#ryan brenner x junebug

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Next One Is Free

A PASSING THROUGH ONE SHOT POV REMIX

A/N: A long long time ago I posted an ask where for people to request befores, afters, or POV changes for any scene/ chapter of any of my stories, and @suchatinyinfinity​ (thanks Dani!) asked for the scene from Passing Through when Ryan and Reader meet from a different POV (which we get from Reader in the main story) and I am sorry it took me so long to get to because I had a blast writing it. It also goes along with the first prompt from this September prompt list- which I am going to try to utilize in some way shape or form through this month in an attempt to write daily. The goal for September is to empty my inbox and catch up on things I have been meaning to write so without further ado... 

Request/ Prompt: Ryan & Reader’s first meeting- POV Remix // September Prompt Day 1- the smell of coffee  

Word Count: 1k

It was a typical Tuesday morning shift at Caribou. 

The bell above the door hadn’t stopped jingling for more than a few seconds at a time as customers came and went. The chiming sound was accompanied by the near constant clanking of ceramic mugs jumbling together in the dishwasher and the drip, drip, hiss of the coffee pots to create a sort of soundtrack for her to work to. With only one song. One long song on an endless loop. 

Maggie stared through the steam of the espresso machine at the line of customers stretching out from the counter. Their number never dwindled to less than four no matter how quickly she filled cups or frothed foam. The fast pace could sometimes be exhausting, but it did help to make the time fly when she was consistently busy. Her eyes darted up to the clock mounted to the wall on the far side of the room, squinting to read the time as a man with broad shoulders stepped into the line. Ten thirty. One more hour to go. You can do this, Mags. 

By then she had already had her slew of early regulars with their routine orders and friendly smiles, their “have a great day hun”s and their “see you tomorrow”s genuine even if they were also routine. The daily stream of half sleeping students stopping in for a pick me up en route to their 9 am class a few blocks over at the UC Denver campus had already come through too, Maggie recognizing a few of them as classmates from her night classes and making small talk about assignments or upcoming exams as she made their drinks. There was also a group of middle aged women who she could count on every other week to take up two tables in the corner while they discussed whatever it was their book club had read recently. Though it seemed like it would do the opposite, seeing certain faces, chatting with the same people, even if it was about the same thing every time, helped make a monotonous job less so. 

Not all regulars were a welcome sight though, and she groaned as she recognized the broad shouldered man in the gray suit as the jerk who had made her new co-worker cry the previous week with his rude demeanor. Ugh. Not this guy again. It was undoubtedly him though, his voice cutting through the busy space as he spoke into the phone pressed to his ear with the same condescending tone he used to order his coffee. Letting out a sigh, Maggie capped the tiny cups she held and cashed out her current customer, mentally crossing her fingers in hopes that the jerk in the suit wouldn’t cause any problems. Please I just want my shift to end in peace. I have one more hour and then I’m free. I really just want it to go smoothly. 

The next customer, it seemed, had heard that silent plea, the man ordering a small coffee with a kind smile. He dropped his change directly into the tip jar, thanking her in a slow southern drawl with a tip of his head. He wrapped his long, tattooed fingers around the cardboard cup she passed him and stepped aside, heading for the table where creamers and sweeteners were stocked. 

Before she could even process the pleasant interaction though, the jerk was barking his order at her and she felt herself struggling to keep a customer service approved smile on her face. The effort wasn’t lost on the woman in line behind him, and she gave Maggie a sympathetic look. Luckily, the well dressed asshole didn’t have any complaints about his coffee this time, and since his order was simple he was out of her hair relatively quickly. Good. Now get out of here before-

But it was too late for him to leave without incident as dark brown liquid splashed onto his coat. Maggie saw it happening in slow motion, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was already helping a different set of customers when the nice but apparently clumsy woman who had just shot her a look of solidarity had spilled her beverage. And of course it had to be on him. Maggie watched helplessly as the woman tried to diffuse the situation before it became a shouting match, apologizing for the stain and offering to take care of his drycleaning. More than he deserves, but she’s trying. 

He wasn’t having it though, and just when Maggie wondered if she needed to call for her manager, the kind man with warm eyes was back to intervene. Though he didn’t appear to know the woman, he stepped between her and the jerk and addressed the other man directly. He calmly but sternly repeated what the woman had offered, telling the man to either accept her apology and courtesy or move along. For half a second, Maggie wondered if the well-intentioned canvas and denim clad young man hadn’t made things worse by stepping in, but something in the combination of his tone and the way his calm eyes flashed dark and serious must have made the jerk think twice because he left, grumbling about taking his business to the coffeehouse over on Larimer. Oh. Please do. 

Pressing a fully punched card with a hand-written “next one is free!” on the back into the hero of the morning’s callused palm, Maggie thanked him for ridding the shop of the undesirable customer and poured a fresh cup of coffee for the woman whose beverage the jerk had left wearing. Continuing to help the customers in line, Maggie kept one eye on the pair as they introduced themselves to one another, the woman thanking him again and both of them grinning over their steaming cups. Did I just witness one of those coffee shop meet cutes? Like in hallmark movies and fanfiction? 

Laughing to herself, she watched the two of them leave the shop, the bell announcing their departure, and hoped for one more thing- I hope when he comes in for his free one… they come back together. 

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags please feel free to let me know or use the form at the top of my masterlist! 

Tags:  @something-tofightfor @suchatinyinfinity @malionnes @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre @alraedesigns @dearmarii @fific7 @obscurilicious @luminex3 @vetseras @blackbirddaredevil23​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @yespolkadotkitty​

#passing through #POV remix #POV switch #ryan brenner #ryan brenner fanfiction #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x junebug #jackie and ryan fanfiction #ryan meets reader POV remix #introducing maggie the barista #the next one is free

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Undefined Duet

500 followers/ 500 word drabble #13

A/N: Just a few more of these little drabbles to go! They’ve been fun for me to write, so I hope they have been fun for you to read as well. This one follows the Passing Through timeline, when Ryan travels back to Denver to take Max up on his offer to record in his studio, roughly 3-4 months after meeting you in that coffee shop. Thank you @fific7​ for the picture prompt! 

“Got it, great stuff man!” Max gave him a thumbs up from the booth, then took his finger off of the speaker, the machine clicking. 

Ryan rested his guitar on his thighs, nodding in response, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He’d just finished up one of his favorites, and he could still feel it in his chest. That one always feels… good. It wasn’t an original song, but it was one that he’d been playing for years, one that he’d gotten extremely comfortable with. It was also one of the first songs that the two of you had ever played together, and therefore it held an even more prominent place in his catalog than it had before that day on 16th Street. He could still picture you sitting at the painted piano, hands suspended over the keys, tongue poking between your lips as you waited for him to count you in. The memory kept that warm feeling swirling in his chest for a few minutes longer. You’d played it together more than a handful of times since then, but it was always that chilly day that came to mind when his fingers found the chords of that song. Wonder if it’s the same for her. 

Max clicked the speaker button once more to let him know that he could take a few minutes between tracks while he made some adjustments to his equipment. Ryan nodded again, a stray piece of hair falling over his forehead as he leaned forward on his stool to set his instrument back in its case. Standing, he lifted a hand to swipe the strands away, reaching for his water bottle with the other. Twisting the cap off, he glanced back up at the booth’s window to catch you watching him. Hey, Junebug. 

Smiling around the mouth of the bottle, he drank without breaking eye contact with you. Your cheeks flushed and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging your shoulders before releasing the trapped flesh and letting your smile match his. Damn, she’s… He closed the bottle and put it down on his stool. Things between you were still undefined, but he realized then that undefined didn’t mean unsure- that he’d been sure that there was something worth exploring between the two of you since he’d kissed you under the stars in that train car somewhere in the Kansas plains. 

He’d been debating which song to play next, going between Southbound and a few others he’d written, but the color in your cheeks and the little scrunch of your nose gave him his answer- Take Me Along, the song you’d helped him finish on your unfurnished living room floor. ‘Course that’s the right one. Ryan cocked his head, motioning for you to join him on his side of the glass. Confused, you furrowed your brow but stood and disappeared from view before the soundproof paneled door opened and you stepped in. 

“Hey, what’s-” 

“Will you sing with me, Junebug?” 

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags please feel free to let me know! :)

Tags: @something-tofightfor​​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​​ @malionnes​ @thesumofmychoices​​ @gollyderek​​ @pheedraws​​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @alraedesigns​ @dearmarii​​ @fific7​ @traeumerinsworld​​ @obscurilicious​​ @luminex3​ @vetseras​

#500 word drabbles #follower appreciation #thanks fiona! #fific7 #ryan brenner #photo prompt #ryan brenner in a recording studio #ryan brenner fic #passing through #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #Jackie and Ryan fanfic #ben barnes characters #undefined duet #ryan brenner's postcard collection

[the-blind-assassin-12]

18, 33 and 39 for Mister Ryan Brenner! 🎼🖤

Mister Ryan Brenner makes me all swoony eyed so thanks for choosing him!! 

