#21st century gypsy singin lover man

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: July ( t h r e e )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 4.k

Summary: Ryan has something ELSE to say that will affect both your lives. 

The first day was always hard. You considered yourself somewhat of an expert in being left behind, yet the first day was the worst. Waking up without Ryan, working and expecting to catch him in the kitchen, or worse, letting your mind wander for a hair too long and hearing the gentle squeak of his fingers moving up and down the darkened strings of his guitar. Today was different. You knew you wouldn’t find him even if you looked and as the sun bared down upon your overheating skin, it was hard to determine which was better. Time for a breather.

You wandered back into the house, nodding to El as he typed away on a flimsy plastic calculator that rattled against the coffee table with every number he added up. You’d gone through the budget twice already that morning, sleep evading you without the quiet comfort of Brenner’s body warming the sheets next to you, but bless his heart, that kid was trying. If he sees something I don’t…more power to him.

Scanning the kitchen counter, your phone still sat where you left it, screen dark and untouched since you dropped it next to the sink when the kids started arriving. No point in carrying it around in a sweaty back pocket when everyone you needed to talk to was already there.

While you were pouring a glass of sweet tea, the phone caught your eye when the screen lit up. A call from a local number you didn’t recognize. They can go to voicemail, you thought as you tapped the decline button. As you were about to place it back down and head out again, the red icon in voicemail caught your attention. Did I miss one earlier too?

Yes. From Ryan.

You glanced around the empty kitchen, not really looking for anything before returning your eyes to the screen. He called. Sooner than you ever would have expected, but he did. Taking another sip of tea with one hand, you sat at the green kitchen table with your phone held to your ear with the other, pulling your chair closer with your foot.

At the sound of his voice saying your name, you set the glass down, giving him your full attention despite the fact that he was somewhere else.

“I messed up, I shouldn’t have left like that… I’m -“ you heard him trail off and clear his throat away from the speaker. “I’m with Georgie. He’s headin’ out pretty soon...” There was a long pause, as if he was waiting for you to say something though he knew you wouldn’t. “Look, he wants to know if I’m coming along this time.” Another pause and the message was over. Oh.

His simple words turned over in your stomach. Ryan had never asked to come home to you. He never had to. It felt weird granting him permission when in your mind, he’d left without consulting you, his return could happen the same way if he really wanted it to.

The message went unanswered though as your thoughts were interrupted by Tobin busting through your front door. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the crash of your screen door against the wall and his rumbling voice telling El to find some real work to do. Gritting your teeth, you shoved yourself away from the table, ready to warn Tobin of his tone, but you froze at the sight of him rounding the corner. His face was red, cheeks and nose mostly as they were not guarded by the brim of his hat or the bristle of his beard, but this coloring wasn’t a burn. His eyes narrowed and his huge chest heaved in your archway. Clutched tightly in one fist was a small plastic baggie of mismatched tablets. Squirming under the weight of his other hand was Scout, doing everything in her power not to look at you, but you kept your eyes on her. The girl’s expression was so convoluted you weren’t sure she even knew how she felt. Relief muddled with anger and covered in shame. The emotions were as varied and jumbled as the pills that Tobin tossed onto the table in between you.

“That’s all Tobin, thank you,” you said in a clipped tone. Scout’s eyes widened and she finally looked at you.

Tobin grumbled and straightened his shoulders. “Shouldn’t we call-“

“Thank you, Tobin,” you repeated louder, still not looking at him.

Even in your periphery, you could tell that he was pissed and he wasn’t doing anything to hide it. With a short shove, Scout stumbled forward as Tobin released her shoulder before stomping out of the house.

Scout stared at you, deep brown eyes still wide before she glanced around the kitchen. She’d been there hundreds of times, as recently as the night before, washing dishes with you and talking freely about what a little bitch her younger brother was becoming and asking if next summer she could bring him to Sonrise too. The answer was of course, but she looked so uncomfortable in your presence and you decided to let her sit in it. Scout took a couple tentative steps and sat in the chair across from yours.

“That guy’s such an asshole,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, lifting one hand to chew on her pinky nail. Yeah he can be. “I dunno how you were with him,” I wasn’t with him...not really, but we’re not talking about this right now.

“What the hell?” You finally asked. The best and worst opening line.

Scout was smart, not just for her age, not even just compared to the other kids at Sonrise. She was smart and more relevant, you knew that she didn’t use drugs. Her oldest brother had, he’d even spent a summer with you and Ryan at Sonrise before disappearing at the end of his eighth week. The next you’d heard about him was almost year later. A mere blip of a news story. Teenaged boy that overdosed wasn’t big news, but the anchor took pity on the fact that he was found in his bedroom by his nine year old sister. You remember Ryan’s hand on the back of your neck when you told him you wanted that girl next season and he didn’t let you more than an arms length away while he talked to Jared’s probation officer, informing her that his sister had a spot at the farm whenever. Scout was about to be 17 and had spent every summer since her brother’s passing with you to keep a close eye on her. She’d shown up at your home on more than one occasion after the harvest season was long over and you’d yet to turn her away. Maybe if she hadn’t been the one to find him in the bathroom, maybe you’d be more willing to believe the drugs were hers, but as it was, you knew that image stayed with her and the ghost of her brother kept her from all of the mind altering substances that most kids her age would use to dull the pain.

It wasn’t the first time you’d found her with something she shouldn’t have, but graduating to pills couldn’t be ignored. Her boyfriend, Gavin, was 21 and all but confirmed to be gang involved. You never hid your disapproval from Scout and she never failed to remind you that it was her life, but she kept coming back and you wanted desperately to continue being a safe place for her, knowing that when Gavin eventually screwed up, she would need someone to turn to.

“Would you feel better if I said they’re not mine?” She offered a sarcastic comment, deflecting from whatever myriad of emotions she felt upon being caught.

“I know they aren’t,” you shot back quickly and the subtle drop in her shoulders didn’t go unnoticed. I still know you, kid. “What is Gavin thinking?”

“You don’t know nothing,” she answered, signs of relief gone and walls risen again.

“You don’t have to defend him,” you tried to remind her as gently as you could while retaining some of the firmness in your voice. Scout was unresponsive and you intended to wait her out, but the sight of Gavin’s chalky white influence was making you sick. Without another word, you stood and took the baggie with you to the sink.

“Wait! No, I’ll give them back!” Her chair toppled over as she stood and reached out with a halting hand.

“Give them back to who?” You spun with an eyebrow raised. Scout shut her mouth with a audible click of her teeth and glared at you. Shaking your head, you moved to the sink.

“Stop! You’ll never see it again! I won’t do it again, I swear!”

“I know that,” you shrugged, dumping the contents of the baggie into the right side of your sink and flipping the disposal switch, the grating metal drowning out all of Scout’s frustrated screeching.

“You didn’t have to do that!” She shrieked as you turned around, after turning off the disposal.

“I really did,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this,” you rolled your eyes as Scout tried to jump in with the ‘I knows’. “You’re burning through your chances and I dunno what to say anymore-“

“Then don’t!” Scout said with her back turned, already heading out the door, slamming it behind her and making a show of stomping down the creaky wooden porch steps.

You took a heavy breath and slid back into your chair, letting your arms and hit the table just a second before your head, cushioning the landing. It was so screwed up. Scout had never been so defensive, so unwilling to be real with you. It was exhausting you of your grace. Whatever you’d hoped to keep her from, your efforts weren’t working anymore and fighting some faceless enemy wasn’t making it any easier. You wanted desperately for her to rise above what her family expected, but you knew that you couldn’t want it more than she did. You’d had difficult kids before, it wasn’t new nor was it too much for you, but this kid was different. She just was. Feeling defeated by the conversation and not wanting to be alone to keep dwelling on what you couldn’t do for Scout, you picked up your phone one more time and dialed. You waited a few rings before it defaulted to voicemail.

“Hey Ryan…” you took a deep breath and exhaled any lingering pride you held onto. “I don’t know if you’re even still in town, but I- I could really use a friend right now.”

He didn’t get the best reception when he was jumping. He didn’t always answer his phone when he was with Georgie either. There were plenty of reasons why you hadn’t gotten through to Ryan, but none of them mattered. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t answering. And you… you just didn’t want to go back to work. Tobin seemed to prefer doing everything on his own anyways, so you thought maybe for a day, you’d just let him win so you could take a cool shower, make something quick for dinner and box up some for Scout as a peace offering, then go to bed so early that maybe you could forget how in over your head you were.

Only three of the old wooden steps had creaked in protest when you heard tapping at your front door. You paused midstep, but didn’t turn around, there wasn’t anyone you wanted to see just then.

“Hey, you.” Ryan. You spun so fast you almost lost your footing. Maybe there was one person you wanted to see. He was standing halfway through the door, the neck of his guitar case propping open the screen as he leaned in to talk to you. “I hope you don’t mind… Don’t think I’ve ever knocked on that door before, but…” he shrugged, clearly still unsure if you’d be welcoming him back. Unless he’d been hiding under your porch for the better part of two days, the timing told you two things. One, he hadn’t had a chance to listen to your voicemail yet. Two, he was already on his way back to you, from wherever he was, when you’d called. You didn’t need to know anything else.

Without hesitating, you flew off the last few steps and luckily Ryan was there to catch you, dropping his guitar and pack just past the door so that he could take the two quick steps in to be there when your chest collided with his. You wound your arms tight around the back of his neck and he responded instantly, holding you up and against him so that your feet hovered just above the floor. You heard the gentle shushing as you buried your face between your own arm and his cheek.

“Hey...come on,” he said, lowering you to the floor, but you didn’t release him. Ryan stayed slightly hunched and kept his arms around your waist. “I didn’t think you’d be happy to see me, but this-”

“It was a hard day,” you admitted to him and just saying it out loud made you feel lighter. He’d get it and he was here. That’s enough. “I really needed...and now you’re here.”

Ryan pulled your arms away from him so he could look at you properly. You felt a stray tear threaten to spill over and soon you were back against his chest, this time with your arms around his waist and his cheek resting atop your head. “I just needed you and I’m really glad you’re home,” you said into his t-shirt. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding up the back of your neck and you felt his fingers slip into your hair. “Ryan-“ you started, but were immediately cut off.

“I love you,” Ryan said in a rush that you felt more than heard between the heaving of his chest against your cheek and his heavy breath fluttering your hair. You weren’t sure if time stopped or if it was just your heart. You blinked a few times just to be sure and pulled away slowly, but Ryan caught the back of your neck to keep you close. Both of his thumbs brushed over your throat and you were certain he could feel the blood thrumming through your veins at rapid speeds.  

“I love you,” he repeated himself, but this time it sounded real. There was conviction in his voice as he leaned in, letting his hands inch up to your cheeks, fingers curling and playing with the wispy hairs that framed your face on humid days. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t---”

“You love me?” Ryan nodded, smallest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as if he was trying not to look too eager. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Ryan sighed and it sounded a lot like relief.

“Like a fr-“

“No,” he said quickly, his voice forceful without rising in volume. He meant it and everything in you wanted to believe him. “Not like a…” he shook his head and you watched as his smile came and went quickly, his face schooling itself into something more serious. The efforts were noted, but they were useless. When Ryan lifted his eyes to yours, he was grinning again in an instant. Not a big cartoony grin. Soft, reserved, you could see it his eyes more than his lips and you knew. He shuffled his feet closer until they were just outside your own and your middles were connected, thighs touching, his belt buckle kissing your skin where your undershirt lifted while hugging him. “I love you, really.”

“It took you ten years to figure that out?” you laughed and even though it was genuine, it also sounded pitiful. How could it not when you barely believed the conversation you were having.

“No,” he answered so simply, smile still growing so that his lips curled and caught up to his eyes.

A crashing sound pulled you two apart in concern, but it was followed by laughter and loud ribbing, so neither of you made a move to check out the source. “I was about to go upstairs,” you said and looked up into his eyes again. They were flickering back and forth between yours and you wondered what on earth he was thinking. “You coming?”

Ryan nodded and turned back to retrieve his things before following you up the stairs. You didn’t stop at the top, just made a beeline for your room, curious whether or not Ryan would stay behind you or if he’d veer off to the room across the hall again. The muffled sound of his boots crossing over the small rug in front of your dresser and the thud of his bag and case dropping next to it where they’d been before were like music to your ears. He’s not hiding this time. You sat at the end of your bed to kick off your own work boots and soon Ryan joined you, sitting and staring at the floor while he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly and you were stunned. “I shouldn’t have left. Not like that.” Oh yeah. “I was rude, I’m not...you know me,” he admitted running a hand through his hair. I do. “I’m not like that and walking out in the middle of a fight-“ was that a fight? Our first fight? You’d disagreed with Ryan more times than you could count, especially while working with him, but that didn’t disappear when he was no longer your boss. You two spoke freely, for the most part, and sometimes that included hurt feelings. Apparently the only thing you two hadn’t been able to talk about were your feelings for each other and despite being reminded of his storm out the day before, all you felt was relief and gratitude that Ryan had said something first. “I should have stayed, I wanted to-“

“Well,” you nodded and dropped your boots off to the side, turning to face Ryan as you pulled your right leg up onto the bed between you. “Why didn’t you?”

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on his shoes. “The whole situation was wrong,” he admitted. “I know you’re fine, but… I wasn't. Taking it out on you, that was wrong. You’re,” Ryan looked up and offered a weak fleeting sort of smile, but his eyes were still serious. “You’re too good for that.”

“Ryan...you’re-”

“You’re too good for me,” he cut you off, shaking his head and taking one of your hands in his. His left. The thick calluses on his fingertips blindly followed the lines of your palm, while his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You deserve better, you do, but I needed you to know-”

“Ryan,” it was your turn to cut him off, watching his eyes widen when you did. “I love you.” It felt so good to hear those words from him, but saying it yourself, admitting what you’d refused to give words to for years, was its own special kind of release. You loved Ryan. Clearly. And he loved you. Some part of you always hoped that was the case.

It was unclear who moved first, who kissed who, because it happened so fast. Like two magnets whose poles that held each other at a safe distance until you finally turned and collided in an explosion of deeply felt and unspoken truths, damning the rules and letting your lips and hands say everything. The truth was out now and whatever changes it would bring to your life, you felt ready for them as long as Ryan did.

Whatever reaction to your own admission you were expecting, it wasn’t the speed at which Ryan pulled away from your kiss to stand and cross the room. You couldn’t help, but snicker at his look. Disheveled hair from your eager hands, his lips parted and hopefully still tingling like yours, the fingers that twisted in your hair and gripped your hip were twitching at his sides as he looked around the room.

“Where are those-” he asked, gesturing to the paper sleeve of antibiotics open and sitting on your dresser. In his rush to leave the day before, Ryan had left his own prescription. He was a day behind and by the way he was frantically checking every surface in your bedroom, you could tell he wasn’t planning on waiting anymore. You relieved him with a laugh and pointed out the door in the direction of the bathroom, where you’d stashed his abandoned bag in the medicine cabinet. Just in case.

You followed him down the short hall and snickered quietly at the sight that greeted you. Ryan Brenner popping a little pink tab from the foil pack and into his mouth before turning on the water and diving face first into the stand alone sink. His head was turned toward you as he drank directly from the faucet’s stream, but his eyes were closed. When he turned off the water and stood, you could tell he was surprised to find you in the doorway. There were still cool water droplets in his beard when he planted a hand above your head and ducked down to kiss you. “A week,” he pulled away to whisper against your lips. “A week and I can show you.”

“Show me what, Ryan?” You licked your tingling lips and his eyes fell to track the movement.

“How much I love you,” he said in a low voice that sent goose flesh across every plane of your body. Between the words you didn’t know how badly you’d been longing to hear and the simple, but sultry promise that was attached to them, you felt your knees start to buckle. Luckily, Ryan felt the need to punctuate his promise by wrapping an arm around you and dragging you into his chest. Through the fabric of his t shirt, you could feel his heart pounding, nearly syncopated with your own.

“You know,” you swallowed with more difficulty than you imagined. It’d only been a few minutes and Ryan had already gotten under your skin again. Affecting you even more than he used to. Everything’s different now. “We could just… buy condoms.”

Ryan was shaking his head before your whole sentence was out and you turned your head to the side, shooting him a curious look. “I- we can,” he fumbled momentarily. “We can use whatever you want,” he cleared his throat and tried to step back, but your hands were faster. One gripped the middle of his t shirt, twisting the fabric in your fist while the other went to his hip, pinky slipping under a belt loop while the next three fingers curled against the skin of his abdomen. His breath caught when you used both hands to pull him back to you and the gentle grin returned as you shook your head. He fell onto his forearm, still planted above your head, and drew his face closer to yours again. “I wanna wait,” he admitted, tilting his chin up so the tip of his nose bumped against yours. “I wanna wait and do this right,” he said, sliding one of his feet across the floor until his knee hit the door jam, thigh fixed between your legs. “I don’t want anything between us,” Ryan licked his lips and you thought you’d like to do the same. “Not the past,” he said quietly, kissing the bridge of your nose and dragging his lips down to the tip before kissing that too, “Not this shit,” his lips moved again until they hovered over yours and your head fell back to receive them. “Nothin’. I wanna show you...it’s you and me.”

“What are you going to do until then?” you asked, genuinely curious, but cursing yourself for not kissing him first.

“Tell you,” he smiled and pressed his forehead to yours, dragging his lips gently down your cheek again to the corner of your mouth. “I’m gonna tell you what you’ve meant to me, gonna tell you I love you, tell you everything.”

“Not gonna run out?” You asked, only half teasing. This was new territory. Uncharted territory. Feelings were out and they were returned, but Ryan was still Ryan and you were still you. You hadn’t spent more than a month together at a time since he first hit the road. This summer was breaking all the rules and so many more we’re going to be shattered before it was over.

“I’m not running. Not from you. Never again,” he answered with a slow and passionate kiss. And you believed him. And when Ryan bent to grip the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms to carry you back to your bed so that he could lay across you and tell you he loved you again with years of quiet denial being broken down with each little kiss, you believed that too.

Ryan was with you. Completely. And it was enough. 

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @gollyderek @lexxierave @strugglingsemicolon @suchatinyinfinity

[fific7]

London, 07 Sep 2021

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500+ Follower Celebration - Fic Rec

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Well, looky here!

I’m amazed that I’m taking this Tumblr journey along with more than 500 of you fluffy little bunnies. And I’m very thankful that you take the time to look at my BB pix/edits and read my fics. They’ve helped get me through this pandemic so thank you for joining me along the way.

To celebrate, I’m going link some 5-star fics from my Tumblr moots and faves, because they inspire me! These aren’t the only things they’ve written by a long chalk, so don’t feel constrained to stop at just these. Thanks for writing these, guys.

I could on forever adding to the list tbh and I just know I’ve missed some other great fics off here! There are such really good reads out there (too many to mention), so please keep exploring!

🥰🧡🥰🤍🥰

(PS where there is a link to part 1, please go to the author’s character masterlist for the rest)

Enjoy!

