#for once i remembered to draw ronan's tattoo

[erlie]

Once, I was asked to draw Ronan/Kavinsky, but I rebelled and drew Pynch instead.

Today, I obliged.

[brophigenia]

If you fed me more dark Gansey I would ascend spiritually it would change my life monumentally

Ask and ye shall receive. 

I give you: 

dick gansey and his pack of dogs 

(TW: mentions of sex work, class differences, dark!gansey) 

***

ronan

The collar is thick, handsome brown leather with a glinting gold buckle. Tasteful. Classic. 

It could’ve almost been a fashion statement. Outlandish, yes, but excusable, especially when you knew that Ronan had always been a bit eccentric in his tastes. 

Almost, except for the shining O-ring fixed in its center. 

Almost, except for the way he wore it, with his uniform unbuttoned to expose it, brazen against his fair skin and the black-as-night ink wrapping around his throat, feathers brushing his adam’s apple. 

Almost, except for the way Dick Gansey would curl his fingers into it, possessive and transparent, whenever he and Ronan were within four feet of each other. 

… so, always. 

Gansey holds onto it while he fucks Ronan, always like he’s got all the time in the world. So leisurely with the pounding grind of his hips, as if it were only his right. 

And it is— Ronan is nothing but Gansey’s, now. Nothing but his bare scalp and his ink and Gansey’s fingerprints smudging black-blue into his skin as a reminder that Niall Lynch is dead and Ronan is fatherless, drifting, tethered to the earth only by Gansey. 

Nothing else matters. 

(In another world, where Gansey was less selfish, perhaps it might be different; in another world, he might be able to swallow down his terrible obsession with Gansey’s everything to have his own life. 

In another life, Ronan is freer but no happier for it.) 

“Ronan,” Gansey murmurs quietly, always quietly— whether he’s balls-deep inside of Ronan or holding Ronan’s leash or setting him loose on some ruffians, Gansey always speaks so gently to his most faithful dog. 

(Gansey speaks softly to everyone; he carries a big stick named money.) 

***

adam

His parents die in a tragic accident when he’s fourteen years old. 

He stands in front of their graves with dry eyes and a bruised cheek, and then uses their life insurance checks to prepay four years’ room, board, and tuition at Aglionby Academy. 

The money goes quick, after the burials and the school expenses, but Adam sees it as an investment. 

So too is making friends with G and Lynch, at first only because he can see the writing on the wall and he knows they are his best chance for connections both above- and below-board. 

Letting G put a Rolex on his wrist and the keys to a Range Rover in his pocket is just another investment. Where once his pride would’ve boiled over into rage, all Adam can feel is numbness. Is ambition, choking him. If the way to the top is through sacrificing his dignity, then so be it, except G doesn’t want his dignity. 

G wants him to sit up late into the night and look pretty and talk to him for hours about Glendower, wants him to stretch out naked and speak of Welsh legends and ley lines with Ronan’s mouth stretched around his cock. 

He could love Ronan, if it weren’t for the fact that Gansey outshined the morning goddamn sun. If it weren’t for the way Gansey must be loved, whole-heartedly, in order for his hunger to be sated. Gansey would allow them this, and call it a kindness, call it taking care of his boys. 

Gansey would not allow them to take all his generosity and spit in his face for it, though. 

It was alright— Adam could love Gansey, and fuck Ronan, and drive his Rover, and do whatever else Gansey asked of him. 

It was a political alliance. He didn’t need to get everything he wanted to be satisfied. 

***

noah 

Noah is dead; Noah is tied to Gansey. 

Noah could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. 

Noah watches Gansey, so different from Barry had been, but no less magnetic. No less the king of everything, everywhere, everyone. 

(Sometimes, he thinks he picked wrong; sometimes, he thinks he should’ve died quiet and let Gansey die, too, his young body pricked and tortured and stung.) 

Sometimes the only way he feels alive is by pressing against Gansey when he’s on fire with it, when he’s wrapped around Ronan as he bloodies his knuckles on the faces of whoever for whatever, when he’s kissing Blue for Gansey at Gansey’s behest, when he’s watching Adam clean blood off a switchblade with the steady hands of a practiced killer. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

***

blue 

Raven Boys are useless except for when they’re not. 

There are too many bills and too few clients; more than once, Blue patches up Orla after a particularly nasty one, one who was more interested in the sideline services than the actual fortune telling. It pays better, the fucking does— but it’s riskier, legally and physically and mentally. Riskier in every way, except for how much quicker they can make rent, can pay hospital bills and grocery bills and car insurance. 

They tighten their belts, all of them, and sometimes Blue can’t remember the last time she ate anything but yogurt, but it’s still not enough.

Gansey leaves her a two hundred dollar tip the first time she serves him at Nino’s, and Blue goes home and vomits because she’s so furious, so angry, so humiliated that he took pity on her to do it. She wants to throw the money back in his goddamn face, but she can’t, because she needs it. They need it, and every dollar keeps them afloat. 

Gansey thinks he can buy everyone and everything. 

Or, he doesn’t think about it like that- instead, he thinks he’s being generous. Being kind. Thinks that any girl in the world would find it romantic, or something, to be taken care of. 

