#and Ronan knows how to make him tapes

[lucimiir]

Maggie stiefvater can keep mentioning things like Instagram and Tiktok but I live in denial and continue to believe that there is NO WAY these books take place later than 2005

[transboysgetknives]

the trb plot from memory instead of chemistry revision that desperately needs doinh

We begin with psychics. They do not tell precise futures, not usually anyway. They aim for the nonspecific, unless your name is Blue (named after your aura), in which case, ever reading been done for you is very positively conclusive: one day, she will kiss her true love, and he will die. A semi-famous and semi-aunt of Blue’s shows up.

It’s an unimportant April day, Blue is wearing her most sensible fingerless gloves, and Neeve is creepy. Blue has been dragged along because she is made of magic, and she makes other magic stronger. She informs Neeve rather curtly that she does not go to Aglioby, because that is for the sons of Oil Barons and other assholes. The ghosts begin walking. Jesse Dittley. A boy in an Aglioby sweater- it’s damp, and Blue can see him. We all know what that means. Gansey, that’s all there is.

The Pig is broken, Gansey is on the side of the road listening to his silly tapes. He knows he is going to die this year, though we don’t know that he knows that he is going to die until book four. He phones Ronan, who oddly picks up. Rescue time. There is a burger, no sauce. Adam Parrish, a lowly mechanic, Ronan who is pissyabout his dashing older brother, something about Ashley. Gansey makes his own sly remarks. Adam is the only useful person, fixes Gansey’s. at temporarily, suggests a psychic.

Hmm. Hmm, Hmm, Hmm. WHELK that turd. His parents did him a solid and named him Barrington, as if that would give him a single advantage in life. Now here he is, stuck as a teacher, no money, no prospects. And, he’s going to beat up some kids.

This one is an Adam chapter because he was absolutely insane. He’s the love of my life. No one does it like him. He’s at Monmouth, I think. Ronan still plays tennis, allegedly, and Declan Lynch (regular Tumm’s consumer) pops by, for some reason needing to introduce the newest Ashley to the only thing that resembles a family. Oh that has just turned sad. Gansey is Gansey, there is no investment in living in a dorm, Noah has cold hands, and for some reason Ashley knows who Glendower is. Adam is getting some spidey-senses. It’s pizza time.

Pizza time! Back to Blue. I can’t believe how much of this I’m remembering. President Cell Phone. He’s tapped in her shoulder- big no-no. He wants her to talk to his friend. The one who is bright red and not looking at her. Blue Sargent is not a prostitute and jesus christ Aglionby boys are miserable. A pretentious notebook is left behind.

Now things are rocky. I haven’t read this book in ages. Wait, I know! Scratch the book thing. Declan is just looking for a fight, and Ronan is throwing trash cans in trees! Typical. Declan looks like lobster tonight. The cops won’t be called tonight… At what point does Blue give Adam her number? Dangerous thing that is.

I have forgot something... 'Hey Tiger'. Adam won’t leave with Gansey for good, but he will leave for psychic stuff. Adam has a dog. He asks Blue if his bruise makes him look tough, Ronan answers because he is an expert in what Adam Parrish looks like (don’t tell anyone though). I think this is where this bit comes in. Time is a circle anyway.

The boys are at the psychics house. Ronan and Calla are awful to each other. The ladies will not help Gansey. Blue, who has read his diary and wants to make her own future, did not agree. She’s chased them down. It’s time for a helicopter.

Adam Parrish hates flying and Ronan Lynch is always straight. Gansey is his mothers gift, and Helen thought glassware would be a good gift, even though Mrs. Gansey doesn’t collect glassware. Get it together Helen. 'Hey that looks weird, stop here! It’ll only be a few minutes!'

Magic forest! Fish change colors, the seasons are strange here, and the trees speak broken Latin. Make way for the Raven King? My memory is poor. It’s beautiful anyhow. The water runs uphill, Gansey wishes he could pee in the same manly way that Adam does. Clocks stop working. Either they were in there for hours and came out and it was minutes or the other way round. Noah is there more.

Gansey looks at a windowsill. There is a wasp. Ronan, with perfect timing, leaves his room, kills it, gets rightfully angry at Gansey being a dunce, and then storms off back to his room. He’s building a ramp with Noah? Noah gets thrown out of the window at some point. Possibly now?

Neeve does creepy weird things. Calla and Blue do some super spy work. Does Adam get involved? Also, she is looking for a particular squash, one I am not fond of. Ronan teaches Adam how to drive.

Ronan is failing school. Gansey thinks the school might want some aqua-nautical fiction. Ronan wants to not go to school ever again. I am feeling that same way right now. I should be studying for my exam!

Wait what? You're telling me that the boy who no one knows anything about, who's never in any classes, who is always cold, doesnt eat, and introduces himself with 'ive been dead for seven years' has ACTUALLY BEEN DEAD FOR SEVEN YEARS????

Adam has a shitty dad who does shitty things. Fuck him. Ronan drops him off. Wait, he is swinging! Throw those punches! Wee woo, the cops are getting called. For the first time ever, Adam tells the truth. Ronan, feeling some sort of way, actually goes to go study. Adam’s hearing is half as good as before, and now he’s living in the most goddawful frat house that doesn’t have a separate kitchen/bathroom. But he loves it for some reason.

At some point Blue and Adam are talking about kissing and Ronan sits right between them and turns their attention onto his punk ass bird.

Neeve eats crackers in Whelks car. the gang is also there almost. There is a gun. Whelk is free, he’s pointed a gun at Gansey, Ronan starts swinging but his head isn’t harder than a bun, so he crumples. Neeve has disappeared. Adam sacrifices himself, his friends are like ‘wtf Adam’ and then he kills doesn’t save his Latin teacher. Adam is the hands and eyes of Cabeswater. I dont remember if Adam moves to St Agnes in this book. He doesn’t stay at Monmouth more than a week, so he must’ve moved. Ronan figures out hes hella gay for Adam and fucks off to do cool car chases and get high with his other more scary boyfriend.

Blue kinda realises that maybe somehow slightly that she likes Gansey and is of course doomed by the narrative.

i still dont remember the plot of this book

[januaryone2am]

Design journal Mar 18

Pseudo game tape but also just thinking about design for awhile

Cool that when I get high I wanna turn off notifications. And turn off attention spent on crypto.

This last grind on design was insane. Started on Friday, slept in my chair Friday night, went all thru Saturday. Slept on the couch on Saturday. Cool that I want this shit more than ever. Even tho it seems like all these jobs are evaporating fast af. Playlab posting all these projects they’d like to make but no one will help them make. Metals.us posting all this old work. Seems like design people are really hungry. Maybe I should look for a job at an AI place instead of at a marketing agency. Man working at Lila Sciences would be so cool.

Need a goated path. A lot of these other paths seem to be closing up.

Stoked to be getting better though. I should reach out to Lance and ask him what I should do.

Still need to learn a new skill. Read a Mira Joyce blog today about how many different 3D softwares they understand how to use. Fucked me up. My skills are still mad limited. Would be worth having a sesh w Ronan even just to think on what that skill would be. What skill would open the most doors. And involve me in the most exciting stuff.

Getting high caps out so fast. But it does benefit until it caps. I get way more ambitious. I have visions of the person I know I want to be and I know I can bring them into reality. The tough part is when you spend a bunch of time high you shrivel and you don’t notice. You spend all this time alone. Lowkey weed is the drug I used to carry me thru my 10,000 hours tho. Made me feel less lonely.

These next couple months I need to make as much money as possible. Gonna save up for the move. Love you. You didn’t do great today, outside of looking at images, let’s do better tomorrow.

[millionancientbees]

*deep breath* I won’t go through the books and pull 10 screenshots to show how fucking ridiculous this is. I won’t. I won’t.

Instead I’ll write an essay.

Gansey was so traumatized and haunted by his young death—which, as someone who has been covered heavily in pissed off, stinging hornets as a child, I can attest to how fucking terrifying it is even without the dying of a severe allergy part—that he left home as soon as he possibly could and started hunting for information.

He would have flashbacks and re-enact his fucking death. For years. He couldn’t do goodbyes and would just leave.

At no point in the series does he talk about other friends he made along the way. He talks about his mentor, Malory, but Malory is either 80 or 100 or 200 years old. Gansey struggled to connect with other people, to feel at home, to feel like he has earned his right to be alive. He experiences time slips, he’s fragmented and confusing to other people, and his family tolerates him and is charmed by him but they don’t /get/ him.

Gansey finally makes friends. With four and then five of the unlikeliest, most impossible people. He loves them and would do literally anything, give anything, for them to be happy. He quits the rowing team despite loving water so that Ronan won’t have so much free time to get into trouble. He learns Adam’s language to the best of his ability and works around his minefield of issues by playing 4D chess to make him accept even a scrap of help or support or care. He comes from a life of deep privilege, has rarely been told no before Adam and Ronan came into his life, and yet he is actively trying to grow and be better and learn from the first friends he’s made, who he is good enough to know have a lot to teach him. He looks up to Adam, not down at him. He cherishes Ronan’s wild energy and makes space for his gnawing grief. He values Blue’s input and wants her strong opinions. He misses Noah when he’s gone. He is devastated when he finds out he is dead and welcomes his ghost, because any part of Noah is enough.

He knows when he hears his own voice on that tape recorder that he is probably going to die. He knows it when he faces down a man with a gun, he knows it when he goes into a magical cave to find Blue’s mom, he knows it while he’s crawling all over creation to find the king who gave him his life. He cannot sleep, has terrible anxiety and insomnia, yet he spreads himself thin for his friends, his family, his desperate, clawing need to understand, even knowing it will be the last year he is alive.

And the thing he wants to ask that king for? His friend Noah’s life back. Not his own.

He has never felt like he is /home/ before he finds Henrietta. He has never felt the fast, all consuming connection with friends before Blue, Ronan, Adam, Noah, and Henry. He has never met a girl he couldn’t kiss, who would be his true love, and even knowing he is going to die he is happy to just pretend. THIS is the tragedy of Gansey. That he could have had anything, but he wanted this, needed this, and now that he has it he knows he is going to die. He is going to lose it.

read a review of the raven boys that said something like "am i supposed to feel bad for a rich guy because he can't kiss a girl?" and it baffles me how much someone can completely miss the point

no you're not supposed to feel bad for Gansey because he can't kiss Blue, he doesn't even want her like that in this book yet

you're supposed to feel bad for him because yes, he is rich, but he knows he privileged and he's scared he doesn't deserve it and he needs to make his life worth something

because he needs to prove magic is real, even though people consider him naive and silly

because he loves his friends so much but "he's nobody to Adam, nobody to Ronan"

because he could live everywhere and he chose an abandoned factory, he could have had any car and he chose the Pig, he could have had any friends and he chose the misfits, because he loves the old and barely functional

because he lived when he should have died and he has to make something of this life otherwise he may as well just have died

Gansey is so much more than just a rich guy

[areseebee]

27

i am still working on these! and by these, i mean the requests from this ficlet writing ask game that i posted almost a whole week ago. the prompt for this one was i will always and i went pretty literal with it.

consider this another smoke break outtake - james and erin are 19 and home for the summer in derry, and spending a lot of time together. this time, they're in the car on their way to buncrana.

“I like this tape, did you make it?” Erin asked from where she sat in the passenger seat of his Uncle Martin’s car as they drove to Buncrana for the afternoon, tapping her finger against her leg in time to Ronan Keating.

“Yeah. Just radio stuff. But better, because it’s without the adverts,” James replied, shifting his hands on the steering wheel.

“Aye, class,” she said, looking back out the window at the passing landscape.

It was mostly true. Well, true that every one of the songs on this mixtape was on the radio these days. All except for one of them. 

Honestly, he had wanted to be able to listen to S Club 7 and Gary Barlow whenever he wanted to. How could he help it if every song on the charts over the past year made him think of Erin? It wasn’t like he had made this for her and just couldn’t bring himself to give it to her, instead playing it in the car every time he drove them somewhere – to the beach, to see Orla, out to a country road to do…things. It wasn’t like he had been waiting for her to say something about it, like she had just now. 

He wondered what she liked about the tape – like specifically liked. Was it the variety of songs? The artists? What part had she said she liked the tape? Was it when Ronan Keating was singing “what’s being said between your heart and mine”? Had she been thinking of him – of James – when she heard it?

He shifted his hands on the steering wheel again, trying not to think too much about it.

“Oh I love this one,” Erin said, reaching out to turn the volume dial up during the opening guitar riff of the Cranberries’ “I Will Always.” “I’ve always thought it sounded just like how it feels to miss someone, you know?” She hummed along for a measure before she stopped. He could see her head turn towards him in his periphery, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him. “What made you put this one on here? It’s sort of old. Definitely not ‘radio stuff.’”

“Oh. Well. I just like it,” he said, reaching out to bump up the volume by another click. “It makes me think of missing someone, too.”

[kelliealtogether]

idk why but i have been thinking about vday in the pie verse and i think it would be sooooo sweet if RONAN were the one to bake something for adam and he'd probably be super nervous about it too!!!!!! since adam is a baker it would be obvious to bake something for ronan and ronan would obviously love it but the other way round.... idk why but it makes me smile! sorry for this randomness

Okay, anon. This probably isn't what you were thinking when you sent this ask, but here goes Ronan baking something not sweet for Adam in the 𝛑 universe. And while the bake isn't sweet, the contents behind the cut are definitely sweet. I hope you enjoy. 😌

This is set an indeterminate amount of time in the future after the end of 𝛑:

Adam was late.