@something-tofightfor Neon Lights (Ryan Brenner) Steel City (Billy Russo)

@the-blind-assassin-12 Passing Through (Ryan Brenner) See You in New York (Logan Delos, WIP)

@illshowyourhurricanes A Familiar Face (Ryan Brenner) (link to Part 1) The Capsize (Billy Russo)

@its-my-little-dumpster-fire Deed I Do and My Private Affair (John Whittaker) 21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man (Ryan Brenner)

@banditthewriter It’s a Hard Love (Billy Russo) Choose Your Fate (Billy Russo)

@omgrachwrites Our Souls Crave This Magic (Caspian AU) The Princess and The Duke (Sirius Black AU)

@logans-chestnuts For Now (Logan Delos) (link to part 1) The Lies We Tell Ourselves (Logan Delos) (link to part)

@delos-mio Death of a Batchelor (Logan Delos) (link to story page with chapter links) Partners (Logan Delos) (link to story page with chapter links)

@flightlessangelwings Protect (Billy Russo) (link to part) The Weight of Emptiness (Billy Russo)

@queen-haq A Woman Scorned (Billy Russo) (link to part 1, WIP)

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

2, 12, 13, 25 ❤️

Hi darling!! Thank you for sending these!!

2-least favorite fic you wrote this year

Honestly? It’s Power Play, both parts. Ironically it’s gotten a lot of notes, but I sort of don’t get why? 🤷🏻‍♀️ It’s definitely my least favorite but I’m glad people like it.

12-favorite character to write about this year

RYAN BRENNER. I feel super comfy cozy writing Ryan. He forces me to focus on details because he focuses on details. And he never fights me like the other assholes do.

(But lookout Ry cause there’s some new players in the game for 2020 😉)

13-favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

Well. Oblivion is the only series that I completed, and it wouldn’t have happened without the album Mirror Master by Young the Giant. (Specifically Oblivion and Darkest Shade of Blue)

Honorable mention to Can Summer Love Last Forever? By Flora Cash. If you’re looking for something to blame for Jigsaw//Blue, look no further than Down On Your Knees and Atone.

25-a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Gonna go with three and they’re all Ryan because that angel is so under appreciated as are the writers who write him-

A Familiar Face by @illshowyourhurricanes

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man by @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

Neon Lights by @something-tofightfor

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Strip Scrabble (yup)

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 2.5k (I gave myself a limit and i hit it, on the nose)

A/N: So... this is really dumb. I tossed out the idea of drunk writing challenge. As in, I’d get drunk and write a request. And I did that tonight. from @something-tofightfor who supported my real dumb idea and requested “Strip Scrabble with Ryan Brenner” I mean... who requests that? She did. So me, my laptop, and a pint of Jack Daniels gave it the old college try. TBH. I spent the last thirty minutes correcting spelling because my fingers got excited.

Summary: it’s like strip poker. but not. takes place in my 21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man universe?

Rain against a tin roof. The sound alone was endearing enough to Ryan Brenner. Soft rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the metallic ridges echoed throughout the small house. Especially with the warm body curled next to him, the darkened sky outside did nothing to dampen his mood. Kids were spread out around the bottom floor of the house, leaving the normally quiet and empty space rather full. The din of impatient chattering and the many varied sound patterns of rain hitting the wooden porch in heavy, hollow smacks, sliding off the roof in a rush, puddling on the ground and making it impossible to get any real work done.

Ryan’s head fell backward, resting against the back of the worn tweed couch as he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes slipped close shortly after her voice suggested a game. Though still sitting close to him, their thighs touching, occasionally her side leaning up against his, her focus was on the troupe of teenagers that gathered on the floor in front of her, begging to be entertained. She promised them games until the rain let up, but after half an hour of small wooden tiles being thrown across the room, while the drip drop persisted above them, it seemed wise to send everyone home. Ryan was jostled into awareness suddenly by the sound of the creaky screen door slamming behind someone, most likely Amos, like the cookie, who struggled to catch it on his way out, no matter how many times he’d been reminded of just that.

He felt her return to his side, her body fitting under his outstretched arm and immediately he unfurled his fingers from the back of the cushion, letting his arm collapse against her shoulders.

“Hey,” she breathed against his neck and he smiled, knowing it was barely full in his post nap haze. Even unintentional sleeps made him a little groggy, but Ryan pulled his free hand up to brush the laziness from his face, before turning his head and finding her lips waiting for him. Damn. “They’re all gone, didn’t make sense to keep ‘em cooped up all day…” Ryan hummed affirming the choice. He would have done the same. Back in the day, when those were his calls to make. In a moment of inspiration, he found her mouth again, letting his lips rest against her soft ones, moving gently as if still half asleep. Her sighs only encouraged the slow kiss and soon, Ryan found himself turning his torso, seeking more of her body to press his against, his hands finding her hips and pulling her toward him to lay her back against the vacant couch. The house is empty. Finally. He kissed her harder, finally getting her below him and with some maneuvering, Ryan slipped himself between her bent knees. He laid flat against her stomach, hips locked in place against hers as he worked his lips down her face and jaw, finding the curve of her throat a particularly delightful place to spend this rainy day.

“Ryan,” she sighed, which only encouraged him more. His hips were moving on their own, rolling against hers and pushing her into the springy cushions below them, while his hands wandered up and down her soft sides, hissing gently at her fingers slipping under his t shirt to drag nails gently down his back.

Ryan pulled back to look down at her, friend yet so much more, smiling wide, but crooked at the way her hair was pushed up in the back by his haste to get her horizontal. “I’d ask the Lord for a more perfect day...but I’m not sure I want this one to end,” he said with a smirk and lilt behind his normal speaking voice. Maybe that would be a song someday, but for now, it was the encouragement she needed to sit up and kiss him until both were struggling for breath.

“Ok…” she sighed again and it was the most beautiful sound, a perfect and quiet harmony to accompany the carefully pattering of raindrops against the roof. Successfully pulling away, Ryan groaned, half out of annoyance that her lips were occupied by something other than his, half out of appreciation as he saw her eyes looking up at him the way they always did. That’s a dangerous game, darlin, he admitted silently in his head. “What should we do?” She asked innocently, as if his long body covering her was not suggestion enough. “You wanna finish this game with me?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder to the game board next to the couch.

Ryan surveyed the little wooden tiles, alphabet scattered across the plastic spaces into a myriad of words he would be more comfortable using if his main form of communication didn’t come with a musical accompaniment. Scrabble. A stupid word in itself represented years that Ryan could have been in school, finishing his high school degree, proving himself worth a second look, but rather, he’d already been on the road. Eighth grade had been very useful to him before he disembarked, leaving a home of disappointment and a world of possibility behind him. He could change the oil on a car with his eyes closed. He could patch drywall and smooth plaster so expertly that you’d never know a repair was required. He could chase down, hoist himself on, and survive on a freight with the best jumpers in the game. Diagramming sentences however, didn’t come to him quickly and wouldn’t after he’d dropped out of school. Cowboy kept him supplied with books when he could, but work was more important and Ryan’s formal education was gifted to him under brutal sunlight, with sore thumbs and sore muscles that he didn’t know he had. He could have stayed for anatomy. Maybe then he would have been able to identify the pain in his right ring finger, when it was broken and no one believed him. To this day it wouldn’t lay flat against a table when his palm was pressed against the wood. The bend was painless after so many years, but it didn’t keep him from wishing that he could communicate better. Especially with adults. His peers now. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he wasn’t 18 stil, trapped in Neverland with the thin chapter books and the teachers who sneered in his direction.

“Nah,” Ryan sat up, pulling her up with him until they were seated facing each other, less likely to mount each other with at least a little distance between them. “I’m not playin’ that,” he said simply.

She tilted her head, never content with his answer, especially when it wasn’t the whole truth. “It’s Scrabble,” she said as if that fact would change his mind.

“I know that,” he said, reminding her that it wouldn’t. She asked again, just sweetly, sliding to the floor in front of the couch, kneeling and perusing the board before her. Ryan swore before letting his own body slip down from the comfortable cushions until he was sitting on the braided rug with his back leaning against the couch, legs extended straight out from his body. She positioned the board next to his hip to give him easy access, like it was inconvenience that kept him from playing sooner and nothing else. “The house is empty... kids gone...Tobin gone,” Ryan reminded her in a low voice. “There’s nothing you’d rather be doing?” he asked hopefully, smirking slightly at his own suggestion.

“Nope,” she giggled. “I wanna play.”

Ryan rolled his eyes before looking at the stand she handed him and the row of wooden tiles it held. He played it safe. Short words, three and four letters, while she clearly tried her best. If he kept up his strategy, she’d beat him in no time and they could find something else to do that didn’t require a dictionary.  

“You’re not even trying,” she pointed out after a few turns. Ryan shrugged, knowing the simple gesture would only confirm her observation. He chanced a glance up and found her face turned down at the board. Oh... no, that’s not what I want. She was somewhere lost in thought and regret, not paying any attention to him as she laid down another five tiles without blinking. Jesus. “Is there… I mean, if it isn’t fun for you… let’s just find something else to do.” She set her tiles down and rose to her knees. Ryan watched as she exited the room, taking his empty water glass and hers into the kitchen. He glanced down at the board, barely registering the sound of the sink filling the glasses again. C’mon. Ryan attempted to lay down more than the minimum number of tiles this time, scrambling to snap them in place before she returned to the floor. Pleased with his response, Ryan sat back and waited for her to reappear. “We can- wait, did you go already?” He nodded with a grin as she passed him a fresh glass of water without looking at him. Her eyes were on the board and her fingers were wrapping around the recently placed J of Ryan’s word. “Jelly,” she muttered. “Triple letter, twenty-four…” her fingers plucked the Y next, revealing a double word space too. “Ryan!” She squealed, the brightness in her eyes returning as she slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “That’s 62 points. What the hell?!”

“Luck,” he grinned, catching her hand and squeezing it when it flew toward his chest again.

“My ass,” she groaned and Ryan took a deep breath, trying not to show that he was already thinking about that ass, bouncing in front of him as he chased her up the stairs to their room, or even better, bouncing in front of him as she straddled his thighs and- “Ryan!” she said louder and his eyes shot to hers. His neck and ears felt hot and in the moment he knew he was caught. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes however told him that being caught was maybe not the worst thing. “Tell you what, Brenner,” she started, peeling her sweatshirt off and chucking it in his direction. He caught it in his hands and tucked in the sleeves to keep it from knocking the tiles off the board. “You keep playing like that and this game will get very interesting, very fast.”

“Yeah?” he grinned up at her and she nodded with a subtle wink before looking back at the board and laying down her next word. Canopy. Thirteen points with a double letter.

“If you can outscore me…” she started.

“You’ll take your top off,” Ryan answered quickly. Quicker than he should have, but his long tattooed fingers were already grasping at tiles on the floor, refilling his tray and preparing for his next turn. “Please,” he added after looking back up at her and finding an amused smirk on her face. She nodded and he laid down Strip. Only seven. “What if I-?”

“I think you know,” she cut him off, leaning forward on her knees to undo his belt buckle, sliding the worn leather from the denim loops holding it against him. “You strip,” she shrugged, pointing to the word he’d just played before tossing the belt somewhere behind her, ignoring the clatter of the buckle against hardwood.

“Strip Scrabble?” Ryan laughed and shook his head. Absolutely not.

She looked at him, appraising his willingness to play along, before reaching over to take her sweatshirt from his lap. “We don’t have to-”

“We’re playing,” he said quickly, tightening his grip around the sweatshirt that she tried to pull from his hand. His free hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a hard kiss and releasing her quickly. “Your turn.”

They alternated their turns and Ryan quickly found his stride, enjoying every article that was surrendered to his strategic tile laying. He groaned when her t shirt came off and he saw the pale blue tank top that was tucked into her jeans, expecting to find her bare skin sooner rather than later, but was disappointed and impressed with the layers she’d concealed. While she continued to lay down the lengthiest words she could muster, Ryan stuck to what was comfortable and worked his way around the outside of the board, taking advantage of every special space he could find. Rack, triple word for sixteen. Feed, double letter for twelve. He was on a roll and it didn’t take long to his partner down to her underthings, while he sat comfortably before her in his socks, boxers, and t shirt.

When he laid down Quarry, playing off one of her R’s and a Y, she laughed and beamed up at him. “Keep throwing around that Eighth grade vocab list and I’ll have nothing left,” she teased, somehow sounding impressed as she reached around behind her. Ryan smiled at the sentiment, marvelling at the way she could bring up something like his early dropping out without judgment. Not everyone managed to remind him of his education without making him feel small or insignificant. It seemed that everything she did made him feel significant, feel seen and understood, and made him feel...well loved.

“Easy,” Ryan reached out and gripped her upper arm, halting her movements before her bra could drop in front of her chest. Her eyes were wide, worried she’d done or said something wrong. “Not yet,” he grinned and her expression softened as he guided her hands back to her sides. “This is fun,” he admitted, letting one callused hand drift up over her shoulder to rest against her neck. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled genuinely, but tilted her head in confusion. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No,” Ryan leaned forward and pulled her by the hip until she was following his lead, straddling his lap and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. “I honestly…” he started, breathing against her ear and letting his lips graze the wispy hairs that curled around the front of it. “Never,” he planted a kiss just in front of her ear before dragging his mouth down the line of her jaw under his lips hovered above her own, parted and waiting impatiently for him. “I never want to stop.”

She kissed him then and he eagerly returned her touches, moving his lips against hers and wrapping his arms around her back to hold her against him while her hips shot forward, rubbing against his own. Ryan removed one hand from the soft skin of her back, pressing it against the floor and using it to leverage himself upward. She squeaked against his lips and pulled away when he stood. “Wrap 'em around me, darlin’,” he said quietly against her neck and she obliged right away. “This game can wait,” he teased the skin of his throat and listened to the airy breaths that she released at his kiss. “I wanna play.”

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: July ( t w o )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 4.6k

A/N: let’s just pretend it’s still July, okay? When we left off, Ryan got a phone call from Jackie and it didn’t go well. 

Summary: Ryan has something to say that will affect both of your lives. 

The next morning, you were stirred into consciousness by a sensation that was growing all too familiar. A warm body draping over you, only momentarily, as a scratchy kissed fell on your cheek. The corner of your mouth curled up into a sleepy smile. Your lips stretched to greet the day, but more importantly to meet the lips that landed just out of reach.

“You’re up early,” you spoke into the darkness, keeping your eyes closed as you took the first deep breath of the morning and stretching out your muscles. When you pointed your feet to elongate your legs, you felt hairy shins just behind yours and tapped them playfully with your heels. Most mornings Ryan would make some remark about your rough heels, calloused over from being on your feet all day, but this morning he stayed quiet, his sort of focused quiet, while one of his hands reached down to grab your knee and roll you onto your back. “You gonna work with me today?” you asked, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. 

Ryan was on his back next to you, touching your hip with his own, but not crowding, and making very familiar noises while rubbing his eyes. 

“You get the day off,” he said casually after dropping one hand to the mattress with a soft thud, the other tucking up under his pillow. 

You propped yourself up on an elbow and rolled onto your side. If Ryan was going to say things like that, you were going to need to get a better look at him. He looked perfect in the mornings. Not the no hair out of place kind of perfect. He simply looked like he belonged in the morning. Maybe it was time to admit that you just preferred him in the time of day that so few people saw him. Beard hairs were wild from rubbing against the pillow or your shoulders. The hair on his head was just as unruly, falling over his forehead and into his eyes. When he squinted up at you through the brunet cascade, it felt right. Waking up to Ryan was better than sunshine, since its rising wouldn’t come for at least another hour and this darkened view was there to greet you when the sun could not. Unfortunately, just because the sun was still tucked safely on the other side of the world, work had to continue. “Ryan… I hate to break it to you, but you’re not my boss anymore,” you sighed. “And I don’t get days off.”

“You do today,” he insisted, rolling away from you momentarily and producing your cell phone from the table on his side of the bed. “I already texted Tobin. He’s handling it.”

Ryan dropped the phone into the minimal space between you and you took it up to observe. Sure enough, somewhere between last night and now, Ryan had pilfered your cell phone and alerted Tobin that he’d be in charge for the day, which you knew he wouldn’t mind. He didn’t even bother asking why and you were a little disappointed, interested in what Ryan’s response would have been since he’d yet to explain what was going on in that head of his. 

“Now why would you go do a thing like that?” You asked, rolling away to put your phone away before settling back against your pillow. A day off was rare, so you made yourself comfortable, trying not to let Ryan’s sudden mysterious ways ruin a perfectly good morning. You closed your eyes again and pulled the sheet back up over your shoulder like a thin cocoon. 

“Cause we need to go somewhere,” Ryan said quietly and you felt him shifting next to you. “And I gotta talk to you.”

“About what?” you asked after giving in to a yawn and curling one arm under your pillow. 

With your eyes closed you heard rustling and pictured him shaking his head against the pillow. “Can we just-“ he groaned. “It’s still early… and I wanna just stay here for a while longer.” You agreed and yawned again, pushing your face deeper into the pillow until it cradled your head perfectly. “C’mere,” he said quietly, fingers wrapped around your upper arm. 

“Nuh uh,” you mumbled. “I just found the sweet spot, I’m not gonna move and lose it.”

“I said… c’mere” Ryan repeated, pulling you closer. Your arms wrapped tightly around your pillow and it came with you to rest under your giggling head. Ryan’s face joined yours against the hostage pillow, kissing your forehead as his arm wound around your middle, holding you against him so that your bodies were touching wherever possible. 

“Ryan Brenner,” you gasped and drew out every vowel, letting him hear that you were teasing him. “Are you a snuggler now?” 

He groaned, but he didn’t make any moves to release you and you were thankful for it. “Go back to sleep,” he instructed, squeezing you, and as if your body was under his command, you slipped back to sleep almost immediately. 

After a few more hours of sleep and some shuffling around the kitchen, Ryan was behind the wheel of your old truck and you were sitting shotgun, watching those dark eyes focus solely on the road ahead as he drove you somewhere only he knew. He’d been quiet since waking the second time, not all that unusual, but the sudden silence made you wonder if you’d imagined the warmth you woke to. As if sensing your concern and finding it unnecessary, Ryan reached across the console and took your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. You turned to face him in your seat, keeping his hand in yours a little longer before letting it go and though he kept his eyes fixed ahead, he offered a smile so quick if you weren’t intimately familiar with his mannerisms, you’d have missed it entirely. 

You took advantage of the tender moment, hoping that the show of normalcy would loosen tight lips. “Ryan,” you asked hesitantly. “Where are we going?”

“A clinic,” he answered.

“Are you sick?” you reached for his hand, but he replaced it against the steering wheel so easily it had to be a coincidence.

Ryan pulled his left hand from the wheel and propped his elbow against the door, carding his fingers through his hair while he drove. “Maybe,” he said slowly, exhaling as he spoke. “Probably,” he added shortly after. You stayed quiet, watching his apparent discomfort dissolve as he slumped back against the seat. “I dunno. That’s why we’re going… and you too.”  It became harder to swallow as the truth slowly revealed itself. You were not being taken along as a friend or source of comfort, but rather as someone equally in need of a visit. “That call…” Ryan sighed and you waited.You knew what was coming and yet you wished Ryan would just say it and be done with it. The seconds that passed seemed longer than the literal hours that had passed since he spoke to Jackie the night before. It was easier in the dark and Ryan’s desire to keep you close this morning suddenly made much more sense. “We need to get tested.”

The only silence for remainder of the drive came in small doses, short momentary reprieves in which Ryan gathered his thoughts and you let him. You kept your hand on the center console, a gentle offering if he needed it. He didn’t or at least he didn’t take the bait if he did, choosing to focus on a conversation that you could tell he hated having. By the time the wheels crunched over the lightly graveled parking lot, you knew everything you needed and more. 

