one point, he probably would’ve sought them out to scare them off with an uncomfortable stare or a violent swing of his fist. But he was trying to fly under the radar as much as possible lately, especially when it came to Aglionby boys.

He didn’t care what they thought of him, whether they knew he was gay, but Adam still had to talk to these people every day. They were his classmates, and if they knew he was dating Ronan, the next few months would be torture.

A crowd of boys parted to reveal Henry, Gansey, and Adam, marching toward him. Adam’s hair was wind-swept, and the bags under his eyes were thicker and darker than usual. Gansey did nothing more than wave to him, unsurprisingly supportive of their choice to keep things quiet, as Adam stealthily broke away from the group to slip into the passenger seat. The sun bounced off the thin layer of snow outside and backlit Adam enough to make him look ethereal. He was all harsh angles and worn-out eyes. He’d been so busy over the past few weeks that Ronan had barely seen him, between finals and a few extra shifts he’d picked up at work. Ronan wasn’t ever sure if Adam had been sleeping, let alone when.

But when the door was shut, and they turned to look at each other, Adam smiled. It was a rare and beautiful thing that smile, and Ronan still didn’t understand what provoked it.

“Hi,” Adam said when Ronan remained hypnotized by the small sliver of teeth.

“Hi,” he said.

He allowed himself another moment to stare before he started the car, tearing out of the parking lot. It was probably not as inconspicuous as Adam would have preferred, but he’d been so distracted he’d defaulted to his usual driving habits.

But Adam didn’t say anything, and Ronan kept driving until they got to the Sheetz just outside of Henrietta. He whipped around the curve and into the lot, nearly taking out a flower bed in the process. And once the car was stopped, he leaned over the center console to kiss Adam. It was their first in nearly a week.

It was nothing special, except that he was kissing Adam Parrish, which always felt a bit like a dream. Like at any moment, it could all go wrong. But no. They were safe. They were together. They were hungry.

They got sandwiches, and fries, and mac and cheese bites, and Adam let Ronan pay without saying a word. It was odd but less so than it would have been before. They took their food back to the Barns and spread out across the couch, laying down a layer of napkins and unpacking all of the food in front of them. Opal bounced excited around them as she always did when Adam came over.

Adam, with a face full of burger and a cautiously raised eyebrow, watched him, making Ronan realize he was staring. It was such a soft gesture he wanted to break something to release the tension. Instead, he leaned forward and stole a fistful of Adam’s fries and stuffed them in his mouth.

Adam huffed. “Asshole.”

It was so beautiful, he knew it had to be temporary. “When do you have to leave for work?”

Adam took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I have the day off.”

Something in Ronan’s chest burst and he took in a breath. “That’s awesome.” He’s caught off-guard by his own enthusiasm, but he’d missed his boyfriend. He’d spent most of the last two months terrified that Adam would wake up from whatever weird fugue state he was in, realize what he was doing, and run.

“It is,” Adam said with a quiet laugh.

“How’d you fucking swing that?” Ronan said, overcome with suspicion. The warehouse had been busy for the past few weeks, which was why Adam had taken on extra shifts.

Adam threw a wrapper on the floor, and Opal swooped in, shoving the paper in her mouth. “I made it work.” He flopped casually against Ronan’s side, pressed so close his hair brushed against Ronan’s collarbone. He suppressed a shiver.

That night, lying in his bed, with Adam asleep beside him, he sent up a silent prayer. “Thank you,” he whispered into the dark and silence.

And in the kitchen the next morning, when Adam said he had the rest of the week off, he allowed himself to enjoy it instead of asking questions. Adam would tell him if there was something wrong. He was almost sure of it.

Declan and Matthew arrived on the 23rd, and it began to properly feel like Christmas. Their last Christmas had been a disaster, but that probably had to do with their recently buried father and their mother in a magical coma. Declan had been more tolerable than usual during their last few phone calls.

He also didn’t technically know Ronan and Adam were dating. Ronan was sure he had his suspicions, but he’d refused to outright confirm or deny anything.

Adam didn’t seem to mind playing the role of casual dude friend. He was even good at it, which was both very annoying and very attractive. Ronan made sure to tell him that as they kissed, both of them pressed against the wall of Ronan’s bedroom.

“It’s cause we were friends first, jackass,” Adam said.

Ronan was quite sure his feelings for Adam had never been platonic, but he didn’t mention that. “Still,” he said. “They should give you a fucking Oscar for that.” He traced the vein the ran along the side of Adam’s temple with his finger. “I thought the fist bump was particularly sexy.”

“Don’t say that. I fist bump Gansey.”

Ronan went in for another kiss, and Adam gracefully glided the door shut, taking care to avoid slamming it.

As Ronan got dressed for Mass, he thought about Adam alone at the house and briefly considered staying behind with him. It seemed like a dick-move to leave Adam alone on Christmas Eve, but Matthew had been excited for all three Lynch bothers to attend Christmas Eve Mass together again. Considering Ronan was the one missing the previous year, as he was passed out drunk in the back of the BMW, he felt he owed it to his younger brother.

He went downstairs to find Opal sitting on the kitchen counter, chewing a can of Coke. Ronan took it from her to pop it open before handing it back. She promptly dumped the soda into the sink beside her and continued to chew on the can. Ronan gave an indignant huff, more for show than anything.

Footsteps drew his attention to the staircase. Adam stood at the top, hair neatly combed back, and Ronan’s tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going with you.”

“You are?”

“What? You worried I’m going to burn if I walk in the front door?” His face drooped, and he pulled back, suddenly shy. “Is it okay if I come?”

Ronan’s skepticism grew. Adam had never shown any interest in attending service with them. He usually worked on Sundays, and Ronan had assumed that was intentional. He’d always thought Adam’s aversion to the church wasn’t just a product of his work schedule.

He fought to keep the curious look off his face. “I guess,” he said. His face split into a wicked grin. “But only if you’re willing to take the chance.”

“Hasn’t happened to you yet,” Adam said.

“Whatever you say, sinner.”

Declan thankfully didn’t comment as Adam followed them out to the Volvo. He caught Ronan’s eyes across the top of the vehicle and raised his eyebrow. Ronan made a point of not looking. He’d come out to both Declan and Matthew earlier in the month, as casually and cooly as he could. They took it well. Although Declan took it too far, going into a speech about how proud he was of Ronan for sharing. It had been so disgusting, Ronan had been forced to give him a wet willy to end the torture.

He didn’t care what Declan thought of him or of Adam for that matter. Still, he wasn’t ready to tell him yet. It felt like the kind of conversation that would end in a fight, and Ronan was trying to keep the peace for Matthew’s sake.

The four of them piled into the Volvo. Ronan let Matthew have shotgun and slipped into the backseat, across from Adam, who was wringing his hands into an anxious knot. Once Declan started the car and had his eyes locked on the road in front of them, Ronan reached over to place his palm over them. He felt the tension drain from Adam’s muscles. He never thought such pleasures were even an option for someone like him. He was so happy, he didn’t complain about Declan’s speed once.

“I’ve gotta grab something upstairs, Adam said as he climbed from the car. “I’ll meet you in the sanctuary in a minute.” He vanished upstairs, leaving the Lynch brothers gathered in a small semi-circle in the gravel lot.

Ronan pushed past his brothers, hoping to avoid any questions. They found their usual seats, and Ronan left a space next to him. Adam slipped into it when he came back downstairs. “What’d you need to get?”

Adam shrugged and turned his attention forward as the service began. He casually stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s the time of year for secrets.”

Ronan turned as well, letting his gaze linger.

After Mass, they returned to the Barns where they dug into some Christmas cookies Declan bought for Matthew on their way into town. Soon Declan and Matthew went to bed, and Opal lept out the door in pursuit of a rabbit she saw run past the window.

Adam and Ronan settled into the living room and spent some time flipping through various Christmas specials. Adam had seen most of them, to Ronan’s surprise. “This is all we did at school the week before Christmas,” he said. “You haven’t seen all of these?”

“Dad used to tell us stories,” he said. “But with a lot more swords and a lot less holiday spirit.”

“Sure,” Adam said sarcastically. “Did the heroes kill Santa?”

“Only sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes, they slayed snow monsters or demons.” He looked up and caught Adam grinning at him, fighting back laughter. “Don’t stare at me like that, Parrish. I had a perfectly fucking normal childhood.”

“You did?” Adam said through a laugh. “Sure. I believe that.”

“I did. I saw all the Veggie Tales Christmas specials.”

That was apparently too much for Adam, who threw himself backward on the couch, howling and smiling. Ronan couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him. He took more pride in that damn smile than in any dream he’d ever dreamt. Dreaming was easy. Making Adam Parrish smile was not.

As their lips touched, something beeped below them. Ronan brushed it off. He had no reason to answer his phone with Declan and Matthew upstairs and Adam right next to him. He considered Gansey or Blue, but they were both with their families, and they knew to leave him a message if he didn’t answer right away.

Then Adam flinched below him, pulling himself out and stumbling to the kitchen with a mumbled, “I need a drink.”

Ronan followed him, watching as he patted his pockets and shuffled out of the room.

The kitchen was dark, and Ronan could only barely make out the silhouette standing by the counter. Even if he hadn’t known though, hunched shoulders and wiry arms would have given him away.

“What are you doing?”

His head snapped up meerkat-like and panicked. Guilt twinged in his gut and approached cautiously. He stepped forward but left a large space between them, trying to leave room for Adam to close the gap, trying to give him the chance to control the situation.

Even in the dark, he could make out the illuminated glow of a cell phone in his hand. For a moment, Ronan thought Adam had grabbed his phone from the coffee table, but it was easy to tell this was a new phone. There was a default background on the screen, and there wasn’t a single scratch or crack on it.

“I didn’t steal it,” Adam said, which was stupid because he wasn’t about to fucking accuse him of stealing it. Ronan let him continue talking anyway. “I just thought I might need one when I start school, and I had a little money leftover last month.”

Last month. Had Adam really had a cell phone for a whole month and not brought it up to Ronan at all?

“It’s prepaid, and I don’t have service in many places, but it’s something.”

“Yeah. It’s something,” Ronan said, tentative and nervous. Were there other secrets? “Why’d you take the whole week off?” he asked before he could reign in his words.

“I wanted to spend time with you. Was that not okay?” Adam said in a tight, panicked voice that made Ronan hate himself. He never wanted Adam to sound like that again. More than that, he never wanted to be the reason Adam sounded like that.

“No,” he interjected quickly. “I have to know, man,” he said panting. He leaned his forehead against Adam’s. “Did you get fired or something?”

“Don’t call me man while we’re doing this,” Adam said, gesturing to their proximity and the way Ronan’s hand cupped the back of his neck. It was fair, but also a diversion.

“Adam,” he pleaded. “What’s going on with you?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Ronan waited for a punch line or further elaboration, but Adam remained locked in position, eyes forward and posture straight. When Ronan continued to stare, confused and sleepy, Adam rolled his eyes and pulled the phone back out. He swiped away a text from Gansey to show Ronan a calendar. It was color-coded and meticulously labeled. His work schedule was marked with green, and classes and homework were blue. Unlabeled red boxes covered the screen. Everything was perfectly mapped out until mid-February.

“I don’t have money, and even if I did…” Adam paused, sucking in a nervous breath. “You can make anything you want, so I had to find something you couldn’t create yourself.” He took Ronan’s hand in his, pressing his thumb to Ronan’s palm. “I realized the best thing I could give you was my time. I’m ready to do this. I’m not half-assing this.”

This was the Adam Parrish Ronan knew, full of ambition and pride. A chip on his shoulder and a fire in his belly. God, Ronan missed him, and he hadn’t even left yet.

“You’ve never half-assed anything in your life.”

