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rosegoldachievement · 6 years

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Where Good Girls Go To Die (chapter 1)

pairing: fahc x reader

word count: 1,987

series: Where Good Girls Go To Die

summary: You're not quite sure what compelled you to move to the infamous city of Los Santos, a ruthless playground for drug dealers, washed-up celebrities, and criminals alike. It was very different from your small hometown in the middle of nowhere, where nothing ever happened and you couldn't even leave your house without running into someone you knew, but perhaps that was part of the attraction. But, after running into your ex-best friend, Jeremy Dooley, you began to think Los Santos wasn't so bad as it seemed. Well, until the bank you worked at got robbed and you managed to get kidnapped all in the same week, leading you to become stuck in a penthouse with six very deadly males.

chapter one / chapter two

Chapter One: Lil’ Cups of Coffee

The sun rose above the skyline, painting it various shades of pink and orange. Beams of light shone directly through the blinds and onto your face, causing you to throw the blankets over yourself.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled, trying to block out the luminescence from the other end of the room.

When you had first entered your new apartment the night previous, you immediately could tell the city’s nightlife four floors below would be hard to adapt to. Whizzing cars and alarms lasted past nightfall, making you toss and turn in your bed. It didn’t help that you were ninety percent sure gunshots had gone off only a few streets down from yours at around three in the morning.

It had taken you five minutes to retreat from the darkness of your sheets and get up from the bed, going through the obstacle course of unpacked boxes that cluttered your room.

You had finally managed to make it to your kitchen without dying and began to rummage through the boxes on the island for the one labeled ‘kitchen appliances’. After a few minutes of searching, you found it and pulled out the coffee machine. This was only one of many graduation presents from your family, and just like most of the others, it was unused and still in its original packaging.

After finally setting up the machine and making a pot of coffee, you began to unpack the boxes that were scattered across the dining area. It was quite a chore, but you knew it had to get done sometime..

The clock showed ten o’clock in the morning when you finished unpacking. You had managed to create a home for every object, developing a comfy atmosphere. Yet, when you were cleaning, you couldn't help but notice the lack of food in your fridge. Your parents didn't enjoy the concept of you taking the food they had on your move, so you settled for knowing you would have to go shopping once you arrived at your new town.

“I guess it's time for a shopping trip.” If you remembered correctly, there was a small plaza with convenience store a few blocks away from your apartment building. After changing into a pair of comfy sweatpants and a thin tee-shirt and exiting your apartment. you walked down the four flights of stairs to the ground floor. From there, you walked out of the double glass doors and watched as the city bloomed to life upon walking onto the sidewalk.

Your attempt to dodge the clusters of people while walking was fruitless, clipping some shoulders as you went down the street. The differences between Los Santos and your hometown were like black and white. At home, you could go blocks without seeing anyone but here, you couldn't even step without stepping on someone's foot.

By the time you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, you had arrived at the plaza the store was in. From the looks of it, the other places that inhabited the lot were a laundromat, tattoo parlor, and pizza place. You were about to enter your set destination when someone suddenly bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance and fall.

“Fuck,” a somewhat familiar voice grumbled. You looked up to see brown eyes that you had glimpsed at many times throughout the years but rather foreign green hair.

“Jeremy?” You managed to ask, mouth agape. The male seemed to be taken back from hearing his name, studying your features before realizing who you were.

“Y/n?” He offered a hand to help you up, which you gladly accepted. After he pulled you to your feet, you couldn't believe that your ex best friend, Jeremy Dooley, was stood in front of you. The same Jeremy Dooley who packed up his old beat up truck the morning of his eighteenth birthday and left the town without saying goodbye to anyone, including you. In that moment, you wanted to question his choices. Yet, you felt like you had already known the answer.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been awhile, huh?” You allowed your thoughts to quickly dissolve into the back of your brain. An eternity of silence seemed to slip over the two of you before a bright smile overtook his features. He seemed to gaze down at the watch on his wrist before putting his attention back on you.

“You in a rush? If not, I’d love to take you out to get some coffee and talk for a little. My treat.” You opened your mouth to admit you were actually on your way to shop and politely excuse yourself, but the words that escaped your mouth were anything but.

“Coffee sounds great,Jer.”

“Alright, cool. I know a place we can walk to from here. C’mon.” Jeremy began to walk the way in which he came, only leaving you to follow. As you caught up him and your footsteps fell in line with his, you couldn’t help but question your own feelings in the moment. Half of you was eager to learn how Jeremy has been all of these years, but the other half hated how casual this seemed. You even used his old nickname, for fuck’s sake.

Jeremy ended up leading you to an ally. You were about to question him when you noticed a blinking neon sign saying ‘Rimmy Tim’s’ hung up above a descending staircase. The sign casted tinted the ally with its custom colors, which happened to be an very distasteful purple and orange.

“Y/n?” Your vision drifted from the sign to see Jeremy lingering below it, his right hand lightly grasping the handrail. “You coming?” A sudden sound of embarrassment came from your lips as you quickly nodded your head, going back to his side once more.

At the bottom of the staircase stood frosted glass double doors, serving as an entrance way to the shop. With one hand, Jeremy opened the large door, revealing the coffee shop behind it. As Jeremy expertly guided you to a specific table, you began to observe your surroundings. The strong scent of coffee beans hung in the air as you passed by the front counter. The color scheme of Rimmy Tim’s matched the outside, the interior design seemingly as mix of industrial and nautical. This created a peaceful aura, which was something you needed after moving. You wouldn’t expect a gem like this to be tucked underground the city of Los Santos.

“Do you come here often?” You asked, slipping into the booth that Jeremy had picked out. You expected him to do the same, but he just stood next to the table.

“You could say that. I’m going to get us something to drink.” You began to stand up, but Jeremy immediately shook his head.

“Nope, you stay here.” Your eyebrows knitted together as you shot him a confused look.

“Jeremy, you don’t even know my order.” Jeremy was quick to dismiss your concerns, waving his hand as if swatting them away.

“Trust me, I’ll figure it out. Now sit.” Reluctantly, you sat down and Jeremy took his victory in stride as he turned on his heel and headed towards the front counter. While you awaited Jeremy’s return, you found yourself playing with different apps on your phone. You had just completed a very difficult level in a puzzle game when he returned, placing a white ceramic coffee cup down in front of you. As he sat down across from you, you looked down in the hopes to identify what he had gotten you. The top was covered with whipped cream, so you couldn’t exactly figure out the exact contents of your drink. Jeremy took a sip of what seemed to be some kind of iced drink before speaking.

“Go ahead, try it.” He gestured to the cup in front of you. You casted him a look of uncertainty, causing him to chuckle. “Y/n, just taste it.” With a sigh, you raised the cup up to your lips and took a small sip. As the liquid touched your tongue, a sense of familiarity rushed over you. Your (eye color) eyes flashed upwards, making contact with Jeremy’s.

“Is this a cafe mocha?” You smiled, taking another sip, this one bigger than the last. Jeremy’s smile grew as he nodded. Memories of junior year of high school flooded your brain, Jeremy and you sitting at one of the only coffee shops in town and talking for hours on end. A sad smile crossed over your lips, thinking about all of the days you had spent there, nursing a drink identical to the one you had now.

“Just like the one at home, right? I wasn’t sure if you still liked them, but I wanted to give it a shot.” He watched as you enjoyed your drink, taking a sip of his own before continuing to speak. “Speaking of home, why aren't you there?” You rested your coffee on the table, your hands still wrapped around the cup, enjoying the warmth it was giving off.

“I moved here yesterday.” Jeremy’s face contorted into a shocked expression, a silence lingering in the air between you. It took him awhile to formulate the words, but after a minute, Jeremy spoke up.

“Why did you move here? A city, nonetheless? Weren’t you always the one saying you wanted to settle down and make a family back home?” Well, he wasn’t wrong. Jeremy moved to your small, quaint town the summer before fourth grade from Boston. His rebunkous self refused to conform to the country background of your town. Ever since you had known Jeremy, he had been claiming he was going to move back to the city one day. You idolized his ambition and need for change, but your small town was all you had ever known. But, once Jeremy left, you realized that his spontaneous behavior was what made your town bearable.

“Yeah. I know what you mean. It’s just things started to get….” You trailed off, trying to figure out where you were going with that sentence before shrugging. “I don’t know, boring, I guess?” Jeremy’s mouth swung open to answer, but the sound of his phone going off averted his attention.

“Shit, I gotta take this. I’m sorry.” A frown formed on his face once he read the caller ID.

“It’s fine, take your time.” You told him, raising your coffee to your lips. With that, Jeremy answered the call and walked away.

After a few minutes, Jeremy returned, still bearing a frown.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to do this but, that was work. I gotta go.” You sighed, but understood.

“It’s alright, I understand. It was really nice catching up with you, Jeremy. Thanks for the coffee.” Jeremy’s frown quickly turned into a smile at your words.

“No problem. I’ll cya around, I guess.” Jeremy jammed his hand into his pocket and turned around. A second seem to pass before he sighed, quickly turning back around to face you. “Sorry, I was just wondering, uh, can I put my number in your phone?” He suddenly asked. You smiled and nodded, picking your phone up from the table and handing it over to him.

“Yeah, of course!” Jeremy quickly put his information in and handed you back his phone. The moment he did this, his phone buzzed, indicating he received a message. After checking it, you heard him mumble something under his breath.

