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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

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Mayhem

A/N - So, it was too late to incorporate any of this into I Know That I’ll Lose, but let it be known that Matty getting a puppy did not go unnoticed by my writing inspiration. Have this adorable thing.

Matty adopts a puppy, Matty ends up back at the pet store more than he expected. Short, fluffy Matthew Healy x Reader sorta thing.

It had been three days since Matty brought a new puppy back to the studio. Three days of a black fluff ball romping about under their feet any time they tried to move from one room to another. George had tried to convince him that it wasn’t a great idea to get another dog considering how little time he spent at home. But he regretted missing out on the majority of Allen’s childhood and he was bound to London for the foreseeable future, so he figured now was as good a time as any to get a puppy. Things were going pretty well so far - Mayhem adjusted nicely to the new environment and he was a (mostly) welcome addition to the homely space of the studio. The only issue was that he didn’t seem to be eating much. Or… at all. On the first day it was easy enough to assume that he had already been fed at the pet store and wasn’t hungry, the second day could be put down to settling in nerves, but Matty was beginning to get concerned that he still didn’t seem to want his food. Perhaps it was the taste? He figured that all dog food probably tasted fairly similar from brand to brand, but maybe not if you were the target audience.

“I’m goin’ out, George.” He shouted over his shoulder as he grabbed his keys and slipped his wallet into his pocket.

“Where?” His friend’s voice called back down the hallway.

“Pet store to get Mayhem food. Make sure he doesn’t destroy anything.” He answered, about the pull the door shut behind him before he heard George continue.

“He’s not my dog, Matt.” He replied, the mild annoyance seeping into the tone of his voice.

“You own stuff in here too.” Matty half-sung back. “Bye!”

The shop he had gotten Mayhem from was only a few minutes down the road. As he stepped up to the counter, he rehearsed one last time in his head what he had come in here for. He didn’t want to seem like a bad dog owner, like it was something that he was doing that was resulting in his pet not eating. But he was quickly beaten to the punch as the cashier turned to face him. She gave him a curious look before the recognition flashed across her face. “You came in and bought the black cane corso the other day, yeah?” She asked with a friendly smile. He nodded in response. “What was it…” She frowned, clearly trying her best to remember. “Matthew?”

“Matty’s better.” He answered, finding himself returning the smile.

“And Mayhem, right?” She asked. He was mildly impressed that she remembered so many details from a fifteen-minute interaction.

He laughed lightly, “Yeah, that’s it.”

“How’s he going?” She asked with excitement.

He went to start going on about how cute and playful he was - as he had to anyone else who asked - before catching himself. “Well, that’s actually why I’m here.” He started, pulling his mind back to the reason that he had walked in. “He just doesn’t seem to want to eat the food that I had at home?” He asked hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’ll show you what we were feeding him here.” She said as she quickly stepped around the counter and started walking towards the dog food. “It’s a bit more expensive, but it’s better quality and more palatable to most dogs. That’s why we use it for the dogs here.” She explained to Matty as she led him through the store.

“That’s fine.” He shrugged. “As long as he likes it, the cost isn’t an issue.”

“Wish there were more dog owners like you.” She huffed under her breath, earning a quiet laugh out of him in response. After a quick scan of the aisle, she picked up a fairly large white bag and handed it out to him. “He was eating this stuff when he was with us and seemed to enjoy it.”

“Thanks. Hopefully he still likes it.” He chuckled as he gratefully took the bag.

“I’ll put it through for you.” She added, nodding back in the direction of the counter. Matty followed behind closely as he clutched the dog food closer to him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was just because he hadn’t had much in the way of human contact with anyone other than George for the last few weeks, but this felt… oddly nice. If he didn’t have a starving canine at home, he probably would’ve made an attempt to drag out the interaction. But, he did. So, he paid for the dog food, and continued on his way.

* * *

Thankfully for Matty, Mayhem took to the new food very well. He was eating regularly as soon as the old stuff was out of his bowl. And for a while, things were great with the pup - he took naps on the couch with his owner, he stayed in his crate at night without complaints, he only stole small amounts of food off of low lying, unattended plates - it was all going swimmingly. However, it was clear that there were still a few teething problems. Quite literally.

“Hey! Drop that!” Matty yelled as he chased Mayhem under the table.

“I told you-” George started from his seat on the couch as the dog squirmed his way through the chair legs and continued running through the house with an amp lead in his mouth.

“Shut it, George.” Matty shouted back, trying to right himself too quickly and smacking his head on the underside of the table. He stared daggers into the back of the drummer’s head while he regained his balance before running after his dog.

“You can’t keep letting him chew stuff every time we have to shut him out of the room.” He continued as the duo suddenly ended up in front of him when Mayhem tried to (unsuccessfully) fit himself under a couch.

“He’s fine.” He tried to reason through gritted teeth as he picked the puppy up. As soon as his paws were off the ground, he let go of the lead. But alas, there was no saving it, his needle-sharp puppy teeth had already done their damage.

“No, he’s not. That’s the second thing he’s wrecked today.” George argued as he picked up the cord and wound it up. “Just put him in his crate.” He suggested.

Matty held Mayhem up to make sure that he hadn’t hurt himself by chewing on things he wasn’t meant to, sighing in relief when he seemed fine. “But he shouldn’t have to be holed up in the crate just because we don’t want him making noise in the room with us.” It didn’t seem fair to this poor dog to have to spend half of the day cooped up just because he had production work to do.

“Well, you have to do something.”

“I know, I know.” He snapped back, pulling the dog closer to himself as he tried to think of other ideas. He was just bored, not being naughty on purpose.

“Because if he moves onto anything of mine, I’m not gonna be happy about it. Mayhem might be meeting Allen sooner than planned.” George said with a pointed look.

“I’ll just get him more things to keep him occupied.” Matty said, the idea quickly making more and more sense the more the gears turned in his brain. “I can go get him those puzzle feeder things, and those toys that you put peanut butter in, and chew toys. I’ll go get him a bunch of that shit.” He said as he put his puppy back on the ground, who instantly bounded off happily to go destroy something else.

“You better go soon because-”

“I know. I’m going right now.” He nodded as he grabbed his keys off the coffee table.

He hadn’t really expected to be back in this pet store three times in eight days, but here he was. Again. Feeling like a terrible dog owner. Again. He walked up to the counter, seeing the girl that had served him the last two times stocking shelves with her back to him. Matty cleared his throat, trying to politely get her attention. “Erm, hi.” He smiled as she turned around.

“Hey, Matty!” She grinned back. “Didn’t expect you back so soon. How can I help?”

Fuck. She still remembered his name and he didn’t even know hers after what was now three interactions. Was she just good with names or was there just not that many customers coming through here? He supposed probably not at the moment. His eyes quickly scanned over the name tag on her uniform, committing it to memory. Wait, shit, she asked me a question. “I need a chew toy, something to keep Mayhem occupied if I’m out or busy.” He finally answered.

“Ah, is he getting bored?” She asked with a curious look.

“He must be, because he chewed through one of my guitar leads.” Matty chuckled, trying to make light of a bad situation.

But the look of shock on her face blew any attempts of that right out of the water. “It wasn’t on, was it?” She asked with a clear sense of worry.

“Thankfully, no.” He answered with a shake of his head.

She let out a relieved breath. “Good to hear.” She nodded, stepping around the counter and starting to walk into the store. He supposed that was his invitation to follow. “Poor buddy could’ve done himself some serious damage.”

The two of them stood in front of a wall of various pet toys and the sheer amount of variety was borderline overwhelming to Matty. He was rather glad that he had sought out help. She turned to him as she grabbed a couple of options off the hooks. “Was it expensive?” She asked.

“The cord wasn’t, the guitar is.” He huffed. “But the cord is easy to replace. I just don’t want him deciding to chew on my other equipment.” He added quickly. He didn’t want to come across as angry about what was realistically quite a small problem. It just needed fixing sooner rather than when George decided to wring his neck over it.

“You play other stuff?” She questioned.

“I play a lot of things.” He shrugged casually, not wanting to make a huge fuss about it. Matty enjoyed that these interactions were about his dog rather than the aspects of his life most other people chose to focus on. Not that he could blame them, his career took up the majority of his life, but the change was nice.

“A man of many talents.” She noted.

“And a master of none of them.” He laughed.

She turned to him, handing him a selection of chew toys. “He’s probably starting to feel his adult teeth coming through and wanting some stuff to gnaw on. Something like a rope toy or soft plastic might be good, or even a rawhide treat.” She explained. “You could maybe get him bones as well.” He nodded as he intently listened to her advice. “Or if you were after things to keep him occupied, you can also get some puzzle toys. But those usually require treats to dispense for the dog to want to play with them”

“Yeah, can I grab some of them too?” He said eagerly. It took about ten minutes for her to show him all of the options available, Matty relishing in the chance to have some casual chit chat in between aisles. By the time she had shown him just about everything a puppy could use to kill time, he had a shopping basket full of options to entertain Mayhem. Surely this would be enough to keep George happy. “Thanks for this.” He said with an appreciative smile as she began scanning them through the register.

“It’s no problem. Always happy to help out if it means an animal is gonna be better off.” She beamed back at him. He was suddenly hit with the reminder that he enjoyed their interaction the last time he was here, and he was enjoying this one more. But the little voice in the back of his mind was quick to mention the puppy who was probably chewing through a soundboard at the moment.

“Hopefully I can get these to him before he works his teeth into something else.” He added sheepishly.

“Well, I’ll let you get out of here then.” She handed him the heavy bag of pet toys. “I’ll see you soon.” She said with an expression that Matty probably would’ve called humorous. Was that a joke? Clearly three visits in one week wasn’t usual. But he figured she probably wouldn’t have been as friendly to him if she minded that. And he couldn’t really say that he felt bad about it.

“Apparently, at the rate I’m goin’.” He laughed back over his shoulder as he walked back to his car. A nagging feeling sat at the back of his mind that he was probably going to be back here pretty soon.

* * *

The toys did the trick for keeping Mayhem away from any expensive equipment. And for keeping George off Matty’s back (for now). Between things to chew on and things to solve, that puppy barely had time for cuddles and naps. That didn’t stop him from trying to push his luck on occasion, though. Matty was sitting at his desk in the middle of an interview when he spied Mayhem about to wrap his teeth around one of his shoes. “Hold on a second, let me just shout at my dog.” He said offhandedly to the screen as he pushed himself back to get a better view of what he was trying to do. As soon as he called out to him, Mayhem bounded over like nothing had happened. “I’ve got you loads of toys, you don’t need to chew that.” As if completely understanding his owner the puppy picked up the rope toy that was sat at the base of the coffee table. Matty eyed the rope toy that Mayhem was chewing on, thinking back to the girl at the pet store. It had been a week since his last visit. Would it be weird if he went back again? It would definitely be weird if he went there and someone else was working. It would defeat the whole point. He tuned back into the interview, the thought of going back for social reasons playing on his mind as he carried on.

After an hour the interview had wrapped up. It was just before three in the afternoon, the pet store would still be open. Matty quietly picked up his car keys, hoping to make a silent escape. But he had no such luck. “Where are you going?” George asked with a frown over the back of the lounge.

“Uh, out.” He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant. His best friend just stared him down until he answered properly. “The pet store.” He eventually confessed.

George had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer to the question he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t help himself, “What for this time?”

Matty paused for a moment, trying to think of a reason to go back. “A new bed.” He answered with a firm nod.

“That bed’s fine.” George gestured to the practically new bed sitting in the crate.

“He’ll need a bigger one soon.” He reasoned with himself more than anyone else, making his way to the door before he could talk himself out of it.

“Why’re you really going?” He heard George ask, the snigger underlying his question echoing down the hallway.

“I’ll be back soon. Bye!”

Within fifteen minutes Matty found himself standing at the - now fairly familiar - counter of the pet store. Despite his bad luck getting out of the house, he was fortunately facing some good luck now. “Back again?” She asked, frowning at the man in front of her curiously.

“I, erm, need a new bed for Mayhem.” He knew it was a poor excuse for coming back in here, because with her memory she’d likely know that he bought one when he picked Mayhem up. But maybe it would be enough to get him by. “He’s taken to thinking that the couch is his.” She seemed fairly unphased by this, just nodding along.

“That’ll happen if you let him sleep on it.” She said, cracking a bit of a smile.

“You’re very knowledgeable about all this dog stuff.” Matty said casually as he tried to strike up more of a conversation.

“Well, I work at a pet store.” She reminded him.

“That’s not-” He stopped, taking in a breath as he tried to get himself back on track. “Do you have one of your own?”

“Yeah! I’ve got a golden retriever.” The vibe of the conversation instantly shifted into a territory Matty was much more comfortable with. She seemed a lot more excited to chat now that he’d brought up her own pets. He was happy to move things away from awkward ground and onto some stuff he could be a bit surer about.

That works. “I’ve heard that those are a really friendly breed.”

“Oh, Roscoe’s got an amazing temperament.” She nodded.

“Mayhem needs another dog friend like that.” He started with a sigh, “He’s so high energy that most dogs don’t want a bar of it.”

She raised an eyebrow at the obvious hint he was dropping, but decided to step around it for the moment. “He doesn’t do well at dog parks?” She asked.

Matty shook his head, “I think it’s all too overwhelming. He gets overzealous and then other dogs snap at him when they don’t want to play that much.” Which, in Matty’s defence, was true. When he took Mayhem to a dog park two days ago, his dog spent most of his time chasing a tennis ball because the other dogs didn’t want to put up with a puppy. “Maybe he’d do better in a one on one environment.” He shrugged.

She couldn’t help the laugh that came out at his lack of subtlety. “Oh, really?” She asked, trying to recompose herself. Matty supposed that was probably his invitation to just cut to the chase.

“Would you be up for it? I could meet you at the dog park down the road sometime next week.” He suggested, trying his best to keep his cool. She thought about this for what felt like a solid minute but he was sure it was probably only a few seconds.

“Sure.” She nodded eventually. “Tuesday morning?”

“I’m sure I could fit that in.” He grinned back.

There was a brief moment of silence where Matty just took in the moment of success until he took his cue to leave before he blew it. “Well, I’ll see you then.” He said as he went to step away from the counter.

“Wait,” She said, stopping him in his tracks as he turned back to her. Shit, what did he forget? “You came in here for a dog bed, didn’t you?”

Oh, no. “Uh, erm, yeah, I suppose I did.” He mumbled quietly as he scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll go grab one.” He nodded, making his way to the back of the store. After quickly berating his own idiotic memory he grabbed a slightly larger bed than the one Mayhem already had and brought it back up to the counter. He was fairly sure he’d just undone any good work that he had worked towards. Handing the bed over he tried his best to at least be a functioning human being until he got back to his car.

“Hopefully this keeps him off the couch.” The cashier said as she handed it back to him, the humour of the situation pretty evident in her eyes. “And let me know what time on Tuesday.” She added as she passed him a piece of paper with her number on it. Thank fuck for that.

* * *

George had of course given Matty a hard time when he came home and revealed the details of how he nearly came home without what he had left the house for. However, Matty couldn’t really have cared any less, because it still ended up working out all right for him. Very few texts were exchanged other than the ones to arrange an exact time to meet up on Tuesday. He got there fifteen minutes early, sitting on a bench with his puppy in his lap as he tried to calm down his racing mind. He had decided to buy her a coffee on the way as a small gesture to say thanks. Once he had done so, he realised he had no idea if she even liked coffee and suddenly regretted the whole plan. But he had two coffees now, so he might as well offer it. Surely it would still be seen as a nice thought? He needed to calm down. Maybe he shouldn’t have had a coffee.

“It’ll be fine.” He told himself as he took in a deep breath. “Won’t it, buddy?” He asked as he nudged Mayhem. His dog looked back up at him with his large brown eyes, giving no indication that he was nervous. “Well of course it will be fine for you. At the end of the day you still have a small fortune of pet supplies to go home to.” Matty huffed as he ruffled Mayhem’s ears. His dog seemed very happy about this development.

He heard her call his name before he saw her, turning to see a large golden retriever bounding his way. From his position on the bench, he and Mayhem came nose to nose as the new dog ran up to introduce himself. It hadn’t been intentional but it definitely worked very well for their first meeting to not overwhelm the poor puppy with height differences. When the two dogs seemed to have no hostility between them, Matty put Mayhem down on the ground. As soon as his paws touched the grass the two of them were off. He half kept an eye on his dog running amok as he turned to the girl sitting next to him.

“This is for you,” He said as he held out the second coffee. “as thanks.”

She let out an appreciative noise as she picked it up. “You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I wanted to.” He corrected.

“Well… thank you.” She nodded, flashing him a friendly smile. So far so good.

After twenty minutes of playing, the two canines were finally starting to calm down a bit. “They’re getting on really well.” She noted, taking the last sip of her coffee.

“Yeah, it’s good to see.” He agreed with a nod. “Allen was so much easier to socialise, but he was a much calmer puppy than Mayhem is.” Matty said with a sigh.

She paused for a moment at that, considering what he had just said. “An old dog?” She asked.

“Uh, no, he’s not that old. He’s about five.” He answered.

“You have another dog?” She frowned.

He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that in hindsight. “Well, sort of, I co-own him with my mate Sam. He doesn’t live with me.” He tried his best to talk his way around it, but he knew exactly what was coming next. It was gonna come up sooner or later, he supposed.

“Why didn’t you just socialise Mayhem with the dog you already have?” She questioned.

“Because then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to ask you out for a coffee.” He answered honestly.

She laughed loudly, but didn’t seem upset by this information. That was good. “You could’ve just asked me out for coffee as opposed to going to all this trouble.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

#Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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elles-writing · 4 years

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When The Worlds Collide - Kili x reader, IV.

Pairing: Kili x reader

Gif and pics on moodboard not mine

Warnings: fluff...just...way too much fluff...a lots of fluff tho

masterlist part one part two part three

A/N: I hope you guys are going to enjoy this one. It’s really fluffy and for the next chapter I’ll have a fanart. For this one I’ve created a moodboard for you (reader) in this story, and I’m nervous to post it (you don’t want to see me when I’ll be posting it with the fanart, you really don’t).

I love your feedback guys, feel free to comment (but no hate, we’re nice and peaceful community). I wrote also one angsty two-shot, so lemme know if you want to read it or not. Aside from that, my school schedule is weird and my brain is just not used to school anymore, so today, when I was trying to study, I was just not capable of too much.)

I got four new books for quite good deal today, and I started reading one and guyss, I’m in love with reading AGAIN I’d dare to say (even though I red one page of The Hobbit yesterday and I just can’t finish it, because I know what’s gonna happed. Yes, I didn’t even watched almost whole third movie. I’m just not ready for crushing my soul like that just yet. Plus I don’t ship Kili and Tauriel. But the actress of Tauriel is funny lady.)

Tags: @moony-artnstuff @whenputtingpentopaper

Moodboard:

Your pov

You’ve woken up when morning sunlight touched your face. You threw the edge of your blanket, hanging over your head, over your eyes and decided to drift off to sleep again. It wasn’t time for waking up just yet, anyways.

You tried to grab your other cover to keep yourself warm, remembering you were indeed sick, but you found only that blanket. You furrowed brows and realized you were halfway sitting...on a couch.

I must’ve fallen asleep here yesterday, you thought. When it was? Was it that late or- You froze when you realized what happened yesterday. It cannot be possible, you thought and hesitantly opened one eye and pulled the blanket aside from your head.

Your mouth was open wide. No, this must be just dream, you thought when you noticed Kili was hugging you in his sleep and his face had peaceful expression in deep slumber. You covered your mouth with your hand. Oh my god, oh no, you thought. It was real. They were here. You looked over the living room. And scared the shit out of me, you thought.They are here and we need to think of way to send them home...you corrected yourself.

You tried to get up, carefully, not to wake Kili, but his arms only locked more around you and pressed you more to his chest.

„Kili,“ you hesitantly whispered. Nothing. He was deeply asleep. You sighed and decided to study his face, while he was not moving around all the time, only inhaling and exhaling deeply, and moving slightely in his sleep, occasionally.

His dark hair were tangled and messy, just like you’d expect from a long journey, but they were surprisingly clean, only a bit of some leaves and twigs. As if he was be climbing some tree, you thought.

You also noticed they were thick, strong and wavy at some point, which was probably mostly why they were tangled. You looked over to his face, which you could see closely now.

Aside from dark, thick eyebrows and dark, long and thick eyelashes, you’ve seen the scruff he had on his cheeks, chin and jaw. You knew he was feeling bad for it, since the longer beard, the more honourable and attractive the dwarf was, and Thorin was his father figure, so he truly wanted to prove himself, especially to him...but by human eyes, he was indeed very attractive, and his funny, kind, friendly and brave, though restless, reckless personality was something many girls and women would make to eye him at least. You felt a jolt of jealousy going through your insides when you thought of him and Tauriel. Maybe they haven’t met yet, or what if this is some alternative universe, where they‘ve never liked each other...You looked in the distance and scrunched your face, deeply in thought.

Third person pov

You were so deeply in your own thoughts you didn’t noticed that Kili’s eyes fluttered and lazily opened. He felt a weight of another body and his arms around it. He immediatelly knew who that was and looked down at you.

He’ve seen your eyes you were clearly deeply thinking about something. He was admiring your e/c eyes, their color clear and deep, your pink lips and tint of similar colour on your cheeks. He looked over your face features and thought they were perfect. He wanted to cup your face in his palms, run his hands through your hair...

He didn’t noticed you looked back at him and noticed he was awake. You slightely smiled looked away, your cheeks blushed.

„Good morning!“ Fili said and you jumped up. You and Kili looked at him as children on sleepover and he laughed.

„You should see your faces right now!“ You blushed and groaned, covering your head with your blanket and Kili quickly unwrapped his arms from you.

You felt as if he was about to go somewhere away, so you sat and got up.

„I’ll go make some tea,“ you mumbled and left to go to the kitchen. Fili turned to his brother.

„Soo, did I interrupted something?“ Kili shook his head and gave him innocent look.

„I don’t know what are you talking about, Fee.“ But he knew Fili was about to start teasing you both, not just him.

„Nah, Kee, I don’t think so. You know very well what I am talking about.“ He looked over the room and stepped to the window. He looked outside and noticed your backyard, where was sun peaking through a fog. Kili stood up next to him and asked.

„Do you think they have any goblins or orcs here?“ Fili shrugged his shoulders.

„We will find out. If there are any elves though, you know that Thorin’s going to be furious.“

„More than he already is?“ Kili grinned and both of them giggled.

„What are you two talking about?“ Asked Thorin and both young dwarves stiffened. They didn’t noticed he already woke and got up.

„It’s nothing, Uncle.“ Both answered way too quickly and with high-pitched voice they normally didn’t had.

„Which tea do you want? Oh, good morning Thorin,“ You came to the doors. It was still alien to you that now you’ve had a few dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, an elves and another human in your house.

Both dwarves quickly got to you to escape Thorin and you giggled and shook your head. You knew why they were your favourite duo.

In the kitchen, you’ve explained to them that you had no orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves or dragons in our world, that there were only humans and animals and, well, plants.

Both of them were wondering why you were drinking black tea with milk, and so you decided to make them some in different mugs just in case they wouldn’t like it. While you were preparing it, you were explaining to them why you’ve liked it.

„Well, people drink this, because the tea by itself is strong, but the milk gives it sweeter taste and it’s not so strong. Many people drink it this way, but some add only a few drops of milk, others give quarter of milk and three quarters of tea, you can add lemon or honey, or both.“ You finished talking and handed them their cups.

„It’s surely not sweeter than you,“ Kili winked at you and drinked on his non-milk tea. You blushed. That was the side of Kili you mostly knew from the movies.

#kili x reader #kili imagine #kili x you #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader

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actingonimpulse · 3 years

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Snow and Roses

This is my one-shot for @vp102 “Gift of Fanfiction”. I recommend you check their YouTube channel out where they do a variety of things, including Wattpad Read Alouds, and they are really cool. Their YouTube channel is VideoPresident 102, or this link https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmOYRxICUMSiLoYDX_BTZiw.

Summary: Its Christmas time in the mindscape, when it starts to snow that's when things pick up the little on excitement.

Wordcount: 4240

Janus (mentioned 15 times) and Remus (mentioned 16 times) Are there but I didn’t incorporate them enough for me to feel the need to tag them.

3rd person POV

Virgil was just settling down onto his soft bed, the sheets shifted with the pressure of his body weight going down on it. Staring at the ever-shining digital clock. The blocky letters in red illuminating their way into his eyes. 6:30 AM. ‘Perfect time to sleep’ the tired side thought. Drifting slowly into sleep.

/a little tad later/

Virgil very, unfortunately, got woken up by a sound. It wasn’t his alarm clock. It only really set it if there was something going on. Virgil grudgingly sat up, taking the opportunity up to stretch his arms. His head turned towards his nightstand, it was holding four things, his phone, a bottle of water, a lamp and the alarm. Glancing at the alarm it read 6:47 AM. whole 17 minutes of sleep. His thoughts drifted off the clock and he looked at the wall. The sound was music blasting from the hallway, the tired side deduced. Footsteps rang through the hall, Virgil could tell it was Roman based on the pattern of steps. The song was now interpretable. It was Mariah Carey.

“l don't care about the presents~” a voice echoed from the hall. It was the voice of the fellow Prince and Mariah Carey’s top song. A fearsome duo in his opinion.

“Underneath the Christmas tree” A different voice continued, it was very energetic. It was Patton. A less fearsome trio.

After a twist of his door handle Roman burst through his door. Virgil jumped and accidentally bumped his head into the wall. “Merry Christmas Kiddo!” Patton cheered. “We can’t open gifts until everyone else is downstairs.” The father figure informed. Virgil nodded and watched as they left him in his room, Patton closing the door behind himself pushing Roman out. Virgil slid out of bed. Virgil was in black sweatpants, so he didn’t think it was necessary to change out of them. Virgil slipped his fuzzy slippers on and then switched his pajama shirt to a loose purple t-shirt then slipped his hoodie on. Virgil was staring at the door then saw a light illuminate from his nightstand. Virgil grabbed his phone, it was a basic notification. Virgil quickly checked the time, 6:56, Shoving the device into his pocket stepping outside his room, continuing his journey down the hallway. Virgil was dragging himself through the hall without having the real chance of waking up.

Stepping down the stairs Virgil noticed Logan in one of the leather seats, reading a book while his phone laid face down next to him on the arm of the chair he was occupying. Logan glanced up, he was in his everyday attire. “Merry Christmas Virgil. I hope your sleep was ideal.” His tone was mainly his normal voice, but there was a glint of something else there, possible excitement or happiness. Patton and Roman turned to look at him as Virgil made his way over. Patton was in his Cat onesie next to Logan. Roman was in red and yellow plaid pajamas with his Christmas sweater over it.

“Do you like it, Lo?” Patton chirped.

“Merry Christmas Logan.” Virgil muttered in response as he sat next to Roman in an open spot. Logan gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Roman shifted away from him and Patton stood up”

“Kiddos let’s open presents now! I’ll go first for the Secret Santa. I had Logan!” Patton excitedly cheered walking over to the tree. He picked up a box, wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper, and a silver bow adorning the top. Passing it to the intellectual side, who took it. Taking off the bow and the paper in a fashion that wasn't just ripping it apart. Logan took Patton’s gift out. It was a Collection of H.P. Lovecraft, the intellectual observing the cover.

“Yes. It’s indeed a great choice.” Logan replied excitedly Patton looked extremely pleased with his statement.

“I know you like Sherlock, so I wanted to find something close enough to it,” He explained.

“Well thank you. I will start reading this soon. It's clear you thought of me when getting it.” The logical trait placed the book to his side. “I will make room to start this as soon as I can.” Logan picked up a gift wrapped in light pastel colors. “It seems I had you also.” He passed the box to the father figure. Who took it out, ripping the paper to shreds. He took out a stuffed dog, with a grey cardigan around the animal’s shoulders. The stuffed animal had glasses on their brown eyes. Patton gave the gift a strong squeeze.

“It’s so cute!” Patton squealed. “It looks so much like me! Thank you, Logan!” Patton stared at it. His eyes were bright with excitement. The father figure then turned “Wait, who will go next”

Janus raised his hand. “I totally don’t want to go next in the gift exchange.” Patton gave a small nod and Janus walked over to the tree. Picking up a box with green paper on it.

Janus handed the green box to Remus who quickly ripped it apart. Remus opened the box and held up a few things that could be used for pranks. Remus looked at a vial of what Virgil thought was Disappearing Ink. Roman gave a sigh in a way that said ‘oh boy.’

“Ooooo! These things could be fun~” Remus smirked while speaking out to everyone. After a second he skipped over to the tree. Picking up a small red box, passing it to his brother.

Roman hesitantly grabbed the box and unwrapped it. He slid something out then gave a small squeal. “Is this. The complete Disney song collection?” Remus nodded. Roman examined the perfectly sealed CD with a small smile. Eventually Roman picked up something from under the tree. He passed it to Virgil who could tell he was nervous.

Virgil took the box as Roman sat back down next to me. Virgil looked at the box. It adorned the top of the lid. Virgil gently took the lid off, it held a small key. Virgil looked at him confused as he picked up a silver key. “A key?” Virgil asked him.

Roman scoffed “I wouldn’t just give a silly old key!”

Virgil sighed. “Princey if you have some crazy adventure plan would you mind waiting for me to give my gift?” Roman nodded as Virgil put the key in his pocket. Virgil walked to the remaining present and picked up the yellow and green box. Virgil handed it to Janus. Who took it and looked at me.