He hated being late and he’d been late for everything all day. First for his meeting with his accountant to review his first royalty statement, then for a Chamber of Commerce luncheon 𝛑 catered dessert for. He was in the good graces of the teller at the bank, the only reason he’d been able to sneak in and make a cash deposit when he pulled up after closing time.

It was a cascade of events and now he was late for the one thing he hated being late for the most: getting home.

Headlights cut through barren trees as he turned into the Barns’ driveway and when he took the final turn and the house came into view, the familiarity of home washed over him. Like always, he left as much of the bakery as he could at the treeline as he passed through it, and as Adam nestled his crossover between Ronan’s SUV and the farm’s truck, the only thing in Adam’s head was home, home, home.

On his way into the house, his feet crunched through weeks-old snow that hadn’t quite melted and they carried him past a cluster of three snow people, two big, one small. On the porch, Adam paused, laughing at the lopsided construction paper hearts taped in the window panes framing the doorway, some tall and skinny, others squat and chubby.

Thick or thin, they were perfect, just like the hands that made them.

Inside the front door, Adam’s fingers thawed and he listened to one side of a conversation in the kitchen as he unwound his scarf and took off his coat.

“Dad’s home–I know he’s late.” This was said louder, pointed, and Adam smiled to himself as he slipped his shoes off and took his backpack up again. “So go tell him you’re mad–You don’t want to see him?–No, I don’t want to see his ugly face, either.”

“Nice try,” Adam called as he walked down the hall and finally stepped into the doorway of the kitchen. “But she doesn’t know how to sign ugly yet.”

Ronan stood across the kitchen, facing the table as he leaned against the counter. And, sitting on her knees on a chair at the table, back to Adam, was Fiona. Her attention, always fierce, was on Ronan, until she noticed Ronan looking towards the doorway and she whipped around to look at Adam.

“We learned it in speech therapy today,” Ronan said, his hands habitually mirroring his mouth. “See? Ugly.”

Ronan’s mouth said ugly but his hands said handsome.

It wasn’t what they were supposed to do, say one thing and sign another, but Adam could let it slide one time.

Fiona frowned at Adam when he looked at her. She jabbed a small finger at him then held her hand at chest-height at her side and waved it front to back a few times to say, "You're late."

“I know,” Adam said and signed. “I’m sorry.”

Fiona’s face was stormy, a Ronan-like look, and she climbed out of her chair. She took half a step towards Adam and signed, “I’m mad at you.”

Adam tried to look repentant. From Ronan’s snort, it wasn’t successful, and Adam flashed him a look before he crouched down to Fiona’s height and apologized again. “I’m sorry. I wanted to be home. With you.”

The gesture towards Fiona softened her a little and she took another step towards Adam, signing, “Why are you late?”

“Dad stuff.” Adam kneaded his hands in the air, the motion they used for Adam’s work. He slid his backpack from his shoulder and pulled out a cellophane bag of heart-shaped sugar cookies. He showed Fiona before balancing the bag on his knee so he could sign, “For you.”

The gift broke Fiona’s resolve and she loped the final few feet towards Adam to throw her arms around his neck. Adam moved the cookies to the floor so he could gather her in his arms and pick her up as he stood.

Adam wanted Fiona to stay four forever so he could always pick her up and hold her and shower her with Valentine’s Day presents, though he hardly needed an excuse to give her things. After the past Christmas, their first one as a family, he decided he liked the small joy of giving her gifts for any occasion, not just holidays, and did it as often as possible.

“Flowers and cookies, Parrish?” Ronan asked as he pushed himself away from the counter and moved across the kitchen.

Adam nodded to the table, where the flowers he’d had delivered for Fiona sat on the table top while a giant stuffed animal holding a heart sat in their extra chair. “A bear bigger than she is, Lynch?”

“She’s the love of my life.”

“I take offense at that.”

“You should.” Ronan reached Adam and leaned around Fiona to kiss him, softly, sweetly. “Glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” Adam smiled against Ronan’s lips before kissing him in return, then Adam kissed Fiona’s cheek before putting her down when the oven timer went off. As Ronan headed back across the kitchen, Adam asked Fiona, “What’s dinner?”

“Pizza,” she signed and grinned before skipping off after Ronan.

“Pizza? Didn’t we have pizza Friday?” Adam sent a look towards Ronan as Ronan grabbed a potholder and opened the oven.

“Blame Fi. It was her idea,” Ronan told him, knowing full well Adam wouldn’t blame Fiona for anything and definitely not for wanting her favorite food for dinner.

What Ronan pulled from the oven was not what Adam expected. It was not their typical half cheese-half pepperoni almost-bigger-than-the-pizza-stone pizza, the one they made once a week, all together, that left the kitchen spattered in tomato sauce and covered in shredded cheese.

What Ronan pulled from the oven was a baking sheet, and on the baking sheet were three heart-shaped, personal-sized pizzas. On top, in pepperoni, each had a different letter. One had an R, one had an F, and one had an A.

Six months of fatherhood had done funny things to Adam Parrish’s heart. At one time, he’d thought he’d maxed out his love on Ronan Lynch, then Fiona came into their lives and challenged that thought from the first. Every day, her brilliance, her smile, her giggle, her smell, made Adam realize how truly limitless his love was for these two people in the kitchen with him, and those three small, heart-shaped pizzas sent Adam’s love soaring further than it already had been when he stepped into the room.

He scooped up the cookies and his backpack and deposited them on the counter before heading towards the table where he touched Fiona’s shoulder to get her attention. She turned from watching Ronan put the pizzas onto plates, looking up at Adam so she could watch him sign.

“Your idea?” he asked. Fiona nodded, smiled proudly, and Adam smiled back. He caught Ronan’s eye as he signed, “It's the best idea."

[beggingwolf]

18 25 28 32 for the writer asks!

18 - Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

ooo okay I'm going to go with one of my favorite sections from ADiC:

His thumb lingered over Anya’s name.

They spoke sparingly these days. With Anya, it was easy to fall into a familiar rapport. Her tongue was a rapier and Zhenya enjoyed sparring. It could feel a bit too much like it had when they were together.

He’d enjoyed sparring with her a lot of ways, before it had gone sour, their relationship pulled thin across the ocean.

Sid, Zhenya saw, was wandering near a lonely copse of palm trees. His shoulders were hunched up around his ears, the KT tape a stark mark against his skin. Had Zhenya not seen the dark tape on his skin, his eyes would have slipped past Sid entirely. Sid wandered, anonymous and listless, further away.

I LOOOOVE a waffling-over-emotional-infidelity moment. I knew that I wanted a scene with Sid and Zhenya on the beach (something that is Zhenya's preferred activity) but it going wrong, being all bent out of shape and not what Zhenya really wants. This moment, them doing something FOR Zhenya that Zhenya doesn't like, because Sid is being secretive so Zhenya will be secretive back at him, was a really clear feeling in my head as I went in to write this scene. Something I kept coming back to as I wrote it was the image of Sid literally getting further away, so I leaned into it, and the focus on the KT tape—Sid is WOUNDED, he is HURT and Zhenya can't notice over his OWN hurt—was so delicious to write. I love rereading these passages even now.

25 - What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

oh jeez. um, let's see... it's not hyper specific, but since my memory is bad I'll go with the fact that Ovi in TKK isn't attracted to Sid at all. He uses Sid to rile Zhenya up, that's all.

28 - Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

OKSANA. ALWAYS OKSANA. I have 40k of unusable draft material (the plot is weak and the vibes aren't good enough to save it) about a failing Zhenya/Oksana relationship and a rising Sid/Zhenya one and I love writing Oksana so, so badly. Brutal, sharp women are so fun to write. I need to write more of them.

32 - What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

we'll go with novel on this one, and I'm going to put a read-more for those who have not read The Raven Cycle who may want to give it a try, as it's spoilery:

this is sort of the Prototypical Favorite TRC quote, so I don't think this is particularly unique, but I'll tell you and then tell you why I like it so much:

“Adam lived in an apartment located above the office of St. Agnes Catholic Church, a fortuitous combination that focused most of the objects of Ronan's worship into one downtown block.”

I don't just love it because I love Ronan and Adam and Ronan's love for Adam. I find it to be such an exquisitely crafted sentence that conveys so much about the dynamics at play and Ronan's and Adam's characters.

Adam lives above a church office, a strange place for a teenager to live. He is out of place there (not being Catholic nor a member of any Church) and "stored" there in a way that Ronan sort of retreats to, always finding Adam at this church like Adam was sort of placed there like an old keepsake. The fact that it's a Catholic church, and the church Ronan attends, and the church Ronan wrestles with in his own quest against nihilism and self-hatred and his difficulties in accepting his gay identity, makes it this beautiful weird little nexus of COMPLICATED ISSUES THAT COLOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP and specifically how Ronan views their relationship.

I'm aware that, if you are reading this and have not/will not read TRC, none of this is very exciting. But, I do think it's an absolute banger of a sentence that conveys so much about who these characters are and the complicated issues that exist between them, and I'm obsessed with how neatly Maggie conveyed that in a single sentence. It's just Really Good Authorship to me. I love it. I aspire to it. Ugh it's so good.

[starrypawz]

28. things you said in the dark for chargestep? (i just read this month's qna and im feeling things)

Things you said prompts

CW: Injury, Migraines, Painkiller use

Ricardo holds his breath as he opens the door to the bedroom does so as slowly as humanely possible to prevent it creaking and makes an effort to tip toe as quietly as possible (not the easiest of feats for someone like him).

The apartment is better than he was expecting. Small, a little run down but the door locks properly and it’s not in the worst area. Still took a bus rather than his bike though, playing it safe.

He’s trying to stay on the down low as much as possible. Knows the last thing Ronan needs is someone either finding where they live or implicating him in yet another scandal. He’s as dressed down as much as he can manage.  Altered his walk, his stance. The backpack is the most nondescript one he owns.

Technically, he's on on sick leave, but not really he’s still needed. Relief work mostly, tidy little easily digestible soundbites to appease the media, and as it turns out large scale disasters create a lot of red tape.

He ran into the landlady on the way up and she seems unassuming, sympathetic, had a few nice things to say about Ronan, they often help her get her groceries in, and sometimes fix her tv when it stops working, is worried about them. She either didn’t clock him as Marshal Charge, or did but wasn’t that concerned.

The curtains are still drawn, lights off as the door opens.

“Ronan?” Ricardo calls as softly as he can manage. There’s a pause for a few moments until he hears some mumbled pained moan from under the sheets.

“Ric?” Ronan’s voice low, almost inaudible.

“Brought you some water,” He pauses, debates about mentioning the little blister pack in his pocket that he found in what passes as a kitchen,doesn’t even want to think about how Ronan got their hands on it. “And some painkillers-”

“Tylenol?” Ronan manages to croak, “Or something that might… ow… actually work?” Ronan groans, their head feeling like it’s stuffed with acid coated cotton wool.

“Actually work?” He offers up, he recognises the drug name, he’s no stranger to it. Strong stuff.

He finds a spot to perch on the edge of the single bed, it dips a little under his weight, groans a bit in protest. He hears the sound of the sheets moving as Ronan does their best to sit up. He can’t see their face but he knows Ronan is grimacing.

“Nosebleeds have stopped,” Ronan manages, “For now-”

“Good-”

The next argument dies in his throat. He knows by now it’s a lost cause, he’s well aware of how unwilling Ronan is to go anywhere near a doctor or even a hospital. Ronan was only checked over by a paramedic and then someone incredibly discreet on the Ranger’s medical staff who managed to keep Ronan in one place for a couple of days. And that was only due to them being too weak to protest. Which is also probably why Ronan willingly gave him their current address and let him drive them home last week.

His stomach churns a bit when he thinks too hard about what's happened. He’s not been able to look at the news since, footage of the incident has been playing over and over, each time the final death doll grows. His bandages itch a little jolt of static shocks his thigh.

He knows that flesh is cheaper to fix than mods. He should count his blessings it’s only flesh.

Ronan reaches out with a shaky hand, he steadies the glass manges to guide them in the dark so they can drink. Carefully slips them a couple of pills, holds his breath as he waits for Ronan to swallow.

“Hows the arm?” Ronan manages to say without a wince after a few more moments pass in the dark.

“Better,” It’s only half a lie, “Itches like hell though,” Ricardo pauses, “Hungry?”

“Don’t…” Pauses, winces, shakes their head and regrets it, “Think I can really keep anything down,” Ronan sighs, moans softly in the dark. “Protein shake? The chocolate one doesn’t taste that bad, honest”

(That is a lie)

“Later,” Ronan croaks and yawns a little. “Stay a little?”

“Stay?”

“Yeah,” Ronan shifts a little in the dark, their mind brushes a familiar static void and right it feels like the softest of down pillows bundled up in silk “You… your mind feels… nice right now”

Ricardo pauses, wants to ask more but doesn’t want Ronan awake for longer than they need to.

“Please?”

He stays.

[crookswithbooks]

Never the Favorite

Day Five - Declan has always hated the holidays but when Ronan brings a new person into the chaos of their lives he finds himself learning to finally appreciate them.

