#but hes asleep at st agnes

[devils-dares]

ahhh congrats on 900! i was wondering what your thoughts are, or if you could write a little something on waking up next to matt murdock after dating for a long time, or even after marrying him recently. im just imagining the dreamy look on his face, or maybe even his signature smirk as he teases you. thank you! 🩷

join my celebration here!

SHUT UP THIS IS SO-

you lay on his chest, his even breaths telling you that he's still asleep. it's rare that you wake up before him, so you take the time to enjoy this moment. your hand is on his stomach, covered by his. his gold wedding band shines in the early morning sun, aeternum is inscribed on the inside. he said that word drunkenly to you one night after flaunting the fact that he had learned latin at st. agnes, and then he'd kissed you in the pouring rain. it was the first time he'd ever kissed you, and you'd only ever figured out what the word meant when he proposed to you, saying it to you again.

"aeternum" he'd said, "latin for forever, it's the amount of time i want to spend with you."

you were twisting the ring between your fingers when he started to wake. he smiles, letting you have your moment for a bit longer, unable to hold his laughter in when you press a few kisses to his abdomen, tickling him in the process.

"g'morning," he says, pulling you up towards him to press a kiss to your lips, "what are you thinking about?"

"oh, that time you proposed to me." you laugh.

"oh yeah, that one time, no big deal." he joins your laughter, infectious giggles bubbling throughout the bedroom.

"i love you, murdock." you say, shaking your head.

"and i love you, murdock." he says, fluttering kisses all over your skin to make you laugh more.

[ravenekrops]

Happy STS! Did your OC ever have a favorite lullaby or bedtime story when they were a kid?

oh that's... that's a good one. and a tough one too. this is gonna hurt

unfortunately this isn't applicable to all my OCs so i'll just mention the ones that fit the criteria

Agnes: she used to have one, but she can't remember it. her mother used to sing her to sleep when she was a kid, but after she died, no one else took that role. she'd recognise the melody if she heard it, but then she'd suddenly hear her mother's voice in her head. and that would upset her

Ryan: he knows all the traditional lullabies his parents used to sing to him by heart, but his favorite one was the one about peacefully falling asleep under a rosebush

Léan: Eric makes up his own short stories to tell them before bedtime, usually about a brave sailor who overcomes all kinds of hardships at sea

Raz: his adoptive father would tell him monster fables, usually cautionary tales about humans. he'd always end up reassuring him he would be there to protect him if he ever was in danger. and one day, he fulfilled his promise

Vreytus and Bug: putting them in the same category because they're both chimeralmas. chimeralmas aren't born as we understand it, they simply popped into existence when they were created. their nature makes them innately connected with the flow of life energy through the Beyond, and also to other unknown forces. what has any of that have to do with lullabies? well, it's not really known why, but sometimes they hear... melodies. unsung songs about the world. they never understand the lyrics (if there are any at all), but these melodies are deep and haunting, as if they came from the earth and the sky themselves. they never remember hearing them after the music stops

Storyteller Saturday is on, with optional Spooky Asks available!

[mychemicalrachel]

For the spicy prompts...47? With Ronan or Adam sneakily watching the other masturbate? 👀 Which one is up to you!

[sexy prompts]

Thanks for the prompt, this one was REALLY fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!!! ��️

47. Voyeurism

The first thing Ronan noticed was the sound. As he laid, still and awake, on the uncomfortable floor next to Adam's mattress in his shitty little uncomfortable apartment above St. Agnes, he heard Adam stir. That in itself wasn't unusual; Adam, like Ronan, had his fair share of nightmares and bouts of insomnia and an overactive brain that resulted in too many sleepless nights. The sound of Adam tossing and turning had lulled Ronan to sleep on more than one occasion, but tonight it was different. He could have sworn Adam was already fast asleep, quiet for so long Ronan couldn't even hear him breathing-

Until he moaned, a soft sigh that raised goosebumps all over Ronan's flesh.

For the longest time, Ronan laid there, staring holes into the dark shadows on the ceiling, convinced that what he'd heard was a mistake. A hallucination, a misunderstanding perhaps, or maybe Ronan had been sleeping all along and his subconscious was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first of his wet dreams to star Adam Parrish.

And then it happened again; that sound from a few inches above him, the breathy, strangled moan of someone trying- and failing- to be quiet.

Of Adam trying- and failing- to be quiet.

Too afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, Ronan cast his eyes toward the mattress and froze. Under the cover of the night, beneath the thin material that hardly constituted a blanket, Adam's hand moved up and down in a steady rhythm.

Ronan's heart jumped into his throat and he choked on a near silent gasp, inaudible over another keening moan, louder than the last. Like he wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore.

Ronan knew he should look away, this was an invasion of privacy of epic proportions... but he couldn't. He watched, enthralled, entranced, as Adam jerked himself off. With Adam's head thrown back against the pillow, his long neck exposed, Ronan couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed, if he was aware that Ronan was awake or not. Subtly, silently, Ronan ground a palm against his own growing bulge. He didn't do more than that because it was one thing to observe Adam like this and another thing entirely to get off on it. That was a line he couldn't cross.

But God...

Another keening sound escaped Adam's throat, a bolt of electricity through Ronan's stomach, desperation driven straight to Ronan's dick. Adam's lips parted and Ronan's tongue flicked out. He wanted to taste him, to kiss him, to take Adam's cock in his hand and pleasure him the way he pleasured himself. He wanted to pull more of those vulgar noises out, wanted to know how his name sounded in Adam's mouth.

As he watched, Adam's pace quickened, his back arching as he fucked into his own hand. Ronan longed for the blanket to fall away so he could see the moment Adam came, the mess he made, the white of his cum splattered over his pale knuckles illuminated in the moonlight.

Finally, Adam's chest heaved and another drawn out moan echoed through the night. He stroked himself through his orgasm, and then it was over and Ronan felt his cock twitch, untouched and unsatisfied. Carelessly wiping his hand on the blanket, Adam hummed, soft, sleepy, content. His breathing slowly returned to normal until it eventually evened out, like nothing had happened. Like Adam hadn't just rocked Ronan's entire world by rubbing one out in his own bed, in his own apartment.

Ronan wasn't sure if he should say something, if he should somehow alert Adam so he knew Ronan was awake or if that would just make it weird. But before he could decide, Adam beat him to the punch. In a groggy voice no louder than his moans, Adam said, "Go to sleep, Ronan."

Ronan's face flooded red and hot. So Adam had known he was watching. Maybe this whole thing was a show just for him. That was a train of thought he needed to explore more once his head cleared. "I am asleep," he said. In the morning, maybe all of this would feel like a dream. He turned onto his side and closed his eyes.

He was never sleeping again.

[lizpaige]

🧡for Pynch please!!

🫡 you got it! 🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling Send me a Heart Prompt!

Ronan took it upon himself to seek Adam out when they went days without seeing each other. It was nearing the end of the school year, the end of his senior year. With a nearly full ride to Harvard, Adam took up more shifts to cover the difference, spent more time studying for his AP exams so he would get college credit, and spent less time driving out to the Barns.