“Alright, I’m coming. Calm the fuck down, Geoff.” You brought yourself not to question this, since it seemed like Jeremy was only talking to himself. “Alright, y/n. Text me whenever you get the time.” And with that, you watched your former best friend walk away and disappear out of the frosted double doors at the front of Rimmy Tim’s. Staring at the half-empty cup he left across from you, you found yourself chuckling.

“Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.”

#achievement hunter au #achievement hunter x reader #rooster teeth x reader #fahc x reader #fahc #achievement hunter fanfic #gavin free x reader #jeremy dooley x reader #jack pattillo x reader #michael jones x reader #ryan haywood x reader #geoff ramsey x reader #achievement hunter reader insert

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5lbsofsmarties · 6 years

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16. Jack Pattillo

Teach Me Word Count: 246

“I have no idea what is going on,” you said into your microphone.

Around the room, and in your headphones, you could hear chuckles coming from other people. Geoff, Gavin, and Ryan were all out of the office for the day and an episode of Minecraft needed to be filmed as soon as possible, so Michael ran into the support room and when he saw that you weren’t in the middle of editing anything he all but dragged you back to the main room to fill in.

“What do you not get?” Jack asked from your left.

You glanced his way and looked back at Ryan’s monitor that you were playing on to see Jack’s character come flying across the sky to land in front of you. You sighed and shook your head. You hardly ever played regular minecraft, and couldn’t wrap you head around what was going on in their own little Sky Factor narrative.

“Jack… Teach me,” you whined, moving your character to make it move with your voice.

Jack laughed fondly, “Teach you what?”

“To Sky Factory,” you huffed, “Teach me to Sky Factory.”

From across the way Michael laughed to himself, “I’ve been doing this for months and I can barely Sky Factory.”

You watched Jack’s character run a small circle around you before you heard him let out a breath through your headphones. “Okay, Y/N, come with me,” he said, walking off back to his work area, “You can help me.”\

#jack pattillo x reader #jack p x reader #jack pattillo imagine #ah reader insert #ah imagine #ragehappy #number prompt fill #rt imagine #rt reader insert

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bellshellsrage · 6 years

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For The Kids

{Welcome to Week 2 of Fall Month! This is also Extra Life season, so support however you can! <3}

Word Count:748

Pairing: Jack Pattillo x reader (platonic), mentions of other staff b/c it’s Extra Life

Nervous did not even begin to describe what I felt as I walked to the bay doors, which were wide open to reveal a set full of people. A wall outside was already covered with splatters of paint, and my heartbeat quickened when I walked past the guns and protective clothing nearby. Voices came from the darkness behind the cameras and the bright set.

“Hey! Glad you made it!” Miles called as he walked towards me, slightly tripping on the cables. “So since it’s your first Extra Life, I suggest not getting too out of hand.”

I gave him a disapproving glance. “When have I ever gotten out of hand?”

“How about the Halloween party? You got shit-faced and all of AH was pissed.”

Remembering the aftermath of that night, I chuckled. “Touche.”

“Hey, is that (Y/N) I hear?” Jack’s voice rose above the others. “It is! Come on set!”

I rolled my eyes and walked slowly forward to stand just outside of view from the cameras. “I don’t wanna.”

Jack shook his head and stood. He handed Caiti his mic before walking towards me. “I know that you aren’t comfortable in front of cameras, but this is important and it would mean a lot to me if you would make an appearance.”

Jeremy and Ryan walked past and offered kind smiles. I turned my attention back to Jack and gave him a pleading look. “What if people don’t want me on there? You know what they say about me already. Do you really want to turn that negative energy to this great thing?”

Jack studied my face for a while but nodding and gently placing his hands on my shoulders. “I understand. You don’t have to be on camera, but please stick around for the shenanigans.”

“Now that I can do.” I nodded. Jack grinned before heading off to get water.

An hour later, I had been dragged into playing games by Ryan, Jeremy, and Jon. The Battle Buddies were still alive while Jon and I spectated after we died together.

“Alright, I see that PUBG is still going on over there. Who’s still alive?” Jack called from the seats on the other side of the set.

“Jon and I are out because fucking Ryan rolled the car.” I grumbled, making Ryan complain.

“Look, we were being shot at and there was a hill and they fell out. There was nothing I could do.”

Jon scoffed and started to yell at Ryan again but was cut off by Jeremy talking about more guys coming towards them.

Jack chuckled. “Well at least everyone is having fun over there.” I narrowed my eyes at him before standing and going over to sit on the chair next to him. “Hello!”

“Hey!” I grinned before turning to the camera. “Hey guys! Having a good time? Don’t forget to eat and drink water and stretch.”

“You’re so the Mom Friend.” Jack chuckled.

I shrugged as a big donation came in with the message ‘Glad to see (Y/N) on stream! Love them!’. Jack nudged my knee and nodded at the screen and I laughed.

“Did you see that?!? People like you!”

“Thanks for bringing attention to it, Jack. Now they’ll go back to hating me.”

He shook his head and looked straight at the camera. “You guys like them, right? Tell us using Twitter and #RTExtraLife.”

I rolled my eyes, then cheered as Jeremy and Ryan won the game. “Ryan killed half the team, but we won!” The crowd laughed and I glanced at the camera. “Oh, and Jack’s a kiss ass.”

“Fine, I’m just trying to prove that they love you as much as we do, but whatever.”

Jeremy walked over and punched my shoulder. “I can’t fucking stand ‘em.”

“Fuck off, Jeremy!” I yelled playfully.

Jack smiled at his computer. “Not only have we doubled our amount from the first year, thank you very much everyone!” We all applauded. “But the hashtag is filled with people saying how much they love you.”

“You will all be paid later.” I muttered, making Jack smirk. “But seriously, thank you all for being so awesome!”

Another big donation came in and I groaned as Jack read the message. “(Y/N) goes in front of the paintball wall.” Jack and Jeremy glanced at me and I nodded. “To the range!”

...I would regret that nod and hate that random person for the welts that Jack gave me, but it’s for the kids, right?

#my fics #achievement hunter x reader #jack pattillo x reader

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youtubexreader · 7 years

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Send in yo' requests ~ final's week relief

I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you at this ungodly hour (it's 9:41am and I have so much school shite I should be doing but therz no time) Fellow readers and lurkers, reading fanfics have kept me up days in a row (back when I went to a traditional fckn school) and I would get up and read them specifically in government/Econ because we'd work on group projects so we'd lounge in the library while on our laptops and phones working and listening to music and I'd also be reading Matt peake x reader ff (sHHSHHH don't tell my Econ teacher) ANYWAYS! I know x reader ff have kept me occupied and helped get me out of anxious times during finals so I'd like to be able to write and provide the same for those alike: However I can't do much without your own thoughts, your preferences, prompts, specific requests, non specific requests, song requests, etc. You name it, send it in via anon, non anon, message, post. (Whatever you prefer <333)

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chezzkaa · 5 years

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Numb pt 26

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2100+

Date posted: 20 Jan 2018

A/N: Y’all can thank @trevorcollumns for this part actually being completed. She’s become a nagging motivation and I love her to pieces for keeping me inspired with this fic. She refuses to let my interest move elsewhere, and I’m really thankful. Cya soon, my bitch. You can nag me in person soon!

The skull stares at you. It’s black empty sockets screaming with a loneliness that is not only striking, but fearful. Like the creature it once was continues to lament over its last moments alive. Jaw dislocated and limp, but cries so loud they’re deafening.

Ryan is right, the remnants of the animal before you hadn’t fallen to an ordinary predator.

The grooves carved into it’s features wander like footpaths traipsed through familiarity, smooth and deliberate when unwrapping the skin from bone. Intelligent. Not clusters of claw marks in sets of threes and fours, and not the aftermath of clumsy teeth trying to keep a hold - but created with a precision that you just can’t place.

Can’t place, at least, until an outstretched finger touches the bone. All at once the base of your skull is left searing, a prickling pain that glides smoothly up the centre of your head, right over until coming to sting at the bridge of your nose. Along with it comes a heat that circles your neck, the hollow of your throat closing with the pressure of unseen fingers.

“Fuck!” You recoil instantly, shuddering and hoping to pass the discomfort off as a reaction to the cold. The word slips from your lips before you can catch a breath, Ryan placing a cautionary hand against your lower back to stop you from toppling out of the crouch you’re folded into. “You’re right, this isn’t an animal… But why wouldn’t whoever it is take the head?”

“Y/N, come on.” Ryan gives you a concerned look. “Why’re you freaking out? I was kidding about the murder mystery thing. It’s probably just left over from a camper who needed a good meal.”

“In this weather?”

He doesn’t have a response.

Letting the hand he has against your back guide you into sitting, your legs guard the sides of the skull. You can’t help following the grooves; pressing their image against the memories you have of those adorning the window frames of Motbury, and decorating the bodies you’re now too familiar with.

“Why,” you ask again, reaching out to the bone again and pulling it into your lap, “would someone meticulously remove the head of a creature, skin the skull, and not take it with them? Surely a hunter wouldn’t chop off and clean the head before taking the body away. That doesn’t make sense.”

He struggles, uncertain of what answer you might possibly want. Taking the skull from you, Ryan turns it over in his hands, examining the clean separation that had seen it removed from the spine in the dimming evening light. “Well,” he says, “maybe he didn’t need it.”

The feeling of cobblestone pounds against the soles of your feet. Hard and aching in the cold. Bitter with every slap of your shoes as you run. The orange glow of streetlights trace the path you carve through the town, chasing the shadows you leave behind and playing in your hair. Scampering between your legs and leaping across the stone you bound over. Glinting against the black ice that has already managed to trip you twice, ground kissing the skin it’s left bruised across your hip and thigh.