Declan had never liked the winter.

For as long as he could remember, the entire winter/Christmas season served only to be a nightmare and constant reminder of how estranged their family truly was. When they were younger and Niall was still alive, things had gone smoother but there will still small little inordinacies that you would find if you were willing to look close enough. Whether it was the tree that lit up despite having no visible lights, or the way he was often called away for “business reasons”, there was always something that gave away how different they really were.

Then, after Niall had died, Christmas had only worsened. Ronan was angrier now, less manageable, and Matthew would question why they didn’t have so-and-so decorations that year, or why whoever’s present showed up weeks after the actual date of Christmas. Pulling their family together for the holidays felt more like a chore than a vacation nowadays, and on top of school and dealing with Niall’s messy seconds from the fairy market, Declan didn’t have the energy or time for it. The return of January was always a relief.

This year, however, they had Adam with them. Declan had planned on just Matthew and him for this year, deciding he would skip the obligatory invite that Ronan had ignored for years. Instead, it was Ronan who approached Declan, asking about what their plans for Christmas were. 

“I figured we would just have a small celebration,” Declan had replied skeptically, unsure where this was going but not foolish enough to get his hopes up. “Just family.”

Even as he had said the words, they had been hollow in his mouth. “Family” really meant Matthew and him, something that had been understood for years now. Now though, he decided to stick with the vague term.

“I’m going to bring Adam,” Ronan said as fact, ignoring the fact that Declan had said just family and that Ronan didn’t come to Christmas anymore. He had already walked away before Declan could even attempt to reply.

Now Declan found himself standing at the kitchen counter of the Barns, a tray of cookies on one side of him and hot chocolate that burbled in a pot on the stove on the other. He had been up since five in the morning preparing the abandoned space for guests, and now, five o’clock on Christmas Eve, he exhaustedly finished the last of the tasks he had set for himself. Matthew had been recruited to help out at first until it was revealed that Matthew’s method of helping out was singing Christmas carols and undoing all the work Declan had put time and effort into. He had quickly been removed from helping after that.

Ronan was on Adam duty and was currently picking him up from Stanford. The two should be on their way home about now. Declan had been skeptical about Adam at first, the one person aside from Gansey and Matthew that Ronan had chosen to let into his heart. He had been worried that Adam would break the shakily taped together pieces that made up Ronan and that Declan would have to put him back together after Adam left as he had when Niall had died—not that he had done a very good job of it then. Once he saw the way Adam looked at Ronan, however, like a starving man gazing upon an unexpected feast, he allowed himself to relax a little. Adam loved his brother, that much was clear, and he made him happy. Declan hadn’t seen Ronan happy in so long that he almost hadn’t recognized it when it surfaced.

Now he wasn’t worried Adam would break Ronan. He was worried he would destroy him.

The knock at the door signaled the arrival of the couple in question. Declan smiled, knowing that the courtesy of knocking was Adam’s doing; Ronan hadn’t knocked on any door since he was five. He smoothed out his suit, a gentle gray that Matthew said made him look like a corpse and Ronan said made him look like a douche. He turned off the heat on the stove, whirling around the corner and opening the door.

One of Ronan’s hands was placed securely on Adam’s hip, the protective curl of his fingers a warning sign to anyone who would raise an objection. Adam’s head was turned partway towards Ronan, his lips open on an unspoken sentence, but he cut himself off when he noticed Declan.

“Oh,” Adam said, the word perfectly formed. “Hey.” He glanced up and down at Declan, an involuntary action, and frowned a little. “I didn’t realize it was a formal occasion.”

“It’s not,” Ronan interjected before Declan could say anything. He himself was dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans that were torn from years of Gansey and he’s excursions. He was wearing neither a hat nor gloves, though Declan noticed the near imperceptible shiver caused from their absence. Adam was wearing a leather jacket that, instead of dwarfing his small frame as it would have a year ago, fit snugly around his torso. He seemed almost more grown-up than when he had left for college, and Declan could see from the way that Ronan stared at him that he had noticed too.

“Matthew’s upstairs,” Declan said, stepping aside to let them inside. “I’ll go grab him. Dinner should be ready soon, I’m just finishing up the last little touches. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“It is my home, dickweed,” Ronan muttered, only to have Adam’s elbow dig gently and discreetly into his ribs. Ronan elbowed him back, but the gesture was affectionate without any real malice. The two made their way into the kitchen, bickering all the way.

Upstairs, Matthew was staring out his window. His attention was held by the snow falling in soft spirals to the ground, some of it pasting against the window. He held his hand up to it, so that each one of his fingertips was touching a different snowflake. Declan watched him for a moment before coughing, knocking on the doorframe. “Adam and Ronan are here.”

Matthew didn’t look away from the window, though his hand fell limply onto his lap. “I don’t want to have Christmas this year.”

Declan paused. Since the moment he was born, Matthew had been Declan’s to look after, a precious new baby brother, a dream in the form of a boy. Whenever Matthew had a problem it was Declan who fixed it, quickly and unquestionably because the reality of Matthew’s pain was one he never wanted to face. When Niall died, Declan had been there to curb the storm. When Aurora came back, Declan was content to sit back and let Matthew have a mother again. When Aurora was gone he was also the first to come to his side. He gave Matthew everything he wanted because when Matthew was smiling he was happy and when Matthew was happy Declan could be okay.

Now though, he felt his stomach clench unpleasantly and he dropped his hand from the doorframe. He sat down next to Matthew, the mattress creaking under the combined weight, and stared out the window with him. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a lie,” Matthew said, and with those simple words the world shattered around Declan. “I don’t even know if I like Christmas or if that was just something that was programmed into me. What if all the happiness I’ve felt with you and with dad and with Ronan was just a fairy tale that you guys let me live? What if none of it was ever real?”

The only one who hadn’t known Matthew was a dream had been Matthew himself, and it was a secret that the two brothers had kept for seventeen years. Both of them had agreed that the information was something that Matthew was better off not knowing—it was about the only thing they did agree on. Unfortunately, secrets are only kept for so long, especially when they relate to the person in question. Declan had never seen Matthew as desolate as he had been that day on the dock when he first found out about his true identity, and he had promised that he would never let him look that way again.

It was a promise that he realized now, looking at the pinch between Matthew’s eyebrows and his bitter frown, that he had failed.

“None of it was a lie,” Declan said after a moment, unable to look at Matthew as he spoke. “Ronan can’t influence your decisions. He only brought you into creation, like a mother would.”

“But that’s not how his dreams work,” Matthew protested. “A mother doesn’t get to choose her child—Ronan chose me. He…” He struggled for a moment to find the right words to explain and Declan waited with a growing sense of unease. “He picked my eye color and the shape of my hair and the fact that I’m happy and that you’re not and that I love him and that you don’t—”

“I love him,” Declan interrupted, Matthew’s words hurting more because he could tell he meant them. “Why would you say I don’t love him?”

“You’re always fighting,” Matthew muttered, picking at a scab on his arm. “And yelling at each other. The only time you ever talk to each other is because of me. I know that. I’m not that dumb. And I say I love him all the time. You never say that you do—not once.”

From downstairs, Declan could hear the clattering of plates that meant Ronan and Adam had started to set the table, and the soft murmuring of voices. He forced himself to look at Matthew, needing him to understand him, needing this Christmas to be a good one because if it wasn’t it meant that they truly could never be normal and Declan didn’t want to have to deal with that fact.

“I do love Ronan—and you. I love you both because you’re my family. And just because you’re a dream doesn’t mean that you’re not a person. Ronan’s dreams don’t always do what he wants them to. They evolve and they grow into something more than just a dream, in the same way that people do. You’re just as real as any of the rest of us. You’re just… different.”

Matthew glanced up at him shyly, a child uncertain at the love of a parent. “Do you… do you really think that? That I can be a real person?”

“You are a real person,” Declan assured him with a confidence he wished he could feel. “Now let’s go have dinner with the others. I’m sure they’re wondering where we are.”

Adam and Ronan were kissing when they finally came downstairs, though kissing was a polite word for what they were actually doing. Evidently the two had figured that Declan and Matthew wouldn’t be joining them for quite a while, as Adam’s body was pressed against the corner of one of the living room walls, Ronan’s body bearing down on him. From the looks of it, Adam’s tongue was halfway down his brother’s throat and Ronan’s hands were unaccounted for under the other boy’s shirt.

Declan opened his mouth to announce his presence, but before he could diffuse the situation delicately, Matthew bounded into the room oblivious to the scene, and starting serving himself up mashed potatoes. Adam jerked back from Ronan, the tips of his ears burning an embarrassing shade of red. Ronan simply leaned back, seemingly uncaring of the two new people in the room with them.

“Table’s set,” Ronan said, shark teeth flashing, a dare for Declan to say anything.

“Thank you,” Declan said coolly, not rising to the bait. “Matthew and I were just having a talk. Sorry to take so long.”

“I’m sorry—that wasn’t—” Adam blustered through a couple more half-sentences before Declan’s smile assured him it was nothing he wasn’t already aware of, knowledge that did nothing to help Adam’s already mortified state.

Dinner, usually a quiet affair for such events, was unusually lively. Ronan and Adam fell into easy conversation with Matthew joining after a moment, the boy seeming to have no end of things to talk about. Even Declan himself managed to get a sentence in or two without having his head chopped off, mostly due to the inclusion of Adam who defused most of Ronan’s snarky remarks.

In fact, as the evening went on Declan found himself having a genuinely good time. Adam and Matthew softened Ronan’s sharp edges, the presence of two of his favorite people together serving to curb his usual anger. There were even moments in the night when Ronan would laugh at a joke Declan made or respond to one of his questions genuinely without being his usual asshole self.

They ate cookies and drank hot cocoa that Ronan had apparently spiked with something, a fact Declan didn’t learn until the warmth in his gut was too pleasant for him to be sincerely angry about it. Matthew was the first to fall asleep, the unexpected alcohol being too much for him, and Ronan and Adam quickly followed pursuit. Ronan’s rested on Adam’s collarbone, their two bodies intertwined on the couch that was to be a makeshift guest bed, and Declan listened to their breathing slowly even out into a gentle hum.

Declan stood up, drawing a blanket over Matthew and going about the process of cleaning up and wrapping presents to put under the tree. Half an hour later, he stood over the pile of bodies in the living room and wondered at the people who had slowly become his family, his real family. Never before had Declan felt like he belonged, always seeing himself as a protector to his brothers and merely a colleague to his parents. Throughout the years, Christmas after Christmas had gone by, and every time Declan only found himself feeling worse as the night went on. In that moment, however, with Matthew’s face smiling and serene in sleep, and the sight of Ronan and Adam curled protectively about one another, he realized he had finally discovered a family that he could not only care for but that might care for him back.

He decided to join them in the living room instead of going to his bed like usual, and as he lay besides Matthew’s gently snoring body, he found himself content for the first time in his life.

[creativefiend19]

St. Agnes Nights

(* Spoilers for In One Piece - Chapter 13. Fleeting mention of Robert Parrish.)

Adam was glad he got to spend tonight with Ronan at St. Agnes. 

However sad this bare room was compared to the messy comfort of the Barns, it was still his. His first taste of independence. And safety. 

(Except for that night his father had visited him. 

But he had been safe, in the end, if shaken. 

Thanks to Cabeswater. 

Thanks to himself, too, Adam realised. 

He had been ready to do what was needed to not get hit, and Cabeswater had listened. He remembered being aware of his hand clenching into a fist. Would he have tried to defend himself by non-magical means? Adam didn’t know. 

It didn’t matter anyway - it was a moot point now. 

And part of his past. 

It was now time to plan for the future.)

As he stroked Ronan’s inked shoulder blade, Adam ran through his usual mental hyper-planning: what to take back from St. Agnes, what to chuck, what to give away. 

He had nothing worth selling, except his ancient fridge and microwave. But Ronan could use those for drinks and snacks in the long barn, where he planned to set up shop. 

Adam had already informed the church office and they'd agreed for him to leave the mattress behind. 

He had never doubted that he was moving.

He remembered constantly being hesitant with Gansey, always asking: 'Am I invited?' 

It was a question he had never once thought to ask Ronan. 

Even before they were friends. Even during all the many times they'd broken into the Barns to try and wake the cows.

Ronan had never asked him either, when he’d hung out in Adam's room.

Now that he thought about it, Adam couldn't believe Ronan had slept on these bare, splintery floorboards so many nights. It seemed a bit excessive, even given the strength of the crush Ronan had been nursing.

To be honest, they had hardly spoken. Adam’s head was too full of homework and Cabeswater, and Adam’s body too tired of functioning, to do much besides study and then sleep.

He remembered barely being aware of Ronan's arrogantly sprawled form on his mattress, headphones on, taking up more room than Adam could spare - in his flat and in his schedule. But Ronan had managed to make himself at home in this bare room - and in Adam’s bare life - like he belonged here. To the point where if he wasn't around, both had seemed empty.

Adam had never felt lonesome when Ronan was there.

Without his knowledge, Adam had become familiar with the specificities of Ronan Lynch, in this small, intimate space - his misty-mossy smell, the cadence of his breathing, the aesthetic appeal of his long legs, and the hypnotic lure of his tattoo. Had spent many liminal minutes snatched from sleep, studying the moonlit outline of his sharp lines and muscled curves. The erotic dimples of his lower back, that seemed to beg for Adam’s tongue.