Gansey wants too much; he wants too much from the world, and from Ronan, from Adam, from her. He doesn’t understand that there are so many things he can’t buy; he doesn’t understand that while part of her adores every inch of him, the very pitted core of her is curdled sour by humiliation and resentment. 

If the world was fair, or just, it wouldn’t be like this. 

The world is neither fair, nor just. Blue sits at Gansey’s left hand because he wills it so, because he doesn’t give her a fucking choice, because he’s paying the house payment and for her youngest cousin’s braces, because he doesn’t trust anyone enough to see if they’d stay without the added bonus of Gansey’s cash and his cock. 

She watches Gansey fuck Ronan, because Gansey wants her to. Gansey wants them to surround him, to press against him, to remind him that he’s alive and not alone. 

Gansey wants so much, and Blue hates herself for forgetting, sometimes, why that should even be called a bad thing. 

“Jane,” he will say, inside of Ronan, and draw her down until she’s touching Ronan, too, Adam down Ronan’s throat and her hands on his back, his ribs, tracing featherlight over his tattoo. She does it because it drives Gansey wild, but also because it’s comforting to feel Ronan’s feverhot skin beneath her hands and know that at least she wasn’t him. At least she didn’t need Gansey like this. 

(Oh, and what a spectacular lie that is.) 

***

Ronan is Gansey’s dog. Adam is Gansey’s right hand. Blue is Gansey’s girl. 

They are all his. 

[abarbaricyalp]

You Are Artwork (I could admire you forever)

Flower Shop/ Tattoo AU/Coffee Shop AU 

Pynch, Rated: T, No archive warnings apply

@pynchpromptweek

AO3 Link

“Okay, lemme see your deck again,” Ronan said, slamming the BMW door behind him and hopping onto the concrete walkway in front of the the strip center. Adam followed him, lazy and easy and happy, and spread his deck over the warm hood of the car. “No, face up,” Ronan ordered, and Adam scooped them back up and flipped them over.

“This defeats the purpose of drawing a card,” Adam said drily, leaning into Ronan’s side as Ronan reached out to pluck the Magician from where it was stuffed between the Emperor and the Lovers. He tapped the edge of the card against the hood and held it up for Adam to look at. “I know what it looks like,” he assured with a half grin. “I know it’s your favorite.” He gathered the cards up again and Ronan finally handed over the card. Adam placed it back to back with the deck and a thrum of energy ran up his arm pleasantly before he replaced the deck in his back pocket.

“You’re gonna look so hot, babe,” Ronan said, walking on Adam’s good side, which meant he was between Adam and the buildings, which meant he kept Adam from detouring into his favorite tarot shop.

“I’m so nervous I think I’m gonna vomit,” Adam answered.

“Hope you’re not getting it on your stomach, then.”

Adam didn’t answer and he felt Ronan’s eyes flicker over to him but he still didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, you better not get one on your stomach. I may break up with you.”

“It’d be awful of you to essentially brand me and then leave me on our anniversary,” Adam finally said, rolling his eyes. 

“Letting you choose your own tattoo and shit isn’t the same as branding you. It’s not my fault if you wanna put my face on your body. Can’t blame you, but it’s not my fault.”

Adam snorted and elbowed Ronan’s ribs before they came up on the new tattoo shop. Adam had liked the feel of it as soon as he’d gone in out of curiosity when it opened and one of the artists had worked with the guy who’d done Ronan’s tattoo. They’d watched it for a while and Ronan got too invested in everyone who worked there and the art was good and a late night bad idea had turned into anniversary gifts. If it could be considered a gift when they were each paying for their own.

The only catch was, they’d been working on it for three weeks and hadn’t told each other anything about their tattoos. Adam definitely worried about his own tattoo but he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ronan was planning to add to his sprawling masterpiece. He was so fond of it the way it was, that the thought of it changing made his heart ache.

When their respective artists came out, Adam found his fingers clenching around Ronan’s in a moment of childish selfishness and fear. The artist Adam had been working with--Mae--smiled gently. “You know, you could always just sit with each other,” she suggested. “I have my next slot open too. I could wait.”

“Get fucked,” Ronan said and Adam pretended like he didn’t notice all the bravado in his voice as they shook their hands apart. “We said we were doing it this way. We’re doing it this way.”

“He just doesn’t want anyone to talk him out of his tatt,” Ronan’s artist said. “It’s pretty out there.”

“If you make my boyfriend puke, I’ll kick your ass,” Ronan warned.

“If Devon gave his blessing, how bad can it be?” Mae said, for Adam’s benefit. When the guy who’d done Ronan’s original tattoo had given his own for this guy to do the addition, half of Adam’s worries had disappeared. Well, until this afternoon when they’d piled into the car and it all became much more real.

Adam took a deep breath and his worries were side tracked as Ronan reached over to muss his hair roughly and then grinned at him. “Catch you later, handsome.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” Adam responded with his own grin. They knocked their fists together and Adam followed Mae back to her work space.

“Alright, Adam, you can leave your jeans over there. Didn’t I tell you to wear sweats?” she asked as she prepared her space.