It was Thursday night and even though they all had plans to go to Nino's tomorrow evening, Ronan couldn't really take it anymore. He drove out to St. Agnes, parked the BMW next to the Hondayota in the back lot and tried not to race up the stairs to Adam's apartment. It was late, so he let himself in, and sure enough the small room was dark. He could still make out Adam's head peeking up from the covers. Ronan quietly, gently, toed off his boots, dropped his jacket, and made his way over to the twin mattress on the floor and slowly laid down under the covers before Adam woke.

Adam turned his head, blinking slowly, smile widening as he caught Ronan staring. "Hi," he whispered, voice low and deep.

"Hi," Ronan replied, smiling right back.

Adam rubbed his eyes and turned on his side, slipping his arms around Ronan's waist and pulling himself closer. He pressed a kiss to the underside of Ronan's jaw, eyes still half-open. Ronan ducked his head and kissed him, fingertips tracing up and down Adam's spine, making him shiver.

Ronan hummed against Adam's lips as they met over and over, wet and sloppy, inexperienced and exploratory. Breathless, Adam pulled back with a hand on Ronan's chest, cheeks flushed.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, smiling again, "but I think I'm going to fall asleep."

Ronan laughed, kissing Adam's cheek. "Kissing is very boring, Parrish, I get it."

"No, I-" Adam had to pause to yawn. "You're so warm and I'm so comfortable, I'm going to fall asleep in about two seconds and-"

Ronan pressed a quick kiss to his lips again. "Sh, I get it, go to sleep."

Adam rubbed his cheek against the pillow, eyes already closing, but his grip on Ronan's waist tightened. "You'll stay?"

Ronan kissed his temple. "I'll stay."

[thesynaxarium]

Today we also celebrate our Venerable Father Joachim “Papoulakos” of Vatopedi. Saint Joachim was born in 1786 as Ioannis Patrikios to the devout parents, Angelos and Agne Patrikios, in the little village of Kalyvia of Ithaca in Greece. At a very early age, his mother passed away and his father remarried. His stepmother would be moved in jealousy towards the young child and it was well known that she mistreated him. This forced him at an early age to learn patience and he learnt to spend many hours hiding from her; reading the Holy Scriptures and praying at a small church near his home dedicated to St. Spyridon. He joined the family business and worked for his father as a sailor. One one of his trips, he visited Mount Athos, where he became a monk and stayed at the Monastery of Vatopaedi taking on the name of "Joachim". In 1827, the saint returned to Ithaca and served the church there for the remainder of his life. He peacefully fell asleep in the Lord in Vathy of Ithaca on March 2, 1868. May he intercede for us always + Source: https://orthodoxwiki.org/Joachim_of_Vatopaidi (at Ithaca, Greece) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpR1eLwjtOo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[audikatia]

His mother handed Adam the photo, angling it down so Adam couldn’t see it yet. “I got this the day after our lunch.”

Dread curdled in his belly as he flipped the photo over.

The picture was dark, the shapes indistinct. It took Adam a moment to realize what he was looking at, but realization came to him as sudden as his sharp intake of breath.

It was his room at St. Agnes. There was his tiny desk, covered in indistinguishable papers he had written. There was his shitty sink, the lone dish in the basin. There was his cardboard box nightstand, not yet dinged and damaged by a trespassing bird. But most of all, there was Adam. Asleep in his bed, most of his face lost to nighttime shadows.

His fingers were numb as he tried to figure out the vantage point of the camera. It looked like it had been taken from the rafter that hung directly above his bed. A chill raced down his spine as he thought of someone watching him, patiently reviewing pictures taken as he slept, until they decided on the one that most effectively terrify his silent, distant mother.

He wanted to tell the Adam in the picture to wake up. Wake up, Adam. Run.

–

Excerpt from the next chapter of Transubstantiation because good god I might actually get this done this month!

[catholic-saint-tournament]

Maximilian Kolbe!! My parents had an audio book about him and they'd put it in the car when they thought we were asleep and it terrified me 👍 he's awesome

I heard that John the Baptist doesn't have enough submissions to make it in so!!! HERE'S ONE MORE!! Come on! He's so iconic! He's so badass! Go tell your ruler he sucks and see if that's easy!

And Luke!!!

Paul and Agnes of Rome, for the decapitation gang!

And Padre Pio bc he's such a badass like come on

St Rémi de Reims bc dude baptized the first French king. Boss move

+ St Clotilde <3

(also everyone here is talking about confirmation saints and I got confirmed but I never heard of that and? I'm so sad??)

I FUCKING LOVE MAXIMILIAN KOLBE. All of those are so great! Everything new has been added to the list, the old ones got votes, so now it's time for propaganda for anyone who isn't on the folk/traditional bracket!

How did you not get a confirmation saint????? So in '83 the canon code of law did change and it wasn't necessary anymore but I've never heard of anyone actually doing away with it.

LAME. Pick your own confirmation saint! It's not too late to pick one out for yourself!

[jamietukpahwriting]

“You were in hospital? What happened?” Aunty Ifeoma asked quietly. Mama looked around the room. She stared at the wall clock for a while, the one with the broken second hand, before she turned to me. “You know that small table where we keep the family Bible, nne? Your father broke it on my belly.” She sounded as if she were talking about someone else, as if the table were not made of sturdy wood. “My blood finished on that floor even before he took me to St. Agnes. My doctor said there was nothing he could do to save it.” Mama shook her head slowly. A thin line of tears crawled down her cheeks as though it had been a struggle for them to get out of her eyes. “To save it?” Aunty Ifeoma whispered. “What do you mean?” “I was six weeks gone.” “Ekwuzina! Don’t say that again!” Aunty Ifeoma’s eyes widened. “It is true. Eugene did not know, I had not yet told him, but it is true.” Mama slid down to the floor. She sat with her legs stretched out in front of her. It was so undignified, but I lowered myself and sat next to her, our shoulders touching. She cried for a long time. She cried until my hand, clasped in hers, felt stiff. She cried until Aunty Ifeoma finished cooking the rotting meat in a spicy stew. She cried until she fell asleep, her head against the seat of the chair. Jaja laid her on a mattress on the living room floor.

—Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

[cabeswarenn]

giving trc characters acyers car seat headrest songs because i love csh and trc: pynch edition!

oh boy okay so. RONAN. aGUH. the drum. (the my back is killing me baby version)

- the drum is a roman song with the lyrics of hungover dreaming and if he doesn’t get it right just FUCK IT!!! it’s ronan it is so ronan. the song speaks about wasting time not listening to those of authority around you. and speaks of being a creator and being pulled apart by seperaye lukls of gravity (which i allude to his humanities vs his dreamer stuff). it’s just so him.

- another song is i want you to know i’m awake/i hope that you’re asleep. to me it sounds very much like his feelings about himself and his struggling with his time after losing niall and dealing with all of the things going in inbetween niall’s death and the end of trk.

- something soon. “taking pills to keep from dreaming, i want to break something important, i want to kick my dad in the shins. i was referring to the present and past tense, it was the only way that i could survive it” it’s him. it’s so him. the song explores needing something to happen, being tired of complacency and needing something soon. “i want to romanticize my headfuck, heavy boots in my throat i need, i need something soon, i need something soon. i cant talk to my folks i need, i need something soon.” and the songs details into anger of burning shit DOWN!!! grief turned into anger, that’s what ronan deals with constantly.