He remembered the jolt of hot lust in his stomach, that one time his eyes had met Ronan’s knowing ones across the silver-lit darkness. Molten awareness had burst into being, crackling across the inches separating them as Ronan had pinned him with his hooded gaze, a snake hypnotizing its helpless prey. Time seemed to hold its breath, until Adam - unable to bear the dark lure of velvety pleasure Ronan Lynch always seemed to promise - had literally and figuratively turned his back on the siren call of temptation.

He had finally fallen asleep, hard and horny, smothering his face in his pillow and forcing himself to forget the naked question behind Ronan’s inviting eyes.

It had been a question that Adam had eventually answered.

So, he was very glad Ronan had spent all that time here on his uncomfortable floor, silent and (mostly) ignored, forcing Adam to understand the parts of himself that were hidden. It was a consequence Ronan probably hadn’t foreseen.

Unless - he had?

Holding Ronan's warm, exhausted body against his chest now, Adam suddenly wondered if Ronan had just guilelessly wanted to spend time with him, or if it had been a step in a patient plan.

Maybe the manibus, the mixed tape and the interested looks had all added up to something ... more? Something purposeful and deliberate? Adam had just assumed these were all unconnected things. But Ronan was smarter and more complex than Adam had given him credit for at that time. He knew how to keep a secret. After all, he was made of secrets. 

He had let Adam know he was interested, with his hungry eyes.

Wait. Wait.

Were all the illegal Barns visits … dates, then?

Was it Ronan’s way of making Adam feel comfortable in his home, like he felt at home in St. Agnes?

A zing of understanding went through Adam when he remembered that first kiss in the bedroom - how Ronan had never seemed unsure, for all that he was unpracticed.

Had that been the final move in an elaborate strategy, a slow seduction? 

Adam’s brain scrambled to reframe every interaction with Ronan leading up to that kiss.

Had Ronan been wooing Adam, all that time?

Did Ronan Lynch actually have ... game?

Holy shit.

*

:)

Outtake #2 from In One Piece. Check out Aglionby Kisses, Outtake #1.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I did not get to see the Fortnite extravaganza last night due to an encryption error on their servers. It was more something to stay out of trouble than anything. I did place number one earlier for the first time ever after a year of playing. But this is probably mostly due to the performance of the machine I've built and upgraded over time. I've learned to understand in almost everything when it is not about me. Being an optimist in a hopeless situation trains you to look on the bright side. The bright side these days is that home on the inside is mostly private. I did have to fight off a wasp that flew down the venting in my bathroom before the broadcast. It's an old house I tell myself. Then I decide to leave my apartment and wait for the bus to go to the Home Depot. Maybe I wanted to build a real fort? I really just wanted to get some bug spray and some more fly tape to deal with a problem myself. But waiting for the bus is a whole other problem these days. Especially when everybody seems to want to make your public appearance an excuse to chip away at your ego. I finished watching the Snowden movie last night. It was great timing. The quote about the Nuremberg trials is too real. How they tried the regular people next. The ones just doing their jobs. The other quote was something about pressure points. I have been under extreme pressure lately without much guidance or semblance of civil rights. I've complained about this weekly on a blog for years only to realize nobody really cares or understands the level of what I put up with. This sort of desensitizes you after awhile. You begin to accept that American society is just the way it is. Mostly because it is still run by rich white men who have figured out layers upon layers of gaslighting. I caught a small part of the Ronan Farrow documentary on HBO where he was being followed by Weinstein because of his work. He had interviewed a private eye who worked for a company called Blackcube. This private security company hired local detectives to get around issues with jurisdictions. The PI eventually turned to the FBI because he was disturbed about the work he was doing to the free press in America. The FBI asked his business then hung up on him. This is how it came to be that Ronan Farrow interviewed his surveillance. The gaslighting never goes away. There are so many reasons for people to watch you. So many special interests. So many mobs. Gangs. Powerful organizations. Snowden really buries the hatchet. What if the government you trust doesn't represent you anymore? What if it's caught doing the same bad things over and over like an abusive spouse? What can you do when the state department holds the key to your entire identity? If this sounds like the plot of a Bond film, it is more or less what I live from day to day. So it's better for me to lay low and keep focusing on crypto mining than write the play by play nobody would believe.

I write to make sense of something that is beyond broken. In that, it can be a little exhausting for everything to sort of work but not follow through. My passport delayed in the mail. A wasp crawling in from the attic into my bathroom as I get ready for a stream. Stores mysteriously closed and locked when I walk around the corner to get distilled water. Friends who text suspiciously a year later asking how I'm doing after they took my job. A thermostat that is set for 73 that on a good day reads 78. A cracked floor I'm afraid to say anything about for fear of the rent going up. A gang of neighbors who watch my every move but say nothing. A city full of gangs that assault me passively aggressively on the train on my way for groceries. I fear sometimes if I cry uncle that it would cut off the good parts. The secret communication and narratives that I have protected for the good of all things I care about. It's like the world says "if you can be free to do that, you've gotta let us be the judge." And after watching how the NSA and government literally tracks every literal thing you do, how can we call any of this freedom? It's a sales pitch I get it. Freedom to live in debt and be all that you can be. I don't live that way anymore at all. But I don't live much when I'm expected to stay in my home for over a year and pretend that the hidden plan will work out in my favor. I have no life to speak of other than my cat, a blog and some weird unstated agreement that gets hijacked, manipulated, intimidated, and pressured. You'd have to wonder who applies the pressure. If I had to put a finger back on it, it's a sad reality. It's not just the government. It's everyone. It's greed. It's selfishness. It is mediocre people scared of not being in control of anything you say or do that might upset the fragility of the lie this country is built upon. It's the sober reality that America is going off a cliff with nothing to show for it except a smile strained so fake it's starting to scare me. Nobody listens. Everyone points the blame. Everyone deflects. And I just sit here alone to some extent. No new friends other than the ones I write to from week to week. I do consider this space safe enough to say that. And yet I wonder how much anyone reads them. Do the people who follow me every time I walk out the door read these as deeply? Their reading comprehension must be garbage. What do I have to say to make it stop? What magic words do I have to say to reverse this invisibility? You were right? I'd rather stay invisible. This neighborhood walks around in trucker hats with crowns spelling out cocaine in bold italic as if it's the constitution. I'm supposed to lay low and realize the laws of the jungle. No opportunity. No jobs. No freedom. No justice. And a wasp flying around in my bathroom.

Will I be ok? My net income hasn't really changed since last fall. I'm sure this year will be a fun tax year. But it is the first time I own my own business with books to balance and spreadsheets to toggle. My health insurance works but the drama behind it is worse for wear. I'm more scared I might be hunted and murdered because someone is jealous of me than the fear of going broke. And even then for fear of it being used as a "CIA pressure point" I just shrug it off like a model on a catwalk. This experience for me is worse than hell. It's a silent wall of shame and coercion that makes this country feel like Nazi Germany. All the while the bully keeps telling you this is for the best. It's so much worse in other countries according to them. And if you speak up or rock the boat, they will find you. This is America 2021. A country that can't look itself in the mirror or read a paragraph or two to understand it has failed people like me. It just waits for us to die. To lay low in an epidemic of pure vapidity. It's no wonder I invest whatever I have overseas and in the future. I do believe there's no way to survive this alone. And yet I do believe that people pushing their way into my life year after year with nothing to show for it is worse. If we were being real about it, my resolve broke over a week ago. I submitted an anonymous tip to the FBI. I know I probably shouldn't write about it here. For fear of more retaliation. I'm more afraid of being stung by a wasp in the bathtub than a city I've suffered through for decades. But on the real, when enough is enough and there is no reply what can you rely on anymore? Yourself. I don't have a whistle to blow. I don't have an opinion that matters. And that is the lie about America. That any of this really means anything. That talking about it and explaining it succinctly on the internet changes anything when diabolic men still control everything. When women live in fear more than men can imagine. Fear of being harassed. Fear of losing control over their own body. Fear of competing for a livable wage. Fear of not being free in a country claiming to be the center of the universe. I don't know any other fight left to fight. As a man I see nothing but wrong, lies, evil and pain. Nobody looks in the mirror. Nobody starts to change things in themselves first. Nobody except me. Yeah, I'm laying low. It's 2021. The patriarchy is everywhere. They've learned to talk over you again with the same old double speak. What are you going to do about it? Here's an idea. Ready? Okay, $19 Fortnite card, who wants it? And yes, I'm giving it away. Remember; share, share share. And trolls, don't get blocked!" <3 Tim

[nora-jayne]

And now, for something no one asked for.

Back in October, @lookbluesoup had a fun little event for their SoSu, Nate's, birthday with art and a whole bunch of stuff about him and Piper and everything. The second I learned he was a baseball guy, my brain latched on to the idea they would be friends with my Theo and have long conversations about whether the Red Sox or Orioles were better based on stats from teams that hadn't existed in two hundred years. So I thought, oh I'll write something quick and post it as a surprise for the birthday thing.

And then I looked up after doing a last editing pass to realize more than a month had passed. Whoops. Thankfully, there's no timeline for crossovers that no one actually asked for. And no, I will not explain how two SoSus exist in this AU. They just do. Enjoy!

---------

It was Theo's lucky day, he decided, as Polly had gotten in a sizeable chunk of deathclaw meat, and Myrna had not one but two boxes of Fancy Lads. Hayley had become something of a picky eater since they had moved to Diamond City. Curie said that was developmentally normal, but these were things she would eat without a fuss. He was ready to just walk past Moe and his normal sales pitch on baseball bats when he spotted Piper at the stall.

He never liked to forget a friend, and Piper really had been while he was still getting settled. She kept an eye on Hayley when Theo couldn't make it back to Diamond City for a bit. Codsworth could do a lot for a five-year-old, but there were some things that were best left to human intervention. He was sure he'd never be able to pay her back for that kind of a favor, and the least he could do was be friendly.

"Piper! It's been a while since I've seen you," Theo said. "Got a big article coming out?"

"Not exactly. I've been out of town, running around with this guy," Piper said. She gestured to the man next to her, easily as tall as Theo, who scoffed.

" 'This guy' like we aren't dating," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm Nate Ronan."

"Theo Carter," he returned. There was something different in an old world handshake. It wasn't anything Theo could even explain exactly. He could just tell Nate was from Before too.

Then Theo glanced at the bat in his hand. He recognized it immediately, besides the nails that had been crudely hammered through the end. There was a bad stain on one side of the barrel when he left it in the mud after practice, and a small notch just before the grip that had come from one of his brothers throwing it around. He couldn’t even remember which one of his brothers did it, but he knew his bat when he saw it. That beauty was the Rockville Slugger.

"That's my bat," Theo blurted out. Nate furrowed his brow, more confused than anything.

"No? I just bought it," Nate replied. He leveled his gaze at Moe, who was already offended that anyone might accuse him of buying stolen goods.

"I meant, as a kid. It wasn't taken recently," Theo explained. "But if you look under the grip tape, you'll see my name carved in the handle. The C is bigger than all the other letters." He had been twelve and using a pocket knife he wasn't supposed to have, but he'd been proud of his carving work.

Nate glanced down at the bat and then at Theo. He had every right, by how law worked in Diamond City, to refuse to listen to anything Theo said. Really, Theo couldn't even blame him for wanting the bat. 

"C'mon Blue," Piper said. "That's really specific. We'd know for sure, and then move on with our lives."

"I do offer to rewrap grip tape, only a ten cap fee," Moe offered. 

"I'll pay the rewrap fee," Theo offered. "I'm wrong, you get a bat with new grip tape. I'm right, and I get my bat." Theo paused as Nate thought about it. He wanted to press, to make it happen, but he knew it wouldn't help. He would only make things worse if he pushed.

"Alright, that sounds fair," Nate said. He handed the bat back to Moe, who carefully unwound the tape. Little by little, an R carved into the bat became clear, then an E and T. Sure enough, carved in, more shallow than he remembered, THEO CARTER was carved in block letters, and indeed the C was bigger than any of the other by far.

"I'm sure Theo would be happy to reimburse the caps you spent," Piper said. She was right, if pointed.

"That's not necessary," Nate said. "What position do you play?" Piper scoffed and crossed her arms, but there was a smile on her face.

"Right field," Theo said. "I had the power to get the ball to base. That was back in high school, though."

"Didn't play in college?"

"I took the Army track instead," Theo said with a shrug. "If I went to Maryland, I could've played."

"Had to go that far south to get on a team?" Nate ribbed, and Theo grinned. He loved his new world friends, but he missed good ol' fashion sports smack talk. 

"Born and raised there," he said. "Might've been an Oriole if I stuck with it." This wasn't strictly true. He knew he would have ended up with a job in his dad's garage and been perfectly happy.

"And they had their last World Series when? 2056?" Nate teased. 

"It's better than being cursed," Theo shot back. They laughed and Theo felt like he had just a little piece of his old life back. 

"You should join my team, " Nate offered. "Some of the ghouls at the Slog are pre-war and have a team. Real baseball, not whatever More calls baseball."

"Hey!" Moe said in the background as he rewrapped the bat handle, though they both ignored him. 