“Yeah, but it would’ve given it away,” Adam said with a shrug. “I told you, I can handle pain and irritation. We’re not that far from y’all anyway. I’ll change when I get home.”

Mae hummed and tossed Adam what looked like a sock. “Put it on now,” she suggested. “We’re gonna have to get pretty far down your groin and I don’t want you fumbling with it while there’s ink on you.”

Adam stared at it for a second and felt a jolt of regret. But he shook it off and reached into his boxers to fit the not-sock over his length. It was awkward and heavy but welcome. He wanted to be the cool suave guy who didn’t care what people saw, but he was decidedly not that guy and he really liked Mae, so keeping her sanity intact was important to him too.

He hopped up on the chair when Mae motioned for him to and pushed his boxers down as far as he was willing to. “I’m gonna shave you first,” Mae explained, not for the first time. “And then sterilize the area. No need to jump yet.”

And, really, by the time it was all said and done, the pain was no more than he was used to. Just a bit sharper and longer laster. Some spots hurt worse than others, but he’d been prepared for that. Mae had really, really, really tried to talk him out of his placement for a first tattoo, but it was the only one he was getting and it meant something and he wanted it where he wanted it. Which, he guessed, Mae understood because she didn’t argue with him again after that.

She did snigger when he didn’t bother trying to button his jeans though, which he defended with an exasperated, “How was I supposed to know?!” and wave of his arm, to which she responded by handing over an aftercare book and sending him back to Ronan’s waiting arms in the parlor.

They lasted eighteen hours before they were pulling each other’s clothes off under the guise of helping put cream and ointments and new bandages on. Adam found the mess of bandages on Ronan’s side, just below his ribs, wrapping around his waist. When he uncovered it, he found more black ink in bold strokes, like the rest of his tattoo. At first, Adam thought there was only more vines, intricate roots continuing from the tree, but once his eyes adjusted, he realized it was a man--a magician.

“Is this my card?” he asked, ghosting his fingers featherlight over the tattoo.

Ronan still sucked in a soft breath, though it was up for debate if he was in pain or if it was the normal way he gasped any time Adam was near him. “Yeah, it’s your Magician,” he said. “My magician.”

Adam was wrong, it wasn’t just black. There were faint green lines, so immediately different from the rest of the tattoo that Adam couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it. They made vines tumbling out of the Magician’s hands, pooling around his feet and sneaking into the rest of the tattoo.

When Adam traced them, Ronan said, “Because you’re interwoven with me. All of me.”

“Not going anywhere,” Adam promised, leaning up to kiss Ronan.

Ronan found Adam’s bandages when his hands went to Adam’s hips and he barely paused before hoisting Adam up to carry him towards the bed and dump him backwards onto it, much to Adam’s fond delight. Ronan crawled over his thighs and leaned down to kiss his way down Adam’s chest to his stomach as his hands gently pulled at the sweats he’d been living in.

Ronan’s mouth suddenly leaving the flushed skin of Adam’s lower abdomen had the man keening in response, legs pushing against the cool sheets of their bed helplessly. “Ro,” he whined and turned his face towards his arm, fingers tightening in his own hair. 

“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Parrish,” Ronan breathed, fingers brushing the clean edges of Adam’s hips, away from his tattoo.

Adam lifted his head lazily, gazing down at the span of his body. The critical gaze he’d cultivated as a lonely teenager had been washed away years ago by a habit of looking at his body the way Ronan might be seeing it. Right now, it looked like familiar tan skin, cuts of muscle, scars that he was beginning to look over without pausing. Then, at his hips, a bouquet of color.

Bouquet was the proper term too. Blooming over his hip bones and continuing down his adonis lines were stalks of lavender, bushels of baby’s breath, and rich green vines with thick ivy leaves. Even through the bruising, the colors were exactly how he wanted them to be.

"When I gave myself over to Cabeswater, my nightmares got worse. But Cabeswater was always there to soothe the tension almost immediately. I'd get wrapped up in the forest and always the first thing it held were my hips, to keep me still, I guess. And my hips are always the first thing you grab too, whether it's falling in bed or being jolted awake in the middle of the night. So I wanted to remember that. Even when I'm waking up alone, I have magic. I have you."

Ronan’s thumb glanced over one side of the tattoo and he let out a shaky breath, hungry eyes flicking between the tattoo and Adam’s face.

“You really know a thing or two about product placement, huh?” he asked and Adam laughed breathlessly, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Just kiss me, asshole.”

And Ronan did.

[sweetheavymetal]

It's supposed to make you feel something: TRC fic

Hey everyone!

This is my contribution to @trcspringfling for @theongreujoy

I had such a blast writing this. This is just pure self indulgent Bronan bonding.

Summary: Blue's in trouble.

Her final art project is due and for some insane reason she thought it would be a good idea to bully Ronan Lynch into being her model. What was she thinking?

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944288

It was Thursday night. Pizza night at Nino's.

Arguably for Aglionby Raven boys every night was pizza night, but for Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish, Henry Cheng and Richard Campbell Gansey the III, Thursday nights specifically had been designated as “Pizza Nights”, due to that fact that was the day one Blue Sargent worked the late shift and she always snuck them free ice tea refills when her manager wasn’t looking. Plus now the end of the school year was drawing near and the prospect of them splitting ways across the country for college, for adventure, for the beginning of the rest of their adult lives, had them spending as much time as they could together.

