#to the friend implying i still wear one but if i’m waiting for gansey and i took it off ... we r married <3 ofc there could b other reasons

[sargentr]

crisp trepidation

wrote this thinking of the song fine line by harry styles.

read on AO3

"Parrish." the voice said, "Parrish. Wake up."

Adam jolted awake by two hands who shook him slightly. Around him he could only see the dark, pitch black sky, shimmering with stars and constellations that came with the Virginian night, miles away from the cities. He noticed then he was still in a car, seat let back completely and a leather jacket covering his bare arms. He didn’t turn to look at the person who called him; he thought about closing his eyes, hoping what had just happened was all a nightmare.

Adam did not move. Instead, he kept looking at the stars. Altair, Deneb, Vega, Arcturus. He could name half of the sky.

The silence lingered, almost like it made noise to him. "Adam." The voice was softer. Adam turned his head ever so slightly to look up at Ronan Lynch, peering down into the open driver’s door. Blood and black stains still covered his skillfully sketched face, and traced dots and lines down his dark clothes. Like this, Adam could only see his eyes. "Come on." said Ronan, quietly, unlike himself, or, like entirely himself around people he trusted, "You can't sleep in the car." Adam sat up, and just then realized he wasn't at the parking lot of St. Agnes like he was expecting to be. No, Adam found himself staring at a family house, posted in the middle of nowhere, with barns at its outskirts. He sighed, visibly. He wanted to ask Ronan why he had brought him here, ask why he would come back here right after his mother had just passed. Ronan Lynch, he thought, full of surprises. Ronan tapped a finger once on top of the car, then lifted his posture to start walking inside, irritated to a bare minimum because Adam was clearly still out of it, "You staying there, shithead?" and so Adam got out of the car, hesitating. His limbs felt sore, and his eyes felt heavy, but sleep seemed like a million years away from catching up to him.

The Barns, just like Ronan, was not a place to play with. He didn't know what that meant exactly. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him; of belonging, trusting. Those concepts were foreign to him. He was his own home. His body, his mind, his relationships. Home wasn’t a place to Adam, because he had never had a physical home. He didn’t know how it felt.

He had a hunch it felt like this. They marched up the porch in unity. God, that porch. Just to think that merely days before that he was kissing Ronan Lynch to death, a metaphor he then thought was harmless. Now, that moment seemed as distant to Adam as being a child. It had felt like peace in his troubled routine, to be a normal teenager for a night; being able to kiss the boy he liked, to cuddle on the couch and trace fingers across his skin and exchange soft words in Latin until life caught up to Adam like it always it. He should have known it was too good to be true. Too good to last. A wind had blown by, he remembered. Adam had shivered against Ronan's pressed up body as they kissed. A small frown formed on Ronan's face when they parted, and Adam almost lifted his hand to touch were his eyebrows met in worry that he might be cold. He pulled Adam to him even more that he already was, and slipped his arms around his hips, touching the side of their faces together. That was when Ronan's hands traveled upwards, and caressed his arms in hopes of warming him. Adam pressed the side of his face to his collarbone, hands drawn up to their close chests, and sighed. "We should head inside." he had said against Ronan's skin.

He couldn't describe it, and that panicked him. Not knowing what it meant to be that warm, numb and to lose the use of his body completely when his fingers and Ronan's were tangled, being pulled to the couch, and before he could even process what had just happened, Ronan's lips were on his already.

He remembers smiling against them, not even trying to contain it. Happiness felt like a prize Adam wouldn't have expected to receive, and yet this made Adam realize how incredibly euphoric he had been in that moment. And that had been their second kiss. Now, a thing like that seemed impossible. They stepped inside, and just then it hit Adam, "Where's Orphan Girl?"

Adam's voice sounded surreal. It was too quiet, making his already cracked voice sound unbearably unfamiliar. Ronan was by the kitchen counter, walking towards the sink before he opened the tap, "Upstairs already." he said, "You to sleep for another ten minutes in the car. So I let her into Matthew’s room."

He put a hand on the wooden island, sitting down on one of those rich people high chairs, "Why didn’t you just wake me?"