"It's casual enough, but I set up a game," Nate explained. 

"Yeah, without a team to play with," Piper chimed in.

"I have most of a team," Nate said with a wave of his hand, as though it were mere details. "I'm confident we can win."

Theo brought up his PipBoy and made more solid plans. Of all the things he expected from the day, none of this would have been included in his most random dreams, but he was happier than he'd been in a while.

[off-in-the-moors]

TRC rewrite: Never to be finished scene

Part 3 of my K analyses is slowly eating me out, not in the “Oh, I can’t deal with this~“ but more writing block. While looking through material, I found this scene to the rewrite stuff I was doing. Like “You’ll be fine“, this was a removed scene I was writing for fun. It’s noting big but it plays with character dynamics.

Context: It’s somewhat beginning of TDT and the gang (minus Blue) is trying to figure-out something about the Cabeswater problem, until someone is mentioned.

Ronan loved the idea of summer vacations. To stay all night and watch the stars, to races until the engine over heats, to live, to burn, to finally be. Not school to bug him, no Declan to nag him. Just him and his dreams.

But the last thing he wanted, was to stay late into the night and think about the Cabeswater problem.

They sat around their crooked table, covered in the chaotic mess of Gansey's research and plans. Crinkled maps and strings tied and knotted into a web of secrets yet to uncover, crumbling books and tapes holding up their whole world. Gansey's world. Everything was connected and yet, nothing was.

Lighted only by the few small lamps they had moved from their rooms, the only non-artificial glow in the Manufacturing, they seem almost ancient but real. Too real for Ronan’s taste.

Above the scratched wooden surface, Gansey in his old-man's pajamas, tried to draw on the map of Henrietta a straight line for the fourth time. One and erase, two and erase. His fingers banged on the table between each try, just to do something productive.

Ronan's eyes followed the previous attempts, now faint on pale colors from erasing, trying to understand Gansey's thinking. He slouched down in his chair, burying his head and arms inside his oversized sleep-hoodie. He looked up at Gansey, tired and barely standing from lack of sleep.

One more attempt. A smile spread on his friend's face.

- Here. - he finally said, he's voice almost a whisper.

They could talk louder but didn't. Any louder and Gansey's splitting headache would return.

- If my calculations are right- - They probably aren't. - Ronan cut in, leaning back in his chair. He felt Chainsaw moving in his hood. - The main line goes through here. - he continued like he didn't hear anything. - So we need more. - More what? - Power.

Ronan rolled his eyes.

- It has power. - he grunted. -  It flows like it should. - But the forest is in half. Literal half. Not enough to be whole. - And how you want to get more from already awaken line? - By fixing it. Fixing the flow. - How?

Gansey blinked. He looked around for something and finally found Adam walking through the room with a mug.

- Adam? - Call Blue. - he walked pass them. - Adam.

He stopped and sighed.

He put down his mug on a cupboard, their drinking station, and when back to them.

It was Saturday night, the eve of Adam Parrish's freedom day. Still in his dirty jumpsuit, half-open and tied around his waist, and his wash-out red shirt, there was the rare relaxation in his posture. Tomorrow, he'll sit in his room and finish one of his borrowed books, or disappear in the morning and return for dinner.

But it was still today.

He pulled himself a chair and sat down. Crossing his arms on his chest, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

No one made any sound, only the distend clock made its quiet ticks.

His body was motionless, frozen in place, with only his chest rising and falling.

Ronan could feel the unease in the air, he moved his eyes from Adam to Gansey.

Dick watched Adam carefully, rolling pencil in his hands, he was as worried as Ronan. Neither of them liked the idea of Adam and Cabeswater being connected in anyway. They didn't know what the forest was and how Glendower fit into it, but it was the only chance they had to find him.

Ronan glanced back at Adam, feeling anxiety building up inside him, slowly over flowing. He breath in, weeks old dust and used books, blooming mint plants and dried coffee stains. All familiar, all safe. But under it, leaking into the room, was something making his heartbeat dangerously pick up. The smell of fresh moss, evergreens and oaks, mushrooms hidden under mulch. The living and the decaying.

He felt Chainsaw climbed up and cuddling into his neck. He gently stroked her beak, shushing her and himself.

Suddenly, Adam's face twisted. Violently straight up in his sit, he opened his eyes and covered his left ear.

- Okay, okay. - he massaged his deaf ear. - That's enough. Thank you. Thank you. I'll tell them. Thank you, now hush.

Chainsaw cawed, moving even closer to Ronan's neck. He covered her with his hand. "Shh" he told her.

- Adam? - Gansey asked, reaching out to him. Adam raised his hand. He stood up, he's legs were shaking, and went to the cupboard. - It's the flow problem mostly, not enough energy to fully manifest. - he turned on the electric kettle. - Correcting it should partly do the trick. - But how to fix it? - We already know this, Parrish. - Ronan rolled his eyes. - Thanks for being late to the party. - I'm only repeating what it, wants to say, I think. - he stressed, massaging his ear again. - Christ, - he muttered. - Nine years of normal life, and now it's full of sleeping welsh men, magic lines and "Dude, my friend is a ghost!". No offence, Noah. - he said to the air.

Noah wasn't there, or he wasn't visible, or he was wondering around Henrietta. It was never sure with him, the only certain thing was: He was here.

- And - Adam continued. He pour some coffee and sugar in the mug. - I'm now a secretary of a talking forest. - Only nine? - Ronan grinned. - You know, - he scratched his cheek, sounding like he didn’t wanted to answer him. - I once believed in Easter Bunny. - Of all things, - he chuckled. - Easter Bunny? - Don't. - he pointed a spoon at him. - Don't tell me you dreamed the Easter Bunny. - Jeez, Parrish, I don't waste my sleep on kid stuff. - Yes, Easter Bunny, - Gansey bugged in. - But did you caught how to fix the line? - Gansey, - Adam said in a tone only a parent would. - Maybe I'll get you on the line with Mr. Waters to talk it over some tea and try to decipher a hive of voices and rustling, I barely understand, yourself? - So, no? - No clue.

The kettle clicked.

Adam pour it into his mug and stir. Without thinking, he stuck his two fingers into a pot of one of the mint plants.

He sighed.

- Gansey, did you water the mints like I asked you?

He paused. Hovering over the maps, he thought for a long bit, just to answer:

- When was it?

Adam shook his head and grabbed a bottle of water.

- Dicky, - Ronan pretended to be offended. - Not even Richard Mentha Gansey IV? How can you treat your son like that? - Ronan. - At least, Sargent Pepper is getting better. - announced Adam. He rubbed a leaf between his finger. - No more sugar for you. - he whispered to it. - So, - Ronan turned to Gansey. - Back to square one? - No, no, we're not. - he protested, grabbing his journal and flipping pages rapidly. - There are still leads we didn't check, like if the type of shells mean anything or the lake- - For fucks sake, Dick, - he grunted. - We have time- - No, we don't. In few days, I'm off to my parent with Adam and you with Blue have your problems. Tomorrow we- - You, Dick, you. - he corrected him. - I'm going to church and to a family dinner. Blue has her family time. Adam- - I'm busy. - Adam admitted. - Adam has "me time". Maybe ask Noah but I'm doubting he wants to spend his time with you in a library. Chill, Glendower is not going anywhere.

Gansey looked him in the eyes, something inside him crashed and couldn't recover. Ronan knew, Glendower was his life work, to find him, to see the magic and mystery. Ever since they knew each other, he never cared about the wish, he wanted to know, why he survived.

He sat down and laid his head on his arms, sighing. Tired and defeated. His King was crumbling before his eyes.

Maybe... he could just dream him a new one?

- There is something else. - Adam interrupted them. - But I don't understand it. - What? - Gansey asked, looking up and grinning like a idiot. - Cabeswater was repeating something. - he continued. - But I don’t... It sounded something like... Ag draenáil? - Ag what? - Draining. - said Ronan. They both looked at him. - It's Irish. - And "se" or "ef". - HE. - Ronan and Gansey shot at once. - So, somebody is draining the power.

Adam and Gansey looked at Ronan. Chainsaw cawed, backing up in the hood.

- I don't know. - he moved his head to the sides. - Maybe. Who knows? It would make some sense, I'm sure it isn't coming from nowhere, but even if, I haven't dream anything in few days. - Ronan. - Adam's voice was flat but yet demanding. - I swear. - Lynch. - The last thing I dreamed was a made up Blink-182 album for Noah. - You never listen to them. - Gansey reminded him. - How did it turn out? - Well, it was a weird mash-up of Twenty One Pilots and Maroon 5. - Dear Lord. - he groan. - It wasn't that bad. - That's all? - Adam pushed. - Mostly yes.

He didn't want to talk about the nightmares, nor the car keys, or the dead bugs and papers. Patches of asphalt between moss and the feeling of burning. Of wanting to burn...

- So, it's not you. Mostly.

Gansey slapped his hands on the table. He and Adam flinched.

- He. - he pointed at a box, standing next to the front door.

Ronan swallowed. The box was full of fake IDs, leather bracelets and campaign badges announcing "They can't lick our Dick" and "We like Dick". Perfect forgeries. They weren't for him, well not in that sense, it was a warning for Gansey. Or rather a reminder, that he only understood a fraction of him and dreaming.

- Kavinsky? - Ronan asked like he didn't know. - And who else? He surely knows his stupid parties are effecting my- our quest. - he corrected himself. - He's doing everything to spite me. - He likes your reactions. - he tried not to smile. - He is a... - he bite his tongue. - Arrogant, doofus, thinking he's the King of Henrietta, like life is just a music video. The next thing I know, he'll be selling his stupid drugs to the police officers- - Gansey, - Adam scolded him flatly. Not even turning to face them, he continued. - Stop talking about Joseph, like he's the devil incarnated. The worst he does, is his parties. All he talks about is cars and races, races and cars, cocktails and surprisingly, classical literature. - he paused. - But anyways, he's not interested in Glendower, I would even argue, he doesn't even know who Owain Glyndŵr is.

Both Ronan and Gansey stayed silent, as their friend drank his coffee.

- You know Kavinsky? - Ronan shot. Something wasn't right. - Know him?

Adam turned to them, slowly sipping his drink. He looked tired, it wasn't something new but Ronan could swear there was something else in his gaze.

- Yes. - You're joking, - Gansey chuckled but smile quickly disappeared. - Right? - How? - Ronan couldn't comprehend it. - Didn't saw you and him be buddy-buddy at school- - Nor you. - Adam rolled his eyes. - Or you're not saying something, Parrish. - Ronan. - Gansey warned him.

Their eyes meet, blue and grey. The boiling water and the rain-clouds. Ronan didn't know why he was getting angry, there was nothing to get angry about. He felt Chainsaw pulling on his collar, trying to distracted him.

- If you’re so... curious, he always comes to the garage at the end of my shift. - he was calm. - His Mitsubishi beat up or missing some parts. Or just wanting to talk. - he shrugged, tacking a sip. - Quite an asshole. I get why you like him. - I don't! - Ronan. - Gansey whimpered, covering his head with his hands. - Please, don't yell. - Anyways, - Adam continued, unbothered. - He's fine. What, Lynch? Surprised, I know people?

He couldn't articulate his thought, they were racing each other.

A blur.

- Not him. Anyone, but him. He's dangerous and fucking reckless, Parrish, what if he gets you in trouble at school? You can already wave your scholarship bye-bye. Or shit, with police? You'll be weight-off all your jobs, have to sell Noah's Mustang to pay off everything and than get kick out of Aglionby. You can't be friends with him!

Adam flinched a bit but remained calm. He raised an eyebrow, glaring at him.

- What a hypocrite. - he slammed the mug down. Gansey groaned even louder. - Listen, Lynch. Let me decide, who I'm friends with. I know, what I'm doing, I know the risk. - But- - But what? - he cut in. - Pissed that Joseph isn't just yours little secret?

Ronan didn't response. Squeezing the table's edge, his knuckles when pale, he could barely sit in place. Chainsaw buried herself into his neck, cawing softly she was doing her best to keep him calm.

He hated that Adam's face didn't change, they could as well be talking about the weather with his melancholic expression. Understand, understand, he didn't understand a thing.

- You won't answer me? - Adam asked, tilting his head. - Fine. - he shrugged, crossing his arms. - As you wish. Don't worry, I won't replace you. - Oh, I don't fucking care! - he exploited, storming out of his sit. He stopped in front of Adam. - It isn't about me! I don't want him near you!

Adam flinched at his outburst. Angered flashed on his face.

- Is that so? - his voice was shaky, but he kept going. - Or do you don't want me near him? - Either way is fine! - Why does it matter? - Because your life matters!

Silence.

They all looked at each other, the unspoken words hanging between them.

Adam opened his mouth but quickly closed it, his eyes glossy. He sighed.

- You also matter.

They all jumped.

Noah appeared on the counter next to Adam, his face serious.

- And he. - he added, looking straight at Ronan. - Don't ever say otherwise.

Before Ronan could say anything, Adam grabbed his mug and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Silence.

Ronan cursed Niall in his mind. He and Gansey traded helpless stares. Gansey rapidly stood up and announced:

- I'm gonna talk with him. - Gansey. - Noah wanted to say more, but Gansey cut in, already halfway up the stairs. - I'm gonna talk with him. - Fine, but after that, go to sleep. - seeing Gansey wanting to say something, he added. - You had only four hours. - again. - I counted, with naps.