This particularly humid spring Thursday night, dregs of iced teas in perspiring glasses, remnants of pizza crusts curled up on plates, found Blue throwing herself down beside Ronan in the booth that had unofficially been claimed as ‘theirs’ for the better part of a year and punched Ronan in the arm. A wolfish grin marred her face that immediately put Ronan on guard, dropping the pen that he had been using to draw a tattoo on Adam's forearm as he had the world's most boring discussion with Gansey about physics or something equally dull that no one else at the table cared about if you could take the ridiculous faces Henry was making into his phone and Ronan’s aborted masterpiece on Adam’s arm by any measure.

“What’s wrong with your face Maggot?” Ronan asked, eyes narrowing at Blue’s grin that became even wider, showing even more teeth. She looked him up and down like he was a prime cut of steak that had just been served up for dinner and frankly he was quite disturbed. Had she hit her head? Was she having a stroke? In a very uncharacteristic move Ronan removed his phone from his pocket and started dialling emergency services.

Blue slapped his phone out of his hands. It landed with a soft whump on the sticky table. “I’ve recently come to notice what an exquisite physical form you have Lynch.” Blue announced. That statement drew the attention of all four of the table's occupants to Blue, the expression of ‘what the hell?’ written on Gansey’s, Adam’s, and Henry’s faces complimented the look of disgust on Ronan’s. Ronan reached out for his phone again to finish dialling emergency services.

“Stop that Lynch,” she said as she forecefully grabbed his hands holding them in hers against her chest, ignoring the others who had all opened their mouth to start interrogating her with stupid questions  like: ‘Are you quite well Jane?’ and ’you do know Ronan is gay right and already taken?’ and ‘Blue I thought we had something special and beautiful and unique and I completely agree with you how exquisite Lynch is but how could you betray us like this?!”

Blue steam rolled ahead to explain herself over the mayhem she had unleashed.“What I meant to say is that Lynch is exactly the missing piece for my art project final.” Blue announced, giving the table a stern and exasperated look she had perfected over the past year. Turning to face Ronan, who had pulled his hands out of her grasp and was rubbing them on his dark jeans,  “ I need you to be my model Lynch. Your face is perfect!” she pleaded.

“Fuck no!” Ronan spat. Arms folded, chin jutted, he was a model of stubborn and immovable marble. He really would be absolutely perfect for this project, Blue thought, exactly the look she needed once she convinced him that was. But if Ronan was stubborn then so was Blue, and she was pretty confident she could out stubborn Ronan’s stubborn.

“Come on Lynch, pretty, pretty please?” Blue’s voice now high and needling in a specific way she knew he found annoying. “You haven’t even heard what the project is." She grabbed his hands again and his gaze at the same time looking up at him from under her thick dark lashes. Gansey had once described Blue’s gaze as orbs of warm liquid honey in Ronan’s hearing, which they had both immediately gagged over. Thankfully Ronan was not Gansey, and it was not pleading puppy dog eyes she leveled at him now, but 'break and you lose' competitive eyes. Ronan extracted his hands again and folded his arms across his chest away from her grabby girl hands and took up the challenge.

“I don’t care what the project is Maggot. The answer is still: Hell. No.” Ronan said enunciating the last two words like Blue couldn’t understand him properly. “You have a perfectly good boyfriend sitting right across the table there why can’t he do it? Stop propositioning me.” Not breaking eye contact he nodded his head in Gansey’s direction, who started making unsure hmming noises at the prospect of said modelling request being transferred to him.

Blue huffed, little tufts of dark hair blowing upward where they had escaped from glitter encrusted clips. Arms folded she narrowed her eyes even more at Ronan, glare deeping, expression hard.

“Bluebell, light of my life,  I would certainly be more than happy to help if you—“

“Not right now Henry.” Blue interrupted, not breaking eye contact with Ronan. “In any other situation yes, but unfortunately it has to be Lynch. It’ll only look right if it’s Lynch.”

Ronan lifted an eyebrow. Blue mirrored with one of hers. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and the edges of her vision began to blur but no way was he going to blink first. The group, now understanding this was some bizarre Ronan-Blue friendship ritual that no one apart from the two of them really understood, went back to what they were doing before Blue had unceremoniously ruined their peace.

Blue leaned forward into Ronan. Ronan leaned forward into Blue. Eye contact unbroken. Cross eyed Blue whispered, “You owe me Lynch. I’m calling in my favour right here, right now. Help me with my art project or I’ll tell Gansey about the time that you---ooof” Blue blinked as a palm was slapped over her mouth and she got the full brunt of Ronan's icicle stare as she opened her eyes. Her lips curled under his palm, knowing she had him in her grasp. Who was the grabby one now Lynch, she thought victoriously.

“You wouldn’t dare,” He hissed down at her. It was true. Blue had promised she would never mention that particular incident of that particular afternoon as long as they both shall live, and Blue was a woman of her word. But Ronan had to remember their terms: she would keep her mouth shut about that particularly hilarious but sensitive event she had the unfortunate hilarity of witnessing as long as he owed her a favour, no questions asked, at some point in the future. Well here she was collecting her favour.

