#fahc imagine

[sorcererinthestars]

A Quiet Reassurance - Leverage OT3 (if you squint) aka, I wanted an Eliot focused fic for the quiet days WC: 854

It wasn't just that it was raining.

It was a mixture of those dark, cold days when the weather is just on the warm side of freezing but the atmospheric pressure is off, leaving you kind of feeling unbalanced. When the world feels heavier, the ground feels a bit closer, like you're being crushed by some force you hardly feel exists.

That's the day when Eliot's bones ache; the wounds his body has taken over the years get to remind him that he's not invincible. The ache that goes so far deep its almost one with him, a heat in some way that goes all the way down to his toes.

He hurts. Over his life, he's fought. He's bled, he's been beaten with every weapon known to man. He's been clubbed, slapped, punched, kicked. He's had his bones broken, he's been knocked down over and over again and always manages to haul himself back up, finish the fight, protect those who need protecting - no matter what side of the fight he was on. He was always able to keep going.

But mornings like this? Every scar, every phantom pain flares back up to haunt him, to the point where he doesn't even think he can haul himself out of bed to get to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee (or god, a beer) and hunch over the table like he's aged sixty years. It's hard not to curse the weather - a fucking bullet can't stop him, can't bring him down, but a stiff breeze and a change in pressure can lay him out harder than any knife.

He rolls over painfully, staring at the ceiling, and tries to do what he's learned helps. To - painfully! - tense each muscle to their breaking point before releasing it, that rush of endorphins enough to make him groan with the pain and intense pleasure of it. It's a personal ritual, one every fighter like him has to learn to go through. The aches were going to be there forever, even after he fucking finally quits and leaves this whole life behind.

His shoulders and back are the worst of it. He's used to doing this alone, rolling his shoulders and painfully clawing himself to a sitting position, grunting as the simple movement is almost too much, pain blooming from sleeping in one position too long.

Finally, he lets out a string of curses as he rolls his shoulder and the pain of an old bullet wound sends white hot heat rolling down his arms and his chest, the joint having seized and the movement tugs on all the wrong nerves. Gritting his teeth and riding the pain, he almost misses a soft hand on his shoulder.

Because... that's right.

He wasn't alone this time.

This time, there was another set of hands to gently, wordlessly, knead the pain out of his shoulders. A soft pair of thumbs carefully working through the knots of scar tissue that bound up across his skin. Painstakingly rubbing the pain and then the numbness out, leaving such sweet relief that he almost cries with it, head slumping down.

He doesn't even turn his head to look and see who's hands it is. He knows them enough by now; can tell just by the slightest touch. The ache remains in every part of his body, but the warmth that ignites in his stomach helps soothe it. The hands lay him back down, not letting him take advantage of some of the easing pain and head towards the kitchen for breakfast (as if nothing ever happened).

No, the hands seem to say. You're in pain and we're going to remedy this, you and I. Stay put, we'll work through this together.

So he lays back, on his stomach this time, as a warm body straddles him ever so lightly, hovering above as the talented hands take the time to work out every kink, every bit of soreness the weather brings on, up and down his arms, across his sensitive shoulders, down his back - riddled with scars, remnants of another time - and across his hips. Then even lower, his thighs, his calves, even his ankles. No part of him was spared from weapons over his rough life, and so the hands work every piece of it out.

He is left, twenty minutes or twenty hours later, a puddle. The pain is gone - for now, never forever, but for now, peace. The air seems warmer, almost, despite no one turning up the heat. The hands leave and they could almost groan, wanting them to return. But instead they're replaced by a soft kiss between the shoulder blades.

A promise, almost. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to face it alone anymore.

The hands slide off and the bed shifts as a warm body slides off and pads towards the door, slipping off to start the morning.

And he - alone again, but with the knowledge of love just one room away - closes his eyes and sleeps again. This time with a body free of pain and full of warmth.

Peace at last.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #beer and pretzels #leverage redemption #i was imagining leverage ot3 but if you want maria #more power to you #it's open to interpretation #also #could be fahc too easily lol #thiefsome

[ursifors]

more outlaw shit because i can't stop thinking about this au

so one of my fahc headcanons is that rimmy has a pet python named gummy banana so i'm transferring that to this au as well. since they all live in an abandoned mineshaft she usually is just hanging out coiled wherever its warmest, or sitting outside sunning.

everyone but matt and joe has their own horse. matt and joe dont have horses because for some reason animals hate them.

i'm imagining their hideout to be very much like slim's secret hideout from home on the range.

trevor knew matt and jeremy before starting his life of crime. jeremy was already an established outlaw that trevor had had run ins with when he was still a regular cowpoke, and matt was a friend from town who was always kind of bookish and smart but funny.

alfredo and trevor constantly get confused for each other by lawmen. this is sometimes really helpful, and sometimes a detriment to plans.

rimmy tim is just jeremy's like, outlaw name. not many people actually know he's named jeremy outside of the crew.

jeremy is selectively mute! he uses sign language to speak and everyone in the crew can understand him just fine! though the newbies sometimes misinterpret what he's saying which causes for some funny situations i'm sure.

jeremy comes from a troubled past that only matt (his closest friend) and trevor (his leader) know. i think its fun to make rimmy tim like, really mysterious and dangerous but silly and weird at the same time.

clay made a joke to me that alfredo gets branded on his ass when he eventually gets caught and i decided to make it canon bc its funny. he moons a sheriff one day and the guy keeps a grudge about it for months until they finally catch him and brand him on the ass cheek for revenge.

#outlaw au #logan speaks #im going insane #next thing i draw will be jeremy's wanted poster #SORRY IM POSTING SO MUCH I JUST HAVE SO MANY IDEAS

[somegrumpynerd]

Imagine fahc Geoff trying to scare the younger members of the crew by telling them a scary story he remembers about a couple whose car breaks down and the guy leaves for help and the woman hears scratching-

And then Geoff is the one who gets scared when they almost all blurt out “man door hand hook car door” in unison

#AH #Fahc #I feel like he would know that story but not the meme

[shadeofazmeinya]

8, 15 and 20 for Alfreyco :3

8. Have an AU thought?

Oh always! I’m always here for fun aus. I don’t think I have any specific in the work right now but I do love putting them in some classic fan fic tropes. Tattoo artist Treh with flowershop owner Fredo 👀? or coffeeshop au with Alfredo working the morning shift and falling in love with the disheveled grad student who always comes in first thing every morning for a coffee and to study? a lot of very good possibilities maybe i’ll explore someday

15. Why do they like each other?

Oh gosh I think most of it is they just get along so well. Alfredo loves Trevor’s smart brain and quick wit. How Trevor just gets really into everything he does and yet always takes the time to spend with Alfredo. And Trevor just loves how funny Alfredo is. How sweet and kind he is at his core even if Alfredo loves joking and teasing. And of course both of them just work together amazingly to get shit done.