“When I leave, I’m coming back. When I’m at school or work, just wait until I’m done cause I promise I’ll be back.” He held the phone up again, gesturing to the red boxes on the calendar. “These are yours. And all this empty space is yours too, if you need it.”

Ronan pulled him forward, hands grasping the collar of his shirt and kissed him again, pausing to remember what it felt like when Adam Parrish’s lips pressed against his. Adam was going to leave, and it was going to hurt, but sometimes after a drought, came a flood and Ronan was comfortable waiting.

The light flicked on over them, startling them both back against the counter. Declan stood in the doorway, with a tired expression and a deep sigh. “Saw that coming,” he said, flicking the light back off. “Merry Christmas, Ronan,” he called over his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, asshole,” Ronan yelled back, wiping his lips on his shirt sleeve.

Declan stuck his head back into the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, Parrish,” he said. “Welcome to the family.”

Ronan worried that would be enough to scare Adam off, but instead, he let out an anxious laugh. “Merry Christmas, Declan.”

In the morning, they’d open presents, and Adam would get to see the watch Ronan had dreamt for him. Because they’d always have time for one another. Because no matter what, they’d make it work. This was going to work, goddamnit.

#pynch #trc #call down the hawk #cdth spoilers #adam parrish #ronan lynch #raven fools #my fic

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emmerrr · 5 years

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For the Kiss prompt.... #22 and Pynch (of course!). :3 Pwease!

22)…in a rush of adrenaline

Ronan jumped first, because Ronan always jumped first.

He felt that furious joy as he fell, hitting the water with a satisfying splash. He sank a good ten feet into the water before drifting back up and letting out an impressive curse as he broke the surface.

The water was lovely and cool and clear, a quiet little cove that felt like it had been made just for the two of them.

Ronan looked up and up to see Adam peering over the verge above; he lazily swam backwards so as to see him better.

“Is it cold?” Adam called down.

“It’s refreshing.”

Ronan couldn’t quite make out Adam’s expression from here, but he just knew he was frowning. “That means it’s cold.”

He sounded so disgruntled that Ronan couldn’t help but laugh. Adam ignored this and stepped up to the edge, taking a good long look down at the water.

“Is it as high as it looks from here?” he asked, carefully nonchalant.

“Well, how long did it take me to hit the water when I jumped?”

“...Like, a second?”

Ronan shrugged, with difficulty as he was treading water. “It’s about that high, then.”

“Helpful, Lynch, thanks.”

“Anytime, babe.”

There didn’t seem to be any point in reminding him that he didn’t have to jump if he didn’t want to. Adam already knew that; he knew there was a path leading down to the water that he could follow instead. But the fact that he was still up there meant he was going to jump, which meant all Ronan had to do was wait him out.

Figuring it might help if Adam didn’t feel so scrutinised, Ronan started swimming slowly from side to side of the little cove. He’d made two trips when he heard, “Oh fuck it,” and by the time he’d turned around, Adam was already hitting the water.

He surfaced a moment later, gasping. “Oh fuck, Ronan, fuck, that was high! Fuck, it’s freezing!”

Ronan hurriedly swam over and Adam reached for him immediately, clinging to him with one arm as he used the other to help him keep afloat.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, but his eyes were bright with adrenaline and he laughed at whatever he saw in Ronan’s face. He wrapped both arms around Ronan’s neck and kissed him, the action making the both of them submerge again.

Kissing underwater was awesome, but could only last so long because of their unfortunate dependency on oxygen, and with their fingers entwined, they kicked their way back up to the surface.

"Not so bad, huh?” Ronan said when they’d gotten their breath back.

“I mean, no broken bones so that’s a win. But I don’t think I’m gonna make a habit of doing that or anything.”

“That’s a shame. I missed it.”

“What do you mean you missed it?”

“I wasn’t looking, Parrish. I only caught the splash.”

Adam shook his head and playfully shoved some water Ronan’s way. “Unbelievable.”

Ronan grinned. “You could always do it again.”

Adam looked from Ronan to the spot where he’d jumped from and back again. He held his hand out. “Together?”

Ronan took it. “Together.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #trc fic #trc

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teardropfires · 5 years

Text

Every Dream of You I’ve Had

Soooo it’s been a minute since I’ve posted some writing, but after reading The Raven Cycle I have FEELINGS. Mostly about the Gangsey.

But also about Joseph fucking Kavinsky.

So here’s this. (also on Ao3)

Ronan was angry.

He was often angry about something; chores around the barn, Declan, Gansey’s annoying habit of “checking in” on him by calling him repeatedly until he answered the fucking phone, Declan, messing up a dream item, Opal chewing on shit she wasn’t supposed to, most things that came out of Henry Cheng’s mouth, and Declan. More times than not, his eldest brother was the source of his hot mood, but not tonight. Tonight, that honor belonged to Adam Parrish. It stung more because it was Adam. It made the heat in his veins boil hotter than they had in ages.

“Ronan, are you still there?” Adam said after what had been a very long, tense silence. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I fucking heard you,” Ronan hissed through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t mean to upse--”

“Too bad, Parrish. You did,” Ronan said, cutting him off.

“Oh, come on, Ro--”

“Piss off.”

Ronan ended the call. He dropped his phone on his bed, retrieved the keys to the BMW, and walked out of his room just as his phone screen lit up with another incoming call from Adam.

He drove aimlessly. The bass music pumping from the stereo fueled his ire. He pressed harder on the gas pedal. The friction of the road below him hummed against his skin and he smiled: wild and reckless. He sped through the night until his mind went blank and dark as the surrounding night sky.

Ronan slowed as he approached a familiar set of trees, he couldn’t tell how he knew those trees were familiar, there was nothing physically special about them, they were fucking trees, but something about the way his skin tingled as he drove near them gave him pause.

He slowed the car down to a stop, put it in reverse, backed up then drove towards them. As he approached his headlights showed a familiar clearing opening up. His heart slammed against his chest as his foot slammed on the brakes.

“Kavinsky,” he breathed out as he starred at the entrance to what he now knew would lead him to the abandoned fairgrounds.

He wondered if the reject Mitsubishi’s were still there. Curiosity made him press his foot back to the gas and slowly creep down the clearing. He could hear his heartbeat against his ears as his headlights beamed over the rows of defunct white cars.

He let out a long studdered breath, his hands gripped tight around the steering wheel.

“Alright,” He muttered under his breath. “You’ve seen them. Now you can leave.”

He didn’t move.

“Turn the car around,” He said, “ And leave,”

Reason, manifested as the voices of Blue then Gansey, told him he was being an idiot and that their or better ways to handle his emotions. When a voice that started to sound like Adam chimed, he slienced it with the kill of the engine.

As he opened the door, the car lights turned off.

His eyes took what seems like ages to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he walked to the closest Mitsubishi. He dragged a finger across the hood as he passed the car that was leaning slightly to the left, rough dusk collected under his fingers as he did, and when he got to the side of the car he realized that this version was missing a tire. Not just the tire, but the part of the axel that it would connect to.

Ronan huffed out a humorless laugh and opened the driver-side door and slid onto the seat.

It smells like him, he thought and then stilled, confused by where that thought had come from. Ronan was under no falsehood that he and Joseph Kavinsky had been real friends, so the idea of knowing -- remembering -- what he smelled like seemed illogical. He shook his head and cleared the thought.

Ronan reached for the ignition, hoping for the keys to be hanging from it, but the space around it was empty as he touched. He sighed and let his hand fall away as his gaze drifted around the car. He opened up the center console and paused again. Without taking his gaze away he slowly reached above him to turn on the light. His heart studdered slightly as the light revealed a small clear bottle. Inside were a dozen of green little pills.

Maybe he imagined the small jolt of energy that shot through his arm as he picked them up. He twisted the cap off and poured a few into his hand. He moved his hand higher to the light, examining the pills. His gaze shifted to the row of other cars.

“I wonder if all these cars have your little starter pack, K,” Ronan muttered.

He put the pills back in the bottle and turned off the light. He got out the car and without even thinking walked over to the next one. Without checking for other defects, he opened the center console, turned on the light and found a small clear bottle with dozens of little green pills.

He moved on to the next one; same. And the one after that and the one after that. After the sixth or the seventh car, he felt like he had enough to prove his theory to be true. Although the last two cars he had check had a large bag of what looked like cocaine, each of them had the small bottle of green pills.

Ronan stared down at the bottle of pills in his hand. He turned off the light to the car. He opened up the bottle of pills, poured one into his hand and looked down at it for a long time.

No one would care. His anger let him convince himself of that. He popped it into his mouth swallowing it dryly.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he let the drug take him under.

“Did you miss me, Lynch?”

Ronan’s eyes shot open at the sound of the unmistakable voice of Joseph Kavinsky.

He was still in the Mitsubishi when he took in his surrounding, but there was the bewildering addition of Joseph - fucking - Kavinsky.

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed out.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kavinsky said, a smile crept slowly on his plump lips.

Ronan scowled.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s your dream, sweetheart, you tell me,” Kavinsky said.

“I wouldn’t bring myself to this shit hole place in a dream,” Ronan said, gesturing to the car-littered fairground.

“Ah, but you did, Lynch.”

Hearing the way Kavinsky drawled out his name like no one had ever done before made goosebumps break out against his skin.

Kavinsky smirked.

Ronan looked away.

Minutes passed. Ronan felt like he kept waiting for Kavinsky to say something, anything to ruin the silence, something that would make him angrier; or angry again because at that moment he realized he wasn’t really all that angry anymore. He felt confused and tired. He sighed and looked back to Kavinsky.

“Aren’t you going to entertain me, Lynch.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan spat out.

“Ooh, with pleasure, girlie,” Kavinsky said, and without warning leaned against the center console and grabbed Ronan around the back of his neck. His mouth attacked Ronan’s with a painful clash of teeth against teeth and forced his tongue immediately into Ronan’s protesting mouth.

The familiar heat of anger rose in Ronan like wildfire and he pushed Kavinsky off him, but Kavinsky didn’t go far and only moved his hands from the back of Ronan’s neck to his front and abruptly started to choke him.

Ronan gasped, his hands clawed against the ones at his neck, and tried to pry them off. Kavinsky just smiled and leaned in closer.

“I told you, Lynch,” He said and leaned and licked Ronan’s lips in a slow, messy sweep of his tongue. The saliva trail left behind felt oddly cold against Ronan’s skin.

“You’re either with me,” He tightened his grip and Ronan struggled to breathe and felt his consciousness slipping.

“Or Against me.” Kavinsky hissed. And without warning, he smashed Ronan’s head into the window.

Ronan woke up gasping for air. Heart thudding painfully in his chest he looked around or him, for Kavinsky. But he was alone again. His head ached with the phantom pain of his head cracking against the window, glass piercing his skin as it shattered with impact.

He took a few minutes to collect himself and calm his breathing.

He left the pills.

Adam’s tri-colored car is parked in front of the barn when Ronan pulls up. He gets out of it when Ronan parks next to it.

Ronan doesn’t say anything as Adam gets into the car. He doesn’t look at him. Not even when Adam reaches over and turns down his music from eardrum bleeding inducing to a volume more reasonable.

“You know how long that drive is?”Adam said. And Ronan can hear the smile in his voice, he knows it’s meant as a joke, but he can feel the familiar simmer of anger low in his gut.

“No one asked you to come, Parrish.”

Adam doesn't say anything for a long time. Ronan doesn’t either.

“You didn’t pick up the phone,” Adam said after a while. After the tense silence got too much for him.

“Left it in my room.”

“Opal? Where is she? You just left her here?”

“She’s somewhere in there with my brother.”

“Declan?”

Ronan’s head snapped toward Adam to give him a disgusted look. Adam smiled.