Ryan Brenner x Junebug Reader 

18:  Who gets the window seat?

On a plane? Well, Ryan’s never been on a plane, and Junebug has only flown a handful of times. But if they were to go somewhere by air Ryan would absolutely give up the window seat. He likes to be on the ground and when he can’t be he likes to at least see it. 

The nicest thing about traveling on the trains like they do is that if it’s an open car they both get the window seat. (ha ha) But the few times they’ve taken a bus or bought tickets on a passenger train, Ryan takes the window and Junebug leans into his side with his arm around her. They both think the view is better that way. 

33:  How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME WHENEVER ANYONE ASKS ABOUT RYAN AND FOOD. There is not a single food item that that man eats with grace, and not a single food item that he cannot make into a full blown mess and that is precisely why I love thinking about him shoving snacks in his face. 

Junebug prefers to eat her ice cream in a cup or bowl, because she takes her time and likes to be able to put it down between bites. She’s also a fan of toppings, and let’s face it you can only add so much to a cone. Favorite flavors include vanilla, pistachio and cookie dough.  

Ryan would forgo toppings for another scoop of ice cream every single time, and he’d never opt for a bowl if he could have a cone. You can’t eat a bowl, after all, and the sweet smell of a fresh waffle cone when you first walk into an ice cream shop is one of Ryan’s favorite smells. It reminded him of the summer that his cousin Patrick worked at an ice cream shop and he and the rest of them had spent every rainy day holed up in the tiny booths while Patrick tried not to burn the waffle cones for the line of customers whose beach days had been defeated by the weather. 

How does he eat it? Well. He doesn’t let a single drip go to waste, that’s for sure. Whether it’s melting down the cone or running over his fingers, he’ll lick or suck it before it even has a chance of hitting the floor. And if you ever eat a spoonful and have some leftover on your lips? Don’t worry, Junebug, Ryan will get it for you. 

His favorite flavors are butter pecan, rocky road and chocolate.    

39:  Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch? (Bonus: What does it say?)

Well, they don’t really pack lunches for one another, but every now and then they do spend some time apart. And when they do, they both usually try to leave “hidden” notes for each other- ones that they hope they won’t find right away. For example, Ryan and Junebug split up for a few days they first time they head back to Colorado. On their last night together while she was asleep, Ryan went into her pack and stuck a note into the center of a rolled up pair of socks. It said Thinkin’ about you. No matter what time it is. Another? When reader went back home for the first time, Ryan gave her a couple of weeks to settle back in with her family before spending time there with her. In that time he took a short trip back home himself, and Junebug surprised him by sending him a postcard by way of his Aunt Holly. He’d told her about how his aunt would always hold his mail for him, so before they’d even gotten back to New Jersey she plucked a postcard from a gas station and wrote Can’t wait for you to get here, Ryan. When he got it and saw where it was from, he felt a rush of warmth flood his chest because he knew for a fact that she’d written it sitting right next to him. 

#otp asks #ask me anything #thanks for asking #pheedraws #ryan brenner #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through #passing through ryan #ryan and food is my happy place #so THANK YOU for asking that one

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Another June prompt request for Ryan with popsicles/ice cream and fireworks please! 🍦🎆

R Y A N !

Dani, thank you for this. It was a pleasure to write. I miss this man so much. I hope you enjoy this!!

Melt

#summer prompts #summer prompts 2021 #thanks for this request dani!! #ryan brenner #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through universe

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Come on Home

A/N: Surprise! I know you probably thought I vanished or sunk into quicksand or something else 2020esque, but I’ve just been wallowing in writer’s block misery for ...well the length of time doesn’t matter because I’m out of the pit of despair and back in the game with another Play the Hand You’re Dealt prompt. This one is for Ryan and it takes place in the future for PT Ryan and Reader, roughly a year and a half from the current timeline. 

(title and overall theme of this one inspired by the song Long & Lost by Florence and the Machine.) 

Word Count: 2,563

Prompt From: @suchatinyinfinity​ - Ryan, angst, memories or photographs & Reader’s POV 

Ryan! You’d know that gait anywhere, from any distance, posture slouched more to the left than the right under the burden of his guitar case, long legs talking sure steps towards where you were perched on the covered porch of your father’s house. The second that you saw him you felt a weight shake free of your shoulders, his smile, even from a few yards away, brightening the fading light of the day. You ran down the stairs to wrap your arms around his neck, locking your lips to his as he set his case down to hold you. “Hey, Junebug,” he murmured into your mouth. “Miss me?” Always. 

Your hands moved up to take his face between them, beard longer than you’d seen it last, the hair course beneath your palms. “Missed you so much, Ryan Brenner.” You missed him whenever you weren’t together. It wasn’t often, but it always shocked you how quickly it set in. Missing Ryan was unlike anything you’d felt before, because it wasn’t a hopeless yearning or an empty feeling. It was knowing how it would feel to have him back. You ran your thumbs along his cheek, following the line of his beard, and leaned in for another kiss which he eagerly returned. You felt his hands climbing your back, over your shoulders and up to your wrists, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. He kissed you once more before pulling back, a questioning look in his eyes. 

“What’s this?” He peeled your hand away from his face but brought your thumb back up to his lips, pressing another kiss to the rough, torn skin there. He dragged it across his bottom lip and you closed your eyes, what was left of your breath escaping you in a small puff and you shrugged. You know what it is, Ryan. 

You knew he’d notice as soon as you touched him. Ryan was the most observant person you’d ever known by a long shot. There was no detail too small to matter to him. He appreciated the cracks in the cement as much as the scrawny weeds that pushed up through them, It was part of what you loved about him, this ability to see everything. Every dew strung line of a spiderweb, every shade of yellow in the petal of a sunflower, a smudged fingerprint on a piece of glass all caught his eye as much as the sweeping panoramic views he took in while traveling as many miles of the country as he could. 

He was also more touch focused than you thought possile. His hands were large and strong, built and conditioned for gripping and lifting. Hard, manual work. But they were nimble and light, and delicate enough to coax magic out of an instrument, and when he touched you, you felt every note he’d ever played. When he wanted you to, you felt the cold steel of every ladder rung he’d ever clung to, the smooth leather strap of any bag, pack or case he’d ever carried, every lever or rope or chain he’d ever pulled. Brushing his knuckles innocently over your cheek or bringing you over the edge, every touch had purpose and intention, and the things he couldn’t find words for, he found other ways to communicate to you. 

Ryan knew your hands like the back of his own. Your fingers and palms were as familiar a feeling to him as sunshine on his skin, so the hardened cracks between the loops and whorls in the pattern of your thumbprint against his lip were impossible to ignore. Picking at your thumbnails and cuticles was a habit, or a compulsion really, that only manifested when you were stressed or anxious, which meant that in the year and a half that you’d been with Ryan he’d only seen it a few times. It’s never been this bad though. His lips twitched downwards in a small frown as he pressed another kiss to the meat of your thumb. And he noticed. You folded your lips into a thin line. Of course he noticed. 

He’d only been four days behind you, staying the extra time in Morehead, KY to help his old friend Nate and Nate’s teenaged son Julian pack all of their furniture into a rented truck. You’d been happy to help with some of the smaller things- wrapping dishes and picture frames in newsprint, folding and packing clothing into boxes-  when the man, who you’d learned had been Cowboy’s cousin, had called Ryan the previous week to see if he could lend him a hand with their move. The timing and distance had worked out perfectly, as it almost always seemed to for Ryan, the trip lining up with your plans to return to New Jersey for the remainder of the summer. You would have gone out of your way to help Nate and Julian though, Ryan. You’d seen him change a tire in a grocery store parking lot for a visually stressed single mom, and you’d been there when he volunteered to carry a stack of two by fours out of a hardware store for an older gentleman who had been struggling. He didn’t have a lot to offer, but he always offered up all he had if it could help someone. You knew by now what kind of man he was, and it was another of the countless reasons that made falling in love with Ryan Brenner so simple and unavoidable; his capacity for kindness and his inability to turn a blind eye to anyone that could benefit from his help, especially if they meant something to him. And Cowboy’s family is his family. 

He would have even offered to help with the driving- Nate and Julian were moving clean across the country to a suburb of Phoenix, and Julian didn’t have his license yet. “That’s a lotta driving for one person,” he’d told you on the phone as he made his way out of Morehead. “I’d help him out but I’ve got somewhere to be.” You had smiled then, some of your anxious nerves melting as you heard his smile through the speaker. “Somewhere important.” 