20. Most cuddly?

I wanna say Alfredo haha! it depends a bit on the au but I imagine in fahc Trevor is a lot more hesitant with touch but will always sink into Alfredo’s arms. It’s the best way to get him to relax out of Boss Mode when planning and after heists. Alfredo just holds him tight, pulls him lay down on the couch or in bed and doesn’t let go until he feels the tension melt from Trevor.

#fake ah crew #fahc #ragehappy #alfreyco #these are all first thoughts so could change haha #but alfreyco r good boys #a great ship

[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

[damnyn-blog]

159 from the 200 prompts list for FAHC Ryan? Love your blog!

Aw, thanks!

159-  “Didn’t you read the sign?”

AO3

Barbed wire sucks. Its not like its that hard to get over, but its still an inconvenience. You guess that’s kind of the point, a deterrent, makes it so that anyone who wasn’t already set on being on the other side of the barbed wire wouldn’t bother. Unfortunately, you were pretty set on getting to the other side, so now you had a gash in your right calf. 

On the other side of the barbed wire was the airport. In that airport was a really fucking sweet helicopter that you really wanted for yourself, and that was the reason that you had risked maiming yourself on that damned barbed wire. Fuck, your leg really hurt. But that didn’t matter now because that beautiful helicopter was right in front of you, about 30 yards away. 

“Stop right there.” a voice said from behind you. Shit. You threw your hands up and turned around.

“Is this not Carl’s backyard? I was just trying to surprise him, its his birthday tomorrow.” you said, taking care to slur and stumble a little. Hopefully this dude would just assume you were a drunk idiot and let you go. “You want tell Carl will you?” you added with a giggle.

“This is the Los Santos airport, didn’t you read the sign?” The man stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a skull mask that covered his entire face. Huh.

“You’re not a guard…” you said. You went to drop you’re hands but quickly put them back up when you saw the creepy skull guy was pointing his gun at you.

“No, i’m not. And you’re not just some drunk girl. Not that I bought that act.” he said. 

“I mean, i’m a little drunk. But no. So who are you?” you asked. Maybe you could convince this dude to let you get back to work. It seemed like the other alternative was going to be a fight, and you certainly knew which outcome you would prefer.

“Wow, I would have thought my reputation would have preceded me, especially with the type of person who breaks into airports.” He said with a laugh, “I’m the Vagabond.”

“And i’m new in town so don’t let my ignorance of the local criminal scene hurt your ego. I don’t have an alias and i’m certainly not telling you my name so you can just call me drunk girl.”

“Alright, drunk girl, why are you here?” he said finally lowering his gun, but not putting it away. That was a good sign. 

“I’m here for the helicopter, why are you here? I hope its not for the same thing. Id hate for something like that to ruin both our nights.” I really did hope we weren’t here for the same thing. I kind of liked this guy, and he seemed to find me amusing at least. Maybe we could be allies at some point. It’d be useful to have some friends in a city like this.

“I’m here with friends, and i don’t really care about the helicopter seeing as i already have one. Id tell you why we were here but then id have to kill you.” He said. You thought you could here him chuckle. That’s good, he has a sense of humor. 

“Well id hate to die on a night like this. Is my stealing the helicopter going to cause a problem for you? I’m fairly certain that once i’m taking off some one will notice there are people here who shouldn’t be.” I said, I wanted that helicopter but it wasn’t worth making enemies over.

“Actually my friends are just wrapping up now, so id suggest you get going before we cause a problem for you.” I raised my eyebrow. “My friends are about to get a bit loud.” He clarified.

“I suppose ill be on my way then, but before I go…” I pulled out a scrap of paper and pen from my bag. “ Here’s my number. Id love to see what you look like under the halloween mask.” 

“Bold. I like that, ill call you. But first you should know something.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“This is my real face.” he deadpanned. There was a beat of silence and then we both started laughing.

“See you later, Vagabond!” I shouted as a started back running towards the helicopter.

“See you later, drunk girl!” He shouted back at me. I could hear the smile in his voice.

#fahc #roosterteeth #ryan haywood #fahc ryan #fake ah crew #reader insert #fahc imagine #roosterteeth imagine #fahc ryan imagine #ryan haywood x reader #fahc ryan x reader

[aplaceforrtprompts]

Festive prompts #5 & 6 with the Vagabond?

You saw Ryan’s jaw clench as you could hear the faint sound of carolers down the road. You grabbed his hand and for a brief moment, you could see him relax as he turned to look at you. He didn’t say anything as you turned and crossed the street.

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” he finally said as you two were halfway down the block.

“Because as fun as it is to break you out of jail and watch the police squirm as we do so, let’s save it for a more fun crime like a bank job,” you said nonchalantly as you squeezed his hand.

He still didn’t look pleased, “Fine but the real crime is them inviting themselves over to random houses and singing off key.”

“Well, lucky for you we live in a penthouse and the only caroling we might get is from Jeremy at three in the morning drunk off his ass,” you pointed out.

That caused him to finally crack a smile and lean over and kiss the top of your head, “The only acceptable form of caroling.”

#ryan haywood x reader #ryan haywood imagine #ryan h x reader #ragehappy #rooster teeth imagine #rooster teeth reader inserts #rooster teeth inserts #rooster teeth reader insert #rooster teeth imagines #achievement hunter reader inserts #achievement hunter imagines #fahc #fahc imagine #fahc insert #fahc inserts #fahc imagines #RyanH #Anonymous

[5lbsofsmarties]

Congrats my dude! You deserve every follower you have! If possible, could I get fahc Ryan with 38? You’re gonna go far ik it. :)

Word Count: 352

The entire vehicle seemed to bounce and nearly fly with every new turn it took, which made it very difficult to even stay seated. From beside you, Ryan let out a low, pained groan as he pressed his hands against his side. The two of you, along with Michael and Jeremy, were trying to get back to your base as quickly as possible without any further incidents. Jeremy was holding tightly to the rather large bag you had managed to get back from the Lost MC, but not without difficulty.

You twisted in your seat and carefully eased Ryan’s hands away so that you could see his injury. He had been grazed by a bullet in the mad dash back to the car. It cut him fairly deep, but at least the bullet hadn’t lodged itself in his skin. He let out a hiss as you gingerly touched the area and you glanced up at him.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, knowing it was probably a stupid question.