Ryan’s confusion still rings in your ears. His alarmed expression, of which you had left in the snow as you’d rocketed to your feet and started moving, haunts the darkened spaced between houses and shop fronts.

“What, Y/N? What’s wrong - wait, where’re you going? Y/N, slow down. Y/N-”

He’d snatched out, crumpling to his knees as you’d darted away.

Instead of explaining, you’d thrown him an incoherent response and reminder for him to join dinner that night with nothing else on your mind besides racing thoughts and a need to find Detective Dooley. To hurl definitive evidence at his feet and demand that he acknowledge the grooves that match those found clinging to buildings. To force him to address the links exposed by the timeline you and Michael had slaved over. To make him see, once and for all, that the removal of the head and the slaughter of animals oh so long ago has to mean something. It just had to.

It had to.

The skull, minor in its existence, brings the three factors they’d been scratching their heads over together with clumsy a bow. Solidifying the concept of a copycat killer so much so that Jeremy will be unable to argue, and parading the fact that that whoever had been killing livestock hadn’t upgraded to children, but had kept a clear line between those he hunts. One for food, and one for fun.

It isn’t much, but it consumes you. Taking over your being and vibrating in your limbs, stretching tight across your icy cheekbones. But it’s more than the relief of a definitive copycat that spurs you on. Ryan’s comment had stirred something inside you. Flipped a switch and brought blinding possibilities you hadn’t yet considered.

If the killer didn’t take the skulls of animals because he didn’t need them or want them - he must have had a reason for collecting the heads that he does.

Your rampant thoughts, along with your being, collide into the figure in front of you. So dizzy in your mind that it takes you a moment to register the shock, the man is already grunting and skirting past. Swallowed again by the night. A shake of your head sees the panic dislodge and recognition take its place.

“Jeremy?” you call, waving a hand above your head and stumbling after him. “Hey, wait up. You’re just who I’m looking for.”

He doesn’t. Instead his head tucks deeper into his coat, shoulders hunched. The quickness of his pace is hard to match, but you manage.

"Slow down, J, I need to talk to you," you plead, catching his arm. But he still doesn't stop, shaking free and powering on into the snow. Recoiling, stung, you jam your hands into you pockets. "Are you kidding me? C’mon man, stop messing around. This is important."

“Then why don't you go and tell Ryan?”

The words burn, lashing out and leaving your skin raw.

“Excuse me?” you demand faintly, “what does Ryan have to do with anything?”

"I just figured," he starts, finally facing you with an expression set in stone, "that considering how close you've gotten, he's all you need."

“I'm trying to talk to you about the case, Detective. You know, the one where kids are dying? And you think now's a good time to go digging around in my personal life?”

"Why not?" he asks hollowly, and you take a step back. “Why shouldn't I treat you like everyone else in this town? I’d be covering all the bases like you want me to.”

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy!” you snap, infuriated at the man who cowers from your anger for a brief moment. “What the fuck is your problem? Just because you fancy Ryan doesn’t mean you get to be an ass to me!”

“Fancy Ryan?” He almost laughs, but stops himself, instead settling for bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Stop it.” Your eyes narrow at his defence, in no mood for his denials. A sharp gesture of your hand cuts his confusion, letting it fall noisily to the floor. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You’re seething, body desperate to pace and yet feet remaining rooted to the cold, frozen ground. Through the dark you struggle with his expression, equally hurt by his scowl as he is with your own. “Jon already told me that you’re interested in him. Which is fucking fine, and I get that you’re hurting in this situation. But don’t you dare go around being an absolute asshole to both of us, just because you can’t get what you want. We have a job to do, and I’m your friend.”

He’s shaking his head, eyes wide and mouth pouted open. This time he can’t stop the laugh, harsh and mocking in the night’s biting air. “You’re kidding? You think I don’t like you guys hanging out because I’m in love with Ryan?”

You stop, accepting his simple explanation with a tight nod. You resist the urge to shuffle guiltily, uncomfortable with confronting his feelings with such volatile accusations.

Jeremy’s jaw sets, fists balling by his side while he turns bitter. “Oh, you’ve caught me. I’m interested in him, alright? Really really interested.”

A rattling sigh bounces from your lungs, falling flat in the snow. You knew this would be inevitable, and sucking in a breath and as much confidence as possible, you start the conversation you’d rather not have. “Look, Jeremy, Ryan and I-”

“I’m interested in him because he’s a person of interest, you fucking moron.”

The words stop, clinging to your tongue and scampering back down your throat before you can comprehend his vicious growl. “A person of interest? You mean-”

“I mean that you’ve been trying to date a god damn murder suspect.”

“Oh.” The shock expelled from your lips forms with a gentle pop, and with it his expression softens. Regretfully he gathers his apologies, rubbing them comfortingly into your arm. Tears well, but you don’t let them fall, feeling them thicken in your throat. “Wow J. I- I just… I can’t believe this.”

“I know, Y/N, it was hard for me to accept too, but-”

You jerk away, skin stinging from his touch. Recoiling, a few stumbles steps see the fountain greet the back of your knees, accusations like daggers. “I can’t believe you’d think your closest friend could be a part of this. That he could hurt children. After losing his own, for god sakes. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s like - It’s like you don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, sure, lost his own, wha- you’re not listening, are you? Because you just obviously know him better, huh? All that time you’ve spent together, all those nights stumbling home arm in arm - yeah, I fucking know about that because we’ve got men watching his every fucking move so he doesn’t kill another kid - it must mean that you know him better than me? Bearing in mind, Y/N, you were the one that dated a god damn serial killer and refused to accept it, not me. And it got people killed.”

Your spine straightens, bite so lethal he shrinks away. The sharp breath sears through your lungs, mind reeling from the night that haunts your dreams and forced you to run from all that you love as he jams it into your hands. It’s your turn to ball your fists, clutching your coat close with the enraged whip of wind. It takes all you have not to launch across the space and punch him, to refrain from falling to your knees and screaming like there’s no tomorrow.

When you speak your voice is low, far more threatening than intended, but appreciated all the same. “Yeah, I guess I do know him better.”

Jeremy wants to snap back, but you don’t let him.

“I must do, because I know what type of person he is, Jeremy. And he’s a damn good one. And I also know what obsessing over a case does to people like us. I was too blind to see Charlie for who he was, because I was too busy focusing on someone else. Someone innocent, remember? I chased him to the point where he couldn’t handle the hounds and killed himself. Do you remember that, huh? Remember when we charged into his apartment and found him hanging, then got the call that my sister was dead all in the same hour?”

Jeremy doesn’t speak, as frozen as the world around him. If he could swallow his comment, he would. He’d forgotten the raw hurt, the agony in your eyes whenever you’d talk about your sister - and hadn’t realised it was still as fresh as ever. He can’t look at you anymore, glaring at his fingers as they slowly blotch purple. And you don’t look at him, either. Can’t stand his guilt, can’t stand seeing him the way he was all those years ago, watching your sister’s blood coat his hands after he’d done all he could to save her.

“I won’t let you make the same mistakes I did, Jeremy. I won’t let you drive yourself, or Ryan, into madness, just because you don’t know how to stop and see a bigger picture.” You turn to leave, stopping only to spit your final remark into the street you’re desperate to escape. “Oh, and once you’re done condemning Ryan you might want to talk to him, seeing as he’s just found the evidence we need to link the killer as a copycat to the Widow of the Woods story.”

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aplaceforrtprompts · 7 years

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How about a flash fic with Jack Patillo, where he's the getaway driver for the Reader as she's robbing a high end location, but she runs into trouble during the escape and Jack has to come to her rescue? Inspired: Crazy = Genius by Panic! At the Disco

Word Count: 489

Song: Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco

“Jack,” you whispered into your radio.

You could practically hear the sigh on the other end before it clicked on and crackled, “What happened?”

You smiled and replied, “Things didn’t quite go as planned and I’m going to need a little help. Hear me out. I have a plan and if it works out we’re set for life, baby.”

There was a long pause and finally Jack spoke again, “So are you going to share or I’m I just going to have to guess?”

“I was waiting for a drumroll but anyways it’s a little wild and I’m going to have to trust you but what’s new?” you laughed before going on to explain what you needed Jack to do. After several minutes of arguing Jack was finally on his way to you.

You heard a loud crash, followed by screams, and took that as your queue that Jack was there. You shimmed out of the air duct and fell on the hood of the car, bag in hand. You waved to Jack before scrambling and jumping in the passenger seat as he took a couple of warning shots to stay away.

He backed up quickly, “Where are all the cops?”

“Probably on their way now. They thought I jumped out the back but I climbed into the ducting,” you explained.

“What?! Why did I need to drive into the store then? I thought you were in danger!” Jack shouted, pulling down an alley to keep the cops off you.

“I was. It was very drafty. Plus I didn’t want to wait until tonight to climb out,” you explained.

He sighed as he threw the car into park, “Please tell me it was worth it.”

“Oh ho ho. Take a look at this,” you fished a large diamond, roughly the size of your fist out of your bag and held it up for Jack to see.

He still looked at you in shock but not in a good way, “Did you get that from the front window?”

You nodded proudly, “After snatching a few rings and necklaces I grabbed that. What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane. That, my darling, is for display. A nice paperweight but nothing more,” Jack explained.

“But…” you frowned looking at the jewel in your hands.