It is important. And overdue. So long overdue. Tomorrow’s date had been blocked off on both of your mental calendars for several weeks, though it had been a recurring blip on the edges of your emotional radar for far longer. You knew that it was as important to Ryan that he be there with you as it was to you to have his support. Shy of a natural disaster, you knew that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of being by your side when you finally reunited with your brother after several years of estrangement. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since your mother’s passing and your subsequent departure from his and your father’s lives. When you’d come back home to the Garden State last summer to see your father again, Eli hadn’t been ready to reconcile with you, stating that he needed more time to wrap his head around you suddenly becoming a fixture in his life again. And his daughter’s life.  

“Because you’re not a fixture,” he’d told you. You could hear sadness layered beneath the anger in his voice as you cried silently on the other end of the phone this time last year. “You’re here today and gone tomorrow and I can’t…” he sighed then. “Natalie’s mom-” 

“Carolyn?” You interjected the woman’s name, desperately trying to partake in the conversation. But the second her name was out of your mouth you swore at yourself for interrupting him. You’d known that you had a niece only because your father had told you, but he hadn’t shared who the girl’s mother was and it just dawned on you that Carolyn was the only  one of Eli’s girlfriends’ names that you could remember. And they dated right after highschool. It’s not her, just shut up and let him talk.

“What? No, Carolyn?” He scoffed. “You really have been out of the loop, haven’t you?” Ouch. Yeah, Eli, I have. It was warranted, the venom in his tone, and you’d expected it. But it still hurt and you’d flinched as he spoke, Ryan close by, shooting comforting, sympathetic glances at you as the phone call continued. “No. Nat’s mom- you don’t know her- her name is Kate, but that doesn’t matter because…” he sighed again, and the acidic burn you felt in your heart spread at the exhaustion and loneliness in his next words. “She’s gone.” He sniffed. Oh, Eli...I’m so sorry.  You’d closed your eyes then, tears slipping from beneath your lids. “Packed up, picked up and left. Left me, left Nat… she left. She left the night before Natalie’s fourth birthday. Didn’t say where, just… just that she couldn’t do it anymore.” You didn’t know what to say, or if you should say anything at all, so you waited for him to continue, nodding to Ryan when he mouthed the question you okay? “You know, I get it if she didn’t...y’know, if she didn’t love me anymore. If she didn’t want...if she couldn’t do us anymore. But Natalie? She’s… she’s old enough to remember her. Old enough to ask questions. And I…” 

You understood. It stung, like salty sea water lapping against the small scratches on your legs and arms that you used to get from tumbling in the waves as they crashed onto the shore, shards of shells, stone and gritty sand scraping at your sunburned skin. But you understood. “You can’t have anyone else leave her.” Or you. “I get it, Eli. I do.” You had tried your hardest to keep your voice from cracking, but it fell apart on his name. I’m supposed to be his big sister. I’m supposed to be there for him. I did this. “Take your time, Eli. Take however long you need. Whenever you’re ready I...I want to try to make things right. And I want to…” You fought the thickness in your throat as Ryan came to sit beside you, finding your empty hand and pulling it into his lap. You looked down at your fingers as his laced between them, strong and sure. “I want to meet Natalie.” 

The conversation had ended with both of you agreeing to talk over the phone on a semi regular basis, taking the small steps necessary towards making the progress that you both wanted. He’d told you that he missed his sister, and your heart had caved and folded in on itself at that. Once you’d gotten off the phone, Ryan took you into his arms and let you cry wordlessly against his chest for as long as it took for your tears to run dry. “S’okay, Junebug.” He spoke softly, lips lost in your hair, the fine strands getting caught in his beard. Hands running up and down your back and over your side, he calmed your sobs until your lungs found rhythm again. “S’alright, he just needs some more time.” You slid your hand over his shoulder, curving it around the back of his neck as you tucked your face more tightly into him. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

That had been almost exactly 365 days ago, and for the most part it had been alright. You’d kept up your relationship with your father, and you had made tremendous progress in rebuilding things with Eli. He’d even sent you pictures and videos of your niece. One in particular had made you glow with a warm, hopeful happiness, a very different set of tears glistening on your cheeks as you showed Ryan the video of Nat singing and pretending to play guitar. The song was one that you and Ryan had recorded together the caption on the message reading She takes after her Aunt Junebug. 

But now that just a mere 24 hours separated you from your reunion, you were starting to feel that uneasy swimming feeling in your stomach, a tight clenching feeling in your chest and throat. You’d absently reverted to your nervous compulsion, picking the skin on your thumbs raw as you sat on the porch of your father’s house, waiting for Ryan to get back to you. Now that he was, you felt a little better, a little more ready to face Eli and take the next step in getting your brother back. It was only four days but damn did I miss him. You’d practically launched yourself at him as he came up the walkway, the pinkish light of the yawning sun overtaking the yard and painting purplish shadows on the siding of the house and the rundown detached garage and Ryan’s cheeks. 

He pressed his lips to your peeling skin again. “This because’a tomorrow?” He dropped your hand and brought both of his to frame your face. You closed your eyes as his fingers combed a few wild curls back, the tips skating over your temples, and inhaled a slow breath through your nose. Sunscreen, smoke, salt. You nodded and he leaned in to kiss your cheek. He always smelled of wherever he’d been, whether he’d been gone a day or a week or longer. His beard raked over your skin as he brought his lips to your ear, and you took another breath. Coffee, fabric softener… you felt a flutter in your chest as you caught the scent of the lavender soap you’d taken from the last motel you’d slept in. He always smells like home, too. A warm current swept around your heart as he pulled away from your face, and even though your mind was still hung with clouds of anxious doubt, you could feel him cutting through like sunshine clearing the skies after a storm. 

“I’m nervous, Ryan.” You shrugged. What else is there to say? “I just…” you sighed. “I’m…” 

“I know.” He ran his hands up and down your arms, his thumbs tracing the thin skin on the underside of your forearms. It soothed you almost instantly, and you knew that he knew it would. “I know you’re nervous. I know this means a lot to you.” He did. He knew the guilt that you carried for leaving Eli to deal with the loss of your mother. He knew the pain you felt for the last year knowing that your brother wasn;t ready to meet with you, that he didn’t trust you not to cut and run again. Giving a light squeeze to your biceps, he locked his soft brown eyes on yours. “It’s gonna be okay, Bug. He wants to see you as much as you wanna see him. You know that, right?” It was true, you knew that Eli was looking forward to seeing you again. You knew it meant a lot to your father to have his children back together. You knew how much you all wanted to be a family again. 

You knew that none of it would be happening without Ryan, and you knew that with him, it would be okay It would all be okay in time. “Yeah, Ry, I know. C’mon, let’s go inside. You can get cleaned up and…” You started to turn back towards the house, but swiveled to face him again. “Welcome home, Ry.”

He grinned and tugged you back into his body. “Good to be home.”

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@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @lexxierave​ @thesumofmychoices​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @gollyderek​ @obscurilicious​ @malionnes​ @with1love1anu​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @luminex3​​ @pheedraws​ @alraedesigns​

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! 

#play the hand you’re dealt #card game prompts #ryan brenner #memories or photos #angst #reader's POV #ryan brenner x reader #Ryan Brenner x You #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through #PT #PT Ryan #come on home #jackie and ryan fanfiction #ryan is home #this one is angsty in the middle #like an angsty oreo

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Luckenbach, Texas

A/N: Back at it with the Play The Hand You’re Dealt event, this time with Ryan Brenner, and darn did it feel good to write him again. This one actually felt really good to write. It takes place pretty far on down the road for you and Ryan so you have a lot to get through before you get here, but this is a little look at where you’re headed together. Also, 4th of July is just fun. All of it. 

(if you want to know more about Luckenbach, Texas, population 3, click here.) 

Word Count: 1,856

Prompt from: @thesumofmychoices - Ryan, fluff, Ryan’s POV & Celebration or Holiday (omg that’s a crazy story about your dog!) 

Ryan stopped a few feet from where you sat, watching as you talked animatedly to Georgie and Layla. Her hair’s gettin’... he felt his cheeks lift as his lips parted in a smile. The humidity had wreaked havoc on your curls, pulling frizzy tendrils out from the braid around the crown of your head. You raked your fingertips over it in a halfhearted attempt to corral the strays, but let your arms drop back to your lap as you laughed, hair completely unchanged. No use. He knew it just as well as you did. Condensation ran down the plastic cups Ryan carried, pooling between his fingers and dripping onto the dry, brown dirt, but he stayed rooted in place for a beat or two longer as you threw your head back in another laugh, giving Georgie a playful shove. Get ‘im. 

Grin widening, he laughed to himself and resumed walking toward the three of you. Georgie slung his arms one at a time around you and Layla drawing you both into a tight hug. Layla flipped her long yellow hair over her shoulder before rising on her toes to plant a kiss to Georgie’s round cheek, burnt bright red from the day in the sun, his bowler nearly toppling from his head as she took him by surprise. They’re havin’ fun. Sweat licked at the back of his neck where the unruly ends of his hair stuck out from beneath the canvas hat he wore, but the warmth in his chest had nothing to do with the summer heat. Looking around, he saw that the same was true of everyone gathered - music and laughter filled the night as the mouthwatering smells of sugary confections and grilled meats wafted from the snack stand attached to the general store. I’m glad we did this.

