alter-adam

[alter-adam]

i posted yet another self-indulgent fic on ao3, go check it!

plot what plot? but i've been told this is emotional porn

cruise to the blues — Richard Gansey III/Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish | E | 6k |

Then the mattress dipped again, heavier this time, Ronan’s weight folding into it. Adam kept his eyes closed, but he felt the moment Gansey leaned up to meet him. The sound of their lips touching was soft, like a drop falling on a pond. “Birthday boy asleep?” Ronan’s voice came low, closer now. Adam made an effort to part his lips, his mouth dry. “I am not,” he murmured, words dragging. “You’re late.” He knew Ronan was smiling, that awful, handsome, crooked thing he did. He set his hand, warm and dry, on Adam’s back, pressing him gently into the bed, making his ribs tighten against the mattress. He leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of Adam’s ear. He smelled sharp and sun-washed, like wild grass and chlorine. His stubble grazed Adam’s neck.

or it's Adam's brithday. Gansey and Ronan try to take care of him.

[alter-adam]

Isn’t Matthew Lynch a child ?? 😟

in canon yes; his full canon tl ends at 17 (unless you count the greywaren epilogue) but nothing i ever write conforms to the canon tl. it is always always Far post-canon, i.e. the matthew/adam prompt response from yesterday, in which it was his 25th birthday.

[alter-adam]

i was tagged in this by @sonofa-dreamer and @alter-adam tysm <3

gimme your top 3-5 favorite sentences you've ever written, please and thanks

i don't know if this are really my favorite sentences, but i'm kind of proud about them so, there you go!

1.He imagines pressing his fingers to the soft skin between Adam’s ribs—right where the Bible says God took the piece. — Bruised apples

2. " Are you just gonna rot out here with the sheep and the ghosts and your martyr complex?” — Bruised apples

3. A single drop of condensation slipped and kissed his skin, and Adam hand itched with the sudden urge to wipe it away. — the killing of a sacred deer

4. An ugly thing had been fed tonight, not just his hunger for power, but something lonlier and way more familiar. — the killing of a sacred deer

5. Adam would always reject Gansey’s pity, but some stubborn, splintered place in his chest needed him to keep standing between Adam and the parts of the world that still wanted to hurt him. — cruise to the blues

i'm tagging @kidspawn @adamprrishcycle @sunflowersandscreams @kelliealtogether (and literally anyone who wants to join pleeeease)

[alter-adam]

rb to add that if we’re facing each other and i turn over he will almost always reach out, rub my back for a second, and then put his arm around me, still Fully asleep

dk if that one’s more gansey or ronan tbh but it felt relevant to The Vision as a whole

my partner is a deep sleeper, a heavy sleeper, so fucking hard to wake up it’s comical, but if i so much as touch the back of his hand, still quietly snoring, absolutely zero break in pace, he will spread his fingers for me to hold it every. single. time.

we are at our core and Incredibly adansey coded couple, but when i tell you that this particular nuanced act brings something so feral and pynch-centric out in me i just—

you cannot Tell me it’s not ronan lynch you cannot Tell me he’s not so acutely attuned to adam that even In Sleep, even when he cannot consciously consider doing so, he opens his hands in offering you cannot fuCKING TELL ME

anyway i’m regular about them hope everyone’s havin a baller night

[alter-adam]

THAT WAS SO GOOD 10000/10 i enjoyed it very very much :) also a little jealous of matthews three who orgasms on his period lol

AAAAAAHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH <3 lmaooo i’m ngl i took that page straight out of a friend’s book; multiple orgasms are the only way she can sleep with cramps or migraines and i just felt like matty deserved it For His Birthday 😌💀

[alter-adam]

OKAY ANON WANTS ADAM SO ADAM IT IS!! let us venture forth hehe

(ps this one doesn't get nsfw like Actually but there Is some nsfw Talk and some off-screen nsfw action implied so just be warned ab that)

They're at the Lynches' mountain cabin for Matthew's twenty-fifth birthday, and Adam thinks it has to be a testament to the fact that the existence of any god is propaganda when Matthew doubles over walking past the couch, lips rounding into a small o, and blows out a huff of quiet, pained breath.