Ryan had rules. He always had rules and you’d never known him to break or bend them, but it was becoming increasingly clear that while he was with Jackie, the rules suffered. He repeated it often, confessing it to you unnecessarily after the first time. “The rules...I have them for a reason…” he kept saying. Sometimes he substituted “I” for “we” and you tried to recall when your friendship with Ryan became so complicated, when these so called rules were implemented, and why he felt so strongly about them now. 

The rule he wouldn’t bend on, as he’d assured you so many times over the years, was protection. You’d reminded him just as many times for yourself. There was a trust between you and you’d never do anything to break it. You knew Ryan wouldn’t either. You knew it like you knew your own name, but here you were, in your truck in front of a white and blue building, waiting for them to open. Despite everything you’d just heard, you still found something so endearing about it. Ryan got you there so early. It wasn’t necessarily an innocent moment, but it was sweet nonetheless and you told him so. He hung his head and didn’t respond. It hurt your heart knowing that he’d be beating himself up inside his head and there was little you could say without upsetting him. Ryan was a simple guy and he needed to fix this. He messed up and once there was a solution, he’d be more open. At least you hoped so. 

“Do you wanna ask me anything?” His question was directed at the windshield, but it was clearly meant for you. You cycled through everything Ryan had shared. 

He and Jackie were together for a while. They were a couple in every meaningful way and while it felt strange and invasive to hear it out loud you knew it was important to the story and didn’t stop Ryan from telling you things you weren’t sure you wanted to hear at all. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, tossed it into the cup holder and tapped it twice as he told you that he did the right thing, that he was smart. You didn’t have to open it to know that Ryan always kept a condom behind whatever crumpled bills were tossed into his guitar case on busy nights. There were more than one colorful stories of Georgie jokingly copping a feel and dipping into Ryan’s wallet before running off for the night. You’d watched it happen at least once yourself and smiled when Ryan shoved him away, looking every bit the brothers both had lost to their lifestyle, but gained back in each other. Once the sneaky fiddler was out of sight, you’d felt dark brown eyes on yours and tattooed fingers slip into your own back pockets. “He can have it,” Ryan had whispered against your ear. “I’ve got everything I need,” he’d said pulling you into him. 

His preparedness, his personal conviction and willingness to take responsibility for himself were all things you admired about him, genuinely. The little foil wrapper in his back pocket was the smallest example of that in his life. You knew it didn’t mean he was using it or replacing it on a daily or even weekly basis. Ryan wasn’t like that, wasn’t trying to forge connections in places he’d never return. Yet sometimes it was hard to think about, but you pushed those feelings down, unwilling to question them or allow any sense of jealousy to take root. When Ryan was with you, he was with you. Completely. That was enough. 

But he and Jackie were together, not in the same way as you two. He assured you of that and you briefly considered asking him not to. It was different with her and you didn’t have time to question why that was before Ryan was clearing it up for you. “It was so serious, not serious...that’s not the right word, I take this seriously-“ he gestured between you and you nodded. “You’re just...with me. We’re good together and we laugh and-“ you interrupted to tell him you understood, but still only barely. It didn’t really matter. Different was all you wanted to be for Ryan. Someone different, someone safe. Someone that wasn’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t deny the desire to be someone different in a more permanent way, but those weren’t the kinds of thoughts you could afford with only the summer left to have him so close. 

Things with Jackie started to become more difficult and he spent more time on the road than in her home. He’d told you this at your kitchen table after your first night together… you didn’t want to unpack that and accidentally place meaning where it didn’t belong. He repeated a little of that original story and added some details that Jackie had given him over the phone. 

After weeks of listening to her fight with her ex husband over who Lia would spend the first weeks of summer with before going off to camp, Ryan had been the one to suggest Jackie just go to New York with her. She didn’t like that at first, especially didn’t like that not only was he one for leaving her regularly, but now he was suggesting she do the same. He paused in the story to wonder out loud how they stayed together so long, but you knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. Eventually she conceded and took her daughter back to New York, reconnecting with the few friends that sided with her in the divorce while Lia spent some time with her dad. Lia wasn’t the only one though and you were surprised at how easily Ryan talked about Jackie falling back into bed with Wes. There wasn’t an ounce of resentment in his voice, though you’d seen some of his reaction for yourself through the window last night. Whatever he needed to get out, he got out on the phone and her infidelity sounded like it was just words to him now. She came back feeling vulnerable and needing Ryan to feel something good again. Her words not his. Ryan’s interpretation of the events was guilt, something he was now too familiar with. 

“I didn’t...you know,” Ryan shook his head and looked at you hopefully. Hoping he wouldn’t have to go into more detail than he was comfortable, but you knew that if you asked, he’d tell you everything plainly. You didn’t need that. Any concern of...other phone calls with big news were squashed with his admission and again you told yourself that was enough. “She just started so fast...then she was crying and...I couldn’t keep…” Of course you couldn’t, Ryan. You’re a good man. “We shouldn’t have been in the first place,” he admitted. “I should have made her talk about it...after, but I was there and I thought that was enough. I should have asked why…” he paused and shook his head. “That’s probably what she wanted me to do, but-“

“She’s an adult, Ryan,” you’d cut him off and he turned to look at you. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If she wanted you to know, she should have told you. No, hell, she should have told you while she was still in New York. Before ever putting you in that position.” He had relief in his eyes before turning back to look at the road and you wondered what on earth he was thinking your reaction would be. I’m still on your team, Brenner. Always. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” you shook your head in disbelief. How could anyone who knew Ryan, let alone earned his trust, had him in their life and their bed, do this to him? And then try to...and then lie. You told yourself that first night at the kitchen table that you wouldn’t hate Jackie. Clearly she had been important to Ryan and by claiming not to hate her, you could lie to yourself a little longer and say it wasn’t envy that fueled the hate. But it wasn’t. Your feelings toward Jackie were becoming clear and it had nothing to do with what she had with Ryan and everything to do with how she squandered it. She hurt him and you had no use for the woman. “Now you know what that was all about,” you tried not to sneer as you said it, but you knew you’d failed. Ryan didn’t acknowledge any acidic reactions, simply nodded and flipped the turn signal with his pinky. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” he’d responded in a low voice, that made you wonder if you were meant to hear it at all. 

Then you were in the parking lot and Ryan was waiting for you to answer him. Do I wanna ask you anything? You unbuckled and turned in your seat to look at him. Ryan still wasn’t looking at you, which was unusual for him, but given the circumstance you didn’t take it personally. He’d opted out of wearing a hat and his hair was stuck up where his fingers had been carding through it while he spoke. He was still gripping the steering wheel with his left hand, thumb tapping the cross bar in a tempo too slow to be anxious yet still lively enough to catch your attention, while his ring and middle fingers split around the wheel. The way he looked, he could have simply been stuck in traffic as if that were the kind of thing you two did together. 

“Yeah, I have questions,” you said finally and watched Ryan’s shoulders drop. Would it be better if you didn’t? “Are you okay?” He turned to look at you then, tilting his head as if he hadn’t heard you. “This is a lot, Ryan, a lot you found out last night and I know we would have talked about it eventually, but so soon,” you took a big breath and reached across the console to grip his forearm where it was resting. “So,” you asked again. “How are you?”

“How am I?” He repeated, shaking his head. He licked his lips and caught it between his teeth as his face fell into an incredulous look. “You…” he laughed and hung his head, staring at your fingers tightening over his arm. “You would ask that.” 

You laughed too and shrugged. “Well, I just did, so…”

“I’m okay. I’m not happy,” he shook his head, but even without the simple gesture you already knew that. “I’m glad you’re here. Not that you have to be, I’m-“ his shoulders tightened and you felt his arm flex beneath your fingers. “You shouldn’t have to be here.” You opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, but he started up again. “Anything else?”

Curiosity got the better of you and before you could think about what you really meant by it, you’d asked “Do you regret it?”

Ryan nodded, lips sucked in around his teeth, but his initial response wasn’t necessarily confirmation. “I’ll have to let you know,” he answered and nodded toward the building where someone in scrubs was unlocking the door. He didn’t speak again, just took a deep breath and stepped out of the truck, waiting for you in front of the grill so you could walk in together. 

The visit was as routine as you could have imagined. Ryan went first, so he’d already be occupied when your name was called, not wanting to simply sit and think about you getting tested because of him. It could still be negative, you reminded him, but he just tightened his lips and nodded once in acknowledgment, not agreement, before slipping into a private room. Of course you wanted it to be negative, but even with a rudimentary knowledge of sexually transmitted diseases, you knew it wasn’t likely and the positive result sat heavy in your gut like a stone. Chlamydia, just as Jackie had relayed to Ryan the night prior. You were assured that it was common and easily treatable with antibiotics, but your mind wasn’t exactly on yourself at that moment.  

Ryan was quiet all the way home, quiet in the pharmacy as you two picked up identical prescriptions, but at least some of the tension had dissipated. There was no more anxiety. He had his answers, but it was clear that he didn’t like them. When you arrived back at the farm, Joe Brick was getting into his bright blue vintage pick up and shaking Tobin’s hand through the open window. He tipped his hat in the direction of you and Ryan as he drove back up the short dirt drive, leaving the two of you with Tobin who took one look at the white paper bags stapled closed in your hand and laughed. 

“Hey, what the hell?” You asked, stepping up to him immediately, emboldened by the fact that Ryan was right behind you.

“Just business,” Tobin shrugged.

“Just business,” you scoffed, looking over the farm still working and running as expected even in your brief absence. “If it’s business, Joe should be talkin’ to me, don’t you think?” You tosses back at your second in command. Key word, second. 

“Well, you weren’t here,” he reminded you in a merciless tone. “Guess it’s true what they say,” Tobin paused, gesturing to Ryan over your shoulder. “Lie with a dog and you’ll catch fleas.“

“Don’t be an ass, Tobin,” you snapped at him the second you saw Ryan turn away and head into the house. You had nothing to say to him that couldn’t wait and before he could say anything else, you followed Ryan. 

You found Ryan upstairs, sitting on the end of the bed with his face in his hands. Standing and watching him mope didn’t sound appealing, so circled around and kneeled on the bed behind him. Gingerly, you wrapped arms around his shoulders and hid your face in his hair. His deep breaths were heaving against your chest, trying to push you away, just like his silence. When you kissed the back of his neck, he grumbled, but it didn’t seem genuine. You could feel him relaxing into you, leaning back and letting you hold him closer. His subtle protests were working against his hand on your arm, holding you against him and squeezing when you kissed his shoulder next and rested your head against his. 

“Stop,” he groaned, voice still filled with self-pity. 

“Why?” You asked next to his ear before leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek. The breath he released came so quickly you felt it as much as you heard it. 

“You shouldn’t be kissing me,” he said quietly, but he was still leaning in, turning in your arms until his forehead was pressed against yours. 

“That’s not how it works, Brenner,” you tried to joke. “You can't give me something I already have and-“

“You only have it because I gave it to you!” He rose from the bed quickly and with enough force that you fell back onto your hands, watching him pace the room again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like... it wasn’t ever supposed to be like this,” he said to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. 

“What wasn’t?” You asked, unsure if you were supposed to acknowledge his short ranting. 

“Us! This!” He sounded exhausted despite it still being early in the morning. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, Ryan, I’m fine,” you tried to cut in, “This could have been worse-“

“I know that!” He shot back and you knew in an instant you were out of your depth. You’d seen Ryan angry, you were probably one of the few who had, yet even though deep down you knew the feelings weren’t directed at you, the volume was and it was getting harder by the second to stay cool. As if realizing that at the same, Ryan’s voice lowered again, looking sympathetically at you as you maneuvered your way to sitting up again. “I know that…” he sighed. “I know it could have been worse and thank god it wasn’t but… I still did this.” 

He’s not getting it. “Ryan, you didn’t do anything wrong, Jackie did this-“

“I did this to you!” And he’s yelling again. “I broke the rules and I brought-“ he took a breath through his teeth and froze. Seeing Ryan this angry was rare. Impossibly rare. It wasn’t surprising at all that the object of his anger was himself, but it was still painful to watch. It wasn’t ideal, far from it, but no words of yours could make Ryan feel worse than he already did. Not that you’d ever want to make him feel worse. 

You reached out to him again and Ryan took a step back from you.

“Stop trying to touch me,” he said through his teeth. 

“Ryan,” you sighed, feeling the defeat. “I’m okay. We’re-“

“Don’t tell me we’re okay when we aren’t.” He lifted the paper bags from the pharmacy and shook them in his fist. “You shouldn't be like this.”

“Like what, Ryan?” You snapped back rising to your feet and facing him head on. “Why don’t you tell me how to be.”

“Be mad!” He took a step toward you and looked down on you. The only time you’d seen him from his angle was right before a kiss, but clearly that was off the table. 

“I don’t have to be! Looks like you’re handling that for both of us!” Ryan stepped away then, eyes darting around the room, looking for something in plain sight and clearly not finding it. He looked lost, more lost than he had been when he first arrived. You took a deep breath and tried one more time. “I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re fine,” you urged him to believe you, reaching out to take his hands in yours and thankfully he let you, “And in a couple weeks this will be all cleared up and we’ll be back to ourselves.” Ryan’s head was shaking the whole time. The second you stopped talking, as if worried you’d tried to convince him of something else, Ryan spoke up. 

“I should never have come here.” You wanted to assume it was uttered without thinking, that he didn’t really mean it, but the second your hands dropped to your sides, Ryan Brenner was out of your bedroom. 

You wanted to stop him, wanted to rush down the steps and out the front door to plead for his return. But so many rules had already been broken, he’d reminded you of that plenty. 

So you didn’t. 

Like always, when Ryan Brenner walked out of your house, you let him. This time, however, it was different. the silence was deafening. The air was suffocating. Everything felt wrong without him. You worked diligently and half expected to look over your shoulder and find Ryan watching you or jumping in to help like he had been. But he wasn’t. When you finally stepped back over the threshold of your house, you noticed his guitar case was gone from landing on the stairs and you kicked the sideboard where it had been just that morning. The paper pharmacy bags were still on the dresser where Ryan had dropped them and you tore one open with more force than necessary, popping one of the coated pink pills into your mouth and drinking from the left over glass of water by your bed, trying not to dwell on the fact that it was on Ryan’s side. There weren’t sides tonight. Only you. It wasn’t the first time you’d fallen asleep alone nor did you expect it to be the last, but the fact was you hadn’t slept without him in weeks. Without his fingers touching yours or his feet warming yours even though he hated that. It wasn’t like you fell asleep in his arms every night, but curling beneath the blanket without that familiar weight somewhere behind you, your bed felt completely foreign in his absence.

DONT WORRY THERE’S A PART THREE

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @gollyderek @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @strugglingsemicolon @breanime 

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: July ( o n e )

WRyan Brenner x Reader, 5k

A/N: Let’s hang out in Ryan’s head just for a touch longer, but we’ll be back to your perspective in a flash.

Summary: Ryan’s stayed put, true to his word. That first month is a nice one isn’t it? But just because he’s left the road, doesn’t mean the road has let go.

Ryan woke up alone, the early morning sounds of the farm muffled by the squeaky air conditioning unit propped precariously in the window across from him. He pulled himself from the thin sheets and stepped directly into his boxers, tugging them up over his legs from their resting place on her bedroom floor. His bare feet carried him away from the tightly braided rug by the bed, over the wooden planks to the window. Peering out over the yard, Ryan paused briefly over each identifiable head, repeating their names as practice, before his eyes settled on the one he was looking for. Blue jeans with knees already browned by the earth and a hat in one hand, pushing back her sweaty hair with the other. She turned then, looking up almost instinctively and meeting his gaze with a warm smile. The exchange didn’t go unnoticed and it wasn’t long until Amos, like the cookie, had propped an elbow on her shoulder to look up at the window as well. Ryan couldn’t hear what the boy said, but even from a distance it was clear that the boy had mischievous intentions and correct assumptions. He laughed when she shoved the hat into Amos’ gut, shutting him up before pushing him away, presumably to get back to work. Not wanting to draw anymore attention to himself, Ryan scanned the second story bedroom for his t shirt and pulled it on before moving back to the window. There was a saucepan placed under the unit in order to catch the dripping condensation and without thinking, Ryan set to work. His fingers dug into the sides of the grill, prying open the face of the unit and tightening one of the hoses as best he could with just his fingers, but it seemed to be enough. He replaced the face and gripped the bottom of the box, tilting it back slightly and shaking it until it sat straight against the window ledge. The metallic plink of water dropping into the saucepan was gone and was replaced by the satisfied hum of the unit. Ryan chuckled to himself quietly as he stooped to grab the pan and went back to a previously established routine, as if he had only been away for a weekend and not the better part of a year.

When he made it back into the kitchen, he found everything as he expected. The coffee pot was still half full, sure to be cold by now, but still fresher than he was used to. Next to the mug he claimed as his own whenever he was in town was a pale yellow piece of paper on which soft and familiar handwriting filled the lines with projects around the house and farm that could use Ryan’s experienced eyes. Three lines down from the top he found BEDROOM AC and snatched a blue pen from a nearby cup, biting down on the cap and holding it between his teeth as he scratched through the words a couple times. After pouring some of the coffee into his mug and popping it into the microwave, Ryan stared at the list like the gift it was. He liked the list, liked knowing that there were ways for him to contribute while he was in town, liked having ample opportunities to be useful and not having to badger anyone with questions. It made being a frequent guest in so much easier and made it feel like he belonged there, no matter how long his stay. The greenish brown mug spun on the turntable behind frosted glass, contents warming to a palatable temperature, while Ryan’s mind was temporarily back in Utah.

He tried to explain the list to Jackie once. Thought it would help him adjust to being there, to coming back there, to spending time with her and her family without feeling like a burden. He appreciated her willingness to indulge him, though the confusion was evident in her expression. Until she returned home and her face had soured into judgment and disappointment, seeing the list completely untouched. What’s the point of a list if you’re not going to do anything on it? She’d asked. Lea does her chores. Ryan sighed, leaning against the counter, much like he had that day. I wasn’t asking for chores, I’m not- Jackie called him a child that day and over the next week, the list shrunk with unprecedented speed until nothing was left. Once the last item was crossed off, Ryan’s pack was filled and cinched and he was walking down the dirt road back toward the tracks, suddenly needing to play somewhere else for a while.

The loud beep of the microwave pulled Ryan back to Nashville, back to her kitchen and the protection this place had always managed to offer him. Respite and recovery of damn near prescription strength.

Ryan helped himself, moving through the kitchen as if it were still his own. He finished his coffee, ate in silence, and even lifted the lid of a large crock pot to check on dinner, rustling the meat around a bit with a fork before replacing the glass top....and opening it once more to swipe some pork for tasting before finally going on with his day.

In the heat of the morning and through the general din of voices and the distant squealing of Brick’s pigs just beyond the field, he caught the tail end of a lecture on heritage seeds, one he’d taught her himself years ago. From his perch on a silver ladder, he watched her walk toward him without looking up for him. She stopped off to the side, somewhere out of sight under the porch covering to escape the sun for a few moments and with his task nearly complete, it inspired Ryan to do the same.

--

You hopped up onto the porch railing, with your back to the yard, enjoying a few moments of shade and the ice cold water in your glass. The metallic clang of heavy boots knocking ladder rungs told you that Ryan was on his way down, but you closed your eyes, savoring the cool sweat of the glass as you held it between your knees and the gentle breeze that pushed and pulled the brass pipes of a wind chime together in an unrecognizable melody. The plodding continued up the creaky wooden porch steps, but you weren’t convinced of Ryan’s final destination until you felt him pluck the glass from your hands. You heard the sound of damp work gloves dropping onto a hard surface at the same time, Ryan’s breath escaped him in a satisfied sigh. Finally, he made his move and you shivered at wet lips and cold breath just under your jawline.