Ryan closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, “It’s not pleasant.”

You reached under the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of a small med kit that had been stored there. Michael took a sharp turn and you nearly collapsed on top of Ryan, making him groan again. “God, dammit, Michael,” you cursed under your breath. From up front, he murmured his apologies but continued to floor it down the dirt path you were on. You opened the kit and found some alcohol and gauze, so you quickly went to work.

Ignoring Ryan’s protests and muttered curses, you cleaned the area and managed to wrap it as best as you could. “That should hold you until we’re safe,” you said softly, pushing some of his hair of out of his face. Ryan turned his head and looked back at you. His face paint had mostly been sweat off at this point and you could see the man underneath. He smiled and reached out for your hand to lift to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you.”

#450fff #request fill #ryan haywood x reader #ryan h x reader #ryan haywood imagine #rt reader insert #rt imagine #ah reader insert #ah imagine #fahc imagine #fahc reader insert #ragehappy #joneatingcereal #this is an answer

[rt-reader-inserts]

Wounds

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader x Jeremy Dooley

Word Count: 5,338

Prompt: We all know Los Santos’ most feared assassins, but what if you were their target? And the first words out of their mouths were the same words imprinted on your skin?

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of torture.

Breathe, for fuck’s sake, just breathe, you told yourself, keeping your head down as you walked towards your usual lunch spot. Your lips were stuck in a grimace, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, and you couldn’t keep from internally cursing at yourself. Way to go, (y/n), not even fucking noon and you’re already spiraling, god dammit.

Between your alarm not going off, your boss berating you for your recent work performance, and the empty threats your ex continued to text you from different numbers, it seemed like nothing was in your favor. So, with the whole universe against you, you resorted to blocking it out; pulling your phone out of your pocket, you turned up the music in your earbuds so you couldn’t hear the tourists that swarmed the sidewalks, or the drivers shouting obscenities as they blared their horns.

You just needed a break, needed something to go well. The playlist you were listening to helped slightly, and you knew once you had some food in your system you’d feel better, but you were honestly feeling pretty hopeless. Getting through work would be hard enough, and the idea of going home to your roommate and their boyfriend made you sick. With a sigh, you turned down the alley you always cut through, the usual lack of other people comforting.

Though it was a faster route, your bigger reason for using the shortcut was the excuse to get away from the crowds that plagued Los Santos. Living in a city where you’re constantly surrounded by people grew tiring, and you could only relax when you felt alone. If that was in a dirty alley, so be it.

Your pace slowed as you continued, and with no one around, the tears began to spill over. Fucking hell, just, take a breath, you urged the tears to stop, trying to maintain composure. You’ll get something to eat, then you’ll get through five hours of works, and you’ll be—

You were dragged out of your thoughts and back into reality by the gloved hand that suddenly covered your mouth, pulling you back against a solid figure. Music was still blaring in your ears, and you weren’t even able to fully process what was happening before it was too late to do anything. It wasn’t until a needle sunk into the flesh of your bicep that you began to scream, fighting to escape your attacker’s grip.

Wrapping an arm around your torso so tight you could hardly breathe, he quickly contained your movements. “Shh, there’s no point, no one’s listening,” a voice rumbled in your ear, and even as your mind started to fog, you immediately recognized those words. They rendered you immobile, the same words that tingled on your skin, scrawled across your hip.

Fuck.

“There we go,” he murmured, tossing the syringe to the ground before his arm moved to wrap around your throat, “wasn’t that easy?” With both the drug in your system and your restricted airflow working against you, you could barely struggle, weakly pulling at the arm around your throat. If you could just say something, he would know, he would hopefully stop, but all that escaped your lips were choked cries.

When your efforts had died down, and you grew limp in his arms, he easily tossed you over his shoulder. Everything was foggy, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could barely even think. You just watched the ground move below you as the man walked, unable to focus your vision on anything.

“J, pop the trunk,” the man called, and you winced at the sound of his hand hitting the car. Within seconds, you were dropped into the trunk, your head hitting hard, and you barely caught a glimpse of a skull mask before the lid was slammed down.

In the the darkness, with your mind in a haze, you couldn't even tell when the world faded to nothing.

When you awoke, you found yourself in an empty warehouse, only lit by the few barely functioning lights that hung above you. Your head was pounding, the pain dizzying, and the gag in your mouth only made the nausea worse.

Your limbs were tied to a rusted chair, the coarse rope cutting into your skin as you pulled at your restraints. Behind you, you could hear noises, the sounds of metal hitting metal ringing through the warehouse, and you only struggled harder, eyes watering as fear sent your heart racing.

“Well Ry, I think she’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice murmured, and you felt a sting along the skin of your thigh, the words imprinted on your flesh almost burning.

“Shall we begin?” the voice from before asked, and you felt a hand brush your shoulder as he walked in front of you, sending a shiver through your frame. Finally getting a look at his face, you found your eyes drawn to the smudged facepaint that covered his skin, making his smile all the more menacing.

You struggled to speak, to say anything at all, but the cloth in your mouth muffled every sound. Your attempted words turned to shrieks, the jagged dagger in his hand finally catching your eye; and when a man in purple walked into your sight, crowbar in his gloved hands, tears began to spill over.

You couldn’t believe, out of all the possible people ways to meet a soulmate, this would be it. They were fucking terrifying, had your heart racing and tears streaming down your face, your whole body trembling. You knew that what they had in store for you would break you, probably kill you; but there was still that instinctive longing for them, for your soulmates, and you cursed yourself for it.

“Listen,” the man in purple spoke, swinging the crowbar around as he watched you, “Before we get started, I want you to know this is purely business. An old pal of yours paid good money for our services, some guy named… Damon?” he glanced over at his partner for confirmation.

“I believe it was Devon.”

Your heart sunk at the mention of your ex and you began screaming muffled pleas, much to the amusement of the two men. They both shared a glance before the shorter one moved forward, dragging his crowbar against the concrete as he sauntered around you. “Y’know, this Devon had some very specific instructions, I mean, really, what do ya gotta do to a guy to make him that angry?”

After making a full circle around you, he raised his crowbar in with a smile, and then a crack echoed through the warehouse as it made impact with your shin. You were seeing stars as the pain hit, your shrieks of pain muted by the cloth that swallowed the sound, and they both laughed.

“Ooh, that looked nasty, Jeremy,” the taller man commented, a smirk on his lips as he watched you twist and writhe in pain. You pulled even harder at the rope restraining your limbs, crying out as your struggles only caused you further pain. “Sweetheart…,” he chastised you, moving closer, dagger glinting in the dim light, “you really don’t wanna do that.”