"You okay?" Adam asks; not what's wrong? because he already knows.

Matthew lifts his head, seemingly only just remembering that Adam is even present, and grins. Offers him a thumbs-up. His left hand is gripping the armrest and Adam can see, from his place in the kitchen, that his knuckles are a little lighter in color than they ought to be, but his face hasn't paled yet, so they're still in decent territory.

"Give me a number?" Adam requests, setting down the knife he's halfway through cutting apples with to turn his attention fully in Matthew's direction.

"Uh," Matthew says, slowly righting himself, "probably like a...four? I'm good. That one was just a little rough. It's letting up."

"Okay," Adam allows, only slightly reluctant, and gets back to work.

It's snowing, a gentle flurry of thick flakes drifting past the windows, and he knows that, if he looks over at Matthew again, he'll find him on the bay seat in the living room, watching raptly, unfailingly mesmerized by the display.

When he looks up, however, he frowns. He's not wrong; Matthew is precisely where Adam expects him to be, but his knees are pulled up to his chest and his forehead is resting on them, shoulders rising and falling with the intentionally measured pace of someone clearly breathing through pain.

Prep-work for the apple crumble cheesecake Matthew has requested as his official birthday dessert for tomorrow night finally done, Adam leaves his post to take up Matthew's instead.

There's plenty of room for him to kneel on the edge of the bench and wrap one arm around Matthew's shoulders, sliding the other swiftly into the tight space between Matthew's lower stomach and his thighs.

The sound Matthew makes in response to the contact is shaky, relieved, and he curls his fingers around a fistful of Adam's shirt, head falling to the side to rest in the curve of his neck. "Sorry," he says, brisk, almost a laugh. "This really isn't how I intended our only night here without my brothers to go."

Adam clicks his tongue, quietly, squeezing Matthew tighter. "I'll still fuck you, baby. Might make you feel a little bit better if you think you're up for it."

Matthew hums in consideration. "Good thing all Ronan's towels are black," he teases halfheartedly. "Can you imagine? They come in tomorrow and it just looks like a murder scene."

Adam blows a soft breath out his nose. "Gettin' pretty bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Matthew admits quietly.

It only takes them approximately five minutes to determine that there is no pain medication anywhere in the house.

Adam's kicking himself for not bringing any; can't believe he never replaced his car stash of Ibuprofen after he took it out at work last week.

Matthew doesn't go anywhere without a bottle of Midol when he's on his period, but he wasn't before they got here—is lucky he still happens to have a box of tampons under the bathroom sink—and he's so irregular there's really no way to predict or track it.

He doesn't have his heating pad either, so Adam does the best he can to improvise; fills a quart-sized bag with warm water so Matthew can use it as a compress and goads him into drinking some chamomile tea he digs out of a kitchen cabinet.

It would be fine, if it was earlier in the day. The problem is that, a solid hour outside civilization, there are no options. The closest gas station, nearly thirty minutes down the road, isn't even open past ten, and it's nearing midnight now.

"Do you want me to call your brothers?" Adam asks, hand running smoothly up and down the plane of Matthew's back. They've graduated to the bedroom now, Matthew curled into a tight ball on his left side, attempting to abate the worst of the cramp-induced nausea. "Ask them to come up early? Bring you some meds?"

Matthew shakes his head, curls rustling against his pillow. "It'd be morning by the time they got here. We could just go get some by then."

Adam doesn't have a counter for that, so he just presses a long kiss to the back of Matthew's head and closes his eyes.

When he wakes, it's to Matthew whimpering. Whining. Trembling in cresting and crashing waves, body only stilling completely just before it begins amping up again.

"Jesus, honey," Adam mutters blearily, heel of his hand scrubbing at his eyes.

