#ryackeoff

Do You Want To Go? by GanglyLimbs (turnfree high school au)

A Study in Feline Mating Behaviours: by one Gavin Free, PhD. by diydynamite (hopefulundertone) (mavin, hybrid office au)

Soon the Bells will Start by rage_quitter (Jerevinwood christmas fluff)

Too Sweet by captainandersmith (Braggtillo christmas fluff)

Quiet Moments by  rage_quitter (freewood cowboy au)

A Cup Of Sugar by GanglyLimbs (mavinseg neighbour au)

A Pinch of Sugar by ShadeOfAzmeinya (jeremwood)

Light the Sky by ShadeOfAzmeinya (jerevin fahc poetry)

Bullets in Bloom by BM Vagaybond (MintSharpie) (freewood, fahc)

getting comfy is what i live for by tinypi (ramfreewood modern au)

color, brilliance, strangeness by anarchetypal (ryack-centric gents ot3 fahc) AND because that’s not enough Gents OT3:

Professional Eye by GanglyLimbs (ryack-centric ot3, fahc, bamf!jack, bit smutty)

Communication Error by whalehuntingboyfriends (all the second hand embarassment, fahc)

Thank you, love :D here have some cute hybrids

wc: 541

“Ryan, have youseen Jack’s brush?” Geoff called, lifting the brush he and Ryanshared. “I can only find ours, and that’s no good with his mane.”

Ryan stuck his headout of the walk-in closet, carefully avoiding the frame with his widehorns. He was only wearing jogging pants, and Geoff let his gazelinger on his back, the muscles rippling as he turned sideways.

“It’s not in thebathroom?” Ryan asked, frowning quizzically. “I could swear itwas in the cabinet under the sink.”

“No, I could onlyfind ours, and the bristles are too short for Jack,” Geoff replied,shaking his head.

“I got your hornbalm, assholes, you coming!?” Jack called from the bath, and Geoffand Ryan exchanged a guilty look.

Jack comes over midway through the week, later in the night. He sits at the bar as Ryan sits next to him, both of them watching Geoff running back and forth between the kitchen and the restaurant. Sometimes he drops plates in front of them, drinks too, mostly for Jack’s, though Ryan takes a few disgusted sips. 

By the time the last people leave, Geoff is exhausted, flopping down on the opposite side of Jack and groaning in pain from aches and bruises from racing back and forth. He bitches that it would be better if Ryan would help now that his shop is closing down for the season but Ryan shrugs, smiles, tells him he likes him better full and happy than getting in the way. 

Jack laughs when Geoff grumbles, huffs and hides his face in the warmth of his arm. Ryan leans against his other side, playfully reaches over him to nudge Geoff. 

Internally, the baker wonders how this is his life, feeling warmth and safety with a monster on either side. He wonders what they’re thinking of, if they’re thinking about their last kill, about the meat inevitably in the freezer behind the door to the kitchen. Or maybe they aren’t thinking about it at all, maybe it is such a minor thing to them that they think about it no more than a snack from the pantry. 

He can still taste the spices of his recently-eaten meals on his tongue, the burn of alcohol in his throat. He knows what he’s been eating and somehow, he feels no guilt about it. 

They’re all that matter to him. And if that means saying nothing, mentioning offhand when someone has come into the shop acting overly rude, coming over for dinner and eating his delicious fill?

Now, now they do.

Jack presses a kiss to Ryan’s mask as he passes by, smiling at how he still splutters, how the waveform marking his speech jumps wildly at the sound, even though now Jack does it every time, a quiet show of affection for the one they all care so much for. 

Geoff shows his affection with a swat on the ass, earning a similar reaction but one with the response of an attempted smack back. They entice him, try to convince him to follow them as he stays up past when everyone else has gone home. Jeremy shrugs when they ask him, the closest of anyone to their most secretive friend. He knows what Ryan looks like under that mask, takes care of him when they both think no one is looking. Jeremy keeps his secrets, stands between them and him when the mask was knocked free, keeping them from getting little more than glances.

It was enough to understand, that sight. The mottled marks of scars as clear as day, how his fingers searched blindly for the mask until they found the edges of it, placed it back on his face with a locking click. The nearly soundless little laugh, barely more than a wheeze as he tried to brush it off. Even in the dark of the city night, it was enough to know. Enough for Geoff to put the pieces together, days later with his head in Jack’s lap. Ryan’s expansive knowledge, the cockiness, the scars. A face off the map for years now, maybe a match, where they to get a good look. The Vagabond, supposedly dead from a warehouse bomb.

The scars. The eyes. The wheezing aching laugh. A broken human being, held together with wires and bolts.

They want him to know he’s cared for, want him to know he’s loved. 

Want him to know he’s safe.