Ronan closed the tap and reached for a piece cloth, turning so he could lean on the counter. He crossed his legs, shrugging.

Adam knew Ronan was either arranging for him to sleep somewhere, or just needed some time to think. Ronan was not good with words; Adam didn’t needed to remind himself of that detail. Adam looked at his nails, bloody, probably from Ronan. He felt physically so incapable of moving he would gladly sleep on that kitchen island and only wake up by sunrise. His eyebrows met, eyes still fixed down, "Can I, uh, shower?" Ronan let out a laugh. Adam looked up, "Knock yourself out." he said, almost like Adam was supposed to, even before he asked, "You can use Declan's." They didn't say anything else. ***

Adam debated wether he should just lay down and sleep or walk downstairs to talk to Ronan.

He exited Declan's bathroom, towel hanging from his hips and paced to the bed. Adam sat down thinking about how his best friend had died and come back, merely hours ago; he didn't know what to think right then. Gansey, he thought, I should be with Gansey. Don't cry, he told himself. Quickly, Adam put on the clothes he had been wearing before; blood-stained shirts and dirty jeans were not exactly new to him. He walked outside, and when he was about to turn the corner and trot down the stairs, he saw Ronan walking up, and stopped. "Where do you think you're going, Parrish?" Ronan frowned a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. Adam said, "I was going to look for you.” Ronan frowned, looking at Adam's body, trailing up and down, "Why are you still in those filthy fucking clothes?" Adam lifted his eyebrows, thinking, "Well, I didn't exactly have time to pack--"

"Wait here." said Ronan, and before Adam could protest, he had sprung past him and into his own room. A moment later, Ronan came back with a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tee.

He took Adam’s hands from his sides and placed them on his palm, "I forgot to put these in Declan's room." Adam inhaled. Something inside him was poking his stomach. He said nothing, he just stared at clothes.

It wasn't the fact that Ronan had thought of something sweet to do --Ronan was, and not surprisingly, someone who cared about others-- it was the thought that Ronan had done it for him. Something as simple and intimate as letting Adam borrow his clothes.

Adam forgot, just for a fraction of a second, what they had just gone through. Instead, he felt giddy with surprise and affection that Ronan was giving him his clothes to wear. He was also dumbfounded to be so emotional over old sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Ronan noticed. Of course he noticed, "Fine. You can sleep in dirt, for all I care." "Wait." Ronan was going to take back the items of clothing before Adam pressed them to his chest, "Sorry. I’m tired, I can't function properly." Ronan's jaw clenched, "Go to sleep, Parrish."

Adam barely nodded, and when Ronan turned to walk back to his room, a wave of panic struck through Adam's body, "Ronan?"

He stopped and looked back. Adam knew Ronan hadn't brought him to the Barns so he could sleep in Declan's room and leave early to work, but he also didn't know what he wanted that exact moment. Kiss me, he thought, do something. In all honesty, Adam felt drained of whatever love he had left in him. It wasn’t fuel to simply run out, he knew that, but he felt empty. Deprived. Lost. Shaken. And God, he just wanted affection, for once in his goddamned life. He inhaled, and realized his eyes were starting to water. He gazed down, trying to control it, but Ronan had already walked to him. He wiped his tears; Ronan was too close, and still did nothing.

Adam let out a watery, breathless short laugh, peeking a look at Ronan's hesitant state. He had never seen Adam cry. He hadn’t ever had to deal with it, so Adam spared him, “You don't have to ask my permission to touch me, you know that, right?"

Ronan's expression changed, defensive, "I know that, asshole." There he is, Adam thought. He nodded, trying to contain a small smile of amusement at Ronan having absolutely no clue on what to do. Ronan just then moved huffed a laugh as well, and left almost no space between him and Adam. And just like that, they weren’t smiling anymore.

Adam didn't dare break eye contact. He hadn't realized being this up close to Ronan would leave him suddenly breathless, lips parted, waiting. Ronan touched the side of his face, fingers grazing his jaw ever so lightly Adam couldn't stop it when his breath hitched at it. His thumb found a still wet spot on Adam's cheekbone and wiped it, before leaning down and touching his lips to Adam's.

