#shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

Out here, in the quiet dark, there’s a further intimacy to the way they normally share space. It’s easier to stand too close, to be within reach, and to want to reach out. Ryan doesn’t, but he could. Shane’s elbow is right there.

Shane’s close enough that Ryan would be able feel the heat of him, if he weren’t wrapped up tight in a jacket, gloves and hoodie. Ryan’s own feet are cold in his boots. His breath, he is sure, fogs the air in front of them, but he can’t really tell because it’s so goddamn dark. Above them, the sky is a sheet of stars, silhouetted tree branches reaching bare fingers up and up, towards the heavens. Ryan tilts his head back, to catch a glimpse of the northern star-strewn sky. 

His eyes catch on a point of light moving steadily across his field of vision, and he nudges Shane with an elbow. “A satellite,” he says, reaching up to point towards the object, hurtling at hundreds of miles across the sky overhead. The light grows brighter, and then dims. Ryan’s mouth drops open. 

“That’ll have been the ISS,” Shane says, “it rolls.” He stamps his feet and blows into his cupped hands.

Ryan thinks about that, about the astronauts way up high, looking down at the darkened side of the planet, wondering if they’re sleeping now or watching. He has a foolish urge to wave, even though they certainly can’t see him all the way down here, just like he can only see them all the way up there because of the reflection of the sunlight on solar panels the size of football fields. 

“You cold?” Shane asks, when Ryan stops moving in his contemplation. 

He is, but he’ll keep it to himself. “No,” Ryan says, putting one foot back in front of the other. “It’s not long now, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Pretty sure?” Shane asks. “I’m gonna wake up murdered, aren’t I?” 

“Fairly certain you don’t wake up when you’ve been murdered, Shane,” Ryan retorts, tugging his phone out of his pocket. He’s got the trail in his map app. 

“Oh no? I thought that’s where the ickle ghosties came from, Ry. Are you saying there’s no ghosts?” 

Ryan illuminates his phone’s screen and draws up the map, they’re about a half a mile out from the spot Ryan wants. He doesn’t dignify Shane’s dig with a response. The trees around them start to thin as they walk further down the path. 

When they step out from under the canopy and into the meadow, Ryan takes a deep breath and holds it. Sure, it’s winter, and it’s cold enough that his fingers hurt, but there’s no snow, and above them, there’s the stars. 

The starfield overhead is amazing, out here far enough away from town that the light pollution doesn’t dim them. He feels tiny, insignificant, like a speck of cosmic dust. He also feels like he could just reach out and touch the points of light over his head. They’re a cold light this time of the year, the hazy cloud of the milky way a river across the center of the sky.

Ryan steps further out into the field, wanting to get all the way out from under the trees, and fully exposed to the sky, but Shane hangs back, caught on the edge of the forest shadow. 

“Come on,” Ryan calls, and tugs his backpack off his shoulder to set it near his feet. The thermos stuck into the side pouch sloshes and something tinkles inside the bag. Shane steps out of the shadows, and Ryan busies himself with opening up the bag and digging out the ground sheet and the blanket for on top. By the time he’s unrolling the blanket, Shane’s there to help and they spread it over the crunchy dormant grass together. 

Ryan settles in the centre of the blanket, legs kicked out in front of himself, and leans back on the palms of his hands, tipping his head back. Shane is slow to join him, but soon he’s sat beside Ryan, their matching pair of boots knocking as he stretches his legs out. 

“What’re we doing here?” Shane asks. 

“Shh,” Ryan says, “it’s almost time.”

#shyan #skeptic believer #sequence fairy's fic #shyanfic #i don't remember when i wrote this #but it's been hanging around in my scratch doc for ages #so i suppose you can all have it

[marthammasters]

do a shyan fanfic review

…. i am NOT doing shyan fanfic review REVIEW YOUR OWN DAMN SHYAN RPFFIC :?;$,&?$

#1 like and I’ll read us shyanfic next call #UFUGKTORKTKT #brachiocephalics #answer #LEEDRIS DMS #FML #💌💌💌

[izzyspussy]

So anyway, since Not Just Us (the "demon"/superhero thing) is inspired by bfu-era shyanfic, here's how an Unsolved episode with Shane as a "demon" in the NJU universe would go lol.

Ryan: How can you not believe in demons when you're- Uh.

Shane: [not offended because he knows where Ryan's heart is, but you can tell he would be upset if someone else had said it] I'm?

Ryan: [stuttering] I mean, obviously, not, like. The, that kind, that's. Offensive. But I mean, like, if there's one kind, like a regular nice kind like you-

Shane: [smugly amused] You've never called me nice before in your life.

Ryan: -then it stands to reason there would be an evil version, too.

Shane: No it doesn't. Because first of all, that's not how the world works. Ghosts are not real, coincidences are. And secondly, I'm just- I mean, maybe I'm not human, as in the species homo sapiens - which is not even true going by DNA by the way - but I'm still a normal living organism. You know, I was born and I'll die and in between I still have to eat and sleep and piss and shit and get my yearly flu shot. [Ryan laughing] I'm not some kind of- some kind of spiritual dirty cop, or-

Ryan: "Spiritual dirty cop"?!

Shane: Yeah, I mean, that's what- What, they entrap you into [air quotes] "sin" so that their boss- Well, their bosses; the Executioner doesn't have a job without the Judge-

Ryan: Oh my god. We can't air any of this.