The sky was just starting to fade from blue to purple, lightening a shade before the thick, black night came to swallow it up. Fireflies hovered in patterns and formations through the warm air, their bioluminescent signals adding to the golden glow of the lights strung across the square. The pluck of guitar and banjo strings from the stage to the left mixed with the boot stomps emanating from the open doors of the dance hall as people gathered in clusters or strolled here and there. Flags, banners, pinwheels and bunting decorated the stage and various small buildings, stars and stripes in bold Americana colors. Kids darted by hopped up on funnel cakes and clutching sparklers, their eyes wide in awe of the flickering pyrotechnics that their parents only let them play with this one night of the year. He stepped to the side to avoid a collision with a sticky-fingered boy, a popsicle in each hand and his sister chasing after him. Woah. Taking care not to slosh the contents of the cups he carried onto the troublemakers’ heads, he trained his eyes on the level of liquid as it splashed in small waves and finally steadied back out. 

“That was a close one, Brenner.” 

He looked up in time to see your fingers curling around one of the cups that he held, just below his own. Your pointer finger slid over his pinky to trace the lines that were inked between his knuckles, teeth digging into the corner of your fire-engine red bottom lip as you gave him a crooked smile that made the sparklers and fireflies seem dim. Handing you your beverage he bit back a groan, letting it out as a throaty laugh instead. Tease. “Yeah, but did you see that save?”

You scrunched your nose at him as you smiled and reached up to push a sweaty clump of his hair back behind his ears. Ryan tilted his head into your touch, eyes falling closed as your fingertips grazed the bottom of his earlobe, but opening again as your hand fell down to clasp his empty one. “I did. That was some fancy footwork there, I’m impressed.” Your laugh brightened your eyes as it tumbled from your open mouth, your thin fingers squeezing his rough palm. “You been holdin’ out on me, Ryan?” You shifted your eyes and took a sip of your beer.

Never have, never will. It was no secret that while music and rhythm seemed to flow in his veins, Ryan Brenner was not a very good dancer. “Nah,” he shook his head, and slowly, so that you had plenty of time to react, lifted your joined hands to turn you under his arm. Your surprised gasp of his name hit him in the chest as a few drops of cold beer splashed onto his forearm and soaked into the hem of his white tee. You leaned into him and he felt the last shakes of your laughter leave your lungs. He dropped your hand so he could press his to the small of your back, fingers grazing your skin under the bottom of your navy blue tank top. I love this woman. “You know I save all my best moves for you, Junebug.” He kissed your forehead, the wispy little rebellious frizz along your hairline tickling his lips. 

Humming contentedly, you wrapped your free arm around his waist and looked up at him, chin tucked into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, you do.” You licked your lips as he took a swig from the red cup. “I’m lucky like that.”   

Ryan’s fingers flexed to push you even closer to his side, but before he could continue the pointless conversation of which of you were luckier, Georgie called over, his raucous tone cutting through the ambient sound easily. “Hey you two comin’ back anytime soon or you just gonna stand there all night?” 

He looked up to see his friend waving his arm from the rock wall surrounding the big Cedar Elm where the four of you had been sitting enjoying the music after your set. You laughed again, turning your face into his chest before meeting his eyes once more. Ryan trailed his fingers up your back until his palm reached the center of your shoulder blades. He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of your floral shampoo mixed with dirt, sweat, and the sweet coconut smell of the sunscreen you’d slathered on all day. Still got a tan though, and I see some new freckles. His cheek twitched to the side pulling his lips along with it, and he leaned in to drag the tip of his nose over the bridge of yours and down to the crest of your cheek where the sun had painted new speckles on your skin. He kissed them, and you smiled under the bristles of his beard as he dropped his lips down to capture yours. Love her so damn much. 

Three and a half years had gone by, but it hadn’t taken Ryan that long to realize that you were right for him in a million ways that he hadn’t even considered. You’d taught him how to stand still and spend more time thinking about where he was now instead of where he was headed next. But you’d also showed him how easily you could pick up and head back to the road when it was time, how you’d completely accepted his wandering ways. He’d let you into every part of his life, all the secrets that he kept close to his heart like the treasures that you knew he kept hidden safely in a zippered inner pocket of his big canvas coat that he wore in the winter time- an arrowhead, a clover, others things he’d collected that no one else knew existed aside from the people who he’d gotten the items from. A penny, a guitar pick, an old zippo lighter. You’d fit into his family as though you’d been there all along, both on the road and back home; in that zippered pocket, and at Aunt Holly’s table. 

She fits here, too. He’d had the thought earlier in the night, standing between you and Georgie on the small wooden stage. The three of you had played a set of eight songs together while Layla joined the small crowd that lingered nearby- mostly songs that he’d been playing for years, ones that he’d played with Cowboy and Virginia, way back before he’d even met the bright eyed button nosed fiddler to his left. But then you’d also played the song that you’d helped him write back on your apartment floor in front of the fireplace, and it felt just as right as the other songs. Ryan and Georgie hadn’t been back to Luckenbach for the Fourth of July festival in the nearly five years since Cowboy had been gone. It felt right to come back this year with you, with Georgie bringing Layla. Next year Ginny and Henry’ll come too, he’ll be old enough, he’ll get a kick outta the tractor parade in town. The thought of the six of you being there together lightened his heart.  

“Brenner? You hear me or-” Georgie called again as Ryan finally broke the kiss, eyes locked on yours as he brought his hand up, fingers tracing the freckles he’d just kissed. 

“Keep your pants on, Georgie,” Ryan called, tearing his eyes from you to turn towards the other man. “I’m kissin’ my girl an’ takin’ my time.” He’d lowered his voice, no longer shouting for the entertainment of everyone around, speaking only for you to hear. Dipping his head back down, he caught another quick kiss, enjoying the way you sighed into it and how you gathered a fistful of his tee. Never gets old, never will. 

“Ryan,” slightly out of breath, you whispered his name through a grin that only got brighter as the sky darkened. Shaking your head you asked, “What was that for?” 

Ryan swallowed and narrowed his eyes. It hadn’t taken him three and a half years to know that you were it for him, but it was moments like this that reinforced that fact; moments that made him sure that you were all he wanted, all he’d ever want. He blinked and lowered his hand from your face, reaching for your free hand. Smiling, he took another swing of his beer. “Nothin’,” he tugged your hand and started walking back towards Georgie and Layla as a guitarist wearing a harmonica neckstrap stepped up to take the mic next. “Let’s get over there’n rescue Layla.” You laughed and Ryan pressed his lips together to try to keep from joining you. “Poor girl, he’s probably talkin’ her ear off or somethin’, you know how he-” 

You cut him off, rising to your toes to kiss him quickly. “I love you, Ryan.”

There weren’t any fireworks planned in Luckenbach. Might be able to see ‘em from Fredricksburg if it’s a clear night, Georgie had explained to you and Layla earlier in the day. It was the Fourth of July, but it was also just another night in the heart of Texas. It was a night of music and festive celebration, good food, good people and good feelings. Who needs fireworks?

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@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @gollyderek @obscurilicious @malionnes @with1love1anu @beautifuldesastre​ @luminex3​ 

if you would like to be added or removed from the tags, please let me know! (and if you have let me know and I haven’t changed it please tell me again because I am a well intentioned albeit forgetful fool)  Thanks for reading! 

#play the hand you’re dealt #card game prompts #ryan brenner #celebration or holiday #ryan's pov #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through masterlist #Passing Through #PT #jackie & ryan fanfiction #fourth of july #luckenbach texas #it's a real place #and a real song #and willie nelson had his picnic there #and it basically exists for music #and i cannot think of anywhere else for Ryan to spend the 4th

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Peaks & Valleys

A/N: Woah. So like a whole week just slipped through the hour glass and I wrote nothing at all. I am SORRY you guys, like really, I am. I don’t like not writing. It feels weird. Like not stretching or drinking water or whatever. Anyway, I’m back at it in a big way with Ryan Brenner for the Play the Hand You’re Dealt Event. This one takes place about a week after your trip to Luckenback with Ryan, Georgie and Layla, at a pit stop in Little Rock on your way back to the East Coast, so still about 3.5 years from the current timeline of Passing Through. 

Warning: smut. Brenner smut. 

Word Count: 2,749

Request from:  @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ for Ryan, Smut, Memories or Photographs, and Illness or injury

His fingers found the oval shaped divot near the top of your thigh, rough palm sliding slowly up toward your hip. A low growl rumbled in his throat and he grinned into the kiss. You smiled back against his lips with a hum. Ryan knew that you couldn’t feel it as he dragged the pad of his cracked thumb over the smooth skin in the dip of your scar, and you knew that he liked the contrast as much as he liked knowing every landmark on your body. Every single one.  

