#fake AH crew fanfic

[transbuck]

I also struggle with reading rpf! It’s just not something I can really get into - but some of the fic writers? I swear they’re better than published writers.

yes! omg i always hear about how incredible hockey fic writers in particular are and it really devastates me that i truly just dont think i will ever be able to read it! huge shout out to those fic writers though, maybe one day....

#i TRIED a few times #but its just too weird for me personally #closest to RPF i ever came was reading fanfic for achievement hunter's fake ah crew #which was them but like #their GTA sonas so it didn't really feel like rpf #atlas answers

[darks-ink]

Matt the Cat

Based on the “Matt is a cat” AU by @somegrumpynerd and @keeningthoughts / @keen-arts. A lot of scenes and plot points are taken from their various posts, as well as some (bits of) conversation. I've really enjoyed seeing their posts cross my dash and while watching Uno: Infinite this weekend got inspired to take a shot at writing a short one-shot for the AU. Anyway I kinda missed the mark on the "short" part but it was fun, so. Enjoy!

Sometimes you just have to revisit the fandom that first got you to write fanfics, back in *checks watch* 2016. Anyway I also haven't written AH fics since then so apologies if I didn't quite get everyone right.

Fandom: Achievement Hunter (RPF) Rating: Gen Words: 8,699 Additional Tags: Fake AH Crew, Alternate universe, Humor, Friendship, Mistaken identity, Canon-typical shenanigans

Summary: Hearing the stories of new crew members Jeremy and Trevor, the Fakes quickly decided that this "Matt" must be their cat. It was the only logical assumption! They were mistaken.

Also on AO3!

---

The door clicked shut behind Trevor, and he looked at the people already in the room. The Fake AH Crew were a fearsome presence, even if he had already been accepted into their midst. Him, Jeremy, standing by his side, and Matt, safe at home.

“Finally,” the big man himself, Geoff Ramsey, sighed, waving the two of them further into the room. “Come on, grab a seat. We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Well, you could’ve sent the address a little earlier than five minutes beforehand,” Jeremy snarked back, then immediately went pale as they realized what they’d done.

But Jack Pattillo, the crew’s second, just grinned back. “I like these guys. We’re keeping them, right?”

“We hired them already, I sure fucking hope so.” Geoff shot her a tired look, beckoning them inwards. “Come on dickheads, go sit down.”

“You already gave them the address to our apartment anyway,” Michael Jones pointed out, leaning back in his chair. “Bit late to tell them to fuck off now.”

“Unless we killed them,” Jack said, fake-casually.

“Please don’t.” Trevor pulled back a chair so he could sit down, and saw Jeremy doing the same from the corner of his eye. “I like being alive, personally.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “And it’s just the two of you, right?”

“Us, and Matt back home,” Jeremy answered dutifully, shifting in their seat to look more casual than they likely felt. “We’re all sharing the same apartment.”

“Right,” she said, a slight crease between her brows. Trevor couldn’t place its meaning. He knew it wasn’t something about the three of them living together—the crew had a similar living situation—but he didn’t know what else. Maybe that Matt, as the hacker, was staying home instead of coming over to meet the rest of the crew? Maybe they should’ve brought him here, and then back home to his set-up?

“Anyway, Geoff, go ahead and tell us the plan before you burst.”

He heaved a gusty sigh. “Yes, Jack, thank you. If we can all please focus on the job instead of the new hires?” Geoff looked around the room, then nodded resolutely. “Good. Here’s what we’re doing—"

---

Lindsay shifted slightly, leaning against their car, fingers rattling against the side of their phone. On its screen a baking video played, which they were half paying attention to. Well. Maybe a little more than half. That was fine! They could multi-task.

It had been a few weeks since their new crew members, Trevor and Jeremy, had joined. They were glad for it—the two of them had been a lot of fun to have around, and had come out of their shells quickly. Trevor looked so serious and dry but had quickly shown himself to have quick wit and a delightful weirdness to him, and Lindsay wouldn’t say no to having another non-binary crewmember around, especially one as fun as Jeremy.

Not to mention the sheer chaos those two had introduced by mentioning someone called “Matt”, who apparently lived with them, and then never saying anything else about him. Well. They thought Matt was a him. Quite frankly, they didn’t know anything about this ‘Matt’, outside of the fact that he—they?—lived with Trevor and Jeremy.

The sound of a car door thrown shut made them look up, automatically pausing the video on their phone. Speak of the devil.

Trevor threw the other door of the car shut, turning to Jeremy. “Did you give Matt water before we left?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy confirmed, shouldering their bag. “He was sleeping on the desk again when I went in.”

“He’s gonna hurt himself one of these days doing that,” Trevor grumbled, shaking his head. “He has a perfectly fine bed!”

“But why sleep in a bed if you can sleep on a desk?” Jeremy grinned, and Trevor just clicked his tongue in response as the two of them came up to Lindsay. “Hey Lindsay. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

They stuffed their phone into their pocket, the newly gained information running through their mind. “It’s fine, that’s the downside of not having you guys in the apartment yet.”

It all made sense now! Obviously Matt wasn’t a person who Trevor and Jeremy were keeping in the dark—or had informed without telling the crew. Matt was a pet. And, by the sound of it, he might’ve been a cat, even! What other pet would sleep on desks?

“True, true.” Trevor nodded at the car they were still leaning against. “Are we driving further on from here?”

“Nah, it’s just around the corner.” They pushed themself away from the car, and mentally shoved the newly gained revelation away as well. Excitement about cats would have to wait until after the job. But! They would definitely bring it up with the rest. If they invited Trevor and Jeremy into the apartment with them, obviously the two would bring their cat, and then the crew would finally have their long-awaited pet!

And Gavin would be thrilled if they gained a crew cat!

---

“You can’t just keeping saying he’s a cat without proof, Lindsay!”

“Why not? It’s the truth!” They waved their hands around, gesturing wildly. “Besides, what proof? They said it, isn’t that enough?”

“Did they say Matt is a cat, though?” Gavin pointed out, frowning. He didn’t think Lindsay would lie about this on purpose, but, well. Sometimes things happened.

A lot of times things happened. This crew really wasn’t good at clear communication.

They rolled their eyes. “As good as. But if you don’t believe me, ask yourself.” They pointed. “See, there’s Jeremy.”

He followed their finger and, indeed, there was Jeremy. Gavin waved at them, “Oi, Jeremy! Come over for a sec, will you?”

“Uh, yeah, I got a moment.” They came over, looking between him and Lindsay. “What’s up, Gav?”

“You have a cat, right?” Lindsay asked, grinning at Jeremy. “Can we see a picture?”

Jeremy blinked, visibly confused. “Yeah…? I mean, sure.” They pulled their phone out of their pocket, swiftly unlocking it and swiping through the gallery.

“Let’s see… Oh, this is a good one.” They turned the phone around, showing the two of them the screen. On it was a photo of a longhaired tabby, lazing on a cat bed. “One of the few times I’ve been him actually using that cat bed.”

“Oh, what a cutie!” Lindsay complimented, adoration heavy in their voice. And Gavin had to agree. It was a very cute cat. He… He really kind of missed having a cat. Unfortunately neither he nor Lindsay had been able to convince Geoff to get a shared crew cat for the apartment. Or any kind of pet, really. Geoff kept countering that having the lot of them was basically the same as having pets.

“He’s great,” he chimed in. “Thanks Jeremy. If you guys ever move in, will you bring him?”

“That’s the plan.” Jeremy pocketed their phone again, looking between the two of them. “Uh. Was that all?”

He offered an awkward grin. “Yeah, sorry. We were just curious.”

“Ah, that’s fine. I wasn’t in a rush anyway.” Jeremy inclined their head. “But I’ll get going then. Have a good day, Gav, Lindsay.”

“You too! Thanks for showing us your cat!” Lindsay waved them goodbye, and they watched as Jeremy left. “See, I told you.”

Michael snorted, still lounging on a chair behind them. “Yeah Gav, they told you. That’s what you get for doubting Lindsay.”

“Like you believed them,” Gavin countered, rolling his eyes. “Come on. It’s not my bloody fault this crew is rife with miscommunication.”

“Well, not this time.” Lindsay pulled a haughty expression, looking down on him. “Next time, you’ll believe me right from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he agreed easily. “Next time, no matter how ridiculous, I won’t doubt you.”

---

“Ugh,” Geoff grumbled, pulling the next sheet of paper towards him. He had hired an entire team of people to deal with the boring bureaucratic part of running a criminal gang, and still he got tons of paperwork to deal with.

Stupid. Why had he ever agreed to this stupid idea. He should’ve just made Jack boss. She never had to deal with this bullshit anymore. He would’ve made a great right-hand man to her!

He looked at the paper. Ah. Crew payroll. At least this was easy. Just check over it to make sure everything made sense, then sign off on it. Easy peasy.

Oh, yeah. This was the first payroll since they hired Trevor and Jeremy, wasn’t it? He’d have to take a good look at it, then, to make sure everything was right. He trusted the B-team to do everything right, but this would be just the right moment to sneak something in.

Yep, both of their new crew members had been added. Good, good. And. Uh.

“Huh,” he muttered, frowning at the sheet of paper. A third new name had joined the list. Right between Jeremy and Trevor was Matt. As in. Their cat, Matt? He’d even been given the same kind of payout as Jeremy and Trevor, as a new full-time crew member.

“That… makes no sense.” He heaved a sigh, then pushed himself up from his desk. He’d probably been working too long. Time to get a reality check from his beloved second.

Barely remembering to grab the crew’s payroll before leaving his office, he wandered over to the living room. There he found Jack and Michael, playing a game on the tv. Instead of looking what they were doing, he just held out the sheet of paper, blocking her view. “Jack.”

“Geoffrey,” she responded, leaning to the side to look around the paper. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“So am I.” He shook the paper, the sound of it lost over the noise of the tv. “Why are we paying a cat?”

“Huh?” She looked away from the tv for a moment, then swore as Michael cackled. “Why are you asking me? B-team takes care of all that stuff.”

Michael snorted over the sound of his mashing buttons on a controller. “That cat must be doing good work, Geoff.”

“Must be,” Jack agreed absent-mindedly, leaning a little further to the side. “Geoff, seriously, move.”

He looked between the two of them, then back to the sheet of paper. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, but stepped away. Apparently he was the only one in this goddamn crew who thought it was weird they were including a cat in their payroll.

Well. Whatever. He still had plenty of boring paperwork to work through. If he spent any time on figuring out this bullshit he’d just lose even more time to it. As long as that goddamn cat wasn’t earning more than the rest of the crew it wasn’t worth the hassle.

He dropped the paper back onto his desk and signed it with a flourish.

---

“—so we’re mostly casual about the stuff here,” Lindsay explained as they showed him the kitchen in the crew’s shared apartment. “Like, don’t touch anything that anybody signed, but otherwise it’s pretty much a free game.”

“Right.” Alfredo nodded. “Even though I don’t live here?”

“Well, it’s not like you’re the only one,” they pointed out, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Trevor and Jeremy have been with us for months and they’re still living in their own apartment. Besides,” they paused to give him a look, “you’ll probably lose your own stuff to the crew as well when you put it in there.”

“Fair enough.” He looked away at the rustling of a jacket to see Trevor coming up to them.