Waggling her eyebrows, she licked his palm, sniggering as he reeled back, nose crinkled, wiping his hand on his black jeans for the second time that night.

“Fine.” He spat out, voice full of venom. “I”ll help with your stupid art project Sargent. I just hope you’re happy you little blackmailing maggot.”

Blue was spectacularly happy.

Read the rest on AO3

[gansey-just-gansey]

Under the Needle part Two

“Get up.”

Ronan's body rocked back and forth with the shaking of the bed underneath him. He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning.

“Lynch. Get up.”

He opened one eye, looking groggily at Gansey.

“Jesus, what happened to you?” Gansey was standing over Ronan, kicking the bed frame. Once he confirmed that Ronan was awake he went over to the desk and started looking for something in the mess of books and loose papers that seemed to have no organizational system to speak of.

“Nothing. I ran into a couple frat bros after the tour, they gave me some beer.” He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, stretching out on the mattress.

“Enough to make you pass out for the night, apparently. Did you even stay for the whole tour?” Gansey asked, though he phrased it in a way that made Ronan think he already knew the answer.

“No, I ditched the end. That guide was shit, by the way. Boring as all fuck. I went walking around town instead of coming back here to wait for you. Saw some shops.” Ronan sat up suddenly. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered, throwing the blankets off himself.

“What? What's wrong?” Gansey looked around, searching for what could have upset Ronan now.

The beautiful boy's face flashed through Ronan's mind. Adam. “I need some paper.”

“For what?” Gansey asked, but he started opening his backpack, looking for a spare piece for Ronan.

“And a pen. Or a pencil, whatever you have. I have to write down some tattoo ideas, quickly.”

Gansey looked up from his backpack. He pushed his glasses up and squinted at Ronan as though he could read a further explanation from Ronan's face. “I beg your pardon?”

“A tattoo. I need ideas for one and I need to write them down.” Ronan snapped his fingers twice, reaching for the pad of paper he could see peeking out from the bag. Gansey let him take it and handed him a pencil from behind his ear.

“You're getting a tattoo?”

“Yup.”

“Declan will have a heart attack.”

“That's about half the point of getting it,” Ronan looked up long enough to give Gansey a devilish smile. There was no reason for Gansey to know the real reason for Ronan's very sudden and very permanent decision.

Gansey shook his head but knew better than to fight Ronan on anything having to do with Declan at this moment, which is exactly why Ronan let him think that was all it was about.

Ronan scribbled several things down in quick succession. Then he looked back over his list and ripped it out of the notebook. None of these were anything that Ronan actually wanted on his body forever. He crumpled the paper and threw it in the general direction of Gansey's trash can.

“Problem?” Gansey asked.

“Yeah, there's a fucking problem. I have no idea what would make for a good back tattoo,” Ronan gripped the pencil tightly, nearly snapping it. He couldn't go back to the shop without a single idea.

“All right, well why don't you think of something important to you? Then you can take that general idea to an artist and have a conversation about whether it would make for a decent tattoo design.”

Something important to Ronan. What was important to Ronan? He didn't get attached to anything that could become unattached to him. Matthew and Gansey gave him the only glimpses of unconditional love he got. But he wasn't very well about to get them tattooed on him.

But maybe it didn't have to be something external. What did Ronan live for?

There was only one thing.

Ronan started scribbling frantically. “You're a fucking genius, Gansey.” He folded up the paper and shoved it roughly in his pocket. Then he stood up and made to leave, but Gansey grabbed his arm as he passed.

“Wait let me just get my shoes-”

“What do you need to come for?”

“I want to check that this is a reputable tattoo shop. You have been known to make rash decisions occasionally.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “What's the name of this place anyway?” Gansey pulled out his phone.

“It's- uh....” Ronan scrambled for the name, but he hadn't been paying attention when he followed Adam into the shop. He hadn't even noticed it was a tattoo parlor at first.

“You don't even know the name? Did you just walk by it and decide right then to get a tattoo?” Gansey asked exasperatedly.

“Yeah, pretty much. I remember the way to it though. Are you coming or not?”

It was Gansey's turn to roll his eyes, but he pulled his boat shoes on and grabbed the key to his room, locking it behind them.

It was a quick ten minute walk to the parlor, just off official campus grounds.

“Cabeswater Tattoo,” Gansey said, looking at the sign hanging on the door. It was very obvious, but Ronan had been more than a little distracted the last time he was here.

They walked into the shop, the small bell chiming their arrival. The same girl from last time was once again atop the display case, this time smacking gum. She looked up when the boys came in, raising one eyebrow when she saw Ronan, who just now noticed that he was in the same clothes as yesterday, and the other one followed when she took in Gansey in all his khaki glory. He gave her an awkward little wave. She blew a large bubble and popped it with a sharp snap.

“You're back,” she said to Ronan. “We had a pool going.”

“Who's we?” Ronan asked, walking farther into the shop.

The girl gestured between herself and the pale boy  leaning back in the chair at his own station who had been tattooing the tramp stamp yesterday. “Noah and me. He bet you wouldn't but I had a feeling you'd back here today,” she looked smug.