“I’m joking. Lighten up, Lynch”

Ronan felt his body freeze, tense with anxiety at the mention of his last name. The last time it was said played on a loop in his head. Lynch Lynch Lynch Lynch, Miss me, Lynch?

Ronan jumped at the warm touch on his face. He flinched away from Adam so violently he hit his head against the window. For the second time tonight, he thought. But then again… not really.

He felt his anger transform into something different, something confusing, something he didn’t want.

“Ronan!” Adam said with the urgency of someone who’s been trying to reach someone for a long time. “Ronan, look at me.”

Ronan focused on Adam. They locked eyes with each other and Ronan’s heart rate started to slow. He felt his panic leeching from him as though it was being physically removed.

“What was that?” Adam asked after a few minutes of Ronan collecting himself.

“That was you pissing me off again.”

“Me touching you pisses you off?”Adam asked, his accent thicker as his nervousness started to get the better of him.

Ronan stared at him for a long moment. Adam stared back.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ronan said finally. He reached and grabbed Adams hand and pulled him close to him. He could feel Adam’s sigh of relief feather warmly against his skin before their lips met in a chaste kiss.

And for the first time, it felt …

Not wrong. But not the same.

Don’t be a fucking idiot, Ronan. It’s your boyfriend.

Ronan leaned in closer. Adam sighed into him, content. He pulled back and smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Adam said.

Ronan nodded and when Adam leaned in to kiss him again Ronan closed his eyes, and then it felt like a dream.

#the dream theives #ronan lynch #joseph kavinsky #kavinsky #ronan x kavinsky #ronan x adam #rovinsky #im rusty so forgive me yall #but i had so much fun writing this #trc

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emdop · 5 years

Text

WIP tag game

I was tagged by @fallynephemeron. YESSS! I love getting tagged in posts, especially when they have to do with writing.

What genre(s) you write:

I mostly write Romance and the occasional Fantasy. Although there isn’t a genre that wouldn’t be interested in trying…except for maybe Historical Nonfiction. I’m not trying to write a textbook anytime soon.

What’s on your reading wish list:

OOh, boy. Get ready for the shame; there’s so much I haven’t read. Anything by V. E. Schwab. I’ve heard so many good things about her books and I follow her on social media. She seems like an amazing person and I honestly need to read her books.

Grisha trilogy and six of crows duo logy. I know. I know.

Good Omens by Terry Prattchet and Neil Gaiman. I actually own this book and I bought the gorgeous UK edition. It’s on next month’s TBR in time for the show. Stoked to start reading it.

The Night Circus. The artwork for this book is lovely and I think I’d really like the atmospheric quality to the writing.

Now for a list of stuff I haven’t read but plan on getting to at some point: An Ember in the Ashes series, Children of Blood and Bone, Scythe, Strange the Dreamer, Dumplin’, Wayward children series, Throne of glass (I’m not so stoked on this series, but I thought I’d at least try it before dismissing it), Holes, The Lunar Chronicles… the list goes on.

Your favorite character from your current WIP:

Jet pansexual rock star who just want to make music and have a good time. He has a habit of breaking out into song and changing the lyrics to famous tune to match whatever is happening around him. Some of them are unbearably catchy and his bandmates will get them stuck in their heads.

Fortune yes he hates his name and I’m not sorry about it. He’s from a different WIP that I haven’t talked about much because I haven’t started actually writing it yet. But this guy will NOT SHUT UP in my head; he’s constantly jabbering at me. Like DUDE I don’t need your whole life story just yet. His personality is if Ronan Lynch from The Raven Cycle met Seamus Finnigan from the Harry Potter series, and they had a kid named Zuko.

Some writing tropes you like:

There are many, especially since I write romance. Here’s a couple I’m a sucker for: found family, forced interaction (aka people who don’t want to work together have to work together), flamboyant dramatic wizards (Read: Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle and Fanon Sirius Black), fake dating, Shakespearian style scheming, bad boy with a heart of gold, dumbass with pure intentions, the chosen one…

The story behind your WIP’s name:

There isn’t really a story behind Sing This Love. It’s more utilitarian than creative. It’s supposed to suggest that this story is a romance about someone who sings. I’m not entirely sold on it, but it’s the best I’ve got.

Are you a pantser or plotter?

Plotter

Do you post your work somewhere?

I occasionally post small bits of original stuff on here and I’ve written one Harry Potter fan fiction story on AO3 (user name is emdop on there too if you want to read to it.

Do you also read/write fanfic? If yes, for the same genres as what you write?

I do both. Reading wise, I tend to gravitate toward smutty romances. Writing wise, I’ve only written the one, which is a cute WolfStar piece that’s more about emotional healing than physical connection. AKA the rating is General audiences.

Your favorite dessert. Because why not.

Semi-savory cupcakes. My mom makes these vanilla rosemary cupcakes for my birthday and they’re divine.

I’m tagging a few of people in the hopes they won’t mind, but I seriously need more Writeblr friends

@bettsican, @futureauthor-mabye, @writernoir

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foxes-evermore · 5 years

Note

(Soft spoken something anon) First off, all of those are freakin' adorable. Also, Aiden has wondered about who's been putting candy in his backpack/finished that English essay, but also is more than content to let be a mystery. He definitely would've been fine with the cigarette thing...til he realized that he had to sneak the carton he swiped back to the Fox he stole it from. He'd definitely try to pick up what tips and tricks he could from Aaron, but would also get better as he gets older.

part 2) But he always wins

at board games like Monopoly and Clue, although there’s a secret debate about

whether whoever he’s playing with let him win. And Aiden legit has the patience

of a saint, so he’s more than willing to go through the motions of asking

everyone. One time though, he asked if he could go to a classmate’s party and

when Neil dropped the ‘No’ hammer, Aiden just politely nodded then went to his

room to sulk.

part 3) When Aiden’s

best friend asked, 'Why didn’t you just sneak out?’ the only response they got

was, 'One, because I’m terrible at it and two, I’d rather save the 'ask for

forgiveness rather than permission’ card for something much greater.’

(Also,

Aiden’s 14 and I legit forgot a whole host of technicalities/that it would

create some plot holes, but he’s actually the Twinyards full younger bro. He

was also placed in the system then met Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky when his class

went on a college visit to Palmetto State then stopped at the Foxhole Court

during the campus tour. His classmates pointed out Aiden had the same last name

as Andrew and Aaron, but he brushed it off as coincidence. Yeah, no.)

skflskjdlsjflsjfkd i have so many feelings about this child ahhhh

pls just ,, the twins meeting this little Minyard and Andrew looking at Aaron like “there’s another one that you didn’t tell me about??” but realizing that Aaron was in the dark too

adding that to the list of reasons why he doesn’t feel guilty for killing Tilda

we know Andrew is a big nerd and i know in my heart that he’s into fantasy and stuff, so whenever Aiden is like “who did this thing for me??” Andrew is deadpan like “the faeries”

i cant stop thinking about Ronan and Matthew Lynch, pls tell me the twins are Like That with their boy,, the sweet little dream bean

imagine all the bad habits and skills he could pick up from Neil lol

like he’s a good boy, but also for your consideration, Neil keeps stealing little trinkets and candies when they go shopping and giving them to him, and so Aiden Tries His Hand at it one day and gives the little keychain to Neil as they’re leaving the store and Neil is like “👀 oh?” and it lowkey escalates into a game that they play every time they go shopping together

both twins find it amusing but Aaron pretends to disapprove just to spite Neil pfftftf

Nicky loving the twins with all his heart but also being Elated to finally have a cousin who isn’t Grumpy all the time

Aiden: *does anything*Nicky: thats ! my ! son !

😭🙌🙌

all the foxes turning into that one meme as soon as they meet Aiden, you know the one,,, “i’ve only had him one day, but if anything happened to him I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself”

#hhajskljlasjdklajlaks im sorry im like stealing your child i just love him thamk you #lskjdlskjfdlsfjk the "id rather save the 'ask forgiveness not permission' card''#boiiii #as an amateur rule breaker i can relate sljfsd #aftg

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madlibs18 · 6 years

Text

Magi et Graywaren

by madlibs18

The Hondayota careened into the driveway of the Barns, its driver slumped on the steering wheel before it had even come to a full stop. Harvard was a solid nine hour drive from Henrietta, but Adam hadn’t wanted to stop anywhere on the way. For one thing, he was poor, even for a college student. He wasn’t going to waste money on a motel room when he was already spending so much on gas. And for another, Adam physically couldn’t take another minute that wasn’t spent in the Barns’ embrace. Or Ronan’s embrace for that matter.

Adam could hardly lift his head. One step at a time. He turned the ignition off, closed his eyes for a beat. He opened the car door, paused to feel the cool Virginia night air sweep through his hair. With a monumental effort, he climbed out of the front seat and shut the door behind him. He had been in such a hurry to leave that he hadn’t even packed a bag. It wasn’t that he hated college. In fact, he loved it. But the stress of finals week had taken its toll and he was ready to forget about classes, and homework, and responsibility. He wanted to be irresponsible.

Ronan would have laughed. Yeah, that’s real irresponsible Parrish. How dare you leave your textbooks behind? What if you need to catch up on fucking pre-colonial economics over the holiday? What ever will you do? The thought made Adam smile, and it was enough to push him up the drive. He didn’t lock his shitbox.

He was nearly to the front steps when a black blur dive-bombed him from the right. Adam cried out, not recognizing the identity of his assailant until she was nestled on top of his head. He spit out a tuft of black feathers and reached up to stroke Chainsaw. She was picking through his hair and clucking at him. “It’s clear someone missed me,” he said affectionately.

“Two someones,” replied a voice from above him. Adam’s head whipped up. “Three if you count Opal but the little shit never shuts up about anything so it’s hard to tell.”

Ronan Lynch was leaning against the porch railing, entirely nonchalant, as if he’d been there the whole time. Despite the chill, Ronan was clad in a black sleeveless tee and ripped dark jeans, the kind that had been deliberately distressed…for aesthetic. As cool as he seemed, Adam knew better. Ronan’s breathing was heavier than normal and his cheeks were flushed, though not from the cold. If Adam’s theory was correct, and he had an immaculate track record when it came to dream things, Ronan had set Chainsaw as a lookout and come running when he’d heard Adam cry out.

Adam stumbled up the front steps, not even bothering to mumble a hello. He could hardly see through the pitch blackness of the night and Chainsaw’s tail feathers in his face, but she took off as soon as he was in arms’ length of the boy in front of him. Ronan’s intent gaze was enough to make him sway on his feet, but when Ronan took Adam’s face in his hands, Adam surged forward to capture his lips. Adam’s eyes fluttered closed, though he couldn’t tell if it was from sleep or bliss. This, he thought. Ronan’s lips skimmed across his own. This is safety. This is happiness. He wanted to tell Ronan this but his legs finally gave out. Nine hours and intermittent caffeine had finally claimed him. Adam slid forward into Ronan who scrambled to get his arms around him. Bracing Adam against his chest, Ronan began guiding them both towards the door to the house. “Alright, magi,” he said with the gentleness he reserved solely for members of the Barns. Adam was proud to be one of them. Proud to witness a small magic the rest of the magic-rife world never saw. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Ronan’s substantial build supported nearly all of Adam’s weight, so they stumbled along together, Ronan leading him down the main hall towards the stairs at the back of the house. Adam thought he glimpsed Opal’s sleeping form on the couch in the living room but he wasn’t sure. Pillows could often be mistaken for furry legs, and in his exhausted state, Adam didn’t trust himself to distinguish between them. Ronan, a boy well-versed in doing the impossible, somehow managed to get himself and Adam up the stairs. Ronan opened the door to a room on Adam’s right. Or was it his left? He could no longer tell. Adam had been too tired to savor the feeling of Ronan’s warm body pressed up against his, but he lamented its absence as soon as Ronan maneuvered him onto a bed. A blanket appeared on top of him, and with it came the all-encompassing scent of Ronan. Adam couldn’t open his eyes but he inhaled roses and leather tinged with gasoline.