”What’s this? Is it gonna jump out at me?” Janus teased Virgil, who brushed it off and sat down. Janus looked back at the box. Taking the paper off and opening the box. He took out a yellow snake plush with a hat on. “This was totally expected,” Janus spoke, almost to the plushie. He looked in awe at the snake, eventually booping it in the nose.

“Are we done now?” Roman asked. Patton gave a half shrug. “Come on.” Before Virgil knew it Roman grabbed his wrist and dragged the darker one elsewhere.

“I feel like you're plotting something,” Virgil muttered looking behind himself to see Logan and Patton following. They both seemed to be equally confused. After Roman dragged him outside. He handed Virgil a blindfold. “What are you even doing? I really do think you're gonna do something.”

“You’ll see,” Roman replied as Virgil put it on.

“Your gonna kill me aren’t you?”

Roman let out an offended gasp to his question. “I would never!” He shot back starting to guide him. Virgil could hear the footsteps of the others.

He eventually slowed down “Watch your step” Roman warned as there was a sudden step-up. Virgil gave an unsure nod. Virgil llet Roman guide him . It was cold, almost too cold for the Emo.

“Ok, you can stop now.” Virgil heard the Prince character’s voice. Virgil did so as Roman took the blindfold off Virgil. The four of them were in the garden, in front of a gate.

“The gardens have been here forever. What's so different about it?” Virgil inquired.

“Where's the key?” Roman asked back. Virgil stuck his hand in his pocket pulling it out onto his palm, showing the prince as he waved Virgil over. Patton and Logan were close behind.

“Did we leave Remus and Janus alone?” Virgil realized they weren't with us.

“They did not wish to follow,” Logan responded.

Roman looked at both of them. “Virgil, unlock the gate.”

“Oh yeah.” Virgil quickly countered. Virgil put the key into the lock, twisting to the side then pushing the gate open. “Should we go inside?” Roman nodded eagerly. Virgil walked in Roman on his heels. Patton and Logan right behind.

“It’s beautiful,” Virgil replied. Before turning his gaze back to the garden. Virgil reached out to touch one of the flowers. “How did you do this?” Virgil asked after a moment. his hand was cupping the side of the flower.

It seemed to be a simple garden, for the prince at least, but yet beautiful. It was roughly the size of a small room. There were tall hedges in place of walls, his feet took himself to the center as Virgil looked around. There were roses, not any though. They were purple with dark leaves, the bushes appeared thorn less. As Patton and Logan trailed in they both looked around.

Roman must’ve noticed his reaction. “Do you like it Stormcloud?” Virgil looked at him.

Roman couldn’t answer before Patton shouted. “Guys look!” he pointed to the sky. Virgil complied. Seeing as white speckles could be seen in the sky, floating down in a graceful fashion. “I think it’s snowing!” the dad figure excitedly cheered. Virgil watched as snowflakes started hitting the ground. The brick started to dot in white. Patton stuck his tongue out trying to get one.

Virgil stuck out his hand as one landed on him. As it melted Virgil felt a shiver gently graze his skin from the cold. Virgil pulled his jacket closer onto himself. “Can we go inside, where it’s warmer?” Virgil spoke the last part in a whisper.

Logan nodded. “I think it’s in everyone’s interest so we don’t get sick.” Patton sighed as a form of complaint. But eventually started out, Virgil followed as Logan left. Roman followed them but stopped at the gate.

“Hot topic lock the gate.”

Virgil nodded and grabbed the key. Turning it until he heard the click of it locking. Virgil pushed the gate to double-check it was closed. Walking back to the group as the snow kept gently falling on the ground and us. By the time we walked to the door, we could start seeing the shapes of the soles of our shoes on the ground.

After we all walked in Roman being the last one closed the door. Patton looked out the window. “Let’s all get ready to play in the snow!”

Logan looked at the parental trait. “Patton there isn’t nearly enough snow to ‘Play’ in it.” Logan did air quotes around the word play. He pushed up his glasses and headed off to a different room.

“Where are you going, Lo?” Patton questioned.

“I am going to pour myself a cup of coffee. It’s nearly 8 am” Logan replied. That’s when Virgil remembered the fact he’s running on barely any sleep. Logan left and Patton followed the logical side. Virgil started heading off to his room.

“What are you up to emo?” Roman asked right after Virgil turned his back.

“Not a ton,” Virgil replied, still not turning to face him.

“Then where are you going?” Roman asked, grabbing his arm, “Everyone else is here. Even Janus and Remus for some reason.” He gestured to the two others sitting in the living room, they were playing cards and they were getting louder. Someone was obviously starting to win. It was oddly calming everyone getting along for once.

“To the void of space.” Virgil flatly responded. Roman let his arm go. Virgil walked away to the safety of his bedroom. Once there Virgil switched to black jeans, combat boots, then a thick hoodie on top of his shirt.

After about 20 minutes of hanging around in his room Virgil walked downstairs. Going over to the kitchen Virgil grabbed a cup pouring himself some coffee. Then ventured over to the main area and sat down on the seat next to Roman. Patton and Logan were sharing the other sofa, Janus and Remus were sitting across each other at the coffee table still playing cards. Virgil took a swig of his coffee. A glance out the window could show the snow piling up rather quickly. The living room fell into comfortable silence besides Janus and Remus. A few minutes passed before Patton whispered something to Logan. Logan nodded as Patton stood up. “Let's all go outside!” The father figure excitedly urged them. “Get some boots and warm clothes.” He added.

Roman snapped his fingers and he was wearing a thick red trench coat over his Christmas sweater and sweatpants. He was also wearing red boots with golden accents and a pair of matching gloves. Virgil ran upstairs to grab a beanie and gloves. After returning Virgil noticed Logan walking down the stairs. Logan had on, from what Virgil could see, had a heavy jacket, jeans, and some snow boots. The teacher character was sliding on gloves as Patton walked in. He had a light blue jacket over his shirt, he also had jeans and grey boots. The dad character was placing a beanie with cat ears on his head. “Let’s go kiddos!”

Janus and Remus looked up from their game. “Stay warm” Janus joked watching Patton walk out the door. The others followed him. Patton laid down in the thin white sheet covering the ground, it looked like more or less an inch. Virgil was walking around in the snow, enjoying the grace of the snowfall. Then ‘thud’. Virgil felt something hit his back and turned around. Roman was preparing another snowball to toss at him.

Virgil grabbed a handful of the plush snow and pressed it together, tossing it towards the prince. It didn’t hit him but it started a snowball fight. It went on for some time, some hits, most misses. Virgil slipped and hit the snow. Each time they grabbed snow Virgil always ended up grazing the grass while taking it. The current fall quickly replenished anything that they took. Roman stood over him, placing his boot on his chest.

“Any last words Hot Topic?” Roman smugly asked. A snowball was in his hand and he was gonna throw it at him.

“Hakuna Matata” Virgil replied

He leaned forward being careful not to hurt Virgil. “It means no worries” As his face was close Virgil grabbed some snow and hit him in the face with it. Roman backed up confused and Virgil took the opportunity to run. “HEY, NO FAIR!” He laughed and ran after the darker persona. Who ran behind Patton.

Roman tried to toss a snowball at him but hit the father figure instead. Patton joined in our little fight and eventually, Logan did too. Teams were formed over time. Patton and Virgil vs Roman and Logan. Patton was busy piling snow and Virgil was out to scope out where the other team was making their hideout. They were near the bushes. Virgil got hit in the side, Logan was behind a mound of snow. Virgil tossed some back and heard Roman. ‘Found it’ Virgil thought to himself. Virgil looped around the house and went to Patton. “I found their hideaway,” Virgil whispered.

“Good. Now we plan.” Patton whispered. Taking 5 or 6 minutes Virgil looked around the front while Patton took a long way around. Virgil was in the trees, near the front. Then stepping out, staying in the open.

Roman looked at Logan. “Virgil is out in the open, Lets gather enough snowballs for an ambush.” He whispered. They spent time collecting a small amount of snowballs. “CHARGE!” The prince shouted. Logan opened fire. Throwing them at Virgil before grabbing one from his teammate. Roman suddenly tumbled over feeling a chilling sensation over his neck. He shrieked. As a reaction

Virgil heard Roman’s Voice and noticed Logan started tossing at me. Virgil played along, getting hit a few and tossing others. Virgil heard a roar from Roman then Patton’s voice. “Are you alright kiddo?” It echoed through the open area they were in.

“Yeah, I’m fine Patton.” Virgil heard Roman say. Virgil sat in the snow for a second. Banter starting from the other sides. After a few minutes, Virgil laid down staring at the sky above with the snowfall, hearing a crunch beside him. “What are you doing.” Roman was above him again. Virgil gave a half attempted shrug. He laid down next to Virgil and shivered before sitting up. “The snow is a tad cold.” He looked at the other one. “Are you ok Virgil?” Virgil was surprised he asked that. He must’ve noticed the surprise in his expression “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Virgil muttered back to him

“It's close to two in the afternoon. I think we should all go inside.” Logan yelled out in an informative way. He walked off probably to Patton.

“5 hours?” Virgil asked, it felt much shorter to him.

“Time flies when you're having fun, huh emo?” Roman spoke, turning around and walking back, halfway back he turned and faced the tree Virgil was at. “You coming?” Virgil nodded walking over to him as they walked together to the house.

Walking inside Patton walked up to them. “Since most of our clothes are wet Logan said we should change into something dry and warmer.” Virgil nodded walking off to his room. After reaching it Virgil changed into sweatpants, a t-shirt, and an oversized hoodie. Virgil changed his socks into Nightmare Before Christmas socks. Hanging out in his room for a while before deciding to adventure out. Virgil walked down to the living room and everyone else already there. Remus and Roman were arguing about the movie they wanted to watch. Patton was making Hot Chocolate for everyone.

“Virgil, choose. The Santa Clause with Tim Allen, or How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Roman was seeking an answer.

“The Santa Clause I guess.” Virgil hesitantly replied before sitting on one of the empty sofas still warming up from the cold.

“Told you Remus it's better!” Roman grabbed a disk. Remus growled. He inserted the disk in as Patton walked in. Passing a mug to Janus and one to Remus.

“Do you need help, Pat?” Virgil asked, He shook his head assuring Virgil he was fine. Virgil leaned into the sofa, Roman sat down next to him. Patton was somehow holding four cups. Placing two in front of Roman and Virgil. He handed one to Logan and sat down. The movie played in the background as Virgil started falling asleep. Virgil leaned against his hand before falling asleep.

“Don’t you dare wake him” Virgil heard a voice tell someone off.

“Patton, he slept through the movie. I think we should continue the day. It’s been over one and a half hours.”

Virgil yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Kiddo did we wake you?” Patton directed his attention to him. Virgil shook his head. “Ok! Sorry, your hot cocoa got cold, you fell asleep right as the movie started.” Patton turned around “Roman get off the table!”

Roman was standing on the coffee table “Guys we’re having an Ugly Christmas Sweater Contest!” He announced. “A few rules. 1, nothing inappropriate. 2, everyone has to participate. 3, No sabotaging or stealing other people’s ideas. 4, Use the sweaters provided so it's fair. We are all gonna gather in 2 hours wearing our sweaters.”

“Two hours seems a little excessive,” Logan spoke up.

“You're not making the rules. I am. Now everyone, let the challenge begin!” Roman proudly hopped off after finishing his sentence. He summoned and passed out each a red and green sweater. Virgil sunk down to his room right after he got his sweater. Virgil looked around his room, finding an idea. Grabbing his sewing kit then heading to work. 20 minutes later Virgil walked downstairs without the sweater. Plopping down on the couch, starting to scroll through his phone.

“Finished the quest already?” Roman asked smugly. Virgil didn't reply, and continued to scroll. The prince scoffed at his lack of response and walked off.

About an hour later everyone was downstairs waiting around. Everyone was done, Logan was right, again. Roman spoke up after realizing some of them were running short on patience. Patton was sitting on the couch humming Christmas songs wearing a sweater, ornaments carefully sewn on. Virgil was still sprawled out on the couch. Janus didn't want to wear a sweater and shut the door in Roman’s face, and Remus. He honestly just didn't care what Remus was up to. “Everyone should have their sweaters on.” Roman gestured to Virgil who sighed and walked towards his room. He returned back and his dark jacket tightly pulled around him. After Virgil sat back down Roman announced. “Alrighty, let’s start!” He placed his phone down. It was playing Christmas music.

“What are we doing again with the ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters?” Logan put finger quotes around the word ‘ugly’. The logical trait’s sweater had a tinsel garland wrapping around him in stripes.

“A contest! We will vote on whose sweater is best. And they get bragging rights.” The prince’s sweater was blinking with the Christmas lights that were woven into the fabric. “So I will pass out the voting paper and each pen, I want the pens back.” Roman placed a slip and a pen in front of Patton and gave Logan his own set. Once he reached Virgil. “What's on the sweater Virgil?” Virgil looked a little flustered.

“Its stupid.” Virgil nervously replied. Pulling his jacket even more on to cover what he put on it “I don’t think it's a good idea any-” he got cut off by Patton.

“Come on kiddo! What’s the worst thing, you don't win?” Patton gently encouraged.

“Most of us will in fact lose if not everyone.” Logan stated

“F-fine.” Virgil loosened the jacket. It just barely showed a round reflective disk on the center which was tightly sewn onto the sweater. Roman just sighed in defeat and gave him the slip and pen.

“Also so we don’t waste our creations we will keep them on for now.” Roman added.

“But it’s like 5:30.” Virgil complained glancing out the window at the golden sun meeting his eyeline. He squinted away. He laid himself on the couch. His jacket adjusting to him shifting.

“Wait.” Roman said in an attempt to hold off a laugh. “Did you put a mirror on your sweater?”

“Lets just vote so we can all stop talking about this!” The paler one urged. Roman nodded, everyone wrote down a name. Roman won, and everyone went to do their own stuff. Logan and Patton decided to just watch another few movies. Roman went to his room. Virgil went to his own room.

Virgil tugged the hoodie back over the sweater. “No?”

“Wait kiddo really! Why didn't I think of that?” Patton chuckled looking at the side on the couch.

--later on--

Virgil was done with this. It was about 9. So for the past few hours it's been christmas music. Virgil doesn’t hate the music. But it’s been well over 3 hours of non-stop music, and Roman’s singing. He tried the headphones it got a few years ago. But he still heard what was being blasted through his own playlist. He heard knocking from the next room over. The music stopped then footsteps. Virgil changed into a different christmas sweater, it was the first thing he did getting to his room. It was black with a basic pattern on it.

“Hey kiddo! We are all gonna spend time together. Can you join us?” Patton called out through his still closed door. Virgil walked over opening the door.

With a sigh the darker one replied “Sure, why not.” With a squeal the bright father figure dragged Virgil to the living room. They were already playing Christmas music from a small speaker. He sat on the floor leaning against the couch. Im Dreaming of a White Christmas started to serenade the living room.

Logan walked over to Patton and nervously questioned. “Can I have this dance?” He held out his hand. Patton excitedly gasped taking the hand as Logan pulled him up.

“Of course Logie!” Patton responded. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist, Patton adjusting a hand softly onto the smarter trait’s shoulder. They danced around the room semi-gracefully. Logan with a soft smile, and Patton with a smile so bright the sun would be jealous. The song guiding them through its soft melodies and rhythm.

Virgil and Roman shared a glance. Virgil sighed as Roman stood up. “I feel like I am indebted, aren’t I stormcloud?” Roman held out his hand. Shall we dance? Virgil took the offered hand being dragged to his feet.

“I’m never accepting a bet again.” The darker trait informed.

“You know you like it.” The prince defended himself and started guiding the anxious one into a slow waltz gently humming along to the music.

~end~

Thank you yet again VideoPresident 102 and if you haven't checked them out please do! They even have a live channel if your interested in that.

Link to their main: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmOYRxICUMSiLoYDX_BTZiw

Link to their live: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7-T6i_idkYfdZy7uXu54bg

#sander sides #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #AIWrites

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idiosinkrasies · 5 years

Text

Ocean Eyes

(Jaren's POV)

I look out the window from where I was sat in the classroom near the back and gaze out into the schoolyard, glancing at the trees that danced in the autumn wind and the leaves that floated their way down to the ground. I look up to see the blue sky filled with cirrus clouds that didn't quite cover the suns rays. My eyes drift over to the big oak tree that stood tall in the middle of everything. Sitting under the tree is someone, a boy, who looks to be around my age, that has dyed blond hair that reaches his shoulders. He's wearing a yellow, red, and blue hoodie with jeans and a stylish pair of black boots. He seems to be looking at something on his phone, not smiling from what I can see, but I can barely make out any of his features, apart from his painted nails.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the bell, startling me slightly as I quickly look back to the front of the room where my teacher stands and then around to all my classmates who are putting their things away for their next class. Then I look back out to the schoolyard only to see the back of the man walking into the school. I frown and pack up my things, making my way out of the classroom and into the crowded halls.

The next time I see the guy is in my last period, which apparently he's in. Thinking back on it, I remember seeing him, but this morning he really just caught my eye. My eyes follow him as he makes his way toward the back of the room, where I was sitting, and sits at the desk in front of me. He turns to face me.

"Hey, do you happen to have a pencil or a pen I could borrow?" He says in a low and calm voice. I almost forget to answer, I'm too distracted by his eyes. I can't decide if they're blue or gray or maybe even a little green, they just seem so deep and mysterious. I eventually get my words out.

"Oh uh yeah, one sec," I say digging through my bag for a pencil. Once I pull one out I hand it to him. "You can keep it,"

"Thanks, man," He smiles at me and I notice the mole on the top of his upper lip.

"Oh no problem," I reply and he turns to face the front just as the bell rings and the teacher starts the attendance. He goes through some names before I hear the same calm voice speak up.

"John?" The teacher asks.

"Here" The man, John, replies. So his name is John huh? Good to know.

Later that night while I'm trying to do homework I keep thinking back to John and his eyes. I feel like they hold more in them than he lets a show like he has a story to tell and he's waiting for the right person to tell it to. I want to be that person. For some reason, I feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It makes it really hard to concentrate on my homework when all I can think about is John and his eyes.

Two days later is when we talk again. It's lunch for me now and none of my friends are in my lunch period so I'm sitting alone at a table near the wall of the cafeteria. Someone sits down. It doesn't bother me though. A lot of people that don't have anywhere to go come here, be it because they want to sit somewhere else or their friends aren't at school/lunch that day. So this doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is when a calm voice speaks up.

"Hey," The person says, I look up, only to be met with dazzling blue-grey eyes. All rational thoughts leave my head and I'm stunned to silence. It's John. "Can I sit here?" He says with a small and shy smile. I try to formulate a sentence but my brain seems to have stopped working.

"Uhhhhhhh, yeah. Yeah, go for it." I manage to get out after a beat of silence and ya just looking at each other, him more expectantly and be more surprised.

"Can I ask why you always sit alone?" He says, smoothly sitting down with a lunch tray in his hands, placing his backpack on the ground next to him.

"Well, uh- none of my friends are in this lunch period and so I just sit here with my thoughts and my phone," I say, speeding through my words a bit and looking down to my suddenly very interesting cafeteria food.

"Well, now you have me to sit with. I'm John, by the way." He says extending a hand out towards me. I place mine in his, shaking gently.

"I know, I'm Jaren or Smii7y," I say.

"Smii7y?" He asks, raising an eyebrow with a slight smirk pulling on his lips.

"It's my gamer tag," I inform him.

"Well if we're going by gamer tags then you can call me Kryoz." He says proudly.

"Kryoz? As in Cryo, like a cryo chamber? But with a z?" His mouth opens to retort but then it closes and opens once more.

"Yes, because I'm edgy." He finally says.

"Ok edgelord, be careful or else you may cut yourself," I tell him and we both start to laugh. Why did I ever think it would hard to talk to him.

"And here I was, not gonna make fun of Smitty, but now I'm having second thoughts." He says looking me directly in the eyes and I remember why it was so hard to talk to him. God those eyes.

"Hey, don't be mean, I'm sensitive," I say jokingly.

"My apologies, your highness. Forgive this lowly peasant for offending you, my prince." He says bowing his head. I laugh but then regain my composure.

"For your crimes against the royal family, you shall be hanged." I say in my best "royal" voice, tilting my head up slightly to give off an authoritative aura.

He looked up at me and we paused for a second before breaking out in laughter. His laugh is just as incredible as his eyes, holy shit. We fall into silence, but not an uncomfortable one. That is until I speak up.

"I like your nails, by the way." His eyes widen slightly and he looks down to where his painted nails are in view.

"Oh, thanks. You don't think it's weird or anything?" He asks hesitantly, disbelief in his eyes.

"No, not at all, I think it's awesome! Maybe you could do my nails someday." I say, reassuring him that I won't bully him. That seems to put him a bit more at ease.

"Yeah, that seems nice," He says, smiling at me. "but, to actually hang out, we would need a means of contacting each other."

He pulls out his phone and uses his finger to open it, clicking on the contacts app and holding it out to me. I graciously take the phone from him and put in my information, making my name Milkbag in his contacts.

When he takes the phone back, he chuckles at the name I gave myself. He taps on the phone a couple of times, before my phone dings, signaling he was probably texting me. I pick up my phone and see a text from an unknown number.

unknown: sup cutie

I feel a light blush spread across my cheeks. I look up at John only to see him looking at me with a smug grin plastered on his face. I roll my eyes at him, but it only makes him smile wider.

"I'm not cute," I say, with a slight pout in my lip.

"I beg to differ." He says, placing his arms on the table and leaning over it, towards me. I do the same.

"Really?" He nods, we're exponentially closer now than before, "then beg." I pull back from the intense staring contest we were in and lean back to see his expression. He looks a little astonished that I would say what I said. That is until he cracks a small smile.

"Wow Smit, I didn't think you were the kinky type." He says, making my face blush bright red. I become a stuttering mess. "It's ok, we all have our own kinks." He winks at me, just making me blush harder.

Suddenly the bell rings and it's time for class. We both start to pack up our things as we stand up to leave the cafeteria. He slings one strap over his back while I put both arms through the straps.

"Nice talking to you, Jaren." He says, standing in front of me.

"You too, John." We smile at each other and he turns to go to his next period, while I make my way to the library. I have a free period right now and I usually spend it in the library, either reading or doing homework, but I feel that I won't be able to do that right now. Mostly because of a certain someone occupying my brain at the moment.

I sit down and open the book I'm currently reading. I get through the next few pages in the book when my reading is interrupted by a thought.

John has really pretty eyes.

I look up from my book in shock of what I just thought. That doesn't mean anything though, I can like his eyes without liking him, and anyway, I'm not gay, well, I'm bisexual but that doesn't mean that I have a crush on John, I mean, I just met him. Right?

I begin to question what I feel for John and soon enough, it's the end of the period and I have to go to my next class. For the rest of the day, I'm sorta out of it. Even during last period, I have to remind myself to pay attention to the teacher and not let my eyes or mind drift to the boy sitting next to me.

Maybe I do like him.

~timeskip~

John and I have been friends for about 3 months now and we've really become quite the duo around the school. Almost everyone in our grade knows us as Smii7y and Kryoz, cause we only call each other that after we started to play games together. We've gotten so close that we start to say the same things and have the same actions to the point where we have an ongoing joke about saying "you have bear fists?" simultaneously.

As we've gotten closer, the more I fall for him. Ok, yes, I do have a crush on my best friend. I know it's not a good thing but I just can't help it, he's too perfect. I've had to catch myself from staring into his eyes for too long, or from letting my thoughts wander too much. It can be challenging but I don't mind. Really, if I was only able to be his friend and could only daydream, then I'd be happy. So I am. Somedays I feel like I want to just tell him how I feel but I can't, because, one, I'm not out to him yet, and two, he won't reciprocate my feelings. So I don't really feel inclined to tell him.

I feel like I've gotten close enough to him at this point to tell him that I'm bi. For a while, I thought I was gay, but I've had crushes on girls in the past and I've only had girlfriends, who I did like at the time, so I know I'm not gay, but I'm not straight either.

Anyway, today is the day that I tell John, and I've never been more scared in my entire life. I don't know how he'll react, or if he'll hate me, or if something else bad will happen. All of this anxiety fills my body and overwhelms me to the point where I can't get out of bed. This has happened before, but after meeting John it had started to happen less and less often.

The only thing I can think to do is pull out my phone and click on John's contact. I put the phone on speaker and listen to it ring for a few seconds. He picks up the phone.

"Ayyyye, Smit, how's it going?" He asks and I feel my heart flutter slightly, only to be beaten down by my rational thoughts. I don't respond for a few seconds.

"John," I say with a trembling voice.

"Jaren? Are you ok?" He asks, concern and worry filling his voice. "Do you want me to come over?" I murmur yes.

"Ok, I'll be there in 10." Then he hangs up and I'm alone with my thoughts again. I think about what he'll think of me when he sees me like this, all weak and scared. Scared of what, opening up to him, my best friend? He probably thinks that I'm a burden to him and he'll leave me after this.

My breathing starts to pick up and the walls seem to start closing in on me. My eyes look frantically around for something, I don't know what though. My heart starts to speed up and my vision gets a bit blurry. My hands reach up to pull at my hair and my eyes get watery.

He'll never love you now.

The thought makes the tears spill from my eyes and I start to panic even more.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't even register the front door opening and closing. I only realize John's in my house when I hear him call my name. I try to tell him where I am but the only sound that comes out is a choked whimper. I think he got the message when my door opens and he rushes into the room and over to my bed.

"Oh my gosh, Jaren, are you ok?" He asks, and I shake my head no. He immediately moved over to the side of the bed and crouches down, I move my head to look at him, his face full of worry. "Do you want a hug?" I nod.

He pulls me up from where I was still lying down and pulls me into a big hug, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my face into the crook of his neck, tears flowing freely from my eyes.

I feel his hands rub up and down my back as he whispers into my ear. "It's was just a thought, it's ok," He says, "I'm here now."

After a few minutes, my breathing slows and I feel better. I pull away from the hug and wipe my eyes, smiling at him.

"Thanks, I needed that," I tell him.

"Hey, what are friends for." We laugh slightly.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, I just didn't know who else to call." He places a hand on my chin and makes me look into his beautiful, blue eyes.

"It's ok, I'm always here for you, you're my best friend and I care about you." I blink and before I can even think about what I'm doing, I lean in and press his lips to mine. After about two seconds my eyes widen and I pull away.

"I-I'm so sorry, it's just, I couldn't help it. You're just really attractive and I really like you, and I was planning on telling you that I'm bi and that's why I was freaking out and now I did this and you probably hate me now and-" He cuts me off by pulling me back into another kiss. I was shocked at first, but then I melted into it, my eyes closing and my hands weaving their way into his long hair as his moved to hold my waist and our lips moved in sync. When he pulled away, we were both panting slightly. We press our foreheads together and he puts a hand on my cheek.

"I like you too, Jaren, and I'm also bi." I open my eyes to see him staring into mine, a soft smile on his face. I smile back.

"I'm glad you do, or else this would be very awkward." He starts to laugh and I join him soon after.

"Of course you make a joke when we're having a moment." He says in between laughs.

"I can do you one better."

"Oh no."

"Peppa, what are you doing in the middle of my confession?" I say and pull out a small Peppa Pig toy. He bursts out with laughter and falls over on the bed.

"Do you just have that with you at all times so you can make that joke?" He barely gets out.

"Yes," I say, making him laugh even harder.

"God, you're amazing." He says, finally over his laughing fit. He shakes his head and pulls me into a kiss again, this time with more passion behind it. He pulls away after a few moments of pure bliss. "Does this make me your boyfriend?"

"Yes please," I say, almost too quickly. "I mean, yeah sure." I try to correct my self, but the smile on my face is evident that I've wanted this for forever.

"Well, I guess that settles it, I, Johnathan "Kryoz" Keyes, am now Jaren "Smii7y" Smith's boyfriend." I giggle a bit and press a kiss to his forehead.

"You're a dork," I say.

"Yes, but now I'm your dork." He points out and I feel butterflies in my stomach.

"My dork." I stare into his eyes, a bright smile on my face. "I like the sound of that."

"I'm glad because you're gonna be stuck with me for a while."

"Oh I know, and that's what makes me excited."

We spend the rest of the day at my house, playing video games and talking, doing what we normally do, just this time I'm allowed to kiss him to distract him from the game, so I can win. And now I'm really happy that he decided to ask to sit with me during lunch because now I'm dating the love of my life and I'm finally happy and comfortable with myself. Sure I still have episodes and so does he, but now we have each other and we're always there for each other.

And I still can't stop staring at his ocean eyes, but now I can do it without consequences.

@writingwithadragon

#krii7y #kryoz #kryozgaming #smii7y #gbg #bbs #fanfic #gay baby gang #gay #banana bus squad #ship #writing #fics

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banditthewriter · 5 years

Text

Morning Bell - Ryan Brenner

This was a plot that I got in my mind and couldn’t shake. I was actually going to write this with Logan, but I realized it fit so much better with Ryan.

Dedicating this one to @thisisparadisemylove because she’s been hyping me up about this story like crazy!

Warning: Smut!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The rain had washed out most of the gravel from the driveway. You did a mental calculation on how much it would cost to have more poured and decided that maybe a dirt drive would be okay for a while. It wasn’t like you were busy these days anyways. Your last guest had packed up almost a week ago and you hadn’t seen an inch of a person since then.

Well, besides that Jacob Rivers guy. You’d be half tempted to accept his offer of a date if he offered to stay a few nights at the Morning Bell Inn.

No, you wouldn’t do that. Your grandma would beat your backside black and blue if she even knew you’d entertained the idea.