Jack leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead to soothe you. “See the name of the store etched there,” he pointed to the side facing up. “They can’t do that with real diamonds.”

“I did think that was strange,” you agreed and tossed it back into your bag, “Oh, well. There’s always next time.”

“You mean you thought that was strange and you still grabbed it?” Jack slumped in his seat.

You shrugged, “Heat of the moment. Speaking of which, let’s get some tunes up in this, bitch.”

Jack just stared as you fiddled with the radio as he started the car up once more.

#jack p x reader #jack pattillo imagine #ragehappy #rt reader insert #rt imagine #JackP #FAHC #mandytrekkie

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ao3feed-mavin · 5 years

Text

Cops and Robbers

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WfZdfE

by bees_questionmark

In the heart of downtown Los Santos, stood a little jazz club called the Sanguine Rose. A little dive bar that was all dolled up into a classy looking joint. You didn’t go to the Sanguine Rose if you valued your life. Inside the fake art deco building, on a stage in front of the dining room, a single spotlight beamed down on a singer. Her curls were pinned tightly to her head. Her dress was much too sexy for the decade the building emulated. She eyes glued to the front door. Waiting. Watching. For something to begin.

You are an ex military assassin working with the Fakes, when you accidentally run into a handsome stranger who's life you're about to make significantly more complicated.

One year ago, I wrote a Miles x Reader story called Cops and Crooks. As soon as I finished it, I thought, I can do even better. And I am now releasing a second draft of that fic. This fic follows the basic story and plot of the first one, however there will be notable differences, and I think it's written so much better now!

Words: 2182, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Cops and Crooks (A Fake AH Reader Insert Story)

Fandoms: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Miles Luna, Reader Insert - Character, Ryan Haywood, Gavin Free, Trevor Collins, Alfredo Diaz, Geoff Ramsey, Jack Pattillo, Lindsay Tuggey Jones, Michael Jones, Jeremy Dooley, Kyle Taylor, Cole Gallian, Kerry Shawcross

Relationships: Miles Luna/Reader, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey

Additional Tags: Fake AH Crew, FAHC Au, Reader Insert, gta v - Freeform, FAHC!Reader, Cop!Miles Luna, Detective!Miles Luna, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Second Person, Second Draft, Kidnapping, Torture, Death, NPC Death, Heists, criminals

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WfZdfE

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Mavin #Ragehappy #MichaelxGavin #Michael/Gavin #Roosterteeth #Achievement Hu

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takeyourfic · 6 years

Note

2: The Spirit of Christmas with Jack Pattillo? ❤️

Here is day 2 of the holiday prompts! A little bit of Jack Pattillo for you! Hope you enjoy! xx

The Spirit of Christmas

Word Count: 454

Warnings: None

Pairing: Reader x Jack Pattillo

“These?” Jack looks at you from across the room and lifts one arm into the air. It’s wrapped in Christmas lights. “Or these?” He lifts his other arm to reveal a separate set of lights.

“Hm…” You tap your finger against your chin, acting as if this is the hardest choice you’ve ever made. “I know which lights to choose!” You stretch your pointer finger into the sky, being as dramatic as possible. “All of them.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Jack chuckles and shakes his head, walking over to you.

“The more important question is, "Why didn’t you just bring them all to me, then?”“ You grin at him and climb the step-ladder, careful to keep your balance. "Honestly, it’s like you don’t even know me.” You reach towards him as he hands you one of the light bundles.

“We’ve been together for three years.” Jack pauses and looks you in the eyes, while narrowing his. “I don’t know you at all.” The two of you stand there in an impromptu staring contest. Just when you think you’re about to win, he pulls out his signature move. The eyebrow waggle. It gets you every time. You press your lips together in a tight line to try to stop yourself from breaking eye contact, but it’s to no avail. You’re soon bursting into laughter.

“That’s so not fair!” You cross your arms over your chest and huff, feigning anger. “You always do that. That’s the only way you ever win. I say we outlaw that move. All opposed?” You shake your head as he raises his arm and then glances around the room.

“One vote for opposed.” He shrugs. “I have a strange feeling that there’s going to be a tied vote. Seeing as how we’re the only two that are going to vote.”

“That! That is where you’re wrong, good sir!” You shout, jumping off of the step ladder. You both put down the Christmas lights and you raise your hand in the air. “All in favor of making Jack Pattillo’s signature eye waggle illegal during stare offs?” Jack looks around the room again and then back to you.

“One to one.” He smirks at you and you drop your arm to your side. “Unless there’s someone I’m not seeing?”

“You’re forgetting about The Spirit of Christmas, who is obviously on my side and not yours. Sorry! I don’t make the rules!” You step closer to him, placing your hands on his shoulders and grinning.

“Ah, but you do make the rules.” He wraps his arms around your waist and you stretch up on your tip toes to give him a peck on the lips.

“That’s true.”

#jackpattilloxreader #rt imagine #rt reader insert #y8man

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ao3feed-jackeoff · 5 years

Text

Cops and Robbers

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WfZdfE

by bees_questionmark

You are an ex military assassin working with the Fakes, when you accidentally run into a handsome stranger who's life you're about to make significantly more complicated.

Words: 2182, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Cops and Crooks (A Fake AH Reader Insert Story)

Fandoms: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi

Relationships: Miles Luna/Reader, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2WfZdfE

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #ragehappy #jackeoff

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rosegoldachievement · 5 years

Text

Where Good Girls Go To Die (Chapter 4)

pairing: fahc x reader

word count: 2,615

series: Where Good Girls Go To Die

summary: You’re not quite sure what compelled you to move to the infamous city of Los Santos, a ruthless playground for drug dealers, washed-up celebrities, and criminals alike. It was very different from your small hometown in the middle of nowhere, where nothing ever happened and you couldn’t even leave your house without running into someone you knew, but perhaps that was part of the attraction. But, after running into your ex-best friend, Jeremy Dooley, you began to think Los Santos wasn’t so bad as it seemed. Well, until the bank you worked at got robbed and you managed to get kidnapped all in the same week, leading you to become stuck in a penthouse with six very deadly males.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter four

It had been a few days since the robbery, and you had just entered your apartment building. The bank still hadn’t reopened because of the repairs and some security updates were still needed. You actually had begun to feel antsy from staying home. At first, you had debated on actually going out to a nightclub or something, but your introverted side settled on grocery shopping.

When you made it to your door, a confused expression took over your features. Your apartment door was slightly ajar and it appeared as if the lights were on inside. Your brain kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out what exactly had happened in your absence.

Maybe Mrs. Gunkhouse, your landlord, had stopped by to drop off the rest of the paperwork needed to move. But, she surely would have shut the door and turned off the light. Right? Or you just forgot to lock up before you had left. That was another probable reason.

Without having any other explanation of what could have happened, you decided to cautiously approach the cracked door and enter your apartment. Your eyes grew wide as you surveyed the scene.

Cardboard boxes were overturned, the items that they once contained sprawled out onto the floor. Anything that could be broken was shattered to pieces, including the vase you had bought the day prior. Your heart plummeted down into your stomach when you finally realized that you had been robbed. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. Why now? Why you? As if things hadn’t gone to shit already since you had arrived in this town.

A countless amount of questions fluttered through your brain until you finally had one stabilized thought. I still have the card Miles gave me with his phone number. He had said to call if you had any more information about the bank situation, but you’re pretty sure he would help you with this robbery as well. All of the previous thoughts you had vanished and your only goal was to get that card.

You exited the living room and into the small hallway that housed the bathroom, your bedroom, and a closet. Thankfully, all of the boxes that once called this place home were now unpacked and thrown out, so you didn’t run the risk of dying on the way to your room.

However, when you did step foot into your room, you were too afraid to venture any further. Near your closet, was a man standing with his back turned to you and going through your belongings. It had just occurred to you that you weren’t robbed. No, there was someone currently still robbing you. You were frozen in fear for a second, but eventually, you had built up enough energy to begin stepping out of the room. Slowly and quietly, you backed up towards the door. Well, until you felt something hard collide against your back.

“Found her.” A gruff voice spoke from behind you. You tried to turn around to look at them, but a pair of strong hands clasped down onto your shoulders to keep you in place. The man who was going through your things previously turned around with a smile that made you uneasy.

“Hello, y/n.”

A sudden realization hit you, the feeling similar to a ton of bricks being thrown into your stomach. Your legs wobbled and if it wasn’t for the man holding your shoulders, you would probably be on the ground right about now. They didn’t come here to rob you. They came here for you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came. Before you could, a rag was slipped over both your opened mouth and your nose. You stood like this for awhile, your struggle rendering useless as the man pushed the rag further into your face. Over time, your vision began to grow cloudy and your brain tripped over its own thoughts. After a few minutes, you had fallen unconscious.

When you woke up, you half expected to be greeted with the (favorite color) walls of your bedroom. But, instead, you were greeted white brick walls and a terrifyingly open space. It looked like to be some sort of warehouse, or maybe even a hanger. There was a dull ache that surrounded your wrist and thanks to the experience you had back at the bank, you quickly realized a cable tie had been secured around them. You searched your brain for answers, but the memories only flooded back into your mind once you heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, you’re up.”

You looked to your left to see the man who had kidnapped you, along with several others. They all held the same scowl and rather lean builds but varied in height. Matter of fact, two of the men who stood closer to the very right end of the group looked to be twins.

It took you a minute, but you found your voice. It came out shaky, but at least noise actually left your lips.