“You’re good taking care of Fredo’s introduction alone, right, Lindsay?” he asked as he pulled on his coat.

They hummed. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” Trevor nodded and turned around.

“Oh, and Trevor,” they interrupted him, waiting a moment for him to turn back around. “Please tell Matt he’s a good boy for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Trevor agreed easily, nodding again. “I’ll head out then. See you two tomorrow.”

“See you,” Alfredo replied automatically, as he turned that conversational twist in his mind. Tell Matt he was a good boy…? Who the hell was Matt?

Lindsay, clearly picking up on his thoughts, shot him a wide grin. “Matt is Trevor and Jeremy’s cat, and he’s the main reason why they haven’t moved into the apartment yet. There’s a little more logistics involved in moving in two people and their cat, especially if all three are used to sharing a tiny apartment.”

“Right,” he agreed. That made sense. “And you just… ask them to tell their cat he’s a good boy for you?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” They shrugged, unrepentant. “That, or I ask them to give him a hug for me. Man, I can’t wait for them to move in. I really want to give that cat a pat myself.”

“You haven’t met him?” he asked skeptically, quirking a brow. “How do you know he’s a good cat?”

“All cats are good cats, duh.” They winked. “And I’ve seen photos, and heard the boys talking about him. Great cat.”

Well, fair enough. He couldn’t argue with that.

---

Jeremy dropped another empty box on the floor of Matt’s office. “There, do you think that’s enough?”

“Should be,” he agreed, spinning around on his chair. “If not we’ll have to grab another box or two. Do we have enough for the rest of the house?”

“Trevor is coming back with a few more boxes, that should do the trick.” They looked over the boxes littered around the office, some half-filled with stuff that could be packed away already. “You got us a storage box to put the house stuff in, right?”

Matt gasped dramatically. “Jeremy, you doubt me? I said I would take care of it and I did.”

“Just making sure,” they assured him, rolling their eyes. “You’re almost done with that hacking thing, right? So we can focus on packing afterwards?”

“Yeah, the last thing is running now. After that it’s just the finishing touches and that should be that.”

“Good, good.” The lock of their front door rattled, and Jeremy tensed for a moment before recognizing the sound of a key in the lock. “Hey Treh.”

“Hey Jer,” Trevor called back from the door, soon followed by the click of the door and then the sound of cardboard hitting the floor. “Thanks for letting me in.”

“No problem man,” they said, grinning at him as he walked in the office. “Everything went well?”

Trevor hummed. “Yeah. They’ll clear out a room for us tomorrow, and one for Fredo as well. Oh, also…”

He leaned over, patting Matt on the head. “That’s from Gavin. He asked me to tell you you’re a “good good boy”.”

“Oh.” Matt grinned wide, a pleased expression on his face. “Thanks. I should tell everyone thanks once we’re there. They’ve been so nice to us.”

“Especially to you,” Trevor said, clicking his tongue. “Maybe I want to be told I’m a good boy for once instead of always acting like the messenger.”

“You are a good boy, Trevor.” Jeremy grinned at him, even as they were connecting the dots in their head. Oh my god. The reason why everyone in the crew was acting so weird was because they thought Matt was a cat. That is why Lindsay and Gavin had asked to see their cat all that time ago.

Oh, this was just too funny! They would have to make sure that no one saw Matt during the move. It had been almost six months since they had joined the crew and no one had figured it out yet. If they kept that up while living in the same apartment…

They hastily shoved down their chuckles. Couldn’t let Trevor and Matt in on the joke. Their reactions would be so good if they found out at the same time as the crew.

“We should make sure Buddy stays in the office,” they pointed out, during the lull in conversation. “At least that first week or so, until he’s settled in.”

“Oh, yeah, good idea,” Trevor agreed, nodding. “Wouldn’t want him to get in anyone’s way.”

“Except mine, apparently,” Matt grumped half-heartedly. “But yeah. That way he won’t accidentally escape the apartment either. And having a familiar person and place will probably help.”

“Exactly.” Alright. Step one: complete. Oh, this was so exciting!

---

Lindsay reclined further in their chair, casually swiping at their phone screen to scroll. Opposite of them Trevor was sitting more neatly, but equally casual, leafing through a book. It had only been a few days since he and Jeremy had moved in, but already they wandered around the house like they had lived there for months.

Well, not entirely surprising, considering that they’d been around for months already, but still. The only sad part was that they hadn’t seen Matt yet. Apparently the cat was staying in their room for now.

They hear a door open and looked up automatically; Michael was supposed to be done soon with his job. But as they did so, they realized that’s not what they heard. The front door had a different sound to it, a click of the lock being undone and re-locked. This was the sound of one of the room doors.

Trevor looked up from his book as well, and together they watch a bedraggled long-haired man wander out of the hallway with bedrooms. The man, seeing them looking, waved as he headed towards the kitchen.

Before they can say anything, Trevor called out to him, “Make sure to grab a snack while you’re out there, Matt!”

“Yeah,” the man—Matt?!?—called back, “I was planning to.”

“Okay, just making sure.” And with that, Trevor just turned back to his book. Zero comment.

Lindsay looked back to the kitchen once more, taking in the man standing there. Long dark hair, big loose clothing, casually grabbing a snack to go with his refilled bottle of water.

Huh. Matt must be some kind of werecat, then. Sometimes a cat, sometimes a human person. But if no one had mentioned it clearly they didn’t want to talk about it, and, well. Lindsay wasn’t rude enough to ignore that.

Buuuut they can bring it up later when Gavin gets back. He would hear her out, no problem.

---

Alfredo grunted, blinking up at his ceiling. Not that he could see it in the dark, but still. Goddamn him.

No. Goddamn Lindsay and Gavin for those stupid damn stories. For days they’ve been telling everyone in the crew—bar Jeremy and Trevor—about Matt the cat not being an actual cat but a fucking werecat. Like, really?

But apparently the thought had wormed its way into his head anyway, because he can’t stop thinking about it now. He had started thinking that they’re pulling some kind of elaborate prank on him, because those two had moved in at the same time as him yet he hadn’t seen their cat in the past few days, but no, apparently not. Because today a long-haired brown cat had run out of their room, only to be grabbed by Jeremy and escorted back in, chastised for leaving. And Alfredo knew he heard Jeremy say the name Matt when they went into their room.

Ugh. Well, if he’s up he might as well grab himself a drink from the kitchen. It was—he looked at his alarm—way past midnight, so no one else should be up. That should save him from an awkward conversation.

He rolled out of bed, yawning widely and he pulled open his door. At least there was enough ambient light in the apartment itself that he didn’t need to turn on any lights. The last thing he needed now was to wake himself up even further with that bullshit.

But, really. A werecat? Their only evidence was that Lindsay had apparently seen Matt as a long-haired man, and that Trevor had greeted him by name. Gavin, despite the vehemence with which he agreed with Lindsay, apparently didn’t even have any proof himself. He just believed them without a doubt.

Unbelievable, Alfredo thought to himself, and then realized there was already someone in the kitchen just before he stepped inside.

He yelped, throwing his hand over his mouth immediately to muffle the sound.

On the other side of the open doorway the burglar(?) jerked, startled by the sound, almost dropping whatever they were holding in their hand. A… bottle? Huh.

“Oh my god,” the man gasped out, quiet as a whisper. “Alfredo, you scared the shit out of me.”

“What—?” he hissed back, automatically matching volume. What kind of intruder would say that? Or know his name?

“Just grabbing a drink,” the man held up the bottle of water. The… The long-haired man. Oh, no. No no no. “Sorry, I need to finish up some hacking stuff for tomorrow. Talk later?”

“Uh, yeah, sure man,” he replied automatically, taking in the stranger’s appearance. Fuck him. Lindsay had been right. There was the undeniable evidence: the man with long dark hair, matching the cat he’d seen exactly.

What the fuck.

He definitely should’ve stayed in fucking bed, fuck him.

---

Jeremy leaned back in their chair, watching the tv with the rest of the crew. The game they had been playing had turned extremely competitive, with plenty of yelling and screaming, and Jeremy had bailed so they could oversee the chaos.

Specifically, so they could see the incoming chaos Matt was about to bring, since the yelling was sure to draw him out.

They had been feeding the flames all week, and still no one had properly connected the dots. They had moved in while the rest of the crew was away on a sudden mission, and Matt had mostly been busy in his new office—their shared room—ever since.

There had been a close call a day or two ago, when Buddy had escaped from their room, but luckily Jeremy had been able to grab him and bring him back before Matt could. If those two had been seen together the game would’ve surely been over.

Honestly, luck had been on their side anyway. Lindsay had apparently seen him but assumed he was a werecat, of all things, and Gavin had just? gone with their assumption. For some reason. And then, a few days later, Alfredo had also seen Matt and, instead of refuting Lindsay’s assumption, and given in and gone along with them.

It was better than Jeremy could’ve planned themself. Absolutely brilliant.

Either way, things were surely coming to an end… because there came Matt. No one else had seen him yet, too focused on playing or watching the ongoing game.

He stood behind the couch, looming over Gavin, Michael, Geoff, and Jack. And then, completely unknowing of what he was about to unleash, very casually asked, “Hey guys, who’s winning?”

They were glad that they had braced themself, because the ensuing screaming was deafening. Even Trevor yelled, probably startled by everyone else. Matt himself jerked back several steps. Hell, Geoff startled so badly he threw himself off of the couch entirely, and Gavin had crawled half on top of Michael.

This was so good. They were so glad they had hung back to watch this happen.

“Hey Matt,” they casually greeted, ignoring the cacophony and barely holding in their laughter.

“See!” Lindsay yelled, suddenly, victoriously, pointing a finger at Matt. “See! I told you guys he was a werecat!”

“A what?” Matt blinked at them, even as Michael shoved Gavin off of his lap and onto Geoff, ignoring the resulting squawking. “Huh?”

Trevor twitched, blinking in confusion. “Yeah, what the hell are you talking about?”

No longer could they hold it in. Jeremy burst out in cackling laughter, and soon enough Matt begun chuckling along, cautiously.

“Get off me, idiot,” Geoff grumbled, pushing Gavin off of himself so he could get up. “Someone help me up.”

“You’re not that old, Geoffrey,” Jack complained, but offered him a hand anyway. “Can someone please explain to me what the fuck is happening?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Matt shook his head, looking over at Trevor, and then at Jeremy themself, still laughing. “But I think I know who’s responsible for it.”

“Am not!” they immediately denied. “I just found out a week ago, before we moved in. And I haven’t even done anything! The stories fed themselves.”

Geoff found his balance standing up, then stared at Matt for a long moment. “Well,” he finally said, “I guess that this makes more sense than having a cat on the payroll.”

“You thought I was a cat?” Matt asked incredulously. Then, looking at the expressions of everyone around the room, he repeated, louder, “You all thought I was a cat?”

“Well! We all saw the bloody cat, didn’t we!” Gavin gestured wildly, still lying on the floor where Geoff had dumped him. “It just made sense!”

Matt blinked down at him. “The cat? You mean Buddy? You all thought I was Buddy?”

Lindsay gasped. “His name is Buddy? That’s adorable!”

“How did no one here realize?” Trevor blinked at everyone, wide-eyed. “For six months, none of you realized that Matt was a human, or that he was our hacker. Who did you guys think was doing all that work?”