#jack facts #producers hate them! these internet personalities can't go 28 minutes without saying something they could get sued for! #writing process #not just us #milo nju #the other guy still doesn't have a name... #bfu #shyan #fantastical racism/ #should i tag for christophobia LMFAO #anyway #my fic #hc #rpf

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

Have you ever found yourself searching desperately for that fic you read one night and can no longer find? The one that had that thing? And maybe that other trope? Maybe there was also that bit of canon detail that really made it sing? And you’re just not sure where it got to? 

The @skepticbeliever-bookclub​ can help. 

We, as a small legion of avid readers of fanfic of all shapes and sizes, are very eager to help you find your lost fic. 

Please send us an ask with whatever details you can remember and we’ll do our best to find it for you. We aim to have an answer back to you within 24 hours!

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyanfic #buzzfeed unclean #sbbookclub

[fratboyryan-blog]

Pairing: Shyan Rating: Gen Tags: Christmas fluff, Ski Instructor AU, Actor AU, Ski Content Galore!

Merry Christmas to my secret santa, @ghoulieboys! I’m posting this in UK time since we’re both in the UK, and I hope you enjoy it! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you like my first honest crack at tooth-rotting fluff. I hope I infused enough Mitski in there for you :-) Have a great day, and thanks to @shyanwritingevents for hosting this great event!

#skeptic believer #shyansecretsanta2k18 #shyanwritingevents #shyanlibrary #shyanfic #my fic

[madejsupremacist]

Fxxk It

Shane rolls over to face Ryan, a pillow away from him, who somehow, amazingly sleeps through all the creaks and white noise of nature. Eyes blinking warily, stupor ever present, this tall guy is hyper aware of the camera rolling just above them, but somehow disregards it. With an internal shrug and a drive of courage, he discards the pillow in between, throwing it mindlessly and scoots closer. Shane finally feels heat pressed up against his chest, and all he was missing was long arms slowly now making its way to Ryan’s waist. The latter groans softly, glances over his shoulder and groans in indignation. “Shane...” Ryan mutters, voice rough and being the stubborn little (humongous) shit Shane is, tightens his embrace instead and buries his nose on Ryan’s locks. The drowsiness earlier knocking Shane out immediately arrived and before his consciousness slips, Ryan turns over, mumbling a fuck you, and snakes an arm around the taller as well.   A smile slips in before, needless to say, they fell asleep, limbs a tangled mess and dreams of utopia.

#shyan #shyanfic #shyan fic #shane madej #ryan bergara #cuddling

[sequencefairy]

“His name’s Bergara,” Perugini offers, while Shane flips the file open over his lap.

The first page is a copy of a criminal record, Bergara’s mugshot pinned to the upper left corner of the page. Shane gets an impression of dark eyes, dark brows, and a strong chin. He moves down the page to look at the rest. There’s a string of petty thefts, a grand theft auto, and an assault charge that Shane makes a note to look up later. His eyes stray back up to the mugshot before he turns the page. 

Bergara — Ryan — Shane notes, is only just younger than him. He looks dangerous, his mouth curled in insolence even in the mugshot. Shane flips the page over. 

“What’s the play?” Shane asks, closing the folder. He looks up at Perugini, watching the older man’s face. 

“Get to know him,” Perugini answers, gold tooth showing in his smile. “Make friends, treat him nice, show him how we could help him get his little business off the ground.” 

“And if he doesn’t want to play?” Shane asks, already knowing the answer. Perugini’s smile turns sharp. Shane is reminded of a shark he saw in an aquarium once when he was little. 

“Tie up that loose end, Madej. I hear you’re good at that.”

Read it on AO3

Playlist // Cover by @_lazulila 

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #sequence fairy's fic #it's finally DONE #please let me know if you read it! #god i will never get over Alex's cover #i'm so fucking pleased #commission her to draw you things! #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

shyan + the moon

how dare you ask for something that is so me?

---

Ryan can feel it already, the shifting starting under his skin. The calendar says the full moon will rise on Friday, but the pull of it has already begun, hooking like pins behind Ryan’s navel and dragging his eyes up off his computer monitor and towards the big windows to look at the sky. Ryan forces himself back to looking at the screen in front of him and resettles in his chair. The chair creaks, and Shane looks up. Ryan ducks his head to avoid Shane’s shrewd gaze. 

Shane knows. He has since that long haul trip to Ohio early on the BFU days. Ryan had always prided himself on being so very careful, so very cautious, so very aware of making sure not to schedule filming trips during the weekend when the moon would rise, full and fat, and drive him into the nearest woods and turn him into a rippling mass of fur and teeth and claws. Except, that filming trip had been rescheduled three times already by the time they were finally able to go, and there’d been nothing Ryan could do. It’s awfully hard to keep something like not exactly being entirely human under wraps living in each other’s pockets like they do on the road. 

So. Shane knows. He’s never really asked any questions, and seems content to let Ryan never have any kind of conversation about it. Ryan has noticed, however, that Shane has always been very good about not scheduling anything the weekend Ryan isn’t available. 

Ryan sighs, and tries to rein his focus back towards the video he’s editing. It works, more or less. 

Later, Shane corners him near the fridge along the back wall of the office.

“You’re fidgety,” Shane observes, not looking up from the coffee he’s doctoring to his particularly preferred shade of caramel.

