Mar 15, 2024
Maybe I dreamt you
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Maybe I dreamt you
Hi y’all. The first chapter of my Post-TRK multi-chapter fanfic is out now, with a second chapter arriving SOON (hopefully tomorrow). I am a longgggtime fanfic reader and a longgggtime writer who has dabbled only very shallowly into publishing fanfic online, but I’m excited to go the distance with this one. I would love it if you read & commented on “I can’t hold it & I have nowhere to put it down” —both good and critical reviews welcome!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
You can expect Pynch developing relationship/mutual pining, passionate hungry Pynch, soft hesitant Pynch, realistic angst with a happy ending Pynch, Adam working through trauma, and Ronan working through tenderness. Eventual smut. Also a healthy dose of loving Richard Campbell Gansey III; Blue Sargent as the coolest person in the world; Bluesey, finally (read: they can kiss now & they do go feral); Henry Cheng injecting some much needed uninhibited positivity into this goddamm tortured friend group.
The dark is a blanket
Prompt + Pairing: angel/demon au, “dream” + Pynch.
A/N: I was chatting so much with a friend that I almost forgot to post this but alas- I am here!! I hope yall and enjoy and don’t forget to sip sip some water. <3 from Persephone!
Read on A03 Writersmonth 2021 Masterlist
His wings were white.
Pure, ethereal- perhaps the purest thing in existence. The were a heavenly gift that was out upon his back like the burden of the world. To watch them was to watch beauty, a dream -the smooth wings curving with every fell swoop.
The wings no longer lived upon his back.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 3 with the Lynch family angst is here! And we meet the fox way ladies and Blue!
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School was the most boring part of Ronan's life, but through it he met Gansey and Noah so it wasn't all that bad he guessed. They spent their days working on the Monmouth building Gansey had bought, piling garbage in the lot and burning it, making new and dangerous ramps for Noah to skateboard on. They visited the Barns where Mathew, and even Declan sometimes, played around with them. Ronan told them about Declan’s writing and showed them the drawing he had made for his story, which Declan always kept on his bookshelf. They also visited Noah's family and heard his childhood stories from his sisters— thankfully Ronan had remembered to warn his parents to not do that— During Gansey's family gatherings, Ronan and Noah would stand in a corner and make fun of everyone there while Gansey would be shaking hands and shit.
So yeah it was going great and they would be visiting again this weekend which Ronan was really forward to as his father should also be coming back today after weeks.
So that day, Ronan woke up early to greet his dad. Getting up from bed, he got ready quickly and ran down the stairs to check if his father had come back yet or not.
Keep reading chapter 3
@ashes-and-ashes @kiirynilcc @the-rainbow-cow @sokkalogic @tinyarmedtrex @magicienetreveur @ivejardim @hklnvgl
Ah where do I even begin?
It’s still @of-stars-and-moon’s birthday where I am (I was going to post it yesterday but I got sick!) So HAPPY BIRTHDAY - I hope you had an incredible day you amazing, gorgeous person.
Asu - you were the first person that I befriended on here. I fell in love first with your incredible fics and then with your incredible personality, your overwhelming support and your ability to always see the good in things. You’ve grown from being someone that I completely admired and idolized into someone that I can talk to about anything - from Pynch, Andriel and Wolfstar to selfie positivity, adorable baby cousins and complaining about rain. I am so, so grateful that I can call you a friend, and hope you had an incredible day ❤️❤️
~
Adam finds him on the roof, legs hanging over the edge and hands braced behind him, the light of the sunrise painting the sky in shades of red and gold and pink. For a minute he almost can’t breathe; the fields dotted with dream creatures, the stars just barely fading out, the bold lines of the tattoo snaking across Ronan’s shoulders.
It’s almost too dark to see but a collection of tiny glowing rocks litter the roof, too strange to be made from anything but dreams. Adam carefully steps over them, trying not to slip as he joins Ronan, legs dangling over the edge.
“Hey,” he says, cautiously. He never really knew what to expect with Ronan. Adam had woken up this morning to the tense set of Ronan’s body next to him, the hard lines that only came after a dream. It was too dark to see what Ronan had brought back, but he knew it was something small; Ronan had cradled it in his hands like he was scared of it shattering. “Are you okay?”
Ronan just shrugs. There’s something strange about seeing him like this, the strange sense of vulnerability that was rarely seen with Ronan. Adam watches the rise and fall of his chest, the slight curve of his neck as he tilts his head back.
“Yes,” Ronan says, and he’s lying. There’s enough of a bite in the words, though, that Adam lets it go. He leans back and watches, the sleeping cows and the silver deer and Ronan above it all, a Prince of Dreamers.