Adam felt Ronan retreating and heard him murmur, “Bene dormi, amor.” He realized he hadn’t managed to utter a single word to Ronan since he’d arrived. He wanted to tell him about his classes. He wanted to tell him about his idea for Cabeswater. He wanted to tell him that he had missed him too.

But the encroaching blackness was too quick.

—

Adam awoke the next morning in Ronan’s bed. Ronan must have set him up in his room, though Adam had no memory of Ronan being present in the bed as well. This worried Adam, not due to any insecurity in their relationship, but because Adam feared what could be keeping Ronan from sleep.

He sat up groggily and stretched his arms high above his head. The sun streaming through the window warmed Adam’s face. He never thought he would miss Virginia, only the people it contained, but he’d never had a reason to use the word dreary until Massachusetts. He rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes. He’d slept so soundly the night before, better than he had in months. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but Adam suspected the security of the Barns had shielded him from pervasive memories. He’d had no nightmares. He wished he had been lucid enough to ensure Ronan had done the same.

After the quickest shower of his life, Adam grabbed a t-shirt and jeans from Ronan’s closet and threw them on. He looked down and sighed. The jeans were just black but the t-shirt read “Kiss me, I’m Irish.” Are you fucking kidding me, Lynch? Adam thought. He was really going to regret not bringing any of his own clothes.

Not bothering to look for a shirt less offensive to the eyes (he knew there wasn’t one), Adam bounded down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, he ran right into Opal on her way to cause mischief elsewhere. She had a pancake between her teeth and a stain that looked suspiciously like syrup down the front of her dress.

“Adam!” She spit the pancake out of her mouth and flung herself into his arms.

“Hey Opie!” He swung her around and stuck his nose in her face, rubbing it against hers. It was their version of hello. Then he set her back down and began to wipe pancake crumbs off her face with the hem of Ronan’s t-shirt. He did not feel bad about the sticky smear on one of the cartoon shamrocks. She bit down playfully on his finger and started to run off again. “Hey where’re you going?” Adam called after her. “I’ve been gone three months! I missed you!”

“I missed you too magi, but I need to find the—” She then proceeded to utter a jumble of letters that Adam was sure wasn’t English or Latin and took off for the hills behind the house. Adam let her go. She would have time for him later, and besides, there was no deterring Opal. She did what she wanted when she wanted. Ever Ronan’s progeny.

Adam turned the corner and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Ronan was sat at the table, a piece of cardboard and a sharpie in his hands. He was so focused on his strange art project that he didn’t notice Adam staring, so Adam took the opportunity to look his fill. First, he inspected Ronan for any signs of physical harm. Old habits die hard, and there wasn’t a day that went by when Adam didn’t remember Ronan’s face from before. So often, he would show up at Monmouth or St. Agnes with his knuckles bloody and his face bruised. And how could Adam forget his own hands wrapped around Ronan’s neck and Ronan’s absolute refusal to fight him off. That agony would be hard for both of them to leave behind. Of course, Adam found no signs of physical harm to Ronan’s person, so next he inspected for health. He didn’t look any thinner so he must be eating, but the shadows under his eyes confirmed Adam’s fears. Ronan had not been sleeping recently.

Despite their purple tinge, Ronan’s eyes were intent and alight. Adam loved Ronan’s eyes. They were the kind of intense blue that could be dangerous in its enthralling nature. If Adam hadn’t been so captivated by the intricacies of Ronan’s tattoo, he would spend much more time in his eyes. Adam supposed that was probably for the best. Admitting he could get “lost in Ronan’s eyes” was more than a little embarrassing. Blue could never know.

Evidently feeling Adam’s prolonged gaze, Ronan looked up and saw him still standing in the doorway. “Hey asshole,” he said with a nod.

“That’s not what you were calling me last night,” Adam retorted, sauntering into the kitchen.

Ronan brushed the comment aside with a wave of his sharpie. “Yeah, whatever fucker. Must’ve been something in the air.”

“Right,” Adam said nonchalantly, leaning on the counter across from Ronan. “Absolutely nothing to do with the torment of missing me all these months.” Ronan noticeably dragged his eyes from the strip of skin that had been revealed by the rising hem of Adam’s t-shirt and stared at him coolly. Adam smirked.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Ronan said, returning to his cardboard. “There are pancakes for you on the counter.”

“You know how to make pancakes?” Adam strode to the other side of the counter where, lo and behold, a stack of pancakes slathered in syrup was waiting on a flowered plate. He still found the dichotomy between Ronan’s all-consuming presence and delicate items like this throughout the Barns amusing.

“I know how to do a lot of things, Parrish.” Adam couldn’t see Ronan, but he could hear his serpentine smile. Adam couldn’t prevent the blush that colored his cheeks. It was too early for this. He snatched the plate and a fork and ambled back to the table.

He sat down across from Ronan and noticed for the first time that he was wearing Adam’s Harvard sweatshirt. He had left it here last time he visited. Adam felt something warm swell inside him at the sight of Ronan with the name of Adam’s college emblazoned across his chest. Adam had to stop mid-bite to collect himself before continuing to shovel pancakes in his mouth. He had to pause again when he realized what exactly Ronan was so intently coloring.

“That’s a building from Gansey’s model of Henrietta.”

“Yup.”

“You stole it.”

“Yup.”

“And you’re vandalizing it.”

“Yup.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Ronan set the cardboard building down, which Adam was now able to distinguish as the gas station near 300 Fox Way. The side was covered in neon tags. “It’s for Gansey’s birthday.”

“You broke into Gansey’s home…as a birthday present?” Adam inquired innocently.

“I didn’t break in, shithead. I still have a key. Sentimental fucker couldn’t bring himself to ask for it back when I moved out.” Adam recalled the day last summer when Ronan had officially moved his things from Monmouth to the Barns. They had played it cool, but both Ronan and Gansey’s voices had been hoarse by the time they finished saying goodbye.

Adam pushed his cleared plate away and reached for the cardboard building. Ronan had graffiti-ed the side with ravens and “graywaren” tags. Adam snatched a purple sharpie off the table and drew a stylized “M.”

“For Magician,” he said, placing the building back in front of Ronan. His blue eyes locked onto Adam’s, and Adam felt suddenly trapped in his unflinching gaze. Ronan studied him, the exact way Adam had when he had entered the kitchen. They could be similar in the strangest of ways.

“C’mere.” Ronan’s words were slurred. Adam gingerly picked himself off the chair and strode around the table. He stood in between Ronan’s legs, his hands hooked behind Ronan’s neck. Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist, the way he had last night, and pressed his face to Adam’s stomach. He mumbled something against Adam’s shirt.

“What was that, Lynch?” Adam smiled down at Ronan’s shaved head. “I couldn’t hear you through the obnoxious t-shirt in your mouth” Ronan growled and Adam laughed, clear and bright. Ronan tightened his grip around Adam’s waist who leaned down to kiss him. Ronan’s lips were warm and tasted faintly of syrup, though that could very well have been Adam. He cupped his hand behind Ronan’s head and smiled against his lips. “Well it sounded like ‘I missed you’ but that can’t be right,” he murmured. Ronan shook his head and seemed to grin despite himself. His hands moved to squeeze Adam’s hips and he pressed a kiss behind Adam’s deaf ear. Adam shuddered then breathed “Something in the air, huh?” Then Ronan laughed for real.

They stood like that for a while, Virginia sun streaming through the window, painting both of their faces gold. In between kisses and Opal’s distant hollers, they spoke of their time apart. They had missed more than just each other.

—

“Etiamne mecum concertare potes?” They were lying on the couch in the living room, Adam on his back with Ronan on his stomach situated between Adam’s legs. Ronan had crossed his arms atop Adam’s chest and rested his chin on them to peer up at Adam.

“Ita possum, es stercus,” Adam retorted and absently traced the whorls of Ronan’s tattoo at the nape of his neck. “Just because I’m not taking it anymore doesn’t mean I can’t still kick your ass in Latin.” Ronan smirked and stretched forward to press his lips to Adam’s. Every kiss felt like the first and the last, like this was a novel experience and one they would never have again. They had lived this moment before and would live it again but it would never not feel like a beginning and an end.

Adam slipped his hands beneath the neck of Ronan’s shirt. He hadn’t realized until now but he had memorized the pattern, or perhaps learned to predict it was more truthful. Adam traced the ever-present knots and claws and beaks, then his fingers began a looping path down Ronan’s spine and branched out across his back. Adam was reminded of their time spent on the grassy floor of Cabeswater, looking up into the interwoven canopy instead of facing each other.

All the while Ronan was kissing his way up Adam’s neck. A kiss to his collarbone. A kiss to his throat. A kiss to his jaw. When he reached his mouth, Adam bit down playfully on Ronan’s bottom lip. “Asshole,” Ronan growled.

Adam grinned. “I love your pet names for me,” he said into Ronan’s mouth. Ronan quickly shut him up. Ronan’s lips seared onto Adam’s, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Ronan’s hand was tangled in Adam’s hair, pressing Adam deeper into his mouth. Adam bit Ronan’s lip again and swallowed a noise Ronan made into his mouth. Then, what started as passionate and desperate became slow, gentle, and full of longing. Adam felt every minute they’d been apart like a pulse of energy to his heart. He felt Ronan’s presence the way he felt the ley line coursing through his veins, though he knew there was a tree shaped hole in both of their hearts.

Adam was cradling Ronan’s face. Ronan placed his hand on top of Adam’s, not breaking his gaze. He brought Adam’s hand to his mouth and lightly kissed each knuckle. It was moments like these that made Adam want to cry. Cry for the gentleness this boy had fought so hard to get back. Cry for the gentleness he himself had never had.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Ronan?” Adam whispered. Ronan set his hand down but didn’t let go. He looked away from Adam and to the window where Opal was playing in the flower bed below the porch. Her face was streaked with dirt and she had Aurora’s roses in her hair. Adam studied Ronan, concerned. He could sense every night Ronan had lost. Each one made the piercing blue of Ronan’s eyes a shade duller.

Ronan’s next words mirrored Adam’s thoughts exactly. “Nothing is the same without Cabeswater.” Adam nodded in understanding. Ronan continued, “I can’t dream when there’s no place to dream in. When I try, it’s like my entire head is fucking static. I can’t take it.” Adam knew one of Ronan’s greatest fears was silence. He sensed it in the constant presence of shitty EDM music. He sensed it in the way Ronan’s muscles tensed on a quiet night. Silence was the sound of an entire ecosystem asleep. Silence was the sound of a friend not waking up. Silence was the sound of Ronan’s father lying in a pool of his own blood.

Adam took a moment to collect his thoughts. He stroked Ronan’s buzzed head tenderly. “I get it. I can still feel the ley line in my head, in my bones, but something’s missing. I may have bargained to wake the ley line, but I was Cabeswater’s magician.”

“You still are.” Ronan’s eyes were resolute, but Adam didn’t need to see them to believe him. Ronan never lied.

Adam smiled but his face quickly turned thoughtful. “It’s not that I’m not grateful for Gansey’s life, believe me, I am. As much as a world without Cabeswater pains me, a world without Gansey…” Adam paused, thinking of how close they had all come to annihilation had Gansey never woken up. “Well, I’m afraid of that world. It’s just that Cabeswater….” Adam didn’t need to say it. To both of them, Cabeswater was safety. Cabeswater was home. That’s what had given Adam the idea. Home.