Instead of dwelling on how much a new gravel driveway would cost, or how much damage the rain was doing to the garden you’d just planted, or the fact that the bunk house had a leaky roof, you focused instead on the screen door that you were trying to reattach. It’d been raining for three days and if that wasn’t bad enough, the wind had picked up and tore the screen door half off.

Grandpa Clement had taught you how to fix most things by yourself but you thought a screen door might be out of your capabilities.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?”

You turned around, startled, and the screen door slammed back against the side of the house. Standing in the rain was a man carrying a duffle bag, a book bag, and a guitar case. He had a hat pulled down low and a hood up to protect himself as much as he could, but the rain looked to have soaked him through already.

“Get out of the rain before you catch your death,” you said as you gestured for him to join you on the large covered porch. “Gracious, did you walk all the way out here?”

The man gave a sheepish grin as he put down his bags, pushing his hood off and dropping a soaking hat on top of the pile he’d made. You were momentarily struck with how handsome the very drenched man was before he came over to you.

“Here, if you’ll hold the door steady, I can get it put back.”

You were confused until you remembered what you had been doing before the stranger had appeared in your front yard. Quickly you went to work doing as he said, grabbing the screen door and holding it up. He slipped past you, his wet jacket brushing your arm as he reached out with the tools you’d been fumbling with.

“The screws are warped,” he said through gritted teeth as he worked.

“Wind pulled the door off a few nights ago. I was just trying to make it last until I can… figure something else out.”

It was just a screen door, but you had always tried to keep Morning Bell exactly how your grandparents had left it. And you liked being able to leave the front door open in the summer; the screen door kept in the animals and kept out any bugs.

“There,” he grunted as he did something complicated with the screwdriver. “It’ll hold, but it’s not pretty. You’ll need completely new fixtures.”

You released the door and watched him shut and open it a few times. It seemed to catch a bit, especially when being opened, but it would work for now.

“Thank you. I uh, I’m Y/N Y/L/N; owner of Morning Bell Inn. What brings you out this way,” you glanced over your shoulder before you added, “and without a car in this weather?”

The stranger wiped his hands on his pants, probably the driest part of him but not by much, before he offered his hand to you. You had just a second to see ink on his fingers before you accepted the handshake.

“I’m Ryan. Brenner. I’ve been traveling and decided to stop here in Heyfield for a while to try to find work. One of the people in town said I might could get a room?”

A guest? You immediately ushered him towards the door, stopping to grab his hat and one of his bags.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. We’ll get you some towels and something warm to eat.”

He nodded gratefully as he gathered up the last of his stuff. He followed you into the foyer where you instructed him to go ahead and pull off his jackets and boots.

“If you have anything dry in the bag, you might want to grab those. Otherwise I can toss some things in the dryer for a bit so you can change clothes. There’s a half bath right there,” you said as you pointed to a nearby door, “and a full bath down the hall if you’d like to shower.”

Ryan shifted from foot to foot, he boots still on but his jacket in the process of being removed.

“I don’t have much in way of cash right now,” he explained hesitantly.

He’d mentioned trying to find work. You waved him off and gestured for him to take off his shoes.

“We’ll work something out, don’t fret. I’m gonna go grab a few towels. Why don’t you check your bag and see if we need to pop anything into the dryer?”

You left him standing in the foyer, dripping all over the floor. Somewhere in your mind, Grandma Pearl was telling you not to leave such a fine young man stranded, and it was that voice that made you offer your help. It was entirely possible that this guy would accept your help and then leave, but what trouble would that be? It wasn’t like you were booked up at the moment.

“Uh, ma’am?”

You hurried down the hall with a few towels in your hands, concerned by the tone in his voice. When you came to the foyer, you were faced with an amusing sight. Ryan was wearing damp jeans and a long sleeved shirt that was obviously soaked. His clothes were clutched to his chest, probably to keep from making a mess. And at his feet were Leroy and Feisty.

“Away, away,” you called to the duo. Leroy, a basset hound who you had inherited with the inn gave a soft yip before he waddled away. “You too Fei,” you said in a stern voice to the raccoon who wiped his face and followed his friend back into the other room.

“That was a raccoon.”

You laughed as you made your way over to him, handing him the towels. You dropped his clothes into a wicker basket that you’d carried out as well, putting it on your hip as you looked in the direction the two of them had wandered.

“That’s Feisty. Don’t let his name fool you; he’s lazy as hell. Him and Leroy are the welcome wagon.” You shifted a bit and looked at Ryan with a sly smile. “If you’re allergic to animals, I’ll need to know. There’s a few more that wander through the inn and on the grounds.”

“Not that I’m aware of ma’am.”

You ducked your head and smile.

“You can call me Y/N, Mr Brenner. We’re pretty laid back here in Heyfield.”

He smiled at you as he gave a timid nod, his hair falling down into his eyes before he pushed it back.

“You can call me Ryan ma–Y/N. Thanks.” He picked up his duffle bag and peered inside. “Looks mostly dry. I think I’ll just take a quick shower if the offer still stands? Been traveling for a while.”

“Of course. The bathroom is down that hall, door straight ahead. I’ll get to work on something to eat while you do that. Just give me a holler if you need anything.”

He gave you another smile, this one a little wider. It took your breath away but you doubted he noticed. You did catch his eye going to his other bag and his guitar case.

“I won’t touch them, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you said evenly, smiling to let him know you weren’t offended.

“I’m just not used to leaving them,” he said with a bit of a sheepish grin.

“I won’t be offended if you take them with you. There’s no one else staying here right now, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

With that, you took the wicker basket of his wet clothes with you down the hall. His shoes you put next to the radiator, shoving a few pieces of newspaper into them before you moved on. You wondered if you should toss the jacket into the dryer or just hang it up for the time being. Ryan might want to wash the rest of his clothes.

That in mind, you hung up the jacket on a large metal laundry stand that you had in the laundry room. It’d get dry at least.

You started to check the pockets but realized that he might take that as an invasion of privacy so instead you simply left the washroom. Milo, one of the cats that lived in the inn, meowed at you as you passed by his perch on the dryer. You scratched under his chin and then headed back through the living room towards the hallway.

His bag and guitar case were still where he’d left them. You smiled as you moved to the door, checking to make sure the screen door was pulled closed. Then you laid down one of the towels you’d carried out to soak up the water on the floor.

Once all that was done, you went into the kitchen. There was some chicken soup in one of the cabinets so you pulled that out. Usually you cooked from scratch, but you hadn’t left the inn since the storm decided to settle in on top of you and groceries were pretty bare. You’d have to make a trip if Ryan was going to be here for a few days.

He did say he was looking for work. Maybe he’d be here for more than a few days.

Just as you were pulling out a bowl, you heard the bathroom door open. You couldn’t hear the shower over the rain, but you could smell the faint scent of the body wash that you kept stocked in all of the bathrooms here.

“Smells good in here,” he said as he joined you, barefoot and in jeans and another long shirt. “You really don’t have to go through all this trouble. We haven’t even talked about how much I’ll owe you.”

You waved off that line of thought with the spoon you used to scoop up some of the chicken soup for him.

“You need a place to stay and I have an inn with ten unoccupied rooms. Not saying it’s kismet, but I’m also not saying I’m gonna throw you out if you don’t pay me right now. That’s not how towns like these work.” You gestured towards the small breakfast table that was in the kitchen rather than the larger dining room. “Have a seat. You have a preference for drink? I’ve got water or a few different types of soda. No alcohol in the house at the moment.”

“Water’s fine, thank you.”

He let you herd him into a chair, putting the food in front of him. You poured a glass of water from the water purifier you had in your fridge. Once that was in front of him, you gently smacked your forehead.

“Might help if I got you silverware,” you joked as you went back to the counter to grab that. “This storm has got my mind in too many different directions.”

“Is it normal for this time of year? I wasn’t expecting to come into monsoon season when I got here.”

“Yeah, we usually get pretty crappy weather. It’s one of the reasons the inn is empty; people tend not to come through here this time of year.”

Ryan nodded as he ate. You kept busy so that you weren’t simply staring at the attractive man while he ate. His hair was wet and curled under his ears a bit. You could see a drop of water making its way down his neck before it soaked into the collar of his shirt.

“I figure after you eat, you can look around the inn and find which room you’d rather stay in. We can also wash your clothes if you need. Weather forecast said the storm is gonna get worse over the next few days and I need to get to town to do some shopping, but I want to get you settled in before I do that.”

You didn’t like leaving the inn unwatched, especially not with a stranger in the midst. Sometimes locals would stay a night or two and you trusted them, but you didn’t know Ryan. Gut instinct that he was okay aside, he was a mystery.

After Ryan finished his second bowl of the soup, you showed him where everything was in the kitchen and then the laundry room. He scratched Milo’s ears while you explained that the laundry rack you’d hung his jacket on was his for his stay.

“I don’t think I have enough clothes for that to be a problem,” he joked as he carted his duffle bag over to the washing machine.

You left him to that and made your way back through the kitchen. There was a tiny meow and you looked down to see Gretchen, a small gray cat that usually hid when men were around. You picked her up and let her curl up on your shoulder as you poured the soup from the pot into a container for the fridge.

“Do you want to show me the rooms or—oh hey, who’s this?”

His hand came out to scratch Gretchen’s ear and you were shocked when she immediately started to purr.

“This is Gretchen. She’s usually shy, so this is… unusual.” The cat had hopped from your shoulder and into his arms, curling up and purring so loud that you were sure he was shaking with it. “Huh. Okay. The one in the laundry room was Milo, by the way. You’ll win him over if you just pet him constantly.”

He looked up from the tiny cat in his hands and smiled at you.

“How many animals are in this place?”

“The way my grandpa always put it is that there’s always about two more than you think,” you joked as you gestured for him to follow you. “My grandparents owned Morning Bell my whole life. Grandma Pearl had a soft spot for creatures and took in any that needed a home. There’s a little farm house on the property that has two horses, a donkey, a goat, a few chickens, and one goose that really doesn’t like people. Then here in the house there are a bunch of cats, like seven? Four dogs, one raccoon. There’s a possum family that lives under the porch too.”

You heard a laugh and you looked behind you to where Ryan was still cradling Gretchen.

“This place is definitely bigger than I thought it was. I wouldn’t think that there were that many animals in the house.”

You grinned and waved a hand around the first floor.

“We’ve got three bedrooms down here on the main floor, handicap accessible. There’s two full bathrooms down here, plus a half bathroom. Then upstairs we have seven bedrooms, one of which has bunk beds. There’s three full bathrooms upstairs and two half baths.”

His eyes were wide as he took in all of that information.

“Where’s your room?” He seemed to realize how that sounded and his face turned a little red. “I just meant, uh, do you live here too?”

You grinned and gestured for him to follow you. There was a door on the other side of the large living room, away from the other bedrooms. When you opened it, there were a few steps that led down into what looked like studio apartment. There was a small kitchen, a couch that faced a television. Partially visible was your bed. Not seen from the doorway, there was a full bathroom and a pretty good sized closet.

“My grandparents lived in one of the rooms upstairs, liked being in with the guests. When I was younger, I had to move in with them and they wanted me to have my own place. This was storage and a tornado shelter since it’s underground and has pretty good foundation. Grandpa Clement did most of the work himself on the kitchen and bathroom. I didn’t want to leave it once they were gone.”

Gretchen hopped out of Ryan’s hands and darted down the stairs, disappearing into the relative darkness of your place. There was a doggy door so you pulled the door shut.

“Her buddy Nimrod is probably in there. He’s about a billion years old and dumb as dirt,” you said with a grin as you turned and started back across the living room, “but he loves to cuddle. He’s only got half a tail, so you’ll know which one he is.”

Ryan laughed at that description. You hesitated near the stairs and gestured around the first floor.

“What do you think? Want to see any of the rooms down there? Or would you rather look around upstairs?”

He looked up the stairs and then at you.

“Lead the way.”

You weren’t sure how you felt leading him up the stairs, self conscious about how you looked in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But once on the second floor, you immediately went back into work mode.

“Since you’re my only guest right now, I’m gonna show you my favorite room up here. Right back here,” you said as you walked to the back of the house. You opened the door and ushered him in first.

There was a large bed against the far wall. A skylight took up a good chunk of the ceiling, including a section near the bed. There was also a door that you explained led to a balcony.

“It’s got a beautiful view when it’s not raining cats and dogs.”

Ryan smiled and turned to look around a little more. He touched a few of the odds and ends that you had placed in the room, notebooks and stationary. There was a pack of playing cards as well as a photo album of some of the places your grandparents used to travel.

“This was their room, wasn’t it?”

You weren’t sure how he guessed that, but you nodded as you pretended to fix a mirror that was hanging near the door.

“Did they uh, pass?”

You spun around and shook your head.

“Heavens no. They wanted to retire from the inn owning business and left it to me to travel the world. That photo album on the dresser is full of pictures they send me.”

His fingers brushed over the cover of the album before he turned to look back at you.

“What’s your rates? They differ for rooms with a view,” he asked as he jerked his thumb at the door that was rattling a bit in the wind.

You laughed and shook your head.

“No, one rate for all rooms. The longer the stay, the rate goes down a bit. Do you have any idea how long you’re thinking about staying in Heyfield?”

Ryan shrugged a shoulder as he sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed.

“It’ll be a few weeks at least. It depends on what kind of work I’m able to find.”

You nodded as you thought about that.

“How about this? Since we’re kind of stranded right now, how about you do some work around the inn for me in return for free room and board? Then once you get a job, we’ll talk rates again.”

Ryan looked surprised at the offer.

“I don’t want to take advantage,” he said quickly, but you cut him off.

“I don’t know where you’re from or where you’ve been, but that’s just how it works around here. We help people out how we can. And having a handyman living upstairs will help me the next time the screen door gets torn off.”

He let out a chuckle, ducking his head. You watched him run a tattooed hand through his hair.

“Sounds like I’m getting the better end of this deal, but I accept,” he said as he stood up and offered you his hand.

This time when you shook his hand, it was dry and warm. You smiled up at him as both of you seemed almost reluctant to let go.

“I’ll let you get settled in. Wi-fi password and channel listing is on that sheet next to the television. I’ll try to head to the store in about an hour so if you think of anything you’d like, just let me know.”

You left him in the room, heading towards the stairs.

“Hey Y/N?” You turned around at his voice. It meant you were met with that blinding, breathtaking smile once more. “Thanks.”

You smiled back as best you could with your heart racing in your chest.

“My pleasure.”

------

“Hey Ryan, I’m heading to the store,” Y/N called up the stairs. Ryan left the room after he turned off the television, coming down the stairs to see the owner of the inn piling on a jacket with a hood. “Do you need—oh, sorry! Didn’t hear you coming down the stairs.”

“No worries. I don’t need anything, but you sure you should be out there in this? Doesn’t seem to have let up much.”

“It should be fine. If I don’t go, we might have to eat one of the animals.” There was a yip in one of the other rooms and Y/N laughed. “I wasn’t talking about you Baxter!”

A dog that looked like it had some pitbull in it came hobbling into the room, drooling all over her shoes as Y/N scratched his head.

“You’re welcome to the house while I’m gone. The only place off limits is my room, but other than that, make yourself at home.” She stood back up and gestured to the television in the living room. “There’s a laminated sheet in here, the kitchen, and on the back of every bedroom door that has my number and all the emergency numbers for the town. I’m trying to think if there’s anything else.”

Ryan reached down and grabbed his own phone from his pocket. He flipped it open, trying to hold back any embarrassment about his old phone as he pulled up the contacts. He read her number off the paper and entered it in, sending a quick text so that she had his number.

“In case something happens,” he said simply as she saved his number in her phone.

“That works. There’s a house phone in the smaller living room where the dogs stay. If it rings, just go ahead and answer it if you’re down here. If it’s someone that wants to make a reservation, just get their number or tell them to call back later.”

He watched as she opened the front door, frowning as the rain was coming down sideways now.

“You have any food allergies I should know about before I go?”

Ryan shook his head, smiling as he did.

“I’m good with whatever,” he said easily.

She promised to be back in less than an hour before she stepped out onto the porch. He followed her out and shut the screen door to keep Baxter and any of the other eight hundred animals she had in the house. He watched her make her way to a jeep that was parked on what probably used to be a gravel driveway. The rain must have washed a good part of it away because he watched her tires spin a bit before she got enough traction to pull out.

He’d walked the road from the town to the inn; he’d hoped she’d be safe in her car.

Once the jeep was out of sight, he went back into the inn and shut the door behind him. Baxter was nowhere to be seen but there was a new cat hovering nearby. It wasn’t Milo or Gretchen and it seemed to have its whole tail so he didn’t think it was Nimrod.

The cat just stared at him from it’s perch on the sofa table.

“You got a name?”

The cat flicked its tail and jumped onto the sofa, stretching its back before it wandered off. Ryan shook his head and looked around the inn.

He’d been given permission to explore and that sounded like as good of an idea as any. He started in the living room and then into what she had called the second living room. From the doorway he could see a few animals but they all seemed to be resting so he backed away quietly. There was another room off to the side that she hadn’t showed him on their first tour so he poked his head in there.

It didn’t have any windows. There was a couch, a coffee table, and against the wall, a beautiful piano. He ran his hand over the wood and lifted the cover, hands finding the keys easily and tapping out a simple tune. It sounded good and cared for.

He’d have to come back in here after he explored a bit more.

As he walked from room to room, getting a better idea of the layout of this massive inn, he couldn’t help but think about the owner. Y/N.

Jackie notwithstanding, Ryan usually didn’t get involved with the people that helped him out. He always felt like it was a power imbalance that never worked out in anyone’s favor. Things with Jackie had been intense, partly because of how close he’d gotten to her daughter Lia. The kid didn’t hold him responsible when he finally did pack up and leave, but that might be because she’d become more mature than her mom.

So even outside of things that had happened with Jackie, he didn’t like to get attached. He’d be leaving at some point and it was usually for the best if he wasn’t breaking hearts everywhere he went.

But there was something about Y/N. A tiny voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Ginny was listing what those “somethings” were, but he ignored it. He didn’t need her telling him to take a chance. He could still see the tears in her eyes as she held her son after Cowboy’s funeral.

Ryan wasn’t going to get attached. He liked Y/N well enough, sure, but he wasn’t a teenage boy anymore. He could be respectful.

It was for the best.

------

“I heard that Saul sent a guy up to the inn,” a familiar and unwelcome voice said as you loaded your groceries into the jeep.

“Yeah, drifter looking for work.”

Jacob leaned in and started to help you put your bags in the backseat of the jeep, brushing against you as he did.

“I don’t know that I like that very much Y/N,” he said in a low voice, his eyes trying to catch yours. “You don’t know this guy. He could be anyone.”

You tugged your hood down over your face a bit more to block a particularly bad gust of wind.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern Jacob, but I don’t really wanna have to be out here longer than I have to be. I promise you that I’m safe.”

The rest of his complaints were lost as you pushed the buggy into the nearby cart return before you climbed into the jeep. You watched him frown as he turned and headed towards the store. With a sigh, you started the jeep and headed back to the inn.

It came with the territory that you didn’t always know your guests. It was one thing both of your grandparents had explained to you long before you knew you’d one day take over the inn. Your grandma had put her hand on your stomach and told you to trust your gut. Your grandpa had laughed and knocked on your head, telling you to trust your head as well.

Both your head and gut told you that Ryan wasn’t a danger to you. Not a physical danger at least.

You’d been in his presence for maybe forty five minutes in total and you couldn’t shake the tingle from your fingertips from your first handshake. And that second one was almost more holding hands than anything else. You hadn’t felt like that for someone you’d just met ever in your life.

Trust you to get butterflies over someone that was going to be gone in a few weeks.

Back at the inn, after a thankfully uneventful ride, you pulled the jeep up a little closer to the porch than usual. The driveway was basically just muddy water and grass at this point so you weren’t worried about some tire marks. You grabbed a few of the lighter bags and quickly darted out of the car, hurrying up the steps and putting the bags down on the porch.

You’d do what you usually did and carry everything to the porch first. When it was just you, it was harder to do. You couldn’t really leave the door open because of the animals, so it’d take a while to get everything in.

By time you returned with your second armful of groceries, Ryan had come out and grabbed the first few bags. He grabbed the rest from you and looked down at the car.

“If there’s more, I can get them,” he offered but you waved him off, wiping rainwater off your face.

“I’m already soaked and you’re clean. Just a few more trips and I’ll be done.”

You would bring the bags up to the porch and he’d carry them to the kitchen. Once you were done, you started the jeep and pulled it back to where you usually parked. After one last mad dash to the porch, you leaned against the siding and let out a breath. You were pretty sure you were soaked down to your bones.

“Come on inside, I think it’s your turn to dry off.”

Ryan handed you a towel and you laughed. You kicked off your shoes and put them to the side. Next you took off your jackets, throwing them into the wicker basket he had brought to the door. As you tugged off your sweatshirt, you heard him clear his throat.

A brush of air made you realize your t-shirt had come up with the sweatshirt. You cursed and started to fumble, trying to either pull the sweatshirt back down or off completely, but you were pretty sure you were stuck.

“Uh,” you started uncertainly, “would it be inappropriate for me to ask for some help?”

You heard him clear his throat before hands were tugging on the damp fabric of your t-shirt. You felt his knuckles brush against your sides and you sucked in a breath at the shot of electricity that went through you at that.

Temporary. He was temporary.

With a little more help, you finally got the sweatshirt off and into the basket. To cover your deep embarrassment, you leaned against the wall so that you could tug off your socks.

“I’m gonna get these clothes in the wash. Your clothes are probably dry by now but I’ll turn them back on to make sure they don’t wrinkle.”

Without making eye contact you hurried with the basket through the house, stepping over Feisty and Leroy who had come out to see who was there. You got meowed by Milo as you dumped your clothes into the washing machine, grabbing some of your other dirty clothes from the basket next to the washer to even out the load.

“I know, I know, ear scritches in a minute,” you murmured as you shut the laundry room door.

You had some clean clothes in the laundry room that you hadn’t gotten around to bringing to your place yet so you pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, happy to be dry once more. You towel dried your hair as best you could before you threw the towel in the basket.

Afterwards you restarted the dryer. You’d put his clothes in the dryer before you’d gone to the store, so they were probably dry, but you didn’t want him to have wrinkles. He might just shove the clothes back in his duffle, but you were going to act like you did with your other guests.

Just imagine it’s Saul or Dr Herman or… anyone but a really attractive, young man who seemed to have the ability to turn you into mush.

“Y/N?”

You turned towards the door, praying he hadn’t heard your squeak. You went to the door and opened it, smiling up at him tightly.

“Hey. Thanks for your help.”

There was a little pink on his cheeks as he gave a nod, avoiding your eyes for a second.

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that there’s a dog that’s whining? I wasn’t sure if… that was normal.”

And indeed you could hear him now. You cursed and headed out of the laundry room, going into the living room. There in the doorway to the room where the dogs usually slept was little Tank. He was a mutt, with Jack Russell Terrier being the only thing that was obvious, so he was small. He whined until he saw you and yipped happily.

“Hey Tank,” you said as you bent down to scratch his ears. “They need to go out but they won’t do anything in this storm. I’m gonna run them down to the basement; I’ll be back in a bit.”

You grabbed the leashes and suddenly you had a crowd of animals around you. Since you were just going to the basement, you didn’t need the leashes, but they knew that sound well. You went to the basement door and turned on the light. Leroy was the first one down, Feisty following just because he could. Tank was next, tripping down the last few steps in his rush. Baxter was a little slower, his hips giving him some problems with this weather.

Last was Lola. She was a German Shepherd; unlike most of the other animals, she didn’t have any health issues. She wasn’t shy or skittish, she wasn’t unsocial. She loved people and was great with other animals and kids. She did get protective though.

She sniffed Ryan as she walked by, a low growl building in her throat before her tail started to wag. Ryan’s eyes were wide and you gave him a nod to let him know it was okay.

“Lola’s just protective,” you explained as you watched him let her sniff him before he pet her gently. “Come on girl, let’s do our business.”

Lola went down the stairs and you gave Ryan a smile before you followed. The basement was finished, but you only used it for storage. You also used it for bad weather. Once the animals did their business, you cleaned up after them. Then you herded them back up the stairs, carrying Feisty who had started to fall asleep on one of the pillows.

“You need to lay off the food there bud,” you said as you basically bowled him into the hallway, half tripping over Tank who immediately took off Feisty. “Okay guys, let’s not go batshit crazy. We have guests.”

There was a chorus of barking and snapping as the animals played together. Ryan was grinning as he held one of the other cats on his lap on the couch.

“I saw this one earlier when you were gone but he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“That’s Sir Patrick. He’s a bit of a diva,” you admitted as you shook your head. “There’s a girl that looks a lot like him only she’s got two white socks. She’s Princess.”

You went into the kitchen and saw that most of the groceries were put away except for things you figured he wasn’t sure where to put them. You put the rest of them away, telling him thank you again for his help. This time you specified that you meant for the help with the groceries and not for the help with your shirt.

You could still feel his knuckles brushing your side. It played over and over again in your head.

“What about the animals in the farm house? Are they okay in this?”

You looked over your shoulder and saw that Ryan was frowning as he looked out of the back window. There was a building within sight but it was the bunk house, not the farm house.

“Farm house is over there, on a hill,” you said as you went to the fridge and pulled out stuff to start dinner. “It’s survived worse weather, but I checked on it when I left. I’ll go by again in the morning and make sure they all have enough food, but there’s only so much I can do. Unless you think I should have two horses, a donkey, a goat, some chickens, and a bitch of a goose in the living room?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“No, I don’t suppose that would work. If the farm house is up the hill, what’s that back there?”

You turned on the stove before you turned to where you had the chicken laid out.

“It’s the old bunk house. This place used to be a farm and the farm hands would sleep in the bunk house. When my grandparents took it over and turned it into an inn, they let their workers sleep in there.”

Ryan looked at it curiously and then back to you.

“Do you have employees to help you here?”

“No, just me,” you said as you grabbed a knife to start to cut up the chicken. Hesitantly, because this wasn’t a conversation you had every day, you explained, “The inn is paid off and not much is needed to keep it running, but we aren’t busy enough to have employees. I can basically do everything myself. Sometimes people from town will stay and they treat this place like their second home, so that helps too.”

He nodded but didn’t look judgmental. A lot of the people in town had told you a thousand times to sell the Morning Bell, to start your own life, but you couldn’t imagine doing that. You couldn’t imagine not living this life.

“I’m gonna make fajitas,” you said as you went to work on the chicken. “You’re welcome to watch TV or do whatever. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He looked like he might decline, like he wanted to stay in the kitchen, but he wandered off. As you were getting ready to work on dicing the vegetables, you heard the familiar sound of the piano from your grandpa’s office.

A smile spread over your lips as you listened to the tune of You Are My Sunshine play with your eyes closed, memories of your grandfather playing different songs for the guests racing through you.

He’s temporary, you reminded yourself even as you started to hum along with the song. He’s not here to stay.

But he was here for now.

------

Ryan stretched out in the bed and stared up at the skylight. Rain, but it didn’t sound as heavy as it had been. His eyes closed for a moment as he strained his ears for any sound of movement in the rest of the inn. Besides the lawnmower-esque purr from Gretchen who was curled up next to him, he couldn’t hear anything.

It was his second morning at the Morning Bell. Yesterday morning he’d woken up to Y/N swearing up a storm because the doorknob on the laundry room was stuck and Milo was in there. He’d come to the rescue, half asleep and wearing just boxers and a t-shirt. Once the door was open, she’d been so excited that she’d given him a hug before she rushed in and grabbed Milo. The cat hadn’t even realized he’d been stuck.

And he didn’t think Y/N realized she’d hugged him. She’d done pretty good that first night at avoiding any contact with him after that ordeal with her shirt.

Jesus. He thought he had some pretty strong resolve, but seeing her torso like that? And it was just high enough for him to see the bottom of her bra. He’d never gotten so damn breathless from something so simple as that.

He could still remember his knuckles brushing against her skin. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but damn he wished he had. He’d heard that intake of breath from her, saw goosebumps spread out over her skin. It made him wonder how else he could take her breath away.

His hand had started to slip down his stomach towards the waistband of his boxers and he yanked it away. He might have a crush on the woman but he wasn’t gonna touch himself and imagine her. It wouldn’t feel right.

When he rolled over, it woke Gretchen. She stretched and let out an adorable little meow before she went straight for his lap. He rubbed her head and couldn’t help the smile.

Y/N had told him that she usually didn’t like guys. She had seemed pleasantly surprised that Gretchen had taken such a liking to him. And when she found out that Gretchen had screamed outside of his door the first night, she told him that she could lock her in one of the rooms so he wouldn’t be bothered.

He didn’t mind. He’d taken to sleeping with the door open. Some of the other cats may have wandered in, but Gretchen stayed with him almost all night.

The cat realized that he was up so she meandered off to take care of her business and eat something. Ryan grabbed his clothes and went to the closest full bathroom to take a shower. He tried not to do anything while was in there, but with the hot water pouring over him and the memory of Y/N walking around in pajamas yesterday morning when she hugged him, he found his hand slipping down his chest and stomach.

Shit. He gave in, wrapping his fingers around his cock. It wasn’t often he got chances like this. He had a warm bed, a shower, good food, a beautiful woman to look at it. All of that was at his fingertips and he allowed himself access to it all except for her.

He could allow this. Just once. What could it hurt?

With that resignation, he fisted his cock a little harder.

------

“Good shower?”

Ryan’s head shot up and he looked at you with wide eyes. You gave him a curious look.

“I just meant that sometimes the showers upstairs don’t have the best pressure. It’s the problem with having so many showers in one building.”

“Oh, yeah, it was… it was good. It was fine.”

You raised an eyebrow at his rambling but didn’t think anything of it. Instead you moved through the living room and towards the stairs.