“Uh.” Everyone looked over at Geoff, who shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really think about it. B-team probably hired someone, or something.”

Behind him on the couch, Jack groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Geoff. Really?”

“What? I was right, wasn’t I?” He gestured over at Matt. “Someone got hired to take care of it. All good!”

“I still can’t believe everyone in this crew thought I was a cat.” Matt shook his head. “I mean—Gavin, we’ve been texting for weeks.”

Gavin, in the middle of getting up from the floor, squawked defensively. “Well! I thought it was just Jeremy having a laugh, pretending to text as the cat! We just texted “meow” back and forth!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Michael waved Gavin down. “So then why haven’t we seen the cat around?”

“Because he’s been in our room?” Matt shrugged, casually. “We didn’t want him to—Wait a second. Jeremy, you were the one to suggest keeping him in the room so no one would realize!”

“But you all agreed with my reasoning!” they countered, grinning widely. “It made sense!”

“Well, I think we should get to see the cat now. As compensation.” Lindsay opened their arms, as if expecting them to just place Buddy in their arms. “Come on.”

“Yeah, one sec.” Matt shook his head even as he turned around to go back to their room. Moments later he returned, Buddy lounging in his arms. “See? Not the same thing.”

Trevor leaned closer from his chair, exaggeratedly looking Matt over. “I don’t know Matt. You do look a lot alike.”

“Oh, fuck you, Trevor.”

---

Matt’s fingers stilled over the keyboard as he activated his new program’s test run. There, now he could just sit back and wait for a moment.

He still couldn’t believe that he worked as the Fakes’ hacker for six months without them knowing he was a human person. Six months! And the only people who had known he wasn’t cat were Jeremy, Trevor, and the B-team, apparently. Fucking unbelievable.

Well. Maybe a little believable, he supposed.

A knock on his door broke him out of his thoughts, and he spun around on his chair. “Come in, it’s open.”

“Heya Matt,” Lindsay greeted him as they came in, hands held strangely behind themself. “You got a minute?”

“Sure?” he answered cautiously, glancing back at his computer for a moment. “What’s up?”

“Here, I got you a little something!” They shoved the thing into his hands the moment he lifted them. Something soft and furry, and—

It was a cat plushy. A very cute, very fluffy plush cat.

He looked at the plush in his hands—so soft!—and then back at Lindsay, who cracked up into giggles.

“Thank you?” he said when they settled down some.

“It’s because we all thought you were a cat all this time.” They gestured at the plushy. “So it’s a little something to make up for it, since I’m the one who started it, I think.”

“Oh, well, it’s fine.” He tucked the plush closer to himself. It really was very nice to hold. “I mean. It’s kinda silly, but it’s hardly the worst thing that could’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well.” They shrugged. “It is pretty funny in hindsight. But I saw that plushy and I thought, hey, why not. Matt would probably like it.”

He smiled back at them. “I do, thank you.” He reached over, settling the plush on his desk next to his monitors. “And Lindsay? Thank you for the compliments and the hugs.”

They laughed, opening their arms. “Yeah, no problem man. You want a direct hug?”

“Well,” he said, drawing out the word as he got up out of his chair. “I’m not saying no to that.”

---

Jeremy leaned against a wall, quickly checking the clip in their pistol. They hoped they wouldn’t need to use it, but better to be prepared than to be caught off-guard.

“Oh, shit,” Matt muttered over the coms. “Uh. I said that wrong. My bad. You should’ve taken the right turn instead of the left.”

“Matt, you motherfucker,” Geoff snarled in the comm, clearly struggling to keep his voice down so they wouldn’t attract the attention of the police. “What the fuck do you mean you sent us the wrong way!”

“I was looking at the wrong thing, sorry!” He sounded genuinely apologetic, but it was clearly too late from the way Geoff was seething. “It’s fine. Just a little further. Follow the alley and then take a right at the end.”

They quickly continued walking, but Gavin was already reaching up to unmute his own mic. “Matt, how did you send us down the wrong way, Matt! It’s just left and right!”

“I was looking at the wrong thing! I said sorry, didn’t I!”

And, well. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Jeremy threw a quick look over at Geoff, and found him visibly boiling over. They lowered their hand back to their pistol, but hopefully they were far enough away from the police that Geoff’s shouting wouldn’t alert them.

Jeremy tuned out of the screaming earful from Geoff—fed by Gavin and Jack—but kept half an ear on the comm. Just enough that he could hear Matt’s heavy sigh, followed by the quiet mutter of, “I miss being a cat.”

Despite themself they cracked up, laughter cutting off the shouting from the rest of the crew. Oops. Apparently they hadn’t muted their own mic. Everyone fell silent, watching them lose it over a comment none of them heard.

“What did we say that was so bloody funny?” Gavin asked, frowning at them.

“Sorry,” they apologized as they caught their breath again, shaking their head to get their focus back. “Just something Matt said. I’m good. Let’s go.”

They should’ve realized that that would just encourage Matt.

---

BK winced as Geoff’s voice echoed around her, bouncing off of the alley walls just off from his actual voice in her comm. She wished she could turn the comm off, but it wouldn’t do to miss critical instructions. Her admittance into the crew was too new to risk over something like this.

Besides, he wasn’t even yelling at her. And, despite the volume he was reaching, he didn’t even sound that mad. It was more theatrical than anything.

Probably.

She leant around the corner, spotting Trevor opposite of her, hidden behind a stack of boxes. Seeing her in turn, he gave her a thumb’s up and a reassuring smile, and she gladly returned the favor. See? All good.

A weary sigh rattled over the comm, and she winced again, this time in sympathy. It seemed that Matt, for all that he stayed back home as the hacker, caught a lot of Geoff’s ire. Maybe being away from the action made it worse, instead of better.

“Man,” the man in question huffed. “You were so much nicer when I was a cat.”

When—Huh? When he what?

Sudden gunshots interrupted her thoughts. Fuck. Alright, that thought was getting shelved until after the mission. Focus now.

The moment they returned back to the base, however, the topic immediately sprung back into her mind. As she put away her weapons and body armor, the thought kept circling around in her head. What did it mean?

Stepping back out into penthouse proper—the shared Crew home, for all she didn’t yet live there—she set out to get answers. But who could she ask?

Oh! There was Ky! She had been around a little longer than BK herself, so maybe she would know. At the very least, she wasn’t one of the old guard who would surely use this as a pranking opportunity.

“Hey Ky,” BK greeted the moment she was close enough. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?” Ky turned to face her. “Did something happen during the mission?”

“Kinda.” She made a dubious face. “I heard Matt say something weird. Like… Not normal for this crew weird.”

Ky’s face dropped into a frown, and BK immediately followed it up with, “He said something about the rest of the crew being nicer when he was a cat?”

“He—Huh?” Ky’s expression cleared up immediately—and straight into confusion. “He said that?”

“Right?” BK threw up her hands, feeling exasperation flood through her. “I mean, what does that even mean?”

“When he was a cat…” Ky repeated, under her breath, brow creased. “When he was a cat…”

“Where did you hear that?” a hushed voice interrupted them, and BK jerked away—and saw Ky do the same opposite of her.

Standing next to them was Jeremy, wide-eyed and grim-faced. “Seriously! Be quiet about that, where did you hear that?”

“Matt muttered it over the comms earlier today.” BK felt her heart drop. What was going on in this crew? “Why? What did he mean?”

Jeremy looked around, shiftily, and BK found herself doing the same automatically. But the hallway was clear. Just the three of them.

“Look, Matt doesn’t like to talk about it, okay? Top secret. No one gets to know about it.” They met her eyes first, then Ky’s, deadly serious. “No one.”

“We wouldn’t tell!” Ky immediately exclaimed, then grimaced and lowered her voice. “Jeremy, we wouldn’t, you know that.”

They stared them down for a moment longer, then nodded, slowly. “Alright, fine. But I’m serious—Matt doesn’t want to talk about it. Keep it quiet, okay?”

“Promise,” BK said, and she heard Ky’s voice echoing with her own.

Jeremy nodded once more, then gestured for them to lean in closer. “Okay, so you two know that Trevor, Matt, and I were hired at the same time, yeah? We all lived in the same apartment at the time. And it took a while for us to be moved in because of it, so it took six months until we could move in, at the same time as Alfredo.”

“Right,” Ky said, slowly.

“And it was before we used long-distance comms, so no one but me and Trevor knew about Matt. For six months, none of them saw him, none of them heard his voice, nothing. Just the two of us, whenever we came home from our missions.”

BK couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even more so than earlier that day. Six months with barely any human contact, and now he got yelled at by Geoff? Harsh.

“And just when we were about to move in, something big interrupted, and everyone had to focus on crew work. So the three of us, we just moved in on our own, without anyone seeing. And then Matt had to get back to work immediately again, having to stay in his new office—our shared room—the entire time.”

Add a little more sorry to that previous count. Yikes.

“So… A few days after we got there, we might’ve had a little unwanted break-out.” Jeremy shrugged their shoulders, a forced smile on their face. “And a cat came running out of his office. Which of course the others saw, and, well. You can imagine what went down.”

“But, wait.” Ky frowned, and BK felt her own mind trip over the vagueness with which Jeremy had told the story. “You mean that long-haired tabby that wanders around the base?”

“That’s the one,” Jeremy confirmed, smiling softly. “So, yeah. It’s a whole thing, and Matt doesn’t like to talk about it, so. Keep it quiet, yeah?”

“Of course,” BK assured them, even if she wasn’t quite sure what to keep quiet, exactly. “Thanks for telling us, Jeremy.”

They nodded. “Yeah, no problem. Better than letting the confusion cause problems. If there’s any pressing concerns, come ask me, okay?”

“We will,” Ky promised, and they watched Jeremy wander off before she leaned closer to BK. “So… Did you get what exactly was up with Matt?”

“No, not really,” she admitted, grimacing. “I guess he… was a cat? For a while? Somehow?”

“What, like a werecat?” Ky shook her head. “How does that even make sense?”

“Well, I don’t know!” BK snapped back, throwing her hands up. “Maybe he was cursed to be cat until the crew fixed him, or something!”

“Shh,” Ky hissed immediately, and they looked around quickly, but no one was nearby. Phew. “Well, then he might as well have been a cat originally, until he got turned into a human.”

BK hummed. “I don’t think that that works in the story. Wait. Or does it?”

“How would I know?” Ky fell silent, face twisting. “Oh my god. I’ve definitely petted him before.”

“You have?”

“Yes! Lindsay was holding him and making kissy faces and then told me I should give him a pat! How was I supposed to know otherwise!”

“Oh my god,” BK groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is too much.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, processing.

“We should tell Joe.” Ky met BK’s gaze when she snapped it over to her. “Okay, I know Jeremy said to keep it quiet, but! He’s going to find out eventually, and I’m not going to be able to keep quiet if I see him petting Matt.”

“Okay, true.” BK clicked her tongue. “Well. It should be okay right, to make sure he doesn’t ask Matt about it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, see, that makes sense,” Ky agreed nodding. “Alright. Let’s just. Go do that. Then.”

“Yes. Let’s, uh. Do that.”