“Where am I? What do you want from me?”

He licked his lips before a grin came onto his face.

“You’ll find that out in a little bit, sweetheart.” He then turned towards the others. “Get in your places, we’re starting the next phase of the plan.”

The group began to disperse in different directions, but the man who had called you sweetheart and another man still stood in front of you. You could only assume the other man was the one who had grabbed you in the bedroom.

“Ready?” The second guy looked towards the first man, who only nodded. This prompted him to turn to you. “You keep your mouth shut.” You noticed him push back his shirt slightly and grab hold of something. Your body immediately wretched when your (eye color) eyes landed upon the handgun. “Or things are going to go south real fast.” You wordlessly nodded, fear manifesting in your stomach.

The first man dug a phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons, initiating a call. It wasn’t until he had adjusted his grip on the cell and put it on speaker that you noticed that it was your phone. The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Hello?”

You blink in shock. Was...was that Jeremy?

“Hello, Jeremy. You don’t know me, but I know you.”

“Where’s y/n?” You had never heard Jeremy’s voice this cold before.

“She’s right next to me, but I’m afraid she’s a little bit too...tied up…. to speak with you at the moment. But I’m sure she’d be more than willing to talk once my group and I get what we want. Well, if she lives that long, that is. Give Geoff the phone.”

The fear that you had started to feel moments ago increased and your mind began to race.

“If you hurt her, I swear…”

“Time is ticking, Dooley.”

You heard Jeremy take a deep breath, but that was the last clear sound that came from his end of the phone call. Some noises came through the microphone after, but it was in the form of indistinguishable movements and muffled voices. Eventually someone was handed the phone and took over the conversation .

“You wanted to speak to me?” The man who you assumed was ‘Geoff’ spoke. There was something familiar about the voice, but you couldn’t exactly place where you had heard it before.

“Six months ago, you stole away our territory and gave it to some young bucks with nothing to their name.”

A scoff came from the other end of the line.

“That’s what this is about? Look, kid. We didn’t steal anything. I’ve known Joel Heyman for years. He gave the territory over to the Fakes because of his retirement.”

“It wasn’t his to give!” The man snapped before regaining his composure. “You boss types are all the same, aren’t cha? You all just see Sandy Shores as a territory to control. To us, it’s so much more. Some of us have friends and family there. It’s home. But you guys didn’t think about that when you laid off all these guys, huh? Didn’t think about most of them had criminal records and can’t put food on the table anymore for the people they love?”

“Look, man, I’m sorry. That sucks. But I can’t give you the spa-”

“We don’t care about that anymore, Ramsay.”

“Then why the fuck did you set thi-”

“We want money. Forty thousand, to be exact. And don’t say you don’t have it, because we know you do. Bring it to the old paper warehouse on fifth by midnight or the girl gets a bullet in her skull.” With that, the man ended the call and tosses your phone onto a nearby folding table.

Two hours later, the front door of the warehouse opened to reveal Jeremy and an older looking man wearing a suit and covered in tattoos. You guessed that this was Geoff, the man who was on the phone with your kidnapper. Behind them were a man with red hair wearing a brown leather jacket and a man with a beard in a Hawaiian shirt, both holding briefcases. You felt as if there was something familiar about the man with the red hair, but the sound of your captor’s hands slamming against the folding table made you jump.

“Wow, you all actually showed up!”

As they approached, you locked eyes with Jeremy. This was probably the most pissed you had even seen him, but his brown eyes softened when they glanced at you.

“We have your money, let the girl go.” Geoff spoke, locking his tattooed hands behind his back.

“Not so fast, Ramsey.” Your captor smiled. He held out his hand and did a ‘gimme’ motion. “Let me see the cash so I know you’re not jipping us.” Geoff nodded over to the redhead and the bearded man, who both took a step forward and placed the briefcases on the floor. They kicked over the money and slid it across the floor in order to ensure they wouldn’t case any alarm. Your captor looked towards his companion, who went over and picked up the suitcases. After opening it and looking over the cash, he nodded.

“Everything’s here.”

“We held up our end of the deal.” Geoff commented as he put his hands into his pockets. “Are you going to keep your promise?”

Your captor took a few steps to the side so he was positioned directly behind you and placed a cold hand onto your shoulder. You twitched at the sudden contact, but kept your mouth shut.

“Well, I would love to, but I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.” You felt something cold and metal press against the side of your head, instantly causing your heart to drop. “It’s only fair that since you guys took away something so special to us, we do the same.” Tears threatened to spill as your observed the faces of the four men in front of you. Jeremy seemed tense, but one look from Geoff seemed to calm his nerves. You questioned this, but the chaos that erupted seconds later overtook your thoughts.

“I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this but fine.” Geoff sighed. “Go ahead, Ryan.”

Before anyone could react, a bullet zoomed through one of windows and hit your captor in the head. You tried not to wretch as something wet splashed onto your face. The sound of gunshots overtook the area as Geoff, the redhead, and the bearded man were now all armed and fought against the remaining people. Within the chaos, Jeremy dashed over towards you and untied your restraints.

“Jeremy, what the fuck is happening?” You asked in a panic tone. He casted you a sympathetic look before shaking his head.

“I’ll explain later. Right now we gotta find cover, okay?” You blinked in confusion , straining to hear him over the gunshots, but nodded as he grabbed your hand. “Jack, cover me!”

Jack, the bearded man, peered over from the crate he was using as cover and called out.

“Got it!”

“On the count of three, we’re going to run over to that crate, okay?” Jeremy gestured to the crate that was in between the ones Jack and the redhead were using.

“O-okay.”

“One! Two! Three!” On cue, you and Jeremy both ran over to the box and hid behind it. “Stay down until it’s all clear.” He commanded as he retrieved the gun that was previously hidden on his body. You watched with a mixture of terror and awe as peeped over the side of the box and begun to fire. This was around the time when you noticed two things. One a man with a black skull mask and another man who you couldn’t exactly see because of his position behind a forklift had entered the fray on your side. Two, you felt like your heart could explode at any moment.

A few minutes went by before Geoff called out to the group.

“How many more are left?”

“Three, maybe four!” Jack answered before the redhead also chimed in.

“Two guys just escaped out the back door!”

“Michael and Gavin, go take care of it.”

“Got it Geoff!” A thick, British accent responded. “Let’s go boi!”

“Just shut up and come on.” The redhead, Michael, ran out of the back door with the other man following him. You squinted in remembrance, there was definitely something familiar about this. Jeremy noticed your reaction, because once the gunshots ceased, questioned your expression.

“You okay? It’s safe to stand up now, by the way.”

“W-what? Y-yeah. As much as I can be in this situation, yeah.” You stated while standing up. Your eyes locked onto one of the dead bodies that laid a few feet away. Your stomach churned at the sight. You quickly averted your gaze to the Michael and the other man re-entering the building with distraught expressions.

“We lost them at an busy intersection.” Michael announced.

“Do you think they left to get back up?” Jeremy asked, causing the group in front of you to exchange looks.

“We can’t keep standing around here, just in case they did.”

“What are we going to do with her?” The Brit jerked a thumb over in your direction.

“Doesn’t she have a house or something we can drop her off at?” Michael commented. You quickly decided to jump in, feigning confidence. You didn’t exactly want to confront the group of men you had just saw kill several people, but it had to be done.

“My apartment is where they found me. I came home from shopping and they were snooping around my room, waiting for me.”

“Then she’s definitely not going back and we’re certainly not leaving her alone since there’s two guys out there at know she can be used as an asset against u-”

“Cool your jets, Lil’ J.” Geoff sighed as he looked around the room. “I agree, it’s not safe for her right now. You care about her, thus we care about her. Let’s take her back to the penthouse.”

“And how are we going to do that? The penthouse location is supposed to be a secret to everyone who isn’t FAHC.” Jack looked towards Geoff for an idea, but before he could answer, the masked man spoke up.

“I have an idea.”

You suddenly felt something thump the back of your head. As you lost consciousness, you felt yourself fall into someone’s arms, presumingly Jeremy’s, and the group letting out a series of groans.

“God damn it, Ryan!”

@bananatron / @killerclownsandredballoons / @littlebabyblue33 / @mochaandalchemy / @skatedp / @crazy-mad-insane / @yallgotkik

please message me if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list!

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chezzkaa · 5 years

Text

Numb pt 27

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2750+

Date posted: 27 Jan 2019

A/N: Hey all! I was originally going to get this chapter out sooner, but I got so caught up at AH Live that it had to wait. Shout out to everyone who freaked out at me about the last chapter - hopefully this one gives you some warmer feels.

His flannel shirt greets your ascent along the path back home. Red against winter. Honey gold in the humming darkness. You want to call out to him, to tell him that everything is alright and apologise for bolting away; but you don’t trust your voice. Certain, in fact, that the sobs clinging to your ribs will tear their way from your lips as soon as you try to speak.

So instead you grant rejection and betrayal the time they need. Stinging your nose and quivering against your lips as you raise a hand to Ryan’s distant figure lingering at the top of the snowbank, waving him on. Motioning for him to continue and hoping more than anything that he will grant you the isolation your vulnerability needs.

He takes a moment. His expression distant. Watching you at the base of the path, your hand now pressed to one of the tattered trunks lining the ascent like a railing. His fingers twitch, curling into a loose fist before he takes a step back from you. Then another. Dragging his attention away and reluctantly disappearing like you urge him to.