“I haven’t seen Max or Ophelia in a few days. I’m gonna go check their usual hiding places.”

You knew that Ryan had finally had the pleasure of meeting Nimrod because he had affectionately called out “oh, you little idiot” before carrying the thing through the inn for the next hour. It was basically everyone’s reaction to meeting Nimrod for the first time so that was normal.

Princess had joined the two of you during breakfast the day before. She had jumped on the table and scared the crap out of you both. Then you had to chase her off before she could steal any of the pancakes you had made.

In one of the other bedrooms, you went to the closer where Ophelia usually stayed. And indeed you saw her curled up with her head on her paws. She peered up at you when you opened the door, her tail flicking.

“You worried me O,” you said as you bent down to pet her. “Where’s your son, huh? He in here too?”

You opened the door a little wider, but didn’t see any familiar white fur. You left her alone in the closet and went to another room. There in the middle of the bed—dark blue sheets because of course—was Max. He was on his back, rolling around and meowing at you.

“You’re too much like your mom.” You scratched his belly, careful not to get attacked for your efforts. “Don’t forget to come downstairs at some point so that our new guest doesn’t think I’m making you guys up.”

You cleaned their litter boxes while you were up there, stashed away in the two half bathrooms that were rarely used. And you checked the different food bowls before you went back downstairs.

“Rain is letting up,” Ryan said as he gestured to the television. Sure enough the radar had most of the rain past.

“We might have sunlight again soon? That’ll be a neat trick.”

Ryan laughed at that and you couldn’t help your own smile as you went into the kitchen. You were in the middle of cutting up fruit when the inn phone started to ring.

“Crap. Ryan, can you grab that? I need to wash my hands.”

You heard him call back that he would. While you washed your hands, you heard his voice softly answer with “Morning Bell Inn, how can I help you?” and you smiled so wide at that. You usually just said hello.

When you met him halfway through the living room, he was frowning.

“Someone named Jacob?”

Tension immediately made you stand up straighter. You took the phone from him and hesitated a second before you put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“He’s answering your phone? He’s only been there for a few days.”

“Yeah, and I was cutting fruit so I asked him to answer it. Did you need something?”

Jacob was quiet and you wondered if he had hung up on you. You’d been a little snippy, true, but for some reason you were incredibly defensive right then.

Maybe because Ryan was still standing there, watching you curiously.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner with me,” Jacob said confidently. “I just got that promotion I was telling you about and you’re the only person I could think about celebrating with.”

Why? You wanted to ask but you didn’t. Instead you turned away from Ryan and took a few steps towards the kitchen.

“I have a guest, as you know. And I need to take stock of how bad the storm was on the grounds. I really don’t think now is a good time,” you said in a hopefully polite voice.

Jacob huffed out a breath that you could almost feel.

“I like you Y/N, but a guy could really get tired of waiting.”

So why don’t you? Instead of saying that, you pasted on a fake smile.

“I’m sorry to hear that Jacob, but as I said, I have a guest. And as this is the inn’s phone–”

“Well you won’t give me your cell phone number–”

“–I’m really going to have to let you go. Bye!”

You heard him saying something as you hung up. Your rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to tell yourself that you’d done the right thing when you heard Ryan awkwardly clear his throat behind you.

“If there’s somewhere you need to be or something you need to do, I don’t want to keep you. I can entertain myself. And I can check the grounds for you. It’s… that was part of the deal, right?”

You turned to face him, putting the phone down on the counter before you moved to stand in front of him.

“Listen, if you weren’t here, I would have pretended that Nimrod had fallen down the stairs or Baxter wasn’t feeling well or, well, anything. You just made a better excuse for me to turn down a guy that hasn’t been able to take no for an answer since I turned eighteen.”

Ryan’s eyes grew wide.

“He’s never…”

“No! No, Grandpa Clement would have come back to Heyfield with a shotgun and a shovel if that had happened. No, he’s just persistent.” You swallowed and looked away before you admitted, “I saw him that first night when I went to the grocery store. He was worried about you being here with us alone. Because you’re not from around here.”

You could see him nod from the corner of your eye. It drew your full attention to him.

“I can see how that might worry some people. Do you feel uncomfortable being alone here with me?”

No. You felt anything but.

Instead of saying that, because you had a feeling that wasn’t something he’d want to hear, you smiled up at him.

“I trust you. Lola would attack if you tried anything,” you promised as you turned back to the kitchen with a grin. “I’ve got to run up to the farm house in a little bit to check on the animals again. You want to come with me?”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “I’d like that.”

------

Ryan had protested when you told him to take the jeep to town. The weather finally cleared up and you knew he’d be looking for a paying job now. It hadn’t been a leap for you to offer him use of the jeep.

“I wouldn’t want to strand you out here,” he said with a gesture around the inn.

You laughed as you scratched Feisty’s back.

“I don’t really do much every other day, to be honest,” you admitted as you looked around the inn. “If there’s a day that I’ll need the car, I can take you in and pick you up. Otherwise it’s just gonna sit in the driveway. And you really shouldn’t be walking that distance.”

“I don’t mind the walk,” he said, but you could hear the resistance fading from his voice. “What if something happens while I’m gone one day? And you need it immediately?”

“Mr Tanner lives about a mile up the road. He’s retired, never leaves the house, and has driven me to town more than once when the jeep had problems. He won’t mind if I have to call him for an emergency.”

Seemingly satisfied that he wasn’t going to be stranding you in the middle of nowhere, he took the jeep to town. It only took two days before he was telling you about his new jobs.

“Monday through Wednesday I’ll be at the hardware store. Then Thursday and Friday I’ll be at the music store.”

You smiled as you accepted the vegetables he had chopped for the salad.

“That’s great Ryan. I’m glad you were able to find something,” you told him sincerely as you used the spoons to toss the salad.

“I think I have you to thank,” he admitted as he turned to watch you work. “Mack in the hardware store didn’t seem inclined to hire me until he found out that I was staying here. And Annabelle in the music store was the same way.”

You smiled as you turned back to the salad, but you also felt a strange tension fall over you.

Annabelle Matthews was the owner of the music store; you’d almost forgotten. She was a year or two your senior. Even in high school she had been a beauty. The years had been extraordinarily kind to her. She wore cute little dresses that you never felt like you could pull off. And she was musically inclined which obviously meant a lot to Ryan.

Not… not that you should care. Obviously it didn’t matter if he ended up falling for Annabelle. She was a great woman.

You tried not to let him see your frown as you turned to head over to him. He looked surprised at first until you leaned past him to grab the bowls from the drying rack behind him.

“You go ahead and get yours first,” you said as you handed him a bowl, gesturing to the salad. “I’m gonna go ahead and take the lasagna out.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he gave you a quick nod and headed over to the salad you had made.

That night as the two of you ate, you felt the silence as more of a physical presence. Every other silence with Ryan had felt peaceful, comfortable, but this felt different. You didn’t like it.

“I don’t think I ever asked what brought you to Heyfield,” you said suddenly, realizing that you didn’t actually know much about your guest. “Obviously you don’t have a car. Did you hitchhike?”

You made sure that you sounded honestly curious instead of judgmental. You didn’t really care one way or another if he did hitchhike.

“No. Well, I mean, sometimes I do,” he amended with a grin, “but I took a train.”

There was something in the way that he said that that made you think he didn’t mean as a passenger. You thought about it for a moment before you said anything.

“You’re a train jumper,” you said with a grin. At his bashful look, you laughed and waved a hand. “I’m not judging you Ryan, but isn’t it dangerous?”

He nodded, eyes on his hands. You’d wondered about his tattoos a few times since he’d come to your inn. His fingers were inked. There was a large bird on his forearm. You could only imagine how many other tattoos he had.

You shifted a bit in your seat at the heat that came over you at that line of thought.

“It can be, but if you’re smart about it and careful, it’s not as bad. You meet a lot of interesting people doing it,” he added with a grin in your direction that made you really glad he couldn’t hear your heart rate.

For the rest of the night, you asked him stories about his travels. The two of you stayed at the table with coffee brewing and a few slices of pie between the two of you. He had such a way with his descriptions that you couldn’t help but imagine yourself there with him in his travels.

It was well after two in the morning when exhaustion finally reached both of you. He helped you clean up in the kitchen while you took the dogs out to use the bathroom. You watched as he checked that the front door was locked up tight before he came back to where you were heading towards your place.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said with a smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I really enjoy talking to you.”

You smiled and ducked your head down so that he hopefully couldn’t see how good that made you feel.

“I enjoy talking to you too,” you replied. Then with a yawn, you let out a quiet laugh and gestured to your door. “I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He repeated it back to you before he headed to the stairs. You tried not to watch him before you turned off the light in the living room.

That night in your bed, you fell asleep with one thing on your mind and it influenced your dreams. In your dreams, you jumped from train to train with Ryan at your side, his hand in yours.

It was a better night sleep than you’d had in a long time.

------

Ryan was exhausted. The first few days at the hardware store showed him that Mack was a great guy with absolutely not organizational capabilities. He’d been lugging heavy boxes and equipment for eight or ten hours a day.

He was always happy to get back to the inn. Y/N would always have dinner ready by time he got out of his shower. He’d gotten used to it.

It hadn’t taken long before he’d gotten used to a lot of things. She was always there within reach. Sometimes he got lost in the fantasy of grabbing her hand when she passed by his side. He thought about tugging her to him, kissing her until she made that small gasping noise he’d heard when his fingers had brushed her sides.

He thought about pulling her up the stairs to his room. Or sometimes he thought about her pulling him into her room. His mind played the scenarios over and over until sometimes he felt like they weren’t fantasies.

He sometimes forgot that she wasn’t his girl. He forgot that she didn’t know what he was thinking about when he watched her dance around the living room with one of the cats in her arms.

Heyfield was a place he could see himself in for longer than a few weeks. It was a small town, just outside of larger cities. There was a bustling music scene less than an hour away. He’d even seen something about a music festival that came out this way twice a year.

And then there was the inn. He’d gotten comfortable here. Even with the thousand animals. He’d never been around so many animals for so long. He helped Y/N with the dogs and cats, helped her out at the farm house with the larger animals. He hadn’t even minded being chased by the goose because it made Y/N laugh.

It was dangerous to get so complacent. Ryan felt like he was losing grip on reality. He’d built it up into his head so much that there was something there.

Isn’t this what he had wanted to avoid? He’d fallen into that with Jackie. He had a roof over his head and food in his belly. He had a woman that he thought understood him, the kid who he bonded with almost immediately. In the end, none of it had been enough. Him and Jackie weren’t made for each other; they were just two people that happened to be in the same place at the same time.

He couldn’t see Y/N leaving the inn that her grandparents had opened. Could he see him himself staying here? Maybe it wasn’t completely out of thought.

It was that constant thought that kept him from acting on those fantasies he had. But at least he had them to keep him company.

------

The rain was back. Ryan was out at work at the music store and you were folding clothes. How long had he been here? A few weeks at least.

You weren’t sure if you were just imagining the thing between the two of you. Sometimes it felt like he was about to grab you and just plant one on you. And hell, sometimes it took everything in you not to do just that.

You were happy that Ryan seemed to be enjoying the work he was doing, but there was still that tendril of worry every time he went to the music store. You’d been in town one day and heard Annabelle telling some of her friends about her new employee. The words ‘attractive as hell’ had been used liberally.

The phone rang and you frowned as you made your way through the house. When you answered, you were pleasantly surprised to hear a familiar voice.

“Hey little bug,” your grandpa said, your grandma echoing the sentiment in the background.

“Hey globetrotters. How’s traveling going?”

“Your grandpa got us lost again,” Grandma Pearl said with a laugh. “We didn’t call to talk about us, bug. We heard from Mr Tanner that you got yourself a gentleman?”

Somehow you hadn’t considered the fact that people might call your grandparents about Ryan.

“He’s a guest here grandma,” you playfully scolded as you made your way back towards the laundry room.

“Guest or not, Mr Tanner told us he’s quite the looker.”

You snorted out a laugh, startling Milo.

“Yeah, he’s handsome.”

And god did you have to sound so dreamy? It didn’t pass by the notice of either of your grandparents.

“Now bug, you wouldn’t have gone and fallen for the boy, have you? Because from the way Mr Tanner told it, your guest is a bit of a drifter.”

You’d never been able to lie to your grandparents. It’d gotten you into a lot of trouble over the years, but you always ended up telling them the truth.

“I don’t know how bad it is,” you admitted quietly as you stared out of the window over the washer and dryer to watch the rain. “But yeah, I feel something. And I know that he’ll probably leave soon, so you don’t have to worry about me having expectations.”

They started to talk at the same time, but you couldn’t hear them. From the front of the inn, you could hear Ryan calling your name in an increasingly worried voice. You told them you’d have to call them back and hung up the phone as you hurried out to the living room.

Ryan stood in the foyer dripping water on the floor. You were about to ask what the problem was when you saw it. Cradled against his chest was the tiniest kitten you’d ever seen. The thing was positively engulfed by his hand.

“Where did you find that?”

He gestured out the front door.

“Next to the porch. Can you take it? I want to go check and make sure there aren’t any others.”

You were stunned. Quickly you took the tiny lump from him before he went right back out into the storm. You bit your lip as you carried the tiny thing towards the closet so that you could grab a towel. Then you wrapped the kitten up into a hand towel, shushing it gently when it let out a pathetic mew.

“We might have a situation,” Ryan said from the foyer. You went out there and found him cradling a few more of the tiny things.

“Goodness, let me grab the basket again. Hold on.”

You hurried to where the wicker basket was, dropping the towel in. Then you lowered the kitten in the hand towel. In the foyer, you let him put the other kittens in the basket before you covered them with the towel.

“What’s the situation?”

“I’ve got to get the mom. She ran off when I grabbed the kittens.”

At least she didn’t attack him. You bit your lip and looked down at the basket.

“Do you need some help?”

He shook his head and headed back into the rain. You put the basket on top of the coffee table to keep the dogs from sticking their noses in and ran to the kitchen to grab the phone. As you walked back into your living room, you dialed a familiar number.

“This is Dr Helms,” a friendly voice said.

“Hey doc, it’s Y/N up at the inn. We’re having a situation.”

Dr Helms was familiar with your tendency to always have creatures. He asked what had happened and you explained that your guest had found four kittens that couldn’t be more than a month old if even. You also told him that Ryan was currently half under the porch to try to get the mom out.

“I’m gonna be delivering a calf shortly or I’d come right out,” he said slowly. “Do you still have those bottles I gave you for Gretchen when she was a kitten? You might want to try those. You do what you can for them tonight and I’ll be there first thing in the morning to take them off your hands.”

You stared down in the basket at the wiggly things. Damn you for getting attached so quickly.

It seemed to be a thing lately.

Once you hung up with Dr Helms, you went to the door. Your intention was to ask if he needed help, but he was coming up the stairs the moment you got there. He was covered in dirt and mud but he was cradling a soaked, dirty cat. A cat who was yowling like she had been lit on fire.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said as he tracked mud into the foyer.

“I don’t care about that Ryan. Here, let me get another towel. See if she’ll go into the basket with the kittens.”

You came back to the living room with two more towels and found yourself smiling at the scene. Half of the animals were in the living room peering up at the basket where tiny little meows were coming from. Ryan was smiling down as he gently pet the mom as she cleaned her babies.

“Here,” you said as you startled yourself into motion, handing him the towels. “I called the vet. He can’t get out here until the morning, but he’ll take them then.”

He nodded and looked down as the kittens started to feed from their mother.

“I thought they were the possum family you mentioned until I saw the mom. I couldn’t just leave them out there,” he said as he smiled at the little family.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, giving his cold hand a squeeze.

“Go take a shower and bring your clothes down to be cleaned. I’ll keep an eye on these guys.”

After shooing the other animals out of the room, you sat down on the couch and pulled the coffee table as close as you could. With a cloth, you wiped down the mom as best you could. Since she realized neither her or the kittens were in danger, she had calmed down a bit.

You stayed like that for a while. At one point you brought in some wet food for the mom, as well as some water. She ate and drank greedily, but you didn’t mind. She was small; she must have been living out there for a while. You weren’t sure how you had never seen her before.

It was lucky that Ryan had found her when he did. If this storm was any like the last one that came through this way, they would have drowned.

“Do you have a mop?” You looked up, startled, and Ryan grinned at you as he pointed at the mess in the foyer. “I’m gonna clean up. Do you have a mop?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” you said instead, leaning back on the couch a bit. “Just take your clothes in the laundry. I’ll clean the foyer later.”

He did as he was told, but you could tell that he didn’t want to. Then he joined you on the couch. You weren’t sure if he meant to sit so close, but his arm brushed against yours when he leaned forward to peer in at the kittens. The heat of him beside you made your skin tingle. Those nerves that had been building in your chest over the last few days seemed to expand until you weren’t sure you were still breathing.

“You have a habit of taking in strays,” he remarked as he leaned back, head turned to look at you.

He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. His eyes moved over your face before resting on your lips.

“So it seems,” you replied quietly, finding yourself inexplicably drawn forwards.

The moment his lips brushed yours, mama cat let out a loud meow that startled you both backwards. You cleared your throat, heat feeling your face as you checked on her. She was having some trouble getting back in with the kittens so you lifted her and put her down with them.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you could see Ryan absently rubbing his fingers over his mouth. You looked away before he could catch you staring.

“I’ll just watch them tonight,” you said as you stood up, moving off of the couch in a hurry. “Doc Helms will be here early so I’ll probably sleep on the couch. Don’t worry if you need to come down to the kitchen or anything.”

From the corner of your eye, you thought Ryan looked confused. He gave a quick nod before he stood up, looking around the living room.

“I uh, I’ll go ahead upstairs for the evening. Just yell if you need anything.”

And with that he disappeared up the stairs, Gretchen hot on his heels. In the distance you heard him shut his door and you closed your eyes before you leaned against the wall.

You’d almost kissed him. He was a guest at your inn; he wasn’t going to stay in Heyfield. You weren’t supposed to have gotten attached.

One look into the basket where the mama cat was curled up with her kittens told you everything you needed to know.

It was too late. You were attached.

------

Ryan paced in his room for a while before he flopped down in the bed. He flipped through the channels on the television before he settled on something that he could pretend to watch.

He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her. He’d been distracted by the smile on her lips, the way her eyes had dropped to his mouth as well. He was so damn endeared by everything that woman did. She hadn’t batted an eye when he’d come in with the kittens; she just adjusted and went to work. Just like when he had showed up in that first storm.

She took in strays; he was proof enough of that. And no matter how many times he told himself not to get attached to her, he was. It wasn’t just that he spent most of his mornings jerking off just so that he could face her without making a fool of himself. There was something about her…

He’d never really had much of a home. For most of his life, he was content to make home the open road and whatever railroad he could find. He didn’t want to hop trains for the rest of his life, but he figured he’d go until he found a place to settle in.

The problem was that the longer he stayed in Heyfield, the less he wanted to leave. The longer he stayed at the Morning Bell, the more he started to think he could fit in here. The longer he stayed with Y/N, the less he wanted to leave her.

------

“Y/N? Darlin’, wake up,” a voice mumbled above you.

You wrinkled your nose as the loss of your dream. It’d been a good one. Ryan was teaching you how to play guitar. But as you opened your eyes, you decided reality didn’t look too bad. Ryan was leaning over you, his hand gently brushing against your cheek.

“I think the vet is here,” he said softly.

You started to sit up but he held your where you were. It drew your attention to the fact that there was a weight on your chest. The mama cat was curled up on your chest, her head on her paws. The wicker basket was still on the coffee table.

“Here,” he said as he scooped her up, brushing his fingers across her face as she let out a tiny mew in protest. He placed her in the basket and then offered a hand to help you up.

“Thanks,” you said as you stretched, trying to ignore the way his eyes were immediately drawn to where your shirt had ridden up on your side. “I’m gonna go…”

You gestured towards the door before you headed that way. Sure enough Dr Helms was in his car. He smiled when he saw you and got out to come join you.

“Didn’t wanna knock and wake everyone up. I was gonna nap in my car for a bit,” he joked as he gave you a hug. “Let’s see what we got.”

You guided him into the inn, introducing him to Ryan first. After coffee was offered—and accepted—the doc went to the wicker basket to look over his patients.

You busied yourself with the coffee maker. Ryan was just within your line of sight and you wanted nothing more than to keep looking at him, but you needed to try to put your walls back up. You’d just decided the night before that nothing could happen.

After everyone had a little coffee in them, Dr Helms told you that they looked the be in pretty good shape considering. He wanted to get them to the office and do more tests, but he didn’t see that they would be in any danger.

“Do you want me to hold on to them and try to find them homes or…?”

He left it open but you didn’t even have to think about it before you answered.

“No, you can bring them back or I can pick them up. How long do you think you’ll hold on to them?”

“Depends on what my tests show me. One of them seems to have a bit of a respiratory issue, so at least a few days while I watch that. I’ll keep you apprised?”

He gave you another hug and offered a quick handshake to Ryan before he gathered your wicker basket. He had a cage in the back of his car that he’d put the basket in so that they were comfortable but the mama wouldn’t get loose.

“Any names yet?”

You laughed as you watched him load the basket into the car.

“Mama. Haven’t decided on the kittens yet.”

He gave you a thumbs up before he climbed into his car, promising to call you with an update soon.

Back in the inn, you saw that Ryan hadn’t moved from where he had been hovering near the kitchen door. You bit your lip as you realized you were alone with him again.

“I’m gonna start breakfast,” you said as you started past him, but you didn’t get that far.

Ryan wrapped a hand around your wrist and tugged you until your body basically collided with his. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just enough so that he could lean in and press a kiss to your lips. It was just a dry, unmoving kiss at first, but you weren’t going to be an indifferent participant.

If you only got this once, you were going to make it count.

You thread one hand through his hair, tugging gently as you tilted your head to offer a new angle. He took your movement as permission and the kiss became hot, hungry. Desperate. His mouth moved over yours like he had been thinking about it for years, like he had been waiting for this moment since the first time he knew what a kiss was. You’d never had a kiss feel so much like coming home as this one did.

“Ryan,” you mumbled against his lips, not to dissuade him but as an encouragement.

He let out a moan as the hand that had been gripping your wrist moved to wrap around your waist, tugging you closer.

You weren’t sure who started to move first. All you knew was that at some point you were being tugged up the stairs while still kissing him, pushing your hands against his chest to go up the next few stairs. In the long hallway you tripped over your own feet as the two of you traded kisses and touches.

It wasn’t until you had fallen onto his bed with him, straddling his hips, that you realized how tired you were. As you yawned into the kiss, he started to laugh.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

You dipped your head to rest your forehead against his shoulder as he shook with silent laughter.

“I’m sorry,” you said through your own laughter. “I’m just so tired. I barely slept last night.”

He ran his hand down your back before he rolled the two of you onto your sides. He kept his arm around you, pulling you in towards his chest.

“Sleep,” he said into your hair. When you started to protest, he kissed you again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He’ll be there and he’ll still want you, is what you thought he was saying. Instead of fighting it, or talking yourself out of it, you gave him another kiss and curled up under his chin.

You could only hope that this wasn’t all part of your dream. You could only hope that this was real.

------

You were warm. That was your first thought upon waking up. You were warm and snuggled in against a firm chest, an arm thrown over your waist. In your half asleep state, you didn’t think to question it, but as you started to wake up more, you felt yourself tense.

You were in bed with Ryan. Nothing had happened, but you were in bed with him. Well, maybe not nothing. You’d learned that he was as good of a kisser as he was a musician. Maybe better.

He hummed a little as he tugged you in closer to him, nuzzling against your hair.

“Is that you purrin’ or is Gretchen in here with us?”

And just like that, the tension was released. You nudged his chest as you let out a laugh.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you were met with clear eyes. Eyes so dark that you could barely make out his pupils this close, but not clouded with sleep or indecision. He knew what he wanted. And like he’d said before you had fallen back asleep, he was still there.

“You called me darling. Well actually, you called me darlin’,” you teased as you reached up and pressed your hand to the side of his neck, dipping down and hooking your fingers into the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he replied in a way that made him sound not sorry at all.

You tugged on his collar until you were merely centimeters apart.

“I quite liked it actually,” you told him, your breath catching as you spoke.

His grin took away what breath you had left. He leaned in until his lips were just barely brushing yours, repeating the word once more.

“Darlin’,” he said in a low voice that you felt in your chest right before his lips sealed over yours.

It felt like you were drowning but you needed him more than you needed air. As you rolled over, you tugged him along with you until he was settled on top of you. The change in position meant that you could feel just how hard he was.

He dropped his forehead to your shoulder, taking in a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry, I just need a moment,” he breathed against your neck in that tone that men used when they were trying to regain their self control.

You spread your legs a little more, rolling your hips up so that your were rubbing against where his cock was hard. He let out a groan as he pulled back, looking down at your face with an intensity that did little to quell the heat that was building between your legs.

“Y/N,” he questioned softly but you surged up to capture him in a kiss.

You didn’t need to know all the reasons this was a bad idea; you’d thought about them enough. He was a guest at your inn. He was going to leave at some point. You were already dangerously attached.

You didn’t care. This was you throwing caution to the wind.

When he pulled back from the kiss to catch his breath, he leaned down to mouth at your neck. Then he pulled back completely and met your eyes once more.

“We could… I have condoms in my bag.”

You bit your lip as you gave him a nod. He got up and crossed over to the duffle bag that sat on a chair on the corner of the room. While he rifled through the bag, you stared at the play of his muscles through his shirt.

How had you held back this long? You must have some serious self control.

When he turned back to you, you could see just how little self control he had. He was so hard that he was about to come out of his boxers. You licked your lips as your eyes darted from the front of his boxers to the box in his hand.

“You, uh, you just had those on hand, huh?”

He gave an almost timid nod as he hovered next to the bed. He must keep them for when he traveled. You were grateful for them now but the knowledge that he usually kept condoms on him when he traveled dulled some of the heat that had been building for you.

“At least it’s a new box,” you said in a voice you almost didn’t recognize as yours. “Guess that’s something.”

He settled down on his knees in the bed with you, the box on the bedside table. He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and tugged you into a kiss that you responded to immediately.

“I’ve had these for a while,” he admitted with a bit of a sheepish grin. “Jumping trains isn’t exactly a lifestyle that leads to a lot of romantic interludes.”

You felt a little eased by his use of the word romantic, as if this wasn’t just a roll in the hay. You sat up a bit and reached out until you could run your hand through his hair.

“C’mere,” you mumbled as you tugged him in close, kissing him hard.

After that it was a flurry of clothes being removed. You got to touch and kiss each of his tattoos, learning the shape of them finally. Your clothes joined his on the floor and he took the time to map your body with his lips and tongue as well. He scraped his fingers down your sides until you couldn’t help but shiver underneath him.

He pushed you back against the pillows before he kissed down the length of your body. He nipped at your hip which made you laugh. Then he gently urged your legs apart, his lips kissing a path down your thigh. The sight of him between your legs was enough to make you wetter than you’d probably ever been before, but it was no competition to actually having his tongue against you. He licked up the length of your slit before he circled his tongue around your clit. You bit your lip as your hips started to move, rolling upwards towards his mouth.

Your hand went to his hair for something to hold on to as he sucked on your clit. Moans erupted from your throat as his fingers spread your folds, sliding one inside while he continued to suck on your aching nub. That one finger was more talented than you could ever imagine, brushing against your g-spot almost immediately. He chuckled when you let out a slew of swears, his name falling between the words.

He wasn’t slowing down. As he started with two fingers, pumping them in and out harder than before, his other hand came out until he could link his fingers with yours. There was an intimacy in that moment that made your body shake as an orgasm crashed over you.

When he pulled back, you wanted nothing more than to repay the favor. Your hand moved down his side, brushing lower until you could get your hand around his cock. He pressed his forehead against your hip for a moment before he surged forward, kissing you hard. It gave you a better angle on his cock, stroking him as you tried to figure out what he liked.

He liked it tight around the head, a twist of your wrist at just the right moment. Your thumb brushed the slit to gather the liquid that had gathered there to help the glide of your hand. He panted against your lips as he thrusted into your fist.

“Need you,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Do you want me inside you? Or do you want it like this?”

Like this? Your hand around him was great. You’d also really like to get your mouth on him at some point. But more than any of that, you needed him inside you.

Instead of answering, you reached out for the box of condoms he had placed on the table. He grabbed the box from you and took one out. You shook your head and took it from him, grinning as you opened the packet to put on him. He moaned as you used it as a reason to squeeze his cock again.

“Darlin’,” he moaned as his hand went to your wrist, “I’ve been jerking off for weeks because of you. As much as I like this change of pace, I’d really like to be inside you.”

If it was possible, your skin became hotter at the knowledge that he’d been touching himself and thinking of you. You pulled him in for a kiss and settled back against the pillows, your legs wrapping around his waist. He used a hand to guide his cock inside of you, thrusting shallowly until he was certain you were ready for him.

Each thrust was better than the last. He reached one hand up to press against the wall behind the bed as he fucked into you harder, his other hand touching every inch of you possible. At one point he hooked your leg over his arm, changing the angle enough to brush your g-spot on his thrusts. You tried to hold on to him, your other foot pressed against the bed so that you could angle your hips to take him deeper.

You reached between the two of you to rub your clit, earning a groan from him for your efforts. He leaned back so that he could look over you, his hand clutched on your breast, thumb brushing your nipple. Then he looked down lower where your hand worked, eyes dark and intent on his cock sliding in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as he fell forward onto you, the words against your neck as his thrusts got a little erratic, stuttering out a laugh against your skin. It was the only warning you really got before you felt him pulse inside you, the condom catching it all.