- final one for him is crows (rest in bigger pieces)this to me is a song that fits him in the way of his pining. his yearn for others in a sense of needing others, and for adam exclusively in a romantic and intimate sense. it just sounds like him to me too and i think it fits him well.

- also ronan in general is very teens of denial. it has a nice rock sound to it overall and all of the songs in there just fit him in ways and i think it fits him quite well.

for ADAM. i have many thoughts because i relate to him so deeply.

first up

- we can’t afford (your depression anymore)

the song is one of quite literally not being able to afford being depressed, you can’t afford to take a break, even if you’re tired and not able to be there, you go, you show up and you make the most out of what you’ve got (st agnes) because it’s yours and because you have no other choice.

secondly

-1937 state park, for the lyrics “i didn’t want you to hear that shake in my voice my pain is my own”

thirdly

- stoop kid. the song explores themes of being afraid to leave, even when the cost of staying is detrimental.

- also probably the most adam song FILL IN TJE BLANK!!!

“you’ve got no right to be depressed, you haven’t tried hard enough to like it, haven’t seen enough of this world yet, but it hurts it hurts it hurts so stop your whining try again, no one wants to cause you pain, they’re just trying to let some air in but you hold your breath” to me this song is adams relationship to the privilege all around him, and in specific gansey. he doesn’t get to whine, he doesn’t get a break, and everyone around him complaining of life and “summer vacations” and aglionby students gets to him. and this song to me is a reflection of the anger and frustration of living around so much privilege, while him never being able to vent it out. the song also turns into one of, stop complaining, hooe will come, the sun will shine, which to me reflects trk and the ending of it all, and his actual start to life in dreamer trilogy. you haven’t seen enough of the world yet. “i’ve got a right to be depressed, i haven’t seen too much of this world yes, but it hurts it hurts it hurts and i will start to see the light, that i’ve seen shining in your eyes”

pynch car seat headrest songs

- of course it’s cute thing alright i’m a sucker for this song. also psst, teenagers take off your clo

and as well

- dreams fall hard. this one moreso an adam song. but it talks about disappointment with life, and parents being disappointed in you and how your life is going. and you being weak, and feeling like things are falling apart. but having the comfort of a loved one to be there. and remind you of good.

[girl4pay]

meanwhile i will never finish this one but i love it so much

It was still strange to see St Agnes at night.

It made Ronan feel as though he should be wearing a suit, which was never a welcome sensation. Worse still was the unshakeable thought that if he turned now to look back at the parked BMW he would see his mother fussing over Matthew’s tie, Ronan’s hair, their lateness; his father dressed for Easter Vigil or midnight mass, one absentminded hand resting on Declan’s shoulder as he soothed his wife’s fretting and worked to coax a laugh from her. Setting foot in the Barns had had a polarizing effect on Ronan’s grief. He could not forget the fact of the loss, the feeling of gravel underneath his feet today, and yet the idea of his mother restored against all odds meant it felt perfectly possible that he might slip into a moment where every other horror could be rewritten. He could not decide if it would be worse to look back in callousness to prove to himself he knew better or to keep his head low, a heartsick coward.

You could not help but look out onto the parking lot from the landing of the stairs to Adam’s room. Of course it was empty of everything but the BMW.

He knocked twice, then once again, louder, and then realized that Adam must be asleep just as the door swung open to reveal Adam, bare-chested and heavy-lidded.

It wasn’t the first time Ronan had shown up after dark and unannounced. It wouldn’t even be the first time he would stay overnight if he was allowed in, but it was the first time that Adam truly knew the risks Ronan presented. He waited for the door to slam in his face, but Adam merely let his head rest against the doorjamb and considered Ronan. Ronan decided he was not going to be the one to break the silence. They passed several moments like that, and then Adam pushed away from the doorway and headed back into the room, leaving the door open.

Ronan kicked it shut behind himself with an unsatisfyingly muffled thud, but then it was just him trapped in what amounted to a strangely shaped cell with a shirtless Adam. He exercised the better part of valor and slipped into the bathroom to swish toothpaste mixed with water around in his mouth. Every surface was still damp from whenever Adam had showered. Ronan had always thought of Adam as unnaturally clean for a boy their age, but behind this closed door toothpaste stained the sink and dirty laundry played dead in dusty corners. The water that trickled out of the faucet was practically icy. Ronan, for what must have been the first time in his lifetime, thought about water bills, and then he bent to stick his head under the faucet until he stopped thinking.

Kicking the bathroom door shut behind him led to a more gratifyingly wall-shaking result, and Adam groaned into the arm he had cast over his face.

“Priests live here,” he mumbled.

The only light in the room was the dim orange cast of the street lamps outside. Adam was reduced to sketched lines, a suggestion of a boy hunched under the covers. “I’m testing their vows of kindness and piety and all that,” Ronan said, kicking off his boots and then his jeans.

“You’re definitely a test of something,” Adam said, the way Gansey had said you incredible creature, the way Ronan’s mother used to say mother Mary in heaven help me with her hands cast up towards the sky when he and Declan would wrestle in the living room.

It was hard to settle himself. There was, as always, something surreal about the idea that there was nothing but empty air between his dreams and Adam. He had never had to share a room as a child, had learned to sleep with the door closed at Monmouth. Part of him was sure that the presence of a witness would neatly neutralize his dreams. It was the kind of trick that should only work when no one was looking, an egg standing on its end, but Ronan knew better than to rely on impossibility. Though it was too dark to see the rug beneath his own body, Adam had told him it had stained.

“You could’ve said.”

It was barely more than a whisper. He turned onto his side to see Adam sitting up and folded into himself, arms wrapped around his knees and holding them to his chest. His temple rested on the back of his hand, and his face was half hidden by the curve of his bicep. His eyes were sharp now, still tired, but intent.

“All this time, you could’ve just said,” he said again.

Ronan sent him a look that asked what else he had expected. It wasn’t as effective as it would’ve been on Gansey, who despite having high hopes never was anything more than resignedly disappointed when met with Ronan being Ronan. Adam expected no more and no less than Ronan being Ronan, but still had the nerve to be pissy about it when Ronan met his expectations perfectly.

Adam had not turned away, and Ronan would not be the first to break.

“So that’s what a nightmare looks like,” Adam whispered finally, like that was what they had been discussing all along.

It was harder to remember secrets in the darkness, besieged by the soft sleep-mussed disarray of Adam’s hair and the confessional tone of his whispers. Matching his pitch, Ronan admitted, “At first I was dreaming about you.” He regretted it instantly. This was not Gansey, and nothing about it was amusing. He clarified, “You were possessed. Last night, that was the nightmare.”

Adam laughed helplessly, slumping back onto his pillow, arms spread-eagled. Ronan’s heart clenched before it occurred to him that what Adam found humorous was the idea of himself, possessed and nightmarish, and then he was simply annoyed. After a moment Adam went very quiet, and he rolled over on his side to look at Ronan. “Damn. Was that thing-”

His nose was an inch from Ronan’s. Ronan did not consider his other features. He stalled a moment, as revenge for Adam’s laughter, but then suddenly the idea of them all gathering to bury Adam’s corpse felt like a possibility too narrowly avoided to toy with. He relented. “Nah. They’re something different.”

“How often do you bring them back?”