He’s often wondered about it, in the late hours of night. Gansey was a King and Ronan was a Prince and where did that leave Adam? He never really knew, even after everything.
Ronan’s still refusing to look at him, his eyes firmly fixed on the rising sun. Adam swallows. Breathes in and out and then holds his breath, heart pounding in his chest.
“Tell me,” Adam says. “I won’t go if you tell me not to.”
Ronan lets out a short laugh, as vicious as the rest of him. It doesn’t bother Adam though - he’s grown too used to Ronan’s sharpness, the way he moved through the world like a fighter.
He’s always found it strange, how a warrior like Ronan could also be a dreamer. Sometimes he wonders if Ronan would give it up.
Ronan finally turns his head, meets Adam’s eyes and it’s always been a bit like looking into the sun, all the heat and searing emotion and the way it made Adam’s heart stop every single time. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to give your dreams up for a boy?”
“You do,” Adam says; the forest whispers behind him. “You do it all the time.”
Ronan just smiles - his true smile, the one that’s beautiful and radiant and soft. “It’s not the same though,” he says, and Adam loves the slight roll of his words, the lilt of an accent. “I have dreams to give up. You don’t.”
“I’d do it for you.”
“No,” Ronan whispers, in a way that almost sounded like a sigh. “You wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want you to.”
Adam closes his eyes and tries to imagine it - a different world, far from the fairy tales of dead kings and magicians and greywarens. He both hates it and wants it with a yearning that makes him slightly ill, a twisting in his stomach and a pain in his heart. “What will you do?” he asks, and the corner of Ronan’s mouth goes up.
“I don’t know. Stay at the farm. Take care of Opal. Dream.”
“What if you - “
“I won’t,” Ronan says, with so much conviction that Adam can almost believe him, as if he hadn’t woken up too many times to see the darkness pouring from Ronan’s eyes. As if he hadn’t seen the things that Ronan brought back with haunted expressions; blood and bones and, once, a glass orb the same shade as Adam’s eyes. “I’ve got it. And I have Opal, I guess. She’s enough.”
“Not always,” Adam murmurs.
Ronan shakes his head, his expression firm. “No,” he breathes. “You’re going to Harvard. It’s your dream. I won’t be the one to take it from you.”
Adam swallows down the feelings inside of him, a mess of conflicting feelings. He’s about to say something - anything - when Ronan holds up his hand.
“Here,” he says, and pulls something out. It’s wrapped in an odd golden fabric, the colour so rich that it could only come from a dream. “It’s for you.”
“What - “
“I don’t know. I just wanted to make something that make you remember and this came out. Take it.”
Adam does. The fabric is soft again his skin, slipping through his fingers. He pulls it aside to find a leather band - like the ones Ronan wore, shot through with threads of the same shimmering golden cloth that he had just cast aside.
“It’s beautiful,” Adam breathes, and Ronan smiles. He lets Ronan tie it, fingers brushing against the inside of Adam’s wrist and making him shiver. “Are you sure - “
Ronan shuts him up with a kiss.
They’ve been together for long enough now that the edge of their kisses had been dulled, no longer threaded with that frantic desperation, the feeling of the sky collapsing around them. This kiss was full of promise, of the sunrise and the sweet air, the rasp of the grass in the Barns at sunset, the taste of Ronan’s lips against Adam’s.
He watches the sun rise through half-shuttered eyelids, the feeling of Ronan’s hands against Adam’s hair, and he lets himself sink into it as the stars start to fade into the sky.
84 pynch dialogue prompts please?:)
84: “come on baby, up to bed.”