Your hand moved faster over your clit but he was pulling out and scooting down your body before you could do more than that. He replaced your fingers with his mouth, his own fingers pushing inside and fucking you relentlessly. A second, more intense orgasm built up strength at the base of your spine before it crashed over you.

As your body stopped shaking, you started to swear and sat up in a rush.

“Fuck fuck fuck, ow,” you groaned in pain as you writhed a bit on the bed.

“Wha… Y/N?”

He looked so worried that you reached out to try to give his hand a comforting squeeze. All that happened was that you ended up squeezing his hand harder than you meant to.

“No, not you. Cramp in my leg,” you said through gritted teeth.

Ryan grabbed the leg you were clutching, his nimble fingers searching out the muscles that were spasming. He even went so far as to rub your foot until the pain subsided.

“Not my sexiest moment,” you said as you flopped back on the bed, covering your face with your arm. “That was mortifying.”

His hand slid up the length of your leg and settled on your hip. He leaned over you and waited until you moved your arm before he gave you a kiss that made your toes curl.

“If you were any sexier, you would have killed me by now,” he teased between kisses. Then he pulled back and gave your hip a gentle smack. “I’m gonna run down and start some coffee, okay? You need something to eat too. You need some potassium if you’re having cramps like that.”

He got up to get rid of the condom, pulling on his boxers afterwards. He grabbed a shirt and tossed it over his shoulder, not putting it on yet, and headed towards the door, but he shot one last look over his shoulder before he opened it. The smile on his face was the best thing you’d seen in a long time.

You got up to use the bathroom and freshen up a bit. Then you went back into the room to get your clothes. As you were trying to tug on the pajama shorts you’d been wearing, you heard a knock at the front door. With the cramp in your foot, you were having trouble walking, so you called down the stairs to Ryan.

“Can you get that for me?”

He called up that he would. As you hobbled back into the bedroom to grab your shirt, you instantly recognized the voice and realized that you needed to get downstairs immediately.

------

Ryan smiled up the stairs at her voice asking him to get the door for her. She probably wasn’t even dressed yet and with the cramp that she’d had in her leg, she wouldn’t be able to get down the stairs that quickly. He called up that he’d get the door before he made his way in that direction.

When he opened it up, he didn’t recognize the person that was standing there. The guy looked like some sort of door to door salesman except for the flowers he was holding. And he did not look happy with Ryan opening the door.

That might have something to do with the fact that Ryan had barely pulled his tank top on before he had opened the door. That and the boxers meant he wasn’t really appropriately dressed to be greeting anyone.

“Can I help you?”

“Can you… where is Y/N? Why isn’t she answering her own door?”

The voice was vaguely familiar but it took a moment for it to connect. This was the guy that called that one day, the one that Y/N had said hadn’t been able to take no for an answer. Sensing that there might be some trouble, Ryan straightened up a bit.

“She asked me to answer it,” he said, although he didn’t owe this man an explanation.

The man—what was his name?—opened his mouth to reply but his attention was drawn up the stairs. Y/N was hobbling from the hallway, her hand on the banister and wincing as she put too much weight on the leg that had the cramp. She was also tugging her shirt down a bit as she did.

“Jacob,” she called in a tone that to Ryan sounded like a warning.

Maybe Jacob hadn’t understood the warning, or maybe he read what he wanted to from it. The next thing Ryan knows is that his attention his pulled forward as a hand fisted in the front of his shirt, a fist colliding with his jaw.

Jumping trains meant that Ryan had learned how to protect himself, but he didn’t immediately go on offense. He blocked the next punch and broke the hold on his shirt, hearing a slight rip as he stepped backwards. Before Jacob could try again and force Ryan to actually put up a fight, another body slammed into the two of them.

“Stop, Jacob, what the hell,” Y/N swore as she skidded between the two of them. She looked Ryan over quickly before she turned back to Jacob. “How dare you–”

“He hurt you!”

“He did no such thing!”

Her scream brought the sound of paws on the hardwood floor. Ryan waved his hand down at waist height to try to draw the attention of the creatures who were all starting to growl. Even Tank. Feisty was behind his dog-siblings and looked like he was willing to get in a scrape if necessary.

Ryan was a little worried the cats were going to join the fray soon.

“You were limping and he, well he–”

Y/N stepped forward, pushing Jacob backwards with a hard push that even made her stumble. There was a low growl as Lola stepped up next to her, fur standing up along her back as she kept close to her human. Ryan watched as Y/N shook where she was standing, her hand falling to Lola’s head for comfort.

“You have no right to come in here and assault one of my guests. He did nothing to me and has only ever been a gentleman which is more than I can say for you,” she said as she pushed him backwards again. “You’re going to leave my inn and I swear to you right now Jacob Rivers, if I ever see you near me or Ryan again, I’ll call Deputy Higgins and get that restraining order people have been telling me to get.”

Jacob stepped forward, his arm outstretched as if he was going to touch her. Ryan was about to step forward but he didn’t need to. Lola let out a growl so deep and loud that it shook the floor. It caused Jacob to shoot backwards, out of the door and onto the porch.

“I thought I was helping,” he said pathetically as he looked between the dog, Y/N, and Ryan.

“I don’t care what you thought. Get off my property.”

She slammed the door as hard as she could, a picture falling from the wall. Through the front glass they could see Jacob shuffle backwards before he made his way off the porch.

Ryan could see her still shaking. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he wasn’t sure it would be appreciate right then. Instead he bent down the pick up the flowers that had been dropped. They’d been purchased from the gas station not far from the inn.

“How’s your jaw?”

He looked up to see that she was facing him, her hand buried in Lola’s fur to calm both her and the dog down. He pressed his hand against where his jaw throbbed and shrugged a shoulder.

“I’ve had worse,” he said with a grin, wincing when it pulled at the impending bruise.

She released Lola and moved over to Ryan, cupping his cheek so that she could inspect his jaw herself. Her fingers were warm against his skin and he had to fight not to close his eyes at the touch.

“You get punched a lot?”

He laughed and covered her hand with his, giving in to the urge to close his eyes for a moment.

“No, but I’ve jumped out of moving trains before. Hurts a lot worse.”

She smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips gently against his chin, just beside where their clasped hands were pressed. She looked down and saw the flowers that hung limply from his other hand. With a frown she took them from him and pulled her other hand away.

“I’m sorry that happened,” she said quietly as she stared down at the flowers. “He had no right.”

Ryan nodded and reached out to lift her face up to his.

“Not that I’m siding with that asshole, but he thought he was protecting you. I can’t be mad at him for that, can I?”

A tiny smile started to bloom on her face, a sight that still made his breath catch in his chest. Damn but his girl was beautiful.

“Alright smooth talker, let’s get an ice pack for that jaw. And some treats for Lola,” she said as she gave her leg a pat, calling her trusty guard dog to her side. And then to the rest of the animals that had gathered in the surrounding area, “For all of you. C’mon.”

He watched her walk into the kitchen and felt something release in his chest. He figured they needed to have a talk at some point about what happened before Jacob showed up, but he didn’t think that it would matter too much if he waited a bit.

He’d much rather just spend the time with her.

------

You watched Ryan as he ran his fingers over Ophelia’s fur. She’d come down the stairs and gone straight for his lap, but you didn’t mind. If it distracted him from your panic, that was all that mattered.

You knew what was going to happen now. The whole thing with Jacob had intensified the two of you, a rush of adrenaline making you kiss his cheek and making him say those things, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a drifter. Ryan was going to leave at some point and you were going to be left to pick up the pieces.

His phone started to ring and you breathed out a sigh of relief from the other room as you heard him telling whoever it was that he could be in town in about thirty or forty five minutes. Some space would help you figure out what you needed to say.

“I’ve got to go to town,” he said from the door to the kitchen where you were washing dishes. “Annabelle called. There’s some festival in town and she needs help setting up.”

She probably needed any reason to watch him do some heavy lifting. You nodded as you turned back to the pot you were scrubbing although it was already clean.

“It’s a nice festival; you should bring your guitar, play some. You might get some tips.”

And the more money he got, the closer he was to leaving. You closed your eyes tight as you tried not to think about that.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

Ordinarily you would have jumped at that. The festivals in town were always fun and what you wouldn’t give to spend time with Ryan. He could have his arm wrapped around your shoulders, showing everyone that you were his.

Except you weren’t.

That pain settled low in your chest and you had to take a shuddering breath. A hand pressed to your shoulder and you heard him call your name in a soft voice, but you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle his politeness when all you wanted was… him.

“You don’t have to worry about it Ryan,” you said as you turned around in a rush, water splashing on your feet as you did. “It’s fine, really. I wasn’t expecting anything long term when you and I… well. I just want you to know that it’s okay. We got it out of our systems and now we can move on.”

A look of confusion seemed to cross his face before Ryan gave a quick nod. He looked over his shoulder and then back to you.

“I should go to town,” he said as he took a few steps backwards. “I’ll be back soon.”

You gave him a smile and a nod, keeping up the smile until he was out of sight. Then you slumped against the sink and tried not to cry. He went upstairs to get something and then hovered in the doorway, his hand near the keys.

“Have a good time,” you said in as cheerful a voice you could manage.

He didn’t look over his shoulder, just offered a nod before he grabbed the keys and walked out of the door. You had a moment of terror as you realized that you should probably get used to that sight, him leaving.

He didn’t have his guitar case though. You wished he had taken it. Outside of your own issues, you had meant it when you told him that they gave good tips to the musicians that played out there.

You cleaned up for a bit, took care of the animals up at the farm house. You cleaned all of the litter boxes and then started a load of laundry by washing all of the blankets that the cats used. You hovered uncertainly outside of Ryan’s door before you just continued to the room Max usually slept in.

Then you grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl because you knew Ryan had been right this morning; you needed more potassium.

This morning? Had it only been that morning that you’d woken up in his arms?

When you grabbed the phone, your plan was to call the vet and check on Mama and the kittens, but it was your grandma’s number that you dialed. Right as you were about to hang up, she answered happily.

“Hey bug, why you callin’ from the house phone? You drop your cell in the mud again?”

You opened your mouth to joke back because that’s what you normally would have done, but you found yourself sobbing instead.

“Bug? Clement, come here,” she mumbled to your grandpa, putting the phone on speaker. “Baby girl, you got both of us. I need you to tell us what’s going on, okay? Can you take a few deep breaths for us?”

You listened to both of them coaching you through the panic like they did when you were in high school. When your breath returned to almost normal, you heard her ask again what was going on.

“It’s the guest that I took in, Ryan,” you said between sniffles as you slumped down at the kitchen table.

“Did he do something to you sweetheart?”

“No grandpa,” you promised quickly, knowing that he was probably trying to remember where he had left his shotgun if that was the case. “I was so wrong. I told you guys that I didn’t have expectations, but I was wrong. I am falling for him and he’s gonna leave and it’s gonna hurt so bad,” you said as more tears started to fall.

“Oh bug,” your grandma said sympathetically. “You always get attached so quickly.”

You didn’t know how to tell them that it wasn’t just that; them giving you the sex talk when you were fifteen had been bad enough. Now that you were a consenting adult, it should be less awkward, but that just made it worse somehow.

Instead you sniffled again.

“I don’t want him to leave,” you said as you wiped at your tears. “I want him to stay but I want him to want to stay. I want… god, I’ve really messed up this time.”

You heard mumbling on their side of the call. While they did that, you heard a noise behind you and you spun around in a hurry. For some reason you expected to see Ryan in the doorway, having heard your confession. Instead you just saw Leroy who was sitting in the doorway and staring into the living room.

They probably needed to go out soon. You turned your attention back to the phone with a mental reminder to take the dogs out once you hung up.

“Listen, we were going to head back to Heyfield for a visit in a few weeks, but maybe we should schedule that a little sooner. What do you think kiddo?”

You didn’t know when Ryan would be leaving, but even if he was still here when they got there, you’d have some support for when he did leave.

“Sure,” you said with a sad smile. “How long do you think it’ll take you to get back this way?”

You shaped up the last of the plans of when they’d head back to Heyfield before you finally hung up. You knew you needed to take the dogs out, but you stayed at the table for a few more moments.

As you started to stand, you heard something from your grandpa’s office. It was a melody being played on the piano, a song that you had heard him playing a few times before. You didn’t recognize the music but when you had asked, he had just smiled and kept playing.

Ryan. You covered your mouth as you realized that there was a chance he had heard you.

Slowly you made your way through the inn to the office. He was sitting at the piano, his fingers moving over the keys easily. You watched him in silence for a while, unsure how to broach this subject. He was humming with the piano, you were pretty sure, but it still wasn’t familiar.

“I didn’t want to be in town,” he said as he played, addressing you but not turning to face you. “I got there and helped Annabelle, but when she asked me to stay, I couldn’t leave fast enough.”

You bit your lip for a second before you swallowed.

“Why is that?”

His fingers stilled on the keys, the last notes ringing for a brief moment in time before it was silent again. Slowly he turned to face you, a look on his face you’d never seen before. It didn’t clear up any of your thoughts on if he’d heard your conversation with your grandparents or not.

“I wanted to come home.”

All of the times he had talked about the inn, he always referred to it as the inn. He never called it home, not even once.

You took a deep breath, unsure. He stood up and crossed the office room floor until he was right in front of you.

“If you don’t want me to leave, why’d you tell me that we got it out of our systems and we could move on? That you didn’t expect anything from me?”

Your knees buckled a bit and you leaned against the wall, hoping he didn’t notice. He took another step forward. On his face was confusion, plain enough, but there was pain there too.

“Because you’re going to leave,” you said quietly, unsure why you couldn’t look away from his dark eyes. “You’re going to leave and I know it’s going to hurt so I tried to make it easier.”

Ryan reached out slowly, giving you a chance to pull away. When you didn’t he cupped your face with both hands and bent down a little until his eyes were level with yours.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said with the beginning of a smile on his lips. “I’ve traveled over the entire country and I’ve never found somewhere that felt like home as much as this place does. And it’s not just you. It’s this inn, this town. I feel like I’ve been doing all of this traveling and this is where I was always headed.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the touch of his hands on your face. And then you pulled away. From him, from the wall. You walked into the living room, stepping over Sir Patrick who was walking towards your rooms.

“You can’t say things like that Ryan because you can’t, you can’t promise that you mean it. I don’t expect you to spend a few weeks here and then want to give up the life you’ve created for yourself.” You gestured towards the stairs, hearing your voice crack as you said, “You still pack your clothes in your duffle bag. You don’t… you aren’t settled. You just…”

He just what? Cared about you enough to want to stay? Wasn’t that enough? But you couldn’t say the words.

Ryan was in front of you in a few steps, pulling you forward. You thought it would be another kiss, but he rested his forehead against yours.

“The reason I haven’t let myself unpack just yet is because if I stay in Heyfield, if you want me to stay, I don’t want to stay here at the inn forever. We’re doing this backwards otherwise. I want to get my own place, earn my keep. I asked Mack to help me find a place in town a week ago, just to see.”

You felt like your heart was thundering in your chest. A week ago? That was… that was well before the two of you slept together. He had been thinking about this for a week? Or longer, most likely.

“You can’t just stay for me,” you said quietly, voice somehow still loud over the roaring of your blood rushing. ��It has to be what you want for you, outside of us. It can’t… I don’t want you to resent me down the road. And if you still want to travel, I want you to do that. I don’t want you to make these decisions based on me.”

His shoulders sagged with relief moments before he wrapped you up in a hug, pressing a kiss to your check as he did. He held on tight and you found yourself eagerly returning the embrace.

“If I’m going anywhere, it’s going to be with you at my side. Or at the very least, I’ll always come home to you,” he promised as he pulled away. He cupped your cheek and smiled down at you. “Please darlin’, tell me you want me to stay. Tell me you want this too.”

He’d already heard the words, but you knew this was different. This was both of you on the same page, everything out in the open. And it was scary because you’d never been so vulnerable with a man before.

But it was exhilarating because it was Ryan.

“I want you to stay. I want us to give this a shot,” you said with a smile, tears welling in your ears once more.

He wiped them away with his thumbs before he leaned in for a kiss.

And finally, finally, you let out a sigh of relief as you returned the kiss happily.

------

“I think I got the last of it,” Ryan said as he dragged your legs over his lap, grinning at you as he settled onto the couch. “I had Mack and one of the guys from the store help me clear it out but we’re gonna take it to the dump tomorrow.”

You smiled at him over the book you had been reading when he’d come in from the back. You’d spent most of the day chasing the kittens around the house. When Dr Helms had brought them back to you, you’d forgotten how much work kittens were.

“Are you sure you want to set up shop in the bunkhouse? Wouldn’t you prefer an apartment in town?”

He smiled and squeezed your knee.

“I don’t mind the hard work. And there’s no apartments available in town. This way, if things move along the way we both hope they will, we can rent the bunkhouse out too one day.”

The easy way he made plans for the two of you in the future still took your breath away. It’d been weeks since Ryan had told you he wanted to stay and he was making good on the promise. The bunkhouse was being renovated and he was leading the charge.

Your grandparents had come in after the first week. Out of deference to them, Ryan had moved out of their room. And you didn’t think you were out of bounds to offer for him to stay with you for the time being. Your grandparents had been glad that you were no longer sobbing your eyes out to them, but that didn’t mean they had warmed to him instantly.

It’d taken a day before he fully won them over. Granted you were pretty sure your grandpa still took him on the porch for the shotgun and shovel talk, but you didn’t think it would ever be necessary.

They paid for the renovation of the bunkhouse for the same reason that Ryan had mentioned; so it could be used in the future. Both of them knew that Ryan wouldn’t be in the bunkhouse for long at all.

His hand wrapped around your ankle as he grabbed the notebook he’d been writing music in. There was a pretty big music scene about an hour away and the two of you had gone to open mic nights a few times.

You poked your toes into his thigh as he hummed the familiar tune he’d played so many times that you didn’t recognize.

“What is that song? You’ve played it so many times but I don’t recognize it. Is it one of yours?”

He grinned as he reached over beside the couch where the guitar was resting. He shifted a bit so that he could hold the guitar but so that your legs wouldn’t have to move from his lap.

He played the familiar chord a few times until he was satisfied and then he sang the hook.

“My love calls me home like a bell in the morning, ringing loud and clear for me to hear.”

You let out a gasp and surged forward to kiss him. He propped the guitar up on the coffee table so that he could pull you into his lap, licking into your mouth happily.

“Morning Bell,” you mumbled between kisses, tugging on his collar as you leaned back, eyes shining with tears. “You wrote that for me?”

He tugged you into another kiss.

“I think I’ve been writing that song since the first day I got here, but I finally figured the words out. ‘Cause I do, darlin’, I love you.”

You swallowed what would have been more of his beautiful confession, your body bowing into his. Just like every time before, this kiss tasted like home.

“I love you too,” you said with a smile when you leaned back. “I wanted to say it first.”

Gretchen jumped onto the couch with the two of you, purring so loud that you could almost feel her before she actually climbed onto Ryan’s stomach. She missed her bed buddy now that he was sleeping with you instead of the room your grandparents had recently vacated.

You climbed off of his lap but stayed close by, scratching Gretchen’s ear a bit. The landline started to ring and Ryan grabbed it off of the coffee table before you could grab it.

“Morning Bell, how can I help you?”

You rolled your eyes. It didn’t matter how many times you told him that ‘hello’ would suffice, he always answered that way. You watched as he listened to whoever was on the other side for a while, nodding and making murmuring noises every now and then.

“Yeah, we can definitely help you with that. We’re wide open that weekend. How long are you looking to stay with us?”

This man had come in on a storm and shaken your life right up, fitting right in without even trying. You’d run Morning Bell by yourself for most of your adult life and you had never thought that you needed anything else. You had the inn, you had the animals; you were your version of happy. Then this man came in with his tattoos and his smile, calling you darlin’ and always putting you first.

You never would have expected someone like Ryan, but now that you had him? You couldn’t imagine your life without him..

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

Blackened Hearts

part three to the Blackened series which i’ll put under my masterlist here in a sec if you haven’t read yet

ship(s): platonic ralbert, sprace

warnings: race is a ball of nerves

editing: no it sucks i’m sorry

Albert and Race sat in the lobby of the police station, waiting for the officers from the night before to call them back for questioning. Albert hadn’t slept at all since the incident, too busy calming Race down from anxiety and exhaustion induced fever dreams. The cycle had repeated itself several times. Race would wear himself out from panicking, fall asleep, have a nightmare, then wake up again, eyes frantic and breaths too heavy. By the time he was finally able to sleep soundly, it was 7:30 and the police were bound to be there any minute, but Albert had allowed him to sleep for a little while, waking him up last second to go with the officers.

“How are you holding up?” Albert asked Race, who was leaning heavily on the arm of the chair, head propped on a fist.

Race shrugged, shaking his head lightly and casting his gaze to the side. He looked incredibly worn out, eyes puffy from crying intensely for a prolonged period of time. He didn’t answer and Albert sighed to himself- he honestly couldn’t see how Race was going to make it through questioning. It was going to tear him up.

They lapsed back into silence, the sounds of the station creating unsettling white noise around them. Albert leaned on his respective armrest and closed his eyes, dozing uncomfortably for a few minutes until the officers came to retrieve them.

“You guys aren’t in any kind of trouble and this shouldn’t take very long,” The taller of the two said as they were lead into one of the interrogation rooms. They sat at a rectangular table, opposite of the two officers. Race had his hands in his pockets, his shoulder drawn up to his ears. His discomfort was obvious and Albert caught his eyes, raising his eyebrows in a silent question of worry. Race held eye contact for a moment, his expression swimming with a sea of emotions, none of which Albert could read entirely.

“I’m Officer Denton,” The tall one said, shaking Race and Albert out of their silent conversation, “And this is my partner, Officer Darcy. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions about what exactly happened last night so we can write up an incident report, then you guys’ll be free to go home.”

Denton pulled out a recording device, placing it in the middle of the table while Darcy took a pen and notepad out of his back pocket. Albert felt Race slide his foot into the side of his own and he applied pressure back, reassuring his friend of his presence.

“Okie dokie,” Denton said, pressing the recording button, “State your full names, please.”

“Albert Schuyler DaSilva,” Albert said, clearing his throat. Darcy began to scribble in his notebook.

Race had brought his hands onto the table and was wringing them together nervously.

“And you?” Denton prompted, turning his attention to Race.

Race didn’t answer, barely acknowledging that he’d heard the question. Albert nudged his foot slightly and he jumped.

“I-I’m sorry,” He stammered, “What was the question?”

“Just your name, sir,” Denton supplied patiently.

Race swallowed and Albert could practically feel his heart rate pick up.

“Uh, Antonio,” Race muttered, not meeting Denton’s careful gaze.

“Antonio...what?” Denton pushed.

“A-Antonio Nicolas…” He shifted nervously, “Uh, Higgins,” he finished, finally looking up at Denton, who’s face hardened.

“Ah,” He said, nodding hesitantly. Darcy looked up, surprise etched into his features. Race bent forward so that he was leaning on the table and tugged at the hair on the back of his head- something he did when he was stressed, or trying to ground himself. He was rapidly cracking the fingers on his other hand and Albert could imagine that he was craving a cigarette. He always got more fidgety when an urge hit.

It was quiet for another moment, then Denton seemed to recover from his initial shock, “So, talk me through what happened last night.”

Race was back to staring intently at the table, so Albert took over, “Uh, so I was asleep, I don’t know if Race, er, Antonio was-”

“-I was,” Race mumbled.

Albert flicked his eyes over to him quickly before continuing, “Yeah, so we were asleep and then this like, knocking sound woke me up and at first I thought Antonio was tryna get into my room. But then after I woke up more I realized it was coming from the actual apartment door so I peeked my head out to investigate and Tony was also looking. And so then the knocking kept getting faster until it stopped, then uh, he- Giovanni- uh he started to use a knife to break in and he eventually got in while I was on the phone with 911 and he started saying really creepy shit to Tony, then tried to attack him so I tackled him and got the knife away from him and locked me and Tony in Tony’s bedroom,” Albert finished, leaning back in his seat while Darcy scribbled down his words. Albert could see that Race was shaking and he frowned. He was getting worked up again, Albert could tell.

Denton seemed to notice too, because he reached over the side of the table to grab a water bottle from the ground.

He slid it to Race, who held it between his hands, but made no move to open it.

“Thank you, Mr. DaSilva,” Denton said, “Mr. Higgins-”

Race flinched and Denton shook his head, backtracking, “Sorry, uh, Antonio, I just need to ask you a few questions about this.”

Race drummed his fingers on the side of the water bottle, “Okay,” he murmured.

“Okay,” Denton said. He looked like he would rather do anything than question Race, and Albert couldn’t blame him. The boy was a mess, “Who is Giovanni Higgins in relation to you?”

“He’s uh,” Race twitched his nose, “He’s my dad. I dipped when he...yeah.”

“You were present when he murdered his wife and daughter?”

Race winced and nodded and Denton sighed, “Alright, wow,” he shuffled through his file, pulling out a small piece of cardstock near the bottom, “Ah, yes, it does say he has a son. Alright,” he stowed the paper back into the file and crossed him fingers under his chin, studying Race and Albert thoughtfully.

“Do you have any idea why he’d seek you out?”

Race’s eyes flashed and he sat up straighter, “Why d’ya think? To kill me, dumbass.”

“Race..” Albert warned.

“No, it’s okay, I understand his stress,” Denton waved Albert off, “Did he say that? Or are you assuming?”

Race huffed, “He said he wanted to finish the job.”

“Alright, thank you,” Denton said, pushing his chair back and standing up, shutting off the tape recorder as he did so, “I think we have a clear enough report. You guys are free to go.”

Darcy stood too, gesturing for Albert and Race to follow them out of the room. Once they got back to the lobby, Denton addressed Race, “There’s a possibility we may need you to come back in for further questioning on Higgins’ case, so we’ll letcha know if that’s necessary.” Race’s face fell, but he didn’t say anything.

“Take care, gentlemen,” Denton and Darcy shook Race and Albert hands before disappearing into a backroom. As soon as they were gone, Race collapsed back into one of the waiting room chairs, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He was pressing hard, almost angrily and Albert reached down to gently pry them away.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly so no one else could hear.

Race shook his head, taking another moment to compose himself before standing up, “Let’s leave. He’s in here somewhere and I don’t wanna be near him anymore.”

Albert nodded, “Okay, yeah let’s go home.”

They caught a taxi home after realizing that they hadn’t actually driven themselves there. Race was quiet and withdrawn, as he’d been all week. Albert let him pick up a pack of cigarettes at a kiosk, so long as he promised to not actually smoke one. Race obliged, opting to simply hold it between his teeth. It seemed to relax him to some extent.

“Did you ever talk to Spot?” Albert asked, pulling out an earbud to look at Race.

Race didn’t move his head from where he was leaning it against the window as he answered, “No, but I should.”

“You don’t needa if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I should,” A pause, “Can you, uh, can you come with me when I do it?”

Albert softened, “If you would like me too, of course.”

Race hummed, “Yeah, I would. Thank you.”

It was quiet for another moment, then, “I wanna do it tonight.”

Albert raised his eyebrows at the sudden turn around, “Yeah? Alrighty, that’s cool. We’ll have him around for dinner?”

Race nodded, “Okay.”

Albert sighed. It was going to be another long night.

—

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thatlittlered · 6 years

Text

Burning Desire | Duo

Summary: A late night at some trashy bar gets John a whole lot more than he bargained for but he’ll have to put on a fight just to keep it.

Read Part One.

His hands are gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Your skirt is riding up from where you sit on the passenger’s seat but you’re too busy gazing outside the window to notice.

He wishes you would say something, anything to relieve him from this torture. Anything to make him forget about the fact that what he wants lies only inches away from his reach. All he has to do is spread his arm and...

“This is a nice ride you have.”

Good God, you’re killing him with that smile.

“Oldie but goodie, huh?” he catches you winking and bites down a sigh.

You’re enjoying this.

He grunts a ‘thank you’ or at least he thinks he does before his eyes are back on the road in hopes of not killing you both today.

“You get in cars with strangers often?”

He’s not quite sure what came over him, but the need to ask was almost as big as the need to touch you right now.

You smile again, extending your hand for him to take and he quickly picks up on your offer. John’s palm envelopes yours, large and warm and sweaty enough to make you realize the effect you have on him. Your smile widens.

“The name is Y/N.”

His response comes with a clearing of his throat as if to ground himself in the moment, “John.”

You settle back on the seat with a grin on your face.

“See? No such thing as strangers anymore.”

He laughs, as to why he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s your attitude or maybe self-pity once he realizes how deep in the shit he really is. You overwhelm him.

It’s five am and no diner’s serving breakfast, of course. You settle for burgers and he thinks that’s good enough as long as you’re sitting right across him in the small faux leather-clad booth.

The food arrives in little time, filling both of your senses with the scent. John’s eyes never leave you but you seem entirely invested in the little basket that’s placed in front of you.

You feel his stare and decide to have your fun with him.

Your leg grazes against his, softly at first; barely there. Yet he feels it. It’s like electricity rushing through his body and his onyx eyes twitch.

You can’t help but smile in triumph.

“Split the fries?”

He nods and you quickly grab one to place in his mouth, lightly grazing his facial hair before moving your hand away. He happily munches on them and you take the opportunity to stuff one into your own mouth, only halfway in.

John’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and he gapes at the expectant look you’re giving him, the way your lips pout for him to understand. Then your face inches closer to his and the message is clear.

Split them.

He groans and glares at the look you’re giving him; wide eyes and pouty lips driving him mad. “You’re impossible…”

His teeth sink into the soft flesh of the fry, merely inches away from your mouth and he quickly moves back to his seat like he’s Icarus and flying too close to the sun. The grin that pulls at your lips reminds him of a Cheshire cat. You wipe the bit of stray ketchup around your mouth, licking your finger clean.