---

Jeremy’s fingers tapped out a silent rhythm on the side of their phone. The moment they had stepped away from Ky and BK they had texted Lindsay to let them in on the shenanigans that had just been unleashed, and now they regularly texted with ideas on how to stoke the flames further.

Luckily Lindsay had agreed to keep it quiet from everyone else. Hopefully Ky and BK would do the same, because Jeremy really wanted to see everyone’s reactions when they found out the whole thing had happened again.

Although, admittedly, they were kind of curious to hear what those two had thought up. They had intentionally left their story very open, but still. The options were pretty limited, weren’t they?

Their phone buzzed in their hand, and they looked down. Ooh, a great new idea from Lindsay. Baking cookies shaped like cat treats to give to Matt? Brilliant!

Rapidly texted Lindsay back, they hadn’t even noticed Joe creeping up on them until he awkwardly cleared his throat.

Quickly dimming their screen, they looked up at him. “Hey Joe, what’s up?”

“You, uh.” He looked around the otherwise-empty room, the very picture of shifty, then continued at a lower tone. “You said we could ask you about Matt’s… thing.”

“His thing,” they repeated drily.

“Yeah, you know, the. Uh.” Joe stuck up a finger on each side of his head, wiggling them slightly. Like cat ears, Jeremy supposed. “You know?”

Pressing a fist to their mouth to stifle their laughter, they nodded slightly. “The cat thing? Yes. Who told you?”

“BK and—Uh. I mean. No one.” Joe cleared his throat again, awkwardly looking away. “I definitely found out on my own.”

“Sure.” They shook their head. Definitely something to keep in mind, the poor acting skills of some of the newer crew members. You never know when those kind of things come in handy! “You had a question about it?”

He nodded, shuffling a little on his feet. “Yeah, so he’s like, a werecat, right? Sometimes a human and sometimes a cat?”

Interesting. Was that the consensus that they had reached, or was that just what Joe had decided was the truth? Either way, they gestured for him to keep talking.

“So what I was wondering, um. Is he always fully human, or fully cat, or…?”

“What, like does he keep cat-like traits when he’s human, or something?” They quirked a brow at him, using the pause to quickly search through their brain. Stoke the flames, stoke the flames… “Hm. Well, you know how it is with weres: never fully one or the other.”

“So he’s like…” Joe gestured vaguely, like he was trying to grab at concepts he couldn’t reach. “A little cat?” he settled on, weakly.

“Oh yeah, for sure” they said, casually reclining on their chair. “Haven’t you noticed how he’s always prowling the base at night? That’s the were-zoomies.”

They watched Joe mouth the word ‘were-zoomies’, stifling the grin that threatened to break out on their face. Yes. Yes. Go on, fall for it.

“Right,” Joe said, slowly, like he was testing the word. “That makes sense. Uh. Sorry for bothering you with this.”

“It’s fine,” they assured him, flapping their hand. “Just make sure to keep it quiet from the rest, yeah? Especially Matt, he doesn’t like talking about it much.”

“Uh huh.” Joe nodded. “And I guess you’d know best anyway, since you’ve known him longest.”

“Exactly,” they agreed easily. “Was that all?”

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.” He shifted on his feet again. “Thanks, Jeremy. Again.”

“No problem,” they repeated, even as Joe turned around to walk away. They waited another moment or two, until they were sure that he was leaving—and that he’d really fallen for it—and then turned on their phone again to resume texting Lindsay.

They would love the new twist that had just been added to the story.

---

Idly watching a program run on the monitor in front of him, Matt hummed. “Hey, Trevor.”

“Hey Matt,” Trevor echoed dutifully, sitting on the bed behind him, Buddy in his lap.

“Do you think the new crew members have been acting weird around me?”

Because he was pretty sure they were acting weird. At first he had just assumed it was nerves over joining the crew, but then he realized it was only around him. Like they became instantly transfixed on him whenever he entered a room any of them were in.

“I don’t know.” Trevor sounded doubtful, and Matt spun around to find him frowning. “I haven’t noticed anything, but I haven’t really been paying attention to it, I guess.”

Matt hummed. “I guess I’m just worried I’m spending too much time in the office again, you know?”

“Honestly, you haven’t been that bad.” Trevor leant further back, and they both watched in silence as Buddy stretched out further in the newly gained space. “Maybe that’s why? You’re just around more to notice it, now that we’re not the new guys.”

“Maybe,” he said, doubtfully. “I don’t know. It just seems kind of weird. The last time people were acting all strange around me was, you know, when we moved in.”

“And we wouldn’t want a repeat from that.” Trevor laughed, then fell silent as he saw the look on Matt’s face. “Matt. You’re not seriously thinking about it.”

“What? It happened once, it could’ve happened again.” He shook his head. “Besides, Jeremy is absolutely the type to feed the new guys a made-up story of me being a werecat. They definitely didn’t get their fill of chaos last time around.”

“It’s not like they would’ve needed to do that.” Trevor clicked his tongue, chastising. “You still regularly grumble about missing your old cat life. It’s not like that couldn’t have caused some strange thoughts.”

Matt spluttered, “Now hold on—”

“Besides,” Trevor cut him off, mercilessly. “You also responded to Lindsay going “pspspsps” over the comms just a few days. By muting everyone else and focusing exclusively on them.”

He stared down Matt, as if daring him to defend himself again. When he didn’t, Trevor sniffed. “See? Perfectly normal reasons why people might think you’re a werecat, again, without Jeremy having done anything.”

“Right,” he agreed. Trevor kind of had a point. He did do all of those things. “But consider this: these are exactly the kind of shenanigans that Jeremy is all about.”

Trevor visibly thought about it. Then nodded. “True, true. Guess we’ll see how it all turns out, then.”

---

Paper rustled loudly as Gavin dug through the pile of wrapped presents still left in the middle of their circle. From the sidelines most of the crew was shouting at him to hurry up, either because they wanted to receive their own presents, or because they wanted to see the reactions to what they had given.

Jack just shuffled in deeper into the couch she had claimed. Some of the newer crew members might’ve been feeling uncertain about their picks—it was their first Secret Santa since Jeremy, Trevor, and Matt had joined, after all—but she knew she had made an excellent choice.

Gavin exclaimed victoriously over having found the present he’d been looking for, holding it up proudly. And then groaned when he read the label: addressed to Matt.

Smiling satisfied, she watched him accept the present. Good.

“What is it, Matt?” Joe called loudly the moment Matt begun opening the present, clearly stoked on by Alfredo sitting next to him.

“Give me a moment!” Matt called back, carefully taking apart the paper. And clearly going slow on purpose, based on the way he was grinning at the exasperated—and dramatic—groans around him.

And then he gasped, having seen the contents of his present.

Michael, sitting next to him, leaned to take a look. And then made a face. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s great is what it is!” Matt lifted up his gift to show it to the rest. And Jack knew she’d made the right choice the moment she saw it, but seeing Matt’s wide grin now filled her with pride nonetheless.

In Matt’s hands, he held a knitted sweater. An unbelievably obnoxious, very ugly, and very grandma-style knitted sweater. With a cat theme.

“I love it!” he exclaimed, even as Jeremy, on his other side, made a loud gagging noise. “Wait—”

And then he pulled it on over the hoodie he’d been wearing, wiggling slightly to get it to sit right. And just as she had guessed, it was just slightly oversized for him.

“Oh, it’s so nice.” Matt rubbed one arm of the sweater, plucking at it slightly. “It’s so warm and soft! I love it. Thank you, Secret Santa!”

“It’s atrocious,” Jeremy spat out like they couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Matt, look at it!”

“I am looking at it.” Matt grinned at Jeremy like a cat who’d gotten the cream. “Here, just feel it, Jeremy. Gimme a pat.”

Jeremy rolled their eyes but obliged, patting Matt’s arm briefly. Then they sighed. “Yeah, alright, I’ll give you that. It’s very soft.”

“Told you.” Matt shook his arms slightly, letting the too-long sleeves fall over his hands. “Oh, right, my turn to pick a present. Hm, let’s see…”

---

Matt absentmindedly twirled the glass in his hand, watching the liquid in it swish around. Ever since he and Trevor had realized that BK, Ky, and Joe thought he was a—a werecat or something, he had become aware of just how much they stared at him. It was like, equal parts fascinated and terrified. So probably werecat then? Were they thinking about him just suddenly turning into a cat in front of them, or something?

He didn’t know, and quite frankly, he had no idea how to ask.

Up went the glass as he took a drink from it. Nope, still no idea.

And the three of them were still staring, on the other side of the table.

Really, when Trevor had suggested that Matt just go out with them for a night to find a way to bring it up, he’d thought that Trevor would’ve come along. But nooo, that would’ve been too easy, huh? Had to go and do this all alone.

How the fuck were you supposed to start a conversation about this, anyway?

“So,” BK blurted out suddenly, leaning forward on her elbows, “When you turn into a cat, does that hurt? Like, is that why you never do it?”

“When I what?” he answered automatically, somehow feeling caught off-guard despite wanting to get into this exact conversation.

Also, apparently that is how you start a conversation about this kind of stuff. He’d consider it good to know, but he was really kind of hoping not to get into this situation a third time.

Groaning, he pinched his nose. “I’m not a werecat, or whatever Jeremy told you three.”

“But the—the were-zoomies.” Joe gestured around the last word as if to emphasize it.

“The what?” He shook his head, setting the thought aside. “Look. I don’t know what Jeremy convinced you three of, but I can guarantee you it’s not real. Although I guess that that does explain why Buddy has been begging for more attention from the rest of us…”

“Buddy?” Ky repeated cautiously.

“Yeah. Buddy the cat.” He pulled up a photo on his phone, even though he was sure they all knew exactly who he was talking about. “See? That’s our cat. Mine, Jeremy’s, and Trevor’s, before we moved in with the rest of the crew. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”

“But—But—” BK spluttered, and then fell silent when he swiped over to a photo of him holding Buddy. “Oh.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He rolled his eyes, tucking his phone away again. “Honestly, it’s kind of unbelievable this happened again. Although I guess it doesn’t really count if Jeremy orchestrated this on purpose…”

“But I heard you complain about missing being a cat!” BK gestured at him. “What does that even mean!”

He nodded slowly. “I assume Jeremy told you about how, when I first joined the crew, no one saw or heard me? They only knew me by name? So, somehow, they wrongly start to think—"

---

“JEREMY!”

They looked up from the game they had been playing. Was that BK? Hadn’t she gone out with Ky, Joe, and Matt?

The door slammed open, and they spun around on their chair. Standing in the opening were all three of the new crew members. The crew members they had tricked into thinking Matt was a werecat.

“So uh.” They looked between the three fuming crew members. “You figured it out, huh?”

“I’m going to kill you!” BK snarled, making grabbing hands at them from where she still stood. “You asshole! Months!”

“Oh yeah, you really fell for it.” They giggled, ignoring the way the three of them crept further into the room. “But hey, now you get to join the club with the rest of crew! You’re fitting in just right!”

“You’ll fit in just right in the hole you’re about to make in the ground,” Ky growled, stepping up to them. “Because we’re about to drop you off of the roof.”

They looked over to Joe. Who shook his head. “Oh no, I’m with them.”

“Shame.” They shrugged, putting down their controller. “Ah well. Worth it.”

Buddy meowed from the corner of the desk where he’d been sitting.

So worth it.