"Shit. I didn't mean to wake you up." Matthew's voice is thick with the obvious affect of tears and the effort of choking them back, and he inhales, long and unsteady, a fruitless attempt at forcing them to abate.

Adam does fuck him, then, after they've covered the majority of the bed in a double layer of towels, just to be safe; works three orgasms deftly out of him, and it's the only thing they've tried all night that's been able to wrangle enough of the pain into submission for Matthew to fall into a light, restless sleep, as long as Adam keeps a fist pressed tightly to his lower abdomen.

In the morning, cool, winter light washing the bedroom in a silvery glow, Matthew's side of the bed is empty. Adam is almost worried, until he hears the toilet in the ensuite flush, and then Matthew's stepping out in nothing but a pair of Adam's boxers, looking tired but overall not much worse for wear.

He's rubbing at his belly a little, like it's still sore, but the fact that he's on his feet is enough to split Adam's face into a true smile.

Matthew returns it easily, all brilliant, white teeth. "Hey, you."

"Hey, pretty boy," Adam says, holding a hand out to him. "How're you feelin'?"

Matthew offers him a so-so motion, sinking back into the bed and into Adam's touch. "Five, probably? Not too bad."

"Want me to go get you some painkillers?"

"Mm," Matthew intones, face already tucked back down against Adam's chest. "Nah. For now, I just need this."

its your one matthew obsessed anon again and if you still doing the prompts i had a fun idea :). i remember you posting about matthew with period cramps so maybe that + no access to painkillers could be fun!!

anon i am Begging you to tell me who you are i want to kiss you on the mouth

the fever prompt had to be with declan, it just Had to be, but if there's anybody specific you'd like to see him with for this one lmk and you've got it, otherwise i'll pick someone in the next hour or two and get to work 🫡

[alter-adam]

my partner made stir-fry for dinner tn and now i’m just thinkin ab like

how little exposure to different types of food adam parrish probably had and like

how it probably made him anxious to try things he wasn’t familiar with because if he hated them he would just have to eat them anyway, like obviously he couldn’t Waste food

so my hc is that once he’s cooking for them both, Ronan will make two separate things: a big enough portion of something adam’s never had for both of them and then a smaller portion of something else that they already know adam likes

and his reasoning is always that if adam doesn’t like the New Thing ronan can just eat it the next day for lunch or something, and if he Does like it then Either of them can eat the Other thing the next day, nbd

the whole gangsey meets up at some point after they haven’t seen each other in like a year, and they go to some restaurant or another and adam orders like. idk what. but Something gansey’s never seen him eat, you get the idea

and anyway gansey knows better than to Make It A Thing but he’s so proud he could cry

ok that’s all <3

[alter-adam]

hehehe im glad you like my matthew asks!!! with the painkiller one i think maybe adam could be fun for that one. they have such an interesting dynamic i rarely see in fic :)

NO BC THE WAY I WAS GONNA PICK ADAM IF YOU DIDN’T SPECIFY ??? great minds lmfao

anyway i’ve gotta go run some errands but i will get on this either later this evening and either post tonight or in the morning ty ty ty <3

[alter-adam]

ANON HAS SPOKEN: "for the declan prompt, with ronan or matthew both are great!!!"

ok anon, well, since you planted the brainworm seed, how about ronan And matthew :)

ps i'm taking some liberties here bc i don't like to keep anything canon compliant and also bc i firmly believe declan gets shot fairly frequently, so this is not td3 declan with a fuckass bullet wound, this is far post-canon declan with a fuckass bullet wound <3

"He's okay, kiddo," Ronan says, reaching over Declan, nestled carefully between them on the large mattress, to ruffle Matthew's curls. "Why don't you go get him some water, yeah?"

Matthew sniffles, nods, presses a kiss to Declan's sweat-damp temple and climbs out of the bed, bare feet padding quietly across the hardwood.

The second they're alone, cupping Declan's cheek in his palm, Ronan says, "Hey. Cut the shit. Look at me. What the fuck happened?"