It wasn't like their other ones. No, this one was lighter, softer, something Adam was waiting for since their first hurried kiss; Ronan’s unmasked gentleness. His hands were placed involuntarily on Ronan's sides, bringing them closer and deepening the kiss just merely.

Ronan shivered under his touch. It was something Adam found quite exquisite, his effect over him. Ronan’s body was shaking under his hands, making something hot speed through Adam's whole body. Ronan stopped kissing him for a second, and Adam thought he might've done something physically that implied the feeling. "What?" asked Adam, voice rushed, light and sweet. Adam's eyes seemed glued to Ronan's blue ones, "Nothing." he whispered, a smile almost slipping. He exhaled, and let his hands slowly travel down Adam's arms until he had reached his hand, taking them in his own. "C'mon, loser." Adam knew Ronan was trying his hardest to hide a smile. Ronan led them into his room, to his bed, and sat down. Adam stood between his legs, and rested his hands on Ronan's neck, looking down at him. And just like that, it hit him. As Adam's hands rested on Ronan's neck, just above his collarbone, he could feel how swollen it was, how the colors around his fingers didn't match Ronan's skin. Adam dropped his hands almost immediately, and avoided Ronan's eyes, his own glued to the monstrosity he knew was his doing.

"Hey." he said softly, taking one of Adam's hand in his own, trying to stop him from stepping away, "Adam?"

When he looked up to meet Ronan's eyes, he knew his own were displaying how horrified, petrified, he actually was. Ronan, though, only expressed worry. He inhaled, almost nervously, "Adam, no." "I did this-" "You didn't." cut Ronan, taking his other hand and guiding Adam a few steps forward, "You'd never hurt me." Adam shook his head, eyes still fixed at how bad Ronan's neck actually looked and thinking to himself how he did not notice that before, "Ronan, I-" "Hey." he said again, soft as ever, and if Adam wasn't melted by fear that exact moment, he'd be starstruck by it, "It's okay." Ronan lifted both of his hands, and Adam knew where they were going, "Adam. Look at me." He did. Ronan's eyes were as trustworthy as Adam had been to Cabeswater. Slowly, Ronan touched Adam's fingers to his bruised neck. He flinched, "Ronan." his voice broke visibly, "S-stop."

"It's okay." he gave Adam's fingers a light squeeze before setting them. Adam's breath hitched, "It's you. It's okay."

It took him a whole minute to do anything other than just lay them there. After that, one of them slipped to the back of Ronan's neck, and the other to his jaw, "I'm sorry." he whispered. He knew Ronan was looking at him, appreciating whatever he saw in Adam that made him worthy of appreciating. Adam kept his eyes fixed on his hands caressing his jaw, "Why didn't you stop me?" "It wasn't an option." he said, not hesitating, “A guy finally kissed me back, Parrish. If he wants to choke me then that’s fucking fine.”

Adam let out an un-calculated scoff. He silently thanked Ronan for trying to lighten the mood, “Asshole.”

Ronan smirked, "If the situation were to be inverted, you'd do the same.” Adam frowned at that, "God, no." he shook his head, playfully, "You'd kill me twice as fast. Have you seen your size compared to mine?" Ronan's tipped his head back to look up better at Adam when he took a step closer. Ronan face was a centimeter away from his chest now. He smiled up at him, playfully, “You calling me fat, Parrish?" He smiled back. At that, Ronan placed his hands on the small of Adam's back. Adam got the idea and straddled Ronan, unhurried and calmly, letting them both appreciate new grounds. “This is okay.” he said, when they touched their foreheads together, “Right?” Ronan had closed his eyes. He gave Adam’s the softest smile, “Yeah. It’s okay.” Adam kissed him. It started off the same as the last one, though Adam knew it was going to end completely different. Kissing Ronan Lynch was different from making a bargain with Cabeswater, or doing something as crazy as finding a dead Welsh king. No, kissing Ronan Lynch felt like he was playing a game of chess, in which there were no winners, and the only way out was to break the pieces. Adam did not ever want to commit such a crime. They kissed, and kissed and kissed. This or that, Ronan made it feel like it was the first time he'd ever done it. This once, Ronan starting kissing the outline of his lips, then his cheeks, and down his neck, and Adam couldn't help but feel so incredibly comfortable he slowly made Ronan trail back before he ground his hips down. Ronan displayed a type of surprise, though he was violently trying to fight against it. Adam kissed him again, and felt how breathless he already was, "Is this okay too?” Their noses were still touching, too close. Ronan held Adam's waist close, "God." he breathed, "Yeah, asshole. You don’t have to ask every time."