“Well you were right. Congratulations. Where's Adam?” Ronan asked impatiently. The girl's smug face grew.

“Back here,” came a voice from the employee only room Adam had escaped to yesterday. He came out, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. “Oh, you're back.”

“Yes, we have established that I have, in fact, come back. Can we move on now?” Ronan said irritably.

Adam shrugged and gestured him over to his station again. Gansey stayed near the display case, inspecting the different kinds of body jewelry it held and asking the girl what each one was for. Ronan could see his face pale when she explained what a Prince Albert piercing was.

Adam rolled the stool back up next to the tattoo chair, which Ronan took a seat in once again, this time letting his legs hang over the side so that his knees brushed Adam's. Ronan took small satisfaction in this minor contact but didn't let it show. Instead, he got down to business.

“I have an idea for my tattoo.”

“You're still set on getting this whole back piece?” Adam didn't sound surprised, just tired.

“I am,” Ronan answered firmly, leaving no room for arguments.

“All right, whatever you want, man. What's your idea?” he asked.

“Well, it's more of a vague idea than anything solid.”

“I'm sure I can work with whatever you decided,” Adam said, flipping to a clean sheet in his sketchbook.

“Dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“Dreams,” Ronan repeated confidently. Adam stared at him in way that screamed exhaustion, like Ronan was just another in a long line of nonsensical occurrences he had experienced that day. “I told you it was a vague idea.”

“And I told you I could work with whatever you gave me,” Adam responded. His fingers were already starting to carve shadows into the fresh page. His other hand found its way into his hair, propping his head up. “Tell me what you think when you think of dreams.”

Ronan handed him the list he had made back in Gansey's room. 

“Orphan Girl, raven, and night horrors? “

Ronan grunted, chewing on the leather bands he always kept on his wrists. 

“Okay, who is Orphan Girl?” Adam asked. 

“This girl that appears in my dreams sometimes. She kind of guides me I guess, “ Ronan said, releasing the bands from his teeth. 

“I see. And the night horrors?”

“They’re violent things. Black. Tall. They all have claws and a beak.”

“Unguibus et rostro,” Adam said under his breath.

“What?” Ronan was sure he must have heard the other boy wrong. There was no way this boy with the delicate hands and the Southern drawl was currently speaking latin to him.

“Nothing,” Adam said, putting the list in between two pages of his sketchbook and went back to plotting out the dark design. “So do you want me to draw up each of things for you or do you want me to try to incorporate all of them into one design?”

“Actually I was thinking it’s a vague concept, maybe a vague design would be better,” Ronan reasoned.

“Makes sense to me, “ Adam nodded. The lines were beginning to come together to make a somewhat cohesive picture. It wasn't even close to done but there was some solid line work laid out. “I can work with that. Let me draw something up and you can tell me if you like it or if you want me to change anything. You’re welcome to hang around the shop or you can leave a number and I can call when-” 

“I’ll stick around here, thanks,” Ronan interrupted quickly. “My friend seems interested in... the jewelry.” Ronan looked back at Gansey, who now had the attention of both the short girl and pale boy named Noah. Adam was already focused back on his drawing by the time Ronan looked back.

He got up and went over to stand next to Gansey, who was lecturing the other two on the importance of ley lines.

“They're intersecting lines of energy that connect many significant sacred sites. They kind of intersect like this.” He took a piece of paper and a pencil off the front desk and drew a slightly rounded triangle with lines crossed. Ronan rolled his eyes. Of course Gansey had already roped them into a conversation about ley lines and Glendower.

“That's badass,” Noah said, totally enraptured.

“I think so, too,” Gansey said, beaming.

“You should get those lines tattooed on you,” the girl said, snapping her gum again.

“Oh that would be even more badass,” Noah said. “Good thinking, Blue.”

“I don't know about that,” Gansey chuckled nervously.

“You should,” Ronan said, trying to hold in his laughter. “It would be so badass.”

“I can do it now,” Noah offered. “You've got time while Adam draws up his design. I can use your drawing to make a stencil real quick.”

“I don't know, I'm not sure where I would even get them,” Gansey said doubtfully.

The girl, apparently named Blue, blew a big bubble and let it pop. “Over your heart, because you let them guide you.”

“You're an unstoppable good idea machine today,” Noah said, pointing at Blue.

“Well I actually don't hate that,” Gansey rubbed his hand over his chest.

Ronan eyes were wide with surprise. He hadn't thought Gansey would actually go through with getting a tattoo, but it looked like he was seriously considering it.

“Hell yeah, man,” Noah reached out for a high five. Gansey smiled slightly and slapped Noah's hand. “Let me go make the stencil and you can see if you like it. If you don't, don't get it. But if you do, you let me put it on you today.”

“I suppose that isn't the worst idea,” Gansey acquiesced. “Okay, go draw it up or whatever you have to do.”

Holy shit. Gansey was going to get a tattoo. Or think about getting a tattoo. Whatever. Gansey wasn't one to rush into big decisions like this. Ronan was about to ask him what the hell, but then he saw how Gansey was looking at Blue. So he was trying to impress a girl. Well who was Ronan to stop him? Here he was getting a full back piece just to see a beautiful boy and feel his delicate hands. Ronan decided to let Gansey do whatever the fuck he wanted. Not that Gansey listened to him all that often, anyway.