Declan's eyelids flutter, like he's having trouble keeping them open, but he does, to his credit, lock them as effectively as it seems he's able on Ronan's. "Nothing," he says, and then winces before he can catch himself, breathes in just a little too quickly, too harshly. "Nothing. I just—I—I got up too fast."

Ronan casts his gaze upward; figures God will probably forgive him for substituting the bedroom ceiling for the heavens when he sends up a quick, wordless prayer for patience. "Okay, we're gonna try that again except you're actually gonna cut the shit this time."

Declan doesn't mean to do it, is just trying to worm his way out from under the weight of Ronan's hand, but he manages to twist precisely the right (wrong) way, and it prompts his shirt to contort around him, pulling upward, tight over his left hip.

It doesn't play to his favor that his shirt is black, which causes it to contrast starkly against the bright white edge of the bandage barely peeking out beneath.

Ronan freezes.

Declan freezes.

Matthew reenters the room, and the water bottle thuds sickeningly against the floor, perfectly preceding his proclamation of, "Oh, shit."

Instantly, both Ronan's and Declan's attention snap to their brother.

"It's alright, bud," Ronan urges, at the same time Declan says, "It's fine, Matthew."

It's rare that Matthew expresses any negative emotion intensely enough that it's apparent on his face before he's even spoken, but now, clear as day, he's mad. "You fucking fainted," he says, sweeping the water bottle back up from the floor and tossing it in a gentle underhand to Ronan, infinitely cautious of Declan, even in his anger. "You fainted doing nothing; you were literally standing up from the couch. I don't want to hear it. I'm not a child. What is it, what did you do, get stabbed?"

Matthew's vitriol is such a rare creature that neither of his older brothers is precisely certain how to respond in the face of it, so neither of them speaks, but Ronan does look to Declan for either confirmation or denail.

Declan remains silent.

Matthew laughs, an uncharacteristic, caustic sound. "What, shot? Did you get fucking shot, Dec?"

The quiet whirring of the ceiling fan overhead is the only sound to be heard.

Nodding, clapping his hands together before him, Matthew asks, "Is the bullet still in it?"

"No," Declan says softly.

Matthew takes a breath, deep, eyes closing and reopening like a physical reset, and then releases it, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

As he settles back in on Declan's opposite side, Ronan says, "Let me look at it." When Declan resists, Ronan tamps down his own sharp flare of annoyance and redirects, "Matty?"

Matthew pushes up Declan's shirt, swift and intentional, and rests a hand flat against the plane of his stomach. "Just stay still. Keep your attention on me, okay? Kiss me."

Declan, clearly too exhausted to keep putting up a fight, nods and tilts back his head, offering his mouth to Matthew.

Ronan tries to remain focused on the task at hand, gingerly prying up the corner of the papery medical tape securing the gauze in place, but he can't help stopping every several seconds to watch, Declan licking into Matthew's mouth even as he whimpers, even as a pained crease deepens between his brows.

"Shhh," Matthew soothes, deepening the kiss, still propping himself on his left elbow but employing his hand to slide beneath Declan's neck, to keep him even more firmly in place. "We've got you, baby."

Ronan shudders and shakes himself back into focus, a chill running languidly down his spine.

Beneath the bandage, the wound is irritated. It's red and raised and the stitches are pulling taut against Declan's weakened flesh, but, from what Ronan can tell, it isn't infected. On its way there, if it's not cleaned diligently enough, but still out of the woods for now.

The gauze is bloody underneath, older, dried-down rust beneath newer, more vibrant red, and Ronan says, "Stay. I have to change this."

Declan makes a nervous, keening sound against Matthew's lips, but doesn't try to break away.

Ronan's as swift as he can be about it, and Declan is a surprisingly decent patient beneath the reverence of Matthew's attention, but by the time it's finished, he's panting from more than his body's clearly pronounced reaction to Matthew's lips on his.

"Okay," Matthew breathes, easing back, sweeping barely-there kisses over Declan's cheek, his jaw, his forehead. "All done, Deklo. Good job."