“This wasn’t on the list,” you smiled eyes still closed, as a trail of thick bearded kisses found their way up to your ear.

“Yes it is,” Ryan hummed. “I put it there myself.”

A low and exaggerated cough brought you and Ryan abruptly out of your bubble as Tobin marched past the two of you, purposefully interrupting the canoodling.

You smiled awkwardly at your coworker and threw a leg over the railing, straddling the wood planks so you faced Ryan, who was mimicking your earlier posture and leaning back against it. He took another sip of water as he absent mindedly stroked the knee that was bent in front of him. His hand was still cool from the glass and you had no plans to tell him to remove it.

“I don’t think Tobin likes me,” Ryan said absently. His tone was flat and factual, not an ounce of offense could be heard.

“He doesn’t,” you shrugged, a teasing smile waiting for him if he turned to look at you.

Of course he did and shot his own back. “Does it have anything to do with where I’m sleeping?”

“Yep,” you answered honestly, laughing when Ryan asked if he should be worried. Tobin had four inches on Ryan and easily sixty pounds, but what Ryan lacked in size he more than made up for by keeping his nose clean. He wasn’t a fighter and you knew that he wouldn’t have to.

“I don’t...” Ryan stopped himself and looked out over the yard. “You and Tobin. He works for you. That’s -”

You stopped him quickly. “If you say weird, so help me, Brenner...” shooting him a pointed look, Ryan closed his mouth. He had no leg to stand on with that. If anything, you’d maintained better boundaries with Tobin than Ryan had with you. At least he didn’t live across the hall. “I hate to be that girl, but I worked for you when we first got together.”

“We’re different,” he said quickly and offered no further explanation. He didn’t have to, but in that moment you wished that Ryan Brenner was chattier and willing to spill a little more about what went on in his head. In reality, he didn’t need to explain. You couldn’t put words to it either, but you knew Ryan was right. You were different. In many ways, you were still different.

“He's never been upstairs, Ryan, you know that,” you assured him running your shoulder into his playfully and Ryan smiled, satisfied with that. Those had always been the rules. You told Tobin it was to keep from confusing the kids, accidentally blurring boundaries, but he’d called you out on the brick wall that surrounded your heart, not just your bedroom more than once. Ryan never asked you to keep men out of your room, but he didn’t have to. Something about that space, maybe whatever small items he left lying around or the fact that it was his first, always felt uniquely yours- yours and Ryan’s. Having anyone else stay in it, even temporarily, felt wrong in a way you couldn’t put words to, which annoyed Tobin. Often.

He returned moments later, clearing his throat louder this time as he stepped onto the porch. “Can I talk to you?” Tobin asked before looking pointedly at Ryan. “Alone.”

Ryan nodded to Tobin and stepped off the porch, disappearing dutifully around the corner without looking back. He hadn’t been gone more than a breath, when Tobin started in on you with his same spiel. The farm needs to make money and I know what to do. Blah. “Weddings, events, small concerts...”

“I can have a small concert here every night if I wanted,” you quipped back sarcastically, hopping down from the porch rail to refill your glass with water.

You heard Tobin scoff behind you before he spoke again. “No one’s gonna pay to watch you and Ryan eye fuck each other with a guitar in your hands.”

“Excuse me?” you slammed the pitcher onto the small iron table before whipping around to face Tobin again, livid, though not entirely shocked, that he suddenly felt he could speak like that.

“I mean it,” he started, voice raising slightly. “Sonrise isn’t making enough to be sustainable and we’re leeching Brick farms of valuable resources. Can you really live with that?”

You shrunk back a little at his purposefully accusatory tone. “That’s not fair. Joe wants this. He wants the kids to have a safe place, he-”

Tobin rolled his eyes and took a step away from you. “He’s not going to be around forever and you think his family won’t toss you out when the lawyers arrive?”

“Tobin-” you tried.

“You’ve been doing this too long,” he said, softening his voice to sound sympathetic, which only made you more upset. “You can’t see the potential anymore.”

“I see the kids potential just fine,” you spat back at him, making it clear that his patronizing would not be welcomed on your porch. “That’s why we’re here. The land is a means to an end,” you reminded him, playing his own game. 

“The land is all we have!” he argued, voice climbing again and drawing the attention of a couple kids and volunteers. He reeled it back in, sighing audibly at the sight of Ryan crossing the yard with purpose in each step. “One event,” he tried to bargain. “I know a couple. Wants to get married at an organic farm, already loves our space-”

“When did they see it??” you asked, though it sounded more like a poorly concealed shriek.

He sucked his teeth and turn away again. “I brought them by a couple weeks ago.”

“That’s a huge breech of confidentiality!” you shot up at him and his wide eyes fell on you. “They know what we do?? And you didn’t think that maybe strangers seeing our kids faces was going to be an issue??”

“They’re not going to say anything,” he said casually, trying and failing to placate you. “Who is gonna care who comes here?”

“You don’t know that! And it’s not the point!” you added, hands in the air, just begging to reach up and slap his smug face. “These kids are trusting us to keep them safe, their families trust us, their POs trust us and you-”

“Me?” he laughed loudly and bitterly, making you take a half step back in disgust. “What about you? Trying to take on Scout’s issues instead of turning her in? Wanna talk about trust?”

“I don’t know what you think you know-” you said in a low voice, warning him that he was treading on very thin ice with his accusations.

“Enough,” he assured you with a sneer. You’d never known Tobin to be cruel, but you’d been wrong before and the man glowering down at you from his high high horse was not the man you hired to be your partner. Nor was he the man that used to be a trusted friend. 

“Hey, what’s...” Ryan stepped up next to you, trailing off as he surveyed the tension on the porch. You turned toward him instinctively. Just a subtle step but Tobin saw it and his lip twitched. Ryan felt it and immediately his hand was on your forearm, middle finger stroking the soft skin, reading the lines of black ink by memory. The design that reminded him distinctly of his own.

Without another word, conversation clearly over, Tobin stormed off the porch, but Ryan’s dark eyes tracked his movements from under his tan cap until your partner’s back disappeared around the side of the house.

“You ok?” he asked and you nodded, taking another step toward him. “What’s up his butt?” Ryan asked with a half smile, knowing that his would encourage your own. Unfortunately, he was right, and your body was relieved of the pressure that you hadn’t even realized was building.

“Tobin is..... hard to explain,” you sighed, squeezing Ryan’s arm before dropping into a wooden chair next to the house. “Actually no. He’s not,” you changed your mind, deciding it was time for an ally and realizing that Ryan was not only the best ally available, but the best you could ask for. “He’s like one of these kids. All grown up and he still doesn’t think he’s enough. He won’t stop until some undisclosed number of people tell him he’s enough. It’ll never matter what we say.” You almost pitied him, but it wasn’t your job to pity him, just like it wasn’t his job to be insubordinate and subversive. 

“He’s a visionary. Got big plans. He wants to change the world and has no idea how to take care of the nest, the people right next to him. He knows names and faces and he just doesn’t care. The people he wants to help are faceless, nameless. I don’t get that, how you can know these kids and not....want the world for them.” Ryan listened intently, giving you room to think as he sat the chair matching yours, but reaching out to grip your knee while you spoke.

“He’s not like us....he’s certainly nothing like you Ryan. He could never do what you do,” you laughed mirthlessly. “Startin’ over every couple of weeks, where no one knows him or what he’s done or what he’s capable of...he could never live like that.”

“Could you?” Ryan asked out of nowhere. “Live like that, I mean”.”

“I think most days, I’d prefer it,” you smiled sadly, but genuinely. “But someone had to stay and don’t you dare try and apologize again,” you warned him with an extended finger that said you meant business. “I love my life.” Ryan held up his hands innocently and leaned back in his chair, plucking your water glass from the table and taking it with him. He took a long drink before closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air.

“How are the gutters looking?” You asked, trying to get back to slightly more professional conversation, in case there were youths lurking about.

“I told you to clear those out more often,” he said seriously, opening only the eye closest to you as he passed the nearly empty water glass back to you.

“But why would I when you show up every couple of months, fully capable of doing it for me?” You responded with an innocent grin that made Ryan shake his head and close his eyes again. “And now you’re staying all summer. I may not lift a finger until fall,” you teased. He didn’t answer right away, but he was laughing so you moved to a new topic. “What’s next for you today?”

“This is all for me,” he said, lifting his hat with one hand and running the other through his hair, damp with sweat and obediently staying slicked back under the raking of long tattooed fingers. “Gonna shower, run into the city if the truck’s running?”

“Last I checked,” you smiled. You knew it was tough for Ryan to feel at home anywhere and anytime he expressed his comfort here, your heart felt lighter. You were happy to offer him a headquarters, a place to return to without feeling like an imposition. It probably helped that he’d lived there long before you showed up, but all the same, a special portion of your hospitality belonged solely to Ryan whether he realized it or not. “What’s in town?”

“Who,” Ryan corrected plainly, turning to look at you. “Georgie’s passing through. Changed direction when I told him I’d be here for a while.” You asked if they were going to play and Ryan nodded. After a few quiet seconds, he laughed, realizing you were waiting for more and he shared the limited details he had.

Over the next few days he and Georgie would hit up the parks and street corners, collecting and collaborating with anyone who passed by and wanted to join. That’s when Ryan really shone. For a quiet guy, he managed to thrive while playing with new people. Calling out chords, humming or scatting or vocalizing incoherently though still in key, while everyone played with and off of each other. Wordlessly, everyone managed to step in and out of the spotlight like a well rehearsed dance. It was a marvel to see up close, even more exciting to jump in on, which you had on more than one occasion. Ryan claimed it was the way music should be played, that songs couldn’t live on paper or even in recordings. They needed blood and oxygen, same as people. Music needed room to breathe and melodies sounded best when they were unexpected.

That was how you two had become...whatever you were. Coworkers that learned to enjoy each other eventually became friends, with music both the catalyst that spurred you on and the bridge that kept you connected. After the kids were gone or asleep and the chores were finished, Ryan would head into town with his guitar and no plans. Soon, you started to join him, at first to watch, to meet new people, to get on his good side. Eventually Ryan’s smile and your own restlessness started to affect you. One night, you stepped into a circle of street musicians, Ryan’s powerful strumming and raspy yells were leading the charge, when one voice became two. The look of shock on his face was already worth it, but the pleased and impressed smirk it melted into was priceless. No one that night knew could tell that you’d never sung together and everyone assumed you were a package deal. It wasn’t long before that was true. Where Ryan went, his guitar went and you were not so far behind, singing along, playing along, being one of the few familiar faces he saw night after night, filling the streets of Nashville with the sound of something hopeful blossoming.

After a particularly exciting set, Ryan stood and took you by the waist, pulling you in for an unexpected but not unwelcome kiss. You’d been singing with him long enough to anticipate what his lips were capable of, yet it was even more than you’d dreamt. The two of you were lost to the world for more than a few moments, completely blind to the crew of fiddlers, banjos, and foot stompers that had no idea the kiss they had agreed to just play over was the first while you had no idea it was the first of many.

“Gonna come?” Ryan’s question invaded your memory and reminded you that times had changed. His grin however, especially when he wanted something, had not. “Old times sake?”

That night, you sent Tobin home, as you and Ryan offered to make the drive and loaded the younger boys who stayed late into the van. You dropped everyone off at Rose Park, where siblings and friends and occasionally parents gathered to collect them, before running off to play or back towards the nearby apartment buildings. When the van was empty, Ryan pulled out his phone to find out where Georgie was and let him know you were both on your way.

Soon enough, Ryan was embracing his old friend while you unzipped a fabric gig bag, strumming your mandolin and humming along to listen for string that needed tuning. Georgie joined in, taking the lead and you happily followed wherever the boys took the night. You started with some classics, some for people to recognize, but soon enough your little band had added a thin traveling upright bass, another guitar and his girlfriend with the bright blue tambourine, a trumpet jumped in and out rather quickly, and a couple kids with buckets and drum sticks picked a spot near yours to get in on the action. The crowd grew and eventually you ended up on the opposite side of the circle from Ryan. Though distance wasn’t what you preferred, you wouldn’t bemoan an opportunity to watch him in action. He was a showman, whether he ever admitted it or not. When he sang, really sang, and when he played, really played, it was to the effort of his entire body. It’s wasn’t just hands and lungs. It was eyes and nose crinkling under the force of the emotions he evoked in his audience, regardless of size. It was toes curling in heavy boots and tapping back and forth like a visual metronome. It was torso twisting and leg jiggling and head shaking all in time, like a song was trying to physically bust out of him. His whole body was music. He moved like a ballad, full of purpose. When he was still, all you felt was the blues he often played, like summer rain personified.

“What do you say?” Georgie called out and it became painfully awkward and obvious that he’d been trying to talk to you. You tried to mumble through a half hearted reply, knowing you’d likely go along with whatever the boys had planned.

You saw an older couple, standing just over his shoulder, looking anxiously between you and Ryan, while a younger woman stepped up to address Georgie again. “It’s their anniversary. They met at a Bob Seger show. I know it’s silly, but I’d love to get a video…” she asked gently, eyes following Ryan’s and falling on you. You nodded, giving a sincere smile, trying to hide how distracted you’d been.

Seeing your confusion from across the ever growing circle, Ryan nodded to one of the young men that had joined, borrowing his five gallon bucket and placing it directly in front of you, ignoring everyone else around you. Georgie talked with the girl, being his usual charming self as he pointed toward you and Ryan, helping her direct her parents. Ryan mouthed “We’ve Got Tonight,” and immediately you jumped to protest.

“I haven’t sang that in-“

“Last time I was in town we sang it,” Ryan pointed out. Yeah. That long. “I’m here,” he said simply, propping up his guitar again and starting to play. It was all the assurance you needed. Instantly, it seemed the world melted away. Either the crowd had grown respectfully quiet or your tunnel vision had only gotten worse since he’d been away this last time. Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered Georgie’s harmonica, messily and soulfully cutting through the air with a highly recognizable melody that drew even more people to you. The gentleman with the homemade bass stood and laid down a simple line, following Ryan’s lead as he sang.

You jumped in at the previously agreed upon time. Who needs tomorrow? You asked of the evening air, while Ryan posed the same question. Something about the way he sang tomorrow made you wish for a thousand more tomorrows, beyond the tomorrows you’d already bargained out of him. You were asking too much of Ryan Brenner and when you heard yourself ask Why don’t you stay? it didn’t feel like someone else’s lyrics. It felt genuine and your eyes were immediately cast downward. The pavement was as good an audience as anyone and you didn’t have to fear the sure to be quivering vocal chords when Ryan’s dark eyes fell on yours.

The second verse was even louder and it drew your eyes back up. Georgie smirked against the small metal mouth organ and the bassist swayed in an intimate dance with his instrument. Ryan’s voice pulled, the strain drawing everyone in to the desperation in the lyrics. The couple who’d requested it were in each other’s arms, dancing so easily it looked choreographed. It probably was, or at the very least practiced for their wedding and then many times after. Their daughter’s eyes flicked back and forth between her phone screen, capturing the sweet moment, and her parents.

So there it is girl, I've said it all now

And here we are babe, what do you say?

Ryan sang directly to you as if it were up to you at all. It’s just a song, you reminded yourself, joining your voice with his again. You smiled helplessly as your voices lifted in unison on tonight without prompting from each other. It shouldn’t be so easy with him. It shouldn’t be so easy to sing with him, not after so long and it definitely shouldn’t be so easy to be together. It should be impossible to soak up all the tonight’s he offered, ignoring the unpromised tomorrow’s and leaving the heartbreak for some future version of yourself to shoulder. It was simply part of the territory. To know Ryan Brenner was to love him. To love Ryan Brenner was to lose him. Even if he claimed it was only temporarily.

I know it's late, I know you're weary

I know your plans don't include me

You surprised the crowd, yourself included, but best of all Ryan, whose lips turned up and strumming hand moved forcefully to keep up with your sudden wailing. You closed your eyes and let the words fall off your tongue until you were breathless and the words echoed off the nearby buildings.

Still here we are, both of us lonely

Both of us lonely

Ryan jumped in again as his heads stilled. Georgie pulled his lips from the harmonica, letting just the slow bass line guide your voices through a final chorus.

Why don’t you stay?

You begged, the only time you’d ever allow yourself to ask such an impossible question as Ryan asked the same of you. I’m not going anywhere, you responded in your head, ignoring the roar of applause behind you. The couple had finished their dance with a low dip and a sweet kiss and everyone loved it, but your eyes only registered dark and soulful ones across from yours. Your chest was heaving and Ryan’s shoulders were rising and falling in time with yours. Overcome with a need to escape, you moved to stand from your spot, but Ryan stood with you. One hand gripped the neck of his guitar tightly, holding it by his side, while the other game to your shoulder, practically flattening against the side of your neck as he held you in front of him. Your eyes closed, but the flash of a camera made it through your lids just as Ryan’s lips landed against your forehead. They rested there, longer than you were used to, but instead of pulling away, you felt him step closer and followed suit, leaning into his touch instead of trying to short change yourself.

“You two are perfect!” A voice squealed from over your shoulder, breaking you apart, but Ryan’s arm slid over your shoulder and pulled you against his side. The young girl held out her phone to you, showing off the photo she’d just snapped. Technology was amazing and it truly looked how it felt, like the rest of the world ceased to exist when Ryan’s lips touched your skin, fading into a dark and blurry background. His eyes were closed too, so tight that the skin around his eyes crinkled, like they did when he was laughing. “Do you want this?” She asked, passing you her phone with a blank message and the photo already attached. You felt Ryan nodding next to your face and you reached out, typing in your phone number and pressing send, handing the girl her phone back when you felt yours vibrate in your pocket.

“Do you ever sing at weddings?” The girl’s mother asked, her and her husband stepping up to thank you and Ryan.

“I don’t,” Ryan answered quickly. He squeezed your shoulder. “She does.”

“That’s too bad,” the woman said sadly and under any other circumstance, you’d probably take offense. “You two are so much better together.”

You’re telling me.

It was just after ten when you and Ryan piled back into your van and headed east away from the city. You’d offered Georgie a bed, but he declined, having his own connections in the city. He hugged Ryan again and started talking wildly about trying to connect with some of the musicians that had played with them that night. There was a studio on every corner in Nashville and Georgie’s mind always had the next big plan in the works. In an effort to shut him up and slip away yourself, you took his phone, entering the number of the young woman who’d sent you the photo of you and Ryan before tossing it back and wishing him luck. It wasn’t the most ethical move, but it was effective. Georgie’s fiddle case was shut quickly and he was tearing off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction before he’d finished saying goodbye.

After months of being a passenger, with someone else at the wheel of his life, Ryan jumped at the offer to drive when you tossed your keys in his direction. Halfway home, his phone rang in his jacket pocket and Ryan dug his hand in to ignore the call without looking. Less than a minute later, it rang again. You urged him to at least see who it was and on the third call, he begrudgingly dropped the small black phone into your lap, staying focused on the road ahead. The caller ID said ‘Jackie’ and your stomach dropped. You alerted him, but he made no move and said nothing in response. The next alert was a text message, which he asked you to read aloud. It made you inexplicably nervous being asked to do so, but you obliged, flipping up the black plastic and thumbing through his messages.