Ronan slung himself haphazardly into Noah's tattoo chair and tried not to stare across the room at Adam, who was deep into his sketchbook. His hand was still in his hair, propping up his head. Instead, Ronan watched Gansey and Blue, who were still talking about the tattoo.

“All right, let's get that shirt off,” Noah said, holding a stencil sheet by the tip.

Gansey stripped it off and threw it at Ronan, who caught it just before it flopped in his face. Ronan noticed that Blue was trying not to stare at Gansey's chest and just barely failing. Gansey flexed slightly and Ronan fought not to roll his eyes again.

Noah carefully placed the stencil over Gansey's heart and pulled it off gently, leaving a purple outline of the lines Gansey had drawn.

Gansey turned to look at it in the mirror. “It looks good,” Blue offered from behind him.

“Yeah it does,” Noah agreed.

“Ronan?” Gansey turned back to him so he could check it out.

“Fuck yeah, Gansey. You should get it,” Ronan said, reaching his fist out for him to bump.

“Yeah?” he looked in the mirror again. “I do rather like it.”

“'I do rather like it',” Ronan mimicked in a higher pitched voice.

“Ronan,” Gansey said. Then, “Yes. Yeah, put it on me.”

“Yes!” Noah high fived Blue. The girl was so short she had to jump to reach Noah's hand.

Ronan got up so Gansey could take his place in the tattoo chair. Blue came to stand near Ronan while Noah prepped the station.

“Okay, you ready?” Noah asked, the needle poised over Gansey's heart.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Gansey replied.

Noah smiled and began tracing the stencil with black ink.

“This doesn't hurt as bad as I thought,” Gansey said after a minute.

“Oh just wait, it builds,” Blue said around her gum.

They waited in silence for a couple minutes, the only sound in the shop the buzzing of the needle. Slowly, Gansey's eyebrows started pulling down, his face going from relaxed to uncomfortable.

“It's not as bad as I thought,” he repeated. “But it definitely hurts more than when it started.”

Blue laughed. “Yeah, the constant irritation makes it get worse over time. Lucky for you this is a small tattoo so it won't take as long. You however,” Blue pointed at Ronan, “will have it a lot worse with a whole back tattoo.”

Ronan bared his teeth at her in a savage smile. “I think I can handle it.” She shrugged.

“All right, we're done,” Noah announced. “Go check it out in the mirror.”

Gansey got up and looked at his angry red chest. “It looks amazing, Noah. Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?”

“Ronan,” Adam called from the other side of the shop. Ronan immediately headed over, leaving Gansey to talk money with Noah.

“What's up?” Ronan asked, trying to be nonchalant, though in reality he was about to hyperventilate at the sound of his name coming out of Adam's mouth.

“I finished the first design, I wanted your thoughts on it,” Adam said.

“You're already finished? Jesus fuck,” Ronan swore. It had only been about half an hour.

Adam's lips curled up in a self-conscious smile. Ronan nearly swore again. He had thought it impossible for Adam to be any more beautiful until he saw that smile.

“You allowed me quite a bit of artistic freedom so I really got into it. You want to check it out?” He offered Ronan the sketchbook.

“Holy fuck, this is awesome.” Ronan reverently touched the page. The design was abstract, dark and sharp looking. Feathers floated around it, and a single claw would hook over the back of his neck above his collar. Adam had perfectly captured the general feel of Ronan's dreams without even having to ask.

“You like it?”

“It's perfect.”

“Okay, great. We have to talk logistics though.”

“Logistics?” Ronan asked, confused. What was there besides putting it on and tattooing it?

“It'll take probably about twenty hours total, and most likely cost around four thousand. Is that going to work for you?”

Fuck, twenty hours. Twenty hours of Adam, of his beautiful face and delicate hands and being touched by him. Ronan didn't know how he was going to bear twenty hours of Adam tattooing him.

Adam cleared his throat, and Ronan realized he had just been standing there, staring at him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah that's fine. Money isn't a problem. So how do we do this? Start today and hopefully finish it tomorrow or what?”

Adam laughed out loud, a deep and musical sound.

“What are you laughing at?” Ronan demanded.

“We can't do this all in two sittings,” Adam chuckled. “We could probably do it in four hour increments, if you can handle it.”

“It's going to be five sittings?”

“Most likely, if you think you can get through the pain.”

“I think I'll be able to handle it,” Ronan scoffed.

“Then yeah, five sittings, and they'll have to be about two weeks apart,” Adam said, standing up and stretching out his long limbs.

“Two weeks? Each?” Ronan asked incredulously.

“Maybe three, it depends on how fast you heal,” Adam shrugged.

“I'm only supposed to be here for the weekend.”

“I'm afraid that's just how it is. I won't do a sloppy rush job,” he said firmly.

Ronan thought for a minute. Five sittings would take about ten to fifteen weeks. Almost a whole semester.

Fuck.

“I'll work it out,” he said finally.