Ryan drops the spoon he’s holding and it clatters to the floor. Shane still doesn’t look at him, but Ryan can feel the flush crawling up the back of his neck as he bends down to retrieve the spoon, gripping it tightly in his fist. He watches Shane look up at the calendar tacked onto the whiteboard over the sink, and nod to himself. 

“It’s this weekend, isn’t it?” 

“What’s this weekend?” Brittney asks, pushing between them to get at the basket of snacks set next to the sink. 

“Nothing,” Ryan says, taking an involuntary step back. This close to the moon, his senses are starting to heighten and the sugar-sweet scent of Brittney’s shampoo lingers on the back of his tongue. It makes him want to gag. Shane watches him over Brittney’s oblivious head, a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Do we have any more of those shrimp crackers?” she asks. 

“Dunno,” Shane says, his weighted gaze sliding off Ryan’s face and attention turning towards Brittney. It gives Ryan the out he needs and he takes it. 

The office is suddenly smothering. 

Ryan stalks back to his desk, drops the spoon onto his mousepad and grabs his coat off the back of his chair. He shoves his hands through the sleeves and then he’s gone, before anyone can say anything. 

Outside is better. Outside is fresh air and not a bombardment of smells that normally don’t bother him, except for when the moon gets close. Ryan takes a deep breath, and forces himself to relax into the exhale. He walks around the building towards the loading docks at the back and leans against a stack of pallets, tilting his head back to let the sunshine touch his face. 

Shane finds him there. 

“You okay?” Shane asks, approaching carefully, the way he might if Ryan was already sporting claws and teeth and not still passably human. 

“Just needed some air,” Ryan answers, leaning more fully against the stack of pallets. 

“Sure,” Shane says, in that way that means he’s agreeing with Ryan because he doesn’t want to argue with him. It makes Ryan bristle a little, to be dismissed, but also they already don’t talk about this so it’s entirely irrational. “You need to take the rest of the week off?” Shane asks. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. 

“No,” Ryan replies, shortly. He’s fine. He can handle it. It’s not like he hasn’t been handling it for years already. 

Shane lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, man,” he says, “just checking. You seem, I dunno, extra--” he cuts himself off with a twist of his mouth. 

“Extra, what?” 

“Something’s different this month, is all,” Shane says, after a moment. “Look, I’m not an expert, obviously, but like, you’re--there’s something more happening here.”

“It’s nothing, Shane,” Ryan says, suddenly exhausted and wishing they could go back to never talking about this like they haven’t ever before.

Shane hums, unconvinced. Before Ryan can blink, Shane’s stepped forward and into his space. Ryan’s reaction is immediate and instinctive. His hands come up and push, palms flat against Shane’s chest. 

“Don’t--don’t crowd me,” Ryan complains, when Shane doesn’t step back. This close, he has to crane his head back to look up into Shane’s face. There’s a flush riding high on Shane’s cheekbones and Ryan doesn’t understand why. 

Shane’s own hands wrap around Ryan’s wrists, fingers encircling them easily. Ryan sucks in a breath, getting a lungful of all the smells that Shane carries with him. The sharp clean scent of his deodorant, the musk of all the shadowed places on his body that never see the sun, the bitter caramel scent of the coffee he’d been drinking, the sticky-sweet funk of pot that barely clings to this coat. Ryan’s eyes slide shut, unbidden. 

Anyone else this close would send Ryan’s other senses into overdrive, but Shane’s still holding his wrists, and Ryan can feel the thump of Shane’s heart under his palms. It’s calming in a way that it shouldn’t be. Ryan wants to lean into Shane, and the thought brings him up short and makes him open his eyes. 

When he does, Ryan finds that Shane’s crowded in closer, that now he’s lose enough that when Shane blinks, Ryan can see the fall of every eyelash against the barely there freckles on Shane’s cheeks. He can see the silver coming in through the brown of Shane’s beard. 

“Ryan,” Shane says, something strained in his voice. 

“You--what’re you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” Shane says, and he looks as confused as he sounds. “I can’t--” Shane cuts himself off with a frustrated noise.

“I think--” Ryan moves to step back, but finds he has no where to go and that Shane’s hands tighten around his wrists instead of letting go. He pulls, flexing his fingers against Shane’s chest. “Hey! Let me go, asshole.” 

“No,” Shane says.  

“Shane,” Ryan says, very carefully, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

Shane steps closer, and Ryan finds himself bending his elbows to let him. Ryan’s heart thuds against his ribs, the pallets dig into the small of his back. 

“I can’t,” Shane says, maybe to himself, but he’s close enough now that Ryan can feel the breath of his voice. “Ry--” he says, eyes flicking down to Ryan’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. “I don’t understand what’s--I can’t--”

“Are you--what’s going on? Talk to me,” Ryan says, almost frantic. Shane’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and Ryan’s gaze snags there, heat blooming through his veins. His fingers tingle where they’re still pressed into the fabric of Shane’s shirt. Shane blinks. Ryan’s stomach turns over.     

“You just--Ryan, Christ,” Shane swears. 

“You too,” Ryan says, before he can stop himself. The heat in his blood has a purpose now, and it’s all running south. 

“Stop me,” Shane pleads. The tone of his voice makes Ryan’s head swim. He could no sooner stop Shane than he could stop the full moon transformation and lord knows, Ryan’s tried to stave that off at least a hundred times. It feels like Shane can’t stop himself either, like they’re locked into the riptide of whatever this is together, and Ryan stops fighting it the moment Shane’s mouth finds his. 