#ah fanfic #ah fanfiction #fake ah crew #fahc #dark writes #anyway you might think this is a case of a fandom writer suddenly going RPF but it's actually the reverse #AH was the very first fandom I ever wrote for #the good ol' roots

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites​ that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife. 

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington. 

A Harrington. 

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath. 

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet. 

And it’s not that. 

Not really. 

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to. 

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over. 

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.  

“Are you okay?” 

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal. 

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen. 

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?” 

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes. 

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush. 

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest. 

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.” 

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers. 

“Steve.” 

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort. 

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins. 

-

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials. 

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington. 

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions. 

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. 

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’ 

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you. 

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.  

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two. 

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him. 

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding. 

Agreements, plans, business deals.  

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband. 

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer. 

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit. 

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners. 

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know? 

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him. 

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.” 

“The Harringtons.” 

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow. 

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds. 

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve. 

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner. 

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks. 

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap. 

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt. 

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own. 

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands. 

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

-

Seventeen hours. 

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days. 

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island. 

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water. 

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you. 

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?” 

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom. 

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly. 

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room. 

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly. 

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?” 

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.  

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed. 

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones. 

“Pillow. Wall.” 

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail. 

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright. 

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette. 

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with. 

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm. 

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep. 

-

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose. 

Steve’s been working for hours now. 

Since you both woke up, really. 

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence. 

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest. 

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book. 

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated. 

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?” 

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue. 

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way. 

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages. 

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.  

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?” 

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.” 

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays. 

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned. 

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders. 

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him. 

-

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding. 

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know. 

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was. 

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of. 

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin. 

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.” 

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view. 

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale. 

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!” 

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?” 

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” 

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.” 

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes. 

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore. 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

It’s easier this way. 

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter. 

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown. 

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna. 

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface. 

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound. 

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law. 

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

-

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known. 

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder. 

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far. 

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly. 

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…” 

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach. 

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now. 

He knows it’s not coincidental. 

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it? 

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you. 

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him. 

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal. 

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest. 

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands. 

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts. 

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there. 

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his. 

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist. 

Because you’re his wife, yes. 

Technically. 

On paper, at least. 

But that’s all it can be. 

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date. 

Three years. 

Three years and then you’ll be gone. 

Lost to him, like so many others. 

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way. 

-

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close. 

Held close. 

Held close. 

Held— 

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in. 

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering. 

You don’t have time for any of those things. 

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you. 

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom. 

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace. 

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder. 

Whimpers. 

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips. 

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.” 

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable. 

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall. 

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room. 

You don’t want to think about it. 

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No! 

Absolutely not! Not going there. 

NOPE. 

-

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain. 

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows. 

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up. 

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already. 

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing. 

Zero. 

Zilch. 

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home. 

That’s right. 

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home. 

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward. 

Stilted. 

Uncomfortable. 

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other. 

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy. 

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal. 

The arrangement. 

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose. 

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

-

-

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #modern day!au

[alfryco]

okay your ask inspired me so more AH asks for you: 1, 5, 8, 25, 34, 48, 51!! <3

Thank you for the questions Emrys :3

1) How did you get into AH?

Already answered, but I got into them by seeing a video somebody made on youtube with a bunch of other fandoms that were popular on Tumblr in 2014.

5) Favorite team?

Whatever the hell team name Trevor and Alfredo have now (tho Team Nice Dynamite is always right behind them in my heart)

8) Favorite AU?

Hmm favorite AU would have to be the Fake AH Crew AU just because of all the memories I have of messing around in that AU and all the great content that people have created using that AU. There's just so much to do when the characters you're playing with are literal criminals.

25) Has a video or specific moment ever made you emotional?

Not sure if this is for like sad emotional or happy emotional or whatever, but the first video I can remember off the top of my head that made me emotional in the sad way was when Meg had to host The Know after Monty passed away.

34) Have you seen the musical?

Yep I have! Watched the whole thing when it was mixed with the GTA video.

48) If you have one, who’s your favorite fic author or fan artist?

OOoohhh boy do I *cracks knuckles*

Since I know I can't narrow this down to like one author and artist I'm just gonna do a handful of the large amount of people that have created some of my favorite works and inspired me/influenced me with how I write.

So author wise I have to first give it up for @confusedeevee who without her I would most likely not be writing AH fanfic like I am today, plus she's an excellent beta, amazing writing partner and always helps me brainstorm when I need it and will listen to me rant and rave about all my au ideas even tho it's probably 3 am for her :') and her fics are out of this world, please go read them.

Next is @futureboy LIGHT OF MY FUCKING LIFE who fed (and continues to feed tbh) my alfreyco cravings and has some of the best written dialogue out there and a head full of incredible ideas when it comes to writing! They just have some of the best writing out there and they're honestly killing it with the ST fics right now.

And since we're talking about Alfreyco (because how could we not am i right??) @jusst-you-wait is honestly really to blame for me still writing AH fic to this day, because this lovely alfreyco obsession of mine started when I read her Fake AH fic about Trevor and Alfredo investigating some abandoned building for Geoff and that's all she wrote. Also one of the best hype mans out there and such a great writer!

And I can't forget @shadeofazmeinya and @sorcererinthestars who also have some of the best fics out there in my opinion. And tbh I included both of them in one thing because one is not far from the other when it comes to fics and tumblr and there places in my HEART! Love these two so much and both have them have produced such fantastic work in this fandom and appreciate that every single DAY.

Ok now with artists unfortunately there aren't as many as there used to be in the ye olden days of the fandom, but that doesn't mean we don't have some excellent artists still!

Firstly is @keeningthoughts who without them I would not have the lovely alfreyco outlast fanart that I cry over almost daily and would not have known the joys of being in a server dedicated to a podcast co-lead by two very silly boys. Clay, your everchanging art style and the art you've drawn, no matter how silly, have always made me so happy when i see them on here or twitter :3

And then @ursifors who has created some of the most awesome art in this fandom. Just the way you draw the AH members (and Jeremy lbr) is so incredible and fun to look at. Your shading and the way you draw expressions are always the best. Like the way you nail people's faces is just 👌👌👌👌

51) Any videos, series, podcasts, etc. you’d recommend to new fans?

Would definitely recommend Red Web (how can I not?) if you're into spooky things and conspiracy theories, but for general AH stuff I would recommend Off Topic because that is always a good, tho sometimes chaotic, way to get a feel for the vibes at AH. As for videos, any Between the Games and Shenanigans videos are always great to watch. Series wise, there are always MC and GTA videos, which are CLASSICS even if they're older and Play Pals which is 👌. Always recommend those. Some more recent ones would be GMOD and 7 days to die. Also the Rage Quit anniversary video they came out like two weeks ago. That was an excellent video.

#hey a question #rtah #lapingumbar #ok that was so much fun to answer #i hope i didnt forget anybody in the author/artist section but if i did i luv u and the work you put into this fandom makes me #so unbelievably happy like u have no idea

[chilipepperconverse]

Ao3 Author tag game!

tagged by my bestie @plushie-sentai <3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

19!

2. What is your Ao3 word count?

74,854 holy shit. i hadn't checked it in awhile lmao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

oh all kinds of shit, but rn i'm up to my eyeballs in tokusatsu. i tend to jump from fandom to fandom depending on my current hyperfixations HSKDJGS

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

in the fall we sleep all day (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

the end was soon (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

feeling so alive, feeling something (my hero academia, tododeku)

we both need it to forget this fear (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

if that's what it takes (my hero academia, tododeku)

all of these are like. at least 4 years old LMAO

5. Do you respond to comments?

i always do!!

6. Which of your fics has the angstiest ending?

mmmm depends on your definition i think. if you include canon compliant events its def one of my danganronpa fics (a foreign still or light of the moon) but that feels boring to me SO i might say my most recent fic for kamen rider ex-aid (or just mine tonight) since it ends on kindof a sour note for the characters? im not sure tbh, as much as i love angst in a fic i tend to like happier or ambiguous endings.

7. Which of your fics has the happiest ending?

that's an easy one! my dimension 20: mentopolis fic (whale fall) was written before the finale and was my guess as to what would happen w one of the pairs of characters, and its very sweet and wholesome i think :3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

i do! i used to be terrified of it, but i think i've gotten better the more i write! i don't hold any bars on what kind of smut i'll write, either-- whatever the characters are workin with, i'll do it!! lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest crossover you've written?

i used to! back when i wrote for achievement hunter i wrote an au where the fake AH crew were killjoys, like from gerard way's comics and the MCR album danger days :p i got uncomfy with RPF as i got older tho so those fics are all lost media now HSJGHJD

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope! not that i'm aware of anyways lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but if anyone wants to... pleading emoji

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not unless roleplay counts... i used to rp a certain anime with friends mostly as a joke in high school but we did try and write story-format roleplay a few times

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

i don't much care for it or the property anymore bc i've got some bad experiences tied to it, but i think the ship i've gone the most batshit over is probably jonmartin from the magnus archives. right now tho? definitely best match from kamen rider build <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my magnus archives dnd au (write an anthem worth repeating), for aforementioned reasons of not feeling good about the source material anymore :( a shame bc i thought my writing in that fic was nice

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i'm pretty good at characterization! i get a lot of comments saying i give good insight into how characters feel which is lovely to hear, bc thats what i like most about writing fanfic!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

PACING... AND PLOTS IN GENERAL... why do you think i only write one-shots!! 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't trust myself enough to do it right... i write a lot of fic for japanese media so the most i'll do is use the japanese word for something that can't be translated (names of foods for example)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

god probably warrior cats in like 3rd grade... on Ao3 tho it was achievement hunter, but those are gone like i said earlier </3

20. Favorite fic you've written?

is it cheating if i say my wip?? ;3

i'm gonna tag @meganechan05 bc i cant remember who else im moots with who writes fic but if you see this and wanna do it go ahead n say i tagged you!! :D

#chili got tagged #writing things #shut up chili

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Some of my favourite lines from my plans for shitty One Piece / Zosan drawings + fanfics Part 4