Then, he was on top of you, legs straddling your thighs as he held the blade against your cheek. Instinctively, you pulled your face away from the jagged edge, but then a calloused hand gripped your chin, jerking your head to face him. His ice blue eyes were daring you to move again, and you didn’t, small whimpers escaping your throat as he traced the dagger along your jawline.

“Such a pretty face…,” he murmured, his hand holding your jaw still as he dragged the dagger down to your collarbone, still not breaking skin. “It’s a real shame he wants us to carve you up… but a job’s a job, and playing butcher is always fun.” He bared his teeth with a smile as he pushed the blade a little deeper, and your blood began to seep over the jagged edge.

“Aw, Ryan, come on,” the man behind him spoke over your sobs, “save some of the fun for me.”

He stood from your lap, gesturing to your pathetic form as he replied, “Give ‘em your worst, Dooley.”

The other man threw his crowbar to the side with a grin, cracking his knuckles as he walked towards you ever so casually. “I work better with my hands anyways,” he commented, quickly landing a blow to the side of your face. The punch knocked your head around, and you were seeing stars as you tried to get past the ringing in your ears. There were words thrown your way, but they all felt distant, muffled, and the world was spinning around you as your eyes glazed over.

With a few taps against your cheek, the man calmly said, “Hey, stay with me. We’re not done with you yet.” However, when you didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t try to speak any muffled words, he kicked your broken shin with a growl, causing you to shriek and writhe in pain. “You can’t escape this,” he murmured, his hand on the back of your chair, leaning it back as he loomed over you. “This is it, end of the line.”

He suddenly landed a punch to your stomach, shoving the chair to the ground, and you let out a groan. Every sensation coursing through you was overwhelming, all the pain, the shock, the fear. Everything hurt, and yet, even as your head lay against the cold, dirty concrete, and you stared up into the dingy light, you still struggled to escape. Even with your mind unable to process anything that was happening, your most basic instinct was fighting. If you could just say something, you’d get through this alive, and that was enough of a chance to keep you struggling.

“Now, I’m not sure, but I think (y/n) is trying to tell us something,” Ryan remarked as you continued to shriek, muffled pleas bleeding into sobs that shook your whole frame. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked with a kick to your ribs, causing your plead to grow even louder. “You’ve really gotta speak up.”

He gripped your throat, pulling both you and the brittle chair up to his height. With a quick slash, his dagger cut through the cloth gag, tossing it to the ground below. Chest heaving, you gasped for breath, arms tugging at the restraints as you tried to reach the hand wrapped around your neck.

You struggled to talk, barely formed consonants escaping your lips, but nothing that came even close to speech. “Here, let me help you,” the man seemed to mock you, setting you back down on the concrete floor. However, when you opened your mouth again, his blue eyes stared daggers, choking every word within you.

“So shy now?” Jeremy asked, and the two of them shared a glance, amused grin pulling at the corners of their mouths.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can change that.”

He grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards, stretching your tendons and exposing the skin of your neck to his blade. You trembled as the cool, wet metal dragged across your skin, stifled sobs trapped in your throat. He traced the jagged edge slowly, ever so slowly over your skin, and then your clothing as it passed your shoulder. In an instant, the blade pushed through your shirt to your bicep, barely breaking skin, but he drove it deeper and deeper at a crawling pace.

This drew broken screams from your lips, and when he shifted the blade slightly in your flesh, your vision began to spin, the contents of your stomach working their way up your throat. Despite your best efforts to swallow it back, your mouth had gone dry, the bile pushing its way up and dribbling down your chin.

“Ooh, yikes,” Jeremy commented from behind you, watching with amusement as you still struggled against the ropes. “I don’t know, Ryan… maybe we should just put her out of her misery.”

There was a pause before the two laughed, and Ryan yanked the dagger from your flesh, ripping a ragged sob from your lungs with it. Pushing through the excruciating pain that coursed through every nerve in your body, and the fear that paralyzed your mind, you cried out, “Please, don’t do this, I— I can’t, please.”

They stopped dead in their tracks, the blood-soaked knife slipping from Ryan’s fingers, and the metallic clatter echoed through the warehouse as it hit the ground. It was silent as they stared at you, their eyes wide and calculating as they processed everything. It didn’t take long for them to snap back into action though, Ryan picking up the dagger and rushing to cut the rope that restrained you. Meanwhile, Jeremy had pulled out his phone, restlessly murmuring, “Come on, pick up… pick up.”

Muttering under his breath, Ryan violently slashed at the rope around your ankles, but even in anger he was precise. Not once did his blade hit you again. When he moved to the rope tying your wrists to the chair, he cut through the worn cord with ease, ready to catch you the moment you fell forward. Your vision was still spinning, sounds fading in and out as you blinked, trying to get a grasp on what was happening.

“Andy, we need you at the warehouse, like,right now… shattered shin, stab wound— no, no arteries were hit… I know, I know… listen, I don’t give a shit what the chances are, you need to get down here right the fuck now,” Jeremy glanced over at you, a shaky breath leaving him as he did. “We can’t lose this one.”

With that, he pocketed his phone, stripping off his purple jacket as he moved to your side. “Hey…” you saw his lips continue to move, but the words faded into background noise. With the world spinning and fading around you, there was no way you could focus, no possible way you could process anything that was happening; and you would have tumbled to the ground if not for the two men holding you.

“Hey, stay with us,” Ryan spoke firmly, cupping your cheek as Jeremy pressed his jacket against your wound. You locked your gaze on his blue eyes, the rest of the world blurring as you tried to maintain any focus; then, it all faded to darkness, and you felt nothing.

When your eyes blinked open, the first thing you noticed was how warm the room was. Not only in heat, but the colors, the light, it was all much softer than everything you had just been through. There was no more pain coursing through your system, only a numbness, almost a floating sensation. Glancing around, you saw what, aside from the medical equipment, appeared to be a normal bedroom; and in the chairs beside your bed sat a woman with red hair and a man in a full tuxedo, the two conversing quietly.

The woman glanced up, meeting your eyes before glancing back to the man. He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands down his face with a sigh before looking at you. “Hey kid, how you holdin’ up?” he asked softly, and in your haze, it was difficult to process his question, let alone respond. He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes tired, and then continued, “Before we start talking, I want you to know that you are 100% safe here. No wrong answers, no danger… nothin’ is gonna hurt you, alright?”

You nodded, barely able to move, and the two exchanged a glance before the redhead began to speak. “First, I just want to tell you how sorry I am for all of this, this lifestyle, it’s— it’s incredibly dangerous, and the fact that fate dragged you into all this, it… sucks. I don’t know how else to put it.”