Later, Ronan will insist on dragging the details out of Declan. He'll be relentless, won't take no for an answer, and they'll likely fight. But for now, Matthew curling against Declan's side, head pillowed on his chest, Ronan is powerless to do anything but click off the bedside lamp and join his brothers in rest.

fainting or that blanket/clothes shifting to reveal bandages for declan and his fuckass bullet wound <3

OKAY OKAY OKAY i'm answering this to ask if you have any preference as to who he's With in this scenario (i'm combining them, dw) but if i don't get a response in like idk an hour or two i'll just say fuck it and pick someone ok ty ly bye <3

[alter-adam]

its your one matthew obsessed anon again and if you still doing the prompts i had a fun idea :). i remember you posting about matthew with period cramps so maybe that + no access to painkillers could be fun!!

anon i am Begging you to tell me who you are i want to kiss you on the mouth

the fever prompt had to be with declan, it just Had to be, but if there's anybody specific you'd like to see him with for this one lmk and you've got it, otherwise i'll pick someone in the next hour or two and get to work 🫡

[alter-adam]

fainting or that blanket/clothes shifting to reveal bandages for declan and his fuckass bullet wound <3

OKAY OKAY OKAY i'm answering this to ask if you have any preference as to who he's With in this scenario (i'm combining them, dw) but if i don't get a response in like idk an hour or two i'll just say fuck it and pick someone ok ty ly bye <3

[alter-adam]

LOVEEEDDS THE MATTHEW SICK FIC PROMT YOUR WROTE ❤️❤️❤️ i may have to send about a thousand to you know hahaha

OMG THANK U <333 literally Please do lmfao there is nothing i love more

[alter-adam]

PLEASE I'D TAKE ANY HURT/COMFORT FROM YOU.... i love your sick fics on ao3 soo much <3 beat the hell out of that poor boy <3

OMG THANK U SM <3

i love how we're all just intrinsically aware that "that poor boy" means adam parrish lolololol

i Love beating the hell out of him, so if you have any specific hurt/comfort prompts for me i'd love to drop a lil couple hundred word ficlet here!!

[alter-adam]

Feverish Delirium And Mumbling with matthew maybe 👀???

which one of you little Shits went anon w this somebody better confess in a dm 🤨

hhhhh Anyway

bc i Know this was somebody i know and therefore it is somebody who knows my proclivities, we’re getting lynchcesty with it, so. here.

Matthew’s been out of it for two solid days. Turns out he is, in fact, susceptible to sepsis. Not even boys with organs of questionable tangibility are immune to the greater workings of a truly gnarly infection, evidently.

He’s okay. Doing better, now, than yesterday. Still pushing Declan back if he tries to offer more than a couple of sips of water at a time, managing to string together a swift complaint about how he feels like he’s going to throw up (again) but he hasn’t followed through since he was finally able to fall into a fitful, restless sleep the night before, so Declan will take it as a win.

It’s as Declan is running a rolling thermometer over his forehead, where he’s propped on the arm of the couch, in and out of a tenuous state of consciousness, that he jolts, suddenly, startled, glassy eyes locked on Declan’s.

“What?” Declan asks, pressing the alarm in his tone flat. The thermometer reads 103.7. Not good, by any stretch of the imagination, but the lowest Matthew’s temperature has been in the past forty-eight hours.

“Mmh,” Matthew intones, clearly already beginning to settle again. “Sorry. Kinda sleepin’ with my eyes open for a sec. Didn’t know where I was.”

Declan sighs, shoving errant papers and envelopes to the far side of the coffee table in an effort to clear himself a space to sit directly across from his brother. “You know where you are now?” he asks, setting the thermometer down with a quiet clatter next to his hip.

Matthew’s eyelids are heavy, but there’s conviction in it when he nods. “Home,” he says, and then, scrunching his nose, “I mean, not—we’re at your home. Your…townhouse. Right?”