He just nodded and tripped over last steps.

When they heard him entering Adam's room, Noah turned to Ronan.

- Ronan, - he started. - What?!

He shook his head, slipping down with a strangely fluent motion. Ronan often forgot he was a ghost and even more that he was older than them. Now, it was almost like the time caught up to him, he looked and moved more mature, reminding him of his brother. He grabbed his arm, cold fingers biting him even through the sleeve, and sat him in a chair. He moved one for himself and sat in front of him.

- I know what's going on. - he said. - You know shit. - Really? - he snickered. - Ronan, I'm always here, I see and hear everything. I'm trying, trying not to be nosy, to let you guys live your lives as you wish. But, you hormonal dumb-asses. Just wow. Between Gansey's embracing handling of his crush on Blue and your "friendship" with Kavinsky...

Chainsaw picked up and flew through him. Cawing, she made few circles around the room, before she returned to Ronan, sitting on his lap. She puffed up her feathers.

- Tawsheh. - she cawed. - Olk.

"Taibhse olc" Ronan corrected her in his mind.

- Níl taibhse olc. - he scolded her. - Dona. Tá Noah cara.

She made a sad caw. Ronan patted her but still angry, at her and himself.

Noah looked faded, a mist in the air. Broken bones and blooded sweater and messy hair. His expression didn’t exist, like he didn’t exist.

Ronan scolded himself for thinking that. Noah was here. Czerny was real.

He went back to normal. Same kind and tired face.

- Adam's right. - he said. - About what? - But you're also right. - he finished. - Both of you just can't see the other side. Don't you think, him and Adam can be friends without, - he moved his hands close to his head and made "boom" motion.

He didn't answered, patting Chainsaw's back, he knew it wasn't all.

- I don't want Kavinsky to harm him. - he finally said. - Do you believe he can? - No, - he felt offended. - Adam wouldn't fucking let him.

Noah nodded.

- But still, what's the problem?

He didn't say anything.

- Because you like Kavinsky. - it sounded like a question but wasn't. - Because Joe understands. - he stood up, putting Chainsaw on the chair. He started wandering around the room, with the little raven hopping after him. - He gets the dreaming. He gets how I feel. He knows me.

Kavinsky knew him.

Not Niall, but Ronan.

- Didn't you think he might "get" Adam?

He didn't.

- Like what?

He knew the answer.

He looked back at Noah, he wasn't in the chair.

- Go talk with him.

He was on the stairs, faded and smudged.

- Noah? - I... just need time. - he sounded like echo. - Don't worry.

A shadow of a smile appeared on his blurry face.

***

- ... but it sucks, because it's gone and even museums started hunting them for display. Museums, Adam! Museums!

They were sitting on a bed. Gansey was leaning on Adam, head resting on the boy's shoulder, eyes fighting to stay open. Adam wrapped his arm around his sleepy friend, nodding to every word he said, his own eyes puffy and reddish. Ronan looked at them, feeling something he didn't in long time. He felt at home.

- What's he mumbling about? - he asked, leaning on the door-frame. - The Great Auk. - Adam answered, not looking at him. - They're gone, Ronan. - Gansey yawned. - Gone, the great bird of Scottish islands, of Kilda and Elday. No, - he murmured to himself. - Elday is Iceland's. - he frowned his eyebrows trying to remember something, suddenly he announced: - Pen gwyn. - Falcóg mhór. - Ronan nodded. - "He made no cry. I strangled him.", a cruel end. - Ronan. - Adam scolded him. - This is what one of them said. - he shrugged. - Cruel fate with no future. Gansey, go to sleep. I wanted to talk with Adam.

Gansey rubber his eyes.

- Sure, sure. But first, I said, Great Auk is the original penguin and- - You're going with me to church tomorrow. - he interrupted him. - After dinner, we gonna check whatever you want.

He looked at him, like he just show him a new thing from his dream.

- I'm not... - Matthew likes you. - No connection. - he insisted. - And Declan...

- He doesn’t own the church. You’ll just pretend you for a hour or so.

- I did. - Noah said, his voice hanging behind him. - My mother hated when I did.

Ronan turned his head and saw him in the same state. He moved through him and grabbed Gansey’s hand.

- Come on, - he made him stand up. - They need to talk.

- I never was...

- Gansey, - he pulled him in to the hall. - Tell me more about the gwin.

Ronan closed the door and looked at Adam. Heat rising inside him.

- I'm still standing what I said. - That makes two of us. - he didn’t look at him.

And that’s it.

If someone interested, just ask.

[darling-i-read-it]

City Corner Part 3

Mob/Mafia AU Series

City Corner Masterlist

Leonardo DiCaprio x reader, Jake Gyllenhaal x reader

Margot Robbie, Jodie Comer, Tim Roth, Colin Firth, Timothee Chalamet, Dacre Montgomrey, Natalia Dyer, Saoirse Ronan, Lana Del Rey, Hugh Grant are also included

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Gambling, mentions of addiction, alcohol, insinuations to smut

Author’s Note: Again, I’ve casted these people as characters and used their names! I have this whole series planned out like a real writer so I’m excited to get to it now lol

Summary: Jodie goes for a truth, Saoirse warns the reader, Natalia slips up and Jake meets Lana

Genre: mafia, which is now a genre

(not my gif)

You woke up to Jake beside you. It took you a moment to remember where you were and what had happened the night before. Mentally you retraced your steps and recalled staying at Jakes for the night where you had slept with him, despite feeling hurt over Leonardo being with Jodie the night before.

You wondered a bit about what had happened when you left last night. Everywhere you went you caused a bit of chaos, between telling the Firths of the proposed wedding and going to the casino itself. Even leaving Hugh in your wake last night had been a bit douchey. And there you were, getting out of Jakes bed before he was awake.

You tiptoed around the room, taking it in better than you had last night. You recalled a bit of what happened but it was still lost in the haze of rash decisions. You got dressed and closed the door softly behind you, walking down the winding steps to the bar. It wasn’t open and seeing it so still gave you an eerie feeling.

You always had someone here with you when you came even if it was just a stranger and Jake. You hugged your jacket closer to you as you walked through the front doors. You envied yourself last night, feeling so alive doing so many things. Seeing Leo.

You were thinking about his ashy blonde hair when you walked up the stairs of your apartment. You imagined him doing the same thing, walking up those stairs to his room somewhere in the apartment where he lived with his sister. You tried to ignore the image of him living in the now dead casino next door, that big place being way to high maintenance for him.

You unlocked your door and walked in, dropping your bag on the floor and taking off your jacket. You were so ready to collapse into bed that you didn’t even see Saoirse sitting in your desk chair you used for the table.

“What the hell did you do?” she asked, accent heavy as she stood up. You had been thinking about calling her again to see if she had returned from where she went but seeing her here made you unsettled. You were only together when she wanted you to be and she had never used that tone with you.

“What do you mean what did I do?” you asked, finishing taking off your jacket. You put your gun on the table and then a few other things, keys, phone. She stood up, walking across the room to you.

“You went to the fucking casino?! Then to the pizzeria?! And then fucking disappered!” You gave her a look.

“You’re one to talk about disappearing.” She pursed her lips and gave you a hard stone look. You wondered if this was the face that some people's last memories were. This hard Saoirse, the one that scared you, that reminded you of how dangerous she was.

“You have to stay in the middle of all of this. But you can’t get involved with either family. You can talk to them, you can be civil with both sides. I know you just want Leo back but you can’t go and do that kind of shit.” You knew she meant well but her calling at Leo as your purpose stung. It was true, so it stung. You backed down.

“You’re right. I just wanted to see him. I feel important when I work for both sides.”

“I know you do but it will get you killed.” Her voice had calmed down. She saw that you were understanding.

“I slept with Jake,” you told her, eager to change the subject. Her playful smile returned and she rolled her eyes.

“So did I, you’re not special.”

---()()()()()()()()---

Jodie held her jacket close to her chest. Her father had blown up last night at the Firths sending you to spy out the wedding plans and she knew he was probably planning an attack that would cause fatal to someone Jodie cared about.

So she got up early that morning, not caring that Leonardo hadn’t stayed in the casino again, instead intent on finding the pizzeria. She had never been inside, only hearing whispers about the legendary business.

The bell rang above her head as she walked inside. There was only one other person inside, behind the counter. She had never seen him before but by the apron she figured he was a Firth. He was talking to someone in the back lightly and another voice floated into the area.

“Dacre I think dad and Nat are going out tonight. That is all I came to tell you, I know nothing more, please don’t push me,” a male voice said. Dacre, the one she could see, answered back.

“Whatever Tim. Ten bucks Nat slips up agian.” A door shut in the back and she figured it was just her and this Dacre boy. She had heard of him she now realized. She knew of all the Firths but had never actually been able to see them. It was odd.

She approached the counter.

“I’m Jodie Roth,” she said outright. He turned his head, eyebrows raised. He was handsome, utterly handsome. She had never swooned before but seeing him staring at her now she thought that she might. It gave her momentary pause.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. She noticed his hand was under the counter, presumably feeling around for the gun they had taped to the bottom. She put both her hands on the counter to show him that he was unarmed. She had even worn a very flowy dress to show she meant no harm.

“I think our dads are going to kill each other and I was hoping that you would help me make sure that didn’t happen.”

Dacre raised his eyebrows. He had trained for the fight against her dad his whole life, there was no way he would give it up now. However her proposition intrigued him. Who came straight into the enemy den and asked for a truce?

“What makes you think I can do that?” He was talking back to her. He put both his hands on the counter and she took a breath of relief. He was listening to her.

“I don’t know. I thought I would give it a shot before someone I love gets killed.” He leaned against the counter. She was rustically pretty and he could appreciate it. He liked her dress. He had never seen any girl in the business wear something like that.

“Like Leonardo?” She pursed her lips.

“I don’t want to marry him. I just know he can’t marry Margot because she's more valuable single. I just don’t want anyone to die.” He nodded, understanding where she was coming from.

“We can talk Jodie Roth. You want a pizza?”

---()()()()()()---

Jake woke up to you not beside him. It was already midafternoon. He had slept through his alarm. He got up, rubbing his head. He thought about you the moment he got up, wondering when you had left. He got out of bed, shrugging on some casual clothes and then walked down the winding stairs to your building a few buildings down.

He wanted to see how you were doing, why you had so abruptly come to him last night. You weren’t bad in bed either. He walked in the building and realized he had no idea which room you were in. He looked at the rundown lobby where an old man behind a desk sat.

Jake walked up to him.

“Can you tell me where Y/N Y/L/N lives?” he asked. The man gave him a questioning look.

“I can’t give out that information sir.” Jake nodded. He figured he couldn’t.

“Thanks anyway.”

He turned and came face to face with a pale beauty. Her black hair was carefully pinned back to show her whole gorgeous face.

“You’re looking for Y/N?” Her voice was careful and artistic. Jake wondered where he had seen her before.

“Uh yeah.” She smiled, her lipstick perfect on her lips.

“I’m Lana. Jake yes? You own Jake’s?” Lana DiCaprio, the hitwoman. The dangerous beauty. He couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid of her.

“Yeah I’m Jake.” She grabbed his hand and dragged her to the chairs in the lobby.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to own my own business. I thought that maybe it would be fun, not having to work for other people all the time,” she said whimsically. He didn’t think about why she was telling him that, he just wanted her to keep talking.

“Well if I die you can have mine,” he joked. She sat back in the chair. She was wearing jeans and a blouse which he thought was odd, considering her status.

“Thanks Jake. Hey do you think I can get a drink? I’m parched.”

“Its 10 in the morning,” he stated dumbly. She smiled and leaned forward.

“Well I work at night and don’t have any interest in being drunk on the job Jake.”

---()()()()()()()---

Later that night Colin walked beside his daughter. He was wearing his best suit, in preparation for how the night was going to go. He knew that Dacre and Jodie were still at the pizzeria and he knew that Lana was still with Jake at the bar. Everything was working in his favor despite the fact he had planned zero of what was happening.

He would have brought Timothee if he didn’t think he looked to threatening. Natalia in her slim ballerina ways, never seemed to look like someone who would murder others. They walked in the casinos front doors at around 10 at night.

They were immediately spotted but that was the plan. Two bodyguards came to get them, leading them up the long set of stairs to where Tim’s office was. Colin had briefed his daughter, telling her that he planned no deaths tonight. He would try for a truce and see where it went from there.

They walked in the room side by side and weren’t even frisked. They both had weapons on them but so did Tim, along with many bodyguards.

“I see you’ve come to chat Firth,” Tim said, staring at his enemy in his chair behind the desk. Margot sat in the desk itself, looking Natalia up and down.

“I’ve come to explain about sending a friend in to talk last night. I just wanted to make sure we had good information, it was nothing lethal. She wasn’t even armed.” He honestly didn’t know if you were armed.

“But you are yes?” Margot stated. Natalia watched the blonde carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Margot however was ready to defend whatever these intruders thought about.

“For protective measures,” Colin stated. Margot turned to her father her nodded at her. The body guards behind Colin and Natalia moved in a step.

“What’s to stop us from taking you out right now Colin?” Tim asked, feeling the gun in his lap. Margot had her hand behind her, grabbing the gun in her waist band.