Though your mind was hazy, you were beginning to piece things together; their vaguely familiar faces, the way the spoke, along with the memories you were already trying to repress, they all pointed towards one thing: the Fake AH Crew. You could faintly recall various newscasts, wanted posters, and you most definitely remembered seeing their faces multiple times.

Your heart began to race again, but the increasingly frantic beep of your heart monitor didn’t seem to faze them, they simply sat there, slowly raising their hands to prove they weren’t armed. “I might be Los Santos’ most wanted,” the man started, making sure to meet your eyes, “but a promise is a promise, and as long as I’m here, no one’s gonna lay a finger on you.”

You glanced at the woman, whose eyes were warm and sincere, then back to the man, who gave you a small smile. Letting out the breath you’d been holding, your muscles untensed. Though your heart was still pounding, the beeps began to slow, and they brought their arms back down. “The way Geoff and I see it, there’s two ways we can go here,” the redhead continued, “and we want to run you through every option before you decide what you want. You with us so far?”

You nodded slightly, afraid to move anymore than that in case it aggravated one of wounds that littered your body, and she gave you a soft smile. “If we end up going too fast, just let us know, okay?”

“As I think Jack mentioned, this all depends on what you want. Our resources are virtually unlimited, and we just want what’s best for you, so don’t feel pressure towards any particular choice.” Geoff told you, his voice taking on a slightly more professional tone. “The first option we could see is taking you to Mount Zonah Medical Center to continue your treatment. Their doctors may not be as well trained as our personal medic, but they’re the best in the city, and we’d pay for top treatment.”

“We’ve found a nice apartment for you to go to once you’re ready to return home, in a much safer neighborhood than your current place,” Jack continued as Geoff pulled out his ringing phone. “We’d cover the rent, so don’t worry about that, and we’ll make sure that no one comes after you again.”

Geoff whispered something to her before standing to his feet, shooting an apologetic glance you way before he left the room. Jack gave you a reassuring smile in response before picking up where she’d left off. “You should also know that the man who’s been threatening you, Devon,” you shuddered, and she carefully reached out to place a hand on your arm. “He’s been taken care of, and he will never hurt you again.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, and she patted your arm a few times before pulling back. “The other option assumes that you would still want to be with your soulmates.” She paused, seeing how you visibly tensed. “Do you want me to go on? Because it’s completely understandable if you don’t want anything to do with them after what you’ve been through.”

You shook your head quickly, your voice quiet as you replied, “Tell me.”

“Right now, we’re in the penthouse, Geoff’s expansive ‘apartment.’ This is where the entire crew stays,” she gave you a sympathetic smile before continuing, “and that includes Ryan and Jeremy.”

Hearing those names brought you back to the warehouse, the names your torturers had spoken once or twice as they put you through hell. The pain throughout your body sharpened in response to the memories, your heart racing at the thoughts; but as you continued to lose yourself in memory, you were brought back to their first words, the words scrawled across your skin. With a shaky breath, you asked, “They’re… they’re my soulmates, right?”

She nodded, noting how your heart rate sped up. “You could stay here, with us, and not only would you have the best medical care, but you’d be safer here than anywhere else… It’s perfectly understandable if you can’t see yourself doing that, and either way, we’ll pay for all your treatment, physical and psychiatric.”

Your brows furrowed as you struggled to process all the information that’d been thrown your way, and Jack noticed, adding, “There’s no rush, we just wanted you to know your options, you have plenty of time to think it over.”

You nodded again, and when she stood to leave, you called out, “Wait!” Your voice cracked slightly, and it pained your throat, torn from overuse. “Can I—” you stopped, taking a breath before you continued, “Can I see them? Jeremy and— and Ryan?”

She paused, biting her lip in concentration as she weighed the situation. “Are you sure? Because you don’t have to do this right now. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Your brows furrowed, heart pounding as you continued to think about seeing your torturers again, but you just couldn’t quell the longing to be with them. “Is this what having a soulmate is like?” you asked quietly, voice shaking with all the conflicting emotions that filled your head. “They— they—” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t quite acknowledge what they’d done, what you’d been through, “…why do I still want to see them?”

She gave you a sad smile, moving to sit at the edge of your bed. “People tend to romanticize soulmarks as this ‘perfect’ thing; and believe me, while I love my soulmates, the concept is nowhere close to flawless. The whole system is messy, broken, and I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now… but, yes, to answer your question, this is what having a soulmate is like. No matter what someone does, you still want to be with them,” a sigh escaped her, voice trailing off as she added, “more than anything.”

She met your gaze with understanding eyes, another smile pulling at her lips. “So, should I go get Ryan and Jeremy?”

Your voice was small, heart pounding in your chest as you answered, “Please.”

“Hey, I’ll be there the whole time,” she assured you, patting your uninjured leg. “The moment you feel unsafe, you let me know, and I will kindly escort them out.”

With that, she stood and walked out, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts.

The silence of the room was only broken by the pulsing beep of your heart monitor, and it was so quiet, you could hear the murmurs beyond the bedroom door. Trying your best to stay calm, you took a deep breath, fists clenched at your sides. You couldn’t even tell what you were feeling anymore, every emotion, every thought blurring together as they clashed. All you knew was you were the furthest from calm you could get.

After a few moments more, the door opened slowly, pulling your mind out of its haze. With a glance to your left, you saw Jack walk in, the same comforting smile on her face, and you tried your best to smile back. Then, you saw your soulmates, both walking in with shoulders slouched and soft smiles on their lips when they saw you, smiles that didn’t quite reach their heavy eyes.

You could feel your heart skip erratically, didn’t need the monitor to tell you just how fast your pulse was racing. Of course, it did help that they were wearing different clothes, that the man with piercing blue eyes no longer had smudged paint obscuring the majority of his face; but you were still struggling with the memories that threatened to pull you back, to keep you trapped in that warehouse with jagged blades and maniacal grins.

At the sound of your heart monitor stuttering and racing, all three sets of eyes went wide, and Jack moved forward as the other two pressed themselves against the wall, almost shrinking into the background. “Hey,” Jack spoke quietly, leaning down beside your bed and placing a hand on your shoulder, “(y/n), it’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. You’re okay, I promise.”

She watched your face, noting every small reaction, and when your breathing began to slow, she continued, “I want you to look at them, alright?” You nodded hesitantly, looking over to them again, and the first thing you noticed was their hands, intertwined, then the way they glanced at each other worriedly before looking back at you, their eyes soft, almost pleading. “These are not the same men who hurt you. Ryan and Jeremy, they want nothing more than to keep you safe.”