“Pick Up,” you read aloud and heard Ryan’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter in response, the old leather squeaking under the strain of his fingers. “You should call her,” you advised without being asked.

“I don’t wanna,” he said, staring straight ahead, maneuvering the van in the darkness like he’d been doing so his whole life.

“Ok,” you said simply, snapping the phone shut and dropping it in the cup holder between you unceremoniously. In a show of solidarity, you reached a hand out, touching his right arm lightly and he immediately responded. His hand came away from the steering wheel to clasp yours, his rough and tattooed fingers laced with your clean and smaller ones as if it were the most natural thing in the world for two such different hands to be joined. It was for you. You pulled the joined hands up to your lips, kissing the black dots on his middle finger without hesitation. Your hands stayed joined for the remainder of the drive, resting casually in your lap with Ryan’s thumb brushing the side of your hand ever so slightly before squeezing in gentle appreciation. When he pulled up to the farm house and turned off the car, Ryan paused, looking down at the phone between you that had vibrated against the cup holder at least two more times with texts that were still unread.

“I’m going to call her,” he said quietly, but made no move to release your hand. If anything his grip tightened and you returned his squeeze with your own.

“I’ll be inside,” you answered, pressing your free hand to the console between you and leaning over to kiss his cheek. He only allowed it for a second before his left hand came up to your face, holding it in place so that he could capture your lips in his own. He was trying to communicate something, you could feel it, but you didn’t try to read into it, didn’t seek to understand and risk a misunderstanding. You kissed Ryan back, communicating only that you were his in that moment. If he needed more, he knew where to find you. With a final peck to his nose, you pulled away and hopped out of the car, sliding open the back door and taking both of your instruments with you to give him some privacy.

After getting ready for bed, you stood at your bedroom window, admiring Ryan’s work on the ac briefly before letting your eyes wander down to the yard, where he was pacing in the dark. One hand had been gesturing angrily, but had since fallen to his side. Eventually the other joined as he stowed the phone in his pocket. He turned to look up toward the sky, catching the light in your window out of the corner of his eye and spun to face you. Shaking his head, he looked away and moved out of sight, back toward to the porch and relief flooded your veins at the sound of the front door closing and latching behind him.

Ryan didn’t immediately return to you. Propped up with your back against the wall, you listened as Ryan stomped around, occasionally opening and closing a cupboard door or a drawer before shutting it again. He was mad and if the loud creaking of your stairs under his boots was any indication, he was very mad.

The bathroom door opened and closed with force and moments later the shower was on. Bottles falling to the floor and Ryan’s poorly concealed “fuck” echoed through the walls and you were starting to get concerned. This wasn’t like him. Not at all. Stepping out of the bed, you walked into the bathroom without knocking.

“Ryan,” you sighed. He was standing with his back to you, forehead pressed against the opposite wall. The glass door was fogged up, but even through the haze, you could see his skin was bright red and your loofa was on the ground. What the hell, Ryan?

When you opened the door and reached out to touch his wet shoulder, Ryan was pulled out of his daze. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped, hefting his body away from the door. After a moment of staring into the corner, he turned to see that you were still there. His shoulders slumped when his eyes met yours and he turned away again, but this time he nodded at nothing. Wordlessly, you stepped out of your clothes and joined him. The water was hot, scalding hot, and you hissed painfully when it fell on your skin. Jesus, Ryan.

Reaching around Ryan, you spun one knob just a hair to the left, waiting for the water temperature to fall to something more reasonable for humans instead of pasta. Instead of pulling all the way back, your arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist and you leaned against his strong back. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.” You shushed him and just stood in silence, letting the warm water wash away whatever he needed it to. When the water began to chill, you quickly pulled his green bar of soap from the shelf and ran it over the now only pink skin of his back. At your prompting, Ryan turned to face you as you continued to lather his front. The muscles of his stomach twitched when your hand dipped low, but you kept your movements to bathing. Everything else could wait. Satisfied with your work, you leaned forward, planting a kiss on Ryan’s wet chest. Your lips met the skin over his heart and you selfishly let them linger. Ryan didn’t seem to mind, for the first time since you’d entered the shower, his arms moved from their previous place dangling awkwardly by his side.

One of his hands traveled up your back, squeezing the back of your neck before gathering your wet hair into a messy fistful and holding you against him. His warm lips found your forehead and they too rested against your skin. “I’ve gotta tell you-“

“Whatever it is can wait,” you insisted, completely unsure that you even wanted to hear what Ryan had to share and not wanting the night to be spoiled. Before the phone rang, it’d been perfect. As perfect as it could be. Playing with Ryan always made you crave that impossible perfection that you couldn’t afford to expect to last, yet you always hoped.

Ryan looked like he was going to persist. Must be important. Still you shook your head. Whatever it is, it’ll ruin this. Tilting your head up, your lips kept Ryan’s from revealing whatever he felt he needed to. The kiss was slow and he returned your every subtle movement with his own. The fact that you were both still naked and dripping was completely lost to the moment while someone else’s lyrics played in your head.

We’ve got tonight.

Who needs tomorrow?

“Tomorrow,” you assured him, when he pulled his face away. Ryan’s lip was curled tight between two rows of teeth as he exhaled through his nose. Finally, after what felt like forever, he nodded and let his fingers fall from your wet hair,  over your shoulder and down your arm until they were woven between yours. “We can talk tomorrow. Tonight...let’s just go to bed,” you said, tugging him away from the bathroom and away from whatever he tried to scrub from his body and mind. We’ve got tonight.

tagging: @something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @breanime @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @lexxierave @strugglingsemicolon i literally have no idea who actually wants to be tagged, so sorry? I’ll figure that out soon.

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: June ( o n e )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 6k

A/N: zesty, with feelings. Y’all. I have been dreading this. I love Ryan Brenner and I just want to do him justice, give him the smut and the feels that he deserves. I don’t have any other words.

Summary: Ryan’s finally adjusting to being back in your home, but there’s something he’s been avoiding. maybe a few somethings?

Eight years ago, Ryan left at the end of a harvest season. At your prompting and the allure of some time on the road, Ryan set out to meet up with someone who called himself Cowboy. He’d planned to pick up jobs when he could, get his feet wet and see what else the country could offer him. Ryan had known Cowboy since he was sixteen years old, just a punk in his own eyes, learning from someone not even ten years his senior, who’d been traveling since he could walk. Despite his own wandering lifestyle, it was Cowboy that encouraged Ryan to stay in Nashville. “Stay as long as you can stand it,” he’d advised, knowing the life better than anyone and still wanting better for his young friend. They were cut from the same cloth, but as Ryan started to mature in his artistry, it seemed their music clicked as easily as their minds had.

You’d met the mentor whenever he was passing through the south again, making a point to see Ryan as often as he could, but the last time he stopped in, things were already different and the drifter’s presence seemed to reignite something in Ryan. In the few days that Cowboy occupied the room across the hall from Ryan’s -the room that was meant to be yours, but had been left completely untouched for months- you knew that Ryan was drawn back to the life that his mentor had carved out for himself. Ryan was always an incredible listener, but you could tell by the way he was leaning over his knees or the kitchen table while talking to Cowboy, physically putting himself closer to the story without leaving his seat, that he was hooked all over again. The three of you sat for hours singing, laughing, and talking. Even with your hand on his back, running up and down the length of his spine or across the base where his boxers and his undershirt stretched away from each other, you felt as though Ryan was already halfway out the door. As he should be.

You knew that Virginia hadn’t held him for long and that Ryan had worked his way through at least four other states since he was fifteen, thankfully meeting Cowboy shortly after leaving home. Knowing his story, sometimes it surprised you how long he’d managed to stay in Nashville. Unsurprisingly, Ryan answered the call of the rails and decided that sitting still was no longer an option for him. At first he’d be gone for just a couple weeks, as uncommitted to the road as he was to being in one place. Once he got hooked up with that salmon fishing gig up in Kenai, you knew that you’d be seeing him much, much less. The trips stretched out longer, but he wrote often and he always came back...eventually. He didn’t have much by way of valuables, but what he didn’t want to keep in his pack, stayed with you. Even after all this time, the room you’d once shared was just as much Ryan’s as yours. Certainly things had moved around and changed, but you made an effort to keep some of his things on display, so that when he returned it felt like he had some place to return to.

Ryan had friends scattered all around the country now and he’d take turns popping in to see them. Occupational hazard of a traveler, Ryan had to connect to survive and he was surprisingly good at it. His network was impressive and as saddened as you were when he was away, it never failed to warm your heart when his postcards included names. Old ones that he’d been visiting so long you felt like they were your friends too (you’d felt a particular rush upon noticing that Cowboy’s name was accompanied by one of Ryan’s crisscrossed ampersand’s more often than not and hoped to meet the elusive, but charming Ginny one day) and plenty of brand new ones that told you he hadn’t become complacent. He was still moving and shaking and making a way for himself. The more people he met, the more places he could go. It was simple. Eventually he learned that the more musicians he knew, the more opportunities he’d have to play and you loved that music had started to guide his movement more than before. That was the way of the road. Everyone was on their own, but they were all looking out for each other the best that they could.

Eight years ago, Ryan left for the first time and it felt like less and less of him returned, but he always made it back to you eventually. This time however, something felt off. He was back, kind of, but he was still somewhere else. Selfishly, you wanted Ryan to come back and for everything to be the way it always had been. Selflessly, you just wanted him to feel safe again. His first few days back were spent mostly in seclusion. He fed himself if the waning contents of your refrigerator were any indication, but he made a point to join you for dinner, especially when it was just you. He slept. A lot. To the point you started to worry that the traveling had caught up to him in some way you weren’t equipped to relieve. You watched him move around in a trance like state, coming more alive when it was just the two of you, but when he didn’t know you were watching, he seemed dull and down right conflicted. He’d tripped on more than one tree root while walking around the yard, clearly lost in thought and trying to pretend like he wasn’t. Whatever was being tossed around his brain was weighing on him and it pained you not to shoulder any of it.

Through it all, though, through the weird fog that descended with Ryan’s arrival, you two were still...you. The touches didn’t stop, but they didn’t progress either. There weren’t kisses that led to more. No getting carried away in the middle of an embrace. They were only in private and they were as brief as they were meaningful. You’d promised yourself long ago that you wouldn’t read too much into Ryan’s actions, but undeniably that was how he communicated most effectively. He wasn’t the biggest talker, not usually, but he’d show you things without words. He’d jumped in to help you out around the place, doing the things he knew that you hated, being helpful and sweet as always. Without him next to you at night, you couldn’t help feeling like the two of you had missed some sort of window before.

It wasn’t even a full week before Ryan found his way into your bed and you were thankful for that. The first couple of days, you waited in your bed, half expecting Ryan to join you and wanting to be ready for him when he did. But you were dead asleep when he finally came to you. There was a dip in the mattress somewhere behind you, followed by subtle bouncing as Ryan shifted and found a comfortable position. Your mind was hazy, not fully awake and all the clever welcoming comments you thought you’d want to say out loud were muddled in your head. The mattress stilled and you were content to simply fall back into sleep. Ryan wasn’t a cuddler, not really and not in his sleep. After his hands had been everywhere, feeling you, dragging you closer, and bringing you to heights only he could, those inked fingers of his fell to his sides, one hand tucked under his pillow while he slept. There was space between you on those nights, though never too much. If you rolled or turned in the night, you’d feel him. If he stretched or scratched, he’d feel you. If either of you needed additional comfort, consciously or not, you’d wake with hands or at the very least a couple of fingers hooked around the other’s. You didn’t need to be on top of him to know he was there and he didn’t need to wrap you up to ensure you wouldn’t leave him. Though, there is always an exception to the rule and it appeared that this was one of those nights when the rules would be broken.

It took only seconds for Ryan’s hands to find you under the covers. His long tattooed fingers made their presence known on your back, slipping under the cotton of your t shirt to trace the line of your spine. If you hadn’t already been awake, these feathery touches would have been enough to rouse you, but you kept your breathing even and stayed still. The mattress dipped again and you could feel the heat rolling off Ryan’s body before his chest made contact against your back. You felt one of his hands slip under your neck, arm curling under your pillow to cradle your head, as the other stayed under your shirt, sliding over your hip and finding your stomach a preferable resting place. Even through the thin cotton layers of your shirt and his, you could feel his heart was hammering against your spine. This wasn’t a man looking for a good night’s sleep in a slightly bigger bed. This man was very much awake.

Your face was pressed into your pillow, giving his left hand easy access. His fingers found their way into your hair, messing up the front before gently pushing the strands back and away from your face. They travelled down to your brow and you took a deep breath in. Ryan seemed to approve, given the warmth of his lips against your shoulder. His fingers traced the line of your orbital bone, following the curve of your cheek as his knuckles brushed through soft eyelashes. The tenderness of his left, even with the thick calluses on his fingertips, was nothing compared to the wonders of his right. In the freedom of the dark and silent room, Ryan took the liberties you’d been waiting for. Touching you all over, squeezing your flesh, and pulling you hard back against him, where you felt his own desire pressing back against you. You didn’t dare say a word, until finally you felt his hand slipping under the elastic of your underwear. He toyed with the edge, curling his fingers and letting the tips dig into the skin just above your mound, and it made you gasp for him. Again your breath was rewarded with his lips on your skin, this time the side of your face, his breath tickling your ear as his lips made their way down to your jaw and his hand traveled down to the heat between your legs. The fingers of his right hand were strumming against your core and he was playing you as expertly as always. His pace quickened and the pressure increased, just the way you needed. He was pulling muted chords from your throat and in an effort to keep the room in the dreamy state of quiet, you rolled away from him slightly, tucking your head to bite your pillow. But Ryan followed. His lips were everywhere now, leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and dragging his teeth and tongue down your shoulder. As you ground your hips against his hand needing to move somehow, do something, anything to bring you closer to him, he pulled his left hand out from beneath and propped himself up behind you, leaning over you slightly to keep his hand in his place. In that uniquely Ryan way, his fingers were pressing so hard against your clit you could feel the pleasure against your bone. Your whines were swallowed by the plush pillow between your teeth, but as your body tensed next to his, Ryan pressed harder, holding you against him and drawing out the waves that rolled over you for long seconds beyond what you expected. He leaned down, pushing up the back of your shirt with his free hand so that he could plant kisses against your bare side as you tried to come back down.

There were no questions, no words, no interruptions as you came down from your high and quickly started to push down your underwear. You rolled to your back to pull them from your legs and felt Ryan following your lead. He kicked off his own boxers, losing them somewhere in the tangle of sheets, as he gripped your hip and turned you away from him again. You clasped your hand over his, letting your fingers fall between his, and squeezed with him when he lined up from behind you, pushing in, and groaning loudly in your ear. So it’s that kind of night. Your hand moved up his arm, pushing his hand back to where you were joined and immediately his fingers responded, working you slower this time as his hips rocked against your ass. You no longer tried to conceal your moans as your breath fell in time with his, each of you gasping as he sunk deeper into your warmth. Your hand was grabbing at everything you could reach. Behind your head, you tugged on his hair, feeling his hot breath against your skin and sighing as his teeth sank into your shoulder with a satisfied groan. Your hands sought him out, needing to cling to Ryan as he moved within and behind you. Your fingers squeeze his arm when he reached around to palm your chest and hold you flush against him. Your nails dug into his thigh, encouraging every fluid motion as his breathing and his thrusting sped up, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly, you felt as Ryan slowed to nothing. As he slipped from you, your stomach sank. “This is all wrong...I can’t…” He hadn’t spoken, not really, just a few shuddered iterations of your name. His first words should have been filled with the same passion they always were, not regret. Never regret. He’d never said anything so cruel, and you could hardly believe your ears now, but Ryan rolled onto his back and away from you. It sounded like he was rubbing his face behind you. The identifiable squelch of eyelids forcibly being mashed together was coupled with his labored breathing before both were drowned out by a deep sigh. To you knowledge, Ryan had never regretted being with you before. This interruption made you question that immediately. It was new and you hated it. Trying not to cry or breathe too heavily, you turned to bury your face in the pillow, unwilling to face him at all. Partly from embarrassment, you hadn’t hidden at all how much you wanted him when clearly it was not reciprocated. He shouldn’t be here, you thought and you’d never thought that. But if he was going to regret being with you, then he needed to stay across the hall. As much as that idea pained you, the current hollowness in your chest and stomach told you it would be better for both of you.

Just as you’d decided to tell him as much, something unexpected happened. You felt him. Ryan’s breath was under control again and you could feel the evenness against your neck, just under your ear. A kiss. A singular kiss, softer than usual, but still clear in its intent. A kiss is all it took for the doubt to evaporate from your mind. Any thoughts you had about asking Ryan to leave your bed were gone at the sensation of his beard rubbing against your shoulder, up your neck, to your cheek. His hands were moving again too. The left was worming it’s way under your neck to turn your head so that he could kiss you properly on the lips. His right was drumming against your side, working up and down, torn between squeezing the flesh of your hip and sliding higher to brush his fingers against the side of your breast, following the swell with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. You smiled at the realization that Ryan had contorted himself specifically to touch you and you could feel that he was practically covering you with his body.

“Flip for me,” he said so casually, the words were little more than a puff of air against your lips before they were replaced by another whiskered kiss. It the closest to a command he was capable of, but his whole body was working to back up his words. His hands were pulling you back to the mattress, his legs were weaving their way over and in between yours, but it was taking longer than it should as he’d refused to let your lips leave his as he shuffled you into place beneath him. In a matter of seconds your heart was pounding again, the familiar cadence in your chest was met with his own pressed against you, as Ryan’s desire was once again fueling your own.

Emboldened by the switch, and more likely the reassurance that he still wanted you, you took full advantage of Ryan’s brief pause when he grabbed himself before entering you again. His eyes were on yours as he whispered something that sounded like ‘missed you.’ You dragged your hands out of the soft curl at the base of his neck, skimming his throat with your fingers and feeling the bob of his Adam’s apple as your touch had the intended effect. When your hands sank to his chest, still wearing the flimsy t shirt that he’d entered your room with, you pushed him back, tucking your knee around his hip and guiding him onto his back, where he bounced against the mattress, lips parted lightly with surprise from under his softly disheveled hair. Ryan was grinning up at you and it occurred to you that he hadn’t looked so light since his arrival and you smiled back at him, tucking your own hair behind your ears. 

“Not what I meant,” Ryan laughed, keeping his hands where they fall against the pillow by his head. His tone was light, but his eyes were dark and hungry as he scanned every bit of you, waiting eagerly for your next move.

“I know,” you grinned back, wiggling against his lap where you straddled him. Having his eyes on you was a feeling like no other, so you winked down at him, just before crossing your arms over your stomach to lift your t shirt over your head. Ryan was groaning and his hands were on your hips before the fabric had even cleared your head. He surged forward, meeting you with a sloppy kiss the second your shirt hit the floor somewhere behind you. With one arm wrapped around the back of his neck, cradling his head in the crook of your elbow, you kissed him back. The two of you worked together, needing to be joined again and soon. Ryan’s hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you toward him and lifting your hips, at the same time that your free hand was reaching behind you to grasp him, squeezing him gently before dragging it through the warmth between your thighs. Your attempts to tease him were only making it harder to keep your composure, as you shivered and sighed at the feel of him against you.