Ah, the bitch posts for the first time in a millennia and it's just one of these again. Top of my game. basically just a magical baby acquisition fic, woohoo? - Woohoo. and there's just a fucking baby hangin out kinda slumped over sanji's leg - Aw man, how'd that get there? they don't really pay much attention to that anyway cause like - a baby just fucking spawned in front of them and they're mostly focusing on that part, right - I mean, I feel like if I touched a statue and a baby just materialised on my leg, I'd be pretty concerned also. they come back out and are just kinda like 'we found this' and hold the baby up - Me when the local plant life and I team up to locate a magic infant. and luffy goes 'booo~! sanji brought back a baby, we can't eat that~! …or can we?-' - 🤨 'since of course same-sex couples were frowned on in those days. and by frowned on i mean that they would be stoned to death, but regardless.' - Yoooo, Robin telling it like it is. 'you made a big deal when you made a fucking child' - Zoro hates children question mark exclamation mark?! zoro is like 'you just fucking said it was an accident, how do i have any more part in raising that thing than you! just fucking put it back or something, i don't know!' sanji is like 'first of all! we can't just send them back to where they came! can we…?' and robin smiles like 'no, i don't believe there's a way to unbirth the child' - No post magical statue birth abortions today boys, R.I.P. zoro tries to object but a couple of the crew, maybe nami usopp franky and luffy kinda boo and jeer at him and zoro huffs and he's kinda like 'so, uh… baby that materialised out of weird cult magic… did you ask to be born?' - Booo, boooo! Ask the baby existential questions! franky snaps a finger then a tiny hand comes out of his big hand and snaps a finger again and his hair turns into a snapping finger - Bro's emoting into the 6th dimension, what the fuck. while zoro goes 'even if i don't want the fake magic spawn here, doesn't mean i'm gonna kill it. i'm not that dumb or violent.' sanji kinda smirks like 'and people say you aren't self aware' zoro's just like 'die.' - Oof. and luffy's like 'alright! sanji'll be the best katniss gargoyle you've ever had!' usopp's just like 'not even close' - 🤨🤨 chopper goes 'it's kitsune guardian, luffy' he's like 'that's what i said! sanji's already got all that stuff you said. he's super strong, super nice, he's 21 and umm… what was that last one?' zoro smirks like 'virgin' and sanji's like 'oi.' and luffy's like 'that too! super virgin.' - basically, dude's gotta have a few specific qualities to fulfil the role he straight up got dragged into and those were it. also: 🤨🤨🤨⁉️⁉️ nami just konks him over the head again and now he's got two head injuries (🥳) - 🥳 then the elders are kinda just like '… his name, please.' sanji's like 'three brain cell style.' '…' 'algae' '…' 'the green one' '…' - Roronoag Zorgo 👍 immediately the crew are kinda like 'woah' then like 'awoooga. hoh-uh hoh-uh. wink wink nudge nudge cough cough hack' right - Humina humina. and sanji's a bit on fire, just a little - Oopsy doodles. and sanji straight up just rams a sandal in his mouth at mach 4 speed glaring pure death - Nyoom.

#back on my bullshit dawg lesgooo #one piece #op #fanfic #fanfiction #zoro #roronoa zoro #pirate hunter zoro #sanji #blackleg sanji #black leg sanji #zosan #sanzo #luffy #monkey d luffy #strawhats #post timeskip #chopper #tony tony chopper #usopp #god usopp #franky #cyborg franky #nami #cat burglar nami #strawhat pirates #zoro one piece #black foot sanji #monkey d. lufy #zosan fanfic

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

FAHC prompt: Michael doesn’t let people take care of him when he’s sick. They don’t need to be bothered anyway, it’s never serious and he’s good enough at hiding it. So when Michael has stayed in his room for three days in a row, the crew decides to figure out what’s up, not knowing how sick he is.

Thanks for your patience while it took me a while to get to this prompt. I initially got it after one very similar that I did for Jack so I wanted to give some space between those too!

But here we go!

Enjoy my masterlist! (More FAHC is at the bottom!)

Support me on Ko-fi. 

_____________________________

The Shakes

“Achoo!” Michael’s bows at the power of the sneeze that hurts his throat. “Fuck,” he huffs before sniffling. There’s no good time to be sick but at least right now he can hold himself up for a few days. A few people were off collecting intel and staking out locations. He didn’t necessarily have to pretend not to feel the awful that was overtaking him. But he doesn’t have to worry about the fretting over. 

It’s a lot of soup and vitamin C at first but it doesn’t quite seem to be doing the trick. The aches still catch him in the late evening. The fevers come and he can break them but they keep creeping up. “God, if this is the end, just take me,” he wails from his bed. There’s a nest of tissues that have missed the overflowing trashcan. 

“Michael boi, what happened to you?”

Michael turns to see Gavin, poking his head in through the cracked door. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m just dying.” On cue, another sneeze shakes through his body and he flops into the pillows with a hard sigh. “When did you get back? How long it’s been?”

“Just got back today. Three days. You look like utter shit. Have you taken anything?”

Michael looks over to bottles of Dayquil and Nyquil. “Unless those some sort of fakes, yeah.”

Alfredo’s sees Gavin hovering the door of Michael’s door and takes pause. “What’s happenin’ wit you fellas?” And just over Gavin’s shoulder, Alfredo sees the sea of tissues, Michael’s shivering body and the bottles of water strewn about. Some are empty. Some just have dregs and dribbles of water left in them. “I got something for that.”

Michael tries to protests, tries to tell them not to worry but he never gest the defense out. Gavin follows behind Alfredo. Alfredo scampers around the kitchen, putting a pot onto the stove. Gavin grabs some extra trash bags and gloves. 

When Gavin returns to clean up the tissues and bottles, Michael’s sound asleep, curled up under the sheets and with a fan blowing at the foot of it. IT’s silent as Gavin manages to clean up the tissues and right as he finishes that Alfredo returns, a towel over his arm before rousing Michael awake. 

“I am a grown man,” Michael huffs, but lets Alredo drape the towel over his head. 

“Just humor me for like two seconds,” Fredo giggles before they walk back into the kitchen. Placing Michael over the steaming point, Alfredo continues on chopping veggies and pulling spices down from the racks. 

Michael’s inhaling the vapor, eyes blearing just a little but god, now his nose is finally opening up. “Is this what a nose does?” he cheers into he vapors. His arms flailing just a little as he hold the towel over his head. 

“Yeah, that is what a nose does.” Soon, Michael’s curled up on the couch. Everyone comes by changing out the water, or asking if he wants more of the soup Alfredo made. Michael’s not sure what’s in it. It’s spicy for sure but whatever it is cleared his sinus and his brain. It feels less like he’s underwater and more like his old self. 

When night comes, the fevers don’t ripple him though his muscles do feel fatigued and achy. Though he’s sure that’s just from the battle of the last few days. Curled up in his blankets, Michael taps his knuckles to the door. “Freddy,” he calls gently. He gives another rap before the door creaks open. 

“What’s up? Something else wrong?”

“Nah, just wanted to say thanks. For earlier.”

Alfredo shrugs, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Seriously though, it means a lot. Just don’t let anyone else know that I told you that. I’ll have to kill you.”

“Can’t let my friend succumb to the evil germs.” They nod at each other and Michael shuffles down the hallway, grumbling at something or maybe it’s just for the hell of it. But Alfredo watches for a moment, the way Michael hunches overs just to make sure he gets to his room okay before slipping back into his room for the night. 

-H

#michael jones #fahc #fake ah crew #achievement hunter #alfredo diaz #gavin free #fahc fic #fahc imagine #fahc blurb #fake ah crew fanfic #fake ah crew fic #fake ah crew imagine #fake ah crew blurb

[toasterness]

Chapter three is up, boys! I did my final edits while listening to the Robin Hood soundtrack, so hopefully that added something.

In which the boys suffer a bit more and also figure some shit out.

#we've got this #shit's finally happening #the robin hood hiccup #achievement hunter fanfic #achievement hunter fanfiction #fake ah crew #fahc #fake ah crew fanfic #fake ah crew fanfiction #fahc fanfic #fahc fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #myan #team crazy mad #mine

[orphanbrigade]

All That Glitters

Orphan Brigade [High School Years]: Geoffs boys are growing up fast. They’re attending High School, meeting girls and participating in epic heists.

(I’ve posted this one in sections before, but here’s the whole thing)

(Warning: Contains guns and violence)

Ryan had no-one to blame but himself.

He never should have mentioned it.

But for their latest heist, they needed someone to go undercover at a glitzy, socialite fundraiser ball.

Jack instantly dismissed Ryan as being unsuitable for the role.

“It’s nothing personal Ryan. But it’s the same social circle as your family. Your parents might even be there themselves. There’s too much risk that you’ll be spotted.

“Ah, but you’re forgetting that it’s a themed event.” Ryan explained casually. “And this year it’s masquerade. Everyone will be wearing masks.”

“Still-”

“I’m the only one with the training to pull this off.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m the only one who knows how these events work. I know the posture, the greetings, the dances-”

“Dances?” Jeremy interjected.

“…Well, it’s a ball. There’s always dancing.”

Jeremy struggled to contain his laughter at the mental image.

“You can dance Ry?” Gavin laughed, thoroughly amused.

“Yeah, I do it all the time with your girlfriend.” Ryan countered impassively.

The room erupted in laughter and jeering from the Lads (and Geoff) at Gavin’s expense.

“Okay, okay!” Jack managed to regain order. “Ryan, You’ll be our way in then. As long as you wear a mask the whole time.”

“And not the skull mask.” Michael added, still snickering.

“You got it.” Ryan nodded, a determined look on his face.

Ryan had his signature mask. The black skull which represented his darker side; the Vagabond.

But over the years he had accumulated a number of different masks from various themed heists (usually the ones orchestrated by the lads). He opened the drawer which housed them all and searched for something which would be appropriate for the masquerade.

He smirked to himself when he spotted the wolf mask. The theme of the ball was fairy-tales, so he would fit in perfectly as the Big Bad Wolf.

A knock on his bedroom door broke his train of thought, he dropped the mask into his bag before opening the door.

“You’re going?” Meg asked, without prelude.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Ryan responded coyly.

“Cut the crap Ry. Gavin already told me.” Meg walked into the room, dropping down to sit on Ryan’s bed.

“Okay, yes. I’m going. But I’ll wear my mask the whole time so no-one should notice me.”

“They’ll notice a big guy like you all alone. You’ll draw attention to yourself. You need some arm candy.” Meg flicked her hair over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ll go with you. Help you blend in more and draw the attention away from you.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s not that dangerous, right? Gavin didn’t explain the whole plan to me, but it seems simple enough. And I’ll be there anyway, my families dragging me along. I might as well do something fun while I’m there.”

“It’s not a game Meg.” Ryan warned tensely.

“I know that. But it’s still exciting!”

Ryan weighed up the pros and cons. He figured that the mission had a very low risk factor. He couldn’t envision many ways for it to become a dangerous situation and even if it did, he was confident in his abilities to keep Meg safe.

“Fine. But I’m in charge.”

“You got it boss.” Meg winked and saluted before jumped up and leaving, eager to tell Gavin the news.

It wasn’t a comfortable environment for Ryan, but it was certainly a familiar one.

The large ball-room twinkled with warm light radiating from the chandeliers. A string quartet sat up on the stage, their music mixing with the sound of chattering party attendees. Everyone was dressed to impress, expensive tuxedos, dazzling ballgowns and, most importantly, their masquerade masks.

Meg fit in perfectly. She wore a tight fitting black dress, with a blood red cape draped over her shoulders. A red and black masquerade mask concealed her eyes.The Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf. “Come on.” She smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s go dance.”

Ryan and Meg has always been each others dancing partners. Their parents had been close and had encouraged the two to spend time together, especially during formal events. They were well trained in dance and familiar with each others movements and timing. It was second nature at this point.

Ryan rested on hand on Megs waist and held her hand with the other. He laughed as Meg started to hum the theme song from Beauty and The Beast, “I’m not that kind of beast.” He pointed out as they swayed across the dance-floor, his voice somewhat muffled by his wolf mask.

“You’re not a beast at all.” Meg retorted. “Now be quiet and let me have my Disney moment.”

As the next song started to play, Meg tensed. “Your parents are here.”

Ryan didn’t look.