“Ronan,” Adam breathed. Ronan finally met Adam’s gaze through dark lashes, and Adam felt his heard pound in response. “What if we rebuilt Cabeswater? Here. Together.” Ronan looked taken aback. Adam had always had more faith in him than he had in himself.

He took a moment before replying. He was obviously considering Adam’s proposition carefully. “How?” he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

“We’ve done it before. You and me. If you sleep while I scry, we should be able to enter your dream space together and build a new Cabeswater. You could raise it, I know you could, and I would be there to anchor you. To bring you and it home. Here, to the Barns.” Adam was speaking quickly and gesticulating. Ronan captured his hands and pressed a kiss to each palm, then nodded for Adam to continue. Adam swallowed. “Piece by piece.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Ronan abandoned Adam’s hands, his eyes filled with determination and wonder, and brought his lips to Adam’s good ear. “Pariter,” he sighed. Together.

Adam felt Ronan smile against his ear and couldn’t help turning to nuzzle his nose against Ronan’s face. Ronan’s blue eyes bore into Adam’s soul, and he forgot any previous reservations. “You’re a fucking genius, you know that? A magician and a genius.” Adam felt a tingling behind his eyes and his throat closed up. The affection and reverence on Ronan’s face rendered Adam unable to reply, so instead he shoved Ronan mightily. Ronan’s arms flailed and he tumbled off the couch and onto the floor. “Motherfucker!”

Adam howled with laughter.

—

Ronan and Adam stood on the uppermost hill of the Barns near the woods’ edge. Adam had reasoned it would be easier to add onto an existing forest as opposed to starting from scratch and Ronan wanted to be able to see everything else he had built to know that he could do it. To see the life he had fought for and the love he had earned.

They could see Opal dancing in circles in a field of wild flowers off to their left. They could see the herd of dream cows dozing two hills over. They looked up to see Chainsaw circling above, cawing her encouragement.

Ronan spread a quilt Aurora had made when he was a child atop the grassy knoll. The quilt was lovely and covered with images of the Barns, the same images that surrounded them now. Adam loved it instantly. Ronan lay down and put one arm above his head. After one last glance to the trees behind them, Adam joined him.

Adam took Ronan’s hand and they turned to look at each other. Steadfast brown eyes met unyielding blue ones. They both inhaled the earthy scent surrounding them and tried to recall memories of Cabeswater. Fish swimming through the air. Bass notes pulsing from the trees. Red Mustangs, hollowed-out trees, dead languages and dead-er kings. They looked away.

Adam didn’t need a bowl for scrying. The clear blue sky was enough. They readied their energy to heal, to revive, to restore. Ronan closed his eyes and Adam opened his. They began to rebuild. Together, piece by piece, hand in hand. The Magician and the Graywaren.

#pynch #pynch fic #adam parrish #ronan lynch #trc #the raven cycle #maggie steifvater #the raven boys #the dream thieves #blue lily lily blue #the raven king #my fic #i'm bad at latin #please don't stab me

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mychemicalrachel · 6 years

Text

I started thinking about Adam at college and I accidentally wrote a thing.

Read on ao3.

Adam had anticipated college to be stressful. The good kind of stress, if such a thing existed. He’d expected the overload of homework and reading, welcomed it readily. But with a full ride scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, for once in his life, Adam didn’t have to worry about where money for his next meal would come from. And that was the kind of stress he would gladly live without.

For the first few months, Adam still saved every penny like it might be his last. He kept a cereal box under his bed stuffed with extra cash, eventually giving in to opening a checking account at Gansey’s insistence. After getting a job at the local mechanic’s shop, Adam slowly came to realize that he didn’t have to scavenge for money anymore. For the first time, Adam had money he could spend on whatever he wanted.

It started to show in small ways at first; Adam splurged the extra two-dollars on the good toilet paper instead of the sand-paper off brand. He ordered coffee instead of water when he spent late hours studying at the campus coffee shop. He was even able to fill up the BMWs gas tank instead of buying gas in ten-dollar increments when it started getting low.

So yes, Adam had anticipated college to be stressful, and it was, but withdrawal from Henrietta was even more so. The first few weeks were the worst. Nightmares were still fresh in his mind, memories of Gansey’s death and Ronan’s almost unmaking. More often than not, he still dreamt of his own hands on Ronan’s throat, squeezing until he could feel the breath stop. Some nights, he simply dreamed of Cabeswater, what it was now that it was nothing.

He called Ronan on those particularly bad nights. On the occasions that Ronan didn’t answer, Opal did. She would talk to him, sometimes in English or Latin or that other language he didn’t understand. Somehow, she knew it didn’t matter what she said. Just to know that she was okay, that her and Ronan were safe, it was enough.

The days were even worse. Something small could set Adam off into a spiral; a girl who, in passing, looked like Blue; a boy whose laugh sounded like Gansey’s; a breeze would close a door and Noah’s name would slip off his tongue before he remembered that Noah was gone. Adam did his best to cope with their absence alone-- he couldn’t very well call his friends every time he missed them. They had lives, and Adam needed to let them be without worrying about him all the time.

The first pack of cigarettes Adam bought was for a friend who didn’t have the cash on him. His friend gratefully handed him a single cigarette from the pack, saying thanks. He left Adam alone, staring at the thin white stick curiously; he’d never smoked before. It had never occurred to him, never been an option or a lure, but staring at it now, it seemed to call to Adam. A pull that he hadn’t felt since the death of Cabeswater. Adam went back into the convenience store and bought a lighter.

He choked on the first drag. It burned his throat more than anything, left his lungs feeling full and deflated at the same time. He took another drag, slower, and exhaled. Staring into the smoke, like searching for shapes in the clouds, Adam felt himself relax.

When he crushed the butt of the cigarette against the pavement, he told himself it was a one time thing. One cigarette didn’t make you an addict.

Adam went back the next day and bought himself another pack.

By the time Adam’s first year of college had officially ended, he realized he might actually miss this place when he goes back to Virginia for the summer. For the past nine months, this dorm room had been his home. Leaving it feels surreal. But the draw of Ronan and Blue and Gansey is even stronger. He packs up the BMW and leaves college behind.

It’s an almost seven hour drive to Virginia, and Adam spends the whole time anxiously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Blue texts him a few times, reminding him to pull over and rest if he gets too tired, but the pull of home fills him with adrenaline. He can’t wait to be back. Not to the town, or even to the Barns, but to see his friends again.

Everyone is waiting at the Barns when Adam parks the BMW and climbs out. He can see the Pig and his Hondayota parked to one side of the drive. The sun is kissing the horizon, the beginning of dusk leaving everything glowing orange and pink. Magical, as if the Barns could ever be anything but.

He’s not even up the porch steps when the front door crashes open and Blue is charging him. She flings herself at him, and Adam barely manages to grab her and steady them before they both fall down the stairs. He staggers back, laughing, as the familiarity swarms him. Gansey is right behind her, not even waiting for them to part before inserting himself into the hug. Over Gansey’s shoulder, he spots Ronan standing back, watching them. There’s a hint of a smirk tugging the corners of his lips.

Adam disentangles himself as best as he can. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, Ronan at the top, with four steps between them. Adam leans against the railing. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ronan mimics.

“Your hair is longer,” Adam notes. “It looks good.”

Ronan lifts a hand to brush through his hair, like he’s just noticed. Then he shrugs casually. “I figured you might want something to pull.”

Adam grins at him. “That’s presumptuous, Lynch.”

Ronan jumps down to the ground, not bothered to use to the steps. He casts a look toward Blue and Gansey. Blue, seeming to take the unsubtle hint, grabs Gansey’s arm. “We’ll give you two some privacy.” She tugs him back toward the house, leaving Adam and Ronan alone. Without an audience, Ronan seems to soften a bit. He nudges his shoe against Adam’s. “I was serious, what I said about my hair.”

Adam reaches up to pull a few fingers through the hair. He gives it a experimental tug and Ronan’s eyes narrow, either an invitation or a challenge. Adam assumes it’s a mixture of both and he finally leans in to capture Ronan’s lips. The heat that immediately surrounds him, the warmth that seems to come from the inside out, it’s all familiar. It’s addictive and safe and tantalizing, all at once.

And then Ronan pulls back, frowning. “You taste weird.”

“I didn’t brush my teeth,” Adam admits. “And I had onion rings for lunch.”

“No,” Ronan shakes his head. “That’s not it.” He watches Adam for a moment, rubs his thumb along his lower lip in a gesture that seems distinctly Gansey of him. Ronan frowns a little more. “Have you been smoking?”

“Oh,” Adam realizes. “Yeah. A little.”

“How do you smoke a little?” Ronan demands. “Either you’ve been smoking or you haven’t.”

“Okay,” Adam corrects himself. “Yes, I’ve been smoking. What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so mad all of a sudden?”

“It’s fucking gross,” Ronan snaps. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since school is stressful, I guess.” Adam shrugs. “What’s the big deal?”

“They’re bad for you--”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about bad habits,” Adam laughs. “You’re the one who used to drink himself into oblivion to avoid dealing with feelings.”

Ronan chooses not to acknowledge that. “What if Gansey and Blue found out?”

“So what?” Adam asks. “I’m a big boy. Gansey is not my father. I can do whatever I want.”

“And you want to kill yourself?” Ronan says. “There are easier ways, man.”

Adam is taken aback. “What the fuck, Ronan?”

Ronan’s nostrils flare. He looks down, shuffling his feet. At his sides, his hands tighten into fists. Ronan turns to walk away, but Adam catches his wrist.

“No, Ronan. Do not just shut me out. What the hell is your problem?”

“I’m self-destructive,” Ronan snaps. “I know that. Sure, you’re right; I drink myself stupid sometimes. But I’ve never fucking smoked because those things kill, Parrish. They fucking kill you. Slowly. And I cannot lose you.”

Ronan drops his gaze, sighs, and Adam can see the way his shoulders deflate. The fight leaves him. For some reason, this Ronan seems harder to deal with than an angry Ronan. Adam says, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Ronan barks out a bitter laugh. “Thank God for that, huh? You’d never listen to me anyway.”

“I didn’t know you would hate it so much.” Adam nudges Ronan’s arm. “I figured it would make me look hot.”

Ronan rolls his eyes.

Adam clears his throat. “If you hate it so much, I can try to stop.”

“I’m not your fucking father,” Ronan says. “I’m not going to make you do anything. I’m not giving you some fucking ultimatum, like if you don’t stop I’ll break up with you.”

“I know,” Adam says. “But you don’t like it. Relationships are about compromise, right? And you grew your hair out just for me.” Adam laces his fingers through the hair and tugs at it again. It makes Ronan smile. “So I’ll try to stop. I’m not making an promises, though.”

“If it’s about stress, I can dream you something,” Ronan says. “There are millions of ways to relieve stress.” He pulls Adam into his arms, mouthing at Adam’s neck, his throat, his jaw. “I can dream you up a sex doll that looks just like me. Sex is shown to be a great stress reliever.”

Adam laughs, shoving at Ronan’s shoulders. “I would love to explain that to my roommate.”

Ronan bites down on his lip and watches Adam carefully, suddenly serious. “Promise me you’ll call if you get too stressed out. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, I will drive your shitty Hondayota all the way to New Jersey if you need me.”

And Adam knew that Ronan would be there for him, was always there for him, but hearing Ronan offer like that… it made something in Adam’s chest swell. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Good.” Ronan laces his fingers with Adam’s. “Now, we should go see the others. Opal missed you…”

Ronan leads him inside, launching into a story about Opal and Chainsaw. Adam smiles as he listens, feeling more settled than he ever had before. For the first time in months, his fingers don’t itch for a cigarette. He doesn’t feel the tension and the stress like a physical weight on his back. He feels calm, relaxed. He feels like he’s home.