“C’mon,” he murmured and immediately you responded, sinking down into his lap and supplementing his hushed swearing with some your own. Not a foreign sensation, he’d been inside you countless times over the years, as recently as a few minutes ago, but everything changed when you were face to face with him. With Ryan Brenner’s dark eyes on yours, his lips leaving a damp and fiery trail of kisses down your face, neck, and chest, it just felt right. You moved against him and he returned each thrust with his own excitement. Both of your bodies were bouncing as your hands clawed at each other, until you’d successfully rid him of his shirt and your chests were bare against each other and heaving in harmony. His fingers dug into your flesh, holding you still above him so his could plant his heels and lay back. Helpless to anything, but gasp at the feeling of him pounding up into you, you fell forward and tightened your fingers against his flushed red chest.

Ryan’s movements were getting sloppy and tired as your voice rung out for him and every muscle in your body flexed, including the ones contracting around him. He’d pushed you right over the edge without warning and his short breaths told you he was right there with you. Just as you’d started to slump down against him, momentarily weakened by release, Ryan pulled out again, though this time you were absolutely certain he’d be back and filling you with no time wasted. In a breath, he had you flat on your back, following again and covering your body with his own, your lips with his own.

As you felt the hot head of him, moving through you and preparing to plunge in again, you stopped Ryan, threading your fingers in his thick locks and tugging back, forcing him to look at you. This time the worried expression was his. Lust and genuine concern were locked in battle behind impossibly dark eyes and his lips were parted, heavy breaths escaping him before he wet them with his tongue, preparing to ask what was wrong. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, you tried to assure him with a smile. He was beautiful all on his own, even more so with the evidence of your touch in his wild hair and the faint pink lines across his flushed chest. You could stare at him hovering over you just like this until the sun rose again, but you needed to feel him again and wanted him to experience the release of months away deep inside you.

“Ryan,” you said, still a little out of breath and he licked his lips again, nodding to say he was listening. “Welcome home.”

His groan was deep, but short as he fell into you again, pushing his way in as his lips and hips moved powerfully against your own. His vocalizing was completely incoherent, yet you understood him perfectly, as his thrusts shortened, breaths quickened, and his face fell against your neck, holding you close through the short shoves until he stilled against you, making no moves to pull his warm skin away from yours. Welcome home, Ryan Brenner.

…

Ryan woke with a start, skin pebbled in the chilled darkness. The room would be almost 80 degrees when the sun arose to full height in a few more hours, but without explanation and without fail, that old familiar room sent him shivering under the covers when the moon lit up the sky. His skin was completely bare and covered in goosebumps as the sweat had dried and cooled against him. Another more pleasurable shiver shot through him as he adjusted himself, sliding under the sheets and letting the soft fabric wash over him like a gentle mist. As soon as he’d settled in, his hand slid across the mattress, groping at the sheets and finding the bed empty next to him. He lifted his head just off his pillow, but finding himself truly alone, he sat up completely. The sheets pooled over his lap as he scanned his-their- her bedroom, looking for evidence of her. A soft orange t-shirt was hanging awkwardly over a mirror in the corner and his lip twitched at the sight, immediately reminded of how it got there. The way she’d flipped him flat onto his back, looking down at him with desire and familiarity before ripping the shirt from her skin, made him question why he’d felt the need to distance himself the last week. She was there. Right there. Still inexplicably her, smiling and drawing laughs from deep within his chest even while in bed.

His last partner hadn’t been so free. It felt different in Utah. Jackie wanted him and for a time she maybe even needed him, but he was right there with her, returning her desire as best he could. It never seemed good enough for her, not after the first time. Especially toward the end, when the connection was all she craved. They were chasing an intimacy that neither had earned, not simply through sharing a bed and such a short period of their lives. He knew what Jackie needed, he could feel it in the way she held him, see in her light eyes as they bore into his own. Every encounter was intense, he had no objections there, and she needed that presence, that connection, but Ryan felt himself falling short of it more and more frequently. Ryan was a humble man, who’d shouldered his fair share of rejection, but when his attempts to give her the what she craved were turned down because he’d been away too long, he’d seemed far away even though he was right in front of her, or simply because he’d suggested something new, it eventually wore him down. Jackie wanted intensity and passion, but what he’d just experienced... he knew he’d never be able to replicate with anyone else.

His friend, his lover, his safe place to land when the road felt too long, with her he always felt capable of his composition. It was intensity of a different brand. She responded to him so fluidly and he felt as confident playing her as he did his favorite songs. It hadn’t occurred to him how unique they were, that it wasn’t necessarily commonplace to have a full range and keep coming back for more. They could move together in a deep harmony that made his eyes roll back and his throat hoarse, but they also had nights that felt more like dancing, that left him smiling and breathless, listening to her giggling against his lips in the moonlight and desiring that as much as her moans for him. They’d learned each other both slow and fast, driving each other to new heights of pleasure as easily as they could draw out the sweetness with simple touches. Any guilt he felt from comparing the two was shattered under the realization that there was no comparison at all. Ryan nearly broke when she’d welcomed him home, looking up at him with eyes that sparkled under his touch. Having her under him, joined with him, moving and singing with him felt like home.

Ryan pulled himself from bed, tossing back the sheets to find two pairs of underwear tangled at the foot of the bed in their haste. He chuckled as he pulled his back up his legs, realizing that his shirt was the only garment missing from those discarded in need. Raking his fingers through his hair, Ryan grinned, knowing exactly where the missing shirt could be found.

Sure enough, after padding down the steps and through the living room, Ryan found his dark grey t shirt, hanging off the shoulders he’d cried out against. He leaned in the doorway of the wide closet, turned makeshift office space. By the glow of a computer screen, he watched her tilt her head and toss her hair over one shoulder. Certain it was an invitation, Ryan leaned in to press his face against her neck. A gentle hum tickled his nose and her hand left the keyboard to reach up and hold his cheek, keeping him in place while her fingers drifted over his skin and played with the coarse hair along his jaw. Stay, he felt her say without words and he nodded, dropping a kiss against her neck before standing to find a chair. When he’d returned to sit beside her, she was waiting for him, one arm slung over the back of her wooden chair, chin resting on her forearm as she watched him move through the room with ease.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in to drop a kiss against her inviting lips, before sitting and letting her get comfortable again. She pulled his chair closer to hers until their thighs were touching. “You’re supposed to be sleepin’. Thought I was meant to wear you out, but I catch you out here workin’ already?” he raised his eyebrows and shot her a tight lipped grin.

She slapped his chest with the back of her fingers, letting them linger and fiddle with the sparse hair there before laughing. “Maybe being with you energizes me, Brenner? Ever think of that?”

Ryan hummed and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Sure.” Watching her slip back into work, Ryan’s hand moved to the back of her neck, at first just to rest it there, squeezing occasionally before letting it drift down to trace the line of her spine through his shirt. “How bad?”

“Gets worse every year,” she replied, eyes still on the open ledger as she scrolled through pages of less than satisfying news. “Tobin wants to open the place up to the community. Make some real money, stop borrowing off Brick so much.”

“And you?” He asked, knowing she wasn’t so easily swayed by the promise of fortune.

“That’d be great if we could figure out how to keep the kids safe,” she sighed and Ryan smiled. They’d always been her first priority. He admired that when she was first hired. It balanced them out, the way he could keep his head down and teach them what they needed to know, while she used her endless hospitality to build relationships and keep them coming back despite the hours of labor. “I’m just ready to kick them out so the Peterson’s can get married under our oak trees. I mean, to pull off something like that, the kids couldn’t just come here, we’d have to shut them out to set up, and that’s not why we're here. It might make sense on paper, but how am I supposed to tell these kids they aren’t allowed here Thursday through Sunday?”

“Don’t think they’d want a break?” Ryan offered.

“Some hate the Saturday market and would kill for long weekends every weekend...but some of ‘em really need this place,” she shook her head. “I guess I’m just not ready to make us less available for them.”

“I trust your judgment,” Ryan said sincerely, gripping the back of her neck and turning her to face him. It wasn’t his place anymore, but in the same position, he knew he’d respond similarly. “Take a break,” he said gently. “You’ll still be broke when the sun comes up.”

She snorted to conceal a laugh, but nodded before leaning in to let her forehead fall against Ryan’s. He caught her and let his hand get tangled in her hair, holding her in place, before suggesting she step away from work for a while. She nodded again and followed him as Ryan led her by the hand into the kitchen. She was humming and immediately the song stuck out to him, his stomach turning a bit at the very familiar melody, low and bluesy, but somehow managing to sound sweeter against her throat.

“Hey, did you ever finish that one song?” She asked innocently, stopping in their path and tugging Ryan’s hand until he turned back so she could hold both. He complied, waiting for her to say something else. He knew exactly which song she meant, he’d started and stopped it nearly a hundred times the last week he’d spent with her. She was singing along with him long before he headed west, and apparently in his absence, the song had stayed behind. Swaying back and forth, squeezing his hands in hers, the song he’d written filled the air. Her voice did things to his words that no key change would manage and as much he loved listening to her, it pained him to know what came next. ‘Police can’t catch me...Lord how they try…’ her hips moved sensually, but her lips were quirked up in a light tease, encouraging him to join her. The missing verse hurtled toward him and it was unstoppable. “You finished it, didn’t you?” She asked with a knowing and optimistic grin, so he nodded, unwilling to lie. “How’s it go?”

Ryan mumbled his way through the last verse dutifully, failing as he tried to conceal a smile at the way her barefoot shuffled across a braided rug, humming quietly along as he half sang, half spoke the words. She was loving it like she always did and without even trying, she made him want to sing it louder. He refrained, wrapping up with the lines he knew she’d love, the lines he suddenly wished had come to him before he’d left the last time. ‘if the moon and the stars are the only shelter that I know...I guess I got this whole world and you to call my home…’

She was beaming up at him and he took comfort in the fact that her smile seemed more proud than presumptive. “It’s beautiful, Ryan,” she shook her head, still smiling. “Your words always are.”

He was at a loss, not a clue how to proceed. He’d wrestled with himself since returning, knowing that he’d spill his stories to her sooner rather than later. Two things had been locked in conflict, one a confession, one a request. Ryan wasn’t sure which would come out first, or which would be better first, and it seemed he finally had his answer. This was the segue he’d been looking for, a chance to tell her where he’d been. His time in Utah meant something, he knew that and he didn’t regret it, but something so meaningful couldn’t stay a secret. Not from her. If Jackie and Lia had meant nothing to him, he’d be content to forget it happened and leave her in the dark. But the months he’d been an add on to their little family was important to him. He hadn’t yet figured out how important and as much as he’d like to figure that out before talking about it, he knew that she’d be able to help him do that.

“I had help,” he said simply, squeezing her hands before letting go. Her smile was curious until it faded as if the loss of contact said more than his words. He’d hoped they would, even though he knew it was the cowards way out. She nodded and started moving toward the kitchen again. Ryan followed after taking a breath and settled into a squeaky chair at the small table pushed up against the wall opposite the sink.

The conversation had been churning in his head for days and he wanted it to be out and done with. Unfortunately, he knew that the only way to do that was to do as he had many times sitting at the lime green kitchen table. The paint was peeling worse than it was the last time he sat there, a glaringly obvious show of the passing time. It had been years, yet he’d found his way back to the table every couple of months, sometimes as long as six, but never more. While she fiddled about in the fridge, pulling out ice cube trays and a pitcher of thick brown liquid he knew would be sweet, Ryan glanced around the place, taking his time and letting his eyes linger on the things that were simply a blur to him in his haze the last few days. She was standing under a cupboard, where the inside of the thin door was painted black and a conversion chart was written in Ryan’s messy print. He’d intended for it to look nice and he took his time, but still the only two people who could make any sense of it were the ones in the kitchen currently. To the right of her hip, was a drawer with a loose pull, filled with mismatched silverware. The floors were dusty orange brick and the minty blue refrigerator door was covered in postcards from all over the United States. He recognized a handful as his own, thinner than they’d been last year, and not one was from Utah. All the strange, yet bright pieces of your kitchen called to him in a way he couldn’t really describe and still the sentiment was true in every single room. It was undeniably hers, her colorful soul playing against the blank canvas of the old house, yet anytime Ryan indulged in thoughts of finding a place to call home, more frequently as of late, it looked remarkably like this one.

“You stopped writing,” she said, nodding to where his eyes had stayed fixed on the collection of cards held up by magnets. She managed to point out the obvious without a hint of condemnation in her voice. For that, Ryan had always been thankful. He nodded wordlessly, before taking the glass she’d set down in front of him and joined him at the table. Ryan looked up and noticed how patient she looked. He knew that if he suggested going back to bed, she’d agree and likely continue to wait him out, but he didn’t want that. There wasn’t anything between them, hell, he was barely clothed and so was she. No, he had a story to tell and she’d always welcomed his stories.

“What’s her name, Ryan?”

There it is.

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @lexxierave @breanime @suchatinyinfinity

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: May ( t w o )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 2.6k

A/N: I’m getting cyber bullied by my friends into posting, so here is your first day with Ryan, continued! Day One here. Romance and Honesty in June on it’s way.

Summary: Ryan is back in your life, in your home, but after being away for 9 months, can he jump right back in?

The two of you were greeted at your driveway with adolescent whooping and hollering, boys being boys, ignoring their chores to cheer and bang on the truck windows and jump into the bed like a band of wild baboons. You laughed and shook your head, apologizing for the insanity of his welcome committee. Ryan chuckled and braced himself, exiting the passenger side door and letting his hands go straight to their heads, ruffling hair off faces he recognized and many he didn’t but who’d gotten caught up in the excitement all the same. He was bombarded with questions, where he’d been, how long he was staying, what his name was, which only made him laugh. Ryan’s smile was undeniable and it warmed you more than the evening sun, still high for the hour. Being welcomed back quickly, thrown right into the fray, it was exactly what he needed. You hoped.  All the questions went unanswered as the sea of young faces parted like the Red Sea for you and you pulled Ryan and his gear away from the chattering and into the safety of your home, while the boys were herded away by a few more adult volunteers and went back to whatever they were doing before.

In the relative silence of the house, you apologized again, but Ryan simply shook his head, crossing the floor quickly with what appeared to be intent to kiss you. You waited for his lips, familiar and deeply missed, but were quickly interrupted before there was anything worth interrupting. Ryan’s hands pulled away from your hips quickly and he turned away from the door, moving toward the kitchen to do…something. Tobin, your right hand, stood in the doorway, mouth slightly ajar as his eyes traveled between you and Ryan’s retreating form.

“I’m not paying to cool the yard,” you said, shaking Tobin from his thoughts. Whatever they were. He informed you that the mentors were leaving and taking most of the kids with them. The usual we’re staying and you nodded, letting him know you’d have dinner ready in thirty. He left without many more words and you spun to find Ryan, hopped up on a counter, boot clad feet dangling, as he sipped on a glass of water. His eyes were already on you, waiting for you, when you entered. The moment had slipped through your fingers and instead of forcing another one, you strolled right up to Ryan, stepping between his knees and slapping his thighs in a silly drum roll that made him tuck his chin and hide the amusement breaking out over his face. “It’s taco night,” you informed him, hands slipping to the outsides of his legs. “You know where the shower is.”

“You sayin’ I stink?” Ryan teased, small grin growing as he set his water in the sink to his right and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing you from shoulder to elbow and back again, squeezing every now and then.

You leaned in, letting your face rest against his dark t shirt, hanging loosely from his chest and a little damp as the sweat cooled now that he was inside. “You smell like out there,” you mumbled against him and felt his chest rise quickly with a chuckle. Pulling back slightly, you smiled up at him. “I like it when you smell like right here.”

“Got something fruity for me to wash with?” He asked, still teasing.

“Irish Spring’s right where you left it,” you were about to roll your eyes, but caught a weird sort of look on Ryan’s face and stepped back to get a better look at him. It always took him a little time to adjust and it didn’t matter how long he was staying. You assumed, more like hoped, that this was the place he missed when he was away, but it suddenly occurred to you that there may be somewhere or someone else that he was missing now. “Hey,” his eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. “You alright?” Ryan hummed an affirmative, squeezing your arms before sliding off the counter and grabbing his pack to head up the stairs. “Alrighty then...” you said to yourself, moving to the fridge and pulling out everything you’d prepared earlier.

You could tell Ryan was taking his time, rinsing off bits of his last leg of travel, but eventually he emerged, with wet hair pushed back off his face, bright eyes, and a fresh flannel over a white undershirt. His steps were obvious as he thudded down your stairs, but soon he was hugging you from behind as you browned packages of ground beef on the stove.

“Better?” He asked with his damp beard pressed against the side of your head.

You leaned back against him while you worked. “You tell me.”

“Much,” he sighed, turning his face to press his lips against your temple. For a second you weren’t sure if it was intentional, but everything with Ryan was and you let yourself relax. He was back. He was with you. It didn’t matter how long before he’d leave again. Ryan was home.

Without prompting, Ryan surveyed the contents of the counter and grabbed a large knife from the magnetic strip on the wall and started dicing tomatoes, gathering them into a bowl before pulling packages of cheese and tortillas from the fridge and dropping them on the long card table that you’d set up in the middle of your living room. Soon enough, a steady stream of young men filed in, bouncing directly to the kitchen to wash their hands before grabbing plates and napkins and standing around the joined tables. Dinner was chaotic, but Ryan kept up just fine. Rev, a seventeen year old with blonde hair brushed forward and curled over his sweaty brow, insisted that everyone join hands as he blessed the food. You willingly grabbed Ryan’s, squeezing his hand tight, when Rev thanked Jesus for bringing Ryan back to them and bringing him in one piece. He’d gone by Julian the last time Ryan saw him, but the gentle elbow you felt in your ribs told you that Ryan appreciated both the new nickname and the way the boy was growing into it. Once a loud chorus of hungry amens lifted from around the table, hands of all colors and sizes dug in, heaping spoonfuls of beans and meat into taco shells. There weren’t enough chairs and as soon as plates were filled beyond their capacity, kids found spaces lounging anywhere they could, the stairs, the couch, a couple retreated back to the kitchen, sitting at the table or on the counter, kicking the cupboard doors beneath them.

“So what makes y’all so special?” Ryan asked of the kids that stayed for dinner, realizing that wasn’t all that had greeted him upon his arrival. He ducked as someone behind him called for chips and a full bag flew through the air in the direction of the request.

“We’re the favorites,” a boy piped up from his spot on the stairs and Ryan turned, gripping the back of his chair to face him.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan chuckled. “And who are you?”

“Amos,” the boy answered. “Like the cookie.” He smiled wide, busting open the bag of chips and scooping a fistful onto his plate. It looked like he was about to throw the bag back, but Ryan’s long arm extended toward him to receive the bag instead as you let out a grateful sigh.

“Ok, then,” Ryan answered in amusement. “Favorites, huh?”

“Coz we work the hardest,” another boy piped up, standing to fill another taco shell with meat and cheese. “Foreman,” he wiped a hand on his pants before extending it to Ryan like a gentleman.

“That a name or a job title?” Ryan asked, looking into the boy’s nearly black eyes and shaking the hand before him.

“Yes sir,” Foreman answered and Ryan nodded with an impressed grin as the boy retreated back to the kitchen with Amos, like the cookie, following close behind him.