In the dark you’re grateful, night having fallen fast over Motbury as though the sky were trying to hide the hurt you dress in. Unwilling, stubbornly so, to let Ryan see you break. Desperate, more so than anything, to avoid explanations. Knowing that as soon as you start unweaving the tale you tried to escape by moving to this town in the first place you’ll be unable to stop from unpicking yourself at the seams.

The bitter cold is thick against your skin, gnawing on your bones through the coat you pull closer. It sees your limbs stiffen and discomfort exude in steam from your lips. Still, despite the freezing temperatures desperate to claim your body, the heat of Jeremy’s words cling to your back as you keep pushing forward. White hot and screaming from the static shock you’d left him in, his feet rooted to the floor and expression one torn between anger and regret.

You don’t blame him. Not because you don’t want to; but because you can’t. You’ve been on the path Jeremy is spiralling down, you and the detective both have. Trapped in tunnel vision and bent on seeing one thing as another that you will it to be. Desperate to find connections when none exist, and far too eager to put a familiar face on a monster. Following a clumsy pattern that doesn’t make sense, and getting frustrated when the design is nothing more than a mess.

Your mess.

Last time it had gotten someone killed. Last time you hadn’t been able to save your sister or see your boyfriend for who he was around the target you’d painted on someone else's back - but not this time. This time you know better.

A storm is coming, you can feel it. Not just from the emotions churning in the turmoil, but from a glance at the clouds. Their anger so obvious you shy away from the sky.

Trying to put the past out of your mind, you submerge yourself in the calm scattered across Motbury. Taking in what you can of the stars as they guide you along the path you’ve walked so many times. Fresh air filling your lungs and washing away the panic that builds in your chest. Close enough to comfortable by the time the roof of your home stretches into view.

Ryan waits for you on the porch, doused in the light pouring from the windows. Caught in the same rich oranges and warm yellows painting the wooden beams and pooling across the snow. Everything about him screams nervously. Anxiousness set in his expression, knitted with the tug of his eyebrows and worn bags circling his eyes. Even the jitter of his hands, fingers drumming incessantly against his arm, tells the story of the panic and confusion.

Guilt knots your stomach, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Ryan drops his discomfort at the sight of you stumbling over to him, quick to smile and draw you close. The pound of his heart works wonders, his heat thawing your skin.

“Y/N,” Ryan murmurs, his voice draping across your crown, “are you alright? You scared me half to death when you ran off.”

You hum in response, not quite ready to break your own silence. Instead you’re content in his arms until the moment drags on and he pulls back to gauge your expression. Offering him a smile, you lace your fingers through the hand he places against your cheek, the action easing the knot of his brows.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “I am now. C’mon, let’s get inside. It looks as though it’s going to storm.”

Lauren beams, brightening the room even more and eyeing your blush as Ryan skirts behind you in the kitchen. With a hand on your lower back, he leans for the tea towel on your left, laughing at the jokes pouring from Alfredo’s lips and soaking in Trevor’s half hearted complaints. You can feel your best friend’s attention, can practically see the knowing grin that adorns her face, but for a moment you can’t drag your eyes from the countertop.

“Those carrots sure seem interesting, huh?”

You scowl at her comment, forcing your gaze upward as Ryan drifts further into the space, smiling broadly before tossing the towel at Alfredo - who fails to dodge it. Lauren’s sparkling eyes meet yours, mischief obvious in the way her head tilts. You look to Trevor, already knowing the direction the conversation is heading, but he offers you an equally teasing expression from his position beside the fridge.

“But not as interesting as the new boyfriend.”

“Lauren, stop-”

She ignores you, and manages to avoid the ‘here we go’ Trevor throws her way as he places a drink in front of you before relocating to Lauren’s side.

“So,” she continues, whiskey cheering her on, “how did you two meet?”

“Oh my god, are you really going to do this?” The blush on your cheeks deepens, and you’ve never wanted to sink into a pot to hide more.

Ryan, however, doesn’t shy away. He moves back behind you, removing the knife from your hands and leading you to the side to take over. You want to argue, but the smile he shares is so genuine and caring that you allow the redirection. Instead you move to stand on the other side of the island, determined not to clutter the kitchen that Ryan and his assistant chef, Alfredo, have taken over.

“You know how we met,” you lecture her, stripping your apron and tossing it to Alfredo’s outstretched hand. He quickly dons it, eager and at attention. “You don’t need to hear it again.”

Lauren’s eyes narrow at you. “All I got from you was screeching and spam texts and ‘I fucked him’ freak outs-”

“LAUREN-”

“Besides, I wanna hear the story from someone in touch with reality.”

Ryan chuckles, warmth jumbling with the vegetables he gathers in his hands places on a roasting tray. “I might not be the best person to ask, then.” He glances up, cracking a smile. His own blush shimmers across his cheeks at the sight of your now beetroot complexion. Golden light fills the room, bouncing off his brightness and shining from his skin in the amber lights overhead. “I’m not good with reality.”

Lauren laughs, watching you direct Alfredo on how to crack and peel garlic cloves. “You’re better than someone I know.” Again, she ignores your playful scowl. “And I wanna hear it from you. What did you first think of Y/N? Did she curse you? Oh, or maybe put a spell on you so you’d put up with her shitty jokes?”

Alfredo snatches the herbs away before you can hurl them at your giggling friend, the cold frustration in your palms shedding from your skin in small flecks of light. They join the ceiling as though they’re snowing in reverse, faint enough to be missed but obvious enough for Lauren’s grin to turn wicked.

“Why are you like this?” you grumble, moving to perch on the arm of the sofa she and Trevor adorn.

“You brought this upon yourself,” her boyfriend muses, pressing a teasing kiss to Lauren’s neck while his arm winds around her. “You were just as bad when we started dating.”

You wait a beat before finally giving in. “I guess I did threaten you.”

“You did.”

“Fine, fine.” You wave your hands dramatically, sinking against Lauren’s side with a huff.

She shakes you off, taking a sip of her drink. “So, Mr Sexy Lumberjack, as Y/N likes to call you-”

“Lol, I swear to fucking god-”

“Shut up, Y/N. Jesus Christ. Let your man tell me the story.”

Ryan is quiet for a moment, contemplating the herbs and oil he swirls around the tray before slipping it into the oven. When he finally speaks, it’s gentle, his words joining the rag he circles across the countertop while he cleans. “I was hooked as soon as she walked into Geoff’s store.”

Your skin heats, sucking your internal temperature to the surface. You hadn’t realised he’d noticed you as he’d entered, remembering the way you’d bumbled your way through the aisles and backtracked to shelves far too many times.

“Shut up,” you tease, “you were not.”

“I’m serious,” Ryan insists, continuing to tidy up to the sound of Alfredo clattering the dishes. “You looked so peaceful when you came in. All rugged up and with this little smile on your face.” He lowers his expression just a little, bashful. “Every time I saw you pass through the aisles I was like, ‘woah’.”

You look away from his intense gaze, the intimacy too much. Lauren’s smile has settled into one of softness, the wicked teasing having soaked into the cushions. Trevor looks equally content, his chin resting on her shoulder and lips occasionally brushing her skin. You can see the fraction of a smile pressed against Alfredo’s mouth, but between the suds of too much dish soap, it’s hard to catch.

“I must have looked like an absolute idiot,” you laugh nervously, a shaky hand running through your hair.

Ryan shakes his head, leaning across the island with a smile that tells you he’s forgotten there are other people in the room. “You looked beautiful.” His eyes dart to Lauren as she lets out a happy, almost cringing breath, and he quickly collects himself. Busying around the kitchen, you can clearly see the red dusting his skin. “Y/N came over and helped me pick out dinner, and we picked on the resident detectives for breaking everything all the time. I made a stupid joke…” Ryan peeks at you over his shoulder, his features so gentle and vulnerable your heart threatens to stop. “And you laughed.”

You smile softly, fiddling with your sleeves. “All your jokes are stupid.”

He frowns, unapologetic. “Harsh.”

“But true.”

“Either way, you laughed,” he points out, “and asked for a job, so it can’t have be that bad.”

“Oh god.” Your head falls into your hand, sniggering at yourself while Lauren giggles. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You get an elbow to the side, your best friend’s expression surprised. “Since when are you that confident, huh?”

“Since he was hot!” you implore.

Trevor nods vigorously, making Lauren squirm beneath his chin. “Hotness beats a lack of confidence. Hell, I’d ask Ryan for a job.”

Ryan laughs. “If a position ever opens up, you’ll be the first to know.”

“It better not open up. Y/N is working for you forever now, no way around it.” Lauren puts on a stern mask, but you can see amusement crack at its edges. “Because if you ever hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”

“Please,” you groan, tossing her an exasperated glance. “No fighting in the house. Take it outside and maybe we’ll be lucky and the incoming storm will kill you both.”

Ryan pulls a face, his cheeks rosy and eyebrows knit. He can’t keep the grin from his features. “I’m wounded, Y/N.”

“Good,” you respond, hopping back to your feet and moving over, jabbing him playfully in the chest. “That’s what you get. Now scooch, I need to get the cutlery and plates out otherwise we’ll be eating like animals.”

The storm you’d felt creeping along your back as you’d walked home continues to rage from it’s early moments midway through dinner, and the night quickly fills with laughterm warmth and a surprisingly comfortable silence whenever conversation lulls. Nothing disturbs the peace. Comfort heavy across bodies like thick blankets by the fire, of which chuckles with gentle amber flames in the hearth.