John’s heart ceases its beat right then. He’s just meat and bones now, simply sitting there as the rest of your meal continues in silence. Your leg is still touching his. Your soft lips peck his own with every fry that you ‘share’ and all he does is gape at you in fear of this incredulous power you possess over him.

The fog inside his brain only clears up when your back hits the door of his house and he can feel your thighs around him, your mouth molding with his own. The weight of your body is nothing when carrying you to his room but there’s a sense of relief overwhelming him when he finally gets to lay you on the bed and he realizes that you’re still very much here, that this is not just a dream.

In the room that is twilight and shadow and sterile white surrounding you everywhere, your bodies are glued together, close enough to breathe the same air… relish in each other’s scent. He feels your hand in his hair. Oh, how you love the softness of it; dark locks tangling themselves between your fingers.

Then your hand is down his cheekbones, tracing the well-groomed beard down to his lips. He watches you in utter admiration, a mortal man paying homage to the goddess Venus herself. His mind’s enslaver.

You kiss him, long and sweet and rid him of all inhibitions. He’s yours for tonight.

A laugh breaks John out of his reverie and he cracks an eye open, stealing a glance at the disheveled you. Your gleaming eyes are focused on the hindrance that his jeans are. You want them off.

“Too many clothes…” you whimper, lips grazing his earlobe in a way that makes him shudder.

He nods in what you can only describe as desperation, making the mattress bounce softly as he lifts himself from the bed enough to fumble with the material on his legs that’s now beginning to itch the longer it restricts him. Soon enough, all his clothes are a mess on the floor as they should be and you beckon him back into your open arms, eager to rid your own clothes.

John watches a delicate hand wrap in the material of your V-neck, pulling it down enough to give him a heart attack when his gaze falls to your breasts; contained within a lacy bra and eager to be touched by his hands, his mouth.

He aches.

“You gonna help me take this off or should I just help myself?”

He growls, low and dangerous and you almost shudder at how lovely he sounds. You do shudder though when his hands come in contact with the soft skin on your stomach and slowly tug the shirt off, taking in your scent that clings there. His mouth is surprisingly soft while trailing a path to your breasts. You work on your bra while he does and his hand squeezes yours as a ‘thank you’.

He doesn’t want to waste another moment.

Your skirt follows and you feel your back arch in anticipation, knowing where John’s hands will soon reach. His fingers slide over the tiny piece of fabric that your underwear consists of and your head rocks back against the pillow as they do, the first moan escaping your lips.

He drinks that sound in, he does. Suddenly, all that’s important is making you do it again and again till you’re begging him to stop and all that’s heard inside the room are the sounds that you’re making.

He yanks the lacy barrier off and you moan again, this time louder. His eyes darken impossibly so at the heavenly sound that seems to linger on your lips. They’re more sweet-sounding than your laugh, something seemingly impossible but he swears that it’s true.

Your hands wrap around his biceps, feeling the beautiful muscles up there and pulling him closer on top of your body. There’s no space to be left between your aching selves and he accepts it, feeds off it. His finger hesitantly grazes where your burning heat rests and he thinks he hasn’t done this in forever.

He only hopes you can’t tell.

Yet you seize his movements, grabbing his hand and kissing the palm like it’s something sacred. John wants to laugh at the irony of that; those hands have killed and hurt and injured countless. It doesn’t matter when they’re touching you, of course. It almost feels like a cleansing of sorts, like redemption.

“Fuck foreplay?” his voice comes out in a grunt. He’s falling apart right in front of you and it’s hard not to bloody enjoy it.

You laugh, breathless as you are and all undone under his body, “Fuck foreplay.”

He fills you and it’s deliciously slow… until it’s not. The heels of your feet seem to dig in his behind with every thrust he gives but he doesn’t mind it. He couldn’t, not when he’s being so consumed by all that’s you.

Again and again, you squeeze around him and he grunts. He’s fucking losing it.

All he can hear is the wonderful sound of skin slapping together and soft mutters of ‘John!’ that fall from your lips. His thrusts are becoming sloppier and he’s long lost his pace but you don’t seem to mind it. You’re both impossibly close to the edge.

When it comes, it’s like electricity shooting through his body. With a single, final thrust John buries himself in you, whispering something into your neck. Still, his fingers move vigorously to please you and it’s not long until you join him.

With panting breaths and still wandering hands, the fog in both of your visions starts to disperse. You hold each other through it, allowing your bodies to mold together in the late of the night – or rather, early morning.

John doesn’t take his eyes off you once until you’re succumbing to sleep and he follows you then, albeit hesitant.

He’s fucking terrified you’ll disappear from his side should he dare to close his eyes for more than a moment, but the prospect of sleep is almost as seductive as you and he gives in for the second time tonight.

True to his thoughts, you’re gone with the first morning light.

Tags: @morningriseghost @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @homesoutofhuman

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick reader insert #john wick series #series #new chapter #burning desire #burning desire series #chapter two #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves #keanu reeves reader insert #keanu reeves series

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shade-without-color · 5 years

Text

The First Tales Chapter 1: A jest of sorts

Note: Well it has been a while since I work on a long fanfic, and with God of War. I would like to thank @feedittothefish for that idea since she likes how I write Mimir so far <3 So it will be a short one which some parts are interlinked partially to my Stolen fanfic. This one is a nice challenge as I did that particular text before (Which is a Midsummer Night’s Dream) I will see if I can post more frequently as i have been busy doing up my Thronebreaker ficlets XD

If we shadows have offended//Think but this, and all is mended//That you have but slumbered here//While these visions did appear//And this weak and idle theme//No more yielding but a dream- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

“Mimir….” the reanimated head blinked slightly. He swallowed slightly, glowing eyes looking at that young man. Sigyn since made herself comfortable to stay with Atreus (with of course Kratos’ blessing which Mimir persuaded him that she is on her side) “I remember that you told us that you are from a different land...” Mimir swallowed slightly and gave a faint grin “Yes lad, now I remember now, a jester to my king... ohohoho!”

Mimir heaved a deep breath “I say long ago, before your father entered that realm, even before I meddle with the bloody gods…before I…”He indeed stirred up a very enchanted memory of that past. “My my it came so quickly….” And before long, he imagines that cabin to be lush with trees, fairies dancing back and forth underneath that shimmering moonlight. And him, entering the new world… Laughter filled the air and one of them winking behind him cheekily. And him bowing down to a certain king (whom by now is not amused by a different faerie who did the stupidest thing by pulling faces), who laid by his throne with his train raining offerings. He picked it rather sheepishly in fear that a guard will strangle him to death.

A world which he wished that he could go back too.

Mimir was glad that he did not stay in that world, but still, moments make him nostalgic. Maybe even more since he gained his freedom is a rather unconventional manner. (Well Kratos detach his body from the tree and reanimated by old magic with the disapproval of Freya of course) but still, it is a life worth living. Mimir thought pensively.

“And I was, a merrymaker for my master…”

“You have a master Mimir…” Atreus shot back slightly “Who? Is it Odin?” as he rocked back and forth. Sigyn, too grew interested in that tale “Well that is new, so you are not an Aesir…” Mimir cleared his throat slightly and looked at Sigyn gleefully “Yes m’lady, well I say that comparing to Odin who is a bloody prick, the King of all fairies seems a fairer master, yes he is a handler of mortal affairs, and sometimes at his worse…the weather….”

“The weather…”

Mimir closed his eyes slightly “Aye…the weather….”He coughed slightly “If I were you, I suggest you should not make a crossing with his wrath…I say it was blustering when I cross the king of fairies…Swore on my life to bring myself something warm…”

“Well, I hear rumours that the king has been jilted by a mortal lover, and I thought of amusing him. I say a tough one…” as he watched one of the fairies cover an eye with a cool leaf, all bloodied and another whispering in his mind, not to cross him. He glanced at that figure, true that he has a beauty that should be awed to the world with his shapely lips and smouldering eyes. He is something else that is why nature envied him Mimir thought quietly He should win any lady. However, he seems to dip his fingers in dew drops and swirl it around. He tried to puff up his chest slightly as he gave a bellow to the crowd “Master I am at your command….”That fairy king gazed with him with disdain. “Oh please…speak…” somehow the shrill winds seems to be still at his voice “I wasted no time for naysayers…”

“Aye sir….”

The King of Fairies glared at him fiercely, as he looked at the cloths gave by one of the fairies, it obscured his view for that new fairy “I see that you need someone to bring your amusements…”Mimir cleared his voice clearly “I have travelled far and wide on the hunt for your amusement…”

“No…I need more amusement, one moment if you become that clinging person...I am gonna leave you like that person…” as he summoned his servant to show the screaming forces of a rather unfortunate brand of people. That caused him to shudder.

“At that time I was scratching my head for something amusing to impress him….” Mimir chuckled slightly to himself as he watched Sigyn passing him some cool mountain water “At that moment I just do not know what to bloody do…”Mimir scratched his head slightly, as he pulled one of the objects he collected and follow it into fireworks. It seems that the king of fairies grew even more bemused than ever. There it follows to other tactics, like curdling milk from a maiden’s bucket, mimicking a horse’s voice, and even more. Mimir suddenly grew breathless, watching the king’s face break slightly.

"Do you have a name…”

Mimir scratched his head slightly “Well…master…” He saw a vital opportunity that he is interested in a lowly fairy.”I have none…nothing to boast but to being you jest..”

“And that is where I ascend to be on my master’s side …” Mimir’s voice dropped quietly as if telling a secret to the enticing duo“ Until I mess with the mortal world…”

Atreus interrupted abruptly “By how Mimir…"

“My king, well let’s call the king of all fairies, Oberon, for now…” He held a great pause in his lips, recalling all fuzzy memories of his past. Some clear like a summer’s breeze but others, like a shrouding fog. “I could say that he has certain limitations of mischief for mortals, whenever good or bad....” Mimir cleared up slightly, as he glanced at Atreus giving him a cup of water from the streams nearby. “Despite the fact that he is vexed by Titania’s choices, for refusing to surrender a child which belongs to a devoted friend of hers...” as he peeked through their quarrels. He watched the storms strip up in such horrors and the flowers faded into oblivion. Mimir thought that he could jump out to the nearby stump to see his master in fits of rage.

His master clenching his fist slightly and him being short of breath from the argument, glaring cruelly at his beloved Titania. Of course, Atreus has to interrupt that particular part which Mimir wanted to gloat about his master’s tantrum but he has to answer his questions “Mimir! A child is important, why take away it from its homeland...”

“We folk, are not of that world, we take what we please as long you know...”

Mimir shrugged slightly “When he is vexed, he believe in righteous retribution which itself is utter bollocks.” He nearly held a mean chortle, just thinking of him, having a childish temper. Odin has a big ego, proclaiming himself to be all knowing etcetera etcetera but Oberon....”He could hear him crashing all of the possessions onto the ground which all of the servants ran off quickly and Mimir sheepishly cowered at the distance “Master, what can I be of service?” He curtsy reluctantly, withholding his amusement of an insult of a female calling her “Painted maypole.” showed off Oberon another horror he made to please his king. He thought that act topping up of making his rather tempestuous wife a fool, by going heads over heels over an ass-headed amateur actor. Mimir thought that prank was his magnum opus is of lovers quarreling back and forth over a certain person. Oberon hissed slightly “I told you to anoint the Athenian’s lids…”

“Which one is peculiar…”

Oberon shook his head slightly “I am not in the mood of jests, did you get my message…” Seems that Mimir did not get his words. “Come on, lighten up!” Mimir shouted gleefully “The world needs right now, are not laws drawn by mortals, blind to logic and reason…”

“I SAY THAT ONE MORE TIME WHICH ATHENIAN’S LIDS YOU ANOINTED.."

“All I say that he is a royal pain in the arse... it must take me a lot of balls to stand up for him… ”

Mimir gulped slightly as he looked at the mess of the mortals, his hands all shaky as he took that flower hesitantly from his master. “But Master... could I... I mean we…” Oberon shook his head and Mimir watched him tap his foot back and forth impatiently. Seems that his sweet words did not catch his master’s temper.

“Clear this mess now."

Mimir sighed slightly as he flew by the woods, mimicking the voices of the jilted lovers. It seems that his golden age is over. “You can say that Oberon grew bored over my antics, since that quarrel…”

Slowly Mimir walked away from the enchanted forest, once lit up with laughter and fairies doing that dance. Now it grew deafened by that silence and not even a fairy bid him farewell “And there I am off that world, the time of his kind all passed into oblivion, I am unsure if Master Oberon and his Wife Titania took another name and another form. Folks of this type will figure how to survive. I wish I has that gut to do that.” Somehow it leads him wandering to the beaches which he could feel the wetness between his feet and the salty spray tinging in his nostrils. “I thought of the mortals who explored many parts, and I thought why should I. I have wit. I have courage. I have grit.” And soon he saw a small boat drifting by the seas, and he slowly stepped in."And that is what I am resolved to do that day. No matter what. To find my purpose, though unexpected… and rather frightening..”

Mimir thought quietly as he looked over the lands which slowly recede into the dark skies. And soon he was greeted with a nip by the nose. He could be anyone and any face, all he has to do is to hold that sheer luck from his wet locks to the tip of his toes.

“And lads, that is how I stumbled that land…” Mimir cleared his throat “Bloody freezing to my being, but I will make a mark… no matter what…"

Tag List

@sevi007

@atreus-kratos-mythology

@seapandaftw

@space-lesbo

@hexxous

@iidrils

@toffeetheimmortalmonster

@whifflewaffles

@slightlyobessedwith-ships

@9imagine-warlock-art9

@spartanroses

@farore5

@feedittothefish

#writing #writers on tumblr #Spilled ink #Fanfic: The First Tales #God of war #God of war 4 #GOW Mimir #Mimir #drabble #creative writing #a midsummer night's dream #GOW Atreus #Atreus #OC: Sigyn the Loyal #fanfiction #fanfic

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xme-reboot · 6 years

Text

XME Reboot

Chapter 47: Grounded

Nothing is as it seems.

The night was still. There was no distant sound of cars on the road, or chirping of birds, or even rustling of leaves.

And then, suddenly, light- a blinding, yellow flash that burst from the Institute and enveloped it.

As quickly as it came, it went, and there was stillness once again.

Sunlight would filter into the room, the early morning rays tinted a soft green as they came through the curtains. Jean sat up, took a good stretch, a waggled a hand for her brush as she left the bed. She would start changing, pausing.

Her brush had remained unmoved from it's spot on the nightstand. She waggled her hand again, frowning sharply.

It didn't move so much as an inch. And she was suddenly aware of the quiet. "...What....?"

There was a THUNK a few doors down. "OUCH!"

She would exist her room, hair still disorderly, slightly dazed and half dressed. "Wha...?"

Kitty was pressed against the bathroom door. She was utterly flummoxed, and kept trying to get her hands through, but couldn't seem to.

Jean picked up pretty fast, brow knitting together when she realized she couldn't just... KNOW what was wrong. "Y-You too?"

"I..I don't--"

CLUNK-THUMP

"OW! WHAT?!"

Todd had attempted to wall jump.

He had failed. This was horrifying to him.

"Wh-What is HAPPENING!?" Jean asked, moving quickly to him. "N-none of our powers are...?"

"Where's the professor?" Todd asked quickly, shakily standing up.

"I... I don't know." She replied. "I... Guess we have to track him down?"

This was so... weird.

Kitty started down the stairs. "Professor?!"

"I'm down here!" He called, in the lobby.

Jean moved down quickly. "Wh-What is going ON? None of our powers are working!"

"Yeah man!" Todd said, "I-I was tryin' to jump around and I just...I couldn't stick!"

Things would only get more OFF as Pietro joined the scene.

Slowing from a run.

Out of breath.

Todd gestured wildly to him, utterly aghast.

"Right, we're calling a meeting." Xavier said, hand moving to his temple. He would pause mid reach, suddenly realizing. "Ah... I'm going to need all of you to gather everyone..."

"O-of course..." Jean replied, shaken.

Most everyone started to file downstairs quickly, after realizing themselves that their powers weren't working. Fred had tried to lift the couch. He was horrified when he could not. Lance was on said couch, stunned by this and the fact that his frustration hadn't even triggered a SLIGHT rumble.

"So why are we having a meeting?" Kurt would ask from the second floor, climbing onto the banister.

"KURT NO--" Jean told him, Kurt hopping off.

He would very, VERY quickly realize he couldn't port to a solid landing, flailing suddenly. "WEH!"

Fred dove forward. He caught Kurt in his arms, grunting slightly with the effort required. It still wasn't much effort, but now Fred could actually feel the effects of lifting something so light, and it was, again, horrifying.

Kurt hadn't needed to be caught since he was tiny, first learning to climb and balance. It was... off. Sobering? He couldn't place the emotion. "..O-Oh. That's why."

"WHAT IS GOING ON," Kitty asked loudly in exasperation.

"Mph." Rogue would approach, still in a sleepy daze. "So noisy this mornin'..."

Pietro paused for a moment, longer than he'd ever paused before. He would then stroll over, suddenly cupping her face.

There was a pause, Rogue's eyes widening when Pietro DIDN'T keel over. "... HOLY SHIT."

"PROFESSOR?!"

“All of you, just relax! We can't figure this out if we panic!"

"Guys-- GUYS!" Scott called from atop the stairs. "What is going ON? You know it's Saturday, don't you?"

Rogue looked to him, pull away from Pietro and stroll to Scott. "...Scott. Don't freak out." She would then steal his shades.

His eyes were closed and covered immediately. "Rogue, what are you doing?!"

"Just open your eyes." She said, tugging off her glove and gently, hesitantly, taking his arm. "It'll be okay."

The touch startled him. Scott paled considerably when he realized Rogue was...

He took a deep breath, lowered his hands, and opened his eyes.

It was normal. Everything was normal.

He looked shell-shocked.

"Our powers...None of them are working.." She explained, slightly shocked herself. She couldn't help but smile though. This whole thing was scary but.. somehow liberating?

Jean turned to Xavier, whose brow was creased in worry. "We need to find the root cause of this, how many of us were affected..."

"By the looks of it, all of us," Logan was coming into the room to join them.

He had a small band-aid on his face. This elicited a sharp gasp of shock from the students.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!? WHY THIS!?"

Ororo shook her head. "I can't even summon a breeze." She confirmed, Xavier's eyes narrowed. "... We need to find the root cause of this. All of you..." He looked to the gathered X-men. "... Just... live as normally as you can, for now."

They all looked around, exchanging uncertain glances.

Normally?

"I'm gonna call S.H.I.E.L.D," Logan was the first to start away, "I don't like this at all."

And so they began to disperse, Jean taking a deep breath. "Alright, well! They'll.. they'll figure it out soon, you'll see." She said, trying to keep positive. "And until then we... make the best of it."

Pietro scoffed, sulking off. "Easy for you to say..." He grumbled. Everything had been dragging all morning. His feet, his thoughts. In frustration, he picked up the pace, starting into a trot, then a run, then a sprint.

He growled when his lungs started to ache.

NONE of this was okay.

Pietro's mind was racing, but even then it was too slow. Thoughts took an eternity to form, it seemed. He scowled, turning and deciding to look for Evan. He hoped it didn't take too long to find him.

"And you just woke up like that?" Evan was talking with Augustus, standing in the doorway of Auggie's dorm.

The younger mutant was sitting on his bed, looking utterly exhausted. "Yeah, it's like...I dunno. Like someone punched me in the head."

"Evan!" Pietro slowed his run, glancing in. "... What's with him?"

"He had a rough night." Alex was with Auggie, too, frowning slightly, his eyes narrowed in concern behind his bangs. He'd been attempting to tell him about the 'meeting' but, well. He'd gotten distracted.

"I think it might be a side effect of what's going on,' Evan hypothesized. He gave Auggie a sympathetic look, then moved out with Pietro, "We'll let the Professor know, alright? Take it easy."

"Y-Yeah. Thanks…”

"Yeah. Just tell me if you need something!" Alex told him, Pietro watching a moment longer before keeping after Evan. "... So. How are you taking this?"

"I mean, it's...weird," The understatement of the day, "But probably a lot better than other people. What about you?"

"I...." Pietro scowled, reaching and grabbing his hand. "I hate this."

Evan nodded, "I figured."

"I'm slow! I-I'm tired! It takes so long to even form a thought!" He flailed his free hand. "It took ten minutes to find you-- do you know how LONG that is!?"

Evan chuckled a little, "Welcome to my world, dude."

"How do you DO this?!" He asked. "I-I feel... God I don't even know! Slow and clumsy and stupid and!" Pietro's free hand would grab his scalp, nails digging in.

Evan squeezed his hand, "Stop that. Pietro, it's gonna be okay."

He took a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale. He knew finding Evan was a good idea. "... What... What if our powers don't come back?"

"...Then," Evan pulled him close, "We'll get through it. Together."

Pietro gripped Evan tight, huffing sharply. "Yeah... Guess we will, huh?"

~~~

"Could it be a bio-weapon?"

Fury and Logan were talking on the phone.

"We dunno, Fury. Everything looks normal so far, but..."

"I see..."

Coulson was furiously searching through the base's records, eyes narrowed. "Do we have any record of anything LIKE this...?" He muttered.

Xavier, with Logan, was rubbing his temple. "What... what did he offer?" He asked, not used to having to ask the question.

"They dunno yet," Logan muttered a reply to him.

"Have you felt any negative side-effects?" Fury asked.

"One kid got a little sick, but nothin' deadly."

"Ask them if anyone's changed to something more human? Like their blue folks." Coulson offered. He had no idea if that information would help, but it would be SOMETHING.

"Has anyone's appearance changed?"

"McCoy’s did. That’s about it. Nothin’s working."

Xavier shook his head. "Not even the slightest, side powers... Bobby commented on it being cold." He told Logan. It had been a moment of shock for the lad.

"What I'm tryin' to say, bub, is that it's like we're...'

'Human." Fury finished, "Hm...Well. I'll send a team over to investigate. You all hold tight."

Coulson shook his head, gathering files. "Quite..." He said, poking his head out and searching the hall for a free agent.

One woman passed him, her nose buried in a clipboard.

"Ah! Excuse me!" He called, waving her down.

"Oh! Yes, Agent Coulson?"

"Can you take these things to my office Miss..." He would glance to her name tag. "Romijn?"

The woman nodded quickly, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Just leave them on my desk."

"Don't leave the school,' Fury was saying, "Keep yourselves safe."

"Can't imagine they WOULD sir." Coulson offered as he ducked his head back in. "Without their powers well... It would be too dangerous. They wouldn't stand a chance."

Fury nodded gravely.

This didn't bode well.

"So." Jean started, looking over the duo. "I... Guess this must be nice?"

Rogue smirked slightly, jacket tied around her waist and arms bare. "I mean. You could say that, yeah."

Scott was still looking around. He hadn't seen colors aside from various shades of red since...well. "This is...wow." That was all he could say, really.

Jean sat across from them, smiling slightly. "Well... at least one good thing came from this?"

"No kiddin." Rogue nudged him. "Wait til ya see what outside looks like."

"Oh man!" Scott paused, "Do...Do you think we should? I'm not sure if it's safe."

"Not safe HOW? We'd still be at the Institute."

Scott knew that still wasn't enough. They had to be cautious.

But...it had been so long since he'd seen a blue sky.

"...Maybe if we just step out on the porch for a little while."

"Of course!" Rogue gave Jean a slide glance.

Jean just offered a smile. "I can't see much going wrong on the back porch."

Scott smiled at them. "Well, alright. Just for a little bit."

"Great!" Rogue stood, offering her hand. On instinct, Scott hesitated. But he didn't hesitate long. He took her hand gently, standing.

"Man..." They started out, Jean smiling softly. "Been YEARS since I could do this."

At least SOMETHING good was coming out of this mess.

"I know," Scott said, "It's... I forgot how much I missed this."

"I know. It's so... Wow." She'd forgotten how different skin to skin could feel. "This is just... Incredible. And man, it must be nuts for you."

Scott chuckled, "It's just...yeah." When they stepped outside, Scott's breath caught. He was speechless.

"Heh." Rogue watched him. "Nice?"

"Beautiful..."

"Heh... Yeah." She replied, giving his hand a squeeze.

He was able to tear his eyes from the world and looked to her. His eyes softened. "...You know," He smirked playfully, "There are other colors besides black and purple."

She perked, sputtering a laugh before managing a scoff. "ARE there?" She asked.

Scott couldn't play along for long, breaking out in a laugh, "Y-Yeah!"

"I can't believe you became a color expert so fast."

"Hey now," He ruffled her hair, "I used to see like everybody else, you know!"

"HAH~" She waved him off. "Yeah yeah. What colors would YOU suggest, huh~?"

Scott thought about it for a moment. He reached and stroked a bit of Rogue's hair, "Maybe...Blue?"

"I-I, uh...I'll give it a shot~" She said, running her thumb over his hand.

"Cool...cool." He realized the uncertainty- would he get to see that? How long was this going to last? His smile faded.

Rogue perked, free hand clenching slightly before she stroked his cheek. "Hey. I... know this could end at any time. But... We can enjoy it for now, right? And... Maybe work towards somethin' like this when it goes away?"

"Like...like this?"

"Ya know, this whole...control angle Prof's always talkin' about. Cause, not gonna lie? I wouldn't argue bein' able to do this more often."

"Well...I'm sure you could. I know you could," Scott said, "But, uh...not me." He ran a hand through his hair, and when his fingertips brush the familiar scar at the back of his head, he shivered a little. “What happened to me is permanent.”

"Mm..." She would take his other hand. ".. We'll figure somethin' out. For now.. Let's just enjoy this?"

"Yeah..." He squeezed her hands. "Let's."

Jean was back inside, stirring tea for herself, TV on low in the background. It was so... odd. Not having other's thoughts and feelings at the edge of her mind.

"Heeey," Kitty sat beside her, "How ya feelin'?"

"Oh! Kitty, you uh. You startled me."

"...Oh my god, that's weird."

Jean managed a laugh. "I guess it must be, huh?"

"Eeyeah," Kitty chuckled. "So...What's it like with all the quiet?"

"It's... It's odd. I know I'm not home alone but.. It feels like I AM."

"Whoa."

"Mmhm... How about you? What's it like having to find the door?"

"Eh," Kitty shrugged, snickering, "It's not all bad. Sometimes I forget, but...It actually wasn't that long ago that I was a 'human', y'know?"

"Mm... That's true, isn't it? We've all grown so accustomed to them but, save for a couple cases, we were all 'human' once.."

"Heh...Yeah." Kitty got quiet.

That was so weird to think about.

"... Do you think we'll go back? To having powers again? Being 'mutants'?" Though she supposed that, technically, they were still mutants. They just... lacked powers.

It was odd.

Kitty shrugged, "I...dunno. I hope so."

"Do you?" Jean smirked slightly. "I remember a time you weren't keen on this whole mutant business."

"Well," Kitty grinned, "I think I got the hang of it."

"You did! As your senior x-man, I am glowing with pride~"

Kitty bowed dramatically. "I am honored."

"As you should be! Now." Jean would chuckle. "How about we have some tea, and put something on. A little distraction won't hurt anything."

"Oh!"

Ororo was sitting inside, staring out the window and the light snowfall.

She waved a hand; the snow continued to fall. "I don't know WHAT I expected..."

"Habits die hard," Hank told her.

She chuckled, patting the spot beside her. "I'd forgotten what it was like to have the elements not bend to my wills."

"Ha! What a transition that must be!" Hank sat beside her, "...I don't like this. I mean, I'm...I'm grateful to look like this again, for however long. But there's something seriously wrong."

"There is. Something caused this. And I can't stand that we don't know what...or even who."

"Well...I suppose we have options to pick from," Hank sighed quietly.

"We do, don't we... and to think, all of this started out so simple." As simple as it could, she supposed.

"And now here we are."

"Quite... What do you make of all this, Hank? Losing our powers, what makes us Mutants?"

Hank looked out at the snow. He thought for a while. "...Honestly, I...don't quite know what to make of it. Whether this was some sort of-of weapon attack or..."

"No matter WHAT the cause, it's troubling." Ororo offered him a slight smile. "And I hate to say I've no idea how to handle this in the long term."

"Hoo...Me neither."

"Mmm. Well." Ororo gave him a slight smile. "At least we have each other?"

He returned it. "Quite right! We'll get through this all together, I should think!"

She chuckled, appreciating the enthusiasm. "Don't we always?"

"Well, uh, usually!"

"Often enough. ... You know. We don't usually have quiet moments like this. How about you show me some of the basics of knitting?"

Hank's face lit up. "I'll go get my yarn!"

"I'll be here. Perhaps brew some more tea while you get it."

"What an excellent idea-- Ooh! How about we start a whole knitting circle! Let's get some of the kids in on this!" Hank was far too excited.

"An excellent idea! I'm sure a couple of them could use something else to do today." She chuckled. His enthusiasm was contagious.

"-- so then I started thinking," Augustus was feeling a bit better it seemed, though he was still exhausted, "What kind of parents could hate their kid for something they can't control? So I left."

"Man... " Alex replied, having been listening with rapt attention. "That sounds like it was rough dude."

"Yeah, well..." Auggie chuckled, shrugging, "That's how it is.'

"I'm sorry dude." He said, pausing a moment before taking his shoulder. "You didn't deserve any of that."

Augustus gave him a small smile. "No one does...But. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Yeah.. Guess so. H-hey. If you ever need me for anything like, ya know, to talk. I-I'm around, haha..."

"Hey, man, I appreciate--" The phone on the nightstand buzzed. Auggie grabbed it quickly. As he read the messages, his face grew distant, and he paled a little.

Alex's stomach clenched. "Auggie? Are you okay?"

Augustus pocketed his phone, and he was quiet for a moment. He put a hand on Alex's shoulder, "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Y-yeah! Of course we are!" He replied, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Good. I need you to trust me," He squeezed his shoulder, "Alright?"

Alex perked, nodding slowly. "Y-You got it."

"I need you to help me get out of here."

He had to pause. "... W-Wait. Why do you wanna LEAVE?"

Auggie grunted. "I...I'm..." He swallowed hard. "I've been playing two sides."

Alex had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. "Y.. you WHAT?"

"Alex, listen!" He pleaded quietly, grabbing both his shoulders, "I-I didn't want to! She's...she's gonna..." Auggie's hands shook.

Alex bit his lip, looking over him.

He couldn't handle him looking like that. "Okay, okay." He replied, taking his hands. "Tell me from the top. What happened?"

Auggie sighed in relief. "I was supposed to be feeding intel to...her," He shuddered a little, "But I can't-- I can't do this anymore."

"Her WHO?" He asked. "A-And of course you can't, you're a good guy!"

"I can't say, okay! She'll...she'll hurt me," He muttered, leaning closer, "I need to leave so I can break clean with her. I don't want you or anyone else here getting hurt."

Alex frowned sharply. "... Y-You could stay. I'm sure Prof would understand..."

"If I stay, she's going to destroy you." Augustus's tone was firm. "Please, Alex. I need you to trust me. I'll come back."

"I..." He squeezed his hand. "... Okay. I... I'll help you." Alex gave him a slight grin. "But you BETTER come back, okay? Or I'll have to find you." He couldn't voice his fears. This was hard enough for Auggie already.

Auggie smiled. "I promise."

"Okay... I'll... I'll help you sneak out tonight."

"I knew I could count on my Alex."

Alex couldn't help but flush. "H-haha.. W-well. Ya know~"

Auggie released him, "I need to take care of a few things. Can we just...keep this between us? Until things are resolved."

"You got it. It'll be okay Auggie, okay? We'll get through this."

"Heh...I believe that."

Miles away, Wasp was gearing up. Her suit was in place, gauntlets tested.

If something was depowering mutants, then by God she was going to figure out what it was.

"Wasp," Fury greeted her as he entered, "You don't need to do this, you know. We have plenty of capable soldiers along if things get dicey."

"Don't worry Sir, I'm well aware." She gave her wings a test buzz.

Fury's mouth twitched, and a small line formed between his brows. "I'm not sure I want to put you at such a risk, Wasp."

"I'd argue I'm always at risk. Besides! Gauntlets have a back up sting, and we'll know how big the impact zone of whatever made them use their powers was, yeah?"

"...I suppose you're right. Just be careful."

"Aren't I always?" She asked, smirking slightly. "... Maybe don't answer that."

He held in a chuckle. "Good luck, Agent. Wish I could be there myself, but..."

Since Trask had disappeared, Fury had been very, very busy.

"Don't worry sir!" Wasp stood straight, giving him a salute. "I'll represent us well, AND get to the bottom of this!"

"I know you will."

"And if it makes you feel better, I'll check in every fifteen minutes." She half teased.

"On the dot." Fury insisted.

"Hah. Understood, sir."