You took a moment to swallow your own dinner, before scooting your chair closer to Ryan’s and leaning in when his arm found your shoulder casually. Pointing across the table and around the room, you made sure to introduce him to the rest of your band of hooligans. El, who only worked when he had to, but much preferred to stay inside, learning how to keep books from the accountant who volunteered twice a week, was perched on the piano bench, back to the keys as talked awkwardly with Scout. You told Ryan that you traded El driving lessons for his number oriented brain and desperately wanted him to start looking at colleges. Ryan hadn’t realized there was another girl in your midst until you pointed her out, but Scarlet, who only answered to Scout, was barely listening to El despite all the obvious signs that he was desperate for her attention and was eyeing the table, calculating the probability of leftovers in her head. You leaned closer into Ryan’s side and he tilted his head down to meet you as you explained that Scout’s father only allowed her to spend her days on the farm so long as she came home with dinner for the brood of younger siblings she left with him. Tobin sat across the table, leg crossed over his knee as he talked to Rev about the little projects they had planned for the next day, but his eyes kept finding you and Ryan, frowning at how you sat comfortably close and caught up without a care in the world.

“Should I make up a space in the trailer for your friend, ma’am?” He finally asked.

“I’ve got plenty of room here,” you smiled and discreetly squeezed Ryan’s leg under the table, just to let him know that you wanted him and wanted him close. “Thank you, Tobin.” You felt Ryan’s hand close around your opposite shoulder a little tighter. “They should probably get home though,” you pointed out and Tobin stood, nodding, as all the kids gathered up their trash and moved toward the door. Scout hung back and you helped her fill a couple plastic boxes with meat and beans, sending her with a bag of chips and a jar of salsa too.

With Ryan’s help, you had the kitchen looking as if a hurricane of hungry mouths hadn’t just cleaned you out. You followed him up the stairs and watched him stoop for his pack that had been resting just outside the bathroom door. He moved toward the door across the hall from yours, but paused with his hand on the knob at the sound of your dramatic sigh.

“Can I help you with something?” He turned to glance at you from over his shoulder.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, kicking your heel back and opening up the door behind you, giving Ryan an unobstructed view of your bedroom. “It gets kinda chilly in there at night.”

“I know, it was my room first,” he shot back, dropping his bag and turning to face you fully.

“Is that why you always wanted me to spend the night?” You asked innocently, leaning forward and wrapping your fingers around the well worn fabric of his flannel shirt, softer after years of washing and wear. You hadn’t tugged at all, when Ryan was already crossing the narrow hallway to stand before you. He planted one hand against the wall behind your head and leaned in resting his forehead against yours.

“No,” he answered honestly, as his eyes bore into yours. The closeness was too much. Sharing air and not skin seemed so disingenuous, but you’d waited this long already. What was a little longer? Then Ryan licked his lips and your only thought was that you’d waited long enough.

You tilted your head back and his lips were there waiting for you, warm and familiar, with a fervor you hadn’t experienced since he left you last. The hand against the wall slid down to hold the back of your head, his long fingers tangled in your hair and kept you from pulling away too soon. His other hand was pressed so tight into your back, you thought you might break in half, but still your hands were tugging at his clothes and drawing him in by the checkered fabric locked in your fists. The hand against your back slid up and up until he was holding the back of your neck and the length of his forearm was cradling your spine, forcing one of your hands up and away from his now wrinkled shirt. Your hands found his hair, long and curled just under his ears, where you wove your fingers and gave him a gentle tug. Ryan gasped against your mouth, pulling back for just a breath, rubbing his nose against yours before diving back in, fitting his lips between yours like a missing puzzle piece.

When you finally parted, Ryan’s hands stayed on you, holding you close, but his eyes were swimming with something that looked suspiciously like regret. It pained you to see, but there was more. The same genuine affection so close to love that the word had almost flown from your lips in a reckless projectile on more than one occasion. You don’t leave the one you love, he’d said once in passing, not even in reference to you, but it sparked an unspoken agreement between the two of you. You’d never ask him not to leave and he’d never speak the words that would make him want to stay. Because you don’t leave when you love. The feelings you held for each other were complicated, more complicated than either of you were equipped to unpack, so they stayed tucked away in the dark chambers of hearts that were syncopated more often than they weren’t. The closest you came to expressing them was in bed, when your bodies moved so fluidly together, reading and anticipating and loving in ways your words simply couldn’t. You missed him, having him near, talking and laughing and singing, but currently you were missing those unspoken conversations, you missed the way you made music without using any words.

Where have you been? You asked silently, not wanting to push him yet sensing that just like at the car, Ryan was stuck. Too many thoughts and not enough words to capture them. Where has your mind been taking you, Ryan?

“You’ve been sleeping in train cars for how long?” Ryan shrugged, running his hands through your hair in a rhythmic trance. “How about you enjoy a bed to yourself, huh? Sprawl out? Sleep naked, do whatever you want,” you joked, forcing a smile. “You’ve got a room as long as you need it. Enjoy some peace and quiet,” you leaned up to kiss him again, grateful that he accepted the kiss and the assurance that came with it. “You deserve it, Ryan. Mi casa es su casa, right?”

“Guess it’d be nice,” he started, smirking slightly as he spoke. “Not gettin’ kicked by you in the middle of the night.” You shook your head and scrunched up your face in a teasing scowl. “At least for a little bit.” There he is.

“My bed’s comfier,” you reminded him with a subtle rise to your voice and he grinned, looking down at his feet as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He knew. “Good night, Ryan Brenner,” you said quietly and he ducked his head to kiss you again. Unsure if he was ready to stop kissing you, but certain he couldn’t do more in the moment, Ryan pulled away a last time. He bent to grab his bag, smiling over his shoulder again before disappearing into your guest room.

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @breanime @traeumerinwitzhelden

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: May ( o n e )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 2k

A/N: So, huddled around the dinner table with jackie and the fam, Ryan mentioned that one of his previous jobs was running an organic farm that worked with at risk youth. and then Jackie played a fun game called, ‘look at me mom i can use a thesaurus’, but im not salty about it. proprietary? really? Twenty minutes into the movie, I’d fallen ass over elbow in love with this man. As someone who has done a wee bit of farming with some delightfully jaded young people, I was H O O K E D on him like a triggerfish. Know what I mean? Put up a real good fight, but it was hopeless. I was toast. TOAST I TELLS YA. Anywho. This entire series was born out of a question that no one asked me... “Would Ryan ever go back to visit?” The answer is yes. But there’s so much more to the story.

Is there anything more exciting than a phone call from an old friend?

It was a hot day, though most were around this time and as spring turned to summer, they’d only get hotter. Much hotter.

The boys were chasing each other through the rows of freshly planted plots, propelling themselves into the air by running and jumping off the corners of full garden boxes, and slinging mud up off their shoes with every quick step, making it abundantly clear who was falling behind. If Joe were around and there was work to be done, maybe you’d holler at them for acting like boys half their age, but there were so few places for them to play, to just be young, to feel safe enough to act like the children they didn’t get to be. Planting was done early. It was an exciting time for them and you allowed for whatever ridiculous frolicking they needed to get it out of their system. There would be plenty of tiresome days to come, there had already been many. They’d already survived your favorite day. Some of the veterans, the returning boys, knew that soon they’d have to gather their own manure to spread, yet much to your delight, they kept it a secret from some of the token newcomers. The “nuh uh”s and “hell naw”s and heavily dramatized wrenching from guys who came in with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove was one of the best parts of your job. Second only the look on their faces when something finally sprouted up, when their plots were looking lush and green instead of the shit covered box that required ample water and patience. Without fail, young men on the brink of being far too grown for their ages looked down at their hands in awe. Knowing hardship and hard work are entirely different creatures, but by the end of the summer, they’d have plenty of experience with both.

That’s how things worked at Sonrise Farms. Hard hearts and soft hands came to you, but the end of the summer the only thing that hadn’t soften was the callouses. Joe made sure of that, though the older he got, the less anyone saw of that man. It wasn’t like when you’d first started 8 years ago. Joe was always out and about, his wizened face and rough hands leading by example every step of the way. He wouldn’t settle for complainers and always took a second to lean back, running his thumbs under his suspenders like he was in a cowboy movie, right before saying something with equal snark and love for the grumblers. Always a straw hat, always suspenders, always a kind word of encouragement for whomever was in need of one, Joe Brick was the proprietor and the very life blood of Sonrise. The Good Samaritan who brought his Sunday school lessons out into the real world and desired only to do right by the youth of Nashville. You had nothing but respect for the man, from day one. Even when his shadow was slightly less than welcoming.

After all the handshaking was finished, better than a signature in Joe’s book, and you were wandering Sonrise Farms on what had so far proven to be a most entertaining and educational tour. Joe called out for someone to join you, someone he treated so lovingly, you assumed that they were kin.

The young man that emerged was covered in dirt. Literally. His face was darkened by the sun and the soil, with small streaks of sweat that cut clean lines down from his temples, and his clothes hung loosely from a surprisingly muscular frame.

“Losin’ battle against that dirt, son,” Joe asked with a hearty laugh. A paternal sort of laugh that made everything he said passable. The man didn’t respond, smiled simply and trudged over toward you, pulling a rag from his back pocket, like something out of a movie, rubbing it over his face and hands. “Come meet your new best friend,” Joe gestured toward you and carried out introductions like a true gentleman. Mr. Brick was in charge, that was clear, but this Ryan character seemed to be the one running the show. Day to day duties, teaching the young people everything that Joe had taught him and so much more.

“Any experience?” Ryan asked and despite the furrow to his brow when you shook your head, you couldn’t help but smile. He had such kind eyes and a practical mind. His browned appearance suggested that he worked hard and his firm but somehow also soft spoken nature had you captivated. Ryan Brenner made a really good first impression and working closely with him suddenly became equally exciting as the work itself.

“Don’t go makin’ snappy judgments,” Joe cut in and Ryan looked at him as if he’d been caught. “You were nothin’ but a dumb kid when you started here,” he nodded confidently, sending a good natured wink your direction.

“I’m ready for ya,” you’d answered, Joe’s confidence fueling your own. You had the boss’ approval, but winning over Ryan was suddenly a much higher priority.

“We’ll see,” Ryan said, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You could tell he took his work seriously and for seemingly no reason at all, you were determined not to disappoint him.

You worked under Ryan for almost two years before the call of the road was too strong and he was apologetically shaking Joe’s hand, who made him promise that he’d come back and visit. He didn’t make the same promise to you, wouldn’t if he wasn’t sure he could keep it. While working together, your relationship with Ryan had blossomed into one of the closest friendships you’d known, but had also taken a turn toward the physical. An unexpected, and a albeit slightly unprofessional dynamic had added such joy to your experience. There was no agreement or promise between the two of you when Ryan eventually left, but he made it clear that you were not the reason for his change in scenery. His insistence made for a difficult first goodbye, but even so, you needed to hear it. Every goodbye since, if there was one at all, was a quick one. Neither of you liked that part anyways.

He made his way north as far as he could, sent you wrinkled letters from the deck of a salmon fishing rig up in Alaska. He took his time learning an entirely new trade before eventually turning to the road again, working odd jobs before eventually settling comfortably into the life of a troubadour Wherever Ryan went, he took music with him, one of the things that had drawn the two of you together, and as much as you missed him, you were happy that so many people in so many places were going to get to hear the very best of Ryan.

You kept in touch. Not with any consistency or expectations, but even with months and miles between you, Ryan Brenner was a habit not easily kicked. He’d show up on your doorstep every once in a while, seeking a place to rest before his next big adventure, bringing stories and the scars to match. Back in your bed, you’d trace the lines of a fresh tattoo, while Ryan talked quietly, holding you like he’d never left, making you wish he wouldn’t again. But that wasn’t your way. You’d have him anyway he’d let you and being his safe place was far more important than being his in any other sense. You had no claim on each other, yet it seemed to be understood that when Ryan was in town, you belonged to no one else. Your relationship was the most impractical thing about him and you counted yourself lucky to have him return as often as he did.

Though it was nearing 9 months, the longest you’d gone without seeing him in five years, if you hadn’t kept so busy, you’d have time to worry.

A familiar number appeared on your phone, one that changed frequently, but somehow you always knew. Your gut clenched in excitement as you stuck a dirty finger in your mouth, ripping off your work glove in excitement before spitting it out and answering the phone.

“Hey you,” said a tired voice and it was the only greeting you needed. Instantaneous relief flooded your veins at the sound of Ryan’s voice, deep, drawled, and talking directly into your ear.

“Same place?” was all the greeting you returned and Ryan’s sigh revealed just as much relief on his end. He gave you his best estimate and you promptly hung up. There was nothing left to say over the phone that couldn’t wait to be said in person. You darted up the porch steps and flew through your old house, standing for just a minute under the cold spray of a shower. You couldn’t be bothered to wait for it to warm as you quickly rinsed your body and hopped back out. Ryan had seen you in worse condition, held you close and smelled you with as much as eagerness as when you were fresh. You threw some clean clothes on and headed back down to the driveway, jumping into the driver’s seat and yelling out the window that you’d be back soon. Everything else could wait. Ryan was coming home.

You drummed your fingers restlessly against the peeling steering wheel cover, waiting about a mile from Ryan’s usual drop point. You heard the train before you saw it and the tempo of your drumming increased to anxious allegro. Soon, you told yourself. Soon. Twenty minutes later, a person appeared on the road ahead, lumbering toward you. You could see the outline of a guitar case in one hand as the person spun to check the road behind them. Ryan. Normally you’d drive up to meet him, but he was moving quickly and your excitement was getting the best of you.

You jumped out of the truck and sprinted the rest of the way to him, closing the distance with a violent smack as your chests collided. Prepared to receive you, Ryan dropped everything in the grass, shedding his pack and setting down his guitar case in a fluid motion just seconds before his arms closed around you. There were no thoughts of proper greetings. No embarrassment over the semi public display. There was only you and Ryan, one the side of a road barely travelled. Your face tucked against his neck, his buried in your damp hair, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Trying not to let fatigue be your downfall, Ryan took a couple stuttering steps backward and his spread his legs wide to keep you both up right. After nearly a minute of just letting your bodies be reminded of what was missing, you pulled your head away to address him, but Ryan set you down gently. With your feet back in the dirt, you stooped to pick up the guitar case, smiling as his hand slipped into yours so easily you wouldn’t have noticed if not for his fingers squeezing yours. His pack was thrown over one shoulder, a heavy tan coat woven between the straps and dangling on either side. Your fingers stayed laced even as you set the guitar case in the bed of the truck, Ryan following your lead and tossing in his pack.

Free from the burden, with his hand still in yours, Ryan spun you until your back was pressed against the door. He didn’t lean in like you expected him too, but still the closeness of his body was enough to remind you of all the catching up you had left to do. His leg was fit between yours, holding you in place, while his free hand came up to touch your face. There was a gentleness in the motion that starkly contrasted the thick callouses on his fingertips. Years of bronze guitar strings digging into the pads on his left hand took away his ability for soft touches, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He traced the line of your brow down your cheek to your jaw with two fingers, pausing before his forehead fell against yours. Eyes closed, you focused on your breathing, on matching Ryan’s, on simply being present and sharing the same air, feeling his skin on yours after so long apart. It seemed like you were standing there forever though not long enough. It also became obvious that Ryan was on the verge of saying something, but appeared stuck in the moment, unable to get any words out. Relieving him of the conflict, you took a moment to reach up and pull the tan cap from his head, so that you could run your free hand through the greasy locks hidden beneath and watch them fall to his forehead from their slicked back place.

“Wanna go home?” you asked quietly and Ryan nodded and the damp tips of his hair, shorter than the last time you saw him, brushed against your brows. He pulled away, still not speaking, but he was smiling. That was good enough for you.

--

tagging a couple people, if you wanna be added or removed, let me know

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @breanime

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man: June ( t w o )

Ryan Brenner x Reader, 4.5k

A/N: here it is. Four parts later and i finally reveal the plot. LAWL. anywho. here.

Summary: Ryan’s been away, living a life you know nothing about, but he wants to share it with you now. (Ryan’s POV).

“Jackie…” she repeated, testing it out with her voice. Apparently she found it not worth repeating again as she quickly moved on. “So why aren’t you with her?”

“Cause she isn’t you,” he tried to joke, though there was more truth in the statement than just the proximity. Ryan had been called charming by every elderly woman he’d met since he was eleven, usually with a pinch to his full cheeks though as he got older and ladies got bolder it seemed nothing was off limits, and he hoped whatever subtle charm they saw in him could do him one final favor and help to turn the subject on something else. Or someone else. Or both.

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” she said, taking his statement literally. Placing her pebbled glass down on the table again, Ryan watched her fingers drum against the peeling paint. Anyone else, he’d assume they were growing impatient with him, but he’d sat across this table before, in her presence for many years and knew that regardless of circumstance, she’d manage to find a rhythm within herself and would share it without an ounce of contempt. An outsider could easily misinterpret the scene, but Ryan found great comfort in it. Until something dawned on him.

“Can I at least put pants on? I don’t wanna talk about my ex with my-” Ryan started, already rising from the kitchen table when she interrupted him.

“Your ex?” She asked and he paused, taken back by the surprise in her voice.

Ryan shrugged. “What else would I call her?”

“Nothin’,” you shrugged back, obliging him and following his lead. “You just don’t call anybody anything, that’s all.”

At the base of the stairs, Ryan gripped the railing with his left hand, letting his right go instinctively to her back as she accepted the gentlemanly gesture and moved to climb the steps in front of him. She’d only just risen off the main floor, back foot still hovering in the air when Ryan’s hand closed around the fabric of his own t shirt, halting her movement. He was relieved when she obeyed, stopping on the first step and turning slightly to face him.Where she stood, they were eye to eye for a change and Ryan smiled sheepishly at her cocked brow.

“Wait…” he said quietly and quickly cleared his throat. The hand on her back made its way to her side, resting against her hip and squeezing gently. “You can’t- mm, I should go first.” Ryan took a deep breath at her tilted head, silently bemoaning her innocence. “I know you aren’t-“ he started and stopped himself as his hand drifted lower one her hip. Don’t do this to me. His fingers toyed with the hem of his t shirt, where it hung against her upper thigh. Don’t make me say it, he begged, pads brushing the soft skin of her leg as he pushed the shirt up. Not enough to expose the truth he couldn’t put words to, but enough to get the point across.

Her eyes were lit with in understanding when he looked up to see her face, but Ryan shook his head at the teasing look he found there as well. “Oh, I see,” she smiled, leaning forward a bit and resting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the back of his neck.

“It’s-“ Ryan paused again, sliding his hand up over her hip to her waist again, a safer resting place for the time being. “There’s a lot I wanna tell you and I don’t wanna be...distracted,” he admitted, amazed at even his own honesty.

She smiled, this upward turn of her pretty lips looking far more genuine, as she leaned in to press them against his forehead. Ryan took a breath and leaned into the gentle kiss, as he squeezed his fingers around her side, wondering if she had any idea what her kisses did to him. Even the little ones. “I get it,” she assured him, pulling back. Thank God, he thought, unsure what he’d do if she-

As if reading his mind, she turned and bolted up the stairs, just fast enough to bounce with each step, but not fast enough to blur the image of two round cheeks under the grey fabric of his t shirt. Ryan spun until his back hit the wall, head lolling back against the paneling with a hopeless smack as he groaned and chuckled at the display. He couldn’t help himself, nor did it seem like she expected him to, so he let his head roll to the side, watching her almost naked form move away from him. She turned to lift her eyebrows before disappearing into her bedroom, to put clothes on if Ryan was lucky. Moments later, a pair of his jeans were floating down over the banister, landing in a denim heap on his shoulder as she reappeared, still wearing his shirt, only now it looked baggier, half tucked into the rolled over waistband of a pair of blue mesh basketball shorts. Ryan stayed planted where he was, back pressed against the wall as she descended the stairs and appeared directly in his line of sight again.