Adam didn't know what he was expecting, or what he wanted for that matter. All he knew was that kissing, straddling and grounding into Ronan like he was that instant felt too good to be true.

It was a medium to calm rhythm. Both of them were exhausted, drained, incapable of wanting more than just each others presence. After what felt like an eternity of panting, of feeling each other fully and completely aroused, pressing together and hearing Ronan’s muffled groans on his neck, both of them came. Clothed, warm, entwined.

They were breathless, panting slightly, mouths touching but not kissing. Adam laughed, just merely, contented and sated. Ronan placed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled him to lay down. He had a feeling they were going to ignore the mess in their boxers, and found he didn’t really care.

Now, sleep was a second away from catching up to him. They faced each other, knees and noses touching, Ronan’s hand traveling up and down his back. He was already trailing away when Ronan's deep voice broke silence, "I'm not sleeping." he said.

Adam wanted to protest, he really wanted to, but he knew how many times Ronan wanted to do that as well when Adam worked and studied himself to death, and still did not dare say a word. Adam had warned him too many times those were not subjects his friends had sayings in, and Ronan would avoid a fight with Adam any day of the week.

"Okay." he whispered back, touching the side of his face just once before letting his hand drop between them, "Wake me up if you need anything." Ronan nodded, patiently. When he realized Ronan wasn't going to say anything else, he exhaled before turning his back to him and turning off the lamps.

Before sleep took him, Adam had the faintest feeling that they were going to be all right.

#adam parrish #ronan lynch #pynch #pynch fanfiction #pynch fanfic #pynch fic rec #pynch fic #the raven cycle #TRC #call down the hawk #cdth #mlm #adam and ronan #idk running out of tags

[emjenwrites]

@ganseyweek Wednesday, August 14: Road Trip/Stay inside/Bring me warmth

Here I am continuing to only vaguely answer the prompts (can you tell that I’m using this character week to force myself to write the Gansey fics that have been floating around in my fanfic ideas document?). This fic takes place at the end of Henry, Blue and Gansey’s road trip, so I think it counts.

It took Gansey less than three weeks after his second resurrection to realize that he was now a psychic. It took him the better part of six months to admit it to anyone. In fact, he probably would never have told anyone if given the choice. Gansey is not a very forthcoming person with things about himself and all things surrounding his second death and resurrection were at the top of the list. Who knows how long he would have continued to pretend he wasn’t psychic if not for Blue. 

They were in Maine, on the beach. It was September and while the air was still pleasantly warm, the water was cold. Henry didn’t seem to ever get cold, so he was swimming. Gansey was sitting on the beach with a book about the Italian Renaissance he’d picked up at a bookstore in Indiana. Blue had taken a dip in the ocean too, but had come out after twenty minutes laughing and yelling about how Henry was insane before trudging back to the green Pig to change. They were all having fun, but there was a tension as well. They all knew that soon they’d have to go home, at least for the winter. Once they did that there would be jobs and college applications and hundreds of other adult things which they had been collectively pretending didn’t exist. None of them were ready for this to end.

Gansey was knee-deep in a particularly interesting chapter about an assassination attempt on the Medici family April 1478 when he heard Blue coming back. He turned around smiling, but there was something tense about Blue’s expression which made him pause. “Is something wrong?”

“Gansey,” Blue said. “Why do you have these?” She held out a deck of tarot cards.