As you looked at them, truly looked at your soulmates, you could feel their hearts breaking, and you wanted more than anything to keep them from hurting anymore. It really started to hit you, these were your soulmates. They were here, with you, looking at you with nothing but love and sorrow in their eyes… it was enough to bring you to tears.

Despite your slowing heart rate, you tears only caused the others to worry more, Ryan and Jeremy slowly moving to leave. “Hey, like I said, it’s okay if you’re not ready,” Jack gently spoke. “We don’t have to do this today, you can take your time—”

“No, no, please don’t take them away from me,” you cut her off, voice desperate and pleading. “Don’t take them away.”

They all looked at you with varying expressions of shock, but no one argued, Jack glancing at the other two before looking back to you. “Would you like me to step outside?” she asked softly, and to your own surprise, you found yourself nodding. “I’ll be right by the door, just shout if you need anything.”

With that, she gave you a warm smile, making her way out of the room.

You moved to sit up, wanting to go towards your soulmates, who still stood near the door. They seemed hesitant to approach you, afraid to make a single wrong move; but that all went away the second you winced and cried out, pain shooting through your arm as you put even the slightest weight on it.

“Hey, hey, don’t push yourself, alright?” Warm brown eyes met yours, and he gave you a soft smile, his hands gentle against your back as he eased you down onto the bed again.

“You’ve got some healing to do,” a deeper voice spoke, and you turned to meet the other’s blue eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze much softer than you remembered. “Just take it easy, we’ll take care of you.”

You smiled despite the dying tears that streaked down your face, and you received even brighter smiles from the two. “You— you’re Ryan?” you asked, still not quite sure, and the way his eyes brightened at the sound of your voice answered the question for you. “And Jeremy?”

“That’s me,” his voice was breathless, a small laugh escaping him. “and since we’re going around, you’re (y/n), right?”

The smile on his face put you at ease, along with the sound of your soulmate saying your name; and though his familiar laugh threatened to pull you back to the warehouse, you forced yourself to focus on his smile, on the kindness in his eyes. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t them, you found yourself thoughts repeating over and over again, only realizing you were speaking aloud when their faces fell.

You began to apologize, your eyes growing wide as you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“(Y/n), no, you— you don’t anything to apologize for,” Ryan spoke softly, though there was an edge to his tone that sent a slight tremor through you. “Jeremy and I, we’re…” he took a deep breath, his fists clenched as he continued, “we’re the ones that did this.”

His eyes flickered first to the small gash along your collarbone, then over each wound and bandage, an unmistakable pain to his gaze. Hesitantly, you reached out to him, placing your hand over his and gently uncurling his fist. He looked down at your hand, brows furrowed as he carefully shifted his hand to grip yours, and then he met your gaze. “(Y/n), I…”

As he trailed off, you squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I know,” you murmured, and just looking into those blue eyes began to drag your mind away, feeling a phantom knife pressed against your skin as that gaze never left yours. With a shuddering breath, you clenched his hand, closing your eyes for a moment. He brushed his thumb along the back of your hand, his skin warm, somehow soft despite the calluses, and you concentrated on that.

Someone who wanted to hurt you wouldn’t be so gentle, you tried to convince yourself, you’re safe.

As you thought it, the last two words were spoken aloud, and you opened your eyes to see Jeremy, a tear slipping down his cheek as he forced a smile. “We’ll keep you safe,” he assured you, his hand moving to brush your hair from your face, lingering for a moment. Just looking at you seemed to send both warmth and pain through him, his gaze so incredibly soft as tears continued to fall.

He hesitated for a moment, the smile fading from his lips as he decided to go through with his next thought, “I just wanted to say, I— I’m sorry, (y/n),” the hand in your hair moved to cup your cheek, and you found yourself both trembling and leaning into the touch. “We’re so, so sorry.” He glanced up at Ryan, their eyes meeting, and you couldn’t do anything but watch as they both tried to blink away tears. Jeremy’s words were barely a whisper as he tried to continue, “There’s noth— nothing—”

When his voice broke, Ryan reached across you, his fingers gentle against Jeremy’s skin as he brushed away his tears. “Nothing we could do to ever make it right,” Ryan continued for him, his voice soft as he moved to look at you with downcast eyes. “But, I promise, we’ll spend the rest of our lives trying.”

“We’re gonna do right by you,” Jeremy added, his voice wavering. “And no one is gonna hurt you ever again.”

In the back of your mind, a voice murmured, don’t make promises you can’t keep, but you shook the thought away, fighting to keep your mind from dragging you back. The longer they were with you, though, the closer those memories were pulled to the forefront of your mind, and your heart rate was climbing quickly.

“I— I’m sorry, can you… can you leave for a bit? I’m really sorry, I just, I can’t—” your voice broke, but they seemed to understand, both of them pulling away slowly.

“(Y/n), it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize or explain yourself,” Ryan assured you as he and Jeremy stood from the bed.

“We’re just… we’re glad you’re okay, and we’ll do whatever we can to keep it that way.”

“Thank you,” you murmured as they made their way out of the room, the words barely there as you were fighting against your own thoughts. The second you knew they were gone, the heart monitor’s beeping slowed significantly, and you took in a painful breath. Your entire body ached, and you couldn’t help but feel exhausted after the mental strain of struggling against your own memories.

“I’ve got some more painkillers,” Jack spoke as she walked in, glass of water in hand. “The last dose we gave you should be wearing off about now, and it’s way too early for you to be feeling everything.”

The small conversation you had with her as you took the meds honestly went by in a daze, and before you could process anything, the painkillers had you drifting off, something you were honestly grateful for. You could deal with your spiraling thoughts when you woke up, until then, you’d fade in and out of dreams, nightmares where Ryan and Jeremy fought to save you from themselves.

#mod emily #ryan haywood x reader #ryan haywood imagine #jeremy dooley x reader #jeremy dooley imagine #ryan x reader x jeremy #jeremy x reader x ryan #battle buddies x reader #battle buddies imagine #fahc!ryan x reader #fahc!jeremy x reader #fahc x reader #fahc imagine #fake ah crew #fahc #ah imagine #ah reader insert #achievement hunter imagine #achievement hunter reader insert #ragehappy #rt imagine #rt reader insert #rooster teeth imagine #rooster teeth reader insert #achievement hunter x reader

[chezzkaa]

Cinders - Chapter 2/36

All Chapters

SUMMARY: Stranded in Los Santos, both Ray and yourself are left to battle with the final memories you have from the Fake AH Crew.

