#pynch fics

[otherworldsivelivedin]

10, 11, and 28 for the ao3 wrapped: writers edition. 😘

Hello 🥰🥰

Firstly, I adore your fics. I fangirl all the time. Gaaah!! Secondly, sorry it took me so long to answer but I wanted to post Wildfire first, given I wrote it all in 2022, but my confidence wouldn’t get with the programme 😅

10 - Quickest to write

This would be As the Worlds Caves In, by far! Discord tells me the first draft of 523 words fell out of my brain in just under 30 minutes. After that, I removed one sentence and then it was done! My beta @scone-lover called it “poetic” and gave it “no notes” and I actually felt a literal rush after I reread it like: hot damn that was me??? hahaha 😂

You have to understand, this never happens to me! Usually I do not write in order, spend hours nitpicking (under the guise of “editing”) and moving commas left, right, up and down like that will help me locate confidence. This was not that, and I’m really proud of it 🥰

11 - Longest to write

In terms of posted fics, I would say Wildfire took the longest to write. I think I started writing this in… October? Pen to paper. (Fingers to laptop.)

I’d been thinking about it for longer, though. I had a vivid reel playing in my brain of Ronan, wide eyed saying “Boom!” and lifting Adam up and them play fighting since early May.

28 - favourite fic to write

Again, in terms of posted, this would have to be Taken by Storm. I knew it was going to be my first ever posted fic for the fandom and I really believed in it. It was also a lot of fun to do all of the research for it because I find the topic really interesting — and I did A LOT of research 😅 but some of that included rewatching Storm Chasers, which is a show that means a lot to me nostalgically.

It was a big challenge though. I’m not naturally descriptive, and I have to work hard for my brain to write pretty language/metaphor, which Maggie’s writing is full of. It was a STEEP learning curve coming from Snowbaz (where my naturally farcical writing style fits perfectly) into Pynch, and it still is.

Still, reception to this was amazing! And it’s motivated me to keep trying 🥰🥰

(For not posted, my NaNoWriMo is a second chance romance fic and I’m VERY excited for it!!)

Thanks for the asks!!! ❤️❤️

[piningeddiediaz]

rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag 10 people. tagged by @oneawkwardcookie thank you <3 

yes, I am aware these are paragraphs. whataboutit?? 

still right where you left me | pynch (my favourite child) 

In that moment, all was quiet. And that’s when Adam knew. He remembers thinking then - maybe it’s not something that can be put into a box, love. It makes him quiet and calm, it makes him loud and fearless. It’s everything and nothing all at once, every good thing in the world mixed with every terrifying thing. It’s being vulnerable and it’s being free. It’s nothing within the comprehension of a human brain, but oh did Adam want to learn.

So, when Ronan uttered his name, “Adam”, in a small, unRonan like voice, as if he was uttering a prayer and not Adam’s unmeaning, unimportant name, Adam had leaned forward and kissed him.

oh brother, when I come to knock on your door | buddie 

Maddie stares at them openly, her mouth rounded in a soft O until her vision blurs with tears. She had hoped - god she had hoped - that Evan would find happiness wherever he goes. That was partly the reason she was so insistent to send him far away from Hershey. She wanted him away from Doug, and she wanted him away from the sharp talons of Margaret and Phillip Buckley - but more than all that, she wanted him to be free. And here he is now, a husband and a father, and well. Maddie may have made some bad calls in her life, but Evan was always what she was most proud of. The lovely boy who turned into an even amazing man. She feels like her heart could burst.

this love came back to me | buddie 

“I hate it because you’re right. I’m not his dad. I’m not anyone’s dad. That’s Eddie, and he’s such a good one you know? He lives and breathes for that kid, and I could live a hundred lifetimes and never be as good as he is. So why is it that everytime I look at them, I think mine?”

cold sheets, but where’s my love? | pynch (adam-declan in-laws dynamic my beloved)

“You’re not fucking invincible, Parrish,” Declan says angrily. “What will I do if you scry too far and can’t come back? What if whatever the fuck this Lace is finds you in there? What if they can use you to track us here, or even better, directly to Ronan? What am I supposed to do if you fucking die, Parrish? What am I supposed to tell Ronan?” His voice is a whisper as he speaks the next thoughts, ones Adam never wanted voiced. “What do I do if Ronan dies? Matthew dies? What do I have left, then?”

right now (I wish you were here with me) | pynch 

The only thing Adam Parrish had which belonged to his own name was his independence, his autonomy, and there was nothing he valued more.