“That was the first time in eight months,” Ronan said, shedding the whisper, and watched the puzzle unfold across Adam’s brow. Adam’s hand shot out, and Ronan jerked his wrist out of reach.

“Damn, Ronan,” Adam said. There was no relief in his voice.

Now he was getting it. The birdman had been foul dead, but Adam had not seen it move. He had not seen the way its wicked claws longed to find home in Ronan’s skin. Ronan knew from Gansey that Adam had not been there that night, either, but he had seen them change the bandages at the hospital.

Wordlessly, Adam rolled off the opposite side of the mattress and staggered to the kitchenette. There was the sound of drawers opening and metal clattering, and then he reappeared with something clutched in his right hand.

The light from the window glanced off it. It was a bread knife.

“You’re such an asshole,” Adam whispered over Ronan’s laughter, nearly petulant. He let the knife slip from his grip onto the bedside box and collapsed back down onto the mattress. You could see the distinction between tiredness and sleepiness, when Adam got like this. His limbs all unspooled and his mind seemed to leap ahead or lag behind his body in turns, reminding Ronan of a movie he had seen as a child, with a dancer playing a rag doll come to life.

There was that feeling, again. The sight of Adam picking up arms for Ronan, the knowledge that Gansey already had.

He was saved by circumstance. Adam, in an enviable display, had dropped into sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, the heavy slumber of the truly exhausted.

trc fics i do actually want to finish are the in the flesh au and the post cdth excerpt pre actual cdth release fic i started and then never finished that was probably going to end in ronan drowning

[catboynecromancy]

Here is the first of the kissing prompts @flitwickslittlebrotha sent me 💕😌

Pynch; a breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

-

6:54 PM. Wednesday evening. Adam is just getting home, if it can really be called that, to his small apartment above St. Agnes after a long day of classes and extracurriculars. He’s tired, wants to shower and get a headstart on his History of the Americas essay. But the instant Adam pushes the door open, he notices something is off.

All the lights are on, a grease-splotched bag from the nearby burger joint sits on his tiny, second-hand desk, the soft sound of trickling water from a showerhead severely lacking pressure is overlaid with an electronic beat. It sort of reminds Adam of the youtube videos Gansey has started listening to in his failing attempts to lull himself asleep, albeit with a much darker, deeper, sexier rhythm.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Adam’s lips as he steps in, pulling the strap of his messenger back over his head and dropping it next to still full boxes of toys and other knick-knacks from his childhood. He’s been meaning to donate it to a local thrift shop, but every time Ronan visits, Adam gets so lost in everything which encompasses his boyfriend — the addictive taste, scent, feel, and comfort of him — that he forgets anything else in the world exists.

The shower cuts off, leaving Adam with very little time left. He runs a hand through choppy hair, only serving to mess it up more, and breathes into his hand to check if his breath still smells like lunch. Adam is only just dropping his arm when Ronan steps out, the exposed, pale skin of his broad shoulders, chest, and stomach glistening with droplets of water that have yet to be wiped off. Typical Lynch, too lazy and in a rush to properly dry himself. His gaze follows a trail of dark hair down to where one of Adam’s old, threadbare towels wraps around slim hips.

Adam swallows a lump forming in his throat and forces his blue eyes away, feigning disinterest even as his stomach twists with want. “Shower at the Barns broken?”

“Nope,” Ronan returns, stepping closer until Adam could easily reach out to pull their bodies together.

He could pry but decides he doesn’t care enough to bother. “You ever try actually drying yourself off for once in your damn life, Lynch?” Adam asks instead, tone condescending in an attempt to hide his perpetually growing desire.

“Nope.”

“Maybe you should.”

Ronan laughs but it’s not the type he gives around other people. It’s the one he saves for Adam, equal parts warm as it is sharp. “Do it for me?”

“I’m not your caretaker.” Adam rolls his eyes, reaching out to press his hands to a damp chest, holding Ronan back. The few inches he has on Adam makes it easy for him to lean over until his lips are pressed to Adam’s good ear.

“Okay,” Ronan gives with a hint of amusement still tinting his voice. “Do something else for me, then?”

The words are hot on his skin, setting every single one of Adam’s nerves on fire. “Maybe, depends on what it is and if you ask nice enough.”

Adam can feel the curve of Ronan’s smirk against his ear as he breathes out the words, fevered, dangerously low and raspy, “Kiss me.”

His knees buckle, nearly dropping but Ronan quickly catches Adam by his elbow and holds him up from falling. Adam’s thoughts are a storm of conflicting notions — a part of him considers saying no, deny Ronan for his bad behavior, tease him for being so damn predictable, or make him try a little harder to get a kiss out of him. More than anything, however, Adam wants to give in because it’s something so inherently ingrained in him after being denied any sort of physical attention for so long.

“Ronan…” Adam tilts his head, mouth brushing against the soft, lightly freckled skin along his boyfriend’s sharp cheekbone.

He does the same, their lips edging closer, closer, until all either of them would have to do is shift just a little more to finally meet. “Hm?”

“Say it again.”

Ronan sucks in a hitching breath through his nose and lets it out with a rush of air, “Kiss me.”

It’s all Adam needs to give in. He grabs the back of Ronan’s still wet neck with one hand, long fingers digging in, the other curling around hips to hold him steady. Adam bridges the distance to smash his slightly parted lips against Ronan’s, capturing his mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. It’s returned with intense sincerity, all teeth, and tongue, and a need for more than either of them truly have to offer. He kisses Ronan again, again, again, between gasps of pain and faint moans signifying a mutual building need, pulling away only when his mouth starts to ache and the lack of air in his lungs overtakes the craving to never stop.

“That what you wanted?” Adam pants, their mouths remaining practically flush because neither of them really want to break away.

Ronan is trembling, although whether it’s from nerves or excitement is unknown. Adam knows, even if he asked, he’d probably find a way to avoid answering. Lynch may be earnest to a fault, and a horrible liar, but he’s an expert at saying nothing at all when he knows words will give him away. “Fuck, Parrish,” he answers like there’s no oxygen left in his lungs, “Kiss me like that again.”

It’s Adam’s turn to be amused. He laughs as he sinks into Ronan once more, laughs as they stumble their way towards the twin-sized mattress on a shoddy frame pushed into a corner, laughs when Ronan lays down beneath him with the towel miraculously gone, and laughs when he repeats words that sound like magic the more they’re said, “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.”

[ronans-sepiaphotograph]

Ronan Lynch, post-its and missing Adam Parrish:

Ronan knew he wasn't asking Adam to stay, he would never ask him to stay in the one place he always wanted to leave.

Ronan just wanted him to come back.

"Lynch?" "You're going" "yeah, I am. I'll be back for Thanksgiving tho" "how will you manage?" "Don't I always manage?"

Ronan huffed in response as he was folding one of Adam's shirts. Adam was leaving for Harvard tomorrow. It had been a couple of months since Adam had moved in. His lease on St. Agnes was up and Ronan didn't have to think twice about asking.

It had ended up in a fight and Adam snapping at Ronan. Ronan fought back too. In the end he had just stormed of Adam's room and driven for hours and come back around midnight to find Adam silently crying on his bed.

He had held Adam, let him cry because Adam Parrish rarely let his walls down, be vulnerable in front of anyone else.