Declan can’t stop himself from reaching out to brush a sweat-damp curl back from Matthew’s forehead. “Yeah,” he assents. “That’s right. You can go back to your apartment when you’re feeling a little better, but I’m going to keep an eye on you for now.”

The corner of Matthew’s mouth twitches, and he says, “You’re so good, Deklo.”

It aches, deep in Declan's sternum, in a way he doesn't exactly understand. He says, "Do you need anything right now?"

It shouldn't surprise Declan when Matthew holds his arms open. It doesn't, really; he'd just been gearing up for a verbal response. But he can deny his youngest brother nothing, so he sinks to his knees before the couch and leans in, wrapping Matthew in a tight embrace, surrounding himself in feverish warmth.

It takes a solid fifteen seconds to register that Matthew is crying.

Declan doesn't ask. Doesn't say anything. Just presses a hand to Matthew's head, fingers tangling loosely in his golden hair.

Declan counts off another twenty before Matthew mumbles, "'M sorry," breath hitching on the exhale.

Declan tries to pull back, to look him in the face, but Matthew holds on for dear life, grip tightening like a vice around his neck.

"No, just." Fingers flexing and relaxing against the nape of Declan's neck, soothing, almost, in their reverie. "I'm sorry you have to—that this is—I don't wanna be your problem, Dec, I don't wanna be a burden, I wanna make you—I want—"

"Matty," Declan says, and it feels almost like a plea. "This is not your fault. You can't help that you're sick, and it's not—you're not a problem, okay? You're not a burden.

Matthew makes a wet sound against Declan's neck, like a cough, or a laugh, or a sob. "I'm not talkin' about...yeah. Okay. Yeah."

Declan's chest tenses, squeezes, and releases in a familiar, exhausting pattern. "Try to get some more sleep," he instructs quietly.

Matthew finally lets him go, wiping clumsily at his face with the heel of his hand, and nods, head falling back to the arm of the couch, heavy lids slipping closed once more.

[alter-adam]

Good Types of Tropes For H/C

No Pain Killers Available

Gotta Stay Quiet To Avoid Discovery

Feverish Delirium And Mumbling

Cowboy Medicine: Whiskey Internally & Externally Applied

Huddling For Warmth

Desperate Hand-Holding

“Breathe, Just Breathe”

Protectively Cradling A Broken Arm

The Word ‘Winced’

Whimpering

“Easy, Easy There”

Being Carried; Bridal, Fireman’s, Two-Person, Doesn’t Matter- Being Carried

Coughing, or, God-Forbid, Sneezing, With Broken Ribs

Fainting

Waking Up Not Knowing Where They Are

Animal Attack

DIY Bullet-Removal

Field-Medicine in General

Blankets/Shirt Collar Shifting Just Enough To Have Bandages Peeking Out

Gentle Shushing

Needing Help To Drink From A Glass

Brushing Hair From Brow

Collapsing Off Of Horse

Dramatic Irony Injury Reveal (Audience Knows About It But Other Characters Do Not)

Frantically Feeling For Breath Or Pulse

(feel free to add on!)

[alter-adam]

It's sad when the person you want to play pervert with isn't available to be a pervert with you

[alter-adam]

lil favorite sentences tag game!!

tagged by @yiiiiiiiikes25 thankssss <3 gimme your top 3-5 favorite sentences you've ever written, please and thanks 1. The lines of him, so precise, so sharp, like he was chiseled out of marble, all grace and reverence, like he'd been made only to be adored. - pro bono

2. Curling his clammy hands around the back of his neck, Adam poured the longing into his mouth. - pro bono

3. Body before language. - i did you a favor (i bled myself dry) 4. A moment of clarity as his spine arched inwards, crystal clear clarity: this is the only way to feel. - i did you a favor (i bled myself dry) 5. Kissing him felt like falling, aching for touch, being refused anchor. - i did you a favor (i bled myself dry)

tagging: @snowdrifting @alter-adam @tartadxfresa @extinctcorruption @bluelilykate anyone else who wants to join the fun