For the first month after Gansey died Ronan is a mess. Even though Gansey is alive again, Noah isn’t. And for that brief amount of time, Ronan felt like his whole world had tipped sideways. Every time he looks at Gansey, he sees his cold body. So he avoids Monmouth. Spends days at the Barns, or aimlessly roaming Cabeswater. And at night he goes out. Usually it’s just to drive dark street where there are no monsters or memories. Tonight it’s with a certain desire for self destruction. Ronan walks a dangerous line. Not quite as closely as he used to, but still close enough that some days even Adam couldn’t pull him back. So he goes out and gets drunk. Spectacularly, falling over drunk. The kind of drunk he hasn’t been since they truly met Adam’s dad. And when he’s drunk it’s harder to keep up his walls. That’s where the self destructive part comes in. Most nights, he goes back to Monmouth and lets Gansey tear him apart. Tonight he decides to take a slower route. That’s how he finds himself at Adam’s. There’s nothing that hurts more than hurting Adam. Adam opens the door with sleepy eyes and Ronan immediately feels horrible. ‘Good’ he thinks cruelly at himself. “Ronan?” Adam looks soft like this, with his shirt too big and wrinkled, and his hair less that perfect. It makes something in Ronan clench. “Can I come in?” Ronan asks quietly, knowing that Adam must smell the alcohol by now. Adam hesitates. “Shouldn’t you go home?” He says instead of answering. Ronan sways back and looks down at the ground. “I can’t,” he stutters, “I don’t know if I could be around him like this.”Luckily, Adam seems to understand. “I’ll call him.”He steps aside and lets Ronan in. Ronan pauses once he’s through the door, not sure if he’ll ever get used to being allowed in a space that is so Adam Parrish. He only moves because Adam eventually pushes at him back and drags him to his bed. “Come on baby, up to bed.” He says softly. Ronan turns to him, surprised. His head is spinning and his thoughts aren’t really coherent, but he knows that Adam wouldn’t usually let him anywhere near him when he’s been drinking. Adam must sense what he’s thinking because he cups Ronan’s cheek and sighs. “You’re in pain.” Adam whispers, like it’s a secret. “I won’t let you hurt yourself more by thinking you’re hurting me.”Ronan closes his eyes. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be used to being known like that. For so long he’s thought of himself as the greatest secret of all. “Shhh.”Ronan doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Adam wraps his arms around his shoulders and grabs the back of his neck. “We’ll figure it out.”
(Sorry it’s a bit unfinished anon, but these are drabbles, if you people want more you can request it or send in a different prompt from here)
Prompt. "You're in the Barns, Adam," Ronan whispered, pulling the blankets up around a trembling Adam. "Do you hear me? He's not here anymore. No one can hurt you here." Thank you.
You guys and your love for angst, haha ♥ enjoy! also- I seem to be completely unable to write a pynch fic without Opal in it. sorry.
read here on ao3
prompt me, guys ♥
The memories involving Robert Parrish are like an old wound that’s slowly healing over. Sometimes it just takes Adam bumping into other memories from his past for it to break open again.
At dinner, Opal reaches over the table for the peas, and when she does, her elbow grazes her drinking glass. Adam watches as it tips to the side, balancing on the edge of the table for a millisecond, before it tips over and lands on the floor, shattering. His stomach drops. Incidents like this one are linked to being screamed at, to being beaten, to having to go to bed without dinner. Adam can feel his heart miss a beat.
But then Ronan snarls “Well, fuck. I’ll get the broom. Careful with your feet and the shards.” and Adam is back at the Barns, having dinner with his better family.
He looks over to Opal, still with a weird feeling in his stomach, but she looks SO startled by the loud noise, frozen in her seat, peeking down at the shards.
“Hey.” Adam reaches out for her, and she looks up. Her bottom lip wobbles.
“Magnus.”, she says quietly, loud. Like a deer, she is startled by loud noises. Adam forgot, momentarily. But now he remembers.
“Yeah. It’s okay. Nothing happened. Are you okay?”
She just nods and then reaches out for him. Adam lifts her up and into his lap. She rarely asks for physical affection this openly, usually she lurks around Adam or Ronan until they open their arms for her or ask her if she wants a hug.
This is how it’s supposed to be, Adam thinks, this is how children should be treated when they do things on accident. I did better than him.
Ronan comes back with a broom and a dustpan to clean up the shards. Then, they continue their dinner. Noone is screamed at, but Adam’s stomach still churns.
He’s five years old and so small. His father is so huge. His mother is also small.
“Stupid boy!” His father grows taller. Or maybe Adam is shrinking.
“Worthless piece of shit!”
Adam notices water droplets on his sleeves. He realizes they’re tears.
“Stop crying like some kind of girl! What did I do to deserve a son like you?”
Adam hides in his sleeves, curls up on himself but at the same time he is frozen in his chair, unable to move as his father lifts his hand. “Answer me!”
Adam’s jaw is clenched shut because if he opens his mouth, he’s going to sob.
“I said answer me!” Robert Parrish’s hand flies towards him, Adam braces himself for the impact, for the hit, this is the worst moment, right before it happens, because Adam knows how much it will hurt.
He can’t duck, he can’t, and the big hand is coming closer and closer-
and then Adam bolts awake in Ronan’s bed.
His body is drenched in cold sweat, his heart is thundering like a bird’s, his hands are clenched in the covers, every muscle is tense. His breath is coming quickly, and after a moment, he realizes there are real tears on his face.
“Adam!” Ronan is beside him, headphones slung around his neck, a concerned look on his face.