WC: 2047

WARNINGS: Slightly graphic content: blood.

You had only intended to stay is Los Santos for a few days to run some operations, but it quickly became apparent that your time in the city would be extended indefinitely; much to Ray’s dissatisfaction. The explosion had resulted in an airspace lockdown that ultimately ruined your plans, destroying the schedule you both had worked so hard to maintain. Now lounging on the couch in your old Los Santos apartment, you lazily watch Ray pace back and forth in front of you. “Ray,” you say gently, looking at the anxious expression on his face and stress setting into his shoulders, “come here.” You stand up, beckoning him to you with kindness in your eyes. He pulls a face before shuffling over to you and leaning his head on top of yours, hands hanging limp by his side. You wrap your arms around him anyway, letting him enjoy the comfort before you whisper “you’ve been blocking the TV.” You feel him grimace, pushing you back onto the couch before dropping down next to you, head in his hands. You sigh, knowing that despite the amusement creeping momentarily onto his face Ray had become extremely uncomfortable since the lockdown.

You pull him towards you, draping an arm around his shoulders and resting your head against his chest. “Ray...” you start, watching the images of the explosion littering the news before clicking it off and feeling him let out a deep sigh. “I just don’t wanna be here” he grumbles, heavily leaning into you and throwing you off balance. You shove him back as he smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know, neither of us do,” you say apologetically, sinking back into the plush cushions and listening to the faint noises drifting in from the street. “It’s gotta be them” you state, sure of yourself. Your stomach twists at the thought, the dry nagging in your chest begging for you to avoid the subject.

“Y/N,” Ray begins to complain, letting himself fall to the other side of the couch while pushing you away with his feet. You swat at them, scowling and ripping off one of his socks, tossing it across the room. “Great, and now my foot’s cold” he wines, continuing to wriggle away from you. “We’ve gotta talk about it” you state as he groan at your words, rolling on to his front and burying his face into the seat cushions, letting his arms hang. “Do we have to?” his voice is muffled, and you feel sadness creep over you. Shuffling uncomfortably, you hold Ray’s leg and give it a squeeze. “Yeah, we do. Something big has to be going on, they must have set off the explosion to get the sky shut down or-” he cuts you off dejectedly, groaning into the fabric of the couch. “No, I don’t want to talk about the crew. I don’t even want to acknowledge that they exist.” You give him another understanding pat and you drift back, letting the memories wash over you as the pain cuts into you as fresh as ever.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Geoff bellows as you bolt back towards the flames, embers dancing sombrely on the delicate wind. The sky stretches above you, amber and smoke clashing together like enemies as the lull of night draws near. He reaches out, snatching your wrist to stop you with desperation in his eyes. “Y/N,” his voice is frantic as his eyes search your face, “you won’t be able to make it back in.” You look from his hand and up to the building burning and crumbling behind you, torn. “He’s still in there” you reply, pleading. Geoff rubs his free hand across his face, his skin caked in ash and despair. “You can’t know that,” his voice cracks, “he could have gotten out with a broken com;” but you’re already shaking your head to dismiss his words. “I have to, Geoff.” You gently peel his fingers from your wrist, squeezing his hand. “I can’t leave him there,” you say simply before rushing forward as Geoff races along side, still trying to convince you of the value your safety holds. “We aren’t leaving him,” he exclaims, panting slightly, “getting killed before backup gets here won’t save anybody!” 

You slow as you pull up to the building, your skin beginning to sear uncomfortably. “We have to get the fire under control first,” he grips you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes “I’m not loosing you too, Cheshire, not another.” You give him a quick smile, jumping into his arms and hugging him close, silent for a moment bar the crackling of destruction surrounding you. “I’m not leaving him there” you whisper, feeling him tense when you throw yourself backward while landing your feet against his chest as you push away, forcing him back towards the ground. Landing in a crouch you look at him sadly, begging him to understand before turning quickly and running into the smoke.

Your lungs constrict as you enter the building, hearing the flames roar and structure creak unsteadily as you tie your bandana around your nose to stifle the onslaught of thick smoke. Your eyes fall on Michael as he hurries out of the building, clutching a bleeding and unconscious Gavin whose feet drag through the soot. “The fuck?!” he yells as he pushes past you, eyes angry and face pained “Vagabond’s gonna be so pissed if you die.”  “Then I’ll try my best to make it out” you reply, scanning the area quickly as your heart pounds uncontrollably against your aching ribs. You can hear your crew angrily screaming after you, but as you watch them race towards the entrance the frame collapses; Geoff’s agonised expression the last thing you see before the room is engulfed in flames. With a shudder you return you gaze to the room, panic nibbling at the edges of your resolve.

 The stairs are buckling into the fire, leaving the bones of the building exposed beneath a gaping hole choking with plumes of smoke. Taking a deep breath you rush towards it, blood hammering in your ears. Reaching up you grasp at a beam and haul yourself upwards, determination pushing you forward. Struggling, you climb a flight or so further as the final beam beneath your foot strips away, clattering to the ground now dangerously far down. The heat becomes unbearable as you wriggle your way onto the exposed 3rd floor, spotting movement through the billowing smoke.

“Ray” you croak, shuffling towards him. Again, the building clatters, the floor above you cracking and plummeting down towards you. “Ray!” you call louder, squeezing your eyes shut before the concrete smashes into your leg; causing you to let out a scream. Blinding pain shoots through you, your foot contorting as you hear your bones snap. Shrieking, you force yourself to look at your mangled leg buried beneath the rubble, clutching it as you writhe in agony. Taking deep, sporadic breaths you throw your gaze quickly to Ray, able to see his face exposed and staring at you in fear. You can see his mouth moving, but the ringing in your ears drowns out all noise with every flip of your stomach.

Your mind begins to race as you refocus on your leg and the excruciating pain that has you sweating and convulsing uncontrollably. With all your strength you begin to lift, the concrete cutting into your fingers as you force the mass to move. After enough leverage, you try to balance the weight with one hand, using your other to snatch your leg awkwardly out from underneath. Another scream escapes your lips in a gurgle of bubbles, forcing your body forward to wrap around the wound that is now steadily losing blood, glugging fast and thick onto the floor. Groaning through a spasm of pain, you use your knife to help rip a strip of fabric from your shirt, ignoring the jagged bones jutting out that beg for attention. Taking a deep breath you begin to bind the fabric around the wound, wincing and panting as your exposed flesh touches the soft material; dust and ash shuddering from above you to flutter across your skin. Shielding your head from the trickles of debris you twist onto your front, hauling your useless leg behind you as you shuffle closer to Ray with his hand outstretched.