Gansey froze. It felt like the world should have stopped but the sounds of the world continued on. The deck in Blue’s hand was the deck that he had bought off the internet just before they’d left on this road trip. It was one of those mass-produced Rider-Waite decks sold for people who didn’t know magic was real. The cards were cheap and flimsy and nothing like the lovingly handmade and impeccably cared for decks the women of Fox Way used. Gansey was fairly sure that those cards where the most poorly made thing he’d spent money on in at least the last five years and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t invested in a better deck aside from that when he’d bought them he’d still be mostly hoping he’d been making everything up. Up until that point he’d just been having unusually vivid dreams that ended up coming true and just knowing random things during the day. The dubiously reliable sources he’d found on the internet (it was really hard to tell the difference between a real psychic and a faker from a website) had suggested that using tarot cards might help, so he’d bought the deck and given it a shot.

“Why were you looking through my bag?” Gansey asked. It was the only complete sentence he could form.

“I was looking for my shirt with the fringe,” Blue said. “I thought it might have gotten mixed in with your clothes.”

Gansey’s first thought was that shirt had probably been eaten by a washing machine at one of the numerous laundromats they’d stopped at over the course of the trip, because he hadn’t seen Blue wearing it in at least five states. His second was that he’d been foolish to bring the cards. He’d had so many close calls when Blue or Henry or both almost walked in on him using them or nearly went digging through his bag. Bringing them had been a recipe for disaster.

“You don’t need to look so scared,” Blue said. “I’m just curious. Where did you get them?”

“I bought them,” Gansey said. He wished he could say more, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“Why?”

“I was just fiddling around.”

Blue sighed but the sound was fond. “Gansey, you know that tarot is basically just a cool party trick if you’re not psychic, right? The cards can’t predict anything on their own.”

“I know,” Gansey said. “That’s why I bought them.”

For a minute, Blue just looked at him. For a minute, Gansey let himself hope that she wouldn’t make the connection. For a minute, he thought he might be able to get away with convincing her that the cards where just the result of a bored teenager with too much money. Then her jaw dropped and she groaned. “I’m an idiot. My mom literally told me months ago and I never made the connection.”

Gansey pulled back in surprise and--to be honest--fear. “What did Maura tell you?” He had been avoiding the women of Fox Way when they’d still been in Henrietta because he figured they’d be able to see this new change the instant he came close to them. He’d never realized any of them might be able to figure it out without his physical presence.

“Before we left she told me that I’d find you saw more than you had before,” Blue dropped down onto the sand next to him. She seemed surprised but happy. Gansey’s stomach was in knots. “I’ve been trying to figure out what she meant for months. I’d never considered that she might have been telling me you were psychic now. Of course, male psychics are pretty rare, so maybe I’m forgiven for that oversight, but Adam was psychic when he was bonded to Cabeswater and Cabeswater gave it’s life to bring you back so it makes perfect sense that you’d be psychic now.”

Somehow Gansey managed to get even more tense at the mention of Cabeswater. He spent most of his time desperately trying not to think about the magical forest and what happened to it. He shrugged in acknowledgment of what Blue had said and stared down at his book. Maybe she’d think he was engrossed in his reading and this conversation could be over.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Blue asked. Her smile had faded and now she looked serious and a little hurt.

Gansey shrugged again.

“Come on, Gansey,” Blue said. “I know you have your reasons. Just like you had your reasons for not telling us you knew you were going to die.”

Gansey winched. None of them had ever had a serious discussion about the fact that Gansey had known he was going to die almost as long as Blue and the women of Fox Way had. The closest they had ever come was the time Ronan had said that, “You know, not telling your friends you knew you were on a death list is like not telling your friends you had terminal cancer.” Gansey was pretty sure he’d owe Opal for the rest of his life for distracting Ronan before he could go on. The topic had never come up again, and Gansey wanted to keep it that way. “I didn’t tell you I knew I was going to die because I didn’t want to worry you and make it all about me” was a lot better excuse in his head than it was aloud.

“Come on, Gansey,” Blue said. “You need to start telling us things. You can’t keep bottling things up; it’s not healthy.”

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid of what that implies about my resurrection,” he said before he had a chance to stop himself.

“What do you mean?” Blue asked, her nose wrinkling in the cute way it did when she was confused.

“What if I’m not actually Gansey?” the words poured out. “What if I’m just a collection of all of your images of me animated by Cabeswater? What if Gansey is really dead and I’m just such a good copy that even I think I’m really him?” He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to say that. Admitting it felt like lancing a wound.