You slid your hand up his jaw, fingers lingering in the patchy bristles of his beard before they followed the curve of his neck, tangling in his hair. Your other hand was gripping his tricep, pulling him down on top of you as he climbed fully onto the bed. As if I wanna be anywhere else. It had been hard enough to wait while you both showered the road off of you after checking into your room- the trip up from Texas had been long and hot, sweat caking the dust and coating your faces. Now that he had his hands on you, following the paths he’d committed to memory and blazing new trails with each touch, the rest of the world melted away. You were in Little Rock, Arkansas. But you could have been in Vegas or Nashville, Sitka, Toledo or Philadelphia. The only map that mattered to Ryan was the one that his fingers were following; the one made up of freckles, birthmarks and scars, the one that took him to secret gardens and hidden treasures meant only for him.  

You parted your lips to deepen the kiss as he followed, his right arm coming beneath you to settle in the ravine of your spine, fingers splayed between your shoulder blades. Laying you back into the pillows, Ryan moved his left hand further up your body. When they reached the crease of your hip, he turned his fingers over to sweep his knuckles inward until the back of his hand fell between your legs.You sighed, your breath warm as it hit his tongue. Twisting his hand back around, he trailed it slowly up your ribs, climbing them like a ladder while he lowered his chest over yours, hips dropping down as well. You breathed his name as he pulled back just enough to capture your swollen bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting down before tugging to scrape the tiny chip in his front tooth over your sensitive skin. 

Another satisfied, warm hum left your lungs. “That feels so good, Ry,” you murmured. I know it does. Your eyes closed as your grip moved from his arm to his back. That little chip had been with him since he was 24, when a night of drinking had impared his depth perception resulting in the lip of a brown glass bottle meeting the bottom of his tooth with misplaced force. He could feel it if he ran his tongue along the now ridged edge, but luckily it hadn’t caused major damage nor could anyone tell that it was broken by looking at him, even when he sang or smiled. Georgie, Cowboy and Ginny all knew about it, but that’s because they’d been there when it happened. Since then you were the first person to notice it, and Ryan had noticed how you’d react anytime he’d nip or bite, raking his teeth over your lip or throat or your… He groaned suddenly, both hands squeezing more tightly where they gripped your body, the need for you overwhelming him. But instead of taking a shortcut, Ryan took the scenic route, the winding mountain roads and switchbacks that would make everything last longer. Worth it. 

Relaxing his fingers, he inhaled deeply and tore his lips from your mouth to follow the angle of your jaw. Every second with her is worth it. He used his chin to turn your face, teeth grazing lightly over your pulse point as he let his breath back out. You gasped and clutched him even more tightly as his thumb swept over the branch of inked blossoms along your side. Tickles, huh? Raising his eyes he saw the way your lips had stretched into a dizzy smile. Yeah, he let his fingertips trace the light pink petals and drew another gasp from you in the form of a laugh. I know it does.  

“Ryan!” You tipped your head back, pressing it into the pillow as your hair spread out over the crisp white sheets.   

He smiled to himself as you swallowed, the muscles in your throat working beneath his lips. “Hmm?” He pressed them to the birthmark just below your ear, pulling his arm from beneath you. Ryan brought his right hand up to your face, long fingers landing near your eye to trace the ridge of your orbital bone. He blinked, narrowing his eyes to focus on you as he tilted his head, hair falling in front of his face. “Should I stop?” He quirked one eyebrow high as he smirked at you.

Your eyes flew open as your back fell flush to the mattress again. “Don’t you dare stop, Ryan Brenner.” Not plannin’ on it. 

“Don’t worry,” he dropped his lips behind your ear once more before dragging the tip of his nose there. “‘M not stoppin.” 

The hand you had in his hair wound more tightly as you flexed your grip and gave a small tug. Oh, shit that’s... “Good,” you let it relax and slide around to thread through the loose pieces hanging in his eyes so that he could see the fire burning in yours. “‘Cause I’m not either.”

Ryan groaned your name before falling into another kiss, hands hungry again as they set out to travel back down the landscape of your body. The soft skin of your abdomen, the bend in your knee, the swell of your calf, the bony boulder of your ankle bone- his lips and fingers swept over your lower half until he was settled between your legs. In near record time, Ryan leaned over to grab the small foil square you’d unpacked and left on the bedside table, fingers deftly working to open the package and slide the condom onto himself. Reaching for your waistband and the last remaining article of clothing separating you from him. “Why’d you even bother to put these on?” Ryan felt his breaths grow heavy as he looked down at you lying there, your chest rising and falling, your eyes locked on his in a way that he knew they couldn’t be with another pair. 

He could tell that you were having a hard time keeping your voice even as you answered, and he only made it more difficult as he teased your hip bone before starting to pull the blue lace down your legs. “Had to give you something to take off,” you teased right back, mischief gleaming in your eye as he dropped your discarded underwear to the ground. You knew how much he loved revealing every part of your body with his own hands, and he knew that no one knew all the things he liked the way that you did. 

God, there’s no one else. His hands slid up your thighs again, arms winding around you to hold you close as he lined his hips up with yours. No one else for me. Your name left his lips as he slowly pushed into you, and you answered him with a gasp. “Love you,” he whispered as his fingers swam through your hair and the two of you found a slow, deep rhythm together. Never gonna stop lovin’ you.      

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Later that night he cradled you to his chest as you drifted in and out of sleep, one strong arm wrapped solidly around you. His other hand traipsed lightly up and down your arm and over your legs where they were draped across his lap, fingertips barely touching you so he wouldn’t wake you. Looking down, he watched the rise and fall of his own quiet breathing and how your cheek looked pressed over his heart. She fits… she always has. A tired smile tugged at his lips as he thought of all the times he’d held you just like this, even if they hadn’t all been good. 

There was the time down in Florida, when you’d gotten caught in that pop-up thunderstorm that the sunshine state was known for. Droplets of water rolled down your face from your soaked hair. He’d watched as one slid down the side of your nose, dripping down to your mouth where your tongue came out to catch it. Fingertips rising as slowly as his smile spread, he traced another wayward raindrop as it trickled down over your temple. It was late August and the rain was warm, but goosebumps formed on your suntanned skin as his touch trailed down the slope of your neck. His palm curled around the back of it as he pulled you against him. You turned your cheek, ear resting above his thundering heart, and pressed yourself closer, wet shirts clinging to your bodies as you fit together waiting for the storm to pass. Ryan’s lips found the curve of your forehead, leaving a kiss there and tasting the clean summer rain on you. 

Another memory, one from almost two years ago now, popped into his mind as he tightened his hold on you and dropped a kiss to your temple. Arms wrapped solidly around you and chin tucked over your shoulder, he held you firmly as you shook and sobbed. The phone call from your brother had pulled the ground from underneath your feet, your sobs racking your body down to your bones. Ryan’s hands ran the length of your back, slowly caressing the delicate valley of your spine between the summits of your shoulder blades. Your ache seeped into him and he felt it in his chest, deep and hollow as he let it saturate him. It hurt, to accept that pain, that loss. But it was your pain, your loss, and he’d shoulder as much of it as he could. He wouldn’t tell you that it would be okay, because he knew that there were no words that could reverse that finality. It wasn’t okay, it was life. And I’m here for you, for… for life. His palms conformed to your left scapula and the dip where your spine met your hips. For life, for all of it. 

There was the time you’d leapt into his arms after the few weeks he’d taken on the road the first summer you’d been back with your family, his pockets full of the pressed flowers he’d collected along the way; forget me nots and daffodils and dogwood blooms dried and saved between the pages of his notebook so he could show you how often he was reminded of you. Not two seconds after he’d dropped his bag on the front walkway had you sprang from the last step, landing with your legs wrapped around his waist, his large hands gripping your thigh and back firmly until he could adjust his hold. You’d kissed him harder than you ever had, finding new angles, new ways to connect yourself to him, arms circling his neck and shoulders to cling as tightly as you could to him. 

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered your first real winter on the rails, the one that had prompted the decision to cut out travel by train during the cold months. You’d been on your way to a friend’s house in Minnesota- you and Ryan had agreed to house sit for them for a few weeks- when the train had been delayed due to ice buildup on the tracks. You’d had to unexpectedly jump when the steel wheels ground to a halt beneath your feet, and you’d had to wait a whole day in the yard before you could get moving again. It had meant hours longer in the biting cold, and you’d already not been feeling your best for a day or two. By the time you’d gotten safely into the house in St. James, your fever had spiked, you’d coughed your throat raw, and you’d been shaking so badly you could hardly walk on your own without Ryan’s support. He’d turned the heat up, searched the kitchen cabinet for Tylenol, and gotten you into a hot shower before pulling you against his chest in bed, letting you lean into him as your raspy breathing rattled in your lungs. He’d held you all night, hardly getting any sleep as you moaned and coughed and whimpered, silently promising to you and to himself that he’d never put travel before your safety ever again, that the two of you would need to make some changes. 