“Have you seen them? Since…. you know?” Meg asked, vaguely alluding to Ryan’s college graduation party, when a rival gang had burst into his family’s home looking for the Vagabond. Ryan had revealed his criminal identity, dealt with the attackers, then ran. He was surprised nothing had gotten out to the press. He assumed his parents had paid for everyone’s silence.

“No.” Ryan replied bluntly. “They haven’t tried to get in touch either. No calls, texts, emails. Nothing. I’m just giving them space.”

“If you want to talk to them…”

Ryan shook his head. “It’s fine Meg. Don’t worry about it. Worry about the job the hand.”

“Right.” Meg nodded. “Find the banker. Steal his key…. What banks still use keys?”

“The key isn’t to the bank. It’s to his home.”

“… I don’t think I want to know any more.”

“Probably not.” Ryan nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s mingle.”

While Meg was distracted by an old friend, Ryan took the opportunity to find them something to drink. He soon found a bar and waited to be served. While he waited, Ryan took a moment to survey the party, looking as casual as he possibly could. He hadn’t seen his target yet, but it was only a matter of time.

“James?” A familiar voice jolted Ryan out of his quiet surveillance.

A quick glance to the side confirmed what Ryan had feared. His father, Thomas Haywood, was stood right next to him.

Luckily, Ryan’s face was totally disguised by his wolf mask. “…No.” He mumbled, doing his best to disguise his voice.

“Ryan.” Thomas continued, knowing that, for some reason, his son preferred to use his middle name.

“I think you have the wrong person.” Ryan stated, trying not to panic.

His father smiled fondly. “Ah, I’m sorry. It’s just you remind me of my son. He ran away from home recently and I see him everywhere.”

“…Oh?” Ryan prompted, morbidly curious.

“Yes. We’ve tried to give him his space, but it’s difficult, you know?” Thomas took a long swig of his drink. This surprised Ryan who had never really seen his father drink alcohol before. “You try to do the best you can but sometimes its just… not good enough.”

“What happened?” Ryan found himself asking. He knew that he should have left the second he spotted his parents, but he found himself rooted to the ground, desperate to hear more.

“He was a good kid.” Thomas expanded, ordering another drink. Ryan wondered how many he had consumed already. “Top of his class. Active in extra curriculum stuff. Not very sociable with kids his age. But kids are jerks. I don’t blame him.”

Ryan suppressed a chuckle.

“I don’t know what happened. Our good little kid started doing bad things… Now he’s a criminal. I don’t know what we did wrong.”

“It’s not your fault.” Ryan assured him.

“How can you be so sure?” Thomas challenged, swallowing his drink in one swift swig.

“Some people are just… like that.” Ryan tried to explain. “There’s no reasoning behind it. No tragic backstory which lead to a life of crime. It’s just… who they are. Nature over nurture I suppose.”

“I wish we could have done more…”

“… Try reaching out to him. Maybe if you talked, you’d understand more about him?”

“You-” Before Thomas could finish his thought, the firm hand of his wife pressed down on his shoulder. “Martha.”

“Come on Dear.” She responded firmly, clearly not impressed with his drinking. “We really should be leaving.”

“Have you met my new acquaintance here? Mr…?”

“Perrault.” Ryan responded quickly.

“Well, Mr Perrault.” Ryan’s mother flashed him an apologetic smile. “We really must be going.”

Everyone jumped as a barrage of gun fire could be heard at the main entrance. Ryan sighed when he spotted Craig, one of the heads of the Screw Attack Crew, with one arm around a hostage. He was using his free hand to wave a gun around menacingly. “Everyone listen up!” Craig demanded. “This is a robbery. I want every cent of your money or the girl here gets it.” He pressed the gun to the temple of the girls head. Ryan snarled when he realised that it was Meg that was being threatened.

“Someone has to do something.” Martha Haywood gasped quietly.

“I’m on it.” Ryan stated confidently, striding towards the hostage situation. He had no plan. But he knew that he wasn’t going to let anyone harm a single hair on Meg’s head.

Ryan confidently pushed his way through the fearful crowd until he was face to face with the gang leader, who now had two other members of his crew flanking him.

“Let her go.” Ryan warned them firmly.

“Oooh.” Craig smirked. “Look boys. It’s the big bad wolf.”

The crew snickered as menacingly as they could.

“Wonder who’s under the mask.” Chad, another member of the Screw Attack Crew, mused aloud. “Probably some spoiled, preppy little rich kid. If this your girlfriend, Wolf-boy?” He asked, gesturing towards the captive Meg.

“I’m not a Wolf-Boy.” Ryan pulled his mask off to reveal his painted face. He found that even the face paint was enough to install fear into people who knew about Los Santos criminals. Which is why he had decided to apply it, even under the masquerade mask. He let the mask drop to the floor. “I’m the mother-fucking Vagabond.”

There was a collection of gasps from the party goers. Even some shrieks from people who found the Vagabond to be far more of a threat than the crew currently holding them hostage.

Before Craig had a chance to speak, an explosion rocked the side of the building and chaos broke loose as the attendees of the party yelled,screamed and clambered to the exits.

“Son of a-” Ryan darted forward, breaking Craig’s nose with a quick jab and yanked Meg away from him. “Time to leave.” He pulled her through the panicked crowd, pausing only when he spotted his parents cowering behind the bar.After a moment of inner debate, Ryan raced over to them. “Get up.” He demanded.

“What..?” Ryan’s mother started to ask.

“If you stay here, the next explosion could kill you. Get up and follow me.”

Ryan led Meg, Thomas and Martha Haywood out of the ballroom and onto the streets of Los Santos.

“What about everyone else?” Ryan’s mother asked quietly.

“I’m not Batman. I can’t save everyone. We have to get out of here. That explosion could cause one hell of a chain reaction.”

The escaped into a relatively empty alleyway. The presence of the Vagabond scared away any would-be muggers.

“Ryan… sweet-heart. I think we need to have a little talk.” Martha started, somewhat nervously.

Ryan sighed before taking a wet wipe out of his pocket. In one swift motion, he removed most of his face paint. “Come on then, lets get coffee.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Meg stated, prepared to walk away.

“No.” Ryan wanted the support, but was too stubborn to admit to it.”I’d rather keep an eye on you. You know, in case the crew comes after you again.”

Meg gave Ryan a small smile. “Sure thing. I know a great coffee place a few blocks from here.” She informed them in a cheery tone. “Follow me.”

Ryan exited the cafe and let out a heavy sigh of relief. He hadn’t realised that he had been holding his breath, but now his lungs felt like they were ready to collapse.

The time spent talking to his parents had been tense but comforting and Ryan left the cafe feeling a little less alone.

Realising that he hadn’t brought any means of transport with him, Ryan started the long walk back to the penthouse.

The silence of his walk was broken as his phone vibrated, letting him know that Gavin was calling him. “Y’ello.”

“Hey Ryan, um...” Gavin sounded nervous. Ryan couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was clear that Gavin wanted to ask him something. “Could you-..” Gavin stopped himself before finishing the sentence.

“Jesus Christ.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Spit it out already.”

“Could you teach me how to dance?”

“.... Excuse me?”

“Well, Meg invited me to this big party her parents are throwing her for her birthday. And I want to impress her. And her parents. So I need to fit in. And I figured that would be easier if I could, you know, dance and stuff.”

Ryan smiled. “I can teach you. I’ll be home late tonight, but we can have a class in the morning if you want?”

“Sounds great! Thanks Rye.”

That morning Ryan awoke to find the whole family (plus Michael’s girlfriend Lindsay) waiting for him in the living room.

“....Is this some kind of intervention?” Ryan asked suspiciously. “Because I’d rather die than give up diet coke.”

Michael laughed. “No dumb-ass, it’s a dance lesson. Right?”

Ryan looked at Gavin, his eyes narrowing into a glare.

“It’s not my fault!” Gavin squeaked. “Michael found out and told Lindsay. Who told Jeremy. Who told Ray. Who told Geoff and Jack. And, well, here we are.”

“Ready to learn.” Jack added with a smile.

“... You all want to learn how to ballroom dance?” Ryan clarified. “After laughing at me for knowing how.”

“Pretty much.” Ray confirmed with a sly smirk. “We’re fickle like that.”

#ryan haywood #fake ah crew #Achievement Hunter #fake ah crew au #fake ah crew fanfic #vagabond

[everamazingfe]

All Work and No Sleep Makes Jeremy A Shaky Boy

Fic Summary: Jeremy had a fear of taking time off due to an awful past experience, but when he got too sick to help out, he knew that he had to. Luckily, his crew is there to help take care of him. Prompts: “You’re trembling.” “ I can take care of myself just fine.” “It’s three in the morning.” 

----------------------------------------------------

Words in this chapter: 1081 Pairings: OT5, Jeremy/Everyone Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: A rewrite of an old fic that was previously a prompt request. I know there’s way more members of the crew now, but I’m just so soft for OT5, and I’ve never really written it before so this was nice. 

----------------------------------------------------

When Jeremy overworked himself, he always did his best to hide it. At the first job he’d ever had, he'd worked himself sick and took a day off. He was fired the next day not even ten minutes after walking through the door. That was the last time he ever took a sick day. He'd only been eighteen, and the fear of getting fired followed him into every job he had after that shitty grocery store gig. 

A little over a decade later, Jeremy was working a job he liked. In fact, he might even say that he loved it. But still, he had never taken a sick day, or a vacation, or even time to rest. He'd done heists running fevers and sporting broken bones, he’d stayed up for nearly twenty four hours doing prep work and scouting sites. Sure, there was no rest for the wicked, but surely even the devil himself took a day off. Not Jeremy, though. He was scared of losing his job again. Money was hard to come by for someone like him without one, and these people... He loved and cared for them so much, he didn’t want to let them down. Working hard was how he proved that love, but everyone had a breaking point.

It came after nearly 48 hours of no sleep, barely any food, and some dehydration as he stumbled out of his room. He’d been so focused on the job ahead that he’d forgotten to take care of himself. Normally he was able to at least do the bare minimum, but it had just slipped his mind. But even then, all that wasn't what was making him so shaky. "I... I can't do the job today." He took a pause as he tried to compose himself, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut. "I don’t wanna let you guys down and I know you need me, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry."

There was a beat of silence, then: "What, you think you can just take a day off?!" Geoff cried, but he hadn’t turned around just yet. 

Oh boy, here it comes, Jeremy thought to himself as he braced for the dismissal he was certain he was going to receive. 

“Jeremy, we're criminals. You can't just 'take a day off' or whatever bullshit you’re trying to pul-...” Geoff turned around as he spoke, cutting himself off with his face softening from the ‘stern boss’ expression to one of pure concern the moment he laid eyes on Jeremy. “Oh, shit, Jer, you're trembling." He spoke as he moved, going over to the poor lad and feeling his forehead. "You're running a hell of a fever, too." How had he allowed Jeremy to get so sick? How had he not noticed? He was supposed to look out for his crew, and yet it was apparent he’d failed at that. 

"I'm fine, Geoff. I swear, I'm fine, I just need some rest. I'm sorry." His voice was shaking as much as his body was, and he was only able to relax when Geoff sternly told him to get some rest instead of telling him to pack his things and go.