The relief of this surrender is sweeter even than giving in to the transformation after trying to hold it off, and Shane tastes like coming home.

Ryan’s hands slide from Shane’s chest up around his neck, pulling him in. Ryan tangles his fingers in Shane’s hair, and Shane’s hands find Ryan’s waist under his unzipped coat, fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt. 

When they break apart, Shane doesn’t lift his head immediately, just presses his forehead to Ryan’s. “What’s--is this some wolf thing? What’re you doing to me?” 

Ryan swallows. He shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t think so?” He looks at Shane’s mouth again, and then watches Shane’s throat move as he swallows. “God,” he says, “you have to kiss me again.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Ryan says, and pushes up on his toes to make sure that Shane does. 

.<>.

“Oh,” Beth says, when Ryan asks her about it at the community meeting a week later. Her blonde hair is pulled back off her face in a high ponytail, and her tawny eyes sparkle. “Yeah,” she says, curling her hands around the styrofoam cup of coffee on the table in front of her. “That happens.” 

“What happens?” Ryan asks, leaning back in his chair. He reaches up to tug at the bandana he borrowed from Shane’s collection that morning. He’s not used to having his neck covered and the sensation of the fabric against the still purpling bruise Shane left and keeps going back to worrying every time he gets anywhere near Ryan’s neck, makes Ryan want to squirm in his chair. 

Beth lifts her cup to her mouth to hide the smile. “Pheromones,” she says. 

“Pheromones?” 

“Yeah, you know, like, they tell people like us that we’re aroused,” she answers. 

“Shane’s not--” Ryan says, and then clamps his mouth shut. He’s not, right? He couldn’t be. Ryan would have noticed. He’s sure he would have noticed. Absolutely sure. There’s no way. And anyway, it’s not like--well, he and Shane did spend the entire weekend attached to each other at the mouth and several other places besides, so he guesses he can’t say anything about how Shane’s not the other thing that Beth’s implying. 

“Not everyone’s tied to the moon, like you, Ryan,” Beth says, knowing. “You should bring him next week.”

“No. Nope. Not happening.” 

Beth shrugs, and her ponytail slides over her shoulder. “Your call,” she says, “we’d love to meet him though.” 

#well this got entirely out of hand #sequence fairy's fic #shyan #skeptic believer #anyway #i hope you like this jack #calico-fiction #jess answers #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

13, 17, or 34, shyan

34.  “It’s not like I missed you or anything.”

“It’s not like I missed you or anything,” Ryan says, turning to pull a mug down from Shane’s cupboard. He grabs one for Shane, too. 

“Sure,” Shane agrees, agreeably. Ryan rolls his eyes. 

Ryan makes them both a cup of tea, shuffling through Shane’s cupboards ‘til he finds the box of decaf Earl Grey and then rummaging in Shane’s fridge for a lemon. 

“Just make yourself at home, eh?” Shane asks, from where he’d sunk onto his couch, and gotten as far as pulling off his shoes before deciding that a full day of airports and airplanes gave him the leeway to be less than a gracious host. 

Ryan pauses, box of tea in one hand, the lemon abandoned on the kitchen bench in front of him. He sets the box down, but doesn’t let go right away and there’s no quip coming, Shane can see that in the way Ryan’s shoulders have gone up around his ears. 

Shane was only gone for two weeks, how could he have misjudged the playful banter this badly? He must be really slipping. 

“Ry? I was just kidding. Mi casa es su casa, and whatever. You know that.” 

Ryan blinks. 

“Buddy?” Shane’s halfway up off the couch. 

“Shit,” Ryan says, and he turns away from Shane’s gaze, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“Y’alright?” Shane pads into the kitchen, and reaches for the lemon, rolling it towards himself and then sending it back to the other side of the bench. It fetches up against the box of tea, having rolled off in one direction instead of straight back. 

Ryan sniffs, but when he turns around his eyes are clear. He plucks the box from the counter and flips it open, pulling out two tea bags and setting them on the counter next to the kettle and mugs. He shrugs when Shane catches his eye.

Shane nods. 

He’s been gone for two weeks, and sure they texted in that time and sure it’s not like they haven’t been out of each other’s sight for longer than that before, but it’s just, well, this is the first time since--since everything, and maybe Shane missed work, missed video chats, missed Ryan, more than he realized would. It was a good visit, and Shane’s happy he went and he’s happy he’s come home. 

Home. Where Ryan is, standing on the other side of Shane’s kitchen bench, looking at Shane the way he sometimes looks at the front entrances of haunted locations. Like Shane’s something scary to be conquered, and like Ryan’s not sure if he can do it alone, but he’ll walk out on the limb anyway.

“I did, you know,” he offers, because most of the time Ryan is the brave one and Shane’s just along for the ride, but he figures he can take his turn now. 

“Did what?” 

Shane takes a deep breath and looks down at the benchtop, fingers curled on the scarred surface. He looks back up at Ryan, who is looking back at him, face breaking into a smile before Shane even gets the words out. “Miss you.” 

“Me too, buddy, me too.”  

#shyan #skeptic believer #sequence fairy's fic #anonymouse #jess answers #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

9 or 16, shyan?

9.  Don’t call me that!”

Shane is a man of nicknames. He shows affection by disassembling your given name into something nigh incomprehensible and the more convoluted it is, the more, it seems, that you mean to him. 