"okay" "okay what, Parrish?" "I'll stay with you" "finally"

Adam laughed in his chest as they both fell asleep in each other's arms on Adam's shitty mattress.

"Ronan?"

Adam's voice brought him back to his sense. He realised his cheeks were wet and he was gripping Adam's shirt a little too tightly. Adam sat in front of him.

"what's wrong?" "You're going" "yes, you said that" "please come back" He kept saying it on loop, to Adam, until his voice cracked and his throat hurt.

Was it possible to already miss the person who was currently sitting in front of you?

"don't be stupid Lynch. Of course I'm coming back" "I didn't meant for Thanksgiving" "my answer will not change"

Adam ran his fingers over his eyebrows, and kissed him. He memorised every second of it. Of Adam's not so chapped fingers on his jaw, his chapped and warm lips, his breath tingling on Ronan's kiss.

"tamquam" "alter idem"

When he dreamt that night, he dreamt of Adam and Cabeswater and how just like that, Adam had given his eyes and hands to the magical forest.

When he woke up, there was a small snowglobe in his hands, a little Cabeswater sitting inside it and a charcoal BMW nestled between. He sneaked it into one of Adam's bags.

The next morning, Ronan watched Adam drive off, in the shitty Hondayota until he disappeared. Opal was sobbing in his leg and he picked her up and she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

He shut the door behind him and carried Opal upstairs and put her down on Declan's bed as she had slept off due to crying. He found a post-it stuck beside the bed, on the wall.

"tell her I miss her" was written in Adam's handwriting.

There was the ache. The ache called love.

He plucked the note off and put in his jeans' pocket and left. He had to make lunch now. He found more sticky notes in the kitchen.

"pink lid is the salt, green is the sugar"

"don't mix the spoons and the forks"

"don't overcook your pasta"

"eat on time, send me pictures"

"I'll miss your pancakes"

"I'll miss how you tasted of blueberries and mint toothpaste"

"I'll miss you seeing in your cute little apron"

He plucked each and every one of them, fondly muttering curses to himself as he carefully folded them and tucked them into his pocket. He called Adam.

"thanks for the notes, mom" "sorry if I don't want a salty coffee" "that happened twice, asshole" "thank god third time wasn't a charm" "I hate you" "I miss you" "me too"

He rambled on about random things as Adam heard and supplied his responses or just chuckled in response. He hung up because he didn't want to distract him any longer.

He made pasta for lunch and didn't overcook it. He sent a picture to Adam. Even if he hated to use the phone, he was glad he had one so he could send Adam texts and photos.

He ate sitting alone on the dinner table, some song playing on his phone. He missed Adam, there was no doubt about it.

He just didn't know he missed Adam this much.

How empty suddenly the house felt, how it felt like he was an intruder again, like how he used to sneak in. He kept finding Adam's notes everywhere.

He found one stuck to the lamp beside the couch as he was flipping through some book Adam had found interesting.

"don't fall asleep on the couch"

He rolled his eyes. Oh how well his boyfriend knew him. The book surprisingly was interesting. It was some historical book that Gansey had probably given to Adam.

It talked about the history of food and farming and crops and things. Adam had been reading it for him, he supposed. He kept finding more notes as he kept reading.

"My farmer boyfriend, I knew you'd read it"

"who's a nerd now, Lynch?"

"we should go wine making in France one day"

"you'd be a good farmer, a sexy farmer"

"will my classmates believe I'm dating a farmer"

"I'm so glad to have you"

Ronan didn't tear up, nope. He didn't find his eyes glassy and his lip trembling. Adam called him a few hours later.

"hey Lynch. I reached" "you and your fucking books Parrish" "did you like it?" "It was interesting. Anyway, how's Cambridge?" "Too fancy" "you'll survive, Harvard boy" "I have to survive so I can live with you"

Ronan was silent for a whole sixty seconds before he found his bearings again. He almost picked up the keys and started driving to Cambridge.

"yeah" "are you okay? Where's Opal and chainsaw?" "Opal cried herself to sleep and Chainsaw disappeared in the morning, still flying outside" "mhmmm. I- I miss you. Too much. I didn't think I'd miss you and Opal and home this much but I do and it sucks already" "me too Parrish. It just feels so empty here" "skype me twice a day okay? Please" "of course Parrish, I need to your face everyday in case I forget how pretty you are" "shut up"

There was beauty and power in making Adam Parrish smile and better, blush. Ronan was powerful enough.

Adam told him about Cambridge and his dorm room and complained about how fancy it was and grumbled about money and finding jobs.

"I swear to god Parrish, if I find out you're working unnecessarily again I will come to Cambridge and kidnap you and lock you here in our bedroom forever" "sure you will" "want to try me?" "NO"

Ronan laughed. Adam did too. He felt something settle in his chest. They stayed silent on the call, not talking as Ronan heard Adam's breathing through the phone.

"I'll skype you tonight?" "Yeah, pretty sure the brat will want to see you" "you don't?" "Don't be stupid"

Adam laughed before hanging up. Ronan found more post-its in his bedroom. They were literally everywhere. Everywhere.

"don't bring out a dead body" on Adam's side of the bed

"Thanks for the hand lotion, it smells like home" on the nightstand beside an empty bottle of hand lotion. Ronan dreamed him one that lasted probably forever.

"call me if you wake up at night, I mean it" on the headboard

"here's one of mine since I stole one of yours" on one of Adam's old hoodie on the bed.

"the first time I knew that for sure that I want this" on the window, stuck to the same toy.

"I wish I could steal more of your clothes" on the wardrobe door.

"shopping spree next time I'm home?" Inside the wardrobe.

"don't listen on high volume, not good for your ears" on his headphones.

"a little something from me" on a box. There was a knotted leather band inside, intricate and just like how Ronan liked. He immediately put it on on his wrist.

He found a few stuck together on the backside of the door.

"alter idem."

"I want this, for as long as you'll have me"

"I want this too much"

"I miss you, I'll miss you till I come back home"

"I'm a sap for you, Lynch"

"You're it for me"

"thanks for the straight teeth, again"

"come find me in your dreams, I'll find you in mine"

"don't do stupid shit"

"I love you, so much it hurts"

[and-the-ocean-burned]

Heyyyyy soooo I'm back with more self indulgent fanfiction that no one wanted or asked for! No real trigger warning for this one, soo enjoy!!

Ronan rolled over in bed onto his side, sneering at the shadowy corner of his bedroom for a few moments, then with a frustrated groan turned back again. How long had he been laying here? How many hours had he spent sleeplessly tossing and turning in the ruins of his sheets?

He didn't know, all he knew was that he was fucking tired. Tired of this, and just tired.

He grunted irritably as he sat up in bed, idly massaging the nape of his neck with a clammy palm and a grimace. "Maybe Gansey was awake," The thought made Ronan feel a little better. He stood up, all of his muscles protested, his body was exhausted. Every attempt to dream lately had done nothing but gotten his ass handed to him by some fucked up nightmare. He was tired of them too.

He opened his bedroom door, and peered out into the pitch of the second floor of Monmouth. There weren't any lights on that he could tell, Gansey more than likely wasn't awake.