“You’re still worrying about that?” Blue asked.

“You aren’t?”

“No,” Blue said. “I mean, we all worried about it at first, but you’re obviously really you.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“Richard Gansey, are you implying I wouldn’t recognize my own boyfriend?” Blue asked with a grin. When Gansey didn’t reply she shifted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know its really you.” she said. “I don’t know what to say to convince you of that, but I know it's you.”

“That makes one of us,” Gansey said quietly.

Awkward silence stretched between them for several moments, then Blue took a deep breath. “So you’re a psychic,” she said. “Tell me about it, unless you’ve already been initiated into the ‘mysterious psychic’ club.”

Gansey managed a little laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you noticed any patterns?” she asked. “Most psychics are better at certain types of things. Like how Calla is psychometric. Have you noticed anything like that?”

“I’m not psychometric,” Gansey said.

“Thankfully,” Blue said. “Calla doesn’t talk about it much, but I get the impression that knowing the history of an object or person by touching them gets old really fast.”

“It’s really precise,” Gansey admitted. “Not like the predictions your mom and Calla make. I know what’s going to happen and half the time I know when too.” He didn’t tell Blue that this was how he knew he was going to be going to Harvard next fall. It seemed like the wrong time for that information.

“Then you could become a celebrity psychic if you’re ever stuck for a career,” Blue said with a smile. “Neeve was good with specifics; that’s how she got her TV show.”

“But is that bad?” Gansey said.

“It’s uncommon,” Blue said. “But given how uncommon the way you got your abilities are, that might not be surprising.” When Gansey didn’t respond she hugged him more tightly. “Give me an example?” she said with a smile. “What have your predicted?”

“I knew about that tornado we almost drove into in Illinois,” he said. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s why you were so adamant that we should stop for the night,” Blue said. “So you were lying when you said you felt like you were going to throw up?”

“Not...entirely,” Gansey admitted. “I was exaggerating because I needed to come up with a legitimate reason to stop, but I was anxious and I always feel sick to my stomach when I’m anxious. It’s been like that since I was a kid.”

“That’s good to know,” Blue thought for a moment then asked, “Do any of the others know that?”

“No,” Only his parents and the therapist who he’d seen following his first death knew. Gansey didn’t talk about that stuff; it always felt like he was trying to get attention or pity when others had it so much worse.

“Then there’s your proof that you’re really you,” Blue said, sitting back and looking proud of herself. “If you were really a random conglomeration of our impressions of you then you couldn’t know things about yourself that we don’t.”

Gansey had never thought about it that way. He felt some little bit of the tension he’d been carrying for months release. He was sure he was far from done worrying about this, but it was nice to have a little reassurance for once.

“Hey, what’s up?” Henry asked, slogging out of the water and up the beach. He was shivering and his lips were in the process of turning blue. It seemed that he actually did get cold. “Are you having a moment without me?”

“Go put on some dry clothes before you get hypothermia,” Blue said. “Then Gansey’s got some news; turns out he’s been holding out on us.”

“Oh,” Henry said. “Anything bad?”

“Nope,” Blue said. “You’ll love it.”

“Then I’ll move quickly,” he said and dashed up the beach. Gansey and Blue watched him until he vanished behind the green Pig.

“If you’re good with specifics,” Blue said slowly, like she was working up her nerve, “did you ever try to figure out anything about our problem?”

She meant the problem of them kissing. None of the Fox Way women had been able to give a conclusive answer about whether or not Gansey would die for a third time if he and Blue kissed again, so they hadn’t risked it. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both knew the not knowing was weighing on them both.

“I haven’t tried,” Gansey admitted. “I was afraid of what the answer would be and I didn’t know how to explain how I’d come up with the answer anyway.”

“I’m scared too,” Blue said. “But we need to know.”

“What are you suggesting?” Gansey asked, though he already knew.

Blue pressed the tarot deck into his hand. “I think it’s time you asked the question.”

#ganseyweek #the raven cycle #richard gansey iii #blue sargent #bluesey #sarchengsey #mine