Ryan’s not against nicknames, per se. He’s just, well, if Shane could not pick this one in particular. 

“You know, the chat’s really into beavers lately,” Shane says, off hand, during an all hands meeting. “They changed the chat name and everything.” 

Nicole’s eyebrows go up, but she doesn’t acknowledge the remark in any other way and instead directs the conversation back towards sorting out the editing schedule for the season of Are You Scared? they’re working on nailing down time for. 

That’s the first time the beavers come up, but it’s not the last. 

“Beaveryan!” Shane says, out of nowhere on a Friday afternoon when they’re both in the office again, at the same time. No one else is in, just the two of them, picking at projects and apparently, coming up with new nicknames?

“No,” Ryan says. 

“Ryan Beavergara?” 

Ryan shakes his head. He can see Shane out of the corner of his eye on the couch at the other end of the office. He has sheets of paper set out all around him; Ryan thinks he’s story boarding? He’s not sure. He didn’t really listen to what Shane was saying he was going to work on when he breezed in because it’s maybe not the first time they’ve been back in close quarters lately but it sure is still a surprise how tall Shane is still and how much Ryan has to crane his neck to look up at him, and how distracting the giddy little thrill in Ryan’s gut is. 

He’d thought he was done with this. 

“I’m running out of options here,” Shane says, spreading out his hands. 

Ryan turns in his seat so he can see Shane fully. “I seem to recall that I have a perfectly good name already?” 

“Oh!” Shane snaps his fingers and points. He grins. “Yeah, short stuff, you do.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ryan complains, without heat.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” 

The question is innocent. It’s just a cast line to see if Ryan’s gonna yes and this like he yes ands everything Shane does, the same way Shane does for him, but doesn’t it just make Ryan’s heart do a funny little flip in his chest. Shane’s waiting, one eyebrow going up and up and up. 

“Uh,” Ryan says, intelligently. He casts about and comes up empty. “You could just call me Ryan like everyone else does,” he says, eventually. 

Shane’s smile goes soft around the edges, and Ryan’s heart does too. Fucking thing, he’s probably going to die of a coronary at this rate. 

“Sure, Ryan, I can do that.”

#shyan #skeptic believer #sequence fairy's fic #anonymouse #jess answers #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

So, Miami is very close. We crossed 30k this weekend and all that’s left is the ending sexytimes and the rest of the wrap up. As I’ve been on this journey, several scenes that I love that have ended up on the cutting room floor through the various drafts. 

This is one of them. 

The crack of a gunshot rips through the air, and Shane ducks instinctively, dropping to his knees behind the low concrete wall that borders the parking lot. The bullet hits the sidewalk, sending up a spray of dust and cement shards. Shane throws up a hand to shield his eyes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ryan is saying, where he’s got his back pressed up against the wall, Beretta in his hand. The sun catches on the face of Ryan’s watch, dazzling Shane for a moment. It’s the clarity Shane needs, in this asshole of a situation, everything gone absolutely tits up. Ryan should have been on a fucking plane this morning, should have been up in the air and away from this, and Shane should have solved this fucking problem with the Colombians last week, instead of letting Ryan drag him deeper into the party, one warm hand wrapped around Shane’s hip like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Problem is, Shane knows there’s no way out now. Perugini’s dead or well on his way, and Shane’s used up the last of his goodwill with the Outfit back home by spending more time in Ryan’s bed than getting Ryan to sell exclusively to their cadre of dealers. This is one of those no-win scenarios, Shane thinks, his very own Catch-22. Another gunshot whines over their heads, embedding itself in a planter behind them. 

“Get out of here,” Shane says. He flexes his hand around the grip of his own gun, trusting the Glock to at least see Ryan through an escape. 

“I’m not leaving without you,” Ryan says, out of the side of his mouth. Shane turns to look at him. Ryan’s jaw is set, eyes hard. “You’re stuck with me, pal, don’t get any stupid ideas in that pretty head of yours.” 

“Ryan,” Shane says, and hates the way he can hear the pleading in his own voice. “Please, you gotta get out of here. I can cover you long enough for you to get to the car. Get in, put it in drive, and don’t fucking look back.”  

Ryan’s frown deepens. “You think I’m just gonna leave you here to die? You’re a fucking idiot, Shane.”

Sirens wail in the distance. 

Shane leans in, and Ryan meets him in the middle. Ryan’s mouth is the same as always, pliant and eager and Shane dives right in, turning their last kiss downright filthy in the parking lot of a seedy by-the-hour motel far enough out from downtown that no one asks too many questions. Ryan moans, and Shane wishes he’d thought to do this earlier, when neither of them were well on their way to dead. The thought brings him up short, and Shane breaks the kiss, leaning back to look at Ryan. 

Freshly kissed is the best look on Ryan, Shane decides. Ryan always looks good, but Shane likes him best when he’s just a little rumpled, eyes gone a bit hazy. “You’re gorgeous,” Shane says, unable to help himself. “I think I might be a little in love with you.” 

“You too, big guy,” Ryan says, a little dazed. 

“Now go,” Shane says, and shoves him, sending Ryan sprawling. In the same movement, Shane stands, picks his target, and fires.

#shyan #skeptic believer #sequence fairy's fic #am writing #this was the original ending #the story has changed enough now that it no longer fits #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

It’s raining in LA and Ryan’s avoiding puddles as he walks, with purpose and direction, head up, shoulders back, towards the doors to the complex of start up suites Breather rents out. 