A stab of lonesomeness ran through Ronan then, his insomnia was easier to cope with when he was in Gansey's company. He'd listen to music with one or both earbuds in, and occasionally look over to his friend sculpting another streetlight for his mini diorama of Hennrietta, or scrawling notes in the margins of his journal, or gingerly snipping a leaf from his mint plant with the tiny filigree scissors Blue had given him as a gift. It was easier to forget why he couldn't sleep when he was with Gansey.

The refrigerator light tinted him ghostly yellow as he opened it to rummage through its contents. He pulled out a two liter of soda, and chugged several large mouthfuls straight from the bottle before twisting the cap on firmly, and placing the bottle back onto the shelf. 

His nerves still burned, his body wanted him to sleep, screamed for him to sleep. He could feel the beginnings of thick black ooze accumulating at the back of his throat, in his lungs, he could taste it. Instead of acknowledging the dread pooling low in his belly, he scooped up the BMW keys, and trekked out the door and down the stairwell of Monmouth manufacturing.

Ronan didn't know of a cure for his insomnia, his dreams were wicked, terrifying things, and even if he had a good handle on them to start, it only took one small slip up, a single self deprecating thought, to have him submerged in a pool of acid, or helplessly pinned to the ground under a pissed off night terror, or perpetually stuck being walked away from by everyone he cares about. Besides Gansey, there was only one other thing that he knew helped. 

St. Agnes's fearsome silhouette was starting to pierce the horizon as Ronan drove. He let out a tense, exhausted breath, just being close enough to see the church's three vicious spires already felt like it had helped some of the coiling tension in his muscles untangle itself.

He parked. This wasn't the first time sleeplessness had dragged him here by the throat, in fact, Ronan had lost count of how many nights just like this one that he'd found himself here in the archway of the old church. Probably as many times as he'd found himself here on Sunday mornings, he thought.

He dipped the tips of his fingers in holy water, and sat down on one of the ebony colored pews. He pressed his palms and fingers together, and rested his forehead against his thumbs, he prayed.

The moon poured its eerie light over his pale skin through St. Agnes' enormous stained glass windows as he sat silent, painting him a wild kaleidoscope of a boy. Eventually he drifted off, still perched like that, and began to dream.

--

He was outside, everything was all sunbeam warmth, and brilliant white light, and lush grass between his toes. He squinted to focus his vision, Adam was standing a little ways ahead of him reaching above his head to pluck something from a furiously overgrown plant.

Ronan recognized it, the wild blackberry vines growing at one edge of the woods that surrounded the barns. He broke into a sprint, stopping just beside Adam, who turned to him and smiled. Ronan's heart was an underground coal fire of affection for him, his whole body smoldered with it.

Adam offered one of the sun ripened berries to Ronan, who enthusiastically accepted, allowing Adam to place the small fruit on his tongue. He crushed it against the roof of his mouth. Something was wrong.

It tasted like rot.

The air around them dropped drastically in temperature, and the sky dimmed with malice. Adam drew back a bleeding finger, something was egregiously wrong. 

Black began to dribble from the thorn pricked gash in Adam's index finger, not blood, unmaking. Ronan felt sick. He spit furiously. Black. 

Adam's panicked eyes darted up to meet Ronan's, he let the berries in his hands tumble to the ground. The unmaking gushed now, rolling down Adam's wrist and forearm like thick black veins, and poured in several opaque streams from his elbow into the grass between his feet. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Ronan gasped, he couldn't understand what was happening in front of him, he was seeing it, but he wasn't processing it. He could only feel the sick adrenaline clawing up his spine, could only taste decay in his mouth, could only watch helplessly.

Ronan feverishly grappled for his wrist, tugging Adam towards him, and wiping at the cut hysterically. The black just smeared, and welled up from the gash again. Had it been that large before? That open? That deep?

He whined brokenly, clasping Adam's slippery hand in his own, tight. Hot tears stung his eyes, Adam cheeks were streaked with them too, only his were the color of midnight. His mouth hung open around a silent word.

"Adam..." Ronan didn't recognize his own voice as it left his throat, only knew it was his because he could feel how it cracked half way through. Adam looked at him then, agonized.

"Ronan-" Adam abruptly dropped his eyes to his chest where glistening black was slowly soaking through his faded tee shirt. Dread flooded Ronan. Adam was dying, being unmade right in front of his eyes, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Adam swayed, immediately losing his footing. Ronan braced him with a slick arm, they collapsed to the ground which was now a filling pool of unmaking as dense and black as asphalt. 

A horrible noise escaped Ronan then, a strangled ugly beast of a thing. His face twisted up with the force of it, his hand clasped the side of Adam's sticky jaw. Adam's glossy, far away eyes flickered up to him, a line of black trickled from one of his nostrils. His lips parted, strings of tar colored unmaking clung to them, and coated his teeth. His breath was shallow, and bitter smelling. 

Ronan wheezed for air, but there wasn't enough. There might never be enough again. "Adam!" He rasped again between more awful sounding sobs. His heart felt dangerously close to shattering.

"This is all your f-fault..." Adam gurgled, coughing once, twice, then trembled violently against Ronan. "You break everything you touch-" Ronan's heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest.

No! This is wrong! He hadn't meant this to happen, please! He would do anything! Just make it stop! Make it stop! Adam!

I'm sorry!

Adam's chest rose shallowly and sunk down once, and then he was very still. His face and body were marred by smudgy black. His eyes were fixed on something above them both, everything adam-like gone out of them. 

I'm sorry…

--

Ronan gasped awake, his chest stung like a bitch suddenly filled with so much air, and his shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably. He couldn't stop trembling, his face felt wet. He caught a glimpse of his hands, black. His heart spasmed, then waking logic kicked in. They had just been in the shadow of the pew in front of him, they were perfectly unmarked upon further inspection. 

Ronan swore, took a few deep breaths, and swore again, wiping haphazardly at his face with the backs of his hands. He was never dreaming again. Sleep deprivation be damned.

He could at least find some small comfort in the fact that he hadn't brought anything back from that nightmare with him. That did very little to settle him though, he was badly shaken. Paranoia nipped at the back of his mind, he couldn't help it, horrible scenarios clawed their way to the forefront of his thoughts. He needed to check on Adam.

--

Adam lived in a quaint little apartment space above the administrative office of St. Agnes. Little meaning that if Ronan stood straight up he'd hit his head on the ceiling regardless of where he was in the room, and quaint meaning that he didn't understand how Adam managed to find reasons to want to live there. But if he never had to have that argument with Adam again it'd be too soon.

The stairs up to the door of Adam's room groaned a protest with nearly every step Ronan took, and the door itself was slightly warped with age revealing uneven slivers of dull light from behind it.

Adam would more than likely be asleep by now, it was late, and a school night. Ronan wasn't sure how late it was, he'd left his phone back at the factory, but he needed to know Adam was okay, needed to see him with his own eyes.

He lifted his knuckles to knock, and all at once every ounce of his nerve left him. His hand dropped back down to his side. He couldn't bring himself to possibly wake Adam when his sleep was so important to him. Sleep was a commodity he got very little of, and therefore took seriously.

Ronan turned back the way he'd come, but a sudden bright light from behind him threw his shadow onto the floor. It rippled wildly against the silhouette of the staircase, inhuman. 

Adam had opened the door so quietly that Ronan hadn't even heard it, and was staring at Ronan when he turned around. Ronan was very visibly relieved at the sight of him.