#Pynch #the raven cycle #my fics #adam parrish #this is seriously all about adam #but it has Ronan/Adam at the end #and Gansey and Blue make an appearance #Set post canon #trk spoilers #ronan talks about his feelings instead of punching things

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pynches · 5 years

Text

a/n based on my vague note of “st. agnes was cold as fuck” here is the fic lmao

all you need to know is that adam wears ronan’s hoodie. you’re welcome.

word count: 1323

The colder seasons at St Agnes were hardly bearable. With as little as Adam could afford, space heating wasn’t high on his priority list despite him getting a bad cold that one time. It was something he had to push through, in his mind. Something that would be over again when spring introduces itself.

The colder seasons at St Agnes were agonising but they were even worse during the nighttime, when Adam had nothing to cover himself with but the flimsy blanket he brought from the trailer, one of the only possessions he still had from that time.

Usually, Adam would just wear layers upon layers of clothes, making sure he wouldn’t freeze to death in his sleep. This time, however, he had pushed laundry day so far that he had washed all of his dirty clothes earlier that day, not holding into account the cold sweep Henrietta would have to endure. He had nothing to wear but a thin t-shirt and some sweatpants.

When the tell-tale knock of Ronan Lynch sounded on his door, he felt nothing but relief rush through him, leaving him a little bit warmer than before.

Adam padded across the cold wooden planks of St Agnes, careful not to step on the few hanging nails he could now locate with his eyes closed.

He opened the door quickly, shivering against the cold Ronan brought with him from outside. His leather jacket was wet with rain. Ronan spared him a quick raise of one eyebrow, Adam identified as meaning “what the fuck is wrong with you”.

“It’s fucking freezing in here,” Ronan complained. “This is getting absurd, Parrish.”

Adam shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll survive.”

“I won’t.”

Adam’s raised his eyebrows. He almost wanted to ask since when Ronan thought of his little apartment as something he had a say over, but there was something familiar in having Ronan in his space, something almost domestic. Ronan truly felt like he belonged in the apartment above St. Agnes church, like he belonged in the space Adam had created for himself.

Ronan cringed for a split-second as if he had just worked out the implications of it and regretted ever speaking.

“I was about to sleep so if it bothers you that much I suggest you go back to Monmouth.”

A thunderclap sounded in the distance.

“I’ll manage,” Ronan murmured.

Ronan took off his leather jacket, only to reveal a big black hoodie, hanging from Ronan’s frame. Ronan folded his jacket into a make-shift pillow and rubbed his hand over hoodie-clad arm for warmth. It was a little big on Ronan making him look less threatening than normal. Adam could tell that the hoodie was high-end if the big logo on the chest was anything to go by. But it looked comfortable, dry and warm and Adam suddenly felt a big need to cuddle himself against Ronan.

Adam flushed at the thought and hoped Ronan didn’t notice.

He did.

Ronan took off his hoodie in one fluid motion and threw it at Adam’s face, mistaking the flush creeping down his neck for cold and not embarrassment for thoughts he shouldn’t have for one of his best friends.

He had been right. The fabric was soft and warm from Ronan’s skin. Even from holding it in his hands Adam already felt warmer than before. But this didn’t distract him enough from the confusion of having a piece of Ronan’s wardrobe in his hands.

“Why?”

“I’m not gonna bury your body when you freeze to death, Parrish,” Ronan said, but his tone was softer than his words. “I have better things to do.”

Adam hesitated for a second. Ronan looked at him, seemingly glaring but when he took a closer look, Ronan’s eyes were flitting around uncomfortably and he was gnawing at his leather bracelets in a nervous habit Adam had long learned to recognise.

Adam pulled the fabric over his head without thinking twice and was immediately engulfed in the Ronan’s scent; a mixture of expensive aftershave, leather, and something that was purely Ronan.

He should have felt more apprehensive, borrowing something from Ronan because his own clothes couldn’t provide him with the warmth he needed. But the corners of Ronan’s mouth were pulling up and he looked all too pleased with seeing Adam in his clothes. Or, well, a hoodie that was too big on Adam’s lanky frame, falling past his thighs in length.

“Thank you,” Adam said begrudgingly but earnestly.

Ronan smiled for real this time.

Adam turned away quickly, getting underneath his blanket before Ronan could see his cheeks burning. He burrowed his face in the soft fabric and inhaled again feeling more content than he had in a long while. The scent of Ronan relaxed him to the point of his eyes threatening to fall close within seconds of lying down.

Ronan dutifully took his place next to Adam’s mattress.

It was then that Adam realised he had taken the only thing that could provide Ronan with warmth from him. Adam watched for a second as goosebumps rose on his naked, pale arms before he cleared his throat.

“Ronan?”

Ronan turned his head and found Adam’s eyes immediately in the dark.

“You can join me,” Adam said, his heart thumping against his chest. “If you want.”

Adam thought he saw a tinge of pink dusting Ronan’s high cheekbones but averted his gaze quickly when Ronan stood up. He hesitated before the mattress and Adam scooted over, drawing back the blanket a little in a clear invitation.

“Any time now, Lynch.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and got in, his side plastered to Adam’s front.

Adam had either misjudged how broad Ronan was or how tiny his mattress was with two people trying to lie on it.

Ronan laid stiffly, not moving a muscle while Adam wiggled around, trying to create some space for the both of them.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Ronan offered but it didn’t sound like it was something he was keen on doing.

Adam’s movements halted and he let out a soft “no”, rubbing his eyes with his fingers that were just barely sticking out Ronan’s hoodie.

When he looked up Ronan was staring at him. Lightning lit up the room and for a split second, Ronan’s bright blue eyes captured his, pulling him closer by their sheer force.

Adam shuddered when the rainfall became heavier and the wind picked up, sneaky through the nooks and crannies of St. Agnes.

Turning to his side, Ronan now completely faced Adam. Their legs intertwined by accident but Adam didn’t move and neither did Ronan.

Up close, Ronan was softer, suddenly very real and very touchable compared to the god-like state he was usually in.

Adam reached out slowly, tracing Ronan’s jaw with a single fingertip. Ronan shuddered but Adam guessed it was not from the cold.

He took Adam’s hand in his. Ronan’s hand was shaking lightly but he held on and Adam didn’t let go.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Adam,” Ronan whispered, closing his eyes.

The next morning Adam didn’t comment on how he had stared at Ronan’s eyelashes and the shadows they created on his cheekbones until he fell asleep and Ronan didn’t comment on how he had pulled Adam closer in his sleep, pressing his face against Adam’s neck.

They didn’t talk about how they had woken up, Adam nestled in Ronan’s arms, one of Ronan’s hands in his hair. They didn’t talk about Adam’s face buried in Ronan’s chest and his arms around his middle.

They didn’t talk but they gave each other a private smile over shitty coffee during breakfast and Ronan made Adam keep the hoodie so he wouldn’t “die a cold death”.

Later that evening, after school and work had worn him down, Adam pulled on Ronan’s hoodie, took in Ronan’s scent and fell asleep with something new blooming in his chest.

#pynch #pynch fic #pynch fanfic #pynch fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #adam x ronan #ronan x adam #trc #the raven cycle #trc fic #trc fanfic #trc fanfiction #the raven cycle fic #the raven cycle fanfic #the raven cycle fanfiction #mine

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gansey-just-gansey · 5 years

Text

Under the Needle part Four

Ronan sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wall behind his chair. This was taking forever.

Gansey was currently in the Dean of Admissions' office, making Ronan's case for late registration. It was technically still summer semester, which Gansey opted to stay for, because of course he did, but the fall semester started in a week. It was way too late to be registering for classes, let alone applying to the school. Ronan had already had his interview with the dean, where he actually, really tried, possibly for the first time since his father died.

The door finally opened and Gansey and the dean came out. Ronan stood up.

“Welcome to William and Mary, Mr. Lynch. I expect great things from you,” the dean said, shaking Ronan's hand.

“Thank you,” Ronan said in a rare show of politeness.

“You can normally register for classes online, but since this is a special circumstance and quite late in the year, you'll have to go to the admissions office and have one of the office workers get you registered. If they have any trouble getting you into any classes, tell them to call me directly. You'll be rooming with Mr. Gansey here. As for you...,” he turned to Gansey. “Well, I look forward to beginning construction on our new observatory. I will look out for that donation from your father.” With that, he returned to his office.

“A whole observatory?” Ronan asked.

“It's very last minute, so yes.” Gansey scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Thanks, man. I mean it.”

He smiled wearily and held out his fist for a bump. “You're welcome. Let's get you to the admissions office.”

….

“This is a full fucking schedule,” Ronan complained.

“Of course it is,” Gansey said patiently. “You're starting a year late at a prestigious school. You're not going to be able to slack off here.”

“Whatever. I'm enrolled. Are you happy now?”

“Are you?” Gansey threw the question back at him.

“No. Now I have to go home and pack.” Ronan reached for his back and Gansey smacked his hand away for the millionth time in the last two days.

“I can help you.”

“Don't bother, Matthew said he'd start and I'd bet Declan helped. Eager to be rid of me.” Gansey shook his head but didn't argue the point.

“It's no trouble, if we both drive we'll only have to take one trip.” Ronan couldn't argue with that. “So do you want a real tour of the campus now that you know where your classes are going to be?” Gansey asked, just barely hiding his excitement.

“I actually have to swing by Cabeswater,” Ronan said. “Maybe some other time.”

“Oh? What business do you have there?” Gansey raised his eyebrows.

“I have a question.”

“What's your question?”

“I have to ask him about itching the tattoo. If there's anything I can use to lessen the itch,” Ronan said, thinking on his feet.

“You couldn't just call?” Gansey asked, smiling.

“I lost the card,” Ronan shrugged. Then, to get Gansey off his back, “You can come with.”

Gansey quickly stopped his teasing and sped up his gait. “I can point out the buildings you'll be in on the way.”

They reached the shop half an hour later, mostly because Gansey often got lost in his explanations, and the school and its history was no exception. Ronan practically dragged Gansey off the campus.

When they walked in, they were greeted by a very enthusiastic Noah and a decidedly unenthusiastic Blue. “You guys are back! Caught the tattoo fever, Gansey?” Noah asked.

Gansey laughed. “Maybe a little. But we're not here for another tattoo.”

“Oh,” Noah deflated a little. “Did one of you have a question?”

“I did,” Ronan said. “Is Adam around?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me go get him for you.” He scampered away to the back rooms. A minute later Ronan and Gansey heard a sing song voice say, “Adam, your boyfriend is here,” followed by a thump and a loud “Ow!”. Gansey and Blue grinned at each other and looked at Ronan, who was trying not to show any embarrassment but could feel his face flushing a bit.

Adam came out from the back. Noah followed, pouting and rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey, Ronan, what's up?” Ronan noticed that Adam's ears were slightly pink.

“Not much, just had a question for you,” he said nonchalantly.

“Shoot.”

“This thing itches like a motherfucker,” Ronan jerked his thumb at his back. “Is there something I can put on it? I know you said certain things couldn't go on it.”

Adam's eyebrows turned down and then one slowly raised up in silent question. Ronan suddenly felt stupid for coming in instead of just calling like Gansey suggested.“Oh. Yeah, you should try to avoid putting much other than the Aquafor and fragrance free lotion on it, but if it's really bad you can try some one percent hydrocortizone on it. That can help with the swelling too. Sorry, I should've told you before you left the other day.”

“Don't sweat it.” Ronan looked at the other three, who were all swiveling their heads back and forth like they were watching a tennis match. He rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess that's it.”

“Okay. Is there a reason you didn't just call?” Adam asked, and Ronan could imagine it as sounding hopeful, but likely that wasn't the case.