And yet. Yet. With Ronan, it doesn’t feel like he is giving himself up. No - he is giving himself up, but he isn’t losing himself. Loving Ronan feels as charged as making a deal with Cabeswater. It is a constant rustle in his deaf ear, a melodious hum repeating nothing but home, home, home.

say you won’t let go | buddie 

“That was you being stupid and reckless and not caring about the consequences of your actions. That was you not accepting that your life matters to other people too! You are so goddamn stuck in the past, you didn’t think about your present. Your future .” They’re standing inches apart now, Eddie’s chest heaving. “What was I supposed to tell Chris if you didn’t make it out, huh? Did you even think about him? Did you think about me? You keep telling me you’re here, but then you keep trying to leave me! So go on, tell me it’s okay. I fucking dare you, Buckley.” 

(they won’t hurt you anymore) you can let them go | buddie 

“Not my problem? You’re right - it’s not my problem, because Buck isn’t a problem. Buck is kind and selfless, the best goddamn brother and partner and father anyone has ever seen, but he is not a problem.” He spits that last word out as if it tastes poisonous on his tongue. Buck has been called it enough times that the bullets bounce off him now, but Eddie’s tone makes him think maybe he feels the wounds Buck has been telling himself don’t exist in the first place.

in a faith forgotten land | pynch 

“ I love you,” he says again, “and I choose you, and goddammit Ronan you know I don’t take that lightly. You are the annoying fucker who risks my life crashing a moving dolly and can’t obey a motherfucking speed limit to save your life and you are the love of my fucking life and you are home. Don’t you get that? You are home, and you are the only damn thing in my life that is real, the only thing that I can’t fake and I love you. So tamquam, Ronan.” 

hard for me to go home (be so lonely) | buddie

Buck and Eddie’s relationship had been forged in the fire of a bomb too. Their vow had been cemented in the aftermath of an explosion. Except, Buck was in an explosion again. He was in a car, with a bomb, and he was in there alone. Because of Eddie. Because Eddie had promised to have his back, and he didn’t. 

you are not alone | stevetony & irondad

“Don’t get your hopes up, kiddo,” Tony says, “meeting your heroes can be very disappointing.”

Peter looks up at Tony, and maybe for the first time catalogues the hurt on Tony’s face, though Tony made a valiant effort to mask it.

“I don’t know, Mr Stark,” Peter says nonchalantly, looking at Tony through a side glance, “mine turned out pretty great.”

tagging @anxieteandbiscuits @hklnvgl @behindtheatlantic @sulkybbarnes @archerincombat @swiftiediaz and anyone else who wants to do it! 

[ganseysmagiciansz]

please send in your fav pynch fics in the comments !!! self promo idc i just need something to read !!!

[all-or-nothing-baby]

THE LITTLEST THINGS CAN HONESTLY MEAN SO, SO MUCH

i was just idly looking at the bookmarks on one of my fics and, nestled in between somebody's perfunctory tags (hurt/comfort, soft boys, completed etc) was a tag very simply named 'WOW' ...and, well. feck me backwards if that didn't make my whole goddamn day ×10 better lol.

my dudes, i can assure you that the above is often all it takes to make a writer's/artist's heart bloom with happiness.

so, i urge you to reblog! reblog! reblog! here on tumblr dot com and try to say something kind in the tags, a mere keysmash even.

on AO3, always leave kudos if you read fic or look at art there and—whenever and wherever you possibly can—comment to your hearts content, even if that is only more keysmash or just one word or a wee emoji (or a few!). also, if you bookmark publicly, try to tag it with something complimentary like my reader did or leave a nice description as a part of your recommendation because the author gets to see those things, too.

I PROMISE YOU THAT NONE OF THIS WILL EVER GO UNNOTICED OR UNAPPRECIATED!

sometimes a single word or symbol can mean the whole world <3

[adamsrcnan]

pre-pynch adam being unsurprised that ronan would be at his door in the middle of the night just gets me every damn time. like i need to know how that first time went.

the surprise of ronan standing there sullen and looking a little lost. the awkwardness of the cramped space and these two boys trying to fit in it.

ronan saying or doing something that would make adam sigh or roll his eyes. the falling into comfortable silence. ronan throwing himself onto adam's mattress, kicking off his boots and flipping open a text book as if he intended to read it.

adam side eyeing this action. their eyes locking. adam, eye brow raised. ronan, giving back a dead stare (because in that moment he wants to scream at the intimacy of everything so instead he has to pretend he feels NOTHING)

adam shaking his head and carrying on with his studies. ronan dozing off to adam's pen scratching on his notebook. adam kicking his leg later telling him to move he needs to sleep. ronan ungracefully rolling off the mattress onto the floor beside it. adam's scoff as he says "nice lynch" before laying down. (doesn't escape adam's notice that it's warm now and smells like feathers and leather. smells like ronan).