He remembered the way it felt to hold you as the Atlantic ocean licked at your bodies and his cousins called out to the two of you from the shoreline. How it felt to have you in his arms with his family gathered around at Christmas, or the time you’d fought with your brother and you’d worried it was the last hit your relationship with Eli could take. It wasn’t, and Ryan knew that it wouldn’t have been, but he would have been there for you no matter what. All the ups, all the downs. 

That’s what love was, what it really was, and he’d learned that the summer after things with Chloe had come crashing down around him. He’d been sitting on the front porch with Aunt Holly, staring out into the deep blue night, yellow stars and a big, bright moon glowing down on the broad leaves of the tall oak tree. Ryan didn’t get into many details about Chloe with most of his cousins. Taylor and Patrick, but that was it, and he hadn’t talked about her with any of his other aunts or uncles. But Holly was different. She’d been close with Ryan’s father, the way he was with Taylor, and she could read Ryan the same way she’d been able to read her brother. He couldn’t keep anything from her if he wanted to, but the truth was that there wasn’t anything he’d want to keep from her, because if anyone could make him feel better when he was at his lowest, it was Aunt Holly.   

“See, Ryan, you can be on a peak with just about anyone.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tugging her thin orange sweater more tightly closed as a breeze swept through the yard. “The good times? When the sun’s shinin’ and your cheeks could split from grinin’ and you feel invincible?” He was looking straight ahead, staring at the gnarled old oak tree that stood between the house and the road, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. Ryan turned to face his aunt and saw that he was right, dimples forming in her suntanned cheeks as a youthful gleam shone in her eyes. “Those days’ll feel good no matter who you’re with. And they should.” She sighed. “And I wish those were the only kind of days you’ll ever have.” Aunt Holly’s smile softly relaxed and she tilted her head. “But that’s not how the world works, Ryan, you know that.” 

He did. He was still young, with so much more to learn and see and feel and know. But already, he knew that much. He nodded, looking down at his thumbs as they crossed over one another. 

“You need to find someone you can be in a valley with.” She dropped her arms from her sides and reached over to tilt his chin back up. “Someone who you want in your corner when you’re up against the ropes, when you’re wrong or you’re hurt or scared…find that person, Ryan, because with them?” She placed her palm on his cheek, thumb swiping over the birthmark beneath his eye. “With them, it won’t matter if the sun is shinin’.” 

The small motel room was dark, only the headlights from the highway coming through the thin curtains cutting through the night as he let his fingertips ghost over your skin. But with you the sun’s always shinin’, Junebug. He glanced over at the clock as the numbered paddles flipped to read 12:18. Even in the middle of the night.

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if you would like to be added or removed from this or any of my tag lists, please feel free to let me know! Thank you for reading!! 

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @gollyderek​ @obscurilicious​ @malionnes​ @with1love1anu​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @luminex3​​

#play the hand you’re dealt #card game prompts #ryan brenner #smut #memories & photos #illness or injury #peaks & valleys #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #brenner and the bug #passing through #some lemonade on this hot day #ups and downs #that's life #ryan brenner: musical angel #i love him #the most #so much #it's silly

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Passing Through

Part Five: Thaw

A/N: The storm is still swirling over the mountains and burying you in snow, but things start to warm up despite the chill in the air. 

Word Count: 5,034

The sound of your phone buzzing and the sudden flash of bluish light against the empty white walls of your bedroom jolted you awake, your eyes flying open as you took a quick breath in through your nose. Hmm? I didn’t set an alarm, what’s-  Your hand reached blindly for your phone, fingers feeling around in the dark until they caught the charger cable between them. Pulling it up off of the floor by the cord and then unplugging it, you checked to see what had woken you up. Before you could enter your password to swipe open the screen, you heard another sound that your still sleeping brain didn’t readily recognize as the opening of cabinets and clinking of glassware. Is that? But your question was answered by the hissing and sputtering of your ancient coffee pot and the nutty aroma as the brew started to drip. Oh. You sat up in bed, pulling your blanket up around your waist as you did. Ryan.

 You blinked a few more times and took another breath. You’d been dreaming, or at least you thought you had been, but as soon as you opened your eyes you lost every detail. There was music. I know that, and...light? It felt… You heard Ryan shuffling around in your cupboards as you tried to piece your fleeting dreams back together, but instead the events from the previous day and night came back to you with vivid clarity. Despite the drafty sliding door that lead out onto the patio and the faulty heat that was less predictable than the weather, the air temperature was warm. He must have kept the fire going all night. You dragged a hand through your hair, collecting the loose strands around your face and combing them back. I should get up...I need to… Though you hadn’t been nervous or hesitant around him at any point since your chance encounter in the coffee shop, you suddenly felt a flutter in your stomach at the thought of leaving your bedroom and seeing him, fresh from slumber and standing in your kitchen. You tried to chase the thought from your mind before it fully formed, but whereas your dreams didn’t want to be caught, it seemed this thought wouldn’t be deterred; what if I like it too much, him being here?  

 Your phone buzzed again in your palm, pulling your attention back to the present. Stop. You shook your head, clearing it of what ifs as best as you could, and focused on the text messages that had just come through. One was from Greg, your boss, and the other from Missy, both informing you that due to the weather, Jake’s was going to remain closed for the day, and that depending on how long the storm stuck around, they could potentially be closed the following day as well. Nothing like a snow storm to put a damper on your rent money. But as much as you depended on every shift you worked, you found yourself glad to have another day with Ryan. If he stays. You tried not to get too far ahead of yourself, tried not to assume that he’d want to spend another entire day with you, sitting on your floor in front of your fireplace and sharing the quickly diminishing contents of your fridge and pantry. You glanced out between the tilted slats in the blinds to see that big cotton ball flakes were still silently and steadily coming down. Though I guess he’s stuck here for now either way. From what you could see, it looked like around two feet had fallen, everything coated in a thick casing of snow. 

 You quickly responded to Greg and Missy, telling them to stay safe and to keep you posted about tomorrow. Dropping your phone onto the bed next to you with a soft thud, you swung your legs to the side to stand when another sound hit your ear and froze you in your tracks. It was the sound of his voice, and though you couldn’t hear every word and weren’t familiar with the song, you were captivated. You took a few steps closer to your door, hoping that you’d be able to hear him more clearly. You had, but you realized that he was only singing a few words at a time, then intermittently humming, and you wondered if it was a new song that he was working on, or an old song that he was trying to recall. You wondered if it had meaning, or if it simply made him happy, or if it was just what came to mind for no reason other than to fill the silence.

 “Halfway up ...rolling…” Straining your ears and holding your breath, you caught a few clear lyrics, incoherent hums filling in the gaps between them. You smiled to yourself as he reworked the line, adding to it. “Got halfway up that rolling hill…”  There you go. Something in the way that he sang, a sort of surprised satisfaction in his tone, made you believe that it was a new project, something he was still working on. You always admired songwriters. It was one thing to play music written by or for someone else; not that there weren’t innumerable ways to put your own distinct mark on a song, because there were. Every musician brought something new to every piece of music that they played, you knew that. But it was another thing entirely to conjure every bit of the song into being, to pull the melody from the air and the lyrics from your heart. He continued to try the line in different pitches, changing the cadence and timing. Wonder if I’ll get to hear it someday. You tried not to want it as much as you did, but just those few lyrics, just the hint of a rhythm, made you crave more of the song. Don’t, you warned yourself for what felt like the hundredth time since bringing him into your home.   

 Sighing, you pulled the oversized sweater that you wore more tightly around yourself, shrugging deeper into it as you pulled yourself away from his song, moving over to the mirror that hung on your closet door. Combing your fingers loosely through your hair, you twisted it into a rope, circling it up on itself and tying it off in a knot. A few strands inevitably fell free, and you tucked them behind your ears. Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, you gave yourself a once over; thick gray socks pulled up over black leggings, burnt orange cable knit sweater that was older than you were layered on top of a plain white long sleeved tee. You weren’t dressed to impress, but you were warm and as put together as you were going to be, and you couldn’t hide out in your room any longer. Leaving your phone behind, you took a breath and headed out into the hallway. 

 The second the door opened everything intensified; the warmth from the still crackling fire spreading over your cheeks, the familiar, cozy smell of your favorite roast drawing your lips into a sleepy grin. But it was his voice that made the biggest impact. Ryan didn’t just sing, you’d learned. He poured himself into every lyric and all the notes between with such passion that it was impossible not to feel it when he made music. If you want to know him, you just have to listen. You could listen all day, feet planted on the beige carpet, arms wrapped around yourself and his magic filling the air. 