Snow swirls behind the curtains you’ve pulled closed, biting at the glass; but inside it’s as though the idea of the cold has never existed. It has no place amongst the bodies sprawled across the living room and burrowed into comfortable nooks, unable to penetrate the soft stupor a night of drinking and new friends has brought. No stinging memories of your fight with Jeremy, and no aching loss from the digging up of your past. Not even the paranoia of an unwanted visitor, be it the wind or the tentative knocking of whatever likes to lurk on the porch when the weather turns and darkness falls, is able to bother you.

Comfortable, and all together peaceful when the sounds never come.

Pressed into the couch, you and Ryan lounge together in the dying light of the fire. His chest is firm against your back as you settle between his legs, one of his feet resting on the floor while the other rubs lazy circles against your shin. Clumsy and inconsistent, much like the strength of his voice.

Ryan’s grip on your waist loosens as the weight of exhaustion claims him, arms heavy and secure as they hold you close. His voice drifts, coarse as it catches in your hair, his lips brushing a final kiss against the crook of your neck before he gives in and lets sleep take over. Head falling back, you hear his consciousness slip into the pillows as a gentle sigh leaves his lips.

You smile. Dopey and overjoyed as you give one of his legs on either side of you an affectionate squeeze. “I’m surprised he lasted so long,” you hush to Alfredo with a chuckle, the man struggling to stand from the position he had sprawled out in across the carpet. “He’s never been good at staying up late.”

“Nah.” Alfredo rolls, stumbling with the sudden action while his face contorts into a strained expression. Eventually he manages to find his footing, holding out his arms and bending slightly to keep from toppling. “Dealing with your crap all day?” he teases, “I’m not surprised, man. You’re exhausting.”

“Rude.”

He sways, stifling a yawn. “But true. I’ll see you in the morning, I ain’t bout to pass out on the floor when I’ve got a bed upstairs. Night, Y/N. Night, Trev.”

Your goodnights follow him up the stairs while your gaze drifts to the only member of your family still awake, Trevor absorbed in the peace his girlfriend wears in her sleep. His fingers work through her hair, lost in long locks of blonde and the comfort the motion brings. Stroking free whatever stresses of the day remain in his fingertips while sunshine presses into his palm. He’s not paying attention to the conversation dwindling into the cracking of the hearth, oblivious to the soft smile and gentle expression he shares with the slumbering woman in his lap.

You leave him in the moment, his skin warm in the light of the fire and the soft glow of the one he cradles close. His eyes churn, molten and rich as he watches her sleeping expression, intent on committing it to memory. Drinking it in as though it’s both the first and last time he’s ever seen something so beautiful. As though there aren’t enough sunsets in the world to compare her to.

“You know,” Trevor says finally, his murmur swept away with the continued motion of his hands, “I’m going to marry her one day.” The statement is certain, so confident that you wonder for a moment if he’s ever seen anything else in his future. If, ever since he met her all those years ago, he’s kept the ring he bought on the first night in his coat pocket everywhere he goes. Your heart squeezes, already knowing the answer. “Then,” he breathes, smile so heavy with adoration that his lips struggle to hold it up, “she can annoy me forever.”

“You are,” you reply simply, “and there’s no way she’d let you get away with not.”

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chezzkaa · 5 years

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Numb pt 28

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 3250+

Date posted: 8 Feb 2019

The morning is clumsy. Nonsensical in the early hours. A jumble of limbs and a knot of blankets trapped between far too many legs. Confusion fogging your mind as you draw in a heavy breathe, bringing with it a chill and the lingering scent of trees. Out of place, but not entirely unpleasant to a sleep ladened consciousness.

When your eyes peel open, the darkness of the room doesn’t quite fit with what you expect. Having anticipated light streaming through the windows of the lodge’s living room, your friends bundled together on the couch while the fire crumbles into ash with a gasp; the feeling of your own bed beneath you is disorientating. Acting like a puzzle piece you’re hammering too hard into a slot that it so obviously doesn’t fit, the cardboard corners starting to curl and warp with every frustrated fist you bring down on it. Convinced that somehow it ought to make sense. That the more you hit it the more likely it is to become a functional, rational part of reality.

It’s cold. Uncomfortably so. Stinging your front and nagging at your fingertips. Tracing the curve of your calves and scampering behind your knees. The covers do very little to retain the warmth you sorely try to hold on to, certain it had surrounded you not long ago. Confused, more than anything. Concern drunk and stumbling in the back of your mind.

It takes a moment to register the storm outside. Snow wailing at the windows as it slowly starts to die down, bitter temperatures dwindling in their efforts to claw at the glass. If you focus, you can almost see a hint of colour returning to the world. Tainting the darkness with muddy peaches and soft vermillion dipped in the remnants of the night.

The outside world shares your shudder, shoulders sinking further into the blankets and knees clattering against a pair you hadn’t expected. Equally icy, tucked loosely into your pocket of warmth. Groggy and dazed, you blink dumbly from a sleep you’re certain you shouldn’t have roused from. Forcing your thoughts into some semblance of consciousness.

Across from you, however, is a sight that settles your confusion. Something that finally makes sense to your sluggish mind. Ryan slumbers peacefully, his face relaxed and gentle while honey golden hair splays over the pillows. Caught in the warm silvers of the moonlight with only the word ethereal coming remotely close to describing his softness.

It takes a little longer than you’d like to admit, staring at him as though it were the last time, but you eventually realise that he must have stirred at some point and carried you to bed.

Reaching out, your fingers run through the loose strands hooding his forehead, pushing them away. Again and again, your fingertips brushing him further into a heavy sleep and warming his frigid skin.

The marks lining your skin almost glow in the moonlight, flickering with every motion. The remains of ink mask the scabbed skin that had resulted from when you’d pushed the pen nib down too hard in the early hours of that terrifying morning, marks residing quite happily beneath the runes carved into your hands. Faded but most certainly there. Glaringly so. Littering your body like twirls of wood shavings, charred and fragile. Curling like vices around your wrists, and snaking up your forearms.

The pale, ghostly scars burn guiltily when you take them in through the darkness. Protective charms humming with the palm you place on Ryan, willing for them to transfer to him, too. Hoping that whatever is left of the magic, of your energy, will embrace him the same way you do.

An arm you hadn’t noticed tightens around you, dragging you closer until your face presses into his cool chest. You want to complain, to shove him away and grumble about the cold biting your cheek, but you find yourself settling. Holding your hands to your chest, you nuzzle into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before your eyes slide shut.

Ryan’s sleepy hums of comfort are the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” Michael insists over breakfast, your phone pressed to your ear and his voice barely audible over the loud ordeal every morning has become. Plates clatter, the kitchen buzzing with caffeine fuelled animation.

“You’re gonna wanna get down here,” he presses further, voice rising with excitement, “we got the lab reports back for the markings. This is your baby, too.”

“Funny,” you scoff, dodging the loaf of bread Alfredo hurls to Trevor, Lauren getting caught in the fray. “Last I checked, I wasn’t a Mother or a detective.”

From the corner of your eye you notice Ryan’s eyebrow quirk. He does his best to seem like he isn’t listening, taking his time while buttering the same piece of toast he’s been working on for a few minutes. His expression flickers, something problematic folding his features for a moment before he glowers at his toast.

“You still upset about that?” You can practically hear the scrunched expression Michael pulls on the other end of the phone, his tone dismissive. “Don’t worry about that fuck or any of the bull shit he says. Detective Dooley isn’t in today, so you don’t have to worry about him. Besides, right now you’re a better cop than he is.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Michael.” You let off a nervous laugh, watching Ryan shake himself and decide that he should probably pretend to be focused on the second slice of toast. He spreads the button, oblivious to how clear it is that he’s let his breakfast go cold. Lauren eyes him, looking offended.

Michael makes a noise somewhere in the back of his throat. “Well, I would. You’ve done more for this case than that obsessive asshole has in the past few weeks.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He lets out a sigh, looking for the words you might not want, but need to hear. “Look, Y/N… He’s a good guy, you already know that. He was doing his job and just got a little, err, god what’s the word that I’m looking for here?”

“Side tracked?” you offer.

“I was gonna say that he just got a little too far up his own ass,” Michael teases, his tone surprisingly soft. You sink into the comfort it brings, relief buzzing through the phone line. “But sidetracked is a good one, too. He’ll come around, you just gotta give him time. He’s been on the same line of thinking for so long, it’ll take a while for him to readjust. While he’s managing, we just have to pick up the slack until he catches up.”

You hum in response, taking a moment to sip on your tea. “Do you really need me there?”

“Need and want are two different things.”

“Oh, so you want me there?”

“Ew. Fuck no,” Michael rejects with more cheek than what’s good for him, “but we do actually need you here. Considering we’re running with a theory you helped work out, it’ll be good for everyone if the mastermind to be in on all the information.”

You smile, watching the domestic life unfolding in your kitchen, willing the images of icy fingers and cold, tiny bodies from your mind. You cling to the warmth in front of you, hoping to stay in the moment. Dragging it out for as long as you can, as though it’ll keep the world and it’s incessant twitching still. That the burning itch at the base of your skull will cease.

“Alright,” you finally concede with another long sip of tea, accepting the plate of cold toast that Ryan sheepishly hands to you, “I’ll head over in 30 or so. Don’t start without me, yeah?”

Michael chuckles, yelling something to another officer while you drown your waiting breath in your tea. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Y/N. We’re a team.”

You grin, picking up a slice and taking a large bite. “Let’s get this bread.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You grimace, the feeling of unmelted butter greasy against toast crumbs across your tongue. “You got pastries at work?”