~~~

Xavier sat in the front room, staring out the front room. It was odd, to wait on someone and have no idea when they would arrive. Logan and Hank were by his side. "When do you, uh, think they'll arrive?" Hank asked.

"I don't know."

"Surely they won't take too long?" Storm asked, behind him.

"Mm.."

"Perhaps we should round the children up," Hank suggested.

"Probably... Ah." A ship would land on their lawn, the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on it's side.

Grunting, Logan went to open the door for them. Hank started upstairs to round everyone up. "Everyone! Let's get down to the living room!"

Wasp would approach, taking them in. "Professor Xavier!" She greeted, stopping before the porch.

A small team trailed behind her, already scanning the property, some with a type of reader. A few moved inside. Logan side-eyed them, and out of habit gave a sniff.

"Smell anything?" Wasp asked, frowning slightly. "Or are your powers still down?"

"The latter. At least in my case." Xavier told her.

Logan shook his head slightly. "Nothin'." He grumbled.

Augustus peeked his head around the corner. He wasn't seen, at least not yet. It came close when a S.H.I.E.L.D agent moved past him, scanner in hand. He went white.

Time for a change of plans.

"Alright. They'll be checking around, and know better then to try anything." Wasp assured. "And if they DO try anything, well." Her wings buzzed to life. "They won't again. Now, I'm going to do an overview on your roof." And with that, she excused herself to do just that.

Augustus quickly darted away.

Wasp would land on the roof, surveying the property and calling in. "There. Fifteen, just as promised."

"What's your status?"

"No trouble, so far. Everyone's still down. I'm-" She paused, suddenly.

Wasp had done a test 'sting', to see how damp her powers were.

But her sting had been full power. "... I'm... not affected?"

"...Hm." That was unusual.

"Either I'm some sort of anomaly, or we're not barking up the right tree."

"Could it be something in their food?" Fury suggested, "I can't imagine any sort of disruptor would be able to be THAT specific..."

Another thought occurred to him.

"...Maybe a mutant could, though."

She perked. "Sir?" She asked, suddenly on edge.

"I want you to be on alert. Make sure all Institute residents are in sight."

"I'll have them gathered and keep personal watch." She told him, eyes narrowed. "I won't let anyone leave."

"Kids!' Hank opened the back door. Scott, having heard the ship land, had already risen to come in, but he still jumped a little in surprise at the sudden appearance of his teacher. "We're all gathering in the living room."

"Right," Scott turned, "I'll go round up the others."

Rogue nodded, bumping his shoulder. "Me too. Meet you there?"

He smiled. "You bet."

"Good." She started up the stairs, deciding top to bottom would be best.

Alex was the first she found, in a corridor's doorway. "Alex! Downstairs, we're meeting in the living room."

"Oh! You got it!"

Augustus grimaced. He tried to, silently and as quickly as he could muster, move down the hallway before Rogue could see him.

"Auggie!" Too late. "Having a meeting, living room!'

For a second, he was rigid. Then, slowly, he turned. It was Rogue.

He decided to work with this.

"So. What's it like?"

".. I'm sorry?"

"Being in control." He smiled. "Nice, right?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you talking about?"

He sauntered up to her. Augustus took her chin. "What's it like being able to touch people again?"

She jerked back away from him. "What is- what are you doing?!"

"Can't you see that you're so much better off this way?" Augustus asked, "Wouldn't it be fantastic to remain this way? Forever?" His smile widened. "I can do that for you."

Rogue paused. ".... Augustus. What are you playing at?" She asked, fists clenching.

"I'm not playing," He told her. He stepped closer, "What I'm offering you is a chance to feel normal again."

"Augustus." She replied, sharper. "How could you-" She jerked, suddenly, realization dawning. ".. You... you didn't. You didn't do all this."

He chuckled. "I can shut down all kinds of systems- electronic, muscular, vascular, respiratory...And, as a matter of fact, mutations."

She took a deep breath. "Be willin' to bet you've known 'bout yerself the whole time."

"I know a lot more, too. Like...that your mother really misses you."

Rogue stiffened. "You keep away from Irene, you hear me?!" She shot back, not even realizing her feet had slid into stance.

Augustus laughed. "I'm not talking about her! I'm talking about...Well." He offered his hand. "Maybe if you come with me, I can just introduce you, Anna Marie."

She stared at the hand a moment. Then, coldly. "I ain't going anywhere with you."

A little shrug. "You'll come around. We're practically made for each other, you know."

Rogue's reply was to quickly turn down the hall. "PROF!" She called, running down to the living room.

She didn't notice Alex pressed in the doorway, fists clenched tight, biting his lip hard.

Logan was the first to meet her. "Kiddo?!"

She almost ran into him, grabbing his arm and yanking. "A-Augustus was a mole! He did this!"

"What!" Hank was just making it to them.

"WHERE IS HE?" Logan demanded quickly.

"Back down the hall, this way!"

Logan took off at a run, but stopped suddenly, curled in on himself and cried out. "AAAUGH!"

"Logan!"

Six metal claws tore their way through his knuckles.

Rogue's eyes went wide, and she scrambled back, suddenly grabbing for the jacket tied around her waist. "No... Oooh nonono..." She muttered, quickly turning tail to the living room. "GUYS!!"

Hank ran after her, but soon he, too, was halted as the tendons in his limbs flexed, and a guttural roar escaped him. There came a loud blasting noise from the living room, and shouts.

Alex had wandered into the living room, eyes blurred with tears.

He was now staring at Scott, shell shocked as he realized he'd taken a blast from his brother.

Jean would have been of some help, but she had suddenly stumbled back against the wall. Emotions and thoughts assaulted her, almost too fast to keep up with.

Scott couldn't stop. He had managed to direct his blasts into the wall and ceiling, but he couldn't turn them OFF.

"Scott-- AAH!" Kitty now found herself falling through the floor. Lance jerked for Kitty, and suddenly a rumble shook the Institute, Lance unable to stop it. Nearby there was another scream, and suddenly smoke and fire. Ice quickly crawled down the hallway, coating half of it behind a thick block.

Wasp was on the comm. "I NEED ALL UNITS MAKING A PERIMETER!" She barked, followed by about ten other orders.

The Institute was in absolute chaos, as everyone's powers jump-started and spiraled out of control at once. Thunder cracked, the wind howled, and a torrential downpour of rain and ice buffeted the old mansion and rocked the S.H.I.E.L.D ship outside. Furniture and walls and ceilings were ruined as bone spikes impaled them. Then, everything started to float.

Professor Xavier could feel every mind at once. It was almost too much, too much information to contain. Amid the chaos, Xavier felt someone he didn't know. He checked quickly, finding Augustus.

And then, just as suddenly, nothing. "H... he's gone..."

Just as quickly as the chaos had started, it stopped. Everything fell back down into place, then there was silence. Everyone was exhausted; it had felt like they'd all suddenly gotten the mother of all sugar-highs, then crashed thirty seconds later. Poor Kitty managed to crawl her way out of the floor before collapsing in a heap.

Needless to say, the poor Institute was looking a little worse for wear.

"Wh-what was THAT?!" Kurt managed, Pietro slumping onto the couch.

"That!" Wasp started, heaving a sigh and running a hand through her hair. "Was likely a 'restart' on your powers coming back."

Hank picked himself up, blue and furry once again. Luckily his glasses had survived the transformation. "I-Is everyone okay?" He called. He got many groans in response, plus a, "The carpet's ruined," "My whole body just had a cramp," and a couple, "Jesus H Christ's."

"I think a couple of me got lost." Poor Jamie meekly responded amidst a pile of himself.

Storm shook her head, Wasp groaning and calling in. "Agent Wasp here."

"Report."

"It was a mutant. The X-men had a spy in their ranks." She grunted, rubbing an arm. "He escaped in the chaos of everyone's powers returning."

Fury grunted. "Great. Secure the area, make sure everyone is accounted for."

"I'll get info on anyone who ISN'T to you as soon as possible."

"Good. I want you to interview the witnesses. Figure out who he was working for."

"Understood. I'll..." Wasp looked over the group. "... I'll get to it soon as they get themselves together."

Augustus had run, far and fast, and hadn't stopped running until he reached the city. He had to brace himself on a wall- he had already been entirely spent from the previous night, and combine that with half an hour of sprinting and he was sure his body was going to give up.

He had wanted to steal one of their vehicles, but it would have taken too much energy, too much time.

Mercifully, he was able to wave a taxi down.

"Where ya headed?" Asked the driver.

"Take me home," Augustus wheezed.

The car pulled back into traffic. There was a flash of yellow eyes in the rear-view mirror. "As you wish."

#XMEReboot Chapters #x-men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

Best I Have

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Another AU, for the Thirsty Crew! Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and OF COURSE @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

“Mr. Ambrose!”

Dean grunted, a bit startled and pausing at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”

The man who had spoken looked familiar, but Dean couldn’t place him. More shit rattled free up top, I guess. On the older side, round face. He seemed good-natured enough. Dean shook his hand, still trying to figure out who this guy was. “Sika Reigns.” The man prompted after a minute or two of Dean studying him.

“Oh!” Dean felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry sir, I’m used to all the--” He gestured around his head, indicating where Sika’s thick black hair once was.

Sika chuckled ruefully. “You and me both, kid. Listen, my hairline isn’t important. I heard you’re planning on facing Brock soon, and that a few of the legends have given you their blessing.” Sika cleared his throat. “Maybe a few implements, as well.”

Oh. “Listen, if you’re here from Heyman, I ain't interested in his terms and I told him that from the get-go.” Dean bristled, but the older man was already shaking his head.

“Hell no, calm down. I’d like to offer you my son.”

“You…what? Your…okay, I’m a little confused here man.” Dean stammered. I didn’t think dads still tried to pawn their kids off like this. “I mean, Funk gave me a chainsaw and Foley gave me Barbie. Those are weapons. No offense, but what am I supposed to do with your son? Who even is…does he work in the indies or something?”

“Roman?” Mr. Reigns called.

Dean heard footsteps behind him and he immediately turned around, fists raised. Oh. Oh. Roman wasn’t as tall as him but he was broader. Dean thought momentarily that he had short, slicked-back hair, but upon further inspection he realized Roman’s hair was pulled back into a bun. The tight smile that he was given contrasted sharply with the intimidating black gear the other man was wearing. Is that a cattle prod?!

“We’ve already spoken about your…situation, and we believe this is an excellent strategy. He’s an unknown factor, he’s strong, capable and, most importantly, he’s the best weapon I can offer you.” Sika sounded proud enough to burst. It made Dean almost queasy with jealousy. “Terry and Mick mean well, they always have. But I’m fairly confident Lesnar will have ample warnings of your little red wagon.”

“And where the hell am I supposed to stash him?” Dean asked, still reeling from the whole interaction. “He’s a little bigger than a chainsaw, man!”

“Underneath the ring, of course.” Sika shrugged. “Where else?”

Where else? Dean had to agree with that, this guy was obviously going to stick out a bit in any crowd. Underneath the ring. “And what is your input on this…this weird ass plan?” Dean demanded of Roman, already tired of the ‘strong silent’ routine.

Roman inclined his head. “I’m here to help.”

…

Seth had been softer when they’d started out. A little brother, to be protected until he proved himself. Dean still regretted all the times he’d defended Seth. He should have let him take the hits, should have let him suffer a little more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned on Dean. Maybe then he would have understood how much Dean did for him.

Dean had been alone for the first time in years that night, laying in the middle of the ring after being handed his ass on a silver platter by Rollins and his new lackeys. Ambrose's vest and body were torn to pieces, the metaphor not lost on him in the slightest while he spit up blood in the locker room shower with Seth’s voice yelling “crazy!” on repeat in his aching head.

Their dynamic duo went up in flames, the Shield no more. They fought like rabid animals every opportunity they got, putting each other into the hospital on a monthly basis. It felt almost wrong to be focusing his energy on someone else, but with Rollins out injured for a while, Ambrose needed new ways to try and hang on to his limited sanity.

So he’d picked a fight with Brock Lesnar. Not his smartest move to date. Yet for some reason a lot of folks had gotten behind him. He guessed everyone must be tired of that lazy asshole storming around like he owned the place. He still hadn’t expected a chainsaw from Terry, though. That was unanticipated (and definitely illegal, love you anyway you crazy old bastard).

This arrangement with Roman smacked of weirdness though, and if there was one thing Dean was all over it was weirdness. Roman kept to himself during their training sessions, didn’t push his boundaries and didn’t say much. He was…bland. Almost to a fault.

They had to at least be able to work together. Dean knew that, kept reminding himself of that. Also kept reminding himself that Roman wasn’t Rollins. Sometimes he caught himself just before calling Roman Seth, just before dropping an inside joke or punching his shoulder like he had with Seth. This guy wasn’t here to be his friend.

Neither was Rollins.

Seth and Roman were like night and day. Rollins was excitable, easily flustered and distracted. Roman was…well steady was really the only word Dean could think of. Roman would wait, and wait, and wait. There didn’t seem to be an impatient bone in his body. Most of Dean’s training regiment was repetition, running the same pattern on the mats and pads until he could do it in his sleep. So having Roman around to bounce off of certainly made his training a hell of a lot easier.

Another thing Dean kept having a problem with was that this guy was here to help with one fight. Roman was just an implement, a means to an end. It was weird that he was taking such an active role here, and his dad gifting him essentially as a big, blunt object was still…it sat funny with Dean.

He’s the best weapon I can offer you.

Ambrose shook himself all over, squaring up yet again.

“Can I ask you something?” Roman began, lowering the pads a fraction. Dean nodded in reply. “Why Lesnar?” The larger man questioned.

Dean froze up for a second. A long second. “Because I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Oh.” Roman got into position and Dean assumed that was the end of the questions, raising his fists. “I don’t understand how that makes you an idiot.”

Ambrose sighed heavily. “Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence. But the fact of the matter is that this is a fight I’m probably not winnin’. It’s a time-waster, you and I both know that.”

“Why bother doing it then?”

Because I need to do something. “Boredom, I guess.” Dean shrugged, doing his best to seem flippant. Because it’s either fight someone or tap my fingers against my knees until I wear holes in them. Because it’s either get my ass kicked or sit around thinking. Because I’m tired, so damn tired of everything and if I start focusing on that... “Needed something to do while Rollins heals his knee.” And oh no, oh no, that was the wrong thing to say.

Roman seemed confused, letting him get in a few hits before opening his mouth again. “Seth Rollins? He’s the guy that you tagged with, right? The Shield?”

Dean crouched, scowling. “We've been trading asswhuppings. Kane fucked up his knee though, so I have to be patient. I’m not gonna’ break into a hospital while he’s rehabbing. I’m not an animal.”

“Didn’t he put your head through-”

“I’m not stooping to his level.” Dean snarled. “I fight in the ring or not at all.”

“Does it bug you that people call you the crazy one?” Roman queried, his brow furrowed. “I mean I haven’t really been following your feud, I rely on Dad to keep me up to date for the most part. But…the cinderblocks?”

“I’ve had worse man, much worse.” Dean itched absently at his neck. “Rollins knows that. S’why he did it. Wants to see how far he can push me, I guess.”

“What the fuck.” Roman breathed.

“Dude I’ve gotten my face pulped on cinderblocks that didn’t break. Trust me, the ones that break are preferable.” Dean found morbid amusement in spouting advice that no normal person would ever need. “Rollins has always been a button pusher. S’what he does. Unfortunately for him, though, I’ve learned a few things along the way.”

Roman cocked his head curiously, like he was actually interested. Like he wanted Dean to keep talking. Dean just grinned at him, tapping the pads.

“Up, c’mon. This ain’t chat time, Reigns.”

“Oh! Sorry.” Roman straightened the pads back out, looking a little disappointed.

“Maybe another time, huh?” Dean suggested grudgingly after a few minutes had gone by. “Some other time. After we kill Brock.”

“Yeah.” Roman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, which made Dean very curious.

“Man I know I shouldn’t, but I gotta’ ask. Why the heck did your dad like…drop you into my lap?” Dean didn’t expect the way Roman flinched and he almost snapped Reigns’ wrist off with his next swing. “Shit, sorry. My bad.”

“No no, it’s fine. I…it’s a tough question to answer.” Roman said quietly. “Brock and Paul said some things about my family that they could have kept to themselves, to make a long story short.”

“Goddamn, those cocksuckers.” Dean snarled. “That’s as good a reason as any to get involved with him, I don’t blame you. Shit, I wish I had a reason for tangling with his ass. Your family is a legendary one in this business, what the fuck could they have to say about you guys?”

“More than enough, that’s what.” Roman’s face hardened. “So here I am, greenhorn through and through. But the only one who could step up to the plate.”

“Dude this is some Highlander shit, wow.” The sense of awe Dean felt was almost overwhelming. “Can I…I mean, this is gonna’ sound real weird but could I like. Teach you a few things?” He asked hesitantly. “I know you’re going to be there and it’s going to be hilarious to see the look on that pink bastard’s face when you show up, but can I maybe…I dunno’, work with you or somethin’? It would just be cool to actually have a reason to fight Brock.” Instead of me doing it because I can’t handle doing nothing.

“Defending my heritage and the honor of my family isn’t something cool, Ambrose.” Roman seemed irritated. “This is a serious issue. People think they can say offensive shit because my dad isn’t actively in the business anymore, or because my cousins do their haka, things like that. It’s not as if anything has changed when it comes to Lesnar, we’ve all seen the footage of him from the Guerrero matches.” Roman’s fists tightened around the pad straps.

“Shit, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry man, I’m bad at talking sometimes. I meant like. Not cool.” Dean struggled to explain his thought process. “Just more than what I have right now. I’ve got no family to defend, no lineage or anythin’. I’m just a scrappy, mouthy shit. But you’ve seen me fight. Think about it man, that’s just how I tangle when I have a petty fuckin’ grudge. I’ve never...crap, I’m doing this all wrong.” Dean grunted, tugging at a handful of his light-colored hair in frustration. He tried to collect himself while Roman just stood there, waiting. “Look, I’m not trying to be offensive. Ain’t my intention an’ I’m incredibly sorry if I’m comin’ off that way. I’m…I know your dad offered you to me as an assist that Brock won’t see coming. But this fight I picked is totally pointless. There’s no angle to it at all, it’s literally just ‘Crazy Guy Wastes Time And Gets Paid To Do It’.”

“You can’t be that hard up for money, man. I refuse to believe that. You’re one of the top guys in this company.” Roman pointed out.

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s not about the money, Reigns. And it’s sure as shit not about my prowess or defending anything. It’s…” Dean trailed off, starting up a tempo on his collarbone.

“It’s…?” Roman prompted him after a minute or two, raising an eyebrow.

“I got this…this issue with standing still. I have a lot of nervous energy to expel. Dunno’ what the normal amount is, but I can say with confidence that I’ve got a lot more than normal. I thought that going after the big guy would help work through a little of it.” Dean tried to sound nonchalant. “Til’ Rollins is all better and I have him to throw around again.”

“You really know Rollins, huh?” Roman was watching him closely. “You’re always scrapping with him and you guys still work well to-”

“No we do not.” Dean gritted out. “We used to. We do not anymore. End of discussion.” He cracked his neck, hearing the satisfying pop in his ears as he rotated his head. Roman busied himself with adjusting the pads on his hands. “Look, I don’t know how up to date your dad kept you. I’m assuming you ain’t seen the footage from the night Rollins broke us up.” Dean said by way of apology, knowing that being gruff and moody wasn’t really going to do either of them any good.

“No, I didn’t look for it or anything. Should I?” Roman asked quietly.

“Fuck no. That was just the last time I fought for something I believed in, y’know? I thought Rollins and I would be partners forever. We went through hell and high water together. And he kind of…well, look, right now ain’t the time for a sob story about my commitment issues, alright? My offer is on the table if you want it. I’ll gladly toss myself at Lesnar, I’ll fight harder than I’ve ever fought before. I don’t want your ass gettin’ a beatdown because you ain’t had to do this before.” Dean held up a hand when Roman opened his mouth. “Just think on it for a while. Talk to your pops, he’s the guy that threw your hat in with ‘The Lunatic’. Even if the answer is no, that’s okay. I’ve got weapons and I’ll use ‘em to cripple Lesnar so you can have the last blow hopefully without getting yourself hurt.”

“Why, though? Why would you...?”

“I don’t need this victory. You do. Your family does.” Dean said bluntly. “I don’t need jack shit from Lesnar except a huge, angry opponent who will help when it comes to killing time.” He cleared his throat. “This fight is a terrible idea. For anyone, really. Brock ain’t a merciful dude. I’ve dealt with worse than him, but you haven’t. So I’ll take the brunt of his bullshit.”

“You’re not really answering my question, Ambrose.”

“It’s important that you have something to fight for.” Dean reached forward and began undoing the target pad straps on Roman’s hands. “How often do you fight, and what is it for?”

“I’ve never been in a real fight in my life.” Roman replied honestly. “In high school I would push the other jocks around. That’s it though. Kid stuff, we weren’t exactly throwing punches.”

“Ground up, huh? Alright. We’ll start with evasion.” Dean grunted, snapping the straps into place around his own hands.

…

Roman was from a long, proud, downright prestigious line of athletes. He would never stop being impressed by his family’s dedication to whatever they set themselves to.

But when his father told him he was going to fight Lesnar one way or another, his heart sank to his shoes. He had been hoping to break into the business, yes, but maybe in a less…drastic manner. This was a suicide mission and it confused Roman to no end, the notion that his father was totally willing to hang the family hat on Roman’s performance in something he’d never officially done. Oh certainly, he’d wrestled before. Growing up in his family practically guaranteed it.

It was different when it was personal. Hearing what Brock said about his family, what Heyman said about his family lit Roman’s fuse. He’d agreed to his father’s plan without a second thought at the time, raring to defend his siblings, his cousins.

Now, laying on his back on the mat gasping for breath, he was a little concerned with himself. Did he have the ability? Absolutely. Was he going to be able to keep it together so he could win? Maybe not so much.

Ambrose growled, seeming exasperated. “You need to conserve your energy, man. Maybe switch up your workout for endurance, do some more jump rope.” He suggested, plopping down beside the dark-haired man.

Roman nodded, too tired to do much of anything else.

“The good news is that Brock is a glass fuckin’ cannon. All it takes is one damn good shot to rock him, and then if you don’t let up…” Dean punched his palm, “Boom! You have anythin’ in football that could be good for that? It's easier to re-purpose instead of go flat-out new.”

Roman blinked up at the ceiling while Ambrose rattled on, not really paying attention to what he was saying. The fight was less than a week away and his confidence continued to wane even as he doggedly trained with Dean.

“Hey, d’ya think when you win I could hold your arm up?” Ambrose asked. He always spoke in absolutes and it made Roman feel just a tad better. When you win, when Brock loses. “Kinda’ like how the ref does.” Dean had done a complete one-eighty as far as his attitude went once he realized that Roman wasn’t some dumb lug. The thinner man seemed almost happy to teach Roman, weirdly enthusiastic about passing along his techniques. Which leaned more towards the street fight side of things, but any port in a storm as far as Roman was concerned. Someone who would bad mouth his family didn't deserve anything above a good old-fashioned ass beating.

“Sure, why the hell not.” Roman managed to shrug while still on his back. “Could be cool.”

“Badass.” Dean had a smile that could disarm a drill sergeant, Roman was certain. It was rare, but when he did smile he could light up the room.

“Oh, I talked with my dad about you training me.” Reigns said a little while later, as Dean was running the ropes.

“Was he pissed?” Ambrose panted, nearly slipping on the mat and taking a second to regain his balance before he was off again.

Roman shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. “Nah, it was kinda' weird. He seemed excited about it. Said I could learn a lot from you.”

“That's so cool, oh wow. Sika thinks I'm smart.” Ambrose draped himself over the middle rope, his eyes wide in delight.

“He doesn't get why you would sacrifice your opportunity to beat Brock, but he's happy all the same.” Roman clarified.

“I told you, man, it's not personal for me. It's just me bein' bored.” Dean reached out and rumpled Roman's hair, the gesture rough but oddly fond. “You're going to do great.”

“Do you actually think that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Roman asked, furrowing his brow when Ambrose slid out of the ring to stand in front of him.

Dean took his shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. “Not only do I think you're gonna' beat him, I think you're gonna' beat him to within an inch of his life.” He searched Roman's eyes, doubtless seeing the fear that Reigns tried so hard to conceal. “Why do you think you're not going to beat him?”

“It's not that I think I won't beat him. I know it's going to be difficult and there's so much riding on me to beat him. I'm...I guess I'm nervous.” Understatement of the century. Every time Roman thought about getting in the ring for real, in front of all those people...

“You've got this, man. I swear. As long as I'm still pullin' breath into my lungs, you're not losing this fight.” Dean promised, extending his hand. Roman shook it after a minute, feeling a tiny bit better. Ambrose always seemed to know just what to say when it came to reassuring him. Roman was incredibly grateful for the weird opportunity he had been granted. Training with 'The Lunatic' was definitely a once in a lifetime kind of experience.

There was a bruise under Dean's eye from a punch gone wrong earlier in the week. Roman had floored him with the shot, apologies already pouring out of him as he crouched beside the other man. Ambrose had looked rattled for a minute before accepting a hand back up. “Holy shit, why didn't you tell me you could hit?!” He'd scolded Roman, “we could have been working on that instead of these speed drills! C'mon, hit me again! Let's go Reigns, time's a-wastin'!” He seemed ecstatic, he was definitely the only person Roman had met who was excited about getting punched in the face.

Once Dean figured out he could punch, he of course had to build a specific move around it. Roman privately thought it seemed kind of goofy, but he couldn't deny how badass it looked when it worked. Aim with his left hand, use the momentum of his hip rotation to add a little extra heat behind it, land on his feet without hurting himself. They practiced it over and over until Roman was pretty sure he could have done it in his sleep, both of them ending up laying on their backs on the mat panting hard.

Dean held out a fist to him and Roman tapped his knuckles against the other man's, turning his head to the side to catch Ambrose's grin. “You're gonna' do great.”

…

Dean's ears were ringing almost loud enough to drown out the roar of the crowd. There had been an explosion of pain at the base of his neck about two suplexes back and that's when the nausea kicked in. Everything was going wrong, where was Roman? He had swung with all his might, Barbie whistling through the air in his hands and Lesnar had somehow dodged the blow. Dean had been graced a back full of steel chairs as the prize for his insolence, and now he slumped in his corner with a very angry, very pink Brock standing over him.