 Instead, you took a few more steps and came through the hall to turn towards the kitchen. Sucking in a breath, you felt your eyes widen as you caught sight of him. He was wearing the same sweatpants and tee that you’d seen him in the night before, but now they bore wrinkles from being slept in, creases near the hem and sleeves that told of tosses and turns. His hair had dried overnight, but he hadn’t bothered to comb it or even drag his fingers through it. Yesterday it had been corralled beneath his cap but now, given a few hours of freedom, it curled and waved near his ears, and a stray strand dangled down to curve around his eye. Even though the snow was still falling, fluffy, white clouds clogging the sky, muted sunlight came through your windows to catch the honeyed highlights in his otherwise dark locks. You worked to control the rapid beat that your heart had taken without your notice as he opened a cabinet to search for sugar. 

 He’d been humming under his breath since you’d turned the corner, but a few more lyrics suddenly came to him as his socked feet arched and he rose to his toes to view the contents of the top shelf. “Roots growin’...put down roots, growin’ down through the ground…” Again, there was an experimental excitement in his voice as he played with the new piece. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face if you wanted to. “It’s the next one,” you said, finally revealing your presence. “Middle shelf, silver canister.” He turned, flattening his feet to the linoleum, the daylight shining in his eyes like fireflies in summer. Oh, he’s… He smiled before closing the cabinet to follow your instruction, opening the next one and retrieving the sugar. 

 “Thanks.” You nodded and he placed the sugar next to the coffee pot as it finished it’s brew, the tired appliance exhaling a final hiss before giving one last sputter, the light behind the orange cover coming on to confirm that the process was complete. “Mornin’,” he said then, turning to face you and leaning back against the counter. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to…” he gestured at the coffee that he’d made and shrugged. 

 Mind? You shook your head. He made me coffee and he thought I’d mind? He’s something else. With a smirk, you opened another cabinet and took down two mismatched mugs- one boasting a beach scene, the handle taking the form of a leaping dolphin, chipped purple lettering reading Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, the other depicting an owl, its feathers painted in reds and browns, it’s wise eyes wide and round. “Good morning, Ryan,” you said, and the second the words had left your lips, you felt something change. Oh, no. Those words tasted too good, like the flesh of a forbidden fruit, making juicy promises of sweet tomorrows. You cleared your throat and tried not to let it show on your face as you turned back to him, handing him the empty mugs. “Sleep well? Were you warm enough out here?” 

 You watched his cheek lift slowly into his left eye as his grin spread upwards at your questions. “Yeah,” there was a hint of that excited surprise that you’d heard in his singing as he answered you. Turning to the tired coffee pot, he poured the steaming hot morning elixir, and you thought you caught the same kind of self- admonishment in the slight shake of his head that you’d given yourself. Huh. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, slept real well, nice’n warm.”

 When was the last time he had a warm place to sleep? You couldn’t help but wonder. Days? Weeks? How long has he been on his own? You watched him set the carafe back on top of the hot plate, his shoulders rising and falling before he turned back around. 

 He locked his warm brown eyes with yours as he passed you the owl mug, saying your name- not Junebug, your real name. “Thank you,” he said with more sincerity than you’d ever heard those two words carry. Of course, Ryan, I couldn’t just... His eyes shifted for a second to the window across the space, at the storm that had swept in to derail his plans. “F’you hadn’t offered me a place to stay I don’t know where I’d…” He shook his head and you tried to shake the idea of him freezing under some overpass downtown from your mind. “Storm came outta nowhere’n I don’t know anyone out here ‘cept Cowboy’s brother’n…” He trailed off, eyes flicking downwards again before coming back up and bringing a small smile with them. “Just, thanks.” 

 You clasped your hands around your mug, palms absorbing the warmth from the porcelain. “Ryan, it’s…” You sighed and smiled, and you were relieved to see that he followed your lead. “You’re welcome.” You are. You tore your focus away from his gaze, attention landing on the sugar you’d helped him locate. You pointed your chin towards the canister and he followed with his eyes. “Need a spoon?” Pulling open the silverware drawer, you grabbed a utensil for him, holding it out between you. 

 “Oh, yeah, thanks,” he reached forward to take it from you, his calloused fingertips brushing yours for the most fleeting of seconds, but igniting a spark the way a match does when it strikes. He licked his lips and blinked at you as he leaned back against the counter. Did...no, you assured yourself that he didn’t feel it too. He sweetened his coffee, giving it a stir. “Myrtle Beach, huh?” He changed the topic to the souvenir that held his caffeine. “‘Been there a few times.” 

 Of course you have. You’d been there every summer from the time you were born until you moved out on your own, the family vacation spot holding a place close to home in your heart. You imagined him there on the smooth white sand, feet and chest bare as the sun tanned his skin. You could see him sitting with his guitar outside the fudge shop you used to visit annually, contributing to the bluesy songs that the employees there would sing as they poured the thick, gooey chocolate and coated pralines in sugar and spice. It was easy, you realized, to imagine him in your favorite places. It doesn’t matter, don’t think about that. “Yeah?” you asked as you brought your mug to your lips to take a sip. 

 “Mhmm,” he tapped his spoon twice against the rim of the mug before tossing it into the sink where it clanged noisily against the stainless steel. Did he do the dishes? A glance at the full dishrack on the counter answered your question for you. “I stop there sometimes when I’m headin’ back to visit family.” So he’s from the East Coast, too. “Played with some friends at the pier and the boardwalk a few summers ago.” He brought the colorful mug to his lips and gave a gentle blow to cool the liquid inside, ripples forming on the dark surface before he took a sip that left the bristly hair over his upper lip damp. His tongue came out to quickly collect the droplets stuck in his beard and mustache. “Thinkin’ ‘bout headin’ back that way soon. Next summer if not this one.”

 Without meaning to you saw yourself laughing and strolling the boards with him as the foamy sea swept along the shore, the bright orange sun dipping behind the horizon and the humming of insect wings filling the warm air. You imagined playing music with him, maybe with his friends- the ones he’d told you about last night- under the wooden gazebo where you’d stood to watch local musicians with Eli and your mom on your way back to the hotel after a long, sunny day on the sand. Too easy. But before you could change the subject, he was asking you how long it had been since you’d been there. How old is that mug? “Um…” you stalled, taking another drink and heading out of the kitchen, suddenly unable to share the small space with Ryan and your wishful thinking. He followed, bringing his coffee with him. Shrugging, you walked over to the living room, where he’d folded the blankets and sheets you’d given him, piling them neatly atop the still inflated mattress. “Maybe eight years or so?” Longer. You moved the mattress with your foot until it bumped up against the wall opposite the fireplace, then sunk down onto it. Big mistake. You were hit instantly with his scent as you sat where he slept; bar soap and tobacco and that indescribable smell that cold, crisp air leaves on your clothes and in your hair after you’ve been outside all day. Though you knew you shouldn’t, you took a slow breath in through your nose and imagined waking up wrapped in that scent morning after morning. 

 It was a losing battle with him right there, long legs bending so he could take a seat next to you, the mattress dipping with his weight to make the whole thing feel even more familiar than it should. “Think you’ll ever go back?” You watched his eyes travel to the flames in the fireplace, making sure that they didn’t need attention before settling back on your face, waiting for your answer. 

 Nodding, you stared straight ahead at the glow of the embers beneath the grate. “I hope so.” You thought about revisiting your home away from home with your brother often, wanted more than anything to revisit those memories and make new ones, the two of you laughing and enjoying the slow, simple happiness that you’d found in that place over the years. I’ve got bridges to mend before that can happen though. One step at a time. 

 Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Ryan smiled over the top of his coffee, the steam swirling in front of his eyes, making them even warmer than the fire that you sat before. “You will.” He said it so matter of factly that even though you couldn’t say when, you believed that you would. “Someday.” Someday. You heard the same hopeful quality that was in his tone the day before, when he talked about seeing his friends as soon as the snow let up. “That’s what’s great about havin’ favorite places.” You turned and his smile inched higher up into his cheeks. “You can always go back to ‘em. Whenever you’re ready.” 

 Am I ready? You blinked at him and felt your own lips twitch upwards, unable to avoid the contagious nature of his smile. “Yeah, whenever I’m ready.” But when will that be? Every time you thought about spreading your wings and jumping, you shriveled back inside of them and crawled away from the ledge. It wasn’t the fall that worried you, but the landing. You’d already crashed and burned once before. You weren’t sure you’d survive it again. Not alone, anyway.

 He cleared his throat and set his mug down by his feet, lacing the fingers of his left hand with those of his right the moment they were free. Binging his elbows up until his tattooed digits pressed against their opposite knuckles letting out a series of little pops, Ryan turned his head towards the rectangular window that took up most of your empty wall. “I’m guessin’ you’re not goin’ to work today,” he wagered, taking in the snowfall. 