“Common courtesy.” Colin was completely calm but his daughter was watching Margot's hands and was getting worried.

“What do you want?” The blonde girl asked.

“Peace. We’ve come for a truce.” Tim shifted under the table and Margot moved her arm forward, pointing her gun at Natalia. Colin raised a hand and Natalia raised her gun.

“There is no need for violence girls,” Tim said smoothly but Natalia was high on adrenaline.

“I’ll put my gun down if she does,” the dark haired girl stated. Margot smiled.

“You first.”

“Natalia-“ Colin started but was cut off by a sudden change of movement. Margot had changed her hand position on the gun but the shift cut in Natalia's instincts.

A gun rang through the room.

Chapter 4

[seamonstered]

                                                             [ BEGIN TAPE. ]

MODERATOR :  thank you for speaking with us. before we can move forward with relocation, we need to better understand what we should be preparing for. #0237632 : fine. MODERATOR : what can you tell us about what this monster looks like ? #0237632 : i’ve never seen it. no one has. MODERATOR : any description is helpful, even if vague. #0237632 : i don’t know. it’s dark, i think. harder to see at night.

( it’s clearest in his dreams, the ones he mostly forgets that next coming morning. the shape of it is stitched together from snippets of memory, storybook monsters and horror-movie hauntings that piece into something he can recognize— not quite real and not quite his, at least half fiction, but enough of a form for him to understand. these dreams were always most vivid when he was younger, childhood imagination leant itself to creating a better sight of it. as he’s aged, they’ve grown starker, less fantastical. it’s evolved, grown as he’s caught more glances of it, but the basis of it is ever the same. it’s dark, always, the kind of near-black that nearly seems blue, hiding away at night and in shadows and burning through his nightmares like melting wax, hot and fluid. there’s a huge inky mouth— sometimes doglike, all gums and canines, or the narrow fangs of a snake. the gape of its jaw is often so wide, come to swallow him whole, that he thinks the entire beast must turn itself inside-out. a thing of negative space. )

#0237632 : it doesn’t move like anything else. MODERATOR : please be more specific. #0237632 : [ pause ] #0237632 : don’t think it touches the ground. never seen footprints. never heard it coming.

( it’s slick, like running fluid. molten, serpentine, the wind of a river. if he didn’t know better he’d wonder if it had weight at all. there are times when it’s so big it fills the width of an alley, others when it seems to fold in on itself enough to slip beneath the crack of a door. just because it’s nebulous doesn’t mean it’s insubstantial, though ; ronan remembers a time when it’d pinned him down with his chest flat to the ground, the full body of it over his back, crushing the breath from his lungs. there was nothing intangible about it, then. there’s a shift when it’s nearby, ozone in the atmosphere as if a storm is about to roll in, the held-breath of water pulled away from a shore before a great wave hits. it’s the almost-disaster, the precarious waiting for something unavoidable to land. the sense of it has hung around his shoulders so long he’s unsure if he just carries that foreboding himself, now, without his monster at all. wonders if everyone senses his inevitability as he does. it’d explain why people give him space to walk on the street. he can only drag along his fate for so long before people start to take note of the damage. )

MODERATOR : is there anything that alerts you when it’s close ? #0237632 : it’s always close. MODERATOR : please answer the question. #0237632 : it smells like sea salt. or the pool. you just know when it’s here.

( there’s a specific memory of bloody summertime, some years back, a stain of gore on the poolside deck from ronan’s own recklessness— he should have been smarter. to risk something like a swimming pool, such a concentration of water for his monster to inhabit, was thoughtless on his part. he knew so. yet schoolyard taunts from the other boys were something he so easily fell for, and so he’d approached his fear with his jaw set. he’d come to the poolside and so his monster wasn’t far after him, suddenly present, dragging some other boy violently beneath the water as it scrambled to slice at ronan. as quickly as he’d appeared ronan fled, his mistake realized while it bled out on his arm, looking back at the scene before he could stop himself. the other boy the monster had grabbed must have scrabbled his palms raw on the deck trying to keep himself upright, red left on the concrete when he’d been pulled down. even if it didn’t kill the boy, ronan would never be forgiven. he could smell his monster in his hair, on his clothes, that chlorine he hadn’t otherwise touched, the seep of it from its skin. there’s still a small curve of a scar on his forearm from the contact, and he pulls at his shirt sleeve to cover it ; the sight makes him nervous. sometimes he’ll press his cuff to his nose, inhaling, reassuring himself that he now only smells of detergent, no hints of seawater or the iron bite of blood. it doesn’t comfort much. )

#0237632 : it likes water. write that down. MODERATOR : how so ? #0237632 : what kind of question is that ?  i said what i meant. it likes the water. MODERATOR : have you ever noticed— #0237632 : just write it down. that’s all i have to say about it.

( the more he finds his monster among the water, the worse ronan’s hydrophobia grows. his mother had always tried to keep them as land-locked as possible, had warned him to do the same. his family monster is one born of poseidon and so it will always favor the sea, or whatever closest relative it can manage to find. form seems to matter little. it’ll stalk among the rain, camouflaging through a downpour— or shaky reflections of it can be caught, glimpses through puddles and still surfaces of a lake, a glass on his nightstand. sometimes ronan will lie on his back, arms outstretched, feel his own breathing like a tide, the ebb and flow. with his eyes closed he can weather it better, laying still enough that the blood in his veins seems less volatile, less like the salt and water and ocean his monster is so drawn to. and then he’ll move, and as a maelstrom the world will shudder and swirl around him, and he’ll remember. if he wasn’t already doomed to die torn apart, he thinks he might be made to drown. )

MODERATOR : can you tell us anything about how it hunts ? #0237632 : what’s that supposed to mean ? MODERATOR : surely you must have noticed some sort of pattern. we have well over a dozen interactions on record. #0237632 : the fuck do you expect me to say ?  want me to tell you how it’s gonna kill me ?  MODERATOR : i know this is a sensitive subject. we’re almost done with the interview. #0237632 : don’t say it fucking hunts. it’s not out for food. it doesn’t eat anything. it just sort of— goes through. it attacks like a knife fight. is that fucking helpful enough for you ?

( the presence of his monster is a violence all on its own. when he’d found his mother there was no mistaking the scene for what it was, a murder ; to claim it as a predator after food would be too kind. there’s no rationality to its voraciousness, chasing after his bloodline with a single-mindedness that apparently transcends self preservation. ronan is the last of his family. he’ll be his monster’s final kill, and it won’t survive any longer than he will. the creature is barely anything on its own ; it’s a purpose, and an aftermath. once its use is fulfilled, there’ll be no need for its survival. so long as ronan’s alive, his monster is too, and as soon as he’s dead, its immortality will be spent. and yet, suicide as it is, his monster fights— and ronan can take some pride in this, at least. when his creature finally kills him, he’ll kill it right back. )

MODERATOR : is there anything else— #0237632 : that’s all. MODERATOR : you— #0237632 : i’m done talking about this. can i go now ? 

                                                              [ END TAPE. ]

[pynches]

a/n this went from “non-au ronan visits adam at college” to “coffeeshop au” and i’m sorry so i hope you still like it

word count: 4392

“He’s back.”

Ronan pretended he didn’t hear Blue but he glanced over his shoulder too quickly for it to be subtle. This time, he really ignored Blue as he heard her laugh carry through the little coffee shop they ran together.

Gansey had voiced his concern more than once back when the shop was just an idea forming in their heads, a seemingly unachievable dream that would be their own, a place that didn’t require the University diploma’s neither had. It wasn’t strange Gansey didn’t trust them to work together, they had been fast enemies when Gansey introduced them. But their personalities had been too similar, too akin to not eventually reach a mutual understanding.

Both wanted to do something to pass the time life was giving out too quickly, something to ease their continuous boredom and restlessness. One late summer night, over too many beers, they had laughed and cried together, feeling a certainty in their respectively ruined futures until Noah had piped up and said, “I mean, worst case scenario, you end up working your entire lives in a coffee shop or something,” and thus the idea had been born.

“Cabeswater’s Coffee” they had called it, after a far off dream Ronan once had, about a place full of magic and possibilities. It felt fitting to give to the ruined building they bought, since it needed magic more than anything else.

Slowly they build up their shop, starting with cleaning up and deciding on the interior. They only argued twice a day, which was pretty good compared to their usual tally.

Wood and a lot of greenery became their theme. One customer had once commented on it, telling them it felt like stepping into a small forest. They had bumped fists beneath the counter at that.

Not after long, their clientele increased, and most customers kept coming back. There was something about the little shop, crammed between a clothing store and a hairdresser soon to be out of business that charmed everyone who came in to return.

Ronan had seen many people by the time the shop turned two years old, but there was one customer, though, that never failed to make his heart race. Dirty blond hair with a choppy cut framing high cheekbones and freckles gracing his skin, forming constellations Ronan longed to trace. His hands were a work of beauty. Ronan once dropped a sack of coffee beans on the floor at the sight of them wrapped around a paper coffee cup.

He drank his coffee black, no sweetener or syrup. He took them to go in the mornings and returned in the afternoon, except for Tuesdays. He worked on a laptop that was held together with masking tape until it was closing time. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were, from what Ronan could tell, second-hand, though the fraying of the fabric was covered up well enough that nobody would notice if they didn’t pay close attention.

Ronan noticed.

Blue teased him about the boy but he saw her look over once or twice as well. Something about him made the magic Cabeswater’s Coffee held feel bleak and empty compared to the natural way he attracted all attention to himself unknowingly. There was something different about him, something Ronan has not been able to place since the moment he walked in 7 months ago, but it enraptured him. Ronan could not think about anything other than this beautiful boy and his tired eyes.

Ronan quickly moved behind the counter and asked for his order, even though he knew it by heart. Judging by the way the boy’s eyebrows rose, he knew Ronan knew it as well. He still gave his order, the slight lilt of his voice reminding Ronan of the place he had to leave behind a long time ago and the sole reason he kept asking every day.

He rung up the counter and took the boy’s money, always cash never by card. Blue once joked that he might be a stripper. Ronan had shame filled dreams for the weeks after.

As he handed the boy his coffee, he made sure their fingertips brushed each other briefly, a jolt of warmth shooting through his arm straight to his heart at the 0.5 seconds of touching.

The boy smiled at him for a second and Ronan would do anything to make it last longer. And then he was gone, leaving Ronan disorientated with a heart that would beat too fast for a long while after.

He will return, Ronan told himself and held on to that for the rest of the day.

“Stop checking the door,” Blue said, not for the first time. It was a habit, though, an unbreakable one that only came from longing. Ronan sighed and apprehensively averted his eyes. He felt Blue staring at him with sympathy, the way she looked at him often these days.

“He will come,” she said gentler this time. Ronan didn’t say anything but she understood anyway and squeezed his shoulder quickly before turning to their new customer.

Ronan eyed the customer, a nice looking guy, dimples visible as he laughed. His curls bounced as he walked over to the pick-up station. A boy who was attractive and judging by the looks of him kind as well. The guy could have been his type, if he wasn’t overshadowed by the grace of the boy that had been front and centre in his mind since the day he met him.

“Thank you, handsome,” the customer said, his voice low and sultry. He stared up at Ronan through half-lidded eyes and smiled, dimples more visible than they were before.

Ronan felt nothing.

Maybe, in some far of place in his mind, he felt almost flattered by the attention. With his appearance, not many people were brave enough to make a move, though Ronan had seen them stare appreciatively at him. Ronan couldn’t blame them, though. With his rugged handsomeness, amplified by the scars he wore, the back piece that curled around his neck, the shaved head, he wasn’t the most approachable guy. It didn’t help that his lips were almost always pulled into a sneer alternated with a sharp smirk that send people running.

Customers were often intimidated at first, their voices coming to a stuttering halt as they took Ronan in, the subdued way they continued their order making Ronan feel both powerful and ashamed. A knot forever curling in his chest that told him he wanted to be more, different. To be seen the way he was, not the way he looked.

Sometimes, when he felt the tired boy look at him, his gaze nothing but curious and wishful, a possibility of hope bloomed in his chest instead. A warm feeling he held onto for as long as he could, even when the boy disappeared into the throng of people again.

The bell chimed again. Blue poked him sharply with her elbow, nodding her head to the door once before she went to the back with the excuse that, “The coffee beans need a refill”. She had refilled those only half an hour ago, but Ronan let her leave anyway, silently thanking her for her perceptiveness and cursing her for leaving his anti-social self with a beautiful boy at the same time.

“One black coffee, please,” the boy said, ever polite despite him visiting the coffeeshop nearly every day. He never once struck up a conversation with either Blue or Ronan, remaining a mystery Ronan wished to uncover.

The only thing Ronan knew about him was that he was most likely a Harvard student, judging from his worn bag, overflowing with books at every time of the day and the hoodie he once wore during the winter time, the logo printed on his chest.

“What is your name?” Ronan wanted to ask. He was many things, a brother, a rebel, a dreamer of impossible things made possible, but he was not a brave man. So, instead, he said: “That will be 3 dollars.”

The boy handed him the cash, always tipping despite the to Ronan obvious little money he had. Their fingers brushing and lingering for just a second too long. His fingertips weren’t as soft as Ronan imagined them to be, instead they were rough and calloused which could only indicate years of hard work. Somehow, it made Ronan feel warmer than before.