The Watcher office is on the second floor, around the back side of the building, so no one can see him coming. 

Figures that it would rain today, of all days, so when Ryan clears door and swipes himself in through the tech incubator on the ground floor, so he can take a detour through their kitchen for snacks, he’s shaking rain water out of his hair. 

The tech incubator always has the best snacks, and Ryan knows Shane likes the little granola bite things, even though Ryan is convinced they taste of cardboard pretending to be peanut butter. He pops into the kitchen, nods a greeting at a green haired individual sitting on the counter, phone in their hands and a smoothie at their hip. Ryan is ignored, and no one questions him about his retrieval of a plate of the granola things and a couple of actual cookies for the people on their team who do not eat like bunny rabbits with no taste buds. 

He’s only a little damp when he gets up the stairs. He takes them two at a time, messenger bag banging against his hip as he goes, balancing the plate of goodies in one hand and holding the railing with the other. 

The stairwell door sticks, and Ryan has to put his weight into it to pull it open, but it gives with a click of the latch and then he’s into the carpeted hallway of the second floor. He slows as he approaches their door. 

It’s been almost a year since they’ve all been in the office together regularly. 

This isn’t the first-first day, but it’s still so new, to be able to swipe open the office door and walk in and find not just empty desks, but the chatter of conversation and the clatter of keyboards and the never-ending war of Shane’s playlist vs Brittney’s, and the boundless enthusiasm of Steven’s push to make! things! happen!

(To be able to lean into Shane’s space at their shared desk space, to be able to smell him when Shane leans back; woodsy spice and something softer and sweeter, to be able to tap him on the knee, punch him in the shoulder, sit close enough to be touching on the couch while they film Watcher Weekly and the Pluses. To see Shane looking back at him, without two screens in the way, from close enough that he can feel the heat of Shane’s body --)

Ryan takes a moment before he pushes open the door, takes a deep breath, and then walks in. 

The chorus of hellos that greet his appearance would make anyone feel welcome, but it’s really only the one smile that Ryan’s looking for. He finds it, waiting like it always is, in the corner of Shane’s mouth. 

“Hey, man,” Shane says, when Ryan sets the plate of goodies between their keyboards. 

“For you,” Ryan says, turning the plate so the granola bites are on Shane’s side. 

Shane’s gaze goes to the snacks and then comes back up to Ryan’s face. Shane’s smile blooms fully, and Ryan feels it all the way down to his toes.

#anyway i have to go to bed but i just need to write /something/ #so this is what we get on this rainy night here #shyan #skeptic believer #anyway #i want them to be back in the same place again #i miss them togehter #a hand's breadth from touching #*lies down* #sequence fairy's fic #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

-=-

Shane looks over just as Ryan’s locking his phone and catches a glimpse of the lockscreen. He’s pretty sure he knows that picture. In fact, he’s pretty sure he took it. Ryan looks up, catches Shane’s gaze and his eyes widen.

Ryan stuffs his phone deep into his bag, out of the reach of Shane’s hands. 

“Am I your lockscreen, Ryan?” Shane asks, trying to get through the flutter of Ryan’s hands and into the still unzipped bag. Ryan redoubles his efforts to get the bag out of Shane’s reach, but Shane’s got a much longer reach than Ryan ever remembers and he manages to snag the phone just as Ryan’s pulling his bag away. 

Shane presses the button on the side to wake it up, and there it is, in all it’s glory. Ryan’s lockscreen. 

“That’s me!” Shane says, brandishing Ryan’s phone at him. “Why am I on your lockscreen, Ryan?” 

Ryan doesn’t say anything but the flush that spreads, blotchy, across his cheeks says enough. 

“Am I on your homescreen too? Or just out here?” Shane taps in Ryan’s access code, and lo and behold, the same picture is Ryan’s homescreen too. 

It’s a nice shot, Shane will admit, one he’d taken on the trip to DC last summer. A selfie to remember going down to the Lincoln Memorial on The Mall late in the evening, to avoid the crowds. It hadn’t been a warm night, but they’d found a decent spot to sit for a minute, and the lighting had been alright for taking a picture or two. 

It had been a good night, Shane remembers. Quiet conversation, and an easy affection between him and Ryan. 

Shane had posted one as a story on Instagram, the other, one with their faces pressed much closer together, had seemed too intimate to share with the public. This is the one Ryan’s using as the wallpaper on his phone. 

“Give me back my phone, please,” Ryan says, holding out his hand. 

“No, I don’t think that I will,” Shane says, reflexive. Ryan huffs and Shane’s pretty sure he’d stamp his foot if he thought he could get away with it, but he can’t, so he won’t. 

“Shane,” Ryan says, “come on.” 

“Not until you tell me why you have this as your lockscreen. You know that’s pretty–” Shane cuts himself off. For all that Ryan is the one that usually rides the ‘no homo’ line, Shane was absolutely going to take that tack himself tonight. 

“Pretty what, Shane?”

“Uh,” Shane says, “pretty–uh, pretty nice? It’s a nice picture. I like it.” Shane hands Ryan back his phone. 

Ryan grabs it back and locks it and stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Ryan mutters.  

“Well, obviously,” Shane says. “Are you embarrassed about it?” 

“What?” 

Shane gestures meaningfully in Ryan’s direction. “Well, like, that seemed like something someone who was embarrassed would do.” 