 You were glad for the change in subject, glad that he seemed to sense it too. “Nope,” you sighed, leaning back against the wall, tilting your head so you could watch the snow as well. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” 

 He chuckled, looking down through his long lashes as the laugh rumbled up from his chest, and you tried not to think about what it would feel like to press your hand there, to feel that happiness bubble up to the surface beneath his warm skin. Get up. Get up, get up, get up. You stood as he shook his head, that one unruly piece of hair falling rebelliously back down over his brow. “Stuck,” he blew air through his nose, squinting his eyes. “I’m not stuck, I’m,” You walked over to the window, two fingers moving the blinds aside. “I’m lucky.”  

 You closed your eyes and swallowed as you let go of the curved plastic blinds, letting them clack together, the draft that slipped in around the edges of the window chilling your fingertips. He just means that he’s lucky that he’s not outside, not that- 

 “I’m lucky. Not just ‘cause you gave me a place to stay. I’m...I feel lucky I met you, you know?” 

 Yeah, I know. You felt the same way about meeting him. Even if you never got to find out what waking up to him would be like, or how a laugh feels as it leaves his lungs, you had been lucky enough to find each other in the world on a day that you both needed it; lucky enough to find a friend in the storm. “Ryan,” you turned back to him, aware that there was emotion in your eyes that you couldn’t control. He was already looking at you, ready to receive your eyes as they fell to his. “Yeah, I-” 

 But you were cut short by the tingling ring of his phone from somewhere in his pocket. “Sorry.” He apologized with a sympathetic look as he reached for the phone, leaning to one side to make accessing his pocket easier as he dug the small plastic device out and glanced at the number. “Might be Virgina, maybe she’s callin’ from the motel or somethin’... I gotta…” 

 You shook your head dismissing his concerns. We were headed toward dangerous territory anyway. “No, that’s…” you gestured towards the phone as he smiled gratefully. “Go ahead.” You walked back towards the kitchen to give him privacy, not wanting him to feel the need to go outside to take the call. 

 “Hey, Virginia?” He answered, hopeful excitement in his question. “That you?” I hope he gets to see them today. You smiled as you crossed the vacant dining room, feet finding the tiled floor of the tiny kitchen. I should see about breakfast, maybe I have some…

 You didn’t mean to listen, but you couldn’t help but hear. His tone took a hardened edgen as he stood abruptly from the mattress, one hand raking through the ruffled nest of his hair. “Jackie?” You busied yourself with opening the refrigerator and counting your eggs. Who’s that? He’d told you about Cowboy and Virginia, Georgie and Robin and Oz and Louie, but no one named Jackie had come up in the stories that he shared last night. Before you could wonder if there was a woman in Ryan’s life that he’d forgotten to tell you about- no, that doesn’t seem like something he would do, stay in my home without telling me he’s in a relationship- He was speaking again. “Wait. Woah, woah, Jackie, wait.” Oh, that’s not… You realized quickly that it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having. He paced the living room but showed no signs of stepping out to finish the call, so you did your best to focus on putting food together. “Jackie,” you heard him say finally as you cracked eggs in a bowl. “Jackie, why are you callin’ me? It’s not…” He sighed and there was another long pause as he moved towards the window where you’d been just a few moments before. “Thank you,” he said, “but that’s…” Another pause that you tried to fill by taking a frying pan out of your cabinet and perching it atop one of the burners. “Jackie, listen to me please? There’s nothin’ to…No, we aren’t… Jackie? There’s nothin’ left to say, Jackie. I’m not comin’ back. I know that’s why you-” You’d poured the eggs into the hot pan and they hissed as he pulled the phone away from his ear and swore under his breath. “Jackie? I’m hangin’ up now. Please don’t call me again, okay?” He flipped the phone closed with more force than was necessary and tossed it to the mattress, letting out a sigh. Yikes. You heard him rifle through his pack, mumbling to himself as he pulled out a small tobacco tin and a sleeve of rolling papers.  

 You opened the utensil drawer and pulled out a spatula before pushing it back in with your hip. The sound of the rollers caught Ryan’s attention and he turned towards the kitchen as you started moving the quickly cooking eggs in the pan. 

 “I’m sorry, that was” he crossed over to lean on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the space. 

 You shook your head and looked over your shoulder at him. “It’s fine, Ryan, don’t…” You waved one hand nonchalantly, the other still working to scramble breakfast. 

 “That was…” He blew out a breath and took a sip of his coffee, draining his mug and setting it down next to the tin. Guess he’s gonna tell me anyway. You switched off the pan, letting the eggs finish cooking in the residual heat, and balanced the spatula against the handle. He waited until you turned to face him to continue. “Her name is Jackie, and I used to… we were…” he squinted his eyes as he searched for the word. 

 “Together?” You supplied, raising one eyebrow. 

 “No,” he said firmly. “No we weren’t really together she… we met when I was stoppin’ in Utah last year, and she just…” He sighed and pushed his hand over his hair again, seemingly frustrated at his inability to explain what this woman meant to him. “It wasn’t right,” he said finally with a small movement of his head back and forth. “It never was, she just… we met and then she kept… she was tryin’ to make me stay, right from the beginnin’, I see that now. She knew I was just in town a couple’a days, but she was tryin’ to fit me into her life there in Ogden. I was stayin’ with her when I got the news about Cowboy and it just…” He picked up the tin and held it up. “You mind if I roll this, I’ll smoke it outside a’course.” 

 You nodded and gestured that he should go ahead and he thanked you. You didn’t know this woman, but what he’d told you and the way he sounded when he was on the phone with her was enough for you to form an opinion, and it wasn’t a favorable one. She took advantage of him when he was grieving. That’s… 

 “After I left Odgen, I came back, few weeks later, and we… I tried but I just… I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be, you know? It was never gonna work.” You watched him start to work on crafting a cigarette. “She didn’t,” he shook his head, eyes focused on the tobacco leaf and the thin paper he was rolling it in, shifting his fingers to craft a perfect cylinder. “She wasn’t a cheater, she didn’ lie or anythin’ she just,” he pinched the empty bit of paper at the tip and gave it a small shake. “She wanted me to change too much.”

 You frowned, though he didn’t see it. You’d only known him for a day and a half, but you couldn’t imagine him any other way; you couldn’t imagine wanting him to change. But I never thought Kevin would expect me to change, either. They  were a slightly different set of circumstances- you’d been with Kevin for years and had already made enormous lifestyle changes for him when he’d decided that they weren’t enormous enough. From what Ryan had told you of Jackie, she seemed to like the package that he came in but didn’t care for the things that made him Ryan and not somebody else. She wanted to change him from the start. That’s so...selfish. Your frown deepened as you turned back to the stove and removed the pan from the burner, sliding it to another so it could cool. “I’m glad you didn’t,” you faced him again, expecting him to still be busy with the cigarette, but he’d finished with it by the time you turned around. 

 That same look crossed his face that you thought you saw earlier, the look that you felt on your own face as you told yourself not to get too close to something that was only going to be gone soon. “Yeah,” he said, tapping the cigarette twice against the countertop. “Yeah, me too.” He blinked and tilted his chin towards what you’d been cooking. “Did you make breakfast?” You nodded and he grinned, shaking his head and erasing the leftover stale feeling that talking about Jackie had brought about. “I was gonna offer to do that, to thank you for-” Again the ringing of his phone cut the conversation short and he took a breath before going to retrieve it. This time a relieved expression crossed his face as he read the caller ID. “This time it is Ginny,” he said, motioning to the door. “I’m gonna step out an talk to her and then we can,” he pointed to the eggs as he picked up his jacket, sticking the cigarette between his lips. “An I got somethin’ I want you to hear, Junebug, song I woke up with in my head. Want you to give it a listen. That okay?” The phone rang again in his hand as he waited for your response. 

 Your heart beat like the steel drum in Max’s store as he shoved his feet into his boots. “Yeah, Ryan, that’s okay.” 

 He smiled, cigarette still between his lips as he opened the phone and stepped toward the back door. “Ginny?” He pulled the door shut behind him and you stared at it, rooted in place. 

He wants me to listen to the song he’s working on? You cast your eyes around the room, from the dishes he’d done to the coffee he’d made, the fire he’d kept lit and the blankets he’d left his warmth on. It was easier last night to pretend that this wouldn’t be a problem, that you wouldn’t want all of this as much as you did. But his pack, guitar and hat looked good in the corner of the room. Oh, no.  

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@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @lexxierave​ @thesumofmychoices​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @gollyderek​  @breanime​ @obscurilicious​ @malionnes​ 

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed! (and if i added or removed you in error, I apologize!) 

#passing through #PT #passing through part 5 #thaw #ryan brenner #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #ryan brenner fanfic #jackie and ryan #ugh jackie laurel gross #oh no #things are happening

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Series:

Passing Through

Brenner & the Bug 

Unrelated one-shots:

You Again

Sweet Refrain 

#Ryan Brenner Masterlist #Ryan Brenner x You #Ryan Brenner x Reader #Junebug and Ryan #passing through #PT #jackie and ryan fanfiction