Ronan always took extra care in making the boy’s coffee. There was something vulnerable to him, something he hid very well but still lingered on the surface. He looked about ready to break from the invisible weight he was carrying, but he steadily moved forward to the pick-up area with a strength Ronan couldn’t help but admire.

Oh, how he wished their little shop was more like those overpriced chain stores, where names were written on the paper cups and Ronan could finally learn his name. No name Ronan gave him in his head seemed to fit right and Ronan was desperate for a name to whisper as he wished for the boy at night.

“Adam!”

The boy turned around, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Ronan recognised the voice immediately and would have dropped the cup on the floor if he hadn’t placed it on the counter already. It was the voice that told him stories about dead Welsh kings when they were both caught in the clutches of their insomnia, the voice that had whispered words of comfort when Ronan couldn’t bear the sadness of his father’s death anymore, the boy he had come to see as a brother, more so than Declan ever was.

“Gansey, long time no see,” the boy, Adam, replied, bumping his fist to Gansey’s as if they had done it countless times before. Ronan felt a surge of irrational jealousy well up in him. Adam always felt like he was his, as stupid as it may sound. Something for himself, someone that was entirely his own. Ronan shook those toxic emotions off quickly, though, knowing it wasn’t fair to think like this. Adam had his own life and friends like Ronan did and wasn’t something for him to claim. There was just something about him, a far off magical feeling Ronan couldn’t quite explain. A pull that forced Ronan to look at him, to want him, and that wasn’t as easy to shake off with rational thought.

“You two know each other?”

A question that was on the tip on Ronan’s tongue, something he quite possibly would have asked if not for Blue, regarding the two with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Jane!” Gansey surged forward and wrapped Blue’s tiny frame in his arms. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” Blue confessed, her voice grumpy, but Ronan could see the smile forming on her face. She relaxed into Gansey’s arms for a second before pulling back. She looked more at ease than she had in the time Gansey and Noah went on their little Europe adventure, but she looked at him with a more serious expression than Ronan had seen on her for awhile.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Gansey needed a second to think back, his mind positively full with his thoughts running around at rapid speed. He was either hyper-focussed or not at all, and it seemed like he was leaning towards the last one now.

“We have some classes together,” Adam answered in his place. Three pairs of eyes turned to him and he cowered a bit under the attention.

“My name is Adam Parrish.”

Blue’s eyes flickered from Gansey to Ronan to Adam and back, focussing on Ronan for a few seconds longer. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes and Ronan feared the worst.

“Nice to meet you! We should all hang out sometimes,” she said, a smirk pulling at her lips, sharp and slightly bitter, one she had definitely learned from Ronan. Pride welled up inside of him at the sight.

“Since you never introduced us,” she now directed at Gansey who looked sheepish and regretful.

Gansey rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous manner. Ronan almost felt bad, but then remembered Gansey had kept Adam hidden from him, albeit probably not intentionally. The more intimate parts of him at least. Gansey had known Adam’s name for a longer time than he had and somehow he felt cheated, though it was irrational thinking. Ronan didn’t know if it was the fear of being left out, being replaced by a shiny new person Gansey liked better, a fear he had harboured since Gansey pulled him through some of the toughest periods in his life or if he was just really gone for Adam.

“Sure,” Gansey said eventually. He left shortly after, something about the books that were waiting for him at the local indie-shop he usually got his obscure history books from. He gave Blue a kiss on her nose, which she scrunched her nose at, and left with a promise of meeting up soon.

Blue moved at the sound of the little bell above the door ringing cheerily and welcomed the new customer coming in. Ronan couldn’t take his eyes off Adam, though. Not when he was closer than he had ever been, finally no counter between them anymore.

Adam stood in the middle of the coffeeshop. His right shoulder was sagging under the weight of his messenger bag but he made no attempt to move.

He looked tired, again. The darkness under his eyes were almost permanently etched into the delicate freckled skin below. Ronan almost reached out to smooth out the lines of his forehead which was pulled into a frown as he observed him apprehensively.

“Your coffee will get cold,” Ronan said, just to say something. He wasn’t good at this whole social interaction thing. His friends had found him and found him worthwhile to keep but making social connections himself was not something he did easily. Especially not when the person he was talking to had plagued his dreams for months. Someone he could finally put a name to which somehow made it more real.

Adam looked down at his left hand, his fingers loosely gripping the coffee cup that was getting colder the longer they were standing there.

“You’re right. I should-“

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a second longer and Ronan prayed he could stay in this moment just for a little while longer. But his prayers were never heard, not when he asked God to please bring his father back, not when he prayed for a better life, not when he prayed to just make it all stop.

Adam sat in the back of coffeeshop where soft cushioned fauteuils were stylishly placed in an array of mismatched colours and fabrics, all picked by Blue. The seat Adam chose was partially hidden by a big plant, obscuring it from few from other customers. Not that there were many at this time of day. Most were on their way home, back to their families and loved ones.

Back home.

Ronan had come to see Cabeswater’s Coffee as his home. The place where he could be most himself, surrounded by his friends and people he saw everyday. People he had gotten attached to. He relished in the comfort of having a space that was shared by people he actually cared for.

He sneaked glances at Adam during the rest of his shift. The way he was hunched over his laptop in front of him, cringing at the pain Adam would feel when he got up. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it didn’t hold him back from furiously typing on his computer. Ronan was almost surprised the tape held and the thing didn’t just fall apart beneath his beautiful hands.

It was nearing closing time when Ronan was starting his clean-up round. Something he didn’t like doing but knew it was necessary. As he walked past Adam’s corner, he saw a body slumped over in his seat. His heart stopped for a second before he saw the gentle inhale and exhale of his breath and realised Adam had just fallen asleep.

There was something worrisome about how far Adam pushed himself. He had seen him worn out more often than he had seen him laughing. Most days there was a subtle shaking of his hands as he reached for the coffeecup Ronan held out to him. Something made Ronan want to wrap him in blankets and hold him until he finally looked more at ease.

Even in his sleep, Adam mouth was pulled down, the lines in his forehead visible from frowning. His fingers twitched restlessly and Ronan’s heart squeezed in his chest.

“Parrish?”

Adam woke up with a start, his eyes momentarily wild before they settled in something more absent, carefully casual. Ronan wondered if he practised in the mirror.

“I fell asleep,” he said bewildered. He eyed Ronan before realisation hit him fully. “Oh god, I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”

Ronan stopped his apologising with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, it’s not closing time yet.”

Adam started collecting his laptop and the few books that were laying in a neat pile and put them in his bag with an efficiency Ronan had never seen on a person. He looked helplessly at Blue. He didn’t want to let him go, not yet. Not when they had talked more than ever. Not when he finally knew his name.

Blue made some rapid hand motions that didn’t make sense at all. He shrugged lightly and Blue looked about ready to smack him over the head, but smacked her own forehead instead. She started mouthing something, quickly turning around when Adam briefly glanced her way.

“Again,” Adam said, focussing on Ronan. “I’m sorry.”

Adam moved towards the door before Ronan could react, but he sprinted after him in a way that was hopefully not too obvious. From gauging Blue’s reaction he really did not succeed but right now his sole mission was to make this boy stay.

“You can stay,” Ronan said quickly, slightly out of breath.

Adam looked at him incredulously.

“For a while,” Ronan added, trying his best to sound casual, as if he offered this to all of his customers. “At least I can finally meet Gansey’s new best friend.”

The last words were unintentionally harsh but Adam seemed too tired to notice. He was swaying on his feet, his skin even paler than it was before. Ronan could see the veins running up his arms, the blue delicate and vulnerable. He pointed at a seat near the counter and Adam took a seat without protesting, something that worried Ronan even more. He didn’t seem like a guy you could tell what to do. Something headstrong was always a present with Adam which made Ronan even more attracted to him.

Ronan made Adam a cup of coffee, his usual order, and set it down in front of him. Adam pulled his wallet out but Ronan stopped him with a hand on his. Adam looked up at him, frozen in motion. There was something charged between them, the heat of Adam’s hand seeping into his, the contrast of his soft hands compared to Adam’s rough ones sending shivers down his spine. His hand was trembling when he pulled away, the butterflies in his stomach, those he kept contained at all times, swarming around freely now.

“Thank you,” Adam said softly, his cheeks a light pink. Ronan felt pride in causing that. He absentmindedly wondered if he could put “I once made a pretty boy blush” on his resume but decided against it. This moment was for them.

Ronan watched him closely, feeling as though he finally could without the distance that made him look like a creep. “Do you ever sleep?”

The question came out unpromptedly but Ronan had been worried for some time now, seeing Adam deteriorate more and more as the year went by.

Adam laughed, thankfully, and put his cup down, his hands folding around it to feel the warmth. “I feel like I haven’t slept in years,” he said with surprising honesty.

“Your prestigious university beating you down?”

“Pretty much.”

They talked until the sky turned orange, to pink, to midnight blue. Adam explained how he came from a shitty home life, one that he didn’t want to give too many details on yet, but Ronan understood shitty home lives better than most and didn’t push. Everybody had their demons and he wasn’t one for judging. Instead, he kept quiet for once and let Adam keep talking, about his major, the few friends he had at Harvard University, how hard he had worked to get there, and how it wasn’t as easy as Adam had expected it to be. The doubt Adam carried with him was almost tangible thing between them and Ronan wanted nothing more than to make it disappear, though he knew this was something Adam had to do for themselves.

When they finally realised how long they had been talking, it was almost midnight. Both boys paused from shock but laughed together. It had been easy to talk to Adam, Ronan realised. He was so much more than Ronan had thought of him. More than just a pretty boy with tired eyes. He was smart, funny, and he made Ronan feel things nobody ever succeeded in.

Adam seemed to be almost guilty when he told Ronan he had to go. Ronan was disappointed but masked it beneath a smirk and a “you gonna miss me?” which made Adam blush. Ronan felt his own ears heat up and quickly retrieved his keys from the back.

Blue had left sometime earlier, pecking Ronan on the cheek and ruffling Adam’s hair with a surprising gentleness she didn’t show to many people. She had thrown a wink over her shoulder at Ronan and he was suddenly very glad Adam had his back to the door.

“I had a nice time,” Adam said, a bit awkwardly. Ronan was oddly endeared. It almost sounded like the end of a date and Ronan suddenly wondered if it had been one. He wished it was, he wished he had the privilege to take Adam out on a date, let him finally have a bit of fun he clearly missed.

“Me too,” Ronan said honestly. He didn’t lie and though he sometimes hid was he was really feeling in a bunch of half-truths he didn’t feel compelled to now. Adam had already wormed his way into his heart, breaking down the walls little by little with every smile and soft touch they had shared during the night. A small kick to his ankle as Ronan said something mildly offensive, a brush of hands when handed freshly brewed coffee, like they had done so many times before. There was no need to lie to Adam, he wasn’t going to hurt him. Ronan had rarely felt this safe with someone but somehow it felt right. As if he was finally in a place he should be in. A place where he truly belonged.

“Is it too forward of me to ask-“

“No!” Ronan quickly cut in. “I was gonna ask too.��

“Oh,” Adam said, looking at his feet with the beginning of a smile on his lips. “Good.”

“Friday? 7 pm?” Ronan asked before he lost the courage.

“It’s a date,” Adam replied, fully smiling now. The frowning lines had disappeared, his eyes sparkling instead of dull like they had been before. It almost felt like he was staring right at the sun, unable to look away.

Ronan fell a little more for him right then.

Then he leaned forward and pecked Ronan’s cheek lightly. Ronan felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, his knees weakening at the innocent display of intimacy. His cheek felt hot where Adam’s lips had pressed against it and Ronan longed to feel it again.

“See you tomorrow,” Adam said with a wave, smiling over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the night.

Ronan lied awake in his bed the entire night after, pinching himself to check if he had been dreaming or not. After a while, when minutes started to blend into each other, Ronan couldn’t tell what was real and what was a dream anymore.

But then Adam was standing in front of him the next day. His shoulders slightly straighter, his eyes still tired but cheerful as well. He didn’t tell Ronan his order, instead, he handed him the money, a little note attached to one of the dollar bills with his phone number on it and Ronan finally let himself believe this was real.

Adam didn’t get less tired the remainder of his first year. There were still all-nighters pulled, days where he felt like either crying or screaming or both, grades that weren’t as high as he had hoped for. But now, he had a caring boyfriend that looked out for him, bringing him coffee when he couldn’t keep his eyes open enough to read that last chapter, laying soft kisses on his shoulder when he was writing an essay that he couldn’t figure out the conclusion for, cuddling him to his chest when it all became too much and Adam wanted to do nothing more than just give up even though he knew that he would never do that.

Ronan watched as Adam bloomed more into himself, though he would never credit himself for that. Adam always had it in him, he just needed someone to remind him that he could. His dark circles faded a little and Adam looked happier than Ronan had ever seen him. Ronan felt happier himself too, whistling as he got to work, play fighting with Blue in between customers, smiling a genuine smile instead of a bitter one.

It was a careful balance between them, one that had come naturally. They didn’t push or pull the other too much and instead felt what the other needed. Sure, they made mistakes and fucked up, but they were happier and more themselves than they had been before.

And it was enough.