“Of fucking course we do, we’re not animals. And don’t change the subject. You’re a fucking animal. No memeing in the precinct or I’ll arrest you.”

After ample testing against other animal patterns found in the area, in which the sampled material was applied to a multitude of claw/bite/other markings of both native and outside animals, all sampled markings are deemed to be unbiological in nature.

The plausibility of the samples being created by a creature as opposed to a hand held tool is noted to be unlikely and impossible.

No bear nor other known creature can be attributed to the patterns found on the Motbury properties.

You stare down at the report as relief washes over you. After having read the brief at least four or so times, you still can’t quite manage to take it all in. With a racing mind and a set of shoulders so determined to drop all of the tension you’d been carrying over the past few days, it takes the clap of Michael’s hand on your back to rouse you from the chaos inside your own head.

In regards to patterns and other factors, the most likely result is that these markings were created by a heavy tool with a sharp edge as opposed to an animal. A creature would be unable to achieve the paw splay needed to achieve the patterns observed. Yet to be determined, possible objects include, but are not limited to; axes, screwdrivers, shovel heads, etc. Further testing is required. The results of these further tests will be conducted and relayed to the Motbury Police Department.

“I can’t believe it,” you murmur, following the paragraph with your finger. “We did it... Like, we actually, properly did it. Oh my god, Michael.” You turn to him, his beam as bright as your own. “Oh my god!”

“Take that, non believers!” he practically bellows, picking you up and crushing your arms, swinging you around wildly with a chorus of laughter. “We fucking told you!”

“We were right,” you gasp, not at all phased by the tightness aching in your sides Michael continues to spin you. “We were fucking right! It’s a copycat, it’s all-” you wince as he attempts to pull Jackie into an equally eager embrace while refusing to put you down, “it’s all linked! The markings lining up with the fucking…the god damn killings and the storms - oh my god! They’re all the same person! Michael - stop squeezing me!”

Jackie smiles, here eyes glinting as she side steps Michael’s second attempt at a sweeping hug. Not to be deterred, he shifts his hold on you, pinning you securely to his shoulder while glaring a warning at the lab technician.

“Congratulations are in order,” Jackie offers, placing an office chair between herself and the detective, “this is a major break through. You’ve closed off some serious ‘what if’s’. Now you can compile all of the evidence together and work from it. Get rid of some loose ends!”

Michael eyes the barrier suspiciously, still refusing to let you go. Squirming in his grasp, you wriggle until you can see the report still clutched in your grasp, bent unceremoniously over his shoulder to read the brief yet again.

“It’s a person,” you breathe, winded slightly as Michael lunges for Jackie, “thank god. It’s just a person.”

“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Michael grunts over Jackie’s squeak, his arm winding around her and hauling her into his hug, the two of you clattering together. “Gotcha, you fuck. But yeah,” he sways with you both, uncertain as to what he should do now that he’s achieved his short term goal. “It just means we’ve got a shit load of work to do.”

You gasp, wincing as his shoulder dives into your stomach. “Yeah, well, it’s only a matter of time now. We can start looking at people and matching them to our Window copycat theory.” The floor greets you when you’re released, but your grin never fades. “You ready to deep dive into some townspeople files?”

Michael beams wickedly. “You’ll have to start without me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, Detective asshat needs me for a trip out. You’re on your own. But hey, none of this would’ve been possible if it weren’t for you. So thanks.”

The clutter of the back room has becomes a familiar strain, accompanying your work day as though it prides itself on being such a loyal employee. Paperwork packed into shelves and plastic bags loaded with evidence press in from all sides as you curl over the files on the desk you’ve claimed for the day, eyes scanning the fading ink in the hopes of finding something you don’t already know.

So far you’ve had little luck. The idea of giving up however, is appalling. No amount of begging from your stiff knees and aching limbs can convince you to leave the seat you’re glued to. A box of pastries has become one of your only friends, coffee cups littering the high surfaces that you’d rather not acknowledge as unstable.Every record up to this point has been irrelevant; ruled out with the new connections exposed from this morning.

The nerves behind your eyes throb with every thump thump of your heart.

You’d expected to find yourself running in circles, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself you’d realise that you’re doing just that. A tired hands rubs across your face, ink and mental exhaustion smudging across your cheeks and pinching at temples. A soft groan escapes you before you can stop it, forehead coming to rest on your folded arms. It’s been hours. Hours since you’d celebrated with Michael. Hours since you’d burst into the filing room like a whirlwind, and hours since you’d sat down with every record the police had on the townsfolk.

The lights in the room are still far too bright. Obnoxious, straining and artificial. Your eyebrows furrow.

What exactly you’ve been searching for is still a mystery, even to you.

Which is infuriating, you admit with a click of your tongue and unflattering grimace, and taking far too long.

You’d originally started with the goal of categorising the townsfolk by sifting through suspect lists, alibis, and recent activity; collecting records on the individuals specified as being of interest to the investigation, but it quickly proved near impossible for you alone. Everything seems to contradict, no matter how deep you dig. Your mind paces through the same patterns until you’re left dizzy with your head on the desk, frustrated beyond words and desperate for something to clean the sour taste of coffee from your tongue.

Stealing your remaining reserves of motivation, you yank yourself back into sitting, fingers slipping into your pocket and producing the two small stones you’ve taken to carrying with you. Their weight is reassuring in your palm, warm against the skin and humming so softly that your stresses start to lull almost instantly. Turning them over again and again, the sound of the stones jostling together eases you even further while your attention drifts back to the next record in front of you - one that had recently been ruled out.

The number of suspects for the case had been few and far between, but that hadn’t deterred you from an investigation before. Instead, no matter how much you loathe it, double checking the past leads was the best way to build a foundation for future investigations. Focusing on the page, you grimace at the corners dotted with your clumsy, absentminded scribbles - hoping the police department won’t mind the mindless shapes you’ve subconsciously scrawled.

SCRIPT

Interview with Gavin D. Free (Store Clerk). Interviewer: Officer B. Burns. Supervisor: Det. Insp. J. Dooley.

Additional staff on script record: Dooley & Jones. NOTE: Supposed witness to suspicious activity during storm.

11/12/16 - Suspect reassessment. RESULT: REMOVED FROM SUSPECT REGISTRY.

Burns: Alright, for the record can you please state your name, occupation, and the prepared statement for the dates specified, Mr. Free?

Free: Well, I don’t really have to now, init?

Burns: … Excuse me?

Free: My name. You’ve already said it. Why should I say it if you’ve already gone and told me the answer?

Burns: That’s not the point-

Free: Then what is? Cus if you were tryin’ to see if I was an imposter or summut, then you’ve just gone and given away the name.

Burns: Why would I think you were an imposter?!

Free: I dunno, I gues- oh, for the record I just shrugged there - I dunno Officer, aren’t you supposed to be covering all the bases or somethin’?

Burns: By checking if the local bag boy isn’t-

Free: What if I was wearin’ a skin suit?

Burns: What?

Free: Yeah, like those episodes of Doctor Who.

Burns: Episode… of Doctor-

Free: I could be an imposter wearing my own skin.

Burns: Why would you be wearing your own ski-

Free: Yeah, god what were those big bloated bastard things called? Big and green and bloody ugly… Eccleston was top as the doctor back then. Tennant was pretty alright though. C’mon, what were those fuckin’ things called-

Burns: I’m not sure how this is relevant, Mr. Free. Can we just get back on trac-

Free: Slitheen!

Burns: Excuse me?

Free: Those monsters, init? The Slitheen.

Burns: I’m not checking to see if you’re a Slytherin.

Free: Oi, I’m a Gryffindor! For the record-

Burns: Dont-

Free: I’m a Gryffindor with my boy.

Jones [muffled]: Yeah boy! Gryffindors for life!

Dooley [muffled]: Michael, can you just - shut the fuck up? There’s an interview going on.

Jones [muffled]: Oh shit, right. Sorry boss. Hey, you’re a Slytherin, right?

Dooley [muffled]: Yeeehhhhhhh-

Burns: Now is not the time! Look, Mr. Free, I don’t care what Harry Potter house you’re in, and I’m not checking to see if you’re a Slith-whatever.

Free: Good.

Burns: What?

Free: Good to know you ain’t an idiot or nothin’!

Burns: What the fuc-

Free: I couldn’t be a Slitheen, could I? I ain’t fat enough. You’d have to check Jack for that - OH! Oh and I don’t fart nearly enough. See, you gotta fart to get into the skin suit… now that I think about it, Geoff is awfully suspicious now. He’s always farting… But so’s Michael. [Distant] Micoo, hey Micoo!

Jones [muffled]: What the fuck do you want, asshole? Can’t you see there’s an interview going on?

Free: You fart a lot, right?

Jones [muffled]: Yeah you fucking know it.

Free: You ain’t an alien from outta space, are you?

Jones [muffled]: … What the fuck.

Free: You’d tell me if you were, right?

Jones: Yeah… yeah I’d - Jeremy shut the fuck up you’re gonna break something - yeah I’d tell you, boy.

Dooley [muffled]: For the record, Officer Burns has given up on life.

Free: Thanks, boy.

Jones [muffled]: You’re my boy, boy.

Burns: ALRIGHT. THAT’S IT. I’VE HAD IT. I’M DONE. We’ll do this again tomorrow.

The pen nib glides across the page as you read, ink and spiraled patterns following the transcript until you reach the abrupt end.

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