“Y/N?” You hear him choke out your name feebly through your ringing daze, and once you are close enough you tug on his hand; hearing him curse. “We can’t get out” he tells you desperately as he locks onto you, the depths of his eyes frantic and fearful. With a cold sweat setting in and making it harder to breathe, you look around and notice a window glistening with heat. “There,” you point, but Ray shakes his head in rejection.

“Too far down,” he lets out a gut-wrenching cough, “I’ve already thought about it.”. Faintly you can here sirens in the distance; your mind quickly jumping to the safety of the rest of your crew. “Think about it again,” you command while working your way over to the sill, feeling it burn your forearms as you lean against it to look out and on to the street; staring down at the distant ground as you start to shake involuntarily from exertion.

Now turning back to the room, you watch the flames viciously creep towards you; time quickly running out. “Can you move Ray?” you ask while motioning to a large, plush arm chair with a high back adorned with ash, though mostly intact. He struggles, wobbling to his feet and lurching towards it, collapsing onto the seat with the floorboards letting out a moan underfoot. “You’re right,” he jokes weakly “I feel much better.” “Bring it over,” you instruct, struggling to keep a grip on consciousness as the pain in your leg works its way up your body, setting in your bones. He does as you say, pushing the chair towards you and the window, though your vision blurs as you fade in and out. You motion weakly to his pants, “off.” 

“Now’s not the time,” he smiles, but as you roll your eyes you see he begins to strip off his jeans and offers them to you. In a swift motion you tear the denim with your knife, creating a makeshift rope. 

“Help me up?” you ask and he’s at your side in an instant. Ignoring the pain as best you can, Ray wraps an arm around you, lifting you to your feet. You snatch at the armchair, shuffling it closer to you before Ray helps you to push it up against the window. With a grunt, He smashes the glass with his elbow, blood dripping from the fragments lodging into his skin. Now working together you manoeuvre the chair to face the room, the back leaning slightly out the window and into the cold, refreshing air.

“We’ve gotta sit” you gasp, keeling over and coughing violently. Ray nods, dragging you to the seat and placing you gently in it. You give him his jeans and he squeezes in next to you, wrapping the fabric under the chair then around your bodies. You look at him as your head spins, holding your hand out for him to cling to firmly. “We’re fucking dead” he says in an almost cheerful tone and you wheeze, placing your uninjured foot flat on the floor. He plants his feet too, and you both close your eyes. “On three,” he says, “one-” he pushes off with his feet and you feel your stomach churning and rushing into your throat; hurtling backwards and out of the window. Clenching your mouth shut, the wind rushes around you noisily as you plummet to the ground, landing with a painful crunch.

Your eyes are still shut, but you can hear Ray laughing incredulously. “We made it” he exclaims, but his words falter a fraction, enough for concern to stir inside of you. Opening your eyes you stare up at the building you fell from, smoke rushing as the wall shakes and begins to tumble. “Don’t look!” you screech, instinctively curling into Ray’s waiting arms as searing pain crushes you, leaving you alone in the rubble, dust and ash.

#fake ah crew #achievement hunter #achievement hunter x reader #fahc #fahc insert #fahc imagine #fake ah crew imagine #fake ah imagine #achievement hunter image #achievement hunter insert #ah imagine #ah insert #ah x reader #cinders #ray narvaez jr #ray narvaez jr x reader #ray narvaez jr imagine #ryan haywood #jeremy dooley #jeremy dooley x reader #jeremy dooley imagine #michael jones #gavin free #geoff ramsey #jack pattillo #immortal au #immortal fahc #immortal fake ah crew #Cinders fic #FAHC Ray

[raeofgayshine]

Did someone say Chuck?

#ravenpuff rambles #achievement hunter #I decided to watch a random gmod tonight because you know it’s an easy watch #and this moment fucking killed me #I love Trevor as Chuck #also just imagining like fahc #someone says ‘chuck that grenade over there’ or smth and immediately they hear ‘Did someone say Chuck?’ #trevor collins

[poly-space-nerds]

i just had the amazing idea of Face Jam still happening in the fahc au. like nothing about the show changes at all, it’s just when you look up the hosts you find out they are in the biggest gang in the west and wanted criminals

#just imagine being a los santos citizen and ofc knowing about the fahc #and ur looking for a new podcast and you find face jam #it’s funny and you like it but you can’t shake off the familiarity of these names #until you see news of a fahc heist #like holy shit #fahc #fahc michael #fake ah crew #face jam #michael jones #i have yet to see jordan or eric in a fahc #but yknow #it’d be funny

[monarchisms]

Watching unruly rollers just has me thinking of the fakes being interviewed or something and getting asked what they do in their spare time. Trevor’s like “oh y’know, just illegal stuff, we do more crimes and uh... things” and everybody’s like “they must do really bad things if he’s being so vague the fakes must be hardcore” but really it’s like “we can’t let them know we play dnd the others gangs will make fun of us”

fhdyjstjtsthsja

#fake ah crew #fahc trevor #and the rest of em #Anonymous #ask box 360 #imagine if somehow #the fakes runs a let's play channel #just for funsies #and the let's roll series is one of the first things they upload #someone from a rival crew sees them them dressed up as their dnd characters #and they ask ''hey doesn't that matt guy look familiar?'' #even funnier is if they never put 2 and 2 together #aaa typos >:(

[somegrumpynerd]

Yeah that’ll show ‘em

#AH #Detective Myatt au #Fahc #Fake AH Crew #Jeremy Dooley #Matt Bragg #Finally a move he can learn #It’s even better to imagine whoever they’re fighting #Watching somebody call their pokemon to use curse #And you just hear ‘’Pika!’’ #And the trainer looks at you and goes ‘’He just said fuck. Your move’’ #Also apparently this is my 4000th post good grief

[shadeofazmeinya]

1 and 6 for the song asks please! :D

1. Song that makes me happy

Critical Hit by Ghost Mice. It’s a goofy song using DnD references to be optimistic. It’s got a good message and a nerdy way of phrasing it. I love it. One of the few songs thats stuck with me from my folk punk days haha

6. makes me feel like i could kill god

I had to look back through my old FAHC playlist but I think Warriors from Image Dragons is pretty good. Honestly most Imagine Dragons songs are great for just feeling energized

#ask box thingy #thanks so much!!!

[whorenerdking]

i really wish the fahc had its own show or movie or something cause i can only imagine how epic an amv of ‘whats up danger’ would be

#achievement hunter #fahc #fake ah crew #ah #like #can you imagine #it would be so cool