“Let’s hear it,” she said with a smile and Ryan fought the urge to kiss her right then, to pull her into him and spin her into the wall, holding her captive between his arms while he reveled in his luck. She doesn’t even know yet and she looks…so happy for me. He wanted to keep her this way, trapped in an innocent ignorance, where she hadn’t denied him his request yet. His hands were moving through her hair, messing up the ponytail she must have pulled it into while out of his sight. Briefly, he considered asking her then, while her chin was brushed pink from his whiskered kisses and her eyes only saw him however she she saw him now. A friend, but still more, always more. Always a friend first though, he reminded himself, releasing her from his hands at her temples without their lips meeting. She was a friend that had known him when he was young and idealistic, thinking he could change his own story by working in the dirt. She stayed his friend while he discovered it wasn’t true, while he rambled through the country, finding pockets of people who took him in. She was his friend now, dropping another t shirt into his hands before turning her back and moving toward the living room again. He wanted to stop her, tell her that the kitchen was safer, but if the table leg he’d broken with her help and fixed on his own three times before was any indication… no room, regardless of its intended purpose, was entirely safe.

Ryan swallowed his next words, pulling on the t shirt and jeans without bothering to mess with the hardware, leaving them open and letting the black cotton of his boxer briefs show through the wide v between two rows of gold teeth. He followed her to the couch, sitting on the farthest end as he usually did. She spun and pulled her feet up, sitting cross legged in front of him waiting for a story that he hadn’t originally planned on telling. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking that for a moment, he lived in Utah and thought he’d be there forever. Some version of himself had slipped into the fantasy, full expecting that he’d never sit on this couch with this girl again. He had to. To give Jackie the attention she needed and deserved, he couldn’t think of her or of what he was trading to be with the woman who said all the right things, who was there for him when he needed someone, who sent him off with purpose and an open invitation to return. Return he did, abandoning Nashville and finding himself coming back to Ogden over and over. Even then some part of him knew that if he’d come back here, that he wouldn’t have been able to go West again. For a man who insisted he had no home, having two suddenly seemed impossible to reconcile, so he dropped one. Hers. Not for its lack of importance. The opposite, he admitted to only himself, turning in his seat to face her.

She looked so patient, he suspected he could ask to go back to bed and she’d never bring it up again, but that would feel dishonest and Ryan couldn’t stand the thought of lying to her. Keeping things to himself, certainly, preferable sometimes, but ignoring her request to hear where he’d been, he couldn’t do that.

So Ryan spoke and there were points in the story where he barely recognized it as his own. All the rules were bent and broken in Ogden. He got attached, quickly, he made promises and kept them as best he could, until he couldn’t. He relayed the story of his chance meeting to a kind hearted woman with a daughter that still made him smile from miles away and a mother that was appropriately skeptical. They took him in, some more willingly than others, but his first week there set the tone for all his future visits. He kept busy, he played. He offered up bits of himself he wouldn’t normally with strangers. When Georgie pushed him toward Portland, he jumped at the opportunity, still reeling from the loss of Cowboy and... Shit.

Ryan looked up from his lap, meeting her eyes for the first time since he started talking. For the first time in his life he felt like he couldn’t shut up and he almost sped right past that detail. Her lips were tucked in tight around her teeth as she took a breath through her nose, nodding and encouraging him to continue without saying a word. The woman across from him knew his mentor, fed him at that damn table, played and sang along with them when he was in town. She lost Cowboy too without knowing at all and still somehow it was the memory of Jackie’s arm around his waist as he leaned forward in the pew, hiding his hurt expression behind steepled fingers that covered his nose and mouth. It suddenly occurred to Ryan how unfair that was. He had memories, treasured memories of sitting back and watching her sing with Cowboy, lowering her voice to meet his without realizing how much she sounded like Virginia while doing so. His mentor always laughed at that, punching Ryan in the arm as soon as she was out of sight. Jackie didn’t have those moments, they weren’t hers to mourn, yet it was her bed he slept in that night, her skin that warmed the coldness he tried to hide behind.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said quietly, not trying to hide or obscure the sentiment, but it was how the words came out.

“Ryan,” she took a deep breath and shook her head, moving closer to him, crossing cushions that felt like miles to take his hand in hers. “Come on,” she tried to laugh, a sound that pained him more than if she’d just had the decency to cry honestly. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize for anything. We’ve been doing this a long time,” I know. “I’m glad you had her, Ryan. I’m glad someone was with you when…” she paused and wet her lips before sucking them back in around her teeth.

“He’s gone,” Ryan said suddenly, feeling as though he hadn’t really processed that fact beyond the day they laid him in the ground. She whispered that she knew and wrapped him in a hug he didn’t have the strength to break out of even if he wanted to. He didn’t. They sat like that, unmoving except for Ryan’s hands that he eventually pulled up to hold her against him too. It was ridiculous, curling around her body and trying to make up for lost time, to hurt now after so many weeks had passed, but somehow, even hurting felt better in her presence.

“You should have been there,” Ryan admitted weakly. It was honest, yet only halfway. He didn’t want her to be in Ogden.

“Its okay,” she responded, but Ryan knew she didn’t understand. So rare to be misunderstood in this space, but it happened. “I wasn’t there and you had a lot going on. You weren’t-”

“I wasn’t thinking about you.”

There it was. The truth. Some part of him, a secretly impatient part apparently, thought it would be less painful for him to admit it before having to hear her say what they both already knew. Less painful for him or her, he wasn’t sure and the speed with which she looked away did nothing to confirm it. They weren’t together, not in a relationship sense. There wasn’t room for jealousy or regret. He didn’t fear sharing what he had with Jackie, but confessing that in order to be with her, to be good and fair to someone else, he had to push her completely from his mind. With shocking speed, his arms were around her again and even more surprisingly, she didn’t pull away. In the moment, he hadn’t been thinking about her at all, but suddenly in the stillness on her couch and with her hands returning to him, all the moments he would have been thinking about her came back to him. Big moments like Cowboy’s funeral, meeting Henry for the first time, and recording his own songs were partnered up with just as many small ones from the road, getting an outrageous tip in Las Vegas and buying a new pair of boots. If he’d been thinking clearly, she’d have been present, even if in the back of his mind, she’d have been there and he would have written her about them.

When his story picked up again, Ryan adjusted, sitting sideways and pulling her to his side, keeping her close, while still giving her the option to remove herself. She didn’t. She stayed through his retelling of recording in Portland and she squeezed him excitedly when he confessed to playing more songs that day than he ever intended to, earning him an open invitation to return with more anytime. Ryan went on to share the awkward and disjointed moments he could recall of his months with Jackie. Sometimes he felt like he really belonged there, belonged with her, like when he started to feel ill on the road and simply changed directions, returning home for a few weeks and forgetting all about the trip he’d abandoned. Other times, he’d cross the threshold in Ogden and feel like a stranger who kept his underwear upstairs. When Jackie decided to move out of her mother’s house, she’d insisted that Ryan be a part of the process and without being able to offer her a good reason why, he insisted that he didn’t. Later on his trips got longer and he found himself missing “home” less painfully. He missed having someone with him when he couldn’t sleep, missed practicing guitar with Lia, missed Jackie’s cooking. Another rule broken. Don’t miss them when you go.

After recounting months of his life, balancing precariously on a thin line between cold detachment and appropriate emotional distance, Ryan found himself in a room bathed with golden light as the sun was clearing the trees and peeking up over the horizon, yet he was standing on the precipice of his final story. He was laying flat on the couch by then, with her body wedged between his side and the thick back cushions. Her hand was comfortably resting on his stomach, fingers curling occasionally, just to tell him that she was still listening. Simultaneously, in his mind, Ryan was standing on Jackie’s front porch again.

It was dark, almost midnight by the time the truck he’d flagged down rolled to a stop and let him hop out. He’d been jumping for a couple weeks, following Georgie and his optimism through Arizona and New Mexico before making the turn North again. As Ryan marched up the long loose gravel drive, he thought he could make out shapes on the porch waiting for him, but the usually lit yellow light bulb was out. He remembered thinking that he’d change it tomorrow, but he never got the chance. His face was already apologetic by the time his boots hit the creaky bottom step. Jackie was standing, he had no idea how long, at the railing and waiting for him. At her feet, everything he owned was contained in a dark grey duffle bag. She didn’t want to wake Lia, she explained, despite Ryan wanting nothing more than to see the girl and apologize. Another rule broken. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. He’d been away for just a couple days when Lia called him, gushing excitedly over an opportunity to play and sing at the Arts and Crafts Show. He felt an inexplicable pride for this girl that wasn’t his flesh, but still so meaningful to him, and carelessly promised to be there. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. That’s what he told her, before letting Georgie drag him to just one more city before returning home. The trains would still be running after they hit up the tourists driving through Winslow, pausing to take pictures with a bronzed Glenn and a red Ford, dishing out more than usual for the duo that had perfected their own version of “Take it Easy” while riding through the desert. Whatever freedom he felt in Arizona was suffocated when Georgie’s fiddle was stolen and Ryan stayed to help him scour the pawn shops and garage sales for the familiar wooden curves of his girl “Rosalie.”

By the time Ryan was on the road back to Utah, he knew it would take a miracle to make it in time. He called Jackie to explain and was met with completely justified frustration. “Just get here,” she instructed, hanging up without giving him a chance to assure her that he was trying. It was hard not to feel like an asshole, counting up all his cash, wishing he hadn’t left so much of it in a coffee can in Jackie’s kitchen. Savings, she called it. Not very useful when it’s three states away, he called it, as he added up what he had in his pack and realizing it wouldn’t be enough to rent a car. Not that places like that often did business with folks who only dealt in cash. He swallowed his fear of buses and the prospect of his guitar and bag being out of sight for the better part of a day, especially after Georgie’s scare in Arizona, and boarded a Greyhound bound for home. But arriving so late, missing the show by a whole day, he wasn’t surprised to see Jackie’s eyes wet or her mouth set into a hard line. Maybe they’d both seen it coming and she just needed a good reason to ask a good man to leave. Lia was the best reason there was. Ryan didn’t blame her. The kid already had a father that couldn’t decide how much he wanted to see her. She didn’t need the drifter in her mom’s bed to be equally as unreliable, coming in and out of her life with a fluidity that he hadn’t earned in the weeks he’d been around her. Ryan thought maybe he’d earned at least a second chance after everything he’d done for the family, everything they’d done for him, but it didn’t appear to be the case. Jackie was a good mother, one of the best that Ryan had the pleasure of meeting, and the fierceness with which she protected Lia was as admirable as it was unwavering. There weren’t enough words in his vocabulary to express how sorry he was. He could’ve asked to come home sometime in the future after giving her some time to cool off, but something about having his possessions meet him on the porch told him the answer without him asking, without him expressing a desire to return. Maybe that’s why Jackie had been so cold, because he didn’t fight her on it, but it was her decision to make, her home and her family to protect. Ryan was accustomed to people feeling that they had to shelter what was theirs from him.

“So you came here?” she asked, still wholly invested in the story while rolling a loose thread from his shirt hem between her thumb and pointer finger.

“No,” Ryan laughed, pulling her hand from his shirt to lace his fingers between hers. “I walked to Ginny’s, used the hide a key and left a note for her in the bathroom and on the coffee maker,” he chuckled, “figured waking up to some ugly drifter on her couch would be startling.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” she added playfully, using their joined hands to press against his chin. Ryan responded and tilted his head down obediently. “But you sir, are far from an ugly drifter.”

Ryan’s face was fixed in an amused smirk as he hummed inquisitively, licking his lips and waiting for her to continue.

“Oh yeah, handsomest hobo I know,” she said before lifting their joined hands again to tweak his nose with the back of her hand.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t manage it, a grin splitting across his face before he could take her seriously. With a soft grunt and some gentle maneuvering, Ryan pulled her up to rest against his chest, where she propped her face up and he was thankful for the chance to look at her again, since most of his story was told directly to the top of her head. “Stayed there...not long...but Virginia,” Ryan laughed, but he knew it sounded less like a laugh than a sad scoff. “She sent me here,” he paused and lifted one hand to brush a loose hair from her brow, letting his fingers trace the side of her face as if he was tucking it behind her ear, though it was too short and fell right back into place. “It’s exactly what Cowboy would have done. He’s done it before...always sent me back to you when… I dunno, when I shouldn’t be out there.”

“I knew I liked that guy,” she answered sweetly and Ryan laughed again pulling her down until his arms were draped across her back and her face was pressed up against his neck. “So…” she started and the relief was zapped from Ryan’s body immediately. He knew it was coming, but he’d hoped to bask in her understanding just a little bit longer, before- “How long are you planning on staying this time?”

Ryan winced, thankful she couldn’t see his face from where she was laying. It was the worst part of their arrangement and the question he was least looking forward to answering. Especially this time. He knew she felt guilty asking, like she hadn’t earned the right to ask, afraid of accidentally trapping him with her question. Though, she was about the only person that could ask without making it feel like the walls were closing in. Still, it never got easier and today, it would be much harder.

“Sit up,” Ryan requested with two quick pats on her back.

When they were seated next to each other again, Ryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees while he scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling down the skin and beard while he thought. Worst she can do is say no. “I actually had a question to ask you...about that. A favor. Sort of.”

“Ok,” she said, clearly waiting for him to say more. “What kind of favor?” she added, when it became painfully obvious that he needed help getting the words out.

“The kind of favor I could never ask anyone else,” Ryan laughed bitterly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms before raking his fingers through his hair to scratch down his scalp to the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t even ask you, but-”

“Just tell me what you need, Ryan.”

“Your van,” he faltered under the weight of what he was asking. “There’s places I haven’t been. Stuff I haven’t seen yet and-”

“The trains aren’t runnin’ that way, huh?” Ryan looked up hearing the subtle humor in her voice and nodded with a small smile of his own. The greenish Volkswagen van was sitting just outside, parked under a tree, ready and waiting to be loaded down with wooden crates of fresh vegetables and a pile of squirming adolescents in matching yellow t shirts, chatting excitedly on their way to Market. When not being used to shuttle produce and people, Ryan hoped that it might be a temporary shelter. It would be a nice change of pace, just for a little while. “Well, you’ve come at the wrong time for a favor like that,” she sighed and Ryan immediately felt defeated, but before his shoulders could sink any lower, she interrupted his thoughts again. “But this place pretty much shuts down in October,” she offered with a slight shrug.

Ryan nodded knowingly. “I can come back,” he said, but he voice lacked conviction. Ryan moved to stand, squeezing her knee gratefully before rising.

“You could stay,” her rushed tone stopped Ryan short and he turned back to look at her with questions written all over his face. He could feel it in the deep furrow of his brow, but quickly tried to soften it. She wants me to stay? Still? “Stick around for the harvest season,” she offered and Ryan sat next to her again, listening as she scrambled. They were in uncharted territory now. Not only had she never asked this of him, but he was considering it. Really considering it. Could I stay? “Help out or don’t,” she said nervously and Ryan frowned. She never sounded nervous. “Just hang close...the kids miss you.”

“The kids?” Ryan asked, amused smirk impossible to hide as he looked her over. She wants this. I want this. Is that so bad?

She scoffed and he leaned away when she extended an arm to shove his shoulder. “You know that I miss you,” she admitted, taking a deep breath and looking at him with new resolve. “The world isn’t going anywhere this summer, Ryan. You’ve been running for a while and maybe… I’m sorry,” she stood quickly, physically and verbally retreating from something that felt so right just a few seconds before. “I shouldn’t even ask you that.”

“Yeah,” Ryan stood quickly, joining her in the middle of the room and nodding as he grabbed her arms, keeping her from retreating again. “I can do that.”

“Just for the season,” she assured him. “Last Market day? Van’s yours and you’re free to go.”

Cowboy’s words were echoing in Ryan’s mind as he stepped closer, bringing one hand up to her neck. His thumb brushed over her throat, up her chin before resting on her lower lip.

Stay. Stay as long as you can stand it.

“I’ll stay,” Ryan smiled with a reserve that melted under the brilliance of the smile that was returned. She wants me here and… yeah. “I’ll stay.”

aaaaaaaaaand SCENE.

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @breanime @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @strugglingsemicolon

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Ryan Brenner: A Soundtrack

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man

M A S T E R L I S T

--

When I kiss you goodnight  ||  In the dark hours of the morning  ||  And pack a guitar bag  ||  And head on out the door  ||  I know that you know that I really hate to leave you  ||  But it's that time again and I simply got to go

I was a wandering minstrel in a previous life  ||  Now I'm your 21st century  || 21 century gypsy singin' lover man

--

Ryan Brenner x Reader, after the events of Jackie and Ryan (2015)

May (one)

May (two)

June (one) **

June (two)

July (one)

July (two)

July (three)

August (one) *

August (two)

September

October

** denotes a content warning: zest and smut and lemons and whatever else you wanna call it-- there’s suggestive content. Use some discretion. 

BONUS

Strip Scrabble- request

I Wrote Mr. Tambourine Man- lettering

Yeah, we’ve got songs... ya wanna hear em?

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Tomorrow is

.....so much happens.

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Taglist Round Up

aka me trying to be organized for once in regards to this blog

I’m going to post the tags that I currently have for all my fics. If you want to be added or removed, please let me know! I tossed some faithful readers and commenters on there as well, just to make sure you have the chance to tell me what you want to be tagged for. 

Ok that’s all, tags below the cut

General Tags:

@something-tofightfor  @the-blind-assassin-12 @gollyderek @suchatinyinfinity @fific7 @beautifuldesastre @elanor-of-imladris @actuallyazriel @malionnes @pheedraws @commanderlola @mariaenchanted

Let it Burn/Billy Russo:

@songtoyou @disengagefrmreality @christinawxxx @stories-you-wont-hear @lexxierave @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @thesumofmychoices @ofheroesandvillains @charmed-asylum @bugboy-and-icegirl @thefinalexperiment @lysawayne @operation-spot @ilkaeliseb @littlemermaidprobz @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mathle0matle 

King and Lionheart/Caspian:

@ificouldhelpyouforget 

21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man/Ryan: 

@strugglingsemicolon @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @lexxierave @breanime

If you would like to be on this list, please let me know.

If you would like to be removed, please let me know.

If you would like to moved from one to another, please let me know. 

I think we all know that I have zero concept of a posting schedule, so this is how to get alerted when there are story updates. 

THANKS TEAM!

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

All our days

There was a song that played

For you in my head

All these things on my mind

Now that i'm taking the time

To write

See these letters swirl

Like a thousand white birds

In the sky up above her

I'm a flag unfurled

And I'm sending my heart

To a dear friend and lover

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

21st century. Tell me all the things about Ryan Brenner.

So this ask was in reference to a post about whole friggin series being written around one or two scenes that are really meaningful to the writer. Well.

The last part of 21st Century Gypsy Singin’ Lover Man contains not one but TWO of these nuggets.

The scene in bed, where Ryan is jokingly but not at all joking and writing a song about our sweet reader in a certain state of undress and later in the kitchen where he is very unamused by her attempts to compare herself to anyone else, when he tips her head back and plants shivery whiskered kisses up her neck.... yeah, oh boy. Those were the first two things I wrote for ryan and promptly sent them to you because I have no self control. Sorry you had to live with that in your head and no resolution. Here it is.