Gansey smiled widely at Ronan as if to say, I told you so.

“I lost the card,” Ronan repeated the excuse.

“Oh, okay. Here's a new one.” He leaned over to the front desk and pulled a card out of its metal holder.

“Thanks, but I don't really use the phone.”

“What?”

“I have a cell but I don't use it ever.”

“Then why do you have one?”

Ronan was becoming frustrated. “My brothers insist on me carrying one.”

“Okay. Couldn't you have just looked it up on the internet?” Adam pushed. Three heads pivoted back to Ronan.

Heat rushed to his face. “I... don't trust the internet,” he said lamely. Adam just stared at him. “I wanted to get advice from my actual artist. You did say I could come in if I had a question.”

“Okay I guess?” Adam's voice lilted up, making it a question.

“Yeah. So thanks.” Ronan stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He knew he should leave, but he didn't want to. Plus, Gansey had come all this way with him to see Blue.

“So what do you do here?” Ronan asked Blue, almost rudely. He hated all these eyes on him.

“I'm the piercer,” she answered, prickling at his tone.

“I've actually been thinking about getting a piercing,” Ronan said.

“Oh? What do you want done?” she asked, interested now.

“I was thinking my tongue.” Ronan's eyes flicked to Adam and back. Adam was still staring at him, but now his finger was tapping quickly on the front desk.

“We can do that today-”

Just then, the bell tinkled, announcing another customer. Ronan could almost hear Adam's sigh of relief.

“How can I-”

“I've got it!” Noah cut him off. Adam gave Noah a look, but didn't stop him. Noah took the girl over to his station.

“We can definitely do your tongue today, if you want it,” Blue continued.

“Let's do it,” Ronan said. He went to the body jewelry case and picked out a simple black ball tongue ring, then he followed Blue to one of the back rooms that was evidently her own work station.

She snapped on a small pair of black latex gloves and laid out her instruments and the ring.

Gansey came wandering in. “Declan is really going to lose it now.”

“Good,” Ronan said, sitting on the reclining table.

“These are so bad for your teeth.”

Ronan shrugged. Gansey shook his head but stopped arguing.

“Okay, stick your tongue out,” Blue instructed. Ronan complied. She marked where the ring would go with a blue marker. “Check it out in the mirror.”

Ronan examined the mark with a critical eye. It looked like it was perfectly in the middle to him. He turned to Gansey for confirmation.

“Looks good to me,” he said. Ronan hopped back on the table.

Blue used a clamp with a hole for the needle to go through to pull Ronan's tongue out just a little farther. Then she grabbed the needle. “Okay, breathe in.” Ronan did. “And out.” As Ronan exhaled, she poked the needle through. Ronan's eye twitched, but otherwise didn't show any sign of pain. Blue pulled the ring through the hole and twisted the ball on. “All done. You can go look at it.”

Ronan stood up and looked in the mirror once again. The black ball rested squarely in the middle of his tongue. “Looks good. How much do I owe you?”

“Thirty.” Ronan pulled out his wallet and handed her four ten dollar bills. Blue mimicked tipping her hat to him and followed him out to the front. “Don't use alcoholic mouthwash or drink any alcohol for at least two weeks, preferably four.”

“What?” Ronan stopped in his tracks.

“Alcohol dries out the piercing and can stop it healing properly. You have to wait until it's completely healed before you can drink alcohol.” Blue crossed her arms.

“You didn't tell me that before I got it!”

“I kind of figured you would already know not to put alcohol on an open wound,” she raised her eyebrows in a silent challenge.

That earned a snort from both Gansey and Adam, who had come over to see the new “wound”. Ronan stuck his tongue out at Adam so he could examine it.

“Looks good on you,” he nodded.

“Thanks.” Ronan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey, don't rub the tattoo, you'll wreck the lines!” Adam lunged forward and tore Ronan's hand from his neck. Ronan stared at Adam's hand wrapped around his wrist. Ronan marveled at how his hand felt without the latex glove between their skin. He clicked his new tongue ring against the back of his teeth, something he could feel would become habit.

Adam still hadn't released Ronan's wrist. Heat radiated out from the contact and pooled in Ronan's stomach, speeding his heart rate. Ronan hadn't touched or been touched by Adam without gloves or clothes in the way except when they had shook hands two days ago. He was tempted to slide his hand down to be enveloped by Adam's.

Blue cleared her throat. Adam jumped slightly and released Ronan's wrist. Ronan glared at Blue, who was looking particularly smug.

“Want something?” she asked. Ronan opened his mouth to tell her that he wanted her to mind her own damn business, but then he realized she was talking to Gansey. “We can give you a matching one.” She gestured at Ronan.

“I don't think so,” Gansey laughed. “It wouldn't look as good on me.”

“Oh I don't know about that,” she said. Gansey blushed a deep red.

“Are you done? We have to go pack my shit,” Ronan said, jabbing Gansey's side with his elbow.

Gansey looked at his watch. “Oh, yeah. Yeah we do. If Matthew really already started, we might be able to make it back by tomorrow.”

“God, I hope so. I don't need to deal with Declan longer than one night right now,” Ronan rolled his eyes.

“Who's Declan?” Adam asked. Ronan didn't think he was imagining the interest in Adam's voice.

“My brother,” Ronan answered. “He's a real dickhead.”

Adam laughed. “Family trouble is something I understand.”

“Who's the dickhead in your family?”

“My father,” Adam said shortly. Ronan wanted to pry a little more, but Adam's face said he wouldn't say any more on the subject.

“Well, we better get going,” Gansey said after a minute, breaking the awkward silence.

“Right. Next Saturday, Parrish?” Ronan asked for confirmation.

“See you then,” Adam nodded.

Ronan and Gansey left the shop.

“So, a tongue ring, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, Gansey,” Ronan replied.

“To the barns?” Gansey asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“I think you're going to like William and Mary.”

Adam's face flashed in Ronan's mind. “Yeah, I think I might.”

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frayedpatches · 7 years

Text

Raven Cycle Fic Recs!

The Pynch section yo

- Wonderterror Weekend by nimmieamee - E - 49k

Adam Parrish gets Saturday off and spends the day falling in love with Ronan Lynch.

He also spends it fighting monsters, visiting Europe, and traumatizing people. But falling in love with Ronan Lynch is the part he chooses.

- With Quiet Words I'll Lead You In by @jesper-fahey - T - 20k

In that moment, Ronan looks like some kind of ferocious monument to a new found god; young, but infinite in power and a furious kind of sharp-edged beauty. Adam’s lungs feel a little short of air, but it’s probably just due the cold.

“I was freezing my fucking balls off out there.” Ronan complains and, just like like that, the illusion is shattered. He is a boy once more.

Cabeswater is trying to get Adam to realise something, but he's struggling to understand what. When he and Ronan break down in the middle of nowhere, Adam finally finds himself with enough time on his hands to figure out some things about himself and his feelings.

- Keeps Me From Unravelling by @jesper-fahey - N/A - 11k

Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.

Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is hideous!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.

(Or the one where a prompt generator gave me "Adam Parrish knits Ronan Lynch a hideous sweater" and I ran with it.)

- Heart of Stone, Heart of Flesh by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 28k

The elk appeared out of the shadow of the forest canopy as if materializing in mid-air. He was as tall as the moa, but also had massive antlers that reached up and tangled with the branches on the trees. His coat was a dusty chestnut color with a white starburst over his chest and smattering of white across his cheeks and nose. The elk leaned over the fence and bent his massive head, as if showing Adam deference. To Adam’s right, Destroyer knelt down on her front knees and dipped her nose into the grass.

To Adam’s left, Ronan bent his head too, like he was about to say grace. When he spoke his voice was soft and low. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

(Or, the one where Adam is a veterinarian and Ronan has dreamt up a whole menagerie of extinct/magical creatures.)

- Amor gignit amorem by @amethystinawrites - G - 3k

Considering everything that had happened and just how desperately Adam wanted to get away, he hadn't expected to find anything like peace in Henrietta.

Trust Ronan to prove him wrong.

- Roses on Parade by Jamesina - M - 8k

Adam accidentally ends up in Ronan's dream and Ronan is very Ronan about it and Adam is very Adam about it. Gansey is also briefly very Gansey about things.

Alternate summary: Adam has feelings and hyperventilates about it for 9,000 words.

- Heavenly Wine and Roses by Jamesina - M - 4k

Gansey has everything under control.

- Roses in Between My Thighs by Jamesina - E - 6k

Four things that could have ruined them but didn't.

- the hang of being alive again by @ronibravo - M - 12k

Falling for Ronan had felt like going to speak at the same time as someone else after a long silence, two people bumbling over their words to say, no, sorry, go ahead about three times before one of them says what they were going to say.

- mapping territories by @cheselle T - 3k

“I’m not going to offer you a briefcase of money and demand you stay away from him,” Declan said. “This isn’t a fucking telenovela.”

“I can’t believe,” Adam said, “you just said the word telenovela out loud.”

-- or, Declan has a talk with Ronan's boyfriend.

- adam parrish is in love (or, you can take the boy out of the south) by heyfightme - M - 4k

“Alright Parrish, I yield. What is it, then? You miss the Daisy Dukes and shitkicker boots on those cowgirls back home?” “I’m from Virginia, not Texas. Not a lot of cow-anybodies.” “I refuse to believe you don’t know anyone who lives on a farm.” Parrish rolls his eyes hard enough to shake the earth. “Stewart, of course I know somebody who lives on a farm. Just no cow-people. There’s a difference.”

---

Adam is in college. He has a roommate. Adam's Virginian accent has gotten him curious. Also, Ronan comes to visit.

-Somnium Meum Vestrum by shoulderbone - T - 8k

Ronan smells like smoke and spice, like the memory of a home he's never had; like a feeling he dares not name.

- Without Having To Say by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 24k

“Yeah? Which was the big guy downstairs? Because my good Catholic upbringing didn’t make the distinction.”

Out of nervous habit, Ronan brings his wrist up to his mouth and chews on the leather bands there. He’s been wearing them and chewing on them since he was sixteen. It’s a wonder there’s anything left to them at all. He feels the same way about his good Catholic upbringing.

“I think,” Adam says, quiet now. “That he wasn’t very nice, but that he wasn’t ever given a reason to be. I think it was self-defense.” It’s an explanation that sounds both close to home and far away. He looks up and out the window. His gaze gets caught there, distracted for the first time since they started.

Ronan looks as well, but it’s dark out now and all he can see is the shadow box reflection of the room against the black behind. Set against the rest of it, Adam’s hunched over reflection looks small and dark. Ronan is little more than a few swaths of stark negative space cut against the white glow. Neither of them has a halo.

(Or, that one where Adam is an art major and Ronan agrees to model for a sculpture of Satan.)

- maybe i dreamt you by @memordes - T - 17k

Adam seldom dreamt of other people. His dreams were nebulous, winding, leaving him with abstract impressions. But there was Ronan, solid as flesh—and from there, the dream left Adam with the echo of a feeling.

It was one hell of a feeling, though.

The not really/necessarily pynch fics

- Things That Go Bump In The Night by mochroimanam - T - 9k

Subtitle: The real ghosts are the friends we made along the way! The gang goes to a Halloween haunted house attraction, only to find that things are a bit more....realistic...than expected.

Ronan reminded himself, viciously, that he interacted with a real ghost every day of his life. But Noah’s moments of otherworldly strangeness had nothing on this specter’s air of sheer sinister deadness.

Adam took a step forward next to him, and Ronan’s hand shot out, fingers gripping Adam’s sleeve. Being cornered like this made Ronan feel the same way he’d felt trying to get out of the dank cellar – claustrophobic and scared and angry. “Parrish,” he hissed, trying to pull Adam back. The girl was a good 20 feet away, but it still felt too close, and being any closer seemed like a decidedly bad idea.