"Jesus, you look terrible." Adam said.

"Thanks Parrish, you look good too." 

An easy smile spread across Adam's face then. "Sorry," he said.

Ronan shrugged, but his chest felt warm.

"What're you doing here? We have a test tomorrow, shouldn't you be getting some sleep or something?" Adam asked then, his eyebrows had deep wrinkles between them, and his eyes were narrowed, but Ronan knew from experience that it was more out of concern than judgement.

"I could ask you the same thing," Ronan replied with some heat to his tone, but it was all for show, he had no idea who he was trying to fool here. Adam's smile was a barely there thing, clearly he wasn't buying it either.

"I was studying, what's your excuse?" Adam replied evenly. Ronan was silent. Adam held his gaze for a tense moment.

"What was the nightmare about?" Leave it to him to see right through Ronan. He looked at Adam in a way that said Please don't make me say it. Please. Adam seemed to understand that Ronan wouldn't, or maybe couldn't talk about it. He stepped out of the doorway to allow Ronan in.

It was warm, and it smelled like moss and dew and motor oil, which was to say that it smelled like Adam. A slumping desk lamp illuminated the room with a pleasant dimness, a pile of textbooks lay open to random pages beneath it. Grades won out over sleep on Adam's list of priorities.

Ronan navigated the room with the ease of familiarity, seating himself on the edge of Adam's mattress, and resting his elbows on his knees. Adam followed suit, sitting down close enough that their sides and thighs were touching.

"So are we going to keep on acting like everything's fine?" Adam asked bluntly, but there wasn't any anger in his voice, the way he'd said it made the words sound factual. "Or are you going to talk to me about it this time?" The question should've been simple, after all he'd known this was coming, but it seemed like the most complicated thing in the world for Ronan to answer right now. 

Couldn't Adam just leave it alone?

"The first one," Ronan tried to sound flippant, but all his bravado had left him at the door, and they both knew it. 

Now Adam was a little bit angry, he stood up quickly, Ronan's wide eyes followed him. "Why do you even come here then?" Ronan looked both like a hurt puppy, and a cagey dog backed into a corner. He looked ready to cry, or ready to bite. Adam didn't back down. "You always show up looking half dead, or actually half dead, and we just never talk about it! Well I'm tired of pretending like I'm not constantly worried sick how you'll show up next, or if you'll show up at all! I know you Ronan, talk to me please!" His voice broke on please, he looked just as tired as Ronan felt.

I'm sorry…

"You died," Ronan's voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze had at some point fallen from Adam, and was now trained on something invisible in the middle of the floor. If he'd looked ready to cry before, he looked damn near like he might completely fall apart now.

Adam's heart and stomach sank to his feet, "What?"

"You died! In my arms! And it was my fault!" Ronan shouted, he hadn't meant to, but he couldn't help it. All of the emotions of the dream gushed like a fresh wound. "Do you feel better now that you know, because I sure as fuck don't!" His mouth was an uneven line, he hurt all over.

There was a heavy silence between them for a moment, Ronan's eyes burned holes through the floor while Adam's burned holes through Ronan.

There was silence, and then there was the sound of cotton shirts rustling almost inaudible against one another. Adam's arms wrapped around Ronan tightly, his hands possessively, protectively gripped Ronan's ribs and the back of his shaved head. Adam pressed his cheek tentatively against Ronan's, his scent encompassed every fiber of Ronan's being. He melted into the touch.

There was silence, and then there was the sound of Adam's soft, honeyed Virginia accent in Ronan's ear. "Whatever you saw, whatever happened in that dream, it wasn't real. I'm real." Ronan gasped in a breath, he shuttered against Adam. "And I'm not going anywhere."

There was silence, and then there was the indefinite sound of Ronan Lynch crying against Adam Parrish's shoulder. His tee shirt was wet with tears, and hot with Ronan's shaky exhales, which normally would be an incredibly uncomfortable sensation, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He stroked the short, stubbly hairs at the base of Ronan's neck. Ronan looped his arms around Adam's waist then too, and held him back just as tight.

They stayed like that for a long time, long enough that Ronan thought he could see the dawn starting to tint the room orange. He recounted his nightmare.

After Ronan's shaking had subsided, and his sobs had become more or less quiet sniffles, they'd somehow ended up laying in a mess of limbs and warmth in Adam's little bed. Adam dug into his pocket, procuring both his phone and a tangle of headphone wires that he fought with for a few seconds thereafter. 

Adam tucked one of the earbuds away in his right ear, and placed the other gingerly into Ronan's left. Then with one thumb, he tapped his screen in a familiar pattern, unlocking his phone. Ronan's breath hitched as Adam selected a playlist of edm music, and Ronan's bare heart started sounding through the earbuds. He felt exposed, more vulnerable than he'd allowed himself to be in a very long time, but also safer than he'd felt in a long time. Known.

Ronan's other ear rested heavily on Adam's chest, he could feel the thud of Adam's heart against it, could hear his breathing as his chest fell and rose in time with the pounding electronic loops. His nerves tingled and burned.

He let his eyes fall closed, and sleep unfurl over him like a blanket. His dream was this, Adam, and Adam's lips, and Adam's smile, and Adam's freckles, and Adam's hands. Only Adam, and warmth.

[lizpaige]

thinking about this au where sarchengsey leave after adam’s birthday and adam focuses on working all summer to prep for harvard but then he finds himself going to the barns to see ronan. where all the events of opal happen (except the kissing) so they dig a pond and do domestic shit and ronan is buzzing still looking at adam with those looks 👀 and adam starts to look back.

and then its the night before he leaves for harvard and he spends it at the barns because his lease at st agnes is done and they have more domestic moments and then theyre on the couch and ronan kisses him. and adam kisses him back.

and maybe they still end up making out and falling asleep on the couch together and adam wakes up late and has to rush out the door so they never talk about it but the whole 8 hour drive to cambridge adam is thinking about it, about him.

so ronan gets a phone call and he answers cause its from adam and he expected the shitbox to crap out, but adam literally pulled over on the highway and is all:

“you kissed me” and ronan’s like 😳 “you kissed me back” and adam doesnt answer for a minute and ronans heart is racing and he says “adam?” and adam says

“fall break is six weeks away” and ronan doesnt know what that means so adam tells him “i can come back for fall break.”

and maybe they tease each other about the timing of it all and how ridiculous it is and ronan tries to give him an out and adam brushes him off and ends up calling and texting ronan everyday until fall break where he shows up at the barns and they maybe go on a date to ninos or something idk but theres lots of smooching

au where adam and ronan have their first kiss the night before adam leaves for harvard

[earlgreen]

“oh GOD” - A St. Agnes Sleepovers fic inspired by Orla Gartland’s song :0

“God, Ronan.”

Adam stood, an angular silhouette in the door of his apartment, deep frown lines bunched between his eyebrows. Hand against the doorframe, he squinted at the sight before him; Ronan, slouched and sullen and brewing like a storm. A bruise was flowering on his left temple, accompanied by a dried smear of blood beneath his nose. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket with feigned nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him, skimming anxiously over the boy in front of him.

Adam knew that if he were to peer through the grimy window at the end of the hall, he’d see a charcoal grey BMW, crumpled like a used tissue. A stab of anger at Ronan for being so careless with his belongings, with his money, with his own life, struck him square in the chest. Gansey would shout, or feel the need to have a conversation about your self-destructive tendencies, but Adam simply stepped aside.