“Great. I'll blow up the design and get a stencil. Take your shirt off and wait by my station,” Adam said over his shoulder, walking to the back room Noah had disappeared into earlier.

Ronan did as he was told. As he was waiting, Gansey wandered back over to stand next to him.

“So you're getting the tattoo?” he asked.

“Part of it, apparently,” Ronan grunted.

“You're going to need more sessions?”

“Yup.”

“But you leave tomorrow.”

“No.”

“No? No what?”

“I'm not leaving tomorrow.”

“You're not?”

“Nope, I'm enrolling.”

[red-wardens]

Pros & Cons of Dating: Ronan Aeducan

asked in message by: @fanfoolishness (thank you! sorry for the delay!) OC Face Claim: Dev Patel. 

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[Aromantic. Asexual Male]

Cons:

Won’t ever approach you romantically first because he doesn’t have any real interest in romantic relationships. That being said he’s not strongly against them so if you’ve been friends a while and bring up the idea of more he’s likely to give it a try unless he suspects it will be too “high maintenance” for him.

Very lazy. Will not be motivated to go out places much so if you’re not a homebody it might be a challenge. He’s not against you going out though. If partying/clubbing/concerts/festivals/theme parks are your thing, he’ll give you a thumbs up from the couch and wish you a fun day/night. 

A little spoiled. Ronan is not used to doing things like chores, cooking, or errands for himself and will want to hire people to do them even if it’s just cleaning people who come in once a month or so. Might have a private chef. 

Is rather reserved about his affections, especially in public, but also somewhat in private. Not a very tactile guy at all so if you need a lot of physical affection I would not recommend. 

Ronan likes to paint but rarely finishes anything he starts so if you were looking forward to seeing a WIP done, sorry. Also he often has paint on his hands and it might get on you. 

Bottles up feelings. A lot. If he has issues with you or anyone else he keeps it to himself and is very good at avoiding personal talks. He’ll listen to your deep talk intently but will dodge questions that pry into his mind. Ronan is in general very hard to read behind his calm, laid-back demeanor and you might always have this sense that you don’t fully know him. 

Pros:

Ronan’s....got money. He is smart with it but also likes to spoil his loved ones, especially you. 

He’s very chill and accepting of you no matter who you are/what you’ve done/what you’re doing now. He’s very laissez-faire about the people he cares about and if you have some bad habits you haven’t kicked yet or just in general a disaster he wont hold it against you.  Will not judge you for anything. Ronan will be very encouraging to help you recover though and is very slow to anger/annoyance. Even when he does get mad or frustrated he will always keep his cool. 

 An insane amount of patience. Won’t argue with you and will hear you out every-time no matter how loud and unreasonable you’re being. 

He loves/is incredible with kids (see gif above) All his/your friends/sibling/cousins will be always asking you if your boyfriend will babysit for them. Because of his patience is really good with talking to them respectfully and specifically caters to their age. Won’t watch teenagers though, he draws the line at 12 because after that there’s just too much attitude.

He’s handsome and takes good care of himself. Very hygienic (smells nice, good taste in aftershave and cologne, keeps his hair and beard looking hot) and works out almost daily because “getting back in shape is a lot more of a hassle than maintaining it”. 

A Fashion Icon (TM). Ronan dresses well and know how to help you get your style together if you ask. Won’t actually go out shopping with you though so you’ll have to bring the outfits to him or show him pictures. 

Great photographer, definitely knows your best lighting/angles and will often be trying to snap a shot or two of whenever he has his camera in his hands. 

Highly intelligent and observant. Doesn’t miss a thing and will always remember little details including what you say you like. Also highly analytical and a critical thinker so Ronan can help you figure out problems or give you suggestion if you need him to. (You might have to ask him a few times though since, again, very lazy. He’ll help but there will be a resigned sigh). 

Misc./Up to You:

Ronan will almost always take the neutral stance on issues as to not cause any trouble. He’ll support you in what views you have and actions you take but make it clear they’re not his own. Any strong opinions he has he will keep to himself. 

While he does for sure love kids, he really doesn’t want any of his own and won’t be talked into it. He’ll have the discussion whenever you want but it will just be talking in circles. The responsibility of always having a kid around, worrying about them, having to come home to them where there’s no breaks?- it’s just not his thing.  

His sex drive is near to none so he won’t ever take the initiative there. He’s sex-neutral though so after being together for a certain amount of time, and you bring it up, he wouldn’t be against trying. He’s not a virgin but he’ll probably read up on it a bit first though and it won’t ever become a frequent thing (too much exertion, clean up is a hassle, etc). 

Most times the relationship will feel more like a very close friendship than anything else (but he will be committed to you). 

It’s easy to turn Ronan into your therapist/psychiatrist. (especially in Modern AU where one of his two Bachelor Degrees is in psychology). He’s a good listener and very insightful. Will be able to figure you out and that might put you off if you’re prepared for him to point out something you aren’t ready to deal with yet. 

Physical:  He’s 5 feet tall exactly. A bit on the harrier side body-wise. Has a man bun. Tattoos, quite a lot of them, and many piercings in his ears. (and Henna in Modern AU).

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*Other OC’s Pros/Cons of Dating* : [Kieran Tabris]