“It’s- it’s him-” Adam’s voice is breathless and scared, “he’s- I- he tried to hit me and I couldn’t move- we were at the trailer- I was five-” His breath is still so fast and there are black spots dancing in his vision.
Ronan’s hands fly to his shoulders and press down until Adam is on his back again. Adam lets him.
“You’re at the Barns, Adam,” Ronan whispers, “do you hear me? He’s not here anymore. No one can hurt you here.”
Adam lets out an embarrassing sob, but Ronan’s arms curl around him nontheless. He tugs the blanket back up. “Breathe, Adam… like this…” Ronan grabs one of Adam’s shaky hands and presses it palm down against his own chest so Adam can feel it rise and fall. “Slow down… yeah… good, Adam.”
Adam’s fingers curl into the fabric of Ronan’s bed shirt to remind himself that Ronan is real and all this is true.
Slowly, his breath calms down.
He spends the rest of the night with his face buried in Ronan’s chest.
for that ronan and adam thing: honestly i just really love the idea of really tired adam (having school in the morning then two jobs + studying and college applications) just coming home to st agnes and ronans just THERE and he literally collapses into his boyfriend and ronans like "god adam, you cant even stand up" and cUDDLES AND TAKES CARE OF HIM AND JUST!!! NORMAL LIL TEENS IN LOVE FOR .2 SECONDS IS MY KINK
DAMN THESE TWO ARE SO AMAZING TO WRITE I LOVE THEM
The street lamps were too bright, the world was too dark.
His feet were too heavy. His back was too stiff, his hands were too cracked.
His work was too much, his pockets were too empty.
It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
Adam adjusted his messenger bag sluggishly, keeping his finger pressed to the outer bottom corner where the edge of his Latin textbook was threatening to fall through and cause more damage to the worn leather. The constant pressure made his bones grind, wing bone pressing tightly against his skin.
There’d been a test in Latin today. He’d done well, he knew he had. He’d recited the verb endings to himself over and over again at the garage, chanting in his head, lips mouthing the vowels to the rhythm of his wrench-twisting wrist, to the beat of the barely working radio his boss always kept on in the break room, anything. It was good. It was the kind of work that could be done with other work.
School had been fine. He’d been tired, but it was fine. He could survive his shift at the garage. He had a granola bar. Only, then Marty had been sick today. And Adam didn’t have two cars to work on, he had four. He’d been given Marty’s work as overtime as a given, without being asked. It was an assumption. A slightly insulting one, but correct all the same. He needed the money. God, everyone knew he needed the money. But it meant this.
He’d gotten work done, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was close to two in the morning and he had to be up at six, ready and bright-eyed to start the cycle over again. Over and over. School, work, (sleep?), school, work, (sleep?), school….
Adam closed his eyes when he reached the church door. Pressing his hand to the wood, he let himself fall away for a moment, just a little. Wind only barely made it to his skin, leaves touched his fingertips so lightly that it prickled. Then he pulled back, opened his eyes, sighing. He’d fall over if he let himself relax to much, pass out right here outside of the church, like some unwanted child left by a un-needing mother. Adam almost smirked as he pushed at the door. How fitting.
It was the stairs that really got him. There were barely twelve of them but there might as well have been twelve hundred. He pushed his palm flat to the wall, swaying on the spot when he reached the sixth. He felt his cheek press against his hand and realized he was tilting to his left. He blinked open his eyes, which he hadn’t realized had closed, eyelashes brushing the satin wallpaper that lined the narrow stairwell. He hated this wall paper. It was patterned in leaves, green and shiny, with millions and millions of haloed angels among them, peaking out, hiding, clutching, smiling. He wanted to tear it, wanted to get Cabeswater to tear it, because nature had nothing to do with these angels, this God. God had nothing to do with nature. Nature was Cabsewater, it was separate. It had done everything for him, it had saved him, given him a purpose. Brought him Ronan. And what had God ever done for him? Given him a father that beat on him, a mother who turned a blind eye, and a deaf ear? They didn’t belong on the same wall, much less the same plane. Breathing hard, he pushed away, feet slamming on the last six steps and dragging down the dimly lit hallway.
His hand shook putting the key into the lock and he leaned his forehead against the cool wood, nearly stumbling over when the door clicked open. He went to turn his light on when he realized, after much too long a period to be normal, that it was already lit. The dim, shaded bulb cast the room in a foggy glow, or, more importantly, cast Ronan in a foggy glow. Ronan, beautiful, sharp Ronan sat sprawled on his bed, Chainsaw asleep on the window sill next to him, blue eyes blinking slowly up at him at first, then more alert. He sat up, Chainsaw only lifting her head from beneath her wing for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Took you long enough, Parish.” His mouth curved up slightly, “Your burrito is cold.”