- Out for Re-henge by @charmingpplincardigans - G - 7k

Blue has a favor to ask of Ronan while Gansey and Adam are away. She ends up receiving much more than she expected. (Or, that one where Ronan teaches Blue to drive stick and they have adventures.) Post-BLLB.

- we built this city by @fahye - T - 13k

"As you keep pointing out, I've died twice," said Gansey. He was so bright that Henry almost wanted to look away from him, and so compelling that he couldn't. "I don't care what I'm supposed to be doing."

#ficrecdays #the raven cycle fic recs #pynch #sarchengsey #the raven cycle #fic rec days

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mild-lunacy · 7 years

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Queer Sherlock and the Empty Space

Sometimes I recall that we were mocked for saying 'Sherlock is Gay' on Tumblr, of all places, and it strikes me as *really* odd.

Isn't it, though? Because surely, it's accepted now that everyone is gay, trans and/or black if you say so, at least in book fandoms, though not *only*. It's actually somewhat odd to think this would be challenged a couple of years ago; *everyone* says equivalent things these days almost indiscriminately, more or less. There's an understanding in fandom that a) if canon doesn't explicitly discuss or dismiss something, particularly re: race or orientation and gender status, it's close enough to being canon; b) even if canon does dismiss it, you can either disagree or identify a loophole (see: Ronan Lynch is black and Irish but simply has blue eyes; John Watson isn't gay but he is bisexual). People don't *ever* hedge about their headcanons in fandom, as a rule. In fact, people argue with the explicit canon or stuff creators have said was canon *all* the time. It's generally accepted on Tumblr as a whole that cishet or white readings and/or canon characters are boring, if not outright inferior. So it strikes me as... weird that that 'gay Sherlock' had been openly proclaimed to be problematic, and indeed this was often 'excused' by people saying he's otherwise queer (as in, aro ace). I suppose actually outright defending 'straight Sherlock' was usually avoided (even by people who obviously did read him as heteroromantic) through deflection or moving the goalposts: we're all straight fangirls fetishizing gay men, and then blaming/invoking Mofftiss or insisting the show was bad.

In the end, as is typical on Tumblr, it became just another senseless bout of SJW-style discourse, I suppose, so that many people arguing Sherlock was gay were arguing that he *should* be or we deserved it and so on, including many instances of supporting toxic masculinity (ie, he's too fashionable, too affectionate or not indiscriminately sexual enough to be a straight man). Of course, heteronormativity and a rather stubborn insistence on a narrow understanding of 'canon' and/or Authorial Intent held sway on the opposite side, no matter what people liked to claim. Naturally, bad arguments are simply par for the course.

Anyway, my point is that headcanons saying 'this character is actually canonically queer' are part of a widespread and widely accepted discourse on Tumblr. It coincides with but is separate from an actual *queer reading* that uses or requires evidence. Like, it's a bit quaint to even talk about evidence for headcanons or interpretations nowadays, it seems to me. I've certainly seen posts that implied or indeed explicitly rejected the idea of needing evidence for such readings. Projection (headcanons) are overwhelmingly the default in fandom, including headcanons that seek to define and/or overwrite canon (which was the sort of thing people said they found problematic about TJLC). So it's in *that* context that it causes a bit of cognitive dissonance to realize this wasn't as prevalent even a couple of years ago. And I also feel a bit hopeless in insisting, 'wait, no, this isn't what I mean; I'm actually talking about the text'.

The thing that I'd really like to argue is about the need to create a *space* for queerness. That is, I'd like to dismiss heteronormativity rather than insisting that any given character *must* be gay, or otherwise queer. In the case of Sherlock, I feel like it's more important to note that he's *not straight*. I don't mean he's 'not straight' the way *any* character doesn't have to be read as being straight no matter what, or that he's Sherlock Holmes and therefore *can't* be straight, or even that he's queer as in 'different', the way people argue regarding nonhuman characters such as Data or Castiel. I mean that the narrative of Sherlock intentionally creates a null space, a silent space where Sherlock is literally always silent or deflecting about his sexuality even though he's obsessed with getting in a last word, as John says in ASiB. It's literally canonically ambiguous, and it's deeply frustrating to me that this isn't simply taken as fact. I think it's fine to take that a step further and call Sherlock gay, and it's fine to not go any further and admit his orientation is either presented as irrelevant or ambiguous (in canon). It's just that this ambiguity doesn't mean he's automatically either asexual or heteroromantic by default.

I suppose it's a fair question to ask, then: why is calling Sherlock gay different? Isn't this 'homonormativity', somehow, especially given the rather critical view of fandom's headcanons I just took?

First of all, homonormativity does not exist. That's my answer even in fandom-- even with everything I described. You simply *cannot* truly default to it aside from issues of individual projection, because heteronormativity is that omnipresent and ingrained in society at large. I would *prefer* that any and all fans could consider Sherlock-- or a similar character-- as being in a truly liminal, ambiguous space with regards to sexuality, because I think that's a useful mental habit to get into in order to undermine one's inevitably ingrained heteronormativity. However, 'gay Sherlock' doesn't have to take away from that in the same way a straight or purely asexual reading would, because of the existence of heteronormativity and its unfortunate perpetuation and normalization through the desexualization of queer-coded characters. This is to do with the history of the portrayal of queer characters in film. As long as 'odd' or 'non-straight' characters weren't portrayed sexually or shown to be romantically involved, they were allowed to continue uncensored. Besides that, you really cannot default to actual asexuality, any more than to homosexuality; aside from a pure headcanon that exists totally apart from the text, it would need to be explicitly portrayed and established in its own right. This is something only heterosexuality would be exempt from. In other words, in the heteronormative environment we all exist in, no character can be *assumed* to be either gay or asexual. It has to be shown or otherwise coded. Sherlock, of course, *is* queer-coded. It may look and sound just like the rampant fannish headcanons, but it's actually a reading based on strong textual evidence.

I think I like the 'non-straight' reading best, though. I like how uncomfortable it is. I like how it's there *just* to confront heteronormativity, how it stands apart from any explanation or headcanon to explain it away. It just *is*, like the text. I do think that we *should* name things; there's power and meaning to naming these things, and it's not just about outing characters for no reason, like Gatiss might think. At the same time, I'll admit I do like how sexual ambiguity still makes people uncomfortable, even if they think they're fine with 'gay people' (properly labeled, of course). We could certainly use more of that, too.

#fandom meta #queerlock #pointless rambles #sherlock feels #gay sherlock #oh fandom #the great divergence #queer issues #tjlc

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emmerrr · 7 years

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Thanks to @adamparrush I found out yesterday that there was a deleted scene from TRK that had Adam singing Mr. Mister (which I took to mean mr. mister the band, as in the songs broken wings and kyrie) to Ronan and it’s a TRAVESTY that we never got to see that so…here. I did the thing.

(In my head this takes place probably early on in TRK’s timeline – definitely before Ronan’s birthday anyway. Also I’m not gonna bother putting this on ao3 because it’s too short. I know the font on my theme is small, but it’s not so bad if you zoom, and if you’re on mobile it should be easy enough to read anyway. I hope you enjoy!)

It was late on a Wednesday and Adam was alone at Boyd’s, as he so often was. Just him and the cars and the radio, cranking out hits from the 70s and 80s that worked miracles for keeping Adam awake after long days.

He finished up his last job for the night and started to tidy up, and it was then that he felt a rush of air as the shop door swung open behind him.

Adam didn’t have to turn around to know who it would be, and he quickly suppressed a smile. Ronan had been making a habit of this whenever Adam worked lates at Boyd’s. It wasn’t something they really talked about, but it was still a thing that happened. And then after Adam had finished, more often than not Ronan would end up sleeping on the floor of St. Agnes.

Adam didn’t want to necessarily call it a routine, but it did kind of feel like a routine. He sort of thought he might like it.

“Jesus fuck, Parrish,” Ronan said, and Adam turned around to face his visitor at last. “How can you listen to this crap?”

Adam shrugged. “I like it. They’re classics.”

“Fuck classics, let me find you a real radio station,” Ronan said, reaching for the radio dial.

“Leave it, Ronan,” Adam said quickly, and Ronan froze with his hand a whisper away from the controls. He arched an eyebrow and Adam shrugged again. “Boyd’s funny about people touching his radio. This is his favourite station and it’ll take me ages to re-tune it afterwards if you change it.”

Ronan held his hands up and backed away. “Alright, Parrish, I’ll leave your golden oldies on.” He went and perched on the edge of the counter and crossed his arms. “Although Boyd should really give you a raise if you have to listen to this all fucking day. What even is this, Parrish?”

“It’s Mr. Mister, you uncultured swine,” Adam said, wiping his hands off on a nearby rag.

Ronan listened for another few seconds. “Oh yeah. I know this song.”

“Everyone knows this song. It’s a cla–”

“Classic, you’ve mentioned,” Ronan cut in, rolling his eyes.

Adam huffed a quiet laugh. Something that felt an awful lot like fondness started to unfurl inside him as he watched Ronan valiantly try not to enjoy the song. But no one could resist for long.

Adam figured it was pure tiredness lowering his inhibitions, but when the chorus kicked in, he started to sing along.

“Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again, learn to live so free.” He was fairly quiet at first, but he soon grew in confidence as he sang along whilst putting the last of the tools away. “When we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in. Take these broken wiiiiiiings…”

He looked up and locked eyes with Ronan, who had gone dangerously still, something akin to awe on his face. Adam felt his cheeks heat, which seemed to snap Ronan out of whatever might have been running through his head.

“Don’t mind me, Parrish,” he said casually. “Carry on.”

“Fuck off,” Adam said, but he was smiling.

“Nah. You’ve got a surprisingly decent singing voice, don’t be shy.” Ronan grinned sharply but his eyes were kind, and it was this that let Adam know he wasn’t being made fun of.

He hummed through the next verse because he didn’t actually know all of the words, but cut back in with an exuberant, “I need you sooo…” right before the next chorus kicked in.

Adam incorporated a few… ‘dance moves’ probably wasn’t the right term, but gestures might work. Clenched fists pulled close to his chest with exaggerated emotion, eyes closed as the chorus soared, belting out the words with reckless abandon, and then Adam was rewarded with the elusive genuine Ronan Lynch laugh.

By the time the final chorus rolled around, Ronan had joined in. And then they were just two teenage boys alone in an auto-shop, laughing and singing along to Mr. Mister. No Cabeswater, no quest, no school, no worries – at least for as long as the song lasted. Just fun.

The song died away and the radio DJ started waffling on about something and for a moment Adam and Ronan just looked at each other, both smiling, both a little breathless.

And then Ronan cleared his throat. “You, uh, you done yet, Parrish?”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Yeah, just let me grab my bag.”

He headed into the little staff-room in the back, giving himself a minute to calm his heart down. When he’d got himself sorted, he went back out to Ronan.

A new song was starting to play, and Ronan jerked his head towards the radio.

“See, this, Parrish, this is a banger.” He looped an arm around Adam’s shoulder and started to sing. “Oh, ho, ho, it’s magic, you knoooow, never believe it’s not sooo. It’s magic, you knowww…”

“Alright, alright,” Adam said, laughing as he leaned over to turn the radio off. “You can sing it to me on the way back to mine.”

Ronan’s grin was back. “Well if you insist, Parrish. But you have to sing along.”

Just for reference on the off-chance you don’t know the song I’m referring to, it’s Broken Wings by Mr. Mister and the song Ronan starts singing at the end is Magic by Pilot (which will get stuck in your head forever and ever you’re welcome).

Also, if you feel like wasting a bunch of your time, I have many more TRC fics here. <3

#the raven cycle #trc #trc fic #pynch

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