ronan snatching up a hoodie of adam's and balling it up under his head. adam throwing his arm over his eyes and losing himself in sleep immediately. ronan staring up at the ceiling listening to adam's breathing (he's so quiet he could be dead) and then turning his gaze to adam's face and his hand just shy of the edge of the mattress. (he can see the callouses in the moonlight, the faint stains of oil adam couldn't get out, the little pen ink marks) ronan sighing deeply before turning away and muttering "night parrish"

and then the second, third, and fourth times it happens. ronan dreaming up a better set of pillows for adam bc "your hoodies suck ass parrish" and "you have your own bed lynch" and ronan snarling in response and not saying anything back.

like i'm sorry i can't believe maggie just dropped that casual fact into the story TWICE. once from ronan and once from adam and then just never let us see it happen ever and expected me to not lose my mind over it

[pipedreil]

part 4

1 2 3

[lizpaige]

is there a fic where ronan and adam hook up at a party one night (meet cute) and ronan stays the night. in the morning adam’s in the shower so he sneaks out to the kitchen to make breakfast or something and he is shocked to find his roommate gansey is there. because gansey hooked up with adam’s roommate blue the night before too. and they both just look at each other like “uhhhh…. small world?”

[stealeroflemons]

the idea of adam parrish naturally slipping into his core of all cores henrietta accent around ronan lynch comparing it to feeling sunlight on his skin and warming him in such a soft and comforting way is deeply personal to me thank you for coming to my tedtalk

[mermianar]

when you just want to hunt welsh kings but all your bffs want to do is make out

[neurosses]

i read all ur pynch fics and i need more!!! do u have any fic recs that are similar to your writing style or any fics at all that u think are good?

anon... (a) thank you for the wonderful compliment and (b) you have inspired me to FINALLY post my pynch fic recc list! xoxo. note that this list includes fic of all ratings on ao3.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

The Roots that Clutch by TheCryingClub

don’t it beat a slow dance to death by solitarydreaming

carried my body back to shore by solitarydreaming

Transubstantiation* by audikatia

am i turning in your stomach, am i making you sick by undergroundash (note: this is an experimental, grounded AU in that it takes place in the setting of canon but centers around ambiguously non-canonical events)

together, transformed by Otherworldliness

move your feet from hot pavement (and into the grass) by CoraRochester (note: this is grounded in canon with a change in Adam’s epilogue)

cry wolf, cry mercy by flitwickslittlebrotha

gets late early by charactershoes

come, and be my baby by thesehands

ALTERNATIVE FIRST KISS

Every Stupid Little Thing by Diana_Dreams

every dream i've ever had has been of myself by cloverspies

it’s time you found another reason to stay by cloverspies

cool of your hand, back of my neck by me (yippee!)

summer’s a knife by theheartischill

“MISSING SCENE” & CANON COMPLIANT

Wonderterror Weekend by nimmieamee

Son of a Nuclear A-Bomb by nimmieamee (note: this is totally grounded in canon but came out before the Dreamer Trilogy — so incredibly good and actually predicts tons of Lynch lore)

Complete my sin by becka

The hang of being alive again by applecrumbledore

show me where to tie the other end of this chain by oorione

to be shipwrecked together by deathlessaphrodite (note: all of deathlessaphrodite’s fic is incredibly good and I’m featuring my favorites in this list)

for the tulips we are not sorry by deathlessaphrodite

be afraid to know your neighbors and to die by deathlessaphrodite

things fall apart, the centre cannot hold by basicallymonsters

patrimony by whatimages

not so transparent by whatimages

live around it by whatimages

feels better biting down by charactershoes

ille mi par esse deo videtur by sleeptodream

Roses in Between My Thighs by orphan_account

*I haven’t finished reading this yet, but so far I’m really enjoying it.

[micamicster]

Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

~

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

~

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

[kairospy]

Every time I go into a fic and they have Ronan as this domineering cool & collected guy, I burst out laughing I’m sorry

[all-or-nothing-baby]

sometimes, it dawns on me just how incredibly happy i am that fanfic exists as a medium. like, the amount of experiences had—excitement and thrills and tears and joy, and more, that writers of fic can give to so, so many people—is immeasurable; it's wonderful.

and just... what an amazing thought, you know? in a world where we are all struggling to get by, to recognise this beautiful thing we've created? knowing that we're all sharing in taking some sort of pleasure or lesson or comfort etc from reading and/or writing it?

i think that's really, really special.

[adanseydivorce]

I’m never actually going to write this but if I ever wrote a Gansey stays dead and everything that could go wrong goes wrong fic I think I would have Blue and Adam get back together in it and have a terrible failmarriage where they are both cheating on each other with Helen Gansey, Adam is also cheating with Ronan and Blue is also cheating with Henry.

[lizpaige]

ok but what if the murder crabs didn’t happen and ronan did move to cambridge. and adam goes to his new apartment one night and finds ronan, collapsed on the floor in a pool of nightwash. what then?