Bloodied knuckles brushed a pale, bony wrist, as Ronan crossed to sit on the edge of the mattress. A moth fluttered above Adam’s bedside lamp, sending looming distorted shadows across the slanted walls.

“Not in the mood for a lecture, Parrish.”

This was a softer version of Ronan’s usual snarl. Head bent low, he tugged at the leather bracelets on his wrist.

“Okay. But I have work before school tomorrow,” Adam sighed as he gathered textbooks, his school pants and an empty mug from the floor beside the bed, “And I’m still doing Latin homework. So shut up.”

“Okay boss.” Came Ronan’s smirking reply.

“I’m serious Ronan. And I’m not letting you take the bed.”

Adam looked pointedly over his shoulder at the figure reclined, boots and all, on his single mattress. He picked up the patchwork quilt that hung over the back of his chair and tossed it at Ronan.

“You can sleep on the floor, or go face Grandpa.”

Opening one eye, Ronan snorted his approval at this nickname. He grabbed a pillow and the vibrantly coloured quilt, and settled onto the floor beside Adam’s bed. The dark storm clouds of his mood had paled into a less menacing fog. In fact, the sight of Adam hunched over the small wooden desk, in a knit thrift store sweater and striped pajama pants, was enough to send a ray of sun slicing through the clouds.

Fuck.

Ronan shifted sharply onto his side and stared out the tiny half circle window above the bed. The belltower of St. Agnes’ Catholic church gazed back at him from against the fading sky, cool and serene. Ronan felt his ears burn hot. It was almost too much, being here, where he felt like both the most honest version of himself, and some unnatural postscript to nature, something that should never have happened.

Later, when Adam quietly clicked off the light and pulled his sweater and faded t-shirt off, Ronan closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Adam collapsed onto his bed, so physically exhausted that he was asleep before his tawny head hit the pillow.

Through the window, moonlight deepened the contours of his already gaunt face. There was something ancient about the line of his brow, the fine bones of his nose and cheeks. Only in sleep, did the trench between his blonde brows smooth itself out, leaving behind a glimpse of what Adam could have been, if he’d been the kind of boy who joined after school clubs, instead of working after school shifts. All his natural nobility without the visible strain of living life on the edge of a precipice.

A small sigh shuddered through the sleeping boy, as he rolled onto his back.

Four feet away Ronan burned.

He was intoxicated with longing, with shame and guilt and the sight of Adam’s bare shoulder blade above the sheets. It was swallowing him up, like a sinkhole crumbling beneath his feet.

Ronan forced his eyes away, and gazed instead at the ceiling above. Under his breath two words escaped in a sigh,

“Oh God.”

[emmerrr]

Yesterday h I thoughtt about grumpy Ronan, who still try hard to hide his feelings and is harsh on the outside , and come to pick Adam up from work, and Adam fall asleep and so Ronan drive and drive and stare at Adam as often as can 👀 🥺 (maybe idea for drable ? ) 🖤

It was a little after ten when Ronan pulled into the parking lot of Boyd’s. It wasn’t open to customers this late, but the light was still on. Adam was probably just finishing up fixing radiators or whatever the hell it was he did here that took up so much of his time.

It annoyed Ronan that he was here, and that he didn’t really have an explanation for why he was here that wouldn’t be completely transparent to Adam. There was still time to leave of course, but Ronan knew he wouldn’t. He’d wait for Adam until Adam was done.

It only took about ten minutes. Through the window, Ronan saw Adam walk into view from where he must have been working further back. Even from here, Ronan could see exhaustion written all over Adam’s posture. He turned out the lights and stepped out into the night, locking the door behind him, his school satchel over his shoulder.

He turned and started walking slowly across the lot, hands in his pockets, and then he clocked Ronan’s car and stopped. He cocked his head to the side, then walked over and opened the passenger side door, leaning his head inside. “Has something happened?”

It was typical that Adam’s first reaction to seeing Ronan unexpectedly was to assume something terrible had happened. “Get in,” was all he said. “I’ll drop you off.”

Adam hesitated. “Okay.” He got into the car, shut the door, fastened his seatbelt. It was quiet while Ronan got them moving, but then Adam asked, “Why?”

Ronan flicked his gaze from the road to Adam and then back again. “You said your bike had a puncture.”

Adam nodded; he had said that, offhand, earlier in the day, to Gansey. He probably hadn’t even realised Ronan had heard. “I was going to walk.”

Ronan shrugged. “And now you don’t have to.”

Adam yawned in lieu of a response, likely too tired to care how he got home, as long as he got there. 

It wasn’t a long trip, particularly at this time of night with less cars on the road, and soon enough Ronan pulled up outside St. Agnes. When Adam made no immediate move to get out, Ronan glanced at him to find that he’d fallen asleep, his arms crossed and head drooping.

“Parrish,” Ronan sighed. He hated to wake him, especially not when he’d only just nodded off. “Parrish.”

Adam was not to be easily roused, the furrow in his brow evened out for once, his features softened in sleep. Ronan watched him for a moment, wrestling with his heart and his head, until finally he gave in and shifted the car back into gear.

He didn’t particularly drive any slower than usual, but perhaps a bit gentler. He took his corners more carefully, kept his gear changes smooth. He didn’t turn his music on. And all the while, Adam slept on.

When Ronan had done a complete loop of Henrietta three times, he decided enough was enough and headed back to St. Agnes. If Adam slept like this any longer he’d get a crick in his neck, and besides, he’d probably be annoyed that Ronan had cut into his allotted homework hours.

This time, when Ronan parked, he turned off the engine, and it was this that finally woke Adam up. He jerked his head up, disoriented, then looked at Ronan.

“Hey,” he said, and frowned. “Was I sleeping?”

“Out like a light,” Ronan confirmed.

Adam rubbed a hand down his face, then noticed the time on the dashboard and did a double take. “Is that right? How did it take this long to get here? Did you get stuck in traffic?”

Ronan snorted. “Nah. I drove around for a little bit.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Adam snapped.

“I tried. I said your name twice. You must have really needed a rest,” Ronan said pointedly.

Adam rolled his eyes at that but let it go. He unfastened his seatbelt and started to move, but then he paused and sat back. 

“I--” he started, but then didn’t seem to want to carry on. He dropped whatever was left of the sentence and shook his head. “Thank you. For the ride.”

“Anytime.”

Adam smiled, and opened the door. He stepped one foot outside, then half-turned back to Ronan. “You can come up and crash if you want?”

Ronan smirked. “You inviting me to a sleepover, Parrish?”

“I mean...you’re already here. It’s late. My floor is your floor and all that,” Adam said. “Unless, y’know, you already have plans.”

Ronan raised one eyebrow sky high. “Do I look like a man with a plan?”

“Exactly. So come up. Or don’t. Whatever. Up to you.” Adam shut the door and headed off towards the stairs that led to his little apartment.

Ronan took a slow breath now that he was alone in the car again. He felt like he’d already gotten away with a lot tonight; he didn’t want to push his luck.

Then again, he’d been given a clear invitation. 

Adam had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and he looked back, a clear question on his face.

Ronan did what he was always going to do; he followed.