For some reason KONGOS wouldn't get out of Dean's head, the opening accordion lick for Come With Me Now adding a little extra crazy to the clanging in his ears. I've wasted time, I've wasted breath, I think I've thought myself to death.

But he wasn't about to give up. Oh no, hell no. Ambrose intended on making Brock work even harder for this victory. Brock was pouring sweat, furious and pawing at his own face as he tried to keep his temper under control. Heyman was shrieking from ringside as always, Dean could feel the impacts of his hands on the mat as he attempted to leash his beast. Something else, though. There was a violent bump that came from beneath Dean, beneath the canvas, right before Lesnar hoisted him back up across his shoulders.

I was born without this fear, now only this seems clear. I need to move, I need to fight, I need to lose myself tonight.

Dean swung wildly at Brock's head, knowing that if Lesnar landed that F5 there might not be anything left in him to get back up. He managed to flail free, scramble away while Brock was off balance. Dean rolled out of the ring with Brock hot on his heels. His foot caught on something, the apron maybe, and he sprawled forward, his head cracking off the steel steps. The arena faded in and out around him as Dean bit down on his thumb, hard enough to hear the crunch of his skin giving way.

Confused what I thought for something I felt, confused what I feel for something that's real.

Brock's huge form was suddenly dripping sweat on his face and Dean found it in himself to wrinkle his nose in disgust, to roll up into himself. Brock sneered, one large hand grabbing the back of Dean's neck and hauling him upright. Dean made himself dead weight, laughing breathlessly when Brock struggled to keep him standing.

Something, someone hit Ambrose from behind, the shock hurting more than the actual blow from the chair. He tumbled to the floor again, not sure if this was the last time. A familiar cackle met his ears and Dean wondered if he was imagining things, if his brain was just filling in a few more painful blanks for him.

He didn't have very long to wonder as another someone threw their body over his own, arms wrapped around his head to shield him from the next onslaught.

...

“You okay?” Roman panted in Dean’s ear, grunting when the chair cracked against the back of his ring gear. “Sorry about this mess, Rollins was waiting for me.”

“Both of you were under there? Shit, you coulda' passed me a few more chairs. Some assist you were.” Ambrose sounded trashed.

“He had a sledgehammer, man.” Roman remembered the horrified second of realization he had when he saw the blunt weapon within arms reach of Rollins, the oh my God before he was pulling himself under the crossbeams beneath the ring and engaging the other man with extreme prejudice. “Are you okay?” Ambrose chose that moment to hiccup, blood and spit dribbling out of his mouth. Roman swore, wiping the mess away. “I’m gonna’ take that as a no.”

“Bit my tongue on one of the suplexes. What am I up to?” Dean raised his head, unfocused eyes looking for the signs that fans held. “Twelve, damn. That’s a pretty good number.” His head dropped back down, hitting the matted floor with a wet thud. His eyes rolled back in his skull, body shuddering underneath Roman.

“No no no, Ambrose!” Reigns said frantically, cursing himself for wasting so much time fighting with Rollins. If he had appeared when he was supposed to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He got to his feet, catching the next shot from Rollins and tearing the chair out of the other man’s grasp. “You-!” Roman seethed, tossing the chair back into the ring and leveling a Hogan-style finger point at Seth. His all-natural pythons may be a few inches shy, but he felt like it was the thought that counted. “You!” Every word that came to mind at this point was definitely not something pay-per-view friendly so Roman settled for grinding his teeth in a silent snarl. The crowded arena echoed the “YOU!”, murmurs rising after the initial confusion as to what the hell was going on. “SUPLEX CITY!” and “SHIELD!” and “YES!” chants began to circle, to duel.

Ambrose grabbed at one of the many empty pockets on the side of Roman’s pants, the battered man’s fingers scrabbling for purchase on Roman’s clothing. Roman hauled Dean up by his belt, Ambrose holding onto his arm even after he let him go. “What’re y’doin’ here, Seth?” Dean slurred. “Didja’ come t’pologize? Huh, buddy?” The raw pain in Dean’s voice startled Roman. “Come t’say ya’ sorry, Seth?”

Rollins started laughing again. “God, you’re pathetic!” He chuckled, bouncing from one foot to the other with Lesnar at his side. “I came to take part in my favorite pastime. Kicking your ass!”

Roman felt Dean sag against him, like his last ounce of fight had petered out. “Who the hell are you, anyway?” Lesnar asked Roman.

“He’s th’guy thas’ gunna’ pin y’ ass.” Ambrose said, pushing away from Reigns and blearily raising his fists. “His name’s Roman Reigns.”

Roman watched curiously as an odd expression crossed Brock’s face. Behind him, Heyman looked like he was about to burst. “I ain’t afraid of some other shitty offshoot of that fuckin’ family tree.” Brock said finally, grinning. “C’mon Reigns, you want a one-way trip to Suplex City that bad?” He beckoned. “Let’s get this over with.”

Roman crouched warily. “I’ve got Rollins.” Ambrose grunted, not looking like he ‘had’ Rollins in the slightest. If anything he was already swaying on his feet, weaving a little as he struggled to stay upright.

Roman did the only thing he could think of, exploding from his crouch with his arms outstretched to catch Brock and Rollins at the thighs with his shoulders and knock them both down. “Move Dean!” He shouted, Brock’s clumsy fingers tangling in his long hair to jerk his head back at a painful angle. The burly fighter didn’t give Roman a moment of pause, clubbing him with a closed fist to the side of his head that knocked him against the barricade. Roman saw stars, hastily raking at Lesnar’s eyes to give himself some breathing room like Dean had showed him.

No-Holds-Barred Street Fight it will goddamn be.

Ambrose practically fell on top of Rollins and was all over him like a bad suit, fists pounding into Seth’s neck and ribs at random. “Fuck you, sneakin’ around like a damn coward, with your Daddy’s sledgehammer!” Dean apparently had forgotten about the whole pay-per-view appropriate language thing, because he was swearing like a sailor when it came to Rollins.

Roman didn’t have much attention to spare for Ambrose. Brock was back on his feet, Roman still trying to shake the cobwebs from getting his head bounced off the barricade. Brock seized a handful of his hair again and Reigns was seriously regretting his last elastic snapping while he was duking it out with Rollins. Lesnar pulled him into an upright position to slap him across the face, that satisfied smirk the only thing Roman could focus on.

For my family.

Reigns caught Brock’s hand before it could connect again, debating momentarily on wrenching Lesnar’s wrist like Dean had demonstrated once or twice to stress out the tendons. Lesnar released his hold on his hair, winding back to take Roman’s head off. Roman’s free hand was suddenly full of wood handle, his fingers automatically gripping down on the bat while Ambrose full-on shoved it against Brock’s leg. The barbed wire tore into Lesnar’s skin and Brock hollered angrily, lashing out at Ambrose with a kick to the head that knocked him flat.

Roman dragged the bat up Brock’s leg, still maintaining his hold on the other man’s dominant hand. “All I have to do is swing, big man.” Roman snarled, “One good swing and you’ll be out of a job. You really wanna’ play that game with me, Lesnar?”

“Fuck you.” Brock spat, barely getting the chance to raise his other arm before Dean grabbed it, forcing it back down. Ambrose looked like he was barely there, his eyes half-closed and essentially his whole body wrapped around Lesnar’s arm.

Seth reared his ugly head, his nose appearing a little worse for the wear as he got to his feet and started towards the huddle of men with murder in his eyes and the sledgehammer in hand. Roman cast around frantically for a plan, a fragment of a plan, really. Something, anything!

He pulled Brock close and then shoved him back quickly, using the larger man to knock Seth down. Ambrose went along for the ride, unfortunately, and Roman’s heart slammed into his throat when Rollins lunged back to his feet, that sledgehammer raised high over his head.

Roman didn’t really think, he just dropped the bat and moved. Aim with the left, rotate his body into the motion. His fist connected with Seth’s jaw, the thunderous blow resounding through the arena.

Rollins stopped dead. Everything went silent aside from Brock’s heavy breathing. The sledgehammer slid free of Seth’s hands, dropping harmlessly to the floor. Rollins quickly followed, his body toppling like a rag doll. Roman realized (and he wasn’t sure if he was excited or horrified) that he’d just knocked the other man out.

Brock hauled himself back up, scrambling to climb into the ring. Fury bubbled in Roman’s chest like a living thing and he tipped his body back to roar, laughing wildly when the crowd echoed the sound. Where was Suplex City now? Heyman cowered beside the ring and Roman stalked him, catching him by the scruff of his neck before he could slink away.

“If I ever hear that you've spoken poorly of my family again, I will make you goddamn regret it.” Roman snarled, releasing the advocate immediately afterwards to focus solely on Lesnar. Brock had one of the many chairs in his hands, looking wary. Reigns sauntered around the ring, scooping Barbie back up. Dean somehow was halfway upright, clinging to the apron like his life depended on it. Roman tousled his hair on the way by and Ambrose arched up to his touch, snapping his teeth playfully at Roman’s hand.

“It’s up to you now, Reigns.” He said, resting his face on the side of the apron. “All up to you. Y’ got this, big dog.”

Big dog.

“You need to be with me, who's gonna' lift my hand when I win?” Roman asked.

Dean nodded slowly, raising his eyes to stare at Lesnar. “I'll make it up there. Promise.” He tapped Roman's fist with his own. “For your family, man.” He sounded exhausted.

Brock skittered as far back as he possibly could without dropping out of the ring again, holding the chair like a shield. Roman had no problem waiting, tapping the sole of his boot with the bat and leaning against the ropes with just a hint of insolence in his posture. He liked to think he'd learned a thing or two about pushing buttons from Ambrose, and he was not disappointed as a second later Brock charged at him with the chair.

Barbie met the chair with a ringing impact, the metal object ripped from Lesnar's hands by the force of the swing. Brock was left weaponless at the mercy of a young man fresh out of developmental, crafted by 'The Lunatic' himself and carrying the honor of his family.

Roman hoped that Brock at least realized the error of his ways before being rocked by another perfect Superman Punch. Roman straddled Brock's chest, pinning his arms down with his knees and delivering shot after shot to the other man's jaw. “Keep my family's name out of your damn mouth!” Roman shouted in Brock's face, his final punch snapping Lesnar's head to the side with a jerk of finality.

The arena was on its feet at the beginning of the beatdown, boos overwhelmed by steadily rising cheers. Roman pulled himself up and threw his head back for another roar, this one triumphant instead of angry. The Beast lay unconscious at his boots, his advocate probably still cringing in fear by the ring post. Roman turned on his heel to grab Ambrose's arm and easily pull him into the ring. “Take what's yours, Ambrose.” He ordered, Dean stumbling forward to pin Lesnar.

The three-count was called, the bell rung, and Ambrose was abruptly hugging Roman's legs. Reigns laughed and dropped the barbed wire bat so he could drag Dean to a semi-standing position and hug him for real. “You did it, Roman!” Dean yelled over the crowd, slamming his forehead into Roman's shoulder. “Holy shit, you did it. Wow.” He said a little quieter.

“We did it.” Roman replied firmly, tugging Dean's chin up so he could see his eyes. “We, Ambrose.” He wasn't sure if he would ever stop smiling, especially when Dean slowly smiled back. True to his word, Ambrose hoisted Roman's arm high, almost toppling with the effort. Roman grabbed his wrist, effectively raising both their arms. “This wouldn't even have happened if you hadn't taken me under your wing, man. Thank you.”

…

Dean closed his eyes and just basked in the adoration for a minute. He didn’t need it, but damn was it good to have when he was walking wounded. He palmed the back of Roman’s head, fingers running through that thick mane of hair. Roman hadn’t stopped smiling, his whole face lit up with joy as he kept his hand raised.

Roman’s dad was helped over the barricade by security and the older man climbed into the ring, raucous cheers starting up as people began to realize who he was. Sika, to Dean’s surprise, caught both men in a tight hug while saying “my boys!” over and over. “I’m so proud of you Roman. Thank you, Dean, for keeping my son safe.” He said quietly, making Ambrose tear up a little. Roman didn’t look much better, nodding and quickly rubbing at his eyes when his father released them.

“Thanks for believing in us, Dad.” Roman said, the sincerity in his voice hitting Dean like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have very long to focus on the feeling because Reigns was hugging him again, his dad wrapped around the outside of the embrace in another hug of his own. “Thank you, Ambrose.” Roman pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you so damn much.”

Dean closed his eyes again, not able to handle the unchecked affection in Roman’s gaze. “Anytime, man. S’what I’m here for.” He mumbled, his shoulders drooping as his body realized that the fight was over. You can stop now, Dean. Roman would leave, they had accomplished what they set out to do and that was it. You can stop now. Dean abruptly felt nauseous again, his knees starting to shake under him. He grabbed frantically at Roman’s shoulders, his fingers useless and clumsy as everything slowly dissolved into numb tingling.

“Dean!”

…

Ambrose had taken a hellish beating at the hands of Lesnar, twelve suplexes and more. Roman felt like an idiot for expecting him to walk out of the ring.

Dean looked dazed as he was secured to the backboard, blue eyes unfocused and fingers twitching wildly at his sides.

Sika’s hand landed on Roman’s shoulder. “Go with him, son. He needs you.” He shrugged when Roman looked back at him. “I can manage this part. Be with your partner now. He’s used to being alone. Let him know he isn’t anymore.” His dad gave him a knowing smile and Roman swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

“He has a concussion.”

Roman had wanted to say no shit, but he figured that would be bad form.

Ambrose had a death grip on his hand. He’d seemed surprised when Roman walked into the exam room, when Roman had taken his hand and squeezed it tight.

A concussion in this company could be a death sentence and Roman sincerely doubted that this was Dean’s first one.

“He’ll need supervision.”

Again, Roman wanted to say no shit. Dean’s jaw had tightened and he’d begun to protest, “I’m not some idiot kid, I can take care of myself.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Roman had stated firmly, feeling Dean’s eyes trying to burn a hole through him. “He’s my partner.”

Later that night Ambrose leaned his face against the car window and huffed out a loud sigh. “M’ sorry about all this, man.”

“What the heck are you apologizing for?” Roman asked, tapping at the screen of the GPS. “I’m lucky I’m not identifying your body at a freezer after that fight.”

“M’ sorry about Rollins. I didn’t…I figured he was still out of commission for weeks.” Dean fidgeted in his seat. “Thank fuck he didn’t have room to swing under the ring.”

“You can’t really be blamed for that maniac’s actions, man.” Roman finally got the GPS to work, punching in his address.

Dean chuckled, the noise forlorn. “I don’t know why the hell you’re the only person to figure out that I ain’t as unstable as I’m supposed to be. It’s weird.”

“In a good way or…?”

“Yeah. In a good way. In my kinda’ way.” Dean settled down in his seat, fingers tapping away at his kneecaps. “Where we goin’, anyhow?” He asked curiously.

“My apartment.” Roman cleared his throat. “Is there anything at your place that you need as far as tonight goes?”

“Nah, I’ve got a fresh set of clothes and my toothbrush in my gym bag. You sure you want me in your apartment though? Don’t wanna’ scare off any roommates or significant others.” Ambrose seemed legitimately worried.

“I live alone, you’re fine.” Reigns answered dismissively, giving his apartment a mental once-over and hoping he hadn’t left his boxers in the bathroom again. I get so damn lazy, he scolded himself, not noticing how quiet Dean had become until Ambrose coughed awkwardly.

“You don’t have any roommates or anything? That’s wild man, I don’t think I’ve ever lived anywhere by myself.” Dean twiddled his fingers. “Have you always lived on your own?”

“Since moving out, yes.” Roman shot Dean a curious look. “Why?”

“It’s just kinda’ strange to me is all. You have a big family though, so I can understand wanting your own space.” Dean reasoned. His back straightened up, as if he’d remembered something. “Oh! Shit! That thing you did during the match! The yell thing!” He said excitedly, bouncing in place for a second. “What the hell was that?! It was awesome!”

Roman laughed at Dean’s sudden enthusiasm. “I dunno’ man. I just felt like I needed to yell, so I did.”

“And Barbie, I can’t believe that shit! Just whackin’ that chair outta’ the park like Babe fucking Ruth. I’m…shit, I would have popped a boner if I’d had the presence of mind.” Dean teased, his tongue poking between his teeth as he grinned. “We done right by Mick, Funk, and your family, s’ all that matters.” Dean wriggled in his seat. “What are you gonna’ do from here on out? I’ve got the feelin’ that you may have a future in this company, y’know?”

“I was thinking I would stick with you. If they’ll let me, of course.” Roman deliberately kept his expression bland, his eyes focused on the road. He heard a quick, jerky intake of breath from the man beside him and Dean fell silent again.

“W…Why though?” Ambrose asked softly after a good five minutes had passed.

“I thought we worked well together. I’d like if you could keep teaching me.” Roman replied simply. “If the higher-ups permit.”

“I dunno’ if I’m ready for another partner, Reigns.” Dean said hesitantly. “I…It’s got nothing to do with you, okay?”

“Give me a chance, Ambrose. I promise I’ll work hard.”

“I ain’t worried about your work ethic man, I’ve seen that’s through the roof.” Ambrose protested. “After Rollins, I just don’t know if I should do partners anymore.”

“I can help with that. Superman Punch is his Kryptonite.” Roman didn’t expect the explosion of laughter from Ambrose.

“Oh my God, I totally forgot--that was fucking insane! You got four feet of air, I swear you did! Fuckin’ legendary, if nobody got a picture of you mid-swing I’m hiring a professional photographer. Hit hard and fuckin’ often, Roman Reigns!” Dean rambled, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I wish you’d been in the Shield man, definitely could have used you in a few fights.”

“I’m here now, man. Might as well put me to work, right?” Roman asked while he parked the car.

The way Dean’s face scrunched up in thought gave him a little bit of hope.

…

Someone wanting to work with him, wanting to prove themselves to him, was foreign to Dean. He was pretty sure that this ‘letting his brain heal’ business was just a plot to get him to trust Reigns. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that he was bored and it was working, damn it.

After the third day on Roman’s couch, sitting in the air conditioning with the blinds closed, Dean felt like he was going to start foaming at the mouth. While he was brushing his teeth he debated staggering through the apartment with the toothpaste all over his mouth, making zombie noises. But no, he was an adult. Probably a bad idea. He rinsed his mouth out and wiped the toothpaste foam away. His fingers started up a tempo on the sink and he stood there, staring at himself in the mirror.

The bruise under his eye had been replaced by a few scrapes, his tongue still a little sensitive from how hard he had bit down on it. Dean sighed, checking his eyes like the trainer had told him. His pupils continued to react fine to the light. Dean knew he was a lucky bastard, getting out of that fight with nothing but a concussion and some nicks. The base of his neck was still more than tender and that worried him to an extent. Mostly because he couldn’t really see it to monitor the healing process.

Ambrose trotted down the hall to Roman’s room, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Hey Reigns, I need you to check my neck real quick.”

Roman groaned, obviously still half-asleep as he nodded and wriggled a little closer to the edge of his bed. “M’kay, c’mere.”

Ambrose ducked down, expecting Roman to sit up and take a look. Instead, he felt a mouth press to the skin just below the area that was painful, the sensation making him freeze.

“There’s a bruise, but m’sure y’ already knew that. S’okay, I fixed it.” Roman waved a hand, flopping back down onto his mattress. “Still sleep time, Ambrose. Shh.”

Dean touched the back of his neck, his mouth slightly open. What the fuck. “Roman did you just…?”

Roman grabbed Dean’s arm, dragging the other man into an awkward, almost horizontal position in the bed beside him. “Shh, sleep.” Roman mumbled, clumsily petting over Dean’s mop of curly hair.

Dean knew this was stupid, that Roman was out of it and didn’t even know what he was doing. But that didn’t stop him from relaxing a fraction in the other man’s grip. And then a fraction more. “Reigns, y’need t’ let me go.” He said quietly after Roman made no move to release him.

Roman growled, sounding sulky. “Nuh.” He opened one eye to glare at Dean. “No way. Some other guy did that before.”

Dean stiffened. “Well I mean, that was more like he threw me in the trash, honestly.” He tried to smile, tried to make it a joke like it didn’t still hurt.

Roman curled up around Dean, nudging his face into Dean’s chest. “Not gonna’ happen again.” He slurred confidently. “I’ll kick his ass.”

Dean snickered. It was easier than crying. “I bet you will.”

“Seriously.” Roman propped himself up, looking a little more alert. “I’ll kick his ass.”

“You haven’t even seen-”

“I don’t need to.” Roman huffed. “I’ve worked with you. You trained me.”

“Maybe I am just as crazy as he says, man. Didja’ ever think of that?”

“I doubt it.”

Dean had promised himself that after Rollins, that was it. There was no more Shield, no more teamwork, nothing that could lead to him depending on someone and getting his body destroyed when they turned on him. Because he was unstable, and that was why he had clung to Seth so tight. Seth wasn’t crazy like him, Seth was smart and capable and miles less fucked-up. Dean might fight until his last gasp, but Rollins was the one who always pulled the trigger.

Little brother.

Dean hadn’t noticed the tears dripping down his cheeks, hadn’t meant to start crying. Just another fucked-up tidbit, he supposed. One more thing knocked loose.

Fingers were wiping Dean’s tears away, brown eyes fixed on his own worriedly. “Ambrose, did I say something wrong? Didn’t mean to.”

“Nah, it’s just…it’s been a while since anyone had anythin’ nice to say to me. I’m insane, you know.” Dean shrugged, waving his hands around to illustrate his lack of stability. “The ‘Lunatic Fringe’, the 'madman known as Dean Ambrose'. That’s me, a wild and crazy guy.”

Roman shook his head. “I don’t see that, man.”

“I’m touched, Reigns.”

“I don’t!” Roman insisted. Dean almost believed him. “Why would I lie to you? I’ve been upfront so far, haven’t I?”

…

“Mm, kinda’ wondering when you’re gonna’ dig the knife in between my shoulder blades, honestly.” Dean said, sounding totally serious. “How much more vulnerable do I have to be, man? I’m recovering from a concussion and you pulled me into your damn bed to snuggle. You’re a special brand of evil if you want me any lower than this.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, man.” Roman groaned. “You’re lucky you’re concussed. I wanna’ give you the world’s baddest noogie for all the bullshit you’re spewing.”

“Kick the street dog while he’s down, huh? I see how it-” Dean never got to finish his sentence because Roman rolled on top of him, the larger man taking care not to rest too much of his weight on Ambrose.

“I ain’t Rollins.” Roman said slowly. His hands found Dean’s in the sheets. “You hearing me, Ambrose? Do I have your attention?”

Dean nodded once.

“I’m not Seth. I don’t think you’re crazy. Not by a long shot, okay? So put that shit to bed. You’re more than whatever he said you were.” Roman stated. “You can’t let that guy’s image of you become the only thing that matters. You’re so much more than a shitty gimmick, Ambrose.”

“I hate that you make shit sound true. It’s just gonna’ fuck me up more.” Dean whispered.

“Ambrose please listen to me.” Roman begged. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Reigns. I swear to fuck, don’t you fucking lie to me. Just tell me I’m shit, tell me I don’t deserve anything and that I’m messed-up in the head.”

“What the fuck, Ambrose?” Roman wished his voice didn’t crack. “I’m…I mean Jesus man, what the fuck? No, I’m not gonna’ say any of that shit. Why would I?” Dean stared up at him defiantly. “Dammit Ambrose, come the fuck on.” When Dean just kept staring, Roman sighed heavily. “Okay, have it your way.” Pretending not to notice the defeated sag of Dean’s shoulders, Roman tucked his hair back behind his ears so he could actually see what he was doing. “Oh yeah, this guy beneath me is super fucked up.” Roman started, making sure he sounded as sarcastic as possible. “Yep, no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He’s all kinds of terrible.”

Dean snorted, shoving Roman’s chest. “You asshole.”

“Guy takes a king-sized failed football player in as a favor to his dad, shows him the ropes so he can beat another huge shithead. What a dick, that Ambrose guy. Making sure other people are as safe as possible, dealing with all his own problems in his own way. Goddamn, that no-good son of a bitch.” Roman couldn’t keep the grin off his face at this point. “That motherfucker, that-”

Dean leaned up and pecked him on the lips, stopping Roman mid-tease. “You’re doing it wrong, man.”

“I dunno’, I got a kiss out of it so I think I’m doing it right.” Reigns smirked, feeling very satisfied with himself. “If I keep saying things I don’t mean, will I get another one? Or should I say things I actually do mean?”

“Like what?” Dean made a raspberry sound.

“Like this.” Roman pressed his mouth to Dean's collarbone, licking and gently nipping the area. He heard Ambrose's breath catch, felt the other man's fingers quickly wind into his hair. “You're worth it.” Roman whispered.

Dean groaned. “Reigns...”

Roman didn't bother to respond, continuing his way down Dean's chest. There were still small cuts and nicks on Dean's torso from the match and Roman took the time to kiss every one of them, loving the way Dean began arching himself up to his mouth. “You're not crazy.”

“I am though, I am, he said I--” Ambrose tried to protest but Roman mouthed over a scrape at the edge of his boxers, iron taste filling his mouth and suddenly Ambrose's voice got urgent. “Oh no, mmfuck, Roman, you...” Dean squirmed, his eyes wide when Roman pulled back to look. “I kinda' have...I mean I kinda' like...y'know.” Ambrose mumbled, tapping the spot on his hip. “S'good.”

“Oh?” Roman bit down then, still gentle but not nearly as gentle as before.

...

Dean gasped, fingers lacing together on the back of Roman's head and holding him still. “Oh fuck, yes, shit, Jesus Roman!” He cried, that pain warm and good in his stomach like it hadn't been for months, years.

Roman carried on tormenting him with his mouth, teeth harassing Dean's already-battered skin. He didn't ask whether he was alright, didn't ask whether he was too rough, and Dean realized dimly that it was because Reigns trusted him. Reigns knew he would let him know if he went too far.

Dean caressed Roman's hair, the gesture weirdly intimate for him even with the other man's mouth inches away from his very interested cock. “You dealt with pain kinks before, Reigns?” Dean asked boldly when he could think straight for a second.

Roman smirked against Dean's hip, tugging his boxers down. The wet, red-purple welt he left on Dean's skin seemed to speak for itself, and the way he took Dean's cock into his mouth without a second of hesitation spoke volumes towards other experiences.

“Fuck me, Roman goddamn Reigns.” Ambrose sighed, cupping Roman's cheek. “I can't even believe you're doing this right now, holy shit. I'm gonna' wake up any second.”

“You have wet dreams about me?” Roman asked curiously, pulling his mouth off Dean's cock for a second to pump his shaft lazily. He rumbled in his chest when Ambrose nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “Good.”

“Fuck do you mean, g-oh Jesus--” Roman felt the need to display his approval with his throat, taking Dean all the way down to his base. Ambrose dug his fingers into Roman's hair, feeling the satisfied moan Reigns let out around his cock. “Oh, you too? Roman you are so fucked, you are so fucking fucked.” Dean half-snarled, half-laughed as he twisted his grip. Roman's whole body shuddered and Dean watched hungrily as Roman snuck a hand down to touch himself. “Fuck yes, Reigns, fuckin' fist your cock while you suck me off. Do it, do it, please please.” Dean couldn't decide whether he was ordering or begging, but it didn't really matter because Roman was going to jerk himself off either way.

Watching the muscles in Roman's shoulders and arms shift and roll as he moved was a grounding experience for Dean. Roman could easily slam him against a wall, shit, he could probably put him through a wall. But here Reigns was between his legs, in the other man's apartment no less, in his own bed. Making everything good and okay and not broken, not crazy at all. Even with the pain singing under his skin, the throb of bruises old and new, Ambrose was wholly content to grip Roman's hair and luxuriate in the sensation of knowing that Roman wanted him like this.

…

Dean looked like a vision in the weak morning sunlight, the blinds making shadow stripes across his chest and abdomen. The filth that poured out of his mouth certainly didn't hurt Roman's focus, the encouragement and the compliments on his technique only increasing Roman's need. He had himself propped up on one arm and his knees, the other hand working his cock with slow, even strokes as he just soaked in every hair-pull, every twitch of Dean's hips.

Ambrose suddenly shoved himself up, his hand groping hungrily over Roman's chest and then reaching lower at his belly to palm his dick. Reigns gasped at the change of angle and Dean began jerking him off quickly. “Want you to come.” Dean crooned, his body shivering. “Fuck, Roman, p-please, I want...fuckin' come for me, Reigns, need you to come, need you to come-” He panted, doubtless feeling the way Roman's cock twitched every time he said come. Dean's other hand gripped Roman's hair at the back of his head and dragged his mouth off his cock.

“Now, Dean? Huh? You gonna' come?” Roman growled, craning his neck to bite down hard on Ambrose's shoulder. Dean cried out and Reigns felt him writhe under him and Dean squeezed and Roman couldn't hold on any longer, grinding his hips down against Dean's as he came.

“Fuck.” Dean sighed after a minute or two of silence, his breathless chuckle sounding too high in Roman's ears as he slowly licked his fingers clean. Roman watched wordlessly, still trying to catch his own breath. “You are something fucking else, Roman Reigns. Hell if I know what, but damn you are something else.” Dean fell back against the mattress, groaning loudly. “Holy shit.”

“I'll take that as a compliment. Now, I think I had some important business to attend to.” Roman slid off to the side of Dean and pulled his back to his chest, ignoring Dean's drowsy protesting as he spooned the other man. “More sleep.”

“Hey...thank you.” Dean murmured.

Roman hushed him, starting to pet his hair again. “Sleep, Ambrose.”

“Seriously though, I mean-”

“Ambrose.”

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