“I’m not,” Ryan says, “it’s just for me, not for you. Or anyone else.”

“It’s your lockscreen, Ryan. Anytime your phone lights up, whoever’s around’ll see it.” 

Ryan looks down at his feet. He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I missed you’ but Shane is quite sure he’s heard correctly. 

“Sorry, what? These old ears ain’t what they used to be.” 

“I said I missed you, alright?” Ryan grits out. 

Shane’s at a loss. “I’ve been with you for like, three days. We’ve been filming and travelling and shit, what’s there to miss?” 

“Not now,” Ryan says, “before.” 

He looks up at Shane, and there’s something in his face that makes Shane take a pause before immediately giving in to his natural impulse to further badger Ryan about missing Shane when Shane is standing right in front of him. It dawns on him that Ryan missed him during that long stretch of time where they and everyone else they knew were confined to their little islands of home and essential services only. 

“Oh, Ryan,” Shane says, once he’s realised. Facetiming is only so good. No wonder Ryan’s been more underfoot than usual this trip. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I missed you, too.”

#uneventfulhouses #jess answers #sequence fairy's fic #shyan #skeptic believer #we spend some time in the book club server talking about missing people during self-isolation #and now there's this #prompt fics #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

Shyan 5 ✨

5. things you didn’t say at all

The smoke in the air makes Ryan’s eyes water. It’s miserable to be outside in this weather, but outside he has to be. The heat is merciless, not a breeze to be had for days now. The air is stagnant, stinking of wood smoke and tasting of ash even through the layer of his mask. The pavement beneath his feet radiates heat. 

Across the parking lot, a door opens and Shane steps out, into the weak sun. 

The sight of his shadow across the hot asphalt makes a tangle of emotion and breath snag in Ryan’s lungs. It’s been so long since they were able to do more than wave at each other in passing, since they’ve been able to slide carefully around each other’s bubble of space, see each other’s smile behind a mask - and even today, they won’t be able to achieve this last. 

Shane looks both the same as he does on the screens Ryan’s been seeing him on for almost a year, and different. 

Shane’s wearing an old Unsolved t-shirt cut into a gaiter around the lower half of his face, shades pulled down over his eyes. His flip-flops slap against the ground as he makes his way over to Ryan. His hair fans out around his face, under the ballcap Shane’s wearing backwards, using it, Ryan thinks, to hold his hair out of his face.

“Hey,” Shane says, when he gets close, close enough that their shadows cross and Ryan has to look up to look into Shane’s face. 

“Yo,” Ryan answers. He can just make out Shane’s eyes behind his sunglasses. 

They stand looking at each other for a long, quiet moment. 

It’s both exactly what Ryan thought it would be and nothing like he’d secretly hoped. Shane’s smiling behind the mask, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Good to see you,” Shane says, “you know, in real life.” He gestures with one hand, the flutter of his fingers catching Ryan’s gaze. 

“Same,” Ryan replies, absent. He’s still watching Shane’s hand move, thinking about how it’s been almost a year since the last time they were close enough to brush shoulders or reach out to tap each other on the arm, or for Ryan to insinuate himself into Shane’s personal space, in whatever way that he could. 

Ryan inhales, choking a little on the sudden lump in his throat. He coughs, clears his throat and presses a closed fist to the center of his chest.

Shane frowns, eyebrows moving. “You okay?” 

Ryan lifts a hand to his head, pushing up the brim of his cap and then settling it back down onto his head. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, then, “you wanna eat?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Shane says. “Let’s, uh, let’s do that.” 

#shyan #skeptic believer #sequence fairy's fic #anonymouse #jess answers #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

Aaah those prompts are all so good TToTT how about “Have you seen my hoodie?” “Nooo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” and Shyan?

-=-

Shane’s phone rings and he reaches out to grab it. It’s Ryan. Shane slouches even more deeply into his couch and answers the phone. 

“Have you seen my grey hoodie?” Ryan asks, without preamble. Shane looks down at the grey hoodie he’s currently wearing. 

“No,” he says. “What hoodie?” 

Ryan sighs on the other end of the line. “The one I left at my desk this week. Grey. Long sleeves. The zipper’s kind finicky.” 

“Haven’t seen it,” Shane says. He had noticed the zipper was a little fucked up, but he doesn’t need to zip it up. It’s  big on Ryan, which means it fits him fairly well, the sleeves are even long enough that they hang over his hands a little. Ryan must swim in this, Shane thinks. 

“You’re sure?” Ryan asks. 

“Yep,” Shane says, exaggerating the consonants. 

“Steven says he saw you leaving the office in it,” Ryan offers. Shane shifts, and turns his face into the collar of the hoodie. It still smells like Ryan there, the sharp scent of his aftershave and the spice of his cologne. Shane’s fucked, and he knows it, but whatever, no one can see him here in the privacy of his own home, and Ryan doesn’t have to know. 

“Can’t imagine why Steven would tell you such a flagrant lie,” Shane replies. He toys with the end of the zipper. 

Ryan sighs. “Shane,” he says, in that tone that Shane knows means Ryan thinks he knows what’s happening. “Man, just tell me you have the hoodie. It’s fine. I don’t care. I’m not mad or anything.” 

“Not my fault you can’t keep track of your clothing,” Shane says, just to be a pain in the ass. He can hear Ryan bristling on the other end of the line. 