Little did he know that plans for the day were halted, because Geoff could just tell that when he said he was fine that it was bullshit. Jack was now helping him make soup, and the rest of the lads were gathering up pillows and preparing to move a TV into Jeremy's room so they could have a movie marathon. Fortunately, he slept through the rather noisy installation.  

Bleary-eyed, Jeremy eventually woke up to the opening scene of Tangled and the two lads wrapping him up in blankets. "Wha-?" he asked, still too groggy to form actual thoughts. 

"The lads are here to help you relax!" Gavin cheered as he nestled himself into bed next to Jeremy, kissing his cheek before he tucked his face against his neck. Gavin’s breath was warm against his skin, and focusing on his rhythmic breathing worked like a charm to get him to relax. 

Michael tucked himself in on the other side of Jeremy, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him so that he was laying on his chest. "It's a movie marathon. Doctor's orders," he said, eyes fixed on the screen as Gavin draped an arm over his two boys.

He let himself soak up the affection for a few moments, before he remembered that there was a job today that they really needed to start getting ready for. They couldn’t be wasting their time hanging out in bed with him. "Guys, that's sweet," he started to say as he shifted to sit up, to get away from the boys, but they held him firmly in place. "But I can take care of myself just fine." 

Michael hummed skeptically, squirming a little to free his arm from between them and Gavin so he could feel Jeremy's forehead. His fever was still pretty bad even after his nap, not to mention how sweaty he was because of it. "Hmm... Nope, don’t think you can. You definitely need a doctor. Or four of them, specifically. Just don't question their medical licenses, got it?"

Gavin snickered and lifted his head to look at Jeremy, frowning a little bit when he didn't lay back down right away and kept trying to break free. He leaned in to kiss his cheek, cooing softly and taking hold of his shoulder to urge him to lay back down. "Relax, Jer," he murmured, "let us help you." The lad whined, but he realized there was no room for argument as Jack and Geoff quietly burst through the door and joined the cuddle pile, bowls of soup in hand for everyone, so he laid back down against Michael. 

Five bowls of soup and two movies later, Jeremy was dead asleep once again, though he wasn’t any less shaky. Regardless, he was happy to feel so loved and cared for, even when he'd been so scared. It made him feel so stupid now, though later Geoff would tell him his fears were justified, that what had happened to him was terrible, and he shouldn’t blame himself for not reaching out sooner. They were all just happy that he had at all. 

It was three in the morning when Jeremy's fever finally broke, and everyone just cuddled in closer, relieved that he was starting to feel better again. 

#ragehappy #ahot5 #jerevin #doolsey #jeremy/jack #jackremy #jeremy/geoff #jeremichael #fake ah crew #fahc #fahc geoff #fahc jeremy #fahc jack #fahc gavin #fahc michael #oneshot #fic #fanfic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

[ryanslostfootage]

The Ashes Call My Name: Fanning the Flames (3/?)

[Read on AO3] [Start from the beginning]

Length: 6660 words Pairing: future Micheoff AU: fake AH crew, undercover Michael Warnings: canon-typical violence Summary: It's surreal, being a part of the gang. Michael begins to get a little used to it. Notes: i lived, bitch

“Need a ride?” Ramsey asks. His hands slide into his pockets, keys jingling.

“Nah.” Michael glances at his car. “I drove.”

Ramsey’s head tips back and he eyes Michael like a predator catching sight of easy prey. “Take a ride.”

“Yes, sir.” Michael follows Ramsey to a car straight out of a gangster movie, and a dozen half-formed jokes about rum-running surface on his tongue. Instead he obediently takes the passenger’s seat and wonders if he should be afraid.

[Read on AO3]

#ragehappy #micheoff #fake ah crew #nate makes stuff #fanfic #gta5 au #micheoff vanity tag #this is the only function of this blog now #to announce a fic rising from the grave

[somegrumpynerd]

​Assorted hcs for the Fakes messing around with the peyote thing:

-Nobody could tell Gavin and Jeremy apart because they were both white poodles so Fiona took them to a dog groomer and got their fur dyed Rimmy and Golden boy colours

-In return for the weird looks she got doing that, they played doggy wingman to make her look good in front of cute girls on the way home

-Every time they’re getting too rowdy or just being nuisances in general, Geoff threatens to call the vet and get them all fixed

-If somebody turns on autodrive and he chews the controller at the right angle, Matt can still play mario kart

-Fiona has tried a few times to set up that scene from lady and the tramp with the spaghetti but they all just pig out on the food immediately and ruin it

-They all want to be pet. Some of them tried to pretend they didn’t but it lasted all of a few hours and now they all demand attention constantly

-Even long after they all eventually turn back, Lindsay will still bring stray cats in and insist she can’t take them out because it's Jack, even if human Jack is in the room at the time

-Human Jack will often chime in “she’s right, that’s me”

#AH #Fahc #Fake AH Crew #I've been having a lot of fun thinking of this au #I don't have the patience or practice for fanfic but here are some concepts #Basically fahc but make it oliver and company #I need a good tag for this au 'cause I really wanna do more for it #I'm gonna be the content I wanna see in the fandom

[fahcin-nerd]

I gotta say, my favorite FAHC fanfic trope is that someone is just madly in love with this soft civilian barista/bakery owner/flower shop employee named James or Ryan and they're so amazing it's a shame they can't be mixed up with my criminal life, but just fuck that masked freak Vagabond guy if I have to work with that guy one more time---

And then the truth comes out...

Yeah. Good shit.

#achievement hunter #fanfic trope #fake ah crew #fahc

[boxesblr]

Ze can be hard to pin down but you mentioned him being task oriented and that is true, even if he goes about doing his tasks in weird ways sometimes he is usually pretty focused on getting them done, also I love the headcanons that he is the tech guy it's one of my favorite ways to see him portrayed and it works really well if you write him as a task oriented person. Also as Ze has pointed out many times the jeans are stretchy and feel like wearing sweatpants so that's why he wears them

Haha yeah I was mostly kidding about the jeans, I just think he's drawn to comfort generally which could be good to characterise but again that's just my own interpretation!!

I'm glad you agree about the task orientation point! It's something I've noticed a lot from him and I think it would be good to explore. I really love the idea of writing him as a tech guy, and probably like making him more on the software programming side than direct hacking to play off his irl self,

Which for the FAHC universe means he would stand out from how I headcanon Matt and Gavin as directly hacker tech guys - he coded some popular software and maybe the Fakes are surprised to learn he's behind it?

Just some thoughts! Ty for sending the ask <3

#zeroyalviking #fake ah crew #fahc #ah fanfic

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Merry Halloween, Ya Filthy Animal

It’s the day after Halloween and the good cheer comes in a little early. 

Enjoy my masterlist (more FAHC blurbs and fics are up there)

Support me on kofi

____________

Fiona waiting until the day after Halloween to pop into the local grocery store. She makes a beeline directly to the seasonal section and she can see them putting up Christmas. But that’s not what she’s here for. She’s looking to see if her favorite lollipops are on sale. 

She doesn’t tell anyone, considering they already had work early on in the week and Fiona just wanted to run a quick errand, be normal for 4 seconds by herself. In what should’ve only been a 5 minute trip, Fiona manages to two minutes loading her basket up with candy-- it’s easier to do by just sweeping all the left over lollipops and sweet candies with her arm into the basket-- and another ten minutes staring down the Christmas decorations. 

The garland’s are itchy against her hands, but the miniature Santa’s and elfs are too cute to avoid. As Fiona continues down the aisle, stopping at the chocolates, she can hear the squeak of sneakers behind her. She throws just a quick glance over her shoulder, just to see who it is. And her jaw falls slack. 

“Does she like these?” It’s Jeremy holding up a blue bag. Michael and Gavin surround him.

“Think so,” Michael returns, taking the bag to look over it. He drops it into the hand held basket before reaching for another bag on the shelf. 

“I seriously can’t five minutes away from you freaks,” Fiona teases, walking back down towards them. Gavin squawks at the sound of Fiona’s voice. How had they missed her being literally on the same aisle as them?

Michael snaps his head up and Jeremy shuffles in front just a little. “What-What’re you doing here?” Michael asks. 

“Uh, being a paying customer. What the hell are you three doing here?”

“Also being paying customers,” Jeremy retorts. 

Fiona takes in each of their faces. Michael’s playing is mostly cool along with Jeremy, though they’re stand pretty close together as if trying to hide something and Gavin’s frozen in place just a little, a bag of assorted candies in hand. Why would they need to be hiding anything? She takes a step closer and the three of them shuffle closer together. 

“What’s goin on here?”

“Nothing. Just shopping. Browsing,” Jeremy answers. 

“Uh huh, like I totally believe that.” Fiona takes another step closer to them and watching them scuttle together yet again. She has the urge to swat at the candy in Gavin’s hand. Her hand raises, almost giving into the urge, but thinks better of it and salutes the three of them. 

“See you losers, later,” she states and shuffles down the aisle back towards check out. 

Her return to the penthouse is uneventful. She lounges on the couch, a bag of candy resting against her torso as she scrolls through her phone. TikToks and Instagram reels are a time suck and Fiona chuckles and snorts at each passing one. There’s tinkering in the kitchen from Geoff and Jack. Trevor settles down on the couch next to her to show off videos and memes that he’s accumulated just to show her. 

Soon the front doors open and close with a gentle thud. Peeking up from her phone, Fiona sees Michael, Jeremy, and Gavin with grocery bags in hand. “Sup?” she calls out with a nod. They all return it before walking into the kitchen and start unloading various grocery. 

The rustle of plastic bags last for a few minutes and the sound of one swishing gets closer to Fiona. Something drops onto her stomach. “Merry Halloween, ya filthy animal,” Jeremy teases. 

Fiona swats up at him but misses. “The fuck are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?!”Jeremy only shrugs before slumping down into the armchair next to her. 

Fiona peaks into the bag and sees a couple bags of candy. “Wait! For me?” she screeches. She thought it was strange that they were on the candy aisle but she hadn’t thought they were shopping for her. 

“Yeah, I didn’t drop it in Trey’s lap.”

“Wait, no.” She sits up, trying to comprehend. When she looks into the kitchen, Gavin and Michael are cracking open some White Claws but are bugging Geoff about what he’s cooking. “Seriously, you guys got me candy?”

“Oh, don’t cry about it,” Michael calls out, leaning into the counter. “You scared the shit out of us at the store, but figured since it was on sale, we could help you stock up.”

Fiona sits for a moment, unsure of how to process the moment. But her chest warms. “You guys are still losers, but you’re pretty fucking sweet.”

“We try. No matter how much you almost ruined our plans,” Jeremy teases. 

#fahc #fake ah crew #fake achievement hunter crew #fahc fic #fiona nova #michael jones #jeremy dooley #gavin free #fahc fanfic #h writes #fahc blurb #achievement hunter #AH #achievement hunter fanfic #achievement hunter fic #achievement hunter blurb

[toasterness]

And there we go, all done! The final chapter of RHH is up and running. I can’t believe it’s all done but I’m so excited to show you all the many projects I’ve got on the line :D

Thanks for going along with me on this one! Hope you enjoy!

#achievement hunter #achievement hunter fanfiction #achievement hunter fanfic #fake ah crew #fake ah crew fanfic #fake ah crew fanfiction #fahc fanfic #fahc #fanfiction #fanfic #team nice dynamite #mine #the robin hood hiccup