Adam just stared at him, squinting his eyes, blinking hard.
He caught glimpses of Ronan’s face morphing into one of confusion, then worry, but it was like the room wouldn’t stay in focus, “Parish?”
Adam felt his bag drop from his shoulder and heard the unmistakable tear of leather. He cursed, but found his lips wouldn’t move enough to make the actual word, just a blurred version of it. Then he was falling. Then he wasn’t. He didn’t know if he had been falling for hours or seconds, but suddenly there were arms around his waist and breath against his neck. Time was gone, and all that was left was Ronan and the ache in Adam’s bones.
“Jesus.” Ronan was now saying, “Jesus, Adam-“ There was worry in Ronan’s voice that Adam didn’t often hear. It made it softer somehow, when worry usually made voices harder. But this was Ronan Lynch. This was Ronan. When was anything ever usual?
Adam couldn’t help it, he let his weight fall against Ronan’s chest, boots slipping against the floor, fingers digging into Ronan’s biceps. He expected Ronan to stumble against the sudden assault, but his arms just tightened, holding Adam against him, chest unmoving.
“Fuck, you can’t even- fucking stand. Fuck.”
When Adam blinked his eyes open next, he was on the bed, Ronan carefully pulling his feet up as well. It had only been a second then. It had felt like years. God, what would an entire night of sleep feel like? Death? Was that what it had come to? Sleep feeling like death? Was that how his body was trying to cope with the lack of it?
His inner ramble was cut off by quick fingers through his hair. He caught a glimpse of Ronan’s worried eyes and then all he could hear was the crinkling of a bag before his chest was being lifted up. He was confused. He would have expected pillows but he only had the one, and it certainly wouldn’t prop him up this high. Instead, he was met with the firmness of Ronan’s chest, the comfort of his arm across his stomach, his thighs snug against his hips, and the mouth of a water bottle pushing against his lips.
“Small sips.” Ronan’s voice was gruff, demanding, “Don’t fucking throw up on me, Parish.”
Adam did as he was told, but only for a second before his head was lolling back against Ronan’s chest, eyes slipping closed. He breathed heavily through his mouth.
“Ro…”
He felt Ronan sigh and stretch to put the water on the window sill, “Yeah. ‘m here.” He felt the fingers in his hair again, slower this time. He felt leather against his temple, then, “You aren’t going to school tomorrow.”
Adam opened his eyes at that, craning his neck backwards so he could see Ronan’s face, “Yes.”
Ronan looked down at him, their noses almost touching. He narrowed his eyes in a very Ronan-like way, “No.”
Honestly, Adam couldn’t argue. He was pretty sure he’d just passed out eleven times in the last five minutes. He already felt his eyes closing again, but he struggled against it, needing one more thing, “You’re going to school tomorrow.”
Ronan scoffed at him. The annoyed noise sounded odd paired with the soft way he was still stroking Adam’s hair back from his forehead, “No.”
“Yes.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. Adam could see the way he was biting the insides of his lips, holding the words back. He slouched down on the measly rag of Adam’s pillow and made a face, “What the fuck is this?”
Adam just smiled a little, allowing his eyes to slip closed with the knowledge that Ronan was in for the night with him. He asked that question every time he intended to stay.
There were a few beats of silence. Adam didn’t know how he was still awake. But the air was filled with Ronan about to, waiting, unsure, needing to say something.
“You… You can’t do this.” Ronan’s fingers stilled in his hair, sliding down and tightening around his waist, “I can’t watch you do this.”
Adam mustered enough strength to sigh and roll onto his stomach, chest against chest, nose against neck, “Don’t want to talk about this now.”
Ronan growled a little in his throat, frustration, “You fucking- You fucking passed out-“
“Please.” Adam said against his skin. It was sticky from the humid night air, smelling strongly of grass and heat. If Adam hadn’t been so tired, he was sure he’d be kissing and licking every part of it he could reach by now. Maybe he’d dream of that instead.
Ronan sighed, pushing his cheek against Adam’s head, rubbing gently as if trying to calm himself. His voice came out a whisper when he spoke next, “Just let me get you a pillow. Please, just let me get you a fucking pillow. This is bullshit.”
Adam shushed him softly, already half asleep, ear catching each thump of Ronan’s heart, “Yes. You can buy me a pillow.”
He felt Ronan nod, then, a second later, “…two pillows. One for you and one for…”
Adam pressed a kiss to his jaw, “Two pillows.”