Shane shifts on the couch, adjusting so he can pull the hood up over his head. It’ll suck to give it back to Ryan. 

The line is silent between them for long enough that Shane nearly checks to see if the call has dropped before Ryan speaks again. 

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” he asks, voice dropped low. Shane shifts again, this time for an entirely different reason. “It’s big on me, so it’d fit you perfect, wouldn’t it? Bet it smells like me,” Ryan says.

“Wouldn’t know anything about that,” Shane says, trying for nonchalant.  

“You’ve had it for like, a week,” Ryan muses, “if you give it back, I can make it smell like me again.” 

“I don’t know why you think I have your hoodie,” Shane says, again, just to make sure that Ryan is aware that he is having no effect on Shane whatsoever. 

“Are you just wearing it around the house? Or are you doing other things in it?” The subtext is made clear by the leer in Ryan’s voice. 

“Hypothetically,” Shane says, which is not his fault because all the blood has left his brain in a rush, “what other things would I be doing in this hoodie? If I had it. In this hypothetical.”

Shane can hear Ryan’s smile through the phone. 

#shyan #skeptic believer #jess answers #anonymouse #sequence fairy's fic #shyanfic

[sequencefairy]

Hi! For the prompt thing: shyan “Are we on a date right now?” If you want!

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Boys are dumb. I have no other explanation.

-=-

Ryan looks around at the nicer than usual restaurant (cloth napkins! heavy silverware! tablecloths you can’t draw on!) and then over at Shane. Shane, who is wearing one of his nice shirts. Shane, who has put some kind of product in his hair to hold it out of his face. Shane, who is watching Ryan with some kind of softness in the corners of his eyes. 

Ryan doesn’t want to ask, because he feels like if you have to ask, then the answer is no, but he really doesn’t know what they’re doing here.

He rolls back to the moment earlier that week when Shane had leaned over into his space at the office, and pulled Ryan’s headphones off his head. Ryan had looked up from his keyboard and over at Shane. 

“You wanna get dinner this week?” Shane had asked, then, “with me?” As if Shane thought Ryan wouldn’t know that Shane was asking Ryan to get dinner with Shane and not someone else. 

“Sure. Yeah,” Ryan had said, nodding. Shane had smiled then, the slow bloom one that Ryan loves the most. The one Ryan privately thinks of as Shane’s Ryan Smile, since he’s never seen it grow on Shane’s face when faced with anyone else. 

Now, though, Ryan’s re-evaluating that conversation. They’d hashed out the details of the dinner, and Shane had offered to pick Ryan up but Ryan had suggested they just drive over after work, already planning to adjust his day so that he could roll in late that morning and therefore, leave later. Maybe Shane hadn’t meant simply dinner, maybe Shane had meant Dinner. Capital d. The kind of dinner you share with someone before you dance around whether you might want to take them home. 

Ryan should really get this cleared up because it feels like he’s not on the same dinner outing as Shane. He’d be happy to join Shane’s dinner outing, but he just needs to make sure. 

He thinks about bringing it up before their drink order is taken, but then Shane distracts him with a conversation about an idea for a podcast. He thinks about doing it just after they get their food but then he remembers that he had wanted to tell Shane about a movie he’d watched the previous weekend. When they are brought the check, Shane snatches it up and Ryan thinks he should really ask now, but then Shane’s paid for dinner and it seems a bit gauche to bring it up at that point. 

They walk out to Ryan’s car in the parking lot and get in. Ryan drives Shane home while Shane looks down at his phone. It feels nice, easy. Ryan doesn’t want to break the mood. He decides he can ask Shane about this in the morning. 

When they get to Shane’s building, Ryan puts the car in park out front, and turns to look at Shane. The nighttime city lights are kind to Shane’s face, smoothing him out leaving him washed in a soft glow. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Shane says. 

“No worries, dude,” Ryan answers.

Shane takes a quick, deep breath. He seems to be psyching himself up for something, but Ryan can’t figure out what until Shane’s leaning across the centre console. 

Oh. Oh. 

Shane’s kissing him. 

Ryan’s brain stutters to a halt and before he can get it back online Shane’s pulling away. Something half-afraid registers on his features. 

Ryan says the only thing he can think of. “Are we on a date right now?” 

Shane’s eyes widen, then his face shutters. 

“No, wait, I–” Ryan says, reaching out. His hand lands on Shane’s. “I want this to be a date,” he says, “I just–” Ryan sighs. “I’m shit at this, I’m sorry.” Ryan takes another breath. “I want this to be a date. I want to do this, I want to–to date you.” 

“Okay,” Shane says, turning more fully in his seat to face Ryan. “That’s good. ‘Cause I want to date you, too. I’m glad we’re all on the same page now.” There’s a hint of a smile in the corner of Shane’s mouth. “Thought you were some big ol’ investigator there, Bergara. Not using your detective brain today, I guess.” 

“Maybe you’re just really bad at planning dates, and that’s why I had no idea,” Ryan retorts. 

“Oh yeah,” Shane says, “horrible date planner, that’s me.” He points to himself. 

Ryan grins. Then, “kiss me again? I want to do a better job this time.” 

Shane’s answering grin is blinding, and this time, when Shane leans across the centre console, Ryan meets him in the middle. 

#jess answers #sequence fairy's fic #anonymouse #shyan #skeptic believer #this is absolutely sappy and i will not apologize #prompt fics #shyanfic